Medieval Statecraft and the Perspectives of History [New ed.]

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Medieval Statecraft and the Perspectives of History

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT AND THE PERSPECTIVES OF HISTORY Bssays bu Joseph cR. Straucr WITH A FOREWORD BY GAINES POST

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY 1971

(C) 1971 by Princeton University Press All Rights Reserved L.C.C.: I.S.B.N.:

74-112995 0-691-04602-6

This book has been set in linotype Granjon Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press, Princeton, N.J.

This boo\ of essays was collected and presented by his students and friends to JOSEPH R. STRAYER

Oayton-Stochton Professor of History and Professor of International Affairs in Princeton University

ω

Editors' Note

EDIEVAL MEN, seeking to express in visible form some­ thing immaterial, publicly transferred a staff, a ring, or other token. Following this tradition, students and friends of Joseph Strayer wanted to present to him a volume which would make manifest our admiration for his scholarship and our gratitude for his teaching, support, and friendship. The present gathering of arti­ cles which Mr. Strayer had published in many journals and col­ lections over more than thirty years has seemed to us the best embodiment of those feelings we could offer. Our editorial work has been limited and mechanical. With Mr. Strayer's authorization, we have attempted to correct misprints, standardize citations, names, and other matters of style, and see the book through the press. The author himself has corrected or altered some details and upon occasion has supplied references to literature appearing after his original articles, but he has not changed their substance. It is our hope that the reader will find this republication convenient, but he should bear in mind that articles which were written at a particular stage of historical knowledge and which have in some instances been challenged by other scholars appear here virtually as written. In short, here are original contributions to his­ torical knowledge and debate, not rebuttals. The editors are grateful to Princeton University Press for the support and care it has given this volume; errors in the book are our responsibility alone. In handing back to our teacher his own work in a new form, we hope to convey to him something of the regard and affection in which he is held by a host of students and friends. JOHN F. BENTON THOMAS N. BISSON

Foreword O MAGISTER can but feel honored when his students dedi­ cate to him a Festschrift containing their own contributions to learning. But surely he is most genuinely honored when, in ap­ preciation of his distinguished and humanior teaching and scholar­ ship and active citizenship, they choose with sincere humility to present to him a carefully prepared reprinting of his own important studies which, published in many books and periodicals, would otherwise not be so easily available to the public. This book is therefore both a symbol of the honor magistri and a useful col­ lection of notable studies by a master of medieval history. Joseph Reese Strayer, to whom this book is presented with great affection and respect, merits well indeed of the republic of scholars and teachers, and of the Republic of citizens. A student of the late Charles Homer Haskins and Charles Howard Mcllwain, great masters both, he became interested in Norman institutions, in the feudal monarchies of France and England, in feudalism, and in the transition from feudal society to the state. His doctoral disserta­ tion on the institutions of Normandy in the thirteenth century was mature enough to be published as a book (1932), and it is still the best work on the subject. Soon the French monarchy, particularly in the age of Philip the Fair, attracted his attention. In 1939 he pub­ lished a substantial monograph explaining how Philip's policies began to create a system of taxation that increased the power of the king and crown in the kingdom of France. (Meanwhile he had edited a document of significance for the history of the making of the American constitution.) Interested also in the English monarchy and Parliament and representation in the reign of Edward I and in the early fourteenth century, he edited and contributed to The Eng­ lish Government at Wor\, Volume π (1947). Since then he has published a popularization of the history and nature of feudalism (1965), a concise appreciation of feudalism both as "public power in private hands" and as "a method of government" which able kings used in increasing their central authority and laying the foun­ dations of the state. At the moment two books have just appeared: Les gens de justice de Languedoc sous Philippe Ie Bel throws light on the role men with legal training played in the royal government in southern France and suggests in a challenging fashion that the existence of this class of lawyers may well have retarded the develop-

FOREWORD

ment of royal authority; and his Witherspoon Lectures—On the Medieval Origins of the Modern State—mark the culmination of his well-documented reflections on problems of the rise of the state in the later Middle Ages. The studies and essays presented in this volume, dating from 1937 to the present, represent stages in Professor Strayer's increas­ ing mastery of the problems of the history of Normandy, France, England, feudalism, kingship, and the rise of states. They also reveal his interest in the crusades (which in the thirteenth cen­ tury were related to the development of France under the kings), and in the philosophy and teaching of history. Themes started early in his career are developed and broadened. Thus, his continuing interest in Normandy is well expressed in an essay reviewing an important edition of the early ducal charters, 911-1066. His in­ terpretation shows how Norman feudalism of the "classical" type was post-Conquest and drew something from England (strong ducal authority expressed in a court of great vassals or local lords). The article on "A Forged Charter of Henry II," while illustrating the history of monasticism in Normandy, is a fine exercise in diplo­ matics. Increasingly, the relations of Normandy with France are stressed. The study of the county of Beaumont-le-Roger, which Rob­ ert II of Artois received from Philip the Fair, sets forth the economic situation in Normandy in the late thirteenth and fourteenth cen­ turies and shows how income from forests and in kind may have com­ pensated landholders in a period of inflation and of economic strain resulting from war. The study also reveals that on the whole some economic decline, related to that of France in general, is apparent at the turn of the fourteenth century. But how was the duchy of Normandy related to the king, crown, and kingdom of France? If the king claimed many rights and revenues in Normandy, was Normandy treated in fact as a part of the kingdom, of the rising French state ? In the article on "Normandy and Languedoc" Strayer shows that by the time of Philip the Fair, Normandy had furnished not only significant financial benefits to the monarchy, but, more important, had given the king the advantages of a better administra­ tion (including bookkeeping). Languedoc contributed to the devel­ opment of the French judicial system, which culminated in the supreme authority of the king. By 1300 both Norman and southern supporters of the royal power, partly on the basis of principles of public law drawn from the Roman law, were reinforcing the idea χ

FOREWORD

of the kingdom as a national entity under the king and crown. Meanwhile, Professor Strayer was perforce deepening his knowl­ edge of feudalism the better to understand the obstacles posed by feudal institutions to the effort of kings to consolidate their author­ ity and make the kingdom a state. In the articles now reprinted (section π) he has soundly defined or interpreted feudalism as the private possession of public power. But in the relative absence of any practical realization of ideas of public law and the state, feudal­ ism responded to local needs for law and order, and was not anarchic. The more able and powerful dukes and counts maintained a semblance of public law, each in his own great fief or principality. Gradually the kings of England and France, taking advantage of ideas of kingship and elements of feudalism (suzerainty, feudal aids, prerogative wardship, money payments, and pariage), were able to subject the greater lords and their vassals to their supreme jurisdiction. By the late thirteenth century it was generally recog­ nized that not even the greatest duke, as vassal of the king, enjoyed an immunity from the royal authority, but only a delegation of the jurisdiction in his fief. Important theories of kingship, crown, public law, and the duty of the king to defend the realm supported the gradual triumph of the monarchy over the private, proprietary rights of feudal lords and their vassals. The "laicization" of society in the thirteenth cen­ tury, together with the growth of schools and universities, produced experts in administration and law who, better than the clergy, could devote themselves to the rising central government. In Eng­ land, by the late thirteenth century, royal justices were frequently laymen. Laymen also played a decisive role in local administration and in royal councils in the France of Philip the Fair. To be sure, men trained for the clergy could still be found serving the king and ending their careers as bishops—for example, Pierre de Chalon, a founder of the French customs service in the early fourteenth cen­ tury. In fact, as the royal authority increased and as ideas of the defense of the realm grew more insistent, the English and French clergy found that in a sense they too were laicized and sometimes owed obedience to the king more than to the pope. (See "The Laici­ zation of French and English Society in the Thirteenth Century" and "Pierre de Chalon and the Origins of the French Customs Serv­ ice.") In a word, laicization and the theory that the king was the sovereign authority in the whole realm were more and more realized

FOREWORD

in the development of a royal bureaucracy that accompanied the rise of the state. Vital in this process was the idea that each kingdom was a public, corporate body sanctioned by God, nature, and the public law. Its safety was superior to private interests. Therefore, when it was in danger the king as its representative and head had the right to defend it against all enemies. The defense of the realm thus de­ manded the obedience of all, laity and clergy alike, to the king as the sovereign. As Beaumanoir said, the king of France was souverains pardessus tous\ as Bracton said (and his words apply also to France), the king had in his hands all the rights of the crown, that is, the rights of maintaining peace and defending the realm. French writers in the reign of Philip the Fair constantly stressed the theme of the defense of the realm in the hands of the king. When the kingdom was in immediate danger, not even the pope had the right to refuse permission to the French (or English) clergy to pay subsi­ dies to aid the king's just war against the aggressor. Ideas about France as specially blessed by God, and sanctioned by the law of nature, aided the royal policies and the feeling of loyalty to a king­ dom which was becoming a national state. (See "Defense of the Realm and Royal Power in France" and "France: The Holy Land, the Chosen People and the Most Christian King.") These and other interpretations reveal how Professor Strayer has worked toward a thorough appreciation of Philip the Fair: how that monarch represented the ideas of monarchy and the kingdom as a state and marked the culmination of medieval kingship. Served by loyal local administrators in Normandy and Languedoc ("Viscounts and Viguiers under Philip the Fair"), by a civil service ("Pierre de Chalon . . ."), and by a royal council the members of which were trained in the customary, Roman, and canon laws ("Philip the Fair— A 'Constitutional' King"), Philip strengthened the monarchy by concentrating on the application of current ideas of public law. In fact, although he was a "constitutional" king in the sense that he recognized all lawfully established rights, and although he acted responsibly in his control of the royal council, Philip fully exercised the public office of king and crown in establishing the royal sov­ ereignty as the bearer of the new national state of France. In Eng­ land, in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, the mag­ nates and the king represented or constituted the essential com­ munity of the realm—so Strayer conclusively showed in an excellent article ("The Statute of York and the Community of the Realm").

FOREWORD

In the case of France, however, the extent of the kingdom and the persistent local and provincial rights and privileges resulted in the king's being more clearly the sovereign authority and the almost sole representative of the public welfare or "state of the realm." Philip the Fair, therefore, could assert more fully than Edward I the public rights of the crown and "reason of state." French medieval kingship, culminating in the achievements of Philip the Fair, consti­ tutional though he was, therefore became more absolute than Eng­ lish kingship. No doubt this interpretation of Strayer's studies exaggerates. Yet despite Philip's respect for individual and local rights, one feels that he was, in his person and crown, the regnum. The development of the French monarchy in the thirteenth cen­ tury had been closely related to the crusades. In the first half of the thirteenth century the French crusading spirit resulted in the capture of Languedoc for the kingdom. The royal policy thus open­ ing up Mediterranean horizons was continued by Louis IX. But Louis IX represented the older crusading ideal, which had as its goal a direct attack on the infidel in Islamic lands. The question facing the French monarchy on the death of St. Louis in 1270 was whether to continue the old crusading policy at the expense of more practical projects for consolidating the realm. Philip III did continue a form of crusading policy, but the ideal of the crusade suffered badly in the abortive campaign against Aragon in 1285. The military disaster which followed and the king's death were a lesson to his son, Philip the Fair. As Strayer observes ("The Crusade against Aragon"), henceforth the royal policy was directed toward develop­ ing the rights of the crown and the kingdom to the north and east, away from the Mediterranean world and toward the future expan­ sion of France toward Lorraine (and ultimately the Rhine). Further, it is significant that Philip the Fair turned away from all propa­ gandists (like Pierre Dubois) who sponsored crusades at the expense of more practical French interests. This emphasis on the French crusading zeal and royal politics associated with it has not prevented Strayer's appreciating the general course and deterioration of the religious aspect of the crusade in his excellent chapters in A History of the Crusades on "The Political Crusades of the Thirteenth Cen­ tury" and "The Crusades of Louis IX." Thus Professor Strayer's interests have been devoted chiefly to the development of the feudal monarchy and the state. He has, moreover, treated feudalism comparatively: what has feudalism meant in the world outside France and England ? The problem of XlU

FOREWORD

the state and the nature of its government has been placed in relation to imperialism and dictatorship-as in the case of Philip the Fair it was treated in relation to "constitutionalism." Strayer's interests have demonstrably been much broader than those of the narrow specialist. Indeed, his interests have embraced the whole problem of the teaching of history and the meaning of history. He has himself successfully and admirably practiced a characteristic methodology and philosophy of history. Always a careful student of the documents, always a careful interpreter of the evidence, always understanding that the historian must balance facts against the twofold subjectivity in the sources and the historian, he has urged, in word and deed, that history is the considered, logical interpretation of data in order to show from cause to effect that there is some process, some development at work; it is not a mere accumulation of facts, nor an antiquarian's pleasure. While the historian cannot be "scientific" and lay down determinative laws, he can be as objective as is humanly possible, and he can use good sense in interpreting the course of history. Indeed, it is Strayer's good sense that has resulted in so sound an interpretation of the events that led to the formation of the state. How can history be a more creative art? See above all his essay introducing The Interpretation of History. It is the best explanation of the meaning of history that I know. Not all the essays in this book have been mentioned. The author of this Foreword lacks the knowledge to do full justice to Joseph Strayer's wide learning and wide range of interests in the realm of historical scholarship. What has been said, however, is surely evidence of a remarkable achievement. And in assessing that achievement, one must not forget that Professor Strayer has made active teaching central to his practice of history. He has been an unusually devoted and stimulating teacher and has inspired several generations of students, undergraduates and graduates alike. His clear and thoughtful interpretations have helped beginners in hundreds of classrooms, whether in the revision of Dana C. Munro's The Middle Ages, more and more Strayer's own in successive editions, or in his Western Europe in the Middle Ages, affectionately known to many as the "little Strayer." Professor Strayer has exemplified the truth that sound scholarship goes hand in hand with good teachingthat, indeed, they should never be divorced. At the same time, in his activities as administrator in Princeton XIV

FOREWORD

University (he has served on many committees and was for twenty years Chairman of the Department of History), as a member of the Princeton Borough Council, and as a consultant to the govern­ ment of the United States, he has represented the ancient-medievalRenaissance ideal of the good citizenship that a man of learning owes to his local communities and the state. Indeed, his great knowl­ edge of political and institutional history has enabled him to under­ stand practical problems better than those who lack a knowledge of history; while in turn his experience in practical affairs has taught him much of value for the interpretation of problems of statemaking in the late Middle Ages. He reminds us of those medievalAristotelian philosophers of the late thirteenth century who, while holding that the contemplative life of philosophy or general learning is the best life and leads to the greatest possible happiness on earth, admitted that the life of the administrator, when devoted to the common welfare of all and to the peace and tranquillity needed for the contemplative life, was almost as valuable. Indeed, those who know him well can readily imagine that had Professor Strayer lived in the thirteenth century he would have persuaded the phi­ losophers that his kind of active life had a value equal to that of the contemplative. For he has successfully combined historical learning with a deep appreciation of the problems of students, of schools and universities as institutions, and of men as political and social animals. Needless to add, many honors have been conferred on Professor Strayer. A glance at the record in Who's Who is sufficient, but I must mention his recent presidency of the Mediaeval Academy of America and his election, long ago, to Fellowship in the Mediaeval Academy, the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and the American Philosophical Society. France has honored him for his scholarly works on Normandy and French history. With the essays here reprinted, his achievement stands out more clearly than ever. The author of this Foreword, influenced by his indebtedness to Joseph Strayer, would like to say much more. Let this book speak for the high honor in which we all—students, friends, and colleagues —hold a great scholar, teacher, and citizen. GAINES POST

Contents Editors' Note

vii

Foreword by Gaines Post

ix

List of Abbreviations

xix I. NORMANDY

1. The Writ of Novel Disseisin in Normandy at the End of the Thirteenth Century 2. Economic Conditions in the County of Beaumont-IeRoger, 1261-1313 3. A Forged Charter of Henry II for Bival 4. On the Early Norman Charters, 911-1066 5. Normandy and Languedoc

3 13 28 39 44

II. FEUDALISM

6. The Two Levels of Feudalism 7. The Development of Feudal Institutions 8. The Tokugawa Period and Japanese Feudalism

63 77 90

III. CRUSADES

9. The Crusade Against Aragon xo. The Political Crusades of the Thirteenth Century 11. The Crusades of Louis IX

107 123 159

IV. PHILIP THE FAIR

12. Philip the Fair—a "Constitutional" King 13. Viscounts and Viguiers under Philip the Fair 14. Pierre de Chalon and the Origins of the French Customs Service 15. Italian Bankers and Philip the Fair

195 213 232 239

V. PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

16. The Laicization of French and English Society in the Thirteenth Century 17. The Statute of York and the Community of the Realm 18. Defense of the Realm and Royal Power in France

251 266 291

CONTENTS

19. France: The Holy Land, the Chosen People, and the Most Christian King 20. The Promise of the Fourteenth Century 21. The State and Religion: An Exploratory Comparison in Different Cultures 22. Empires—Some Reflections on Roman and Modern Imperialism 23. The First Western Union 24. The Historical Experience of Nation-Building in Europe 25. Problems of Dictatorship: The Russian Experience

300 315 321 329 333 341 349

VI. THE TEACHING OF HISTORY

26. Introduction to The Interpretation of History 27. United States History and World History 28. The Teaching of World Cultures: A Historian's Viewpoint 29. Graduate Training in the Humanities

363 379 387 395

Bibliography of Joseph R. Strayer

401

Index

411

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS A.D. A.N. B.M.

B.N.

Gallia Christiana H.C. H.F.

H.L.

M.G.H. Notices et extraits Olim

Ordonnances

R.H.D.F.E.

Archives Departementales Archives Nationales Bibliotheque Municipale Bibliotheque Nationale Gallia Christiana in provincias ecclesiasticas distributa, 16 vols. (Paris, 1715-1865) Recueil des historiens des croisades, 16 vols. (Paris, 1841-1906) Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, ed. Martin Bouquet et al., 24 vols. (Paris, 1738-1904) Claude Devic and J. J. Vaissete, Histoire generate de Languedoc, avec des notes et Ies pieces justificatives, new edn., 16 vols. (Toulouse: Edouard Privat, 1872-1904) Monumenta Germaniae Historica Notices et extraits des manuscrits de la Bibliotheque imperiale [or Nationale] (Paris) Les Olim, ou registres des arrets rendus par la cour du roi . . . , ed. Arthur Beugnot, 4 vols. (Paris: Collection de documents inedits sur I'histoire de France, 1839-1848) Ordonnances des roys de France de la troisieme race, ed. Eusebe de Lauriere, 22 vols. (Paris, 1723-1849) Revue historique de droit fran^ais et etranger

XlX

1. The Writ of Novel Disseisin in Normandy at the End of the Thirteenth Century* ETWEEN 1287 an^ 1291 the Exchequer (the highest court in Normandy) gave three decisions which forbade the use of the writ of novel disseisin in certain cases. These decisions were contrary to the whole trend of Norman jurisprudence up to that time. The field in which the writ of novel disseisin could be used had been steadily extended during the thirteenth century without arousing any opposition from the Exchequer. Now this growth was abruptly stopped, and litigants found themselves deprived of the use of the writ in a category of cases in which it had previously run. This re­ versal seems important enough to warrant close investigation. The first case in which the use of the writ was limited came in the Exchequer of 1287.1 Certain men took writs of novel disseisin against the abbot and monks of St. Wandrille. Each writ asserted that the abbot and convent had disseised the plaintiff, wrongfully and without judgment, of the right of buying and selling freely and without pay­ ment in the fairs of St. Wandrille. The abbot denied the validity of the writs. The Exchequer decided "par arret" that the writs should not run "meesment de la coutume du marche." This summary of the arret is too vague to be very helpful. The decision is not motivated and its scope is not certain. An arret was supposed to declare a general principle of law, but what principle can be found in these words P It seems likely that the Exchequer meant to forbid the use of the writ of novel disseisin to protect claims to freedom from market dues, but if so, one must explain how similar cases could arise several years later. In fact, in 1290, the Exchequer was faced with exactly the same problem.2 Four men tried to prove freedom from the market dues of St. Wandrille through writs of novel disseisin. This time the abbey replied that by the general custom of Normandy no one could buy and sell freely in a fair except by special grant from the possessor of the fair or by payments made specifically to secure freedom from * This is a slightly revised English version of a paper read to the Semaine de Droit normand de 1937, and published in R.H.D.F.E., 4th series, xvi (1937), 479-488. 1 H-F., xxiv, preuves, p. *351, no. 214. 2 Ibid., p. *354, no. 226.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

dues. The four men asserted that each of them paid fourpence an­ nually to the king to have their franchise and they offered to prove this by the jury summoned to answer the writ. The monks denied that this was a proper procedure. They argued that the men were claiming special privilege against a general custom, and that such a specialty could not and should not be proved by inquest; rather it should be proved by special deed or by sure witnesses. The court de­ cided that the exemption had to be proved, not settled by inquest ("prouvee, non mie encuise"), and that the writs should not run. We shall return to the precise meaning of the court's words later on; meanwhile we can say that while the reason given for the decision is clear, it still does not amount to a general prohibition of the use of the writ in all cases dealing with market dues. However, in 1291 the principle was stated unequivocally by the Exchequer and was accepted without question by both the plaintiffs and the defendants.3 The text is a little mutilated, but the sense is clear. The men of Sotteville had taken a writ of novel disseisin against the abbot and convent of Fecamp. As in the two preceding cases, they alleged that the abbey had disseised them of their right to buy and sell freely in the market of Fecamp. Fecamp had argued that the writ should not run but some court (probably an assize, but the name is lost) had sustained the validity of the writ. The abbot asked the Exchequer to annul this decision. He said that a solemn ruling of the Exchequer in favor of another defendant had estab­ lished the principle that from that time forth "le commun" should not have the writ of novel disseisin in such cases.4 The men admitted that the Exchequer had made this ruling ('etablissement) on the question of law, but they alleged that a judgment given in their favor before the ruling had been made could not be reversed by a subsequent decision. The Exchequer accepted their argument and decided that the writs were good. Here we have some very interesting facts. The Exchequer admitted that before it made its ruling it was perfectly legal to use the writ of novel disseisin to protect one's right to buy and sell freely in another man's market. It is probable that the arrit invoked by Fecamp was 3 Arresta

communia Scacarii, ed. Ernest Perrot (Caen, 1910), no. 73. ". . . un establissement fut fet en l'Eschiquier pour autres personnes, et fut rendu par arrest pour Ie commun que des Iors en avant, en teil cas, n'areit bref de dessaisine." 4

NORMANDY

the judgment of 1287 for St. Wandrille, of which we have only a vague summary, though it might have been the judgment of 1290. In any case, we have here for the first time a definite statement of a legal principle: commoners (Ie commun) shall not have the writ of novel disseisin in such cases. There are, however, still some doubts about the exact meaning of the arret. What is "le commun"—a group of villagers seeking rights for the whole community, men of nonnoble status, or simply anyone who cannot show a specific grant of privilege? What did the Ex­ chequer mean by "such cases"—any case in which the plaintiff claimed possession of rights contrary to the general custom of Nor­ mandy, or simply cases concerning dues in fairs and markets ? Final­ ly, why did the Exchequer believe that its ruling was just and neces­ sary? To answer these questions, we must remember something of the earlier history of the writ. It was one of the first of the procedural innovations of Henry II and it soon proved itself to be the most popu­ lar of his new legal remedies. It was so effective and so serviceable that even before the death of Henry II it was being used to protect possession of rights attached to real property as well as possession of real property itself. There was, for example, a writ to protect posses­ sion of rights of common pasture.5 One could also use the writ to sue anyone who committed acts on his own property that harmed a neighbor's freehold. Glanvill already knows of writs in which dis­ seisin is alleged because a man has raised or destroyed a hedge, made or filled up a ditch, changed a watercourse, or raised or lowered the level of a pond.8 The wording of the writ encouraged further extensions of its use during the thirteenth century. The plaintiff merely had to charge that he had been dispossessed, unlawfully and without judgment, of his "free tenement." Now many things besides land could be held as "free tenements," and many rights that we would not consider con­ nected with real property were held as fiefs and were consequently protected by the writ of novel disseisin. Maitland says that in Eng­ land "the assize of novel disseisin was extended to one class of in5

Recueil de jugements de I'Echiquier de Normandie, ed. Leopold Delisle (Paris, 1864), pp. 16, 58, nos. 57, 229. 6 Glanvill, De legibus et consuetudinibus Angliae, ed. G. E. Woodbine (New Haven, 1932), pp. 172-173.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

corporeal things after another," and that one could use the writ to punish "mere trespasses."7 These remarks are equally true for Nor­ mandy. For example, the Summa de legibus (mid-thirteenth century) al­ lows the use of the writ to recover rights of pasture, rents, or services.8 If the men of a lord deny his right to distrain in their holdings, he may prove his right by writ of novel disseisin.9 As early as 1219 a priest recovered tithes due from certain lands by writ of disseisin.10 In 1246 it was apparently possible to use the same writ to secure an annual allowance of wood from a forest.11 It appears from the Summa that the courts will grant the writ to tenants who have rented land for a term of years, or who hold it as a gage.12 Finally, we have at the end of the century the strange combination of the writ of novel disseisin with the ancient procedure of the cry of "haro."13 Both novel disseisin and haro were meant to give quick relief; as Pissard has shown, the addition of haro (the appeal to the duke for protection) speeded up all procedures. The cry of haro stopped any act that might disturb possession; the subsequent suit by writ of disseisin could begin in the pleas of the viscount without waiting for the assizes. These examples show that the writ of novel disseisin was wel­ comed in Normandy and that the courts allowed it to be used for a wide variety of complaints. In fact, Normandy was many years ahead of England in some applications of the writ. In England one could not use novel disseisin to recover rents on land or usages in another's wood before the Statute of Westminster II in 1285. In Normandy, as we have seen, the writ ran in such cases by the 1250's. In England, while a life tenant could protect his seisin by the writ, the tenant for a term of years was denied this protection; in Normandy tenants for 7 Frederick

Pollock and F. W. Maitiand, The History of English Law Before the Time of Edward I, 2nd edn. (Cambridge, Eng., 1898), 11, 148, 53. 8 Summa de legibus Normannie, ed. E. J. Tardif (Rouen and Paris, 1896), ch. xciii, par. 7. 9 Ibid., ch. vii, par. 4. 10 Delisle, Recueil, no. 244; see also L. A. Warnkoenig, Franzosische Staatsund Rechtsgeschichte (Basel, 1875), 11, preuves, p. 50. 11 Lucien Auvray, "Jugements de l'Echiquier de Normandie . . . ," Bibliotheque de I'Eeole des Chartes, XLIV (1888), 642. i2 Summa, ch. xcv, par. 10. 13Hippolyte Pissard, La clameur de haro (Caen, 1911), pp. 95-101; see Perrot, Arresta communia, nos. 80, 112 for examples.

NORMANDY

a fixed term were allowed to use the writ of disseisin.14 Finally, in England there is no trace of the very efficacious procedure that re­ sulted from the combination of the cry of haro with the writ of disseisin. Certainly the English felt the same need as the Normans for a peremptory check on all attempts to disturb possession. Accord­ ing to Bracton, the attempt did not have to be successful; if the possessor had been at all troubled he could bring a writ of novel disseisin.15 But even this very wide definition of disseisin did not give all the protection of the Norman procedure. Thus the limitations that were imposed on the use of the writ of disseisin in Normandy between 1287 and 1291 were contrary to the general tendencies of thirteenth-century Anglo-Norman jurispru­ dence. The inhabitants of both countries had been extending the scope of the writ until it covered many incorporeal rights. In England the statute of 1285 still further extended the use of the writ "so that in­ jured men could have speedy justice."16 It appears strange that a Nor­ man court should have begun to limit the use of the writ only two years after this act of an English king. One should not forget, however, that there were men, in England as in Normandy, who disliked the procedure invoked by the posses­ sory writs. The rise of a distinct class of lawyers is one of the most striking and most important events of the thirteenth century. The lawyers did much to clarify political and legal thinking, but to clarify is often to destroy, and the lawyers destroyed or distorted many ele­ ments of the legal system that Henry II had established. As they be­ came more learned in the law, as they thought more and more about principles of jurisprudence, they found many things in the possessory writs, and especially in the writ of novel disseisin, that shocked them. It was the very characteristics that made the writ popular that wor­ ried the lawyers. Procedure on the writ was simple and summary. A question was asked: Was John unlawfully dispossessed of such and such lands (or rights) ? A jury, drawn from the neighborhood, an­ swered "yes" or "no" and the case was settled. The court relied on the good sense of the men of the neighborhood; it did not ask for title deeds or question witnesses. Cases could be settled rapidly; in­ truders were promptly punished; violence was discouraged; anyone could understand what was going on. 14Pollock

and Maitland, History of English Law, n, 106-115, and above, note 12. 15 Ibid., p. 53. 16 Stat. Westminster 11, c. 25.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

In short, the writ of novel disseisin was very effective in settling arguments and in preventing fights. The only problem was whether it also produced just decisions. The law of feudal tenures had always been complicated; it became more so as men increasingly sold, mort­ gaged, leased, or divided their holdings. There were many questions that could not be answered by a simple "yes" or "no." There were others in which the obvious answer was an unjust answer. For example, the writ of novel disseisin originally protected even wrongful possession. One can find this doctrine reported by Bracton (though it is clear that Bracton dislikes the idea).17 The Norman Summa is more advanced: it asks the jurors to consider the nature of the seisin that has been troubled. If it has been gained by force or fraud, it cannot be protected by the writ. But the Summa admits that the jury may not know whether the seisin is lawful or not.18 In order to know, the jurors may need to be informed about delicate points of law, or to have cognizance of private charters that they cannot have seen. In such cases, the rough verdict of a jury might work grave injustice. In both England and in Normandy these difficulties were recog­ nized. In England, an attempt was made to avoid them by separating questions of law from questions of fact. When one reads the Year Books, one finds that procedure on the writ of novel disseisin falls into two parts. First, in the absence of a jury, the lawyers for the defendant argue that the writ shall not run. In the guise of excep­ tions, they can show that their seisin was good, that they had a legiti­ mate title to the disputed land or rights. They may ask the plaintiff to prove that his seisin was lawful or to show his title. During this preliminary argument all questions of law may be raised and each side may present its charters and other private acts to support its statements. No jurors are present; it is the judges who interpret the charters and decide the questions of law. Only when the parties have joined issue on questions of fact is the jury called in. At this point, the second stage of the procedure begins. The jury is to answer the questions of fact, and its answers will determine the outcome of the trial. But the questions may have gone a long way from the simple question of who was in possession, and the judges may allow the parties to present their proofs to the jurors. The jurors are no longer mere representatives of neighborhood opinion. They are judges of 17

Pollock and Maitland, History of English Law, n, 49-50. ch. xcv, par. 11-14.

18 Summa,

NORMANDY

fact, but they do not have the burden of determining the applicable rules of law. Thus in England many of the inconveniences of the possessory writs could be avoided. The Normans might have used the same expedients. The Summa admits that a defendant could ask that a writ of disseisin be quashed/9 and we have seen that there could be extended arguments as to whether a writ should run. At the end of the century this stage of the process was known as "le comment du bref,"20 and at this stage, as in England, one could raise questions of law that would be answered by the judges alone. But in Normandy this first stage in procedure on possessory writs never developed as fully as it did in England. In Normandy the distinction between possessory and proprietary writs was maintained more sharply than it was in England, and conse­ quently it was much more difficult to introduce proof of title in the guise of an exception. Moreover, unless I am mistaken, Norman courts never allowed evidence of title to be presented to the jury. Norman jurors remained witnesses, reporters of neighborhood opin­ ion; they never became judges as to the facts.21 The reasons for this divergence between Norman and English pro­ cedure are well known. The French enquete was first the competitor and finally the conqueror of the Norman "recognition." Before the end of the thirteenth century, the French enquete had taken the form of the canonical inquest. Witnesses were called one by one to give their evidence; they could be questioned in secret, and the judges decided the case on the basis of this evidence. The Norman recogni­ tion gave only the opinion of the countryside; the French enquete gave the judgment of trained men who heard or read the best testimony that was available. To expert lawyers it must have seemed that the old Norman procedure was crude, and often unjust. Was it worthwhile struggling to reform an imperfect system when the more sophisticated French procedure was ready at hand? The first signs of opposition to the recognition appeared very early, and, as might have been expected, among churchmen. The Norman 19

Summa, ch. xcv, par. 5. xxiv, preuves, nos. 226, 242, "le comment de Ieur briez," "la maniere du brief, comment il fut priz." 21 Robert Besnier, "La degenerescence des caracteres normands des preuves dans la procedure civil," R.H.D.F.E., 4th series, xxxvn (1959), 52-58. See also his earlier article, " 'Inquisitiones et Recognitiones'" in the same periodical, 4th series, xxvni (1950), esp. 203-211. 20 H.F.,

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

writ of patronage (the equivalent of the English writ of darrein presentment) was only a modified form of the writ of disseisin, and it set in motion the same procedure: a jury of twelve gave a verdict based on its own knowledge.22 In 1207 the Norman bishops asked for and obtained a significant change. In cases where the dispute over the right of presentation was between a cleric and a layman, four knights and four priests were to be summoned and questioned indi­ vidually. They were to give proof, if possible, of ownership rather than of possession.23 This procedure was a step toward the French enquite, but not a very important one; it affected only a few cases.24 In criminal law, the same tendency was apparent. By the time of the Summa, men suspected of murder or other felonies could be forced to accept trial by inquest. But the members of the inquest were examined one by one by the judge sitting privately, and if twenty of twenty-four men agreed the accused was condemned. Clearly in this procedure jurors are becoming witnesses.25 Finally, and even more to our point, at the end of the thirteenth century lawyers began to ask in many cases for "temoins de science" as opposed to "temoins de credence." A "temoin de science" spoke from his own knowledge; a "temoin de credence" merely re­ ported the beliefs or opinions of his neighborhood. To prefer "temoins de science" was to prefer the French enquete to the Nor­ man recognition. The recognition was considered an inferior kind of proof and during the fourteenth century it became less and less important in Norman procedure.26 I believe, therefore, that the decisions that restricted the use of the writ of novel disseisin express this growing distrust of professional judges for the Norman recognition. This distrust must have been especially great among the Masters of the Exchequer. They were delegates from the court at Paris, a court which used the enquete almost exclusively in trying to get at the facts of a case, and they 22Le tres ancien coutumier de Normandie, ed. E. J. Tardif (Rouen, 1871), part i, ch. xxin. 23 Ibid., ch. LXXVII; Summa, ch. cx, par. 7-8. 24 J. W. Baldwin, "Philip Augustus and the Norman Church," French Historical Studies, vi (1969), 16. 25 Summa, ch. lxvii, par. 11-15. 26 Perrot, Arresta cotnmunia, nos. 81, 107, 123, 132, and the article by Besnier cited in note 21.

NORMANDY

had no reason to think that Norman procedure was preferable. And since the Exchequer was the highest Norman court, its rulings af­ fected all Norman jurisprudence. Naturally, such men would attack the writ of disseisin at the point where it was weakest. Even in England, it was recognized that it was dangerous to allow the use of the writ to establish a right to take a profit in alieno solo. Such rights were contrary to custom. It was not natural for a man to have profitable rights where he had neither possessions nor lordship. Jurors could easily confuse an annual pay­ ment for services, a temporary pension, or a mere toleration of an intrusion with an hereditary right to take a rent or other profit in another's fief. Therefore the English judges demanded rigorous proof of seisin before they allowed the writ to run. Nevertheless, if the seisin were proved, rights in alieno solo could be established through the procedure of novel disseisin.27 In Normandy, the Exchequer, in its decisions of 1287 and 1291, was trying to prevent the use of the writ in such cases. As the lawyer for St. Wandrille said, the plaintiff claim­ ing rights contrary to general custom must prove his case by "temoins certains." The court, in its judgment, made the point even more clearly: the claim to special rights "doit etre prouvee et non pas encuise," that is, a recognition would not be sufficient and so the writ of novel disseisin could not run.28 It therefore seems likely that the decisions of 1287, 1290, and 1291 embodied a general principle and were not limited to the question of exemptions from market dues. In the first case, the arret could be translated: "the writ shall not run, especially in cases concerning market dues." This implies that there were other cases in which the writ did not run. In 1290 the court again used general words, and ruled that rights contrary to general custom could not be established by a recognition of novel disseisin. In 1291 the Exchequer ruled that "le commun" should not have the writ in "such cases." Why "le commun" ? Was it not because "le commun" (peasants, village com­ munities) were asking for too many privileges in the lands of their lords P The three arrets are probably concerned with the sort of rights that were called in England rights to take profits in alieno solo. A court that had a poor opinion of possessory writs and an even poorer 27 Selden

Society, Year Boo\s oj Edward II (London, 190396, 124, 141; XV, 195. 28 H.F., xxiv, preuves, p. *354, no. 226.

VIII,

), 11, 1, 4;

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

opinion of peasants who were trying to avoid paying customary dues could, by such decisions, limit the use of the most popular possessory writ, and at the same time reject the claims of the peasants. Perhaps the conclusions that I have drawn are too sweeping; per­ haps the Exchequer was really concerned only with the use of the writ of disseisin in cases concerning market dues. Even then, these decisions mark a turning point in the history of Norman law. The Exchequer refuses to permit the use of a Norman procedure; it insists that French procedure be followed. The changes of the four­ teenth century have begun.

2.

Economic Conditions in the County of Beaumont-le-Roger, 1261-1313*

HEN Robert II of Artois fell at Courtrai before the low­ born Flemish rebels, his subjects had reason for more than conventional expressions of grief. The unexpected death of the count caused a disputed succession, one of the worst curses which could be inflicted on any population in the Middle Ages. The two possible heirs were the count's daughter Mahaut, and his grandson, Robert. If Robert's father, son of Robert II, had lived, there could have been no dispute, but his premature death raised the difficult prob­ lem of representation, a great stumbling block in all regions of feudal law. On the whole, custom favored the child of the last ruler, in preference to the more remote heir of the next generation, and this tendency had been strengthened by acts of Robert II in favor of Mahaut.1 On the other hand, the nearest heir was a woman and many of the nobles of Artois preferred a man. Mahaut had the double advantage of being of age and in possession, but as soon as young Robert reached his majority he began to protest and con­ tinued protesting for the rest of his life. A decision of Parlement against him in 1309 silenced him momentarily, but he took ad­ vantage of the troubled times following the death of Philip the Fair to stage an armed rebellion. When the rebellion collapsed he re­ turned to the law courts and again lost his case, in 1318. This time he remained quiet for a longer period, but his claims were revived in the reign of Philip of Valois. The quarrel over Artois was terribly embarrassing to the kings of France. Both claimants were of the blood royal, descendants of Louis VIII; both were able and persistent leaders with hosts of powerful friends. Artois was in an extremely sensitive area, on the borders of Flanders, which was in an almost constant state of re­ bellion against the king. Trouble in Artois made it difficult to retain control of Flanders, and it was an essential rule of French royal policy to keep Flanders from becoming independent. Robert's griev­ ances could be used by the leagues of nobles which threatened royal power on the accession of Louis X. Robert's supporters made the most of the great scandal which smeared the royal family in 1314— * First published in Speculum, xxvi (1951), 277-287. Lehugeur, Histoire de Philippe Ie Long (Paris, 1897), p. 61.

