Aspects of War in the Late Middle Ages [1 ed.] 9780367330675, 9780429317859

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Aspects of War in the Late Middle Ages

This Variorum collection of articles is intended to illustrate that conflict in the late Middle Ages was not only about soldiers and fighting (about the makers and the making of war), important as these were. Just as it remains in our own day, war was a subject which attracted writers (commentators, moralists and social critics among them), some of whom glorified war, while others did not. For the historian the written word is important evidence of how war, and those taking part in it, might be regarded by the wider society. One question was supremely important: what was the standing among their contemporaries of those who fought society’s wars? How was war seen on the moral scale of the time? The last two parts of the volume deal with a particular war, the ‘occupation’ of northern France by the English between 1420 and 1450. The men who conquered the duchy, and who then served to keep it under English control for those years, had to be rewarded with lands, titles, administrative and military responsibilities, even (for the clergy) ecclesiastical benefices. For these, war spelt ‘opportunity’, whose advantages they would be reluctant to surrender. The final irony lies in the fact that Frenchmen, returning to claim their ancestral rights once the English had been driven out, frequently found it difficult to unravel both the legal and the practical consequences of a war which had caused a considerable upheaval in Norman society over a period of a single generation. Christopher Allmand is Emeritus Professor of Medieval History, University of Liverpool, UK. His previous publications include Henry V (1968); Lancastrian Normandy 1415–1450, The History of a Medieval Occupation (1983); The Hundred Years War: England and France at War, c.1300–c.1450 (2001); War, Government and Power in Late Medieval France (2000); and The De Re Militari of Vegetius: The Reception, Transmission and Legacy of a Roman Text in the Middle Ages (2011).

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Aspects of War in the Late Middle Ages

Christopher Allmand

First published 2022 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2022 Christopher Allmand The right of Christopher Allmand to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-0-367-33067-5 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-22709-2 (pbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-31785-9 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859 Typeset in Times New Roman by Apex CoVantage, LLC VARIORUM COLLECTED STUDIES SERIES CS1106

‘IN GRATEFUL AND LOVING MEMORY OF BERNADETTE, MY BELOVED WIFE AND LIFE-LONG COMPANION.’

CONTENTS

List of abbreviations Acknowledgements

x xi

Introduction

1

PART I

5

1 A Roman text on war: the Strategemata of Frontinus in the Middle Ages

7

Originally published as ‘A Roman Text on War. The Strategemata of Frontinus in the Middle Ages’, Soldiers, Nobles and Gentlemen, Essays in Honour of Maurice Keen, ed. P. Coss and C. Tyerman (Boydell Press, 2009), 153–68. 2 The De re militari of Vegetius: how did the Middle Ages treat a late Roman text on war?

23

Originally published as ‘The De Re Militari of Vegetius. How did the Middle Ages treat a late Roman text on war?’ Revista de Historia des Ideias, vol. 30 (University of Coimbra Press, 2009), 101–17. 3 The fifteenth-century English prose version of Vegetius’ De re militari Originally published as ‘Fifteenth-Century Versions of Vegetius’ De Re Militari’, Armies, Chivalry and Warfare in Medieval France and Britain, Harlaxton Mediaeval Studies, Volume 7, ed. M. Strickland (Shaun Tyas Publishing, 1998), 30–45.

vii

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CONTENTS

4 Did the De re militari of Vegetius influence the military ordinances of Charles the Bold?

47

Originally published in Publication du Centre Européen d’Etudes Bourguignonnes (XIVe–XVIe s.), xli (2001), 135–43.

PART II 5 Changing perceptions of the soldier in late medieval France

55 57

Taken from ‘Guerre et Société en France, en Angleterre et en Bourgogne XIVe–XVe siecle’, ed. P. Contamine, C. Giry-Deloison and M. Keen (Le Centre d’Histoire de la Région du Nord et de l’Europe du Nord-Ouest, 1991), 171–88. 6 Some intellectual influences on the origins of the royal army in medieval France

72

Originally published as ‘Des origines intellectuelles de l’armée française au Moyen Âge’, in Un Moyen Âge pour aujourd’hui. Mélanges offerts à Claude Gauvard, ed. J. Claustre, O. Mattéoni and N. Offenstadt (Paris, PUF, 2010), 47–56. 7 Personal honour or the common good? The witness of Le Jouvencel in the fifteenth century

82

Originally published as ‘Entre honneur et bien commun: le témoignage du Jouvencel au XVe siecle’, Revue Historique, 301/3 (Paris, PUF, 1992), 463–81. 8 The problem of desertion in France, England and Burgundy in the late Middle Ages

96

Originally published as ‘Le problème de la désertion en France, en Angleterre et en Bourgogne à la fin du Moyen Âge’, Guerre, pouvoir et noblesse au Moyen Age. Mélanges en l’honneur de Philippe Contamine, ed. J. Paviot and J. Verger (Paris, Presses de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 2000), 31–41.

PART III 9 Normandy in English opinion at the end of the Hundred Years’ War Originally published as ‘La Normandie devant l’opinion anglaise à la fin de la guerre de Cent Ans’, Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes, vol. 128 (1970), 345–68. viii

107 109

CONTENTS

10 Diplomacy: The Anglo-French negotiations, 1439

123

Originally published as ‘The Anglo-French Negotiations, 1439’, Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research, 40 (1967), 1–33. 11 Local reaction to the French reconquest of Normandy (1449–1450): the example of Rouen

155

Originally published as ‘Local Reaction to the French Reconquest of Normandy: The Case of Rouen’, The Crown and Local Communities in England and France in the Fifteenth Century, ed. J. R. L. Highfield and R. Jeffs (Alan Sutton Publishing, 1981), 146–61. 12 National reconciliation in France at the end of the Hundred Years’ War

169

Originally published as ‘National Reconciliation in France at the End of the Hundred Years War’, Journal of Medieval Military History, vol. 6, ed. C. J. Rogers (Boydell Press, 2008), 149–64.

PART IV

185

13 Spies and spying in the fourteenth century

187

Originally published as ‘Spies and Spying in the Fourteenth Century’, War, Literature and Politics in the Late Middle Ages, written by J. R. Alban and C. T. Allmand (Liverpool University Press, 1976), 73–101. 14 War and the non-combatant during the Hundred Years’ War

211

Originally published as ‘War and the Non-combatant’, The Hundred Years War, ed. K. A. Fowler (Macmillan, St Martin’s Press, 1971). Index

229

ix

A B B R E V I AT I O N S

Add.MS. A.N. BEC BL BN (Madrid) BnF EETS nouv.acq fr./lat. RS SATF SHF SHP TNA TRHistS

Additional manuscript (at British Library) Archives Nationales, Paris Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes British Library, London Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid Bibliothèque National de France, Paris Early English Text Society nouvelle acquisition française/latine Rolls Series Société des Anciens Textes Français Société de l’Histoire de France Société de l’Histoire de Paris The National Archives, Kew Transactions of the Royal Historical Society

x

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The author and publishers wish to thank the following for permission to reprint articles in this collection: Boydell Press (1, 12); University of Coimbra Press (2); Shaun Tyas Publishing (3); Centre Européen d’Études Bourguignonnes (4); Centre d’Histoire de la Région du Nord et de l’Europe du Nord-Ouest (5); PUF (6, 7); Presses de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne (8); Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes (9); The Institute of Historical Research, University of London (10); Alan Sutton Publishing (11); Liverpool University Press (13); Macmillan (14). I would like to convey many thanks to the staff of Routledge who showed great patience during the lengthy process of preparing this collection. I would also like to express my gratitude to our four daughters, Catherine, Sarah, Celia and notably, Alison, who gave cheerful encouragement and hours of valuable assistance to this undertaking. CTA March 2022

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INTRODUCTION

This book brings together a number of my previously published articles, which have, as their common focus, aspects of war in the late Middle Ages. A theme running through a number of them is the importance of the consideration given to those who, while not active combatants, might have a significant but all too easily disregarded role to play in the outcome of particular ‘military’ events. Until about the middle years of the twentieth century, much academic study of war, particularly as it concerned the Middle Ages, was centred within the constraints of traditional military activity. Thus one of the best known studies on the subject in English was, probably, Charles Oman’s two-volume History of the Art of War in the Middle Ages, first published in 1898. When volume 8 of The Cambridge Medieval History appeared in 1936, the chapter on war, written by Oman, was still built around ‘The Art of War’. The title made it clear where the emphasis of these works was to be found. Much influenced by the constraints of tradition, the study of war appeared to offer little by way of innovative approaches to breathe fresh life into it. Time, however, would change this, as new influences reflecting unfamiliar approaches to the study of war came to bear upon the development of medieval studies in Europe and elsewhere, with some notable effects. In 1923 the Chair of Military History at Oxford, established as early as 1909, was renamed the Chair in the History of War. Although not fully implemented until after the end of the Second World War, the change of emphasis suggests that the recent experiences of war may have contributed to a change of attitude towards a less militaristic and a more inclusive study of societies in conflict. War was to be approached from numerous points of view, often over a long period of time, as growing casts of non-military participants and their attitudes led to the acceptance of approaches more in keeping with those used by social scientists than by historians. In this respect, a significant step forward (one of particular interest to Englishspeaking students of the English late Middle Ages) was the publication, in 1966, of H. J. Hewitt’s The Organization of War under Edward III, 1338–62, which opened up a number of approaches, notably the use of the term ‘non-combatant’ (civilian)1 as one whose practical influence had to be recognised and accepted. 1 H. J. Hewitt, The Organization of War under Edward III, 1338–62 (Manchester, 1966). See ‘civilians’ in the index.

DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-1

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INTRODUCTION

In the preface to his book, Hewitt argued that the study of war was too serious a subject to be left to military men alone. He pleaded for a broader understanding of the nature of the history of war, in which the non-combatant would no longer be a mere spectator but an essential participant ‘whose efforts to clothe, feed, arm and transport soldiers’ were seen as essential contributions to conflict which could not be ignored. The importance of the provision of logistical support had thus been authoritatively recognised. ‘Unfortunately’, Hewitt felt obliged to write, ‘the noncombatants have not interested the military historian: they do not fit into the Art of War’. Seeking a new approach, he cited Piero Pieri: ‘War cannot be studied as a closed reality . . . It must be linked with all man’s activities . . . Military history must overflow into other fields of study’. The founding of the Department of War Studies at King’s College, London, at much the same time as Hewitt was advocating a new approach, marked the beginning of the life of what was to become an internationally known institution whose members represented the scholarly study of war in its many manifestations. It was time for novel approaches to exercise a right to be heard. The chapter headings of Hewitt’s book reveal a much extended view of what the history of war should be all about.2 The rapidity with which Hewitt’s view won support may have reflected the inclination of many historians to place the study of war within a broader context than had previously been allowed. That fact should not be ignored. Nor can the consequences which this approach will have upon the way the subject is presented to a thoughtful, book-reading public, with or without a degree in historical studies. The inclusion of the word ‘society’ in a book’s title will encourage wider interest in its contents. The extra word, which helps identity the author’s approach, is important since it serves to place the study in the broad context of an ‘every-day’ world while providing a wider background against which both the central narrative and the analytical elements of the study, as well as individuals, can be brought together. Thus individual characters are given a firm background against which they can live, act and be studied. To put it a little differently, they become genuine historical figures of their time, whose activities help us reach a better understanding of the age in which they lived.3 In an academic environment sympathetic to the use of approaches and techniques developed by other disciplines, historians stand to benefit from using 2 A glance at the book’s chapter headings (pp. v–vi) gives a clear indication of the author’s view of the nature of the history of war, a view developed in the preface which follows (pp. vii–viii). 3 We should not be surprised, therefore, that book titles have much to tell us. Studies such as P. Contamine, Guerre, État et Société (1972); C. Allmand, Society at War. The Experience of England and France during the Hundred Years War (1973); J. Barnie, War in Medieval Society (1974) (all published in three consecutive years) and, more recently, J. R. Hale, War and Society in Renaissance Europe (1985); P. Morgan, War and Society in Medieval Cheshire, 1277–1403 (1987); D. Dunn, War and Society in Medieval and Early Modern Britain (2000) all reflect this trend, which goes counter to the more traditional approaches to the study of war in which named individuals, frequently members of a society’s (military) elite, were awarded the leading roles. The importance of the role of the (‘ordinary’) foot soldier (as Vegetius had recommended long ago) was now being more fully recognised.

2

INTRODUCTION

methods originally created and evolved primarily for practitioners of those other disciplines. Projects (such as those sponsored, in Britain, by the Arts and Humanities Research Council) which have encouraged the systematic analysis of specific groups of records, thus enabling historians to draw conclusions regarding, for example, the military careers of large numbers of soldiers active in war over a specific period of time, can add significantly to our understanding of what war could mean to the generations involved in it. Central to this approach is the need to regard war as being more than the mutually hostile activities of armed forces and the often destructive effects, material and moral, exerted by soldiers wielding weapons. As writers from the ancient world liked to remind readers, and as historical reality often proved to be the case, victory was not always achieved by the army enjoying numerical superiority or the use of weapons of greater sophistication or numbers. According to Roman tradition, many of whose military principles still found favour a millennium and a half after first being established, a well-led army, drawn from the citizenry to fight as the servant of society, protector of its institutions and keeper of the peace should be regarded as a body worthy of the highest regard. To this day, the English language continues to employ the term ‘the Services’ when referring to the armed forces. In brief, the soldier should be selected and judged according to character and ability rather than by social rank. It should be regarded as an honour to serve in the body charged with protecting society in moments and situations which threatened its stability or very existence. The study of war is further enhanced when it takes into account not only those actively engaged in fighting but also the many, such as non-combatants, who may have contributed in the form of taxation (the development of fiscal systems was closely linked to the needs of war) or of those who, in different ways, worked actively for peace. War merits being studied on a broad front and from a variety of perspectives. The survival of many forms of evidence, which may include large quantities of manuscript materials, preserved in collections both public and private, offers the opportunity of studying a long, if intermittent, period of conflict and the varied effects which these had upon the world of the time. That war affected individuals and entire societies both positively and negatively in different ways may be taken as a given. To understand it better, there is a need to appreciate how the wider society reacted to a variety of developments, social and economic, legal, technical and moral, all associated with war.

3

Part I

1 A R O M A N T E X T O N WA R The Strategemata of Frontinus in the Middle Ages

The military literature available to men of the Middle Ages was dominated by and, consequently, hugely dependent upon two classical texts, the Strategemata of Frontinus, compiled late in the first century, and the De re militari of Vegetius, written probably in the late fourth or early fifth century. Of these, the more significant was the work of Vegetius, whose influence developed steadily (and not always in a narrow military direction) as time progressed. That, however, is no reason for failing to acknowledge Frontinus, the importance of whose work Vegetius himself recognised in fulsome terms1 and which was to bequeath the medieval world a rich seam of exempla from which to mine information and ideas regarding military practice in the classical past which might be useful to later generations. The career of Sextus Julius Frontinus (c. AD 35–103) was one of public service, both civil and military. The holder of high office in Rome under a number of emperors, he also served in the army in Germany and in Britain, where he was governor from c. AD 76 to 78. His practical experience as Rome’s water commissioner was reflected in his De aquis urbis Romae, which describes the system of aqueducts bringing water to the city. Written some years earlier was a work on military science, now lost, to which the Strategemata, composed after AD 84, provided the evidence of stratagems taken from ‘utraque lingua’, ‘both languages’, Greek as well as Latin. It is this work whose fortune and significance this essay will attempt to trace.2 In an introductory statement, Frontinus told his readers how it came into being. He had, he explained, already written a work on military science (res militaris), reducing its practices to a system. However, he felt the need to provide a complementary work which would supply examples of the teachings and recommendations to which he had given prominence in his lost work. The title was to be 1 Vegetius, De re militari (hereafter DRM), II, 3. 2 Ivli Frontini Strategemata, ed. R. I. Ireland (Leipzig, 1990). Both Frontinus’ works are available in English translation in a single volume: Frontinus, The Stratagems and the Aqueducts of Rome, trans. C. E. Bennett (Cambridge, MA, and London, 1969). Both texts in a single manuscript may be found in Paris, BnF., nouv. acq. lat. 626.

DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-3

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a Greek one, ‘a collection of examples of wisdom and foresight’ to inspire commanders and to show them that, if modelled on those offered, their own stratagems were likely to be effective. Encouraged by a desire to save the time of busy men and at the same time underlining the utilitarian nature of the text, he was setting out a series of situations providing real-life historical situations taken from the writings of past authors, among whom Caesar and Livy stand out. With Frontinus, the reader constantly faces the problem of how to get the better of the enemy who seldom appears to be far away. This creates a certain tension in the reader’s mind, which is preoccupied by one fundamental question: how, with minimum risk and danger, to emerge victorious from any encounter with the enemy. The successful commander is kept informed and up to date through the use of spies (a theme which will reoccur regularly in the pages which follow), for it is important to be as well informed as possible about the enemy’s plans, movements, numbers and capabilities. Foreknowledge gives a commander a hidden hold over his rival: he can use it, for example, in a surprise attack which catches the enemy unprepared; the state of unreadiness is the one which every commander must do his utmost to avoid falling into. Likewise, emphasis is placed upon the need to take full advantage of any mistake made by the enemy: the Latin word occasio, which we can translate as ‘opportunity’, sums up the need for the leaders of men to be ready to take advantage of any mistake made by the enemy which can lead to one side acquiring an advantage, whether physical or psychological, over the other. The reader of these texts will be impressed by the emphasis which each places upon human reaction to a given situation, and how fear can so easily take over as the guiding influence towards determining which emerges the victor from a meeting between rival armies or forces. Intended, in its author’s view, to complement his own analysis of ways of getting the better of opponents, Frontinus’ Strategemata consists of some 581 short descriptions of military events or episodes, most only a few lines long. Set out under broad headings in four books and referred to, perhaps significantly, as ‘exempla’ in both Oxford, Lincoln College, lat. 100,3 and in Lambeth Palace, 752, or as ‘Dicta ad exempla ducum in bello’ in Vatican Library, Pal. Lat. 1571, together they illustrate points made in his earlier work, so teaching by way of historical example why successes (and, in some cases, failures) occurred. The importance of this approach lay in the author’s confidence that war was a science which could be reduced to sets of general principles to guide and help commanders as they prepared to confront the enemy, either in open battle or at a siege. It reflected a not unreasonable view that the recollection of a past event (the recalling of a stratagem involving deceit, for example) could inspire a general to emulate it in the likelihood that, successful once, it might be so again. Such an understanding of the value of studying past events and the application of the messages which they conveyed led men to study accounts of wars which would provide the answers to 3 ‘De exemplis rei militaris’. The work was also given titles such as De re militari, De instructione bellorum, Liber artis militaris and Rei militaris strategematicon.

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recurring military problems. In brief, history had much to teach the contemporary world. The vehicle for the transmission of that knowledge or experience was the written word which, in due course, assumed something akin to an authoritative influence upon the subject.4 Without an associated text, however, the impact of the Strategemata was greatly diminished. As Frontinus had been at pains to point out, it was not in itself a work of original thought but a large collection of excerpts recalling past experience, diligently drawn up under practical headings, to bolster a work now lost. While the Strategemata offered evidence of Frontinus’ sound military sense, of his reading of certain authors, of his ability to put together a dossier, and of his appreciation of how descriptions of past events might be used to encourage those in similar situations in the future, these characteristics alone did not convey bestseller status. Its chance of becoming a useful compendium lay in forming an association with another work to replace the one lost. Only thus could this collection of pièces justificatives acquire the authority it needed to become, in any real sense, a valuable tool. In due course, this necessary association was to occur. When, some four centuries later, Vegetius – like Frontinus a state servant but, unlike him, never a soldier – came to write his De re militari, he breathed new life into many of the aspects of the fighting of war to which Frontinus had already given prominence. Placing himself firmly in a long tradition of military writers, going back to the Greeks and including Cato the Censor, Cornelius Celsus and Frontinus, Vegetius underlined themes to which Frontinus had given prominence. These included the importance of proper preparation and planning, and the emphasis to be placed upon defeating the enemy not through the weight of numbers but by outwitting him by gaining access to his plans and being ready to use deceit. Stress was also placed upon the need to maintain the morale of the fighting man, and on the important role which the general had in maintaining it. In short, much of what Frontinus had written, which Vegetius was to pick up from him and others who had contributed to the literary expression of the Roman military tradition, was centred upon the need for a thoughtful and human approach to conflict, involving real leadership. The general who planned and anticipated was more likely to leave the battlefield the victor than he who failed in these respects. Time was needed for such ideas to take root in a changing world, but it is likely that they influenced the emperor Maurice when he compiled his Strategikon in the sixth or early seventh century. It is probable, too, that readers in the West eventually came to regard the Strategemata as the text which should be partnered with the De re militari of Vegetius. If the Strategemata was a reflection of what Frontinus had taught in his lost work, then it is likely that the two writers and their texts had much in common in their approach to war. With the principles set out by Vegetius, men could turn to Frontinus for the evidence, drawn from the historians, reflecting human experience (which made the evidence all the more 4 On this subject, see Vegetius, DRM, I, 8.

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credible) in support of Vegetian teaching. Moreover, the respect given to one text descended from the ancient world was likely to be increased if its proposals were associated with and supported by another from the same era. Together they offered the distilled wisdom of the ancient world on military matters. In the eyes of many medieval readers, the works of Frontinus and Vegetius were complementary, each benefiting from its association with the other. Of 120 or so more or less complete manuscripts of the Strategemata (the oldest and best being London, BL, Harley 2666, probably copied in eastern France about 840), one-third or so were to be linked physically to the De re militari. Evidence suggests that, by early in the second millennium, men were already associating one with the other. Gotha, Forschungsbibliothek, 101 shows how the two texts had already been brought together as early as the ninth century. Later, in both Oxford, Lincoln College, lat. 1005 and Escorial, O, iii, 9, one text followed the other without a break, while in Lambeth Palace, 752, Oxford, Bodleian Library, Auct. F. 3, 1, Vatican Library, Urb. Lat. 1221, Vat. lat. 7227, and Paris, BnF, lat. 7243, both texts were copied by the same scribe. In its own way, each manuscript suggests how the two works were seen as united in their content in the mind of the scribe and/or his patron. Whether single-text or linked to the De re militari, copies of the Strategemata increased considerably in the fourteenth century and even more markedly in the fifteenth century, which witnessed the copying of some two-thirds of extant manuscripts. A consideration of origins indicates that, as in the case of the De re militari, such copies came predominantly from Italy; the evidence is particularly striking when one considers the number of manuscripts containing the works of both Vegetius and Frontinus copied in Italy at this time. Artistic and other evidence indicates that some emanated from the court of the kingdom of Naples, where interest in the military texts was encouraged during the reign of king Alfonso V in the middle years of the fifteenth century. It would be useful to know more about those who owned copies of the Strategemata. We know of a small number of names, including those of eminent churchmen, while Federigo da Montefeltro (duke of Urbino), the condottiere Antonio (count of Marsciano), and Mathias Corvinus (king of Hungary) were among the few military personnel known to have possessed a copy.6 What seems evident is that these were largely owned by those who were not, in any real sense of the term, military men. Granted the date of the work’s flowering, it is likely that its popularity depended more upon the broader growth of interest in things Roman (and Greek) rather than in military affairs in particular. Of its very nature, the 5 Probably copied at Malmesbury Abbey, and corrected in the hand of William of Malmesbury. 6 Vatican Library, Urb. lat. 1221. According to Galeoto, king Mathias would refer to the works of Frontinus and Vegetius when discussing Roman military practice: ‘Tunc rex Mathias hilari vultu inquit. . . . Artes enim bellicae machinamentaque et tormentorum vis magna tunc claruerunt, ut in Frontino Vegetioque aliisque plurimis luce clarius inspicitur’ (Galeotus Martius Narnensis, De egregie, sapienter, iocose dicti ac factis regis Mathiae ad ducem Johannem ejus filium liber, ed. L. Juhász (Leipzig, 1934), cap. X. 9. I thank Janos Bak for this reference.

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Strategemata opened up for its readers many opportunities to learn something of the nature of classical letters and history, and was popular for that reason, too. What approaches to the fighting of war did Frontinus and Vegetius share? On a fundamental principle they were in general agreement: conflicts should not be resolved by force alone but by subtlety and exercise of the mind.7 War was certainly not an activity to be rushed into or taken lightly, but should be pondered and reflected upon in advance of any meeting of armies. Just as the general must take particular care to keep his plans concealed from the enemy, so, too, he should take active steps to discover the enemy’s intentions and act accordingly.8 Spies feature in both texts, where their use was often noted by medieval readers. Frontinus commented that envoys were sometimes spies in disguise.9 The use of espionage could be justified at a further, deeper level, fundamental to an understanding of Frontinus’ text as well as to that of Vegetius. The securing of information, preferably without the enemy’s knowledge, conferred an immediate benefit upon the person acquiring that information, enabling him to look ahead and plan in advance. For instance, Frontinus noted the advantage to be gained by the general who dictated the time and place of battle; this was a prime example of the seizing of initiative of which Vegetius would later express approval.10 Again, the emphasis placed on the ambush by Frontinus was seized upon by Vegetius,11 as was the use of the surprise attack advocated by both writers to gain a physical and, not least, a moral advantage or initiative, boosting the confidence of one side while undermining that of the other.12 Taking advantage of opportunity (occasio) would be a recurring theme in Vegetius’ work13 and probably had an influence upon how parts of the Strategemata were appreciated by readers in later ages. The significance of morale in time of conflict formed a recurring theme in the Strategemata, one to be recognised and developed by Vegetius, who would emphasise that the successful general should neither ignore nor forget human factors in war. Since ambushes and surprise attacks created fear and anxiety among those against whom they were directed, the use of deception, strongly advocated by Frontinus and later by Vegetius, was also intended to play upon human reactions to uncertain and dangerous situations. With the specific intention of targeting morale, Frontinus advocated the use of deceit to increase the fears of a besieged garrison or population and so force surrender. Likewise, it never did for those besieged to reveal their weaknesses, such as lack of food, water, manpower or 7 ‘Prudentia magis imperatoris timenda erit quam potencia’ (marginalia in Vatican Library, Reg. lat. 812, fol. 1. 8 Strat[egemata], I, i and ii, DRM, III, 6, 8, 10, 22. 9 In the Middle Ages, ambassadors were sometimes treated with great suspicion, their official functions being regarded as cover for less honourable activities. See Alban and Allmand, ‘Spies and Spying’, infra, pp. 187–210. (currently). 10 Strat. II, i and ii; DRM, III, 13. 11 Strat. I, vi; II, v; DRM, III, 8, 10, 22, 25. 12 Strat. III, i; DRM, III, 6, 26. 13 DRM, III, 6, 8, 10, 26.

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weapons, to those attacking them, for fear of the moral or practical advantage it might give away. Knowledge of this kind should be concealed to convey the impression of an abundance of what was actually in short supply.14 Frontinus devoted considerable space to the matter of discipline, the Roman military virtue so greatly admired by men in the Middle Ages.15 This subject was to be seen in the context of the soldier as a human being, affected by battle, subject to both fear and over-confidence. In this situation, discipline should be the instrument used to counter panic, both physical and moral. It was necessary to deal firmly with disgruntled or mutinying soldiers, as they could have an adverse effect upon discipline in the ranks.16 For much the same reason, an unbridled enthusiasm for battle should be checked, particularly, as Vegetius would write, among the new recruits of little experience: ‘inexpertis enim dulcis est pugna’.17 In other circumstances, however, it would be necessary to encourage enthusiasm for battle, perhaps to counter the fears of soldiers worried by adverse omens.18 Equally, however, it had to be remembered that the opposing army, too, was made up of men who suffered from emotions fuelled by fear and the excitement of conflict. Frontinus emphasised what could be gained by creating panic among them, perhaps by means of a trap or other unexpected attack.19 He warned, too, against trying to prevent those desperately trying to save their skins in the moment of defeat from escaping. In such situations, he argued – in a message not lost on Vegetius – that as men fight to the death, having nothing to lose but their lives, they often seek to take as many of their opponents as possible with them.20 It was in the moment of victory that the battle could be lost. Both the Strategemata and the De re militari approached the problems of how best to secure victory through the eyes of the general. In both works his role was seen as crucial. Frontinus’ general was at the centre of operations, planning strategies and devising stratagems. It was he who was responsible for maintaining the necessary discipline and order required to make victory possible, he who issued orders, and he whose task it was to raise and maintain the morale of his soldiers as they prepared to do battle. Like his soldiers, the general was a man of flesh and blood, but one who understood the strengths and weaknesses of others. For this, as episodes in the Strategemata make clear, he won their respect. Above all, he was a man who thought a situation through. Citing Cicero, a reader of one Neapolitan manuscript wrote late in the fifteenth century: ‘Neque enim viribus aut velocitatibus aut celeritate corporis res magne geruntur, sed consilio et auctoritate’.21 It was the triumph of mind over body. 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Strat. I, vii; III, xv. Strat. IV, i and ii. Strat. I, ix; DRM, III, 4. DRM, III, 12. Strat. I, xi and xii; DRM, III, 9. Strat. II, iv; III, ix. Strat. II, vi; IV, vii; DRM, III, 21. Vatican Library, Reg. lat, 812, fol. 115v.

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What the Strategemata and the De re militari shared went beyond the points just mentioned. Significant issues raised by Frontinus in Book I of the Strategemata are to be found, clearly reflected, in Vegetius’ work. Considering the situation leading up to battle, both writers stressed the importance of foreknowledge and foresight. The need to be ready and sufficiently adaptable, through training, to take advantage of situations as they developed was a message common to both texts, as was the spirit of enterprise which, encouraged by the general’s eloquence, created enthusiasm for battle. In Book II the emphasis placed upon controlling the conditions of battle to suit oneself (in effect fighting on one’s own terms) and upon the use of surprise to create panic or unease among the enemy (underlining yet again the great importance of morale in war), was also given prominence by Vegetius, as was advice on the delicate matter of how to carry out a successful retreat.22 When dealing with sieges in Book III, Frontinus had emphasised the need to compel a besieged garrison to surrender without recourse to a destructive attack, a message taken up later by Vegetius. Victory won with the minimum cost of life or effort was a victory deservedly won. What can be learned from the manuscripts and, in particular, from their marginalia, about the thoughts and responses of readers regarding the content of the Strategemata? Neither a handbook on war nor a work of discussion on the subject, but a collection of useful but non-essential material drawn up to support the arguments presented in a text now lost, and so impossible to examine or appreciate, the Strategemata was a difficult work to which to react. Thus, while Vegetius’ De re militari was a text to whose ideas many readers could and did respond, as they might in conversation, with marginal comments, it was less easy to react in the same way to a brief episode, brought together with others, in support or illustration of a view or judgement which could no longer be critically examined. The evidence of Vatican Library, Borg. lat. 411 makes the point well: the part of the manuscript containing Frontinus has few comments, while that including Vegetius is generously endowed with them. Few pre-thirteenth-century manuscripts bear evidence upon which we can rely, but from those copied from that time onwards we may gain an impression (no more than that) of which parts of the Strategemata created the most interest among readers willing to write on the folios of their manuscripts. From such evidence it is clear that deception, broadly understood and interpreted, was regarded as an important instrument of war. The need to conceal plans which lay behind the story regarding Metellus Pius – who, when asked what he was planning for the coming day, replied that if his tunic could tell, he would burn it23 – was clearly understood by a number of readers, as was the need to obtain information of the enemy’s intentions, thereby enabling the general to act with foreknowledge and

22 DRM, III, 22. 23 Strat. I, ii, 1.

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flexibility, and to avoid the dangers of a trap.24 Equally, it was necessary to take active steps to conceal an army’s weaknesses from both the enemy (in particular) and from one’s own side, so that no advantage, practical or moral, might accrue to the enemy.25 All this constitutes evidence of medieval readers’ willingness to appreciate the value of the ruse in the achievement of a military end. Readers of Book II, concerned with the battle itself, were principally interested in three chapters. Episodes marked in chapter 1 reflect keen appreciation of the benefit to be gained from being able to decide the moment at which a battle should begin, perhaps by catching the enemy unprepared or unawares, this being part of the process of seizing the initiative and using it to advantage. Likewise, the same effect – and more – might be achieved through the use of the ambush, encouraged in a lengthy chapter which created considerable interest among many readers, not least because of the role to be played by concealment, already noted in Book I, which it emphasised.26 The need to maintain good morale through firm action by the general was also noted.27 The text underlined that determination could be regarded as a quality to be demonstrated in plenty by those engaged in battle. If manuscripts of the Strategemata have their own tale to tell about the perceived importance of certain chapters or episodes, so, too, do collections of excerpts, a genre popular in the Middle Ages. Among the early creators of this form was Sedulius Scotus, whose ninth-century century Collectaneum miscellaneum, later copied, included excerpts from the works of both Frontinus and Vegetius.28 While other collections are known only in single copies, others still are found, widely dispersed geographically, in multitude copies, which reflect interest in their contents.29 In no case are we told, nor is it possible to guess, what inspired the selection of particular episodes. Was the choice made by a military person or someone with at least some knowledge of or interest in military affairs or developments? Or was he not qualified to read the significance (for his own day) of what Frontinus had proposed centuries earlier, making his choice according to other factors, perhaps literary or historical? Yet, however the choices were made, the fact remains that the evidence of the marginalia broadly agrees with that of the collections of excerpts regarding the relative significance of different sections of the Strategemata. This suggests that the basic recommendations made by Frontinus had been accepted by the majority of readers, whether military or not, centuries after his time. 24 25 26 27 28

Strat. I, i and ii. Strat. I, vii; III, xv. Strat. II, v. Strat. II, viii. Kues, St. Nikolaus-Hospital, Ms. 52. See Sedulii Scotti, Collectaneum miscellaneum, ed. D. Simpson, Corpus Christianorum, continuatio medievalis 67 (Turnhout, 1988), p. 390. 29 See, e.g., Vatican Library, Pal. lat. 1571; Erfurt, Stadt-und Regionalbibliothek, 4o 393; Foligno, Bibl. L. Jacobilli, 468 (C.VI.13). See also E. Pellegrin, Les manuscrits classiques latins de la Bibliothèque Vaticane (Paris, 1975–), III, 229.

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How far was the text seen as having relevance beyond its own time, as many readers considered Vegetius’ work to have?30 The appropriateness of the Strategemata to later days was underlined by one manuscript in which a reader commented that in the year 1476 king Ferdinand had acted in Spain just as Marcus Porcius Cato, ‘the Censor’, had done earlier in heading off a revolt.31 It is evident, too, that some readers saw, in this text, a way of entering into the life of the past. The history of Rome, as the presence of Eutropius’ work, bound with that of Frontinus, strongly suggests, was a subject of abiding interest.32 Many of the marginalia indicate the recognition by readers of the names of famous historical figures (Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar and others), or of the authors of the episodes collected by Frontinus.33 Other readers were interested in unfamiliar words and terms of the language of the past, occasionally illustrated with a small drawing in the margin.34 While primarily intended as a means of informing readers about past military affairs, the wider human experience reflected in the Strategemata could not be ignored. We should not be surprised, therefore, to find among the owners of manuscripts members of the clergy and, in particular, of the mendicant orders, who will have liked to possess a source of episodes emphasising such moral virtues as courage, honesty and perseverance, which could be turned to good purpose in their sermons.35 One of those who read Frontinus and left traces of his thoughts and reactions to posterity was Francesco Petrarch, who owned a composite text, which included the works of both Frontinus and Vegetius.36 It becomes evident that his interest in reading Frontinus was mainly to identify those, notably Livy and Pliny, from whose works, which he duly recognised, the episodes in the Strategemata had been selected. That, rather than the moral or military lesson to be learnt, appears to have been Petrarch’s chief interest in the text. It was in the episode taken from Valerius Maximus that he noted the story about Metellus Pius cited above. His 30 ‘Attualizzazione’ may be the best word to describe it. 31 Vatican Library, Chigi, H VII 246, fol. 3. 32 The combination of the Strategemata and the Breviarum of the fourth-century writer, Eutropius, in Gotha, Forschungsbibliothek, 1, 101, as found again in Oxford, Lincoln College, lat. 100 (along with Vegetius, all three in the same hand; in Paris, BnF. lat. 7240, probably copied in the late eleventh or early twelfth century, and in London, BL, Harley 2729. Paris, BnF, lat. 5802 contains the text of Frontinus, with works by Suetonius, Florus, Eutropius, and Caesar, all historians. 33 See Cambridge, Trinity College, O. 3. 28. 34 See, e.g., Oxford, Bodleian Library, Auct. F. 3. 1; Valladolid, Univ., 384; Vatican Library, Chigi H VII 246 fol. 39 (for the drawing). 35 The Strategemata could be found in the libraries of the Austin Friars in York, and of the Carmelites and Dominicans in London in the late Middle Ages. An indication of how this text was regarded is seen in the fact that the Austin Friars classified it under ‘Philosophia’ (The Friars’ Libraries, ed. K. W. Humphreys (London, 1990), pp. 72, 186, 203). Its resemblance to the ‘Summa’ form cannot be ignored. Two manuscripts, Paris, BnF, lat. 7389, and Prague, National Library, 1643 (VIII. H. 25) have tables, presumably to facilitate rapid reference and use. 36 Vatican Library, Vat. lat. 2193.

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comments upon particular practices advocated by Frontinus were few. Nevertheless, he appreciated the sagacitas of Scipio in using spies to discover the size of an enemy fortification before attacking it, and he noted the wisdom of Caesar’s policy, when leading an army of veterans, always to oppose in battle an enemy whose army was known to consist only of raw recruits. To these episodes, however, Petrarch had little to add. He had learned much more from his reading of Vegetius’s De re militari.37 It has been suggested that when Oxford, Lincoln College, lat. 100 was copied at Malmesbury under the direction of the great chronicler, William, the exemplar may have been obtained from Canterbury.38 We know that John of Salisbury, who once lived and worked at Canterbury, made use of the works of both Frontinus and Vegetius in writing his political treatise, the Policraticus, completed in 1159. When, in Book VI, Salisbury discussed the contribution of legitimate, organised force to the well-being of society, he referred many times to the De re militari in support of his argument. In his view force, controlled by the ruler, was a means to an important end, and those who exercised it properly for the common good were worthy of praise and respect. However, having cited Vegetius on more than sixty occasions, Salisbury also quoted examples from the Strategemata,39 referring to Frontinus by name on several of them. What, we may ask, did he find in the text to support his argument? A glance at the episodes cited shows that almost all were taken from Book IV of the Strategemata, being regarded by Frontinus as ‘illustrations of military science in general rather than of stratagems’, even, indeed, as ‘supplementary material’.40 It was these which Salisbury distributed, unevenly, into nine separate chapters of the Policraticus, the majority of them in Book VI. It is significant that, in keeping with the character of the work he was writing, Salisbury was less intent upon illustrating stratagems than upon underlining some of military science’s general principles. From ‘De disciplina’ he emphasised the importance of order and control within the army, while those listed under ‘De effectu disciplinae’ confirmed the importance of discipline in time of war. Important, too, and clearly linked to discipline, were the episodes selected from the section ‘De continentia’, concerned with the restraint and moderation which should be a mark of those serving in the army. Both episodes included by Frontinus in the short section ‘De justitia’ were included by Salisbury, as were a number of those brought together under ‘De constantia’, on determination to achieve victory, even against the odds. The chapter ‘De affectu et moderatione’ yielded a story regarding Alexander the Great’s humane attitude towards and clear regard

37 See C. Tristano, ‘Le postille del Petrarca nel Vaticano lat. 2193 (Apuleio, Frontino, Vegezio, Palladio)’, Italia Medioevale e Umanistica, 17 (1974), 365–468, especially 441–444. 38 J. Martin, ‘John of Salisbury’s Manuscripts of Frontinus and Gellius’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 40 (1977), 4–5, 17. 39 Ibid, p. 21, table 1. 40 Strat. IV, proem.

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for his soldiers, while Salisbury’s choice of episodes from Frontinus’ concluding chapter, ‘De variis consiliis’ again shows the importance he attached to attitudes of moderation in military affairs.41 Even a cursory glance at this list of themes compels the reader to recognise how much it had in common with the principles of waging war (the res militaris) established by Vegetius. It is significant that Salisbury praised Vegetius for treating the art of military affairs ‘elegantly and diligently’, adding ‘although he only briefly touches on examples’.42 It was in recognition of that fact that Salisbury, while using the De re militari to provide him with fundamental principles regarding the use of military power as a force for stability in society, felt compelled to draw upon the Strategemata to illustrate those principles. We have here clear literary evidence, taken from the time of the twelfth-century revival of interest in classical culture, of the link between the texts of Frontinus and Vegetius as seen by a major thinker and writer of the period, who appreciated what each text had to offer him. A curious reversal of roles thus occurred: Frontinus, to whose work Vegetius had once expressed his indebtedness, was being accorded second position in a new duo of military texts. Yet the rising status of the Strategemata may be judged by the number of works, political as well as more strictly military, in which it appeared as a companion to others. In the second quarter of the fourteenth century, for instance, a unique composite volume, probably North Italian and intended to promote the crusade, was created from the texts of Frontinus and Vegetius, to which were added the Terrae Sanctae recuperatio of the Franciscan, Fidenzio da Padova, and an allegorical text on the war of the spirit, De re bellica spirituali, of Bartolomeo da Urbino.43 This format, consisting of a number of works pivoting around a central theme (war) was becoming normal, even fashionable. It is evident that, by the second half of the fifteenth century, the format had become increasingly popular. Paris, Mazarine, 3732, is an example of it. It consists of two pairs of works, one the Strategemata and the De re militari, copied by the same hand probably in the early fifteenth century, the other, including a translation of Aelian’s De instruendis aciebus, made from the Greek by Theodore Gaza at the behest of Alfonso of Naples in the middle years of the century, and the short De re militari of ‘Modestus’, both the work of another scribe.44 The evidence of this collection, assembled to meet the growing fashion, strongly suggests that the future of the Strategemata would develop as one classical authority among others brought together and housed under a single cover. The same thinking probably lay behind the creation, in 1435, of a collection of seven works, some (all with the word ‘Bellum’ in their titles) either by or involving Julius Caesar (whose 41 42 43 44

The titles in this paragraph are those of the chapter headings (I–VII) of Book IV of the Strategemata. Policraticus, VI, 19. I have used the translation of C. J. Nederman (Cambridge, 1990), p. 124. Paris, BnF, lat. 7242. Wroclaw, Bibl. Uniwersytecka, R. 10, is an Italian manuscript, consisting of the works of Aelian, Vegetius and Frontinus.

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popularity as a writer of history had been on the rise since the early thirteenth century), the others being the texts of Frontinus and Vegetius, once again clearly copied as a pair.45 The process would reach its logical conclusion with the bringing together of the texts of Vegetius, Frontinus, ‘Modestus’, and Aelian in an edition printed by Eucharius Silber in Rome in 1487 and reprinted a number of times in the next few years. The first steps towards making available the collected works of the ‘Veteres scriptores de re militari’ in the age of printing had been taken. It may have been one of these editions which came into the hands of Machiavelli and influenced the way he approached both military and, ultimately, political decision-making. Frontinus had not only presented examples from the past; he had done so in such a way as to emphasise ‘different circumstances under which opposite courses of action [might be] employed’. His aim was to set the general thinking by offering not a single solution to a problem but rather a number of possibilities, leaving it to him to make the choice according to circumstances which could never be fully predicted. From this stemmed the need for the general to be well informed, and for the emphasis placed upon espionage to be translated into reality. Reliable knowledge lay behind all decisions resulting in successful conclusions. Nor was that knowledge to be curtailed by moral factors. The likelihood, or not, of it leading to victory was the only principle by which it should be judged.46 The contribution of the Strategemata to medieval, particularly late medieval, thinking about war may also be judged by consideration of a further factor: translation. There survive to this day manuscripts of vernacular versions in five languages, three (Castilian, Catalan and Aragonese) from Spain and one each from France and Italy.47 Why, one may ask, translate the Strategemata? To this question a number of answers may be suggested. By the time that Pedro IV, ‘the Ceremonious’, of Aragon commissioned the Catalan translation from Jaume Domenec early in 1369 (1370) the De re militari of Vegetius had already been translated into French, Italian and Catalan. In the light of the close association of these two works, where Vegetius led, was it not reasonable that Frontinus should follow? Moreover, the royal patron was regularly involved in war, so that a text, in particular a classical text, on the subject would not go amiss, particularly in the light of a secular readership now becoming both broader and numerically more significant. There was, it has been argued, a desire to make more readily available texts concerned with both technical matters and war. Since it described la ciencia de la cavalleria, the Strategemata supplied both, in particular the second, of these needs. As the marginalia of the Latin texts indicate, the secular readership favoured works of historical and moral character; even short excerpts of that genre 45 Paris, BnF, lat. 6106. 46 N. Wood, ‘Frontinus as a Possible Source for Machiavelli’s Method’, Journal of the History of Ideas, 28 (1967), 243–248. 47 Madrid, BN, 9253, 9608 and 10204 (Castilian); 6293 (Catalan); 10198 (Aragonese); Paris, BnF, fr.1233–35, 24257; Geneva, Bibl. Publique et Universitaire, fr. 171; Den Haag, Konink. Bibl., 73 J 22; Turin, Arch. di Stato, Jb VI 21 (French): see also references in notes 49, 50 and 55 below; Rome, Accademia dei Lincei e Corsiniana, 43 E 41 (Ross.188) (Italian).

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satisfied a need. Such ‘exemplary’ literature, already popular among the clergy, was gaining followers among secular readers, too.48 Some years later, probably about 1425, the work was translated into French by Jean de Rouvroy, for the benefit the young king, Charles VII. The fact that royalty, and warring royalty, in two kingdoms inspired the translations suggests that Frontinus was thought to have written things useful enough for his text to be made available to those responsible for organising the armies of the aspiring monarchies.49 Nor should we fail to notice the significance of the presence of ‘aucuns notables extraitz du livre de Vegece qu’il fist pour l’enseignement des princes et des gentilz homes en la science des armes et de chevalerie’ which follow, written by the same hand and in the same format, in at least one manuscript. Significantly, even in translation, the link with Vegetius was not lost.50 The French translation, surviving today in more than a dozen manuscripts, is particularly interesting. Introduced in the translator’s preface as the ‘livre des cautelles et subtilitez servans au fait des armes et de chevallerie’, the text was placed in the context envisaged for it, that of presenting beaux faitz for emulation. While thus appearing to give it greater moral than practical value, the translator emphasised the text’s ability to teach what was useful (bien convenable) for those, princes et grans seigneurs, responsible for leading men to war. In a passage strongly reminiscent of Vegetius’ De re militari in which he underlined the essence of the work, Rouvroy emphasised that planning was more effective than numbers, and that small forces often overcame larger ones. Finding it hard to translate some passages de mot à mot, he announced his intention of adopting the practice of an early translator, St Jerome, who, when in difficulty, had preferred to give the reader simply the sense of the original.51 Furthermore, he added examples to those provided by Frontinus. In so doing, by intruding himself into the text, Rouvroy was doing more than might be strictly expected of him as a translator, by underlining how far the episodes chosen by Frontinus, augmented by his own, could be useful to those exercising command in his own day (perhaps in the war being waged against the English?). For him, at least, the Strategemata was a work with contemporary relevance. A consideration of the illustrative material found in manuscripts of the work enable us to appreciate more fully how it was regarded and understood, particularly in the last two centuries of the Middle Ages, the period when manuscripts were sometimes enhanced with the addition of illustrative matter. What were the 48 L. Badia, ‘Fronti i Vegeci, Mestres de Cavalleria en Català als Segles XIV i XV’, Boletin de la Real Academia de Buenas Letras de Barcelona, 39 (1983–84), 191–215. 49 Jean Gerson recommended that the dauphin’s reading should include the works of Frontinus, Vegetius and, significantly, Valerius Maximus (Jean Gerson, Oeuvres complètes. II. L’Oeuvre épistolaire (Paris, 1960), p. 213). 50 London, BL, Add. MS. 12028, fols. 173–185v. There are some eighty-seven excerpts in this collection. See also Add. MS. 18179. 51 Several manuscripts of the French translation (e.g., London, BL, Add. MS. 12028 and Paris, Arsenal, 2693) include a glossary explaining unfamiliar or technical terms.

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intentions of patrons or artists in adding this to the text? It has been pointed out that the illustrations were, generally speaking, ‘non-technical’ in nature;52 they do not add that kind of dimension to the written word, although cannon and town walls with gun ports are depicted. What, then, could illustration do to the text? It might embellish it visually, making it more attractive to the eye. More importantly, however, it could emphasise the significance of part of the text, either by developing or by summarising particular points visually. Illumination, therefore, was a way of enhancing the text and, perhaps, part of its message, by drawing the attention of the reader to something which the patron or the artist felt to be in need of particular emphasis. The subject had to be dealt with delicately. Was a scene from Greek or Roman history (the Strategemata abounded in these) to be depicted as part of the ‘past’ or of the ‘present’? This meant asking how soldiers should be presented? What should they be wearing? What arms should they be carrying? What sort of fortifications could be depicted? By and large, scenes were shown in the ‘modern’ idiom. Although Frontinus’ text was essentially Roman, it could not be regarded simply as an historic one; it had to have meaning and relevance to the ‘modern’ reader. Such a process, ‘making the past present’ by creating ‘visual translation’,53 emphasised both the continuity and the relevance of a variety of military practices described by Frontinus. It also helped to underline the perceived importance of parts of his message by amplifying them through illustration, hence enhancing their authority. Nine leaves of a text of the Strategemata, written and illuminated in Italy in the late fourteenth century, show how this could be done. All that survives54 of a once sizeable manuscript includes large coloured drawings below the text on every folio. Vigorous in style, these relate to certain episodes in the Strategemata (II, iii, iv and v). They are to be considered with care, since they are not simply descriptions of scenes but often reflect the moral of the episode which they illustrate, such as creating panic among the enemy or setting up ambushes to discomfort him.55 In the last, it was the purpose of the illustration to convey the results of various forms of deceit, of which the dramatic outcome of the ambush was one. It is only by putting the text and the picture together that the reader can properly appreciate how closely the two are related, and how they were intended to enhance each other.

52 P. Porter, ‘The Ways of War in Medieval Manuscript Illumination: Tracing and Assessing the Evidence’, Armies, Chivalry and Warfare in Medieval Britain and France, ed. M. Strickland (Stamford, 1998), p. 104. 53 I have appropriated the terms from A. D. Hedeman, ‘Making the Past Present. Visual Translation in Jean Lebegue’s Twin Manuscripts of Sallust’, Patrons, Artists and Workshops. Books and Book Production in Paris circa 1400, ed. G. Croenen and P. Ainsworth (Louvain, 2006), pp. 173–196. 54 London, BL, Add. MS. 44985. See E. G. Millar, ‘Leaves from an Illuminated Manuscript of Frontinus’, The British Museum Quarterly, 12 (1937–38), 8–9, and plate 9; Armies, Chivalry and Warfare, ed. Strickland, plate 25. 55 Strat. II, iv and v.

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Other manuscripts convey other messages. One such,56 with fifty or more illuminations, places considerable emphasis on deception, ruses and ambushes. The copy of the French translation, probably the one presented to Charles VII, shows, among others, a full folio scene of an emperor riding a white horse (a symbol of sovereignty) to meet a delegation coming towards him from besieged fortifications. Is the story depicted as simple as it looks? Do the illuminations carry an additional, contemporary message? Is this not the successful king, Charles VII, leader of a newly united society (represented by SPQR on banners), engaged in the process of unification of the country under his legitimate rule, here seen accepting the return of wayward populations who had hitherto acknowledged the de facto reality of English rule? Are we not intended to witness the role envisaged for the army, led by the king (as foreseen by Vegetius) in the fulfilment of the process of uniting French society after years of division? In this case the main message, conveyed in the illustrative material, is surely a political one. Following on Vegetius’ coat-tails, Frontinus’ ideas were coming to be seen as having other than simply military implications. Finally, a scene in another manuscript57 shows a knight in armour sitting on a bench, reading a book. ‘Incongruous’, one is tempted to say! But the reader soon recognises that it represents a general learning from a text such as the Strategemata. Here he is seen, immersing himself in a work of the Greco-Roman tradition which conveys the benefits of military experience through the written word. Frontinus and, after him, Vegetius, both emphasised the importance of that tradition. By the end of the Middle Ages, collections such as those of the ‘Veteres scriptores de re militari’ had demonstrated that it was alive and well. From its conception, the Strategemata was a secondary but very far from second-rate text. We know why its creator brought it into being: to support what we may only suppose he had written in his main work, sadly lost. In it Frontinus appears as a man who was not prepared to dictate to generals. His work appealed because, while working within a certain framework, he offered not one but sometimes several practical courses of action for consideration by the general, either as he sat quietly on his bench reading, or as he faced the enemy in front of him. Essentially a collection of episodes with a right to stand on its own, the Strategemata was a work which had much to teach regarding the experiences of military leaders and their armies at war, however distant the past described in the episodes so might be. None the less, it required association with another, more theoretical, work to allow its particular characteristics to become fully apparent. Both as a statement of certain principles to be observed in time of conflict, and as a guide to the general facing particular situations which might occur at any time or place, it possessed positive value particularly if read alongside the De re militari of Vegetius, the work which, in a real sense, it came to complement. In this 56 Brussels, Bibl. Royale Albert Ier, 10475. See F. Lyna, Les principaux manuscrits à peintures de la Bibliothèque Royale de Belgique (Brussels, 1989), pp. 417–418. 57 Paris, BnF, fr. 1234, fo. 3v.

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respect, the number of manuscripts containing the works of both Frontinus and Vegetius, many copied (as we have noticed) by a single scribe as if to underline their mutual dependence, is telling evidence of the interest in, and the perceived value of, these linked texts. The logical development was the printing of ever larger collections, embracing yet other authors, which occurred in the last years of the fifteenth century.58 The influence of Frontinus and others making up the body of ‘veteres scriptores de re militari’, was very much alive, and would continue to be felt for years to come.

58 The Strategicus of Onasander, written half a century before the Strategemata, and translated into Latin by Nicolaus Sagundinus, was added to the next edition of Silber’s collection of ‘veteres scriptores’, printed in Rome in 1494.

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2 T H E D E R E M I L I TA R I OF VEGETIUS How did the Middle Ages treat a late Roman text on war?

The Epitoma rei militaris or, as it was more generally called, the De re militari of Flavius Vegetius Renatus was the most frequently cited and authoritative text on military affairs known to the Middle Ages. Quoted (quite often, probably, from collections of excerpts) when such matters were referred to in many forms of literature,1 it was to play a significant role in the creation of medieval military culture which slowly emerged during the period. It would also play an important part in developing thinking about the role to be played in war by military institutions, not least by the army itself, whose place and function in society was to be influenced by the way that men read and interpreted the text and what it had to say about the army in Roman times. Vegetius, who lived in the late fourth- to early fifth century (this making him a contemporary of such great figures as Jerome, Ambrose and Augustine) was a senior official at the imperial court, a man of many interests who was also the author of another text known to the Middle Ages, the Mulomedicina – which makes him into a veterinary specialist as well as a military one! It was probably in the late fourth century, at a time of severe crisis in the Roman world, that he offered the emperor some ideas regarding reform of the army, ideas which appealed to the emperor who ordered Vegetius to write more.2 In the form which has come down to us, the De re militari consists of four books which dealt, broadly, with the following aspects of military activity: the recruitment and training of the young soldier, or tiro (Book I); the administration and organisation of the old Roman army as it had been in better times (Book II); preparation for battle and the steps to be taken by the commander in advance of a confrontation, in short a guide to the essential characteristics of successful leadership (Book III); and, finally, advice on 1 These include spiritual texts and sermons; works on political and social thought; chronicles; histories; and chivalric literature. 2 The most recent attempt to date the work is that of M. B. Charles, Vegetius in Context: Establishing the Date of the Epitoma rei militaris (Stuttgart, 2007), which takes account of the earlier literature on the subject.

DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-4

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siege warfare and on war at sea (Book IV), the last one being sometimes divided into two, to make a total of five books.3 Such was the work of which about 220 unabridged manuscripts survive to this day.4 These include a few seventh-century folios5 to manuscripts copied around 1500 or later,6 by which time the age of print had arrived. Of these manuscripts, some date from the ninth and tenth centuries, more from the twelfth century, and yet even more from each century thereafter. This places Vegetius in the top four or five of the list of classical authors whose works were copied in the Middle Ages. It is difficult to deny that the De re militari was a popular text among manuscriptowning groups and individuals. Who were these owners? In the earliest days they were frequently monastic communities or bishops. This fact should cause little surprise, for the clergy will have felt strong affinity to many of the work’s exhortations and recommendations. The tiro (or recruit) preparing to become a miles (or fully trained soldier) was the military equivalent of the novice training for ordination as a monk. The life of order, discipline and submission to authority was common to both soldier and monk. Each was preparing himself for conflict: the soldier against a real physical enemy who must be defeated; the monk against a spiritual enemy, often within himself, an enemy who could be purged and driven out through the lifelong use of spiritual weapons, notably prayer. So we find Alcuin (and in the eighth century he is not the first) citing Vegetius as he exhorts his readers and correspondents to fight the good fight against the forces of evil.7 By 800, the reputation of the De re militari was already assured. Cited by a variety of writers for centuries to come, the application of its contents and teaching would be developed and extended. This was particularly so as the great days of the Carolingian empire passed away, its lands were broken up, and the threat of hostile forces was increasingly felt. In such days the advice offered by Vegetius was seen to have wider application. So it was that Hraban Maur, abbot of Fulda and archbishop of Mainz, compiled a short work, the De procinctu Romanae militiae, largely an abridged version of Book I and some two chapters of book II of the De re militari, to express his own thoughts on military practice.8 Soon afterwards,

3 Latin text: Vegetius, Epitoma rei militaris, ed. M. D. Reeve (Oxford, 2004); English trans.: Vegetius, Epitome of Military Science, trans. N. P. Milner (2nd rev. edn, Liverpool, 2004). 4 For surviving manuscripts, see C. R. Shrader, ‘A Handlist of extant Manuscripts Containing the De re militari of Flavius Vegetius Renatus’, Scriptorium, XXXIII (1979), 280–305; C. Allmand, The De re militari of Vegetius. The Reception, Transmission and Legacy of a Roman Text in the Middle Ages (Cambridge, 1911), app. 2. 5 Vatican Library, Reg. lat. 2077. 6 For example, Prague, National Library, Ms. XIII G 2 (2369), or Venice, Bibl. Naz. di S. Marco, Ms. 4333. 7 C. Veyrard-Cosme, ‘Réflexion politique et pratique du pouvoir dans l’oeuvre d’Alcuin’, Penser le pouvoir au Moyen Âge (VIIIe–XVe siècle), ed. D. Boutet and J. Verger (Paris, 2000), 409–410. 8 Rabanus Maurus, ‘De procinctu Romanae miliciae’, ed. E. Dümmler, Zeitschrift für Deutsches Althertum, XV (1872), 443–451.

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about 850, Freculph, bishop of Lisieux, prepared what can only be called a new ‘edition’ of Vegetius’s work, which strongly suggests that there was appreciation of the practical doctrines of the work’s contents. Freculph presented his text to Charles the Bald, telling him that a ruler would benefit from reading and acting upon what it had to offer. At about the same time Hartgarius, bishop of Liège, sent a copy to Eberhardt of Friuli, who had charge of the empire’s south-eastern borders. The De re militari was coming into the hands of men for whom war was a central part of their existence and responsibilities, and the basis of their power. By the beginning of the second millennium the De re militari had already earned solid respect, and was widely looked upon as an important part of the classical inheritance, in particular in so far as it informed military affairs. With the twelfth century the increase in the number of copies made points towards a new career for the De re militari: the provision of military advice for kings and princes wishing to stamp their authority upon lawless elements in society. The context was one of the growing powers of monarchy in France, Iberia and England, a monarchy anxious, in France in particular, to bring the nobility under control. It was the age, too, when the classics came into their own again, and knowledge of their contents became more widely diffused and better appreciated. More than once Vegetius had referred to the value attributed to the written word as the chief means of transmitting knowledge and experience from one generation to the next. It was from such teaching that rulers learned much that would be of use to them.9 Indeed, as the defence of their people, carried out by forces raised, led and maintained by them or their lieutenants, came to be regarded as a prime obligation incumbent on rulers, so it was seen that those same rulers had an obligation to familiarise themselves with the benefits of man’s military experience. The text of the De re militari gave the attentive reader the opportunity to do just that. Vegetius had placed an army high on the list of what the peaceful state should possess. In a number of passages he extolled it as the chief agent of security in society. ‘There is nothing more stable or more fortunate or admirable’, he wrote, ‘than a state which has copious supplies of soldiers who are trained; [. . . our enemies] are kept down by fear of our arms’.10 ‘There is no secure possession of wealth’, he would declare elsewhere, ‘unless it is maintained by defence of arms’.11 The message that society depended upon an army for its security was coming through loud and clear. ‘Who can doubt that the art of war comes before everything else when it preserves our liberty and prestige, extends the provinces and saves the empire?’12 The army, however, should not rely on numerical superiority. Vegetius strongly

9 De re militari [DRM], I, Praef; III, Praef. 10 ‘Nihil enim neque firmius neque felicius neque laudabilius est republica in qua abundant milites eruditi[. . . .] solo terrore subiguntur armorum’ (DRM, I, 13). 11 ‘Neque enim diivitiarum secura possession est, nisi armorum defensione servetur’ (DRM, III, 3). 12 ‘Quis autem dubitet artem bellicam rebus omnibus esse potiorem, per quam libertas retinetur et dignitas, propagantur provinciae, conservatur imperium’ (DRM, III, 10).

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emphasised the need for it to ‘fight with strategy, not at random’.13 In short, he was recommending the creation of a trained, disciplined and well-motivated force which, led by men appointed by the emperor and paid from public funds,14 would work to defend the state, its freedoms and its interests.15 Two further factors suggest that Vegetius envisaged an army created and controlled by the emperor or ruler. The first was the emphasis which he placed upon military service being carried out in the name of, and under the orders of, the emperor.16 The soldier’s oath of obedience to the emperor given when, after training, he was accepted into the army, made him a servant of the community. As such, the soldier should not go on leave without permission; while service on behalf of the public interest should take precedence over his own, private interest.17 The second factor which made Vegetius’s army into a centrally controlled army was the organisation required to support it. The legion which he envisaged should be like a ‘munitissimam civitatem’ or an ‘armatam civitatem’,18 its material requirements in both equipment and provisions (including food) supplied through advance planning. Providing these was the main task of specialist departments of the army. It is surely significant that Vegetius should have insisted that the soldier most likely to win promotion would be the one who had at least some experience of the army’s administrative ‘departments’.19 The transmission of Vegetian ideas owes much to one work in particular, the Policraticus, completed by John of Salisbury in 1159.20 In this work, Salisbury made much use of the De re militari citing it at length as if it were his own, not always admitting openly his clear indebtedness to ideas derived from the Roman writer. What is important in this case is the use to which such ideas were put. Among other things Salisbury was trying to provide intellectual support for the reassertion of princely authority in an age when much of Europe still lacked effective rule. That use is clear and explicit; it is the contribution of the philosopher to the practical education of the prince, and falls into a category of didactic works which had a considerable future before it. In the mid-twelfth century it was important because then, as never before, kings were claiming to act as effective rulers, wielding power for the common good.21 Once again Vegetius’s text was being

13 14 15 16 17 18

‘[. . .] dimicet arte, non casu’ (DRM, III, Praef.). ‘[. . . ] cum publica sustententur annona . . .’ (DRM, II, 20). ‘Pro salute propria et libertate communi’ (DRM, II, 24). DRM, II, 5 (particularly the final sentence). DRM, II, 19, 20. On the problem of desertion, see Chapter 8. ‘[. . .] apparet legionem bene institutam quasi munitissimam esse civitatem’ or an ‘armatam civitatem’ (DRM, II, 18, 25). 19 DRM, II, 21; ‘[. . .] in legionibus plures scholae sunt . . .’ (DRM, II, 19). 20 Iohannis Saresberiensis Episcopi Carnotensis Policratici sive de Nugis Curialum et Vestigiis Philosophorum, Libri VIII, ed. C. Webb (Oxford, 1909). 21 It may be emphasised that the renewed interest in Roman military practices (in particular the place of the army in society), along with the revival of Roman law, were two aspects of a development underpinning the growth of royal government in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. On

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used for purposes which were neither primarily nor solely military in character. Suitably adapted, it was to be drawn into a wide-ranging discussion relating to the provision of stable government and the achievement of the general good through the use of legitimate and controlled force against illegitimate and disruptive violence. This required the channelling of violence into the legitimate use of force by a recognised social institution, the army, for the achievement of the common good, ‘pro salute reipublicae’.22 The twelfth century would give the De re militari an important and prominent role in the intellectual armoury supporting the development of royal authority in a physical form. This was clearly seen in the context of the Policraticus, a work in which the responsibilities of kings for the well-being of their kingdoms and subjects were held up for discussion. How could these responsibilities be effectively discharged other than through the putting into practice of the best available advice which, in the military sphere, meant heeding that to be found in Vegetius’s text? The same text also influenced the view of some who wrote about the policies and activities of kings within the context of chronicles. In his Phillipidos, written about 1220, Guillaume le Breton, a cleric and a man of the schools, describing the steps taken by Philip-Augustus of France to bring the nobility to heel, presented the conflict as one between certain nobility, seeking the fulfilment of their own interest, and the rest of the community, whose cause the king was actively championing. The royal victory over the nobility at Bouvines in July 1214 was depicted as a triumph for the common good over particular interest, achieved by the royal army under the king’s command, evidence of the legitimate use of force to support the rule of law and respect for the authority of the crown. In short, military action by the army, led by the king, was given the chronicler’s approval when he depicted it as a legitimate means of achieving public stability in society as a whole.23 French historians, in particular, have always regarded the royal army’s victory at the battle of Bouvines as an event of major significance in the history and development of their country, as the king’s army put down a challenge to the royal authority, presented as a threat to the good and development of the kingdom as a whole. In this the De re militari had its part to play, emphasising as it did the societal role which the army could play in defending the common welfare. In a world nominally feudal, the reader of the De re militari was being presented with an unusual view of the army and the soldiers who made it up. In Vegetian thought the role of the soldier – hence that of the army – was one of service and honour carried out by men sworn to obey the ruler and those appointed by him to take command in his name. No one would ever claim that the ideal was always fulfilled in reality. None the less, the Vegetian model of the properly selected and trained soldier, consciously fighting for the good of his society under the command of its the broader historical context see (most recently) T. N. Bisson, The Crisis of the Twelfth Century: Power, Lordship and the Origins of European Government (Princeton and Oxford, 2009). 22 DRM, II, 18. 23 La Philippide, poème par Guillaume le Breton, ed. F. Guizot (Paris, 1825).

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ruler, was something relatively new in the early thirteenth century. It marks the acceptance of one of the main points giving impetus to the De re militari: namely, the role which the army could, and should, play in the establishment and preservation of peace and stability within society, now slowly becoming the nation. By now the pace at which Vegetius’ work was actively influencing attitudes and developments was beginning to increase. The thirteenth century would demonstrate the growing influence which it was to have upon European society. In Castile, Alfonso X, ‘the Wise’, was continuing efforts to secure the defeat of the Moors, efforts which he regarded as being the road to greater unity among his people under the crown. One way by which the process was advanced was through the drawing up of the Siete Partidas, a wide-ranging legal code based on Roman law which, crucially, included a significant section on the waging of war which relied a great deal upon the work of Vegetius, described in one passage as ‘El Sabio’, in this case ‘the man with the know-how’.24 The main message conveyed was that the process of re-conquest should be carried out by an army drawn from the Castilian people themselves, and led by the king, clearly depicted as the natural lord of the realm. The factors which owed their inspiration to the De re militari all pointed in one direction. As in France, now in Castile, armies were being used to encourage the conscious growth of nationhood under the active leadership of their rulers. As Vegetius had envisaged it, those making up the armies must be fully trained and prepared for the task facing them. As the Siete Partidas would have it, soldiers were chosen to fight for the community of the land, in which case, as the text of the Partidas puts it, any defeat which they suffered was keenly felt by the entire community.25 Likewise, success in battle was a victory for others than those directly responsible for achieving it. The fate of a country’s army, whether it encountered victory or defeat, was coming to affect the community as a whole, reflecting the growing importance of the army within the nation which it existed to defend and to serve. Before long, Vegetian teaching would again make its mark upon the ideas of another thinker, Giles of Rome, whose De regimine principum, written in the 1280s, would help to diffuse (not least through translations) the name of Vegetius for the remainder of the Middle Ages.26 In this hugely influential work, Giles developed ideas regarding the state which, reflecting Aristotelian perceptions and contemporary Thomist teaching, were an advance on those expressed by John of Salisbury a century or more before. In a long section of Book III, in which he cited Vegetius some nineteen times, Giles discussed war, the army and the legitimate use of force, in addition to embodying the Roman’s ideas, unacknowledged, into

24 Las Siete Partidas del rey Don Alfonso el Sabio. Tomo II. Partida segunda y tercera (Madrid, 1807), II, XIX–XXIII: Las Siete Partidas. Volume 2: Medieval Government. The World of Kings and Warriors, trans. S. P. Scott, ed. R. Burns (Philadelphia, 2001). 25 ‘[. . . ] porque la perdida serie communal de todos’ (Ibid, II, xix, 6). 26 Aegidii Columnae Romani, De regimine principum. Lib. III [DRP] (Rome, 1607); reprinted Aaken, 1967.

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other parts of his text. We should note his important and significant question: ‘Quid sit militia et ad quid sit instituta?’27 His reply to his own question was not literal or descriptive, as Vegetius’s definition had been.28 Unexpected, his answer was startling. ‘Sciendum igitur militiam esse quandam prudentiam, sive quandam speciem prudentiae’.29 An army, in his view, should be regarded ‘as a kind of prudence’, an investment (in men, selection, training, leadership) which would give the state a big advantage when an enemy threatened. For what was prudentia in this case other than being prepared to meet external threats, an idea which owed something to Aristotle and which, above all, took into account Vegetius’ insistence that the most effective way to preserve peace was to prepare for war.30 For this to be done successfully, those chosen to fight must be trained (Vegetius had famously written that if a soldier did not train regularly, there was nothing to distinguish him from the civilian);31 they should also be marked by certain physical and moral qualities. In Giles’s eyes the soldier must possess ‘strenuitas bellandi’ (physical energy?); he should have ‘prudentia erga bella’ (a measured, thoughtful/ intelligent approach to war), as well as ‘animositas’ (which is courage, yet more than that). Like that described by Vegetius, Giles’s soldier was not just any man; he must show particular qualities enabling him to fulfil his obligations to society of which he was a member, which he had undertaken to serve, and which paid him to do its fighting. Such were Giles’s views on the need for every state to be protected by an army of men selected from its population, trained and ready to fight in its defence.32 It was a view which owed much to Roman ideas regarding the function of the army in society as these might be understood from an appreciation of the contents of the De re militari. If accepted, the view held implications which had to be acted upon. Their implementation demanded an army (or armies) under central control, summoned by the ruler to defend the wider interests of a society as a whole rather than those of particular groups or individuals who, in the not too distant past, had used violence to further their own ends. Under this dispensation force could only be employed (i) for the wider good, and (ii) by men sworn to obey the commands of the ruler, or of his nominated lieutenants, who might pay them for their services to society from the public purse now, in the thirteenth century, replenished through taxation. As part of their responsibility to society, and to demonstrate their 27 DRP, III, iii, 1 (p. 555). 28 ‘Exercitus dicitur tam legionum quam etiam auxiliorum nec non etiam equitum ad gerendum bellum multitude collecta’ (DRM, III, 1). [‘An army is said to be a number of legions, auxilia and cavalry brought together for the purpose of fighting war’]. 29 DRP, III, iii, 1 (p. 555). 30 Aristotle had emphasised the need for the ‘constitution to arrange for the means of defence to be permanently in place’ (Politics, II, vii, 14). In writing that ‘the assailant will not even attempt to attack those who are well prepared’ (Ibid, VII, xi, 12), he had foreshadowed Vegetius’s famous dictum ‘qui desirat pacem, praeparet bellum’ (DRM, III, Praef.). 31 DRM, II, 23. 32 Aristotle, Politics, IV, iv, 13–15.

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acceptance of it, those thus employed should train regularly in the skills which the effective practice of their profession required. Change would not be immediate. But at the time that Giles was writing developments in the direction which he advocated were in the air, and were already being practised in certain countries. The next two centuries would see the acceptance of the ‘state’ army, with all its faults and failings, in many parts of Europe. Between the 1260s and the 1280s there took place yet another important transformation of Vegetius’s text, a vital part of its incorporation into an ever-widening medieval context. Until that time, the De re militari had been read in Latin alone. Now, in a few years of activity, it was to receive the accolade of being translated into several vernacular languages: first into Anglo-Norman, perhaps for the Prince Edward (king Edward I of England to be) in the late 1260s;33 then, in 1284, into French in a translation made by no less a writer than Jean de Meun, part author of the Roman de la rose.34 At about the same time Bono Giamboni was turning the De re militari into Tuscan.35 Three further translations into French, one a rendering of Meun’s version into verse form, would be completed by about 1380.36 In addition, two Catalan versions would appear in the course of the fourteenth century,37 and two (the second in verse) in English in the fifteenth century,38 which also saw translations into Castilian,39 German40 and, possibly, into Portuguese.41 Evidence of this nature compels us to recognise in these translations something of the appreciation of the De re militari and its teachings shown by a world in which the vernacular languages were encouraging a widening readership of the text. It is important, too, to look for signs of what was being done to the work by translators and, if possible, to understand changes introduced into the texts in their new forms. If no translation was done ‘de mot a mot’ or literatim, there were good reasons for this. Translators did not always fully understand Vegetius’s meaning,

33 See Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum, Ms Marlay, Add. 1, for the sole known manuscript. 34 Li Abregemenz noble homme Vegesce Flave René des Establissemenz apartenanz a chevalerie, ed. L. Löfstedt (Helsinki, 1977). 35 Vegezio Flavio, Dell’arte della Guerra, Libri IV. Volgarizzamento di Bono Giamboni, ed. F. Fontani (Florence, 1815). 36 Jean Priorat, Li Abrejance de l’Ordre de Chevalerie, ed. U. Robert (Paris, SATF, 1897); Jean de Vignay, Li livres Flave Vegece, de la chose de chevalerie, ed. L. Löfstedt (Helsinki, 1982). 37 Madrid, Bibl. Francisco de Zabálburu, Ms. 1655; Palma de Mallorca, Bibl.Bartomeu MarchServera, Ms B96-V3-2. 38 The Earliest English Translation of Vegetius’ De re militari, ed. G. Lester (Heidelberg, 1988); Knyghthode and Bataile, ed. R. Dyboski and Z. M. Arend (London, EETS, 1935). 39 An edition of the Castilian text, based on six surviving manuscripts, was prepared by José Manuel Fradejas Rueda, of the University of Valladolid, and published at San Millan de la Cogolla, 2014. 40 F. Fürbeth, ‘Eine unbekannte Deutsche Űbersetzung des Vegetius aus der Bibliothek des Anton von Annenberg’, Zeitschrift für Deutsches Altertum und Deutsche Literatur, 124 (1995), 278–297. The earliest translation known before this discovery was the ‘Kurcze Red von der Ritterschaft’, made by Ludwig Hohenwang, and printed in Augsburg c.1475. 41 See J. G. Monteiro, ‘A cultura militar da nobreza na primeira metade de Quatrocentos. Fontes e modelos literários’, Revista de História das Ideias, XIX (1998), 195–227.

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as some glaring examples of mistranslation indicate. Sometimes his language was too technical, or the correct ‘modern’ word did not exist; such situations (not uncommon in parts of the text with a particularly technical vocabulary) led to errors of translation or, not infrequently, to the omission of a sentence or longer passage. On other occasions, while the meaning was clear, the choice had to be made between a literal translation (which might be out of date) and one which, while not necessarily strictly accurate, would mean something to the modern-day reader. The translator, therefore, wielded considerable power, particularly over details; changes of meaning, omissions, as well as addition of passages (one of the most notorious being found in the English translation of 1408 in which the recent use of cannon by the English in Wales is referred to)42 used to ‘modernise’ or bring the text up to date were not uncommon. Such ‘adaptations’ suggest that translators made changes so that their text might serve as a useful guide to war almost a millennium after it had been written. But not all saw it that way. As the marginalia scribbled on many manuscripts indicate, there were those who regarded the De re militari mainly as significant historical evidence regarding the state of military thought and practice c.400. Consider the marginalia in Petrarch’s copy of the Latin text,43 and see how it helped him understand and appreciate other classical texts already known to him. Other readers, however, regarded the De re militari as a text containing wisdom and information appropriate for all time, including, of course, their own. For example, an analysis of the marginalia of the majority of surviving manuscripts shows that the parts of the work which provoked most response from readers were Book I and, in particular, Book III. These, the first with its insistence on proper selection and training, the third with its emphasis on the role of the commander and for the need to prepare properly for battle, were probably regarded as offering advice applicable to all time, thereby making the text relevant to a much later age. Book II, largely concerned with the organisation and functioning of the Roman army, provoked little comment until coming more into its own in the late thirteenth century as the importance of good military organisation came to be better recognised. We may judge how the De re militari was appreciated if we consider where librarians shelved the text. Library catalogues suggest that people understood its contents in different ways. The copy owned by Philippa of Hainault, consort of Edward III, was classified under ‘Romances’.44 However, when Amplonius de Berka45 founded the Collegium Amplonianum in Erfurt in the late fourteenth century, at least one of the three copies of the De re militari with which he endowed his new foundation was shelved among books of ‘moralis philosophie’, while in 1460 the collegiate church of St Paul at Liège possessed a copy (bound, in this 42 Earliest English Translation, ed. Lester, IV, 22 (p. 173). 43 Vatican Library, Vat. lat, 2193, fols. 102–118v. 44 J. Vale, Edward III and Chivalry. Chivalric Society and its Context, 1270–1350 (Woodbridge, 1982), p. 50. This is a reminder of how broadly the term ‘Romance’ could be interpreted. 45 Erfurt, Biblioteca Amploniana, Ms. CA.2°5.

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case, with the De regimine principum of Giles of Rome) classified among ‘libri morales’.46 This evidence suggests that Vegetius’s work was regarded more as a ‘philosophical’ text than as a practical manual of war. Above all, it stressed the imperative of winning and, consequently, the role which a properly considered view of an approaching conflict could contribute to victory. As such, it was a text appreciated by the thoughtful, rather than by the rash, commander. Significantly, such a view receives support from a few manuscripts which have illuminations referring to the text of which they are part. While Vegetius (or ‘the Philosopher’, as he is sometimes called, thus laying claim to the title frequently given to Aristotle) is usually presented dressed as a sage, those whom he addresses are almost always shown in medieval, not Roman, dress.47 Likewise, military scenes normally depict soldiers and knights wearing contemporary dress or armour. In other words, the illuminations were added to encourage the reader to think that the text, while old, contained lessons useful to those soldiers of his own day who heard them and put them into practice. Illuminations thus underlined the value of the transmission of ancient military wisdom into the present, as well as the respect due to the messenger, no less than Vegetius himself. By the fourteenth century, with the growth of national awareness and the nation state, some of the lessons offered were coming to have practical application. Two examples will underline this development. To the reader of Vegetius who turned his attention to John Barbour’s The Bruce, completed by the archdeacon of Aberdeen about 1370,48 the parallels between two very different works were, in certain respects, remarkable. Both stressed the obligation of the ruler to accept practical responsibility for his kingdom’s defence. Both underlined the role of armed force, whether acting in guerrilla style or confronting the enemy head-on in battle, in defending the land (in this case Scotland under English attack) and its freedom. Both emphasised that an army (in the sense of a group of fighting men) could not do without proper leadership (a major theme in The Bruce); both, too, set out to explore qualities of leadership, notably ‘prudentia’, the quality of thoughtfulness and foresight (intelligence) which received repeated emphasis in Barbour’s work. The commander envisaged by both Vegetius and Barbour was a ‘thinking’ man, not one who rushed into action hoping for the good opinion of the men who watched him. Whether Barbour was familiar with the full text of the De re militari (as I am inclined to think he was), or had only access to a collection of excerpts, is a relatively unimportant matter. The military leader whom Barbour presented, the events which he described, and the principles of Vegetian thought which his 46 O. J. Thimister, ‘La bibliothèque de l’église collégiale de Saint Paul à Liège en 1460’, Bulletin de l’Instiut Archéologique Liègeois, XIV (1878), 161. 47 See Vatican Library, Reg. lat, 1880, fol. 1; Vicenza, Bibl. Bertoliana, Ms 295, fol. 1; Oxford, Bodleian Library, Ms Laud 56, fol 1; Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum, Ms Marlay Add 1, fol. 2v, reproduced in M. Prestwich, Armies and Warfare in the Middle Ages: The English Experience (New Haven and London, 1996), p. 184. 48 The Bruce, ed. W. W. Skeat (London, 1870–89).: The Bruce, an edition with translation into modern English prose by A. A. M. Duncan (Edinburgh, 1997).

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work illustrated transform his Bruce into something very much more than a simple narrative of the often dramatic events which it records.49 If we advance exactly a century, and change the location from Scotland to Valois Burgundy, we recognise certain Vegetian influences reflected in some military practices applied in the Burgundian army by duke Charles the Bold. From the very first lines of his work, Vegetius had emphasised the ruler’s responsibility for the army, for its organisation, and for providing it with informed leadership (much as we have just seen in the case of Robert Bruce). At the same time he recognised the need for men who would share responsibilities with the ruler. Vegetius had envisaged an ordered chain of command, reflecting the fact that those who exercised authority did so in the name of their ruler whose lieutenants (or locum tenentes) they became. The Vegetian ideal was given life by duke Charles who, in the 1470s, instituted a very public annual ceremony at which he formally presented letters of appointment to a small group of senior lieutenants, on the understanding that such appointments were to be authorised for only a single year, at the end of which each man was to return his letter (his commission, as a modern officer would call it) to the duke.50 Was this pure theatre, enacted at court to convey an important message? Almost certainly so. Yet the message went deep, since the duke’s intention was to ensure, through a very public act, that military authority was known to be exercised on his behalf, and that he could renew or withdraw it as he pleased. The ceremony also laid emphasis on the fact that the army was regarded not simply as men recruited by their local lord whom they followed into battle, but as a national force which accepted the orders and leadership of persons acting in the name of the duke, who constantly sought to be regarded as independent and sovereign. The term ‘sovereign’ is used deliberately since the right to lead and control an army legitimately was regarded as an aspect of sovereignty. The moment had not yet been reached, but a significant step had been taken towards the creation of the more ‘statist’ army of modern times. Some long-term, interrelated themes may be brought together here. One was the conflict between those who wielded power, often through violence, at a local or regional level, and the increasingly influential monarchies (of France and Castile, for instance) which claimed to exercise a legitimate monopoly of power for the sake of the common good. The development of political and social ideas, particularly from the thirteenth century onwards, which encouraged rulers to seek the common good, implied the authority to create armies as visible and legitimate instruments of their ability both to deter those wishing to undermine a society and, if need be, to ensure its effective defence against aggression. In the long process

49 T. Summerfield, ‘Barbour’s Bruce; Compilation in Retrospect’, Writing War: Medieval Literary Responses to Warfare, ed. C. Saunders, F. Le Saux, and N. Thomas (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 107–125. 50 See C. Allmand, ‘Did the De re militari of Vegetius Influence the Military Ordinances of Charles the Bold?’, Publications du Centre Européen d’Études bourguignonnes (XIVe–XVIe s.), 41 (2001), 135–143. Reprinted infra, pp. 47–54. (currently).

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of creating institutions furthering domestic peace, the gradual acceptance of the ‘statist’ army may be seen as complementing that of the development of the law and legal institutions as guardians of the peace and internal security of the state. And just as the development of the law owed much to Roman texts and practices, so wider acceptance of the role to be played by the army, increasingly regarded as an instrument in the pay of the growing state, in the maintenance of peace (whether through deterrence or action) owed much to practices described in the De re militari of Vegetius. When Charles the Bold, who knew the text, hit upon the idea of a formal presentation of military authority to his lieutenants, he knew what he was doing, and the message of that ceremony will have been well understood by those who witnessed it. Such were some of the avenues down which the De re militari led the Middle Ages. Vegetius had advocated a particular approach to war which demanded certain ways of doing things. Listen to his very words. ‘He who desires peace, let him prepare for war. He who wants victory, let him train soldiers diligently. He who wants a successful outcome, let him fight with strategy, not at random. No one dares challenge or harm one who, he realises, will win if he fights’. Those wanting peace should prepare themselves to deter a potential aggressor. They should prepare, above all, by regular training, since this promotes both skills and confidence, enabling men to fight with strategy. Put another way, planning, foresight, anticipation, making decisions based on reliable information (Vegetius emphasised the practical importance of espionage) are the attributes which lead to victory. If an enemy were reluctant to challenge a well-prepared army, he would be even less willing to confront a well-led army. Greater emphasis, therefore, should be given to strategy than to tactics. Vegetius had rightly given prominence to the personal qualities, acquired skills and experience of the good general. An army should function as a team: the general made decisions according to a plan which took account of conditions, circumstances and the forces at his disposal; the army, trained to obey order, acted accordingly. As the manuscript evidence shows, it was widely appreciated that neither force nor numbers alone brought victory; everything depended on how they were deployed and used. Success in war relied first and foremost upon a confident working relationship between leader and led, each trusting the other. Those who shelved manuscripts of the De re militari among the ‘libri morales’ were right. The ‘moral’ or ‘philosophical’ messages which it conveyed were at least as important as the practical ones. The Middle Ages viewed the text as much more than a military manual. And rightly so. For that is what it was, and what it remains to this day.

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3 T H E F I F T E E N T H - C E N T U RY ENGLISH PROSE VERSION OF V E G E T I U S ’ D E R E M I L I TA R I

The work of Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus has been termed ‘the most influential military manual in use during the Middle Ages’1 by the editor of the earliest known translation of the work into English. Part of its importance lies in the fact that it was a work which might be read at different levels. Already widely known, in the original Latin, in the early and central Middle Ages, translation added a whole dimension to the text’s significance. Thus made available in AngloNorman,2 French (some four translations before the sixteenth century), Tuscan, Castilian, English (two in the fifteenth century), German and, in part, Scots, it would become a text which interested the student of languages and translation, as well as the student of the large corpus of classical literature which was rendered into the vernacular languages at the end of the Middle Ages.3 Besides all this, the text is one which should be of interest to the historian of the transmission of ideas within late medieval military culture. What had been Vegetius’ intention when he compiled his Epitoma rei militaris, most probably during the dying years of the fourth century?4 The work is in four books or chapters, each divided into sections of varying length. It is quite possible that the first book was written to stand on its own, and that the remainder of the work was compiled at the request of the emperor to whom Vegetius had dedicated the first book after encouraging remarks had been made about it.5 In this, Vegetius had been looking back to the past when Rome had ruled the world, something it 1 The Earliest English Translation of Vegetius’ De Re Militari, ed. G. Lester (Heidelberg, 1988), p. 7. 2 See L. Thorpe, ‘Mastre Richard, a Thirteenth-Century Translator of the De Re Militari of Vegetius’, Scriptorium, 6 (1952), 39–50; M. D. Legge, ‘The Lord Edward’s Vegetius’, Ibid, 7 (1953), 262–265. 3 Earliest English Translation, pp. 14–16; C. Allmand, The De Re Militari of Vegetius: The Reception, Transmission and Legacy of a Roman Text in the Middle Ages (Cambridge, 2011), ch. 7 and p. 365; J. Monfrin, ‘Humanisme et traductions au moyen âge’, in L’humanisme médiéval dans les littératures romanes du XIIe au XIVe siècle, ed. A. Fournier (Paris, 1964), pp. 217–246. 4 On the dating, see W. Goffart, ‘The Date and Purpose of Vegetius De Re Militari’, Traditio, 33 (1977), 65–100. 5 P. Flavi Vegeti Renati Epitoma Rei Militari, ed. P. Önnerfors (Stuttgart and Leipzig, 1995), pp. 52–53; N. P. Milner (trans), Vegetius: Epitome of Military Science (Translated Texts for Historians, 16 (2nd edn, Liverpool, 1996), p. 29. DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-5

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no longer did in his lifetime. Its failure to do so, the author implied, was the result of poor standards of recruitment and training, as well as a decline in the organisation, strategies and effective use of equipment in the army of his day. As the author told the emperor, the greatness of Rome could be revived if the army were restored to its former efficiency, when few had stood against it. The reasons for successes achieved in the past were not difficult to explain, or so Vegetius thought. As we discover on reading his work, he was a firm believer in the basic military doctrines that victories were won as the result of proper training and preparation, as well as through the use made of the experiences of others. Soldiers must be taught the basics about their arms and about the strategies which won wars. They could hear about these from their leaders, but they should on no account ignore the lessons of past experience which could be learned and absorbed from the written word: ‘they of Atthenes . . . writen . . . bookys and reweles, and commaunded the maystres of her yong chiualrie to teche and to rede thilke bookys to the yonge [werriours]’.6 Reference is made several times to the doctrina armorum, translated as the ‘teching and lore of armes’ in English, and as l’usage et la science des armes by Jean de Meun in the first French rendering of 1284.7 All three translations of the phrase give the sense that fighting is something which can be taught and, therefore, learned. Thus it was the duty of those with experience to preserve it in writing, for it to be passed down to succeeding generations. The De re militari falls into the category of didactic works intended to instruct.8 The first book is therefore packed full of principles, sound if often general in nature. It was after a favourable reception had been given it that its author decided to continue his work. His book, then, should probably not be seen as a proper Art of War as such, conceived as a whole,9 but rather as an attempt, by a reformer, to bring an improvement to the army of AD 400 by breathing new life into an institution which, all knew, had seen better days. Some, trying to look at Vegetius’s work from the viewpoint of the Middle Ages, have found it strange that so little is said about cavalry. It should be remembered, however, that in the days of Rome’s greatness the cavalry had not been the state’s most powerful arm, nor, indeed, was that arm in need of fundamental reform at the time when Vegetius was writing. On neither count, then, did it fall within the author’s self-imposed brief. However one cannot ignore the fact that some of Vegetius’ views were oldfashioned even by the standards of his own time, and that he emphasised the role of the foot soldier at the expense of cavalry and cavalry tactics.10

6 Earliest English Translation, p. 103/12–16 (Citation is by page and line number). 7 Ibid, p. 56/19; L’Art de Chevalerie: traduction du De Re Militari de Végèce par Jean de Meun, ed. U. Robert (Paris, SATF, 1897), 14; Li Abregemenz noble homme Vegesce Flave René des establissemenz apartenanz a chevalerie, ed. L. Löfstedt (Helsinki, 1977), p. 75. 8 M. Keen, Chivalry (New Haven and London, 1984), p. 111. 9 Milner, Vegetius: Epitome of Military Science (Liverpool, 1993), p. xviii. 10 Earliest English Translation, p. 11, n. 10.

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What were the author’s qualifications for writing this work? Vegetius was not a military man, but a well-read and versatile functionary who may have had experience of high-level finance and, in particular, of the recruiting and provisioning of armies. Since he was no great military expert he depended, for the detail, upon the experience and wisdom of others.11 Should this work, then, be regarded mainly as an ordered résumé of the work of others or, rather, as an original creation of the author, however eclectic in its use of sources and ideas? Recent scholarship suggests the second of these, although at times Vegetius appears to have been following known texts quite closely, in particular the works of Cato the Elder, Cornelius Celsus and, perhaps above all, that great source of examples, the Strategemata of Julius Frontinus, written in the first century AD.12 From these and others Vegetius drew material to compile his own work of which several hundred manuscripts, of greatly varying reliability, ranging from the seventh to the seventeenth century, and written in both Latin and the vernacular languages, have survived.13 Why was Vegetius’ work so popular in medieval Europe? Some will have seen it as part of the general culture, others as part of the military culture, inherited from the ancient world. But it was more than that. Here was a work both informative and didactic, from which men could learn lessons useful for their own time. One wonders whether the medieval translators realised when the work was written and, in particular, what intentions had lain behind its compilation. One suspects not, so that the first task of the translator to provide his readers with a text which reflected the author’s intentions, may not have been regarded as a prime obligation. The translator’s options were limited. Either he could try to aim for accuracy but, in so doing, produce a work which, because of its rather technical nature and, consequently, specialised vocabulary, might not make great sense to the contemporary reader, whoever he might be. Alternatively, he might try to produce a version which reflected the spirit rather than an accurate rendering of the original text. Furthermore, what if the work being translated had been written almost one thousand years earlier? What might the late medieval reader expect to learn from studying Vegetius? Cited by two Benedictine monks, Bede in the early eighth century, Hraban Maur a century or so later, Vegetius was to come into his own in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, when not only did the number of copies of his work appear to have increased, but he also came to be cited, or ‘moralised’, often at length by such as John of Salisbury, Vincent of Beauvais, Giles of Rome and other compilers of the princely ‘mirror’ literature, as they tried to show why rulers should have armies and effective commanders to lead them.14 To such writers, 11 ‘For I claim no authority to myself, but merely to write up the dispersed material of those whom I have listed above, summarising it as if to form an orderly sequence’ (Epitome of Military Science, 2nd edn, p. 10). 12 Frontinus, The Stratagems and the Aqueducts of Rome, trans C. E. Bennett (London and Cambridge, MA, 1969). 13 C. R. Shrader, ‘A Handlist of Extant Manuscripts Containing the De Re Militari of Flavius Vegetius Renatus’, Scriptorium, 33 (1979), especially pp. 286–305. 14 Earliest English Translation, pp. 14, 11.

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the importance of Vegetius lay not so much in what he could teach them about the administration of the Roman legion, or the details of good tactics to follow either in the field or at a siege, but rather what guidance he could offer the rising national monarchies regarding successful preparations for war which had to be carried out irrespective of time, place, or circumstance. An army consisting of well selected troops (selection, Vegetius taught in Book 1, was crucial) trained and drilled in the disciplines of war achieved its own sense of confidence, and was thus ready to face the enemy. For the purposes of their works, which soon came to be widely disseminated, these writers concentrated on what was, broadly speaking, the message shared with the first Boy Scout: ‘Be prepared’. Vegetius was first translated from Latin into a vernacular language in the second half of the thirteenth century. We cannot be certain which translation was the first to be completed. Dominica Legge thought that the one into Anglo-Norman dialect could have been made about 1254–55, or else in the very early years of the fourteenth century; Lewis Thorpe, on the other hand, argued that this translation was intended for Edward I and was made in about 1271, when the future king of England was on crusade.15 In any event, it seems likely that by the late thirteenth century the text was already regarded as important enough to justify a complete translation. In France, the first of these, in prose, was made in 1284 by Jean de Meun, who had already completed the text of the Roman de la Rose, begun more than a generation earlier by Guillaume de Lorris, and who was already proving himself a translator of skill. The work on Vegetius, he informs us, was done in response to a request made to him by Jean de Brienne, count of Eu, who had only recently served on crusade with the saintly king, Louis IX.16 A few years later (certainly before 1291), Jean Priorat of Besançon produced a verse version of Meun’s translation.17 The work is that of someone who had at least personal experience of war, and suggests that the original prose version was already known, certainly among military men, within a short time of completion and (although the point is more speculative) that it was achieving a measure of success. What was to be the approach of the first English translator who, more than a century later, ‘at the ordenaunce & biddynge of the worthi & worschipfull lord, sire Thomas of Berkeley’,18 an active campaigner at the time engaged under Prince Henry [V] in Wales, tackled the Latin text, the task being completed, as we learn from the colophon, on All Souls’ Eve, 1 November 1408. The problem confronting the translator faced with important changes, such as those of military organisation or terminology or, at another level, with developments such as the invention of new arms, could be considerable. How was he to react to the letter

15 16 17 18

L’Art de Chevalerie, ed. Robert, p. 177; Li Abregemenz, ed. Löfstedt, p. 195. Li Abrejance de l’Ordre de Chevalerie, ed. U. Robert (Paris, SATF, 1897). Earliest English Translation, p. 189/32–33. On the translations into French, see C. Buridant, ‘Jean de Meun et Jean de Vignay, traducteurs de l’Epitoma Rei Militaris de Végèce. Contribution à l’histoire de la traduction au Moyen Âge’, Études de langue et de littérature française offertes à André Lanly (Nancy, 1980), pp. 51–69.

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of his text? Should he treat it as a relic of a past age, to be left as it was found, a text which fossilised an age and, in this case, its army? Or should he treat it as a text whose content had relevance for his own day?19 Lacking a fully developed technical vocabulary (some of it would have had to refer to officers, weapons and practices now totally historical), the translator was soon forced into compromises, in spite of the fact that living in an age which saw itself as the heir to the Roman/Latin past, and which still shared a Latin culture with it, he may have wished to produce a rendering which was close to the original, both to do honour to that original and to demonstrate the relevance of the book’s content to his own day. It is likely that the Middle Ages looked upon Vegetius’ work as one and whole, a handbook whose practical teachings were more appropriate in some sections than in others: the character of siege warfare, for example, had not changed all that much until the Middle Ages were well advanced. To make the text more comprehensible to his own day, the translator was obliged to make some concessions; where possible, terms had to be updated; some passages could be omitted since their practical relevance was very doubtful; others, too, were dropped because the translator could not understand them,20 while others by contrast were developed and ‘augmented’ in respect of both vocabulary and content.21 In practice the translator did what he could to transform parts of the De re militari into a useful guide on how to achieve success in war. Of the eleven surviving manuscripts of this translation, five are found on their own, six are bound with other works, most frequently John Lydgate’s Book of Governance of Kings and Princes.22 In spite of much research and scholarly ingenuity, the name of the translator is still not known. His rendering is normally fairly close to the original, but its effect, in the words of one critic, is to make it rather wooden. Nor is it always the needs of clarity or explanation which lead to the expansions of the text: the use of otiose language helps to make the translation more than twice as long as the published text of the original Latin. How did the translator deal with the problems of rendering a technical work written so long ago into a developing vernacular language? The translation was said to have been commissioned for ‘lordes and alle worthi werrioures that ben apassed by wey of age al labour & trauaillyng, and to greet informacioun & lernynge of yonge lordes & knyghtes that ben lusty & loueth to here & see and to vse dedes of armes and chyualrie’.23 The use of a vocabulary bearing implications of rank and social order which did not exist in the fifteenth century created a difficulty. Another concerned the most effective way of rendering a technical vocabulary into English. The Latin acies, or battle line, became ‘scheltromes’ or ‘batailes’

19 20 21 22 23

On omissions, see Earliest English Translation, pp. 33–34. On the translator’s expansions, see Ibid, pp. 30–33. Ibid, p. 17/23. John Lydgate, The Book of Governance of Kings and Princes (New York, 1997). Earliest English Translation, pp. 46/1–12; 189/28–190/5. See also R. Hanna III, ‘Sir Thomas Berkeley and his Patronage’, Speculum, 64 (1989), 878–916.

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in English.24 The different means of protection afforded to those approaching a wall were called by a variety of terms, ‘targattes’, ‘pauyses’ and ‘scheldes’,25 the ‘snayle’ being the smaller version of ‘testudo’, the covered battering ram.26 The not infrequent use which the translator makes of two or more English words to render one in Latin suggests that he may feel that his readers would not always be familiar with every English form which he employed to translate technical terms. His desire to help the reader understand ancient meanings is made clear by this practice, as is that of adding a phrase or clause, sometimes even a sentence, by way of explanation or enlightenment. Further evidence that the translator found it difficult to deal with an unfamiliar vocabulary comes, when confronted with the task of rendering the ranks and titles of the legions’ leaders into comprehensible English, he finally admits to ‘grete difficulte to Englisshe the names of officeris’.27 Responding to this problem as any schoolboy might do, he simply omits some and fudges others in a manner not always satisfactory. In the work’s opening sentence the translator tells his readers that his ‘tretys techith holliche of knighthod and of chiualrye’.28 How are we to understand these two terms? In one sense ‘knighthod’ may be taken to mean the fulfilment of the enhanced role of the soldier who, through ‘the sacramentis of knighthod’ renders honour to God, the emperor and society; while ‘chiualrye’ is the putting into practice of the skills and rules involved in waging war successfully. We may understand ‘res’ (‘matter’) as referring to the ‘military matter’, in this particular context something like the Art (or Practice) of Waging War. So the Latin phrase res militaris refers to the art or craft of making war, this being regarded as an almost scientific activity (with rules) to which the wisdom of the past, set out in books and manuals, has much to contribute. This is underlined in another phrase containing the word ‘knyghthode’, ‘the lore and the teching of knighthoode’, which the translator used to render the Latin term ‘disciplina militaris’, the word ‘disciplina’ referring to the rules, conventions and practices which can be taught and instilled into the minds of soldiers who, as eruditos (skilled, experienced) ‘in dedes of armes wel vsed and lerned’, will go forward to win wars. It is in this roundabout way that we reach another meaning of chivalry. This time the sense suggests the exercise of military power for the benefit of the community. In this way chivalry emerges as a sense of responsibility to society as a whole, exercised by those selected by the emperor for their marked military virtue, not for their birth or rank, to prepare and keep themselves ready to act for ‘the helthe and profight of the comynalte’.29 Modern commentators, noting the increase in the number of surviving manuscripts of Vegetius’ text, have remarked how its popularity appears to have been on

24 25 26 27 28 29

Earliest English Translation, p. 49/19. Ibid, p. 162/28. Ibid, pp. 168/18–22; 161/2. Ibid, p. 83/18–19. Ibid, p. 47/3–4. Ibid, p. 55/4–5.

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the increase well into the sixteenth century, by which time his work was available in print, and was being produced with other works of a military character. Why was there this long-standing interest in a thousand-year old text? Take, first, the idea that man may help himself to work out his destiny through his own conscious efforts. The notion lay at the heart of much of what Vegetius had written and of the manner in which he had presented it. We have already seen how important it was, in his view, for each generation to pass on its experience and wisdom to those who succeeded it, the best way of doing this effectively being to write things down for transmission to posterity. It is the manner of doing this which was significant. Vegetius recalled that we have much to learn from history.30 But how much? Therein lies the heart of the matter. History recounts what happened, but often fails to tell us what we should be seeking to know, how it happened. To record victories is one thing, to understand how they were won is quite another. Hence his book is an attempt to answer the questions: ‘Hou . . . hou . . . hou’. To Vegetius who, here, was following a long Roman tradition, it was possible to explain rationally how wars were lost and won. The soldier, in particular the commander, must be a thoughtful soldier or commander. If he were so, he had every chance of being successful. The knight, already endowed with the attributes of sapientia and fortitudo, acquires prudentia by the end of the eleventh century. From that time, the ‘intellectual’ approach to war grows steadily, a development which helps explain the growing appreciation, from the twelfth century onwards, of Vegetius’ fundamental message: thought, particularly forethought, can win wars, a message gleaned from Frontinus and the wider classical tradition.31 It is not surprising, therefore, that he should have become an author whose ideas were very much quoted, for example, in the ‘mirror’ literature of the age. Since wars could, to a certain extent, be planned, rulers had a duty to look to the future and have their deterrent forces ready to be called upon in time of necessity. It was important to fight wars with a background of knowledge and experience, what the French called science. It was the recognition that soldiers commonly found the Latin language difficult to understand that had led Jean de Vignai to translate Vegetius into French about 1325. He did so because he was among those writers ‘[qui] ont dit aucunes choses qui mout sont profitables a savoir a ceus qui veulent estre sages et apris darmes’. It was good to be well informed, Vignai wrote at the end of his translation, ‘car en toutes batailles seulent plus donner victoire sens et usage darmes que force ne multitude de gens mal endoctrinés’.32 As the English prose translation would put it in the next century, ‘he concludith and scheweth that . . . ne strengthe vntaught is cause of ouercomynge, but craft, usage, and exercise of armes getith victorie & ouercometh enemyes’.33 30 Ibid, see Bk I, ch. 8. 31 A. Murray, Reason and Society in the Middle Ages (Oxford, 1978), pp. 124–127, 134. 32 P. Meyer, ‘Les anciens traducteurs français de Végèce, et en particulier Jean de Vignai’, Romania, 25 (1896), 412, 421–422. 33 Earliest English Translation, p. 47/17–21.

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So, in the first and fundamental book of the De re militari, Vegetius dealt with the basic requirement of any army, the recruitment, selection and training of young soldiers. Here he established the bases of any successful army. Recruits must be those tested and chosen, the implication being that some, perhaps many, would be rejected as unsuitable. They must be trained in the use of arms, how to act and react together, how to conquer fear. All this should be achieved through regular training and exercises with the implied responsibility owed by each recruit to the legion, the emperor and, as indicated earlier, to the good of the wider society. The favourable reception accorded to the first book led Vegetius to write three more which, together, make up the work. In the second book he dealt with the general matter of the army’s organisation, its command structure, its duties and its equipment. Significantly, he stressed the importance of war fought at sea. Significantly, too, while recognising that mounted soldiers generally move more quickly than do others, Vegetius stressed that it was the foot soldier who should occupy the central position in battle, the cavalry being accorded a position, although a not insignificant one, on the wings. It was the foot soldier, too, whom Vegetius recognised as being more versatile than his mounted counterpart owing to his ability to fight in a greater variety of situations in which physical factors were likely to play an important, if not dominant, role. Nor should it be forgotten that the foot soldier was cheaper than the cavalry: ‘men may se and vndirstonde that footmen ben most profitable for the communalte, for thei mowe profighte in alle places bothe in londe and on water, and also more multitude of werriours wel vsed to dedes of armes may with lasse cost be norschid than of any other degre’.34 Vegetius then returned to a point which he had made before: an army should not be drawn from anybody or everybody, but from men specially selected for their suitability. Greater responsibility rested upon them. Equally important was the fact that society depended heavily upon the selectors to act with a sense of communal responsibility as they chose those to serve in the army, a responsibility which was seen as extending as far as the emperor himself.35 In the same line of argument the ordinary soldier, too, was regarded as a servant of the public good and the recipient of public money who should fulfil no other service than that of furthering the emperor’s wars. Vegetius was critical of those who left the public for the private service.36 This part of the work produced several ideas which could fall on fertile ground. The first was the emphasis placed upon the active role attributed to the foot soldier now, by the end of the Middle Ages, fully prominent again in war, as well as upon archery. The second idea was of a different kind. The translation of tiro as ‘knyght’ was not as inappropriate as it might have seemed. According to Vegetius, the tiro was distinguished by two important characteristics. First, he was a man

34 Ibid, pp. 77/32–78/2. 35 Ibid, p. 78/14–17. 36 Ibid, p. 95/27–29.

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accustomed to the use of arms who had acquired skills through regular training and practice. Secondly, Vegetius regarded the soldier’s role essentially as a public one, with strong social obligations, those of protecting territory and property. He regarded the army (the ‘oost’) essentially as a public instrument whose existence was specifically justified by the need to defend and promote the common good. It was a notion to which Vegetius returned time and again. It follows quite logically that every member of that army, every soldier, should be regarded as a servant of the common interest, whose skills, acquired by training, were available to defend that interest. Nor was ‘knyght’ simply or chiefly a word which reflected position or rank in society, a title implying privilege. On the contrary, it entailed certain obligations which were essentially ‘social’ in scope, that is to say that the privileges of position implied a moral compunction upon the ‘knyght’ to serve the society of which he was a member. Noblesse oblige. When Vegetius wrote about the societal obligations of the late fourth-century soldier, what he was saying could be translated in terms of what was expected of the knight in medieval Europe, and what one day would be expected of the soldier, seen increasingly as the servant of the society whose wage he was now coming to accept.37 In other words, the fundamental first book, in which Vegetius justified the need for, and the position of, the army in society may have been a strong theoretical influence in creating the thinking behind the development of national armies, which were already coming into being in the thirteenth century, armies whose existence was to be justified as being required for national defence, the need which, in turn, would be used to demand taxation at a national level.38 In the third book Vegetius considered the practical side of war. Here the message was clear: much can be achieved if precautions are taken by anticipating events. This was consistent with the notion, running right through the work, that for experience to have a lasting benefit, it must be passed on through the written word. Much of this chapter is common sense. The general rules of battle, which bring it to an end, sum up its character best: adequate supply and its opposite, famine, are crucial factors in deciding the outcome of war; the ability to seize an opportunity is often more effective than force of numbers; likewise, military virtue (by which Vegetius meant obedience, discipline and proper training, putting experience to its best use, as well as the maintenance of a high level of morale in the army) is of greater avail than numbers. The outcome of war must not be left to Dame Fortune, whose unpredictable wheel was all too well known in the Middle Ages. Soldiers must be ready, versatile, and properly trained, for only skill in arms and the necessary mental attitude would be regularly rewarded with victory. Having dealt with war in the field, Vegetius turned his attention, in the fourth and final book, to siege warfare and to ways of fighting at sea. In a series of 37 ‘Antiquity’s example taught that the soldier must regard his trade in the light of defined obligations’ (Keen, Chivalry, p. 111). 38 In France attempts to create a ‘national’ army under the king were made in the 1370s and 1440s.

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short chapters he discussed different kinds of defences as well as a variety of approaches which an attacker might use. Not all the practical means of pressing a siege were out of date by 1408; his observation that a round tower rendered a ram less effective could be translated into the advice given by late medieval architects that, in the age of the cannon, it was wise to avoid the full frontal wall. But by chapter 22 the translator had realised that the text he was rendering into English was no longer adequate to describe the artillery pieces of his day. In the most blatant ‘up-dating’ of the entire work he suddenly referred to the ‘grete gunnes that schete nowadays [stoones] of so grete peys (weight) that no wall may withstonde hem, as hath ben wel schewed bothe in the north cuntrey and eke in the werres of Wales’.39 This is one of the clearer examples of the difficulties faced by the translator who, without a blush, introduced examples of up-to-the-minute technology into the ancient text. What do such ‘augmentations’ suggest? The importance of the text lies not only in the interest which the philologist may have in it (though that should on no account be forgotten) but in the historical significance of a work, already 1000 years old, being rendered into the vernacular for what it had to offer a contemporary readership, a process which the translator helped along by referring to technical developments and to their recent use in the north of England and in Wales. In other words, the translation was not so much a rendering of an ‘historical’, ‘archaeological’ or ‘fossilised’ treatise as one which, through the omission of certain material, the addition of up-to-date examples, and the modernising of the vocabulary, could be shown to still have practical, contemporary value. We may note that Jean de Meun’s translation of 1284 was on the whole careful to follow the original as far as this could be done; yet it would not be long before ‘augmentations’, some of them references to events in the history of both Greece and Rome, others to events of relatively recent times, such as the battle of Bouvines or the defeat of Conradin, or to events ‘de nostre tens ou de nostre souvenance’, came to be added to the text, such illustrations being evidence of the importance of the topical status being accorded by copyists to the work in hand.40 Topical, too, was the interest shown to war at sea, to ‘schippewerre’ or ‘waterwerres’, as the translator called them.41 In a series of some fifteen short chapters he rendered Vegetius’ text into an English which, he hoped, his readers would understand. Trying to be helpful, he described how the ‘lyburnus, that beeth galeyes in Englische’,42 were used in the past, an explanation intended to assist his readers understand what went on in a battle at sea. One wonders how many of those reading this text would have observed the similarities of tactics used in a naval battle fought at that time with that described by Vegetius a millennium earlier. The galley still saw active service, even in the waters of the North, now increasingly 39 40 41 42

Earliest English Translation, p. 173/4–7. Li Abregemenz noble homme Vegesce, ed. Löfstedt, pp. 11–13. Earliest English Translation, p. 178/19, 23. Ibid, p. 179/33: ‘lyburnus, that beeth galeyes in Englische . . .’.

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dominated by the high-sided ship. The emphasis on the kinds of weapons used in naval battles, the similarity of the need to grapple and board, and to hurl and drop missiles from a height, had not greatly changed. Yet it was important and significant that observations on war fought at sea, taken as a more general view of warfare, should have been made at this time. The message will have been understood by those with recent experience of war against France, Genoa and Castile. The consistent message of the De re militari, to be prepared for all forms of war and ready to learn from experience, will have applied to naval war as much as it did to conflict on land. What is the significance of these translations? England was relatively late in making Vegetius available in the vernacular; there were already four French versions in existence by about the year 1380, although the German translation was not made until 1475, just in time for it to be put directly into print in that year. When we seek the owners of such translations we find that a copy of the English one was owned by Richard III;43 another by a leading herald, John Smert, first Garter King of Arms; yet another by Sir John Astley, K.G.; and a fourth by Sir John Paston. When Thomas Hoccleve warned Sir John Oldcastle of the dangers of reading books on theology, he suggested instead works which included ‘Vegece: Of the aart of chiualrie’.44 We do not know whether Henry V read him, but given the date of the first translation and the fact that Henry, as both prince and king, encouraged translations from Latin, it is not unlikely that he had done so, particularly as John Lydgate referred to Henry training and exercising his body in the manner that Vegetius had taught. Certainly the Brut chronicle records the king acting at the siege of Rouen in ways which resembled recommendations made by Vegetius to those besieging a fortified position. We may also note that the anonymous member of Henry’s clerical household, who wrote the Gesta Henrici Quinti, was familiar with Giles of Rome’s De Regimine Principum, for he cited passages from that work reflecting a knowledge of Vegetius’ text.45 The work was to make an indirect impact upon England through a number of fifteenth-century works written in English. It has been argued convincingly that Thomas Malory liked Vegetius’ realism and, far from regarding a knight as a romantic figure, preferred him as a proper soldier influenced by prudentia rather than by considerations of romance. Examples of his work show how he had accepted Vegetius’ realistic message on the need to fight when circumstances and conditions were favourable, and that espionage should be used if it could procure an advantage.46

43 A. F. Sutton and L. Visser-Fuchs, ‘Richard III’s Books. IV. Vegetius, De Re Militari’, The Ricardian, 7 (1987), 541–552. For much of what follows, see Earliest English Translation, pp. 16–17. 44 M. C. Seymour (ed), Selections from Hoccleve (Oxford, 1981), p. 66. 45 Gesta Henrici Quinti. The Deeds of Henry the Fifth, ed. F. Taylor and J. S. Roskell (Oxford, 1975), pp. 28, n. 4; 40, n. 1; 42, n. 2. 46 D. Bornstein, ‘Military Strategy in Malory and Vegetius’ De Re Militari, Comparative Literature Studies (Univ. of Illinois), 9 (1972), 123–129.

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The influence of Vegetius also came to England through translations of the works of Christine de Pisan, especially her Faits d’Armes et de Chevalerie, written about 1410, which was translated and printed as The Book of Fayttes of Armes and of Chyualrye by William Caxton in 1489.47 Most of that work’s first book relies heavily upon the ideas of Vegetius, and it is of interest to note which passages from the De re militari Christine chose to cite or emphasise: choice of leadership in time of war; men so chosen should earn their promotion through experience, not through birth or social standing; the great importance of training and practice, and of always having access to adequate and regular supplies. The book ends with what was doubtless intended to be a useful ‘short recapytulacyon’, ‘in manere of prouerbys’ (or maxims) of what Vegetius had taught.48 Using several means of access to his thought, men were anxious to cite Vegetius as the leading authority on military thinking in fifteenth-century England. Through his own work in Latin (copies of which were still being made at this period) or in French (Humfrey, duke of Gloucester, owned one such) and through two English versions of his treatise, and the translation of French works in which he was cited, Vegetius was being given the opportunity to set out not only the old, timeless advice, but also his more philosophical ideas about war which had been the source of his reputation for centuries, and which would ensure survival of his influence until the seventeenth century, and later.49

47 The Book of Fayttes of Armes and of Chyualrye, ed. A. T. P. Byles (EETS, London, 1932). 48 Ibid, pp. 20, 28–32, 43–44, 98. 49 In this paper I have made no reference to a second English translation made by a ‘person’ living in Calais in 1458 (Knyghthode and Bataile, ed. R. Dyboski and Z. M. Arendski, EETS, London, 1935). The work is in verse, and is a less accurate translation than the prose version considered above. This rendering, however, is of considerable interest having been made during a period of civil unrest while the rule of Henry VI was in danger of collapse. Passages of particular relevance to the situation in England show how some hoped that peace and reconciliation would prevail. See C. Allmand, ‘The English Translations of Vegetius’ De Re Militari. What Were Their Authors’ Intentions?’, Concerns and Preoccupations (The Fifteenth Century, XI. Writing Records and Rhetoric, ed. L. Clark [Woodbridge, 2012], pp. 1–8).

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4 D I D T H E D E R E M I L I TA R I O F VEGETIUS INFLUENCE THE M I L I TA RY O R D I N A N C E S O F CHARLES THE BOLD?

The man known to us as Vegetius wrote the De re militari or Epitoma rei militaris, the work for which he is best known to historians, probably in the last years of the fourth century or in the first half of the fifth century of our era.1 It was an attempt by a man with probably little or no military experience but endowed with much common sense, an analytical turn of mind and a wide knowledge of earlier military texts and histories, to compile a practical work on the science of war through which skills could be taught and grosser mistakes be avoided. The work was to enjoy a wide reputation in the Middle Ages, being quoted by a large number and variety of writers, ranging from chroniclers to authors of mirrors for princes, from political and social commentators to compilers of encyclopaedia, from Bede in the eighth century to Machiavelli in the sixteenth. We may note, too, that the De re militari was one of the first texts of the classical legacy to be translated into a vernacular European language (into both Anglo-Norman and French at the end of the thirteenth century), while it was certainly among the earliest books to be produced by a number of presses to meet the demand created by the printing revolution of the fifteenth century.2 Translations and printed editions were one clear indication of the interest which the world had in the work of Vegetius. Another can be found in the large number of manuscripts of the medieval period, in particular the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, which have survived to this day.3 Nor did all these manuscripts remain 1 The dating of the work has given historians and textual scholars much trouble. Was it dedicated to the emperor Theodosius I (379–395), as is argued by N. P. Milner (Vegetius: Epitome of Military Science (Liverpool, 1996), pp. xxxvii–xli), or to Valentinian III (425–455) who is supported, wrongly in Milner’s view, by W. Goffart, ‘The Date and Purpose of Vegetius’ “De re militari”’, Traditio, 33 (1977), 65–100? 2 C. F. Buhler, ‘The Earliest Appearances in Print of Vegetius’, Gutenberg Jahrbuch (1956), 91–93. The first printed edition appeared in Utrecht ‘c.1473–4’, two further ones being printed in Paris and Cologne in 1475. It is therefore possible that Charles the Bold may have known the work of Vegetius from both printed and manuscript texts. 3 Considerably more than 200 Latin manuscripts of the De re militari (henceforth DRM) are known to exist today, although not all are, or ever were, complete. ‘Excerpta’, for instance, constituted a popular form of the work.

DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-6

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unread and unconsulted on library shelves. Research reveals that a large proportion of them, in particular those of the Latin text, bear marks of having been read and the lessons noted: margins with fingers pointing to a particular passage, a ‘Nota bene’, or some other distinguishing mark all reflect a careful, often critical appreciation of what Vegetius had written. For such was the nature of his work that, while what he wrote was inspired by conditions in the late Roman Empire around the year 400, many of his generalisations about the science of war could be related to conditions prevalent a millennium or so later. Therein lies the reason why the De re militari is of much more than purely or even mainly academic interest. Ownership of a copy is not always easy to establish, but the evidence of the texts themselves does tell us of a number of contemporary rulers who possessed the work of Vegetius. In the second half of the fifteenth century Alfonso V of Naples had a fine copy of the Latin text, now in the Bodleian Library, Oxford,4 while king Richard III of England also owned one of the English prose translations, today in the British Library.5 The court of Burgundy appears to have been exceptionally favoured in having two copies of the French translation made by Jean de Vignai in 1340 (both of them acquired before 1467),6 while Charles the Bold may have been the owner of a further copy which had entered the English royal library at Richmond by 1535, and is today in the British Library.7 A Latin manuscript, now in Prague8 but originally copied in Brussels in the script familiar to all who have consulted the registers of the Burgundian Chambre des Comptes, further underlines the fact that Vegetius’s text was known in the Burgundian dominions in the fifteenth century. Such a statement finds support in some five direct references to the De re militari made by Jean Molinet, as well as in a number of passages in his Chroniques which clearly reflect the ideas of Vegetius, although the author does not explicitly say so.9 While the military reforms instigated by Charles the Bold owed a great deal to developments which had occurred in France a generation earlier,10 it is more than likely that the series of ducal ordinances issued between 1468 and 1476 was also inspired by classical sources, two of them in particular. It is probably

4 5 6 7

Oxford, Bodleian Library, Canon. class. lat. 274. London, BL, Ms. Royal 18. A. xii. Brussels, Bibliothèque Royale Albert Ier, mss 11048, 11195. BL, Ms Royal 17 E v.; H. Omont, ‘Les manuscrits français des rois d’Angleterre au château de Richmond’, Etudes romanes dediées à Gaston Paris (Paris, 1891), pp. 1–13 (in particular p. 8). 8 Prague, Knihovna Metropolitni’ Kapituly u.sv.Vita, ms O. LIII, completed ‘in B[r]uxella’ in November 1409 (fo. 73v). 9 Molinet refers directly to Vegetius in his Chroniques, I, v, ix, xlvi and cxxxv. In other passages (for example, I, vi, vii and xiv) he again appears to come close to Vegetian ideas. See Chroniques de Jean Molinet, ed. G. Doutrepont and O. Jodogne (3 vols, Brussels, 1935–37): J. Devaux, Jean Molinet, indiciaire bourguignon (Paris, 1996). 10 P. Contamine, Guerre, État et Société à la fin du Moyen Âge. Études sur les armées des rois de France, 1337–1494 (Paris and The Hague, 1972), p. 541.

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no coincidence that British Library manuscript Royal 17 E v, which contains the text of Vegetius dated soon after 1470, should also include the French translation, recently made on Charles’s orders by the Portuguese Vasco de Lucena of Poggio Bracciolini’s Latin version of Xenophon’s Cyropaedia, a kind of Greek Mirror for Princes (‘de la tres bonne monarchie’, as the explicit of the text states)11 based on king Cyrus, in which military formation plays a considerable role.12 Indeed, Olivier de la Marche indicated that the influence of Xenophon on Charles the Bold’s military thinking had been considerable.13 The emphasis on training, exercise and practice found in the Cyropaedia, in particular in certain passages in Lucena’s rendering, is reflected in the ducal ordinances which underline the forms of preparatory activity which lead to success in the field.14 Furthermore, the relatively up-to-the-minute technical vocabulary used by Lucena (‘cappitaines des ordonnances’, ‘conducteurs’) is also that used in the text of the ducal ordinances of this time.15 The shadow of Xenophon lies over the texts of the Burgundian military reforms of the time of Charles the Bold. Yet, I would argue, they owe even more to Vegetius. Fundamental to his view of the army is that its function is essentially one of defence, of preserving the good of the ‘state’ or society from which it is drawn and which it exists to serve.16 The statement, set out in the ordinance issued at Abbeville in July 1471, that the army should be assembled ‘pour le bien, seurte & defence de nos pays, seigneuries et subjects, & affin de prestement les preserver & garder de dommages & invahissemens’ planned by an enemy, thereby justifying the summoning of the army to preserve the ‘res publica’, would have been clearly understood.17 Having justified the need for an army, it was necessary to ask who would serve in it. Vegetius’s mistrust of an army composed of non-citizens led him to stress the importance of the (Roman) citizen army. Yet not all were fit to serve under arms. The dominant theme in the first book of the De re militari is the need to select

11 BL, Ms. Royal 17 E v, fo. 204v. On this see D. Gallet-Guerne, Vasque de Lucena et la Cyropédie à la cour de Bourgogne (1470) (Geneva, 1974), xiii, 181–82. 12 R. Vaughan, Charles the Bold: The Last Valois Duke of Burgundy (London, 1973), p. 163; G. Doutrepont, La Littérature française à la cour des ducs de Bourgogne (Paris, 1909), pp. 131, 179. 13 See L. Gollut, Les Mémoires historiques de la république sequanoise, et des princes de la FrancheComté de Bourgogne (Dole, 1592), p. 863: ‘. . . le Prince se conformoit au plus qu’il pouvoit de ce que, en la Cyropedie, Xenophon enseigne de la militie Persienne au temps de Cyrus’. 14 BL, Ms Royal 17 E v, fos. 34v, 35. See also Gallet-Guerne, Vasque de Lucena, pp. 48–49, especially n. 39, where ‘l’une des rares digressions personnelles que Vasque de Lucena ait introduit dans sa traduction’ is discussed. 15 BL, Ms Royal 17 E v, fos. 54, 55v. See also F. Lot, L’Art militaire et les armées au Moyen Âge en Europe et dans le Proche-Orient (2 vols, Paris, 1946), ii, 116, n. 2. 16 DRM, I, 7; ii, 24, iii, 10. See Goffart, ‘Date and Purpose of Vegetius’, pp. 92–93; Gollut, Mémoires historiques, p. 853. 17 Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de France et de Bourgogne (2 vols, Paris, 1729); II, p. 287 (and p. 285). At the chapter of the Order of the Golden Fleece held in 1473, Duke Charles claimed that all his wars had been fought ‘to defend his said allies or to defend himself and his possessions’. See Vaughan, Charles the Bold, p. 178.

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suitable soldiers from among those offering themselves for military service. The idea that men should apply to join the army is reflected in the ordinance of 1471 which declared that any wishing to serve had to apply before a specific closing date, and only those found to be ‘ydoines et souffisans’ would be selected.18 We may note that the French word ‘ydoine’ used here (as it had already been used for some time in French military jargon to describe ‘selected’ troops) is the exact etymological equivalent of the Latin ‘idoneus’, used by Vegetius, to describe those troops chosen for service.19 It was a word to give confidence, to convey that an army consisted of men who had been tested and proved before being selected to serve. Once selected, recruits must be trained. Both Xenophon and Vegetius expressed views on this point, the latter mainly in Book 1 of his work. The Latin writer’s basic thinking once again found practical expression in the Abbeville ordinance of 1471. The ducal army (ordonnance) was to be provided with the ‘meilleurs et plus experts en fait de guerre que pourrons trouver & choisir en nos dits pays & seignories’, the baillis being ordered to seek out candidates within their jurisdictions. These recruits, the ‘esleus & choisis en ladite ordonnance’, would be allocated to their captains (the ‘chiefs pour les conduire’) under whom they would train and serve.20 The ordinance of 1473 was specific regarding the methods to be used in training. In a text owing much, I suggest, to the central chapters of Book I of the De re militari, captains were ordered to take some of their men into the countryside, draw them up in formations, and give them practice in the ordered use of arms, in ways of methodical retreat and other exercises.21 Archers, too, were to be instructed on the use of horses, and how to fight alongside the picquenaires who, at a sign, would kneel so that the archers could fire over their heads, ‘comme par dessus un mur’.22 The discipline of such manoeuvring, based on training, was much indebted to the inspiration of Vegetius. Disciplined action was one thing. Another was the emphasis placed upon command and the effective exercise of authority through properly established channels. In the De re militari (mainly in Book III) Vegetius had set out the role of the commander and his responsibilities, emphasising the effect that able leadership could have upon the outcome of hostilities.23 In France royal ordinances of the 18 2 August (Mémoires, II, pp. 285–288). 19 ‘A magnis ergo viris magnaque diligentia idoneos eligi convenit iuniores: DRM, I, p. 7 (end). Compare with Xenophon: ‘Ainsy fault eslire gens darmes qui puissant souffrir labour militaires et la charge de la guerre’ (BL, Ms Royal 17 E v, fo. 51). 20 Mémoires, II, pp. 87–89. 21 This was a recurring theme, found again in DRM, II, p. 23 and III, p. 2. 22 Gollut, Mémoires historiques, pp. 861–862; Vaughan, Charles the Bold, pp. 209–210; Vaughan, Valois Burgundy (London, 1975), pp. 127–128. 23 Many of the characteristics of the good leader (for which see J. Devaux, L’Image du chef de guerre dans les sources littéraires, Publications du Centre Européen d’Études bourguignonnes, 37 (1997), 115–129) could be said to have been inspired by Vegetius. See, in particular, the necessity for the commander to concern himself with his soldiers’ needs (p. 119; cf. DRM, III, pp. 3, 8, 10); to see to the sick in the army (120, DRM, III, 2); to fight with forethought (121; DRM, III, Preface), and to animate soldiers by example (128: DRM, III, pp. 9, 12, 18).

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fourteenth and fifteenth centuries had established the King as the supreme holder of military authority: the model would greatly influence Burgundian developments.24 Both ultimately owed much to Roman, in particular to Vegetian, influence. An early ordinance, that of July 1468, showed how duke Charles intended to proceed. The text consisted of directives issued by the duke to the Marshal of Burgundy through whom captains were to be informed that the army was to be assembled.25 Three years later, the Abbeville ordinance showed how the hierarchy of command would be further strengthened as the successful deployment of each unit within the army came to be associated with the appointment of a leader whose authority was given him by the duke himself. The ultimate dependence of every ‘conductier’ upon the duke was emphasised by the need to have his authority, or commission, renewed annually by the duke himself. Command, now linked to the responsibility which every ‘conductier’ owed to26 the duke and, beyond him, to the wider ‘res publica’, was no longer to be associated solely with social position: skill, experience and the ability to achieve success were prominent as qualities to be sought by the duke as he selected his captains. Failure to make good use of these qualities would mean that the captain’s commission, issued ad hominem for a year, would not be renewed. The famous ceremony held at Nancy late in 1475, at which the duke issued new commissions to his captains who had just been addressed by Guillaume de Rochefort, doubtless echoing his master’s views on how the strength of states depended on the military skill (‘l’arte militare’) and loyalty of the army, shows how seriously Charles the Bold regarded the reforms now being put into place.27 Skill and efficiency, loyalty and obedience, all these were necessary for success. In a passage which regularly attracted the attention of medieval readers,28 Vegetius had emphasised the need for all soldiers to take an oath (sacramentum) ‘that they will strenuously do all that the Emperor may command, will never desert his service, nor refuse to die for the Roman state’. A millennium later these words had been made to form an important part of the French programme of reform.29 No command structure was efficient or secure without the sense of loyalty needed to make it work. The idea was taken up in the Burgundian ordinance of 1472 24 The importance of single, not shared leadership, in battle had been stressed by Honoré Bouvet in the closing years of the fourteenth century: L’Arbre des Batailles d’Honoré Bonet, ed. E. Nys (Brussels and Leipzig, 1883), p. 85; The Tree of Battles of Honoré Bonet, English trans. by G. W. Coopland (Liverpool, 1949), p. 175; cited by C. Brusten, L’Armée bourguignonne de 1465 à 1468 (Brussels, no date), 166. Bouvet’s work was well known in Burgundian circles, and many manuscripts survive to this day. 25 Mémoires, p. 283. 26 Ibid, p. 293; Vaughan, Charles the Bold, p. 207. The hierarchical command structure was also characteristic of the Persian army described by Xenophon (Gallet-Guerne, Vasque de Lucena, p. 47). 27 Vaughan, Charles the Bold, pp. 204–205. 28 DRM, II, p. 5. 29 Ordonnances des Roys de France de la troisième race (22 vols, Paris, 1723–1849), v, pp. 659–660 (1374); xiv, 5 (1451); Contamine, Guerre, État et Société, p. 359.

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which stated that all soldiers were to serve the duke, a procedure which would be re-emphasised in the following year.30 Hardly surprisingly, then, desertion (a subject considered by Vegetius) was regarded as both a potential disruption of an efficient military machine and as an explicit rejection of the oath of loyalty and obedience sworn to the duke. In the 1472 ordinance strong action had already been urged against those who deserted, described here as ‘partis sans congie’, ‘absent without leave’,31 while that published in 1473 decreed that all absentees must be reported to their leaders, who were held accountable for them.32 While leave could be granted, those seeking it had to follow strict, almost bureaucratic procedures to obtain permission to be absent, while material guarantees of return had to be left before any such permission could be put into effect.33 A further example of classical influence may be found in the way in which the structure of the army was to be based, in some manner, upon the model provided by Vegetius. Here, I think, we may justifiably look beyond the influence exercised by a single text, since ideas about structures, based on the rank of commanders and the number of men in each fighting unit, could have been found in more than a single source, not least in Xenophon’s Cyropaedia. Yet the gradations of command, the naming of leaders after the numbers of men in the groups which they led (decanus or centurio, for example) so typical of the Roman legion also reappeared in the ducal ordinances.34 Philippe Contamine has drawn attention to the ‘rigidité et coherence’ created in these divisions which contrasted sharply with the imprecision and overlapping of contemporary French military organisation,35 creating for the Burgundian army (on paper, at least) a system in which all had a regulated place, knew whom they should obey, and from whom instructions should come. These groups were to move according to commands conveyed by the sound of trumpets;36 once again we may observe the influence of the classical world and, perhaps more specifically, that of Vegetius who, in at least two passages, set out the role of the trumpeter in ordering and controlling movements by the army.37 The first of these passages, in particular, caught the eye of many medieval readers; a considerable number of manuscripts reflect the interest which these had in what Vegetius had written regarding this military practice which helped to create, in theory at least, an army disciplined to move in ordered and coordinated movements.38 30 Gollut, Mémoires historiques, pp. 852, 862–863; Vaughan, Charles the Bold, p. 208. 31 Gollut, Mémoires historiques, p. 849. 32 Ibid, p. 856. Such a step had been anticipated in the French military reforms of 1351 (Ordonnances des Roys de France, IV, p. 69). 33 Contamine, Guerre, État et Société, p. 504. 34 See DRM, II, pp. 4–14. 35 Contamine, Guerre, État et Société, p. 486. 36 Gollut, Mémoires historiques, p. 847; Vaughan, Charles the Bold, p. 208. 37 See DRM, II, p. 22 and III, p. 5. 38 A number of manuscripts contain marginalia drawing readers’ attention to the first passage cited above. Some have a drawing attached; a particularly fine one may be found in Klosterneuburg,

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Central to the ideas expressed in Vegetius’ text is the supreme importance of order and discipline, and the effect which these should have upon military action. A final example illustrates how the Roman army kept itself together, each soldier in his place both in time of peace and of war. In achieving this desirable state the role played by the ensigns was all-important. Contamine has suggested that the second half of the fifteenth century witnessed the decline in importance of the leader’s personal banner as a factor in rallying those who served under him, and its replacement by the banner belonging to the unit over which he had charge.39 Once again, where France led, Burgundy would follow. But in the case of Burgundy the influence of Vegetius is very marked. Allowing for reasonable adaptations, what he had written on the practical methods to be used to keep soldiers in their units was clearly followed in the ducal ordinance of 1473. The detail, which included a system of identifying those units in the thick of battle through the use of recognisable ensigns ‘inscribed with letters indicating the century’s cohort and ordinal number’ was precise enough to make it clear that it was the writings of Vegetius which inspired this way of doing things.40 The use of the password (‘nom du Guet & cry de la nuit’), regularly changed to prevent enemy attacks or infiltration, encouraged in the ordinance of 1468 could be cited as a further example of good practice recommended by Vegetius.41 However, enough has now been said to show that Burgundian military organisation had much to learn from both the fundamentals and the details of Roman military practice as these were conveyed to later ages through a reading of the classical histories (such as those of Caesar or Livy), as well as through the close attention paid to the more didactic works of Xenophon, Valerius Maximus, Frontinus and Vegetius.42 Nothing has been said here about heroes. The reason is simple. Vegetius preferred to emphasise considered preparation, the thoughtful approach to war. He had little interest in the heroic, the extra-ordinary. Furthermore, he regarded victory as a result of effort by the army as a whole, by the many, not by the few or the individual. Essentially about armies, his work was intended to show how men could and should fight together. This is the reason why the De re militari had such a profound effect upon military thinking at the end of the Middle Ages and in early modern times, as permanent armies created by princes came into existence. It was such armies, although still in their infancies, which threatened Charles the Bold. After a long period of peace achieved by his father, Philip the Good, Burgundian forces

39 40 41 42

Ms 1094, fo. 16v, in which a man, with drums in front of him, blows a long, straight instrument (‘tuba’) with relish. See the rather sceptical comments of J. R. Hale, War and Society in Renaissance Europe, 1450–1620 (London, 1985), p. 167. Contamine, Guerre, État et Société, p. 252. DRM, II, p. 13: Gollut, Mémoires historiques, p. 854. Xenophon had also recommended the use of ensigns (Gallet-Guerne, Vasque de Lucena, pp. 48, 222 and plate xxiii). DRM, III, p. 5, a passage to which medieval readers often drew attention: Mémoires, ii, p. 283. Gallet-Guerne, Vasque de Lucena, p. 47.

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lacked training and practice.43 Equally important, they lacked the military structures which already existed elsewhere. Seeing the possible dangers, duke Charles issued ordinances intended to correct those deficiencies. The response did not satisfy him, and so he turned to Italy for help. In so doing he illustrated the dilemma faced by those who hired foreign troops. Should a prince rely upon an army which, although drawn from his own people, might be inadequate, or should he secure the military service of ‘outsiders’ who were already trained and experienced, however dangerous that decision might prove to be? His attempt to create a permanent force shows that duke Charles understood some of the basic messages which Vegetius had conveyed. At the same time, the very large Italian presence among the military personnel in ducal pay also shows that, in his dilemma and surrounded by enemies, Charles the Bold fully appreciated the importance of employing troops who, trained and experienced, were available to serve the duchy. In the end it led to nothing. None the less, there can be little doubt that examples of Roman military practice had a considerable influence on the thinking of duke Charles regarding the role he intended his army to fulfil, and on how he thought it should prepare itself for action on behalf of the Burgundian ‘res publica’ it was bound to defend. His acceptance of some of Vegetius’s ideas helps us to understand the nature of chivalric culture in general and, in particular, how that culture developed in practical ways in Burgundy in the second half of the fifteenth century. Not least, it underlines the fact that the words chivalry and chivalric were words which experienced important, if subtle, evolution as the years passed by. Did the reforms instigated by Charles amount to total failure? The answer must surely be ‘no’. Rather, we should see them as constituting a bridge between the past and the future, a future to which Vegetius made a major contribution. Evolving Burgundian practice regarding selection and training (real, live training), insistence upon military discipline and obedience to authority, and the development of military structures, all were to influence the way in which European armies grew in the coming century or so.44 In smaller ways, too, the influence of the Roman (even the Greco/Persian) past was reflected in the ducal ordinances. Was the inspiration for such changes ‘humanistic’ or ‘practical’? It is possible to see them as both, the line between them, as an examination of many fifteenth-century manuscripts of the De re militari amply bears out, was a fine one. In the case of Charles the Bold, in spite of his well-attested interest in classical texts, we can probably say that he accepted the example of Roman practices because they were practical, and because they had been tried before, particularly in France. It is as a careful, if at times audacious, innovator, with a liking for what he regarded as well-tried methods in military matters, that duke Charles deserves to be remembered.

43 See Vaughan, Charles the Bold, p. 166. Vegetius had pointed out that soldiers who had not seen active service for a long time should be treated as recruits (‘pro tironibus’) (DRM, III, p. 9 (and 10). 44 Vaughan, Charles the Bold, p. 205. On this whole subject, see also Hale, Renaissance War Studies, particularly section II (on training and recruitment).

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Part II

5 CHANGING PERCEPTIONS O F T H E S O L D I E R I N L AT E M E D I E VA L F R A N C E

What did late medieval society think of the soldier who featured so often in the chronicles and was, for many, part of the everyday scene of that age? Frenchmen, in particular, had ample opportunity of becoming accustomed to the sight of the soldier, and of hearing about his misdeeds. It was these abuses of power which made soldiers into the latrones publici of the popular imagination. That opinion should react in this way was natural enough. Yet there already existed an ideal of the soldier, and a description of his function and place in society in John of Salisbury’s Policraticus, written in the middle years of the twelfth century. In Salisbury’s view, being a soldier brought out the best in man: it demanded hard work and absolute loyalty, both to God and lord, from those whose task it was, under the control of the ruler, to protect society, not attack it. Such a view was clearly influenced by two important sources: the Old Testament, and the late fourth-century writer, Vegetius, whose ideas are reflected time and again in the Policraticus. Both placed emphasis on the need for societies, of whatever size, to be able to defend themselves. If the lawyer defended people with words, the soldier’s task was to do the same with arms.1 While the popular view of the soldier was often that of a man who used force and violence against his own people, intellectuals and commentators tried to formulate a vision of the soldier’s role in society which, modelled upon John of Salisbury, could be adapted to the needs of France as she faced an uphill struggle against the English. In brief, the task of the writers quoted in this paper was to create an intellectual climate for major reforms of the army led by the Crown which, if achieved, could lead to both the expulsion of the ancient enemy and the imposition and subsequent maintenance of that order in society which, as Frenchmen were coming to appreciate, it was the monarchy’s obligation to create and maintain. Mez des gens de guerre qui se dient estre au roy, ilz destruisent tout et rançonnent les povres gens, prennent prisonniers, les mettent à finance, pour laquelle avoir les batent et desromptent. . . . 1 Johannis Saresberiensis Episcopi Carnotensis Policratici, ed. C. C. I. Webb (Oxford, 1909), II, 2 (VI, i), cited hereafter as Policraticus; Jean de Bueil, Le Jouvencel . . ., ed. C. Favre and L. Lecestre (2 vols, Paris, 1887–89), II, p. 14.

DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-8

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The sources for the history of late medieval France abound in references to the soldier and his activities. The chroniclers constantly record military action and, by reading both between the lines as well as along them, we get some idea of what those who described events, in particular the events of war, thought of the soldier. Royal ordinances have much to say on him from the viewpoint of royal government and administration. Legal records, such as those of the Parlement of Paris, are a valuable quarry for anyone seeking to understand how the soldier saw himself, and was seen by others. The literary evidence, too, is of the very greatest importance. War, and the soldier in both war and peace, was a theme which occupied the minds of many of the leading writers of the period: Guillaume Machaut, Eustache Deschamps, Honoré Bouvet, Philippe de Mézières, Christine de Pisan, Alain Chartier, Jean Juvénal des Ursins, and Jean de Bueil. Much of what follows arises from a consideration of the views expressed in their writings. Whether active on his own or in a group, and whether that group was a route or a royal army, the soldier in late medieval France was a much criticised individual.2 The Complainte sur la Bataille de Poitiers, written in 1357, showed up the noble soldier in unflattering, indeed hostile, terms. Many on that occasion, it was claimed, having lacked the courage to fight, had fled, to their great dishonour. Many, too, had arrived at the battle dressed in the clothing of vanity rather than in that of war, a criticism similar in character to remarks made at much the same time by the English Dominican, John Bromyard, about some of his fellow countrymen departing for war in France.3 These men had betrayed their king, John II: Fauls, traitres, desloyaus, sont infame et perjure Car par euls est le roi mis à desconfiture, Qui est li très plus nobles de toute creature. Such men ‘ont tray leur segneur à qui devoient foy’. The result? Victory went to the English ‘merdaille’.4 The behaviour of an army on the battlefield in time of open hostilities was one matter; how the soldier acted off the field of battle was another. He might choose to ignore the peace which his lord, the king, had made with the English. In 1361 it was claimed that both the kingdom and the royal authority were being ‘openly’ (‘publiquement’) threatened by the soldiery, so that the assembling of ‘gens d’armes et archiers’, other than with express royal permission, had to be forbidden by the king.5 The text of the ordinance is revealing. Undisciplined soldiers were making life a misery for the population: they were attacking the ‘transquilité’ 2 In the discussion which follows, the gens d’armes represents the soldier rather than the knight. 3 John Bromyard, Summa Predicantium (Basel, 1484), under ‘Bellum’. An English translation can be found in Society at War: The Experience of England and France during the Hundred Years War, ed. C. Allmand (Edinburgh, 1973), pp. 38–39. The idea is found in Policraticus, II, 11–13 (VI, iii). 4 ‘Complainte sur la bataille de Poitiers’, ed. C. de Beaurepaire, BEC, 3rd ser., II (1851), 257–263, lines 66–68, 84. 5 Ordonnances des Roys de la troisième race, III, 525–527.

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of the civilian, and were becoming objects of fear, a fact confirmed by Jean de Venette’s chronicle. At the same time the unruly soldier was undermining the effectiveness of royal authority, so that the king, whose obligation it was to create peace and achieve justice in his kingdom, was finding the task almost beyond him. Yet the plea that all soldiers should return to their homes fell largely on deaf ears. It was not long before strong emotion took over the language used to describe the soldier and his activities. When Venette wrote about the burning of his native village by the English, he described a man’s natural reaction to an event which, as he recalled, was being repeated elsewhere.6 Eustache Deschamps was to echo those feelings: ‘Au jour d’hui veult chascun guerre mener’, he lamented; soldiers destroy their country through pillage; all honour is gone. The men who act in this way like to be called gens d’armes, but they roam the country, destroying everything in their way, and the poor are forced to flee before them. If the soldier manages to travel three leagues in a day, he thinks he has done very well. ‘Il se dampne qui telle guerre suit’, concluded the poet.7 Deschamps wrote these words probably in 1369. Three quarters of a century later Jean Juvénal des Ursins would echo them. It was one thing, he wrote in both his Proposicion . . . par devant . . . le conte d’Eu and in A, A, A, Nescio loqui, for soldiers to make legitimate war upon the enemy, quite another for them to wage it on their fellow Frenchmen: Mez des gens de guerre qui se dient estre du roy, ilz destruisent tout et rançonnent les povres gens, prennent prisonniers, les mettent à finance, pour laquelle avoir les batent et desromptent, les mettent en fosses et les tirannisent en pluseurs et diversses manieres, emparent places pour faire guerre aux Angloix, lesquelles sont plus pour destruire le peuple et les serviteurs du roy que aultrement, comme vous vous pourés plus à plain informer.8 The way that soldiers behaved towards their non-combatant counterparts (the verb often used to describe their activities ‘tyranniser’)9 was capable of producing the strongest reactions. Yet, behind it all lay that uneasy feeling, expressed with greater or lesser conviction, that war’s misfortunes were the result of punishment for sin committed, the chastisement of an erring people by their loving Father: in

6 Jean de Venette, Chronicle, trans. and ed. R. Birdsall and R. A. Newhall (New York, 1953), pp. 93–94. 7 Eustache Deschamps, Oeuvres complètes, ed. De Queux de Saint-Hilaire and G. Raynaud (Paris, 1878), I, pp. 159–160. 8 Jean Juvénal des Ursins, Écrits politiques, ed. P. S. Lewis (Paris, SHF, 1978), I, pp. 290, 523. 9 Ibid, I, pp. 305, 523.