1Paul

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

the scandal of the adulterous daughters-in-law of Philip the Fair. Two of the accused princesses were daughters of Mahaut, and Mahaut herself was charged with using sorcery, love potions, and poison in an effort to save her children from the consequences of their sins. Every French king of this period—Philip the Fair, Louis X, and Philip V—had strong reasons for wishing a quick and per­ manent solution of the question of the Artois succession. From the beginning of the quarrel it was evident that the king and his advisers wanted Mahaut to have Artois. This meant that Robert had to be satisfied elsewhere, and at the king's expense. Philip the Fair hit upon the solution which was finally adopted, after a decade of bickering. Robert was to have the county of Beaumont-le-Roger in Normandy, with the services of some of the great Norman nobles (notably the Harcourts), high justice over thou­ sands of peasants, and domains worth 5,000 livres tournois a year. The grant was made in 1310,2 but the surveying of the lands did not begin until 1313s and Robert did not have full possession of the county until 26 March 1319.4 Some of the delay was certainly due to technical difficulties—it was not a light or easy matter to carve so great an estate out of the royal domain—but much more must have been caused by Robert's unwillingness to accept the loss of Artois as final. It is significant that he received full possession of the revenues of Beaumont only after the decision of 1318 which con­ firmed Mahaut's position as countess of Artois, and only after a formal reconciliation with Mahaut had been arranged by Philip V. The dispute over the Artois succession naturally produced a great mass of records, many of which are still in the French archives. One of the most interesting of these is the survey of the lands and rev­ enues finally assigned to Robert which was made by Philippe Ie Convers, king's clerk, and Pierre de Hangest, bailli of Rouen. The names of these two commissioners indicate the importance of the work. Philippe was one of the most active of the royal clerks, fre­ quently entrusted with important missions,5 while Pierre de Hangest 2

Lehugeur, pp. 6iff., i66ff. B. N., ms. fr. 8764 (hereafter cited as B), fol. 1. i B, fol. 2, fol. 6iv. 5 Master Philippe de Villepreux, often called Philippe Ie Convers, was canon of Tournai, archdeacon of Brie, and finally (in 1314) archdeacon of Auge. He began his career as a member of the Parlement, and collected war subsidies in 1297-1299, but he soon became a specialist in forest administration. His accounts in this capacity are listed in Robert Mignon, Inventaire d'anciens 3

NORMANDY

was for many years bailli in some of the most important provinces of the realm.6 Their survey, now ms. fr. 8764 of the Bibliotheque Nationale, is one of the most detailed descriptions of the domains of a great lord ever made, and is full of information about economic conditions in Normandy in the early years of the fourteenth cen­ tury. Fortunately, this information can be compared with that de­ rived from earlier records—the lists of fiefs drawn up under Henry II and Philip Augustus, farms of the royal domain published in Delisle's Cartulaire Normand, and the "etat du domaine royal" in the batlliage of Rouen of 1261.7 Thus we have rather detailed de­ scriptions of the same district from both the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries and this gives us an almost unique opportunity to study the changes wrought during a critical period. France ex­ perienced some rude shocks during those years, war, inflation, sud­ den and heavy taxation, and it is interesting to see what effect they had on the economy of a prosperous agricultural region. Two general observations must be made before a detailed com­ parison of records from different periods can be attempted. In the first place, as we have seen, the king was anxious to appease Robert comptes royaux, ed. C. V. Langlois (Paris, 1899), nos. 364, 1193, 1203, 1436, 2245, 2246, 2247, 2248 and p. 359. He was maitre des eaux et forets in 1309 at the latest, and he authorized most of the royal letters dealing with forest affairs, for example, A.N., JJ 42A, fol. 74; JJ 44, fol. 8v; JJ 45, fol. 81; JJ 47, fols. 31, 96; JJ 48, fol. 8ov. He was a member of the Norman Exchequer in 1309-1:31° and in 1314; see Mignon, no. 2248 and p. 359. He had lands in the Norman viscounty of Pont de l'Arche which were enlarged by several grants from Philip the Fair, A.N., JJ 45, fols. 81, 84; JJ 48, fol. 51; JJ 49, fols. 71, 86; JJ 50, fol. 58. Our Philippe Ie Convers is probably the one named as an execu­ tor of the will of Philip the Fair, but the Philippe Ie Convers who served as maitre des requetes under Philip V is almost certainly a nephew, see A.N., JJ 56, fols. 195V, 208; Andre Guillois, Recherches sur Ies maitres des requetes de I'hotel (Paris, 1909), pp. 219-220; C. V. Langlois in Notices et extraits, XL, 40. There is a good account of the career of the elder Philippe in F. J. Pegues, The Lawyers of the Last Capetians (Princeton, 1962), ch. v. 6 H.F., xxiv, preface; Pierre de Hangest was bailli of Amiens in 1299, of Gisors from 1300 to 1301, of Rouen from 1303 to 1320 and from 1322 to 1326, of the Cotentin from 1320 to 1322. He was a brother of Guillaume de Hangest, one of the treasurers of Philip the Fair. 7 The lists of fiefs are published in H.F., xxm, and the Cartulaire Normand in the Memoires de la Societe des Antiquaires de Normandie, 2nd series, vol. vi. The "etat du domaine royal" is in J. R. Strayer, The Royal Domain in the BailliageofRouen (Princeton, 1936).

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

and his commissioners were aware of this attitude. They may there­ fore have been inclined to underestimate the value of certain reve­ nues assigned to the count,8 in order to gain his good will and his acceptance of the award. In earlier records the baillis were trying to demonstrate the efficiency of their administration by farming the domain at the highest possible rate. This led, in some cases, to ex­ aggerated reports of the value of certain revenues.9 Thus, decreases in the value of some parts of the domain may be more apparent than real. In the second place, the records are never strictly com­ parable in all their details. The records of the thirteenth century deal with large units of land, fiefs and farms, and list most pay­ ments as lump sums, while the fourteenth-century survey is more concerned with a multitude of small payments made by individual tenants. Thus lands mentioned in early records cannot always be identified, while the long lists of rents given by the fourteenthcentury commissioners do not always correspond with the brief descriptions found in the farms made by the royal officials of the thirteenth century. This is another reason for being suspicious of wide changes in prices and values; apparent discrepancies may be due solely to incomplete or erroneous identifications of items in one list with those in the other. In spite of the limiting effects of these observations, we can still learn much from a comparison of the two periods. In the first place, it is clear that the basic structure of Norman administration has not changed greatly in the years between Saint Louis and Philip the Fair. The bailliage, the viscounty, and the sergeanty are still the main administrative units, though there has been some shifting of names and boundaries. Thus Verneuil, which had been a separate bailliage until the end of the thirteenth century, is now merely a viscounty of Gisors, and the viscounty of Bernay has become the viscounty of Orbec. There has been some change in the sergeanties of the viscounty of Orbec—Le Sap takes the place of Gace, Moyaux that of Cormeilles, Folleville that of Lieurey, while a new sergeanty emerges at Chambrais. On the whole these are minor changes compared to the sweeping readjustments which took place in the early years of the reign of Saint Louis. More important is the fact that the parish, completely ignored in royal records of the thirteenth century, is prominent in the later document. While the sergeanty 8 B,

fol. xv.

9 Strayer,

Royal Domain, pp. 5, 13.

NORMANDY

is still the basic accounting unit, lands, rents, fiefs, and woods are grouped by parishes within each sergeanty and names of individuals are repeated whenever they hold land or owe payments in more than one parish. This was probably done in order to facilitate col­ lection of revenues by the new administrative personnel of the count. On the other hand, the unity of the parish is disregarded when par­ ish boundaries fail to coincide with those of sergeanties; in several cases part of a parish is described in one sergeanty and the re­ mainder in another.10 Information for the survey was gathered, as the commissioners themselves state,11 from the records of the bailliage of Rouen and the testimony of good men. The records gave the location of each part of the domain, and its value in cases where income had been fixed by perpetual leases. For most of the domain, however, income fluctuated from year to year, and values had to be established by the old Norman device of the sworn inquest. Hundreds of juries were impaneled to estimate the average value of lands, rents, woods, and fiefs. Juries usually had at least six members, and groups of ten or twelve were not uncommon, so that a respectable part of the men of the county took part in this work. The most interesting use of a jury took place at the very beginning of the survey, when the com­ missioners wanted to know what was meant by the king's order that four-fifths of the grant was to be valued according to the "ancienne assiete" of Normandy. They turned to a group of twenty Norman notables who had been summoned to Parlement to give advice on another matter and asked them to define the custom.12 These men were sworn to "dire verite et loial conseil" and their answer had an important influence on the results of the survey. The decision to grant four-fifths of the county according to the "ancienne assiete" gave great advantages to Robert of Artois. Ac­ cording to the verdict of the twenty, "ancienne assiete de terre eu dit duchee se fesoit et devoit estre fete—la tierce partie en grains, la tierce partie en demaines et en rentes et l'autre tierce partie en 10

B, fols. 8, 53V, Chatel-Ia-Lune and Beaumontel listed in both the sergeanty of Beaumont and in that of Ouche. 11 B, fol. 2V. The survey was made "0 l'avis des comptes de la baillie de Roen et par Ies relations des prodeshommes du pays." 12 B, fol. i. "Nous eusson appele et fet assembler en une chambre delez Ie palais de Paris . . . la greignour partie des anciens hommes sages et pourveus de la coustume de Normendie . . . qui au parlement estoient venus por avoir conseil sur une autre cause. . . ."

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

homages et en seigneuries."13 If the sum of the payments in kind did not reach one-third of the total then the deficit was to be increased by fifty percent and met from other sources. That is, to use the example given by the jury, if 20 1. of income in grain were lacking "l'en prendroit des autres emolumens pour Ies dites xx. 1. jusques a la quantite de xxx. 1. . . Moreover, payments in kind were to be valued according to a fixed scale which seems to have been considerably below market values, not only of the early fourteenth century, but even of the reign of Saint Louis. For example, wheat was to be valued at 10 s. a setter, oats at 5 s. a setter, and eggs at ten for a penny.15 Corresponding values in 1261 were 14 to 16 s. for wheat, 6 s. for oats and 1 d. for ten eggs.16 Contemporary Norman documents value wheat at 15 s. a setter, oats at 6 s. a setter, and eggs at eight for a penny.17 In short, Robert had a triple protection against fluctuations in the currency which might lessen the value of his do­ mains. One-third of his income was to be in kind, and the value of payments in kind was set at the lowest possible level. If enough payments in kind could not be found, then he was to receive a fifty-percent bonus in other revenues. As a matter of fact, there was a deficiency in payments of grain, fowl, and eggs, and Robert received almost 500 l.t. of other revenues, above the 5,000 l.t. prom­ ised him, in order to compensate for the loss of these particularly desirable items.18 The jury of Norman notables laid down other rules for valuing the domains given to the count.19 The patronages of churches as­ signed to him were valued at five percent of the annual income of the church. Fiefs held directly of the count were also valued at five percent of their annual income, rear-fiefs at only one percent. Since the chief income from fiefs came from wardships, it is evident that the jurors estimated that there would be a wardship about once every generation. Rights of high justice were valued at 12 d. a hearth, and fouage (originally a payment to ensure a stable cur13

B, fol. iv.

14 Ibid. 15 Ibid. A.N., J 623, no. 101, gives a list of similar conventional valuations in Poitou. 18 Strayer, Royal Domain, pp. 24, 25, 26. 17A-N., JJ 47, fol. 64; JJ 48, fol. 109; JJ 49, fol. 30V; B.N., ms. Moreau 215, fol. 83. 18 B, fol. 61. 19 B, fols. i, iv.

NORMANDY

rency)20 at 4 d. a hearth. The tax of one-third the value of sales of private woods held of the lord (tiers) was included in the "ancienne assiete" because it was "une ancienne redevance," but danger, a ten-percent surtax on these sales added in the reign of Saint Louis, was not included because it was "un nouvel usage . . . qui n'est pas deu de droit commun." This is an interesting distinction and sup­ ports the theory that tiers originated in customs of the Angevin period while danger was a recent and unpopular innovation.21 The jurors also insisted that, in estimating the revenue which might be produced by tiers, deductions be made for the amount of wood which the lord and his men would cut every year for their own use. The commissioners eventually decided that this deduction reduced the potential value of tiers by one-half.22 Thus in estimating the income which woods held of the count might produce they first asked a local jury the average annual value of sales, and then took one-sixth of this figure as the average annual income to the count. For example, M. Jehan de Gaillon held seventy-three acres of wood, worth 7 1. 6 s. "de rente par an"; this was worth 1 1. 4 s. 4 d. to the count.23 These rules of assessment were, on the whole, favorable to Robert of Artois. Philip the Fair also favored his cousin when he ordered the commissioners to take lands only in Beaumont, Orbec, and neighboring sergeanties.24 A compact lordship could be admin­ istered much more efficiently and economically than one which was composed of widely scattered territories. The king's orders were followed closely; the most valuable parts of the county were located in the three sergeanties of Beaumont, Orbec, and Bernay, and none of the outlying possessions were very far from these centers. The commissioners classified the things given to Robert under six heads: lands and rents, churches, fiefs, rear-fiefs, woods owing tiers, and profits of justice and fouage.25 Three of these categories need only brief discussion. Few churches were included in the grant to Robert and none of them was very valuable, so that the total revenue under this head was only 18 1. 5 s. The rear-fiefs were 20J.

R. Strayer, The Administration of Normandy under Saint Louis (Cam­ bridge, Mass., 1932), p. 46. 21L. L. Borrelli de Serres, Recherehes sur divers services publiques du XIII e au XVIle siecle (Paris, 1895-1909), 1, 396^.; Strayer, Administration, pp. 76-79. 22

B, fols.

iv, 2v.

23

B, fol. 13V.

21 B,

fol. 1.

25

B, fol. 2V.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

numerous, but yielded only small sums to the count, a total of 45 1. 2 s. 9 d. We have already seen the way in which woods owing tiers were valued. There were many of these woods, some quite large, but the estimated revenues from tiers was only 223 1. 17 s. a year. The fiefs which were to be held directly of the count were a much more important part of the grant. The average annual in­ come from them was estimated at 769 1. 17 s., about one-seventh of the total. Equally important was the fact that, by subordinating these fiefs to Robert of Artois, he was given a new clientele to replace that which he had lost in Artois. The social and political relation­ ships thus established would strengthen Robert's position as one of the great lords of the realm. On the other hand, the commissioners did not concern them­ selves greatly with the military service nominally owed by the vassals. If it happened to be mentioned in the records or by the jurors they wrote it down, but they made no effort in many cases to discover what service was owed. Most frequently mentioned was castle-guard, which perhaps still had some value, and we can see remnants of the old grouping of fiefs around a castle, such as Beau­ mont, which was the defensive center of a district.26 Occasionally forty days' service or twenty days' service in the army are men­ tioned, or the fact that a vassal had "un membre entier," "un membre de hauberc," or "un quart d'un membre de hauberc."27 But the vague expressions "un fie" or "une partie d'un noble fie" occur frequently,28 without any specific requirement of service. It is also significant that in only one case is it suggested that a vassal owes more than one knight's service, although several baronies were in­ cluded in the county.29 The old Norman system of specific amounts of military service, based on multiples of the knight's fee, had broken down many years before,30 and no one thought of reviving it. It is interesting to note that very few of the fiefs mentioned in our record can be traced back to the time of Philip Augustus or Henry II. There are cases in which the same fief continued to be held by men of the same name, but they are the exceptions. For example, 26B, fols. 12, 12V, 13, 38V, 5 iv. Tenants of twenty-two fiefs owe castleguard at Beaumont. 27 B, fols. 12, 12V, 38V. 28 Ibid. 29 B, fol. 46V, the lord of Gace owes two knights; H.F., xxm, 710, under Philip Augustus he owed three knights. 30 Strayer, Administration, pp. 67, 68.

NORMANDY

around Beaumont the Harcourts, the Thibervilles, the Bigars, and the Houtevilles still hold fiefs which were in their families under Philip Augustus, but thirteen other fiefs cannot be traced in the earlier records and a fourteenth has been acquired by the Har­ courts.31 Scholars familiar with genealogies of Norman families could probably find more examples of continuity, especially through the female line, but there still must have been very considerable changes in the old landholding class. Confiscations for adherence to the English kings, deaths without heirs, and exchanges of prop­ erty removed many of the old families, and grants by the king or great lords introduced many new ones. The same phenomenon may be found in other regions in the later Middle Ages. The landhold­ ing class remains powerful for centuries, but individual estates fre­ quently pass from one family to another, and new families rise to wealth as old ones decline. Rights of high justice, low justice, and fouage formed an im­ portant part of the grant to Robert. As we have seen, high and low justice were each valued at 12 d. per hearth per year, while fouage was worth 4 d. per hearth per year.32 Using this formula, the com­ missioners found that high justice in the domains granted the count was worth 1,300 l.t. a year, fouage 423 Lt., and low justice 133 l.t.— a total of 1,856 l.t. for the three rights, or almost exactly one-third of the revenues granted the count. Justice and fouage together ac­ counted for more than half the revenue in six of the eleven sergeanties from which the count was to draw his income. They also had more than a purely monetary value; they distinguished Robert of Artois from the great mass of lords who were never granted such rights. Even though he had to exercise his right of justice under the watch­ ful eye of royal officials, still he was the immediate superior and lord of thousands of inhabitants of central Normandy. How many thousands P This is not easy to answer. Since the grant was made in the early years of the fourteenth century, when the feu had not yet become a mere unit of accounting, we can be fairly sure that the number of feus is reasonably close to the actual number of households. Also, since grants of high justice in this region had been rare, we can assume that the number of households in a sergeanty or village subject to the count's high justice represents almost the entire population of the sergeanty or village. But how 31B, 32B,

fols. 12, i2v; H.F., xxm, 710. fol. iv.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

many people should be counted to a household? The coefficient 4 or 5 is often used, but Professor J. C. Russell has given strong reasons for adopting a smaller figure, about 3.5.88 It is true that most of his evidence comes from England, but Normandy was more like England than any other region for which we have data. How­ ever, since Russell admits that the coefficient was probably a little higher just before the Black Death, I have taken 3.5 as the mini­ mum number per household and 4 as the maximum. Since the count had high justice over 26,004 feus> t^s wouW mean that he was lord of at least 91,000 subjects and perhaps of 104,000. The boundaries of a medieval parish do not necessarily coincide with those of a modern commune, but it is interesting to compare the figures for the early fourteenth century with those given in the Dictionnaire des communes. As may be seen from the table below,84 there is a rather remarkable stability in the population of this area. None of the medieval towns or villages has become a large city, although some have experienced a modest growth. But if Orbec, Bernay, and Le Neubourg have increased in population, Beau­ mont, La Neuve Lyre, Glos, and Le Sap have decreased. One is left with the impression that the population in 1310 was not greatly inferior in number to that of today, and that it may actually have been denser in some of the less fertile agricultural areas. The last, and largest block of revenues given the count came from the domains, that is, forests, prevotes, lands, and rents. From these sources he was expected to draw 2,560 l.t., or very nearly half of the income of the county. But this sum was very unequally distributed among the different categories. The forests were supposed to yield 1,575 l.t., almost exactly three-fifths of the total sum, and the forest of Beaumont alone was to produce 1,300 Lt. a year. These figures might have been much higher, for a jury originally valued the forest of Beaumont at 1,800 l.t. a year. Robert of Artois protested vigor­ ously, saying that at this price "il seroit outrageusement decue," but even his officials were willing to admit that the forest was worth 1,000 l.t. a year. A new inquest was ordered and the king's agents 83J.

C. Russell, British Medieval Population (Albuquerque, N.M., 1948), pp. 22S., 26, 30; "Late Medieval Population Patterns," Speculum, xx (1945), 162-163; and "Recent Advance in Mediaeval Demography," Speculum, XL (1965), 88-90. Many demographers think Russell's multiplier is too small; see the articles listed in his 1965 essay. 34 See the table on p. 23.

NORMANDY

Fol. of MS. B 14 14 36v 59 48 48 17 48 14 14-17 36v 57 14 17 59 36v 48 48 36v 36v 48 14 59

Commune

Number of feus in 1313

Bare Beaumont-Ie-Roger Bernay Bois-Normand-pres-Lyre Chaumont Cisai-S. Aubin Combon Croisilles Epreville-pres-le-Neubourg Feuguerolles et Nassandres Friardel Glos-Ia-Ferriere Goupillieres Neubourg (Le) Neuve Lyre (La) Orbec Orgeres St. Evroult-de-Montfort St. Germain-Ia-Campagne St. Mards-de-Fresne Sap (Le) Thiberville Vielle-Lyre (La)

151 538 1,100 80 244 80 280 80 148 146 100 360 197 227 400 308 140 162 260 200 550 102 240

Estimated population in 1313 Min. Max. 529 1,883 3,550 280 854 280 980 280 518 511 350 1,260 690 795 1,400 1,078 490 567 910 700 1,925 354 840

604 2,152 4,400 320 976 320 1,120 320 592 584 400 1,440 788 908 1,600 1,232 560 648 1,040 800 2,200 404 960

Population in 1936 468 2,070 7,700 403 244 265 400 233 264 1,038 246 554 534 2,362 736 2,837 281 424 733 370 1,061 1,029 507

this time valued the forest at 1,600 l.t. a year, so that the final figure of 1,300 l.t. represented a compromise between the king and the count.35 These facts indicate the economic importance of the Norman for­ ests. There is evidence to show that clearing of forest land, increased population, and greater use of wood had made forest products more valuable as early as the reign of Saint Louis.36 Since there were im­ portant metallurgical industries in the county of Beaumont, wood may have been especially valuable in this region. "Forges grossieres" are mentioned at Orbec and at Glos. They were especially numerous in the latter town, where there was a "mestre des ferons" responsible for collecting rents from two hundred forges.37 On the whole, Robert of Artois probably strengthened his economic position by accepting a large amount of forest land. There was always a market for the wood, and prices could rise as money depreciated in value. Rents from arable land were often fixed by custom or long-term leases, but, 35

B, fol. ι iv.

36

Strayer, Administration, pp. 43-44, 77.

37

B, fols. iov, 17V, 55.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

save for a few rights of usage, the count could exploit his forests as he wished. The remaining parts of the domain present a rather surprising picture. In the thirteenth century arable land, cens et rentes, mills, and the prevdtSs had produced a large part of the royal revenue from the district of Beaumont; in the fourteenth century these sources seem much less important. There are several reasons for this change. Most of the grant to Robert of Artois was made under the rules of the "ancienne assiete," which emphasized other kinds of income. The royal domain had been diminished by grants of lands and rents to officials and friends of the king. Other parts of the domain had been granted on perpetual leases (fieffermes) which now yielded less than the real value of the properties. This last fact, however, should not be overemphasized. Perpetual leases were less permanent than the name implies and many were surrendered shortly after they were made. For example, Les Moutiers-Hubert was granted as a fiefferme in November 1311 but returned to the king in time to be given to Robert of Artois.88 Some of the fieffermes made in the reign of Saint Louis survived,39 but these were already taken into account in the survey of 1261 and so do not help to explain the decrease in the value of the domain after that date. We must conclude that there had been a general decrease in the value of lands and rents during the reign of Philip the Fair, in spite of the inflationary influence of a fluctuating currency and heavy expenditures for war. If we study individual items, this conclusion is strengthened. We can be most certain about the revenues from mills, since every mill had a monopoly in its district and should have done about the same amount of business every year. Yet of eight mills which can be iden­ tified both in the survey of 1261 and in the grant to Robert of Artois, all but one have decreased in value. The four mills of Beaumont were valued at 500 l.t. a year under Saint Louis and at only 224 l.t. under Philip the Fair; the mill of Canapville dropped from 56 l.t. to 221.16 s., a tanning mill from 60 s. to 30 s. and the mill of St. Ouen from 7 1.10 s. to 11.14 s.40 It is true that in all these cases, except the tanning mill, the yearly revenue is given in setters of grain, which 88A.N.,

JJ 49, fol. 30V; Strayer, Royal Domain, p. 21. Especially in the sergeanty of Ouche (fol. 50V) where we find eight farms "des forfetures d'Angleterre" which go back to the first years of the reign of Saint Louis. 40 B, fols. ιόν, 24, 32, 50V; Strayer, Royal Domain, pp. 76, 78, 155, 143, 172. 89

NORMANDY

are then valued at the conventional prices of the "ancienne assiete," but even if we use a higher price the revenues are worth less than those reported for 1261. Perhaps the commissioners favored the count by undervaluing mills granted to him, but contemporary leases of mills by the bailli of Rouen also show decreases in value. We have records of nine such leases in 1310 and 1312; in four cases the mill is worth less than in 1261, in three the rent is about the same and in only two has there been an increase.41 Moreover, there were two com­ plaints that the farmers could make no profit from their mills, and in both cases the bailli permitted a large reduction in the promised payments.42 If we look at the prevotes we again find evidence of declining revenues. The prevdte of Beaumont was worth 1,200 l.t. a year in 1261 and only 795 l.t. when it was granted to Robert of Artois.43 Here again, about one-third of the income comes from grain convention­ ally valued, but, even if we increase the price of the grain by fifty percent, the prevote is still worth much less than under Saint Louis. We can find a decrease in almost every part of the revenue of the prfadte·. the product of the "denier et maaille" has dropped from 120 l.t. to 72 l.t., that of "havage" from 33 l.t. to 9 1. 12 s.t., "seiche moute" from 11 l.t. to 7 1. 12 s.t., and the fisheries of the Rille from 40 l.t. to 311. 10 s.t. The prevdtes of Glos and La Neuve Lyre show similar decreases. Here we can follow the process in detail, thanks to the accounts and extracts from the accounts of the bailli of Verneuil which are preserved in the Archives Nationales and the Bibliotheque Nationale.44 Income from Lyre and Glos increased until 1271, when it leveled off at fairly high sums. During the period 1271-1282 the prSvote of Lyre yielded from 249 1. to 270 1. a year and the prevdte of Glos from 180 1. to 210 1. In 1285 there was a sharp drop, perhaps caused by the troubles of the crusade of Aragon. Lyre and Glos in that year were each valued at only 159 1. When the two prevotSs were given to Robert of Artois, Lyre was worth 160 1. a year and Glos only 133 1. a year. Here again, the decrease is observable in 41A-N., JJ 45, fol. IIOV ; JJ 47, fol. 53. B.N., ms. fr. 25993, no· *93- Strayer, Royal Domain, pp. 104, 218, 224, 208, 205, 186, 202. 42 A.N., JJ 47, fol. 53, the farm of the mills of Vaudreuil falls from 144 l.t. to 120 l.t.; JJ 52, fol. 22, the farm of the mill of "Hastenc" falls from 55 l.t. to 30 l.t. 43Strayer, Royal Domain, p. 75; B, fols. 3V-11. 44 Strayer, Royal Domain, pp. 75-76; B, fols. xo, iov.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

other places in the region. The extracts of accounts already men­ tioned give the following figures.45 Easter 1252 Prevote of Prevote of Prevote of Prevote of Prevote of

Falaise Chateau Vire Exmes Verneuil Bonsmoulins*

1661. 4251. 140 1. = 98 1. 6 s. 8 d.

Easter 1272 2381.6 s. 2401. 1751. 4501. 831.6 s.

Easter 1285 2481. 2001. 661.13 s. 3251. 801.

* In 1252 half of the income of Bonsmoulins was collected at Easter and half at Michaelmas. In the other years the normal practice of this region was followed; one-third of the payments were made at Easter and two-thirds at Michaelmas.

Since a large part of the income from the prevotes was derived from business transactions, we have here an indication of declining eco­ nomic activity. It is more difficult to trace decreases in the value of land, since the commissioners of 1313 usually list the cens et rentes owed by indi­ viduals without connecting these payments with specific amounts of land. One fact, however, is immediately evident. There has been a great increase in the number of vavassories, for example around Pontchardon and Les Moutiers-Hubert.46 These vavassories pay only sixpence or a shilling an acre, far less than the real value of the land. Most of them do not appear in earlier documents and it is hard to understand why such grants were ever made. Perhaps the possessors of these vavassories paid large lump sums to the bailli in return for grants of land on favorable terms, but there is no evidence of such payments in the records which survive. In any case, the large number of these vavassories seriously decreased the income from the domain. If we turn to land which was leased for short terms we find that there was some decline in value, especially when payments were made in grain. Thus at Les Moutiers-Hubert a meadow which was worth 20 s. a year in 1261 is valued at only 16 s. in 1313, and a field which was farmed at 3 s. an acre in 1261 pays only four bushels of oats (or ι s. 6 d.) an acre in 1313.47 A great deal of land in this region is leased in 1313 for only 2 s. 6 d. an acre, a much lower price than that which prevailed in 1261.48 These payments are in grain, but even if we value the grain at more than the conventional price the land is still very cheap. It must be said that near Beaumont land was A.N., J 775, J 780; B.N., ms. lat. 9018, p. 24; B, fols. 54V, 58. 47 B, fols. 25, 18. A.N., J 775, J 780. 48 B, fol. 24V; Strayer, Royal Domain, p. 155. 45

46

NORMANDY

worth about as much in 1313 as in 1261,49 but it is significant that in no place has land increased in value. This offers a contrast to the period from 1204 to 1270,50 when land increased steadily in value. In conclusion, we can say that this study of the establishment of the county of Beaumont-Ie-Roger suggests two problems for future investigation. In the first place, when royal officials or favored mem­ bers of the nobility secured grants of royal estates, did they always seek safeguards against fluctuations in the value of money? Robert of Artois protected himself by receiving much of his income from forests or in kind, and by undervaluing payments in kind. If this were common practice it would explain why many landholders re­ mained relatively well-to-do during the troubles of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. In the second place, is there evidence of eco­ nomic stagnation, not to say depression, in the early fourteenth cen­ tury in other regions of France? Certainly, around Beaumont, the boom of the thirteenth century had ended and there is some proof that an economic recession was beginning. If this was true elsewhere, then we can understand the violent protests against royal taxation in the reign of Philip the Fair and the failure of the king to bring the campaigns against Flanders to a satisfactory solution. Most historians will admit that the second half of the fourteenth century was not a period of prosperity and that economic troubles aggravated political and social difficulties. It would be interesting to discover that eco­ nomic troubles began early in the reign of Philip the Fair. 49 50

B, fol. 3V; Strayer, Royal Domain, pp. 78, 79. Strayer, Royal Domain, p. 24.

3. A Forged Charter

of Henry II for Bival*

I

N THE Scheide collection at Princeton there is a manuscript (Box 206, no. 6992) which purports to be a confirmation by Henry II of the possessions of the Cistercian nunnery of Bival. The document is written in a twelfth-century hand on a piece of parch­ ment thirty-four centimeters long and twenty-six centimeters wide. It was formerly sealed sur double queue, but no traces of the seal now remain. The place is Drincourt (Neufchatel); the witness list indicates a date of 1177-1183, with some reason to prefer the earlier part of this period.1 The document is not discussed by Delisle and Berger in their magnificent collection of the charters of Henry II.2 If this document were authentic, it would have some importance for Norman history. Bival survived both the troubles of the later Middle Ages and the Wars of Religion, but it left surprisingly little evidence of its existence in the writings of the Ancien Regime. The Neustria Pia knows that it exists but nothing more.3 The Gallia Christiana has only a few stories about its origins, and a very incom­ plete list of its abbesses.4 Bival was close to Neufchatel-en-Bray but it left little mark in the local histories written there.5 There is more information about Bival's possessions in this supposed charter of Henry II than in all the printed sources I have mentioned. Unfortunately, it is easy to demonstrate that the charter is a for­ gery. All that is needed is to apply the tests laid down so clearly by Delisle in his famous Introduction to the Recueil des Aetes de Henri II. The charter cannot have been written before 1177, since William

* First published in Speculum, xxxiv (1959), 230-237. FitzRalph is named as seneschal of Normandy, a post which he received only in 1177. Walter of Coutances is not yet a bishop; he was pro­ moted in 1183. Henry II was probably not at Neufchatel between the summer of 1180 and 1187. See p. 30 and notes 14-20. 2Recueil des Actes de Henri II, roi d'Angleterre et due de Normandie . . . , ed. Leopold Delisle and Elie Berger (Paris, 1909-1927). 3Artur du Moustier, Neustria Pia (Rouen, 1663), p. 919. 4 Gallia Christiana, xi, col. 316. M.J.C. Duplessis, Description de la Haute Normandie (Paris, 1740), 1, 159-160, does little more than duplicate the Gallia Christiana. 5 For example, Robert Bodin, Histoire civile et militaire de Neujchatel-enBray, ed. F. V. Bouquet (Rouen: Societe de l'Histoire de Normandie, xix, 1885), pp. 6, 7, 13, 15, gives only a few details about Bival and says nothing about its early history. Yet Dom Bodin was a monk of Beaubec, the spiritual founder of Bival. 1 William

NORMANDY

FitzRalph witnesses as seneschal of Normandy, an office which he assumed only in that year.6 Yet in the address the words "Dei gratia" are omitted from Henry's title; they are regularly included in all his charters after 1173/ This in itself is almost conclusive proof that the document is a forgery, although it is barely possible that in a docu­ ment written soon after the change in title the words "Dei gratia" might have been accidentally omitted. Even more damning is the fact that the charter includes language which Henry's clerks would never have used. For example, there are two clauses of confirmation and protection written in two completely different styles. The first comes before the list of possessions, is written in the first person plural, and is clearly modeled on the formulae of the papal chancery.8 In all these respects it is contrary to the customs of Henry's court. The second clause of confirmation comes in its normal place at the end of the list of possessions, is written in the first person singular, and is reasonably close to the usages of Henry's chancery. There are minor discrepancies as well. Henry's clerks were not always accurate in their spelling but it was certainly not normal for them to write "Aquiwtanorum" for "Aquitanorum" or "con" for "cum." They usually indicated the king's name by a simple "H."; it was unusual for them to write "Henricus." They were also unlikely, in summarizing the holdings of a religious house, to give all the details which appear toward the end of this charter9—for example, the statement that when the nuns use their right of grinding their grain freely in the mills of Guillaume de Belsast they must leave the mill in the condition in which they found it. Finally, the handwrit­ ing is careful, almost elegant; each letter is thick and black. This is quite different from the thin, hastily-formed letters which were usually produced by Henry's scribes. There is no doubt, then, that the charter, as we have it, is not au­ thentic. This does not mean that it has no value as evidence for the 6 Delisle,

Recueil des Actes de Henri 11, Introduction, p. 482. Ibid., pp. 12-31. 8 Thus the clause "quecomque idem monasterium ad presens possidet... seu in posterum deo annuente oblatione fidelium adipisci poterit . . ." is almost the same as a clause in a privilege for Fecamp (Neustria Via, p. 243), "quaecumque bona idem monasterium in praesentiarum .. . possidet, aut in futurum . . . oblatione fidelium . . . Deo propitio poterit adipisci. . . ." 9 Delisle, Introduction, pp. 305, 326. The latter example of a forged charter with too much detail comes from Savigny, a monastery with which Bival had connections, see below, p. 32. 7

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

history of Bival. The handwriting indicates that the forgery was composed in the late twelfth century, perhaps very close to the date indicated by the witness list. It would have served no purpose to prepare a list of holdings which any contemporary would have known was completely false. Moreover, there are indications that the forger drew much of his material from authentic documents, and that Bival actually held many of the lands and rights which he enumerated. For example, we know from other sources that the Talbots were benefactors of Bival,10 that Bival held land at Pierrement,11 and that the abbess of Bival had the advowson of the church of Hodeng-en-Bray.12 We can go even further and say that almost certainly there was a genuine charter of Henry II confirming the possessions of Bival. The editors of the Gallia Christiana speak of such a charter.13 Unfortu­ nately, it is quite possible that the document they saw was either our charter or a copy of it, since the one clause they cite asserts that Ste.Marie-de-Bondeville is subject to Bival, a statement which could have been taken from the forgery. Better evidence is provided by the list of witnesses, which conforms so closely to what we know of the itinerary of Henry II and his court that it must have been taken from an authentic document. As we have seen, the earliest possible date for our group of witnesses is 1177 and the latest is 1183. If, as Eyton's Itinerary suggests, Henry was not at Neufchatel between the sum­ mer of 1180 and February of 1187,14 then this narrows the dates still further. Now Henry II was at Neufchatel (then called Drincourt) about September 117715 and two of the six witnesses to our charter were with him. Alured de St. Martin was then, and remained for some years, constable of Drincourt.16 He and William FitzRalph 10 Ibid., p. 393, Delisle refers to an original charter of Guillaume Talbot (brother of Hugh Talbot) making a gift to Bival. The Talbots were also bene­ factors of Beaubec, the mother house of Bival. 11 Regestrum visitationum archiepiscopi Rothomagensis, ed. Theodose Bonnin (Rouen, 1852), p. 268, the nuns have rented their manor of Pierrement for 50 1. a year, though the archbishop thinks it worth 140 1.; see also pp. 610, 636. 12 H.F., xxxii, 273. 13 Gallia Christiana, xi, col. 319. 14 R. W. Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary of King Henry II (Dorches­ ter, 1878), pp. 234, 278. 15 Ibid., p. 219. leThomas Stapleton, Magni rotuli Scacarii Normanniae (London, 1840), 1, 57, 116, 117; C. H. Haskins, Norman Institutions (Cambridge, Mass., 1918), Ρ· 327·

NORMANDY

witnessed a charter of Henry II for St. James of Bristol at this time.17 Henry, bishop of Bayeux, was in the neighborhood of Neufchatel, since he was able to join the king at Ivri by 21 September 1177.18 A fourth witness, Master Walter of Coutances, had been with Henry in Rouen a short time before.19 A fifth witness, Henry count of Eu, was a great territorial magnate in eastern Normandy; his father is said to have made a gift to Bival, and it is very likely that he would have attended a meeting of the curia at Drincourt. The last witness, Gil­ bert Pipard, was active in Normandy between 1176 and 1180; after that date he seems to have been employed in England.20 It would have been impossible for a forger, picking names of witnesses at random from old charters, to have hit on such a plausible combina­ tion. Henry and the six witnesses could all have been at Neufchatel in either 1177 or 1x80, and we know that in 1177 two of the witnesses were there and three were near by. This makes it very likely that in 1177 Henry issued a genuine charter for Bival, from which the forger copied the witness list and other material. Another reason for supposing a genuine royal charter in 1177 is suggested by the Gallia Christiana. According to this story, the monks of Beaubec had been abusing their rights of patronage over Bival and had appropriated most of the goods of the nunnery to their own uses. Some of the heirs of donors to Bival protested and Beaubec in 1175 was forced to relinquish both the patronage and the property.21 Certainly there must have been some sort of inves­ tigation of Bival's holdings at this time. The forged charter reflects this in several places; it speaks of the testimony of the lords in whose fiefs Bival had property, of charters which were shown to the king, and of the legal witnesses who testified about Bival's holdings. Al­ most inevitably after such an investigation there would have been a royal charter confirming its results, and, if the investigation was held in 1175, a reasonable date for the charter would have been 1177. It is also possible that there was a papal privilege for Bival about this time, as our charter asserts. Alexander III gave letters of pro­ tection to most Norman houses during his long pontificate; Bival may well have received one. Such a letter would have been par17

18 Ibid., p. 219. Eyton, Itinerary, p. 219. p. 218. 20 Delisle, Introduction, p. 376; Thomas Madox, The History and Antiquities of the Exchequer of the Kings of England . . . (London, 1711), p. 94. 21 Gallia Christiana, xr, col. 316. 19 Ibid.,

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

ticularly appropriate in 1175 or 1176, when the convent had just regained control of its possessions. As we have seen, the forger used phrases drawn from a papal document in the early part of the char­ ter. Unfortunately, these are general formulae which appeared in almost all papal letters of protection. The forger could have found examples of them among the charters of almost any religious house in Normandy, and their appearance does not prove that Alexander issued a letter for Bival. But if our forger had enough ingenuity to borrow a document from a neighboring house, he should have been clever enough to realize that the combination of papal and royal formulae was a stupid mistake. The simplest explanation is that Bival possessed a letter of Alexander III, and that this letter was used by the forger. The probable sources of our document are thus a genuine charter of Henry II, a letter of Alexander III, private charters recording gifts to Bival, and the verdicts of inquests held in 1175 or 1176. Much of the material in the forged charter was drawn from these com­ pletely reliable sources and hence can be accepted. But this con­ clusion immediately raises two more questions. Why was a forgery necessary when authentic charters were available? What parts of the forgery should be looked on with suspicion? It will be easier to answer these questions if we reflect upon the fact that Bival originally belonged to the Congregation of Savigny. Bival was a daughter of Beaubec, which in turn was a daughter of Savigny. Now forgery was not entirely unknown in the Congregation of Savigny, though it did not reach the heights that it did in the Order of Grandmont. Three of the very small number of forged charters of Henry II which are discussed by Delisle come from Savigny or its affiliates.22 Even more important, there were serious quarrels in the Congregation of Savigny about problems of filiation. It was not always clear which was to be considered the mother house of a thirdgeneration establishment, nor what were the rights of a mother house over its daughters.23 As we have seen, there was a dispute be­ tween Bival and Beaubec over this issue. Such quarrels may have been one reason why Pope Eugenius IV ordered the merger of the Order of Savigny with the Cistercian Order in 1148.24 But the pope, 22 Delisle,

Introduction, pp. 303, 316, 326. Auvry, Histoire de la Congregation de Savigny, ed. A. P. Laveille (Rouen: Soc. de l'Hist. de Normandie, xxx, 1897), 11, 366ft., HI, 70ff. 2i Ibid., π, 373-375. 23 Claude

NORMANDY

himself a Cistercian, could not abolish the principle of filiation, which was observed in his Order also; in fact, he specifically or­ dered the preservation of the rights of the mother house of Savigny.25 The disputes continued for some years after the union.26 In view of these facts, it is not surprising that the most dubious statements in the forged charter concern the rights of Bival over other churches. The lands claimed are not very extensive, and they all lie close to Bival; the only questionable assertions deal with the rights of Bival in the Bois des Puits, a wood which had been con­ firmed to Beaubec by Henry II.27 But the list of churches is less convincing. Bival is said to possess the priory (or abbey) of Bondeville, the church of Pierrement, the church of Bourbel, and the church of Hodeng. These statements are not fully supported by either the thirteenth- or the fourteenth-century pouilles of the diocese of Rouen. Both records ascribe Hodeng to Bival, but have other patrons for the other churches.28 It is true that the Gallia Christiana says that Bival had a cell in its land of Pierrement,29 but a cell is not a church. It is also true that in the pouilles Bival possesses a church, St. Aubin de Nolleval,30 not accounted for in our document, and that Nolleval might have been received in exchange for Bourbel. On the other hand, Nolleval could just as easily have been a later gift. But the real problem is Bondeville. This priory is named in two twelfth-century lists of the houses of the Congregation of Savigny;31 it had certainly been founded by 1154 and probably by 1148.32 Most of the church historians of Normandy assert that Bondeville was a daughter of Bival;33 there is no reason to doubt this assertion, even 26Ibid.,

2eIbid., in, yofi. ix, 378. and Berger, Actes de Henri II, 1, 463, 11, 29, Beaubec held at least part of the Bois des Puits and our charter gives Bival unlimited rights in the whole forest for building and firewood. But, given the close association of the two houses, this is not an impossible arrangement and the two statements are not necessarily contradictory. 28 H.F., xxiii, 273; Pouilles de la province de Rouen, ed. Auguste Longnon (Paris, 1903), p. 38. 29 Gallia Christiana, xi, col. 316. 30 H.F., XXIII, 315; Longnon, Pouilles, p. 49. 31 Auvry, Histoire de Savigny, 11, 382, HI, 224. 82 Gallia Christiana, xi, col. 319, a gift to Bondeville in χ 154. Auvry, Histoire de Savigny, 11, 382, says Bondeville was in existence at the time of the union with the Cistercians, 1148. ss Gallia Christiana, xi, col. 319; Duplessis, Description de la Haute Nor27 Delisle

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

though there is no contemporary evidence for the fact. Bival was the nearest convent of the Congregation and it would have been natural to draw the first nuns of Bondeville from the older and neighboring foundation of Bival. On the other hand, it is difficult to believe that Bival ever had effective control of Bondeville. At the time of the establishment of the new priory Bival was in no condi­ tion to establish its rights; it was poor, weak, and dominated by the monastery of Beaubec. Its claims were certainly forgotten by the thirteenth century and perhaps even in the last quarter of the twelfth century. The Gallia Christiana, while asserting that Bondeville was subject to Bival, adds the limiting words "tunc temporis." It also points out that Bondeville, which had had the same patron saint as Bival, changed its patron after 1170, perhaps as an assertion of independence.34 It seems very likely that Bondeville, in the late twelfth century, was trying to free itself from control of Bival just as Bival was trying to free itself from Beaubec. It is also possible that Beaubec was contesting Bival's rights. Since Bondeville had been founded while Beaubec had full administrative control of Bival, Beaubec might have claimed that it was the spiritual parent of Bondeville. These are hypotheses which cannot be verified on the basis of our present documentation. But what is certain is that Bival's rights over Bonde­ ville were not well established, that they vanished in the thirteenth century, and that they probably needed reinforcing in the twelfth. This is exactly the situation in which the temptation to prepare a forgery might prove irresistible. And it seems possible that Scheide manuscript no. 6992 was forged primarily to sustain the claims of Bival to possession and control of Bondeville. This article was ready for the printer when I learned through the kindness of M. F. Blanchet, Directeur des Services d'Archives de la Seine-Maritime, that he had found in the archives of the SeineMaritime twenty-one charters of the twelfth, thirteenth, and four­ teenth centuries concerning the convent of Bival. These documents are listed under the number 51H, but they have not been further classified. mandie, 1, 159; Repertoire numerique des archives departementales, SeineInferieure, series H, ed. J. J. Vernier, 1, iii, suggests that Bival was the mother house of other nunneries of the Congregation of Savigny. 34 Gallia Christiana, xi, col. 319.