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Deschamps’ words, ‘Dieu partout pugnit peuple qui pèche’.10 It is in this sense that we have to understand Jean de Bueil’s statement that ‘gens d’armes . . . sont faiz pour tourmenter le monde’,11 the implication being that, seen in a theological perspective, such torment is good, perhaps desirable. If Bueil, a layman, could write in this way, the idea was an even more natural part of a clerical mentality and culture. To the monk, Honoré Bouvet, author of L’Arbre des Batailles written towards the end of the fourteenth century, suffering for the expiation of evil was good; indeed, it could not be avoided. War was a way of righting wrong, of turning dissension to peace, a medicine used to restore health to the social body. As a man, Bouvet could write of his emotions at seeing the wrongs inflicted by soldiers upon poor labourers and others. But God allowed war in order to punish men for their sins: the gens d’armes were regarded as God’s flail, ‘les executeurs de nostre Seigneur’. If war sometimes oppressed the good and the just, it was for the increase of their glory.12 Writing some fifty years later, and with the bitter experience of further war behind him, Jean Juvénal des Ursins was very much of the same opinion, citing Gregory to the effect that punishment was not to be seen as a flagellation but as a gift by which sins of the flesh were purged by physical suffering in a spirit of acceptance, after which punishment God would send his people some good (‘après ces grans maulx, Dieu nous envoyera quelque bien’).13 Such a view has a place in the present discussion. Although Bouvet could assert that the soldier was not sure of a place in heaven unless he qualified for it ‘par bonnes euvres ou par justes querelles maintenir’,14 the view of the soldier as the instrument of God’s punishment was likely to affect attitudes towards him, and how men might react towards what he did. Was it right to resist the manifest will of God reflected in the soldier’s actions? The acceptance of that will, even in a true spirit of Christian patience and resignation, would incline men towards the spirit of fatalism clearly evident in much of the literature of the time. It was not merely a question of whether the excesses of the soldiery could be resisted: the matter of whether they should be was also being debated. Typically, the answer was not theological but practical. That of Jean de Bueil certainly fell into that category: ‘Ayde-toy, Dieu te aidera’, he wrote, citing the saying of the day.15 Many decades earlier, in his Ballades, Eustache Deschamps had been hammering home the refrain that princes had an obligation to defend their subjects and achieve a state of justice within their lands. Towards the end of the first decade of the fifteenth century, at a moment when the rivalry between the Armagnacs and the Burgundians was becoming increasingly intense, a series of

10 Deschamps, Oeuvres, V, pp. 392–394. 11 Le Jouvencel, II, p. 157. 12 L’Arbre des Batailles d’Honoré Bonet, ed. E. Nys (Brussels and Leipzig, 1883), p. 150; The Tree of Battles of Honoré Bonet, trans. and ed. G. W. Coopland (Liverpool, 1949), pp. 157–158. 13 Juvénal des Ursins, Écrits politiques, I, pp. 302–305. 14 L’Arbre des Batailles, p. 150; Tree of Battles, p. 158. 15 Le Jouvencel, II, p. 33.

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royal ordinances referred to the pillage and widespread physical damage caused by the ‘gens d’armes, archiers, arbalestriers, pilleurs & autres gens de guerre de diverses nations’ who, against royal orders, were active in the country to the detriment of the people.16 In such conditions justice could not reign, and strong action was required against them, so that the king’s ‘bons et loyaulx subgiets’ should be adequately protected. Such views were in keeping with those expressed by Bouvet twenty years earlier. In spite of arguing that the soldier was the flail of God, Bouvet had shown himself to be the strong upholder of the rights and interests of the poor labourer who should be left in peace,17 a view with which Alain Chartier and Jean Juvénal des Ursins, to name but two, would later concur. John of Salisbury had stressed that controlling soldiers was a great test for a ruler.18 French kings were aware that action to establish control over the soldiery was necessary and that the respect due to their authority would, in some measure, depend upon the effectiveness of steps taken to curb the violence associated with soldiers. In October 1361, as acts of private war appeared to replace war against the English, which the treaty of Brétigny had brought to a temporary halt, the soldiers who sought to further their own ends in this way were ordered home, and were forbidden to assemble again without royal permission.19 In January 1374, war with England having in the meantime resumed, further measures aimed at establishing control over the soldiery were deemed necessary. This time it was the captains, appointed to office by the king, who were made responsible for the discipline of those under their command. A new view of the soldier and of his social functions was now being made more explicit. John of Salisbury had several times stressed that the oath was what distinguished soldiers from assassins.20 Now the soldier was to undertake, on oath, to serve for the period for which he would be in receipt of wages, while the names of absentees (were they better called deserters?) were to be recorded. All that the soldier took in the way of food, for example, was to be paid for, while damage to private property was to be compensated for and those held responsible for such destruction were to be sought out. Towards the end of the ordinance came what we are looking for: a statement of intent. Soldiers, the text pronounced, exist to serve ‘pour nostre service [et la] deffense, bien et seurté de leur pays’.21 Such was the formal obligation of the soldier in the king of France’s army in the final quarter of the fourteenth century. The reading of different kinds of evidence leads to the conclusion that the soldier in late medieval France was the direct cause of much suffering in society. But it would be incorrect to argue that the picture had but one side to it. As Bouvet would not condemn war on the grounds that some abused it, so we should not

16 17 18 19 20 21

Ordonnances, IX, pp. 292, 515, 677. L’Arbre des Batailles, p. 174; Tree of Battles, p. 189. Policraticus, II, pp. 8–9 (VI, ii). Ordonnances, III, pp. 525–527. Policraticus, II, pp. 16, 29–23 (VI, v, vii, viii). Ordonnances, V, pp. 658–661.

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judge all soldiers by the worst of them. The praise which Deschamps lavished upon Bertrand du Guesclin and Louis de Sancerre, both constables of France, both buried besides their sovereign lords at Saint-Denis, had much of the traditional chivalric praise of the knight behind it.22 In this discussion we are primarily concerned with the more ordinary soldier, the gens d’armes, and it is for this reason that the evidence contained in Jean de Bueil’s masterpiece, Le Jouvencel, is of such importance to us. Like its English contemporary, William Worcester’s Boke of Noblesse, Le Jouvencel sets out to show (one is forced to ask whether the author takes the matter for granted) that the soldier is, or should be, an element for peace and harmony in society. As he announces, it is his ‘entencion de declairer et magnifester les haultes vertus, les grans triumphes, la loyauté et le grand courage des gens de guerre, quant ilz sont bons, avecques les plaisirs, loenges, honneurs et bonne renommée qu’ilz acquièrent en exerçant les armes’.23 Having shown that the soldier’s call is one of honour, he concludes by claiming that ‘moult y a de virtus et de grans perfections en ceulx qui sieuvent la guerre’.24 Many will recall the emphasis which Bueil placed on the personal satisfaction to be achieved through fighting.25 It is one of the characteristics of his work, to which he referred more than once. However, this kind of motivation is not sufficient. Emphasis is also placed on other factors. One such is service to the king. We are not long into the prologue when we are told that ‘dès ma jeunesse, j’ay sieuvy les armes et frequenté les guerres du très crestien roy de France, mon souverain seigneur, en soustenant sa querelle de tout mon petit povoir’. Later he draws attention to the knight who is ‘prest de deffendre le droit de son prince, de son pays et de ceulx qu’il a en son gouvernement’.26 This, Bueil believed, was accomplishing the will of God. I would suggest that, while chivalric in form, such a statement could not have been made much before the middle of the fourteenth century. In the reforming ordinance of 1351 it is stated explicitly that soldiers shall constitute only royal armies and thus, by extension, that they are in the service of the crown.27 Certainly, by 1361 (as we have seen) the assembling of gens d’armes was forbidden other than by express royal order: if this were not done, the kingdom would suffer ‘publiquement’.28 The close link between service to the king and service to the public good is now making an appearance: from now onwards, the theme of the soldier as a royal servant or agent is a fairly consistent one.29 Deschamps wrote that the ruler should love good knights, gens d’armes and esquires who would 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

Deschamps, Oeuvres, II, pp. 27–30 (Du Guesclin); VI, pp. 141–145 (Sancerre). Le Jouvencel, I, pp. 46, 50. Ibid, I, pp. 46, 50. Ibid, II, pp. 20–22. Translated in Society at War, ed. Allmand, pp. 27–29. Le Jouvencel, I, p. 15; II, p. 71; I, p. 118. Ordonnances, IV, pp. 67–70. Translated in Society at War, pp. 45–48. Ibid, III, pp. 525–527. N. A. R. Wright, ‘The Tree of Battles of Honoré Bouvet and the Laws of war’, War, Literature and Politics in the Late Middle Ages, ed. C. T. Allmand (Liverpool, 1976), pp. 18, 29–30.

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pursue his wars for, as Jean Juvénal des Ursins would express it half a century later, the army represented ‘la force du roy’ by which the king should be served.30 Obligation to serve in the army, in the arrière-ban, for example, could be turned into a virtue. In Alain Chartier’s Débat du Herault the vassal is made to say: Dea, se mon prince me mande, Il fault que je l’aille servir Et aille soubz qui il commende En moy n’en est pas lez choysir.31 A spirit of cooperation which, in the works of Chartier, contrasted with his view of the nobility whose attitude to service under the crown, and under leaders appointed by the crown, he was all too ready to criticise. Not surprisingly, the refrain to the section on ‘loyauté’ in Chartier’s Le Bréviaire des Nobles (a discussion of noble virtues) is ‘Servir leur roy et leurs subgez deffendre’.32 It is not surprising, either, that we should find in Le Jouvencel the most emphatic statements of the respect due to the soldier who serves his king or prince, emphatic because they are expressed in the course of the long passages of dialogue which characterise the work. As we know, Jean de Bueil was not the only writer of his age to criticise those who went to court in search of advancement: they were among those who already had their rewards. ‘Mais, au regard de l’homme d’armes, il est tout au contraire. ‘Car, s’il a esté bon, chascun le plaint et l’invitel’en à disner et à soupper, et lui tenir compaignie. Et chacun dit de lui en derriere: Ha! le bon homme qui a si bien servi le Roy et le royaume! C’est grant pitié qu’il ait nécessité’.33 Later in the work, the same view re-emerges: ‘Je croy que tout homme qui expose son corps à soustenir bonne querelle et à secourir son souverain seigneur ou son prochain en bonne justice et en bon droit, fait et accomplist le commandement de Dieu’.34 In these examples we see a reflection of the claim to honour and respectability made by litigants before the Parlement of Paris;35 Richard Handford, from Cheshire, was described as ‘bon escuier . . . et a servy le roi en la bataille de Verneul . . . et ailleurs où il s’est bien emploié’;36 in 1430 Robert Stafford could claim to have ‘servy le roy continuelment en la compagnie du feu conte de Salisbury;37 while Henry Tilleman claimed that he was ’bon homme 30 31 32 33 34 35

Deschamps, Oeuvres, II, pp. 320–321; Juvénal des Ursins, Écrits politiques, I, p. 387. The Poetical Works of Alain Chartier, ed. J. C. Laidlaw (Cambridge, 1974), p. 428. Ibid, p. 397. Le Jouvencel, I, p. 56. Ibid, I, p. 118. On this see F. Autrand, ‘L’image de la noblesse en France à la fin du Moyen Âge. Tradition et nouveauté’, Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, 1979, pp. 340–354, especially 348 seq. 36 English Suits before the Parlement of Paris, 1420–1436, ed. C. Allmand and C. A. J. Armstrong (London: R.Hist.S., 1982), p. 78. 37 Ibid, p. 222.

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d’armes et [a] servi le prince de Gales ou voyage d’Espaigne, et depuis continuelment a servi le roy et ses predecesseurs, et porta l’estandart du duc de Bedford en la bataille de Verneul’, evidence of a long military career of over fifty years in arms in the service of the English crown.38 This last example is of particular interest for Tilleman claimed to be no more than an homme d’armes. It was surely service of this kind which Bueil had in mind when praising the efforts of those who chose to work for their king and, by extension, for their country. Several traditions helped to make explicit the link between service to king and service to country or, as it was usually called, to the bien publique. As writers on the subject have reminded us, chivalry had always inculcated a certain duty to the state.39 So, too, had Roman law, while the study of classical exempla found, for instance, in the works of Frontinus and Valerius Maximus (both by now available in French versions) emphasised the Roman tradition of service to the res publica. Finally the influence of Aristotelian thought on the concept of individual selfsufficient societies, with their own characteristics and interests to be defended legitimately if threatened from outside, became one of the factors which not only influenced the development of national armies but also, by stressing the obligation of the subject or the citizen to play his part in national defence enhanced the respect due to the soldier in society. Armies now became necessary both for defence and for securing justice. While the fulfilment of such aims was still the principal raison d’être for the existence of the nobility and justification for the privileges which it enjoyed (so much may be read into the Complainte of 1357 and even the views of Alain Chartier in the next century) there can be little doubt that, influenced by humanistic thinking and the ideas of Vegetius, the fulfilment of defensive needs was now, more than ever before, coming to be regarded as a matter of communal responsibility. As Jean Juvénal des Ursins was to express it in Verba mea (probably c.1452) on the matter ‘de quelz gens vous vous devez servir en armes, il n’est doubte que on se doit servir de toutes gens on se peut aider, et qui sont tenus et reputés vaillans,40 while in emphasising that suitability based on experience rather than on rank or birth should be the deciding factor in the appointment of leaders, he was stressing that an army existed to achieve results, in particular the defence of the public good. The king’s war thus became a war for the public good. ‘Que c’est la chose publi dont le roy est tout le chef?’ asked Jean Juvénal des Ursins. It was to Augustine that he turned for an answer. ‘La chose publique est la chose du peuple, du pays et commune; et est la chose publique saulve quant tous sont unis en bonne amour et dilection, et que chascun pense au profit et utilité et entende, et est constituée de personnes souveraines, moyennes et basses, et le souverain et le chef c’est le roy’.41 38 Ibid, p. 104. 39 R. L. Kilgour, The Decline of Chivalry as Shown in the French Literature of the Late Middle Ages (Cambridge, MA, 1937), p. 214; M. H. Keen, Chivalry (Yale, 1984), pp. 235–236. 40 Juvénal des Ursins, Écrits politiques, II, p. 236. 41 Ibid, II, pp. 203–204.

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It was the opposite to the particular good, in the fullest meaning of the phrase. In Le Jouvencel Jean de Bueil made the captain of Crathor exclaim, after the capture of the town: ‘Nous avons fait, Dieu mercy!, une belle conquest et ung service au Roy, nostre souverain seigneur, et pourra ceste chose estre bien prouffitable à la chose publique de ce royaume’.42 In brief, that which was to the king’s advantage was to the communal advantage, too. It was to that good, whose guardian the soldier was intended to be, that the texts referred with increasing frequency. When discussing the lawfulness of fighting on a feast day, Honoré Bouvet stressed that the soldiers of his day would be condemned if they rode out, scaled a town, or pillaged or robbed on Easter Day for their personal advantage. However if this were done for the ‘utilité publique’, their sin would soon be forgiven.43 As Jean de Bueil wrote of the gens d’armes, ‘il fault qu’ilz servent continuellement à la chose publique’,44 an ambition which, shared by all knights and soldiers, would encourage them to train regularly, ready for the moment when their services would be required. What was happening was that the soldier, in particular, was coming to be regarded as the guardian of the public good, the instrument available to the king to defend the country against exterior attack, to expel enemies (such as the English) who might be in possession of part of it, and to maintain peace within it. If Charles VII was criticised, as he was by Jean Juvénal des Ursins (who asked ‘Quare obdormis, Domine?’), one reason was that the king was not looking sufficiently to the needs of the bien publique and that of the gens d’armes, who, representing the strength of the Crown, were not being properly used. Criticism of the soldiery was oblique criticism of the king who was not providing the public good with sufficient defence, was not making a determined enough effort to expel the English, and was allowing abuses to become institutionalised in French public life. From the crown’s responsibility to restore order and discipline among soldiers acting contrary to the public interest, it was but a short step to claiming a monopoly in the appointment of military leaders. In the ordinance of 1374 such a claim had been exercised;45 by that date the appointment of Bertrand du Guesclin as constable, in a scene rendered famous by Froissart, had already taken place.46 By 1439, however, the importance of this matter needed to be re-emphasised. The first clause of the ordinance of that year reiterated that none should claim to exercise military authority without the approval of the king.47 It was thus notable that it should have been the king who decided to place Jouvencel in command of his 42 43 44 45 46 47

Le Jouvencel, I, p. 93. L’Arbre des Batailles, p. 145; Tree of Battles, p. 155. Le Jouvencel, II, p. 27. Ordonnances, V, p. 660 (cl. 15). Froissart, Chroniques, ed. S. Luce and G. Raynaud et al. (Paris), VII, pp. 2554–2555. Ordonnances, XIII, p. 306 (cl.1). As Jules Quicherat pointed out, it was this ordinance which put an end to the French career of Rodrigue de Villandrando, who saw no future for the ‘independent’ commander in France. (P. D. Solon, ‘Popular Response to Standing Military Forces in Fifteenth-Century France’, Studies in the Renaissance, XIX (1972), 92, citing Quicherat, Rodrigue de Villandrando (Paris, 1879), pp. 185–186).

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army, on which occasion the hero thanked his sovereign with the words ‘Sire, je vous remercie très humblement de l’honneur qu’il vous plaist me faire . . . je feray le mieulx que je pourray et y serviray, vous et eux, à mon povoir’.48 The public spirit of a captain was assuming ever greater importance. Jouvencel’s appointment reflected another, related aspect of this matter of leadership to which allusion has already been made. When he was appointed royal lieutenant at Crathor, Jouvencel owed his nomination to two factors. The first was his birth, ‘la grace de naistre de maison noble’; the second (and perhaps the more important) was his ‘sens et entendement et personnaige pour porter les armes, et de povoir conduire voz faiz en si grant honneur et si grant renommée que la louenge en va jusques à Dieu’.49 In other words, although noble descent was helpful, it was primarily Jouvencel’s experience of war (described in the book) and his personal qualities which won him promotion. Following Vegetius, John of Salisbury had shown the need for the selection of suitable officers.50 Since it was the soldier’s responsibility to defend the public good, authority to do this should be given only to those who merited it. Such was the message passed down from classical times, a message eagerly taken up at this moment when the role of the soldier and of the army in society was evolving so rapidly. On all sides kings were being recommended to seek specialist advice on military matters, as Deschamps put it, only from those ‘qui en armes sont saige/et qui scevent comment l’on doit ferir’.51 Others were equally insistent upon the importance of this central message. In Le Débat du Hérault, probably written in 1422, Alain Chartier expressed his views on leadership which, he said, should not be limited to the well-born, but should always be open to men ‘de basse main’ who had knowledge of war and had proved their worth.52 Jean Juvénal des Ursins followed the same path. For him (it is significant that he cited both Vegetius and Valerius Maximus in this context) the ability to lead effectively grew mainly out of practical experience, and for that reason he preferred those ‘experimentez en fait de guerres’ to those younger men who lacked that experience.53 To these vital qualities Jean de Bueil was to add another: that of having endured the sufferings and hardships of war which, in his view, was not an occupation for the faint-hearted or those who liked their pleasures too much.54 The captain, appointed by the crown, thus became the king’s representative and one of his leaders of men. In accepting office, the captain assumed part of his sovereign’s obligation to society for the upkeep of order and peace, that state which men call ‘justice’. It was now his duty to control the men under his command

48 49 50 51 52 53 54

Le Jouvencel, II, p. 171. Ibid, II, p. 25. Policraticus, II, pp. 16–17 (VI, v). Deschamps, Oeuvres, VI, p. 77. Chartier, Poetical Works, pp. 428–431. Juvénal des Ursins, Écrits politiques, II, pp. 236–237. Le Jouvencel, I, p. 26.

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so that, through him, the king could be seen to be keeping his house, namely his kingdom, in peace. The ordinance of 1439 is instructive in informing us how far developments had reached by that year. The preamble refers to the need for reform, ‘pour obvier & donner remede, à faire cesser les grands excez & pillories faites & commises par les gens de guerre, qui par longtemps ont vescu & vivent sur le peuple sans ordre de Justice’.55 In future, all captains must be chosen by the king and shall be responsible for the discipline of their soldiers whose misdeeds they shall have the right to judge, so that any action against civilians shall be punished as treason, and property, livestock, and agricultural produce shall be properly protected. The ordinance shows a clear appreciation that matters had by now gone too far, and reflects a growing understanding that the role of the soldier in society could be fulfilled only if, under the lead of the king’s captains, he were brought to recognise his proper function as a guardian of society. The soldier, then, is now coming to be regarded increasingly as a public officer, with an obligation towards his employer, the king, and beyond him to a wider society.56 The reforming ordinance of April 1351 had specified men-at-arms should swear not to leave their captains’ companies, nor to place themselves under the command of others without permission. The immediate aim of this was the achievement of a greater level of efficiency and discipline within the army. Yet even in this form there was a clear indication that what was being sought was the avoidance of desertion. The ordinance of 1374, as we have seen, was made much more explicit, with specific penalties for those who left their units before the appointed time.57 It is as well to remember that indentures were regarded as having serious legal as well as practical implications for those who entered into them, implications which might be pursued in the courts. We are here witnesses to an attempt to make terms of service, set out in the indenture, morally and legally binding. If this could be done, the effectiveness of the army would be considerably increased. That we are in the presence of a problem which troubled men in the late fourteenth century is made clear by the space which Honoré Bouvet devoted to it in L’Arbre des Batailles. What would happen, he asked, if the soldier hired to serve for a year left before the term was up? Bouvet was against the provision of substitutes and ruled that the soldier should receive no reward because he had done his employer a disservice.58 Desertion, he wrote, might lead to execution: the guilty soldier should at least be demoted to service on foot.59 The influence of Roman military law/practice is clearly evident in these opinions. By the next century the argument about a soldier’s obligation had taken a step further, and in a manner of particular interest to this discussion. In the suit

55 56 57 58 59

Ordonnances, XIII, p. 306. Ibid, IV, pp. 67–70 (Translated in Society at War, p. 47). Ordonnances, V, p. 659 (cl 3, 5, and 6). L’Arbre des Batailles, pp. 128–130; Tree of Battles, pp. 146–147. L’Arbre des Batailles, pp. 96–99; Tree of Battles, pp. 132–133. Salisbury cited several examples of punishments meted out to deserters (Policraticus, II, pp. 33–34 (VI, xiii).

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in which Thomas Overton and Sir John Fastolf confronted each other before the Parlement of Paris between 1432 and 1435, Fastolf strove to besmirch the reputation of his former receiver by accusing him of misappropriation of public funds, ‘la peccune publique dont on devoit paier les souldoiers du roy’.60 Here, as in other texts taken from the same suit, is a clear assertion that not only was the soldier the guardian of the public good, in an ideal, moral sense but, as the recipient of wages taken from public money, he had an obligation to fulfil his indenture by serving out his term. We have already noted that in his Débat du Hérault, Chartier took the matter an important step further by stating that the soldier had an obligation to serve under whatever captain the king gave him,61 this being an expression of the reformist idea, now being gradually accepted in France, that a soldier owed his first loyalty not to his immediate captain but to the king and, through him, to the wider public good which provided him with his wages.62 It is too easy to conjure up a picture of the late medieval soldier as the terror of the countryside, a vagabond in society, a man driven by greed, ambition and, sometimes, by necessity, to tyrannise the defenceless people of France. There should also exist another view of the soldier, an ideal view, perhaps, the creation of the lawyer and the intellectual, who present us with a vision of the soldier as a man of flesh and blood, with a soul to save, who, in spite of the frightening aspect which he all too often gave, was none the less worthy of the respect, even the honour, due to those who defend the common interest through service to the king. In this matter, the ideals of chivalry were still influential. John of Salisbury had stated that, on retirement, the soldier, who must never be in want, should be provided for from public funds.63 In the statutes of the Order of the Garter, Edward III provided for twenty-six poor knights to live in retirement at Windsor64 Both Jean le Maingre and Jean de Bueil would ask that provision be made for old soldiers who had done good service. As Jouvencel put it, ‘ilz sont vielz et anciens; ilz vous ont bien servi . . . Je vous prie et supplie qu’il vous plaise leur donner estat de quoy ilz vivent honnourablement le surplus de leurs jours, car je ne vouldroye pas avoir tous les biens de ce monde, par ainsi que aprez moi ilz demourassent

60 English Suits, ed. Allmand and Armstrong, pp. 241–242. 61 See note 31, above. 62 This point was made by P. D. Solon (art. cit, n. 47, above, 92–93). That this was in contrast with more traditional English practice is made clear by Anne Curry, ‘The First English Standing Army? Military Organisation in Lancastrian Normandy, 1420–1450’, Patronage, Pedigree and Power in Later Medieval England, ed. C. Ross (Gloucester, 1979), pp. 205–208. ‘English military organisation lagged behind that of the rest of Europe in the later fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Whereas France, Italy and Spain established state-controlled armies, efficiently run and of high military calibre, the English continued to maintain a ‘medieval’ system which proved inadequate for the demands of ‘modern’ warfare’. See the reassessment of A. Goodman, The New Monarchy. England, 1471–1534 (Oxford, 1988), p. 34. 63 Policraticus, II, p. 26 (VI, x). 64 E. Ashmole, The Institution, Laws and Ceremonies of the Most Noble Order of the Garter (London, 1672), pp. 158–165 (‘Of the Alms-Knights’).

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en neccessité’.65 English parallels, found in poetry and in bishops’ registers, show that the idea had wide acceptance.66 Service in war was honourable because it placed the soldier’s life at risk. As Juvénal des Ursins was to write, ‘qui est plus grant loyaulté monstrer que exposer arme, corps et biens en vostre service’, going on to cite the famous lines from St John’s gospel, ‘Greater love has no man than to lay down his life for his friends.67 In Bouvet’s opinion a soldier killed fighting in a just war was assured of salvation and his body could receive proper burial in consecrated ground68 The lists of dead and of those taken prisoner found in some chronicles after the accounts of battles serve as a reminder that these were intended to commemorate the names of those who had won honour on the battle field out of loyalty to their king and to the public good. Jean Bouchet’s Panegyric de Loys de la Tremoille, written in the early years of the sixteenth century, is a remarkably interesting text for what it tells us of the attitudes to death on the battlefield, the ‘lict d’honneur’, and, not least, of the reactions of the parents of the young man who, mortally wounded, died ‘en bataille premise pour juste querelle, en acte de vertu pour le bien public’.69 If death in battle fought ‘pour la couronne’ was the highest form of sacrifice, honour was also due to those taken prisoner. The grant of the comté of Clermont, made to John, Lord Talbot, by Henry VI in August 1434 specifically stated that it was in recognition of ‘la recouvrance et conservacion de noz couronne et seigneurie de France, pour la deffense desquelles il a tousjours honnorablement exposé sa personne et sa chevance, et esté prisonnier longuement de noz ennemis et adversaires’.70 Nor should those who received wounds be forgotten, as the Englishman, Thomas Dring, complained before the Parlement of Paris in March 1427, when his opponent in a suit began proceedings against him while he was recovering from wounds incurred ‘en expedicion pour la chose publique’. As the Englishman complained, this was not playing the game.71

65 Le livre des fais du bon messire Jean le Maingre, dit Bouciquaut, mareschal de France et gouverneur de Jennes, ed. D. Lalande (Geneva, 1985), pp. 426–427; Le Jouvencel, II, p. 173. 66 Hoccleve’s Works: III. The Regement of Princes, ed. F. J. Furnival (EETS, London, 1897), pp. 32–34; printed in Society at War, pp. 179–181. See also The Register of Thomas Bekynton, Bishop of Bath and Wells, 1443–65, ed. H. C. Maxwell-Lyte and M. Dawes (Somerset Record Soc., XLIX), I, p. 155; The Episcopal Register of Robert Rede, Ordinis Praedicatorum, Lord Bishop of Chichester, 1397–1415, I, p. 92. 67 Juvénal des Ursins, Écrits politiques, I, p. 318, citing John 15:13. See also Ordonnances, III, p. 361; V, pp. 66–67, 144–145; Le Jouvencel, I, p. 118. 68 L’Arbre des Batailles, p. 147; Tree of Battles, p. 156. 69 La Panégyric du seigneur Loys de la Trimoille, dit le Chevalier sans Reproche, par Jean Bouchet, Choix de chroniques et mémoires sur l’histoire de France, XVe siècle, ed. J. C Buchon (Paris, 1838), pp. 787, 792. See also P. Contamine, ‘L’idée de guerre à la fin du moyen âge: aspects juridiques et éthiques’, Comptes-rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (1979), 82–83. 70 Paris, A.N., JJ 175, no. 318. 71 English Suits, ed. Allmand and Armstrong, p. 175.

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What the soldier looks like to his contemporaries has an intrinsic interest of its own, whatever age or epoch is being considered. How the gens d’armes appeared to men of the late Middle Ages has a considerable historical interest, so closely is the soldier associated with changes and developments taking place in France at this period. I will conclude by suggesting what I see some of these to be. I have already mentioned the names of Roman writers such as Frontinus, Vegetius and Valerius Maximus. Those who wrote on military matters in France at this time showed evidence of having grasped one of the principal messages which these, and other classical writers, had to emphasise, namely the common obligation to defend the res publica. In classical works, military effort, whether that of the soldier or of the public-conscious civilian, is aimed at some good, the greatest good being the public good. Military effort, for example heroic defence, is viewed positively, and those responsible for it are regarded as having performed a public duty. This point should not be pressed too far, but the public good, the political concept to which a host of fourteenth and fifteenth-century writers, both inside and outside France, refer, is one inherited from the ancient world through the care of John of Salisbury, Thomas Aquinas, and others, to take its place as a concept of great importance, as part of the language of nascent national awareness in the late medieval world. The soldier, need we remind ourselves, is seen as the defender of that concept. In the context of French history, the public good is more than a concept. In a period of war and of direct threat to the patrie from both the English and the Companies, the public good is equated with the defence of the nation. In the particular circumstances in which France finds herself the soldier is, at first, seen as an abettor of the enemy, and only later, after a change of heart, as France’s chief defender against him. Significantly, Jean de Venette has a story in which a dog (soldier) is left with the responsibility of guarding animals (French people). But when the wolf (the English) arrives, the dog joins him and together they attack the now defenceless animals.72 Turn the parable on its head, and Venette’s dog once again becomes the faithful defender of the same animals, the people of France whose common interest he protects in any way which would have won the admiration of Jean de Bueil. The soldier’s task is to expel the country’s exterior enemies and, by controlling its native ones, to establish the king’s peace within the kingdom. In brief, he brings back security to a land from which it has long been absent. The soldier has been responsible for restoring the king’s peace. Yet, this done, is there not a risk that he will be used to create an uncontrolled royal authority? It was this which some contemporaries found worrying. If Jean Juvénal des Ursins did not appear afraid of royal power expressed in the form of an army, others were less happy at this development. Thomas Basin, notably, regarded such an army, now maintained on a permanent basis but no longer justified by

72 Jean de Venette, Chronicle, p. 113.

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the country’s military needs, as a new tyranny, not so much on account of the physical power which it represented (although he was a little afraid of that) but because of the huge sums which would be required through taxation to sustain it (a view shared by Juvénal des Ursins) and the creation of an enlarged fiscal system which it would entail. Far from being an instrument of strength and unity, the army was seen by some as a threat to peace.73 Not all, however, agreed with this view. Robert Blondel, for one, did not. Nor did Mathieu d’Escouchy who, reporting that the people thanked God for the peace which the army had brought the country, argued that the permanent army was not large enough to overawe the population.74 Frenchmen were grateful for the help which the soldier had given the king in the re-establishment of royal authority supporting the peace which the country now enjoyed. In their eyes, the soldier, once seen as the enemy of society, was moving towards a certain social respectability.

73 Solon, art. cit. (n. 47 above), 80 seq., pp. 107–109. 74 Ibid, p. 102.

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6 SOME INTELLECTUAL INFLUENCES ON THE ORIGINS O F T H E R O YA L A R M Y I N M E D I E VA L F R A N C E

Almost instinctively, we take a country’s army for granted. It is a mark of a state’s independence, a sign of a nation’s determination and ability to defend itself, its people and its interests. Badges and uniforms distinguish personnel from those of other armies. The army is a sign, perhaps we should say, the ultimate sign of a nation’s independent existence. But it was not always so. Thanks to recent studies on the growth of armies in medieval Europe, we now have a much better idea of the processes which witnessed such developments. With the use of the wide-angled lens, patterns emerge, enabling useful comparisons and contrasts to be made. Less frequently considered, however, are questions relating to the intellectual climate in which such advances occurred, and the contributions upon which they may have depended. The development of armies as limbs of the growing state deserves to be considered from this perspective. The history of the state cannot ignore the role envisaged in its development as the controller and organiser of force, at least in its early days, while the history of its army demands some consideration of the factors and forces which had an influence upon its creation. In 1159 John of Salisbury, later bishop of Chartres, completed his Policraticus,1 a work destined to have a lasting influence on western political thought. John placed emphasis on the primacy of the res publica, which placed the common good above that of the particular. In France, this had long involved the defence of that good against local forces resisting the gradually expanding power of the monarchy determined to stamp out private warfare. In the process of bringing military society on to the side of peace, the Church extolled Christian knighthood, giving it a set of ideals to live by, and an honoured, and socially privileged, place in society. Within the context of a wide-ranging discussion regarding society and the ruler’s responsibilities for its well-being, particularly the maintenance of peace and defence, Salisbury set out the purpose the army was intended to serve. His proposals would require changes in the way that society considered the use and 1 Ed. C. C. J. Webb (2 vols, Oxford, 1927). His discussion of military matters is contained in Book VI.

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organisation of force; radical limitations, too, to the numbers who might legitimately use it. Since, in Salisbury’s view, the army was nothing less than the king’s ‘armed hand’ (armata manus), used by him to preserve order in society, he envisaged a monarchy with a monopoly of the use of force restoring order to society through the abolition of private wars. Here was encouragement to monarchy to reassert itself for the good of its own name and for the benefit of the res publica. In search of ideas, and in keeping with his interests, Salisbury turned to the Roman world for inspiration and guidance. These he found in large measure in the late-Roman text, the Epitoma rei militaris of Vegetius,2 a work composed for an earlier time but whose content, if applied tempore moderno, might be regarded as bearing not only a military message but a political one, too. The properly controlled use of force, Salisbury would urge, should be directed primarily towards securing and maintaining the public good under the authority of the ruler. On this matter the past had much to teach. In what ways did the army described by Vegetius differ from that of Salisbury’s day? One was the composition of the Roman army, with its broader social base, which had a better claim to fight for the res publica as a whole than the largely feudal army of the twelfth century, all too reliant upon the contingents sent by the possessores. A second difference was the process of selection (and the importance attached to personal ability which it implied) insisted upon by Vegetius. This had made possible the effective development of discipline and control within the Roman army which had brought it such success in the past. Thirdly, the army of the Vegetian model was the emperor’s army, acting on oath in obedience to him or to his captains (lieutenants) all working, in Vegetius’s words, ‘pro Romana re publica’, ‘for the Roman state’.3 Such was the theory. What practical application did such ideas receive? Little more than fifty years after John of Salisbury the chronicler, Guillaume le Breton, chaplain to Philip Augustus, writing his Philippidos, could describe the success of the king’s force against the baronial factions of northern France in terms of a victory for the general good of the kingdom achieved by the royal authority against the ambitions and, by implication, self-seeking interests of certain provincial nobility. No direct reference to the Epitoma proves that le Breton had read Vegetius’s work. However, he came so close to the expression of Vegetian military principles that it is likely that he knew the text (or a collection of excerpts taken from it) or another text, such as that of Salisbury, which reflected it. The victory at Bouvines was described as a triumph for the king’s army, fighting in the name of the organised ‘state’, over the individual ‘proesce’ and ‘hardiesce’ of its opponents, the country’s dysfunctional aristocracy anxious to preserve its independence, interests and privileges, a success which

2 Vegetius: Epitoma rei militaris, ed. M. D. Reeve (Oxford, 2004). 3 Ibid, II, 5.

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would stabilise the wider good of the kingdom.4 It was also regarded as a major step towards the establishment by the king of the crown’s pre-eminent position within French society as a whole, proof of the monarchy’s responsibility and ability to act for the wider good by bringing unity to the country. Nor was a further point missed. The victory of the king’s army was presented in terms of a success achieved not through feats of heroism but by a well disciplined army which fought as a body, each group following its captain through the use of banners which identified units and kept them together in the fight – practices recommended in the Epitoma. The manner in which le Breton described the forward thinking, or ‘prudence’, of commanders who anticipated the needs of their armies (an ability attributed to experienced commanders) underlined the ordered approach to fighting as the way to military success in the future. The true ‘chevalerie’ was now coming to be seen as the royal army, whose future would reflect the growing power of an effective monarchy on whose orders it should be ready to act. Increasingly regarded as the sole vehicle of legitimate force, the royal army would gradually be given prime responsibility for achieving the order upon which the res publica would be founded. Sixty years on, a changing scenario; a further step forward. It was probably between 1275 and 1277 that Giles of Rome (Aegidius Romanus), follower of Thomas Aquinas and a future archbishop of Bourges, compiled his De regimine principum as a work of instruction for the young man destined to become Philip the Fair. By this time the Aristotelian revolution had given a strong impetus to the idea of the independent state with obligations for its citizens’ defence. After a period of relative peace during the thirteenth century, it was the need to use force to maintain territorial integrity which encouraged discussion regarding its legitimate use under royal authority. This allowed Giles to ask a fundamental question: ‘What is the army, and what purpose does it serve?’: ‘Quid sit militia, & ad quid sit instituta?’ His reply, both original and unexpected, was expressed in succinct, philosophical terms. An army, he wrote, in language which showed that he had clearly understood one of John of Salisbury’s main messages, was simply ‘a certain kind of prudence’: ‘Sciendum igitur militiam esse quandam prudentiam, sive quandam speciem prudentiae’, a definition which might be interpreted as meaning an investment in foresight and planning, which should earn a big return if and when society was threatened. Military activity now had one principal aim, namely ‘ad obtinendam victoriam’ over those threatening the common good (‘bonum civile et commune’). Such was the role and raison d’être of the army in society; to use Giles’ words, ‘ex hoc autem apparet ad quid sit militia instituta’.5

4 See M. Spiegel, ‘Moral Imagination and the Rise of the Bureaucratic State: Images of Government in the Chronique des Rois de France, Chantilly, MS 869’, Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 18 (1988), 157–173; ‘Les débuts français de l’historiographie royale: quelques aspects inattendus’, Saints-Denis et la royauté. Etudes offertes à Bernard Guenée (Paris, 1999), pp. 395–404. 5 Aegidii Columnae Romani, De regimine principum, Lib. III (Rome, 1607, repr. Aalen, 1967), III, iii, 1 (pp. 555–559).

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Presented by Giles as a public servant whose duty it was to defend society, the soldier could not be simply any man. He should possess moral and physical qualities, ‘animositas’ and ‘strenuitas bellandi’, while also demonstrating a measured and thoughtful approach to fighting ‘prudentia erga bella’, which enabled him to fulfil his obligations to the society of which he was a member, and which, by this time, may have been paying him to do its fighting. In support of what he had in mind, Giles dug deep into Vegetius’ text. As Salisbury had done before him, he emphasised the importance of quality, rather than numbers; preparation, too, in the form of regular training and practice in the use of arms. Such were the ways of achieving the successful defence of a society’s interests for which the army existed. As Vegetius had done, Giles also emphasised the supreme importance of good leadership in securing victory. Since the common effort of the army normally contributed more to the defence of the res publica than did the outstanding actions of individuals, military effectiveness could be greatly increased by having command structures enabling an army to act not as a collection of individuals but as a body, as the army of Philip Augustus was reported to have done. So important, too, was the need for the army to be led by the best available leaders that Vegetius had placed strong emphasis upon the need to appoint only those of proven military skills, experience and cerebral qualities to positions of command. Men should not assume a right to exercise leadership by virtue of their birth or social position; that right belonged to the ruler and could only be conveyed through his written delegation of authority to those whom he chose to act as his appointed lieutenants (‘locum tenentes’). The inference was clear. The ruler was the ‘natural’ leader of the army, acting on behalf of society; those who exercised authority within the army did so purely in his name. To intellectuals imbued with Roman ideas and accustomed to a Latin vocabulary, terms such as bonum commune and res publica summed up the concept of order, stability and peace, maintained by the central authority. The need to achieve these required a step in the evolution of the knight, his assumption of a more overtly public role, a process which would gradually transform the traditional knighthood into the nascent national army which, under the command of the king and his lieutenants, would create an instrument vital for the defence of the bonum commune, and, indeed, for the very existence of the state itself. Vegetius’ text had emphasised the army’s commitment to the defence of a society, its land and its wealth. In describing the army’s function in terms of the benefits which it brought to society (an approach later adopted by John of Salisbury and many others) Vegetius had elevated both the army and its personnel into a corps whose calling and raison d’être, the defence of the res publica, should be regarded as honourable. Although all too often not the respected figure depicted in the works of theory,6 when engaged in fighting a ‘just’ war with the author6 C. Allmand, ‘Changing Views of the Soldier in Late Medieval France’, Guerre et société en France, en Angleterre et en Bourgogne XIVe–XV siècle, ed. P. Contamine, C. Giry-Deloison, et M. Keen (Lille, 1991), pp. 171–188. See infra, pp. 57–71. (currently).

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ity of his ruler the soldier was none the less regarded as acting in a public cause, the defence of the rights and property of his countrymen and the integrity of his country. A reading of the Epitoma suggests that the picture which Vegetius had painted of the miles, ‘excelling in mind and body’, selected in preference to others, who had accepted, on oath, the obligation to serve the emperor and to be ready, at his bidding, to give up his life ‘for his own good and for the liberty of all’, was a member of a corps which should be held in high esteem.7 However, the sense of responsibility under which he laboured, and the financial rewards which he received in wages, placed certain moral, even quasi-legal, obligations upon him. Under the orders and leadership of the ruler, the miles was in the process of becoming the servant of the state. The evidence of a number of manuscripts of the Epitoma showing that the parts of Vegetius’ work which dealt with these matters were of great interest to readers who left signs of approval and comments on the manuscripts themselves, should cause no surprise. By stressing that obedience to the emperor or ruler, or to his lieutenants, and strict attention to duty were public obligations formally undertaken by the soldier, those who wrote their comments on copies of the text were implicitly recognising that the army was becoming a public instrument through which the res publica should be defended. As Vegetius had written with an optimism which won much approval, the army made the state invincible. The Epitoma had devoted much space to matters of command structure and military organisation. In the final two centuries of the Middle Ages, France, in particular, but Burgundy, too, developed and put into practice ideas owing much to Vegetius. French kings gradually asserted their right to stand at the top of the military structure; later, in Burgundy, the dukes would do the same. In France, the king appointed the constable and admiral and their lieutenants to take charge of military and naval concerns; in the Burgundy of Charles the Bold, it was the duke who awarded commissions to certain captains to assist him in military affairs, commissions which were surrendered at the end of each year, thus emphasising that the powers which they conferred were entirely dependent upon the duke himself.8 Yet transforming this vision of the army into an effective weapon for the advancement of royal policy and the defence of the kingdom would not always be easy. Long-accepted attitudes and practices would not change overnight. It might be difficult, for example to persuade the nobility of France, who formed the core of the kingdom’s army, and who was still loyal to a tradition and an obligation more personal than territorial or national, to appreciate the ‘big picture’ or national interest which demanded that they should fight under the command of the

7 Epitoma rei militaris, II, 5 et 24. 8 C. Allmand, ‘Did the De re militari of Vegetius Influence the Military Ordinances of Charles the Bold?’ ‘Le héros bourguignon: histoire et épopée’. Rencontres d’Edimbourg-Glasgow (28 septembre au 1er octobre 2000. Publication du Centre Européen d’Etudes Bourguignonnes (XIVe–XVIe siècle), 41 (2001), 135–143. See infra, pp. 47–54. (currently).

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king himself, on behalf of French society as a whole.9 When confronted with the need for discipline and planning demanded with insistence by Vegetius, they were likely to stand by their traditional attitudes and fighting practices. None the less an early indication of a change of attitude in intellectual circles towards the fighting of war may be found in the Chapelle des Fleurs de Lis, written by Philippe de Vitri in the early 1330s. It was probably a certain familiarity with the work of Vegetius which caused him to make two surprising but significant comments, coming as they did from a man of noble descent. The first was that the chevalerie (by which he probably meant the army) should arise from the people for whose defence it existed; if knights did much of the fighting, they did so, in fact, because they received money from the people to perform this task. Secondly, Vitri argued that since they were responsible for the country’s defence those (and he included kings and princes) who carried it out should do so on a basis of knowledge, acquired from both the written word and training, enabling them to act with ‘sens’, thus encouraging a reasoned rather than an emotional or irrational response to the needs of war. (They should be ‘sages et bien lettrez’, Vitri wrote, for ‘ou temps de bataille/Mestier est que sens avant aille’). Men should not fight on impulse, but should plan before they fought.10 Tragically, events were to underline the need for such pleading. The early, disastrous French defeats at the hands of the English in the Hundred Years’ War only served to underline what Vitri had written. What went wrong at Crécy is not entirely clear.11 On the French side bad advice, impatience to attack the enemy, lack of both self-discipline and central control, enabled a ‘little company’ to triumph over ‘all the power of France’ in the ensuing disorder. The desire of many of knightly rank to enhance their sense of personal honour, which was at the heart of the traditional chivalric mentality, got the better of too many French knights that day. According to Philippe de Mézières, writing forty years later, even the king, Philip VI, attacked ‘legierement’, with little forethought, when victory was normally to be achieved by those acting ‘saigement et meureement’.12 It was the pursuit of the ‘bien commun’ expressed, in this case, in the requirements of national defence that led to the appointment of Bertrand du Guesclin as constable in 1370, an act which also enabled Charles V to assert firmly the royal authority over the army. The significance of this appointment ‘on merit’ is 9 J. R. Strayer, ‘Defense of the Realm and Royal Power in France’, Studi in onore di Gino Luzzatto (4 vols, Milan, 1949), iv, pp. 289–296; repr. in Medieval Statecraft and Perspectives in History: Essays by Joseph R. Strayer (Princeton, 1971), pp. 291–299. Nor were the nobility alone in being reluctant to see the war against England fought on a ‘national’ scale (C. Allmand, The Hundred Years’ War (Paris, 1989), p. 154). 10 A. Piaget, ‘‘Le chapelle des Fleurs de Lis’ par Philippe de Vitri’, Romania, 27 (1898), 55–92. 11 The latest analysis is contained in the contributions gathered in The Battle of Crécy, 1346, ed. A. Ayton and P. Preston (Woodbridge, 2005). It includes that of Bertrand Schnerb on the French army of the time. 12 Philippe de Mézières, Le songe du vieil pèlerin, ed. G. W. Coopland (2 vols, Cambridge, 1969), II, pp. 74–75, 382–383.

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underlined by the contrast between the well-known military skills of du Guesclin and those conspicuously lacking in Raoul, count of Eu, who had been appointed constable as recently as 1329 even though, in the words of a modern writer, his ‘qualités d’homme de guerre . . . étaient réduites’.13 In the intervening years, the military world had become more demanding. The new constable received a free hand to approach war in a fresh, markedly ‘Vegetian’ way: greater centralisation in recruitment was introduced; the army was reorganised into smaller, more mobile and more effective units of uniform size to make the calculation of wages easier; while captains, appointed by the king, were made responsible for the discipline of those under their command.14 Thus reconstituted, its members wearing the white cross as a sign of being French, and pursuing its aims in a very deliberate fashion, the army waged highly effective campaigns against the English. With such successes, the prestige of, and respect for, the crown and army began to increase.15 Yet such advances were not destined to last. By 1420, France was tragically caught up in political division, civil war, foreign invasion, and moral dismemberment. The debate regarding the best course of action to follow is significant, not least for the fact that almost all who took part (c.1385–c.1465) supported the observance of Roman principles and practices, many set out by Vegetius, as the most likely road to recovery and victory. Thus Honoré Bouvet advocated the acceptance of the Roman virtues of discipline and organisation: Philippe de Mézières advised the king not to rely on the arrière-ban, (‘tu useras pou du droit royal qui s’appelle l’arriere ban . . .’) but to have the support of properly trained troops; in language reminiscent of John of Salisbury, Christine de Pizan encouraged the nobility to become the arms and hands of the ‘corps de policie’, the state itself; Alain Chartier called upon the nobility to join the ‘treshonnourable’ profession of arms, to recognise the authority of the crown, and to show readiness to fight ‘soubz le commandement du chief et pour l’utilité publique’; Jean Juvénal des Ursins emphasised obedience to the king and a willingness to act under captains appointed by him for their experience rather than for their birth, thus creating a socially diversified army for service which was itself ‘ennobling’; while Jean de Bueil, when underlining the need for those active in war to train and thus prepare themselves effectively for action, stressed that the outcome of war depended less on courage and bravery than on the skills, experience and discipline shown by the participants. The process of restructuring the royal army, based on military experience and obedience to the king, begun in 1439, was later advanced with the recruitment of considerable numbers of nobles to replace the foreign troops who had been relied upon in the past. Paid regularly, these men came to form the grande ordonnance, consisting mainly of nobles who, with many of them facing difficult financial 13 Emilie Lebailly, ‘Raoul d’Eu, connétable de France et seigneur anglais et irlandais’, La Normandie et l’Angleterre au Moyen Age, ed P. Bouet et V. Gazeau (Caen, 2003), p. 240. 14 Ordonnances des roys de France de la troisième race, V, pp. 660–661. 15 Histoire militaire de la France. 1; Des origines à 1715, ed. P. Contamine (Paris, 1992), pp. 147–152.

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circumstances, welcomed the opportunity to serve the king and be rewarded financially for the privilege. As evidence of the importance attached to furthering the growth and effectiveness of the army we may note the increasing tendency towards promotion on grounds of skill and experience, while another sign, also based on advice offered by Vegetius, was the development of career structures for those, often of knightly or even noble lineage, whose active years were spent serving society in the king’s army. Such developments would finally make possible the creation of a permanent army, whose origins in France and neighbouring Burgundy date from the middle years of the fifteenth century. In both, the royal/ducal character was emphasised by the appointment by the king/duke of his army’s leading officers, named as royal/ducal lieutenants and acting on authority specifically conferred by either king or duke. The army thus became, in a very real way, the living expression of royal/ducal power. In the coming years thousands of nobles found military careers in the royal service, sometimes lasting some twenty years in the same company, fighting the king’s or the duke’s wars. As the inscriptions on their tombstones would indicate, these men now regarded themselves as members of a profession. France had seen the military caste become the military profession under the crown.16 Roman ideas, many derived from the work of Vegetius and later incorporated into the Policraticus of John of Salisbury, began to influence thinking about the army and its role in France from the late twelfth century onwards. By the late thirteenth century, the De regimine principum of Giles of Rome, the translation of Vegetius by Jean de Meun (1284) and the first signs of the needs of the coming conflict with England, sparked off an increased awareness that national defence should be organised centrally by the crown, thus giving added relevance and influence to Roman ideas and practices. The future, however, was not straightforward. It would take time for the individual chevalier, and the attitude to military authority and fighting which many of his kind represented, to be fully metamorphosed into membership of the royal chevalerie, or army. The defeats suffered between 1346 and 1415, which underlined the failure of the traditional ‘chivalric’ way of fighting when facing a better disciplined enemy and lacking the proper leadership demanded by Vegetius, clearly demonstrated what the problem was. Equally, the reforms carried out in response by Charles V and Bertrand du Guesclin underlined what could be achieved in a short period of time. It was these reforms which gave a glimmer of hope and which kept alive the reputation of these men in the days of defeat and despair which characterised the last years of the reign of Charles VI and the early decades of that of Charles VII. By the end of that reign, however, with the acceptance and adaptation of many Roman ideas, the new royal chevalerie of France was becoming one of the leading armies in Europe. In the 1460s, Jean de Bueil would add his contribution to the discussion in his long, impressive and influential work, Le Jouvencel . . . In one incident, two

16 Histoire militaire de la France, ed. Contamine, pp. 201–204, 220–221; and notes 9, 11 and 13.

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compagnons who had asked their captain for leave to go and perform an exploit, had their request turned down. Refusing them their request to absent themselves from their company for such a purpose, the captain chided them for thinking about themselves and putting their reputation before the successes which their company might achieve. What would happen to their common cause, he asked, if things went wrong and they were killed? Who would be the losers in that case? The wider good could not be allowed to come second to that of the reputation of individuals. Later in the work, Bueil worked in a further dilemma, this time regarding the use of deception in war, whose use Eustache Deschamps had deplored almost a century earlier. Traditional values had stood on the side of ‘openness’ and ‘honesty’ in war. Courage, not deceit, won battles. Bueil’s story told of a commander who thought that the capture of an enemy town would bring him victory in a war. But it was so well defended as to be impregnable. Like any captain he spoke to his king, his superior from whom his authority derived, proposing a plan to take the town by ruse. The king was torn. He could clearly see the advantage of capturing the town; but would it be to act dishonourably to achieve this by the use of deception? In the end he decided not to stand in his captain’s way. ‘I leave it to you’, he said, hoping to wash his hands of the whole matter. Not having been forbidden to use deception, the captain went ahead and successfully captured his objective. The war was over; the greater good had been achieved – but at a cost, since deceit had been used. The reader was left to ask himself questions. There was little doubt, however, where Bueil’s sympathies in the matter lay. This is the story of how intellectual, as well as practical, influences had a bearing upon the development of one army, that of late medieval France. Those influences, many borrowed from Vegetius’s De re militari, bore on how men came to understand two crucial meanings in the evolution of the word chevalerie, and how the word came to be used from the thirteenth century onwards, in particular in the years of the long Anglo-French war which dominated the military history of the late Middle Ages. Throughout his work Vegetius had insisted upon the need to act in advance of events; it was an aspect of preparation which lay at the heart of Roman success. So came his demand that a commander should do everything to prepare his men psychologically for battle (not only sound training but a pre-battle talk by the commander inspired confidence in his men). A further aspect of preparation was for the commander to inform himself, as best he could, about enemy numbers, plans and dispositions, and then to draw up his own accordingly. The number of words bearing the Latin prefix ‘prae’ used by Vegetius indicate what he intended. Thought and foresight were military imperatives. While action must react to events and developments on the field, making flexibility of approach essential, no commander should enter a battle without some sort of plan. In brief, the influence of Vegetius upon the word chevalerie understood, as in De la chevalerie, as being concerned with the skills and training required to defeat an enemy, was considerable. Vegetius taught that the successful waging of war was based upon principles which led to certain assumptions: that the commander’s 80

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orders should be instantly recognised and obeyed; that both soldier and commander should know what the army was capable of achieving; that the army should practise what it had been taught to do with order and discipline, as Guillaume le Breton noted with satisfaction that the army of Philip Augustus had done. Chevalerie, then, while presenting a certain approach to the waging of war, also came to represent the body which exercised the use of legitimate force on behalf of society, something, however, which it could do only under the command of the king. The army thus became a royal instrument, one which might be wrongly used but which was primarily intended as a legitimate means of defending the res publica. Thus, although under royal command, the army’s function dictated that it should be a body with a wider, public responsibility to fulfil, increasingly supported, in due time, by taxation which, in return, would demand a high level of professional competence. As the powers of the crown were extended, so the process was justified by the claim that the king was responsible for the defence of the kingdom. Such a claim, supported by Roman examples gleaned from reading history and, more significantly, the work of Vegetius, was used to justify the development of the country’s army under the authority of the crown, which regarded it as an instrument which both bolstered its power and fulfilled a major obligation, defence of the country.

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7 PERSONAL HONOUR OR THE COMMON GOOD? The witness of Le Jouvencel in the fifteenth century

Who wrote Le Jouvencel, and why?1 These questions have divided historical opinion. In the prologue to the text the word ‘I’ [je] occurs several times, referring to him who, ‘having taken up arms in the wars of the most Christian king of France, my sovereign lord’,2 now intends to compile ‘a short narrative’ to inspire those who go to war. But this initial ‘I’ soon introduces (in the fifth chapter, indeed) a third character, that of the jouvencel (young man) who is taken up in the narrative.3 Most of the work now centres upon the story which has as its principal character this ‘young man’ whose career, at least at first reading, dominates the story. Who was the author, and how autobiographical is the story which supports the hero’s career? On the first question, the text tells us nothing. ‘The setting forth of the book of the Jouvencel’, a commentary written probably after the death of Jean de Bueil by Guillaume Tringant, his former squire, has led men to think that the hero of the work and Bueil were one and the same. This setting out of the facts does indeed teach us that the events recorded in the narrative are based on the reports of several captains and fellow soldiers who fought in the wars and witnessed most of the scenes described in Le Jouvencel, most notably by Jean Tibergeau, lord of La Motte and a feudatory of Bueil; Nicolas Riolay, and master Martin Morin, his servants as well as by other ‘valiant men with experience of war’.4 But is Bueil really the author of this work, as its nineteenth-century editors believed?5 There is no explicit evidence to support the idea. Indeed, Tringant informs us that Bueil was the one ‘for whom the work was compiled and for whom my masters made it’.6 One should not see this text, mostly written in the third

1 Le Jouvencel par Jean de Bueil, suivi de commentaire de Guillaume Tringant, ed. C. Favre and L. Lecestre (2 vols, Paris, SHF, 1887–89). 2 Jouvencel, I, p. 15. 3 Ibid, I, p. 41. 4 Ibid, II, p. 266. 5 Ibid, II, p. 462: table, sub Bueil. 6 Ibid, II, p. 270.

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person, as a work of autobiography, but as a romance based on events more or less historical. Tringant himself recognised this fact when he wrote, ‘I do not wish to assert that the jouvencel actually did all the things described in his book, only that such things were done in his time, most of which he witnessed’.7 From then on, like a faithful servant, Tringant claims to make public ‘some of the deeds of my master, Jouvencel’.8 In so doing he feels that the work requires commentary and explanation while observing a discreet silence regarding the secondary personages (the same pseudonym may apply to one, or indeed several, people)9 and even the central character, Jean de Bueil. “Why this reticence?” he asks. He sees in it the reflection of the modesty of his master who wanted the facts and their locations to be mixed up: matters should not be described too accurately; such was his master’s will, which explains why the facts were mixed up together.10 Tringant considers that his duty is now to lay the story bare.11 Recognising that the work contains some purely fictional passages, such as the marriage of Jouvencel to the daughter of king Amydas is as much as admitting that the rest was based upon events which may not have taken place.12 At first, Tringant intends to reveal who was Jean de Bueil, the model for the jouvencel; he plans to set out the main steps in his master’s career, as they were lived in reality, by placing them as closely as possible with the original story, thus giving it a new sense of reality. In thus building up a second career for his hero, he is creating, in Le Jouvencel, a novel which introduces real characters.13 We can agree with Joel Blanchard when he writes that the text of Le Jouvencel has been ‘manipulated’.14 Further, it seems that parts of the work are less complementary than opposed in their approach, one being largely didactic in outlook, the other offering a dramatic interpretation of a career, the chronicle of a particular life. Le Jouvencel is no ordinary work; it resembles more closely a piece of music, a structure whose unity stems from the bringing together of various elements. In spite of what may appear to be the forward movement which we call a career,15 we should not speak of an author and a book but, rather, of a compiler and a compilation, drawing upon sources which may be philosophical or moral, legal or military, ancient or contemporary (G. W. Coopland showed how the compiler

7 Ibid, II, p. 272. 8 Ibid, II, p. 273. 9 So, according to the passage, Crathor can recall Orléans, Lagny-sur-Marne, or Sablé; while John, duke of Bedford, appears under the guise of both the duke of Baudouin and the duke of Ath; as for the count of Orbec, he is inspired by both Bedford and the earl of Arundel, even by John Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury (Ibid, I, p. xviii, n. 3). 10 Jouvencel, II, pp. 283, 293–294. 11 Ibid, II, p. 273. 12 Ibid, II, p. 266. 13 S. Lefevre, ‘Jean de Bueil’, Dictionnaire des Lettres françaises. Le Moyen Age (Paris, 1992), p. 756. 14 J. Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre au XVe siècle’, Le moyen français, 24–25 (1989), 9. 15 Ibid, pp. 20 and 17.

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drew on the Livre des faits d’armes of Christine de Pisan);16 the extent and diversity of the sources thus called upon merits serious study. They are concerned with change and development, mainly in two well-defined fields: one concerns the social advance of the man-at-arms, the possibility for him to rise from modest beginnings to the regency of a kingdom; the other considers the advance from local conflict in which the individual still plays an essential part to the war in which the hero finds himself put in charge of royal armies whose movements determine the destinies of whole kingdoms. War and its consequences is the theme running through the work, where every success is, for the hero, only a step which prepares him for the next success. The text is also concerned with other themes, notably the conduct of men at war. If victory over the enemy, a necessary step in protecting the common good, can be achieved only by contravening the traditional conventions of war, should these then be ignored? Should one not use to advantage information provided by a spy? Should consideration of the public good not triumph over the sense of honour felt by a man forced to act in a dishonourable way? It is clear from a reading of this text that it reflects several contradictory views of war. This ‘upsetting’ of ideas17 becomes evident with the evolution of the man-at-arm’s role in society. By the fifteenth century, his role as a royal servant was increasingly well recognised. But if he was well regarded as the servant or hand of the ruler, would he one day become the master, the head, the principal defender of the common good?18 He could only lay claim to this role if he enjoyed a certain power which he could exercise only for as long as he remained a military man. War, therefore, was not only the means of defending the common good, but the way which allowed the soldier to define his role in society. This point of view was the very opposite of the one set out in Guillaume Tringant’s ‘commentary’, probably written after 1477, a number of manuscripts of which survive.19 It is Tringant who informs us in a legend which, according to Blanchard,20 he created, that the text of Le Jouvencel is based on the memories and ideas of Jean de Bueil, which was written jointly by Riolay, Mori and Tibergeau.21 It is difficult to either confirm or refute this suggestion. However, it is clear that the person whom Blanchard calls ‘the compiler’ (in the singular)22 had a good knowledge of a wide variety of sources. Notably, and without it causing any surprise, in a text concerned with war and military matters, the work of Vegetius is not only cited explicitly, but clearly penetrates the entire work.23 The breadth of

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

G. W. Coopland, ‘Le Jouvencel (Revisited)’, Symposium, 5(2) (1951), 137–186. Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre’, p. 16. Ibid, pp. 15–16, 19. See Le Jouvencel, pp. CCCXI–CCCXXX. Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre’, p. 18. Jouvencel, II, p. 266. Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre’, p. 19. Jouvencel, II, pp. 45, 51–53, 59–60.

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knowledge of literary sources which support it would deserve serious study in its own right. What a gratifying activity war is, for many are the splendid things heard and seen in the course of it, and many are the good lessons to be learnt from it. When war is fought in a good cause, then it is fought for justice and for the defence of right. And I believe that God favours those who risk their bodies through their willingness to go to war to bring the wicked, the oppressors, the conquerors, the proud and all who act against true equity, to justice. . . . When war is pursued for this purpose, it is a good and worthwhile occupation for young men. . . . A warm feeling of loyalty and pity come into the heart to see one’s friend expose his body with such courage to carry out and accomplish the will of our Creator; and one decides to go and die or live with him, and, out of love, not to abandon him.24 This well-known passage praises war which, however, is described on the work’s first page as the ‘real enemy of nature’.25 The author regards war waged in the service of right and justice as good not only in itself but also for the moral satisfaction it gives to whomever undertakes it in this frame of mind; henceforth beloved of God, he need have no fear of sacrificing his life in it. In addition, war also promises to create a sense of fellowship among those seeking to achieve the victory of Good over Evil, and who find here a feeling shared with friends, companions and brothers. Let us note, too, the satisfaction, both moral and physical, born out of war, exposure to physical danger, and to the openness to danger and confrontation. Waging war is regarded as a profession, but as a morally honourable one, because the soldier defends his party, country or even his society against an enemy, for which he deserves the highest respect of his people. To succeed in this, however, the soldier needs to prepare himself for war. In this respect, Jouvencel joins a long tradition of didactic works showing how to act during conflict. In the very first lines of the narrative, the author tells us that his work has been ‘recently written by a modest and honourable knight to give courage and boldness to all young men who have the ambition and desire to follow the noble profession of arms’.26 Later he takes up the theme again: ‘I intended, with God’s help, to compile a short narrative treatise to encourage all men, especially those who wish to experience the wonderful adventures of war, always to do well and thus to increase the honour and respect in which they are held’.27 Some, he wrote, might accuse him of writing yet another book on war. His answer to this objection would be that the means of fighting are constantly changing with the times, and from these spring innovation; from such the introduction of new weapons of war 24 25 26 27

Ibid, II, pp. 20–21. Ibid, I, p. 13: ‘comme un etat du monde’ (Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre’, p. 7). Ibid, I, p. 5. Ibid, I, p. 15 (Se also Ibid, II, p. 261).

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has profoundly changed what he calls ‘the way of doing things’ (‘les manieres de faire’). Today, one can come across a number of weapons and machines of which earlier people had no knowledge or use, which makes him think that his work may be useful.28 He wants the ‘young’, to whom the work is addressed, to appreciate that the methods of waging war are modified and can change, an important point if one reflects upon the alleged influence of the ancient authors and of their books of advice, of which it is not forbidden to think that, with the passing of time, they might have lost the essentials of their practical value. Vowed since a young age to the profession of arms, the author feels that it could be useful to pass on his experience to his successors. Two remarks are worthy of note. First, he insists on the value of experience acquired by the soldier who, over a period of years, has taken part in numerous campaigns. The theme reoccurs regularly throughout the text, personifying itself in particular in the old soldier who, unable to fight any longer, has none the less seen a great deal, and is willing to make his views known, just like the captain of Crathor to whom Jouvencel speaks the following: ‘You are the eldest, and have seen the most, so it is reasonable that you should speak first. What does it seem to you that we should do?’29 Elsewhere, a man-at-arms, named Peruche, is brought before him; Jouvencel knew him well and regarded him as a wise and courageous man. He was already of a certain age, and had seen a great deal.30 This leitmotif reminds us that if the army benefited from the energy of youth, we should not forget the value of experience which the young have not yet enjoyed.31 Secondly, let us underline the importance of the years 1420–1460 in the military history of France, and the variety of experience acquired by those who fought: in particular the development of artillery, with important consequences notably for siege warfare; the vital part played by the ruse both in open war and in local conflicts, often on the frontiers, when all those taking part must have known one another. The first adventures involving Jouvencel, and the admiration which his leadership qualities attract (notably his attention to the smallest details which makes all the difference between success and failure in a local war)32 reflect well how this competence is, in large measure, acquired from experience gained from the exercise of arms. How is one to convey the best advice to him who has chosen the profession of arms? The best that the Jouvencel can achieve is to describe the way war is fought, that is to say to instruct anyone who wishes it by recalling his various experiences, and by laying bare the military principles which can be drawn from them. The work, therefore, contains a multiplicity of practical precepts regarding the best manner of waging war. The first of these, which is hardly new, insists on the necessity for an army wishing for success to be well prepared. This ‘preparation’ has 28 29 30 31 32

Ibid, I, p. 17. Ibid, II, p. 2. Ibid, II, p. 18. Ibid, II, p. 15. Ibid, I, pp. 33–35.

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several meanings, to which we shall return. Yet, even at this early stage, let us note one of these meanings: the need to know in advance what the enemy’s intentions are, what his plans are and, above all, what number of men he has at his disposal: ‘one of the most important things in war is to know the size of the enemy army’.33 The general must be well informed. In the author’s view, he should spend a third of the moneys available to him in finding out indispensable information regarding the enemy’s army: ‘so you will never be surprised, for you will always know the enemy’s numbers, and thus be able to act accordingly while avoiding many drawbacks’.34 The recourse to spies is thus made necessary in order to be able to learn as much as possible regarding the danger which the enemy represents, and to avoid ever being surprised by him. For the author, the need to be well informed is a principle of the greatest importance.35 But victory depends, too, on good preparation for the battle. The successful war leader is the one who seeks advice from those around him. For a surprise attack, such as that organised at Crathor, to succeed requires careful planning.36 And the more difficult the enterprise appears, the more important it is to discuss the smallest detail in advance. ‘Whether all difficulties should be considered in detail, I leave to you. But I insist that in time of war every plan should be discussed calmly and without haste, and quickly put into effect on the field. All reservations should remain in the camp; none should remain at the moment that men mount their horses’.37 To know in advance what is planned is, therefore, fundamental. But to know what may happen to you is equally important. And since no one lacking experience can know this, each company must include men of experience who have been there before (‘ceulx qui avoient veu’).38 However, knowing how to avoid being surprised by the enemy is perhaps not the most important thing included in the term ‘preparation’. Militarily speaking, the training to which the soldier must submit to prepare for victory is even more indispensable. On several occasions the reader sees the re-appearance of this theme, so important for the author. At the very beginning of the work he refers to those chosen to learn the profession of arms and to harden them to the practice of work; for one cannot learn more about what a particular profession involves than by practising it often, and by avoiding luxuries which hinder or prevent proper understanding of how to retain what one 33 Ibid, I, p. 92. 34 Ibid, II, pp. 34–35. 35 Although the vocabulary is varied, the sense of the word ‘spying’ is always easily understood (Jouvencel, II, pp. 35, 192;); ‘courreurs’ (Ibid, I, p. 160; II, pp. 35, 192); ‘espies’ (Ibid, I, p. 67); ‘escoutes’, Ibid, I, pp. 69, 195, 203); ‘guettes’ (Ibid, I, p. 151); ‘messaige’ (Ibid, II, pp. 196–197). See C. Allmand, ‘Intelligence in the Hundred Years War’, Go Spy the Land. Military Intelligence in History, ed. K. Neilson and B. McKercher (Westport, CT, 1992), pp. 31–47. 36 Jouvencel, I, p. 82; II, p. 139. 37 Ibid, II, p. 217; see also II, pp. 124–126. 38 Ibid, II, p. 168.

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is concerned with, whether it be a practical or a speculative exercise.39 Once he is trained, the man-at-arms must put into practice what he has learned. As the author asks, what would be the worth of all this, gained at great peril, if we did not put it into practice? ‘Surely’, replying to his own question, ‘we would forget it all’.40 Later he repeats the same advice: if the man-at arms must practise what he has learned, it is because practice brings mastery, and makes the soldier ready and able to act or, as he puts it elsewhere, custom bestows mastery, and becomes [second] nature.41 The jouvencel is particularly conscious of the need to harden the soldier through work. We have already seen how he exalts the physical aspect of fighting and combat; the idea is taken up again later. The picture of the soldier’s life which he creates on several occasions is one of a certain harshness; he refers to the hard life, the burdens and the travails, as well as the afflictions and great dangers brought about by war, which must be faced with the sweat of our bodies.42 Such is the life awaiting the soldier! But he who manages to accustom himself to such a life, and to harden himself in the process, makes himself not only capable, but worthy, too, of leading others. All those who wish to acquire honour and glory through participation in war must endure great hurt and hardship experienced at the beginning.43 What were the sources of such advice? Daily experience was certainly one of them. Another was a very much older tradition going back at least to the De re militari of Vegetius, probably written towards the end of the fourth century of the present era. This work was well known in fifteenth-century France, both in the Latin text and by the translations made into French since the thirteenth century. The work emphasised the absolute necessity of being well prepared in order to achieve victory. It is therefore likely, if not certain, that the author of Le Jouvencel should have derived this essential principle either from Vegetius himself, or from the Mirrors for Princes which restated much of the content, notably the need to recruit men capable of putting up with a training both hard and painful. In this way, Le Jouvencel was to be the echo of many of Vegetius’s ideas. On more than one occasion the author expresses the confidence he has in soldiers with practical experience of war. One could introduce here, while recognising its anachronistic character, the word (or at least the notion of) ‘professional’. Having spent so many years fighting, Jouvencel is himself too experienced not to realise that war has greatly changed during that period. These changes require the man-at-arms, or at least his leaders, to approach military science in a new way. What better way to learn about the new skills than by practising ‘the ways of doing things’ of this evolution whose development has been accelerated by 39 40 41 42 43

Ibid, I, p. 26. See also II, p. 71. Ibid, I, p. 150. Ibid, II, pp. 71 and 32. Ibid, I, pp. 59, 150. Ibid, I, p. 21.

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the wars against the English. ‘Day by day’, he says, ‘the weapons available to man increase’, a reference to recent developments in ordnance and in cannon in particular.44 In the long speech which he makes before Jouvencel among others, the lord of Chamblay emphasises a certain number of pieces of advice for the most effective use of heavy bombards to be employed in an attack on a castle or fortified town. In his view, these should be followed up by smaller cannon which can be fired more frequently, and which effectively prevent the defenders filling in breaches in the wall. ‘When your bombards start to fire, be certain that all your small pieces of artillery fire in succession after the bombard, so that those within are unable to repair the damage caused by the bombard, advice both practical and up to date’.45 The jouvencel is also fully aware of the distinct but complementary functions of cavalry and infantry, a theme which recurs in the work. The role of cavalry is to attack: ‘as for the cavalry, however they find the enemy’s cavalry, they should attack them furiously’.46 Elsewhere, he reiterates the importance of attacking the enemy as quickly as possible, using the cavalry for this purpose.47 On other occasions, and under other conditions, archers should begin the attack, care being taken never to allow the cavalry to be placed in front of the archers, contrary to what the French had done at Verneuil in August 1424.48 It is true that recent events were rich in lessons to be learned. The author stresses, too, the importance of the defensive role played by the foot soldier and, particularly, by the archer, who should not be allowed to get too tired. ‘King Henry was successful (at Agincourt) by preserving his soldiers’ staying power and by giving them refreshment during the night. The French did the opposite. . . . and, soon out of breath, they were defeated’,49 all of which shows Jouvencel’s wish to draw lessons, even from a consideration of the past still very immediate and painful. ‘As for war fought on foot’, he goes on, ‘it is the very opposite of that fought by cavalry, for foot soldiers should never seek out the enemy, but should remain still, preserving their energy and thinking about all the ways by which they can defeat the enemy. And if the enemy will not advance, then it is better not to move than to go forward, for in this way many battles have been lost’.50 One sees how the author of Le Jouvencel has understood and assimilated the most important lessons of defensive tactics developed in the fourteenth century. The text returns several times to the importance and nature of the leadership of armies, a subject which had been increasingly debated for the past century.51 Was it only the nobleman who could aspire to high command in time of war? Or should all 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

Ibid, I, p. 17; Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre’, p. 19, n. 14. Ibid, II, p. 41. Ibid, I, p. 158. Ibid, II, p. 203. Ibid, II, pp. 63–64. Ibid, II, pp 62–63. Ibid, II, p. 37. On this subject see C. Allmand, The Hundred Years’ War (rev. edn, Cambridge, 2001), pp. 67–73.