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Μ. Blanchet very kindly made arrangements for me to obtain photographs of these charters. They add little to what was already known about Bival, but they do confirm some of the statements about the convent made without indication of source by the editors of the Gallia Christiana and by Auvry. The most important of these new documents is a charter of Rotrou, archbishop of Rouen, issued in 1175. In this charter he states that the nuns of Bival had been in the custody (sub custodia) of the abbot and monks of Beaubec, but that certain controversies had arisen between the two houses. With the consent of the abbot of Beaubec and the abbot of Savigny he has freed Bival from the con­ trol (a cura et regimine) of Beaubec and has installed the first abbess. He refers to another document (unfortunately lost) in which he had settled disputes over property. He also speaks of the consent of Guillaume de Bival and Robert his brother to this settlement; a clause which proves almost conclusively that they were the founders of Bival. This charter of the archbishop gives strong support to some of the conclusions stated earlier in this article. It is clear that Bival was trying to obtain greater autonomy within the Congregation of Savigny and to free itself from the domination of Beaubec. It is reasonable to suppose that Bival, as soon as it had gained a degree of independence, would try to have the archbishop's decision con­ firmed by the pope and the king of England. Since there was no reason for such confirmation to be withheld, it is almost certain that Bival received charters from Alexander III and Henry II in the years immediately after 1175. Thus a genuine charter of Henry II may well have been granted in 1177. It is also clear, from Rotrou's charter, and from another document in the collection settling a dispute over the tithes of Pierrement, that it was not easy to separate the property of Bival from that of Beau­ bec. The nuns had to surrender some things to which they had a claim in order to obtain a clear title to the rest. For example, they gave up their right to the tithes of Pierrement in return for some land. In these circumstances, it is not surprising that they resorted to forgery. They may have felt that they had been unfairly treated in the division of property; note that in the forged charter they claim the church of Pierrement with all its appurtenances, even though they had surrendered the tithes. They may also have feared that neither the charter of Rotrou nor that of Henry II was suffi-

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

ciently explicit about their claim to Bondeville. In either case, the most likely date for the forgery would be soon after 1177, before their claims could be nullified by a long period of adverse possession. The other twelfth-century documents are less interesting than Rotrou's charter. They include the charter of Guillaume Talbot, mentioned by Delisle (see note 10, above), which demonstrates the interest shown by the Talbots in Bival. They also prove once more that Bival had land or rents at Pierrement, at Nesle, at Hodeng, at "Machemont" and "Viboremont," and near the Bois des Puits. Ex­ cept for the Talbots, none of the donors was a person of much prominence and the gifts are small. Bival had gained a certain degree of independence, but it was not to become a wealthy and famous house. APPENDIX Text of Scheide ms. 6992 Henricus Rex Anglorum et Dux Normannorum et Aquintanorum et Comes Andegavensis Archiepiscopo Rothomagensi et omnibus episcopis Normannie, comitibus, baronibus, vicecomitibus, ministris, et omnibus fidelibus suis salutem. Notum factum est nobis Boevallisl monasterium con omnibus pertinenciis suis sub apostolica protectione susceptum fuisse et dominum papam omnes disturbatores et sua iura minuentes ecclesiastico gladio percussise. Set quia in ecclesia necessarium est, apostolico gladio nostrum quoque adhibemus et prefatum monasterium sub nostra pro­ tectione succepimus et sigilli nostri impressione firmamus, statuentes ut nulli liceat perturbare vel possessiones auferre aut minuere, set quecomque idem monasterium ad presens posidet et quidquid sui iuris disnoscitur esse testimonio dominorum in quorum feodo et elemosina monasterium fundatum est, seu in posterum deo annuente oblatione fidelium adipisci poterat a nobis concessa et conservata ad usus monialium in eo deo serviencium permaneant. De quibus hec nominare nobis placuit: Ecclesiam Sanete Marie Magdalene Boevallis con omnibus pertinenciis suis, ecclesiam Sancte Marie Magdalene de Bondevilla2 con omnibus pertinenciis suis, ecclesiam de Hodenc3 con omnibus pertinenciis suis, ecclesiam de Pierement4 con omnibus suis pertinenciis et ibidem constitutum centum octoginta acras et sex terre de dono Guillermi Bendengel, et ex dono Roberti de Hoeeort [smudged] et Havis et Hugonis filii eius 1 Bival,

arr. and c. Neufchatel, cne. Nesle-Hodeng. (or abbey) of Bondeville, near Rouen, c. Maromme. 3 Hodeng, arr. and c. Neufchatel, cne. Nesle-Hodeng. 4 Pierrement, arr. Neufchatel, c. Forges, cne. Haucort. 2 Priory

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duas partes decime de NigelIa,5 terciam partem decime de Bouafflee super fluvium Augi, ecclesiam de Borbel7 con omnibus pertinenciis suis, de dono Ogeri Chepel apud Augifuntem centum octoginta acras terre, dono G. de Hodenc sexaginta acras terre apud Galtier Hesart, et ibidem de dono Hugonis et R. Talebot sexaginta et decern acras terre, de dono Hugonis de Sancto Claro apud Vuiboremontem [ Ptorn] sexaginta acras terre, de dono Hugonis Porci apud Praellos decern acras terre, de dono Garneri de Til sub Machemonte quinque acras terre, et ibidem de dono Ricardi filii Reisenc sub Machemonte unam acram terre, de dono Acardi de Torcheio sub Machemonte duas acras terre, de dono Gilleberti in loco qui dicitur Condos Vitalis sex acras terre, de dono Gilleberti de Malicorno apud Corberias quinque acras terre, de dono Hugonis de Valle sub Haias Ingeranni unam acram terre, de dono Segele super Haias Ingeranni quatuor acras terre, et ibidem de dono Ricardi de Doceio unam acram terre, de dono Guillermi Pagani quatuor acras terre sub Melletuit, de dono Guillelmi de Hodenc quatuor acras terre sub Machemonte. Item, Hugo Talebot pro filia sua Bietrice que his (sic) monial facta est in molendino de Sanrai xl sol. Belvac. monete annuatim reddendas, xx ad festum Sancti Remigii et xx ad nundinas Sancti Vandregisili media quadragesima, decimam quoque novi molendini ipsius de Sebolt Maesnil et molendini de Funte et tercii molendini in rivaria de Haierum quod vocatur molendinum de Tot et unum masnagium terre apud Nigellam et in montanis supra Boevallem quatuordecim acras terre ad campartum, de dono Girardi de Boessevilla pro filia sua que in prefata ecclesia monacha facta est quindecim solid, monete currentis singulis annis redendos—novem in redditu Gaufridi de Puteo et sex in redditu Johannis filii Hieseline et redditum heredum ipsorum post eos ad festum Sancti Michaelis habendos, et si terminus ille transsierit duo milia harengorum pro denariis ecclesie reddenda, de dono Johannis comitis Augi usum liberum et quietum in foresta sua ad omnia que sibi necessa fuerunt et quitanciam per totam terram suam et omnibus commerciis suis, de dono GuilIemi de Belsast in molendinis suis molere bladum suum libere, quiete et pacifice propter quod molendinarius singulis vicibus molitionis sue unum boescellum de meliore blado quod ibi habebunt accipiet et quale invenerint molendinum taleque relinquent, de dono Renaldi de Gerpunvilla decimam sui molendini et pomerii sui de Opillieres,8 de dono M. imperatricis transsitum suarum rerum per totam terram suam Normannie 5

Nesle-Hodeng, arr. and c. Neufchatel. (?), arr. Neufchatel, c. Aumale, cne. Vieux-Rouen. 7 Bourbel, arr. Neufchatel, c. Blangy, cne. Nesles-Normandeuses. 8 La Houpiliere. According to Bodin, Hist, de Neufchatel, p. 124, there was a priory of Beaubec at La Houpiliere, near Cantecoq, which is in the arr. and c. of Neufchatel, cne. St. Saire. 6Bouafles

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

sine teloneo et passagio et omni consuetudine dandi quas suas legaliter esse potuerint firmare. Item, de dono Hugonis Talebot decern sol. monete currentis super massura terre Hadue de Torceio, et de dono Guillelmi de Petrafossa decern sol. in massura Roberti de Marchoes et Radulfi Coulumbel et in parochia de Folafossa9 in feodo R. Talebot de dono Radulfi de Boellis sex minas segetis de molendino suo—tres frumenti et tres alterius segetis—et marune locum qui dicitur boscus de Puteis10 con circuitu eius quantusconque sit vel futurus sit et extra circuitum tantum foreste ex omni parte quantum attingintur uno trachi arbeleste et de residuo foreste quantumconque necessarium fuerit ad edificandum in eodem loco et ad calefaciendum et quantumconque terre ad eandem forestam pertinet ex quaconque parte ex dono Guillelmi de Belsast et Gaufridi filii eius et Guillelmi filii eiusdem Gaufridi et Guermundi de Cobainvilla et Hugonis fratris eius et Galteri fratris Guillelmi de Belsast et ex concambio Hugonis de Sancto Mauricio facto con monialibus de Goslainfunte11 per Hugonem de Gornaio et Milisent et Hugonem eorum filium terram a capite foreste de Puteis utque ad calceiam de Contavilla.12 Sciatis me concessise et hac mea carta confirmasse monialibus Boevallis omnes donationes que eis juste sunt facte, in decimis et ecclesiis et earum pertinenciis, in terris, in bosco, in piano, in pratis, in pascuis, et in aquis et molendinis et in omnibus rebus allis sicut carte donatorum que nobis demonstrate fuerunt testantur, et nominatim unum modium bladi quod Guillelmus comes de Albamalla eis dedit sicut carta eius testatur que nobis ostensa fuit, vel sicut legales testes testantur. Quare mando et firmiter precipio quod prefate mulieres dicte moniales omnes donationes suas libere, quiete, et in pace teneant, et nullus presumat eis iniuriam vel contumeliam facere contra cartas suas vel legales testes. Testibus: H. episcopo Baiocensi, magistro Valtero de Costanciis, H. comite de Augo, Guillelmo filio Radulfi senescallo Normann ie, Aluredo de Sancto Martino, Gilleberto Pipard. Apud Drincort. 9 Le

Fosse (P), arr. Neufchatel, c. Forges. Bois des Puits, arr. Neufchatel, c. Aumale, cne. Criquier. 11 Gaillefontaine, arr. Neufchatel, c. Forges. 12 Conteville, arr. Neufchatel, c. Aumale. 10

4. On the Early Norman Charters, 911-1066*

I

N HIS brilliant paper on "The Rise of Normandy," published in 1947, Professor Douglas said that "a critical edition of the charters of the early dukes has become an urgent need for Norman scholarship."1 His hopes have now been fulfilled, and rather more quickly than is usually the case in our discipline. Considering the difficulties under which the editor labored, and to which she makes only a brief reference, Mme. Fauroux deserves the highest praise for having done such an excellent piece of work in so short a time. She has published 234 charters2 granted or ratified by the dukes of Normandy between 965 and 1066, has given all significant variants, and has listed all earlier publications of or references to these docu­ ments. She has found thirty unpublished charters,3 some of which are of great importance. The editing is careful and, as far as can be judged by a few test cases, accurate; the dating is judicious; the discussion of possible forgeries or interpolations is sensible. She has been well served by her publishers; the volume has been handsomely printed and is easy to use. A word of thanks should also go to M. Lucien Musset for preparing the admirable index rerum which makes it easy to check the appearance and use of key words such as "consuetudines." The introduction deals almost entirely with problems of diplo­ matics. One of its most useful features is the citation of all passages in other sources which refer to lost (or presumably lost) acts of the dukes. The editor demonstrates once more that the Norman court had no very regularly organized chancery and that almost all the charters were drafted by the recipients, in a great variety of styles, and then presented to the duke for approval. In the light of this fact it is a little surprising that she is willing to accept the rather thin evidence which implies that Richard II had a seal. The great value of this collection is that it makes it far easier than * A review of Recueil des actes des dues de Normandie, 911-1066, ed. Marie Fauroux (Caen: Memoires de la Societe des Antiquaires de Normandie, xxxvi, 1961). First published in Speculum, xxxvn (1962), 607-610. 1 D. C. Douglas, "The Rise of Normandy," Proceedings of the British Academy (1947), p. 102. 2 This is only an approximate count; there are nine forgeries, one "numero vacant," and a number of excerpts from pancartes. 3 Of the thirty unpublished documents one is a forgery and two are suspect variants of published charters.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

it has ever been before to study the development of Norman institu­ tions in the pre-Conquest period. Some preliminary observations impose themselves after even a cursory reading of the documents. For one thing, they illustrate admirably the power and wealth of the duke. He gives and takes away as pleases him; abbots, bishops, and laymen have to surrender or exchange their holdings at his orders. He names counts and viscounts4—the count of Evreux says he holds his county by the "electione Ricardi senioris avi mei" (no. 208). He has a cash income from his viscounties and other sources and can assign shares of this income to ecclesiastical foundations that he favors. (He is not unique in this respect; one of the striking things in these documents is the amount of buying of land and rights which goes on in the first half of the eleventh century. The upper classes in Normandy were clearly well supplied with money, un­ like their peers in other parts of France.)5 At the same time these charters fully support the view, already expressed by Douglas and Musset, that Norman feudalism devel­ oped slowly and irregularly, and that in the first half of the eleventh century Norman society did not yet "conform with any rigidity to an ordered feudal plan."6 Many scholars have failed to see that there were really two feudalisms—the feudalism of the armed retainer or knight, and the feudalism of the counts and other great lords who were practically independent rulers of their districts.7 The two feudalisms began at different times and under different cir­ cumstances, and it was a long time before they were fully meshed together. This separation between the two levels of feudalism is clearly illustrated by the ducal charters. As has already been said, the duke has full control of Normandy; many charters even refer to the province as his "regnum" (e.g., nos. 3, 61, 67, 92, 158, 197). But, i

D. C. Douglas, "The Earliest Norman Counts," English Historical Review, (1946), 153; Lucien Musset, "Aux origines de la feodalite normande," R.H.D.F.E., 4th series, xxix (1951), 150. 5 This point was made by Michel de Bouard, "De la Neustrie carolingienne a la Normandie feodale," Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research, xxviii (1955), 8. 6 Douglas, "The Rise of Normandy," p. 118; Musset, "Aux origines," p. 150, "L'idee d'une feodalite stable et independente n'existait pas encore" (to 1055). 7 C. E. Odegaard, Vassi and Fideles in the Carolingian Empire (Cambridge, Mass., 1945), has some useful remarks on this point. I discuss the subject in more detail in "The Two Levels of Feudalism" pp. 63S. below. LXi

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until well into the reign of William the Conqueror, the duke's court is not made up of vassals; it is filled with public and semipublic figures such as bishops, subordinate counts who are mem­ bers of the ducal family, and viscounts who are functionaries rather than lords of their districts.8 Only with William the Conqueror do we find a court filled with the great lords who dominate later Norman history—Montgomery, Montfort, Beaumont, Taisson, and Crespin. Conversely, while knights are mentioned repeatedly in the char­ ters, they do not play any significant political role. It is interesting that one charter (no. 199) finds it necessary to speak of "liberi milites," and that in others they are mentioned very perfunctorily, along with such appurtenances of an estate as mills and woods (e.g., nos. 140, 210). And it is only in William's reign that lords of hon­ ors seem to be holding feudal courts in which their knights approve or witness their acts. In short, while knights and other vassals are useful for military purposes, they have not yet become part of the governing group, and, until the 1050's, the duke can rule Normandy quite effectively without asking for their aid and counsel and with­ out giving them much local administrative authority. Moreover, the more one studies these documents the more one wonders whether Haskins was right in asserting that definite quotas of knight service had been assigned early in the eleventh century.9 His argument was a beautiful piece of reasoning, but it rested almost entirely on twelfth-century documents10 which would naturally read greater precision into eleventh-century arrangements than really existed. As Douglas has pointed out, even after the Conquest William could be somewhat imprecise in assigning a quota of knights to an English fief.11 Certainly when Robert the Magnificent gave St. Wandrille the land of a knight with the 8 Musset,

"Aux origines," p. 150, "les comtes . . . et Ies vicomtes gardent ici, beaucoup plus qu'ailleurs en France, Failure de fonctionnaires revocables." 9C. H. Haskins, Norman Institutions (Cambridge, Mass., 1918), pp. 7-19. 10 The one exception is the agreement that the cathedral of Avranches shall eventually hold the barony of St. Philibert for the service of five knights (no. 229), but this is in 1066 and even here the language is less precise than it will be in the twelfth century. 11 D. C. Douglas, Feudal Documents from the Abbey of Bury St. Edmunds (London, 1932), p. 151. Peter, a knight of the king, is assigned a fief in the lands of Bury St. Edmunds and agrees to serve "cum tribus vel quattuor militibus."

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

"servicium" of an unspecified number of the knight's sons he can­ not have been thinking of a fixed quota (no. 80). Nor can there have been a clearly defined quota when, between 1049 and 1058, Notre-Dame-du-Pre was given land at Fontaines "cum moledino et servitium militum," and another holding "cum militibus" (no. 140). In fact, more often than not, when the service of knights is granted in pre-Conquest acts, neither the number nor the names of the knights are specified. Moreover, right down to the period of the Conquest, the drafters of charters were trying to preserve the distinction between "alodium" and "beneficium." ("Feodum" and its variants do not appear in ducal acts until late in William's reign.)12 They knew perfectly well what the difference was; an allod was equated with "hereditary prop­ erty," a benefice with a more or less temporary grant from the duke (nos. 36, 43, 51, 53). This distinction was clearly breaking down; at times allods are said to be held of a lord or to owe service to a lord (nos. 46, 113, 122, 132). But as long as it existed at all, it would have been very difficult to assign specific quotas of service to specific holdings of land. A man who held an allod certainly owed obedience to the duke (or some other lord), but he can scarce­ ly be said to have held this land in return for a definite quota of military service. William probably did require more or less definite quotas of knights from his bishops and from the abbots of the older Norman monasteries, but I suspect that this did not happen much before 1066. He may have begun to make similar demands on his lay vassals at about the same time, but almost certainly he had not completed the process before the invasion of England. To sum up, Norman feudalism of the classic type was not fully developed until the second half of the eleventh century and it was William the Conqueror, more than any other ruler, who gave it definitive form.13 We might even ask whether this classic type of feudalism should be called Norman at all. Certainly the Conquest gave William an opportunity to create a much more neat and logical pattern in England than had ever existed in Normandy. And it is interesting to speculate whether the Domesday Survey, with its rigid 12

"Vassallus" also does not appear in ducal acts until the Conqueror's time; even then it was rare. "Fidelis," on the other hand, is constantly used. 13 This is the opinion of Douglas, "Rise of Normandy," p. 119, and of Musset, "Aux origines," p. 150.

NORMANDY

formulae, did not have some influence on Norman feudal institu­ tions. It may be that Normandy was made to conform to the English model, rather than the reverse. There was a good deal of tidying up to be done in Normandy, and the process was not completed until the reign of Henry I.

5. Normandy and Languedoc*

I

T OCCURRED to me recently that in forty years of working on the history of medieval France I had spent more time in study­ ing the institutions of Normandy and Languedoc than those of any other French provinces. There are obvious reasons for this prefer­ ence, not the least of which is that I was a student of Charles Homer Haskins. But why did Haskins, and, before Haskins, Delisle, begin their distinguished careers with works on Normandy? Why is the study of Norman law still flourishing? And, to go to my other province, why, from the time of Devic and Vaissete to the present, has so much been written about Languedoc? My predilection for these provinces is thus not a purely personal matter. It is hardly necessary, nor is there space, to list all the books dealing with Normandy and Languedoc that have appeared in France, England, and the United States in the last half century. It is, however, interesting to note that if American medievalists tended to be Normans in Haskins' day, they are now showing a certain preference for the Midi.1 But, however the balance has shifted, there has been a continuing interest in the history of the two provinces. Generations of historians have been convinced that Normandy and Languedoc played a key role in medieval history. I want to examine only one aspect of that role, the influence of Normandy and Langue­ doc on the development of the French state. One might begin with the old and obvious observation that the acquisition of Normandy and Languedoc greatly increased the power of the king by increasing the size of the royal domain. But it is too easily assumed that the full significance of these acquisitions can be measured in square miles of territory and livres tournois of income. The additional income was important, as we shall see, but far more important were the geographical location and the political prominence of the two provinces. If the Capetians had acquired * Presidential address read at the annual meeting of The Mediaeval Academy of America, 6 April 1968; published in Speculum, XLIV (1969), 1-12. 1 For example, J. H. Mundy, Liberty and Political Power in Toulouse (/050/230) (New York, 1954); T. N. Bisson, Assemblies and Representation in Languedoc in the Thirteenth Century (Princeton, 1964); A. R. Lewis, The Development of Southern French and Catalan Society, yi8-io^o (Austin, Tex., 1965).

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roughly the same amount of land from the petty counts and barons of the east and the center (which seemed to be the natural direc­ tions for expansion in the twelfth century) they would still have been only counts of Paris—lords of a large and rich domain, but lords of a domain that was landlocked and surrounded by princi­ palities which were rapidly becoming independent states. France without Normandy and Languedoc could have been a Bavaria or a Bohemia but not the France of Philip the Fair or of Louis XIV. Adding a province such as Vermandois to the royal domain did not basically alter the power relationship between the king and the lords of the great feudal principalities. The conquest of Nor­ mandy and the gradual annexation of Languedoc did change the relationship completely and permanently. There was no future for feudal principalities when the strongest and the most independent examples of the species had been eliminated. The old ring of feudal states which had encircled the lie de France was broken and the remaining principalities were isolated, unable to combine against the king or to resist the encroachments of his officials. Thus, a new kingdom of France could be created, a kingdom very different from the old France squeezed between Normandy and the Loire.2 The political significance of the annexation far outweighed the financial benefits. But those benefits were not inconsiderable; the domain (in the narrow sense of the word) was denser and more profitable in Normandy and in Languedoc than in other regions. Many Normans had forfeited their holdings by adhering to King John; many southerners had lost their lands as heretics or supporters of heretics. As long as the newly acquired domain was kept in the king's hand and carefully administered, as it was during most of the thirteenth century, it produced a very large share of the king's 2C.

T. Wood, "Regnum Francie," Traditio, xxni (1967), 117-147, discusses some of the conceptual problems raised by the acquisition of Normandy; see esp. pp. 137-138: "the Norman conquest may have been of the greatest con­ sequence in the process whereby the monarchy transformed itself from a moreor-less feudal principality into something more nearly approximating the mod­ ern state. . . . In Normandy the king's power was so overwhelmingly greater than in his domain that he could not for long have believed that power, do­ main and kingdom (in its restricted sense) were roughly equivalent terms. He would soon have to begin to distinguish between them, and when he did, he found that royal power and the regnum could be extended . . . without necessity of any corresponding growth in the size of the domain."

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

ordinary revenues. Thus at Ascension in 1238, Normandy gave 38,581 l.p. of a total gross revenue of 101,279 1-P·3 At All Saints 1286 Normandy contributed 56,677 l.p. of the Temple Treasury's receipts of 209,321 l.p.4 Norman payments continued in about this proportion down to the period when general taxation became im­ portant. Thus, at All Saints 1289 the Exchequer paid 56,389 l.p. of a total of 243,532 l.p. and at Ascension 1290 paid 60,225 l.p. of a total of 241,153 l.p.5 Normandy was thus producing at least 120,000 l.p. a year, or about as much as all of the old domain.6 It is a little more difficult to estimate the ordinary revenue of Languedoc, first because domainial revenues cannot always be dis­ tinguished from extraordinary revenues, and second, because Lan­ guedoc did not form a distinct accounting unit as did Normandy. But if we define Languedoc as comprising the five senechaussees of Perigord-Quercy, Rouergue, Toulouse-Albigeois, Carcassonne-Beziers, and Beaucaire-Nimes which were often grouped together for administrative purposes,7 then we can at least establish a rough basis for comparison. According to the figures of Borrelli de Serres all of the former lands of Alfonse of Poitiers plus Carcassonne and Beaucaire had a gross annual income of about 165,000 l.t. in the 1290's. If one subtracts Poitou-Limousin and Saintonge the figure drops to or about 84,000 l.p.8 133,300 I·1·; and without Auvergne to 104,993 3

H.F., xxi, 252-257. Delisle, Memoire sur Ies operations financieres des Templiers (Paris, 1889), p. 118. 5 Ibid., pp. 122-123. 6 This figure for Normandy is almost certainly too low; it omits Gisors, for example. L. L. Borrelli de Serres, Recherches sur divers services publics du XIIIe au XVIIe siecle (Paris, 1895-1909), n, appendix A, table vi, puts the net revenue from Normandy in 1290 at 177,428 l.t. or almost 134,000 l.p. For the bailliages of France in this period, see Delisle, Operations financieres, pp. 118-123, and Borrelli de Serres, 11, appendix A, table v. The figures vary ac­ cording to one's definition of "old domain," but if Macon is subtracted and Gisors put with Normandy instead of with "France" the two regions produce revenues which are of the same order of magnitude. 7 E.g., in Ordonnances, xi, 371 (1292); A.N., JJ 36, fol. 85, no. 196 (1305), JJ 48, fol. 8ov, no. 133 (1309). 8 Borrelli de Serres, Recherches, 11, 437 and appendix A, table vni. Some confirmation of Borrelli's figures may be derived from Comptes royaux (12851314), ed. Robert Fawtier and Francois Maillard (Paris, 1953-1956), 1, nos. 8985, 10243, an^ I0497· the fiscal year 1293-1294 (almost a normal year) the net income from Quercy, Toulouse, and Rouergue was 37,959 l.t. Car4Leopold

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These are very unsatisfactory figures; they certainly include some extraordinary revenues and they do not allow for local expenses. On the other hand, during part of this period, local expenses were in­ flated by the occupation of Aquitaine and the resulting expenditures for military purposes. The most one can say is that Languedoc made a significant contribution to the Treasury. In short, at a time when the king's ordinary annual revenue was about 450,000 l.p.,9 Normandy and Languedoc were responsible for something like 200,000 l.p., or very nearly half the total. Royal power did not vary directly with royal income, but both income and power would have been much diminished if the king had not had control of the resources of Normandy and Languedoc. The new provinces gave the royal government opportunities for a notable increase in income and power, but they also created prob­ lems that might have led to a disastrous loss of prestige. The French government of the late twelfth century was scarcely equipped to deal with this vast increase in the size of the domain; it lacked trained personnel and specialized institutions. The cozy, com­ fortable little court of a Louis VI or a Louis VII could cope with the problems of the old domain by informal, ad hoc procedures. A handful of able men could deal with any kind of business as it arose; they needed neither a large supporting staff of clerks nor an elaborate system of records. Local administration was largely in the hands of prevots, men who were both weak and inefficient. The inadequacies of this system, or rather, this lack of system, were obvious even before the conquest of Normandy, and some improve­ ments had been made. For example, the first baillis were instituted probably by Louis VII and certainly before 1190. Nevertheless, the French royal government was still underdeveloped and amorphous at the beginning of the thirteenth century, as a glance at the ac­ counts of 1202 demonstrates. It was only after the conquest of Nor­ mandy that it began to work out its basic institutional structure. The successful response to the challenge posed by the acquisition cassonne and Beaucaire must each have produced more than the 11,906 1. of Rouergue; a total of 75,000 l.t. or 60,000 l.p. does not seem unlikely. 9 Ibid., 11, 489, and appendix A, table 11, Borrelli de Serres shows that the annual revenue for the period 1286-1292 averaged about 650,000 l.p. a year. It should be remembered that the clergy paid a tenth, that is, about 210,000 l.p., during each of these years, see J. R. Strayer and C. H. Taylor, Studies in Early French Taxation (Cambridge, Mass., 1939), pp. 7-8, 95.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

of new territories guaranteed the future of the French monarchy. The nature of the response determined the general administrative policies of the French government for the next six centuries. And the peculiar characteristics of Normandy and Languedoc were deci­ sive in persuading the government to adopt the administrative pat­ tern that was to prevail in France for so many generations. Down to the time of the conquest of Normandy the royal domain had been expanding in an area that was fairly homogeneous as far as law, institutions, and social conditions were concerned. For ex­ ample, adding Vermandois posed no particular problem; its customs were not vastly different from those of the lie de France. But as Professor Yver has shown in a remarkable series of studies, there was a sharp difference between the customs of the east of France and those of the west.10 And of all the western customs the most rigorous and well defined was the custom of Normandy. The basic rules of Norman law had already been written down;11 the Normans had a fully developed system of courts to enforce this law, and the landed classes in Normandy were strongly attached to their law. Norman customs could not be overridden without danger of rebellion, and they could not be assimilated to those of the lie de France without causing impossible confusion in the courts. There were, in fact, many reasons why the royal government should have wished to preserve Norman law and institutions. The duke had extensive powers throughout the duchy, powers far greater than those which the king possessed in most of the old royal domain. To mention one of his most striking prerogatives, the duke was responsible for the preservation of public order. With very few exceptions serious crimes (pleas of the sword) were reserved for his courts.12 Private war was forbidden and the rule of no disseisin with­ out judgment was firmly established.13 The Norman church was firmly under ducal control; for example, disputes over the right of 10

Jean Yver, "Les caracteres originaux du groupe de coutumes de I'Ouest de la France," R.H.D.F.E., 4th series, xxx (1952), pp. 18-79; Egaliie entre heritiers et exclusion des enfants dotes: essai de geographie coutumiere (Paris,

1966). 11E.

J. Tardif, ed., Statuta et Consuetudines Normannie, in vol. 1, part 1 of his Coutumiers de Normandie (Rouen, 1881). 12 Ibid., pp. 43, 64-65, chs. 53 and 70. ls Ibid., p. 27, ch. 31, and pp. 18-19, 2I'23> c^ls- 17, 21, 22. See Jean Yver on these points in R.H.D.F.E., 4th series, XLV (1967), p. 390.

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presentation were settled in ducal courts." Assimilation of the cus­ toms of Normandy to those of the old domain would have meant a serious loss of power and income. Philip Augustus did not hesitate in determining his policy. Al­ most before the conquest was completed he was taking steps to preserve Norman customs and Norman institutions. Norman nota­ bles were asked to define and explain peculiar aspects of their law, such as the limitations imposed on the courts of the church.18 The Exchequer continued to exist as the highest and final court en­ forcing Norman law; its decisions were being recorded officially as early as 1207.18 A new version of the Norman coutumier was produced, as it became evident that Norman law was going to survive.17 As was only prudent, the men who presided in Norman courts were intimates of the king, drawn from the old royal domain, but they made no attempt to change either the substance or the procedure of Norman law. In short, Philip Augustus had hit on a formula which was fol­ lowed by all his successors. When a province came under direct con­ trol of the king it preserved its customs and its institutions, but the customs were enforced and the institutions were staffed by men sent out from the royal court at Paris. This policy was in many ways enormously successful. One should contrast it with the English tendency to insist on introducing English law and institutions in conquered territories. England failed in its attempt to annex Scot­ land, made only slight headway in Ireland, and spent several cen­ turies in gaining full control of so small a province as Wales. France, on the other hand, attached firmly to the crown territories as diverse as Normandy, Languedoc, Dauphine, and Brittany. There was, however, a price to be paid for this success. France had to develop a relatively large and highly centralized bureauc­ racy to control provinces with such widely differing customs. Local leaders could not be expected to understand the administrative tech­ niques or the policies of the central government; their political 14

Statuia et Consuetudines, p. 23, ch. 23. Tardif, Coutumiers, 1, part 2, 89-93. 16 Recueil de jugements de 1'i.chiquier de Normandie, ed. Leopold Delisle (Paris, 1864), p. 4. 17 Tardif, Coutumiers, 1, part 1, lxxii-lxxiv, puts the date of this new version between 1218 and 1223. 15

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

experience was bounded by the customs and interests of a single province. The local representatives of royal authority were normally outsiders, men who had no roots in the region they administered. There was often friction between the agents of the king, who were working for the interests of the state as a whole, and provincial leaders, who were concerned mainly with preserving local customs and protecting local interests. There was unavoidable delay and inefficiency in trying to adapt general policies to fit many different sets of laws and institutions. In this respect the English, with their emphasis on common law and common institutions, had an ad­ vantage over the French. England could be held together and gov­ erned by a small bureaucracy which supervised the work of unpaid local notables. English administration was perhaps no more efficient than French, but it was inefficient at far less cost in men, in time, and in money. If the annexation of Normandy forced the creation of this new pattern of administration, it was the annexation of lower Languedoc that fixed the pattern irrevocably. It is interesting to speculate as to what might have happened if the next large addition to the royal domain had been Champagne, rather than Beaucaire and Carcas­ sonne. As Professor Benton has shown,18 Champagne was rather easily assimilated into the old domain. The high court of Cham­ pagne, the Grands Jours, gradually lost its identity and became ab­ sorbed in the Parlement of Paris. This is not surprising, for the customs and institutions of Champagne were rather like those of the lie de France. But if Champagne had been acquired at an early date, then a very large part of the royal domain would have had similar customs. In such a situation there might have been a tend­ ency to ignore the Norman experiment and to try to impose a greater degree of uniformity throughout the king's lands. As it was, there could be no such temptation. Languedoc posed even more problems than had Normandy. The law, the society, even the language were almost incomprehensible to a Frenchman of the north. How could the usages of the lie de France fit a region where feudalism had never fully developed, where nobles served in town governments, where written documents played an essential role in 18

J. F. Benton, "Philip the Fair and the fours of Troyes," Studies in Medi­ eval and Renaissance History, vi (1969), 281-344. As he notes, p. 301, "the western frontier of the county [of Champagne] was permeable to royal influ­ ence" even before it had been acquired by the king.

NORMANDY

legal proceedings ? Clearly Languedoc would have to be treated as a separate unit and be allowed to retain its own laws and its own institutions. The real problem was to implement the other half of the Norman precedent, that is, to find men from the old royal domain who could run administrative and judicial systems so differ­ ent from those they had hitherto known. Seneschals and castellans might be north Frenchmen, but it was a long time before many northerners could master the droit ecrit. Meanwhile the judges were largely southerners, trained in south French (occasionally Italian) law schools.19 Such men might be loyal to the king, but they were determined to preserve and to draw the full consequences of the differences in procedure and substance which distinguished their law so clearly from that of the north. Even less than in Normandy could there be an assimilation of regional usages to those of the old domain. If the annexations of Normandy and Languedoc posed the prob­ lem of creating new techniques of administration, the institutions of the newly acquired provinces also supplied some of the materials for a solution. We have probably looked too much for evidence of direct borrowing which, on the whole, was rare. More important was the juxtaposition of the old and the new domain. This juxta­ position stimulated thinking about political problems and speeded up the development of half-formed institutions and procedures. If Norman methods of accounting were better than those of the old domain, then there was reason to try to improve all royal financial accounts. If the techniques of appealing from a lower to a higher court were becoming more sophisticated in Languedoc than in the north, then it was easier to see how the appellate jurisdiction of the curia regis could be built into an effective instrument of control. The interactions between the old and the new domain were often very complex. Men sent from Paris to Normandy or Languedoc would seek clarification or definition of procedures that had been 19

See J. R. Strayer, Les gens de justice du Languedoc sous Philippe Ie Bel (Toulouse: Cahiers Marc Bloch, 1970); Jan Rogozinski, "The Law­ yers of Lower Languedoc" (typescript thesis in Princeton University Library; some of his conclusions appear in his article "The Counsellors of the Seneschal of Beaucaire, 1250-1350," Speculum, XLIV [I969], 421-439); and Andre Gouron, "Enseignement du droit . . . dans Ie Midi de la France a la fin du XIIIe et au debut du XIVe siecle," Recueil de memoires et travaux publics par la Societe du Droit des Anciens Pays de Droit icrit, fascicule v, Faculte de Droit de Montpellier (1966), pp. 1-33.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

taken for granted by the natives of the province, and the definition in turn would reveal more clearly the advantages of the local pro­ cedure and the need to build institutions in the central government that would give similar results. Certainly there would have been a reform of royal financial operations and an increase in the judicial activities of the curia regis even if Normandy and Languedoc had not been annexed to the domain. But the examples of Normandy and Languedoc facilitated and speeded up these developments. As has been suggested, Norman influence was especially strong in the area of financial administration, and the influence of Languedoc especially strong in the area of judicial organization. There were, of course, other zones of interaction, but for the sake of clarity and brevity let us confine our attention to the two topics that have been mentioned. All during the twelfth century Norman rulers had worked consist­ ently toward two objectives: first, to record in as much detail as possi­ ble all their rights to service and income; second, to develop an admin­ istrative system that would enable them to make the most of these rights. They succeeded almost completely in their first objective: the lists of knights' fees, the surveys of the domain, the records of amercements imposed by the justices, the rolls and memoranda of the Exchequer provided exact and comprehensive statements of what was owed to the duke.20 The second objective was only partial­ ly attained. Henry II seems to have been working toward a system in which Normandy would be divided into bailliages, and in which a bailli would be the chief administrative officer of each of these dis­ tricts. But the older units of the viscounty and the prevote still existed; it was difficult to determine their exact relationship to the bailliage.21 The Angevins lost Normandy before they could finish their administrative reorganization and the task was completed only in the reign of Saint Louis.22 This brings us to a nice example of the complex interactions that followed the conquest of Normandy. On the one hand, the 20 C. H. Haskins, Norman Institutions (Cambridge, Mass., 1918), pp. 159161; Thomas Stapleton, Magni rotuli Scaccarii Normanniae (London, 1840); S. R. Packard, Miscellaneous Records of the Norman Exchequer 1199-1204, in Smith College Studies in History, xn (1926-1927). 21 The evidence in Stapleton's Magni rotuli is neatly summed up by F. M. Powicke, The Loss of Normandy (Manchester, 1913), pp. 103-119. 22J. R. Strayer, The Administration of Normandy under St. Lauis (Cam­ bridge, Mass., 1932), pp. 7-10.

NORMANDY

French royal government accepted and used the Norman types of records, not only in Normandy, but throughout the kingdom. Lists of knight-service,23 surveys of the domain and detailed accounts of income from each bailliage,2i checklists to warn the baillis of items for which they would be held responsible,25 lists of debts to be col­ lected26—all can be found in the thirteenth century in all parts of the royal domain. On the other hand, by the middle of the century there were notable improvements in all these documents. Norman Exchequer rolls at the end of the twelfth century are clearer and more complete than the French accounts of 1202, but bailliage ac­ counts of the late thirteenth century27 are much better organized, much easier to use than the old Exchequer rolls (or, for that matter, than contemporary English Pipe Rolls). Similar improvements may be noted in other documents such as surveys of the domain and checklists. It looks as if some of these reforms first took place in Normandy, though the scarcity of financial records until the very end of the century makes it impossible to be sure about priori­ ties. But it seems reasonable to suppose that royal officials from the old domain would be both stimulated by the richness of Norman records and puzzled by certain incoherencies that would not have troubled a native Norman. The combination of the two reactions could have produced a strong drive to improve the quality of fi­ nancial documents. In the same way the improvement of the Norman (and French) administrative system was based both on Norman precedents and on reforms introduced by French royal officers. Before 1200 the Nor­ man bailli was more of a territorial officer than his French counter­ part. The idea that there should be only one bailli to a district (in­ stead of a group of commissioners) and that he should be resident (instead of acting as an intermittent envoy of the curia) was ac­ cepted and applied throughout France. But the Norman bailliages had been too numerous and disparate in size, and by the middle 2S H.F.,

xxiii, 6o8ff., 646#., 705$. Borrelli de Serres, Recherches, 1, 3-42; J. R. Strayer, The Royal Domain in the Bailliage of Rouen (Princeton, 1936). 25 Borrelli de Serres, Recherches, 1, 108-138; Strayer, Administration, pp. 2i

33-34· 26Borrelli de Serres, Recherches, 1, 138-140. Some of the lists to which he refers are published in Fawtier and Maillard, Comptes royaux, 1, nos. 141385.; 11, 143970.; and m; 279i iff. 27 Strayer, Administration, pp. 35-37.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

of the thirteenth century they had been reduced to six roughly equal districts.28 Under the Angevins, viscounties had either been farmed or had been mere accounting units;29 they were not impor­ tant in the administrative system. By the end of the reign of Saint Louis each Norman bailliage had been divided into viscounties,30 and each viscounty was administered by a viscount who was a paid official of the crown.31 The viscount had important administrative duties, especially in the collection of royal revenues, and he was eligible for promotion to the office of bailli.32 Here again it looks as if the interaction between Angevin precedents and the desire of royal officials for clarity and consistency had produced a remarkably well-arranged administrative system. No other province was quite so neatly organized, although parts of Languedoc (especially Beaucaire) came fairly close to the Norman standard. But everywhere there was a tendency to define and enhance the powers of the bailli (or seneschal) and to subordinate other officers to him. It is not unreasonable to suppose that the Norman example encouraged this process. Norman law, as we have seen, gave the duke wide responsibilities for preserving public order and seeing that justice was done through­ out the duchy. But while Philip Augustus and his successors were careful to preserve their special rights in Normandy, there was little if any extension of the principles of Norman law beyond the limits of the province. If anything, the current ran the other way. Norman courts became more like the courts of the lie de France— a notable example is the way in which the Anglo-Norman jury gradually came to resemble a French enquete.33 2s Ibid.,

pp. 8-9. Magni rotuli, 1, xxxv-xxxvi, and note 21 above. 30 Strayer, Administration, pp. 9-10, and Royal Domain, pp. 9-11. 31 Strayer, Administration, pp. 100-101 and appendix 11. 32 J. R. Strayer, "Viscounts and Viguiers under Philip the Fair," Speculum, xxxviii (1963), 242-255 [reprinted here, pp. 213-231]. See also note 31. 33Strayer, Administration, p. 105; J. R. Strayer, "Le bref de nouvelle dessaisine et Ie 'commun' en Normandie," R.H.D.F.E., 4th series, xvi (1937), pp. 479-488 [reprinted here in English, pp. 3-12]. Note that in the Summa de legibus (vol. 11 of E. J. Tardifs Coutumiers de Normandie), ch. lxvii, para. 15 (pp. 172-174 of Tardif's edition), the Anglo-Norman accusing jury is turn­ ing into an inquest of the canonical type, with jurors examined one by one and their testimony written down. 29 Stapleton,

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When we turn to Languedoc, the situation is reversed. Languedoc contributed relatively little to the development of French financial administration and much to the development o£ the French judicial system. Languedoc was beginning to develop sophisticated court procedures in the early part of the thirteenth century, and these procedures became more exact and more complicated under Philip the Bold and Philip the Fair. Here again the interaction between local usages and royal officials who were strangers to the country must have played a part. A seneschal from the north knew little or nothing of the droit ecrit; he needed expert advisers who even­ tually became the royal procurator and the royal advocate.34 The principle of appeals had long been known, but appeals were now an essential part of government. Everyone aggrieved by acts of royal officials appealed to Paris, so appeals, and the answers to appeals, had to be carefully formulated and justified by technical detail. There were many parts of the south where it was not at all clear how extensive was the king's jurisdiction, or indeed whether he had any jurisdiction at all—places such as the bishopric of Mende, the county of Foix, the town of Montpellier.36 Interminable lawsuits were re­ quired to settle disputes over these areas—lawsuits which demanded great precision in procedure and great skill in justifying royal claims. Both the procedures and the skill of men trained in southern law seem to have impressed the king and his agents. During the reign of Philip the Fair a certain number of iurisperiti from the Midi were added to the Council and the Parlement—not a very large number in absolute terms but one which included such famous names as Gilles Aicelin and Guillaume de Nogaret.36 More impor84 See J. R. Strayer, Gens de justice, pp. 30-32, 40-41. It was some time before procurators had official status; see Olim, 111, 1126, where Parlement doubts that any royal procurator in Rouergue had an adequate commission before 1312, and "Memoire relatif au pareage de 1307," ed. Abel Maisonobe, Bulletin de la Societe d''Agriculture, Industrie, Sciences et Arts du Departement de la Lozere (Mende, 1896), pp. 482-484, where all procurators in Beaucaire down to 1288 are said to have lacked full powers. 35 For Mende see the Memoire cited in note 34, and Robert Michel, L'ad­ ministration royal dans la senechaussee de Beaucaire (Paris, 1910), pp. 454458; for Foix, H.L., x, preuves, cols. 285, 288, 289, 328-333, 336, 341, 371, 373, 376; for Montpellier, B.N., ms. lat. 9192, a long list of protests by the town. 38See F. J. Pegues, The Lawyers of the Last Capetians (Princeton, 1962),

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

tant was the gradual seepage to the north of some of the structure and procedure of southern courts—the introduction of the offices of royal advocate and royal procurator, an insistence on more docu­ ments and longer and more carefully drafted documents. Finally a large number of northerners began to study Roman law, and by 1320 many judicial posts in Languedoc were filled by such men.37 During the fourteenth century, it began to be felt that some training in Roman law was desirable for anyone who aspired to high posi­ tions in the courts, even in regions of customary law.38 This permeation of the legal profession by ideas and practices derived from Roman law was not, of course, due entirely to the example of Languedoc. Roman law had been known by members of the king's court since the early thirteenth century; it was taught at Orleans and, surreptitiously, at Paris; it was too famous to be neglected, even by men who wished to preserve customary law. Roman law would have influenced the law of northern France if Languedoc had never existed. But the Roman law known in the north was the learned law; it stood apart from the customary laws, though it could be used on occasion to supplement or interpret them. The law of the south (one scarcely dare call it Roman) was a customary law that had incorporated, and was still incorporating, many of the procedures and some of the substance of the civil law. It showed how ideas derived from Roman law could be put to work in a region that, for all its idiosyncrasies, was certainly more like northern France than it was like ancient Rome. French royal offi­ cials had to deal with the law of Languedoc as a practical matter, not as an intellectual exercise. This constant exposure to a law which embodied many Roman principles reinforced the interest which already existed in the civil law. Two possible consequences of the strong influence of Roman pp. 87-107. In my Gens de justice, pp. 21-22, Γ estimate that not more than ten southern judges were called to Paris between 1280 and 1320. 37 See Rogozinski, "The Counsellors of the Seneschal of Beaucaire," p. 433, and the thesis cited in note 19. Early examples of northerners holding positions in the pays de droit ecrit are Mathieu de Courjumelles, juge-ordinaire of Cahors (1306-1317), Raoul de Courjumelles, juge-mage of Beaucaire (13051308), and Enguerran de Fiefles, juge-mage of Beaucaire (1319-1325). All three are discussed in my Gens de justice. 38 For example, in Senlis, see Bernard Guenee, Tribunaux et gens de justice dans Ie bailliage de Senlis (1380-1450) (Paris, 1963), pp. 349-351, 384-386.

NORMANDY

law on Languedoc may be mentioned briefly. The first representa­ tive assemblies in France were held in the south. Sometimes the delegates were given the procurator's mandate with plena potestas that Professor Post has taught us to look for; sometimes they were not.39 But one is tempted to believe that the idea of the mandate was there even when the mandate was not when one observes that the earliest assemblies appear in regions where the influence of Roman law was strong—Italy, southern France, Spain—and that they spread only gradually into the un-Romanized north. The other point is that one of the strongest assertions of royal sovereignty in the reign of Philip the Fair was made by a southern lawyer, Guillaume de Plaisians, and that it was couched largely in terms of Roman law.40 Here again, we must not exaggerate. The idea of sovereignty was in the air; as Beaumanoir had shown, it could be stated just as well in terms of customary law as in the language of the civil law. But the lawyers of Languedoc at least brought some reinforcement to the idea. Normandy and Languedoc stimulated and contributed to the growth of the royal administration for reasons and in ways that seem clear and understandable. What is not so understandable is that Normandy and Languedoc also contributed to the growth of French nationalism. Some of the earliest expressions of French patriotism, or of protonational sentiments, come from men who were born in the two conquered provinces. On second thought it may not be so surprising that a new and more impersonal form of loyalty had to be developed in areas outside the old domain. The "religion of monarchy" was a religion of the lie de France. What did Reims or St. Denis mean to an inhabitant of Bayeux, or of Nimes ? Was the rex Francorum also rex Normannorum and rex Tholosanorum P Devotion to the king and to the Capetian dynasty was reasonable and normal for men who lived in the old domain, but it made very little sense to those who had long been subject to other dynasties. Something more than personal loyalty was needed 39Gaines Post, Studies in Medieval Legal Thought (Princeton, 1964), pp. 91-162; T. N. Bisson, Assemblies and Representation in Languedoc, pp. 97, 99, 223-228, 274-288, 293-295. 40This is the well-known statement in the "Memoire relatif au pareage," p. 521: the king has "protectionem et altam jurisdictionem" and even "proprietatem" of all goods "infra fines regni" and can use them for the general welfare and for defense. He is "imperator in regno suo et imperare possit terrae et mari et omnes populi regni sui ejus regantur imperio. . . ."

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

to assure wholehearted support for the new political situation. The solution was found in emphasizing the "regnum" and the "patria" rather than the person of the king. These terms appealed both to the reason and to the emotions. If the southerner Plaisians used the legal argument that anyone who was "in regno et de regno" was ipso facto subject to the authority of the king,41 the Norman Guillaume de Sauqueville suggested that the kingdom of France could be equated with the kingdom of heaven42 and the Norman Pierre Dubois thought that celestial influences had favored France above all other kingdoms.43 For Nogaret, loyalty to his "patria" was a legal duty but it was also a moral obligation; he was ready to die for his fatherland.44 As the late Professor Kantorowicz pointed out, it had been a long time since the theme "pro patria mori" had had any appeal to subjects of western rulers.45 It is interesting to find it stressed by a man who came from the heart of Languedoc and whose ancestors may very well have been persecuted by the king of France or by his agents. Once again Normandy and Languedoc had set a problem and helped to furnish a solution. There were always some doubts about the trustworthiness of the men of a newly acquired province; it was a generation after the conquest before a Norman was allowed to govern a Norman bailliage.46 Preservation of local customs en­ sured acquiescence in royal rule, but something more positive than 41

Ibid., pp. 520, 524, 525. N., ms. lat. 16495, ^s- 97v> I01· See Hellmut Kampf, Pierre Dubois (Leipzig and Berlin, 1935), pp. 112-114, where Guillaume's sermon "Osanna filio David" is printed. See pp. 3075., below. 43 Pierre Dubois, Summaria brevis, ed. Hellmut Kampf (Leipzig, 1936), pp. 11, 12, 21, and De recuperatione, ed. C. V. Langlois (Paris, 1891), pp. 128, τ 39· 44 Pierre Dupuy, Histoire du differend d'entre Ie pape Boniface VIII et Philippes Ie Bel . . . (Paris, 1655), pp. 250, 309, especially the latter, where he says that "quisque teneatur patriam suam defendere, pro qua defensione si patrem occidat, meritum habet" and that he is bound to defend "patriam meam, regnum Francie . . . et pro ipsa defensione exponere vitam meam." 45 E. H. Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies (Princeton, 1957), pp. 23242B.

237, 249-255. 46 Strayer, Administration, p. 95. Raymond Cazelles, La societe politique et la crise de la royaute sous Philippe de Valois (Paris, 1958), pp. 271-272 shows that even after 1328 men from the old domain had a better chance of obtaining royal office than those from Normandy, and that men from Languedoc were almost excluded from posts in the central government.

NORMANDY

acquiescence was desirable. Personal loyalty to the king could be developed but it grew slowly. Loyalty to the kingdom, to the father­ land, probably struck root quicker in the new provinces. It could be and was argued that the newly acquired province had always been part of the kingdom47 and that it was merely being reintegrated into the body politic to which it belonged. To be joined to the French regnum was not a catastrophe but a blessing. Had not Clement V (himself from a region not yet annexed to the French crown) said that the kingdom of France, inhabited by a chosen people, was "distinguished by marks of special favor and grace" ?48 This doctrine was accepted by Normans and southerners in the thirteenth century, just as it was to be accepted later on by Bretons, Gascons, Provencaux, and Lorrainers. Some of the strongest sup­ porters of French nationalism, from Jeanne d'Arc to Charles de Gaulle, have come from the peripheral provinces. Here, as in so many other ways, Normandy and Languedoc set a pattern that was followed by the rest of France. 47 This is the basic argument that runs through the "Memoire relatif au pareage" and in the claims to Lyons (for the latter see Pierre Bonnassieux, De la reunion de Lyon a la France [Lyons, 1874], pp. 88-90). 48 In the bull rex gloriae, Registrum Clementis papae V (Rome, 1885-1888), no. 7501.

6. The Two Levels of Feudalism* rFEUDALISM

is one of the oldest interests of medievalists; its Jl study goes back to the seventeenth century. Books on feudal institutions rank high among the classics of medieval historiography, from the pioneering work of Brussel and Madox in the early eight­ eenth century1 to the well-known studies by Bloch, Haskins, Mitteis, and Stenton in the first half of the twentieth century.2 One would think that the subject is now exhausted. But a new generation of scholars is revising and refining some of our earlier concepts through a more careful study of local history and a more precise dating of successive stages of development. We are, I hope, closer than ever before to understanding what feudalism was, how it developed, why it was significant. What was feudalism? The men who first used the word (late seventeenth or early eighteenth century) were perfectly clear about its meaning. Feudalism was a type of government in which polit­ ical power was treated as a private possession and was divided among a large number of lords.3 In spite of all the arguments about the subject since, this is still the best definition. If we make it broader and try to base our definition on economic and social con­ ditions, we soon find that we have defined nothing. To say, for example, that the essence of feudalism is the exploitation of the tillers of the soil by a politically dominant class is to throw together * Reprinted from Life and Thought in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Robert S. Hoyt (University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis; © Copyright 1967, Uni­ versity of Minnesota), pp. 51 -65. 1 Nicolas Brussel, Nouvel examen de Vusage general des fiefs, 2 vols. (Paris, 1727); Thomas Madox, Baronia Anglica (London, 1741). 2Marc Bloch, La societe feodale, 2 vols. (Paris, 1939-1940), tr. L. A. Manyon (London and Chicago, 1961); C. H. Haskins, Norman Institutions (Cam­ bridge, Mass., 1918); Heinrich Mitteis, Lehnrecht und Staatsgewalt (Weimar, 1933); F. M. Stenton, The First Century of English Feudalism (Oxford, r932)· 3

Brussel, Nouvel examen de I'usage general des fiefs, 1, xlix, ". . . la pleine connoissance de I'usage general des fiefs au tems de ces trois siecles (10001300) emporte avec elle celle des maximes du gouvernement de toute la France." Bloch, La societe feodale, 1, 3, remarks a little querulously that early writers "tenaient Ie morcellement de la souverainete entre une multitude de petits princes ou meme de seigneurs de villages pour la plus frappante singularite du moyen age. C etait ce caractere qu'en prononcant Ie nom de feodalite ils croyaient exprimer."

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

into one category societies as diverse as those of ancient Rome, imperial China, medieval France, eighteenth-century England, and even the Soviet Union. In fact, a collective farm is in some ways more like a European medieval manor than a European medieval manor was like a medieval Chinese village. The fact of exploitation is unfortunately too common in history to serve as a very useful tool in analyzing societies. What is important is the method and degree of exploitation, or the origin and end result of a period of exploitation. Here the differences among societies are more significant than the resemblances and we do not help our thinking by using the word "feudalism" to cover over these differences. At the other extreme is the narrow, military definition of feudalism: it is a way of raising an army of heavy-armed cavalrymen by uniting the two institutions of vassalage and the fief. This is a good definition as far as precision goes. It applies only to western Europe in the Middle Ages; even the case of Tokugawa Japan (the nearest possible parallel) does not fit exactly. The trouble is that it is too limited. It focuses attention on only one aspect, and that not the most important aspect, of feudalism. In fact, one could argue that feudalism as a military system was a failure, that the very union of vassalage and the fief in which some experts see the essence of feudalism inevitably led to a rapid withering away of the vassal's military value to his lord. Certainly the complete union of vassalage and the fief does not take place until after 900, and before noo every lord with any pretensions to military power is trying to supplement the services of his vassals by such devices as the hiring of mercenaries or the raising of urban or rural militias. 4 If feudalism were simply this brief and unsuccessful experiment in military organization, it would have little historical significance. It was, of course, much more than this. What persisted, what left a deep impression on western Europe, were feudal institutions of government and feudal concepts of law. Crude at first, these institutions and their concepts showed a surprising capacity for growth. The regions of Europe which were the most thoroughly 4 J. O. Prestwick, "War and Finance in the Anglo-Norman State," Transactions of the Royal H istorical Society, 5th series, IV (1954)' 453-487; H. G. Richardson and G. O. Sayles, The Governance of Mediaeval England (Edinburgh, 1963), pp. 46-47, 70-83. These authors state the case rather strongly, but even allowing for exaggeration it is perfectly clear that it would have been difficult to raise an effective army simply by demanding service from vassals who held fiefs.

64

FEUDALISM

feudalized (by any definition) were the regions that eventually developed the governments which became the models for all other European states. There are few basic institutions of European gov­ ernments of the early modern period which did not first appear in the French or English monarchies of the Middle Ages. And it was precisely in northern France and in England after the Conquest that feudalism reached its fullest development. English and French government, English and French law grew out of feudal courts and out of problems of feudal relationships. For the purposes of this essay, then, we shall take feudalism to mean a type of government which was conspicuous in western Europe from about 900 to 1300 and which was marked by the divi­ sion of political power among many lords and by the tendency to treat political power as a private possession. We shall consider the origins of this unusual political situation and follow its development down to the point at which the fragmentation of political power reached its maximum extent. We shall concentrate on France, because it was in France that feudalism developed first and most rapidly. The task of seeking the origins of feudalism is complicated by the fact that feudalism existed on two levels, the level of the armed retainers who became feudal knights and the level of the royal officials (counts and their deputies, and vassi dominict) who became rulers of feudal principalities, counties, and castellanies. This is not to say that the two levels never mixed—no class distinction is ever that sharp or effective. It is also not to say that all retainers became knights or that all knights were descended from the old class of retainers. Some retainers were unable to qualify or to maintain themselves as knights, and some descendants of Carolingian officials (younger sons, heirs of dispossessed counts, and the like) were no more than knights. But it will simplify the discussion if we take the knights as typical of the lower level of feudalism and the counts as typical of the upper level. On the whole the two levels were sharply separated both in social standing and in function during the early feudal period, say to about 1000. Even when the line between them became somewhat blurred, as it did in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, there was still an enormous difference between a simple knight and a great lord. Generalizations about one level do not always apply to the

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

other level, especially during the formative period. And until there had been some integration of the two levels—specifically, until the lower level had acquired some political responsibilities and power— we do not have the full development of feudalism as a system of government. Looking first at the lower level, we find that we can trace its origins far back in time. The armed retainer is an old figure in European history; he appears in Germany long before the migra­ tions and in the Roman Empire long before its collapse in the West.5 It is easy to see why he became more and more important as the institutions of the Roman Empire withered away. The process is especially clear in the Frankish kingdom. Kings who could not be sure of the loyalty or military competence of many of their sub­ jects needed men bound especially to them to form the nucleus of their armies. Powerful men, or men who sought power, needed bodyguards. The introduction in the eighth century of new military tactics, based on heavy-armed cavalry,8 made it even more essential for the great men of the Frankish realm to secure the services of retainers. The ordinary subject or dependent could not afford the specially bred horses, the armor, and the years of training which made a good cavalryman. So the value of retainers, armed and trained in the new fashion, rose. It is at this time that they begin to gain a virtual monopoly of the appellations "vassal" and "miles" or knight. Originally a vassal had been any kind of retainer and a "miles" any kind of soldier. But now the vassal, the soldier, was the heavy-armed cavalryman. Kings and other important men naturally tried to make sure that they would always have the services of these expert soldiers. They bound their retainers to themselves for life by solemn oaths and by the ceremony of homage. They gave them lavish gifts of jewelry, fine clothes, and weapons. Very early—even before 800 —some vassals were granted lifetime possession of revenue-produc­ ing properties (usually landed estates) for their support.7 During 5 A good treatment of these early retainers is in Paul Guilhiermoz, Essai sur I'origine de la noblesse en France au moyen age (Paris, 1902), pp. 5-37. 6 A convenient summary of earlier literature on the subject and a very strong statement about the importance of the change in tactics may be found in L. T. White, Medieval Technology and Social Change (Oxford, 1962), pp. 2-14, 26-38, 7 F. L. Ganshof, Feudalism, tr. Philip Grierson, 3rd English edn. (New York, 1964), pp. 16-19, 36-40, and more fully, "L'origine des rapports feodo-

FEUDALISM

the ninth and tenth centuries most, but not all, vassals received such grants. When this practice had become common we have that union of vassalage (retainership) and the fief (the gift of land) which many scholars have claimed is the essence of feudalism. The difficulty with this assertion is that the retainers who became vassals had no political power. They were, in many cases, not even free men. The Celtic word "vassal" had originally meant servant, just as had the Anglo-Saxon word "knight."8 In the post-Carolingian period in Germany and in the eastern region of France there were many knights who were not free.9 Even in Normandy—a region which had almost no serfs—the duke in a document issued just before the Conquest found it necessary to specify that he was speak­ ing of "free knights."10 Perhaps in France a majority of the knights were free, but they were not noble. Here we must be careful to avoid confusion. As was said above, the ordinary Latin word for knight was "miles." But "miles" was also used as a synonym for "vassal," even for a vassal of high rank.11 It was also used as a title by men who were building up semi-independent lordships, men who would eventually rank as barons.12 Thus many nobles might be called "milites" but this does not mean that all "milites" were noble. Recent studies have demonstrated conclusively that in most areas the ordinary vassaliques," I problemi della civilta carolingia, Settimane di Studio del Centro Italiano di Studi sull'Alto Medioevo ι (Spoleto, 1954), pp. 8 Guilhiermoz, Essai sur I'origine de la noblesse en France, pp. 55-57; Bloch, La societe feodale, 1, 239-240, 281-282. 9 F. L. Ganshof, "Etude sur Ies ministeriales en Flandre et en Lotharingie," Memoires de I'Academie royale de Belgique, classe des lettres, 2nd series, xx (1926); M. Bloch, "La ministerialite en France et en Allemagne," R.H.D.F.E. (1928), pp. 46-91; Georges Duby, "La noblesse dans Ia France medievale," Revue historique, ccxxvi (1961), 15. 10 Recueil des actes des dues de Normandie, ed. Marie Fauroux (Caen, 1961), no. 199. The document is dated by the editor 1051-1066. 11 F. L. Ganshof, "Les relations feodo-vassaliques aux temps post-Carolingiens," I problemi comuni dell'Europa post-carolingia, Settimane di Studio del Centro Italiano di Studi sull'Alto Medioevo π (Spoleto, 1955), pp. 83-84. 12 K. F. Werner, "Untersuchungen zur Friihzeit des franzosischen Fiirstentums," Die Welt als Geschichte, xix (1959), 170, 185 (other portions of this remarkable article appeared in the same journal in 1958 and i960); Recueil des chartes de I'abbaye de Cluny, eds. Auguste Bernard and Alexandre Bruel (Paris, 1876-1903), iv, no. 3278, Acelin "miles de Masco," early eleventh century.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

knight was not considered noble until the late twelfth or even the thirteenth century.13 This is important because of the profoundly aristocratic nature of the Carolingian and post-Carolingian periods. Only nobles were supposed to rule and the vast majority of knights were thus out­ side the ruling class. Down to iooo political power was concentrated in the hands of a very small group—counts and a few of their chief subordinates. Ordinary knights were not seigneurs; they did not have courts or the right to command and to punish. Knights did not even participate, to any marked extent, in the governmental activities of their superiors. Before iooo it is rare to find a simple knight witnessing the acts of his lord, much less act­ ing as an adviser or a judge in his court. Witnesses and judges came from a higher level—members of the count's own family, bishops and abbots who were almost all members of the great noble families, viscounts, castellans, and the like.14 Only when the fragmentation of political power reached its peak in the eleventh century did lords find it necessary to call in knights to help them make their judgments.15 In short, down to iooo the group of vassals descended of this work is summed up in Duby, "La noblesse," pp. ι-6, 14-18. See also Werner, in Die Welt als Geschichte, xix (1959), 185-187, xx (i960), 117-119. 14 Georges Duby, "Recherches sur 1'evolution des institutions judiciaires pendant Ie Xe et Ie XIe siecle dans Ie sud de la Bourgogne," Le Moyen Age, Lii (1946), 154-155; Fauroux, Actes des dues de Normandie, pp. 58-62; Werner, in Die Welt als Geschichte, xix (1959), 186. Ordinary knights never witness acts of Robertians, and, as J. F. Lemarignier points out, when the Capetian descendants of the Robertians began to use knights as witnesses in the early eleventh century it marked a decline in their position; see his Gouvernement royal aux premiers temps Capetiens (Paris, 1965), pp. 111-139. 15 A few examples from different regions will demonstrate the point; many more could be given: Flanders: Polyptyque de I'abbe Irminon, ed. Benjamin Guerard (Paris, 1844), 11, 357 (six knights witness an act of 1038 and "hoc placitum fecerunt quatuor milites advocati"). Burgundy: Duby, "Institutions judiciaires," pp. 177, 192; and Bernard and Bruel, Chartes de Cluny, iv, no. 3262 (four knights of Cluny "fecerunt placi­ tum," mid-eleventh century). Hainaut: Leopold Genicot, "Le premier siecle de la curia de Hainaut," Le Moyen Age, liii (1947), 48 (knights are part of curia soon after 1050). Provence: Georges de Manteyer, La Provence da I e r au I 2 e siecle (Paris, 1908), pp. 279, 281 (after the 1020's the count gets consent of fideles or milites). 13Much

FEUDALISM

from the old class of retainers had little to do with feudalism as a form of government. The upper level of feudalism was something entirely different. The men who participated in this level came from the old Frankish aristocracy—an aristocracy which had a virtual monopoly of all high offices in the realm, and especially of the office of count. In the early years of the Frankish kingdom a few men of low birth had been made counts—even then much to the disgust of the aristocracy —but by the time of Charlemagne this practice had ended. And, given the simple administrative structure of the Frankish Empire, the counts were the government as far as most inhabitants were concerned. A count had full judicial, financial, and military power in the pagus or pagi which he ruled. His behavior was checked from time to time by inspectors sent out from the royal court (the missi), but only in the most extreme cases of misbehavior or dis­ obedience was there much chance that a count's decision would be reversed or that he would lose his office. Men of the count's own class could lodge complaints against him in the king's court, but there was little danger that an ordinary freeman would take such a step. And the office gave profit as well as power—a share in the fines levied in the local courts and the possession of estates attached to the countship. It is not surprising that the great Frankish noble families sought to accumulate as many countships as they could. Under Charlemagne, and throughout most of the ninth century, countships were not hereditary. Nevertheless, there was a strong tendency to keep countships in the same families. There was no rule of primogeniture, and a connection on the mother's side counted just as much as one on the father's side, so that relation­ ships are not always easy to discover. But most ninth-century counts whose descent we can trace were related in some way to men who had held the same countships before them.16 Normandy: Fauroux, Actes des dues de Normandie, no. 107 (a ducal act approved by "omnibus suis militibus," 1046-1048), 13 (knights act as witnesses of an act of a count of Ivry, 1011), 16 (knights confirm an act of a count of Mortain, c. 1015). Anjou: Louis Halphen, Le comte d'Anjou au XI e Steele (Paris, 1906), p. 109 (the count founds a church "cum consilio hominum meorum in ipso castro habitantium," some of the "men" are minor vassals, 1006-1021). 16 Duby, "La noblesse," pp. 6, 11-12; Werner, in Die Welt als Geschiehte, xx, 102.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

This does not mean, however, that members of the great Frankish families quickly took root in specific regions, or that their first aim was to set up semi-independent local lordships. There were relatively few families in the upper aristocracy and there had been extensive intermarriage among them. Thus most men who could hope for the office of count had relatives, and therefore claims to office, in many parts of the Empire. Even more important, while it was pleasant and profitable to rule a single county, it was even better to hold the office of duke or marquis, which gave control of many counties. These offices, established as great commands for the defense of frontier areas, could be acquired only through the special favor of the king. The leaders of the aristocratic families therefore formed factions which intrigued at the royal court for possession of the great commands. The triumph of one faction and the disgrace of another regularly caused shifts in the great com­ mands and quite often shifts in the countships subordinated to those commands.17 Thus regional concentrations of power in the hands of one man were at first impermanent and unstable. They depended more on family connections and on successful political maneuvering at court than on possession of local offices and lands. The great families remained quite mobile well into the ninth century. Lesser aristocrats, the men who were deputies and aides of the counts, took root more rapidly, although even these men moved about rather freely in the eighth and early ninth centuries. When they did settle down they had little independent power; they remained subordinates of whoever held the county. Events of the ninth and early tenth centuries sharply decreased the mobility of the aristocracy. The Empire broke up into king­ doms which were often hostile to one another. At first the great nobles still moved freely from kingdom to kingdom, but this be­ came more difficult as divisions hardened and rivalries sharpened. Civil wars weakened the power of the kings, especially in the west Frankish realm. This meant that court intrigue became less useful as a means of securing high office, since it was by no means certain that the king's orders granting such offices would be obeyed. At the same time new waves of invasion, especially those of the North­ men, further weakened the unity of the Frankish kingdoms and the authority of their kings. The west Frankish kings, in particular, 17

Werner, in Die Welt als Geschichte, xix, 150-169.

FEUDALISM

were not very successful in repelling invaders and the aristocracy had to take much of the responsibility for defense. A family which had fought to defend a group of counties acquired a vested interest in that area, and people there began to regard members of such a family as their natural, hereditary rulers. In short, during the ninth and early tenth centuries, members of the great aristocratic families began to take root in specific re­ gions.18 In a world which was falling apart this seemed to be the best way to preserve their wealth, their standard of living, and their preeminent political position. And because royal power was declining so rapidly in France, in that kingdom the great men be­ came rulers of large, virtually independent principalities. The king had no power to correct or review governmental acts which took place within their principalities; political power had become a private, hereditable property for great counts and dukes. Several of the principalities, in turn, proved to be too large or too loosely organized to be governed by one man. They included many pagi, too many for a duke, marquis, or "super-count" to rule directly. The head of a principality had to have deputies (subor­ dinate counts or viscounts) to act for him in different parts of his holdings. Theoretically, there should have been one deputy for each pagus\ in practice most of the subordinate counts and some of the abler viscounts acted in several pagi. These men, drawn from the lesser aristocracy, were quite capable of becoming inde­ pendent. They ruled fairly sizable territories, had numerous vassals of their own, and were often neglected by their distant superiors. Thus subordinate counts of the duke of Burgundy, such as the count of Auxerre, shook off all control from above. The viscounts of the Robertian dukes of the Loire-Seine region, such as the vis­ count of Anjou, soon took the title of count and became equally independent. The dukes of Normandy were almost unique in their ability to keep their subordinate counts and their viscounts from setting up autonomous lordships. Down to the year iooo, however, the process of disintegration usually stopped at this point. The pagus remained the smallest ls Ibid., xx, 119, speaks of "der tibergang vom fluktuierden Adel des 8. und 9. Jahrhunderts zum fixierten Adel des 10. und 11." See also the very important work of Jan Dhondt, Etudes sur la naissance des principautes territoriales en France (Bruges, 1948), esp. pp. 231#.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

unit of government and political power remained concentrated in a very restricted group of counts, viscounts, and men of equivalent rank and standing. I have deliberately described the growth of the power and inde­ pendence of the counts and other members of the aristocracy with­ out relating it to the rise of the class of knights. There were con­ nections between the two processes, but it is by no means evident that one development could not have taken place without the other. Given ninth-century conditions—an agrarian economy, poor communications, destructive invasions—the chances of survival of a great empire, or even of a large kingdom, were poor; political fragmentation would have occurred whether knights had existed or not. Since knights did exist, counts used them in their armies, but they would have needed private armies in any case. Conversely, given the state of military technology in the ninth century, a class of heavy-armed cavalrymen would have developed even if there had been no political fragmentation. In fact, the first great steps toward creating a knightly class were taken when the Carolingian rulers were at the height of their power, and the knights had no inherent objections to serving kings rather than counts. They would fight for anyone who would reward them; it was simply the weakening and impoverishment of the kings which gave the aristocracy the opportunity to acquire the services of most of the knights. Though the two levels of feudalism remained quite distinct down to iooo (and even beyond), the difference between them was obscured by a confusion in terminology. The same words were used to describe two very different types of relationship. And this con­ fusion goes back to a deliberate decision of the Carolingian kings. These kings were quite aware that there were fundamental weak­ nesses in their position, that the bond between king and subject was becoming increasingly tenuous, that local government was monop­ olized by the aristocracy. They saw on the other hand that the bond between vassal and lord was strong and effective. They there­ fore tried to create the same ties between themselves and the aristocracy which existed between the aristocracy and the lesser vas­ sals. While great men were seldom called vassals,19 they were asked 19

Here the basic study is C. E. Odegaard, Vassi and Fideles in the Carolingian Empire (Cambridge, Mass., 1945). It is interesting to note that down to 1066 the Norman dukes almost never use the word "vassallus"; the two

FEUDALISM

to do homage and take vows of fidelity to the king, just as a vassal did homage and swore fidelity to a lord. At the same time the kings began to speak of the conferring of a high office (such as a countship) as the bestowal of a "benefice" (that is, a fief).20 In short, there was an apparent parallel between the relationship of a knight to a lord and the relationship of a count to a king. In the long run, a very long run, this policy proved useful. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries French kings were able to re­ establish their power over the rulers of feudal principalities by insisting that these men owed obedience and service as vassals. But this was in a very different social and political context. As far as the Carolingians were concerned, their policy was an almost com­ plete failure. There was a tremendous difference between the bind­ ing force of homage and fidelity on an ordinary knight and that on a member of a great aristocratic family. The knight was nothing by himself—he had no prestige, no political power, not even (as an individual) much military significance. He had to have a lord to function effectively; he had to serve the lord frequently and faithfully because he had no importance except as a member of a group acting under the lord's direction. The member of a great aristocratic family, on the other hand, was either a count himself, or was related to a large group of counts, bishops, abbots, and other lords. He had large estates, loyal retainers, and an assured social position. Such a man was self-sufficient; he gave loyalty and service only when he thought it was to his advantage to do so. The fact that he had done homage to a king (or to one of the great counts or dukes) merely established a certain bias in favor of nego­ tiation rather than open defiance or war. Homages among the great were more like treaties of nonaggression than contracts for service.21 exceptions in 1059 and 1063 (Fauroux, Actes des dues de Normandie, nos. 142, 156) are in acts in favor of a non-Norman abbey, St. Julien de Tours. See also Ganshof, "Relations feodo-vassaliques," p. 83, about the infrequent use of "vassal" in France. 20 Ganshof, "L'origine des rapports feodo-vassaliques," pp. 48, 61-62. 21 An extreme example is provided by the hommage en marche·, see J. F. Lemarignier, Recherches sur I'hommage en marche (Lille, 1945). Ganshof, "Relations feodo-vassaliques," pp. 78-81, points out that the basic obligation, down to the eleventh century, was negative, not to harm the man to whom homage was given. Or, as Duby puts it, in La societe aux XIe et XIIe siecles dans la region m&eonnaise (Paris, 1953), p. 194, in the tenth and eleventh centuries, homage between "grands seigneurs" is "une simple garantie, un

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Thus while both knights and counts might do homage and swear fealty, the reasons for and the results of the act were quite different. The eleventh century saw the first moves toward a real (as op­ posed to a verbal) assimilation of the two levels of feudalism. It was in this century, as we have already seen, that knights began to be more prominent in the courts of their lords, witnessing charters, and acting as advisers and judges. It was also in this century that the pagus began to disintegrate as an administrative and judicial unit.22 In many pagi the powers of the count or viscount were di­ vided among a group of castellans who had rights of justice and command over the district immediately surrounding their castles.23 The number of castellans tended to increase and those who were late in gaining this rank often had very small districts under their rule. The castellans, for the most part, were descended from the least important families of the old aristocracy, but they had more power and more independence than their ancestors had ever pos­ sessed. And as men of this class gained a certain degree of political authority it was not difficult to take the next step and allow knights to command and judge peasants on their estates. The speed and degree of fragmentation varied greatly from re­ gion to region. In Normandy, for example, most of the pagi re­ mained intact; the viscounts functioned as agents of the duke and castellans were powerful only along the exposed southern frontier.24 Yet even in Normandy there were many more lords with rights of justice at the beginning of the twelfth century than at the engagement a ne pas nuire," but "prete par un petit noble a un puissant, c'est un devouement veritable, un engagement a servir." 22 J. F. Lemarignier, "La dislocation du pagus et Ie probleme des consuetudines," Melanges d'histoire du Moyen Age dedies a la memoire de Louis Halphen (Paris, 1951), pp. 401-410, and also his Gouvernement royal, pp. 131133; Pierre Feuchere, "Essai sur revolution territoriale des principautes francaises," Le Moyen Age, lviii (1952), 85-102; Jean Richard, Les dues de Bourgogne et la formation du duche (Paris, 1954), pp. 84-88. 23 Almost every history of a French province shows the rise of the castellans after 1000; see the works cited above in note 22 and, as samples of the process elsewhere, Marcel Garaud, "Les circonscriptions administratives du comte de Poitou au Xe siecle," Le Moyen Age, lix (1953), 11-61 and esp. 58-61; Halphen, Le comte d'Anjou, pp. 152-169; Manteyer, La Provence, pp. 366-367, 417-419; Duby, La societe . . . dans la region maconnaise, pp. 161-163, 185-189. 24 Lucien Musset, "Aux origines de la feodalite normande," R.H.D.F.E., 4th series, xxix (1951), 150.