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those whose feats of arms proved that they possessed the highest qualities be given responsibilities, both military and social? Acceptance of the command of an army had, in effect, become an acceptance of responsibility for public order. How, in these circumstances, should appointments be made to commands in the French army in the second half of the fifteenth century? In a certain sense the Jouvencel as a whole can serve as a guide to action in this matter. For the different steps in the hero’s life, underlined in Tringant’s commentary, the way we observe him pondering the best way to bring the war to an end and, finally the popularity and respect with which he is surrounded, all these contribute to our being able to trace the itinerary of a ‘poor gentleman’ whose merits have taken him to the top of the ladder.52 But the author has been able to recognise another characteristic of command; the need to avoid diluting it too much, ‘for everywhere there should be one man in charge, otherwise the enterprise will not go well’.53 Indeed, it was ‘the need to leave on this frontier a man in charge of you’54 that obliged the count of Parvanchières to appoint the jouvencel as his deputy in Crathor. Later, the king appointed him lieutenant-general of the army due to bring help to king Amydas. Addressing his officers, he said to them: ‘You know that you need a leader whom you obey; otherwise your enterprise will not succeed. I am not giving you two or three, just one. For if an army has no supreme commander, things cannot go well’.55 The work also reflects what chivalry and its preoccupations were in the 1560s. The knight should bring peace where there was nothing but discord and dissension, the fruits of envy and ambition. Here lies his chief obligation, a social one it might be called, since ‘the creation of the most noble order of chivalry is to preserve, defend and maintain in peace the people who are most frequently harmed by the adversities of war’. This obligation includes a certain number of corollary constraints: ‘Good and valiant knights, captains and soldiers should face not only the hard encounters (which are battles) with the force of their arms and a multitude of people, but also with subtlety and prudence’. This is why, the author reveals, he has decided to write this work, based on the experiences of him who has participated in war to maintain his lord, the king, with all his inadequate ability, and in so doing has learned at first hand what he wishes to teach others in future.56 This double role of defender of the prince and of the Church is taken up later in the work where it is presented as the fulfilment of the apprenticeship to which the knight has submitted himself. The function of chivalry reveals itself as the arms and hands which hold the highest position after the ‘chief’, and are in the middle of the body to defend and protect the head and the other members against all threats.57 ‘I wish’, says the captain of Crathor, ‘to be of service to the king, the

52 53 54 55 56 57

Jouvencel, II, p. 4. Loc. cit. Ibid, II, p. 3. Ibid, II, p. 170. Ibid, I, pp. 14–15. Ibid, II, p. 68.

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kingdom, and to all you others’.58 In this way he is lending support to the notion of a chivalry of public service. At a time of war and occupation, in a country which places emphasis above all on public service which identifies itself with support for the king, it is hardly surprising that chivalry arises from an ethic strongly associated with service to France. After all, the ‘chivalric’ service which Jouvencel had himself given to his king had been active participation in the war against the public enemy, the English, in whose defeat he had taken part. In such circumstances the main reward of chivalric action would not be the glorification of the knight himself, but above all the satisfaction of having contributed to the common good by helping to expel the old enemy from the kingdom. Consequently, if the knight or man-at-arms has learned certain skills which have enabled them to achieve victory in war, it should be the common good, not they, which benefits, since the fighter is always at the service of that good. Another passage in the text explains the situation more fully.59 Two gentlemen approach Jouvencel for permission to take on two Englishmen in single combat. He allows himself to grant their request, while being severely critical of their attitude and of the legitimacy of their quarrel; in his view they are hoping to gain fame through this feat of arms which they will have to share with no one, and on which they are spending much money while (and this is the essential point) exposing their bodies and lives for something which is but vain glory and of little value, and which helps nobody. For, while they are taken up by this personal combat, they forget the service which they owe to the king and to the public good. The passage ends with the words which brooks no appeal: ‘None should risk his body except in meritorious action’.60 From then on, he who conforms to this order, even if he always remains poor, is immediately distinguishable. ‘Ha, the good man who has given loyal service to both the king and kingdom . . . at least he dies with great honour for him and his family . . . For it is a great thing to risk death for the good of others’.61 We are not far from the notion of Pro patria mori. Towards the end of the work we find the description of an important event which illustrates a further aspect of the definition and new role of honour at war. The text describes how the marshal of Crathor, described as a very thoughtful wager of war, is planning to seize control of the town of Sap with the help of enemy prisoners. According to his plan the town, once captured, will be handed over to Jouvencel, with whom the marshal discusses the matter. On hearing this, king Amydas is clearly deeply shocked. ‘My son’, he says to Jouvencel, ‘it is not an honest thing for a king to do. It is in battle that the enemy must be defeated’. He refuses to be associated with an act of treachery displeasing to God and to the whole world. In any event, he adds, there would always be the risk of being betrayed and of experiencing heavy losses. Above all, he adds, a good and noble 58 59 60 61

Ibid, I, p. 191. Ibid, II, pp. 68–71. Ibid, II, p. 100. Ibid, I, p. 56.

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king must not plan acts to be committed under cover of darkness. Is this the end of the affair? True, Jouvencel agrees and promises not to raise the matter again. ‘You speak nobly’, he replies, ‘for you are a noble king’. But there are always those who will seek to carry out exploits to their advantage, as adventurers do. In spite of his reservations, could the king not allow them to try to capture the town by surprise? At this point the text introduces a revelatory opinion: ‘war should be waged in various ways’. There are to be other ways of approaching war than through the traditional one which conforms to the demands of honour and chivalry. Caught unawares, the king finally replies to Jouvencel: ‘I leave it to you’, he says. He has ceded the argument. Jouvencel immediately rejoins the marshal, and they discuss the matter at length. Jouvencel, whom the king has just recognised as being ‘good and wise’, recognises that the plot ‘is quite feasible’. He lets the marshal persuade him that the plot involves few risks, reduced to the cost of the ransoms which they may have to pay. ‘Any losses will be small’, he says. But Jouvencel reminds them that the king rightly regards this action with displeasure, since it involves treachery; he himself finds it distasteful to have had to talk to the traitors. We see here Jouvencel torn between the principles of honour and his desire to hasten the end of the war which he is waging against the enemies of his king. He replies to the marshal in these words: ‘You are good and wise. I give you neither advice nor orders, and leave matters to you’. It is a new Pontius Pilate who is here washing his hands. Of course, the episode, carefully planned and boldly executed by the marshal, is crowned with success. But it has lost nothing of the taint of treason attached to it. All are embarrassed by it. ‘Treason is not worthy of being remembered or written about’, the author says, ‘I’ll not describe it, if you will forgive me. None the less, the marshal has acted with courage and loyalty; on this occasion, he served his side well’. It is even said that the act of treason was good for king Amydas, who had opposed it, as it was for Jouvencel and the marshal. But, the text goes on, ‘the traitors involved were men of no value’ (‘ne valoient riens’). Jouvencel is delighted at the announcement of the success achieved; but the king has still to be informed. He does this by admitting that the capture of the town was carried out without a specific order from either of them, for which the marshal begs forgiveness since he knew well that nothing should be undertaken without the permission of his superior. The king, who is trying to evade all the implications of the affair, emphasises that the offence compromises only the authority of Jouvencel as the leader of the army, and not his as king; he is careful to add that it seems unlikely to him that this undertaking could have been undertaken without the knowledge and approval of the captain. At these words Jouvencel says nothing. We shall have understood why.62 These pages are of considerable interest. At first, the dilemma is presented in the form of a dialogue which gives a certain life and immediacy to the text. Above

62 Ibid, II, pp. 216–221.

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all this episode should be seen as linked to a number of references to the many plots which, throughout Le Jouvencel, witness towns being taken less by direct assault than by surprise, in keeping with the point of view set out through the text itself. So, when king Amydas proposes the opposite by ‘taking to the field and displaying his banner . . . for battle’, the reader immediately realises that Jouvencel, for whom real war is the war of ‘subtillitez’ of which the text is the clearest evidence, is opposed to the plan. This episode springs equally from another theme central to the work: the relationship between war and the public good. Part of Amydas’s kingdom is, in fact, partly under the control of rebels; the public good demanding that it be brought back under the king’s jurisdiction. If the task of defeating them, and of achieving the peace which would follow, implies recourse to treason and trickery, should the use of these be excluded? We find here a question which, we are told, the protagonists preferred not to discuss. But it is implicitly admitted that, when the public good is at risk, the ends justify the means. Why, then, take part in an open battle (in conformity with the ideals of chivalry) when Vegetius himself advises that victory should be sought through the expending of the minimum effort and the least number of risks? So, the badly concealed approval of the plot which regained Sap from the rebels. The expedition led by Jouvencel in the service of king Amydas raised a further problem which troubled contemporaries very considerably. King Charles VII set it out laconically when he asked: ‘What shall we do with our soldiers?’ The implications of social peace following long periods of war caused the authorities recurrent problems after 1360 and the treaty of Brétigny. The matter assumes a new dimension if one thinks about one of the main lessons of the work: the ability to defend the public good depends on being able to avoid, at all costs, the soldier becoming fat and apathetic, losing, for lack of practice, effective use of his weapons, which can only be maintained by constant practice. What, then, should be done with an army in peace time? The answer comes quickly. ‘Sire, they should be sent to some foreign land to seek a good cause for which to fight’.63 So, in the past century, the longest periods of truce have witnessed soldiers leaving for other fields of conflict, in Greece, in Castile, or in Prussia. Nearer our time, in 1444, an army was sent to Switzerland, Bueil himself taking part in that expedition. The matter is taken up in Le Jouvencel. In time of peace, soldiers can be sent to serve abroad, to restore a good ruler to the territory from which he has been expelled without reason. In so doing, you unburden the kingdom (of France), and you do works of mercy and justice, which are pleasing to God. You serve God in this way. And, on your return, you will find the land of your birth, ready to feed you, while your friends . . . will treat you with great honour;

63 Ibid, II, pp. 152–153.

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while I, who am your king, will honour you . . . even more, since the good that you have done me will not be forgotten.64 Here the author shows respect for the soldier who serves his country and his king. But how can his country control him, once he has returned from foreign parts? May an army which has a constant need to train to maintain its military skills not risk appearing like a weight, or a danger to the public good which it is supposed to defend, as certain contemporaries thought?65 Do they not regard themselves as confronting the paradox of the protector who has become the threat, the Leviathan before Hobbes?66 In his enthusiasm for the role played by the soldier in the affairs of the public domain, had the author fully foreseen what might happen? However we reply, this problem is evidence of the fact that he succeeded in raising questions of the greatest importance for the kingdom of France in the late Middle Ages. Did he properly estimate the apparent contradiction contained in the significance of the need to provide on-going training for the army, the body which, needed to bring victory in time of war, was regarded by many as a source of danger in time of peace? This same subversive force returns when he asks, in a way which leaves no doubt what his answer will be, if it is right, for the sake of the public good, to have recourse to the ruse to achieve victory with less risk, an argument which effectively undermines the traditional justification of chivalry. The historical interest of such a text lies in the evidence which it provides regarding the overturning of ideas and attitudes found in the middle years of the fifteenth century. In this way support is found for the author’s opening assertion that, to defend himself against criticism that he was writing yet another book on the art of war, reminded readers that military practice was constantly changing. Finally, the work has much to teach us regarding a number of changes, whether these had already happened or were in the process of happening. In so far as it made its own contribution to the debate of the time regarding war and the ‘profound changes’, technical and social, economic and political matters associated with them. So Le Jouvencel became, in more than one sense, a commentary on French society in the fifteenth century. At first sight, two issues stand out. The first sends us back to the social ascent of the hero, which Tringant tries to associate with that of his master, Jean de Bueil. But what does it amount to? Superficially, we assist in the moral and physical development of a young man which ends with him becoming a king’s son-in-law: a success story! Yet, the social and political implications of this advance are less evident. As the story begins, we note the young man’s friends advising him not to

64 Ibid, II, p. 167. 65 P. D. Solon, ‘Popular Response to Standing Military Forces in Fifteenth-Century France’, Studies in the Renaissance, 19 (1972), 78–111. 66 In 1471, Jean de Bueil was to say that since the time of Charles VII ‘war has become something quite different’. Above all he had been struck by the number of soldiers involved and the problems created by the need to keep them in order (Jouvencel, I, pp. CCLXXX–CCLXXXI).

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seek to become a courtier; this would take him into a very uncertain world, that of flattery and even of mortal dangers, a position of great fragility, particularly in these troubled times. It is better to choose the way of honour which, through a military career, is immediately presented as a way of social and political advancement, with many advantages attached to it. A courtesan is associated with a patron with whom all hope of promotion is linked; the soldier, on the other hand, remains free, both morally and physically. If the courtier seeks to further only his own interest, the soldier works for the interest of all. Yet his devotion to the general good creates a new dependence. If his growing reputation reaches the court, the king may call him to join his courtiers and others so that he can put his military experience at the service of the public good. Being in no position to refuse to serve the king and, through him, all society, he surrenders his freedom to a good cause by placing himself under the orders of the king. From being an independent soldier Jouvencel thus becomes a servant of the king and people. Soon he joins a group of courtiers made up of soldiers whose role, in time of war and troubles, is needed to maintain the public good against enemies, both internal and external. However noble such service, was the author aware of the risks associated with service to a king upon whom he would depend for both his wages and his advancement? The accession of Louis XI must have sown doubts in many minds. One suspects that the author had a certain sympathy for the old traditions which, in his time, still ruled the conduct of war. What did he think, therefore, of the military reforms of Charles VII? Although faithful to the king, he does not appear convinced by those which he presents in his text. So he does not succeed in hiding the support he feels for the individual ‘fellow’ (‘petit compagnon’) who does not fit easily into the new structures. Yet, it is precisely his admiration for the ‘exploit’ which accounts for his dissatisfaction with ‘open’ battle. Finally, one finds throughout his work an anxiety which he was not alone in experiencing when confronted with the new royal army: could the military values of old, in particular honour, survive such great changes? While recognising the merit of those which replaced them, of the progress made in military organisation, and of the new position in society given to the soldier, the author of Le Jouvencel is not their unconditional promoter. His work reflects above all the doubts of French society as it emerges from civil troubles and the wars against England. The text, with its many and varied voices, was not written to persuade; rather, the multiplicity of opinions and points of view was intended to record, and sometimes to comment on, the great changes which military life had experienced in the author’s time.

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8 T H E P R O B L E M O F D E S E RT I O N IN FRANCE, ENGLAND AND B U R G U N D Y I N T H E L AT E MIDDLE AGES

In his ground-breaking book, Guerre, État et Société à la Fin du Moyen Age, Philippe Contamine refers several times to the problems regarding desertion which faced French armies during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. In the French context, the gradual worsening of the problem occurred largely as the result of developments within an army founded on feudal obligation but now coming to rely largely on paid volunteers.1 On a broader canvas, desertion was but one of many problems encountered by kings of France as they developed an army called upon to play an ever-increasing role in the constant expansion of the French state. The study of desertion helps us, therefore, to appreciate both aspects of military organisation and the part played by the soldiery through the continually developing role given to the army at the very heart of society. Surviving evidence shows that, from the late thirteenth century onwards, English kings, too, had experienced difficulties arising out of desertion. Archival documents dating from the Scottish wars of Edward I contain many references to the matter.2 Between 1299 and 1301, for instance, the king’s plans and strategies with relation to Scotland were seriously affected when, in 1300, he deplored his inability to recruit the numbers he required. Many were said to have remained at home having, it seems, bribed royal recruiters to allow them to do so. In Yorkshire, people complained that members of the local gentry had prevented their men from going to serve the king, which suggests a genuine lack of enthusiasm for the king’s wars.3 A further, more significant element was the attitude of those who accepted their wage but then returned home without leave from the king to do so: ‘receurent leurs gages et sont retournez sans comandement ou congie du roy’. The English practice 1 P. Contamine, Guerre, État et Société à la fin du Moyen Age. Études sur les armées des rois de France, 1337–1494 (Paris and The Hague, 1972), pp. 60–61. 2 M. Prestwich, Edward I (new edn, New Haven and London, 1997), pp. 483, 486, 513. 3 Calendar of the Patent Rolls Preserved in the Public Record Office. Edward I, A.D. 1292–1301 (London, 1895), pp. 527–528, 601. For examples, taken from a later time, of the reluctance of people from Yorkshire to serve, see A. E. Goodman, ‘Responses to Requests in Yorkshire for Military Service under Henry V’, Northern History, 17 (1981), 240–252.

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of paying part of a man’s wages in advance may have been at the root of the problem. Paid, but not necessarily enrolled, and often far from satisfied, such men were reported to have returned home, and remained there.4 What might be said of French armies fifty years later already applied to English forces about 1300. To set up an army on paper was one thing: quite another to mould it into an effective force, ready for service, men who were unaccustomed to military discipline.5 Such conditions could push some into desertion, especially if they could do this after having received the first part of their wage. Fifty years later the king of France was faced with desertion within his army. The 1351 ordinance of king John II (‘the Good’) referred to the problem as seen by the French leadership. Disloyalty was on the increase among the soldiers. Action must be taken to ensure that both men-at-arms and infantry should serve loyally and willingly: ‘que noz Genz d’armes & de pie loyaument, de cuer & tres bonne volonte, Nous puissant server . . . en bon & net estat de conscience’. Soldiers should be reviewed frequently to prevent fraud; they were forbidden from leaving their captain’s company to serve in that of another without the military authorities being informed. Those deserting were to have their names removed from the records, and captains were ordered to submit the names of those identified as deserters. Such measures are a clear indication of steps taken to encourage a sense of responsibility and service among members of the royal army, and to emphasise to those whose names were recorded on muster rolls of the importance of their obligation to serve. Furthermore, this underlined the active role played in the disciplinary process by officers appointed by the crown. Captains should not only know the names of their men: they should also report on their activities, on their absences in particular, to the military authorities.6 By 1374, the problem had not yet been resolved. An ordinance of that year refers to the lack of loyalty and inclination to corruption shown by captains, who failed to inform the treasurer for war that men placed under their command deserted before the period of their service had been completed: ‘se partoient avant le temps qu’ilz devoient servir’. The situation required a firm response. Only those actually present at musters should have their names recorded so that they could be paid; each should swear on the gospels that he would serve for the time for which he was paid: ‘que en tel estat servira pour le temps qu’il recevra noz gaiges’, unless he had a ‘congié’, or leave of absence, which should not be easily granted, ‘sans cause raisonnable’. Every soldier who left early should have his name sent to the treasurer for war, his wage to be reduced as a consequence, the measure underlining the twofold implication of such desertions, in terms of both human and financial resources. Captains were to require all soldiers under their 4 Documents and Records Illustrating the History of Scotland and the Transactions between the Crowns of Scotland and England, ed. F. Palgrave (London, 1837), I, p. 204. 5 Contamine, Guerre, État et Société, p. 170. Vegetius (De re militari, II, p. 5) had claimed that a legion required at least four months of training before taking part in active service. 6 Ordonnances des roys de France de la troisième race, IV (Paris, 1734), pp. 67–69.

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command to swear that they would serve them ‘continuellement’, and not leave without permission.7 Now, more than ever, the problem of desertion was being closely associated with an undertaking, or promise, to serve, made both verbally and, more formally, confirmed by the terms of the soldier’s indenture, which now carried an increasingly greater sense of legal obligation to be fulfilled through the oath, taken by all soldiers, to serve out the term agreed.8,9 In spite of some successes achieved in France, the measures taken to curtail desertion proved insufficient at the time of the English invasion of 1415. The English authorities were very much aware of the problem as it involved those serving in the duke of Bedford’s fleet in 1416. Sometimes the authorities over-reacted to events, as when men who had been wounded or who were unfit for active service were arrested in London and accused of desertion, only to be later released, their names having none the less been sent to the proper authority. The only legal way for a soldier serving under contract to be relieved of all military obligation was for him to receive a written leave of absence from his captain, which could only be sought for a serious reason, such as illness. In 1415, at the time of the siege of Harfleur, Henry V granted a large number of such certificates (‘billes’) to the sick among his army, thus enabling the recipients to return home in a perfectly legal and honourable way.10 Yet, in June 1419, the sheriffs of several counties and port authorities received orders to arrest all those who might try to use out-dated ‘billes’ as justification for returning from Normandy to England. Such persons should be arrested and sent before the king’s council.11 In July 1424 the English administration in France, concerned that some soldiers, having been paid several months wages in advance, were leaving their captains to serve under others (a practice of which the French ordinance of 1351 had accused French soldiers),12 wrote in the name of Henry VI underlining the fact that certain captains, anxious to maintain the number of men in their retinues, had failed to check the past record of recruits joining their companies, thereby contributing to the continuation of a complex financial fraud which was constantly getting worse. By 1 August, the situation had become so critical that some soldiers were accused of having deserted because they could not face the prospect of battle against the dauphin’s army which, it seemed inevitable, would very soon take place. (As indeed, it did at Verneuil, on 17 August.) Port authorities were ordered to arrest and imprison all those trying to return to England if they lacked any documentation issued in the king’s name.13 7 Idem, V (Paris, 1736), pp. 658–659. 8 Contemporary fears regarding the non-fulfilment of contracts by soldiers who had been paid can be seen reflected in Honoré Bouvet, L’Arbre des Batailles, IV, p. 40. 9 Calendar of the Close Rolls Preserved in the Public Record Office, Henry V. 1413–1419 (London, 1929), p. 315. 10 C. Allmand, Henry V (new edn, New Haven and London, 1997), pl. 11. On the ‘congé’ (commeatus) commented on by Vegetius, see De re militari, II, p. 19. 11 CCR, 1419–1422 (London, 1932), p. 6. 12 Ordonnances, V, pp. 68–69. 13 Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel (1343–1468), ed. S. Luce (Paris, 1879), I, pp. 137–138, 144–146.

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The problem surrounding desertion emerged as even more important after the victory at Verneuil had caused English military responsibilities to be extended. An echo of this is to be found in the indenture for war sealed between the earl of Salisbury and king Henry VI for six months’ service beginning in March 1428.14 The terms of this contract prevented the earl from recruiting men already serving in France or who had returned without authorisation to England and, further, any who benefited from landed revenues in France which already involved military service in France. Any found belonging to this category must repay the money received; they might be put in prison until this was done. In May 1430, captains and soldiers doing military service under contract were reminded by the English crown of the obligation to honour these terms of service.15 All those contemplating possible desertion will have understood that this applied to them. By 1439, however, the problem had become so intractable that it was discussed in Parliament, where legislation was decided upon. Two aspects of the problem were considered. Captains were blamed for withholding wages, earmarked for the purpose and legitimately earned, from their men. By acting in this way soldiers were being forced to act not as if they had been paid in full but to act as thieves and pillagers (‘a voler et a piller’) with all that this implied in terms of discipline. At the same time many soldiers were criticised for having taken their pay before leaving without proper authorisation, thereby causing great harm to the king and his kingdom. Men who deserted before the expiry of their indentures (‘deins son terme’) must return the wages received, the money being used to pay others. In future, no soldier should return home before his contract had been fulfilled without leave from his captain, such permission to be expressed in a document issued in the king’s name and under the captain’s seal. Anyone caught acting otherwise should be brought before justices, and punished as a felon (‘comme felon’).16 In Burgundy, too, Charles the Bold would be forced to grapple with the problem of desertion in the ordinances which he published between 1471 and 1476. In the first he tried, in what was the first positive reaction to the problem, to have the practical solution of ‘permission to leave’ accepted. This failed, and in the following year he decided to deal severely with deserters who were to be punished with the co-operation of the civil authorities. Early in 1473, Charles addressed an assembly of the Burgundian Estates, meeting in Bruges, in terms which reflected his determination to act with energy against deserters, a policy for which, as Henry VI had done in 1439, he sought the help of public opinion. Yet, even the threat of the death sentence appears to have had little effect. Charles was soon obliged to soften his attitude and to assume a more positive approach to the problem by giving new life to the system of ‘congés’ by combining it this time with the obligation for every soldier using the system to leave in the camp his horse or his weapons as 14 Letters and Papers Illustrative of the Wars of the English in France during the Reign of Henry the Sixth, King of England, ed. J. Stevenson (RS, London, 1864), I, pp. 404–406. 15 Foedera, ed. T. Rymer (The Hague, 1740), IV, 160; CCR, 1429–35 (London, 1933), pp. 47–48. 16 Rotuli Parliamentorum, V, 32–33, 444: Statutes of the Realm, II, 314–315.

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a material security against his return. But even this plan appears to have failed. As the military reputation of the duke declined, so soldiers were increasingly tempted to desert. His reign ended in a spirit of mutual incomprehension between the duke and his soldiers. Deserters were joined to rebels, and in December 1476, the duke ordered the immediate execution of all deserters, secular lords and civil judges being again asked to apply this penalty when the occasion demanded it.17 How is the historian to understand the importance and interest of these acts? What can they teach us regarding the changes affecting war in the late Middle Ages? That a soldier should disappear after having received his pay was increasingly regarded as a felony, a fraud perpetrated at the expense of public funds.18 The deserter was also damned for the practical consequences, financial and military, of his action. So, to change retinue without permission, which usually allowed the deserter to receive his pay twice, was more often seen as a dishonourable act than as one whose financial and military effects, if repeated on a large scale, risked causing serious practical consequences for the army. From this time, the moral reprobation associated with such an act had less importance than its likely practical effects. The soldier was no longer regarded as an individual; he was, rather, a member of a unit. The language used underlines another point. Desertion was an act of direct defiance aimed at the crown and its authority. In 1305, Nicholas de Segrave had been accused before the English Parliament of having challenged John Cromwell to personal combat before the French court, since Cromwell had accused him of having left the army of Edward I, thus abandoning the king to his enemies.19 Desertion? Certainly. Treason? Perhaps. Desertion was now accepted as having an increasingly inclusive sense, which could make it a treasonable act. But it was an act aimed not only against the king and his authority, but against the person of the king as representing the community; against that exercised by captains appointed by the king; against, too, the deserter’s fellow soldiers, put in danger by him without need, as well as the troubles such treason could cause to the country’s interests.20 In May 1430, although royal documents still present the deserter as acting against the royal authority (‘in gravem nostri contemptum & praejudicium’), greater emphasis was none the less placed on the adverse effects of non-respect for the terms of the indenture regarded as prejudicial ‘to our person, country and subjects’ (‘personam nostram . . . ac patriam & subditos nostros’).21 English legislation of 1439 recalled 17 J.-M. Cauchies, ‘La désertion dans les armées bourguignonnes de 1465 à 1476’, Revue belge d’histoire militaire, 22 (1977), 132–148. 18 ‘. . . la peccune publique dont on devoit paier les souldoiers du roy . . . [l]’argent qui estoit a la chose publique pour la deffense du pais’, (English Suits before the Parlement of Paris, 1420–36, ed. C. Allmand and C. A. J. Armstrong (R. Hist.S., London, 1982), pp. 237, 241. 19 Rotuli Parliamentorum, I, p. 172: Prestwich, Edward I, pp. 461–462. 20 CCR, 1413–19, p. 315; Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel, I, pp. 144–146; Rotuli Parliamentorum, V, p. 444. 21 Foedera, IV, p. 160.

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that soldiers should fulfil every clause of their contracts; thus the fulfilment of a private contract became an obligation under public law and its non-fulfilment ‘a crime against the king’.22 It was understandable that a whole millennium earlier Vegetius had been surprised that a soldier, paid and maintained out of public funds, could have been allowed to give priority to his personal affairs.23 What factors encouraged men to desert in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries? Vegetius had already noted the impact which some factors, such as hunger, home-sickness, inactivity and its opposite, fatigue, or witnessing the death of others could have on the morale and efficiency of a force.24 Fear was certainly one of the factors which encouraged English soldiers to desert both in 1424 (on the eve of the battle of Verneuil which, ironically, was to be marked by an English victory) and in 1429–1430, at the very height of the successes achieved by Joan of Arc.25 Such explanations, however, do not tell the full story. The matter should be seen against its institutional and social background. It is clear that desertion (and the efforts taken to counter it) reflect in a certain way the development of military organisation and administration at the end of the Middle Ages. Both those who carried out recruitment and those who became captains bore a heavy responsibility, and can be judged as having created conditions and situations which encouraged men to desert. There was a risk in paying wages ahead of the time to be served, very much an English practice which could mean soldiers being paid for up to six months in advance.26 Even more influential were the problems arising from the fact that it was necessary to create armies from men coming from many backgrounds, including those totally unaccustomed to the rigours of military discipline, and rarely sufficiently motivated to accept the troubles of this form of life.27 There were, of course, other factors, such as the recruitment of common criminals28 or the irregular payment of wages, more often the fault of the captains than of the central, financial administration. In

22 R. A. Newhall, Muster and Review: A Problem of English Military Administration, 1420–1440 (Cambridge, MA, 1940), pp. 150–154. In 1491 the crime of desertion (‘departyng’) would be defined as a ‘hurt and jopardie of the king oure Souerayn Lord, the nobles of the Realme and of all the commen wele thereof’, in short, an act against society as a whole (Statutes of the Realm, II, p. 549). 23 ‘. . . incongruum videretur imperatoris militem, qui veste et annona publica pascebatur, utilitatibus vacare privatis’ (De re militari, II, p. 19). 24 Ibid, III, p. 9. See also J. Dufournet, La Destruction des Mythes dans les Mémoires de Philippe de Commynes (Geneva, 1966), pp. 604–608. 25 ‘De proclamationibus contra capitaneos et soldarios tergiversantes in cantationibus puellas terrificatos’ (Foedera, IV, p. 160); C. Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, 1415–50: The History of a Medieval Occupation (Oxford, 1983), p. 33, n. 28. 26 Vegetius recommended the Roman practice as enabling soldiers to deposit money which could be spent at a later date, thus discouraging early desertion (De re militari, II, p. 20). 27 Contamine, Guerre, État et Société, pp. 169–170. 28 E. Powell, Kingship, Law and Society: Criminal Justice in the Reign of Henry V (Oxford, 1989), p. 233; Gesta Henrici Quinti: The Deeds of Henry V, ed. and trans. F. Taylor and J. S. Roskell (Oxford, 1975), pp. 54–55. See also H. J. Hewitt, The Organizaton of War under Edward III (Manchester and New York, 1966), pp. 29–31.

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such circumstances it was difficult to organise and maintain an army as an effective fighting force. Vegetius was, perhaps, right in thinking that desertion may have been one of the ways which allowed an army to purge and renew itself.29 Rather than simply condemn desertion, it was perhaps better to regard it as a means of ‘natural selection’, which allowed those capable and willing to fight to be distinguished from those who were not, so that in punishing a deserter (if he could be caught) and forcing him to rejoin his company was probably not the most advisable thing to do. If desertion can be considered against its institutional background, it should also be seen in a context in which the army was increasingly regarded as a political instrument, available to further the interests of a country. Similarly, the soldier’s calling was increasingly regarded as belonging to a body whose very existence was coming to be seen and justified by the contribution which it made to the public good.30 Military service was a way of doing service to both ruler and the wider community. The soldier had a certain responsibility for the public good, shown and fulfilled in the way he behaved. Not all, however, saw it in this way. When in September 1444, Richard, duke of York was ordered to follow a policy of aggression against the French, his attention was drawn to those English captains who, although in theory given life-long commands in France, ‘contynuelly be here in Englande not labouring nor emploieng theire parsones in the kingis services, nor no thing done for the well of his conquest’.31 The duke was told that ‘the well of hym silffe [the king] and of the garde publique’32 required that all captains not residing in France ‘for the sauffgarde of them and the welle of oure said souveraine lorde and his treu suggetis and his liege peple within thayme’33 should be relieved of their posts. This advice showed that a captain’s position was no sinecure, but an important position of military responsibility intended to protect the good of both the king and his people. The indolence and indifference of such captains, who accepted their wages while avoiding their responsibilities (which made them into genuine deserters) was an affront to the king’s efforts to defend the public good, and, in these particular circumstances, the future of his French subjects and their lands in Normandy and Maine. Both the king’s honour and the material prosperity of his subjects were in danger. We have here increasingly clear evidence of the notion that the soldier was to be held to the fulfilment of all the clauses in his contract, something which the Estates

29 Vegetius, De re militari, ii, 3. 30 C. Allmand, ‘Changing Views of the Soldier in Late Medieval France’, Guerre et Société en France, en Angletterre et en Bourgogne XIVe–XVe siècle, ed. P. Contamine, C. Giry-Deloison, and M. H. Keen (Lille, 1991), pp. 171–188. The text constitutes no 5 of the present text. 31 Letters and Papers, ed. Stevenson, II, ii, pp. 590–591. 32 Idem. 33 Idem.

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of Languedoc had already said in 1357.34 It was now understood that, henceforth, the fulfilment of this obligation arose from the acceptance of this notion publicly accepted by the soldier, as confirmed by English law in 1439. It can be seen how the concept of public service, fulfilled by the captain and his men, had evolved in the course of a century. It was clearly not easy to arrive at this stage, as the many problems of corruption and desertion which had to be faced demonstrate. Slowly, however, in particular by developing the system of muster and review, kings began to exercise greater control over their armies. This was, in part, the result of the development of offices and institutions intended to facilitate the creation of new military policy. It is clear that the French crown and, up to a point, that of England, too, made use of the increase in military offices, administrative, judicial and financial,35 to tighten the control of the crown over the army. The willingness to counter desertion through institutional means contributed to the growth and development of these institutions, acting on behalf of the king, and with his authority.36 What of the penalties planned to counter desertion? Towards the end of the fourteenth century Honoré Bouvet had written that a knight who had deserted should in future fight on foot; but he also recommended that this man should quickly be pardoned, especially if his record was a good one.37 In works reflecting chivalric tradition, desertion is usually punished by infamy, moral and social, for an individual having failed to live up to his oath and having abandoned his lord. Such punishments may have proved appropriate when the guilty person enjoyed knightly status and had known what he was doing.38 Nicholas de Segrave, accused of having acted ‘nequiter et maliciose, in persone domini regis periculum, curie sue contemptum corone et dignitatis sue regie lesionem et exhereditationem manifestum, et contra legianciam, homagium, juramentum et fidelitatem quibus ipsi domino regi tenebatur’.39 But since he had admitted his guilt he was spared the supreme penalty which he had deserved. However, most of those who deserted were of lower social rank, and were motivated by considerations for which the death sentence seemed inappropriate.40 In 1303, Edward I ordered that deserters should be imprisoned, and wages paid to them should be recovered. Half a century later, when the Black Prince

34 ‘. . . servient et exhibebunt debitum servitium pro tempore quo recipient stipendia, & non recedent a dicto servicio sine causa necessaria et speciali licentia Locumtenentis Regii seu deputandorum ad eo Marescallorrum dicte Guerre’ (Ordonnances, III, p. 105, cited by Contamine, Guerre, État et Société, p. 61). 35 The treasurers for war, for instance, claimed the right to have lists of names of men whom they paid. 36 Contamine, Guerre, État et Société, p. 518 and n. 177. 37 L’Arbre des Batailles d’Honoré Bonet, ed. E. Nys (Brussels: Leipzig, 1883), p. 99. 38 See, e.g., ‘Le Livre des Quatre Dames d’Alain Chartier’, The Poetical Works of Alain Chartier, ed. J. C. Laidlaw (Cambridge, 1974), pp. 198–304. 39 Rotuli Parliamentorum, I, p. 172. 40 Prestwich, Edward I (new edn, New Haven and London, 1997), p. 513; P. Morgan, War and Society in Medieval Cheshire, 1272–1403 (Manchester, 1987), p. 113.

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had deserters brought back to Gascony, some deserted again almost immediately, while others, however, fought at Poitiers. When the English found themselves in difficulties in France in the fifteenth century, the penalties for desertion became heavier. First came a period of imprisonment and an appearance before the royal council; this was followed by confiscation of lands granted by the crown in France, or even the ‘peine de la hart’, or execution by hanging.41 It is significant that it was under the influence of Roman military law that Nicholas Upton wrote in his De studio militari, composed in the early 1440s, that those guilty of abandoning their companies should have their heads cut off, exactly as Giovanni da Legnano had advised the application of the death penalty upon the man guilty of desertion.42 In general, penalties appear to have been the most severe in France. In 1382, those who left camp were threatened with death and the confiscation of possessions,43 whilst the so-called Ordonnance Cabochienne of May 1413 stated that captains guilty of fraud in their companies (it was their action, as we have observed, which often encouraged desertions) should be looked upon and punished as traitors against both the king and the public good.44 Later, in 1477, some soldiers were executed for having gone over to the enemy including Jean de Laudarraic, dit Oeiole, who, with his lieutenant, was executed at Tours, their heads and body parts being sent to Arras and Bethune in Picardy for public display.45 In the same year certain archers, whose desertion was regarded as having endangered the public good of the kingdom, were punished with death, these being punished as false traitors guilty of ‘leze majeste’ (treason) in such a way that others might heed this example.46 Henceforth, crimes against the common good might attract the supreme penalty. Precisely because it was the function of the soldier to defend the common good, there was a certain logic in applying this penalty upon him for having failed in his undertaking to society. In Burgundy, the penalties applied for desertion appear to have followed a rather variable success in achieving their aim, namely the prevention of desertion. During the War of the Public Good, some deserters were brought back to their camp, while others were threatened with the death penalty. During the 1470s, a critical period during which the civil authorities were encouraged to arrest and punish deserters, the penalties imposed upon them varied. While desertion could merit banishment

41 Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, p. 55; CCR, 1419–22, p. 7; Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel, I, pp. 137–138, 144–146. 42 The Essential Portions of Nicholas Upton’s De Studio Militari before 1446, ed. F. P. Barnard (Oxford, 1931), p. 5; Giovanni da Legnano, De bello, de represaliis et de duello, ed. T. E. Holland (Oxford, 1917), pp. 97, 237–238. 43 Choix de pièces inédites relatives au règne de Charles VI, ed. L Douët d’Arcq (Paris, SHF, 1863– 64), ii, p. 80. 44 Ordonnances, X, p. 138. 45 Journal de Jean de Roye, connu sous le nom de Chronique Scandaleuse, ed. B. de Mandrot (Paris, 1896), II, pp. 83–84; S. Cuttler, The Law of Treason and Treason Trials in Later Medieval France (Cambridge, 1981), p. 35. 46 Lettres de Louis XI, roi de France, ed. J. Vaeen and E. Charavay (Paris, 1883–1909), vi, p. 204.

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and confiscation of goods, in 1475, this was considered too harsh, and those arrested for desertion were simply returned to their garrisons. In the following year, however, after the Burgundians had lost more manpower through desertion than through death at the battle of Grandson, and the Italians had deserted in droves at Morat, certain draconian sanctions (executions and confiscations) were re-imposed. Henceforth, deserters were counted alongside rebels, and were liable to the same punishments. Desertion was now clearly looked upon as a form of treason.47 What can be drawn from the facts set out here? As already emphasised, much depends on the context from which those facts are drawn. As an act of contempt of military discipline, for example, desertion is reduced to a problem of control, an attack upon authority and due order, which, together reflects some of the principal problems, social, political and economic encountered by late medieval society which suffered greatly at the hands of soldiers, whose activities were a constant reminder to those in authority of their duty to establish and maintain social peace in lands over which they exercised authority. These facts are important, too, for what they can do to make the historian reflect upon the nature of the army, both in France and England at the end of the Middle Ages. Do they suggest a decline in the values of traditional chivalry? What do they tell us about those men who were to fight together, sometimes not knowing for how long, sometimes far from home, and often without adequate training? Did fear drive men to desertion? Was, for some, the practice of paying soldiers in advance too great a temptation to ignore? Similarly, was the fact that soldiers were often robbed of their money by their leaders the explanation, but not an excuse, that some were forced into desertion? Of one thing we can be sure: those whose numbers made up armies were, like most men, only human, indeed all too human.48 The phenomenon of desertion compels the historian anxious to judge the efficiency of the army to consider its characteristics and daily working. He is forced to consider how the army was regarded by late medieval society, what was its role as an instrument of state power, and what were the responsibilities of the soldiers themselves towards a society which paid them from the produce of taxation. Greater and greater emphasis is placed at this time upon desertion as a crime against the king (as his right to control his army and to appoint its officers was being rapidly developed at this time) and against the public good in general. Paid by society, the soldier must fulfil all his commitments towards it, as set out in his indentures. A regular and well trained army was perhaps the logical response to certain problems raised by desertion. Certainly, recourse to the penalties for treason shows how far society had come to regard desertion no longer as simply as an annoying feature, but very much as act which was, in many respects, an act of defiance towards the ruler and a direct attack upon the public good. In keeping with the ideas of the time, the death sentence was increasingly regarded as the appropriate penalty to be paid by the deserter who, in all but name, was seen as a traitor. 47 Cauchies, ‘La désertion’, pp. 139–143. 48 Rotuli Parliamentorum, V, p. 444.

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Part III

9 NORMANDY IN ENGLISH O P I N I O N AT T H E E N D O F T H E H U N D R E D Y E A R S ’ WA R

On 15 April 1450, at Formigny, near Bayeux, the army of Charles VII won a decisive victory over that of Henry VI, ‘king of France and England’. Some weeks later, following this defeat, the English abandoned the soil of Normandy. The Hundred Years’ War was almost over, and the prophecy of Joan of Arc, who had proclaimed that the English would be ‘kicked out’ (‘boutez’) of France, was being fulfilled. For the English, this defeat marked not only the end of their thirty year long rule of Normandy: it was also the low point in a decade of difficulties characterised by political problems. Ever since 1435, when a fruitless meeting between representatives of the kings of France and England had taken place at Arras, the war had gone badly for the English who, in spite of some successes, had seen their zone of influence reduced year by year. To bring this tendency to an end, the English had sent several armies into France under the command of a variety of captains, noble or not, their long military campaign being accompanied by a diplomatic campaign during which the English leadership attempted, by means of an agreement with Charles VII, to maintain themselves in at least a few of their ancient continental possessions. On the French side, the dying years of the long dynastic struggle with England witnessed the renaissance of the kingdom and the triumph of the house of Valois. By contrast, one notes the effects of military defeat upon English society, and a rapid decline in the country’s morale: the loss of territories in both Normandy and Gascony followed, not long afterwards, by the defeat of the house of Lancaster during a civil war seen by some as resulting from the events influenced by the loss of English territories in France in 1450 and 1453. During these years, attempts made by the English government to settle the problem of the French lands, above all that of Normandy, aroused a variety of reactions in England. The period saw, on the one hand, the creation of a point of view favouring a cessation of the war; on the other, the growth of opposition to any form of peace which criticised the procrastination of those close to the king. A study of these reactions, however brief, can reveal useful indications of the mind set of certain sections of English society at this time, showing that peace, however desirable, could create very important social and political problems in English society.

DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-13

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The history of England between 1440 and 1450 is characterised by a growing hostility shown towards a group of persons led by William de la Pole, earl, then marquis and finally, in 1448, duke of Suffolk, who controlled the king and the royal council. Certain of these, including Suffolk and Adam Moleyns, bishop of Chichester, were to meet violent deaths.1 Others, including Edmund Beaufort, duke of Somerset,2 Sir Thomas Hoo, formerly Chancellor of Normandy for the English, and Reginald Bowlers, abbot of Gloucester, escaped death but witnessed attacks on their lands by the people.3 They supported the countercoup of Suffolk’s unpopular policy, namely the abandonment of Maine and Anjou in the spring of 1448, followed, two years later, as an inevitable consequence of this policy, by the defeat at Formigny and the loss of Normandy, a province conquered by Henry V’s army thirty years earlier.4 The events of the reign of Philip Augustus seemed to be repeating themselves, for only a part of Gascony and Calais remained faithful to the English king. For one reason or another, the year 1450 was a sombre year in England. However, well before 1450 it was clear that certain persons were accusing Suffolk of having betrayed English interests in France, and particularly in Normandy. His policy of withdrawal was seen as being but little judicious, if not perfidious. For a great number, retreat was only the betrayal of a glorious past to which many remained as witnesses. To abandon English pretensions to the crown of France constituted an insult not only to the memory of Edward III and Henry V (‘the moost victorious noble Prynce of blessed memorie’, as the late king was called before the Parliament of 1450) but an attack, too, on the honour of the current king and his house. Even worse, by surrendering Maine, Anjou and Normandy the king would give the impression to his subjects that he was no longer concerned with making a reality of his title ‘king of France and England’. Would it be necessary to have all royal seals recast? Worse still, as Humphrey of Gloucester, brother of Henry V and uncle to the current king, asserted, would be the dishonour which such a policy would reflect upon his country.5 Opposition to Suffolk’s policy was increased by another element: the loss of the means of existence intended to support certain Englishmen deeply and personally committed to the maintenance of the English domination of Normandy and the

1 C. L. Kingsford, Prejudice and Promise in Fifteenth-Century England (Oxford, 1925), ch. VI; R. Virgoe, ‘The Death of William de la Pole, duke of Suffolk’, Bulletin of the John Rylands Library, 47 (1964–65), pp. 489–502. 2 ‘. . . lui fu dit qu’il avoit vendu aux Franchois ladicte duchie de Normandie . . . et aveuc ce, le commun poeupple estoit sy mal content de luy que a touttes fins voloient que on le fist morir . . .’ (La Chronique de Mathieu d’Escouchy, ed. G. Du Fresne de Beaucourt Paris, SHF, 1863), I, p. 314). 3 Six Town Chronicles of England, ed. R. Flenley (Oxford, 1911), pp. 106, 134; The Historical Collections of a Citizen of London in the Fifteenth Century, ed. J. Gairdner (London, 1876), p. 196; C. L. Kingsford, English Historical Literature in the Fifteenth Century (Oxford, 1913), pp. 355, 372. 4 For the accusations made against Suffolk early in 1450, see Rot. Parl., V, 177–182. 5 See Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, ed. N. H. Nicolas (London, 1835), V, pp. 391–395: Letters and Papers Illustrative of the Wars of the English in France during the Reign of Henry the Sixth, ed. J. Stevenson (London, RS, 1864), II, pt. 2, pp. 440–441.

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surrounding areas. Some had been there since the reign of Henry V, or for more than thirty years or so; others had taken part in the great victory won by the English at Verneuil in 1424 and had received lands in recompense; others still were civilians (including some clergy) who had worked in the service of the king and of other great lords. For such as these, life was not easy, yet many of them did not wish to leave Normandy which they regarded as their ‘patrie’, war and administration being sources of revenue. Like Foukes Eyton, donor of a portrait (still to be seen) on a stained-glass window in the church at Caudebec-en-Caux, begun at this time, they felt themselves to be an integral part of the country. They were certain to feel resentment against any plan to abandon them.6 Seen from a strategic point of view, the loss of Normandy could prove inauspicious for England. During periods of war the English derived great advantage from their occupation of the Duchy which served them as a base for expeditions into France (this had been shown by the duke of Bedford when he had conquered Maine and Anjou) but equally it served as an area to which they could retire if the situation turned against them. At the same time the occupation of Upper Normandy allowed them to dominate the valley of the Seine and, thus, the roads leading from the sea to Paris. It also gave them the possibility of exercising almost complete domination of the Channel by controlling both sides of the sea which allowed the coastal populations of England to sleep more soundly. The loss of Normandy, however, would create fear of French attacks among these populations, a fact which caused the inhabitants of Kent to take part in the revolt, called after Jack Cade, in 1450. In that same year it was reported in Parliament that the inhabitants of the Isle of Wight planned to repair their fortifications to repel attacks which, according to certain rumours emanating from France, would soon take place.7 Feelings of being abandoned, which had dominated official English policy after 1445, were born of a duality of motives which led them to waging war in France. Independently of the strategic problem (which would never affect more than a 6 ‘Gentes Anglicae nationis, tam nobiles, domini, milites et plebes habuerunt ex dono praefati domini regentis ducis de Bedforde, pro eorum bono gestu et strenuitate in bello de Vernelle in Perche. . . . dominia, maneria, terras, et tenementa in dicto comittatu de Mayne . . .’ (Letters and Papers, ed. J. Stevenson, II, pt. 2, pp. 550–551). Similar sentiments were expressed in another text: ‘Supplient tres humblement les gens d’eglise, nobles, souldoyers et aultres . . . nagueres estans et demourans es villes, pays et forteresces du conte de Maine . . . et chascun d’eux . . . ayent servy defunct le roy . . . vostre pere [Henry V] et vous . . . ou fait de la guerre et a faire la conquest du conte du Maine, qui est votre droit et propre heritage, a vous appurtenant des le temps du roy Henry Second. . . . pour raison desquelz services, et affyn qu’ils eussent de quoy ilz peussent mieux vivre et maintenir leurs esttas honnourablement en vostre dit service. . . . vous leur eussies donne et octroye, plusieurs benefices, terres, seigneuries, assises en icellui conte, desquelles ils ont joy et possede, et employe grant partie de leurs biens . . . pour les reparer, maintenir en estat et les faire valoir (Letters and Papers, II, pt. 2, pp. 598–599). These lines are very telling and worthy of close study. 7 These attacks, led by Pierre de Brézé, did not resume until 1457 (C. F. Richmond, ‘The Keeping of the Seas during the Hundred Years War: 1422–1440’, History, 49 (1964), 284).

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small part of the population) we find ourselves in the presence of two complementary motives. Many Englishmen left for France to defend the legitimacy of the English cause and to support, as vigorously as possible, the claims of English kings to the crown of France. The English had the duty of claiming, if necessary by force of arms, not only the crown but also certain territories with which they had historical links, and which they considered belonged to them. Such were the motives which Shakespeare was to rely upon at the end of the sixteenth century. He showed how the chroniclers of the preceding century had described a king (Henry V) leaving for war with the intention of winning back for himself and his people what the enemy, the king of France, withheld illegally. To certain historians this was sheer hypocrisy. It was ambition, not a wish to achieve justice, which motivated the king. It is legitimate to have this opinion of Henry V, although it is somewhat debatable. The king appreciated the benefits of a successful war: but for him the duty of regaining possession of lands and rights which, he believed, legitimately belonged to him, was the most important consideration. The legal character of these claims had significant implications; they were suited to the methods of diplomacy, and allowed the English to have recourse to their archives to justify their pretensions. Furthermore, records of the past could inspire those who wrote propaganda, while speeches made in Parliament conveyed the character of continuity to what the king was doing. There is no doubt that Henry V and many of his subjects attached great importance to such arguments. At the same time these were not sufficient to lead an army into the invasion of Normandy, and to the reconquest of the duchy by force. What, no doubt, was to draw a large number of Englishmen to Normandy was not so much the pretentions of the crown as the possibility of personal profit and advantage being offered to them. The chronicles of the fourteenth century indicate clearly that self-interest was already at that time a powerful springboard to action. War could lead to fortune; this was a European phenomenon, governed by laws and customs involving ransoms and the sharing of ransoms; the occupation of lands and properties; the attribution of titles and honorific titles to captains of the victorious army, not all of whom were men of noble families.8 The renewal of the war in 1415 had similar consequences. The economic and financial interest was very powerful.9 Such considerations were to have decisive effects on the character of the English invasion of the fifteenth century. By multiplying the sources of benefit which were not simply judicial but economic, too, and which consequently varied from individual to individual, Henry V succeeded in making his invasion of 1417 more attractive for a part of the English population. The descent upon Touques involved more than simply the king of England’s claims; this invasion was soon to transform itself into an occupation directly involving those taking part in it, and giving them the material benefits of a successful invasion. Using profit as an incentive, Henry V 8 M. H. Keen, The Laws of War in the Later Middle Ages (London, 1965). 9 See C. T. Allmand, ‘The Lancastrian Land Settlement in Normandy, 1417–1450’, The Economic History Review, 21 (1968), 461–479.

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was able to attract representatives of all social groups. The soldier was not alone in finding that war brought advantages; the civilian, too, was well rewarded. It is interesting to note in particular that the great nobility was to play a role of diminishing importance, its place being taken by the lesser nobility: knights and esquires who, as individuals, were to make use of the conquest of Normandy, its administration and its defence against French armies.10 The kings of the Lancastrian dynasty would not have achieved very much without their help and support. They needed attractive offers to bring them to devote themselves to royal service in France. How did Henry V manage this situation? The senior ranks of the army – princes of the blood, nobles, some knights as well as a certain number of esquires – were awarded the rank of captain which they sometimes held with other functions (which occasionally led to them being named royal lieutenants) for which they received a salary and other financial benefits. More important, however was the attribution of lands in strategic areas where they had to maintain garrisons at the expense of the king and from which they sometimes drew certain benefits. From the most experienced among these were chosen those who filled important offices, consultative and administrative, military as well as civilian. It was thus that certain Englishmen became baillis in Normandy, while others were given lands of modest value but which brought with them titles and allowed the beneficiaries to rise in the social scale. This opportunity of social advancement was not without importance. Documents are witness to the fact that Englishmen advertised their titles of nobility which they had recently acquired. For some, the war could lead if not to fortune at least to titles and other outward signs of social advancement. Soldiers of inferior rank also had the chance, in the days following the battle of Verneuil in 1424, for example, to see themselves granted small areas of land or, perhaps, certain minor offices. For these, as for all soldiers, the more tangible rewards of war, ransoms and booty, were available. It should be admitted, however, that, generally speaking, there was less pillaging in the fifteenth century than there had been in the previous century. Nor should we forget the non-combatants. Their presence, particularly in the towns, tells us that the war waged by the kings of the house of Lancaster was not simply a succession of military campaigns, but was intended to lead to a permanent English presence. It is clear that the advantages which they received, lands and offices, houses in towns, benefices for the clergy,11 the possibility of doing trade 10 ‘The chivalry of England was no longer maintaining its previous interest in the French war, and there was now a correspondingly greater reward to be won by those who were prepared to continue an overseas military career’ (J. S. Roskell, ‘Sir William Oldhall, Speaker in the Parliament of 1450–1451’, Nottingham Medieval Studies, 5 (1961), 93); this opinion was reinforced by M. R. Powicke, ‘Lancastrian Captains’, Essays in Medieval History Presented to Bertie Wilkinson, ed. T. A. Sandquist and M. R. Powicke (Toronto, 1969), pp. 371–382. The importance of esquires was underlined by K. B. McFarlane, ‘A Business-Partnership in War and Administration’, English Historical Review, 78 (1963), pp. 290–310. 11 For details, see C. T. Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, 1415–1450: The History of a Medieval Occupation (Oxford, 1983), chs 3 and 4; ‘The English and the Church in Lancastrian Normandy’, England and Normandy in the Middle Ages, ed. D. Bates and A. Curry (London and Rio Grande, 1994), pp. 287–298.

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given to merchants established by Henry V in the ports of Harfleur, Caen, Rouen and elsewhere had as their aim the integration of those involved within the duchy of Normandy, an ambition in some cases successfully achieved if one is to judge by the not infrequent references to ‘So and So, ‘Bourgeois de [Caen], natif du pays d’Angleterre’. When describing the ‘petty nobility and gentry’ who Henry V hoped would establish itself in Normandy, Richard Newhall could have added that the hopes of this social group depended in good measure not only on royal grants in the form of lands, but also on the distribution of administrative posts within the government of the duchy. The campaigns of Henry V had, therefore, a rather different character from those of Edward III in the previous century, for the objectives had changed in the intervening years. Well before the treaty of Troyes of 1420, the English had begun to install themselves in Normandy, a process which the double monarchy and, therefore, a double kingdom was to encourage. But in order to attract Englishmen to Normandy and avoid alienating the native populations, already regarded as subjects of the king of England, the duchy had to be spared the worst excesses. Military ordinances were published by Henry V and, later, by the duke of Bedford, regent for the young Henry VI, in a not entirely successful effort to control the excesses of the troops of occupation. Since the aim pursued was the introduction of a large number of Englishmen into Normandy, it was necessary that everything be done to make this ‘colonising’ movement as profitable as possible. A devastated Normandy would have been a much less attractive proposition to the English. Commenting on the contract made in July 1421 between two Englishmen, John Winter and Nicholas Molineux, K. B. McFarlane wrote that this document evoked perfectly the spirit of those soldiers who went to serve Henry V in France.12 It is unlikely that these two men, who promised to support each other in case of disaster and to share the profits of their booty, were in any sense exceptional. War was a business like anything else and, as McFarlane argued, there were few who appeared ready to pursue the war for patriotic or chivalric reasons. They thought, rather, of the profits and losses which the conflict could bring them. There were, therefore, a good number of soldiers of fortune in the armies of the invader: among those rewarded for their services in Normandy were not only Englishmen but also Welshmen, Scots, Irish, Gascons, Flemings, Danes and Portuguese. Even before 1420 we find Englishmen exchanging and selling lands in Normandy which they had received from the king. At the same date, too, Englishmen were already appointing receivers to collect the revenues from their French estates. It is not surprising, therefore, that during the negotiations which took place at Arras in 1435, the French should have accused the English of making war for financial advantage. Nor is it surprising to find Englishmen who, having received no reward in France, should have demanded such when they returned to England.

12 It is worth emphasising the title, ‘A Business Partnership . . .’ chosen by McFarlane. See note 10, above.

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It should be emphasised, however, that the war which the English waged in France was in no sense exceptional. Wars in Ireland and in Wales, in particular, had shown the same tendency. The evidence of the Patent Rolls and of the Rolls of Parliament shows that during the wars of the early years of the century against Owen Glyndr and the Welsh rebels, the Prince of Wales (the future Henry V) was already granting lands, offices and other sources of revenue, some of them confiscated, to his supporters, just as would happen later on in Normandy. When he invaded France, Henry V knew well from personal experience what his supporters would expect and would demand. Having won back Normandy between 1417 and 1419, he rewarded them with lands, demanding, as feudal custom entitled him to do, that the newly recovered lands should be properly defended. However several of those whom the King had made rich did not fulfil this obligation. Just as certain captains were blamed for not having provided sufficient guard on the border between England and Scotland, and Ireland had an ordinance against absenteeism applied to it, so Lancastrian France suffered from the neglect of English commanders: for example, captains who failed to provide a proper guard for the towns and castles placed under their care; others not paying their men, who were obliged to satisfy their needs by other means; soldiers who, having received their wages, failed in their duties and sometimes tried to return to England, where the authorities were ordered to arrest them on their arrival at English ports. It was of such individuals, for whom the war had less importance than having full pockets, that the English captain, John Fastolf, would complain bitterly in 1435. For such as they, war presented considerable risks: yet the benefits which could be hoped for were even greater. We may ask ourselves if the ambition of those who took part in Lancastrian expeditions to France was always satisfied. It is difficult to know whether the war benefited the English economy. Certain people, it must be admitted, drew considerable benefits from it.13 Yet even in such cases doubts persist. What trust can be given to an estimate of the value of a property for the year 1440 if this rests on information collected in 1410? Granted the destruction caused by wars, it is advisable to be careful. On the other hand, when figures are lacking, what is to be done? Certain facts are beyond discussion. Neither Normandy nor the English administration was prosperous during the last years of the occupation, the English sometimes being obliged, for lack of cash, to pay their servants by giving them lands taken from the domain, although this method must, in the final analysis, have accelerated the impoverishment of the administration. It is true that certain persons, among them Sir John Fastolf, were enriched by war; but war is an adventure, and the gains of one day could be lost the next. If Fastolf ran a profit, it was in part because he understood, in 1440, that it was time to return to England. Some English would remain in France buying lands (perhaps

13 K. B. McFarlane, ‘The Investment of Sir John Fastolf’s Profits of War’, TRHists, 5th series, 7 (1957), 91–116.

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at knock down prices?) at the time of the recovery of Normandy by the forces of Charles VII.14 It is appropriate that we should now ask how the English, having come to Normandy under conditions and with the ambitions we know about, should have reacted before the prospect of peace and expulsion which official English policy was offering them. Two kinds of source can be helpful in this respect. On the one hand, there are memoirs such as the one drawn up by Sir John Fastolf at the time of the conference at Arras in 1435; or that written by Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, younger brother of Henry V, just before the release of Charles, duke of Orléans, in 1440, both of which give us the point of view of certain leading English notables.15 On the other hand we have the advice of the diplomats sent from England to negotiate in the pale of Calais during the summer of 1439. Such evidence reflects the opinions, state of mind and reactions of these medieval colonists. Opposition to peace and concession was based on two factors, one legal, the other reflecting the material situation enjoyed by certain Englishmen in France. If a final peace were to be agreed, these would have to renounce all pretensions to the crown of France, which would be a denial of past claims and of all that had happened in past years. The claims of Henry V and the presence in Normandy, and elsewhere, of numerous Englishmen would have no legal basis, since they would depend entirely on force. There must, therefore, be vigorous opposition to any concession on this vital issue. And were the enemy to achieve military successes, it would be necessary to seek truces which would give the English time to re-establish their military position, which would avoid putting an end to the war. For once the war was over, it would be difficult to claim the crown of France with much hope of winning it. Truces had a further advantage: Normandy and the other territories where Englishmen could be found would not be irrevocably lost. Truces gave hope to those who needed it, while peace signified the end of all their hopes. Peace, therefore, must be avoided at all costs. If those defending this position relied, at the same time, on both ancient English pretensions to the crown of France and on the presence of Englishmen there since the invasion of Henry V (positions which combined elements of de iure and de facto), others based themselves on the effects of the present occupation by the English in France for the past twenty years, what one might call the human aspect of the problem. A final peace would involve the restitution of Norman lands to 14 Documents Relating to the Anglo-French Negotiations, 1439, ed. C. T. Allmand, Camden Miscellany XXIV (London, Royal Historical Society, 1972), pp. 79–149. 15 ‘Sir John Popham’s personal history, the loss of his estates in Normandy . . . made him less likely to support court policy. Having assisted in the winning of much of what was now all but lost, he represented something of a reproach to the royal administration’. Many survivors of the debacle across the Channel were now disappointed, sour unforgiving men, . . . eager to bring down the dynasty which had failed itself, and them too. (J. S. Roskell, The Commons and Their Speakers in English Parliaments, 1376–1523 (Manchester, 1965), pp. 227, 242).

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those to whom they had belonged before the invasion of 1417; the English would therefore seek compensation for the loss of those lands, offices and other forms of revenue, both secular and ecclesiastical. This aspect of the war deserves to be closely considered, for it played an important part in English policy towards the means of ending the war. The problem was raised at the negotiations which took place in 1439 between France, Burgundy and England. The English demanded that they should be given compensation (provision) for the lands and benefices which they would lose if obliged to leave Normandy. This compensation, they claimed, would involve the king of France, but the king of England was willing to contribute a quarter of the sum involved. Not surprisingly the French opposed such a plan: it would cost too much and, above all, it was important to avoid any gesture which would give the impression that the French were ready to buy back the lands which belonged to them by right. On the contrary, it was for the English themselves to restore to the Norman nobility and clergy the lands and benefices which they had illegally detained. It is therefore little of a surprise that given the conditions of occupation by the English, and the advantages which certain Englishmen drew from them, that such demands were rejected. Nor is it surprising that the French should have refused to consider demands for indemnity put forward by the English. Diplomatic documents allow us to see that, towards the end of the war, certain Englishmen encouraged its continuation not so much to satisfy their legal claim as to appease those who would lose financially if the occupation were to end. Peace had become both a political and a social problem. In 1447, after eight years which had witnessed the gradual progress of French forces, the problem was considered afresh. English ambassadors demanded considerable sums in indemnities, but these were denied them by the French envoys under the pretext that to admit the English demands would be ‘a kind of sale’ (‘seroit une maniere de vendicion’) which the king of France would not allow, adding that this means of coming to an agreement also presented certain legal problems which they were unwilling to resolve. With the military situation slowly but perceptibly turning against them, the English could obtain no important concession in return for the cession of Le Mans and the county of Maine. The breakdown of these negotiations removed the last hope which those with land in Normandy might have had for the future, and must have encouraged them in their determination to fight to the end. They felt themselves betrayed by the English crown whose subjects they were: it had failed in its duty to protect them. The indemnity which was to be received by the duke of Somerset, count of Maine, Mortain and Harcourt, and captain-general and governor of Anjou and Maine, in compensation for the loss of these two territories, exasperated those who were to receive nothing. The English government, unable to negotiate reasonable conditions with the king of France, risked losing the respect and following of its subjects in Normandy. The accusation made against the duke of Somerset, according to which he had not distributed sums of money destined to those who had lost their lands in Maine, reveals much regarding the feelings of a good number of Englishmen towards the king of England and, above all, his officers. The demand 117

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for indemnity presented in 1452 in the name of former inhabitants of Maine who had retired to Normandy, only to lose everything they had there a year or two later, was predictably rejected. It underlines, however, the feelings of bitterness felt by these ‘dispossessed’. Should one be surprised to see these people hurling accusations, even false accusations, against those whom they regarded as having betrayed them?16 Such were the reactions of certain Englishmen when confronted by French successes in Normandy. How did those living in England react to those same developments? The abandonment by Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy, of his alliance with England at the conference at Arras in 1435 had made the king and the royal council of England more determined than ever to continue the war as vigorously as possible. True, in 1436, Hue de Lannoy was reassuring the duke of Burgundy that the English were tired of war; yet, in the very same year the English council could write to Louis of Luxembourg, chancellor of France for the English, that ‘it is not our intention, nor will it ever be, to abandon anything on the far side of the sea for as long as God gives us life’. This policy was supported by the appointment of Richard, duke of York, as royal lieutenant in Normandy, with the orders to persevere with a bellicose attitude towards the enemy. The defensive war in Normandy was to continue. In spite of pressures exercised in favour of a policy favouring the protection of Calais and the preservation of the country’s maritime interests, the council gave its moral support, as well as its financial help, to the duke of York. However a change of policy was soon to be seen. The rise to power between the years 1435 and 1440 of Henry, cardinal Beaufort, bishop of Winchester, and of John Kemp, archbishop of York (he, too, became a cardinal in 1439) and of William de la Pole, earl of Suffolk, marked a change of view regarding the conduct of the war. In 1439 negotiations with France were renewed. Advantage might be taken of the fact that Normandy was poor and insufficiently populated; that English armies there were badly organised and unpopular, the lack of discipline allowing the soldiers to oppress the native populations; that English captains did nothing except seek their personal profit. In 1440, replying to the duke of Gloucester who had protested vigorously against the release of the duke of Orléans, a prisoner in England since the battle of Agincourt, twenty five years earlier, the council could reply that great kings, such as Edward III and Henry V, had well understood that the conquest of France was an unattainable ambition. As things stood, the king of England was losing too many soldiers and was wasting his revenue on the defence of land which did not merit it. Did the population of Normandy not deserve that peace should be granted to it? The English council also had to consider the case of Gascony upon which, ever since 1442, king Charles VII and the dauphin had exercised strong military 16 ‘. . . considere how that oure said ij duchies be of the most auncient enheritance that hath belonged unto [us] and to oure noble progenitors, kings of England . . .’ (Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Counci, ed. N. H. Nicolas, v, p. 1).

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pressure. What should the English do in this case? Was it better to send the insufficient military forces which remained in Normandy to Gascony, or to divide them between the two provinces? The years 1442 and 1443 marked a crisis of confidence in the regions of France controlled by the English, who had, for a very long time, controlled Normandy and Gascony,17 but no longer had the manpower or the financial resources required for the defence of both. As the archbishop of York admitted before the council at the beginning of February 1443, it was not a case of doing what one wanted, but rather what could be done. Normandy does not appear to have had an effective and determined defender within the council, so it is likely that it was as much the lack of a determined policy and the needs of Gascony (albeit a rather more prosperous province) rather than a conscious decision to either ‘sell’ or ‘betray’ Maine and Anjou and, as a consequence, Normandy, too, which provoked the anguish of Englishmen in the duchy at this time. What were the thoughts of those outside the royal council? If we are to believe Hue de Lannoy, writing in September, 1436, ‘the ordinary people of their kingdom are very tired and concerned by the war, which has caused great divisions among them: ‘. . . and so, taking all things into account, it is very likely that if they could return to a more reasonable life, they would enter into it in good heart . . .’. According to Lannoy, the diplomatic setback suffered at Arras had been the cause of much discontent in England. It is clear that opinion was sharply divided. If voices favouring peace were beginning to make themselves heard, the mercantile section of the population had, ever since 1436, been demanding the defence of Calais, which may have led cardinal Beaufort to come closer to the Flemish towns, a policy which culminated in the agreements of September, 1439. From then on, Beaufort felt freer to concentrate his attention on the other English lands in France, notably on Gascony, for which a part of the population, which appreciated the economic importance of the region, was making representations. As we have seen, the royal council was divided. If, finally, more money was sent to Gascony than to Normandy,18 one reason was because there were more Englishmen of rank in Gascony than in Normandy, which leads one to think that it was the small proportion of English officers in Normandy who had encouraged the royal council in England to commit disposable funds to the area where control over their expenditure would be in English hands. One may wonder whether Normandy was not becoming terra incognita for most members of the English council, a fact which would have important consequences for the future. The truce of Tours (1444) was none the less well-received by the Normans, the citizens of Rouen giving a warm welcome to the earl of Suffolk. In the following year, the young Marguerite of Anjou, who was to marry Henry VI, was 17 ‘. . . the whiche contrees . . . of tyme that noo mynde is, have be under the paisible rule, governance and obeisance of oure progenitours ad predecessours, kings of Engelande, and of us, without any intterrupcion’ (Letters and Papers, ed. J. Stevenson, II, pt. 2, p. 465). 18 ‘Normandy was not popular with the council’ (E. F. Jacob, The Fifteenth Century, 1399–1485 (Oxford, 1961), p. 468; M. G. A. Vale, English Gascony, 1399–1453 (Oxford, 1970), pp. 114–131).

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welcomed in London, politely rather than enthusiastically. The royal council, and even the duke of Gloucester, thanked Suffolk for having negotiated this truce. Yet a year later a change in public opinion was already discernible. Rumour was rife that the king was to go to France to discuss peace with his uncle, Charles VII. A meeting between two such personages could only mean one thing: that the king was himself trying to resolve the French problem, which would probably involve concessions not only on his behalf, but, equally, concessions by his subjects who lived and had interests in Normandy. From the beginning of the year 1446 one observes opposition to a final peace growing, along with indignation against the person of the earl of Suffolk. In April, the chancellor, John Kemp, archbishop of York, who, until that moment, had favoured a compromise with the king of France announced his personal opposition, as well is that of the two houses of Parliament, to all ideas of peace, reminding the king that the treaty of Troyes had expressly stipulated that no peace should be made with the dauphin (now Charles VII) without the agreement of the estates of both kingdoms.19 The following year, 1447, was marked by the abandonment of Le Mans to the French; the feeling of being betrayed by their own leaders, underlined in the chronicles written by supporters of the duke of York, was increasing. This was hardly surprising, for there were in England during these critical years many people who had lived in France and who would have preferred to continue the war. As stated in a memoir of 1449 – the work, perhaps, of Sir John Fastolf – the war should be maintained on several fronts, for it would be wrong that those, French as well as English, who had sustained the royal cause for thirty-two years, should lose all their possessions at a stroke.20 Besides, it was dangerous to allow too large a number of people, whether noble or not, to return to England since the war in France had offered them a good life and a level of existence which they would never be able to maintain.21 For such as these inaction, whether military or political, was the equivalent of treason. They saw all around them the collapse of the regime which they had helped set up and maintain. For them, the loss of Maine and Anjou, followed by that of Normandy, went contrary to the interests of both the king and his people. Unable to do anything, they could only protest – or turn to violence. It therefore causes little surprise to see among the accusations made against the earl of Suffolk in 1450 several which concerned France quite specifically: that 19 Kemp’s change of mind may stem from the fact that he had served as a senior functionary in Normandy, and was therefore one of those who had tasted the advantages of the French war. He had also probably played a role in negotiating the terms of the treaty of Troyes two decades earlier. 20 ‘Item, considerandum est quanta esset inhumanitas et defectus caritatis erga proximum relinquere illos nobiles viros, tam linguae Anglicanae quam Gallicanae, et etiam populares, qui pro factis regis per xxxii annos tot onera sustentaverunt: et si (quod Deus avertat) in manus adversariorum inciderent, quantas divitias pro redemption corporum suorum extrahere oporteret’. (Letters and Papers, ed. J. Stevenson, ii, pt. 2, p. 726). 21 ‘. . . durante guerra in Francia laute vivere soliti sunt, et illam vitam in Anglia continuare non possent’ (Ibid, p. 726).