FEUDALISM

beginning of the eleventh. In southern Burgundy and in Provence fragmentation of political power went much further and the count's court had no more authority than that of many other lords. 23 But even where fragmentation was most extensive it would be wrong to assume that all vassals received a share of political power. Household knights without fiefs were still common, and other knights had such small fiefs that they had almost no one to command or to judge. 26 However uneven the development of feudalism in the eleventh century was, it is clear that this was the decisive period in its history. It was then that feudal courts began to take their characteristic form, and that the division of political power began to reach its peak. Most important of all, it was then that the two levels of feudalism began to merge, that instead of sharply separated classes of noble rulers and nonnoble retainers we begin to get a continuous spectrum stretching from the knight with minimal rights of justice up through the castellans to the lords of the great feudal counties.21 It is this union of the two levels of feudalism, rather than the earlier union of vassalage and the fief, which seems to me the essential step in the development of feudal institutions. For while the eleventh century did not see the creation of a complete and well-organized feudal hierarchy of ranks, powers, and possessions, it did see the creation of conditions which made it both essential and possible to establish such a hierarchy. On the one hand, fragmentation of political power had gone so far that the resulting confusion and insecurity threatened the possessors of power themselves. If external order and internal structure could not be im25 Duby, "Institutions judiciaires," pp. 155-162, 180-194; Manteyer, La Provence, pp. 366-368, 417-418. 2 6 Duby, "La noblesse," p. 16; Richard, Les dues de Bourgogne, pp. 99-102; Ganshof, "Relations feodo-vassaliques," pp. 89-90. 21 This process, of course, took place at different times in different regions; e.g., the diffusion of rights of justice seems to have gone more rapidly in Lorraine than in Burgundy; compare C. E. Perrin, Recherches sur fa seigneurie rurale en Lorraine (Paris, 1935), pp. 665-67°, and Duby, "Institutions judicia ires," pp. 191-194. In Normandy ordinary knights did not have jurisdiction of their own in the eleventh century, but by the time the Tres ancien coutumier was written (end of the twelfth century) such jurisdiction was taken for granted: "Quilibet dominus habet placita sua et furta et dominationes suas in terris suis" (ch. 59, p. 50, of the edition by E. J. Tardif [Rouen, 1881]). The example given to prove this rule deals with a rear-vassal who holds a single knight's fee.

75

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

posed on the feudal groups, then possession of political power was going to mean very little. On the other hand, the number of men capable of taking part in the political process had enormously in­ creased. They were still a small minority of the whole population, but they were more numerous and represented a wider variety of interests and talents than had the ruling group of the preceding period. This enlargement of the group which was politically active offered real opportunities to capable rulers; one has only to think of the role played by knights and other rear-vassals in the creation of the more successful twelfth-century governments.28 Thus the combination of a difficult political problem with the emergence of a wider political constituency stimulated the development of feu­ dal law and feudal institutions. It was in feudal courts of the new type that solutions were slowly hammered out for the problems of security, of conflicting and overlapping jurisdictions, of relation­ ships among men at all levels of feudalism. And in solving these problems, the men of the new feudal age began not only to sys­ tematize feudalism,29 but also to lay the foundations of the modern European state. 28J. R. Strayer, "The Development of Feudal Institutions," in Twelfth-Cen­ tury Europe and the Foundations of Modern Society, eds. Marshall Clagett, Gaines Post, and Robert Reynolds (Madison, Wise., 1961), pp. 84, 86. [Re­ printed here, pp. 85, 87-88.] 29 Ibid., pp. 82-84 [below, pp. 82-85].

7. The Development of Feudal Institutions* ECAUSE feudalism in the twelfth century is a large subject which obviously cannot be covered in all its aspects in a brief paper, I have imposed three limitations on my discussion. First, I am using the narrowest possible definition: feudalism as a method of government, a way of accomplishing certain essential political acts. I am not sure that any broader definition makes much sense, but we need not examine this problem now. Feudalism as a method of government is a sufficiently complicated topic in itself and will more than fill up our time. Second, I am considering feudalism only as it existed in England, France, and Germany. There are many inter­ esting aspects of the feudalism of Italy and Spain, but feudalism was less complete in these countries than in the north and it was modified by peculiar political conditions and events, so that Italian and Spanish feudalism differs in many ways from that of the northern countries. Third, I am not going to discuss all the changes which took place during the twelfth century in the feudalisms of England, France, and Germany. One of the remarkable things about feudalism was its extreme flexibility. It was constantly being modi­ fied to fit individual needs and local conditions, and it is impossible to trace all these adjustments. On the other hand, even if we look at it in most general terms, it is clear that the feudalism of 1200 was not the feudalism of 1100. It had changed in both theory and prac­ tice; it had a different impact on men's minds and it could be used to achieve new political results. It should be possible to sepa­ rate basic changes in the nature of feudalism from temporary ad­ justments to immediate problems, and I am going to discuss only basic changes in this paper. It is hardly necessary to say that even in the north feudalism was not uniform. There were great differences in the political structures of England, France, and Germany in 1100. There was the obvious contrast of an England which was united and relatively homoge­ neous, a France which was a loose confederation of feudal lordships in varying stages of development, and a Germany in which the old pattern of government was being disrupted by the Investiture Con* Reprinted from Tweljth-Century Europe and the Foundations of Modern Society, eds. Marshall Clagett, Gaines Post, and Robert Reynolds (Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press; © 1965 by the Regents of the University of Wisconsin), pp. 76-88.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

flict with no new pattern yet discernible. There were less obvious contrasts: the presence of numerous allods in Germany and south­ ern and eastern France as opposed to their virtual absence in Eng­ land and northwestern France, or the greater importance of fight­ ing men who were not knights in German armies as compared to those of France. But with all these differences the three countries had one thing in common: the essential work of government could not be performed without recognizing and using the power of the local lords. There was no possibility of establishing a centralized, bureaucratic administration; no ruler had enough money to pay and supervise local officials. Therefore, local administration and justice, which is the essential work of any government, had to be left to the leading men in each district, that is, the lords. It was equally impos­ sible to establish a single, centralized army which could defend all regions threatened by war or disorder; local defense had to be left to the local lords. And to carry out these responsibilities the lords in all countries had hit upon much the same formula. They had acquired groups of retainers or vassals; they had fortified key de­ fensive positions, and they defended their districts and carried on the work of local government with the assistance of their men. This is the essence of early feudalism, and feudalism of this sort existed everywhere. The local lord, with his vassals and his court, was the basic political unit of the early twelfth century.1 He could not be eliminated, and, in fact, no one wanted to eliminate him. Many people were not at all sure that any larger political unit than the local lordship was either desirable or possible. Assuming that it was, the only practical question was whether a political system could be developed which recognized the special position of the local lord and yet permitted a certain degree of central control. Was feudalism necessarily synonymous with localism? Could it be used to build larger and more effective systems of government? No one, in the year ι ioo, could have given an unqualified affirma­ tive answer to this last question. Until very recently, the largest effec­ tive political unit in western Europe had been the kingdom of Germany, but Germany was far less feudalized than either England or France and the power of the king of Germany had certainly not been built on his position as supreme feudal lord. In France, the coun­ try where feudalism was most fully developed, the king was profiting 1 See

the discussion of local lordships in Jacques Boussard, Le gouvernement d'Henri II Plantegenet (Paris, 1956), pp. 229-233.

FEUDALISM

very little from his theoretical lordship over his dukes and counts, and the latter, in turn, seemed to have little authority over their own vassals. The peripheral counties of the duchies of Aquitaine and Burgundy, and the viscounties of the county of Toulouse were be­ coming independent of their nominal suzerains. The same thing was happening in the duchy of Lorraine, the most thoroughly feu­ dalized part of Germany. In short, it must have seemed to many people that feudalism could be an effective system of government only within very narrow geographical limits, the area of a single castellany or at most two or three castellanies. Early feudalism de­ pended so much on close personal relations between lord and vassals that a distant and seldom seen lord had little influence over his nominal subordinates. Up to noo most attempts to hold to­ gether or rebuild large political units on a feudal basis had failed. It is true that in the north there were a few exceptions to this rule, the county of Flanders, the duchy of Normandy, the kingdom of England. But it could be argued that each one of these states had developed under exceptionally favorable circumstances which were not likely to recur elsewhere. A series of early wars had elimi­ nated many of the local lords in the lands of the count of Flanders, and the precocious growth of Flemish towns had given the count such wealth that the balance of power remained permanently shifted in his favor. Normandy had been conquered by a group of invaders who knew nothing of feudalism, so that feudal institutions must have been established there at a comparatively late date, perhaps not until the end of the tenth century. Scattered evidence also seems to indicate that Norman feudalism grew from the top down, or at least was regulated and guided by ducal grants, a circumstance which would give the duke an unusual degree of control over his vassals.2 There is no doubt that feudalism had been imposed from the top in England and in any case England was a very recent addi­ tion to the rank of feudal states. The Conquest was only a genera­ tion old in ι ioo, and the ties between the king and his vassals were still strong. Moreover, a dispassionate observer in noo might well have won­ dered how long Normandy and England were going to remain 2C. H. Haskins, Norman Institutions (Cambridge, Mass., 1918), pp. 11-12, 22; Michel de Bouard, "Le Duche de Normandie," in Histoire des institutions franqaises au Moyen Age, eds. Ferdinand Lot and Robert Fawtier, 1 (Paris, 1957), 7-8, 13·

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

strong, united states. Normandy, under Robert Curthose, was not a spectacle to excite any confidence in feudal institutions. In Eng­ land a king who had been trying to make the most of his position as feudal lord had just been assassinated, and his successor had gained the throne only after making extensive concessions to his vassals. Of all the great feudal states, only Flanders was making steady progress, and one special case was scarcely enough to justify a belief that feudal institutions could be effective over wide territories. Yet by 1200 the whole picture had changed. England, Normandy, and Flanders had more than fulfilled their early promise and had developed into strong, well-organized states. Other French provinces, such as Champagne, were not far behind these leaders. The king of France had begun to profit from his rights as supreme feudal lord, and he was about to give a most convincing demonstration, at the expense of King John, of the great advantages of this position. Most striking of all, one of the ablest rulers Germany ever had, Frederick Barbarossa, had spent a long reign in deliberately strength­ ening and perfecting the feudal bonds between himself and the German princes, because he was convinced that this was the best way to reestablish the unity of his weakened kingdom. Obviously certain things had happened to feudalism during the twelfth century which made it far more effective as an organizing principle in politics. Some of these modifications will be discussed in the follow­ ing paragraphs. They may be summed up as the "realization," the systematizing, and the bureaucratizing of feudalism. In the first place, during the twelfth century feudalism ceased to be an intensely personal relationship between lord and man. There was what Ganshof calls a "realization" of the feudal relationship,3 an emphasis on the fief and its income rather than on the vassal and his service. Vassals wanted to hold on to their old fiefs, to ac­ cumulate new ones, and to pass all their holdings on to their heirs. At the same time, they strove steadily to reduce the amount of per­ sonal service which they rendered for these fiefs. Lords began to act as if service were owed by the fief rather than by the man, and there­ fore became more willing to accept women, minors, and remote collateral relatives as heirs of their vassals. Many vassals held fiefs 3

F. L. Ganshof, Feudalism, tr. Philip Grierson, 3rd English edn. (New York, 1964), p. 150. Cf. the section in Heinrich Mitteis, Lehnrecht und Staatsgewalt (Weimar, 1933), pp. 522-527, which is called in the table of contents "Verdinglichung des Lehnsvertrag."

FEUDALISM

from more than one lord. This did not greatly distress the lords, even though it was obvious that in such a case they would receive little personal service. Liege homage did little to redress the situa­ tion; it merely recognized that the secondary lords would receive little service without ensuring the liege lord of the undivided loyalty of his vassal.4. There was a general tendency, during the twelfth century, for the importance of personal service to decrease. As it decreased, the lords tried to make up for its loss by securing money payments from their men. Thus military service could be bought off, in England and Normandy, by payments of fines and scutages.5 The feudal aid, almost unknown in the eleventh century, became an important source of revenue in the twelfth.6 The lord's right to wardship was by no means universally recognized in the eleventh century, and where it existed was used more to protect the lord's military and political position than as a source of revenue. In the twelfth century it became more common and more profitable; wardships were ex­ ploited as a source of income.7 These changes were, of course, not uniform throughout Europe, but it is significant that the tendency to substitute money payments for personal service was most marked in the states where feudalism was most complete, that is, in Nor­ mandy and in England. Conversely, in Germany, or even in the duchy of Burgundy, where feudalism was in an earlier stage of development, some of the Anglo-Norman payments from vassal to lord were unknown.8 At first sight, this weakening of the personal bond might seem to make feudalism less, rather than more effective as a means of 4 On liege homage see Marc Bloch, La societe feodale: la formation des liens de dependance (Paris, 1939), pp- 330-336; tr. L. A. Manyon (London and Chicago, 1961), pp. 214-218; and Mitteis, Lehnrecht, pp. 556-569. 5 Sidney Painter, Studies in the History of the English Feudal Barony (Baltimore, 1943), pp. 30-37, 125-128. 6 Mitteis, Lehnrecht, pp. 615-616; Bloch, La societe feodale: la formation des liens, pp. 342-345; tr. Manyon, pp. 222-224. The first clear cases of the feudal aid come in Normandy and Anjou in the first half of the twelfth century; it develops later in the French royal domain and is almost unknown in Germany. 7 Bloch, La societe feodale: la formation des liens, pp. 311-313; tr. Manyon, pp. 201-203. 8 Mitteis, Lehnrecht, pp. 615, 674, generally no reliefs or aids in Germany; Jean Richard, Les dues de Bourgogne et la formation du duche (Paris, 1954), p. 106, no reliefs in Burgundy.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

political organization. But a little reflection will show that those who lost most by the change were the local lords, and that those who gained most were the rulers of provinces and kingdoms. The power of the local lord depended on his ability to secure personal service from his knights, many of whom lived with him in his castle or at least spent long weeks there every year doing castle-guard. As these men acquired fiefs and became more attached to their own lands, as they tried to reduce or evade personal service, the military power of the local lord declined. He found it difficult to compensate for this loss by securing money payments because the greater lords tried to monopolize such payments, or at least took from him almost as much as he collected. Thus in England the king developed the doctrine of prerogative wardship, whereby he took possession of all the holdings of a minor heir if that heir held even the smallest fief from the crown.9 This rule deprived many lords of their most profitable wardships, since their richest tenants were almost certain to hold something of the king as well. Again in England, royal policy, not always successful, was to make tenants-in-chief pass on to the king all the scutage which they collected from their men.10 Even if the local lord succeeded in making some money out of feudal obligations the total sum was usually too small to enable him to hire mercenaries to replace the knights who were no longer giving him service. Kings, and the greater dukes and counts, on the other hand, gained greatly by the introduction of money payments. Most vassals were glad to give money instead of military service, and while they grumbled more about other payments, such as aids and reliefs, they could seldom refuse them entirely. The stronger rulers of the twelfth century developed other sources of revenue, but a very large part of the income of a king such as Henry II came from strictly feudal payments. Large sums of money were raised from reliefs and ward­ ships, aids and scutages, and these sums could be used to build up centralized governments. Mercenaries who served for months at a time could be hired in place of vassals who disliked serving at all. Paid functionaries could be used to enforce the orders of the king 9

Glanvill, De legibus et consuetudinibus regni Angliae, ed. G. E. Wood­ bine (New Haven, 1932), lib. vn, cap. 10 (p. 108): ". . . si quis in capite de domino rege tenere debet, tunc eius custodia ad dominum regem plene pertinet, sive alios dominos habere debeat ipse heres sive non." 10Painter, English Feudal Barony, pp. 34-37, 125-126.

FEUDALISM

or provincial ruler throughout his territories. New castles could be built to hold down rebellious districts; neighboring lords could be bribed so that they would not support rebels. In short, once money was available it was possible to begin to create a territorial state. The second great change in twelfth-century feudalism was the creation of feudal systems. Even in the Anglo-Norman states feu­ dalism was not very systematic in the year noo. There were many unsolved questions, for example the one which Henry I tried to settle concerning the court which was to have jurisdiction in dis­ putes between vassals of different lords.11 But at least in England and Normandy there was a complete feudal pyramid; all fiefs were held directly or indirectly of the king or the duke. Elsewhere feu­ dalism had far less of a hierarchical character; it revealed clearly that it had grown out of a series of improvisations required to meet immediate emergencies. In much of France and most of Germany it was possible for a lord to have vassals and yet to possess his lands as an allod, free from any feudal obligations to a superior.12 Thus there could be many small feudal groups which had no connection with each other and which escaped almost entirely from the con­ trol of higher authorities. Even where the feudal chain of com­ mand existed in theory, it might be broken in fact. The count of Toulouse might be a vassal of the king of France, but he rendered no service to the king and did not expect the king to intervene in any way in his county. At the same time, he had powerful subor­ dinates who were very nearly as independent of him as he was of the king of France. During the twelfth century most rulers made a deliberate effort to pull these scattered pieces together, to force lords who were virtually independent to recognize that they had feudal superiors. Dubious or half-forgotten claims to suzerainty were revived and were often made good by legal or military pressure. Lords such as the king of France made more of an effort to secure the homage of their great vassals and to tie each homage to a specific fief.13 They 11

William Stubbs, Select Charters and Other Illustrations of English Con­ stitutional History, rev. H.W.C. Davis, 9th edn. (Oxford, 1913), p. 122. 12Emile Chenon, Etude sur I'histoire des alleux en France (Paris, 1888), pp. 34-42; Richard, Les dues de Bourgogne, pp. 102-107; J. W. Thompson, Feudal Germany (Chicago, 1928), pp. 293-294; Sachsenspiegel; Land- und Lehnrecht, ed. K. A. Eckhardt (Hanover: M.G.H., Fontes juris germanici, new series, 1933), ch. 65, par. 4; ch. 71, pars. 6, 7. 13 Achille Luchaire, Histoire des institutions monarchiques de la France

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

gained little immediate advantage by this policy, but they estab­ lished their legal superiority and so laid a basis for later intervention. In Germany, where feudalism had been especially disorganized, Frederick Barbarossa tried to make it into a coherent system and to ensure that all the lay princes and bishops of the Empire recognized him as their lord.14 Pressure against allodial lordships began to increase. This pressure reached its height in the thirteenth century, but even in the twelfth rulers such as the duke of Burgundy per­ suaded some allodial lords to surrender their lands and receive them back as fiefs.15 It was also in the twelfth century that the franchise theory of jus­ tice began to be stressed by some of the stronger lords, such as the king of England.16 This theory held that all rights of justice must originate in grants from a superior; it was probably bad history, but it had obvious political advantages. The man who granted jus­ tice could define the terms of the grant, or intervene to see that it was not abused. Frederick Barbarossa was obviously attracted by these possibilities and tried to make the franchise theory of justice a basic rule of German feudalism.17 This is fairly good contempo­ rary evidence of its significance, since Frederick was trying to build a neatly organized feudal system at a comparatively late date and presumably emphasized only ideas that seemed to be producing useful results elsewhere. He gained little by his action, but other lords found the franchise theory very useful. It laid a basis for ap­ peals from the courts of local lords, or for requests to the overlord to make the local lord do justice. Such appeals and requests had been almost unknown earlier; they became relatively common in the second half of the twelfth century. Henry II used the writ order­ ing the local lord to do right in his court as one of his most effec­ tive weapons in increasing his control over his tenants-in-chief.18 sous Ies premiers Capetiens (987-1180), 2nd edn., 2 vols. (Paris, 1891) 1, 37-40; Joseph DecIareuiI, Histoire generale du droit fran^ais (Paris, 1925), pp. 188-189. 14 Mitteis, Lehnrecht, pp. 427-449, and esp. pp. 428, 448-449. 15 Richard, Les dues de Bourgogne, p. 105. leJulius Goebel, Felony and Misdemeanor, 1 (New York, 1937), 281, 287, 290, 391. 17 Mitteis, Lehnrecht, pp. 426-427; Freiherr von Dungern, "Die Staatsreform der Hohenstaufen," in Festschrift fiir Ernst Zitelmann (Munich, 1913), p. 28. 18 Frederick Pollock and F. W. Maitland, The History of English Law

FEUDALISM

By systematizing and universalizing feudal relationships and by insisting on their rights as feudal superiors, the lords at the top of each feudal pyramid acquired more opportunities to interfere in local affairs. And the more the overlord intervened, the weaker the bonds between the local lord and his vassals became. The protection of the rear-vassal by the superior lord is one of the great innovations of the twelfth century. These men had been almost entirely at the mercy of their immediate lords; now they could ask for judicial or military protection from higher authority. Perhaps the most important result of the legal reforms of Henry II was that the tenure of rear-vassals was protected by the king's court. 19 The growth of the power of the French monarchy began when Louis VI and Louis VII started to protect lesser vassals and weaker lords against their powerful neighbors.20 And perhaps the greatest weakness in Barbarossa's feudal system was that in creating the estate of princes he blocked direct contacts between himself and rear-vassals and so deprived himself of opportunities to intervene in local disputes. 21 In most regions, however, the systematizing of feudalism reinforced the effects of its "realization." The power of the greater lords over their vassals increased. Local lords, on the other hand, had to pay more attention to the orders of their superiors and had less authority over their inferiors. Rear-vassals who could count on the protection of the courts of the overlord were more independent of their immediate lords; they could insist on defining and limiting the amount of service they rendered. They often entered into direct relations with the overlord and some of them became important officials of the suzerain. All these changes aided the growth of relatively large, territorial states. The third great change was the development of specialized administrative, judicial, and financial officers-the bureaucratizing of feudalism. Here again, the twelfth century offers a striking contrast with the preceding period. The feudal lord of the eleventh century had only his vassals and a few clerks to assist him in the work of before the Time of Edward I, 2nd edn. (Cambridge, Eng., 1898), I, 386; W. S. McKechnie, Magna Carta, 2nd edn. (Glasgow, 1914), pp. 347-349. 19 Pollock and Maitland, English Law, I , 146-148. 20 Luchaire, Institutions monarchiques, 2nd edn., I , 281-282; II, 33-34, 36-37; Textes relatifs a l' histoire du Parlement de Paris, ed. C. V. Langlois (Paris, 1888), nos. 5, 7, II, 12, 15. 21 Mitteis, Lehnrecht, pp. 441-44 2 •

85

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

government. The real trade of the vassals was fighting; most of them were not particularly good administrators, and in any case, when they received an administrative post they promptly tried to turn it into an hereditary fief. The clerks were at least literate, which is more than could be said of most vassals, but they often had little more skill in administration than laymen. They did not have the longing for order and routine, the love of precedents and records, the passion for legal forms which are the marks of a good bureaucrat. (This is not said in sarcasm; a government which lacks the spirit of routine, has no records, relies on no precedents, and is uncertain about the legality of its orders is apt to be an inefficient, disorderly, confused, and unpopular government.) The lack of specialized administrative personnel helps to explain why the effec­ tive sphere of government had been no larger than the castellany. A lord who tried to control a larger area could not be everywhere at once and he received little help from his vassals and household clerks. If he delegated authority he would probably succeed only in creating a new lordship; if he did not delegate authority he might lose all control over outlying districts. In the twelfth century, on the other hand, many lords succeeded in developing staffs of trained administrators. They could now delegate authority without losing it and therefore could keep control over wide areas. The great increase in the number of educated men and the im­ provement in the quality of education during the twelfth century certainly facilitated improvements in feudal administration. More clerks were available and many of them had had some training in law. This meant that records were better kept, that precedents were remembered and used, that fixed procedures were gradually substituted for the informal actions of early feudal courts. This in turn increased both the revenues and the authority of the greater lords who were the only ones able to secure the services of a large number of clerks. Great lords usually had a number of ecclesiastical benefices at their disposal which they could use to pay their clerical administrators; in some cases they even established new foundations as a means of securing a supply of trained clerks. For example, the duke of Burgundy founded a collegiate church (the Chapelle-IeDuc) about 1184 in order to train clerks for his service.22 Obviously, lesser lords would have more difficulty in finding enough benefices 22

Richard, Les dues de Bourgogne, pp. 398-399.

FEUDALISM

to support an adequate staff of clerks, so here again the change was to their disadvantage. Clerks could do a great deal to improve administration, but they could not enforce the rules which they proclaimed, nor expect local lords to share their enthusiasm for precedents. The indispensable element of force had to be added by laymen. Laymen were needed as local governors, judges, and collectors of revenue, and it was much more difficult to find capable and trustworthy lay adminis­ trators than capable and trustworthy clerks. The tendency to turn offices into fiefs was still strong in the twelfth century. Even in so well organized a state as Flanders the receivers of the count's rev­ enues were vassals—"feodales homines ratiocinatores"23—and even so strong a ruler as Henry II found his seneschalships of Anjou and Poitou turning into hereditary possessions.24. Loyal and efficient lay administrators could not easily be found; they had to be chosen by hit-or-miss methods and trained by apprenticeship in minor offices. Yet in spite of all these difficulties lay administrative officials did begin to appear in the twelfth century. The circuit judges of Eng­ land, the baillis of Normandy, Flanders, and the French royal domain are the outstanding examples of this group.25 They held office for limited periods; they could be moved about from place to place; they usually received salaries, though they might also be rewarded by the grant of small fiefs. But the important point was that their power was derived from their offices, not their fiefs, and that when they ceased to hold office they lost their power. Most, though not all, of these men belonged to the class of small feudal tenants; they were either lesser vassals or rear-vassals of the lord whom they served. This was another proof of the value of the pro­ tection given to this class by the greater lords. Small vassals could 23 F.

L. Ganshof, "La Flandre," in Lot and Fawtier, Histoire des institu­ tions, i, 393. 24Boussard, Henri II, p. 357. 25 For the first appearance of baillis in Normandy and Flanders, see M. de Bouard and F. L. Ganshof in Lot and Fawtier, Histoire des institutions, 1, 32, 404. There may have been baillis in Champagne by the year 1189, Henri d'Arbois de Jubainville, Histoire des dues et des comtes de Champagne (Paris, 1858-1867), iv, 473. For the royal domain in France see Charles Petit-Dutaillis, The Feudal Monarchy in France and England . . . , tr. E. D. Hunt (London, 1936), pp. 184-186; or, in the original French edition, La monarchie jeodale en France et en Angleterre (Paris, 1933), pp. 204-206.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

now hope for greater rewards from entering the administrative service of a suzerain than from staying on their estates and serving a local lord. And they no longer had to fear that they would lose their lands to rapacious neighbors if they left home to serve in a distant court. The German solution to the problem of finding lay administra­ tive officials was a little different from that of the western countries. In Germany, lay officials came largely from the class of ministeriales, hereditary servants of the lords.26 The ministeriales were of servile origin, but they rose steadily in the social scale as they acquired lands and offices. By the end of the twelfth century many of them could hardly be distinguished from the lesser free vassals. Thus they were not unlike the men who held administrative posts in the west­ ern states, and they received equally important positions. In the long run, they proved less reliable than the baillis in France or the circuit judges in England, but this was largely a result of the civil wars and political confusion of thirteenth-century Germany. In the twelfth century they served their lords faithfully and enabled Ger­ man rulers to build up reasonably effective administrative systems. Not all feudal lords developed a staff of lay administrative officials during the twelfth century. The lords of small districts obviously had less need for this kind of assistance; they also had fewer oppor­ tunities to secure capable men. Some great lords were equally back­ ward in this respect; thus the duke of Burgundy had no baillis until the middle of the thirteenth century.27 But the advantages of the new system were clear; the lords who had lay administrative officials had more effective courts, drew greater revenues from their lands, and had a better chance of making permanent additions to their possessions. Their competitive position was so much improved that in the end all lords had to follow their example if they hoped to retain any rights of government. The changes which I have been discussing were, of course, not uniform throughout western Europe. They went farthest in Eng­ land and in Normandy, and it is precisely in England and Nor­ mandy that we find the strongest and most unified feudal states. They were observable, but less complete in France, notably in mat­ ters of finance and judicial administration. Moreover, in France 26Mitteis,

Lehnrecht, pp. 445-448; von Dungern, "Die Staatsreform," pp. 24-26. 27 Richard, Les dues de Bourgogne, pp. 459!?.

FEUDALISM

many lesser lords retained a large degree of autonomy well into the thirteenth century, and real centralization came after rather than before 1200. These changes were also felt in Germany, where Barbarossa tried to create a feudal system which would give peace and a certain degree of unity to his realm. But he began late, and his work was vitiated by his need to secure the support of the greater lords for his Italian policy. This led him to accept a too rigid feudal system, in which the princes of the Empire intervened effectively between him and lesser vassals, and in which he renounced the pos­ sibility of adding any great fief to the royal domain.28 Thus in the end the real beneficiaries of the new type of feudalism in Germany were the princes rather than the king. Difference in the degree and effectiveness of changes in feudalism in the twelfth century should not obscure the fact that the direction of change was clear and irreversible. The thirteenth century is the best proof of this assertion. During the thirteenth century the im­ portance of personal service from vassals to lords continued to de­ cline; the power of overlords continued to increase, and the number of professional and semiprofessional administrative agents grew. The states which came out of the thirteenth century with reasonably strong and efficient governments were the states which had been able to profit from these changes. 28

Mitteis, Lehnrecht, pp. 440-442, 448.

8. The Tokugawa Period and Japanese Feudalism*

ω

OST students of the European Middle Ages would now, I think, admit that feudalism existed in Japan. They would also admit that it was "real" feudalism, and not just a set of institu­ tions that looked like feudalism on the surface but actually worked in a very different way. Japanese feudalism belongs to the same genus as European feudalism; it is not like the marsupial wolf which resembles a European wolf but in reality is a kind of ferocious opossum. No matter what definition of feudalism is used, Japan can be brought under its terms. I happen to prefer a rather narrow political definition, on the grounds that feudalism simply ceases to have any specific meaning when it is used to describe economic and social conditions. Great estates cultivated by poorly paid, almost landless laborers can exist without feudalism (for example, collective farms), just as factories and an urban proletariat can exist without capital­ ism. It is true, of course, that the political structure necessarily af­ fects the economic and social structure: the dominant group in any organized community will control and divert production to suit its own purposes and will impose its standards and values on society. But the methods and forms of economic control and the social values which are inculcated vary with the political system and not vice versa. In political terms, feudalism is marked by a fragmentation of political authority, private possession of public rights, and a ruling class composed (at least originally) of military leaders and their followers. It is not necessary to demonstrate that these conditions existed in Japan, perhaps even more noticeably than in medieval western Europe. Indeed, while extensive areas in western Europe were never feudalized, none of Japan remained untouched by feudalism. It is also clear that the early and middle stages of Japanese feudal­ ism were not unlike the corresponding stages in Europe. At first, public authority and public officials continued to exist alongside of increasingly powerful feudal lords. The central government re­ tained power in some areas while losing it in others, and only * First published in Studies in the Institutional History of Modern Japan, ed. J. W. Hall and Marius Jansen (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1968), pp. 3-14.

FEUDALISM

gradually faded away to a shadow. The peak of fragmentation of authority and of private control of rights of government came sev­ eral centuries after the process of feudalization had begun. All this seems familiar and reasonable to a Western medievalist. It is the final stage—the reversal of the process of fragmentation— which is strange and puzzling. It is strange because devices which proved dangerous or ephemeral in Europe—such as the existence of large principalities—were used effectively in Japan by the shogun to increase his authority. It is puzzling because the final stage lasted so long, because the changes which took place in the Tokugawa period were so slow that at times they were almost imper­ ceptible. I judge that specialists in the history of Japanese institu­ tions are also somewhat puzzled by political developments be­ tween 1600 and 1850. It is a period in which the forms of feudalism were carefully preserved while much of the substance vanished. But if the substance was vanishing, why were the forms necessary? Conversely, if some of the substance remained (as I think it did), why was it not disruptive, why could it be safely tolerated by the shogunate ? Let me elaborate a little on these points. There are two periods in western European feudalism which bear some resemblance to Tokugawa Japan. The first comes at the very beginning, in the ninth and tenth centuries, when the last Carolingians tried to hold their realm together by establishing great commands—the duchy of Burgundy, the duchy of Gothia, the duchy of Francia, and so on. The men who held these commands were at first not unlike Tokugawa daimyos: they were officials of the king; they or their heirs could be moved from one district to another; they could be forced to surrender or exchange some of the counties they administered. But very soon the holders of the great commands became hereditary rulers practically independent of the king, and soon after that the great commands broke up into smaller units. Burgundy might be compared to Tosa: each province was about equally distant from central authority; each had aspirations to control neighboring areas. But Burgundy paid less and less attention to royal orders, and in turn the subordinate counts of Burgundy paid less and less attention to the orders of the duke. Tosa, on the contrary, remained united and obedient. In short, Japanese feudalism seems to be marching backwards; it ends in the pattern with which Western feudalism began.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

The other period in Western history which has some parallel to Tokugawa Japan cannot be dated so precisely; it begins with the emergence of large feudal principalities in France and Germany in the eleventh or twelfth centuries and lasts until the principalities were either absorbed into a larger political unit or became inde­ pendent states. But the difference is that in Europe the period of feudal principalities was a period of intense political competition. No one was satisfied with the status quo; no one thought that the principalities could continue indefinitely as autonomous but sub­ ordinate entities. Kings did not trust princes to remain obedient; they tried to add princely holdings to the royal domain. Princes did not trust kings to respect local autonomy; they did their best to reject all possibility of intervention by higher authorities. On the whole, the issue was decided fairly quickly. During the thirteenth century, the king of France annexed so many of the great princi­ palities—Normandy, Anjou, Poitou, Toulouse, Champagne—that more than half the country was directly governed by him and his officials. The remaining principalities could be infiltrated with royal agents and absorbed at leisure. In the end only Flanders escaped. In Germany, during the thirteenth century the princes became prac­ tically independent. From that time on the accidents of war and inheritance, not the will of the emperor, determined the fate of German principalities. This is not to say that feudalism, as a set of political institutions, ceased to have any influence in western Europe after 1300. It took many centuries to create the apparatus of centralized government, to build up efficient, well-trained, and reliable bureaucracies. Mean­ while local lords handled many of the details of local administra­ tion, either in their own right, or as deputies of a king or sovereign prince. As late as the seventeenth century Louis XIV, like a Tokugawa shogun, found it advisable to make his nobles spend part of the year at his court. As late as the seventeenth century the English gentry, who were not unlike the upper-level samurai of Japan, con­ trolled local government through their positions as justices of the peace. But this late European feudalism had lost its basic structure and its monopoly of power. The old hierarchy of direct vassal, rearvassal, rear-rear-vassal, etc., had vanished. Orders were no longer passed down a chain of command from count to baron to knight. The central government dealt directly with local authorities, great and small. The central government also had its parallel organiza-

FEUDALISM

tions, especially in matters of justice and finance, which reached down to the lowest levels of the population. Lords were left with enough prestige and power so that they could keep order among the peasants and collect their rents. They did not, as a rule, inflict serious punishments on peasants, nor did they collect enough rev­ enues from them to maintain large provincial armies or bureauc­ racies. In all these respects late European feudalism differed from Tokugawa feudalism. Two questions emerge from this preliminary discussion: Why was the final stage of Japanese feudalism so prolonged? Why was it so different from the Western experience? Some obvious and familiar answers can be given at once. The pressures which force political change were either absent or at a low level during most of the Tokugawa period. There was no external threat and very little organized internal opposition. There was, for example, no church to focus and justify discontent; the various religious groups were controlled by secular authority. There were almost no courts of justice, certainly no courts like the French Parlements and English common law courts with their long tradi­ tions of independent judgment. Thus an inferior oppressed by a superior could not expect support from either religious leaders or legal experts. The rise of a business class would have been slow in any case; it was retarded even more by the virtual absence of the foreign trade which had strengthened and enriched European merchants. In the end the development of internal commerce may have been one of the most important solvents of the Tokugawa sys­ tem, but this development was very gradual. Meanwhile merchants and bankers had no effective political organization and they could not use their limited economic power to oppose the government. In short, the shogun and his advisers were less dependent on the privileged classes than a European king and council. The shogun did not need officers from the feudal nobility to fight for him in foreign wars, nor bankers from the business community to finance them. He did not have to waste his energy in coercing bishops, judges, assemblies of estates, or semi-independent town gov­ ernments. He could concentrate on one task: keeping enough of the daimyos obedient so that he would receive his share (a very large share) of the rice crop. Even if he held only one-sixth or oneseventh of Japan, this was still far more than any daimyo possessed. He could always count on the support or at least the inertia, of most

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

of the daimyos. He could overwhelm scattered rebels; and in the absence of any ideologies or institutions which could be used to unite latent opposition, scattered rebels were all that he was apt to meet. These differences are immediately apparent. Others may have run deeper. The sheer size of the Japanese feudal class is amazing to anyone who has studied European feudalism; and size created problems which Europeans never had to face. It has been estimated that the maximum number of knight's fees which ever existed in England was about six thousand. This does not mean that there were six thousand knights, since many fees had been subdivided to a point where they gave no real service and others were held by tenants who were usually excused from service. A single han in Tokugawa Japan would have had a larger number of samurai than the largest possible number of English knights, and the samurai were all expected to perform some kind of service. There seems to be no doubt about these numbers; the records are clear, consistent, and comparable over extended periods of time. To deal with these hordes of minor vassals required a degree of planning and organ­ ization which was never necessary in Europe. Japanese feudalism had to be more structured, more impersonal, more bureaucratic than European feudalism. At least it had to have these qualities from the middle of the sixteenth century, when we have evidence of huge armies and large numbers of retainers under the control of a single lord. Another factor which must have made Japanese feudalism, even in its middle period, more structured and bureaucratic than Euro­ pean feudalism was the difference in the arrangements for pro­ viding economic support to the vassal. Household retainers were common in early European feudalism and they never entirely dis­ appeared, but they were not an important element of the feudal class after noo. Most vassals by that time had fiefs, and very rapidly the vassal became the virtual owner of his fief. In these circumstances, it would have been difficult to change the value of a fief and utterly impossible to try to create classes of fiefs in which each member of the class had a more or less uniform income. In most countries records were so poor that no one could have ascribed an exact value to any one fief or group of fiefs. Even in England, which was unique in having a survey of feudal possessions (Domes­ day Book), estimates of income were not very precise. England

FEUDALISM

was also unique in groping toward the idea that the value of one type of fief—the knight's fee—should be standardized. But the evidence suggests that some lords thought an annual income of ten pounds enough for a knight, that others used twenty pounds a year as a standard, and that in fact there were great variations in the yearly income of knights. Above the level of the knight there was no standardization whatever. When the concept of peerage developed and it became important to know whether a vassal was a knight or a baron, the king and his ministers were obviously perplexed. A man might be summoned as a baron on one occasion and be omitted from the list of barons on the next. Personal ability and political influence were as important as wealth in determining status, and no one would have said that an income of say one hun­ dred pounds a year automatically made a man a baron. In other countries very little was known about the actual income of individ­ ual vassals and there could be extremely wide variations among the incomes of men who theoretically belonged to the same level in the feudal hierarchy. Even in the late stages of European feudalism, when more was known about the value of holdings, there was no attempt to fix maximum and minimum incomes for certain ranks. After meeting what were, by Japanese standards, the very modest demands of his superior, the lord could exploit his holdings as he saw fit and keep any surplus which he had created. He remained closely tied to his estates and the change from feudal lord to land­ lord still left him with great prestige and influence in local gov­ ernment. The rice economy of Japan seems to have lent itself more easily to exact measurement of feudal incomes. The vassal was to have so many measures of rice, not so many villages, or ploughlands, or acres. Such a system would work only if there were careful and re­ peated surveys of rice production, surveys which were far more thorough than Domesday Book and a great deal more common. Such surveys could be made only by higher authority, and as evi­ dences of this authority they immediately reduced the autonomy of the local fief-holder. More important, the Japanese system made it easy to break the ties between vassals and the land. If a vassal was to have only a fixed rice income, then it made little difference whether he took it directly from a village or the daimyo's store­ house. Thus it was possible to concentrate the majority of the feudal class in castle-towns and to keep close control over the minority

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

which still lived in the country. There was not much chance for an independent, self-sufficient squirearchy to develop under this sys­ tem. And just as the daimyo broke the ties between his vassals and the land, so the shogun weakened the ties between the daimyo and his province. If the daimyo had to spend half of his time and much of his income in Edo, he was scarcely a territorial lord. Finally, the concept and nature of authority in Japan differed tremendously from the European pattern. In Europe, the symbol of authority was the right to hold a court. The growing power of kings and princes in the later Middle Ages could be measured by the degree to which their courts extended their jurisdiction. The feu­ dal hierarchy was broken down through legal procedures; when the king's courts could protect minor vassals, the immediate superiors of minor vassals lost much of their authority. The first attempts to de­ fine sovereignty were bound to the idea of law: he is sovereign who can render final decisions without appeal in all lawsuits, or make law for the common welfare. It is true that there was an argument as to whether kings were bound by law, but it was a sign of true kingship to respect the law, whether it was binding or not. And, as a practical matter, it caused a considerable amount of inconvenience for kings when they did not respect the law, especially the law which protected the rights and possessions of the feudal class. The legal systems which had been built up in the thir­ teenth and fourteenth centuries were sufficiently complicated so that a man with wealth and status could be very annoying if he decided to defend his rights. A number of royal officials would have to conduct investigations, find witnesses, prepare briefs, argue about the meaning of documents, and hear appeals from preliminary decisions. It was not difficult for a determined man to keep a case going for ten or twenty years. As a last resort, European opinion condoned rebellion if the rebel could find any sort of legal justifica­ tion for his act. Of course, the king could usually win the lawsuit or suppress the rebellion if he made a determined effort, but he had neither the time, the resources, nor the trained personnel re­ quired to carry every case to a successful conclusion. Open or tacit compromise was often the only prudent solution. In short, the states of late medieval and early modern Europe were, to use the German phrase, law-states. Authority was based on law. The contrast with Japan is obvious. Authority in Japan was based on a social pattern which was, in many ways, simply an extension

FEUDALISM

of the family pattern. The authority of a father is not based on law; it grows out of his status as a father and the beliefs which his society holds about the rights and duties of a father. The Confucian theories, which dominated Japanese thinking about social rela­ tionships during the Tokugawa period, stressed the responsibil­ ity of the father for the family welfare, his complete authority to do anything necessary to provide for that welfare, and the duty of the family to give him unquestioned obedience. These theories also controlled the feudal relationship. There had been some familial elements in very early European feudalism: a Merovingian king could speak of his retainers as his "pueri"—his "boys." But the use of such phrases soon became rare; a twelfth-century vassal, no matter how lowly, would have felt deeply insulted if he had been called the "child" of his lord. In Japan, on the other hand, the filial relationship was the most highly honored of all. To be the "child," or an adopted member of the family of the lord, was highly desir­ able, even for great men. If the feudal relationship in Japan is thought of in terms of the family rather than in terms of legal obligations and privileges, then many of its unusual characteristics can be more easily understood. The feudal family lives together in a castle or a castle-town. The head of the family is bound to provide for his children, but he may do it in any way that seems good to him. He does not, for example, have to give them shares of his landed property. He may reward or punish his children as he pleases. A member of the family who objects to such acts is guilty of disrespect and impiety; he is sub­ verting the social order. Nothing in the religion, the mores, the po­ litical theories, or the habits of thought of the people justifies resistance. The problem of authority is reduced to its simplest terms: does the daimyo or the shogun have the physical power to enforce his orders P There were, in short, very real differences between late European feudalism and Tokugawa feudalism, differences in external circum­ stances, internal organization, and underlying concepts of society. These differences are great enough to explain why Tokugawa feu­ dalism lasted so long, and why, even when it began to weaken, Japan preserved an unbroken fagade of feudal institutions clear into the nineteenth century. From the thirteenth century on, western Europe had—and openly admitted that it had—a mixed political system. Nonfeudal institutions appeared, acquired legal status, and

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

took over increasingly wide areas of responsibility. Feudal institu­ tions gradually became less useful and less used, but they did not vanish completely. It is impossible to say when European feudalism ended; one could make a good argument for any century between 1300 and 1900. In Japan, apparently, there was nothing but feudalism until the Restoration and no feudalism at all after the Restoration. There was no attempt to push centralization beyond the stage reached under the early Tokugawa; no attempt to create parallel institutions which would penetrate and weaken the han. The daimyo, an autonomous but obedient prince, governed his province through his vassals, just as he had always done. This is, of course, a very misleading generalization. Recent work on Japanese history has made it increasingly difficult to believe that the old feudal relationships were the essential element of govern­ ment in the last century of the Tokugawa period. The bureaucratic tendencies which were strong even in sixteenth-century feudalism had developed to a point where they made the official feudal hier­ archy almost meaningless. Japan was actually governed by a class, or classes, of hereditary bureaucrats—a system not entirely unlike that which prevailed in the West at about the same time. Merchants and financiers had great, if unacknowledged, influence—again, not completely unlike the situation in some Western countries in the eighteenth century. There was even, at the end, a sort of Enlighten­ ment, which generated as much heat, if not as much light, as that of the West. What is surprising is not that Japanese feudalism was changing into another type of government, but that it was possible to conceal the changes behind an apparently unchanging facade. Here again, the peculiar nature of Japanese feudalism made it easier to absorb and camouflage change than had been the case in the West. As we have already seen, Japanese feudalism required a degree of manage­ ment and record-keeping which made bureaucratic growth seem natural. The samurai, divorced from the land, needing employment, furnished more than enough candidates for bureaucratic positions. There was no need, as there had been in the West, to recruit bureau­ crats from business and professional groups. Japan was still gov­ erned by the feudal class, even if it was using nonfeudal methods. The custom of assigning feudal revenues in rice, obligatory residence in Edo, and the heavy debts incurred by some daimyos had made merchants a necessary part of the politico-economic system from an

FEUDALISM

early period. There had been an emphasis on education—even if unenlightened—as soon as retainers became an administrative rather than a fighting class. Finally, the habit of deference to and respect for superiors reduced the impact of change. The daimyo might not actually govern, but the men who did govern did not try to displace him or undercut his prestige. The samurai might be bureaucrats rather than warriors, but they kept their status as feudal vassals. They could believe, with some justification, that they were obeyed as nobles rather than as officials. Altogether, a significant part of the transition to modern forms of government could take place within the framework of Japanese feudalism. The final problem is the one which was once posed by Professor Reischauer.1 Does the long Japanese experience of feudalism ex­ plain the ease with which Japan made the transition from an Ori­ ental to a Westernized society? It is certainly true that Japan mod­ ernized its government, its economy, and its educational system more rapidly and more successfully than any other non-European country. It is also true that Japan was the only non-European coun­ try in which feudalism had played as important a role as it had in the West. One could even go further, and say that in the West it was precisely the most feudalized areas—England, northern France, and the Low Countries—which took the lead in developing the modern state, modern science and technology, and modern methods of exchange and production. It looks as if a good case could be made for a connection between feudalism and receptivity to the ideas and institutions which are dominant in the world today. On further examination, however, the connection seems tenuous. In the first place, the West created its new ideas and institutions largely out of its own resources. This was especially true in the field of government, where the sovereign state of the early modern pe­ riod grew out of feudal courts and councils, not out of imitations of Byzantine or Moslem regimes. There were some attempts to imitate the Roman Empire (which was one of the sources of the Western tradition), but these attempts were superficial and unim­ portant. For all practical purposes, the western European countries had no model to imitate; they had to create their own. Japan, on the other hand, had the European model and felt that it had to imitate that model in order to survive. Thus the question is not whether 1 E. O. Reischauer, "Japanese Feudalism," in Feudalism in History, ed. Rushton Coulborn (Princeton, 1956), pp. 46-48.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

feudalism can inspire the development of new institutions (as it certainly did in England and France), but whether the fact that Japan had a feudal tradition made it easy for Japan to imitate insti­ tutions originally developed in Western countries which also had a feudal tradition. It is not difficult to find elements in Japanese feudalism which could be adapted to the needs of a modern state. The responsibility of the military class for government had created a large group of men who were technically vassals but actually bureaucrats. In fact, the transition from rear-vassal to bureaucrat went further in Japan and produced a larger number of potential public officials than it ever did in the West. These men had had at least as much formal education as their Western counterparts; many of them had also had practical administrative experience. The lord-vassal relationship, even if it had become somewhat formalized, had created habits of loyalty and obedience to the superior—habits which were probably stronger in Japan than in the West. The feudal hierarchy had been consolidated so that there was an unbroken chain of command running from the shogun through the daimyo to the village admin­ istrators. Men who had wealth and power also had responsibility, even if the responsibility was sometimes more apparent than real. But Japanese feudalism at least discouraged the growth of a class of wealthy men who simply enjoyed their wealth without perform­ ing public duties. In short, Japanese feudalism had produced both a centralized government (even if centralization was incomplete) and a bureaucracy. All that was needed was to put them to work on new tasks. The only trouble with this analysis is that many of the same things could have been said about China, a nonfeudal state. China had a large and literate bureaucracy, a tradition of public service, and a highly centralized government. Perhaps there were more bureaucrats or potential bureaucrats per square mile in Japan than in China, but mere numbers do not explain Japan's success in trans­ forming its government—in fact the large number of samurai was an embarrassment, not an asset. Chinese bureaucrats were probably somewhat more corrupt and somewhat less responsive to orders from the center than Japanese bureaucrats, but they were not hope­ lessly out of control. In fact, during their rise to greatness, most western European countries had more trouble with corruption and disobedience in their bureaucracies than did China. It could be

FEUDALISM

argued that if China had made the same determined effort to mod­ ernize its government that Japan did, the Chinese political struc­ ture could have stood the strain. Moreover, the underlying political theory of both countries (as far as one can speak of political theory at all in the Far East) was based on Confucian ethics. Confucianism had begun during a semifeudal period in Chinese history; perhaps for this reason it proved equally satisfactory as a code for justifying a feudally organized government in Japan and a nonfeudal government in China. The loyalties which held Japanese society together under the Tokugawa were not different from the loyalties which held Chinese society together under the Ch'ing dynasty: filial respect for the head of the family, the local authorities, and the supreme authority at the center. Japanese loyalties in the eighteenth century rested on a broader base than pure feudalism—which was just as well, since both early Japa­ nese and early European experience had shown that feudal loyalty by itself was a chancy thing. One can scarcely speak of feudal loy­ alty when the great majority of vassals had no personal contact with their lord. The daimyo was a symbol of authority, and loyalty went to the symbol rather than the man. As far as there was any element of feudalism left in Japanese thinking this should have made it more difficult for them than for the Chinese to think in terms of loyalty to an abstract ideal such as the state. In actual fact, there seems to have been little difference; both peoples needed a symbol—the em­ peror—to serve as a focus of loyalty during the nineteenth century. Perhaps the defects of Japanese feudalism were more important than its merits as forces favoring change. The extreme rigidity of the Japanese feudal system and the degree to which it preserved its hierarchical structure long after this structure was necessary are al­ most unprecedented. This is not to say that there was no social mobility in Tokugawa Japan, but there certainly was not a career open to the talented, even to members of the feudal class. The Chi­ nese examination system, with all its faults, at least held out the hope of a series of promotions to ambitious men. In Japan many samurai had no meaningful duties, and their situation was aggravated by demands that they relinquish some of their income. Even a samurai of the upper level could not be sure that he would ever get an ad­ ministrative post, and once he had it, he might be stuck with it for life. For educated, relatively prosperous men who were not mem­ bers of the feudal class, the prospects were even grimmer. In feudal

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Europe and nonfeudal China merchants were integrated into the ruling group; they had status and privileges. In Japan they re­ mained on the outer fringes of society. Thus it is likely that in Japan there was a larger group of talented but thwarted men than in China—men who felt that they could not make a place for them­ selves in the existing society and who therefore welcomed radical changes. But this is only a relative difference; there were malcon­ tents in China too; and, while they may have been relatively less numerous, they were not an insignificant group. Moreover, the great change in Japan was not entirely or even primarily the work of men with thwarted aspirations; it was welcomed by men who had a secure position in the pre-Restoration political structure. Another, and perhaps more significant, weakness in late Tokugawa feudalism was the fact that the central government had not developed institutions commensurate with the authority which it claimed. When the shogunate was strong, the autonomy of the han seemed illusory. Nevertheless, there was autonomy, in the sense that the Bakufu did not govern the han directly and that there were differences in the efficiency of provincial administration. Some han made better use of their economic resources, or were more successful in avoiding ruinous debts than others. When the shogunate weak­ ened, the differences among the han were accentuated. There was a certain amount of competition, and competition could lead to experi­ ments with new ideas and techniques. It was a han government, and not the Bakufu, which first bought significant amounts of foreign weapons. Here Japan had a clear advantage over China: it was easier to modernize (if only incompletely) the army of a province than the army of an empire. This leads us to the final weakness of Tokugawa feudalism, its failure to improve its military techniques. This is a common failing in feudal societies; Western knights also disliked the new weapons and new tactics which made their specialized training obsolete. But, as we have seen, the West had a mixed political system from the thirteenth century on, and this mixture was reflected in military organization by the growing use of mercenaries to replace feudal levies. Mercenaries, on the whole, welcomed new weapons and new tactics which increased their market value. In Japan mercenaries were unimportant; the army raised by the Bakufu in its last struggle was a feudal army, fighting with the weapons and tactics of the seventeenth century. On the other hand, the feudal tradition did

FEUDALISM

emphasize military strength, and there were probably more mem­ bers of the ruling class in Japan than in China who felt the need to modernize their armies. Although the Tokugawa period was actually a rather peaceful age, the emphasis on military virtues was never forgotten. The de­ scendants of the old feudal class still liked to think of themselves as warriors, even if they did little fighting. Tradition recorded that drastic steps had been taken in the past to ensure, by military action, the unity and security of Japan. Thus when Japan's security seemed threatened in the nineteenth century there were precedents for tak­ ing drastic steps. It is true—though hardly a matter for rejoicing— that modernization or Westernization has often meant primarily the acquisition of modern weapons, and that military or militaristic governments have naturally been quick to see the advantages of this type of innovation. But modern weapons cannot be used effectively or sustained indefinitely without modernizing the administration, the economy, and the educational system—something which not all militarily-minded governments have had the wit to see. Moreover, the priority of modernizing the armed forces is not absolute; some countries have been more interested in the prospect of solving economic problems. In any case, modernization—military or eco­ nomic—requires a readiness to modify many aspects of the social structure, and a feudal tradition does not necessarily create such a state of mind. The desire to strengthen the armed forces was a pow­ erful influence for change in Japan, but it had to be supported by a general receptivity to a host of other new ideas. This receptivity may be explained, in part, by a Japanese tradition older than the feudal tradition, the tradition of borrowing from the West—not the far West of Europe, but the near West of China. Like all borrowers, the Japanese had ambivalent feelings about their de­ pendence on outsiders; some of them sought to minimize Chinese influence while others came rather close to the slogan of "equalling and surpassing the [Chinese] West." But the fact of borrowing could not be denied; it was apparent in every aspect of Japanese life. Nor could it be said that the borrowing had been harmful: Japanese culture had been enriched but traditional Japanese virtues had been preserved. If Japan had gained by adopting and adapting certain elements of Chinese civilization, it was at least possible that Japan could gain by imitating Europe. China, on the contrary, had been much less affected by outside

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

influences. The one clear case was Buddhism, and that was ancient history, and in many ways unhappy history. The Chinese believed, on the whole rightly, that they had created their own civilization without assistance from any other people. Their civilization was the only real civilization; it had absorbed the barbarians who entered China and it had spread to the barbarians who were neighbors of China. Traditionally other people imitated the Chinese; the Chinese did not borrow from other people. This psychological block was much weaker in Japan. It did exist, however, and certainly there were elements of social autarchy in the Japanese feudal tradition. Feudalism was what distinguished Japan from its neighbors; feudalism best expressed the values which were peculiar to Japan. On the other hand, members of the feudal classes were among the first to realize the need for modernization; the feudal group as a whole was not unalterably opposed to change. Feudalism had created some of the institutions and some of the ideals which speeded Japan's transition to a modern state. But a factor of at least equal weight was Japan's ancient experience of borrowing from the dominant civilization in its world.

9. The Crusade Against Aragon*

O

CTOBER 1285: a half-starved French army plods through the passes of the eastern Pyrenees, lashed by the first rains of autumn, harassed by the last raids of its victorious opponent, the king of Aragon. Ahead lies Perpignan—not yet French, but at least the possession of an ally of France. Perpignan is food, shelter, safety for most of the army. But not for the commander, the soldier of God and the pope, Philip III of France. Sick at heart over the failure of his crusade against Aragon, sick in body ever since the retreat began, Perpignan for him is the last stage of the earthly pilgrimage, the place where he can die quietly, decently, and piously, as befits a prince of his house. There the end comes on 5 October—Philip the Bold has died on crusade, as did his father and grandfather before him. As an episode in military history the crusade of 1285 is scarcely worth noticing. It produced no great battles, no innovations in strat­ egy or tactics, no significant alteration of frontiers. The whole cam­ paign could be summed up in a slightly modified version of the old nursery rhyme: The king of France, with about eight thousand men, Marched into Spain, and then marched out again. But as a milepost in the decline of the leadership of the church the crusade against Aragon deserves careful study. For Philip III was followed by Philip IV—Philip the Fair—and under the new king there was a sharp change in French policy. It is probable that Philip the Fair had opposed his father's decision to attack Aragon.1 Cer­ tainly the failure of the crusade left him with no high opinion of the wisdom of papal policy or of its advantages for France. During his reign he showed little interest in supporting papal diplomacy; instead he devoted himself to increasing the power and lands of the * First published in Speculum, xxvm (1953), 102-113. is the belief of the Catalan chroniclers, Desclot (ch. 64) and Muntaner (chs. 103, 121). C. V. Langlois, Le regne de Philippe III Ie Hardi (Paris, 1887), p. 146, accepts their statement. Unfortunately, neither chronicler is very trustworthy on such matters. It is true that young Philip wanted to exchange secret messages with Peter during the war, cf. Isidoro Carini, Gli archivi e Ie hiblioteche di Spagna (Palermo, 1884), 11, 59, but there is no information about his reasons for the proposal. 1 This

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

French monarchy. Thus 1285 marks the end of a period in which the papacy could count on an almost automatic response of the French royal family to an appeal for help and therefore the end of the crusade as a regular and reliable instrument of papal policy. In this sense the crusade against Aragon is far more significant than the crusade of 1270 against Tunis, for it was only when French kings refused to go on crusades of any kind that the crusade became a secondary factor in papal diplomacy. Moreover, when Philip the Fair lost interest in crusades he also lost interest in the Mediter­ ranean and concentrated his efforts on expansion to the north and east. This was a wise decision from the French point of view, but it weakened the political position of the papacy. A French army in the Mediterranean was almost always helpful to the papacy; its mere propinquity discouraged enemies of the church. A French army in Flanders, Lorraine, or Lyons was seldom helpful, and might be posi­ tively harmful in interfering with papal plans for the Empire. In short, the alliance between the Capetians and the papacy, which had been the dominant fact in European politics during most of the thirteenth century, was seriously weakened in the years after 1285. Deprived of the steady support of the French king, the pope was in poor position to combat the rising tide of secularism and indifference. The crusade against Aragon was a logical, if unfortunate, result of policies pursued by both the French and the papal governments during the middle years of the thirteenth century. The popes had been terribly frightened by their long and difficult struggle with Frederick II; they were determined that no heir of the great Hohenstaufen should ever hold a position which might make possible a revival of the family claims to dominate Italy. Even an illegitimate Hohenstaufen seemed dangerous; hence the persistent effort to find an English or a French prince who would drive Manfred from the throne of Sicily. Saint Louis had been slow to accept this policy, but once he had allowed Charles of Anjou to undertake the conquest of Sicily he gave him loyal support. Philip III was even more con­ vinced that it was both right and profitable to work in close alliance with Charles of Anjou. Charles was a bold and skillful politician, but he became so in­ volved in international intrigues that he neglected internal affairs. Angevin government had never been popular in the island of Sicily and there is good evidence to show that it became arbitrary and

CRUSADES

oppressive. The chroniclers Malaspina and Desclot give long lists of Sicilian grievances2 which contain some exaggerations but which have a solid basis in fact. Both Martin IV and Honorius IV recog­ nized that there was need for improvement in Sicilian government and encouraged the Angevins to draw up a list of reforms which was promulgated in 1285.3 Many items in this list, especially those dealing with financial abuses, read as if they were direct answers to the complaints reported by the chroniclers. Sicilian discontent gave a tempting opportunity to every enemy of the House of Anjou, and especially to Peter III of Aragon, who had a claim to the king­ dom through his wife Constance, the daughter of Manfred. Peter was ambitious, had a powerful navy, and had many potential allies in both north and south Italy. He had probably planned an attack on Sicily ever since he became king and in 1281 he was making definite preparations for the assault.4 He had certainly made contact with some of the leaders of the discontented Sicilians before 1282, but the actual uprising on Easter Monday of that year seems to have taken him and his friends by surprise.5 Supporters of the Angevins were killed or driven out of the island, but the Sicilians at first attempted to set up a league of free cities rather than call in a new foreign ruler. In the circumstances, Peter had to act with great caution. He con­ tinued his military preparations, but insisted that they were for a crusade against the Moslems of North Africa. Philip of France was suspicious and asked for explanations, but he gained little satisfac­ tion. Peter said only that he was preparing to go "ou servise Dieu" 2 Malaspina, bk. vin, chs. 3, 8; Desclot, ch. 16; a good discussion of Sicilian grievances is given by Otto Cartellieri, Peter von Aragon und die sizilianische Vesper (Heidelberg, Heidelberger Abhandlungen, no. 7, 1904), pp. 98-138. 3 Les registres d'Honorius IV, ed. Maurice Prou (Paris, 1888), no. 96. 4Michele Amari, La guerra del Vespro Siciliano, 9th ed. (Milan, 1886), HI, 295, letters of Peter to the king of Castile and his son, asking aid "super recuperacione regni Sicilie," 18 January 1282. The letters also show that Peter had been corresponding with "magnatum Italie ac regni Sicilie." Cf. Cartellieri, Peter von Aragon, pp. 11-28, 78-79, 87-92. 5 Here I follow Cartellieri, Peter von Aragon, pp. 142-144. The pope, and most of the contemporary chroniclers, believed that Peter was directly responsi­ ble for the Sicilian Vespers, but the behavior of both Peter and the Sicilians makes this doubtful. That Peter wanted a rebellion is certain, but a later date would have been better for him, since his fleet was not yet ready and Charles of Anjou might have been fighting in Greece by summer.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

and the French ambassadors reported, rather naively, that they did not think that he would attack Sicily.6 The Aragonese army went to North Africa, where it skirmished fitfully with the Moslems while the king waited for news from Sicily. Meanwhile Charles of Anjou staged a dangerous counterattack and convinced the Sicilians that they could not defend themselves without outside help. Peter's friends could now urge his claims with more hope of success, and eventually an embassy was sent to ask his aid. Peter decided to take the risk, sailed for Sicily at the end of August, and was immediately recognized as king by the leaders of the rebellion. Pope Martin IV was deeply disturbed by these events, perhaps more disturbed than he should have been. As long as Charles of Anjou held the mainland and had an army in being, the pope's position was not seriously threatened by a rising in Sicily. Even if Peter had gained Naples the peril would not have been too great, for Peter was no Hohenstaufen, either by blood or by character. But the affair was humiliating and it touched old sores. The popes had worked hard to make Sicily a real vassal kingdom; it made Martin look ridiculous when he could not protect a fief of the church from attack. The popes had staked their prestige on the destruction of the Hohenstaufen; even an indirect revival of Hohenstaufen claims seemed to challenge the judgment of the church and of God. The kings of Sicily had threatened the states of the church ever since the Norman Conquest; now that a reasonably friendly monarch held the Sicilian throne the pope did not wish to jeopardize a hard-won success. Martin did not hesitate. He condemned the rebels and all their helpers even before Peter landed in Sicily; he excommunicated Peter and interdicted Sicily in November 1282; he deprived Peter of Aragon, released his subjects from obedience, and exposed the kingdom to occupation by any zealous Catholic on 21 March 1283.7 The last act was significant; ever since the Albigensian wars the "exposition" of lands of heretical or disobedient princes had been the prelude to crusades against them.® Martin had already given crusading indulgences to all who died fighting Peter;9 he now sent 6 Langlois,

Philippe III, pieces justificatives, no. xx. Les registres de Martin IV, eds. Felix Olivier-Martin et al. (Paris, 19121913), nos. 270, 276, 310. 8 Hippolyte Pissard, La guerre sainte en pays chretien (Paris, 1912), pp. 7

37-4°· 9 Reg.

Martin IV, no. 301.

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Cardinal Jean Cholet to France to secure the support of Philip III for an organized crusade against Aragon.10 There was more hesitation at the French court than there had been in the papal curia. It is true that Philip had given Peter a formal warning before he sailed and had told him that an attack on Sicily would be considered an attack on France.11 But in spite of this threat Philip did not declare war when Peter landed in Sicily,12 and even when the pope began urging a crusade he waited a year before committing himself. The delay was caused partly by Philip's desire to secure maximum gains for his family at minimum cost, partly by strong opposition to the whole scheme from influ­ ential counselors. Martin offered Aragon to a younger son of Philip III in August 1283, but the French court was not yet ready to accept and quibbled over the wording of the grant.18 Actually the pope had offered rather favorable terms—much better than those that Charles of Anjou had accepted for Sicily—and changes which were finally made were almost purely verbal.14 A more valid reason for delay was the desire to obtain as much money as possible from the church. Some old accounts had to be cleared up, and the question of contributions from non-French provinces settled.15 The pope at first offered only a three-year tenth of the revenues of the French clergy; in 1284 Philip persuaded him to extend the grant to four years, and to include many dioceses of the old Middle Kingdom in the levy.16 Philip also needed time to overcome the objections of members of his council to an attack on Aragon. Young Philip, the 10

Ibid., nos. 451, 455. Amari, La guerra, 111, 307-308. 12Langlois, Philippe 111, p. 143; Philip agreed to aid Charles even before the legate came to France, but sending troops to Naples may have discharged this obligation. Carini, Gli archivi . . . di Spagna, 11, 140^., the Aragonese government feared an attack in 1283, strengthened fortifications, and called out troops, but nothing happened. 13 Reg. Martin IV, no. 455; Langlois, Philippe III, pp. 147-149. 14 Reg. Martin IV, no. 580. Langlois attaches more importance to the changes. 15 Langlois, Philippe III, pieces justificatives, no. xxvi. Adolf Gottlob, Die papstlichen Kreuzzugssteuern des /3. ]ahrhunderts (Heiligenstadt, 1892), pp. 124-129. la Reg. Martin IV, nos. 457, 583, 585. The inclusion of dioceses of the Em­ pire (Liege, Metz, Toul, Verdun, Besancon, Lyons, Vienne, Embrun, and Tarentaise) annoyed King Rudolf, but he obtained no satisfaction from either Martin or Philip, cf. Fritz Kern, Die Anjange der jranzdsischen Ausdehnungspoliti\ (Tiibingen, 1910), pp. 83-85. 11

Ill

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

heir to the throne, is said to have been hostile to the project," but the opposition of a boy of sixteen was probably less important than that of the highly respected abbot of St. Denis. Mathew of Vendome had been the principal minister of Philip III throughout the reign; he had served as regent in 1270 and was to hold the same position in 1285,18 anc^ be clearly did not like the proposed crusade. Even after Philip had made his agreement with the pope and started to raise his army Mathew wrote to Edward I imploring him to work for a peaceful solution of the Sicilian affair.19 The abbot of St. Denis was not alone in his stand, and there was division of opinion up to the final council,20 but the forces on the other side were stronger. Philip III was loyal to his Angevin relatives and the traditional alliance with the papacy; he had shown great interest in the affairs of Spain throughout his reign and had worked steadily to strengthen his position along the Pyrenees. He was probably quite ready to be persuaded and the opposition of many of his advisers was overcome by strong papal pressure.21 The royal council met on 20 February 1284, and after two days of debate advised Philip to accept the king­ dom of Aragon for his second son, Charles.22 It took only a year to prepare the expedition—a remarkably short time compared to that required for earlier crusades. It is true that Philip had a relatively short distance to go and that he raised rather a small army. On the other hand, he had to work intensively to acquire a force of fighting ships,23 since Peter had a strong fleet in the western Mediterranean. He also followed his father's example and stockpiled provisions for his army well in advance of the start of the expedition.24 As always, the first and greatest problem was one of finance. The tenth to be paid by the clergy would meet most of the expenses in the long run, but since it was spread over four years it produced relatively little cash in 1284. Following the prece­ dent of Saint Louis, Philip asked for an aid for knighting his eldest 17

Above, note 1. Philippe 111, p. 41. 19 Langlois, Philippe 111, pieces justificatives, no. xxvu. 20 Reg. Martin IV, no. 580. 21 Langlois, Philippe III, p. 149. 22 Reg. Martin IV, no. 580. 23 Langlois, Philippe 111, p. 154. Iacobi Aurei Annales Ianuenses, M.G.H., Scriptores, xviii, 314; ILF., xxi, 516. 24Langlois, Philippe 111, p. 154. 18Langlois,

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son,25 demanded gifts from the towns,26 and took army aid (auxilium exercitus) from ecclesiastical establishments.27 This was little better, as far as securing ready money was concerned, for many in­ dividuals and communities protested that they were exempt from these levies and succeeded in postponing payment by going to the courts.28 Even if everyone had paid without protest it would not have been enough; too many people and too many districts were beyond the reach of these feudal or semifeudal aids. Philip had to borrow to meet current expenses and he did so on a large scale by sending agents to every part of the country.29 Apparently the orders were to approach wealthy subjects and communities rather than professional moneylenders—a technique which kept down interest charges, but also diminished the amounts which could be borrowed. The largest single loan of which there is a record was one of 10,000 l.t. from Bruges,30 but other districts yielded respectable to­ tals—16,145 I·1· from the people of Champagne, 13,050 l.t. from the people of Touraine, and so on.31 If all provinces lent at the same rate, Philip should have received something over 150,000 l.t., quite enough to meet his preliminary expenses. As soon as the clerical tenth began coming in his resources were doubled and there should have been no shortage of money in the early months of 1285. In spite of his relatively good financial position, Philip did not raise a very large army. How much this was due to choice and how 25 Olim, 11, 245, 249; Joseph Petit, Essai de restitution des plus anciens memoriaux de la Chambre des Comptes (Paris, 1899), p. 132; H.L., x, preuves 192, 248. 28 Leon Menard, Histoire civile, ecclesiastique et litteraire de la ville de Nismes .. . (Paris, 1744-1758), 1, preuves 105; Actes et comptes de la commune de Provins, eds. Maurice Prou and Jules d'Auriac (Provins, 1933), p. 73; H.F., XXII, 757. 27 Leopold Delisle, Essai de restitution d'un volume des Olim, in Actes du Parlement de Paris, ed. Edgard Boutaric (Paris, 1863-1867), 1, nos. 604, 676; Langlois, Philippe III, p. 451. 28 Olim, 11, 245, 249; Menard, Histoire de Nismes, 1, preuves 105; H.L., x, preuves 192. 2aH.F., xxii, 648, 651, 659, 661, 666-670, 757; B.N., ms. lat. 17010, fol. 12; A.N., K 496, no. 4, m. 14. 30Frantz Funck-Brentano, Philippe Ie Bel en Flandre (Paris, 1897), p. 100. 31 Documents relatifs au comte de Champagne et de Brie, 11J2-1361, ed. Auguste Longnon (Paris: Documents inedits . . . , 1901-1914), HI, 33; H.F., XXII, 757.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

much to necessity, is hard to say. Philip had some reason to believe that his opponent could not put many troops in the field and that a comparatively small force could conquer Aragon. After all, some of the best Aragonese soldiers were in Sicily, and Peter was not at all sure of the loyalty of the nobles of his home kingdom. They had taken advantage of his preoccupation with Sicily to demand a con­ firmation and an extension of their privileges, and Peter had granted their requests with bad grace.32 In 1285 they were still seeking assur­ ances that he would keep his word, and Philip may have hoped that they would not oppose a crusading army with any great enthusiasm. He was at least sure of the help of the king of Majorca, who had quarreled with his brother Peter, and this meant that he could cross Roussillon unopposed. These political reasons for keeping the army small were reinforced by practical difficulties. Philip had to spend a large sum on hiring galleys to protect his flank during the march into Catalonia—almost one quarter of the total cost of the crusade was for naval support.33 Few French nobles showed much enthusi­ asm for the crusade; the king had to pay and supply out of his own resources the greater part of the army.34 A comparison with the crusade of Saint Louis against Egypt (which was popular with the nobility) shows how seriously this apathy limited the size of the army. Saint Louis certainly had as large an army in Egypt as Philip had in Aragon; probably larger if the forces from the crusading states are included. His transportation expenses were greater, and he remained overseas for six years (though with sharply reduced forces after he left Egypt). Yet his total expenses were only 1,537,570 l.t., while the short crusade against Aragon cost 1,228,666 l.t.35 Obvi­ ously, many of Saint Louis' barons paid their own way, at least as 32H.

J. Chaytor, A History of Aragon and Catalonia (London, 1933), pp. 104-106; Antonio Ballesteros y Beretta, Historia de Espana (Barcelona, 19191941), in, 192-193; 2nd ed. (1948-1964), πι, 2435. 33 H.F., xxi, 516; 260,000 l.t. out of a total expense of 1,228,000 l.t. Si H.F., xxii, 481, 482, 485, the dukes of Burgundy and Brabant, the counts of Foix, Burgundy, La Marche, and Dammartin all received large sums from the king "ad convenciones Aragone." If such men took money from the king, there can have been few in the army who served entirely at their own expense. 35 HJF., xxi, 515, 516. Both estimates may have been exaggerated to impress the church with the king's need for new grants of tenths, but the fact that the government felt that it could claim that the crusade of 1285 was almost as cosdy as the crusade against Egypt is in itself significant.

CRUSADES

far as they could, while few of Philip's nobles contributed much to the costs of the crusade. We can make a rough guess as to the size of Philip's army, thanks to the financial documents which have survived. There is, first of all, a general summary of crusade expenses, then a partial list of supplies furnished members of the army, and finally a set of wax tablets listing the day-by-day payments made by the king's agents.36 If we combine the data from the last two documents we find the names of about 400 men of baronial or knightly rank who ac­ companied the king.37 It is certain, however, that many of the men named in the lists, such as the dukes of Brabant and Burgundy, must have been followed by other knights and retainers whose names do not appear. The list of supplies makes a fairly clear dis­ tinction between the leaders of companies, whose names are given in order of dignity—dukes, counts, viscounts, barons—and simple knights, who are arranged in roughly alphabetical order.38 A rough guess as to the size of these contingents can be made by comparing the total amount of food and money given a great lord, such as the duke of Brabant, with that given to an ordinary knight. On this basis, the maximum number of barons, knights, and mounted re­ tainers comes to about 1,500 men. This was the most important part of the army, the only part which would be effective for sus­ tained offensive operations. There were, in addition, groups of men-at-arms, engineers, and foot soldiers, useful largely for sieges, garrison duty, and defensive operations. It is difficult to guess their numbers, since the only figure given by the sources is a lump sum of 243,720 l.t. paid to men not of knightly rank.39 It is not at all certain that this figure is accurate, since it occurs in a summary of crusade expenses which was prob­ ably used to impress the pope with the king's past sacrifices and need for financial assistance from the church. Even if not exagse H.F.,

xxi, 516; xxii, 6735., 474#. This figure is only approximate, since the list of supplies lacks its first section, and the wax tablets are not always legible and do not always indicate rank. Mr. Gene Brucker very kindly made an independent count for me. He estimates a maximum of 1,200 knights. He also checked the estimates given in the next paragraph. 38 The break comes at the foot of p. 704; the list is more or less alphabetical from this point on. 39 H.F., xxi, 516. 37

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

gerated, it may include expenses not connected with the main army of I285. At least one item in the summary (17,806 l.t. "pour l' oust de Rossillon") deals with another campaign, and it is likely that the 4°,378 l.t. paid to the men of the senechaussees of Carcassonne and Toulouse went to troops called up late in I285 to guard the passes when the main army retreated. 4 0 Moreover, the figure, given by the summary, of 310,000 l.t. as payments to the knights seems much too high when checked against the other records. The king simply was not spending money at this rate in I285; payments to the barons and knights average only about 10,000 l.t. a month. Granted that no king ever paid his soldiers promptly, the discrepancy is still great. It suggests that later expenses, such as the cost of guarding the frontier until peace was made, were included in the final summary. However, if we assume for the moment that the summary is accurate and applies only to I285, we still do not find too large an army. The average period of service was probably about 200 dayslate April to early November-and the total sum, spent over this period at tlle usual rates, would pay for an army of about 3,000 knights, 2,000 men-at-arms, and 10,000 infantry, or 15,000 in all. Since the figure for the knights is just twice that which can be deduced from other sources it suggests that all the estimates should be cut in half to allow for exaggeration, fraud, and the inclusion of later operations. This would give an army of 7,500 to 8,000 men, lower than Lot's estimate of I2,000/1 but in the same range. Certainly Philip's strategy indicates that he had too few men to risk dividing his army, even when he might have gained great advantages by doing so. The campaign in Aragon has been well described by Langlois, Lecoy de la Marche, and Lot/ 2 and only a few points need discussion here. Philip entered Roussillon in May, but was delayed for three weeks at the line of the Pyrenees, where Peter had occupied the main passes. Philip succeeded in turning the position by followHL., x, preuves 195. Ferdinand Lot, L'art militaire et les armees au moyen age (Paris, 1946), I, 240. 42 Langlois, Philippe III, pp. 154-165; Albert Lecoy de la Marche, "L'expedition de Philippe Ie Hardi en Catalogne," Revue des questions historiques, XLIX (1891), 63-127; Lot, L'at'! mtlitaire, I, 240-247. In spite of some mistakes, corrected by Lecoy de la Marche, Langlois' account is the best. Lecoy gives the most accurate dates, but takes too seriously the romantic stories of the Catalan chroniclers. Lot merely summarizes the earlier accounts. 40 41

116

CRUSADES

ing a secondary track across the mountains, which forced Peter to withdraw. The French army advanced without serious opposition down the east coast until they reached the strongly fortified town of Gerona on 27 June. Here they sat down for a siege which lasted all summer. There was relatively little fighting during the siege, but the French troops suffered from all the diseases which inevitably affiicted a medieval army during a Mediterranean summer. By August they were so weak that Peter could hope to cut off their supplies. Philip, quite rightly, was using sea transport as far as he could, but Gerona was an inland town and his ships had to unload at Rosas, over twenty miles away. The Aragonese first attempted to cut the road from Rosas to the camp, but were beaten off by a strong French detachment. 43 Then Peter began to use his naval strength. Ships from Barcelona defeated and captured most of a small French squadron at Rosas. Meanwhile the great admiral, Roger de Loria, was approaching the Spanish coast from Sicily with the main Aragonese fleet. He caught the remaining ships in French service on 4 September and annihilated them as a fighting force. This was the decisive episode in the war; the surrender of Gerona, which fell on 7 September, had no importance. Cut off from supplies by sea, with bad weather approaching and his army already reduced by illness, Philip could not hope to maintain his position against an enemy who was gaining strength and confidence. After making the futile gesture of garrisoning Gerona, he began his retreat on I3 September, and succeeded in withdrawing most of his troops safely. The main army left Catalonia at the end of September; the surrender of the garrison of Gerona on I2 October removed the last Frenchmen from Aragonese soil. Given the size of his army and the nature of the country, Philip's plan of campaign was sound, if not brilliant. The only possibility of success was to push deeply into Aragonese territory, hoping that this would bring many of the local nobles into the French camp and so anger Peter that he would risk a pitched battle. But Peter refused to be baited, and crusade propaganda had little effect on the nobles of Aragon. A few came over or hinted that they might come over43 The French and the Catalan chroniclers give absolutely contradictory accounts of this battle; each exaggerates the damage done to the opponent. Since the French were able to continue the siege it seems clear that they suffered no serious losses and that Peter failed in his effort to cut off their supplies, d. Langlois, Philippe Ill, pp. 160 -1 6 1.