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Suffolk had conspired with king Charles VII to deprive the heirs of Henry VI of their patrimony; that he had ceded Maine to the French, handing them the means of invading Normandy: and that he had prevented the departure of English armies to defend legitimate interests in France.22 Following the English defeats, Suffolk was being cast in the role of scapegoat. Documents reflect an air of treason when they report on events in Normandy, a province which all those living there, lords, captains and others, wished to preserve.23 To show that he was one of those who knew France, Suffolk, in his protestation of innocence presented to the king in January 1450, emphasised that his father and his brother had both been killed on French soil in 1415, the first at Harfleur, the other at Agincourt; that two other members of his family has also been killed or taken prisoner in France; that he himself had spent several years in France without returning to England, and that he had even spent time in a French prison.24 But it is unlikely that even if he had said, as he could have done, that he owned large states in Normandy, that he could have saved his life or reputation.25 Accused with his collaborators of having sold Normandy to the enemy, he had to pay a heavy price for its failure. All this enables us to appreciate the diversity of opinion in England in the face of the events of the war: in the face of the prospect or, worse still, the menace of peace and the future of the monarchy itself. The war was regarded from several points of view, of which two stood out. One was that the king of England wanted to maintain his claims to the crown of France; the other was the defence of the interests, rights and personal ambitions of those who had taken part in the conquest, occupation, defence and administration of Normandy.26 The negotiations of 1439 had underlined the reality that, in the final analysis, these two kinds of interest could no longer be reconciled. Towards 1440 it was recognised that the royal interest – the crown of France – could be given up. At this critical moment the royal council, dominated by Cardinal Beaufort and composed almost entirely of leading members of the nobility and bishops, began to lose interest in the fate of Normandy. At the same time members of the lower nobility, whose members had played a role of great importance in the conquest and conservation of the duchy, felt itself abandoned.27

22 Rot. Parl., V, pp. 177–179. 23 ‘Normandie was desired universally by the kynge’s subjects beynge ther, as well lords, capteyns and other’ (Third Report of the Royal Commission on Historical Manuscripts London, 1872), p. 279). 24 Rot. Parl., V, p. 176. 25 He was lord of Bricquebec (Manche). The contract of the sale he negotiated with Bertram Entwhistle, in 1429, is recorded in Archives de la Seine Maritime, Rouen, Tabelionnage register 1431–1432, fol. 43. 26 Thomas Basin distinguished between English rights and English interests in Normandy (Histoire de Charles VII, ed. C. Samaran, I, p. 187). 27 We find an example in the person of John Lampet, captain of Avranches, whom the administration was unable to help when the town, situated on the western border of Normandy, could not be reached. Men such as Lampet had little sympathy for those who failed them in this moment of

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In conclusion, a few words should be said regarding the special place which Normandy occupied in the English mind. We know that, by the terms of the treaty of Troyes, the duchy was granted a particular status, and that in certain respects, and contrary to the treaty, the duchy was not regarded by the English as forming part of the kingdom of France. After the death of Charles VI (1422), the English often made the distinction between France and Normandy in order to emphasise that, in their view, for historical and legal reasons, the duchy was a territory set apart. There were other reasons, too. It was from Normandy that the conquest of Maine and Anjou was undertaken and Orléans was besieged. That same siege had marked a decisive moment; the victories of Joan of Arc had underlined the fact that the military conquest of the whole of France would never be accomplished: the treaty of Arras and the loss of Paris, in 1435 and 1436 respectively, underlined this. It thus became necessary to give up all hope of claiming the crown of France. From that time onwards, the English began to withdraw physically and psychologically into Normandy, which found itself rapidly becoming isolated. The Palace at Rouen, symbol of authority, was rebuilt; a ‘Chambre des Comptes’ for Normandy was created; the autonomy of Norman courts, already encouraged for some years past, was emphasised; a University was founded at Caen, between 1432 and 1439. In this way it was hoped to create a form of enclave subject to the king of England. But, for this dream to become a reality, men must be ready to defend themselves against the French king’s armies. The earl of Suffolk, however, did not wish to fight. Rightly or wrongly, his policy was one of withdrawal or, as his enemies insisted, a policy of defeat dishonourable for both the king and for those of his subjects who had maintained his conquests for many years. For this reason, Suffolk and his friends were branded as traitors, the king being warned that he was surrounded by men who had treason in their heart. Military defeat exasperated the opposition, and their shame led to anger. Most, perhaps, had never seen Normandy. But we can understand why those who knew her were so touched by her loss.28

crisis. The nobility, whose members controlled the royal council, did not have the same commitment to the defence of Normandy, a division of interest which was to prove fatal to the English effort. 28 For a more detailed treatment of this aspect of the war, the reader may turn to Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, 1415–1450, ch. 9.

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10 DIPLOMACY The Anglo-French negotiations, 1439

The Anglo-French peace convention of 1439 is not as well-known as it deserves to be. It is recognised as a failure, and is all too easily overshadowed by the famous congress of Arras of 1435 and the negotiations of 1444 which led to a truce and the marriage of Henry VI to Margaret of Anjou. Few events of outstanding importance are associated with the late 1430s and early 1440s; they form an almost anonymous period. Yet they were fateful years for the English occupation of France, since they witnessed a general swing in favour of French arms as well as several attempts to bring the war to an end by means of negotiation. War and diplomacy, it may be said, form the basis of any study of Anglo-French relations at this period. It was the duchy of Burgundy which, both as participant and mediator, stepped in to help heal the age-old breach between England and France. The treaty of Arras, however, had turned the English against the Burgundians, who were seen as traitors for having abandoned the English alliance for the friendship of France. The siege of Calais of 1436 had given Humphrey of Gloucester the opportunity to avenge himself on those who had humiliated him years previously. His expedition to relieve Calais was successful, and his army did much material harm in Flanders. On 8 September 1436 trade between England and the Flemish towns had been officially halted.1 Gloucester’s raid and the cutting of economic ties between the two countries soon had an effect, Flemish public opinion demanding the re-establishment of commercial relations with England.2 Parallel with this demand came the renewal of diplomatic activity between England and France, activity which had never really been brought to a halt but which, from 1437 onwards received a new lease of life. To the Burgundians it seemed that, given an opportunity to bring the three parties England, France and Burgundy together, a peace treaty between England

1 T. Rymer, Foedera (The Hague, 1740), x, pp. 654–655. 2 E. Varenbergh, Histoire des relations diplomatiques entre le Comté de Flanndre et Angleterre au moyen age (Brussels, 1874), pp. 515–517; E. Scott and L. Gilliodts-Van Severen, Le Cotton Manuscrit Galba B I (Brussels, 1896), p. 440, n. 1; See also J. G. Dickinson, The Congress of Arras 1435 (Oxford, 1955), p. 55: ‘One has the impression that the duke never for long neglected popular feelings in his foreign policy’.

DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-14

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and France might be negotiated with Burgundian mediation, and the desired mercantile treaty involving England and Flanders might be agreed upon. It was towards these two desirable ends that the negotiators of all three sides worked in 1437 and 1438.3 The process of re-establishing relations between England and Burgundy was already under way by the early months of 1438. In March, safe-conducts were issued to two Burgundian envoys coming to England, and in May Gloucester and the privy council received Hugues de Lannoy and Henri de Utenhove, the latter returning to England in August.4 This initiative had the desired effect, and the English committed themselves to further negotiations with Burgundy, cardinal Beaufort, archbishop Kemp and others being granted powers to treat on 23 November. The object of these negotiations was undoubtedly the resumption of Anglo-Burgundian trade, but the wider issue of a general peace was not far from the envoys’ minds.5 When the ambassadors met Isabella, duchess of Burgundy, near Calais in January 1439,6 there were also present representatives of the French king who put forward requests for the freeing of the duke of Orléans, an English prisoner since the day of Agincourt. It becomes clear from this that, although no agreement could be reached at the time, future negotiations between England and Burgundy might be used as opportunities to heal, with Burgundian help, the long-standing Anglo-French quarrel. While carrying out a rapprochement with Burgundy, England had also been attempting negotiations with Valois France. In March 1438 Sir John Popham sailed for France where he spent the summer negotiating with the duke of Brittany, the bastard of Orléans, and the French envoys.7 The French pursued a policy of procrastination, it being to their advantage to waste time while the military situation worked in their favour. The negotiations came to nothing, but French insistence must have impressed upon the English the necessity of allowing the captive duke of Orléans to take part in any future meetings. Peace through intransigence could not be achieved: but a willingness to make concessions might lead to something. Certainly in the early months of 1439 the prospects of peace looked more hopeful. The English preoccupations indicate that the meeting between Beaufort and

3 At Rouen, on 27 April 1438, ‘fust faicte procession generale pour la paix’ (Rouen, Archives départementales de la Seine-Maritime, G.39). The diplomatic activity of the period is treated in G. du Fresne de Beaucourt, Histoire de Charles VII (6 vols, Paris, 1881–90), iii, pp. 101–104; G. A. Knowlson, Jean V, duc de Bretagne, et l’Angleterre (Cambridge and Rennes, 1964), pp. 163–167; J. S. Roskell, ‘Sir John Popham, Knight-banneret of Charlford, Speaker-elect in the Parliament of 1449–50’, Proceedings of the Hampshire Field Club and Archaeological Society, xxi (1958), 38–52. 4 PPC, ed. N. H. Nicolas, v, p. 95; Beaucourt, Charles VII, p. 102; B. de Lannoy, Hugues de Lannoy, le bon seigneur de Santes (Brussels, 1957), pp. 124–127 and app., p. xlvii. 5 Rymer, Foedera, x, pp. 713–714. 6 The meeting took place ‘sur le grant chemin de Calais a Gravelingues’ (Paris, BnF, n.a.f. 6215, fo. 93v. See also La Chronique d’Enguerrand de Monstrelet, ed. L. Douët d’Arcq (6 vols, Paris, SHF, 1857–62), v, pp. 352–353. 7 Roskell, ‘Sir John Popham’, p. 47.

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Isabella was intended to re-establish friendly, political and commercial relations between England and the Burgundian Low Countries, but its main purpose, as the presence of the French envoys, the evidence of Monstrelet and the communiqué later issued by Isabella in the form of letters patent all show, was to see whether the parties concerned were anxious for a larger, more formal and perhaps more decisive meeting to take place.8 Agreement sufficient to justify a full-scale convention was reached, and on 8 February 1439 the duchess was able to announce that a peace convention was soon to be called at Calais or elsewhere to which she hoped the French and English kings would send notable embassies. In the meantime, in an attempt to achieve a more cordial negotiating atmosphere, she wished both the Burgundians and the English to respect each other’s territories and to agree to a total abstention from war.9 On 4 March Henry VI announced that he had chosen Calais as the place for the convention, that he would send an impressive embassy there, and that the duke of Orléans would accompany it.10 Once the French king, Charles VII, had agreed to this, the stage seemed set for an international meeting of some importance.11 The convention has aroused little interest among historians. Only a few pages of du Fresne de Beaucourt’s massive study of the reign of Charles VII are devoted to it, and Vallet de Viriville dismissed it in a few lines. Nor have English writers appeared any more interested, which is surprising in view of the fact that the eyewitness account of the negotiations, written by Thomas Bekynton, has been readily available for over a century. The identification of a shorter but nonetheless highly revealing French account of the same events may justify an examination of the proceedings at Oye in the summer of 1439.12 While never having formed the basis for a proper study of the events which it describes, Thomas Bekynton’s protocol is nonetheless well-known, having been cited on many occasions, notably by Dr Dickinson in her study on the Congress of Arras.13 Its value as an eyewitness account of the negotiations is considerable, for it not only describes events but also incorporates original documents, such as 8 Rymer, Foedera, x, pp. 713–716; Chronique de Monstrelet, v, pp. 352–353; TNA (formerly PRO), E.30/448. 9 TNA, E 30/448. 10 Rymer, Foedera, x, pp. 718–719. 11 For the correspondence regarding the preparations, see BnF, n.a.f. 6215, fos. 93v–9. Owing to the procrastinations of the French, the entire future of the negotiations was in danger in May 1439, Henry VI informing the duchess Isabella that ‘plusieurs de notre sang et linage et de nostre grant conseil’ wished to see the delay as an excuse for cancelling the meeting (fo. 98v). 12 The original, ‘Treslado en frances del tdo de francia e de yngleterra’, occupies folios 488–498v of Ms K. 1711 preserved at the Archivo General de Simancas, Spain. Brought to Paris by the Napoleonic army, it was kept at the Archives Nationales, Paris, under the same shelfmark until 1941 when, along with the manuscripts K. 1385–1710, it was restored to Spain, a microfilm (of poor quality) being kept in Paris. The manuscript will be referred to as ‘K.1711’. 13 Dickinson, Congress of Arras, passim. I have followed Dr. Dickinson in her use of the term ‘protocol’ to describe both the English and French accounts of these events. Bekynton’s protocol is printed in PPC, v, pp. 334–407.

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instructions given to ambassadors it prejudices, too, are straightforward: it simply assumes that the English cause is a just one. While it is a partisan document, it has been accepted as accurate evidence of the English attitude towards the issue of a peace settlement and the negotiations which were intended to lead to it. Its greatest value as an historical document is the simple fact that it enables us to relive the atmosphere and the progress of a late medieval peace convention. Were it not that so much is now known about the day-to-day events of the Congress of Arras, its importance would be even greater, for it provides us with significant evidence concerning the processes of diplomacy which cannot be derived from much stark archival material. The protocol, couched in a formal Latin well in keeping with Bekynton’s humanistic tastes, covers the period from 26 June, at about which time the main English negotiating party arrived at Calais, to 10 October, when the ambassadors reported to the king at Kennington. From it we learn of the important but unobtrusive part played by Bekynton and his fellow lawyers in the diplomatic interchanges; the document’s main drawback is that it follows the person of Bekynton too closely, and hence does not allow us to accompany the party of ambassadors sent back to England to seek fresh instructions in August 1439. Instead, we are given an account of how Bekynton spent his time in and around Calais, awaiting the renewal of the negotiations. One would give much for a detailed account of the meetings between the duke of Gloucester and the returning ambassadors. Bekynton does not provide it; the future, perhaps, may still do so. The French protocol, written in the vernacular, is of considerable importance, since it supplies a deficiency from which the student of the congress of Arras suffers, the lack of a record of the proceedings as seen from the French side.14 The advantage of observing the same events from opposing points of view is clear. It corrects much of the lack of balance which a single account, however objective, may all too easily convey. Two accounts will lay emphasis on varying aspects or details of the same event: the outlook of the writers can be totally opposed, each one representing a very different attitude to the proceedings. Details such as this make both a synthesis and a comparison of the two texts interesting and valuable. The French protocol tells us many things which cannot be gleaned from other sources. Since the writer was almost certainly a member of the French embassy, we are admitted into the deliberations of that body in much the same way as in the English protocol. We note, too, as in Bekynton’s journal how, neither side was willing to take any really worthwhile initiatives in negotiation and how, as at Arras and on other occasions, each embassy, by asserting that right was on its side, tried to lay the blame for the failure of the convention upon the other. Such overall impressions are inescapable, especially after reading the French protocol, which is valuable for the details which it presents on other matters. It is from this account, which covers the period 4 June to 29 July, that we learn of the close

14 Dickinson, Congress of Arras, p. 155.

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diplomatic links forged between the French ambassadors and the Burgundians who attended the convention, and how such links led to consultations between the two groups. From it, too, we derive much of our knowledge concerning the activities of the ambassadors sent by the council of Basel, activities which took place before the arrival of Bekynton and the main English embassy, and which they could only have heard about through the English advance party. The French evidence may help us to justify the suspicion with which the English treated the conciliar embassy which, it appears, made every attempt to foster good relations between itself and the ambassadors of Valois France. The French would have had every reason for accepting Calais, or a place nearby, as a suitable rendezvous for a convention.15 Soon after the congress of Arras a marriage project had been mooted between Charles of Charolais, heir to the duchy of Burgundy, and a daughter of Charles VII. In 1438 the idea was taken up seriously as a means of uniting France and Burgundy more closely, and in the summer of that year negotiations had taken place, the matter of a peace settlement with England also coming under discussion. In September a marriage contract between Charolais and Catherine, then only six or seven years old, was signed. On 7 April 1439 Charles VII issued a proclamation to those ambassadors who were to represent him at the peace convention.16 The first name was that of the duke of Burgundy who, however, was to play only a very indirect part in the negotiations. The leading nobleman was Louis, count of Vendôme, but the leader of the embassy was in practice to be the highly experienced Regnault de Chartres, chancellor of France and archbishop of Reims. They were to be assisted by Jean de Harcourt, archbishop of Narbonne; Jean, bastard of Orléans (Dunois); Adam de Cambrai, president of the parlement; Jacques de Chatillon, lord of Dampierre; Ragnault Girard, lord of Bazoges; Robert Maillière, maitre des comptes; and André de Boeuf, a royal secretary. In addition Jean Tudert, bishop-elect of Chalons, was empowered to lend them assistance. As it turned out, the French eventually chose to remove the names of the duke of Burgundy and Adam de Cambrai from the list and that of Tudert was officially added with English agreement.17 The embassy was smaller than the one sent to Arras, but a number of its members were well experienced in negotiation, especially with England and Burgundy: Regnault de Chartres had several times been concerned with English embassies, while Louis de Bourbon had served at Arras, as had Jean Tudert and Robert Maillière.18 In addition the bastard of Orléans, Regnault Girard and Robert Maillière had all had

15 They had originally suggested Rouen, Touques, Mantes, Vernon, or Gisors, but the English wanted Cherbourg or somewhere around Calais ‘sur le pale’ (BnF, n.a.f. 6215, fos. 93v–94, 102v). 16 PPC, v, pp. 346–349. The text is in French. A copy is to be found in Bodleian Library, Oxford, Ms Bodley 885, fos. 78–79 v.l. 17 K. 1711, fo. 491v. The evidence shows that the embassy which came to negotiate with the English was not that which it had originally been intended to send. See BnF, n.a.f. 6215, fos. 96v–97v, 99–100v. 18 Dickinson, Congress of Arras, p. 5.

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more recent experience of negotiating with England.19 It was probably the best embassy the French king could have assembled at this time. It was in the company of some of these ambassadors that the young princess travelled from Tours, by way of Reims, to Cambrai and then to St. Omer, where, in June, her marriage to Charles of Charolais took place, amid much celebration.20 The festivities were put to good use by both the Burgundians and the French; it is clear from the French protocol that the two weeks or so between the arrival of the French at St. Omer and that of the main English party at Calais was spent cementing the political alliance and preparing for the forthcoming convention. The royal marriage, therefore, provided an opportunity for the French and Burgundians to prepare a united front, and it does much to account for some French actions at the convention itself. Although there is no account of the Burgundians presenting procurations, there is the evidence of Waurin, of both the protocols and of other records that certain Burgundians played a conspicuous part in the Anglo-French negotiations, while acting as assistants and advisers to the duchess Isabella. The duke of Burgundy himself, although named as a member of the French delegation, wisely took no part in the proceedings, although evidence shows that he was not far away, at St. Omer and elsewhere, for most of the summer months. His own direct representative was his wife, Isabella to whom he had delegated the double task of making peace between England and France, and of ensuring the renewal of AngloBurgundian commercial relations. The duchess had with her Nicolas Rolin, the Burgundian chancellor; Jean Chevrot, bishop of Tournai, a man who acted as Rolin’s understudy21 and who had in the past received benefices in Normandy from the English; Hugues de Lannoy, the leading Burgundian diplomat of the day and another beneficiary of English munificence;22 and the lord of Crevecoeur. Waurin also lists Pierre Boutin, Philippe de Namterre and ‘several others’ whose names he does not give.23 It was the English embassy, however, which by its size, personnel and accumulated experience was the most impressive of all. As at Arras, it attempted to put into practice the claim to the French throne by including two groups of ambassadors, sixteen from England (as opposed to twelve in 1435) and four from Normandy (five in 1435).24 The embassy thus appears to have been slightly larger 19 Ibid, pp. 7–9. 20 Lille, Archives départementales du Nord, B.3404/115331; Jean de Waurin, Recueil des croniques et anciiennes istories de la Grant Bretaigne, a present nommé Engleterre 1431–47, ed. W and E. L. P. Hardy (London, RS, 1864–91), iv, pp. 260–262; Beaucourt, Charles, VII, pp. 105–106. 21 In December 1436 he had been described as ‘conseiller en chief du conseil de mondit-seigneur en labsence de Monseigneur son chancellier’ (Arch. Nord, B 1966, fo. 188). 22 C. Potvin, ‘Hugues de Lannoy, 1384–1456’, Compte-rendu des séances de la Commission royale d’histoire, 4e série, vi (1879), 117. See also Lannoy, Hugues de Lannoy, ch. iv, and appendices on pp. xx, xxxiii and xxxvi. ‘Lannoy demeura toute sa vie champion de l’alliance anglaise’ (p. 124). 23 Waurin, iv, pp. 263–264. Most of those named had been at the congress at Arras (1435). 24 Dickinson, Congress of Arras, p. 25 et seq.

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than the one which refused the French terms at Arras. Its diplomatic experience was certainly considerable: eight members had been present at Arras; well over half had, at one time or another, negotiated with the Valois, and of those who had not, most had served in a military capacity in France. It was, too, a well-balanced embassy according to the practice of the day, for it comprised one archbishop, three bishops and an abbot, four noblemen, as many knights and lawyers, in addition to a leading royal secretary. Henry VI was indeed fulfilling his promise of sending a worthy delegation. A look at the political experience and affiliations of members of the embassy may help to indicate what attitude its members may have held towards the idea of peace either on English terms or, what was more important in the actual circumstances of French military successes, on French terms. What, too, would be its attitude to French demands for the release of the duke of Orléans? Beaufort, it is clear, was now committed to peace, not peace on any terms, but one which might nonetheless entail sacrifices of principle on the part of the English. Kemp, the leader of the official embassy, was probably similarly minded. The bishops and churchmen, some of them lawyers, may also have hoped for peace.25 On the other hand to noblemen and knights such as Henry Bourchier, who held land in Normandy and had served there under the duke of York, as to Sir Walter Hungerford, renowned soldier and landowner in Normandy, ‘the diplomacy of defeat and withdrawal can hardly have been congenial’.26 Men such as these may not have relished the abandonment of a policy which was attributable to Henry V, for which they had fought fiercely and from which, so they might think, they still had much to gain.27 The embassy, therefore, was well balanced to represent every point of view. It must be stressed, however, that its leaders, Beaufort and Kemp, favoured peace, and that an influential group, the lawyers, probably favoured it, too. Much of this must remain hypothetical: neither protocol tells us what were the personal opinions of members of the English embassy, although Bekynton hinted that the French thought that, in private, the English might profess opinions other than those they were bound to defend publicly in their capacity as royal ambassadors. By 8 May 1439 the English were making arrangements for sending the embassy, payment being authorised for at least fourteen envoys.28 A week later Sir John Popham and Dr Stephen Wilson left London for Calais, there to meet the members of the French advance party, and to arrange with them the details of the

25 An early eighteenth-century writer put it thus: ‘the Council being full of Clergymen, War was a thing out of their way’ (Anglia Regia, p. 265). 26 J. S. Roskell, The Commons and their Speakers in English Parliaments, 1376–1523 (Manchester, 1965), p. 358. 27 Letters and Papers Illustrative of the Wars of the English in France, ed. J. Stevenson (London, RS, 1861–64), ii, pp. 575–585. 28 TNA, E.404/55/267–70, 272, 274, 276–281; E.28/60/66.

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convention.29 Some days later permission was granted to Beaufort and Kemp to take gold vessels and other goods to Calais in spite of the regulations laid down by statute.30 At about this moment the council in London learned that Richard Beauchamp, earl of Warwick, the royal lieutenant in Normandy, had died on 30 April. Not only did the question of a suitable successor have to be resolved, but the whole of English policy had, in view of the lieutenant’s death and the peace convention which was soon to take place, to be reconsidered. By 22 May a delegation from Rouen, composed of Pierre Cauchon, bishop of Lisieux, Jean de Rinel,31 royal secretary, Sir William Oldhall, Sir John Montgomery and Jean de Denys was already in London. On that day the king, meeting the council at which Gloucester, Beaufort, Kemp and several others were present, appointed a commission to rule Normandy until a successor to Warwick be found, an appointment which, presumably, would have to wait the outcome of the pending negotiations.32 The following day, 23 May, witnessed the official appointment of the English embassy which was to be led by John Kemp, archbishop of York, and John, duke of Norfolk. With them were to go Pierre Cauchon; Thomas Brouns, bishop of Norwich; Thomas Rudborne, bishop of St Davids; Humphrey Stafford, earl of Buckingham; John de Vere, earl of Oxford; Henry, lord Bourchier; Gilles de Duremont, abbot of Fecamp; Sir Walter Hungerford; Nicholas Bildeston, DCL, dean of Salisbury; Sir John Stourton; Sir John Sutton; Sir John Popham; Robert Whityngham, treasurer of Calais; Thomas Bekynton, DCL; Guillaume Erard, DTh doctor of theology, canon of Rouen; Stephen Wilton DCL; William Sprever, DCL; and Jean de Rinel.33 The ambassadors were given a procuration to present to the French. It included twenty names; of these, nine were to form a quorum which was to be composed of Kemp and four representatives from each of the king’s English and French territories. The tone of the document was uncompromising. Charles VII was referred to as ‘Charles of Valois, our adversary’, the aim of the English ambassadors being 29 TNA, E.364/73/1v. The advance party was to consist of Sir John Sutton, Sir John Popham and Stephen Wilton, but in fact Sutton never attended the negotiations. Their instructions ordered them to meet French officials in Calais and to make contact with the duchess Isabella. They were to arrange a suitable place for the convention, a place which must not be too far from Calais (in view of Beaufort’s age) and yet near the sea, so that it could be readily accessible. They were also to make arrangements for lodging the embassy, and to see that necessary security precautions were taken to protect those taking part. Finally, they were to inform the French that they would have easy access to Charles, duke of Orléans, prisoner of the English. (BnF, n.a.f. 6215, fos. 102v–104v). 30 TNA., E.28/60/35; E. 28/61/3, 18, 19. 31 For Cauchon and Rinel, see BnF, Ms fr, 20884/72, 73. 32 A copy of the commission is in BL, Add MS 11542, fos, 78–78v. Those others known to have been at the council on that day were Bishop John Stafford, the earls of Salisbury and Suffolk, Ralph Lord Cromwell, William Lindwood and Sir John Stourton (TNA, E28/60/53). 33 Of these, Sutton never attended: Guillaume Erard was dead by June; and the abbot of Fécamp did not arrive at the convention until 14 July (PPC, v, p. 364; BnF, ms. Fr 26066/3815. The importance of appointing a large embassy was thus amply borne out.

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to seek and demand that the said adversary return to the English what he held contrary to God and justice. There was no suspicion in the document of any desire to reach a compromise: the English had right and justice on their side, the French hardly a leg to stand on. The English had simply to demand what they knew to be theirs. The spirit of arrogance, reflected in the wording, was plain for all to see.34 Two days later, on 25 May, special powers were granted to Cardinal Beaufort.35 He was allowed ‘plenam potestatem et mandatum speciale’ to treat with the French envoys concerning the English title to the crown and kingdom of France, together with all other rights which the French might be withholding. Once a final peace had been made, Beaufort was to receive the homage and fealty of those choosing to inhabit territories which might come under English control. Two factors in this document call for comment. The first is the contrast in tone between this and the procuration given to the main body of ambassadors two days previously; Beaufort’s procuration embodied a willingness to negotiate if, as it seems he thought would happen, the French refused to treat with those bearing the truculent procuration mentioned above.36 The second factor to be noticed is that Beaufort’s powers were very considerable – because they were vague. From the dating of the document it may be supposed that Beaufort sought and obtained special powers from the king in council, powers which in effect made him the chief English ambassador because he was not handicapped by being tied down to specific terms. His procuration spelt out hope, and is indicative of his realisation that compromise was necessary, and that the English, if armed only with a procuration of 23 May, were destined to failure. More hopeful was the future of Anglo-Burgundian commercial relations which both parties wished to restore to normal. The resumption of trade with England was undoubtedly a strong motive in getting Burgundy to act as mediator between England and France, and the convention was to be used as yet another opportunity of achieving the renewal of commercial intercourse. Although the French protocol does not raise the matter, and Bekynton shows that it was of secondary importance in contrast with the all-important one of peace, the English had nonetheless appointed an embassy to discuss trade with Flanders and Brabant on the same day as the main embassy to the peace convention. The members of this embassy were to be John Kemp, Thomas Rudborne, Thomas Brouns, Nicholas Bildeston, Sir John Popham, Stephen Wilton, William Sprever, and Richard Whityngham, all members of the larger embassy.37 34 The original procuration (PPC, v, p. xlvii, n. 1, from TNA, C.76/121, m. 6) shows the influence of Humfrey of Gloucester. It omits the name of three Frenchmen (Cauchon, Duremont and Erard). This is probably a clerical error, as their names would be included on mm. 5 and 10. Owing to the lack of Lancastrian/French ambassadors at the convention, the clause concerning the quorum was later modified. 35 Rymer, Foedera, x, pp. 732–733. 36 It is possible that Gloucester was not in the council on 25 May. He is not mentioned in two conciliar warrants (TNA, E 28/60/67/80). 37 Archives du Nord, B. 572/15729.

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On 21 May the ambassadors had been issued with instructions for the negotiations with the French.38 They were at first to demand that the Valois should not prevent Henry VI from enjoying to the full his rights and claims to the French crown and French territory. That such a claim would be admitted was pure wishful thinking, and this contingency was tacitly admitted by the issue of further instructions. The ambassadors were to build up an impression of English strength by claiming that victories showed which side God favoured, and by reminding the French of the existence of the treaty of Troyes. As a consent concession, Henry VI would be willing to grant his uncle of France lands beyond the Loire to the value of 20,000 livres a year, ‘to be holde of the Kyng, asyn the Ryght of his said Coroune of Fraunce’.39 In the unlikely event of such offers being accepted, Beaufort, acting as a churchman, was then to appeal for an ending of hostilities which, during the past hundred years, had done so much harm and had cost so much blood. Peoples, he was to claim, were not born to fulfil the ambitions of their princes who were, instead, to rule for the good of their people: there was nothing in the law of God which required France to have but one king: history showed that in the past she had had more than one.40 Instead of fighting, kings should desire peace, so necessary for the good of men’s souls, but peace could only be achieved by honest negotiation. The alternative – one which the English probably hardly envisaged – was peace achieved by the subjection of one country by the other. A consideration of the instructions so far cited, and of those which followed, cast some light on the attitude of the English side. Not unnaturally they tried to negotiate from strength, but their attempt to do so was doomed; in the light of recent setbacks it was of little value resting on the laurels of victories won years, maybe decades, earlier, nor was it any use claiming the French crown by virtue of the treaty of Troyes, which the Valois refused to recognise. It was condescending and unrealistic to show willingness to grant the territories of Languedoc to the Valois when most of those territories were already in Valois hands, and had been for time immemorial.41 Such instructions, cast in the same spirit as the procuration of 23 May, bear the influence of Gloucester and his supporters who were anxious for war in the pursuance of the aggressive policies of Edward III and Henry V. The peaceful influence of Beaufort, on the other hand, may be detected in the attack upon the selfish aims of rulers who employ their subjects for their personal ends. This was not simply the attitude of Beaufort the churchman, but also that of Beaufort the opponent of Gloucester, the chief expert exponent of a military policy. There appears to be here, as in the reference to Beaufort as the man ‘to whom the King hath opened and declared al his intent in this matter’, in addition to the background to the cardinal’s special proclamation, a suggestion that, in spite 38 39 40 41

Rymer, Foedera, x, pp. 724–728; PPC, v, pp. 354–362. PPC, v, p. 355. ‘The solution of despair’ (Dickinson, Congress of Arras, p. 145). Both sides would only give up what they did not hold, and by making this concession hoped to win what the other held (PPC, v, p. lxxii).

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of the uncompromising attitude struck at the beginning of the instructions, the prevailing mood may have been veering towards a compromise peace or at least a long truce. In support of this view it should be remembered that it was Beaufort, not Gloucester, who went to the convention and that, given a fair chance, Beaufort might have obtained reasonable terms from the French. Although negotiations did not begin until early in July, the English advance party left London in the middle of May. It was not, however, until 7 June that they met their French opposite numbers who were already in close touch with the duke and duchess of Burgundy at St. Omer. There, in the presence of the duke and Hugues de Lannoy, the French and English discussed and agreed matters of safeconducts, sureties and the place of the convention.42 By about the middle of June a number of English ambassadors, bringing with them a considerable following in addition to the large quantities of gold and silver plate necessary to make a favourable impression, had arrived at Calais where they were to stay.43 With them, in the personal custody of his keeper, Sir John Stourton, came Charles, duke of Orléans.44 Within a few days a small Franco-Burgundian party had been allowed to visit Calais in order to see him and he appears to have influenced the decision not to begin negotiations until Beaufort should arrive,45 since it was not expedient to treat of peace except in the presence of the cardinal and the duchess Isabella. In the meantime arrangements were made through the person of Garter King of Arms for the exchange of general and individual safecontacts; some were to be valid until 1 October, indicating that the possibility of a long meeting was envisaged.46 The procedure at Oye was very different to that followed at Arras four years earlier. On that occasion the negotiations between England and France had been conducted before two mediators, Cardinal Albergati representing the pope, and the cardinal of Cyprus, representing the council of Basel, the negotiators never meeting face-to-face. The two cardinals had been instructed to mediate, not to judge, and were thus obliged to practise complete impartiality, since it was their task to convey the offers of each side to the other in as unprejudiced a manner as possible.47 This way of proceeding bore little relation to the procedure adopted at Oye, where the papacy took no direct part, and the embassy representing the council of Basel, although present for much of the convention’s duration, was refused

42 K.1711, fos, 489–489v. Their letter of credence, made out in the names of Sutton, Popham and Wilton, and addressed to the duchess Isabella, is in BnF, n.a.f. 6215, fo. 102. 43 See TNA, E.404/55/301; E.404/56/251; and n. 30, above. 44 Stourton had no previous diplomatic experience. He was present principally as keeper of the duke of Orléans, over whom he had been given charge on 9 July 1438. On 8 May 1439 they travelled ‘unto the seewarde, and soo unto oure towne of Caleis’, whence they returned on 13 Oct. Stourton kept charge of his prisoner until the following February (Letters and Papers, I, pp. 432–434). 45 Beaufort arrived at Calais on 26 June (PPC, v, p. 335; K.1711, fo. 490). 46 K.1711, fo. 489v. 47 Dickinson, Congress of Arras, p. 118 et seq.

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any part in the negotiations.48 English suspicion of anything that smacked of conciliar intervention (they blamed the council’s envoys for their diplomatic failure at Arras) was sure to prevent that.49 Nor does the reported presence of envoys of the count of Armagnac, who came supposedly to help mediate between England and France, appear to have had any bearing upon events.50 The negotiations, therefore, owed nothing to ‘neutral’ mediators. Instead, three persons, all committed to one or other of the parties, were concerned in the delicate task of achieving peace. The most important of these was the duchess of Burgundy who, at the instigation of the duke, had taken the initiative in bringing the parties together.51 At Arras the duke had himself been constantly involved in the negotiations, while the duchess ‘appears to have been . . . a spectator’:52 at Oye, on the other hand, their roles were reversed (the Brut alleged that, after 1435, the English would never deal directly with the perfidious duke)53 and far from the duke being his own ambassador, the duchess took over the role from him. At the same time, as she herself explained, she was acting as a French mediator.54 She was certainly no neutral: nor, indeed, was Beaufort, and both were to act as unofficial ambassadors for their respective side. Yet the duchess’s undoubted ability, her recent experience of English diplomats, her close family connections with the house of Lancaster, the esteem in which she was held by the English,55 the mutual affection (witnessed by both protocols) between herself and her co-mediator, Beaufort, who was her uncle, all these helped towards making her a good intermediary and a forceful advocate of compromise. The acceptance of Beaufort as a mediator is clearly indicated in both protocols. Having already won the respect of the French and Burgundians in previous negotiations,56 he represented the tradition of the high ecclesiastic acting as 48 See the brief account of the conciliar embassy’s activities in A. Zellfelder, England und das Basler Konzil (Berlin, 1913), pp. 217–220. 49 A. N. E. D. Schofield, ‘England, the Pope and the Council of Basel, 1435–49’, Church History, xxxiii (1964), 268. The same article, with minor corrections, was reprinted in Reunion, vi, no. 62 (1965), 19. 50 PPC, v, p. 345. For their similar lack of success at Arras, see Dickinson, Congress of Arras, pp. 12–13. 51 For the duchess Isabella, see C. Looten, ‘Isabelle de Portugal, duchesse de Bourgogne et comtesse de Flandre (1397–1471)’ (Revue de littérature comparée, xviii (1938), 5–22. 52 Dickinson, Congress of Arras, p. 66, n. 4. 53 The Brut, ed. F. W. D. Brie (EETS, cxxxi, cxxxxvi, 1906–08), ii, 506. When Hugues de Lannoy and Henri de Utenhove came to take diplomatic soundings in England early in 1438, their safe-conduct stated that they were travelling to England for the good of their souls and other reasons (‘. . . ob salutem animarum suarum ac alias causas’). This legal fiction lends support to the statement of the chronicle (Lannoy, p. 124, and app. p. xlvii). 54 TNA, C.76/122, m. 31. 55 She had made a favourable impression upon the English in 1435 (Dickinson, Congress of Arras, p. 125, n. 4). 56 Ibid, p. 34, n. 1. He was considered to be ‘mediateur de ceste paix de la part dangleterre pareillement que le sont lesdiz monseigneur dorleans [et] madame de Bourgogne pour la part de france’ (BnF, n.a.f. 6215, fo. 70).

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mediator. Yet his presence at Oye was also the direct outcome of his position as the most important member of the English council. Like the duchess Isabella he was both mediator and royal ambassador, holding yet greater authority to deal with certain basic aspects of the negotiations then had the official English ambassadors themselves.57 This may indicate that the possibility of bargaining outside the main convention had been foreseen, and the protocols suggest that this indeed happened. Unlike at Arras, the mediators and both embassies might all meet at once, so that all had an equal chance of hearing offers and counteroffers. But in spite of this, much negotiation went on outside the convention tent: in these consultations held between Beaufort and the English ambassador on the one hand and the duchess and the French and Burgundian envoys on the other, the two mediators played an important part. Each knew well how far the instructions of his own side would allow him to go: questions concerning peace offers could be conveyed by Beaufort to the French ambassadors by way of the duchess, and by her through Beaufort to the English embassy without the need for many formal meetings. Hence both Beaufort and the duchess kept in very close touch with the envoys of their own side, consulted with them frequently, discussed often late into the night terms offered by the other embassy, and planned tactics with them, besides acting as general go-betweens for each side. As far as the English were concerned this was natural enough for, in 1439, Beaufort was, after the king, although not heir to the throne, at least the leading man in the kingdom, and it was he who planned and initiated the council’s peace policy. Close consultation between him and the official English ambassadors was only to be expected. What seems certain is that Beaufort and the duchess played a far more active part in these negotiations than either had done at Arras.58 In the instructions given to the English ambassadors Beaufort was described as a ‘Mediatour and Sterer to the Peas’. The word ‘sterer’ is important, as it appears to indicate that at Oye Beaufort acted not only as a mediator but, in effect, as an ambassador as well.59 The role of Charles, duke of Orléans, is less easy to assess. To the French he was the man most likely to help achieve peace on their terms, a man whose name had long been associated with attempts at peace-making. His captivity in England had given him an unrivalled experience of English affairs and of the men who controlled them; the French had always been anxious that he should play an active part in any peace negotiations. As a man of great moral and political stature, he was in an unusually favourable position, so they thought, to help his country obtain satisfactory terms. To certain Englishmen, and notably to the duke of Gloucester, Orléans’s very prestige in France might be dangerous. It would be as well to remind the French that, since Orléans was an English prisoner, they intended, as in 1435, to keep him 57 L. B. Radford, Henry Beaufort (1908), p. 256. 58 Beaufort, it will be recalled, had been given very extensive powers to negotiate. See above, n. 34. 59 Rymer, Foedera, x, p. 724.

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at Calais where his influence would be considerably lessened, while at the same time permitting the French to visit and consult with him in private, should they so wish. To other Englishmen, among whom Beaufort may probably be numbered, it seemed that greater advantage should be taken of Orléans’s presence at Calais to achieve an understanding with the French, who plainly considered the duke to be a mediator in the same sense as were the duchess Isabella and Beaufort himself. The situation had changed since 1435, and it was no longer sufficient merely to allow Orléans to be in the locality where the negotiations were to take place. Late in January 1439 Beaufort had written to the French to inform them that he favoured Calais as a meeting place. One reason for this choice, he informed them, was that ‘audit lieu de Calais pourra ledit adversaire envoyer devers luy [i.e., Orléans] audit Calais pour le voir et visiter et advoir son bon advis et conseil sur les matieres dessusdites’.60 In May he had followed up this reasoning: the English advance party was instructed to inform the French that they might have easy access to the duke of Orléans, ‘afi de venir plus tost a la coclusion dela matiere par son moien . . .’.61 In other words, Orléans was not to be merely a pawn in the proceedings but a player as well. The English procuration, once the convention had begun was altered and the duke’s release became a matter for negotiation. The obstinate idea that Orléans freedom would place English security in jeopardy was quietly put aside, and the duke was twice given a chance of making concrete proposals when the talks were threatened by deadlock, although his captors would probably not have agreed officially with the duchess Isabella that, along with her, he was one of the ‘mediateurs dicelle paix pour la partie de France’.62 Perhaps the most accurate way of describing his position vis-à-vis the negotiators is to see him as a second string in the English bow: he was not allowed to take part in the proceedings at first,63 but once a critical stage had been reached, appeals were made to him and he played a major role in forming proposals upon which the negotiations were ultimately to stand or fall. This is what Beaufort probably foresaw: his attempts to bring Orléans into the talks constituted the most constructive move made by the English during the time of the negotiations. That it failed was not Beaufort’s fault. It therefore becomes clear that Orléans was to the French what Beaufort himself was to the English, a man to be consulted by his own side at every stage, and who might ultimately be relied upon to produce a working solution to the problems of how to achieve peace. It is also clear that the procedure was very different from that followed at Arras. This was in part owing to the fact that, unlike at Arras, the embassies could meet face-to-face not only for purposes of bargaining but on more social occasions as well. The need to keep them apart by the device of employing neutral mediators did not arise, so that both Beaufort and Orléans and, 60 61 62 63

BnF, n.a.f. 6215, fo. 94v. Ibid, fo. 103v. The italics are mine. TNA, C/76/122, m. 31. By 12 October, however, the English were willing to grant him that title. Bekyngton reported that Orléans was much angered at not being allowed to take part, telling Stourton that without him the others would do nothing ‘nisi verberare ventum’ (PPC, v, p. 341).

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to a lesser extent, the duchess Isabella, acted both as mediators and as chief ‘consultants’ to their respective embassies. The scene of the convention which was to take place at Oye, some seven miles east of Calais, was described by Bekynton.64 All the ostentation of medieval diplomacy was there:65 the large convention tent, richly hung, with its dais for the mediators and the seats for the two groups of ambassadors, who sat opposite each another: the accommodation for the cooks and soldiers (some 260 Englishmen came for the opening meeting): and the smaller tents in which the chief negotiators, in addition to the two mediators, might carry out their consultations and offer each other entertainment.66 It was in this formal atmosphere, for all its pageantry not entirely free of suspicion, that the business of negotiating peace, which each side professed ardently to desire, began. Ardour expressed in words was one thing; ardour as manifested in action was another. From the beginning, as Bekynton hinted, the English suspected that the French wished to set a limit to the length of the convention, thereby reducing its chances of success. The English, on the other hand, whether by intent or not, provoked the French to protest on several counts. They were annoyed that the English seemed unwilling to allow Orléans to participate directly in the negotiations. The English procurations, they claimed, were unfriendly, and their tone calculated to provoke. Why, they asked, when previous practice had been for the English to write ‘our adverse of France’ did they now turn to the insulting formula of ‘Charles of Valois’ when referring to the French king?67 Why did they make extravagant claims to the crown and kingdom of France as if they held them of right? Surely, too, the English should have authority to negotiate a general peace, not simply a truce and, what was deemed most important from the French point of view, how was it that no mention was made of the duke of Orléans? The French professed to be much angered by the English documents: they must produce better evidence of their intention to make peace before the French would enter into negotiations with them.68 After so inauspicious a beginning it required all Beaufort’s tact to satisfy the French and obtain the necessary concessions from the English who, in their turn claimed that the French procuration, especially the clause concerning the quorum, was obscure. Later in the day the French sent the bishop of Tournai to Beaufort who promised to speak to the English ambassadors about their powers and to get new ones if possible.69 It was only after much wrangling and justification in the presence of Beaufort and Isabella, and after close inspection of the proposed

64 Ibid, v, pp. 341–342. 65 Monstrelet stressed the great pomp and riches of the English (Chronique, v, pp. 403–404). 66 PPC, v, pp. 341–342. The duchess Isabella had tapestries sent specially from Arras (Arch. Nord, B. 1967/57908). 67 PPC, v, p. xlvii, n. 1. 68 Both sides had been guilty of such wrangling in 1435 (Dickinson, Congress of Arras, pp. 133–134). 69 K. 1711, fo. 491v; PPC, v, pp. 343–344.

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alteration by the lawyers of the English delegation, that a new clause, enabling the English to negotiate the release of the duke of Orléans, was added. Beaufort personally guaranteed the ratification of this clause, and for the moment French honour was satisfied.70 A consideration of the original and the new English procuration shows that more than the addition of a clause concerning the negotiation of the release of the duke of Orléans was made. The second document was much longer than the first. It noted that negotiations had already taken place earlier in the year at Calais, thereby achieving a useful sense of continuity: the title of ‘Charles of Valois’ was replaced by the phrase ‘our adversary of France’: and some of the more virulent claims to the French crown were omitted (if one is to believe Bekynton, this was done at the suggestion of the duchess Isabella):71 and the release of the royal prisoner, Charles of Orléans, could now be negotiated. The procuration, backdated to 23 May, the date of the original, bears the influence of Beaufort. It is possible to see in it not only an attempt to come to terms with the French – and, in particular, with the duchess Isabella – but also the logical result of the granting of wide and vague powers to Beaufort on 25 May. There is evidence here, one may suggest, of Beaufort being willing to pursue a policy of reasonable concession which his own powers alone enabled him to do. His task was to pour oil upon troubled diplomatic waters and the new procuration was his own contribution towards establishing the calm necessary for the successful outcome of the negotiations. The ambassadors’ instructions, however, remained unchanged. In tone they were more uncompromising than the new procuration which they were intended to support, but it was nevertheless in accordance with those instructions that the ambassadors were still committed to negotiate. The next plenary session was held on 10 July, and was the occasion of further outcries. It fell to archbishop Kemp, as the leader of the official English embassy, to make the opening oration, which he did, as Bekynton stressed, in elegant Latin.72 The words of Christ to St Bridget, ‘If the kings of England and France desire peace, I shall give it to them’, were appropriate on this occasion.73 Peace and justice being sisters, the one implied the other, and peace could only be achieved through justice which, in this case, meant that the king of France should allow the king of England full and true possession of his French lands. The English king, Kemp declared, recognised no overlord: his French possessions were held from God, and from Him alone. English successes, he concluded, had shown which side divine justice favoured.74 Such a declaration declared little of the spirit of

70 K. 1711, fo. 492; PPC, v, pp. 344–346. See J. G. Dickinson, ‘“Blanks” and “Blank” Charters in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries’, I, lxvi (1951), pp. 375–387, particularly 382–383. 71 PPC, v, pp. 343–344. 72 Ibid, p. 352. The French protocol (fo. 492) says that the archbishop of Reims spoke before him. 73 The English liked to cite the saint’s sayings (Dickinson, Congress of Arras, p. 145 and n. 2). 74 K.1711, fo. 492; PPC, v, p. 352. This view, expressed by ambassadors and chroniclers alike, had already been put forward in 1435 (Dickinson, Congress of Arras, p. 145 and n. 2).

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compromise in the English attitude. Replying in French, the archbishop of Reims proved equally stubborn. In his view there was no sense or purpose in debating who was the rightful king of France, namely his own master, Charles VII the proper descendant of previous kings who, it had to be pointed out, was now more frequently successful in battle than was the English king. Moving on to the offensive he asserted that the English had acknowledged the legal right of French kings to the crown when they had released King John as well as by the homage given to Philip VI by Edward III for the duchy of Gascony and the county of Ponthieu. It was the English who had waged war unjustly, and it was from them restitution had been demanded. It was now up to the English, he felt, to make further overtures of peace.75 Kemp at once reiterated that the war and the prophecy of St Bridget supported the English claim, as did the treaty of Troyes, sealed between Charles VI and Henry V. To this the archbishop of Reims replied ‘bien et solennelment’ that if the English had had their victories, so had the French, and since many Englishmen had died to no purpose, such French victories were a declaration of divine justice.76 As for the alleged prophecy of St. Bridget, it was no true prophecy, since it had not been approved by the Church. He himself could cite the testimony of a holy hermit, John, who had spoken of the chastisement of the kingdom of France by the English who would, however, eventually be driven out. He finished by claiming that the general peace treaty of Troyes, having been sealed during Charles VI’s madness, and without the presence and consent of the dauphin, was invalid, and had been condemned by the legates of the council of Basel. Only by a marriage between the hermit and St. Bridget, Beaufort is alleged to have said in one of those rare flashes of humour which have come down to us, could peace be properly achieved.77 In spite of their lack of success, the negotiators continued to wrangle. The English, having had an opportunity of deliberating in private, put forward the second article in their instructions. Out of reverence for God, Kemp said, and taking into consideration the close family ties that existed between the French and English kings, the English would be willing to leave to the man whom the French called their king that part of the kingdom which lay beyond the Loire, except for the duchy of Guyenne, the county of Poitou and such lands as belonged to the kings of England before they had the right to the crown of France.78 Such terms were unacceptable to the French who foresaw with hostility a possible division of land within the kingdom. There could be no peace, the archbishop of Reims replied, unless the English king were to renounce all pretensions to the crown, kingdom

75 K.1711, fo. 492v. On the procedure of offer and counter-offer, see Dickinson, Congress of Arras, p. 136 et seq. 76 K. 1711, fo. 492v. 77 ‘Et lors monditseigneur le cardinal dist que ce seroit ung bon marriage dudit hermite et de sainte Brigide’ (Ibid). 78 For the offers made by the English in 1435, see Dickinson, Congress of Arras, p. 148.

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and arms of France. Further, any lands which might be granted to the English king must be held in faith and homage, in recognition of French sovereignty, like those granted to the peres of France, a step which would first entail the session to the French king of all lands held in France. If the English were to accept these conditions and show good faith by releasing the duke of Orléans then the French would allow the English king to keep those lands which he now held in Guyenne (was their extent not considerable?) subject to the conditions of tenure stated above. Such terms were at once rejected by the English and, since it was now late, the ambassadors agreed to part, having arranged to meet again three days later.79 The prospects of reaching a lasting settlement seemed slight, and it may have been the unpromising nature of the situation which brought about the next move. On 18 May the council of Basel had appointed four envoys to travel to the Marches of Calais to assist in the peace-making.80 French protocol states that they arrived, probably at St. Omer, on 24 June, when they presented letters to the duke of Burgundy and announced that they had come to help achieve peace. They had been politely received, but little enthusiasm had been shown for their mission, and they do not feature again in the French protocol.81 Bekynton does not mention them at this time (since he himself had not yet arrived), but he records their visit to Calais, the English centre, on 11 July. Four days later, in the Great Hall at Calais, Beaufort and the other English envoys gave audience to the chief conciliar envoy, the bishop of Vich, who spoke of the joys of peace among brothers. The English were to reply on the morrow. In the meantime Bekynton reported, the legate spoke to the duke of Orléans in the hall of the Staple where, according to some witnesses, he uttered words prejudicial to the English, citing the text ‘Estote fortes in bello et pugnate cum serpente’.82 Such language was hardly calculated to win the confidence of the English ambassadors. When Kemp met the legate on the following day, he stressed how much his king desired peace, and he thanked the council and the legate (much as the French had done) for working towards that end. However Kemp did not fail to make England’s attitude towards the council perfectly clear: he and his fellow ambassadors were quite satisfied with the services of the two mediators (their instructions permitted the English to treat only with them) and they were all mindful that peace would have been made at Arras in 1435 had the council fathers been fair. He ended by begging them to avoid all extreme measures and hence all risk of schism within the Church.

79 K. 1711, fos. 493–493v; PPC, v, pp. 353–354. 80 Geneva, Bibliothèque publique et universitaire, MS. Lat. 27, nos. 57–59 (original Bulls); Concilium Basiliense, ed. J. Haller, etc., vi. I (Basel, 1925), pp. 427–428; Monumenta Conciliorum Generalium (3 vols, Vienna, 1857–86), iii, p. 270. 81 K. 1711, fo. 490. 82 PPC, v, pp. 363–364. The evidence contained in K.1711, fo. 490 seems to indicate that the conciliar embassy favoured the French.

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To this the legate replied by justifying the council’s attempts at peace-making, saying that he regretted the criticism of the council’s role at Arras. He then attacked the papacy, a speech which drew forth a defence of the pope from Kemp.83 Little more is known concerning the part played by the conciliar delegation at the convention: the hostility of England to the council, fanned by the efforts of Piero da Monte, the papal envoy in England who wrote to Beaufort and Bildeston at Calais exhorting them to have nothing to do with the representatives of the council, probably put an end to any hopes the conciliar delegation may have had of influencing events and bringing them to a satisfactory conclusion.84 With no support from the French and Burgundians, and almost open hostility from the English, the fathers could claim no credit for any successes which might be achieved. In the meantime both the French and English envoys had been trying to find a way of reconciling what was rapidly becoming the irreconcilable. On 11 July Isabella summoned the French ambassadors to inform them that she had learned from Beaufort that the English would not accept permanent peace without sovereignty (resort) but that they might be willing to make a truce. The following day the French met and rejected the proposal: a truce would only prolong the war: it would give the English time to reinforce their precarious military position: and, perhaps most important of all, a truce involved no recognition of French sovereignty, whereas a final peace must do so. Later that day Garter King of Arms went to the French camp to announce that on the following day the duke of Orléans would be brought out of Calais so that the French could meet him.85 The English fearing to return home empty-handed, were now willing that the duke should use his influence to help achieve peace. On the morning of 13 July the duchess Isabella met the duke of Orléans in a special tent which had been set up two bow shots distance from the walls of Calais. Together they had a long discussion about peace, afterwards entering into consultation with Beaufort and both groups of ambassadors. Later the duchess questioned Orléans before the envoys, asking him whether he desired peace. ‘Yes’, he replied, ‘even if I have to die for it’, an expression which gave Isabella the opportunity of voicing her determination to obtain what all desired.86 Early the following morning the duchess’s secretary, Gerard, arrived at Calais to inform Beaufort that his mistress, on her return the previous evening, had heard that the duke of Burgundy was ill at St. Omer, and that she had immediately hurried to see him. She asked that the next meeting be postponed until the following Thursday, 16 July, to which the English agreed.87 Both the protocols give the

83 PPC, v, pp. 364–365. The Council of Basel had deposed the pope on 25 June. 84 J. Haller, Piero da Monte (Rome, 1941), pp. 105–113. Da Monte’s relief at the failure of the conciliar mission was intense. For the delegation’s return to Basel, see Concilium Basiliense, vI, i, pp. 618, 724. 85 K. 1711, fo. 404v; PPC, v, p. 363. 86 PPC, v, p. 363–364. 87 K.1711, fo. 494v; PPC, v, p. 364.

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duke’s illness as the reason for the duchess’s sudden departure; there is no reason to doubt the truth of this statement.88 None the less the illness was a timely one, for it enabled the duchess to consult her husband about the slow progress of the negotiations, and especially about his interview, the previous day, with the duke of Orléans. It is possible to detect the influence of this visit, and of the consultations which must have taken place, upon the events of the next few days, and especially on the close cooperation between the French ambassadors and the ducal councillors to which the French protocol is a witness. The next meeting was not, in fact, held until 18 July, one having been postponed on account of the unwarranted fear of the English that the French were preparing to attack them.89 The importance of the incident, reported in both protocols, each of which attempted to lay responsibility for the misunderstanding upon the other party, lies in its evidence of the lack of trust which existed at the negotiations. The elaborate precautions taken to ensure that no heavily armed men should come to the convention, the incident just cited, which caused the English to fear for their safety, the continuation of the war between England and France, and the French successes of the summer of 1439 all militated against a spirit of compromise. To the French it seemed that success in battle could help reduce English resistance to their demands: to the English such successes, when added to their suspicions of French motives in the negotiations, gave birth to the conviction that the French did not want a final peace. The achievement of a truce, which would probably be of greater advantage than peace to the English, now became part of their policy.90 From the French point of view it became important that demands for a truce be resisted. On 18 July Beaufort and the duchess Isabella met together to discuss means of reconciling the two sides after which each reported to their respective ambassadors, Beaufort telling the English that prospects of peace were remote, Isabella informing the French that Beaufort had made even a truce on French terms seem unlikely.91 The stumbling-blocks were the title to the kingdom and crown of France which the French wanted announced but which the English were unwilling to yield; the matter of homage, the English insisting that they held France directly from God; and the restoration of lords and others, including clergy who had fled before the English to their lands and benefices in English-controlled territories, a restoration to which the English were implacably opposed. Beaufort reported that Isabella had proposed a solution, the first genuine concession on the French side, whereby for a period of thirty, twenty or fifteen years Henry VI would cease to style himself king of France in letters and documents, and Charles 88 Ibid, The statement is corroborated by the duchess’s accounts (Arch. Nord, B.3404/115455–7). The Duke was soon again ‘en bon point’. 89 K.1711, fo. 495; PPC, v, pp. 365–366. In order that no rumours might spread to England to disturb the country (and to turn it against the French) Beaufort stopped all traffic going to England until the truth of the incident had been properly ascertained. 90 For English proposals in 1435 that a truce be signed, and French opposition to the idea, see Dickinson, Congress of Arras, pp. 131, 147. 91 K.1711, fos. 495–495v; PPC, v, p. 366.

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VII would not demand homage from the English king. Hostilities would cease, but if Henry VI wished at any time to revert to his former practice he could do so after giving one year’s formal notice, and the war would begin anew.92 This was a reasonable move on the part of the French. It was also a clever one, for it placed the onus of the choice between war and peace squarely upon the shoulders of the English king and his advisers. Beaufort not unnaturally asked for time to consider the proposal. Before doing so, however, Beaufort sent to Isabella to ask for her proposals in writing. At this point, the French protocol relates, the French ambassadors and those Burgundian councillors present met together to discuss the reply to the English request. It was decided to forward to the English certain opinions on the matter of peace formulated by the chancellor of Burgundy which the bearer, the bishop of Tournai was to claim had been put forward by Isabella and her counsel alone, although in fact the whole French embassy had had a say in the forming of them.93 The deception did not pass unnoticed in the English camp. Beaufort soon remarked that the written terms differed considerably from those put forward to him verbally by Isabella that very morning, terms which he had plainly thought had grown out of the conversations between Isabella and the duke of Orléans outside Calais earlier in the week. Bekynton described the written terms as being ‘full of wormwood and snares’, and Beaufort informed Orléans of the changes.94 A little later, when Beaufort met Isabella and the bishop of Tournai, he told them that the conditions of the written proposals, which included the release of the duke of Orléans, could not be fulfilled. On being reminded that the French had come to negotiate a peace, not a truce, Beaufort replied that a truce was best for all, including (and here he made an appeal to Burgundian self-interest) to Burgundy itself. Isabella retorted that the French wanted peace and that their terms were the best. At this point, with confidence shaken even further, the meeting was adjourned for a few days.95 Beaufort’s confrontation of the duke of Orléans with the written conditions (probably altered without Orléans’s knowledge) and Bekynton’s description of the terms as drawn up by Orléans and Isabella suggests that the English acted in good faith. It comes as no surprise that they should have been shocked by the written proposals.96 Although the English king was to be granted certain lands in France, he was to renounce all his claims to the French kingdom and the crown and abandon all his conquests. Further, any territory left him would be held in homage of the French king, and all lords, secular and ecclesiastical, were to be restored 92 PPC, v, p. 366–367. 93 K. 1711, fo. 495v. This is a clear example of the undoubted value of the French protocol. See Arch. Nord, B.3404/115458: ‘Samedi xviii jour de juillet lan mil CCCC xxxix, Madame la duchesse de Bourgogne et de Brabant, Mesdamoiselles d’Estampes et de Cleves, et les ambaxadeurs de France, disner aux champs ou lon fait la convencion, Madite dame et mesdites damoiselles, souper et couchier a Gravelinghes. Aux despens de Monseigneur le duc’. 94 PPC, v, p. 367. 95 K.1711, fos. 495v–96. 96 PPC, v, pp. 367–369. The text is in French.

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to their properties. Finally, the duke of Orléans was to be liberated without the payment of a ransom. The proposals formed by the Francophile chancellor of Burgundy, Nicolas Rolin, and approved by the French ambassadors, gave little scope for compromise. The only concession to the English view, one already made verbally by Isabella, was a willingness to consider a truce, under stringent conditions, for a period of up to thirty years, at the end of which, if war were resumed those living in territories ceded to the English would be free to break their oath and return to the allegiance of the French crown. However, should the English so wish it, a perpetual peace could be signed at the expiration of the truce. Again, the onus of acceptance was placed upon English shoulders.97 To such conditions the English replied with a strong protest, as uncompromising as the French offer had been.98 The ambassadors, it stated, would do nothing prejudicial to the rights of the king, nor would they retreat in any way from their previous demands, as they could not negotiate any lessening of his rights or claims.99 If the king were to be content not to claim all his rights, he would only do this for the honour of God, the achievement of peace, the stabilising of the Church and the ending of slaughter among Christians. Behind this pious facade the English were safeguarding the future, for were military defeat to come their way, such a statement reserved their right to put forward their claims again at a more favourable moment. This meeting marks a change in the aims of the negotiators. In future they were to be less concerned with general questions of sovereignty and more anxious to achieve a limited settlement. Each side had rejected the overall claims of the other with the result that the English, seeing that this form of sterile bargaining would achieve no positive results, set out to win what they could of French territory. It was a change from the general to the particular. They now sought control of those lands which had belonged to the king’s ancestors before any claim to the French throne had been advanced, namely the territories which had not in the past been held by the French crown, and to which the English had a natural right by the due process of heredity. In addition, they wished to keep control of the town of Calais, the county of Guisnes and all other territories ceded to the English crown by the treaty of Brétigny, all these to be held freely from God alone, as the king of England recognised no mortal superior. If asked to define these lands the English ambassadors were to reply that they included the duchy of Normandy with 97 Dr Dickinson (Congress of Arras, pp. 139–140) wrote of an accepted practice that offers, once made in writing and refused, were deemed null and void. The French may have put forward these proposals in the sure knowledge that they would not be accepted. It is possible that they, like many Englishmen of the day, did not desire peace at this time, although the evidence printed by J. Garillot, (Les États Généraux de 1439 (Nancy, 1947), pp. 13–15, suggests that the French may have been considering the surrender of some territory in order to bring about a permanent peace. 98 PPC, v, pp. 369–370. 99 A somewhat similar argument had been put forward in 1435 (Dickinson, Congress of Arras, pp. 131–132).

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the homage of Brittany and Flanders, Anjou, Maine, Gascony and Touraine, the counties of Toulouse, Picardy and Ponthieu, the town of Montreuil, the castles of Beaufort and Nogent, and others besides. Neither so vaguely worded a list nor the repeated offer of all territories beyond the Loire, except what the English now held in Gascony, was likely to meet with the approval of the French, who replied that the English proposal neither satisfied them nor offered a way towards peace. As a token concession the French were willing to offer the two Norman bailliages of Caen and Coutances, but the English spurned the offer as ridiculous.100 At this critical juncture Nicolas Rolin, speaking for the duchess Isabella who fully appreciated the difficulties of both sides, put forward a plan in writing upon which the English were asked to comment. Bekynton described the proposal as being mere ‘nudam formam’, and the English found themselves unable to answer so unspecific a formula. At this point the duchess burst into tears, ‘nescio an ire vel pietatis’. Bekynton commented, asking that the English envoys should give their private opinions concerning her proposals. Perhaps suspecting possible trickery they refused to do so, but Beaufort showed his willingness to cooperate by promising to put the case for and against her proposals (which he hoped would be enlarged upon, especially as regards the proposals about lands) before the royal council. He asked for time, about three weeks, to seek a reply from England.101 In this increasingly desperate atmosphere the convention dragged on. The English, with the help of the lawyers on their embassy, drew up a full list of territories which they wished to claim under the terms of the treaty of Brétigny: these included Normandy, Brittany, Flanders, Gascony, Poitou, Maine, Anjou and others.102 At the same time counter-offers were called for from the French, but it was reported, through the duke of Orléans, that they were threatening to leave. Beaufort hurriedly sent to Isabella to ask her to persuade the French not to do so, since this would break up the convention when some good might still come of it. He himself drew up a long agenda for the next meeting so that the French would have no reasonable excuse for departing. On 27 July Beaufort, Isabella and the ambassadors all met, a number of private discussions taking place. Little was achieved, as the French would only offer the two Norman bailliages and the Gascon territories. Beaufort, however, persuaded them to agree to produce their demands and offers in writing, at the same time pointing out that a break of up to six weeks was required for consultations with his king. Clearly Beaufort wished to see what reaction there would be in England to the French offers (the duke of Gloucester would be almost certain to oppose them): the English ambassadors had also to obtain new powers to treat, as they themselves had claimed that theirs were no longer sufficient. A visit to London was daily becoming more and more necessary.

100 K. 1711, fos. 496v–497; PPC, v, p. 373. 101 PPC, v, pp. 373–374. 102 This was in accordance with the second item of the English instructions.

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Much patient work would be necessary to save the convention, as Beaufort reported to the English ambassadors after his talks. In the circumstances it was again decided to call upon the duke of Orléans to seek his aid towards achieving a solution. On 29 July Isabella and the French ambassadors arrived at Calais to see the duke who spoke privately with Isabella for a while. Beaufort was later called in and it was agreed that a document should be drawn up, in the name of Orléans and the duchess Isabella, which each side would take home in order to take part in consultations and receive further instructions.103 On 30 July a Franco-Burgundian delegation came to Calais bringing with it the text of the offer, agreement being reached that some French should remain at St. Omer, and some English at Calais, while each delegation sent certain of its members home for consultations. In the meantime Beaufort and the duke of Orléans were to remain at Calais. On the following morning the text was presented to Beaufort: it was quickly perused and, with general agreement, a clause stipulating that a year’s notice be given before the renewal of hostilities was added. In order that those returning to London might take with them considered views on the matters discussed, the English ambassadors were asked to present their opinions in writing. Six of the ambassadors, Kemp, Stafford, Hungerford, Popham, Wilton and Rinel were chosen to go to England. On 5 August, bearing the new offer with them,104 they set sail. By 8 August they had reached London. A memorandum in French informs us of the arguments which could be put before the English council.105 Those who favoured acceptance of the French concessions and the proposal for a thirty-year truce could argue that the English territories in France were poor and deserted, and that the burden of paying for the war would fall increasingly upon the English. Were they willing to bear this burden? The French, it could be pointed out, were winning with little effort and cost, since English armies were badly looked after, being led by lazy captains whose main concern was their own profit. Moreover, the French populations were turning against the English, and trade was coming to a halt. In short, did the results justify the great expense of the war? It was the argument of realism. The counter argument, set out at great length, saw the problem through different eyes. To accept the French terms was to act contrary to the king’s honour and that of his house, since he had been crowned king of France in Paris, and withdrawal would mean that his French subjects had successfully disobeyed him. To abandon the royal title for the sake of a truce would be folly, for the king would not be able to exercise his royal rights in France again without a title, and the French could all too easily drive him out (the implication being that this would be for evermore) when a suitable opportunity occurred. As for the duke of Orléans, he should be 103 K. 1711, fos. 498–498v; PPC, v, pp. 375–377. The dates do not quite agree. 104 At least three copies of these proposals have survived: (i) Lambeth Palace Library, MS. 506, fos. 46–50: (ii) BnF, n.a.f. 6215, fos. 68–70v; (iii) BnF, n.a.f. 6524, fos. 148–452. See also PPC, v, pp. 378–382. 105 BnF, n.a.f. 6215, fos. 75v–80.

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made to buy his freedom dearly, since he was close in line of succession to the throne of France. The question of restitution, too, posed grave problems. Restored clergy would use their great influence over the people to turn them against the English, and they should therefore not be allowed to return. And what of the secular possessors of lands in Normandy? While it might be possible, for the honour of the crown of France, to restore to their titulars the duchy of Alencon, the counties of Harcourt, Eu, Tancarville, Maine, Perche, Anjou, Mortain, Longueville and other lands which were part of the domain, it was impossible to dispossess the large number of English and loyal Norman holders of ‘fiez nobles’ (for none could doubt that acceptance of the terms would lead to their dispossession in practice) without devising some method of compensation. While dispossessed clergy could be compensated with the first benefices to fall vacant, the problem of what to do with secular landowners was far more difficult. In any scheme of compensation to be devised, the French must be made to pay a goodly share. Finally, should Normandy be surrendered if it risked losing its sovereign courts? The appeal to self-interest is evident throughout the argument. The proposals were unlikely to find acceptance. Although the English were to be allowed all that they held in Guyenne, as well as the whole duchy of Normandy (except for the Mont St. Michel and the homage of the duchy of Brittany), in addition to the towns and castles of Calais and Guisnes which they had long held, they were unlikely to agree to the abandonment by Henry VI of the French royal arms and title. The arguments against allowing Orléans his freedom, and permitting all persons to return freely to their lands and benefices (proposals which made nonsense of the conquest), were based upon a strong emotional appeal to the successful days of the reign of Henry V and to his orders given on his deathbed. Try as the French might to allay English fears by the inclusion of a clause stipulating that any strategic spot in which the French king’s lands might be put under the charge of an English captain if the place in any way threatened English security, they were unlikely to win over the English council to the terms of a truce which involved the peopling of the duchy of Normandy, while still nominally English, by persons whose loyalty really belonged to the Valois king. There appears to be no record of what transpired when the small group reported back to the council: the French protocol had ceased to record events on 29 July, and Bekynton, remaining at Calais, did not report the proceedings in England.106 The materials contained in Gloucester’s protest against the release of the duke of Orléans, together with the council’s reply, both of which probably date from the early months of 1440, may yield some clue.107 Although Beaufort was not present, his chief diplomatic lieutenant was there. Kemp, so Gloucester narrates – and although his account is hostile there is no reason to doubt its authenticity – strove to the limits to persuade the king to abstain from using the French royal title, to 106 Piero da Monte, who had spoken to Kemp by 11 Aug. Haller (p. 113, n. 2) described the Italian’s version of these events as ‘volkommen unwahr’. 107 Letters and Papers, ii, pp. 440–460.

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which Gloucester objected strongly, saying that he would sooner die than agree to it. Gloucester, too, was to object violently to the release of the duke of Orléans, which he described as an even greater mistake than the holding of the peace convention itself, for the struggle between the Burgundian and Orléanist factions in France would divide that country for ever, whereas the return of Orléans could well unite them, much to the disadvantage of England. In spite of Kemp’s desire for peace and compromise he was unable to make any headway against Gloucester’s stubbornness. During the recess the town of Meaux, not far from Paris, had been captured by Richemont, a double blow for the peace party as it removed from its hands a valuable negotiating counter as well as helping to convince its opponents, led by Gloucester, that the French were not sincere in their desire for peace.108 It would seem, therefore, that in Beaufort’s absence there was nothing that Kemp could do towards making the young king, only fairly recently come of age, amenable to their proposals. On 9 September those who had been to London returned to Calais109 and joined those of the embassy, including Beaufort and Bekynton, who had remained behind.110 To Beaufort they handed over the new instructions which had been given, instructions which were unlikely, as they stood, to further the cause of peace.111 The king, it was stated, saw as ‘right unreasonable’ the proposals concerning the non-use of the royal title of France, the restitution of benefices and possession, and the release of the duke of Orléans. In the cause of peace England would be satisfied with Normandy (including the Mont St. Michel), the duchy of Guyenne, the towns of Calais and Guisnes, and the other territories offered, but these could not be held of the French king, for the English king was always to retain his title to the crown of France. Particularly troublesome were the legal and practical implications of restitution. It seems more than probable that the king was under pressure not to yield on this point from persons who, standing to suffer considerable personal losses, could point to the lessening of prestige which the crown would sustain if, by withdrawal, the whole Lancastrian involvement in France were to be undermined. On one point alone was there some spirit of compromise: the king was willing to allow Orléans his freedom for a while to help bring about peace, but only under heavy guarantees.112

108 PPC, v, pp. 384, 397; A. Bossuat, Perrinet Gressart et François de Surienne, agents de l’Angleterre (Paris, 1936), pp. 270–271. 109 They had left London about 10 days previously (TNA, E 1010/323/9, E 364/73/1, 9). They were probably held up waiting for their instructions which were dated at Langley on 30 August (PPC, v, p. 391). 110 For Bekynton’s description of events in and around Calais at this time see PPC v. 384–388 and Official Correspondence of Thomas Bekynton, ed. G. Williams (RS, 1872), i, pp. 103–104. 111 PPC, v, pp. 388–391. 112 See the copy of the English ‘responsio’ to the French officers now in BnF, n.a.f. 6215 fos. 70v– 73v. The proposals were refused on several grounds; (i) they denied the principles behind the war waged by the king and his predecessors; (ii) the English could not give up the towns they held outside Normandy, Guyenne and Calais; (iii) to restore clergy and laymen to their Norman

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In Bekynton’s protocol these instructions were followed by a memorandum in which were listed twelve reasons for not agreeing to the French proposals.113 The first six concerned the effects of a truce upon the king’s title and jurisdiction in France. Acceptance of the proposals would put the just cause behind the wars into doubt, as the Lancastrian title to France would be denied:114 but as the title ‘king of France’ belonged to the king as a person, as well as to the crown, the two could not be considered separately. A physical withdrawal from France and a formal renunciation of the French royal title would mean that England lost all rights of jurisdiction in France, for the claim to authority implied a title. Loss of title, too, would imply that English rule had been tyrannous, not to say illegal, and the English king would lose the use of the title at the Roman curia, before general councils and elsewhere. Thus both moral and practical implications argued against renunciation. The remaining objections concerned the implications as they affected others. It would be a near impossible task to restore lands and benefices in Normandy to those now living outside the king’s obedience, and to admit rebels (the English persisted in regarding those Normans who had supported the Valois cause as rebels) would be politically dangerous to English rule. Besides, it would be acting against both human and divine law to deprive Englishmen of what was legally theirs in France and Normandy. For what would be the value of grants made by letters patent? What would happen to men who had spent their lives in the royal service, and who had nothing to live by except their French lands? While the possibility of compensation was admitted – only to be hastily branded as too costly – it was claimed that the abandonment of the lands given to the English would cause men to leave the royal service as men without hope, and that such men would be unwilling to serve the crown again in the future. The English rejection of all chance of compromise must have disappointed, if not surprised, Beaufort. Certainly he must have been embarrassed by the decision,115 but as mediator he had to accept whatever instructions were given to the official English embassy. However, if he could avoid having to give a formal reply to the French, Beaufort could leave the door ajar for further negotiation which, he doubtless hoped, might one day take place. In this respect the French played into his hands. On 11 September, the last day agreed upon for a reunion between the two embassies, the English ambassadors rode off early to the meeting place only to be informed that the French had not been seen at Gravelines, their base, since 30 July. For the English, the opportunity of practising moral righteousness was too good to be missed. The ambassadors heard Kemp read out a written

possessions would be against all justice, for these men were rebels and the present owners would inevitably lose all; (iv) the duke of Orléans ought to pay a ransom of up to £100,000 sterling. 113 PPC, v, pp. 391–395. They bear a close resemblance to the reason set out in the ‘responsio’ described in the note above. Bodley MS 885, fos. 96–97. 114 This was Sir John Fastolf’s view (Letters and Papers, ii, p. 576). 115 Bekynton recalls how much the duchess Isabella wished the convention to continue (PPC, v, pp. 397–399).