117

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there is an item of 81,380 l.t. for gifts to knights of Aragon in the account of crusade expenses44—but while Peter was not popular the French were loved even less, and there were no significant defections to the invader. The problem of supply forced the French to keep near the coast, and probably explains the stubbornness with which the siege of Gerona was pressed. Since Philip was relying largely on communications by sea he might have bypassed Gerona and pushed straight on toward Barcelona, but such an act would have been com­ pletely contrary to French tradition. No French king of the thir­ teenth century—and very few Frenchmen of any sort—fully under­ stood the advantages and limitations of sea power. Just as the French chroniclers of Saint Louis fail to see any connection between his loss of control of the Nile and his retreat from Mansura, so the semi­ official chroniclers of Philip the Bold see no connection between the naval defeats and the retreat from Gerona.45 In any case, Philip had good reason for not entrusting the safety of his entire army to naval support. The ships were not his, the Provengal or Italian crews were probably not entirely reliable, and it was advisable to keep open a line of communication by land to guard against the possibility of naval defeat or desertion. If this necessity be admitted, then it was essential to take Gerona to secure a line of supply—or retreat—by land. Philip might be criticized for not hiring more ships—though this would have been difficult with his limited resources—and, more justly, for not issuing strict orders that the fleet must be kept to­ gether. It is doubtful, however, if any act of Philip's could have averted defeat at sea. The fact is that a ruler with limited naval resources and mediocre understanding of naval problems was at­ tacking a ruler who had a large navy, the best admiral in the Med­ iterranean, and years of experience in using naval power to gain his objectives. Once Loria was free to seek the western Mediterranean the victory of Aragon was almost certain. ii H-F., xxi, 516. The most serious defections seem to have been among the clergy. Carini, Gli archivi . . . di Spagna, 11, 104, 108, 126, 128, at the end of the war Peter expelled most of the clergy of the diocese of Gerona and seized their property, but merely ordered an inquest on laymen who had had intelli­ gence with the enemy. 45 H.F., xx, 536-537, Guillaume de Nangis says the decision to retreat was made before the naval battle, and does not mention the arrival of Loria with the Sicilian fleet. Carini, Gli archivi . . . di Spagna, 11, 61, in letters to friendly kings announcing the repulse of the French, Peter stresses the importance of the naval action.

CRUSADES

Philip may have made some mistakes; it is hard to find any flaws in Peter's strategy. He saw correctly that his greatest danger was to risk a land battle; his forces were certainly inferior to the French in quality and probably in numbers, since the nobles of Aragon were sulking, and many men had to be used for garrison duties.48 When his strong defensive positions in the Pyrenees were turned he fell back rapidly, refusing to fight while the French were strong and he was weak. During the siege of Gerona he harassed the French but never risked his main army in an all-out attack. In medieval warfare an invading army which did not win a quick victory was almost sure to lose its initial impetus, but not all rulers of invaded countries had the self-control to wait until the enemy was deep in their territory. Peter struck at the right time and with his most effective weapon; his naval victories, won at slight cost, made the French position untenable. He might have pressed the retreating French army a little more vigorously, but once again a cautious pol­ icy was safest. There was no reason to risk a battle when he was gaining his main objective without one; the cornered French might have fought fiercely enough to have changed the outcome of the war. A victory could have been as bad as a defeat; French pride might have forced the new king into repeating the invasion to wipe out the shame of defeat. It was not to Peter's interest to do anything which might prolong the war with France; rather he needed all his resources for the decisive field of action, which was Sicily. From this point of view Peter's conduct of operations deserves the highest praise. With the loyalty of his own nobles uncertain, with many of his military resources committed to Sicily, he contained and pushed back a dangerous invasion at minimum cost. Aragon was stronger at the end of 1285 than at the beginning, while France was far weaker. The war did not end in 1285, but the lives of the men who caused it did. Charles of Sicily, Pope Martin, Philip of France, and Peter of Aragon were all dead by the end of the year. Their successors kept up a phantom war, as if to appease the uneasy ghosts of the old belligerents, but no one did any serious fighting along the Franco-Aragonese border. The new king of France, Philip the Fair, talked just enough about reviving the crusade to persuade Nicholas IV to renew the grant of a tenth from the French clergy for three 46 Carini, Gli archivi . . . di Spagna, 11, 98, 128, complaints that many of those summoned by Peter failed to come to the army.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

years,47 but Philip was thinking more of his financial position than of an invasion of Aragon. In fact, it was the Aragonese who threat­ ened invasion; Philip was somewhat worried by raids on Languedoc up to 1290.48 However, everyone was anxious to end the war if proper face-saving devices could be found. The complicated negotia­ tions by which an Aragonese prince was finally left in possession of the island of Sicily do not concern us here; from the French point of view the essential thing was to give Charles of Valois some com­ pensation for renouncing his claim to Aragon. This was accom­ plished when Charles II of Naples agreed to give the family fief of Anjou to Valois, and peace between France and Aragon fol­ lowed in 1295. The peace settlement freed Philip the Fair from his political difficulties, but it could not wipe out the memories of a bitter ex­ perience. Philip is one of those rulers who seems always to have been middle-aged; we should remember that he was a boy of seven­ teen when he succeeded his father. He must have suffered severe shocks during the summer and fall of 1285—the failure of the cru­ sade, the unexpected death of his father, the sudden assumption of responsibility. For five more years he was constantly reminded of these grim events. He had to obtain a renewed grant of tenths from Nicholas IV to pay off his war debts;49 he had to garrison Languedoc against threatened Aragonese attacks;50 he had to worry over truces and treaties. The impact of these experiences on Philip's mind and character cannot be measured, but neither can it be ignored. It is fair to ask if Philip would have been so suspicious of papal leader­ ship, so opposed to clerical interference in political matters, so de­ termined to strengthen the monarchy at all costs if the crusade against Aragon had never taken place. This is not all supposition; there is concrete evidence to support 47 Les registres de Nicholas IV, ed. Ernest Langlois (Paris, 1886-1891), 1, nos. 613, 615. The pope was to receive 200,000 l.t. of this tenth. H.F., xxi, 531, Nicholas collected at least 163,100 l.t. of this sum. Georges Digard, Philippe Ie Bel et Ie Saint Siege (Paris, 1936), 1, 58-60, takes this talk of a renewal of the crusade more seriously. is H-L., ix, 124, 132, 140; H.L., x, preuves 230, 237, 242-243. 49 H.F., xxi, 530, French officials claimed that the tenths did not pay the full cost of the war; A.N., K 496, no. 4, m. 14, loans for the war were repaid in the south only in 1293-1294; B.N., ms. lat. 17010, fol. 12, one loan for the war was still unpaid in 1306. 50 H.L., x, preuves 237, 242-243, 248.

CRUSADES

the hypothesis. As we have seen, Philip regularly avoided any com­ mitments to crusades and reversed the policy of his father and grand­ father by withdrawing almost completely from the Mediterranean. He was much more willing than his predecessors to allow royal officials to interfere with the temporal power of the French clergy. The contrast between the years just before and just after 1285 is striking; French prelates made few complaints in the last years of the reign of Philip the Bold; their protests became frequent in the first years of Philip the Fair.51 The new system of taxation adopted in the 1290's is obviously an attempt to remedy the financial weak­ nesses revealed in the preparations for the crusade against Aragon. Feudal aids, auxilium exercitus, and dona from the towns could not produce enough money to support extensive military operations; it was necessary to impose uniform taxes on all subjects.52 The clergy were not exempt from the new system, and Philip's efforts to secure clerical tenths without papal consent led to his first great conflict with Boniface VIII. During the struggle Philip's ministers insisted that the security of the French state took precedence over all other considerations and that no outside power, not even the pope, could interfere with measures which assured security. Thus, in order to correct the weaknesses demonstrated in 1285 Philip was willing to risk a serious breach with the papacy. It would be tempting to go even further; to say that Anagni is the logical consequence of Aragon. This is not the place to discuss the complicated story of the relations between Boniface VIII and Philip the Fair, but it has long been evident that the real issue was the king's desire for complete independence in political matters. Philip the Fair was no less pious than Philip the Bold or Saint 51 Reg.

Honorius IV, no. 604 (Chartres); Reg. Nicholas IV, nos. 736 (Chartres), 1175 (Lyons), 1387 (Chalons), 4296 (Poitiers, Chartres, Lyons), 7394-7395 (Tours); 6849, in rejecting Philip's request for a new grant of tenths in 1291 Nicholas said that churches of France "qui se a tuis officialibus gravibus injuriis affectas hactenus et affici cotidie conquerentes" were not dis­ posed to pay new tenths with equanimity. Digard, Philippe Ie Bel et Ie Saint Siege, i, 83-98, gives a good account of these disputes. His remark on p. 100 is worth noting: "Depuis l'etroite alliance amenee par Ies evenements de Sicile, c'etait la premiere fois que la cour de France se montrait impatiente de ces menagements envers Ie clerge . . . la premiere fois qu'elle pretendait pousser jusqu'a Ieur dernieres limites la revendication de ses droits." 52 J. R. Strayer and C. H. Taylor, Studies in Early French Taxation (Cam­ bridge, Mass., 1939), pp. 7-19.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Louis; he accepted the teachings of the church without question and set a high standard of morality and devoutness in his private life. He differed from his predecessors in rejecting the political leader­ ship of the papacy, in insisting that there was to be no interference with his foreign policy and no intervention in behalf of any of his subjects. It was this attitude which led to his final conflict with Boniface VIII and it is at least possible that the origin of the attitude may be found in Philip's experiences during the crusade against Aragon.

10. The Political Crusades of the Thirteenth Century* HAT is a political crusade?1 In one sense, of course, every crusade is political, for every crusade aims at conquest, at replacing the rule of unbelievers by that of Christians. But there is an obvious difference between a crusade against the Saracens—or even against the Albigensians—and a crusade against Manfred or Peter of Aragon. In the first case, political means are being used for a religious end—the redemption of the holy places or the destruc­ tion of heresy. The political consequences are not part of the pri­ mary plan of the church: Urban II is not working for the establish­ ment of a kingdom of Jerusalem, nor does Innocent III particularly desire the creation of a great principality for Simon of Montfort. The second type is doubly political in that neither means nor end has any direct connection with the spiritual objectives of the church. The popes may talk about punishing association with heretics and Saracens, but what they really want to do is to replace a disobedient king with one who will not defy their policies. The crusade against infidel and heretic is waged for the good of Christendom as the pope understands it. The crusade against Hohenstaufen and Ghibelline is waged to protect the states and the political authority of the papacy. The difference between the two kinds of crusades is not merely a modern refinement; it was apparent to men of the thirteenth century. The great canonist Henry of Segusio, usually known as Hostiensis, who had seen political crusades at close hand, states the distinction very clearly in his Summa.2 He reports that he found many men in Germany who argued that a crusade against Chris­ tians was neither just nor decent. These men admitted that crusades against infidels, or even heretics, were justified, but denied that there was any legal basis for a crusade against rulers who were merely disobedient to the pope. Hostiensis gives the official answer, that disobedience to the commands of Christ's vicar on earth is * Reprinted from A History of the Crusades, ed. K. M. Setton (Philadel­ phia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1958-1962), π (eds. R. L. Wolff and H. W. Hazard), 343-375. By permission also of The University of Wisconsin Press; (C) 1969 by the Regents of the University of Wisconsin. 1 For bibliography, see Appendix to this chapter. 2 Hostiensis, Summa aurea, HI, 34 (de voto), par. 19 (in quo casu).

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

almost sure to lead to heresy, and that attacks on the unity of the church are far more dangerous than loss of land, however holy, overseas. But he is not very optimistic about the effectiveness of these arguments and concludes that the overseas crusade will al­ ways seem more desirable to the "simple," even though the crusade against disobedient Christians is more reasonable. More reasonable, perhaps, but the church was not so rationalistic before the thirteenth century. There had been some talk of remission of sins for the soldiers who died fighting for Leo IX against the Normans, and Gregory VII had given full absolution to the op­ ponents of Henry IV, but in neither case was there the full equiv­ alent of the crusade indulgence. Moreover, churchmen of the twelfth century were less willing to use force than the eager leaders of the eleventh-century reform movement. Gratian is clearly em­ barrassed in discussing the problem of the use of force against heretics and excommunicated Christians. He concludes that war against such enemies of God and the church is just, but he does not equate it with the crusade in the Holy Land.3 Bernard of Clairvaux is even more doubtful. He admits that a defensive war against heretics may at times be necessary, but he prefers the meth­ ods of peaceful persuasion.4 On the whole, except for a half-hearted and unsuccessful attempt of Alexander III (1159-1181) to organize an army to attack the Albigensian heretics, the popes of the twelfth century were not inclined to use the crusade against inhabitants of Christian Europe. Even when Barbarossa drove Alexander from Italy and installed an antipope at Rome, there was no talk of a crusade against the emperor. Here, as in so many other cases, the great innovator was In­ nocent III (1198-1216). Determined to be obeyed, sure of his rights, he took without hesitation the momentous step of proclaiming a crusade in order to preserve what he regarded as the political rights of the church. In 1199, hardly a year after his election as pope, Innocent first threatened, and then actually ordered, a crusade against Markward of Anweiler and his adherents. The opponents of Markward wore the cross and received the same indulgences as those who fought in Palestine. It is true that Markward had touched 3

Decretum, secunda pars, causa xxm. See especially quest, v, c. 47, and quest.

VIII.

4

Pissard, La Guerre sainte, pp. 22-23.

CRUSADES

Innocent on two of his most sensitive spots. A loyal follower of Henry VI, he had attempted to keep control of the march of Ancona after the emperor's death, even though Innocent was de­ termined to add it to the states of the church. Driven from the mainland by Innocent, Markward took refuge in Sicily and began harassing the regency which Innocent had set up for his ward Frederick II. But why was Innocent so sensitive on these two points ? It took almost a decade to convince him that a crusade against the Albigensian heretics was the only solution to a difficult problem. Why did he react so promptly against Markward, who was far less dangerous to the faith? The only possible answer is that Innocent had become convinced, during the pontificate of his predecessor, that it was absolutely essential to the security and independence of the papacy to gain direct control over central Italy and to make the most of its feudal suzerainty over the kingdom of Sicily. These con­ victions became a settled part of papal policy, and were the cause of most of the political crusades of the thirteenth century. Innocent's action was more important as a precedent than as a military operation.5 A few hundred soldiers sent against Markward accomplished nothing. Innocent then turned to Gautier of Brienne, who had a claim to Taranto and Lecce, and Gautier enlisted a small group of Frenchmen who were given crusading privileges. But Gautier was far more interested in conquering his fief of Taranto than in fighting Innocent's enemies, and the affair dragged on until Markward removed the chief reason for a crusade by dying in 1202. Innocent had not been able to give much support to his Sicilian crusade. The great Fourth Crusade was being organized just at this time, and while Innocent once threatened to divert the whole army to Sicily, it is doubtful that he really meant it. Possibly some of Gautier's men had originally taken the vow to go overseas, and were allowed to substitute an expedition to Sicily, but we know nothing of these details. We can say that Innocent, unlike some of 5 If Innocent threatened a crusade against John at the height of the crisis over Stephen Langton (1212), then he was ready to follow and expand his own precedent soon after it was made. But it is not certain that he did so; see Sidney Painter, The Reign of King John (Baltimore, 1949), pp. 188-192, and C. R. Cheney, "The Alleged Deposition of King John," in Studies . . . Pre­ sented to F. M. Powic\e (Oxford, 1948). The writer's own belief is that Innocent went no further than to threaten deposition; certainly, no crusade was formally proclaimed.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

his successors, did not sacrifice an overseas crusade to an Italian war, and that he used only the barest minimum of the prestige and money of the church in his attack on Markward. And yet the precedent was there, and it was to be followed, even down to the excuses which Innocent gave to justify his action—the alliance of Markward with the Saracens of Sicily and the need to have Sicily in friendly hands if the Holy Land was to be saved. During the thirteenth century five popes in succession were to preach political crusades, crusades to preserve the independence of the states of the church and the dependence of Sicily on the papacy. There were good reasons for inaugurating this policy, as for every­ thing Innocent did, and yet one may wonder whether the welfare of the church was really so dependent on political arrangements in Italy. Peter Damian had given a warning at the beginning of papal involvement in Sicilian affairs which should have been remembered: if the martyr may not fight for his faith, how can the church fight for worldly and transitory goods?6 Two other precedents set by Innocent were important for the future of the political crusades. In the first place, that same year 1199 which saw the crusade against Markward also saw the first income tax imposed by the pope on the clergy. This tax was for the Holy Land, but it showed later popes how to raise money for the great political crusades against the Hohenstaufens. In the second place, the Albigensian Crusade, while not primarily political, had such important political results that in many ways it set a pattern for the purely political crusades of later years. In order to break the power of feudal rulers who were alleged to be either heretics or abettors of heresy, Innocent elaborated a brief sentence in the Decretum into a fully developed theory of what might be called ecclesiastical forfeiture. Gratian said that Catholics might justly take the property of heretics; Innocent claimed the right of "ex­ position": that is, if a ruler failed to repress heresy, and if his supe­ rior would not or could not force him to do his duty, then the pope might offer the territory to any zealous Catholic who would assume the obligation of conquering it.7 Such a theory allowed the pope to organize armies to carry out his policies in European countries, and 6

Rousset, Les Origines et Ies caracteres de la premiere croisade, p. 48. Pissard, La Guerre sainte, pp. 37-40; Decretum, secunda pars, causa xxm, quest, vii, c. 2. 7

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by the end of the century it was being used not only against heretics, but also against rulers who were merely disobedient. Thus Innocent III had worked out all the essential theories and practices of the political crusade. His successors showed, at first, some reluctance to follow his example. Honorius III (1216-1227), in spite of repeated provocation, never found it necessary to preach a holy war against his Italian opponents. The much more sharptempered Gregory IX (1227-1241) hesitated to use the full crusade vocabulary in his first struggle with Frederick II from 1228 to 1230. He was thoroughly angry with Frederick for disobeying papal orders, and he was beginning to worry about the strong position which the emperor was acquiring in Italy. Gregory accused Fred­ erick of grave crimes: he was oppressing the Sicilian church and making a mockery of the overseas crusade by iniquitous pacts with the Saracens. He was breaking his most solemn promises by in­ vading the papal states and trying to regain lands ceded to the church. And yet, in his denunciations and appeals for help, Gregory never used the word "crusade." Frederick was denounced unspar­ ingly; he was the enemy of the liberty of the church, he was guilty of lese-majeste against God. His subjects were released from their oath of fidelity and the pope suggested that he had deprived him­ self of the imperial dignity through his treaties with the Saracens. These were accusations which in the next decades invariably pre­ ceded a political crusade, but Gregory did not take the final step of offering the cross and overseas indulgences to those who fought against Frederick. Short of this, however, there was nothing which he did not do. He raised, in his own words, "three armies" to clear the papal states of imperialists and to invade the kingdom of Sicily. He asked for military aid from the Lombard League, Genoa, an Infante of Portugal, German magnates, and French bishops. His letters of 1229 to archbishop Robert of Lyons and bishop William of Paris on this subject are especially interesting; they show exactly where Gregory drew the line. They are ordered to bring the pope a suitable number of armed men, in virtue of obedience and for the remission of their sins and those of their soldiers. But while Gregory speaks of remission of sins in general terms, he avoids the precise language of Innocent III, who had promised opponents of Markward the

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same remission of sins as that granted to those who fought the Saracens in Palestine. Even in writing to the Lombards Gregory shows the same restraint; they are promised remission of sins but not a full crusade indulgence.8 This war for defense of the church, to stay within Gregory's terms, did set one important precedent. It was financed, as crusades were coming to be financed, by an income tax imposed on the clergy by the pope. The tax could not be collected in lands which remained under the emperor's power, but we know that the clergy of Sweden, Denmark, England, and northern Italy all paid a tenth of their revenues in 1229 to support the war. The case of the French clergy was a little different since they were already paying a fiveyear tenth, imposed in 1225 for support of the Albigensian Crusade. That crusade had ended in 1226, and Gregory asked that the final payments be sent to him for the war against Frederick. He was fairly successful in this request and received about 100,000 livres tournois from France. At the same time, he asked for financial aid from King Eric Laspe of Sweden, and the king and barons of England. Laymen had no enthusiasm for his war and it is doubtful that he received anything from these sources; the English refused his request with some indignation. Laymen might protest, but the clergy had to obey. A crusade tax had been used to support a papal war in Italy; a tax for a crusade against heretics in France had been diverted to raise an army to punish a rebellious emperor. The pope had discovered the way to finance his military operations, to pay for the secular support which he had to have in order to achieve his political objectives. For the first time, the papacy could afford a first-class war. The initial struggle with Frederick II, however, was not entirely successful. The papal armies started with real enthusiasm. Wearing the sign of the Keys of Peter (here again Gregory avoided crusade symbols) they stormed into the mainland territories of the kingdom of Sicily. Frederick's prompt return from Syria frightened them into retreat, and the papal army was getting decidedly the worst of the fighting when peace was arranged in 1230. Frederick was conciliatory and did not, at this time, desire an all-out war with the papacy. Gregory was still suspicious of the emperor, but he was running short of men and money. The bishops of Beauvais and 8 Les registres de Gregoire IX, ed. Lucien Auvray (Paris, 1896), 1, cols. 21 iff. (nos. 350, 351, 352).

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Clermont brought a few men from France, but it is doubtful that there was much response to Gregory's appeal in Germany, even though Frederick forgave some Germans for fighting against him. The Lombards were slow in sending help, and in the end gave only a few hundred men. The greater part of the papal army must have been composed of Italians from Tuscany and the papal states, men who were interested primarily in the affairs of their own communes, not in the pope's plans for the future of Italy. Gregory secured a rather favorable peace, considering his military position, and could at least console himself with the thought that prompt defense had saved the states of the church from Frederick's aggression. Gregory's behavior in 1228 and 1229 suggests that this notable canonist was not quite sure that it was proper to preach a crusade against a Christian ruler, however disobedient. But while Gregory as a canon lawyer may have had scruples, Gregory as a politician must have wondered if a promise of crusade indulgences would have produced a better response to his appeals for aid. At any rate, in his next struggle with Frederick, Gregory no longer tried to make a distinction between a crusade and a war for the defense of the church, and offered the same indulgences as those received by crusaders in Palestine. The real causes of the great papal-imperial war, which began in 1239, were Gregory's invincible distrust of Frederick, and Fred­ erick's attempts to extend his power to northern Italy. If Frederick had confined himself to Sicily, there would have been friction— since he treated the Sicilian clergy harshly—but perhaps no com­ plete rupture. But when Frederick tried to make good the claims of the empire to rule Lombardy, he created an exceedingly dan­ gerous political situation for the pope. As the emperor himself said, he needed control of Lombardy in order to bring German troops into Italy. With a continuing supply of German soldiers, paid for with the wealth of Sicily, Frederick could dominate the peninsula and wipe out the independence of the papal states. The pope would have had these suspicions in any case; Frederick did his best to confirm them by his singularly tactless behavior. He won a great victory over the Lombard towns in 1237, but instead of accepting a reasonable settlement he insisted on complete submission. He tried to stir up the Romans against the pope; he tried to acquire Sardinia (claimed by the papacy) as a kingdom for one of his illegitimate sons. Gregory could not let the Lombards be crushed; they were the

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one force in Italy which could fight the emperor on even terms. He could not believe Frederick's promises to respect the rights of the church, for Frederick had already demonstrated an unhealthy ability to wriggle out of the most solemn engagements. So on 20 March 1239 he excommunicated the emperor, and began a war which was to end only in 1268, with the execution of the last male Hohenstaufen. From a purely political viewpoint, Gregory was undoubtedly right. Frederick already had nearly absolute power in the south and he was close to gaining full control of the north. If he had been able to dominate Lombardy, it would have been difficult to preserve the independence of the states of the church, and even of the city of Rome. From the viewpoint of the church as a religious organization, the decision was more doubtful. In the first place, Frederick's per­ manent success was by no means assured. Many able men were to try to unite the turbulent cities of northern and central Italy; none of them ever succeeded in building up more than a temporary and unstable domination. Even if Frederick had been successful and had gained control of all papal territory, he would not have controlled the church. The popes of the twelfth century who had taken refuge in France in times of trouble had gained rather than lost prestige; as Bernard of Clairvaux said, it had not hurt them to exchange the City for the world. The kings of the west would not have tolerated an assertion of imperial authority over the church in the thirteenth century. By making war, Gregory preserved the states of the church and the independence of the Italian towns, but he involved the papacy in political operations which, in the end, weakened its influence. Gregory, as before, began hostilities with excommunication and the release of Frederick's subjects from the oath of fidelity. He took special pains to make sure that all western Europe learned of his act, and the reasons for it. Frederick, of course, circulated his ver­ sion of the quarrel, but neither side gained much support by this appeal to public opinion outside Italy. The first mention of a crusade seems to have come early in 1240,9 almost a year after the excom­ munication, when the emperor was threatening Rome. Gregory, like every thirteenth-century pope, was not sure of the loyalty of the Romans and tried to stir up their zeal for the church by a great 9 It

is possible that the crusade was first preached in Lombardy late in 1239; see Koster, Der Kreuzablass im Kampfe der Kurie mit Friedrich 11., p. 21.

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religious procession. At the end he showed them the holiest relics of the Roman church—the heads of the apostles Peter and Paul— and called on them to defend the liberty of the church against this "new Herod." Crosses were distributed among the multitude, and for a brief period the city was almost unanimous in its support of the pope and hostility to the emperor. The papal legate in Milan was permitted to preach a crusade in order to raise an army to support the papal cause in Lombardy, and crusade preaching was also authorized in Germany. We have no detailed description of the benefits offered in 1240 to crusaders against Frederick, but a papal letter of 12 February 1241 shows that by this time Gregory was making every possible concession to gain support for his crusade. Crusaders against Fred­ erick were to have the same indulgences as those granted to de­ fenders of the Holy Land. When papal agents in Hungary com­ plained that their attempts to gain recruits were hampered by the fact that many Hungarians had taken the vow to go to Palestine, Gregory authorized them to commute such vows to a crusade against Frederick. He also suggested that crusade vows might be redeemed for appropriate sums of money, and authorized such redemptions in order to raise funds for defense. In short, by Feb­ ruary 1241 at the latest, he was not only preaching a full-fledged crusade against Frederick, but was giving it priority over a crusade overseas.10 Before Gregory had fully developed the idea of a crusade against Frederick, he began to ask the churches of the western kingdoms for financial aid in his war against the emperor. Much of his cor­ respondence on this subject is lost, but while he accused Frederick of heretical behavior and of attacking church lands, he does not seem to have used a crusade as an excuse for his demands. The English clergy were asked for aid late in 1239. A tax of one fifth of their revenues was imposed on foreign clerks beneficed in Eng­ land, but the native clergy were allowed to discuss the amount they would offer. There was great opposition to the pope's request, and it took most of 1240 to secure grants from the clergy of the different dioceses. Many objected that there was no clear case against the emperor and that the pope was setting a bad example by 10 Registres de Gregoire IX, no. 5362; the complete letter may be found in Augustin Theiner, Vetera monumenta historiam Hungaricam sacram Ulustrantia (Rome, 1859-1860), 1, 178 (no. 327).

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

shedding Christian blood. In the end they all had to agree to make some contribution—in most dioceses a twelfth of their revenues— but collections were slow and Innocent IV was receiving arrears as late as 1244. Grants were also made in Scotland and in Ireland, though the rate is not definitely known. The clergy of France gave the pope one-twentieth of their revenues, but some of the money was reserved for other expenses. There was even an attempt to col­ lect a fifteenth in some German dioceses, but Frederick forbade the clergy to pay, and they were probably quite willing to obey. Even in countries which were willing to pay, collection of the grants was slow; at least Gregory was heavily in debt when he died. The war did not go well for the pope despite his efforts to stir up enthusiasm for the papal cause. The preaching of a crusade had only fleeting results. It roused the people of Rome and of Milan to drive back imperial armies early in 1240, but it did not produce a permanent army which could be used for a long campaign. Out­ side Italy the crusade had even less effect. The Germans were dis­ tressed by the conflict and tried to mediate between pope and em­ peror. When this effort failed, they gave little support to either side and rejected papal suggestions that they should choose a new king in place of Frederick. In other countries the laity did not even dis­ cuss the question of aiding the pope. Meanwhile the war in Italy degenerated into a series of local conflicts in which each side tried to hold its own towns and capture those of the enemy through sur­ prise attacks or alliances with disgruntled minorities. Frederick had somewhat the better of this game, and Gregory realized that a new effort was necessary. On 9 August 1240 he issued a summons for a general council, to be held at Rome in March of the following year. A general council was a serious threat to Frederick. He had been insisting that his quarrel was with the pope, not the church, that Gregory's personal hostility and vindictiveness were the only cause of the war. Condemnation by a council would make it harder to maintain this position, and might lead to increased support of the pope in the trans-Alpine kingdoms. But while Frederick had rea­ son to fear the meeting of a council, the steps which he took to prevent it hurt him almost as much as the meeting could have done. Many of the clergy called to the council were proceeding to Rome in Genoese ships, since the emperor's control of northern Italy made land travel unsafe. A Pisan fleet, under Frederick's orders,

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routed the Genoese near Monte Crista, and captured most of the prelates, including two cardinals. Gregory had to spend the few remaining months of his pontificate in seeking release of the prison­ ers, and the plans for the council were dropped. Frederick had killed the council, and in doing so had more or less killed Gregory IX. The old pope, working feverishly to recover from his defeat, wore himself out and died in August 1241. But Frederick paid a high price for his temporary success. He had at­ tacked the church in the person of its bishops; he had changed his personal quarrel with Gregory into an irreconcilable war with the papacy. He had seriously offended the rulers of the northern kingdoms, notably Louis IX of France, by capturing their subjects. Peace with the church was now almost impossible, and in the long war that was to follow public opinion was less favorable to Fred­ erick than it had been before. The Germans, who had tried to pre­ serve neutrality under extreme papal pressure, began to turn against the emperor after 1241, and opposition in northern Italy became more dangerous. These were long-range results; the immediate effect of Frederick's blow was to shatter the confidence of the college of cardinals. They were not sure how to deal with their terrible opponent, and their uncertainty made it difficult for them to agree on a new pope. The vacancy lasted almost two years (not counting the fifteen-day pontifi­ cate of Celestine IV), but the cardinals finally picked, on 25 June 1243, an able and uncompromising head of the church. Sinibaldo Fieschi, who took the name Innocent IV (1243-1254), was a canonist, like most of the popes of his century, and had worked out a strong theory of papal supremacy. He was also a Genoese and was determined not to sacrifice the people of northern Italy to the emperor. It is difficult to believe that Frederick had any illusions about the pope's pliability, but he at once began negotiations for peace, in line with his contention that Gregory IX alone had been responsible for the quarrel. As long as the negotiations were confined to generalities some progress was made, but when acts were required, neither side would make real sacrifices. Frederick would not give up the eastern part of the papal states; Innocent would not allow him any real power in Lombardy. The pope finally decided that negotiation was useless, and determined to put himself and the Roman curia in

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security before renewing hostilities. He slipped away to Genoa and then took refuge in the even safer city of Lyons. There he issued a call for a general council to meet in June 1245. This time Frederick could not block the meeting. Lyons was not yet French, but it could easily be protected by the French king, and Louis made it clear that he would not permit a repetition of the scandal of 1241. The bishops assembled without difficulty, and accepted the papal decree deposing Frederick from all his thrones—the Empire, Sicily, and Jerusalem. The charges were much the same as before—oppression of the clergy, attacks on papal lands, bad faith, undue intimacy with Saracens, and suspicion of heresy—but back of the formal charges lay Innocent's conviction that he could not be really pope while Frederick dominated Italy. The deposition was a declaration of war and was accepted as such by both sides. There were three main areas where Innocent hoped to weaken Frederick. The first was Germany, where imperial power was al­ ready low and where the great princes had virtual autonomy. Here he set up anti-kings—first Henry Raspe of Thuringia, then William of Holland—and used the wealth of the church to buy soldiers and alliances for his puppets. This tactic was never entirely suc­ cessful, though William of Holland gained control of a large part of northwest Germany, but it did deprive Frederick of badly need­ ed support. He had few ardent adherents in Germany, and these men were so busy defending themselves against papal attacks that they could not send military aid to the emperor. The next field of action was northern Italy. Here the intensity of local interests and rivalries made it impossible to carry out any general policy. The Lombard League still existed, but it no longer functioned as a unit. Each town had to defend itself; the most it could hope for was to receive reinforcements in time of great danger from a few of its nearest allies. Innocent had a capable legate in Lombardy, Gregory of Montelongo, but Gregory had to spend his energy in organizing the defense of one threatened town after another. Fortunately for the pope, the emperor was in exactly the same situation, and the war in northern Italy resolved itself into a long series of sieges, captures, and defections of individual towns. Frederick had somewhat the worst of the struggle, especially after his defeat at the siege of Parma in 1248, but he always retained the allegiance of parts of Lombardy and Tuscany.

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The third area of conflict was the kingdom of Sicily, which included all southern Italy. Legally, Innocent had a better case here than anywhere else. Sicily was a fief of the church, and the pope's right to confiscate the lands of a rebellious vassal was much clearer than his right to depose a hostile emperor. But Frederick had a stronger hold on Sicily than on any other of his domains, and he had protected his frontier by seizing a large part of the papal states. The march of Ancona and the duchy of Spoleto had to be regained by papal forces before anything could be attempted against Sicily, and this task absorbed most of the energy of the papal legates in central Italy. Innocent's only hope of gaining Sicily was through a general rebellion of Frederick's subjects or a full-scale invasion by a papal army. Both methods were tried, and both proved unsuccess­ ful. A rebellion, encouraged by the pope, failed completely in 1246, and an invading army, led by the cardinal-legate Peter Capocci in 1249, never got far beyond the frontier. During the war with Frederick, Innocent used crusade preaching and crusade propaganda most intensively in Germany. From the middle of 1246 to the death of the emperor in 1250 a steady stream of papal letters urged the preaching of the crusade in Germany and dealt with the financial and administrative problems caused by the taking of crusading vows. In Italy, on the other hand, while the crusade is mentioned occasionally, it seems much less prominent in papal plans. It was not greatly needed in Lombardy, where the towns would fight for independence in any case, and it was of no use in Sicily as long as Frederick kept the clergy of the kingdom under his thumb. It was used mainly as a device for heartening the inhabitants of threatened towns and for enabling papal legates to raise relief expeditions. The crusade was most effective in the papal states, but even there it produced no large, permanent army. Even in Germany, where the crusade was vigorously preached, and where the energetic legate Peter Capocci used his very full powers to persuade large numbers of men to take the cross, the pope relied on other weapons much of the time. Threats of ex­ communication or interdict, promises of church offices, and dis­ pensations from impediments to marriage were at least as useful in bringing princes to support the anti-kings as talk of crusade benefits. In the sporadic fighting between the imperialists and William of Holland the crusade was seldom mentioned. The army which took Aachen for William in October 1248 was full of

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crusaders, and William later received some help from Germans who had taken crusade vows, and who satisfied them by fighting under his banner. But in Germany as in Italy, the crusade produced momentary bursts of enthusiasm rather than a permanent army. The crusaders from the Low Countries went home as soon as Aachen was taken, and William of Holland was often short of soldiers in the following years. This lack of emphasis on the crusade is curious, given Innocent's conviction that Frederick was the great enemy of the church and that any means could be used against him. It is probable that he was embarrassed by the fact that Louis IX was engaged in an over­ seas crusade during the very years that the struggle with Frederick reached its climax. The overseas crusade was still the only real crusade in the eyes of the "simple" (as Hostiensis pointed out), and it would have been unwise to push a political crusade at the expense of an expedition against the infidel. As it was, the French were unhappy about the competition between the two movements and Innocent had to act carefully to avoid antagonizing them. Thus, while he ordered his legate in Germany to stop preaching the crusade against the Saracens in order to clear the way for a crusade against Frederick, he also told him to keep the order secret. While, in Germany proper, vows to serve in Palestine could be commuted to vows to fight the emperor, Innocent forbade commutation in the border dioceses. He seems to have been especially bothered by the case of the Frisians, even though they were subjects of William of Holland. He first gave them permission to change their vow, then ordered them to aid William, then reversed himself completely and insisted that they go to Palestine. Such hesitations made it hard to carry on the crusade in Germany with any enthusiasm.11 On the other hand, while the crusade against Frederick did not result in any great military operations, it was successful as an excuse for raising money. A contemporary biographer estimates that Innocent spent 200,000 marks in his struggle with Frederick. Some of this may have come from ordinary papal revenues, but the greater part must have been raised by redemptions of crusade vows and by special taxes imposed on the clergy. We know that Italians beneficed in trans-Alpine countries had to contribute a fourth or a half of their income, depending on the value of the benefice. The 11 Les registres d'lnnocent IV, ed. Elie Berger (Paris, 1884), 1, cols. 439#. (nos. 2935, 3054, 3779, 3967, 3968, 4070).

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English clergy promised a subsidy of 11,000 marks, and this did not include payments from exempt monasteries. The clergy of Poland and Hungary also paid a subsidy, and large sums were raised in German dioceses which were not controlled by the Hohenstaufens. But the wealthy church of France could not be asked to contribute, since it was already paying a tenth to Louis for his crusade overseas. In spending the money he collected, Innocent again concentrated on Germany, where Frederick was weakest. Large sums went to the anti-kings and their supporters: Henry Raspe was given 25,000 marks and William of Holland 30,000. This left the papacy rela­ tively weak in Italy; one reason for the failure of the papal invasion of Sicily in 1249 was lack of money. Innocent needed far more money than he had, but he could not increase his demands on the clergy. There had been violent protests against papal taxation at the Council of Lyons in 1245, and the protests continued during the next five years. The pope could force the clergy to pay, but he could not force them to be silent, and excessive complaints might have swung public opinion back to the side of the emperor. When Frederick died at the end of 1250, the pope had not won a clear-cut victory. Sicily was still firmly under Hohenstaufen con­ trol, and the imperial position in northern and central Italy, while weakened, was by no means hopeless. Frederick had regained many towns in the march of Ancona in the last year of his life, and he still had allies in Lombardy. The pope had won his greatest advantage in Germany, where William of Holland had gained enough support to absorb most of the energy of the imperialists. After 1250 the popes did not have to worry about Germany, and they chose not to worry about Lombardy. Instead, they concen­ trated on the strong point in the Hohenstaufen position, the kingdom of Sicily. This concentration on Sicily forced a change in tactics. As long as the papal-imperial war was fought mainly in northern Italy and Germany, a carefully organized papal army was not absolutely essential. Lombardy and Germany were full of natural enemies of the Hohenstaufens; all they needed was a little papal encourage­ ment. But Innocent had learned that Sicily was so well organized, so bound by its old habits of obedience, that successful rebellion was impossible, and the only way to gain control of the kingdom

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was to attack it with a large army. The pope, could not raise such an army in his own states or in Italy; outside help was needed. And to obtain such an army the full use of crusade techniques was essential. Up to 1250 the political crusade had been a device for stirring up momentary enthusiasm to repel an immediate danger and an excuse for raising money. After 1250 political crusades were planned and organized exactly like overseas crusades; large armies were raised, paid for with clerical tenths, and sent to conquer the enemies of the church. The need for this new policy was only gradually realized by the popes. To the end of his pontificate, Innocent IV swung back and forth between two plans, now seeking the aid of English or French princes, now attempting to conquer Sicily with his own resources. After his death in 1254 there was less hesitation, and Urban IV (1261-1264) definitely committed the papacy to the policy of calling in a large crusading army to settle the Sicilian affair. Frederick's death caused a shift in the direction of the papal attack; it did not end the war between the papacy and the Hohenstaufens. Innocent was too deeply committed to the policy of annihilating Hohenstaufen power; as early as 1247 he had promised the Lombards that neither Frederick nor his sons would ever be allowed to rule as king or emperor.12 Papal prestige was at stake; if Frederick's deposition was valid, his sons could not inherit any of his realms. An atmosphere of suspicion and hate had been created in which it was hard to imagine that any pope could ever trust any Hohenstaufen. Innocent did not hesitate for a moment. In February 1251 he ordered the crusade preached throughout Germany against Frederick's heir, Conrad IV, and authorized the use of all papal letters directed against Frederick for the new war. In March he repeated his solemn promise—this time to the Germans —that the apostolic see would never allow any descendant of Fred­ erick to rule in Germany or Italy. But while he kept up the pres­ sure on Conrad in Germany, Innocent's real interest had shifted to Sicily. Manfred, an illegitimate son of Frederick II, was ruling the kingdom as regent for his half-brother Conrad, and Innocent could hope that an untried ruler with incomplete power might be vulner­ able to a papal attack. A rebellion was started in the Terra di Lavoro (Caserta province), and archbishop Marino of Bari was told to encourage the rebels by preaching a crusade against the 12

Registres d'lnnocent IV, no. 3024.