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protest against the French (prepared in advance?) before several notaries public who were required to make authenticated copies. This done, and with the French placed firmly in the wrong, the English returned to Calais.116 The French appeared to have no desire to continue the negotiations. They probably realised that a negative reply to their proposals would be forthcoming, and there seemed little point in returning to Oye.117 The excuse that the terms had to be put before a meeting of the princes of the blood, a meeting which could not take place before 25 September,118 was perhaps but a sham to cover up an unwillingness to prolong the negotiations. Nor were the English, now morally indignant, any readier to continue. An enemy guilty of military provocation such as the capture of Meaux, and who offered no more than he had done at Arras four summers previously, was not open to honest dealing.119 Blind to its own likeness, the English war party used such arguments to bring proceedings to a close. Others, like Beaufort, may have hoped that something could still be achieved in the future. At present it was better to wait. Any one of these reasons was sufficient to send the English ambassadors back to London – empty-handed. But not quite so. The conference was, in fact, to end on the happier note of a mercantile truce with Flanders. On 18 September three Burgundian envoys arrived at Calais to begin negotiations.120 The work lasted some ten days: it cannot have been difficult, although the lawyers of the English embassy were kept busy discussing and checking clauses (the truce was based on one of the time of Henry IV) and the Burgundians were obliged to travel to St. Omer to consult their duke and duchess whose agreement, however, was soon obtained. On 29 September the truce was finally sealed.121 The truce, which was to take effect on 1 November (except for a clause on fishing rights which was to come into effect one month earlier) concerned trade, fishing and maritime affairs between England, Ireland and Calais on the one hand, and Flanders, Brabant and the town of Malines on the other. The sea routes between Calais, Brabant and Flanders were to be open to all trades (wool and leather been specifically mentioned) except war weapons, and merchants who were subjects of the duke of Burgundy were to be free to come and stay in

116 Ibid, pp. 395–396. 117 Ibid, p. lxxviii. 118 Ibid, pp. 396, 403. On 25 August, Charles Vll wrote to the citizens of Reims mentioning the convention, but stating that he could make no decision on the proposals put forward by the duke of Orléans and the duchess Isabella without consultation. They were ordered to send representatives to Paris for 25 September to give advice. A meeting actually took place at Orléans on that day, but since an insufficient number of persons were present, they were told to reassemble at Bourges on 15 February 1440 (Beaucourt, iii. 526–528). It is difficult to judge whether the king was procrastinating deliberately or not. 119 PPC, v, pp. 398–399. 120 Ibid, pp. 400–405. 121 Ibid, p. 405. See Arch. Nord, B 572/15729.

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England. Regulations about customs were fixed, it being agreed that no taxes were to be levied on the cargoes of ships forced into port by storm or enemies.122 Within a few days the English ambassadors had left Calais and had sailed back to England. In small groups they made their way to London to wait upon the king, who returned to the capital on 9 October. On the following day, in the presence of the chancellor and the ambassadors, but with Gloucester notably absent, Kemp gave an account of the mission, presenting the chancellor with a copy of the refutation made to the peace proposals. The embassy was at an end.123 The ambassadors had secured the renewal of trading relations and an unofficial peace between England and the territories of the duchy Burgundy, but they had failed in what was avowedly their principal aim, the achievement of peace with France. Yet, within two days the embassy reporting back to the king at Kennington, it was announced that the proposal, made jointly on 15 September by Beaufort, the duchess Isabella and the duke of Orléans, that another conference should take place on or before 1 May 1440, had been accepted by the king.124 Further, on 25 October, the duke informed his friends in France that he was to be temporarily released to go to France to help make peace and conclude arrangements for the payment of his ransom.125 The events surrounding the release of Orléans, which was finally negotiated on 2 July 1440 and ratified by the French on 16 August, have been described before, and being but a postscript to the negotiations of 1439, need not be told again.126 Their importance lies not so much in the fact that a captivity of twenty-five years was brought to an end but rather in that Orléans’ release, engineered by Beaufort, showed that the cardinal was now convinced of the necessity of making peace, which could the more easily be achieved by granting Orléans his freedom. Unlike Gloucester, Beaufort had no fears that, once released, Orléans would prove to be England’s worst enemy. Nor did he believe any longer that the duke was a diplomatic pawn of much value. Unlike Gloucester, who ‘knew no difference between concession and dishonour’,127 he had appreciated the true significance of the convention and of the military setbacks which England was suffering at the time. Gloucester, on the other hand, blind to events and misled by his false convictions, insisted that England should remain true to the last wishes of his brother, Henry V.128 To him, the release of Orléans was tantamount to treason; in the Parliament of 1439–40 he protested against what he had heard that Beaufort was

122 Rymer, Foedera, x, pp. 736–737. In February 1440 an extension of this truce, to include the people of Normandy, Aquitane and the Marches of Calais, was negotiated (Ibid, p. 761). 123 PPC, v, pp. 405–407. 124 TNA, C 76/122 m. 31. 125 P. Champion, Vie de Charles d’Orléans 1394–1465 (Paris, 1911), p. 297; TNA, E 30/462. 126 Champion, ch. xi. 127 PPC, v, p. 1xxviii. 128 Elizabeth M. Burney, ‘The English Rule of Normandy, 1435–50’, pp. 168–169. This unpublished Oxford B. Litt. Thesis (1958) is cited by kind permission of the author.

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planning to do.129 Early in 1440 he issued a protest accusing Beaufort and Kemp, both of them cardinals, of pursuing a misguided policy,130 and after Easter in the same year he protested yet again against the release of Orléans.131 In both these documents he showed how he felt Orléans to be plotting against England and how his conversations with the French and Burgundians at Oye and, finally, his release, would contribute to the downfall of English power in France. The spirit of Gloucester’s appeals is clearly discernible, too, in the second article brought against the duke of Suffolk in 1450: he had, it was said, helped the French by accepting money from Orléans to secure his release, and by urging him to persuade Charles VII to rise against the English and the lands which they controlled in France.132 If the events of the summer of 1439 help to illuminate Gloucester’s thinking, they help perhaps even more towards an understanding of Beaufort’s actions as the leader of the peace party. McFarlane argued that the cause of peace was already gaining ground before 1435, provided that no sacrifice of territory or national pride was involved.133 England, and Gloucester, had won military success too easily, and this had led to a determination to concede nothing and to denounce all concessions as treasonable. It was this attitude which led to the English refusal of the proposals made at Oye, and it was against such a rigid and obstinate stand that the chancellor, John Stafford, spoke at the beginning of the 1439 Parliament.134 On this occasion Stafford was expressing not his own opinion but that of the council, with Beaufort at its head. A few months later that same council issued a reply to Gloucester’s protest on the betrayal of English interests.135 It underlined the urgent need for peace. The king, it was stated, having heard reports given to him by those sent on the embassy, was sure that the French would be willing to make peace, but only if the duke of Orléans were included in the treaty. Hence he must be released, for by agreeing to give the duke his freedom, the English could oblige the French to lower their terms, and Orléans could work actively in the cause of peace. These were broad and important issues. What had the convention at Oye done to bring about peace? If it had failed to achieve a cessation in hostilities it had nonetheless served to convince Beaufort, Kemp and others not only that peace was necessary but that it was possible, too. Although the French were confident and riding on the wave of military success, they had gone further than the English in offering concessions which might have led to peace. Once the stumbling block of 129 130 131 132 133

The Chronicles of London, ed. C. L. Kingsford (Oxford, 1905), p. 153. Letters and Papers, ii, pp. 440–451. Rymer, Foedera, x, pp. 764–767. Rotuli Parliamentorum, v, pp. 177–178. K. B. McFarlane, ‘England: The Lancastrian Kings, 1399–1461’, in Cambridge Medieval History, viii, p. 398. 134 Rot. Parl., v, p. 3. See E. F. Jacob, ‘Archbishop John Stafford’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 5th ser., vii (1962), 11–12. 135 Letters and Papers, ii, pp. 451–460.

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the English claim to the French crown had been put aside, albeit temporarily, three main issues remained: the matter of homage and fealty, upon which the French were adamant;136 the practical issue of lands, upon which they showed themselves to be at least accommodating; and the release of Orléans, without which no peace could be said to be final. The English refused to accept the principle of homage; their king held from God alone. Over the matter of lands and territories to be held by them in the future, they tried to achieve by diplomacy what the force of arms had failed to achieve and, in so doing, they risked losing all. Nor would they, for the moment, release Orléans without ransom. It was in this atmosphere that the convention had come to an end. If the prospect of peace had been growing for some years, and particularly so since the real advent to power of the Beaufort following in 1437, then that prospect suffered a setback with the issue of the ambassadors’ original procuration and its accompanying instructions. Indeed, the influence of Gloucester and the supporters of a truculent policy towards France may not have been so inconsiderable even in the spring of 1439 as has sometimes been made out. However, change was coming about, and the turning point was reached with the convention at Oye. The events of that summer certainly witnessed Gloucester’s last successful attempt to influence relations with France and his old enemy, Burgundy. The Beaufort party now took over the direction of foreign policy: events are a witness to this change. Beaufort’s procuration, vague and wide in its extent and powers, marked the real beginning: to have entered into the spirit of the ambassadors’ original procuration would have destroyed any hope and confidence which had been built up between England and Burgundy earlier in the year. With the decision, guaranteed by Beaufort himself, to moderate the ambassadors’ procuration, and to make the release of Orléans a negotiable issue, the English advanced one step towards a compromise. Beaufort and the ambassadors were, however, greatly hampered by their instructions. It is clear that, since these remained unchanged and corresponded more in tone to the original proclamation than to the amended one, the ambassadors were obliged to negotiate at a considerable disadvantage. To the French, the English attitude, instead of reflecting the way of compromise, appeared in fact to harden, although the French probably suspected that the official English view was not shared by all the ambassadors as private individuals. The French must have realised that Beaufort, at any rate, was willing to make concessions in order to achieve some positive results. Hence his decision to allow Orléans to meet the duchess Isabella and the French ambassadors: on 12 July, so that the ways of peace ‘per eum induci possent’: and, again, on 27 July (when the negotiations had almost broken down) ‘ut per ejus mediacionem res ad ulteriora progrederentur’.137 It is therefore arguable that, in spite of an English reluctance to consider Orléans as an official negotiator, the ambassadors under Beaufort’s leadership were 136 E. F. Jacob, The Fifteenth Century (Oxford, 1961), p. 467. 137 PPC, v, pp. 363, 376. The italics are mine.

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beginning to realise that he must be brought into the negotiations at Oye, and to any other meetings that might take place in future. The absence of Beaufort and many privy councillors at Calais138 enabled Gloucester to reject the offers in August (in spite of Kemp’s pleadings) but once they had returned in October, their influence over the king became once again paramount. Their acceptance of Orléans as a mediator (a big step forward) enable the council to decide, only a few days after reporting to the king, that negotiations with France would be renewed, and that the duke would be given temporary freedom to work in the cause of peace. From this it was but a short step to his actual release in 1440, a decision which caused Gloucester to attack Beaufort and Kemp as the betrayers of English interests. The Gordian knot had been cut, however, and this was to influence English diplomacy towards France for some time to come. The events of 1439 marked, therefore, not only the realisation by both Beaufort and the royal council that peace was to England’s interest, but also the first definite steps towards its implementation. The change was a move from a senseless and stubborn assertion of rights, which could not be maintained, to some form of compromise and conciliation, culminating in the Truce of Tours (1444) and a royal marriage.139 This was not to be peace at any price, but peace negotiated from strength. For this reason it was not long before the council appointed Richard, duke of York, as the king’s lieutenant in Normandy, for York already had some solid military achievements to his credit. A strong military hand could provide firm backing for the newly aligned diplomacy. Otherwise, if nothing were done, the gradual French advance would not be checked, and all would have been in vain.

138 Ibid, p. xxxiii. 139 Jacob, Fifteenth Century, p. 468. The question of a royal marriage had been mentioned, but very half-heartedly, in the English instructions. Significantly, unlike at Arras, it did not come up as a point of discussion between the ambassadors.

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11 L O C A L R E A C T I O N TO T H E FRENCH RECONQUEST OF NORMANDY (1449–1450) The example of Rouen

That in the year between July 1449 and August 1450 the French won two victories, one military, the other moral, against the English was recognised by most contemporaries, and has been accepted by historians, indeed eagerly so by French historians, ever since. None would dispute the truth of the first statement; at first slow to gather momentum, the final expulsion of the English from northern France (Calais excepted), although greatly assisted by a lack of opposition on the part of the people of Normandy, was carried out, in the last analysis, by force of arms. More open to discussion, however, was the reaction to events in those areas newly recovered during the course of these decisive months. Was opinion always as wholeheartedly in favour of what had recently been done as men, both of the time and since, have seemed to think?1 Every attempt was made to show contemporaries the significance of what was being achieved at this time. Documents emanating from Valois sources referred to the period of English rule in northern France as an ‘occupation’,2 necessarily implying usurpation,3 which had lasted over thirty years. Behind the use of such words lay the assumption that Normandy was French and that, in expelling the English, Charles le Tresvictorieux was bringing back under his effective control an area of the country which rightfully belonged to the crown of France. Hence the interest which lies in the choice of words and phrases used not only by those who

1 Among the many accounts of the events of these months, the following may be noted: those of Robert Blondel and of Berry le Heraut (Narratives of the Expulsion of the English from Normandy MCCCCXLIX–MCCCCL, ed. J. Stevenson, (London, RS, 1863), pp. 120–142, 144–150, and 296– 324; that of Thomas Basin (Histoire de Charles VII, ed. and trans. C. Samaran (2nd edn, 2 vols, Paris, 1965), ii, pp. 115–131; that of Jean Chartier (Chronique de Charles VII, ed. V. de Viriville (3 vols, Paris, 1858), ii, pp. 137–172; and that of Les Croniques de Normendie, 1223–1453, ed. A. Hellot (Rouen, 1881), pp. 123–139. 2 For example, Ordonnances des rois de France de la troisième race (23 vols, Paris, 1733–1847), xiv, pp. 59, 60, 75; B.N., Ms fr. 5350, p. 44; Arch. Calvados, D 27; B.L. Add. Ch. 4069. 3 Ordonnances, xiv, p. 65.

DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-15

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wrote the king’s official letters4 but also by chroniclers who wrote of the ‘reduction’ or ‘recovery’5 of territory held under ‘detention’6 by the English, and of the desire of Normans to return to their ‘natural and ancient . . . rule’.7 These were the words which Thomas Basin used to express not only what had happened but also why it had happened. As the French herald pointed out, it was the intention of the people to show that Charles of Valois, rather than Henry of Lancaster, was their natural Lord; this made it possible for Charles VII to achieve in one year what two kings of England had signally failed to do in the space of thirty-three years.8 The point was to be further emphasised by a show of majesty which was an important element in the public manifestation of authority exercised by the French king.9 On 10 November 1449 Charles, both to reward the people of Rouen for their seemingly decisive efforts in bringing their city under Valois rule and to assert in person his claim over them, entered the capital of Normandy. His well-managed state entry is recorded in several contemporary chronicles and also in an eye-witness account: the main purpose of their respective authors was to recall an event of extraordinary importance, the final return into French hands of one of the kingdom’s largest provinces now (in November 1449) in the process of being recovered by force, and with the assistance of the people themselves, from the usurping English.10 For reasons which scarcely need explanation, the chroniclers were emphatic about the willingness of the Normans to become French again. The Chroniques de Normandie recalled how Charles VII was received with great joy by the people of Pont-de-l’Arche, the town, as Basin recalled with some satisfaction, having been captured by a ruse.11 From here, only a few miles upstream from Rouen, the French armies made sorties to the very walls of the Norman capital. Before long an agreement was reached that the citizens would give the king’s forces every help, the official principal of Rouen cathedral, followed soon afterwards by the archbishop, playing an important intermediary role in the negotiations. On Sunday, 19 October, the people rose against the English whose garrison at the Mont-Sainte-Catherine, just outside the city, quickly surrendered ‘when they realised that the city was against them and they felt the king of France approaching’. Shortly afterwards the 4 For example, ‘recouvrement de nostre Seigneurie’; ‘remectre & redduire en nostre bonne & vraye obeissance comme a celle de leur Souverain naturel et droicturier Seigneur’ (Ordonnances, xiv, p. 60). 5 ‘Reductio’ and ‘recouvrement’ were used by Blondel and Berry le Heraut. 6 ‘Detencion’ (Ordonnances, xiv, p. 60). 7 ‘. . . naturale et vetustissimum . . . regale’ (Basin, Histoire de Charles VII, ii, p. 107). The page merits close study. 8 Le débat des hérauts d’armes de France et d’Angleterre, suivi de The Debate between the Heralds of England and France, by J. Coke, ed. L. Pannier (Paris, SATF, 1877), p. 24. 9 M. G. A. Vale, Charles VII (London, 1974), ch. 7, and especially pp. 202–204. 10 See the narratives in the chronicles: Blondel, De reductione Normanniae, pp. 144–150; Croniques de Normendie, pp. 136–139. The eye-witness account is printed in B. Guenée and F. Lehoux, Les entrées royales françaises de 1328 a 1515 (Paris, 1968), pp. 160–162, in which a miniature depicting the scene, taken from a manuscript of Monstrelet, appears as a frontispiece. 11 Croniques de Normendie, p. 123; Basin, Histoire de Charles VII, ii, pp. 79–83; Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, ii, p. 137.

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count of Dunois, acting upon the request of the clergy, nobility and bourgeois that he should take possession, entered the city, his entry being ‘very fine to observe’. By the evening the white cross was everywhere to be seen.12 The honour which the churchmen, nobility and people of Rouen showed towards the crown and the ‘fleur de lys of France’ had ensured that Rouen was once again French.13 The people had to wait some three weeks before the king graced the streets with his presence.14 The event was intended to celebrate the recovery of Rouen, although military operations against the English in Normandy were to continue for at least another nine months. If the events of these weeks were of the greatest political significance to the crown, for the people of Rouen themselves they marked a change of allegiance which they hoped would improve their lot. All classes seemed ready to welcome the king. The clergy, led by the metropolitan chapter, displayed their best relics and sang the Te Deum; the people put out decorations in the royal colours and exhibited the royal arms; bonfires were lighted in the streets and tables covered with wine and meats were made freely available to all. Requests were made to the king that, in spite of the lateness of the season, he should not abandon his war against places in English hands, such as Harfleur and Honfleur, at the mouth of the Seine, since these could still do much material damage to all their interests.15 The city promised to help with men and money in the pursuit of this end. The king’s reply to this request, conveyed through his chancellor, Guillaume Jouvenel des Ursins, was such that the people ‘were well satisfied’.16 Historians today have normally described events and feelings of the time as these were recorded by the chroniclers. Understandably enough, their accounts and commentaries have tended to favour the monarchy of Charles VII. The English, cast in the role of usurpers, were obliged to yield before the patriotic sentiments of the people of Rouen, who rallied to the emotive influence of the national colours worn by the king’s heralds.17 The moderation of the French king, rather than his desire for vengeance, has received emphasis. Thus his repeated pleas for reconciliation; thus, too, his recognition of the Church’s privileges, his maintenance of the Norman Echiquier, and his confirmation of local custom enshrined in that great symbol of local autonomy, the Charte aux Normands.18 The conditions and cir-

12 Croniques de Normendie, pp. 123–131; Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, ii, p. 154. 13 ‘Par la bonne affection des gens deglise et des nobles et bourgeois dicelle et pour l’honneur que ils vouloient a la couronne et aux fleurs de lys de France’ (Journal pariisien deJean Maupoint, prieur de Sainte-Catherine-de-la-Couture, 1437–1469, ed. G. Fagniez (SHP, 1878), p. 37. 14 The national importance of these events is emphasised by the brief references made to them not only in the work cited in n. 13, but also by the compiler of the Journal d’un Bourgeois de Paris, 1405–1449, ed. A. Tuetey (Paris, SHP, 1881), p. 392; A Parisian Journal, 1405–1449, trans. J. Shirley (Oxford, 1968), pp. 371–372. 15 Basin, Histoire de Charles VII, ii, p. 131; Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, ii, pp. 170–171. 16 Croniques de Normendie, p. 139. 17 V. de Viriville, Histoire de Charles VII, roi de France, et de son époque (3 vols, Paris, 1862–5), iii, p. 159. 18 Ibid, iii, 160; G. du Fresne de Beaucourt, Histoire de Charles VII (6 vols, Paris, 1881–91, v. 12.

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cumstances under which Rouen returned to the French fold were made to contrast strikingly with those which had witnessed the capture of the city by the English, after a prolonged siege, in 1419, a whole generation earlier. Thus far chronicles and record sources are in broad agreement. From this moment onwards, however, the records assume greater importance since they provide testimony of a story which the chroniclers could not, or would not, tell in full. Just as the ‘Bourgeois de Paris’ reported that a certain disillusionment set in soon after the fall of Paris in April 1436 (the King did not appear in person and captains acting in his name continued to rob and pillage as before, so that there was little to choose between a French and an English soldier):19 just as, too, the inhabitants of Bordeaux were shortly to react against Valois fiscal measures,20 so in Rouen there are indications that doubts about the future under French rule existed from the very first moments. Too much may be read into the statement made by Basin immediately following his account of the surrender of Rouen, that French officers accepted bribes from high-born English prisoners who were thereby allowed to depart without paying their debts,21 were it not that the records of both the city council and the cathedral chapter in some measure reflect his unease. Neither set of records which report, albeit briefly, the discussions among the city’s civil and spiritual leaders tells of the change of government affected in the autumn of 1449, although it may readily be admitted that the chapter’s record for 1419 had made no reference to the fall of Rouen to the English army, either.22 Clearly, however, a need was felt to keep on the side of those who represented the French king. On 20 November 1449 a grant (or was it a bribe?) of 1,000 livres tournois a year was made by the city to its newly appointed captain, Pierre de Brézé, ‘as a matter of courtesy. . . . In order that the city shall not be subject to the captain except by its own choice’,23 while a few months later, on 20 March 1450, the chapter, in an attempt to please him, presented the Treasurer of France with a volume of chronicles belonging to the cathedral.24 Coupled with Basin’s comments, such evidence suggests misgivings on the part of the corporations of Rouen. The celebrations over, men were beginning to see more realistically what the future held in store. In this respect the chapter’s act book is most informative. As an influential ecclesiastical body whose wealth had been much reduced by the ravages of war, the chapter met on 20 November 1449, and expressed itself unwilling to give financial support towards the recovery of Harfleur which the king, at the behest of the city,

19 20 21 22

Journal d’un Bourgeois de Paris, p. 327; Parisian Journal, p. 312. M. G. A. Vale, English Gascony, 1399–1453 (Oxford, 1970), p. 142. Basin, Histoire de Charles VII, ii, p. 129. Contrast this with the record of the deliberations of the cathedral chapter of Saint-André, Bordeaux, for 29 June 1451: ‘Civitas Burdegale est regni Francie’ (Cited in Y. Renouard, Bordeaux sous les rois d’Angleterre (Bordeaux, 1965), p. 513). 23 ‘Par courtoisie. . . . non pas que la ville soit subiecte au capitaine, si non de voulente’(Bibl. Mun. Rouen, A.7 (Délibérations de la ville, 1447–53), fo. 60). 24 Arch. Seine-Maritime, G. 2134, fo. 4v.

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which had requested its capture, was soon to invest.25 The reason for this opposition and unwillingness to cooperate which, in the long term, seems to have been against the chapter’s interests since the economic prosperity of Rouen depended so much upon easy access to the sea by river,26 appears to have been that the contribution was to be raised without proper consultation (‘sine expresso consensus eorum’). However discussions between representatives of the chapter, the archbishop, local abbots and royal officers took place a few days later, and on 1 December the king obtained an agreement that the clergy of the city and archdiocese of Rouen would contribute 4,000 livres tournois towards the costs of the recovery of Harfleur.27 Within a few days collectors of the tax had been appointed, and processions were soon to be held and Masses said for the success of the undertaking.28 The episode suggests that the metropolitan chapter was less concerned with the change of allegiance and administration than with the due recognition and preservation of ecclesiastical privileges which it saw being further threatened by two consequences of the reconquest. The first concerned the terms accorded to Rouen at the time of its surrender. Had these terms affected the rights of individual clergy to be maintained in their benefices? Were the corporate rights of the cathedral chapter to be in any way limited? Was the reconquest to lead to a change of personnel among the cathedral clergy who had held their positions under the English, perhaps specifically by English favour? As the chapter’s record clearly shows, many outsiders hoped to take advantage of the uncertainty and confusion current at the time to further their own ambitions. On 8 November 1449, two days before the king’s formal entry into Rouen, Guillaume Morin appeared before the chapter to claim a canonry and prebend for which, he said, he had royal letters of presentation dated 1437. The members of the chapter, plainly unhappy about such developments, were determined enough to inform Morin that the offices which he was claiming had been occupied by the present incumbent for the past twenty-eight years, and that by the terms of surrender granted to Rouen, clergy, whether living in the kingdom of France or in the duchy of Normandy, were generally to remain possessed of their benefices. Morin appears to have accepted this decision for the time being, although he reiterated his claim in the following April, only to be told again that he would not be admitted under the terms of surrender of the previous autumn.29 Time was to show that many claimants were trying every legal trick of the trade to harass the chapter in the hope of ecclesiastical advancement; well might

25 26 27 28

Ibid, fo. 20. The siege of Harfleur lasted from 8 December 1449 until 1 January 1450. M. Mollat, Le Commerce maritime normand à la fin du Moyen Âge (Paris, 1952), pp. 9, 12ff, 44. Arch. Seine Maritime, G. 2134, fos. 20v–21v. Ibid, fos. 23v, 27v, 28v, 36v. When, on 18 April 1450, it was learnt that the French had defeated the English at Formigny three days earlier, the chapter ordered processions to be held to thank God for the victory which he had granted (fo. 46). 29 Ibid, fos. 18, 45v. See L. Fallue, Histoire politique et religieuse de l’église métropolitaine de Rouen (4 vols, Rouen, 1850–51), ii, pp. 478–479.

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the canons come to fear this unwelcome consequence of the reconquest.30 On 10 November, two days after hearing Morin, and on the very day of Charles VII’s entry into Rouen, members of the chapter went before the royal lieutenant to remind him of the king’s expressed intention that those in possession of benefices should have peaceful use of them; two days later some canons discussed with Pierre de la Hazardière, one of their most senior colleagues and himself a man who had accepted ecclesiastical advancement from the English, the content of a sermon in which Hazardière expressly intended to remind the king that he had promised to maintain all clergy in their benefices.31 The need for a preacher to remind the king of his policy and of his undertaking (and, by implication, that neither was being fulfilled) stemmed from the state of uncertainty in which members of the chapter found themselves at this moment. It comes as a surprise to learn that the complete terms of surrender made between the city and the royal captain appear not to have been fully publicised or understood for some time after the actual date of surrender. At first, only their general intent appears to have been known, and each seems to have been at liberty to interpret them as he wished. Therein lay the danger for the chapter, and from it stemmed the need to recall, for the benefit of the king and his officers, that churchmen had a special place in the terms accorded to the city, a place which effectively prevented the chapter from accepting too many new members into its ranks too readily. When, on 20 November, the canons refused to admit one Jean Dubec, in spite of the physical presence of Jean Havart, bailli of Caux, in his support, they did so by reference to the terms of surrender which remained unpublished.32 A month after the surrender, on 11 December, the chapter still claimed that it did not know how long the terms accorded to the city would allow those absent on the day of surrender to return to claim their benefices before an automatic deprivation would apply.33 The inescapable conclusion conveyed to the reader of the chapter’s record is that the canons, fearing for their rights, were very soon on the defensive. The months which followed the reconquest witnessed the emergence of another problem which was to be of concern to the chapter: the possible application of the terms of the Pragmatic Section in Normandy, a region which, under English rule, had lived subject to a rather different regime regarding appointments to benefices. Within days of the city’s capitulation, in a case over a disputed prebend in the 30 In the fifteen months or so following the recovery of Rouen, the chapter was kept busy considering the claims of many who hoped, by legal means or otherwise, to gain positions within the cathedral. The canons, who did not wish to admit most of them, used every means available to them to keep such suppliants out, in spite of sometimes heavy pressure being applied by royal officers (Arch. Seine-Maritime, G. 2134, fos. 19–100). 31 Ibid, fos. 18, 18v. 32 Cui Dubec fuit responsum quod domini de capitulo non poterant sibi dare responsum quousque litera composicionis ville Rotomag. super facto beneficiorum sit sigillata’ (Ibid, fo. 20). 33 Ibid, fo. 23. The period granted to Rouen was ‘dedans six mois’, or three if the person lived in the English obedience (Ordonnances, xiv, p. 77). At Lisieux the period was three months for everybody (Ibid, xiv, p. 62).

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cathedral, the possibility arose that the Pragmatic Sanction would be invoked as the result of the threat from one claimant to have the dispute referred to Rome, and the angry assertion, made in reply, that it should be heard before the Parlement in Paris. On 30 July 1450, the royal authority and that of the Parlement were again invoked in another long drawn-out dispute over a canonry and prebend, a case in which the opponent of the chapter sought the support of the Parlement in an attempt to have the affair resolved in his favour. The fact that a fortnight earlier the canons had forbidden a claimant to an ecclesiastical office from taking his case outside the boundaries of the duchy of Normandy underlines how strongly and how soon the chapter was coming to fear the new legal influences to which it was having to submit.34 If the church very soon came to question some of the consequences of the city’s recovery by Charles VII, the secular authority appears to have been immediately less affected by those same events. The record of the council’s deliberations suggests that steps were taken to please the king, even to curry favour with him. By May 1450 some 30,000 livres tournois had been lent to the Crown, chiefly as a contribution towards the recapture of Harfleur, and in that month it was agreed that in spite of difficult financial conditions and of some criticism of the way the campaign had been managed, a force of 200 men, all wearing a jerkin with the towns colours (‘huque ou hoqueton d’une livree de la ville’) should be sent to assist at the siege of Caen.35 It was not until the early months of 1451, with Normandy now completely recovered, that signs of opposition began to show themselves. On 1 March it was announced that Charles VII had, on the previous 28 October, reissued the terms of an earlier order, the so-called Edict of Compiegne, first promulgated in 1429, regarding the settlement of property in the newly recovered areas, and that the terms appeared to be incompatible with those granted to Rouen at the time of its capitulation, to the detriment of many inhabitants.36 The importance of this 34 Arch. Seine-Maritime, G.2134, fos 22v, 63v, 61v. For the comparable situation in Gascony, see G. Hubrecht, ‘Juridictions et compétences en Guyenne recouvrée’, Annales de la Faculté de Droit de l’Université de Bordeaux, série juridique, iii (1952), 63–79; trans. in The Recovery of France in the Fifteenth Century, ed. P. S. Lewis (London, New York, and Toronto, 1971), pp. 82–101. 35 Bibl. Mun., Rouen, A.7, fos. 77–78. 36 ‘Pour ce que len avoit eu en congnoissance que aujourdui matin, en lassise de Rouen, les avoit publie et leu certaines lettres roiaulx, donnees le xxviij jour doctobre derrain passe, de confirmacion dautres lettres roiaux de certain edit, loy et ordonnances pieca faictes et donne a Compiengne ou moiz daoust, le xxij joiur mil xxix, par le roy nostreseigneur, qui sembloient grandement preiudicier pluseurs de ceste ville, et quilz estoient directement contre aucunes choses accordees par ledit seigneur par le traictie, composicion [et] abolicion de ceste dicte ville de Rouen, puis naguere fait et donne par icellui seigneur.’ [It is decided that it is important to obtain the king’s opinion about this; spokesmen are sent to the king at Tours] ‘obtenir de par ceste dicte ville du roy nostredit seigneur ses lettres pour adnuler les autres dessusdictes dont cy dessus est faicte mention, se cestoit le bon plaisir dicellui seigneur, ou au moins obtenir lettres dudit seigneur comme il nentend les lettres dessusdictes preiudicier ou deroguer les lettres dabolicion ou composicion par lui naguere donnees a ceste dicte ville. Et se ainsi lesdis ambassadeurs ne povoient obtenir ce que dit est,

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edict was that it attempted, in broad terms which did not always take into account particular local problems or conditions, to restore men deprived of their estates and property as a result of the English invasion, and that it did so having in mind principally the interests of those who had left Normandy rather than those who had remained behind, a decision which was bound to affect the people of Rouen, who had never been outstanding in their anti-English attitudes, more than many. The very next day it was decided to send spokesmen, armed with the text of the edict and its confirmation (criticised as being obscure and cryptic in meaning) to the king at Tours to seek elucidation and guidance over this complicated problem. On 6 April the spokesman reported to the city’s council on a number of important matters regarding Normandy and, more particularly, on the royal confirmation of the Edict of Compiegne. Whether, and how, the problem had been resolved is not known, the records being regrettably silent on this point. The feeling, however, which the negotiations provoked in the city is hinted at by the fact that on 8 April the spokesmen reported directly to a meeting of churchmen, nobility and bourgeois of Rouen which was attended by large numbers. The delegates were then thanked for their work.37 Reluctance to go along with such royal measures might have only a limited interest and little significance were it not that these complaints formed the essential background to demands which would be submitted, within about two years of the recovery of Normandy, for the formal recognition of the duchy’s liberties. Both the spiritual and the civil authorities in Rouen, as on more than one occasion in times past, were to take an active lead in the making of such demands. In the autumn of 1450 the chapter and the archbishop entered into discussions with royal officers regarding the terms of surrender (‘de materia composicionis’) and the Charte aux Normands, the chapter agreeing to lend its original of the Charte to an assembly of the provincial estates meeting in Rouen so that its text could, if necessary, be compared with others.38 If, before long, the canons were joined by the civil authority it was partly because of the unsatisfactory manner in which the terms of surrender had been made known, partly because even when they had become known the king had maladroitly appeared to nullify their effect by confirming an old order, made some twenty years earlier, which seemed to give undue advantage to those who had abandoned their lands out of loyalty to the Valois cause. It was the dismay and uncertainty provoked by this step, and a fear that the king was avenging himself on those who had remained in Normandy during the

requerir devers le roy nostredit seigneur son interpretacion desdictes lettres de confirmacion et mesmes linterpretacion de celles dudit edit, loy et ordonnance donneé a Compiegne, pource que lesdis leurs semblent bien obscures et criptueuses en ce quelles contiennent’ (Ibid, fo. 90v). 37 Ibid, fos. 91 and 111; H. Prentout, Les États provinciaux de Normandie (3 vols, Caen, 1925–6), I, p. 158. On this general problem see C. T. Allmand, ‘The Aftermath of War in Fifteenth-century France’, History, lxi (1976), 344–357. 38 Arch. Seine-Maritime, G. 2134, fos. 74 and 88.

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period of English rule, which brought civil and ecclesiastical leaders together in opposition to the king and to the authority of Paris. The Charte was soon to be the focal point of a wider appeal to Norman separatism, inspired and led by Rouen.39 On 25 June 1451 the city’s council decided to make a stand for the rights and privileges of Rouen and Normandy against the pretensions of Paris; a demand was to be made for the renewal, in its entirety, of the Charte aux Normands, as well as for a confirmation of the validity of the duchy’s customs. The all too brief record refers to a meeting which was to take place with royal commissioners on 1 August at Vernon (almost on the boundary separating Normandy from France) for which the men of Paris were said to be making elaborate preparations, the Normans being urged to do likewise.40 Some while later it was reported that the Parlement was trying to have cases referred to itself, and that its officers (huissiers) had been active in Gisors in eastern Normandy and elsewhere contrary to the terms of the Charte. A decision was taken to send complaints to the king; the bailliage of Gisors was to be encouraged to do the same.41 The spirit of opposition of the immediate post-war period seems to have come to a head in the autumn of 1452, when some important formal demands were drawn up. On 7 October the city’s council decided to consult with the king’s advocates regarding a number of cases pending in the courts, including the Échiquier and elsewhere, concerning the rights and liberties of Rouen. Further, in accordance with the wishes of the Norman estates, it was decided to ask the king for the confirmation of the Charte aux Normands, for the restoration of the Chambre des Comptes and the Cour des Aides at Rouen, for the establishment of a chancellery (‘le seel du roy’) there, and for the re-establishment of the University of Caen.42 A more comprehensive document survives which fully indicates what demands Rouen was making of the crown. Although it is dated 22 November 1452, it was directly based on demands drawn up for a meeting of 7 October or, possibly, much earlier, and is included at the end of a volume43 containing contemporary records 39 ‘La grande préccupation de la province était de se faire confirmer toutes ses anciennes institutions’ (Prentout, Etats provinciaux, I, 161). See also A. Cheruel, Histoire de Rouen sous la domination anglaise au quinzième siècle (Rouen, 1840), ch. viii, and ‘Remonstrance des habitants de Rouen contre l’universite de Paris’ (pp. 167–184). Aspects of Breton separatism of a slightly earlier period are discussed by Michael Jones, ‘“Mon Pais et ma Nation”; Breton Identity in the Fourteenth Century’, War, Literature and Politics in the Late Middle Ages: Essays in Honour of G. W. Coopland, ed. C. T. Allmand (Liverpool, 1976), pp. 144–168. 40 Bibl. Mun. Rouen, A. 7, fos. 95–95v. ‘Il sera question plus tard de l’appointement de Vernon’ (Prentout, Etats provinciaux, I, pp. 193–194). 41 Bibl. Mun, Rouen, A. 7, fo. 110v. 42 Ibid, fo. 134v; Prentout, États provinciaux, I, pp. 160–162. 43 The date of the document suggests that a meeting of the Estates took place in November, 1452; on this matter I am more convinced by the positive reasoning of C. Robillard de Beurepaire (‘Les États de Normandie sous le règne de Charles VII’, Précis des travaux de l’Académie des Sciences, Belles-Lettres et Arts de Rouen (1874–75), pp. 273–277) than by the rather too cautious point of

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of the deliberations of the chapter. Headed ‘The articles regarding which it seems reasonable that the three Estates of the duchy of Normandy should petition our lord the king’, the document summarises many earlier complaints. The effect of war upon the ability of the population to pay what was regarded as excessively high taxation was emphasised, accompanied with the threat that, unless taxes were lowered, people would be forced to leave the duchy to seek homes elsewhere;44 the Charte aux Normands should be confirmed and renewed as the last king, Charles VI, had done; a university with a complete range of faculties should be founded at Caen, and be given privileges;45 legal and financial institutions should be established in Rouen; and, in an important reference to a matter which had already given rise to the expression of considerable feeling, the king should be requested to confirm the terms of surrender granted to individual towns, and to allow all disputed cases arising from these to be heard in Normandy under the jurisdiction of the sovereign Échiquier, without interference from the Parlement or justices from outside the duchy, especially in cases which might be summoned to Paris by virtue of the privileges of its ancient university.46 It may be readily understood why the Normans were anxious to rid themselves of English rule and why, as at Rouen in November 1449, they cheered the arrival of Charles VII, and displayed on their balconies hangings bearing the fleur-de-lys. Yet they did not regard themselves as unquestioning subjects of the king of France.47 As the record shows, their doubts were largely prompted by the acts and attitudes of the king and his officers. They sought to limit domination by Parisian institutions, particularly as this was expressed by the domineering attitude of some royal officers. Rather, they favoured certain legal and institutional revivals attempted during the English occupation. The challenge to the authority of the Parlement of Paris to judge Norman cases was a challenge to central government, supported by both the encouragement given to the hearing of appeals and certain

44 45

46

47

view presented by Prentout (États provinciaux, iii, pp. 24–25). The demands which the document contains had, in all likelihood, been considered as early as December 1451, when they received the chapter’s approval (Ibid, iii, pp. 24 and 91). Prentout suggested that the history of these demands may have gone back to 1450 (Ibid, I, p. 162, n. 3). Taxation under the Valois soon became almost as high as it had been under the English, without the excuse of a local war to justify it (Mollat, Commerce maritime normand, p. 74). Charles VII had not originally confirmed the existence of the faculty of law, and would not do so until 30 October 1452 (A de Bourmont, Ls Fondation de l’Université de Caen, et son Organisation au XVe siècle (Caen, 1883), pp. 54 and 265–269). Arch. Seine-Maritime, G 2134, fos. 277–278. The text, a version of which was published by Beaurepaire (Les Etats de Normandie sous le règne de Charles VII, pp. 274–276), is printed below at the end of this paper. See the text of the ‘Remonstrance’ cited in n. 39, above. For reaction to not dissimilar events in the early thirteenth century, see M. Nortier, ‘Le Rattachement de la Normandie à la Couronne de France’, Positions des thèses de l’École des Chartes (1951), pp. 121–126. For the effects of the French reconquest of the Bordelais in these very same years, see A. Peyregne, ‘La Pénétration du régime français en Bordelais de 1453 a 1461 (Ibid, 1951, pp. 127–132; Bordeaux sous les rois d’Angltterre, ed. Renouard, pp. 505ff.

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types of dispute, such as those arising out of royal land grants, by the council in Rouen, and by the revival of the Norman Echiquier as a sovereign court (‘cour souveraine’) as had been done in 1423, 1424, 1426 and, more recently, in 1448.48 Similar developments were the reintroduction of the office of seneschal, abolished by Philip Augustus;49 the creation between 1429 and 1449 of a Cour des Aides at Rouen, an institution closely linked to the Chambre des Comptes which, itself, had been established in the Norman capital after the fall of Paris in 1436;50 and, finally, the foundation, in the 1430s, of a university at Caen (whose very existence had been vigorously challenged by that of Paris) which saw the new studium, endowed with many privileges and liberties, as a rival to the political, social and intellectual hegemony of the Parisian institution in northern France.51 The period of the English occupation is so frequently regarded in negative and unproductive terms, particularly by French historians, that it may surprise some to learn that the period left a legacy which was promptly put to good political use by the Normans themselves. Under the Lancastrians, the English had always based their claim to the duchy upon the past; they had had a practical interest in reviving ‘old’, historic institutions – but they had done more, for the Cour des Aides, for example, was an institution with a ‘new’ role to fulfil. Thus the measure of the influence of the English occupation may to some extent be reflected in the future history of institutions, legal, financial and educational, revived or founded under their rule, which were sought in the demands of the estates of 1452. On 30 November of that year, the king authorised the foundation of an enlarged university at Caen, although proper recognition was not given, perhaps deliberately, to the part which the English had played in founding the studium almost twenty years earlier.52 Similarly, the Cour des Aides, although abolished by Charles VII, was re-established (although not with sovereign rights) sometime between 1453 and 1455, largely as a result of the demands of the estates of 1453; only in 1462, having first been abolished and then restored by Louis XI, was it

48 The records of the Echiquier are kept at the Archives de la Seine-Maritime, Rouen. 49 See R. A. Newhall, The English Conquest of Normandy, 1416–1424 (Yale, 1924), pp. 244–246; R. N. Sauvage, ‘Une Procédure devant la sénéchaussée de Normandie en 1423’, Mémoires de l’Académie nationale des sciences, arts et belles-lettres de Caen (1910), pp. 130–157; Prentout, États provinciaux, I, pp. 160–161. 50 M. Le Pesant, ‘La Cour de Aides de Normandie, des origines à 1552’, Positions des thèses de l’École des Chartes (1936), pp. 107–115. 51 Bourmont described the history of the university up to 1452 as ‘la période la plus brillante de notre universite’ (La Fondation. . . . p. 55). The founding of the university of Caen is traced in C. T. Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, 1415–1450: The History of a Medieval Occupation (Oxford, 1983), pp. 105–121. 52 Arch. Calvados, Caen, D. 28. ‘Ipse rex Karolus septimus eamdem Universitatem novam fecit, eamque de novo erexit atque creavit, non habendo respectum ad gesta per Anglos, multisque privilegiis eam dotavit’. (Caen, Musée des Beaux Arts, Coll. Mancel, D.64). No modern historian has denied the lasting importance for Normandy of the contribution of this institution, whose origins go back to the years of the English occupation. See n. 51 above.

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to be given existence as a sovereign body.53 As for the Échiquier, it was to serve the future by providing the basis for the Parlement founded by Louis XII in 1499 which, in turn, was to become the Parlement de Rouen under Francis I. Only the legal existence of the duchy itself, to some extent encouraged by the English (Henry V had styled himself Duke of Normandy, and had appeared as such in Rouen wearing ceremonial robes) had a limited future. For although given a duke in the person of Charles de France, the king’s brother, in 1465, Normandy became an inalienable part of the French king’s domain by agreement reached with the Estates General meeting at Tours in 1468. On 9 November 1469 the ducal seal was formally broken at a sitting of the Échiquier. By this act the duchy of Normandy ceased to exist.54,55 The demands of 1452 form a remarkable comment upon the previous thirty or forty years of Norman history. They suggest that historians have too readily interpreted the recovery of the duchy and the short-term enthusiasm of its people, as recorded by contemporary chronicles, as a necessary part of Normandy’s predetermined movement along the road to assimilation into the French kingdom a generation later. What emerges from the evidence here presented is that the demands of 1452, which led to the concessions made by Charles VII later in the 1450s, far from being the romantic expression of a provincialism which would soon no longer have proper legal foundation, in fact formed a protest against maladroit attempts to impose measures which appeared to act contrary to both the immediate material interests of many Normans, laymen as well as clergy, and the duchy’s historical tradition of independence, the protest being expressed in terms of what was clearly regarded as having been best, most useful and most likely to be lasting in the legacy which the English had left behind them. What the Valois monarchy lacked most of all, at this stage, was ‘political tact’, which may have caused doubts to form in the minds of independently minded Normans. Ironical as it may seem, it was the lead provided by their erstwhile political masters, the English, whom they themselves had so recently helped to expel, which showed the Normans how best to assert their self-respect and their independence of their new, French, masters.

The articles Articles containing requests to be made to the king, Charles VII, on behalf of the Estates of Normandy, approved by the chapter of Rouen cathedral on 22 November, 1452 (Archives de la Seine-Maritime, Rouen, G. 2134, fos. 277v–78).

53 Le Resant, ‘Cour de Aides’, pp. 107–108. 54 Prentout, États provinciaux, I, pp. 197–198. 55 That is, ‘quatriemes’ (a tax).

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[fo. 277v] Sensuient les articles qui semblent estre raisonnables a requerir au roy nostre seigneur par les troiz estas du pays et duchie de normemdie. Premierement, que en consideracion a ce que ses treshumbles subgiez de Normendie ont continuelment este en guerre depuis plus de xxxij ans enca audevant de la reduction de ce pais de Normendie, et par ce a este et encores est ledit pais depopule et evacue de peuple. biens et chevance, et aussi que depuis icelle reduction on este et sont de jour en jour cueillies en icelui pais tresgrans et excessives finances, tant par moien de tailles, impositions, iiijes, 5 gabelles et autres aides plus grans et excessives que oncques ne furent de memoire de homme, et lesquelles sont importables audit pais a soustenir et continuer; il plaise au roy, nostredit seigneur, en aiant regart a leurs bonnes loyautez, sur ce pourveoir a sesdiz treshumbles subgiez de Normendie, et faire cesser lesdictes charges ou au moins les moderer tellement que ilz puissent vivre et passer le demourant de leurs jours en paix soubz sa tresnoble seigneurie et royal maieste. Car autrement sesdis treshumbles subgiez, qui lesdictes charges ne peuent plus porter ne soustenir, seroient en necessite de wider et aler ailleurs demourer pour icelles charges eschiver, et trouver moyen de vivre plus paisiblement et a mendre charge, ainsi que desia sen est parti et encore fait chacun jour dudit pais grant nombre et quantite, et encore plus feroit se de sa tresnoble grace ny estoit remedie et pourveu en brief. Item, que les loys, coustumes et usages dudit pais de Normendie et la chartre aux normans soient confermez, ainsi quilz furent par le roy Charles [VI] derrain trespasse selon sa chartre sur ce faicte. Item, quil plaise au roy nostredit seigneur creer et erigier universite en la ville de Caen en toutes facultez, et la douer a son bon plaisir des privileges qui par les estas dudit pais de Normendie lui seront baillez par supplicacion. Item, quil plaise au roy nostredit seigneur ordonner en la ville de Rouen seel de chancellerie, chambre de comptes et de generaulx sur le fait de la justice des aides pour le bien dudit pais de Normendie. Item, que les composicions et concessions octroiees par le roy nostredit seigneur aux citez, villes, forteresses et pais de Normendie en faisant ou par le moien de ladicte reduction dicelles en lobaissance du roy nostredit seigneur, soient aussi par lui auctorisees, confermees, entretenues et gardees selon leur fourme et teneur, et que se aucuns debatz et process se [fo. 278] meuvent touchant lesdictes composicions et concessions ou les deppendences dicelles, les juges ordinaires, tant ecclesiastiques que seculiers, dudit pais de Normendie, chacun en son regart, en aient la congnoissance et decision soubz le ressort, cestassavoir de leschiquier, court souveraine en Normendie; quant aux juges seculiers, et au regart des juges ecclesiastiques, soubz le ressort des greigneurs ou souverains juges a qui ordinairement il appatient, sans ce que la court de parlement ne autres juges en aient la congnoissance, ne que, par quelxconques previlleges de universitez ou autrement, puissent les habitans dudit pais estre ailleurs convenus es cas dessusdis et leurs deppendences. Et se aucunes causes en estoient ja meues et pendentes devant aucuns juges, quilz soient renvoiees devant lesdis juges ordinaires de Normendie pour en congnoistre et decider, comme dit est. 167

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Chapitre de Rouen donne adhesion aux estas de Normendie a poursuir devers le roy nostre seigneur les articles dessusdis, et sont dacort que len y envoie de par lestat de leglise ung, deux ou troiz clers notables pour les poursuir, desquelz clers ils commettent lelection a maistres Guillaume Dudesert et Jehan de Gouvys, chanoines dicelle eglise, selon ce quilz verront estre a faire par ladviz et opinion des autres prelas et seigneurs deglise de Normendie qui sur ce seront assemblez. Ce fut fait et passe en chapitre lan mil iiijc lij, le xxij jour de novembre.

J. Des Essars

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Among the problems most feared by any ruler in the medieval world – and later – was serious division among his subjects. A divided society, as Christ had proclaimed, could not long survive. Conflict was a threat to peace which every prince hoped to avoid.1 It was for this reason that steps had long been taken, with mixed success, to ban and prevent private war in the lands over which French kings ruled. Over centuries, men came to accept that only the ruler might wage war with proper authority.2 And, as if in conscious search of ways of resolving disputes when these arose (as they inevitably did), the late Middle Ages witnessed the development of legal procedures leading to compromises and negotiated settlements between those who sought to resolve their differences through the law.3 The responsibilities of rulers to work actively for peace was causing them to take a firm lead and to show by example that society need not, indeed should not, live in conflict, but in harmony and justice. In the mid-fifteenth century the kingdom of France was emerging from a lengthy period of war against England whose kings had pretensions to the crown of France. Since the 1340s, in their attempts to translate claims into reality, the English had invaded the country several times. Most recently, under Henry V and his son Henry VI, they had conquered and occupied Normandy and much of northern France. The years of war and occupation had ended in 1450 when Charles VII had finally regained control of the duchy of Normandy through military force.

1 Many of the royal letters cited in the pages which follow begin with a ‘scene-setting’ description of the rifts and divisions in French society which it is the king’s wish and duty to heal. The measures being taken by him are intended to bring unity and justice (‘bonne concorde et justice’) to all under his rule. 2 As late as 1449 Charles VII was obliged to emphasise that no one ‘can or ought to assemble men and take to arms . . . nor maintain men-at-arms . . . without our authority . . . and if anyone does the contrary, he becomes a traitor . . . and an enemy of the public weal’ (Cited by S. H. Cuttler, The Law of Treason and Treason Trials in Later Medieval France (Cambridge, 1981), p. 198). 3 ‘Above all, and this from necessity as much as from choice, the king preferred private arrangements that served his political interests to general methods’ (R. Boutruche, ‘The Devastation of Rural Areas during the Hundred Years War and the Agricultural Recovery of France’, The Recovery of France in the Fifteenth century, ed. P. S. Lewis (New York: London, 1972), p. 39). See n. 32, below.

DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-16

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Nonetheless, in the early fifteenth century, the serious failings of the monarchy had allowed, not to say encouraged, civil war between the followers of the dukes of Burgundy on the one hand, and those who favoured the duke of Orléans and the count of Armagnac, on the other: hence the names ‘Burgundians’ and ‘Armagnacs’ given to those who supported the rival groups. At the very core of the troubles (in addition to strong personality conflicts) lay a struggle for control of the monarchy, weakened by the poor mental health of Charles VI, as well as for the control of the country’s towns, above all Paris. The plight of the capital, so well reflected in the pages of the so-called Journal d’un Bourgeois de Paris,4 was at times desperate as it changed hands between the parties, frequently suffered virtual blockade by surrounding garrisons, and witnessed the horrors of the massacre of Armagnac supporters by their Burgundian rivals in the spring of 1418. There can be no doubt about the rivalries and divisions created in Paris and elsewhere by the internecine civil conflicts of these years. It was these which the English to a certain extent came to control while they occupied the capital between 1420 and 1436, but to which they, in their turn, were also to contribute. The two conflicts, one among Frenchmen, the other between Frenchmen and Englishmen (including Gascons) shared an important characteristic. In each, property lying in territory controlled by one side but whose owners had fled to live in that of the other was confiscated as punishment and was often given as reward to supporters of the party in power. This practice had already been in evidence in Paris when the Armagnacs seized the capital in 1413; the roles would be reversed in 1418. In Normandy, the English followed suit. Lands and estates belonging to Normans and others who refused to accept English rule and fled their homes, only to be declared rebels, were confiscated by the English and granted either to Frenchmen ready to accept the English presence and live under their rule, or to Englishmen encouraged to settle by the authorities. It was such a policy that the English followed in Paris, too, where many confiscated houses were granted to Englishmen or to Frenchmen of Burgundian sympathies who shared the government and administration of the capital.5 What, then, had these conflicts done to France, and what problems had they created for the future? In the first half of the fifteenth century France was a country

4 Journal d’un Bourgeois de Paris 1405–1449, ed. A. Tuetey (Paris, 1881); Ibid, ed. C. Beaune, (Paris, 1990). See also the English translation, A Parisian Journal, 1405–1449, trans. J. Shirley (Oxford, 1968), to which reference will be made in what follows. 5 For Normandy, see C. T. Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, 1415–1450. The History of a Medieval Occupation (Oxford, 1983), chs 3 & 4; R. Massey, ‘The Land Settlement in Lancastrian Normandy’, Property and Politics: Essays in Later Medieval English History, ed. T. Pollard (Gloucester and New York, 1984), pp. 76–96; R. Massey, ‘Lancastrian Rouen: Military Service and Property Holding, 1419–49’, England and Normandy in the Middle Ages, ed. D. Bates and A. Curry (London and Rio Grande, 1994), pp. 269–286; P. Cailleux, ‘La présence anglaise dans la capitale normande: quelques aspects des relations entre Anglais et Rouennnais’, La Normandie et l’Angleterre au Moyen Age, ed. P. Bouet and V. Gazeau (Caen, 2003), pp. 265–276. For Paris, see Guy L. Thompson, Paris and its People under English Rule. The Anglo-Burgundian Regime, 1420–1436 (Oxford, 1991), ch. 5.

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divided by loyalties and allegiances, as well as by the presence of an English occupant. Charles VII, whose authority extended only over the centre and the south of the divided country, tried to reassert the power of the crown, and to insist on the obligation of all loyal Frenchmen to give him their allegiance as their true lord. Weakened by civil conflict, relying upon the support of the Armagnac faction during the early years of his reign (a fact which underlined that he was not king of all Frenchmen), bitterly at odds with the Burgundians who had established an alliance with the English, the king sought to regain the areas over which he had lost control and to re-establish his authority as king recognised by all Frenchmen. The first years had been difficult, but hope had been raised in 1429 when Joan of Arc, having helped to defeat the English at the siege of Orléans, had led Charles to his coronation at Reims. Crowned and anointed, Charles was now undoubtedly stronger, and in the ensuing years the military conflict began to turn slowly in his favour. At Arras, in 1435, he managed to be reconciled formally with Philip, duke of Burgundy, who, abandoning his alliance with England, acknowledged Charles as king of France. Some months later, a French army appeared outside Paris; within a short time the demoralised English had surrendered, and Paris became once again the capital of a legitimate France. It was at this stage that the problems associated with what would prove to be the long process of ending and healing the ‘times of divisions’ (‘temps des divisions’), as they were called, and of winding down the war, began. In fact, the need to find solutions to a particular problem created by war and occupation had already been acted upon by Charles VII at the time of his coronation in 1429, when talks had taken place with Burgundian representatives regarding the return of land, under the terms of a general pardon, to those who had held them before hostilities had begun. However, a vital factor had been ignored or forgotten. If this simple plan were acted upon, would not those loyal to the king risk incurring financial loss if their estates were returned to them in their current, often rundown, condition? Anxious to give momentum to his campaign, Charles issued what became known as the Edict of Compiègne which decreed the return of confiscated lands in the condition in which they had been left in the past. All current holders of such lands, even those who had come to them quite legally in the intervening years, were to be ousted.6 This was more than simply a proclamation that measures to re-establish peace would have to be taken, and that the crown was accepting responsibility for doing this. In 1429 Charles’s aim was the publication of an overtly political manifesto, at once a claim to sovereignty in France and a partisan move aimed at rewarding those who had remained faithful to him and to his cause. But its approach had been unsubtle, its proposed terms not fully considered. What would Burgundian beneficiaries of grants think of it all, for it was largely at their expense that the king’s followers stood to gain? Yet, imperfect as it certainly was, it signalled that consideration had been given to the

6 A. Bossuat, ‘The Re-establishment of Peace in Society during the Reign of Charles VII’, The Recovery of France, ed. Lewis, pp. 67–68.

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future when war might end, and France would once again be a united country. A start, at least, had been made. However, at the great international congress held at Arras in the summer of 1435, while Charles and Philip of Burgundy were outwardly reconciled, the difficulty of making lasting peace between them was underlined by one clause in the treaty which concerns us here. The general terms agreed between France and Burgundy, which were to the advantage of the latter, and would be the cause of future disputes between Philip and Charles and their respective heirs, Charles the Bold and Louis XI, included a clause which stated that while ‘each one of either side should return to his own’, all lands and ecclesiastical benefices which were to be accepted in their current state and condition, not as set out in the Edict of Compiègne, in the condition in which they had been in former, often better, times. Furthermore, no compensation for losses could be demanded. Not being in a political or military position to impose their view which, in any event, years of economic loss resulting from constant war would have made it impossible to put into effect, the French had accepted this clause, in spite of its direct contravention of the conditions set out in the edict of 1429, to be included. They could hardly do otherwise.7 It was in April 1436 that the first major attempt to achieve conciliation within a large community was attempted. The scene was Paris, the occasion the capture of the nation’s capital from the English by forces fighting for Charles VII, now assisted by the Burgundians and their sympathisers living there. The king’s ‘moderation’8 referred to by a recent historian of Paris may have been influenced by that factor. The vocabulary of official documents, later reflected in the writings of the chroniclers, specifically emphasised the king’s wish and intention not to wreak vengeance. All acts of treason were to be forgotten, and a general pardon (‘absolucion generalle’), whose language emphasised the need to forget past events and to encourage all to be united as loyal subjects in the king’s ‘grace and goodwill’ (‘bonne grace et bienveillance’),9 was published. Behind this lay the presumption that the Parisians had come under enemy rule in spite of themselves, rather than out of choice. They were not to be held responsible for the ambiguous, not to say treasonable, position in which they had lived for the past eighteen years, and were certainly not to be treated as ‘collaborateurs’ in the modern sense of the word. The king, furthermore, undertook to be generous (‘liberal’) towards those who had sustained losses in his service. The Parisian ‘solution’ reflected Charles’s growing confidence that events were now turning in his favour.10 Military considerations influenced what would otherwise be regarded as political decisions. There was no purpose in provoking resistance or outright opposition which might hinder the momentum of the military tide 7 8 9 10

E. Cosneau, Les grands traités de la guerre de Cent Ans (Paris, 1889), p. 146 (cl.35). J. Favier, Nouvelle histoire de Paris. Paris au XVe siècle, 1380–1500 (Paris, 1974), p. 237. Histoire de Chares VII, roy de France, ed. D. Godefroy (Paris, 1661), p. 796. Recueil général des anciennes lois françaises, ed. F.-A. Isambert et al. (29 vols, Paris, 1822–33), VIII, pp. 832–834.

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now running in his favour. The king had to be ready to make concessions. Those who preferred to continue serving the English were allowed to leave. When the Valois Parlement was restored to Paris early in 1437, several of its members were chosen from appointees of the Anglo-Burgundian regime of the previous years, a good example of the ‘honest peace, accord and reconciliation’ which made it possible that this institution – and others – ‘should be restored, re-established and allowed to function in our town of Paris and its neighbourhood in the way it had done before the divisions and for a long time before’.11 For example, Jean de Longueil, appointed lieutenant civil of the Châtelet by the English in 1431, was still in possession of the same office nearly thirty years later.12 Others, too, continued to serve the new administration. Such were the signs of the moderation which inspired the king as he reasserted his authority over the capital. This pragmatic approach to the employment of personnel on both sides of the political divide was to be followed by guidelines issued by the crown on the validity of legal decisions made in the Parlement of Paris during the years 1418 to 1436. Writing from Poitiers, where the rival Valois Parlement had sat for the past fourteen years, on 15 March 1436 (a date which anticipated the capture of Paris by some weeks, and which therefore strongly suggests a policy which was premeditated rather than spontaneous) Charles VII admitted that in the preceding years many had obeyed the English king ‘both in the exercise and administration of justice as well as in other ways, as if he had been their sovereign Lord’. This was true of Burgundian supporters who were now ‘reconciled, returned and reunited with us and to our obedience’.13 Having been asked to declare valid those judgements made in the part of France outside his control since 1418, the king set out the reasons which encouraged him and his council to accede to the request. Scarcely in a position to act otherwise, Charles none the less made the best use of necessity. Wishing, he wrote, to live ‘in harmony and justice’, yet without implying recognition of the jurisdiction and authority of the English, and certainly without prejudice (real or implied) to himself or to any supporters, he agreed that the judgements made by ‘those who called themselves judges’14 outside his effective jurisdiction between persons living in those parts should be regarded as valid, although this was not to apply to cases involving persons residing within his jurisdiction. From this decision it was logical to allow those responsible for these judgements to remain in their positions. The compiler of the register of the Parlement criminel marvelled at the ease with which the transition took place, in which few incidents occurred, and for which all should thank ‘the sweet Jesus . . . 11 ‘. . . bonne paix, accord & reconciliation . . . sont remises, restablies, tenues et exercées en nostredict ville de Paris, ès lieux, ainsi & par la maniere qui avant lesdictes divisions avoient acoustumé estre tenues & exercées d’ancienneté’ (Ordonnances des roys de France de la troisième race (22 vols, Paris, 1723–1849), XIII, p. 229. [Hereafter Ordonnances. . . .]). 12 Favier, Paris au XVe siècle, p. 238. 13 ‘. . . reconciliez envers nous & reduiz & reunis à nous et à nostre obéissance’ (Ordonnances, XIII, p. 216). 14 Ibid, XIII, p. 217.

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for the goodness and kindness which, in his mercy, he has shown today in this town’ which had enabled the events to take place ‘without the shedding of blood or any violence or incidents . . . or at least very few . . . which all creatures must regard as the work of divine not human action’.15 The continuity of the proceedings of the Parlement were an indication of the fact that all sides saw the provision of justice as a necessary function of state which could not be halted or delayed, even in these most unusual times. The future was to bring further evidence of the continuity, one might say the development, of such a policy. At an assembly held with certain princes of the blood at Nevers in March 1442, the king was asked to appoint good counsellors, and to be reconciled to some of the highest nobility who, it was claimed, had sustained huge losses of land to the English while supporting their king against them. The terms used to present these petitions are instructive: ‘that he should appoint to his council notable God-fearing persons who have not adopted extreme positions with regard to the divisions of the past’, to which the king replied that in choosing counsellors ‘he has had no regard to these divisions which he has chosen to forget’.16 To the request that he should be fully reconciled with several dukes, among them Orléans, Alençon, Vendôme and Nevers, the reply given was that the king had been as ‘generous’ as he could be to those lords of the blood and others who had suffered losses in his service. A reference later in the document to ‘peace and reunion’ (‘paix et réunion’) supports the view that, outwardly at least, it was official royal policy to encourage reconciliation between the parties in what still remained a disunited and war-torn country. It was this ideal which appears to have governed and directed the positive and seemingly consistent policy of Charles VII as he strove to reconcile his people to one another and towards the crown of which he was the living embodiment. In this matter, the king gave a strong lead, presenting himself as a figure ready to forgive and to forget events of the past, preferring to look to the future. This last point is important as the king and his counsellors had before them the daunting task of rebuilding France economically and socially, and of giving the country a future under the authority and leadership of the monarchy. There were limits to what could be done about events and decisions of the past generation or two, and there should be as few recriminations as possible. If blame for what had occurred had to be apportioned, then it could be laid firmly at the door the English who, having brought the war to France, had become the cause of that country’s divisions. Frenchmen loyal to the Valois dynasty could be praised for their fidelity; on the

15 Journal de Clément de Fauquembergue, gréffier du Parlement de Paris, 1417–1435, ed. A. Tuetey (3 vols, Paris, SHF, 1903–15), III, pp. 194–195. 16 ‘Qu’il luy plais eslire en son grant conseil gens notables, crémans Dieu, et non extremes ou passionés ès divisions passées . . . Le roy n’a eu regard aux divisions passées . . . et les a et tient pour oubliées’ (Chronique d’Enguerran de Monstrelet, ed. L. Douët-d’Arcq (6 vols, Paris, SHF, 1857–62), VI, p. 40. Variant texts in Recueil général, ed. Isambert (IX, 109), and Chronique de Mathieu d’Escouchy, ed. G. du Fresne de Beaucourt (3 vols, Paris, SHF, 1863–64), III, p. 77.

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other hand, Frenchmen who had temporarily ‘gone English’ should be pardoned for having acted under the coercion of military force. In the final analysis, no distinction should be made between them. France should try to achieve a new beginning under a leader who showed virtues which, if inspired by Christian teaching, were also strongly political in character. Christian influence upon the forming of political attitudes was best expressed, in terms of the needs of mid-fifteenth century France, in the writings and exhortations of Jean Juvénal des Ursins, once bishop of Beauvais, later archbishop of Reims and counsellor to the king. Tireless in his efforts to make Charles into a ‘most Christian king’, Jean Juvénal reiterated time and again that, for the sake of the common good, a king, while always striving for justice, should be ready to exercise the royal attribute of mercy. ‘Sire’, he wrote about 1440, ‘do not have regard to our faults committed in times past, nor to those of our relatives and ancestors nor to our failure to obey your orders, nor to have recognised early enough the obedience which we owed you . . . Alas, sire, you must be ready to show us mercy’.17 The law, he pleaded, should not always be applied to the letter; rather, the king should have some latitude in its application. Mercy should be shown to those who erred; this would bring credit to the ruler himself. Jean Juvénal was anxious that his king should rule with moderation. ‘Justice without mercy’, he wrote, ‘is simply harshness’; unlike others, a king is able to write ‘we remit and pardon’ rather than simply ‘we have punished’.18 His image was of a caring monarchy, readier to pardon than to exercise its rights and exact punishment to the full. The terms granted by the king’s commanders to the towns of Normandy, as these were recaptured from the English mainly in the course of the year 1449, constitute an interesting series of texts which enable us to observe royal policy in action as the war drew to its end. On 17 July, on the eve of the final ‘push’ towards reconquest (‘recouvrement’), the king authorised commissioners to grant favourable terms to the citizens of towns returning into his obedience.19 The military campaign was going so well that the commissioners felt obliged, as their predecessors had felt at the time of the capture of Paris in 1436, not to propose unacceptable conditions which, by provoking resistance, could delay the military advance. Time, or rather the lack of it, was on the side of the defenders who were thus able to gain favourable terms from the king who needed to make the greatest possible progress in the remaining summer months available to him before the campaign would have to be halted. Since it was already getting near to August, the last thing Charles wanted was to be compelled to spend time besieging towns and castles.

17 ‘N’ayez aucun regart a noz faultes du temps passé, ne a celles de noz parens et predecesseurs, car ce que n’avons pas obey a voz commandmens, et que nous n’avons pas assez tost congneu la vraye obeisance que nous vous devions . . . Hé, sire, il est de present temps que tu nous faces misericorde’ (Écrits politiques de Jean Juvénal des Ursins (Paris, SHF, 1978), I, pp. 373–374. 18 ‘. . . justice sans misericorde, c’est severité. . . . remettons et pardonnons . . .’ (Ibid, II, p. 415). 19 Ordonnances, XIV, pp. 59–61.

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The form and content of the letters actually granted suggest that, when negotiations for surrender were taking place, the citizens’ representatives expressed concern about two matters in particular: that they might expect to pay a heavy penalty for their allegiance to the English over the past thirty years, and that their rights as property owners might be open to question or challenge. The views of those seeking re-admission into the French obedience gave the king the opportunity to emphasise that, even in the moment of success, the crown would not act in a triumphalist or vengeful way by exerting the maximum penalty from those who had lived in the enemy obedience. On the contrary, the people of Neufchâtel were told that, ‘wishing to draw our vassals and subjects to us and to treat them with love and kindness’ so as to encourage their future loyalty, the king was willing to ‘put behind him, pardon, suppress all memory of and put aside any wrongdoing in order to receive the people of the town into his good grace’.20 The texts of these letters are all different, but their contents are very similar in tone. At both a moral and a political level, Charles VII was trying to make the kingdom whole, to stabilise it, and to welcome back those who wished to live under his authority. Consequently, all who had turned their backs on the crown and had encouraged the enemy might now benefit from the king’s magnanimity; their treason (the term was not used but the concept was clearly there) and all other crimes against whomsoever committed would now be ‘regarded as never having happened’,21 and they would receive the royal pardon. The granting of a general pardon (‘abolicion generalle’), along with an undertaking not to permit royal prosecutors to pursue miscreants, and a promise to seek out and punish those who might try to avenge acts committed during the past years, constitutes further evidence of a forward-looking approach, important in making a conscious policy of conciliation succeed. What was lacking in all this was a clear sense of legal consistency. We have already observed that the terms agreed at Arras in 1435 relating to the condition in which properties should be returned to their original owners contradicted those set out in the Edict of Compiègne of 1429. The terms granted to the towns of Normandy added further to the confusion. Probably to ensure or, in places which had offered no resistance to the French king’s army, to reward a rapid surrender, the interests of those in possession at the time appear to have been recognised once again at the expense of those loyal to the king. Confirmed in possession of their rights and revenues, the ‘possessioners’ were the beneficiaries of the policy of granting general amnesties even though the Edict of Compiègne would not have come down in their favour. To add to the confusion, the Edict was to be confirmed by the king at Montbazon on 28 October 1450. The text of the accompanying letter emphasised his desire to ‘ensure and maintain good peace and union among our subjects, so that they will no longer recall their conflicts nor the evils 20‘. . . voulans nos vassaulx & subgects recueillir & retraire à nous, & iceulx traicter en toute amour & débonnaireté. . . . mectre en oubly, & icelles [choses] leur abolyr, pardonner, et remectre’ (Ibid, XIV, p. 65). 21 ‘. . . repputez comme non faicts et non avenus’ (Ibid, XIV, pp. 66, 72).

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and difficulties associated with time of war and division which our kingdom has experienced’.22 All judgements made in the courts, including the Parlement, contrary to the terms of the Edict were declared void; the law was to be observed, a decision which suggests that the courts knew or suspected that non-legal considerations, such as military necessity, had influenced earlier decisions. The text of the Edict favouring those loyal to the king was registered by the Parlement for the first time only on 15 February 1451, a royal letter hinting strongly that the court had hitherto been reluctant to take the step, perhaps because of the legal difficulties which it might create for the future. In Rouen, the news of the confirmation caused confusion, as it appeared ‘to be greatly to the prejudice of several notable persons in this region of Normandy and beyond and even several from this city, as it seemed to be in complete contravention of certain things granted by the said lord in the terms of surrender and pardon granted by the said lord to this city’.23 Attempts were to be made to secure letters from the king which would ensure that the terms of surrender of November 1449 were in no way affected by this recent development. On 8 April the delegation reported that the people of the city assembled ‘in large numbers’. Its members were thanked for their work; but the record does not tell us whether they achieved what they had set out to do. This, however, was not the end of the story. The Parlement, reluctant to judge solely on legislation without being able to consider each case separately, and aware that war and years of occupation by the English had created complex problems which were beyond the capability of any single legislative text to resolve, preferred to consider its judgements in accordance with its age-old practices which did not necessarily lead to what might appear as consistency of judgement. Moreover, in July 1454 it published and registered the terms of an amnesty granted by the king to the citizens of Rouen in November 1449, emphasising that it did so without prejudice to the declaration on the Edict of Compiègne made by the king at Montbazon on 28 October 1450. It is clear that the Parlement was intent upon securing maximum freedom for itself in the matter of resolving the sometimes complex legal implications of royal ordinances such as the Edict of Compiègne.24

22 ‘. . . tenir & garder bonne paix & union entre noz subgetz, sans ce qu’ilz aient cause de remembrer les ungs contre les autres, les maulx & inconvéniens faiz & perpetrez durant les guerres & diivisions qui ont esté en nostredit royaume’ (Ibid, XIV, p. 105). 23 ‘. . . grandement preiudicier pluseurs notables personnes de ce pays de Normendie et d’ailleurs, et meme pluseurs de cette ville, et qu’ilz estoient directement contre aucunes choses accordées par ledit seigneur par le traictié, composicion [et] abolicion de ceste ville de Rouen, puis naguere fait et donné par icellui seigneur’. Rouen, Bibliothèque Municipale, Délibérations de la Ville, 1448–53, MS A. 7, fos. 90v, 91 and 114. Local Reaction to the French Reconquest of Normandy (1449–50). The Example of Rouen. See infra pp. 155–168, (currently). 24 Bossuat, ‘Re-establishment of peace’, pp. 78–80. On the part played by accords and by the judges of the Parlement in the judicial processes of this period, see C. Gauvard, ‘Justification and Theory of the Death Penalty at the Parlement of Paris in Late Medieval France’, War, Government and Power in Late Medieval France, ed. C. Allmand (Liverpool, 2000), pp. 190–208.

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At the local level, too, the Edict was not always the basis of arrangements made between those returning to reclaim their inheritances and those in possession whom they could challenge by virtue of its terms. The evidence of local legal records suggests that many compromise agreements, or accords, were reached between parties, often leaving in possession the persons in actual control of the property concerned, although they may have made some kind of financial arrangement in order to achieve this. Such compromises, rather than the rigid application of the law expressed in the Edict of Compiègne, were encouraged by a number of factors. One was the long absence in the Valois obedience of those upon whom rights had devolved, persons who may have settled elsewhere in France and had little inclination to return to a society from which they had been absent, in many cases, for more than thirty years. Nor were they always in a position to provide deeds or other legal proof of the validity of their claims. Economic factors, too, discouraged supporters of the king from pursuing these claims: the costs of litigation could be high, while regular references to the need for repairs suggest that the physical condition of the estates to which they laid claim was not always sound and the profits to be made might not be high; furthermore, there were often debts to be paid, and these, too, might be considerable. In brief, the encouragement to return given by the terms of the Edict, while a factor likely to lead to a degree of legal stability and so to a greater determination to exploit the land by those who saw themselves as its legal owners, did not always prove to be advantageous to those concerned. Cheaper than going to law, arbitration was a procedure often more likely to find practical solutions than decisions handed down by the courts. It was a device much used in these times as France sought to come to terms with the difficult legacy of the divisions caused by war.25 We have already observed that Charles VII’s relations with his great nobility constituted one of the major political problems faced by the king in the middle years of his reign. One whose case proved particularly difficult was Jean II, duke of Alençon, many of whose lands had been overrun by the English and who, taken prisoner at the battle of Verneuil in 1424, had been obliged to alienate others to pay the ransom needed to secure his freedom. Out of favour since 1440, he had unsuccessfully sought financial help from the king. Later, out of malice (so a royal clerk was to claim),26 he began to plot with the English with the intention of helping them return to Normandy, hoping to regain for himself the places he had lost. Such was the core of the accusations levelled against him when, after enquiries lasting some two years had been made, he was finally brought to trial at Vendôme in September 1458. The occasion may best be contextualised by considering the king’s reaction to other treasonable acts perpetrated against him in these years. Generally speaking, Charles VII demonstrated a firmness of purpose, tempered by leniency towards the higher nobility. In meeting the challenge to his authority posed by the princes at 25 On this, see Bossuat, ‘Re-establishment of Peace’; C. Allmand, ‘The Aftermath of War in Fifteenth-Century France’, History, 61 (1976), 344–357; Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, ch. 11. 26 M. G. A. Vale, Charles VII (London, 1974), p. 174.

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this time; ‘clemency was a distinct characteristic of his rule’.27 Those who opposed him were largely reprieved and pardoned, in some cases even returned to favour. So John IV, count of Armagnac who, among other crimes against the royal authority, had flirted with the English, was nonetheless pardoned.28 Alençon’s crime, however, was more serious; in his case many appear to have favoured the death penalty. By contrast what proved significant was the king’s lack of vindictiveness towards the accused. At his trial the representative of the duke of Burgundy was allowed to plead for clemency.29 Another plea was entered by Alençon’s father-in-law, Charles, duke of Orléans who, taken at Agincourt in 1415, had spent the next twenty-five years in English captivity,30 while Jean Juvénal des Ursins, also present, composed his ‘Exortation faicte au Roy’ as a plea for mercy to be shown to Alençon. The king, he claimed, had pardoned many others individually or through general pardons; would he not do the same for a prince of the blood? He would gain greater credit from such an act of mercy than from seeing the law take its course.31 Although Alençon was sentenced to die, Charles VII reduced the sentence to imprisonment during his pleasure. In a very public case he had preferred mercy to the weight of the law. By the time Alencon’s trial had taken place further events had occurred by which we may judge the degree of reconciliation being achieved in France at the end of the Hundred Years’ War. The first was the conquest of Guyenne, which followed upon the recovery of Normandy in 1450. By the summer of 1451 superior military force had won Charles VII the city of Bordeaux and, with it, control of most of Guyenne. Historians are generally agreed that, since Guyenne had never taken the oath of allegiance to the king or to his predecessors, it could not be accused of treason and treated accordingly. As such, the terms granted to its urban populations were favourable: a general pardon32 for those who chose to enter the French king’s obedience and the confirmation of privileges were the most important and the most normal. The agreement made in June 1451 between the Three Estates of the Bordelais and the king’s representatives was likewise moderate in tone and content. The terms granted by Charles VII were generous; Gascon liberties and immunities were to be respected. People would be free to leave the king of France’s jurisdiction if they wished. However, if they chose to stay and took the oath of allegiance, they would benefit from a general pardon, fiscal concessions, the continuation of trade (vital for the economic prosperity of the region), access 27 28 29 30 31 32

Cuttler, Law of Treason, p. 196. Ibid, pp. 202–203. Ibid, pp. 103–104. Ibid, p. 105; P. Champion, Vie de Charles d’Orléans, 1394–1465 (Paris, 1911), pp. 542–548. Écrits politiques, II, 421–422. ‘. . . metre en oubly & tout pardonner et abolir’ (Ordonnances, XIV, 176–177. Jean de Wavrin maintained that the places taken by agreement could equally well have capitulated to assault, had the king not had other ideas: ‘. . . le roy, de sa benignité, voulloit que len les prensist par composition afin de obvier à leffusion de sang humain et destruction de son pays et du peuple quy estoit enclose es dites villes et forteresses’ (Recueil des croniques et anchiennes istories de la Grant Bretaigne . . . par Jehan de Waurin . . . ed. W. and E. Hardy (5 vols, London, RS, 1891), V, p. 165).

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to justice33 and a new currency to be minted in Bordeaux, the king undertaking to pay any profits from this operation into the local economy. Charles VII was doing his best to forget the past and to win over new subjects. However, the return of the English to Bordeaux in October 1452, which necessitated a second French attempt to regain the city (successfully completed in October 1453), was to test severely previous French policy of conciliation. Giving ‘support’ (‘attrait et confort’) to the English was rebellion, since it involved the breaking of oaths and undertakings given only months earlier. The tone of the pardon eventually granted to the city revealed the king’s anger. Admitting that only a few individuals had actively supported the rebellion, and accepting that the majority were afraid of being punished for something for which they were not responsible, the king agreed to receive the people of Bordeaux into his grace and to grant them a pardon for acts committed against him. Nevertheless he withheld their earlier privileges, and exempted certain persons from the general pardon. However, heavy taxes were imposed on both buyers and sellers of wine as well as on other forms of trade on the river Garonne. There followed measures to restrict the wine trade on the river, and to limit the role played in it by the city of Bordeaux, while further curbs on the trade in other commodities was also imposed. With regard to its legal status, Bordeaux was maintained within the jurisdiction of the Parlement of Paris, to be visited every year or two by judges and others who, with local assistance, would judge appeals locally. A fine of 100,000 écus, imposed in 1451, was reduced to only 30,000 écus in response to a petition from the citizens of Bordeaux that the destruction caused by the English on their return to the city had made the raising of such a sum impossible.34 The contrast between the documents of June 1451 and of April 1454 could scarcely have been greater. Most significant were the measures, clearly intended to reduce the value of trade, in particular the wine trade, for which Bordeaux was the region’s centre and main beneficiary. This was a body blow, a punishment which, seemingly uncharacteristic, has tarnished a little the king’s reputation. What was important for Bordeaux (and Charles VII must have known it when planning the intended outcome of his punitive decision) was the decline of trade which resulted from the measure. The absence of English traders which followed not unnaturally at the end of the war, and which a king with good intentions would have taken into account, only exacerbated the commercial situation. This was allowed to continue until resolved eleven years later with the decision of Louis XI to permit the port to be opened up once more to wider commercial activity.35 Both the city and the royal coffers would benefit from the decision. 33 M. Vale, ‘France at the End of the Hundred Years War (c. 1420–1461)’, New Cambridge Medieval History VII, ed. C. Allmand (Cambridge, 1998), VII, p. 402. A ‘cour souveraine’ was functioning by 1452, although thereafter it met only twice, in 1456 and 1459 (G. Hubrecht, ‘Jurisdictions and Competences in Guyenne after its Recovery by France’, in The Recovery of France, ed. P. Lewis, pp. 88–89. A sovereign parlement would be established in Bordeaux in 1462. 34 Ordonnances, XIV, pp. 270–275. 35 C. Allmand (ed). Society at War: The Experience of England and France during the Hundred Years War (Edinburgh, 1973; new edn Woodbridge, 1998), pp. 182–184.

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Like Normandy, Guyenne had a problem with the Edict of Compiègne. Charles VII had entered the territory relatively ‘peacefully’ in 1451; but after the short-lived return of the English to Bordeaux in the following year the area had been reconquered by force, and an altogether tougher attitude taken toward its people. This gave some the opportunity of seeking to apply the terms of the Edict of Compiègne, attempts in which they were opposed by those who claimed that, issued a generation earlier (in 1429) for application in a France which, at that time, did not include Guyenne, it could not now be applied to that territory. Its significance for our purpose is twofold. First, legal records underline that the problems of the recovery of landed interests by individuals citing the Edict were not limited to the more northern parts of France, and that the future social peace of Guyenne was also threatened by conflicts arising out of the problems involving land.36 Secondly, the introduction into Guyenne, in the years following 1453, of French legislation and decrees (the Edict of Compiègne being one of these) was an unpopular development, underlining the fact Guyenne was now part of that much larger area where the law of France would be applied. While it did little to retard that eventual process, the introduction of ‘alien’ laws into a territory proud of its ancient customs and legal procedures just at the time when Normandy had been brought, once again, into the French kingdom was not always conducive to harmony and good relations between ‘conquerors’ and ‘conquered’.37 A final example of the practical problems faced by the crown may be seen in the way in which the role of Joan of Arc in securing victory in the years 1428 to 1430 was treated a generation later. The apparent lack of any attempt to vindicate her for almost twenty years after her execution at Rouen in May 1431 has long been noted by historians. Even when her case was raised in 1450 in order ‘to know the truth’ about her trial and condemnation, it led nowhere. Although a brief enquiry was held in 1452 and was reopened in 1455 as an attempt to vindicate the honour of the Arc family, the process of rehabilitation, as it came to be known, closed with only the annulment of the sentence pronounced against her. Why, by contrast, was there no condemnation of the surviving judges and assessors? A number of reasons have been advanced: the delicate state at the time of France’s relations with the papacy; the reluctance to suggest that Charles VII’s victory against the English around 1450 had owed much to events involving Joan twenty years earlier. However the most convincing reason offered is the king’s unwillingness to raise the matter of ‘collaboration’ by a large group of leading clergy, mainly alumni of the University of Paris, ‘our very dear and much loved first-born daughter’,38 whose privileges the king had confirmed in May 1436, into an issue involving men who, since that day, had mostly demonstrated their allegiance to the crown France. In 1456 the process of rehabilitation pronounced on the verdict delivered by the court 36 M. Vale, English Gascony, 1399–1453 (Oxford, 1970), pp. 221–225; R. Harris, Valois Guyenne (Rochester, NY, Woodbridge, 1994), pp. 101–102. 37 Harris, Valois Guyenne, ch. 5. 38 ‘. . . nostre très-chère & très-aimée Fille première née, l’université de l’Éstude de Paris’ (Ordonnances, XIII, p. 219).

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in Rouen in 1431. Significantly, because it could not afford to do so, it did not deal with the individuals concerned, particularly those who were still alive. That task would be left to history. In 1456, resurrecting certain aspects of the past would not help to bring about the restoration of harmony in society. Nevertheless, there was irony in the fact that Thomas de Courcelles, chosen to preach the sermon at Charles VII’s funeral in August 1461, had been involved in the decision to submit to torture the young girl who, many thought, had given impetus to the movement which had restored the king to the full exercise of his royal authority.39 What is the broad context of these attempts, largely successful, to achieve reconciliation in mid-fifteenth-century France? First, they may be seen as an essential part of restoring peace and order in a much divided kingdom which had experienced both civil conflict and occupation of part of its territory by the English. If there were to be peace which all desired, the past must be cast into oblivion, crimes pardoned, purges and witch hunts forbidden, the signs and symbols of factions and divisions outlawed, and the continuity of justice maintained. The policy of granting general pardons was both sensible and realistic; reassuring to those entering – or re-entering – the royal obedience was the promise that none would be allowed to rake up the ashes of the past. Further, the outlawing of the old party titles40 and party badges (the bende, or distinguishing sash, worn by the Armagnacs,41 the cross of St Andrew worn by the Burgundians) was a further step in the direction of banishing provocative and emotive political symbols from public life.42 The moderation of the language of official documents and following them, that used by the chroniclers corresponded to the king’s conciliatory approach. Persons recognising his sovereignty must be received ‘peacefully’, and none was in any way to be hounded or libelled.43 The king, at least, knew that, for the sake of the future, the past should be forgotten. Secondly, we may see this way forward as part of the reassertion of royal authority in France, reflected in the growing effectiveness of the crown which, by 1453, had been re-emerging for a decade or more. In a country so recently divided, the monarchy was the only institution which could unite and give it a lead. It needed peace both to succeed and to bring it the benefits which would follow from that peace. Only the monarchy could successfully bring about the reconstruction of France, keep 39 On this matter see Vale, Charles VII, ch. 3. 40 ‘Ever since France first heard the names “Burgundian” and, “Armagnac”, every crime that can be thought or spoken of has been committed in the kingdom of France, so that innocent blood cries for vengeance before God’ (Parisian Journal, p. 146). 41 Ibid, p. 54, n. 1. 42 Bossuat, ‘Re-establishment of Peace’, pp. 78, 365, nn. 42–43; P. S. Lewis, Later Medieval France: The Polity (London and New York, 1968), p. 75 for an example of the name ‘Armagnac’ being used as a term of abuse. It is striking, however, how the anonymous Parisian, normally no lover of the Armagnacs or of their treatment of his city and its people (see Parisian Journal, p. 54) refers no more to them as such after 1436, significantly returning to the term ‘Francoys’ which he had used in the period up to 1417, before the major divisions which rent the French nation became too apparent. The use of ‘Français’ was intended to indicate Charles VII as king of a less divided France. 43 ‘. . . en quelque manière calumpnez’’ (Ordonnances, XIV, p. 77).

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the nobility in its place, encourage (where necessary) the repopulation of towns and country, and stimulate trade and economic regeneration. In order to achieve all – or any – of these, the king had to demand that there be peace within the kingdom. What may surprise is the apparent inconsistency of the law as a means of achieving peace. The Edict of Compiègne, for example, represented a ‘hard-line’ and partisan solution to the problems raised by returning populations expecting to be rewarded for their loyalty to the Valois cause. In practice, politics (in particular when it came to the reality of the bargaining which took place at city gates)44 dictated that concessions should be made to further the process of reconquest; the talking and bargaining between individuals who had legal cases to pursue could take place later. Generally, a pragmatic approach to practical problems was often more telling than a rigid application of a legal text or principle. However, two factors certainly helped to resolve a potentially divisive situation. First, not all who had a claim to press wished to make much of it in reality, in particular if difficulties arose or economic reasons did not make it worth their while spending time and money in the courts. Secondly the spirit of compromise, preached by (among others) Jean Juvénal des Ursins, and formalised in out-of-court settlements, or accords, negotiated by persons acting as arbitrators, must often have taken the bitterness out of what might have been acrimonious conflicts at law. Society, as well as individuals, benefited from such procedures. In 1444 Rolando Valenti, the Milanese humanist living in Bayeux in the service of Zenon da Castiglione, the town’s Italian bishop, wrote that the peace-making of the time must not be held up by the ‘hatred and injuries of past times’, nor by the ‘long-standing harshness of mind’ or ‘obstinate and rebellious spirits’ of certain individuals.45 Old hatreds, he was suggesting, existed; yet, overall, our sources tell us little about them.46 Sectional interests do not appear to have delayed the advances made towards unity by the kingdom of France in the second half of the fifteenth century. It was for the country as a whole that Charles VII ordered Masses of thanksgiving to be said annually on 12 August, the day of the capture of Cherbourg from the English.47 As Charles of Orléans expressed it in the oration delivered in favour of the duke of Alençon in 1458, ‘for a long time past none of your predecessors has held the kingdom so united in his grasp as you hold it now’.48 Uttered as part of a plea that mercy be shown to a man on trial for his life, these words were a recognition that reconciliation, although it had met challenges, had largely been successful. 44 The terms for the surrender of Lisieux were agreed ‘devant la porte de ladicte ville de Lisieux’ (Ibid, XIV, p. 64). 45 ‘. . . odia et veteres iniurias . . . inveteratam animorum duriciam . . . obduratos et efferatos animos . . .’ (Bayeux, Bibliothèque Capitulaire, MS 5, fol. 12). 46 See Bossuat. ‘Re-establishment of Peace’, pp. 70, 364, n. 9; Lewis, Later Medieval France, pp. 75–76; Thompson, Paris and Its People, pp. 236–239; Hubrecht, ‘Jurisdictions and Competences, p. 91. 47 Allmand, Lancastrian Normandy, pp. 304–305. 48 ‘. . . car, passé long temps, nulz de vos prédecesseurs n’ont eu le royaume si entire en leurs mains comme vous l’avez’ (Champion, Charles d’Orléans, p. 543).

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13 SPIES AND SPYING IN THE F O U RT E E N T H C E N T U RY

The use of spies, claimed Philippe de Mézières, is always necessary, but especially so in time of war, both to observe the enemy and those of doubtful loyalty, and to keep commanders fully informed of their intentions.1 Perhaps it was Mézières’ experience in Cyprus, and his contacts with the Byzantine and Islamic worlds, which had led him to appreciate this aspect of war.2 The Venetians had long understood the importance of spying, were it primarily but for commercial reasons. But the need to have information of an enemy’s military intentions was seen as equally pressing. Writing in the second half of the thirteenth century, Fidenzio de Padua advised the West that Christians should follow the Islamic practice of keeping themselves well informed of what was happening ‘non solum in partibus propinquis, sed etiam in partibus remotis’. The use of faithful spies, he argued, could lead to much good and the avoidance of trouble and anxiety, especially in time of war,3 a doctrine which Gilbert de Lannoy, for one, tried to put into practice in the course of his travels in the eastern Mediterranean in 1422.4 In the West, the wars of the late Middle Ages witnessed an evolving attitude towards spies, whose services were coming to be increasingly used on all sides. It is significant that the chroniclers Walter of Guisborough and Bartholomew Cotton should have recorded, with vividness, the treasonable activities and espionage of

1 Philippe de Mézières, Le Songe du Vieil Pèlerin, ed. G. W. Coopland (2 vols, Cambridge, 1969), ii, pp. 84–85, 404–406; Dora M. Bell, Étude sur le Songe du Vieil Pèlerin de Philippe de Mézières (1327–1405) (Geneva, 1955), p. 175. 2 For Mézières’ career, see N. Jorga, Philippe de Mézières et la croisade au XIVe siècle, Fasc. 110, Bibliothèque de l’École des Hautes Études (Paris, 1896; repr. London, 1973). 3 Fidenzio de Padua, Liber recuperatonis Terre Sancte, ed. G. Golubovich, Biblioteca Bio-Bibliografica della Terra Sancta e dell’ Oriento Francescano (Florence, 1913), ii, p. 33 (‘De exploratoribus), cited in part by A. S. Atiya, The Crusade in the Later Middle Ages (London, 1938; repr. New York, 1965), p. 40. 4 ‘A Survey of Egypt and Syria Undertaken in the Year 1422 by Sir Gilbert de Lannoy, Knight’, ed. and trans. J. Webb, Archaeologia, xxi (1827), 281–444. ‘Item, a sceu le dit messier Guillebert par information qu’il y a grant foison darballestres de romanie, et asses de petis canons; et non mie nul gros dedens la ville [d’Alexandrie] et y a grant nombre daballestries’ (p. 317).

DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-18

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Thomas Turberville in 1295.5 In the fourteenth century, as has been pointed out, other chroniclers (Froissart and Geoffrey le Baker are instanced) recounted their version of events in such a way as to show that they clearly understood that many military decisions were based upon information obtained by persons who were, quite evidently, spies.6 Their Scottish contemporary, John Barbour, archdeacon of Aberdeen, likewise made a number of detailed references to episodes in the military career of Robert Bruce in which spies, one of whom he named, were involved. Clearly Barbour saw nothing unusual in both sides using spies and other forms of ‘slycht’ and ‘sutelte’ in the guerrilla warfare which was fought in Scotland and the Border country in the early fourteenth century.7 Some medieval spies are known to us, in spite of a variety of disguises which it is not always easy to penetrate. If a nuntius, a vespilio, a coureur, or a chevaucheur may have been a spy, an espie or an explorator was almost certainly one. Governments were extremely reticent about referring to secret agents in their employ. The necessarily clandestine nature of fourteenth century espionage has, to this day, prevented historians from gaining a complete insight into it. A vagueness in terminology is apparent in many documentary sources which may be concerned with spies and spying. For example, English accounting documents of the period frequently contain references to payments made to messengers and others sent ‘in negociis regis secretis’, ‘pour certaines busoignes qe nous touchent’, or ‘en noz secrees busoignes’. In many cases the absence of less ambiguous evidence makes it difficult to ascertain what precisely was meant by such terms. Indeed, a wide variety of inferences may be drawn from them. Sometimes they might mean nothing more than diplomatic intercourse with the heads or representatives of other states. The ambassadors who travelled from the English court to treat with Bernabo Visconti of Milan in 1379 were sent ‘in secretis negociis’.8 Often, however, such secret business was perfectly innocent. In 1371, Esmon Rose made three journeys to Flanders and Picardy on ‘secrees busoignes dont nous lui chargasmes’, although the object of his travels was, in fact, to purchase destriers for Edward III.9 Evidently the term ‘secret’ often meant nothing more than ‘private’, although it is equally clear that in many cases it meant something more than run-of-the-mill letter-bearing.10

5 The Chronicle of Walter of Guisborough, ed. H. Rothwell (London, 1957), pp. 252–254; Bartholomaei de Cotton, monachi Norwicensis, Historia Anglicana, ed. H. R. Luard (London, 1859), p. 306, cited by J. G. Edwards, ‘The Treason of Thomas Turberville, 1295’, Studies in Medieval History Presented to Frederick Maurice Powicke, ed. R. W. Hunt, W. A. Pantin and R. W. Southern (Oxford, 1948), pp. 296–309. 6 H. J. Hewitt, The Organization of War under Edward III, 1338–62 (Manchester, 1966), p. 4. 7 John Barbour, The Bruce; or the Book of the Most Excellent and Noble Prince, Robert de Broyss, King of Scots, ed. W. W. Skeat (2 vols, Edinburcgh, 1894) Bk. vii, lines 522–563; B. W. Kliman, ‘The Idea of Chivalry in John Barbour’s Bruce’, Medieval Studies, xxxv (1973), 489–496. 8 TNA, E.364/13, mm. 5v, 6. 9 TNA, E.404/10/66. 10 M. C. Hill, The King’s Messengers, 1199–1377 (London, 1961), p. 98.

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To the mind of the fourteenth century the distinction between the spy and the messenger was a fine one. This is made clear by the fact that in both England and France there was a tendency to include payments to persons whom we would regard as spies among the expenditure on messengers. The wardrobe book of 44 Edward III records, within a list of messengers’ expenses, a payment of 110 marks to Frank de Hale, captain of Calais, for expenses ‘sur divers message[r]s et autres espies . . . as diverses parties pour espier et savoir la volente et les faitz des enemys de France’.11 From this it appears that the term ‘messenger’ could be employed as a synonym for ‘spy’. Similarly, in 1339, ‘nuncii’ were sent by Edward III to discover information about certain galleys in Norman ports,12 while in 1425 and 1426 Burgundian ‘messengiers’ and ‘chevauchiers’ were sent to England and Holland to discover news of the English army.13 None the less, while spies might be coyly described as ‘messengers’, it is clear that ordinary messengers were always expected to be on the alert for information when travelling abroad, especially in the realm of a potential enemy. English messengers dispatched to the French court in Paris in 1323–24 sent Edward II a very detailed account of the movements of the French king and of the state of current affairs in France.14 In addition, messengers travelling abroad on specific business could inform the king of any discoveries made incidentally; in 1385 Thomas atte Mille was paid 40 shillings for bringing to the king ‘nouvelles . . . de noz messages esteantz es parties de dela pour la trete de la pees’.15 Occasionally, too, messengers were instructed ‘par commandement de la buche’, and were likewise expected to report orally to the king and council.16 Messengers bearing important news or good tidings, in addition to the letters which they carried, were often rewarded for these additional services.17 Some, however, felt that not all information, however obtained, might legitimately be used in war. Besides Froissart’s apparent assumption that the activities of spies were compatible with the practice of chivalric war must be placed Mézières’ timely reminder that war must be pursued ‘tousjours a la doubtance de Dieu, vaillament, sans fare ou consenter . . . aucune chose qui soit encontre loyaute et honourable guerre’.18

11 TNA, E.404/10/65; Issue Rolls of Thomas de Brantingham, bishop of Exeter, 44 Edward III, 1370, ed. F. Devon (London, 1835), p. 493. 12 TNA, E. 36/203, fo. 112v. 13 Lille, Archives départementales du Nord, B. 1933, fos. 67v, 77. On the words used to disguise spies, see also C. Allmand, ‘Intelligence in the Hundred Years War’, Go Spy the Land. Military Intelligence in History, ed. K. Neilson and B. J. C. McKercher (Westport, CT and London, 1992), p. 15. 14 Calendar of Chancery Warrants, A.D. 1244–1326 (London, 1927), pp. 548–549. 15 TNA, E.404/14/90. 16 For example, TNA, E.101/311/13. 17 In 1369, Clayskin de la Haye was rewarded with 20 marks ‘de nostre doun’ for bringing news to Edward III concerning ‘la nativite dun filz de la duchesse de Bayverer (TNA, E.404/10/64). 18 Songe du Vieil Pèlerin, ii, pp. 85 and 406.

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Among those who must always reflect an exemplary sense of honour were the messengers extraordinary, the heralds. In the fifteenth century both Anjou King of Arms and Sicily Herald lamented that heralds were not what they had once been: Anjou King maintained that pursuivants abused their diplomatic immunity to spy out military plans for their masters, while Sicily Herald reminded his fellows of their obligation to ‘tenir secret tout ce qu’ilz verront tant de l’ung comme de l’autre, soit de nombre de gens, d’ordonnance de batailles . . . car, sans ce, foy ne seroit a adjouter a eulx, et seroient reputes et tenus pour espies’. But the information which the herald might pick up in the course of performing his duties could present him with a problem of loyalty. If he knew he might tell his master not to take a particular road but to choose another; he could not, however, give reasons for this advice which would be offered only in the fulfilment of every man’s duty to save life.19 The matter went further still. A herald who betrayed the secrets or plans of his master’s enemies must be punished by his master for having broken his trust, after which the enemies must be informed of what had been done, and assured that no advantage could be taken of the information which had been obtained in this manner: Car sil fut advenir que lun desdis officiers eust, par aucune adventure, descouvert ou rapporte lestat et la discrecion dune partie a lautre ou des adversaires de son maistre ou seigneur, icellui seigneur eust tantost, et sans delay, assemble son conseil, et icellui officier eust este pugny tant et si largement que tous aultres y eussent prins exemple. Et eust tantost envoye devers sesdis adversaires ung autre officier darmes, en eulx faisant savoir la trayson, desloyaute et maudis rapport que icellui officier avoit fait deulx, en eulx significant que icellui ne eussent jamais en foy ne en credence, attendu que il avoit dit et declare la discrecion et estat deulx, ce que faire ne devoit.20 The opinion of another herald, Jean Herard, that there were too many pursuivants active in his day and that ‘telz gens, a proprement parler, ne doibvent estre appelles heraulx ne poursievans, mais espyes’,21 is an interesting comment upon the situation at the end of the Middle Ages, emphasising, as it does, that the activities of 19 A Wagner, Heralds of England (London, 1967), pp. 43 and 45; F. Roland, Parties inédites de l’oeuvre de Sicile, héraut d’Alphonse V, roi d’Aragon (Mons, 1867), p. 47; and P. Adam-Even, ‘Les fonctions militaires des hérauts d’armes’, Archives héraldiques suisses, lxxi (1957), 8–10. 20 London, College of Arms, Ms M. 19. fo. 82v. This manuscript was printed in a slightly different version by Roland, Parties inédites de l’oeuvre de Sicile, p. 83. 21 Criticism is also levelled at the new captains who appoint heralds of their own, men of little or no virtue who betray their office by seeking out the enemy’s secrets simply to please their masters. The indictment is levelled against both the heralds (‘menteurs et desleaux rapporteurs’) and their masters who do not understand that a herald’s role in war must be an entirely honourable one. (Roland, Parties inédites de l’oeuvre de Sicile, pp. 84–85) . . . In July 1377 William de Redineshull was granted 100s by Richard II in part payment of expenses incurred in travelling from Newcastle upon

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spies, however necessary they might be, constituted an aspect of war which was, in some measure, ignoble and certainly not proper for one who belonged to the international fraternity of heralds, and who swore to maintain its code of conduct. Because of the diplomatic courtesies extended to them, ambassadors came to be regarded as being potentially among the best spies. But their very immunity caused many to be deeply suspicious of all that they did and of all to whom they talked. When emphasising that the itineraries of foreign ambassadors should be closely controlled and their every movement carefully watched, Philippe de Commynes was only urging upon host countries the long recognised need to preserve their secrets.22 In both England and France ambassadors and royal messengers were escorted partly as a mark of honour (especially in the case of large and notable embassies), partly to ensure their safety but principally to make certain that they saw nothing, nor talked to any person who might give them evidence of what could be of value to them.23 In the early summer of 1415, the monastic chronicler Thomas Walsingham recalled, Henry V had gathered his army near Southampton in readiness for the invasion of Normandy which was soon to follow. The French, probably alerted to the English king’s intentions but not knowing where he would land, sent a final embassy to Henry, who rejected its proposals and ordered it back to London. By now, however, the ambassadors had had a glimpse of the extensive preparations which the English had made for the expedition and, hoping to bring the news to their own countrymen so that effective measures for defence might be taken, they tried to make their escape unseen (latenter). Their plan, however, was frustrated and the ambassadors found themselves arrested and held in custody.24 That such drastic action should have proved necessary is scarcely surprising. Only a few weeks before this incident Henry had written to the French king announcing his intention of reducing the period for which the ambassadors’ safe conducts would be valid, since he regarded the time granted to them for the completion of their mission as excessively long.25 It is not unreasonable to deduce that Henry was himself suspicious in advance of the enemy’s motive in wanting to send an embassy to him, and that events justified him in the detention of its members, a step which effectively prevented them from alerting the defences of the country which the English were about to invade. The ready assumption that ambassadors, unlike heralds, might properly make use of, and report back, information gleaned during the period of their embassies is unlikely to surprise us. If, by the second half of the fifteenth century, Commynes

22 23 24 25

Tyne to London ‘ad ducendum quondam heraldum de Francia, captum super Marchiam Scotie. . . . coram consilio’ (TNA, E.403/463, m. 2). P. Dufournet, La destruction des mythes dans les mémoires de Philippe de Commynes (Geneva, 1966), pp. 668–669. Hill, The King’s Messengers, pp. 96–97. The St. Albans Chronicle, 1406–20, ed. V. H. Galbraith (Oxford, 1937), pp. 85–86. N. H. Nicolas, History of the Battle of Agincourt (2nd edn, London, 1832), Appendix 1, p. 3. Mézières, too, strongly advised that persons coming under safe conduct should be very closely watched. (Songe du Vieil Pèlerin, I, p. 512).

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regarded ambassadors as legalised spies, this was an opinion shared by many, if not most, of his contemporaries, especially Italians.26 Most embassies, indeed, were equipped with a number of subordinate officials who could be sent back to their king or prince at a moment’s notice, should the need for contact between him and the ambassadors arise. The activities of ambassadors touched upon espionage in other ways, too. Medieval rulers usually kept agents permanently in the realms of their enemies, and such persons might carry out their work undetected for a considerable number of years. It appears that ambassadors, when on embassy, often made contact with undercover agents from the same court, and no doubt received information from them which was either to be conveyed to their masters or which might be relevant to the negotiations which the ambassadors were conducting. In 1413 Breton ambassadors, sent to the court of Henry V for truce negotiations, made contact with two agents, Langueffort and Le Meignen, who had been at work in England since at least 1406 in the pay of Duke John V, and whose task it was to find out what went on at Westminster.27 Cummynes’ advice to rulers to watch carefully those who visited foreign ambassadors was indeed very fitting.28 Yet, although messengers and ambassadors were expected to uncover information, their involvement in matters of intelligence was only incidental to their other, main duties. Recorded evidence affords glimpses of agents whose sole function was concerned with espionage, although such references are relatively few. None the less, it is certain that English royal spies formed a class distinct from royal messengers and others who were only occasionally involved in spying. It is, however, all too easy to overlook these professional spies since, in addition to the difficulties already adduced, many entries in the accounting documents of the period merely name the recipient and the sum paid, but make no mention of the services for which the payment was made. For instance, the Issue Roll of Michaelmas Term 1378 records a payment made on 25 October to a French squire, Nicolas Briser, who was retained by Richard II for an annual fee of 50 marks.29 Since many foreign knights and esquires were thus retained by the crown for military purposes during this period, the payment made to Briser could justifiably be construed as having been made for such a purpose. However, some indication of the true nature of Briser’s

26 On this matter, see D. E. Queller, The Office of Ambassador in the Middle Ages (Princeton, 1967), p. 98. 27 G. A. Knowlson, Jean V, duc de Bretagne, et l’Angletterre (1399–1442) (Rennes and Cambridge, 1964), p. 82. It is interesting to note that Langueffort’s wife received payments from the duke, for unspecified reasons, while her husband was at work in England, and it is tempting to assume that these payments were made in respect of her husband’s service (Ibid, p. 46). It is known, too, that John V maintained agents in Paris to keep him informed of events there. For the unhappy fate of a Breton agent working in London, see Allmand, ‘Intelligence in the Hundred Years War’, Go Spy the Land: Military Intelligence in History, pp. 42 and 46: R. A. Griffiths, ‘Un Espion Breton à Londres, 1425–1429’, Annales de Bretagne et des Pays de l’Ouest, 86 (1979), 399–403. 28 Philippe de Commynes, Memoires, ed. J. Calmette and G. Durville (3 vols, Paris, 1925), i. 219. 29 TNA., E.403/471, m. 5. Referred to twice in the records of these months, he was described as ‘valletus de Harfleu’ some months later. (E.403/472, mm. 6, and 13.

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employment was given in April 1379, when he received 71s. 1d. for ‘jurato domino regi coram consilio suo ad faciendum comodum ipsius domini regis meliori modo poterit ad nocumentum inimicorum suorum in expedicionem guerrarum regis’,30 only a few months after he had been described as an ‘explorator regis’,31 the nature of his position thus being clearly revealed. In other cases lack of further evidence means that many other spies remain undetected to this day. Despite the reticence of the English authorities to describe their agents more exactly, a small number of individuals may positively be identified as spies. The names of the agents sent to Normandy in 1339, and those dispatched by Frank de Hale from Calais in 1370, are not recorded. From the 1370s onwards, however, named spies begin to appear more frequently in English records. In the years 1377–78, Nicolas Hakenet (or Hakynet), a French esquire, described as ‘explorator regis’, received several payments for intelligence work carried out in the English king’s service. On 21 September 1377, he was paid 10 marks for a journey ‘ad partes transmarinas ad explorandum de flota navium Francie et de ordinacione inimicorum regis in eisdem partibus’,32 while on 23 November he received expenses ‘de dono regis’ for ‘morando in Londonia, ibiem expectando voluntatis ipsius domini regis et consilii sui’;33 later, on 12 December, he was paid five marks and another five on 29 January 1378, for going at the council’s behest ‘versus partes Francie, ad explorandum de ordinacione inimicorum pro guerra in partibus predictis’.34 A further 40 s. were paid to him on 25 September 1378, ‘pro tempore quo stetavit Londonie, attendens voluntatem consilii regis’.35 An interesting point to note is that the payment of September 1377 was made by the hand of another known agent, the above mentioned Nicolas Briser. Both are known to have been active in France in 1377–78, and may possibly have formed part of a spy ring organised in enemy territory on behalf of the English crown. It is known that such a well organised network of agents was established in Flanders by the English council in the 1380s, and was functioning in 1386–87,36 although other groups of agents, and individual agents, were at work at the same time elsewhere. In October 1385, for instance, Arnald Turrour was sent ‘apud Mergate in partibus de Pycardye, ad morendum et explorandum in dictis partibus de ordinacione inimicorum de Francia’,37 while in the following October Frederick Fullyng and Richard Henley were dispatched from Calais with news ‘de exercitu adversarii regis de Francia’.38 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

TNA, E.403/472, m. 1. TNA, E.403/471, m. 8. He was also described thus on 14 July 1379 (Ibid, m. 13). TNA, E. 403/463, m. 6. TNA, E. 403/467, m. 8. Ibid, mm. 10, 14. TNA, E. 403/468, m. 12. For a full account of this network, see J. J. N. Palmer, England, France and Christendom, 1377–99 (London, 1972), pp. 123–124, and Appendix 1. 37 TNA, E. 403/510, m. 12. 38 TNA, E. 403/515, m. 1.

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It seems, too, that Edward III, by maintaining agents within the English companies in France, followed a dictum which was later to be expressed by Philippe de Mézières.39 In February 1370, Roger Hilton and John de Neuby, ‘esquiers de la grande compaignie’, brought the king and council news from Normandy ‘de certeines secrees busoignes dont Ils furent charges de part nous’, for which they received £100 in the king’s gift40 A striking feature of the agents employed by the English crown in the 1370s and 1380s was that many of them were aliens. All those working for the English in Ghent 1386–87, with the exception of Brother Adam Bamford, appear to have been of Flemish stock. The appointment of French and Flemings as agents by the English had definite advantages: they spoke the enemy’s language as natives and would thus arouse less suspicion than strangers with the enemy authorities.41 Persons speaking Netherlandish dialects, for instance, could work without undue danger in Flanders, and it is known that Middleburg, in Zeeland, was an important centre for espionage from which the English, during the 1380s, dispatched agents speaking these dialects.42 Aliens working as agents might even hold positions of importance or responsibility in their native areas, and would thus be more valuable to their masters. It was in return for his freedom that Thomas Turberville, captured in Gascony in April 1295, agreed to act as a French spy at the court of Edward I, to which he returned, having ‘escaped’, in August 1295, leaving his children in France as hostages. A short while later he was writing to the prevot of Paris that the Isle of Wight was undefended, and that if the Scots were to rise in rebellion against the English, the Welsh might do likewise. But Turberville was already uneasy about his position near the King: ‘acone gens’, he wrote to his French correspondent, ‘unt suspecion vers moy, `pur cso ke jeo ay dyt ke suy eschape hors de la prison’, a story which was evidently leading men to doubt his loyalty to the king. Betrayed and then arrested, Turberville was tried and executed.43 Almost a century later, Sir Ralph Travers was unjustly accused of similar treasonable correspondence with the French: importance must be attached to the statement, made at his trial, that to have a spy who could pass on vital information personally obtained from Richard

39 ‘Le chevetaine [of the army, town or castle] . . . doit tousjours ymaginer que le roy son seigneur [a] continuelment ses secretes espies en l’ost pour enquester et espier secretement le gouvernement du chevetaine, et comment l’ost se porte’. (Songe du Vieil Pèlerin, I, 519). Spies were also employed internally within the administration to check upon the functions of royal officers. In 1335, for instance, agents were named to investigate secretly the dealings of certain collectors of tenths and fifteenths who had ‘borne themselves ill’, and to report their findings to the council (CPR, 1334–38, p. 202). 40 TNA, E. 404/10/65. 41 See Froissart’s reference to spies ‘oult bien parlant francoys, alemant et angloys’ (Froissart, Oeuvres, Chroniques, ed. K. de Lettenhove (29 vols, Brussels, 1870–77), v, p. 545). 42 In September 1386, for instance, the mayor of the Staple at Middelburg was ordered to certify the council de ordinacione Francigenarum’ (TNA, E. 403/512, m. 21). 43 See above, n. 5.

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II’s council would be of greater use to Charles VI than the possession of Calais and other local castles.44 That all spies did not have direct access to the king’s council chamber, however, goes without saying.45 If it is difficult to estimate, from financial sources, both the numbers of spies employed by the English and the successes which they may have had, although the reaction of the French populace and authorities to the threat of espionage may be a fair indication of the extent to which foreign agents were at work in France in time of war. The inhabitants of the border regions, the Calais March, the southwest, and the areas around other English-held territories were particularly aware of the threat. Local reaction was often one of violence. In September 1359, three inhabitants of Chitry were pardoned by the dauphin, Charles, for having killed in error two valets whom they had mistaken for spies sent from the English garrison at Chablis.46 At the same time, other pardons were granted to certain men of Monampteuil for the similar murder of Lamentier le Clay whom they had taken in error for an English spy from Vailly.47 These two examples were by no means isolated ones. On a less violent level, where the numerous denunciations of persons suspected by their fellows of being enemy agents, any dealings with the enemy, however innocent, might cause immediate suspicion. In 1369, Adam Hane, a monk of Le Tréport, was imprisoned for having dealings with the Navarrese, even though he had been merely involved in negotiations for the release of French prisoners held by them.48 Nor were the authorities slow to act. In June 1359, the abbess of Saint-Nicolas at Bar-sur-Aube was indicted by Jean de Chalon, the French king’s lieutenant in Sens, Troyes, and Chaumont, on suspicion of treason and correspondence with the enemy.49 Arrests of such suspects were frequent. Frenchmen who lived abroad, particularly in the realm of an enemy, were regarded as security risks on their return, and stood in danger of arrest. Such was the fate of the unfortunate Evrart Hostelier who, returning to France in 1369 after having lived eighteen years in England, was arrested by the French authorities as an enemy agent.50 Other stringent security measures were taken. An ordonnance of 1370, for instance, decreed that prisoners of war held in the castle of Saint-Omer should be kept in rooms 44 ‘. . . pluis profiteroit & plerroit al dit Adversaire & a son conseil d’avoir une telle persone come vous estes, de leur covyne & assent, en le conseil de notre seigneur le roi d’Engletterre, pur lour conforter et acerter de privitees, purpos et affaires de notre Conseil, que d’avoir la ville de Caleys ou autre forteresce du roi notre seigneur a lour volentee’ (Rotuli Parliamentorum, iii, p. 92). 45 One English agent, however, who escaped the vigilance of the Burgundian authorities in 1387 was no less a person than the clerk of the city of Ghent (Palmer, England, France and Christendom, p. 231). 46 Paris, AN., JJ.90, fo. 138v, no. 269. 47 Ibid, fo. 142, no. 275. At the time of the murder, the three men were engaged in the fortification of the church at Monampteuil, at the command of the bishop of Laon. It may fairly be said that they thus had at least some justification for their suspicions that their victim had come to spy on the progress of the building of the new defences. 48 Ibid, fo. 195, no. 386. 49 Ibid, fo. 108v, no. 197. 50 Ibid, fo. 27, no. 17.

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without windows lest they were to ‘bien veoir et savoir le convenant, estat et forteresce de la dite ville . . . au tresgraunt domage, meschief et inconvenient de nous et de la dite ville’,51 while suspected spies captured in 1345 were provided with a heavily armed escort which accompanied them from Neuilly to Caen, where they were taken for interrogation.52 The extent of French reaction against espionage certainly implies considerable activity, and perhaps a certain success, by the English in this field, and although the role played by spies is, to a large extent, indeterminate, certain aspects of their functions are clear. Not only was there the obvious task of finding out the enemy’s secrets, his plans, his military preparations and organisation, and other information of interest, but such uncovered secrets had to be conveyed back to the appropriate authorities. The usefulness of agents, however was not restricted to these roles. They were also employed in an offensive role, as agents provocateurs, whose task included the spreading of false rumours to undermine the morale of the enemy and to mislead his military leaders. Of prime importance, too, were liaisons with dissident elements in regions under French rule: it is plain, for example, that in the summer of 1385 English agents were in constant contact with the antiFrench and anti-Burgundian factions in the towns of Ghent and Damme.53 In all these activities, an important asset to English espionage was the possession of bases in France. These afforded footholds within enemy territory from which not only military expeditions could be launched but from which agents, too, could easily be dispatched. Calais was one such centre for spies. When Hennequin du Bos, captured while on Jean de Vienne’s expedition to Scotland in 1385, had decided ‘d’estre Engles & de tenir la partie des Engles’ and agreed to serve them as a spy, it was to Calais that the English sent him. There, according to the confession which he made some years later to the French authorities, he met other spies about to travel to different parts of France, to Rethel and Champagne, to the Lendit and other fairs, even as far as Poitou. All were to return in a variety of disguises, one dressed as a monk, another as a hospitaler, a third as a goldsmith. In all cases Calais was to be their base.54 This, and further evidence, suggests that the most was made of Calais, a great economic and military centre where French and English influences rubbed shoulders, a centre in and from which spies and informers of all parties could hope to function with some success. From a petition filed by the captain in 1417, we learn of his need to spend £100 a year ‘pour son espiaille en Fraunce et ayllours pour le bien et save garde de la ville de Calays, come autres capitains illoeques out heuz devaunt ceste temps’.55 If Calais was ‘an 51 Saint-Omer, Archives Municipales, CCXXVI, 3. 52 L. Delisle, Actes normands de la Chambre des Comptes sous Philippe de Valois (Paris, 1881), p. 185. 53 TNA, E.403/508, mm. 17, 18, 20 and 22. 54 Registre Criminel du Châtelet de Paris du 6 septembre 1389 au 18 mai 1392, ed. H. Duplès-Agier (2 vols, Paris, 1861–64), I, pp. 379–393. 55 Proceedings and Ordinances of the Privy Council of England, (PPC), ed. N. H. Nicolas (7 vols, London, 1834–37), II, p. 210.

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admirable window for observing what the French were up to’,56 the reverse was almost equally true. Bases such as Calais served, too, as centres for the accumulation of information which could then either be conveyed to England or acted upon by the commander of the local garrison, as he saw fit.57 Intelligence brought back there was treated as having the greatest priority and was acted upon immediately. Thus William de Weston, arraigned before Parliament in 1377 for surrendering the fortress of Audruicq, sought to justify himself by claiming that he had been informed by a spy of the approach of a great enemy force armed with ‘tres graundes et tres grevouses ordinanes’. When the force did appear, indeed armed with a large number of guns, Weston, acting upon the information which he had received, surrendered the fortress.58 In 1385 Calais likewise served as a clearing point for information sent by different agents from Ghent concerning events then taking place in that town and in Damme.59 If information from agents in the field was to be of real value, it had to be conveyed to the king and council as rapidly as possible. To achieve this, good channels of communication were vital. English agents working abroad had the difficulty of having to bring their information across the sea if required to report directly to the king and council. One of the most regular crossings, frequently used by royal messengers, was between Wissant, some miles to the west of Calais, and Dover.60 It was popular because it was the shortest distance across the Channel, both ports were in English hands from the 1340s, and, furthermore, fees for crossings had been regularised by statute early in the reign of Edward III.61 Within England itself, posting systems aided the swift passage of messages from the coast or the Borders to the central authorities. One, ensuring a rapid contact between the king and the captain of Calais, was in existence in 1372 between Dover and London. In June of that year arrangements were made for the provision of hackneys at a reasonable cost in Canterbury for the use of royal messengers travelling between London and Calais.62 By May 1373 refinements in the system were 56 C. G. Cruickshank, Army Royal, Henry VIII’s Invasion of France, 1513 (Oxford, 1969), p. 18. This study includes several references to spies in Calais. See, too, PPC, II, pp. 343–344. 57 L. Puiseux, ‘Étude sur une grande ville de bois construite en Normandie pour une expédition en Angleterre en 1386’, Mémoires de la Société des Antiquaires de Normandie, XXV (1863), 5. 58 Rotuli Parliamentorum, III, p. 39. 59 TNA, E.403/508, m. 18. On the role of Calais as a centre of espionage, see Allmand, ‘Intelligence in the Hundred Years War’, Go Spy the Land, ed. Neilson and McKercher, pp. 36–38. 60 M. C. Hill, ‘Jack Faukes, King’s Messenger, and His Journey to Avignon in 1343’, EHR, lvii (1942), 24. 61 Statutes of the Realm, I, p. 263 (Stat. 4 Edward II, cap. 8). Where speed was essential, boats could be hired for the crossing, although this was more expensive. Fees for a man and horse between Dover and Wissant were generally about 1 mark (Hill, ‘Jack Faukes’, pp. 24–25). Charges for private hire could be even greater. In December 1369, £20 was paid ‘pur le louer dune nef et deux barges pour conduire Rauf Barry et Johan Paulesholt et autres . . . alantz en nostre message vers Chirburgh en Normandie’ (TNA, E. 404/9/63). 62 CCR, 1369–74, p. 399.

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evident: royal writs ordered the bailiffs of Dover and Southwark, too, to provide hackneys, and the orders to Canterbury and Rochester were repeated.63 Evidence suggests that other roads in England may also have been posted to facilitate the passage of messages. In 1360, for instance, the council, then over a hundred miles away at Reading, was informed of the French attack on Winchelsea on the very day on which it took place.64 That the conveyance of information was possible was a factor of the greatest importance in time of war. Responsibility for matters of espionage lay ultimately with the king and council, who appointed agents and sent them on missions. Very often, as in the case of Nicolas Briser, who travelled to Gloucester in 1378 to impart his information to the king, these agents reported their findings in person. But it was not only agents who did this. Messengers and envoys were likewise expected to report in person either to the king or to his council on the completion of their missions. The link between the council and matters of espionage is further illustrated by the fact that while in the field the marshal and the constable, together with their subordinates (captains of garrisons in France or on the Scottish border, and commanders of armies) had responsibility for sending out their own agents,65 such military commanders frequently passed on their information to the central authorities. A great deal is known about the payment of messengers in the royal service in England but the position regarding the remuneration of spies employed by the crown is much less clear. Royal messengers received daily wages at a fixed rate, according to their rank, together with annual gifts of clothing and shoes. When on active service they received, in addition, expenses for travelling.66 It is uncertain whether the same conditions applied to agents involved in the shadier business of spying, since evidence to determine this is slight. The Frenchman, Nicolas Briser, was certainly paid an annual retaining fee of 50 marks and, in addition, was reimbursed the miscellaneous expenses he had incurred whilst travelling on the king’s service.67 The majority of payments made to secret agents, however, were usually extraordinary payments made in the king’s gift (‘de dono regis’), partly as wages, partly in recompense of the expenses incurred by the agent.68 It is thus almost impossible to estimate the wages which a typical agent might receive. Payments 63 Idem, p. 505. 64 The French attacked Winchelsea on the morning of Sunday, 15 March, 1360. On the same day the council issued writs mentioning the attack, and ordered the arrest of every ship and large barge for use against the French. (Rymer, Foedera, III, I, p. 476). Post roads connecting London with the Welsh and Scottish borders were possibly in existence by the reign of Edward I (Hill, King’s Messengers, pp. 108–109). 65 The powers of the Marshal and Constable are well attested. In France, the Constable was responsible for sending out spies [‘messagers & espies . . . coureurs & autres chevaucheurs] when he saw the need. In England ‘spyes specially ordeyned’ must obey the Constable and Marshal (The Essential Portions of Nicholas Upton’s De Studio Militari, before 1446. . . ., ed. F. P. Barnard (Oxford, 1931), p. 36. 66 For payments made to royal messengers, see Hill, King’s Messengers, pp. 22ff and 46–51. 67 TNA, E.403/471, mm. 5 and 8; E 403/472, mm. 1, 6, 7, 10, 13. 68 See TNA, E.403/463, m. 6; E. 403/467, mm. 8, 10, 14.

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made to them may possibly have depended upon results, as was sometimes the case for messengers who were frequently rewarded by the recipient of the letters which they bore.69 Mézières’ ‘Pilgrim’ was to advocate that at least one third of military expenditure should be on espionage. It is difficult to estimate whether this was, in fact, the case in practice, but documentary evidence certainly does suggest that a substantial amount was spent on spies and spying. In 1370, for example, the sum paid to English spies working from Calais alone was in excess of £70, a trifling sum compared to the over-all expenditure of that year, but significant when contrasted to the total expenditure on all royal messengers, which amounted to £183.70 It is necessary to bear in mind that the sum of £70 did not include payments to agents working elsewhere, and that a large proportion of the moneys paid to ordinary messengers were for journeys of a special or secret nature. So far we have dealt chiefly with spies working for the English crown. Such agents served as a valuable and necessary source of information, and were of great benefit to their masters. There was, however, a further side to the whole matter. Spies employed by the enemy caused many headaches for the central government and for military commanders. Record sources testify to the extensive use of secret agents by the French and other enemies against the English, both abroad and within the realm of England itself. Time and again, the presence of enemy spies made itself felt in England, a fact reflected in royal writs which stressed the dangers to the realm presented by these persons; in statutes aimed at curtailing their activities; in reports of frequent arrests and detentions of suspects; and, most significantly, in the complaints of the Commons in Parliament. It is, perhaps, all too easy to dismiss such references as manifestations of a fear which gripped crown and people subjected to the stress of prolonged war, an interpretation which might certainly be applicable to the period after 1369, when the English reversals in the war were accompanied by an increased awareness and preoccupation with the needs of home defence. It is known that enemy agents were frequently sent to the English possessions in France, especially Calais, to uncover information,71 and that French castles and towns situated near those possessions were also important bases for espionage. Saint-Omer, for instance, often acted as a dispatch centre for agents infiltrating into the English-held Calais March. Even in times of formal peace, the use of spies continued: in 1368 Pieret de Bourges was paid one ecu ‘pour aller secretement a Calais et ou pais de Ghisnes. . . . pour enquerrer et savoir sil avoit gens darmes a Calais et lestat et convenue des Engles’.72 Agents were also

69 English kings habitually presented foreign messengers with money or valuables ‘de dono regis’. See TNA, E. 404/6/36/58, 60. 70 Hill, King’s Messengers, p. 98. 71 For Calais, see Arch. du Nord, Lille, B. 15796, m. 6v; for Bordeaux, Chronique de Mathieu d’Escouchy, ed. G. du Fresne de Beaucourt (3 vols, Paris, 1863–64), III, p. 387; for Gascony, BnF, ms fr 32511, fo. 142v. 72 Arch. Nord, Lille, B. 15793, fo. 6.

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sent to spy upon English armies in the field. Thus troops sent to aid the people of Ghent at Damme in 1385 came under the surveillance of agents sent by duke Philip of Burgundy to discover the ‘temps que les Anglois arriverent ou port de Hugheuliets’.73 By far the most serious threat to English security, however, were agents actively at work within the realm itself – those sent to Scotland by the French in 1354 to persuade the Scots to create trouble in the north of England;74 those dispatched to London by Louis de Mâle in 1382 to uncover information of importance to him;75 or the Burgundians sent there in 1425 to secure details of the military preparations then under way.76 It is certain, then, that the numerous measures taken against spies did have some positive foundation, and, from the extent of the measures employed, there can be little doubt that the menace presented by enemy agents was taken very seriously. With alarming regularity, English royal writs bore the startling information that enemy aliens were ‘spying on the secrets of the realm and sending home intelligence’,77 or that ‘divers aliens, enemies of the realm, have entered and daily enter the realm to spy out its secrets and reveal them to the French’.78 The records of Parliament testify, perhaps better than any other single source, the extent to which Englishmen held enemy aliens in fear and suspicion, so that very few meetings of Parliament after the 1330s failed to refer to them or to the dangers with which they threatened the realm. Much of this was, admittedly, the result of a prejudice purely racial in its concept, although indubitably fostered by prolonged war. In 1347, for example, the Commons complained against the Pope’s appointment of aliens to English benefices and monastic houses,79 and the Parliament of 1379 heard a similar petition that none of the best benefices should be granted to alien clergy.80 Although many were based upon prejudice, most complaints against aliens voiced by the Commons arose from considerations of national security. In 1338, it was requested that all prelates should certify to Parliament names and whereabouts of alien clergy in their dioceses;81 some six years later, the Commons petitioned that the Crown take in hand the goods and lands of aliens living within the realm, and that the profits from these be ‘tournez a defens de la terre et de Seinte Eglise’,82 while in 1377 grievances levelled at aliens stated simply that they entered the kingdom as spies.83

73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83

Ibid, B. 1842/50006. Chronique normande du XIVe siècle, ed. A. and E. Molinier (Paris, 1882), pp. 108–109. Arch. Nord, Lille, B.1337/14596, printed by Palmer, England, France and Christendom, App. II. Arch. Nord, Lille, B. 1933, fos. 62v, 77. Calendar of Documents relating to Scotland, ed. J. Bain (4 vols, Edinburgh, 1881–88), III, p. 294, no. 1614. CPR, 1377–81, p. 475. Numerous other examples could be cited. Rotuli Parliamentorum, II, p. 171. Ibid, III, p. 46. Ibid, II, p. 106. Ibid, II, p. 154. Ibid, III, p. 22.

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English public opinion thus regarded the situation as one of extreme gravity, and the central government was not slow to take action against the threat of espionage. It is clear that the different ways by which enemy agents could operate were well recognised by the government, and that steps were taken to counter enemy operations in each of them. Briefly, the measures were directed toward four main ends: first, the prevention of the leakage of secret information to external enemies by hindering spies entering the realm or, failing this, by preventing them from leaving with their information; secondly, control of alien clergy who constituted a threat, not always imagined, within the kingdom; thirdly, prevention of the undermining of the country’s economy by measures taken against the importation of inferior (usually Scots) coinage and the export of bullion (in specie or plate) or arms or victuals; and fourthly, the prevention of entry into the realm of undesirable outside influences, such as anti-government propaganda, ‘prejudicial bulls’ and, above all, rumours (whether true or false) which might have a detrimental effect upon the morale of the population. In putting such measures into effect, the ports played an important role. It was there that the first steps were taken to curtail the activities of enemy agents, and strict security was therefore essential. When a foreign expedition was in the offing, the Crown frequently resorted to a complete ban on all persons or civil shipping wishing to leave the country. When Edward III’s fleet set sail for Normandy in 1346, orders were sent to the mayor and sheriffs of London, and to officials in the Cinque Ports, particularly Dover, Winchelsea, and Sandwich, that no one, of whatever condition, should be allowed to leave the realm within eight days of the fleet’s departure, since ‘intelleximus quod quamplures exploratores in civitate predicta London et alibi infra regnum nostrum Anglie conversantes secreta nostra ad partes externas ad inimicos nostros. . . . mittunt’.84 On other occasions, as in 1348, the ports were closed to all pilgrims.85 At other times persons were permitted to leave the realm only from specified ports, usually Dover or, exceptionally, Orwell, or by some other controlled exit point.86 However, exceptions to the general ordinance were often made, as when the bailiffs and wardens of the ports were instructed to permit ‘known merchants’ to leave.87 Licences, too, were frequently granted by the Crown for more specific reasons. These were varied. In 1368 the prior of Arundel was permitted to go to Rome ‘pour aucunes busoignes tuchantz sa priorte’,88 while in 1381 the keepers of the port of Dover were instructed to allow 84 TNA, C.76/23, m. 23v. Shortly afterwards the sheriffs of London were informed that French spies had infiltrated the kingdom to discover the king’s secrets. 85 TNA, C.76/26, m. 16v. In 1416 one Craquet was instructed to cross to England disguised as a pilgrim travelling to Canterbury, to see to the interests of the abbey of Fecamp, and to gather information and money (D. Matthew, The Norman Monasteries and Their English Possessions (Oxford, 1962), pp. 130–101, 166–167). 86 CCR, 1381–85, p. 1. 87 TNA, E.364/3, m. 1. The prohibition against emigration of February 1383 stressed that even known merchants were to be prevented from leaving the ports (Ibid, p. 281). 88 TNA, C.81/1712/5.

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John Myners and his retinue to leave the realm ‘aller a Calais pour soi defendre illoeqes en gage de bataille.89 In order to receive licence to leave the realm, persons were sometimes requested to provide mainpernors to vouch for their integrity before a licence could be granted90 Yet, despite the legal methods which were available to those wishing to leave on legitimate business, many nevertheless tried to do so without proper authority.91 Alien clergy were singularly discriminated against by the government’s security measures, in many cases with good reason. It was repeatedly reported that friars and other alien clergy entered and left England daily so that ‘the secrets of the realm are laid bare by such aliens to the king’s enemies, to the peril of the realm’.92 Widespread anticlerical feeling no doubt had some bearing on the attitude towards alien clergy, but clerics, and more especially members of the mendicant orders, who had relative freedom of movement, were in a very good position to act as agents. More than one case could be cited to justify current suspicions. In 1369 the alien prior of Hailing, in Hampshire, was confined at his own cost in Southwark Priory for having received letters from France93 while in 1384 Hugh Calveley, then Keeper of the Channel Islands, was ordered to arrest without delay a French spy, Roxas Poussin of Normandy, who had ‘craftily intruded into the church of St Peter Port by means of a papal provision, and had since been spying on the secrets of the English in Guernsey’.94 Such cases explain to a large extent the preoccupation with alien clergy in the parliaments of Edward III and Richard II, and also the numerous measures levelled against them by the authorities. Heads of monasteries received orders to refuse alien clergy the right of admittance to their houses. The prior of Holy Trinity, London, was thus instructed in 1340;95 the Dominican convent in Oxford received similar orders in 1373, the king having been informed that alien spies were active in Oxford under the pretext of studying there;96 while in 1382, the warden and convent of the Friars Minor in London were told that no alien brethren, ‘coming from what realm or lordship soever’, should remain in the house for longer than two days, while those already there should be removed without delay.97 Apart from individual clerics, whole houses of alien clergy suffered from the government’s security measures. ‘Alien priories’ presented a special security risk in coastal regions; periods of open war witnessed not merely numerous confiscations of their lands but, more particularly, the removal of alien clergy from coastal 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97

TNA, C.81/1656/6. TNA, C.81/1715/19. TNA, E.364/12, mm. 1, 4, 5v. CCR, 1381–85, p. 64. Ibid, 1369–74, p. 63. This case was cited in the Parliament of 1379 as proof that alien clergy were in contact with the enemy (Rotuli Parliamentorum, III, 64). CPR, 1381–85, p. 35. CCR, 1339–41, p. 458. CCR, 1369–74, p. 517. CCR, 1381–85, p. 64.

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areas, the principle having been established in 1295 that these were to be free of alien (or, more specifically, French) clergy in time of war.98 The practice was repeated in 1326, when beneficed secular clergy who were ‘subjects and adherents of the king of France, living near the sea or navigable rivers’ were taken from the coastal region and accommodated inland for the time being.99 Such principles were to remain in force throughout the fourteenth century. For example, in July 1337 all alien priories in the Isle of Wight were taken into the king’s hands, and their monks moved away from the sea,100 while in the following year the monks of St Michael’s Mount and the denizen priory of Lewes shared the same fate.101 In the parliaments of 1346, 1369, 1372 and 1373 petitions against alien clergy were put forward by the Commons,102 and in the first parliament of Richard II’s reign measures were taken to expel all enemy aliens from England.103 Although these measures did not involve the expulsion of entire communities – conventual priors, known loyalists and married secular clergy who could find sureties for themselves were exempted – they did represent a positive response by the government to the dangers presented by alien clergy. Those permitted to remain were subject to stringent controls. The provision of 1377 amplified an order of 1369 whereby alien priors, to whom had been committed the custody of their own houses, were bound to find mainpernors to swear that each prior would remain continually in his house, and that neither he, nor his monks nor servants, would ‘pass out of the realm or reveal the state, affairs or secrets of the realm to any foreign person, or transmit to foreign parts by letter or word-of-mouth . . . anything prejudicial . . .’.104 Furthermore, aliens who remained were not to be involved in the keeping of the sea coast. In 1379 the alien prior of Pembroke was given control of his priory with the proviso that he be exempt from the garde de la mer.105 Nevertheless, despite the measures taken against them, alien clergy were to remain a security hazard until their more complete expulsion in the reign of Henry V.106 Controls at the ports were implemented for a number of reasons, not all of them directly connected with espionage. They played, for instance, an essential role in the sphere of royal finance, as in the case of searching for customs evaders. None the less, even such economic measures could have a bearing upon national

98 Matthew, Norman Monasteries, pp. 82–84. 99 CCR, 1325–27, p. 636. Only secular clergy were involved since, presumably, action taken by alien regular clergy in an English religious house could be controlled by its head. 100 TNA, C.61/49, m. 19. On the same day all alien clergy ‘de potestate et dominio regis Francie’ suffered a similar fate (Ibid, m. 23). 101 Rymer, Foedera, II, ii, p. 1061. 102 In 1373 the Commons entered a petition that all alien clergy living within twenty leagues of the coast should be removed, since they were ‘espiant les secretz et ordynancez de temps en temps a vostre Parliament et Conseil’ (Rotuli Parliamentorum, II, p. 320). 103 Ibid, II, pp. 162–163. 104 CFR, 1369–77, pp. 13–17. 105 Ibid, 1377–83, pp. 155–156. 106 For a fuller account, see Matthew, Norman Monasteries, pp. 120, 126–127.

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security. It was often reported that enemy aliens were attempting to smuggle arms, bullion, and victuals from the realm. While otherwise ‘loyal’ Englishmen were not averse to making their profit at the expense of the crown and to the detriment of the kingdom, it is likely that such activities were undertaken by enemy agents as a positive part of their duties of espionage. This theory is supported by the fact that persons arrested on suspicion of spying were also frequently accused of economic offences. Mézières was one who noted the connection between merchants and spies; ‘les espies’, he wrote, ‘par lesquelles on puet mieulx savoir lestat de ses ennemis, ce sont marchans Lombars et estranges’.107 Money spent in procuring their services, and those of their factors, would be money well spent since, as men engaged in non-military activities, they could travel more freely than most, and suffered less from limitations imposed upon their movements. It is clear that it was all too widely accepted that merchants might be spies in disguise. In April 1376, the Commons sought the expulsion of ‘Lombard broukers’ and others described as ‘privees Espies’ through whom aliens were alleged to be uncovering the secrets of the kingdom.108 Hughlin Gerard, a merchant of Bologna Grassa, who was pardoned in July 1388, had, since his entry into England in 1377, committed a number of crimes against the realm and its statutes. They were mainly of an economic nature, and included the illegal exportation of bullion, carrying out exchanges without licence, exporting non-customed wools, and importing luxury commodities such as silk and pearls into England. In addition to these offences, he had betrayed the secrets and counsel of the realm to his master, a Frenchman, in Paris.109 It was merchants, too, who were responsible for warning the English of the proposed French attack on west Wales in 1377.110 It is thus possible that the statutes concerning restrictions on such mercantile activities as the importation and exportation of goods may have been enforced, to a certain extent, with a view to countering espionage.111 Scrutiny at the ports was undertaken by several classes of officials. The mayors and bailiffs of coastal towns, or the sheriff of the county, were often commissioned by the crown to seize prohibited imports and exports, to prevent persons and shipping from leaving the realm, and to apprehend enemy agents.112 Sometimes the king’s sergeant-at-arms was commissioned in this way.113 Regularly employed, too, were the searchers for bullion in the ports and, less frequently, the collectors of customs and subsidies. As the fourteenth century progressed, temporary mergers in the duties of these officials took place. In 1372, for example, Nicholas Potyn was appointed to search the ships of suspected persons for non-customed 107 108 109 110

Songe du Vieil Pèlerin, II, pp. 85 and 405. Rotuli Parliamentorum, II, pp. 332, 338, 347. CPR, 1385–89, p. 501. Anglo-Norman Letters and Petitions from All Souls MS. 182, ed. M. D. Legge (Oxford, 1941), pp. 162–166. 111 Statutes of the Realm, I, 132, 273–274; II, 17. 112 CPR, 1385–89, pp. 83 and 172; TNA, E.364/3, m. 1. 113 CPR, 1377–81, p. 475.

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wool, bullion, and ‘prejudicial bulls’, and his findings were to be certified to the Chancery.114 In Northampton, in 1385, a single commission was issued to the mayor and bailiffs empowering them to search for spies, bullion and counterfeiters, while in Holland, Lincolnshire, in the same year, commissioners were appointed to search for spies and ‘prejudicial bulls’.115 Restrictions imposed at the ports were not simply intended to prevent persons or goods from entering or leaving the country. There was always the danger presented by subversive material such as ‘prejudicial bulls’ which might attack the king’s prerogative; bearers of such material were immediately arrested on detection. More serious still was the fear that rumours, fostered by enemy agents or by native Englishmen, and regarded by the crown, at least since the enactment of the Statute of Westminster in 1275 against ‘devisors of tales’ and those who caused discord between the king and his subjects, as a serious evil, might creep into the realm.116 Rumours could be a severe blow to the morale of the populace, particularly in regions such as the south-east of England and the Scottish border, both of which suffered heavily from enemy raids. Rumours, too, concerning the course of the war abroad (particularly if unfavourable to the crown) were unwelcome. Throughout the fourteenth century royal writs to local officials frequently contained orders that this clause of the Statute they applied,117 and those found propagating false news were swiftly dealt with by the authorities.118 The case of Hugh de la Pole shows this clearly. In June 1383 de la Pole was arrested in London and sentenced to the pillory for having invented stories concerning the taking of Ypres by Henry Despenser, bishop of Norwich. What sealed his fate was the fact that he had mentioned how dissent had broken out among the ranks of the English army at the siege. An example had to be made in this case; otherwise ‘the whole kingdom might be easily disturbed and disquieted thereby’.119 The authorities were only being consistent when they charged the anti-Lancastrian conspirators in Essex in 1404 of having falsely proclaimed that Richard II was alive and that he intended to invade England from the north, ‘cum maxima multitudine populi Francigenorum, Scotorum et Wallicorum’.120 Punishments for spreading rumours were heavy. Hugh de la Pole, as already noted, suffered the pillory for his crime, while in May 1383 Thomas Depham of Norfolk had been arrested for declaring news from Flanders, concerning bishop Despenser’s ‘crusade’, to have been false. For this offence he was committed to prison.121 114 115 116 117 118 119

TNA, E.364/11, m. 1. Compare the appointment of searchers in Dartmouth in 1378 (E.364/12, m. 4). CPR, 1385–89, p. 83. Statutes of the Realm, I, 35. BL, Cotton MS. Julius C iv, fo. 8. Select Cases in the Court of King’s Bench, ed. G. O. Sayles (London, Selden Soc., 1939), III, p. cxi. Memorials of London and London Life in the XIIIth, XIVth and XVth Centuries, 1276–1419, ed. H. T. Riley (London, 1868), pp. 479–480. 120 Select Cases in the Court of King’s Bench, ed. G. O. Sayles (Selden Society, 1971), VII, p. 153, no. 26. 121 Calendar of Plea and Memoranda Rolls of London, III, p. 36.

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Apart from the measures already described, other means were also adopted to counter the threat of espionage in England. Royal and local officials were, as part of their general peace-keeping duties, expected to be on the alert for anyone engaged in nefarious activities of any sort. Such local officials frequently received writs containing explicit instructions to apprehend enemy agents. In March 1354 the mayor and bailiffs of Carlisle received a commission to arrest and imprison all Scots and others spying on the defects of the city walls, and also any others whom they suspected of being spies.122 Other occasions, too, saw the appointment of officers whose sole responsibility was the apprehension of enemy agents. In 1387, for instance, Thomas de Milton was appointed with four associates to seek out and arrest all Irish rebels who had entered as spies.123 Commissions could, and might, authorise the arrest of named suspects: a commission of August 1359 appointed Nigel de Haukynton and others to arrest John de Cornwaille and William de Derby, ‘adherents of the king’s enemies of France’, who were believed at that time to be spying in London and elsewhere.124 But it was not merely the authorities who were instrumental in the capture of enemy spies. The English people were themselves aware of the threat presented by enemy agents to national security. Numerous arrests and denunciations made by ordinary subjects testify to this. In 1380, several suspected spies were arrested ‘by the men of London’125 Such public awareness doubtless received a boost from the growth of national (or, more accurately, anti-French and anti-Scottish) feeling. But there was more to it than that. Popular involvement was actively encouraged by king and council, and throughout the Hundred Years’ War was strongly evoked by those statutes known as the ‘hosting laws’ which constituted one method of keeping a measure of control upon aliens ‘come les Engloises sount tretez de par dela’.126 The statute of Winchester of 1285 had already ensured that watches be held in towns, had imposed curfews, and had provided that stringent checks be made on the movements of strangers. Moreover, by statute of 9 Edward III, innkeepers were obliged to search their guests and make report.127 From time to time, too, the crown decreed that the peace statutes against strangers should be re-enforced, as in March 1341, when it was decided that all strangers were to be arrested and, if suspected, to be delivered to the sheriff for custody in his gaol.128 In cases of resistance, the hue and cry was to be enforced. In 1354 the inhabitants of Carlisle were ordered to assist the authorities in the search for enemy spies.129 The underlying principle, therefore, continued to be the general obligation to keep the peace, as embodied in the Statute of Winchester and other legislation. 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129

Calendar of Documents relating to Scotland, III, p. 287, no. 1573. CPR, 1385–89, p. 265. Ibid, 1358–61, p. 284. CCR, 1377–81, p. 416. Rotuli Parliamentorum, iv, p. 13. Statutes of the Realm, I, pp. 273–274. CPR, 1340–43, p. 206. See n. 122.

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The extent of activity against enemy spies in England may be measured by the large number of arrests on record. Many of these, however, were false arrests, based upon unfounded suspicion. It was not always easy for English port officials to distinguish between Flemish and other Netherlandish dialects, or between Castilian and Portuguese. Hence the not infrequent arrests of ships belonging to a friendly country in error for those of an enemy, or of natives of friendly countries who were taken, again in error, for spies. The staplers of Middelburg wrote to Nicholas Brembre, mayor of London in 1381–82, pleading for the release of one Henrick Wilde who ‘longment est detenuz en prison a Londres, a cause qil estoit pris en companie de Flamyngs, et que homme qui dist qil estoit Flamyng, dount, seignour, vous plese assaver qil lest neez de Zeland, et qil est cousin le burghemestre de Midelburghe’.130 More unfortunate was the case of Stephen Philip, who entered England in 1375 to visit a Norman monk at Long Bennington.131 Arrested by the sheriffs of London and imprisoned on suspicion of espionage, his release on bail was ordered by the king, provided that he had not been found guilty. Apparently, however, this intention was never fulfilled, since an endorsement on the document states that he was unable to find bail.132 Nevertheless, in many cases there was good cause for suspicion. The enemy agents discovered in London in 1346 was certainly up to no good; they were said to have ‘hung out on a lance the shield of arms of some great Scots lord so that the king’s enemies might know their retreat’.133 Persons arrested on suspicion of spying in England were usually sent to the king or council, or sometimes to both, for interrogation. In 1378, and again in 1382, all spies and persons carrying bulls were also to be brought before the king and council;134 in October 1373 enemy alien friars were sent before the council for questioning;135 while in 1377 the council interrogated French spies captured on the Scottish border.136 Less frequently, arrested suspects were questioned in chancery, as was the case in March 1380 when sergeants-at-arms, appointed to

130 TNA, S.C. 1/43/82, p. 83. An item in the Chancery Miscellanea concerning persons detained by the sheriff of London in 5 Richard II refers to ‘Henricus Wylde de Middelburgh in Seland, detentus et captus . . . pro suspicione exploratoracionis’ (C 47/28/6/22). 131 CCR, 1374–77, p. 139. 132 Calendar of Inquisitions, Miscellaneous, 1348–77, p. 982. 133 Calendar of Documents relating to Scotland, III, p. 268, no. 1472. The same fear of strangers is reflected in a letter from king Charles VII to the mayor and jurat of Bordeaux, dated Nov. 1459, some years after the expulsion of the English from Gascony: ‘Item, et pour ce qu’on dit qu’on tollere aux Anglois qui viennent en ceste ville, sans guide et garde, et de nuyt, sans lumiere, et aussi d’aler par le pais de Medouc et d’Entre-Deux Mars, achater les vins d’ostel en hostel, et communiquer et converser avecques ceulx de ladicte ville et du pais en secret, et oyr la conduicte des gens de guerre, qui est chose trop dangereuse, et en quoy est necessaire mettre autre remede, car aucunes foiz les flotz sont venuz si grand nombre d’Anglois, et encores pourroient venir, qui n’y mettra ordre, dommaige irreparable sen pourra ensuir’ (Archives Historiques de la Gironde, ix, p. 404). 134 CPR, 1377–81, pp. 163, 219; Ibid, 1381–85, pp. 200, 350, 424. 135 CCR, 1369–74, p. 517. 136 TNA, E.403/463, m. 3. See above, n. 21, for the French herald interrogated on suspicion of spying in those parts.

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arrest alien spies, were ordered to conduct them either before the chancery or before the king and council.137 Where it was more convenient, captured suspects were brought for initial questioning before other high-ranking or trusted officials, such as the captain of Calais or the Wardens of the Scottish Marches. If it was decided that the case was important enough they might be sent before the council. If, however, it were only a small issue of local importance, the matter might go no further; in 1389, John, Lord Cobham, and Sir William Heroun were deemed to be of sufficient standing to investigate the case of Hugh Pot of Gelderland, ‘pris comme espie’, who was sent before them ‘pour estre examine de certainez piecez. . . . pris dil dit Hugh’.138 Spies and suspects awaiting interrogation were held in prison until they could be dealt with. The most usual place of detention in London was Newgate prison. Bearers of ‘prejudicial bulls’ arrested in London in 1342 were cast into Newgate, prior to their interrogation by the council.139 In the 1380s the prison was bursting at the seams with spies and suspects detained there.140 Outside London, royal castles were frequently used to accommodate captured enemy agents. Windsor Castle housed more than one French spy in 1379 while the castles of York, Gloucester, Corfe, and others were also often employed for the same purpose.141 Although evidence shows that spies were held in prison pending questioning by the authorities, less is known concerning the punishments inflicted upon those convicted of spying. It has been noted that spreaders of false rumours were liable to jail or the pillory. Pilgrims and others leaving the realm clandestinely in 1381 ran the risk of one year’s imprisonment if detected.142 Beyond this, there is little evidence concerning the fate of proven spies. The fact that Thomas Turberville paid the extreme penalty has been taken to show that by the end of the thirteenth century spying could incur the penalty for treason.143 A century and a half later Nicholas Upton was in no doubt that ‘men of warre schall lese there heddys [as] Spyyse that schew the secretes off the hooste to ther enmyys’.144 But there is none the less evidence to suggest that the English crown’s policy towards spies was less severe than a lawyer like Upton might regard as fitting. When Nicholas de Wantham, the parson of Banbury, was accused in 1285 of associating with Guy and Emeric de Montfort and with Llewellyn of Wales, the king’s enemies, and of passing on to them by letter information gathered at the English court, he was said to have acted ‘contra fidelitatem suam et contra foedus suum et ligeitatem quam 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144

CPR, 1377–81, p. 475. TNA, C.47/2/49/16. CCR, 1341–43, p. 660. Ibid, 1377–81, p. 416; R. B. Pugh, Imprisonment in Medieval England (Cambridge, 1970), pp. 106–107. For Windsor, TNA, E.404/10/70/20 and CCR, 1377–81, pp. 174, 319; for York, CPR, 1338–40, p. 77; for Gloucester, CCR, 1377–81, p. 164; for Corfe, CCR, 1381–85, p. 364. CPR, 1381–85, p. 1. J. G. Bellamy, The Law of Treason in England in the Later Middle Age (Cambridge, 1970), p. 16. De Studio Militari, ed. Barnard, p. 5.

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debuit Domino Regi’, an accusation which branded him as a ‘proditor’, or traitor. Wantham does not appear to have been captured, so that outlawry and deprivation of his cure were the only effective penalties which could be applied against him.145 In December 1380 a large number of suspects who had been ‘found wandering in. . . . [London]. . . . at the time when the galleys were at sea, running hither and thither about the city like spies’, were released, on royal instructions, from Newgate for Christmas.146 Even convicted spies stood a fair chance of receiving a pardon. In 1378 Roger Foucate, a spy for the French cardinals, was arrested and imprisoned and then interrogated sporadically by the council throughout 1379 and 1380, only to be released in August 1380.147 Robert Rillyngton, of Scarborough, was convicted by the justices of Oyer and Terminer for Yorkshire in 1382 on charges of having ‘dealt with the king’s enemies, bought from them ships and goods captured from the king’s subjects, conveyed victuals and moneys to their ships, and led them secretly by night to inspect the town and castle of Scarborough’. In November of that year he was fortunate enough to receive a pardon for these offences on payment of a fine of 100 marks at the Hanaper; a second pardon, too, for other offences, the chief of which was that ‘at the bidding of the king’s enemies he went to sea and traitorously assisted them against the king’.148 This leniency was quite out of keeping with the strict precautions taken against spies to ensure the security of the realm. Occasionally, however, agents were committed to gaol. In 1384 a malefactor who had stirred up trouble ‘to the peril of the realm’ was arrested on the king’s orders by Nicholas Brembre, and was imprisoned in Corfe Castle at the king’s pleasure.149 Such evidence is what would be expected in view of the fact that enemy espionage was regarded, by both crown and people, as a serious threat to the security of England. It also accorded with the sentences meted out to spies by the French authorities. Thus Hennequin du Bos paid for his treason and espionage with his life in 1390, while the Parisian informer, significantly ‘ung varlet boucher qui estoit devenu poursuivant, qui portoit aux ennemis anciens tous les secretz que on faisoit a Paris’ was duly executed in the French capital during Holy Week, 1437.150 On the other hand it must also be noted that the French could choose to be merciful, as in the case of Jean Thiebout 145 Oxford City Documents, 1268–1665, ed J. E. Thorold Rogers (Oxford, 1891), pp. 183–184, 204–205. 146 CCR, 1377–81, p. 416. 147 CPR, 1377–81, pp. 163, 219; CCR, 1377–81, pp. 164, 174, 319, 398. 148 CPR, 1381–85, pp. 190–201. It is strange that this man should have been treated so lightly, since he was so plainly a traitor. The crime of Thomas Turberville, who had suffered the extreme penalty for aiding the king’s enemies, was alluded to frequently throughout the fourteenth century. A schedule of 1337–38 naming traitors as one of the chief dangers facing the realm, cited Turberville as the supreme example. It had recommended the sternest penalties for any such transgressors in the future. (TNA, C.47/28/5/34–36). 149 CCR, 1381–85, p. 364. 150 Journal d’un Bourgeois de Paris, 1405–1440, ed. A. Tuetey (Paris, 1881), pp. 330–331; A Parisian Journal, 1405–1440, trans. J. Shirley (Oxford, 1968), p. 315. For the herald’s opinion regarding pursuivants, see above, n. 21.

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and his wife who were pardoned in 1359 for having been forced to work for the English under threat of death.151 Espionage played a significant role in fourteenth-century warfare. If its extent has been largely under-estimated by recent historians, its importance was better recognised by contemporary writers such as Mézières, Christine de Pisan, and Philippe de Commynes. The value of espionage was certainly well appreciated by contemporary monarchs, who often based military decisions upon intelligence received. English writs issuing instructions for coastal defences frequently gave reasons why the orders which they contained should be carried out. In 1343, for instance, defensive measures were implemented because ‘pro certo iam noviter intelleximus quod galee guerrine in non modico minimo cum magna multitudine armatorum . . . venientes versus Angliam’.152 Such predictions were almost certainly based upon information sent to the king by his agents. In many cases, the intelligence was accurate. The English saw for themselves, at the capture, at Caen in 1346, were found French plans to descend upon England with an ‘immensa multitudine galearum et navium’, proving that reports previously sent to England had been perfectly correct.153 On other occasions intelligence was inevitably defective. Nevertheless, it is certain that all governments set great store by information sent to them by their agents, and that all users and military leaders employed secret agents to spy upon the secrets of their enemies during the prolonged warfare of the fourteenth century.

151 Paris, AN, JJ.90, fo. 118, no. 218. 152 TNA, C.76/23, m. 20. 153 Foedera, II, ii, 1055 (for the writs of warning) . For the captured documents outlining the French invasion plan, see Rotuli Parliamentorum, ii, 158–159; The Black Book of the Admiralty, ed. T. Twiss (4 vols, London, Rolls Series, 1871–76), I, pp. 426–429.

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14 WA R A N D T H E N O N C O M B ATA N T D U R I N G T H E H U N D R E D Y E A R S ’ WA R

Until relatively recent times the role, both active and passive, played in the Hundred Years’ War by the non-combatant populations of England and France has been understudied and underestimated and, consequently, not properly appreciated. Historians have long known what contemporaries knew only too well: that the non-combatant was the chief victim of the war. But it is only as we study the war’s less publicised aspects, and come to understand it as involving the destinies of others than those who actually bore arms, that we are able to appreciate its full significance. Perhaps, for better or worse, we are influenced by events which have occurred within the lifetime of living generations, who have observed how unarmed civilians can suffer appalling distress as a result of modern warfare. This is a factor to be considered in our attitude towards the study of the past. But the historian is also influenced by other factors, such as the materials that provide him with the story which it is his task to build upon. The chroniclers and their works are given less prominence now than in former times. With many other kinds of sources, literary, legal, administrative, financial and religious being increasingly employed, none should be surprised if the perspectives of history are changing. War should be seen and studied in the round, within a broad contemporary context.1 In no case is this more important than in the study of what has come to be known as the Hundred Years’ War for, however it originated, it soon became a conflict involving two peoples in many of its aspects. It was partly financed by funds voted in non-military assemblies, in Parliament and in the Estates (both national and regional); in specially summoned meetings of the merchant community; and in assemblies of churchman called, in England, convocation. What proportion of the finances needed to undertake the war’s many campaigns came from such sources, it is difficult to estimate. The important point here is the simple one: the country was required to help pay for undertakings in which the whole nation, not merely an army fighting in the name of the king, was becoming increasingly involved. 1 See the important statement of support, favouring a broadly based approach to the study of the history of war, in H. J. Hewitt, The Organization of War under Edward III, 1338–62 (Manchester and New York, 1966), preface, pp. vii–viii.

DOI: 10.4324/9780429317859-19

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In the course of time, too, it became the practice for kings to raise loans from their subjects to supplement the sums already raised at the national level. Such payments led not only to a theoretical involvement in the war: men began to expect and, on occasions, to demand a say in the way national affairs were run. Subsidies voted in Parliament became public money, and the king and those who held office under him were expected to see that it was not misused, as the events of the Good Parliament of 1376 remind us. Subjects would help pay for war and would follow their leaders; but they expected something in return – success. If this were not forthcoming, as the French rebels showed in the 1350s, and the English demonstrated both inside and outside Parliament in the 1370s, and again in the 1440s, somebody would have to answer for it. Influential economic groups might seek to further their own interests within the context of the war. The well-known tract, The Libelle of English Polycye, written in 1436, represents an attempt to influence English policy makers to turn the conflict in the direction which might bring maximum advantage to the English merchant community.2 On the opposite side of the Channel the dukes of Burgundy were also, to a considerable degree, subject to the political and military pressures exerted by those living off trade, much of it done with England. So important was the English connection to the prosperity of certain Flemish towns, that these could not bear to see trade with England cut off for long. If the dukes tried the use of economic forces against England, they were likely to find themselves in trouble at home. Not even the most influential of the dukes felt free to do as he alone willed, for it was made clear to him where the public interest lay, and what policy he should follow. Not all, however, were enthusiastic for the war nor, as Edward III discovered, would the Commons readily give advice as to how it should be waged, preferring to leave this to those whose training and position in society better fitted them for the task. As a consequence, it is hardly surprising that the years of the war witnessed a considerable development in the use of propaganda, designed chiefly to arouse involvement in the conflict against the enemy, as well as an increased awareness of national sentiment and identity. The methods used to achieve this were various: the dispatch of letters home, describing progress and, if possible, success – letters which would be read publicly from pulpit and market cross: the publication of letters justifying a particular line of action such as those issued by Henry V before his first invasion of Normandy in 1415: the request that bishops made to their clergy to recite special prayers for the successful outcome of a campaign, or to organise processions to petition the Almighty to bless men’s efforts when an important peace initiative was about to begin. To such forms of involvement were added more sophisticated kinds, whose chief purpose was to arouse in men, by pictorial illustration and the written word, an awareness of the legitimacy of the ruling dynasty (the English did this in France in the fifteenth century) and an emphasis on the need for

2 The Libelle of English Polycye, ed. Sir George Warner (Oxford, 1926).

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support for a national policy.3 The size and importance of this propagandist literature shows how clearly it was appreciated that only by general cooperation in the war might the French drive the English out of France, and thereby bring the conflict to a successful conclusion. Aided by what we would call propaganda, the war became increasingly the nation’s war, propaganda being designed on both sides of the Channel to ensure that this was appreciated and acted upon. The point is underlined by what we know of the practice of war. No longer was it the duty of the soldier alone to be involved in military activity: those concerned with the preparations for war, the conveyance of troops, the provision and carrying of supplies, as with the voting of taxes to pay for such necessities, all were concerned in that one over-all activity which is called war. The involvement of the non-military elements in both English and French societies clearly indicates that the history of war in the late medieval period must be extended beyond the impression gained from reading the chronicles alone. These give an inadequate picture of societies at war. To study war in terms of armies and their activities alone can only lead to an under-appreciation of the many problems which conflict brought in its wake.4 Many late medieval writers were strongly of the view that those whom the war had affected the most were not the soldiers but the non-combatants. If, other than on a relatively small number of occasions, the civilian population of England suffered but little, that of large parts of France suffered considerably from the destructive effects of war. In part this was due to the succession of English raids and invasions; in part, too, to civil conflict caused in some measure by the weakness of the French crown and the quarrels of an uncurbed and independently minded nobility. Which was responsible for what, it is not our task here to decide. Rather, we should ask why people suffered such material destruction, how it came to be inflicted, and, finally, what others thought and did about it. In spite of the chivalric spirit which motivated Froissart and many of those whose exploits he described, this was an age of violence and uncertainty. Such is the message writ large in the chronicles and other literary works of the day. Acts of violence, legitimate in battle, less so when perpetrated against the noncombatant of whatever class, order or nationality, are frequently recorded in historical sources. Considering the length of the war, there were relatively few set battles between opposing armies. Had there been more, it is conceivable that the non-combatant might have escaped more easily. Two main factors led to the imposition of war, and its effects, upon those who did not actually bear arms. The first was the physical nature of France itself, a country of small towns, with relatively open country in between. Such towns, 3 B. J. H. Rowe, ‘King Henry VI’s Claim to France: In Picture and Poem’, The Library, 4th ser., xiii (1932); J. W. McKenna, ‘Henry VI of England and the Dual Monarchy: Aspects of Royal Propaganda, 1422–1432’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, xxviii (1965), 145–162. 4 This is amply borne out by H. J. Hewitt’s The Organization of War under Edward III (See n. 1 above).

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and in particular the larger ones, were usually well fortified; walls and castles provided both protection for the population of the locality, as well as a military challenge which no enemy commander could for long ignore. This meant that any invasion of France by the English would be held up by the presence of such castles, so that the war was certain to be dominated, at the stage of invasion at least, by siege warfare, which could only lead to a slowing down and protraction of the conflict. The longer foreign armies were present on French soil, the more all classes of French society were likely to suffer. Since, too, the towns and their attendant castles existed, in part, to provide protection for those who did not normally live within their confines, sieges were certain to bring calamity upon those seeking refuge within their walls. At best, life would be arduous, but relief would come: at worst, a town would be taken by storm and no quarter given. Even if the town surrendered, the fate of those within it was very precarious . . . At no time were the prospects for the besieged encouraging. The classic example, the siege of Rouen by the English in the hard winter of 1418–19, shows how the innocent non-combatant might suffer if the besieger were determined and unrelenting.5 The second factor, closely bound up with, and largely made possible by, the openness of the French countryside, was the nature of the war which the English fought upon French soil. In the fourteenth century part of its aim was to help demoralise the French population, thereby bringing pressure to bear upon the French king without having recourse to the near ultimate sanction of a pitched battle. Great encounters were therefore avoided, and a form of petty war (but one with a definite plan) was inflicted upon the French population. In addition to, and frequently surpassing, the damage caused by the new artillery against military fortifications were the ills caused to the usually unarmed non-combatants. These, sometimes ignorant of why they should be the victims of other men’s quarrels, suffered physical violence, arson, theft, destruction of home and farming instruments, animals and crops, in addition to having to pay their protection money (pâtis) or ransom to a greedy and less than merciful soldiery. Towns and castles might afford succour to those in their vicinity: for those who lived in the open country (‘le plat pays’) there was little hope once the armed bands came in their direction. If the fifteenth century saw changes in the way that war was fought, the noncombatant was still the war’s principal victim. True, the English were now more determined upon conquest then they had been under Edward III and, for that reason, more likely to try to control the activities of their soldiers. Yet the fact remains that in August 1424, at the moment of the striking English victory at Verneuil, control of the English armies seemed to be slipping out of their commanders’ hands, thereby obliging the duke of Bedford, Henry VI’s regent in France, to issue the following directive:

5 See John Page’s poem on the siege in The Historical Collections of a Citizen of London in the Fifteenth Century, ed. J. Gairdner (London, Camden Soc, 1876).

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We wish and therefore command you that all men-at-arms who have come from England whom you may find living off the land or practising theft or extortion upon the poor people, should be taken by you and put into prison where they shall be punished as was formerly ordered both by the king and by us.6 Nor were the English alone in practising violence and extortion. As was well recognised at the time, Norman patriots who had taken to the woods (the so-called brigans) committed crimes against the non-combatant populations. In response, against these, the English were obliged to take drastic, but not always successful, action against them. But why, it may be asked, was there such material destruction? In part, this was the result of the weapons employed in war. Fire, used on both land and at sea, could be devastating in its effects when so much, from buildings to ships, was constructed of wood. The development of the cannon, gunpowder and larger missiles also meant that destruction, even of strongholds built largely of stone, became more common. Considerable architectural developments were made necessary to combat the destructive effects of cannonball and gunpowder.7 This, however, is less than half the answer. More fundamental still were the soldiers’ attitude to war and peace, and what contemporary military practice permitted him to get away with. Of one thing we may be certain: in his attitude to the war the soldier, of whatever rank, was not normally motivated by patriotism alone. If, particularly towards the end of the period, the French soldier saw it as his chief task to help expel the English enemy from France, that enemy saw matters very differently. Conquest and war abroad might present him with the opportunity of making more money (much more money, if he were lucky) in a shorter time than if he remained at home. Add the possibility of acquiring status, land and titles, and the sums received for the payment of ransoms, and it becomes possible to understand how men could be drawn to enlist by the possibility of profit. A large variety of sources, covering the narrative accounts found in chronicles, the evidence of disputes found in legal records, and the terms of indenture, or contract, sealed between kings and their subordinate commanders, show that the incentive motive, largely an economic one, was very powerful in gathering an army together. ‘The desire for booty was a motive in all medieval warfare’.8 It was generally accepted that the profits of war were available to the soldier, be he noble or common, under certain conditions and at certain times. Laws and

6 Chronique du Mont-Saint-Michel, 1343–1468, ed. S. Luce (2 vols, Paris, SATF, 1879–83), I, p. 145. 7 On this question see B. H. St.J. O’Neil, Castles and Cannon: A Study of Early Artillery Fortifications in England (Oxford, 1960); J. R. Hale, ‘The Early Development of the Bastion: An Italian Chronology, c.1450–c.1534’, Europe in the Late Middle Ages, ed. J. R. Hale, J. R. L. Highfield, and B. Smalley (London, 1965). 8 D. Hay, ‘The Division of the Spoils of War in Fourteenth-Century England’, TRHistS, 5th ser., iv (1954), 91.

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customs, international in character, to some extent regulated this aspect of war, stating what it was proper to take, and under what conditions.9 As usual, the victor came out best, and to him most things were possible – and legally possible. He and his soldiers held the defeated enemy at their mercy; lives might be forfeit, and property would certainly be so. The picture which we have of the siege of Caen by Edward III’s army in 1346 shows how a triumphant army could set to work to strip a prosperous town of its important inhabitants and worthwhile possessions, many being shipped back to England for ransom or sale. This, it should be emphasised, was being done by an army, led by the king of England himself which had already, as a rather shocked Froissart reported, plundered Barfleur, Cherbourg, Valognes and Saint Lô, helping itself to as much booty as it could carry. In the next century some of these Norman towns were to suffer a similar fate: as Charles VII wrote in 1450, the town of Caen underwent two changes of lordship within one generation, the first in 1417, when taken by the army of Henry V; and, again, in 1450 when recaptured by the French king.10 The Welsh chronicler, Adam of Usk, had already reported that the booty won by the victorious army of Henry V was on sale all over England, following upon English successes abroad. In spite of the risks involved, the temptations to go to war were considerable. With its own rules, war became a kind of game,11 a chivalric game for those trained in the ways of chivalry, a dirty and underhand one for those disreputable elements who, as Froissart claimed, existed in the armies of the time.12 It was against these last that military leaders had to take strong action. To many, all was fair in war, and, since the laws of war gave little protection to the undefended noncombatant, it was up to the leaders of armies and mercenary groups to see that the defenceless were not unduly molested in an age when even officially recruited armies were badly paid or paid tardily or, sometimes, not at all. It needed firmness and determination on a commander’s part to see that his orders were carried out. All medieval armies had to live, to a greater or lesser degree, off the land in which they found themselves; they had orders, if not always the means, to pay for what they took for their subsistence. It was when they broke this first rule that they incurred the odium of the non-combatant population. Whatever the laws of war might fail to do providing sufficient protection for the men who did not fight, the writers and moralists of the age were in no doubt that the non-combatant should be left alone to pursue his peacetime occupation. In this they were supported by some of the notable writers of the day, who pointed out that few military leaders had sufficient moral courage or authority to hold back their men when looting and plundering were legitimately allowed them. When, however, they did so

9 The best over-all coverage is to be found in M. H. Keen, The Laws of War in the Late Middle Ages (London, 1965). 10 Caen, Archives Départementales du Calvados, D. 27. 11 J. Huizinga, Homo Ludens: A Study in the Play-Element in Culture (English trans., 1949), ch. 5: ‘Play and War’. 12 Hewitt, Organization of War, pp. 28ff.

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Froissart, Eustache Deschamps and others went out of their way to give them an unsolicited pat on the back for having maintained a firm grip upon their soldiers’ activities, thereby avoiding the all too normal excesses of war. Such firmness was indeed worth applauding. When considered with the respect shown to a man such as Henry V for the firm way he disciplined his armies, such comment goes far towards suggesting that effective discipline was too rarely exercised in a context which gave opportunity to the soldier of gaining immediate material benefit in the form of plunder and prisoners, causing the non-combatant population to be at the mercy of a victorious force or army. It was men’s attitudes to warfare, and the un-chivalric practices thus encouraged, which lay at the root of the misery all too frequently experienced by the noncombatant population. If the prospect of quick profit helped to recruit an army, it made it correspondingly more difficult to exercise effective discipline, as many commanders discovered. If the initiative slipped from the hands of the leaders into those of their men, then the non-combatant would be ever at the mercy of undisciplined armies. Assuming, therefore, a general need for discipline, contemporary writers and critics discovered at length how best to achieve it. In theory this was done in English armies through the publication of military ordinances by a succession of kings from the time of Richard II onwards.13 However, these well intentioned attempts did not always prove adequate, since they failed to take proper account of that which lay at the root of the matter: the need for adequate and, above all, regular pay. As long as men were uncertain of receiving their wages, they would seek to find them elsewhere, and discipline would consequently suffer. Soldiers were not angels, and non-combatants were easy victims. This was an economic problem whose long term solution lay in the adequate provision of genuine pay. To those who took part in it, war had become a commercial venture with the result that it was easier to begin a war than to end it. The words which follow, those of the late fourteenth-century English Dominican friar, John Bromyard, were written about Italy, but they could as easily have been applied to France: it is plain that the majority of wars fought in Lombardy are fought unjustly, and are not begun with the authority of the Prince, but at the command of the strongest man in the city. Nor are they fought for any honest reason, but by partisans of the Ghuelf and Ghibelline parties: not out of good intention, but out of a desire for gain and an urge to lord it over others.14 Of the chief participants in the Hundred Years’ War, England was fortunate enough to suffer the least damage to property and morale. There were disadvantages in fighting abroad, but as far as the non-combatant was concerned this was the war’s greatest advantage. Englishmen were thus largely spared the experiences 13 F. Grose, Military Antiquities (1788), II, pp. 79ff. 14 Johannes de Bromyard, Summa Predicantium (various editions, sub ‘Bellum’).

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which were the lot of much of the French population: almost, but not quite. The defence of the coast was something which mattered greatly in the eyes of those who lived within striking distance of the English Channel, and when the French were successful in making raids upon the coast of England people demanded to know why the government had not been able to protect them. The threat of French attacks was ever present, except under Henry V and Henry VI, when control of the Channel was effectively assured by the presence of Englishmen on both of its shores. In the fourteenth century, however, the whole coast lived under this threat. In October 1338, it became a reality at Southampton when a French galley fleet descended upon the port, causing the citizens to flee to the surrounding countryside. In the meantime, for one profitable day, the French controlled the town and some of the unfortunate inhabitants who had not fled, and helped themselves to what they could carry, before being driven back into the sea by the levies of the neighbouring counties who, under cover of expelling the enemy, caused further considerable loss to the citizens of Southampton, and to some visiting Spanish merchants, before order could finally be restored. Yet this was mild when compared to what certain parts of the French population had to endure. During much of the war, the French were ‘visited’ not only by English royal armies, but by other groups of soldiers (some well-connected, and acting with royal approval, others little more than authorised bands of predatory soldiers) who did much to help achieve one of the aims of English policy, the demoralisation of the population and kingdom of France. It was to these bands that critics such as Philippe de Mézières were referring when they described the English as the scourge of God inflicting punishment upon the people of France for their sins. These men, whether known as Companies in the fourteenth century or as Écorcheurs in the fifteenth, were the bane of the countryside and of the defenceless people who lived there, an affront to order and especially to the royal authority, which feebly did its limited best to rid France of this affliction which seemed to be at its most dangerous during the periods of truce which punctuated the long war.15 To list the activities of the soldiery, and to draw up a catalogue of their misdeeds, would be simple enough, but of little value for this essay. None the less, some kind of indication of the devastation wrecked at this period is called for. We have already seen how, at the successful conclusion of a siege, the conquerors normally divided the spoils and enriched themselves in this way. In battle, too, the taking of prisoners was considered to be of the greatest importance, above all if the captive was either notable or rich (a king, perhaps, as happened at Poitiers in 1356), for he could then be put to a heavy ransom and his captor might be considerably rewarded. Ransoms were sufficiently important for men to go to law over the settlement of a claim to capture, and the perseverance of certain litigants during the years which the courts sometimes took to reach a verdict indicates

15 A. Tuetey, Les Écorcheurs sous Charles VII (Montbéliard, 1874).

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that ransoms and, indeed, less valuable material booty counted for a great deal in the eyes of the late medieval fighting man. That those taken into captivity and put up to ransom included both soldiers and non-combatants hardly needs to be emphasised here.16 The armies of the late Middle Ages were also responsible for much material destruction which today might be termed vandalism. Many of the instances reported by the chroniclers concern armies looting and pillaging before setting fire to the places they had robbed. At times, whole districts might be held to ransom by the soldiery who demanded the payment of pâtis in order that a particular area should be exempted from depredation. Frontier regions were particularly prone to blackmail of this kind. One of the chief victims of the war was the Church, whose buildings – sacred or not – frequently attracted the attention of armies, to the loss of the church’s spiritual and temporal ministrations. Soldiers were hardly inclined to spare a church simply because it was a sacred building. The story of how Henry V caused one of his soldiers to be hanged for stealing a sacred vessel from a church is well known; the fact that only a short time before the incident the king had ordered the publication of special ordinances granting royal protection to all women, children and churchmen adds point to the story. The evidence of the St Albans chronicler, who recalled that many Normans adopted a religious habit when coming into contact with Henry V’s men, indicates clearly enough that although the cowl did not make the monk, it was thought to afford a certain protection against the less disciplined elements in the English army. That the clerical garb did not always prove to be adequate protection is emphasised by the fact that the Companies once held the Pope and the papal court at Avignon to ransom. If such could befall a Pope, what might not happen to lesser churchmen and their churches? Ecclesiastics were made particularly vulnerable by the fact that they were often large landowners. Their estates and their buildings, their crops and their flocks were at the mercy of a hostile army – with little that could be effectively done in their defence. As a consequence, and like the landed nobility all over France at this period, ecclesiastical institutions found themselves in difficulties because their estates were not providing them with the revenues required to maintain and repair them. Not only was there a lack of money; there was also a lack of incentive. English forces had made several descents upon the French mainland, and the Companies (Écorcheurs) were never far away. In such circumstances, populations lacked a positive desire to repair and to rebuild after destruction, since the same might soon occur again. There thus seems little doubt that French agriculture in general and individual fortunes in particular, declined as a result of war. About 1470, Sir John Fortescue, a former chief justice of England, noticed the desolation 16 Some cases took many years to settle. See E. Perroy, L’Affair du comte de Denia’, in Mélanges d’Histoire du Moyen Âge Dédiés à la Mémoire de Louis Halphen (Paris, 1957), and A. Rogers, ‘Hoton versus Shakell: A Ransom Case in the Court of Chivalry, 1390–5’, Nottingham Medieval Studies, vi (1962) and vii (1963).

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in which the land in the region of the Caux, north-west of Rouen, still lay after a rebellion which had taken place about thirty-five years, or more than one generation, before. This may appear as an extreme example, yet it indicates how, even in a rich agricultural region, war might have a devastating effect upon the fortunes and, above all, on the morale of the non-combatant population. That the French population suffered a great deal both physically and psychologically cannot be doubted. Yet a reading of the evidence forces one to ask the question whether that evidence was not exaggerated, and whether it did not place too much emphasis on material destruction and the economic loss which inevitably ensued. Suspicions are aroused by the fact that we learn much about the losses incurred by the church and churchmen from the supplications sent to the papal court seeking remission from certain ecclesiastical taxes or the union of benefices which could no longer exist separately. Take, for instance, this example selected at random: Most Holy Father. Since the revenues and dues of the parish church of St Mary of Ardevone, and the chapel or leprosy of St Giles of the said place, both in the diocese of Avranches, are so terribly reduced that the said church, worth in time of peace twenty gold ducats, is now, because of wars which have been raging in these parts for the past twenty years, worth scarcely six, and the chapel, which was formerly worth ten gold ducats, is now worth but four, from which revenues it is now only possible to maintain one person. Stephen de la Chesnaye, clerk, bachelor in canon law, priest of the said church of St Mary, supplicates that the two benefices be united. Granted, at St Peter’s, Rome, 21 November, 143317 In the secular sphere similar demands, citing the losses caused by war, were made for exemption from rent or royal taxation. But on reading further, suspicions are allayed. This was no gigantic plot to deny pope and king of their revenues. It is the use of other evidence which convinces one that, over all, the picture of devastation derived from this type of evidence is trustworthy. Thus the evidence about the region of the Caux, taken from Sir John Fortescue, agrees with that provided by administrative documents and other sources. Again, as regards the Church, we have the reliable testimony of Philippe de Mézières that the church was one of the chief victims of the war in the fourteenth century. In addition, we have other forms of evidence which point in the same direction: the legal records of the Paris Parlement, and those of notaries in many parts of France; the records of the reluctance of Frenchmen to pay taxes voted by the Estates, on the grounds they had been impoverished by war; the more literary evidence of the works of Roland de Talent, the Italian humanist who lived in Normandy during the last part 17 H. Denifle, La Désolation des Églises, Monastères et Hôpitaux en France pendant la Guerre de Cent Ans (Paris, 1897), I, p. 78.

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of the English occupation in the fifteenth century and who, as an outsider, was in good position to study the situation without too much commitment; not to mention the evidence, very different but strangely complimentary, of two bishops, Jean Juvénal des Ursins and Thomas Basin. Taken as a whole, evidence from such varied sources is overwhelming. As might be expected, a long period of hostility between countries found public opinion asserting itself against what was seen as the evil practices of war. Such opinion is reflected in the practical measures advocated to avert those evils. Of those who wrote, we may distinguish two kinds: the chroniclers, who reflected opinion rather than formed it; and the social commentators and critics whose task it was to influence public opinion, as far as this was possible. Those who took steps to improve the situation were those who worked actively for peace, who strove to bring order to the military scene and who helped alleviate suffering and hardship undergone by the more innocent of the war’s victims. In all these ways men showed themselves aware of the situation which appeared to many to be worsening with every passing year. No chronicler, if he collected his information assiduously, could fail to realise that war had its darker side. To a man like Froissart, the arch-exponent of the chivalric chronicle, such a realisation must have been distasteful. In his reporting of the war, we do not normally find the worst excesses being committed by men of birth and breeding – the natural leaders – but rather by the riff-raff of society found in any army of his day. Yet, in spite of his leanings, Froissart did not ignore the realities of life which he was at pains to describe. Nonetheless, he clearly frowned upon acts of treachery and unnecessary violence, reserving praise for those who helped prevent such excesses. If Froissart had both feet on the ground and knew what was going on between men in wartime, he nevertheless did not live so close to ordinary people as did some other writers of whom we may take the fourteenth-century French Carmelite, Jean de Venette, as an example.18 Froissart, it is true, was a clerk, but Venette was a dedicated priest, and doubtless there was something of the priestly outlook reflected in his comments on the conduct of war. Born a peasant, his social attitude was more humble than that of Froissart, and it is probable that he reflected with greater feeling and accuracy the sentiments of the French lower classes – especially the non-combatant classes – towards the activities of the soldier. He was also a sharp critic of the nobility for their failure to take a proper lead against the English, and for not protecting the people from some of the worst effects of war. Such criticism was not motivated by Venette’s lowly birth, for the nobility had other critics, more highly born than Venette had been. On the effects of war upon the French countryside and its unfortunate populations, few could paint a more harrowing picture. Venette’s liking for the purple passage, however, should not prevent us from realising that, in spite of his wordiness, he felt strongly about

18 The Chronicle of Jean de Venette, trans. and ed. J. Birdsall and R. A. Newhall (New York, 1951).

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the desperate situation in the France of his day, and that he was aware enough to see where the roots of the trouble lay. Not unnaturally, social critics had more to say on the matter of war, and especially on its abuses. They are interesting not only because they reflect a sympathetic understanding of the troubles which affected Europe, and France in particular, in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, but because they put forward solutions as how best to bring them to an end. That these solutions bore considerable resemblance to one another is not surprising, for each critic owed a debt to those who had preceded him. Yet it would be wrong to assume that they copied one another blindly. The fact that their solutions seem to follow a close pattern indicates, rather, how valid and widely accepted the suggestions may have been. In England there appears to have been considerable awareness, among the better informed critics at least, of the plight of those caught up, in spite of themselves, by the war in France. Not surprisingly, churchmen were among the strongest critics of the manner in which the war was being fought. Sermons were preached condemning the conduct of the war, if not the very policy of the war itself. Two well-known fourteenth-century bishops, Richard Fitz Ralph of Armagh and Thomas Brinton of Rochester, could openly state their doubts concerning the morality of fighting one’s neighbour, Brinton expressing what was for an Englishman a very forthright opinion when he stated, about 1375, that the English were at that time being worsted by the French as divine punishment for their sins. This kind of opinion, more normally associated with French publicists writing about their own people, is revealing as suggesting that the evils of war, as they affected the non-combatant, were the retribution levied by God upon a whole people for their sins, a notion implied if not openly stated.19 The violence of war and the hypocrisy which it engendered caused some to attack all forms of military aggression. If Langland was, in some sort, a pacifist, the chief exponent of this doctrine was to be John Wyclif who, with not a little justice, saw war as being waged, ‘for pride and coveitise’, or for ambition and hope of advantage, as we might put it.20 In his Latin work, De Officio Regis, Wyclif condemned the war fought among Christians as being against the commandment to love one’s neighbour. How, he asked, could a claimant to a kingdom (he probably had in mind Edward III’s claim to the French throne) know for certain that God had chosen him for it and, if not, how dare he risk so many lives in pursuit of so great an uncertainty? War, he stated to add weight to his argument, was more dangerous in his day than it had been in Old Testament times. A bitter critic of his fellow clergy, Wyclif castigated them for giving financial support to a king who pursued a policy of war. No words, either, were strong enough to condemn the activities of bishop Despenser of Norwich in leading a crusade to 19 On this, see G. R. Owst, Preaching in Medieval England (Cambridge, 1933; new edn, Oxford, 1961). 20 The English Works of Wyclif, hitherto unpublished, ed. F. D. Matthew (1880). Wyclif had said that money spent on war could have been better spent on other causes.

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Flanders against the supporters of the anti-pope, Clement VII, in 1383. Death, when it came to Wyclif at the end of the following year, must have been a relief from so sinful a world.21 His influence, however, lived on. In 1391 Walter Brut, who described himself as ‘a sinner, layman, farmer and a Christian’, denounced all war, as Wycliffe had done, as being against both the spirit and the letter of the gospel; while the opinions of William Swynderby who, like Brut, condemned war in strong terms, had to be refuted by two Cambridge theologians who defended the right of the king of England, Richard II, to attack the kingdom of France.22 One of the most interesting critics of the effects of war was another priest, the more orthodox Dominican, John Bromyard. In his Summa Predicantium, or notes for preachers, he expressed in several places what he saw as being wrong with war; his views have added interest in that they referred to events in both France and Italy, which he mentions more than once. As became a priest, Bromyard was concerned with the morally degrading effects of war, both upon those who caused evils and those who suffered them. Soldiers, he asserted, came to look for money and, not finding it, they searched for their victims’ best clothes. Those robbed found themselves in such poverty that necessity obliged them to steal and to use threats and violence to obtain even the minimum of what they needed.23 War was, therefore, a source of moral danger for all concerned; death came quickly and unexpectedly and the man who died in sin might be damned for all eternity. Bromyard also showed an awareness of the difficulties experienced by the noncombatant, together with much sympathy for him in his plight. The well-informed Dominican friar clearly realised that if the age in which he lived was dominated by war and its effects, this was largely due to the existence of badly paid soldiers who encouraged aggression for their own benefit. They were the only men who knew how to use force with any effect, being accustomed to overriding the law and the courts, both secular and ecclesiastical, as the occasion demanded. Such men despoiled the church and the poor as they went along, taking what they wanted as and when it suited them. But the poor had yet more to suffer, for not only did they expect the visitations of the soldiery and the companies, but they also had to put up with the levying of dues and other taxes by their Lords and the officers of the king, the money then being wasted on tournaments, on buying horses for war, on paying of ransoms and the like. Behind this condemnation of many aspects of war was the recognition that men’s desire for luxuria lay at the root of the deceit, treason and violence by which war was now characterised.24 On the French side much was naturally made of the physical sufferings brought about by war: ‘the groans of poets Eustache Deschamps and Jean Meschimot are

21 Tractatus de Officio Regis, ed. A. W. Matthew and C. Sayle (London, 1887), pp. 262, 272, 279; English Works, pp. 90–91. 22 The Register of John Trefnant, Bishop of Hereford (1389–1404), ed. W. W. Capes (Hereford, 1914). 23 Summa Predicantium, under ‘Ministratio’. 24 Ibid, under ‘Lex’ and ‘Bellum’: Wyclif, De Officio Regis, p. 271.

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only too easy to hear’.25 These present what may perhaps be seen as the popular view of the war. Later, in the fifteenth century, two Normans, Alain Chartier and bishop Thomas Basin, also criticised the manner of conducting the war, being joined in this by the voice of the influential Jean Juvénal des Ursins. Basin was particularly critical of Charles VII for not defending his people, blaming it chiefly on the lack of control which the king had over his army, which was allowed to do much as it, rather than what the king himself, willed. The most interesting of French social commentators of the late fourteenth century was Philippe de Mézières, whose Songe du Vieil Pèlerin contains much that is pertinent to our subject. Not surprisingly, he echoed several criticisms which have already been mentioned, while citing other abuses whose existence is confirmed by the surviving historical records of the day. He was much concerned with the fate of the Church, all the more so since that institution was in the grips of the Great Schism at the time Mézières was writing. Like Wyclif, with whom he would not be naturally associated, he was more than once critical of the English clergy who appeared to him to be giving their support to the continuation of the war; he even singled out certain bishops for being too concerned with the cares of the world. In his own France, he claimed, churchmen were experiencing other difficulties; their churches were frequently ruined and they were finding it difficult to obtain possession of livings, being obliged to have recourse to the courts, where they frequently encountered the obstructionist tactics of petty officialdom. When writing of the suffering, both physical and moral, experienced by the noncombatant, Mézières made it clear that what his country needed was an authority which could control its own officials and curb the excesses of the gens d’armes, chiefly by paying them properly, and by demanding of them the implementation of their obligations. It is significant that he should have been against the granting of letters of marque, as these derogated from the king’s right to make war and apply justice, thereby giving encouragement to those wishing to take the law into their own hands.26 Turning to those who took active steps to improve the lot of the non-combatant, it is well to mention a few writers who dwelt more specifically with military affairs. The late fourteenth-century French monk, Honoré Bouvet, whose treatise, L’Arbre des Batailles, concerned practical problems which any soldier might encounter, showed himself keenly aware of the tragic effects of the war, and of its evil influence upon men of his day, although some may object that his legal background caused him to consider these problems in formal rather than in human terms.27 Yet these are precisely the qualities which made his work well known and influential; the popular early fifteenth-century writer, Christine de Pisan, relied heavily on it. Their joint popularity is reflected by the fact that Henry VII 25 P. S. Lewis, Later Medieval France, the Polity (London, 1968), p. 16. 26 Philippe de Mézières, Le Songe du Vieil Pèlerin, ed. G. W. Coopland (2 vols, Cambridge, 1969). 27 Trans and ed. G. W. Coopland, under the title of The Tree of Battles of Honoré Bonet (sic) (Liverpool, 1949).

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of England was to lend William Caxton his manuscript of Christine’s work, with orders to translate it into English; the work finally appeared from Caxton’s press under the title of The Book of Fayttes of Armes and of Chyualrye.28 In a part of the third book, which dealt with some practical considerations of war, Christine asserted that, before engaging in war, a king should ensure that he could pay his army adequately, in order to prevent fighting the common people who, unless they were found helping the enemy, ought to be left in peace. We are once again in the presence of the much advocated answer to violence: discipline and control based upon an ability to pay an army. Much the same form of argument was to be employed by the Englishman, Nicholas Upton, who compiled his De Studio Militari from the fruits of practical experience gained in the French wars of Henry VI. Upton had no doubts that the non-combatant must remain unmolested. All religious persons, those concerned with farming and agriculture, pilgrims, merchants, surgeons and barbers (the physicians of the day) and, as Christine would have added, university students travelling to and from their place of study – all these should be allowed to go freely. From his own experience Upton agreed that ‘onrewly Couetousnes [is the] mother of stryffes, enemy of peace [and the] occasion of grutche and malice’. Taking this view, Upton would punish soldiers for action that ‘ys not reputyd for a sowdier’ by ‘correction by the purse’.29 This, at any rate, was action which the soldier himself would understand, and was, in fact, used in Normandy by the duke of Bedford, who decreed that soldiers who, against orders, did not pay for goods which they took, would have their value deducted from their wages. The good intention is clear. Yet the fact remained that although the soldiers concerned might be punished, the embittered civilian remained uncompensated for the theft. We have now returned to the realities of life. The social critics, poets and chroniclers might express the views of society and its sympathy for those who suffered from the war. Yet how effective were such comments? Those in authority were not unaware of the problems, but were limited in what they could do to solve them. The English military ordinances, which constituted the shadowy line of demarcation between legitimate military and civil interests, and the development of the court of chivalry at this period, were two attempts to impose effective military discipline. In France, the Cabochien revolt of 1413 was partly provoked by a desire to resolve the military problem, but the ordinances were too short lived to have had any lasting effects.30 The necessary order in the military sphere would only be achieved as part of a more general resurgence and assertion of royal authority. That the effective military reforms of the reign of Charles VII should have coincided with this resurgence was no accident. From then on, matters improved, and France began her recovery from the effects of war. 28 Ed. A. T. P. Byles (EETS., 1932 and 1937). 29 The Essential Portions of Nicholas Upton’s ‘De Studio Militari’, ed. F. P. Barnard (Oxford, 1931), pp. 4, 5, 28–29, 33, 46. 30 See A Coville, L’Ordonnance Cabochienne (Paris, 1891), esp. p. 172.

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The Church, too (pace Wyclif) did not always speak tongue in cheek when she had occasion to bemoan the spilling of Christian blood by other Christians. Mainly through the sermons of the clergy, attention could be drawn to the many moral problems of war, and to the calamities which conflict brought in its wake. The church would help, too, in peace negotiations; on several occasions the papacy and, during the conciliar period, the church councils (notably that of Basel) were represented at international meetings convened to resolve the deadlock existing between the war’s main protagonists. In one now well-known case about 1340, Pope Benedict XII sent a gift of 6000 gold florins as war relief to the inhabitants of the devastated region around Cambrai, in north-eastern France. That this instance of Christian bounty in the face of hardships experienced by an almost defenceless civil population should be needed at all was largely due to the fire-raising excesses of Edward III’s army in the first major campaign of the Hundred Years’ War. This was bad enough but, as we now know, matters would get worse before they got better.31 So, although steps were taken to improve the deteriorating situation, they had but little practical effect. For a variety of causes, the fourteenth century witnessed the broadening out of the war into several theatres: over much of France, into Spain and Portugal, not to mention the war at sea. The English could not afford to give adequate pay to those who went to fight on these expeditions. Nor could the French, so often on the defensive in different quarters, do much better. Military leaders finally realised this, taking it upon themselves to lead expeditions against the enemy on condition that a blind eye be turned to their misdeeds and those of their soldiers. Badly and irregularly paid, sometimes not paid at all, they had to fend for themselves. As Nicolas de Clémanges wrote to Jean Gerson sometime after 1408, this meant that any man, simply by making promises, could gather round himself a group which would set out to seek its own fortune. Inevitably this led to the situation in which that group would not fight against the country’s real enemies but rather against its own citizens and inhabitants. Dismissing as rotten the system whereby soldiers were not properly paid, Clémanges, condemned it as the root of all the evils from which the France of his day was suffering.32 Such was one of the great problems which faced men in late medieval France, a problem which, as events were to show, would only be solved by a successful reassertion of the monarchy’s power. But the monarchy could not do everything alone. There were attitudes to be conquered, and those of the seasoned soldier were the hardest to change. In 1435, in a well-known memorandum, the English knight, Sir John Fastolf, a man of wide experience of war in France, advocated a scorched earth policy as the best way of defeating the French, because they had rejected the suggestion that the war be fought ‘alonly betwixt men of werre and men of werre’. Since this relatively humanitarian approach had been spurned, Fastolf was prepared to support the harshest methods. Groups of soldiers should go through northern France ‘brennyng and distruynge alle the lande as thei pas, both 31 Hewitt, Organization of War, pp. 124–125. 32 Jean Gerson, Oeuvres Complètes, ed. P. Glorieux (Paris, 1960), ii, pp. 121–122.

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hous, corne, veignes and all treis that beren fruyte for mannys sustenaunce, and all bestaile that may not be driven [away], to be distroiede’.33 It is revealing that, in spite of showing an awareness of the plight of the non-combatant, Fastolf should have advocated the destruction of his goods crops and cattle, of everything in fact that he had to live on. As a hardened soldier, Fastolf had a clear idea as to how the war should be fought. The non-combatant might be spared but, in the name of military necessity, he must be prepared to lose his all. Less than twenty years after these words were written, the English would be expelled from France, and many of the reasons which lay behind the sufferings experienced by the non-combatant population disappeared with them. Yet, in spite of it all, few seem to have adopted strongly held antimilitary attitudes: a man like Bouvet was not against war as such. As the fourteenth century advanced, the predominant feeling grew into one of lassitude and fatalistic resignation. All too frequently men attributed the loss of goods or property to ‘la fortune de la guerre’, a force against which they felt powerless to act. Demoralisation was what leaders in both Church and State had to contend with, since generations had grown up who had never known any condition other than war, a condition which the poet Deschamps described as that of ‘damnation’. War now joined famine and the plague as the signs of divine disfavour from whose tribulations men prayed to be spared: A fame, bello et peste, libera nos, Domine.34 Until fairly recent times the role of the non-combatant in war has suffered from being insufficiently studied, and the significance of its place in the study of conflict has therefore often not been fully appreciated or understood. Recent years, however, have brought about change. The involvement of sizeable elements of the civilian populations of the war’s participating countries has raised awareness of the important role played by the non-combatant in modern conflict; that importance may be seen in the growing role played by him in the preparation for war; likewise, the civilian as a target for enemy propaganda underlines the importance of the role played by him supporting the side which he does in the conflict. That role is better known and understood now than it was even three or four generations ago. The demands made upon society by modern warfare have helped forge a better, evidenced-based, understanding of the role of the non-combatant in wars fought in recent times. The use of valuable public records have enabled us to get to know the personnel of English armies who fought in France six or seven centuries ago, to follow their careers as soldiers, and thus to get a far better idea than was previously available of who the ‘typical’ soldier might be, where (in more than one sense) he came from, and what he may have hoped to derive from working in the king’s army. The systematic analysis of sections of England’s fine 33 Letters and Papers llustrative of the Wars of the English in France, ed. J. Stevenson, (London, RS). ii, pt 2, 580. 34 Those interested in reading further on the subject may turn to C. Allmand, ‘War and the NonCombatant in the Middle Ages’ (M. Keen (ed), Medieval Warfare: A History (Oxford, 1999), pp. 253–272.

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public records has enabled historians to extend the search to find answers to questions which, if answered in sufficient numbers, allow them to make significant and meaningful generalisations about those who, for example, served in English armies several centuries ago. The growth in both the quantity and quality of information regarding individuals making different contributions to the functioning of the army becoming available has meant that historians can now make assessments of a kind, and in sufficient number, to cause the study which used to be called ‘Military History’ to be changed to the broader and more inclusive subject which we call the ‘History of War’.

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adaptations 31 adversary 130, 131, 138 Alfonso V (Naples) 10, 17, 48 ambush 11, 14, 20 ancient world 3, 10, 37, 70 Anglo-Burgundian 124, 128, 131, 173 Anglo-French negotiations 123, 128 Anglo-Norman 30, 35, 38, 47 Aquinas, Thomas 70, 74 archers 50, 89, 104 Armagnacs 60, 170, 182 armed forces, role of 3, 27, 32, 38, 91 army: badges and uniforms 72, 182; creation/role of 26, 34, 122; defined as ‘a certain kind of prudence’ 29, 74, 90; leadership, nature of 9, 23, 32, 46, 66, 75, 89; maintain morale 9, 12, 14, 109, 201, 217; recruitment 23, 36, 42, 78, 101 Arras: diplomatic setback 109, 119, 134; negotiations in 114, 117, 124–125, 134–136; public display of executed 104 Art of War 1–2, 36 articles, the 166–168 augmentations 44 Augustus, Philip 27, 73, 75, 81, 110, 165 Barbour, John 32, 188 Basel, council of 126, 133, 139, 140 Basin, Thomas 70, 156, 158, 221, 224 battle: of Agincourt 118; of Bouvines 27, 44; enthusiasm for 12–13; of Grandson 105; preparation for 23, 31, 80; successful 28, 139, 142; of Verneuil 101, 113, 178; victory, effects of 13, 16, 28, 34, 43, 88, 91 battlefield 9, 58, 69 Beauchamp, Richard 130 Beaufort, Edmund 110

Beaufort, Henry 118–119, 124, 130–133, 153; see also cardinal Beaufort Bekynton, Thomas 125–126, 129–130, 137, 138, 140, 143, 145, 147, 148 Bildeston, Nicholas 130, 131, 141 Blanchard, Joel 83–84 Bodleian Library, Oxford 10, 48 Book of Fayettes of Armes and of Chyualrye (Caxton) 46, 225 Bordeaux 158, 180 Bourchier, Henry 129, 130 bourgeois 114, 157 Bourgeois de Paris 158, 170 Bourges 74 Bouvet, Honoré 58, 60–61, 65, 67, 78, 103, 224, 227 Bouvines 27, 44, 73 Brabant 131, 150 Breton, Guillaume le 27, 73–74, 81, 192 British Library (BL) 10, 48, 49 Brittany 124, 145 Bromyard, John 58, 217, 223 Brouns, Thomas 130, 131 Bruce, The (Barbour) 32 Brussels 48 Brut chronicle 45 Brut, Walter 223 Burgundian: envoys 124, 135, 150; military/army 33, 49, 52–53 Burgundians 60, 105, 123, 128, 150, 152, 170, 200 Burgundy: duchess of 124, 133–134; duke of 118, 127, 140, 150, 171, 179; see also Philip the Good; negotiations with 124 Caesar, Julius 8, 17 Calais 110; centre for spies 196–197, 199; peace convention 125, 137; protection

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of 118–119, 144; return to (English) 146, 150; siege of 123 campaigns 78, 86, 113, 211 Canterbury 16, 197, 198 cardinal Beaufort 118–119, 121, 131 Carolingian empire 24 Castile 28, 33, 45, 93 Castilian 18, 28, 30, 35, 207 castles 115, 145, 147, 175, 199, 208, 214 Catalan 18, 30 Cato, Marcus Porcius 9, 15, 37 Cauchon, Pierre 130 cavalry 36, 42, 89 Caxton, William 46, 225 Celsus, Cornelius 9, 37 Charles I see Charles the Bold Charles the Bald 25 Charles the Bold: military appreciation 53–54; military reforms 34, 48, 51, 99 Charles V 77, 79 Charles VI 79, 122, 139, 164, 170, 195 Charles VII 19, 21, 65, 93, 105 Charte aux Normands 157, 162, 163, 164 Chartier, Alain 58, 61, 63–64, 66, 78, 224 chevalerie 74, 77, 79–80, 81 Christian, spirit of 60, 72, 175, 223 Church, the 72, 90, 111, 139, 144, 161, 219–220, 226 churchmen 10, 129, 157, 162, 219, 222, 224 Cicero 12 Collectaneum miscellaneum (Scotus) 14 combat 88, 91, 100, 215 commander: role of 32, 41, 50, 197; successful 8, 80–81 common good: promotion of 43, 72, 84, 91; threats to 26–27, 74, 104; worthy of 16, 33, 175 compensation: for loss 117, 149, 172 compromise 120, 131, 134, 139, 148–149, 153, 178 concession 116–117, 132, 138, 142, 145, 151 conflict: civil 171, 182, 213; threat to peace 169; time of 3, 11, 21, 93, 227 Congress of Arras 123, 125, 126, 127 Contamine, Philippe 52–53, 96 Corvinus, Mathias 10 Cour des Aides 163, 165 Crathor 65–66, 86, 87, 90, 91 Cromwell, John 100

crown: authority of 27, 57, 78, 81, 100; of France 116, 121–122, 142, 147–148, 155, 169; land grants 104; respect for 27, 78; service to 62–64, 66, 97 Cyropaedia 49, 52 d’Escouchy, Mathieu 71 da Legnano, Giovanni 104 da Montefeltro, Fedrigo 10 De aquis urbis Romae: aqueducts in Rome 7 de Bourges, Pieret 199 de Brézé, Pierre 158 de Bueil, Jean V. 58, 60, 62–66, 78–80, 83–84, 93 de Chartres, Regnault 127 de la Hazardière, Pierre 160 de la Pole, Hugh 205 de la Pole, William 110, 118 de Lucena, Vasco 49 de Meun, Jean 30, 36, 38, 44, 79 de Mézières, Philippe 58, 78, 187, 189, 194, 199, 204 de Pisan, Christine 46, 58, 78, 210, 224–225 De re militari: adaptations/translations of 26–27, 30; military practices (manuscript) 7, 25 de Rinel, Jean 130, 146 de Rouvroy, Jean 19 de Venette, Jean 59, 70, 221 de Vignai, Jean 41, 48 de Vitri, Phillipe 77 death: on the battlefield 12, 69, 105; sentence 99, 103, 105; violent 110, 223 death penalty 104, 179 Débat du Herault (Chartier) 63, 66, 68 delegation 21, 75, 129–130, 138, 141, 146, 177 Department of War Studies, King’s College, London 22 des Ursins, Guillaume Jouvenel 58–61, 64–65, 157, 175, 179, 221, 224 Deschamps, Eustache 58–60, 62, 66, 80, 217, 223, 227 desertion 67; condemned 102–103; sanctions imposed 104–105; study of 96–100 Dickinson, Joycelyne G 125, 144n97 diplomacy, process of 112, 123, 126, 137, 153–154 discipline 12, 16, 24, 73 double monarchy 114

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du Guesclin, Bertrand 62, 65, 77, 78, 79 duchess Isabella 128, 133, 135–136, 138, 153 earl of Suffolk 118, 120, 122; see also de la Pole Échiquier 157, 163–164, 165, 166 Edict of Compiegne 161–162, 177–178, 181, 183 Edward I 30, 38, 96, 100, 103, 194 Edward III 31, 68, 132, 188–188, 194, 202, 206, 212 Eighth century 24, 37, 47 enemy: confronting in battle 32, 34, 38, 49; defeating 8–9; panic/unease, creating 13–14, 20; spiritual 24 England: ambassadors 117, 130, 135, 151, 191; monarchy, powers of 25, 109–111, 121; peace negotiations 128, 133–134, 151; unauthorized return to 98–99, 103, 114; wars against 61, 79, 95, 120, 142, 206–207 English: advance party 127, 129, 133, 136; ambassadors 117, 130, 135, 144–146, 149–151; crown 117, 144, 193–194, 199; occupation 123, 155, 164–165, 221; policy 111, 116–117, 130, 212, 218; royal authority 58–59, 70, 73–74, 161, 171, 182, 225; translations/versions 19, 30, 36, 45–46, 48, 88 English embassy 127–130, 135, 138, 149–150 Epitoma rei militaris 23, 35, 47, 73 Erard, Guillaume 130 espionage 11, 45, 187–188, 194–195, 204, 209–210 factions 73, 148, 182, 196 Faits d’Armes et de Chevalerie (de Pisan) 46 Fastolf, John 68, 115–116, 120, 226 fifteenth century 10, 12, 35, 48, 82, 104, 214m 224 fifth century 7, 23, 47 finance 36, 57, 59, 203 first century 7, 37 foreknowledge/foresight 8, 13, 32, 34, 74, 80 foresight 8, 13, 32, 34, 74, 80 fourteenth century 31–32, 51, 60–62, 103, 187 fourth century 23, 43, 47, 57, 88

France: ambassadors 127, 135, 141–143, 153; medieval 57–58, 61, 72; monarchy 25, 72, 74, 114, 121, 170, 182, 226; occupation of 115–116, 123, 182; reconciliation 169, 173–174, 182–183; royal ordinances 50, 58, 61, 177 Freculph 25 freedom 32, 136, 147, 151, 154, 177, 194, 202 French: advance party 129; crown 103, 132, 138, 144, 153, 213; protocol 126, 128, 131, 140, 142, 147; reform 23, 36, 51, 67 French embassy 126, 143 Froissart, Jean 65, 213, 216–217, 221 Frontinus, Sextus Julius: influence of 12, 14–17, 20–21, 37; public service 7–11 garrison (military post) 11, 13, 156, 195, 197 Garter King of Arms 45, 133, 141 Gascony 110, 119, 139, 145 Gaza, Theodore 17 Genoa 45 German (translation to) 30, 35, 45 Giamboni, Bono 30 Giles of Rome (Aegidius Romanus) 28–30, 37, 45, 74–75, 79 Gloucester, duke of 46, 118, 120, 126, 135, 145 God: favour of 132, 144; pleasing 40, 57, 93; thankfulness for 71, 85, 139; will of 60–62, 118, 218, 222 Gotha, Forschungsbibliothek: German library 10 grace and goodwill (bonne grace er bienveillance) 172, 176, 180 Greece 44, 93 Greek 8, 17, 20, 49 Guerre, État et Société à la Fin du Moyen Age (Contamine) 96 guerrilla (warfare) 32, 188 Harfleur 98, 114, 121, 157, 159, 161 Henry V: aggressive polices 132, 147, 191–192, 217; campaigns of 112, 114, 116, 118, 129 Henry VI 69, 98–99, 109, 120–121, 125, 132, 142, 225 Hewitt, Herbert J. 1, 2 History of the Art of War in the Middle Ages (Oman) 1

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3, 79; discipline 50, 53–54, 61, 65, 67, 97, 105, 225; history 2, 80, 86, 228; manual 34, 35; matters 10, 54, 66, 70, 84; men 2, 10, 38; personnel 10, 54; practice 7, 10, 24, 52–54, 94, 215; principles 3, 73, 86; reforms 48, 49, 95, 225; science 7, 16, 88; service 7, 26, 50, 54, 99, 102; texts 10, 17, 47; virtue 12, 40, 43 Mirrors for Princes 47, 88 Molineux, Nicholas 114 monarchy 25, 72, 74 monk 24, 37 moral 3, 19, 34, 43, 83, 118, 216, 224 morale 9, 11–12, 43, 101, 109, 196, 205, 220 Morin, Guillaume 159–160 Morin, Martin 82

Hoccleve, Thomas 45 hostilities 50, 58, 130, 132, 143, 146, 152, 171 human reactions 8, 11 Humphrey of Gloucester 110, 116, 123 Hundred Years’ War 77, 109, 169, 179, 206, 211, 217, 226 Hungerford, Walter 129, 130, 146 indemnity 117–118 intelligence 192, 193, 197, 200, 210 Ireland 115, 150 Isabella 124–125, 137, 141–143, 145–146, 151; see also duchess Isabella Joan of Arc 101, 109, 122, 171, 181 John II (John the Good) 58, 97 John of Salisbury 16, 26, 37, 57, 61, 66, 73, 78 Journal d’un Bourgeois de Paris 170 Kemp, John 118, 124, 129–130, 138–139, 147, 152 king Amydas 83, 90, 91, 92, 93 knight: societal obligations of 21, 43, 45, 62, 75 knyght 42, 43 Lambeth Palace 8, 10 Latin (texts/manuscripts) 18, 31, 38, 48, 88 Le Jouvencel (de Bueil) 62–63, 65, 79, 82–84, 88, 93–95 le Maingre, Jean 68 leadership: delegation of authority 75; successful 23, 33 literature, forms of 19, 23, 37, 41, 60 Livius, Titus (Livy) 8, 15 Louis XI 95, 165, 172, 180 Lydgate, John 45 Machiavelli, Niccolò di Bernardo dei 18, 47 Maillière, Robert 127 Malory, Thomas 45 man-at-arms 84, 86, 88, 91 manuscript 10, 12, 20–21, 34, 48–49 Maur, Hraban 24, 37 Maximus, Valerius 15, 53, 64, 66, 70 McFarlane, Kenneth Bruce 114, 152 mediator 123, 131, 134–136, 149, 154 Metellus Pius, Quintus Caecilius 13, 15 military: activity 1, 23, 74, 213; affairs 10, 14–15, 17, 23, 25, 76, 224; careers

negotiations 153 Newhall, Richard 114 ninth century 10, 14 nobility 27, 78, 113, 121, 157, 178, 219, 221 non-combatant 1–2, 59, 211 Norman: Anglo-Norman 30, 38, 47; bailliages 145; society/nobility 117, 122, 165, 215 Normandy 109; conquest of 117–118, 179; English domination 110; pragmatic section 160; reconquest of 155 occasio, opportunity 8 Oldhall, William 130 Oman, Charles 1 open battle 8, 93, 95 ordinance 1439 67 ordinance of 1374 65, 67 ordinance of 1473 50, 53 Organization of War under Edward III, 1338–62, The (Hewitt) 1 Orléans: release of 151, 152, 153; siege of 122 Overton, Thomas 68 Oxford, Bodleian Library 10 Oxford, Lincoln College 8, 10, 16 Oye 125, 133, 135, 150, 152 Padova, Fidensio da 17 Parlement of Paris 58, 63, 68, 69, 161, 164, 173, 180 past events 8, 9, 172 Patent Rolls 115

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peace 117; convention 125, 127; peacemaking 135, 140–141, 183; prospects of 124, 140, 142; settlement 126–127; stipulation of 120 Petrarch, Francesco 15, 16 Philip the Good 53, 118 Pieri, Piero 2 Policraticus (Salisbury) 16, 26–27, 57, 72 policy: royal 76, 174, 208; unpopular (Suffolk’s) 110 political decision making 16, 18 political/social ideas 33, 47, 105, 109 Popham, John 124, 129, 130, 131, 146 Portuguese 9translation to) 30, 49, 114, 207 principles, general 8, 16–17, 21, 80; see also military prisoner 69, 118, 121, 124, 130, 135, 138, 178 profession of arms 78, 85, 86, 87 rapprochement (re-establishment of relationships) 124, 127, 181 regime 120, 160, 173 reluctance 153, 162, 181, 220 Renatus, Publius Flavius Vegetius see Vegetius revolt 15, 111, 225 Richard III 45, 48 Riolay, Nicolas 82, 84 Rochester 198, 222 Rolin, Nicolas 128, 144, 145 Rolls of parliament 115 Roman: ideas 29, 75, 79; military 9, 12, 53–54, 67, 104; principles/virtues 78; text on war 7, 23; tradition 3, 21, 41, 64 Roman de la rose (Meun) 30, 38 Roman Empire 48 Rome 15, 35, 44, 161, 201 Rouen: citizens of 120, 156–157, 162, 177; prosperity of 159, 163; seige of 45, 158, 214 royal army 27, 58, 72 royal council 104, 110, 118–121, 145, 154 Rudborne, Thomas 130, 131 science 41 Scotland 33, 96, 115, 188, 196, 200 Scottish borders 198, 205, 207 Scottish wars 96 Scotus, Sedulius 14 scribe 10, 17, 22 Secundus, Gaius Plinius (Pliny) 15

settlement 126, 127, 140, 144, 161, 218 siege warfare 24, 39, 43, 86 Siete Partidas (legal code) 28 Silber, Eucharius 18 sixteenth century 35, 41, 69, 112 skills: acquired 34, 43; military 78, 94 soldiers: changing perceptions of 57; community fighters 28; courtiers 95; flesh and blood 12, 68; foot soldier 36, 42, 67, 89; judged on character/ability 3; must possess physical energy 29; oath of obedience 26; training of 25, 87; undisciplined 58 soldiery 24, 58, 61, 96, 218, 223 sovereign 33, 62, 66, 147, 164–166, 173 spies/spying: use of spies 187 Sprever, Willian 130, 131 St Bridget 138, 139 Stafford, Humphrey 130 Stafford, john 146, 152 Stafford, Robert 63 Stourton, John 130, 133 stratagems 7, 8, 12, 16 Strategemata: appropriateness of 15; increase in demand 10; manuscript of war 7, 9–10, 13; medieval thinking about war 18; popularity 11; translations of 18–19; visual translation 20; see also De re militari strategy 26, 34 Suffolk 110, 120–121 Sutton, John 130 tactics 34, 36, 38, 44, 89, 135, 224 taxes 151, 164, 180, 213, 220, 223 thirteenth century: early/pre 13, 18; late 31, 38, 79, 96 Tibergeau, Jean 82, 84 tiro 23, 24, 42 traitors 92, 104, 123 translation: English 31; French 19, 21, 48–49 translators 30–31, 37 treason 67, 92, 105, 120, 151, 172, 179, 195 treaty of Arras 122–123 treaty of Troyes 114, 120, 122, 132, 139, 195 Tringant, Guillaume 82, 83, 84, 94 Truce of Tours 120, 154 Tudert, Jean 127 Tuscan 30, 35 twelfth century 17, 24–27, 37, 41, 57, 73, 79

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University at Caen 122, 163, 165 Upton, Nicholas 104, 208, 225 Urbino, Bartolomeo da 17 Valois, House of 33, 109 Vatican Library 8, 10, 13 Vegetius: manuscripts of 23–24; societal obligations 43; state servant, not soldier 9; teachings (fight with strategy) 10, 26, 28, 34; veterinary specialist 23 victory, securing 12, 75, 88, 91, 94, 181 Vincent of Beauvais 37 Wales (translation to) 31, 38, 44, 115, 204, 208 Walsingham, Thomas 191 war: acts of private war 61, 169; approach to fighting 11, 85, 94; cessation of

109, 152; fear and excitement for 12; fighting at sea 24, 42–44, 209, 215, 226; general principles 8, 91; leadership in 46, 75; non-combatant 211; personal honour or common good 82; practical side of 43; preparation/ planning 9; societal effects 3, 213, 221, 223, 224; use of deception 11, 21, 80; weapons of 3, 12, 45, 85–86, 89, 93, 150, 215 War of the Public Good 104 water commissioner 7 Whityngham, Richard 130, 131 Wilton, Stephen 129, 130, 131, 146 Winter, John 114 wisdom 8, 10, 31–32, 37, 40 Xenophon of Athens 49, 50, 53

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