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sons of Frederick. Meanwhile Cardinal Peter Capocci was to raise an army in the march of Ancona and invade the kingdom from that base. Both moves failed. Manfred gradually suppressed the rebellion (except in Naples and Capua), and the cardinal's army was too weak to advance far beyond the border. Innocent then tried negoti­ ating with Manfred, hoping to play on his reluctance to surrender the kingdom to his brother. Manfred might have gone over to the papal side if he had been offered enough, but Innocent promised him only the principality of Taranto, which was his anyway by the terms of Frederick's will. So Manfred continued his resistance, and when Conrad landed at Siponto in January 1252 the regent dutifully surrendered the kingdom. The pope had gained little by his efforts, and when Naples surrendered in 1253, he lost his last foothold south of the papal states. This experience convinced Innocent, for the moment, that he needed outside help. He continued to talk of the crusade against Conrad—crusade preaching was ordered in Germany in both 1253 and 1254—but he did not take it very seriously. It was little more than a device which made it possible to raise money for William of Holland and his supporters. In 1252 and 1254 he carried on some rather useless negotiations with Conrad, useless because Conrad insisted on being recognized as king of the Romans, and Innocent could not abandon his candidate, William of Holland. But the pope's real policy was to be found in another set of negotiations, which were being conducted, secretly and skillfully, by a papal notary, Albert of Parma. Albert was commissioned to offer the kingdom of Sicily, with proper guarantees of papal rights, to either an English or a French prince and to promise the recipient full crusading privileges and the financial support of the church. This time there was to be a real attack on the center of Hohenstaufen power, not a mere demonstration by a small papal army. Albert first approached Richard of Cornwall, brother of Henry III of England. Richard showed little interest in the scheme, so Albert turned to the French king's brother, Charles of Anjou. Charles was an ambitious and able politician, always anxious to increase his wealth and power; he was quite ready to listen to Albert's proposition. He carried the negotiations to a point where Innocent was almost sure that he would accept, bargaining shrewdly to decrease the restrictions placed on his power and to increase the

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

financial aid given by the church. But Charles began to lose interest as he realized the difficulties, and a disputed succession in Flanders and Hainault, which gave him an opportunity for easier and quicker gains, made him decide to abandon the project. When he was offered the county of Hainault in return for helping Countess Margaret of Flanders, he broke off negotiations with Albert in the fall of 1253. The pope had to turn back to England. The new candidate was Edmund of Lancaster, the second son of Henry III. He was still too young to lead an army; Henry himself would have to organize the expedition. This was not an ideal solution; Henry had been both incompetent and unlucky as a military leader, and he was not on good terms with his barons. Albert seems to have been a little doubtful, and let the negotiations drag, even though Henry de­ manded much less than Charles in the way of financial support. Innocent had good reason to be grateful to his envoy for the delays, because Conrad IV died on 21 May 1254, just as the pope was about to confirm the grant of Sicily to Edmund. This unexpected death—Conrad was only twenty-six—gave In­ nocent a chance for another quick reversal of policy. Conrad's heir was a baby in Germany, and he left a German, Berthold of Hohenburg, as regent of Sicily because he did not trust his half-brother Manfred. Berthold was not a man of great ability and was handi­ capped by being a foreigner. Manfred, who was able and popular, had no official position, and was anxious to save his principality of Taranto. Innocent at last had a chance to take over the king­ dom peacefully, since there was no strong leader to oppose him. He played skillfully on Sicilian dislike of German rule, and so weak­ ened Berthold's position that he resigned the regency to Manfred. By that time so many nobles had gone over to the pope that Man­ fred felt he could not risk a war. He made the best bargain he could for himself—he was to keep Taranto and be vicar of most of the mainland—and then surrendered the kingdom to Innocent. The pope entered the realm on 11 October 1254, and was accepted everywhere as the rightful ruler. Apparently the long struggle had ended with a complete victory; the Hohenstaufens had lost their main source of strength and the pope had added a rich kingdom to the weak and poverty-stricken states of the church. But Manfred had been left in a difficult position; he was not fully trusted by the pope, and his rights were not fully respected by the more ardent supporters of papal rule. A dispute over land led to a

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fight, and when Manfred's men killed one of his chief adversaries, Manfred was sure that the pope would seize this opportunity to deprive him of all his holdings. After all, he was a Hohenstaufen, even though an illegitimate one, and Hohenstaufen excuses had not been very acceptable to the popes for the last quarter-century. Manfred fled to the hills, raised a rebel army (including his father's old Saracen bodyguard), and soon was able to attack the papal forces. A victory early in December almost dissolved the papal army, and Innocent died in Naples a few days later. Manfred gained ground steadily, and it soon became apparent that the church could not keep control of the kingdom. The whole wearisome "Sicilian business" had to be taken up again by the new pope. As frequently happened, the cardinals chose a mild and easy­ going successor to an energetic and uncompromising pope. Alex­ ander IV (1254-1261) had belonged to the party among the cardinals who favored compromise rather than fighting, and as pope he patiently endured aggressions which would have enraged Gregory IX or Innocent IV. That such a man felt that he had to continue the war with Manfred is an indication of the momentum which the Italian policy of the papacy had acquired. At first Alex­ ander kept up the fight with his own resources, but he soon saw that outside help was needed. He turned again to Henry III and Edmund, and on 9 April 1255 formally granted the kingdom of Sicily to the English prince. Henry promised to send an army to Italy by the fall of 1256, and to pay all papal war expenses until his soldiers arrived. These were finally estimated at 135,541 marks. In return, his vow to go to the Holy Land was commuted to a pledge to support the crusade against Manfred. He was to receive a tenth of the revenues of the English clergy for five years, and the usual small change from proceeds of redemption of crusade vows, legacies for the Holy Land, and estates of crusaders who died with­ out fulfilling their vows. The story of Henry's attempt to fulfill these conditions is more important in English history than in the history of the crusades. He never raised enough money to pay the pope's war expenses, much less enough to send an army to Italy. The collection of the tenths made the English clergy angry with both pope and king, and the request for a grant from the laity led directly to the barons' rebellion in 1258. English money did make possible a brief cam-

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

paign by a papal army in 1255, but this was completely unsuccessful and ended with the capture of the cardinal-legate Octavian at Foggia. By 1258 both Alexander and Henry were completely dis­ couraged. Henry was ready to give up his son's claims if the pope would restore some of the money he had received. Alexander natu­ rally rejected this request, but in the next year he suspended Edmund's claim to Sicily until Henry paid all he owed. Meanwhile Manfred had gained complete control of the king­ dom. At first he claimed to be acting in the interests of his nephew Conradin, but in 1258 he took the title of king. Even worse, from the papal point of view, he began to form alliances and to claim authority as imperial vicar in Tuscany and Lombardy. There was no legal justification for this claim, since imperial authority was not hereditary, and even if it had been, Manfred was not Frederick's heir. But, in the confused state of politics in northern Italy, no one worried greatly about legality; Manfred was able and successful, and the remnants of Frederick's old party rallied around him. Alexander had no idea of how to deal with Manfred. When the English alliance, which had been prepared by his predecessor, failed, he could find no substitute. But while he had no success in deal­ ing with Manfred, he was able to gain a little ground in Lombardy, which had been rather neglected by Innocent IV in the last years of his pontificate. There the first tyrants were beginning to appear, and the two most powerful, Ezzelino of Romano and Oberto Pallavicini, were closely connected with Manfred. Ezzelino was a tyrant in every sense of the word, so detested by most of the Lombards that a crusade preached against him late in 1255 stirred up real popular enthusiasm. Venice, Ferrara, and Mantua furnished large contingents; many individuals joined the army, and Alexander picked an able, if worldly, legate, Philip Fontana, to lead the crusade. Padua was taken from Ezzelino in June 1256, but this success exhausted the interests of the Lombards in the crusade. Personal and municipal quarrels broke up the union against Ezzelino, and while the crusade was continued for another three years, it had little effect. In the end Ezzelino was defeated by an alliance between the pro-papal Este family and the pope's other great Lombard enemy, Oberto Pallavicini. This removed the most dangerous tyrant, but Pallavicini remained a power in Lombardy until the advent of Charles of Anjou. The death of Alexander IV in 1261 enabled the cardinals to

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make another sharp shift in policy. They chose the patriarch of Jerusalem, Jacques Pantaleon, a prelate who was not a member of their college, but who had gained a reputation as a vigorous ad­ ministrator. They clearly wanted a more energetic pope; perhaps they also hoped, by electing a Frenchman, to gain the support of the strongest European kingdom for the church's war with the Hohenstaufens. The choice was a momentous one for the future of the papacy and of Europe. Jacques Pantaleon, as Pope Urban IV, perfected the technique of the political crusade and prepared the way for the conquest of Sicily by Charles of Anjou. He did this at the price of greatly increasing French influence on church policy and in the college of cardinals. In the first year of his pontificate, Urban had to adopt a concilia­ tory policy toward Manfred. The Greeks had just retaken Con­ stantinople, and the Christian foothold in Palestine was threatened by the growing power of the Mamluk sultans. Both the dispos­ sessed Latin emperor Baldwin II of Constantinople and the barons of the kingdom of Jerusalem had powerful friends and relatives in western Europe, especially in France. They could bring great pressure on the pope; they could appeal to the widespread opinion that it was criminal to abandon Latin Christianity in the east in order to gain a political victory in Italy. Urban was forced to nego­ tiate with Manfred, and he did so, though with extreme ill-will. He had no hope and little desire for a peaceful settlement; all he wanted was to demonstrate that it was not his fault if the war continued. Manfred was a little more willing to compromise, but was just as suspicious of the pope as the pope was of him. Real concessions were impossible for either side. Urban was committed to the established papal policy of uprooting the Hohenstaufens and preventing the establishment of a strong secular power in Italy. Manfred felt that he had to keep a foothold in central and northern Italy in order to protect his kingdom from the pope. The negotia­ tions dragged on into 1263, but by this time Urban was already seeking the aid of Charles of Anjou. He had shown that he was a lover of peace, on his own terms; he had proved, to the more pious at least, that Manfred was an incorrigible member of the "viper race." Now he was free to strike. The negotiations with Charles of Anjou were long and compli­ cated. Charles wanted money for his army and a free hand as king of Sicily; the pope wanted to give as little money as possible and

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

to keep close control over his new vassal. Charles secured some concessions, but the pope gained his main point. Sicily was to be a real vassal kingdom and to give important service to the pope. Neither Charles nor his heirs were ever to acquire the lordship of Tuscany or Lombardy, much less of Germany. Supported by a docile vassal in the south, confronted by only local powers in the north, the states of the church would be entirely safe, and the popes could forget the fear of encirclement which had dogged them since the beginning of the century. With this important point settled, the pope could be generous in regard to other terms. Charles was to have full crusade privileges for himself and his men, and there was to be crusade preaching in both Italy and France. He was to receive a tenth of the income of the clergy for three years in France and in the ecclesiastical provinces of Lyons, Besancon, Vienne, Embrun, and Tarentaise. Manfred was to be publicly condemned and all those who adhered to him after proclamation of the papal sentence were to forfeit their lands and goods. An argument over Charles's election as a senator of Rome delayed the public announcement of these terms, but essential agreement had been reached by Urban's death on 2 October 1264. Meanwhile Manfred had begun to harass the pope. He had allies in Tuscany and in the states of the church; his raiders had come very near the city of Rome. Urban had had to preach a crusade against him in central Italy early in 1264. This had produced, as usual, a sudden flash of popular enthusiasm, and Manfred's bands had been driven back from the city. But the war continued, and Urban, in June, had demanded contributions from the Spanish clergy to carry on the fight. Spain had not been asked to contribute to earlier political crusades, but, with England torn by civil war, and French revenues pledged to Charles, it was the only possible source of money. Urban had been perhaps a little too ready to rely on crusades as a means of achieving his objectives. In 1263 he had had a crusade preached against the Byzantine empire, and another crusade against Manfred's supporters in Sardinia. In the same year he had threat­ ened a crusade against the English barons, if they rejected the efforts of his legates to end their dispute with Henry III. But, while he may have overestimated the efficiency of crusade appeals, he had a clear understanding of the problems of organizing a crusade

CRUSADES

army. Fervent preaching might recruit soldiers, but only regular pay would keep them beneath the banner of the cross. Papal legates or vicars might beat off a raid on the states of the church, but only an experienced lay general could conquer the kingdom of Sicily. Urban had spent the last months of his pontificate in making sure that Charles of Anjou would have a solid financial base by which to support a large and well trained army. He had not only im­ posed the tenth on the French clergy (3 May 1264), but had also used the power of the church to build up a party among Tuscan bankers which would support his plans. By forbidding the faithful to pay their debts to uncooperative bankers he had almost destroyed the Ghibelline party among Tuscan financiers, and, once these men were committed to the papal side, they were bound to put their resources at the disposal of Charles of Anjou. They made large loans to Charles, guaranteed by the pope, and this money made it possible to carry on through the difficult period before the clerical tenths began to come in. If Charles's expedition was the most successful of all the political crusades, it was largely due to Urban's skill in financing it. The cardinals hesitated four months before picking Urban's suc­ cessor. Stronger pressure from Manfred might have prolonged their indecision, but Manfred withdrew most of his troops on hearing of Urban's death. It is difficult, however, to see how basic policy could have been changed; the church was already deeply com­ mitted to Charles. In the end the cardinals made as little change as possible: they picked another Frenchman, Guy Foulquois, who became Pope Clement IV (1265-1268). Clement carried on Urban's policy without a break. The formal agreement with Charles was made in April 1265, and Charles him­ self came to Rome to receive the investiture of Sicily on 28 June. He had only a small force with him, and Manfred might have caused him much trouble with a full-scale attack, but the Hohenstaufen ruler merely skirmished in the papal states, and so missed a real opportunity. Meanwhile the main body of Charles's army crossed the Alps in November and marched slowly through Lombardy and Romagna to Rome. There were still adherents of the Hohenstaufens in these regions, but Clement took the precaution of having a special crusade preached against anyone trying to bar the march of the Angevin army. Papal protection and the strength of the army discouraged

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

opposition; Charles's forces crossed northern and central Italy al­ most without fighting. In fact, the greatest difficulties during 1265 were financial rather than military; the tenth was paid so slowly that Clement had to pledge the treasures of the churches of Rome for Charles's final loans. Charles had at least one quality of a great general; he never wasted time. His forces reached Rome only in January 1266; early in February he was already leading them into the kingdom. Man­ fred met him at Benevento on 26 February, with about equal forces, but the French proved superior in fighting ability. Manfred was killed in the battle, and there was no one left to prolong the strug­ gle. The inhabitants of the kingdom accepted Charles as their ruler; the papacy had achieved its great political objective. Charles's quick success had not completely discouraged the oppo­ sition. Two years later the sixteen-year-old Conradin, son of Conrad IV, made a sudden raid into Italy to claim his inheritance. He was received with surprising enthusiasm by many Italians, and was even welcomed in Rome by a friendly senator. Meanwhile a serious re­ bellion broke out in the island of Sicily and most of the barons of the mainland rose against Charles. Events came so rapidly that there was hardly time to organize a crusade, but Clement did his best for Charles. Crusade preaching was ordered on 13 April 1268, and many Tuscans joined Charles's army as a result. Charles's loans from Sienese bankers were guaranteed by the pope. But Charles was saved by his own generalship and the skill of his French soldiers rather than by the forces recruited through the crusade. He met Conradin near Tagliacozzo on 23 August, three days after the young prince had invaded the kingdom. Charles was probably out­ numbered, but by throwing in his reserves at a critical moment he won a hard-fought battle. Conradin was captured a few days later, and was condemned and executed in Naples in October. His execu­ tion and the fact that the pope made no effort to save him show how badly he had frightened both Charles and Clement. Charles was an ambitious man, and during the decade and a half which followed the conquest of Sicily the popes at times wondered whether they had really gained by substituting the energetic French­ man for the rather feckless Hohenstaufen. He was just as eager as Manfred to make his influence felt in northern and central Italy, and his irreproachable orthodoxy, combined with the prestige of

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his victories, made him much more difficult to oppose. Charles's efforts to extend his power in Italy, however, had no direct influence on the history of the crusades. His other expansionist project, the conquest of the restored Byzantine empire, did have a direct impact on every crusade plan made between 1266 and 1282. It also led, indirectly, to the Sicilian Vespers and thus to the crusade against Aragon in 1285. In trying to gain control of Greece and the Balkans, Charles was following the example of both his Norman and his Hohenstaufen predecessors. The situation in the east seemed to invite a renewal of Sicilian intervention. Michael VIII Palaeologus held only a frac­ tion of the old Byzantine empire and was especially weak in its western portions. His bitter opponents, the Angeli, ruled Epirus and Thessaly. Western princes, survivors of the Latin empire, held large parts of Greece and many of the islands. The Serbian and Bulgarian states in the northern Balkans were eager to extend their boundaries and were potential allies of any invader. Against this host of enemies the emperor Michael could oppose only his diplo­ matic skill and his possession of interior lines, which enabled him to use his small army with great effectiveness. Charles began making plans for an invasion of Byzantine ter­ ritories within a year of his conquest of Sicily. He realized that his first objective must be to unite all the potential opponents of the Palaeologi. By the treaty of Viterbo (1267) he gained most of the rights of the deposed Latin emperor Baldwin II, including suze­ rainty over the Frankish principality of Achaea.13 He also took over Manfred's holdings in Albania, most important of which was Durazzo, and succeeded in having himself elected king of Albania in 1271 or 1272. This title added little to his strength, though he tried to push inland from his Albanian coastal bases on several occasions. Finally, by persistent diplomatic activity, Charles tried to obtain the support of Hungary, Serbia, and Bulgaria, and the assistance of the Venetian fleet. Charles's plans were perfect in theory, but it was difficult to coordinate all these operations to produce the overwhelming attack which would have annihilated the Byzantine empire. There is an 13

Jean Longnon, "Le rattachement de la principaute de Moree au royaume de Sicile en 1267," Journal des Savants (1942), p. 136; idem, L'Empire latin de Constantinople, pp. 236-237. On Charles's relations with Achaea, see History of the Crusades, ed. Setton, 11, 255-261.

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element of high comedy in the diplomatic history of the years be­ tween 1267 and 1282; again and again Charles was almost ready to strike when some unforeseen event forced him to postpone his plans. Charles, of course, was not entirely free to concentrate all his attention on the east. He had to safeguard his interests in Italy and he had to have the support, or at least the acquiescence, of the pope. Michael Palaeologus understood this situation perfectly, and many, though not all, of Charles's setbacks were caused by Michael's adroit maneuvers in the west. The first check was Conradin's invasion in 1268. This was quick­ ly disposed of, but by that time Louis IX was well advanced in his plans for a new crusade. An account of his negotiations with Charles is given elsewhere;14 it is enough to say here that Charles could not avoid postponing his eastern expedition and joining in the crusade, although he did succeed in modifying its objective. Louis' death at Tunis freed Charles from any obligation to continue the crusade; he made a quick and profitable peace and returned at once to Sicily. He might have persuaded some of his fellow cru­ saders to join him in an attack on the Byzantine empire, but the great storm which sank most of the Franco-Sicilian fleet at Trapani made the expedition impossible. By the time that Charles could rebuild his fleet the crusade had long been dispersed. Troubles in northern Italy and a war with Genoa (which was allied to emperor Michael) kept Charles occupied for the next two years. The next major obstacle to Charles's plans came from an un­ expected quarter, the papacy. Both Gregory X (1271-1276) and Nicholas III (1277-1280) were worried by the extent of Charles's power in Italy and saw little advantage to the church in allowing Charles to increase his power by conquests in the east. Gregory X, in addition, was anxious to save what was left of the kingdom of Jerusalem. He had been legate in Syria at the time of his election and he realized that only the united eiiorts of all western rulers could stem the Mamluk advance; a diversion against Constantinople would be fatal to his hopes of restoring the Christian position in Palestine. He devoted his whole pontificate to an attempt to promote a new crusade; he used Charles's ambitions only as a means of furthering his main objective. If the threat of an Angevin invasion could frighten Michael Palaeologus into cooperating with the Ro14See History of the Crusades, ed. Setton, 11, 508-518 [reprinted here, pp. 181-192].

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man church so much the better, but Gregory was not going to allow any large expedition to waste western resources in an attack on the Greeks. Michael made almost the same estimate of the situation as the pope, which made it easy for Gregory to carry out his policy. Faced with the Angevin threat, the emperor agreed to the union of the churches in 1274 and suggested that he might aid the new crusade. The union was bitterly opposed by the Greeks, but Michael was harsh enough with the dissenters to convince the pope of his good faith. Gregory could not prevent minor skirmishes in Greece and the Balkans, but he did restrain Charles from launching a major expedition. Nicholas III followed the same policy, even though by his time it was apparent that the union would be a failure. Charles must have suffered during these years of frustration, but he never made the mistake of directly and openly opposing the pope. He waited patiently, gained all the support he could in the college of cardinals, and finally reaped his reward. In 1281 the Frenchman Simon of Brie, an old friend of the Capetian family, became pope under the name Martin IV. At last all the pieces of the long-planned combination against the Byzantine empire were going to fit into place. At first all went well. The Greek emperor was excommunicated for his failure to make the union effective. Venice joined the alliance against the Byzantines and promised important naval support. Charles began to raise money and troops. The pope granted him the crusade tenth in Hungary and Sardinia, and crusade legacies and redemption of vows in Sicily and Provence. There was a cer­ tain ambiguity in these grants; Martin IV declared that they were to be used against the "infidel," and thus did not directly sanction a crusade against the schismatic Greeks.15 The official French his­ torian, Guillaume de Nangis, took the same view; he ignored Charles's obvious plans to attack the Byzantine empire and declared that he was going to fight the Saracens and reconquer the king­ dom of Jerusalem.16 But Bartholomew of Neocastro, speaking for the Sicilian opponents of the Angevins, was not deceived. He as­ serted that this would have been a political crusade of the same 15

Les registres de Martin IV, eds. Felix Olivier-Martin et aI. (Paris, 19121913), nos. 116, 117. leH.F., xx, 516. For Charles's claim to the kingdom of Jerusalem, see His­ tory of the Crusades, ed. Setton, 11, 583-591.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

sort as the one against Manfred. The cross Charles bore was not the cross of Christ, but that of the unrepentant thief, and in its name he was going to attack the friendly Greeks, just as in its name he had shed innocent blood in his earlier wars.17 The combination of Charles's careful planning and papal support might have been irresistible; certainly Michael Palaeologus had never been in a more dangerous position. He was saved by the great rebellion known as the Sicilian Vespers, which made it forever im­ possible for the Angevins to attack the Byzantine empire. Charles of Anjou had been no easier master to Sicily than his Hohenstaufen predecessors; like them, he had imposed heavy taxes in order to carry on an ambitious foreign policy. His use of French officials added to his unpopularity, especially in the island of Sicily. Many natives hated him; many foreign rulers had cause to fear him. In the period just before 1282 a complicated and still imperfect­ ly known plot was formed against him, involving exiles from the kingdom, old allies of Manfred in northern Italy, the Byzantine emperor, and Peter III of Aragon. Peter was the most dangerous of these enemies; he had a claim to the kingdom through his wife Constance, the daughter of Manfred, and he possessed the best navy in the Mediterranean. The plotters probably hoped that when Charles launched his long-planned attack against Constantinople the kingdom would be left relatively defenseless, but before Charles could sail or they could strike, a popular uprising in the island of Sicily upset all plans. The famous Sicilian Vespers of 30 March 1282 wiped out the French garrison of the island, but the king of Aragon did not profit immediately from the rebellion. The rebels at first talked of substituting a league of communes under papal suzerainty for the monarchy; only when Charles launched a dan­ gerous counterattack did they become convinced that they needed a protector. They offered the crown to Peter of Aragon; on 30 August he landed at Trapani and took over the island. Martin IV, as a Frenchman and supporter of the Angevins, probably reacted more violently to the Sicilian revolution than an Italian would have done. Looked at cold-bloodedly, the establish­ ment of the Aragonese in Sicily was by no means an unmixed evil for the papacy. Charles of Anjou had not been an easy ally; his 17

Historia Sicula, ed. Giuseppe Paladino, Rerum italicarum scriptores, XIII, part 3, pp. 10-11.

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attempts to gain the hegemony of northern Italy had worried several popes, and his hope of conquering Constantinople had for many years been a disturbing factor in European diplomacy. A reduction in his power could be advantageous to the papacy, especially as it became clear that Peter of Aragon did not have the slightest chance of conquering the mainland and renewing Hohenstaufen aggression against the papal states. But Martin took his stand on higher ground than that of expediency. A papal vassal had been treacherously attacked; the papal sentence denying Sicily to anyone of Hohenstaufen blood had been flouted. The Capetian dynasty, the bulwark of the church, had been injured, and if the injury were not avenged, the French might be less willing to act as champions of the papacy in the future. Martin did not hesitate to take extreme measures. Peter was excommunicated in November 1282, and deprived—in theory—of his kingdom of Aragon on 21 March 1283. Martin hoped at first that these threats, combined with a new counterattack by Charles of Anjou, would discourage Peter. He soon saw that more force was needed, and sent a legate to France to organize a crusade against Aragon. The negotiations followed closely the pattern set by Urban IV in his dealings with Charles of Anjou. Aragon was to be a papal fief, held by Charles of Valois, the second son of Philip III ("the Bold") of France, on terms very like those under which Charles of Anjou had received Sicily. The French clergy, and those of most dioceses of the old Middle King­ dom, were to pay Philip a tenth of their revenues for four years to finance the expedition. Philip and his followers were to have full crusade privileges. There was some haggling over terms, and some opposition in the royal council, but in February 1284 Philip ac­ cepted the throne of Aragon for his son. Philip faced the same financial problem which had annoyed Charles; he needed large sums of money before the crusade tenths were fully paid. He solved it more easily, thanks to the strength of the French monarchy. An aid was paid by his lay and ecclesiastical vassals, and "gifts" were taken from the towns. His subjects lent him large sums of money, probably on easier terms than the Tuscan bankers had offered Charles. He hired a large number of ships, recruited an army of at least 8,000 men, and was ready to begin his expedition in the spring of 1285. Peter was in a difficult position. The nobles of Aragon were try-

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ing to limit his power and resented his interest in Sicily; they responded badly when he called them to arms. His strongest weap­ on, the navy, was being used to protect Sicily from the Angevins. In the circumstances, he conducted a remarkably skillful cam­ paign. He delayed Philip as long as he could at the line of the Pyrenees, but refused to risk a pitched battle when his position was turned. Philip advanced rapidly through Catalonia, but was halted again at the strongly fortified position of Gerona. The French army wasted the summer in besieging this town; illness and inces­ sant raids by Peter's troops diminished its strength. By early Sep­ tember Peter was able to recall his fleet to the western Mediter­ ranean, where it almost annihilated the ships in the service of France. Since Philip's army was supplied largely by sea, this blow forced him to retreat. He withdrew most of his army safely, but he himself died at Perpignan on 5 October 1285. The new king of France, Philip IV ("the Fair"), had probably opposed his father's decision to engage in the crusade. In any case, the events of 1285 must have convinced him that the attack on Aragon was futile. He did enough talking about the crusade to gain a new three-year grant of tenths from the French clergy, but he did not repeat the invasion of Aragon. He was quite ready to make peace, and eventually a settlement was reached in which Charles of Valois was indemnified for his claim to Aragon by receiving the county of Anjou from his cousins of Naples. The popes were less willing to face facts. For the rest of the century they continued to support the Angevins with men and money, and at one point a quarrel between the heirs of Peter III gave them great hopes of regaining Sicily for their favored dynasty. In the end, however, they had to accept the division of the kingdom. Sicily remained in the hands of a younger branch of the CatalanAragonese royal family, while the descendants of Charles of Anjou ruled at Naples. No strong power was left in Italy, either tp oppress or to protect the states of the church. This was not an unmixed blessing, as the turmoil of the fourteenth century was to demon­ strate, but at least it removed the need for large-scale political crusades. In spite of the failure of the crusade against Aragon, the papacy had, on the whole, achieved its political objectives. Both the empire and the mainland half of the kingdom of Sicily had been taken away from the unfriendly Hohenstaufens and placed in the hands

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of rulers who were obedient to the church. Both the empire and the kingdom had been so weakened that they could not threaten the papal states, even if they were to fall again under the control of enemies. But the church had paid a high price for this political victory. It is not fair to blame the disunity of Germany and Italy entirely on the popes of the thirteenth century—tendencies in that direction were already strong before 1200. But, insofar as the thir­ teenth-century popes encouraged the growth of disunity and op­ posed efforts toward unification and strong government, they can be blamed for the Italian anarchy which prolonged the Avignonese exile of the papacy and for the German anarchy which made pos­ sible the Reformation. Even more important, the political crusades were one of the factors which weakened the leadership of the church and en­ couraged the transfer of basic loyalty from the church to the secu­ lar state. We know little about the state of public opinion in thir­ teenth-century Europe, but what little we know suggests a growing antipathy to the political program of the papacy and a weakening loyalty to the ideal of a Christian commonwealth. The complaints of chroniclers and poets about the avarice and ambition of the popes are not conclusive; there are not enough of these to prove general opposition to papal policy. For one Matthew Paris, who criticizes the papacy, there are a dozen chroniclers who give at least tacit approval to the war against the Hohenstaufens. In any case, a chronicler or poet speaks only for himself; we cannot assume that he represents the opinion of a large group. When we turn to pro­ tests by churchmen, and official acts of kings, we have better evi­ dence. Bishops and ecclesiastical assemblies did not oppose the pope unless they felt sure of some support; kings did not tax the clergy until they were convinced that their barons would back them in attacking the liberties of the church. During the second half of the thirteenth century we find both protests by large numbers of church­ men and interference with ecclesiastical privileges by kings. The English clergy made repeated protests against the demands of Innocent IV and Alexander IV for subsidies for their Italian wars. The French clergy paid the tenths for Charles of Anjou grudgingly; Clement IV complained of the ill will of the bishops and the lack of zeal of the collectors. One cleric of Rheims argued that the claim that the tenth was needed for the defense of the faith was false, since a war against Manfred did not concern the faith.

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Many pious churchmen agreed with archbishop Giles of Tyre that it was scandalous when men who had taken a vow to go overseas were urged to join the expedition against Sicily or when legacies for the Holy Land were used to make war on Manfred.18 If the clergy were discontented, the laity cannot have been enthusiastic about papal policy. Moreover, the more the clergy felt oppressed by the pope, the less they were willing to oppose the growing interference of secular rulers in ecclesiastical affairs. Why should they risk exile and loss of revenue to defend the rights of their churches, when the pope ignored those same rights whenever it suited his interests? The churchmen who had paid tenths to the pope for his wars were not especially shocked when lay rulers demanded similar contributions for their wars. The behavior of lay rulers supports the conclusion that loyalty to the church had been weakened by the political crusades. The crusades were not the only cause of the decline in papal prestige, but there is a direct connection between them and certain assertions of lay supremacy. From 1245 on, the popes had granted tenths to French and English princes to enable them to fight for the church; by the end of the century the kings of France and England had become accustomed to receiving these subsidies and insisted that they could impose them for their own purposes. The attempt of Boniface VIII (1294-1303), in the bull Clericis laicos, to stop this practice was completely unsuccessful. Laymen paid no attention to his orders, and the clergy begged him to revoke a ruling which made them odious to the people. Boniface, in the end, had to admit the right of kings to take tenths for defense of their realms. The use of crusades in secular politics had made it easy for kings to take over the crusade tax on the clergy. Soon after Clericis laicos a political crusade helped revive the quarrel between Philip the Fair and Boniface VIII. Two cardinals who were members of the great Roman family of the Colonna had not been pleased by the election of Boniface VIII. Boniface resented their attitude, and in 1297 used an act of brigandage by a lay member of the family as an excuse to demand the complete sub­ mission of the Colonnas. The cardinals, instead of giving in, re­ sisted, and issued public statements claiming that Boniface was not 18

Archives legislatives et administratives de la ville de Reims, ed. Pierre Varin (Paris: Documents inedits . . . , 1839-1853), Archives legisl., 1, 452-453; Edouard Jordan, Les Origines de la domination angevine en Italie, pp. 538-539.

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the rightful pope. Boniface preached a crusade against the Colonnas, and succeeded in capturing their castles and driving them into exile. But Philip the Fair did not assist the pope in this political crusade, as his ancestors had done. Instead, he let the Colonnas take refuge in his territory and used them in 1303 in his attack on Boniface at Anagni. And in accusing Boniface of heresy, in trump­ ing up charges and seeking public support against him, Philip used many of the tricks of propaganda which the popes had developed in their political crusades. Papal taxation and petty crusades in Italy had certainly weakened papal prestige, but it could be argued that the expedition against Aragon in 1285 had done it more harm than had anything else. On the Spanish side, the excommunication of Peter III and the proc­ lamation of a crusade against him had had very little effect. Even though the barons of Aragon had been quarreling violently with their king, they had had no use for an intruder imposed on them by the pope. On the French side, the crusade had led to a strong reaction against papal policy. The expedition had been opposed by Matthew, the influential abbot of St. Denis, and probably by the heir to the throne. In any case, the failure of the crusade and the death of his father must have made a strong impression on Philip the Fair. He was only seventeen when he became king; the un­ happy memories of the crusade and the diplomatic and financial problems into which he was plunged may well have made him unfriendly to the church. Certainly he began by asserting firmly his authority over his own clergy; during the first five years of his reign the popes made repeated protests against his attacks on the rights of French churches. He showed little interest in crusades or Mediterranean politics. This weakened the alliance between the papacy and France, which had been the dominant feature of Euro­ pean politics for three generations. By depriving the popes of French military support he made it impossible for them to pursue an active policy either in Italy or overseas. Philip was a pious Christian in his private life, but as king he put the interests of the French monarchy far ahead of those of the church. When the two clashed he did not hesitate; he was determined to be master in his own kingdom and to reject any outside interference. Anagni and the exile at Avignon were the logical consequences of the political crusades.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE:

The political crusades are so closely connected with the general history of the thirteenth century that a complete bibliography would be impossibly long. The most important documents are in the papal registers. Those of Innocent III were edited by Brequigny and reprinted in Migne; the registers of most of the other thirteenth-century popes have been published by the Ecoles frangaises d'Athenes et de Rome. J.L.A. Huillard-Breholles published the acts of Frederick II and his sons in the Historia diplomatica Friderici secundi, 7 vols, in 12 (Paris, 1852-1861). J. F. Bohmer, Regesta imperii, v: Die Regesten . . . 1198/272, ed. Julius Ficker, 2 parts (Innsbruck, 1881-1882) contains useful ma­ terial, especially for the period after 1250. The M.G.H. for this period give not only important chronicles, but also some collections of documents such as the Constitutiones et acta publica imperatorum (Legum Sect., iv), and the Acta pads ad S. Germanum anno MCCXXX initae (Epistolae selectae, iv). Italian chronicles may be found in the M.G.H. or in Muratori, Rerum italicarum scriptores. The important life of Innocent IV by Nicholas of Carbio (or Curbio) was first published by Muratori (Rerum italicarum scriptores, hi); there is a better edition by Pagnotti in the Archivio della Societa romana di storia patria, xxi (1898). English chronicles are in the Rolls Series; of these, Matthew Paris is especially important for the documents given in his Additamenta (vol. vi of the Rolls Series edition). French chronicles are printed in the H.F.; this series also includes useful documents, especially on the crusade of 1285. The Layettes du tresor des chartes, ed. Alexandre Teulet et al. (Paris, 1863-1909), and Winkelmann's Acta imperii inedita (Innsbruck, 1880-1885) contain less than might be expected. The same may be said of the documents of the An­ gevin kings edited by Giuseppe Del Giudice, Camillo Minieri Riccio, and Giuseppe Silvestri. There is some useful material in Isidoro Carini, Gli Archivi e Ie biblioteche di Spagna, in rapporto alia storia d'ltalia in generale e di Sicilia in particolare (Palermo, 1884-1897). Finally, the letters of Albert von Beham, edited by Carl Hofler (BibliotheI^ des litterarischen Vereins in Stuttgart, xvi [1847]) throw some light on German affairs in the 1240's. The only book which gives a general survey of material covered in this chapter is Hippolyte Pissard, La Guerre sainte en pays chretien (Paris, 1912), and Pissard is more concerned with the development of canonical doctrine than with the details of the crusades. In spite of its title, Otto Volk's Die abendlandisch-hierarchische Kreuzzugsidee (Halle, 1911) refers to our topic only occasionally. It does discuss the inchoate political crusades of the eleventh century, and for this problem Paul Rousset, Les Origines et Ies caracteres de la premiere croisade (Neuchatel, 1945) and Carl Erdmann, Die Entstehung des Kreuzzugsgedankens (Stuttgart, 1935) should also be consulted. Edouard Jor­ dan, L'Allemagne et I'ltalie au XIle et XIIIe siecles (Paris, 1939) and Karl Hampe, Deutsche Kaisergeschichte in der Zeit der Salier und Staufer, 7th edn. (Leipzig, 1937) are both excellent general accounts of the thirteenth-century struggle between the papacy and the Hohenstaufen rulers. The last part of the conflict is discussed in detail in Jordan's very solid work on Les Origines de la

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domination angevine en Italie (Paris, 1909). Information about Innocent IH's crusade in Sicily may be found in Friedrich Baethgen, Die Regentschajt Papst Innocenz 111. im Konigreich Sizilien (Heidelberg, 1914) and T. C. Van Cleve, Mar\ward of Anweiler (Princeton, 1937). There is no good general account of the crusades against Frederick II; biographers such as Kantorowicz mention them only in passing. Wilhelm Koester, Die Kreuzablass im Kampfe der Kurie mit Friedrich II. (Miinster, 1913) deals with one aspect of the crusades in both Germany and Italy. Carl Kohler, Das Verhaltnis Kaiser Friedrichs II. zu den Papsten seiner Zeit (Breslau, 1888) is not very helpful. For Italian crusades, see Joseph Felten, Papst Gregor IX. (Freiburg, 1886); Hermann Frankfurth, Gregorius de Montelongo (Marburg, 1898); and, best of all, Carl Rodenburg, Innocenz IV. und das Konigreieh Sizilien 1245-1254 (Halle, 1892). Material on the crusade in Germany may be found in Otto Hintze, Das Konigtum Wilhelms von Holland (Leipzig, 1885) and Friedrich Reh, Kardinal Peter Capocci (Berlin, 1933). The crusade against Ezzelino of Romano is described in Oscar Canz, Philipp Fontana, Erzbisehof von Ravenna (Leipzig, 1910). For the crusade against Manfred, see, in addition to Jordan, Karl Hampe's fine study on Urban IV. und Manfred (Heidelberg, 1905) and Richard Sternfeld, Karl von Anjou als Graf von Provence (Berlin, 1888). The best account of the brief crusade against Conradin is in Hampe, Gesehichte Konradins von Hohenstaufen (Leipzig, 1942). The plans of Charles of Anjou to attack the Byzantine empire are discussed in Conrad Chapman, Michel Paleologue (Paris, 1926); Francesco Carabellese, Carlo d'Angio nei rapporti politici e commerciali con Venezia e I'Oriente (Bari: Documenti per la storia di Bari, x, 1911); and Walter Norden, Das Papsttum und Byzanz (Berlin, 1903). There is a good chapter on the crusade against Aragon in C. V. Langlois, Le Regne de Philippe III Ie Hardi (Paris, 1887); see also J. R. Strayer, "The Crusade against Aragon," Speculum, xxvin (1952) [reprinted here, pp. 107-122] and Walter Kienast, "Der Kreuzkrieg Philipps des Schonen gegen Aragon," Historische Vierteljahrschrift, xxvin (1933-1934), 673-698. For the historical background to the Sicilian Vespers, with much useful bibliography, see Helene Wieruszowski, "Politische Verschworungen und Biindnisse Konig Peters von Aragon gegen Karl von Anjou am Vorabend der sizilianischen Vesper," Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliothe\en, xxxvn (Tubingen, 1:957), !36-191. A recent account in English is Steven Runciman, The Sicilian Vespers (Cambridge, Eng., 1958). Material on the financing of the crusades is collected in W. E. Lunt's fine study of Financial Relations of the Papacy with England to 132J (Cambridge, Mass., 1939), and (less satisfactory) in Adolf Gottlob's Die papstlichen Kreuzzugs-Steuern des 13. Jahrhunderts (Heiligenstadt, 1892). Gottlob's Kreuzablass und Almosenablass (Stuttgart, 1906), while dealing more with earlier periods, has some useful data on indulgences for political crusades. The analyses of papal and imperial propaganda, such as Friedrich Graefe, Die Publizisti^ in der letzten Epoche Kaiser Friednchs II. (Heidelberg, 1909), are not very help­ ful for our problem. Far more useful is Carlo Merkel, "L'Opinione dei contemporanei sull' impresa italiana di Carla I d'Angio," Atti della R. Accademia

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

dei Lincei, ser. 4, Classe di scienze morali, storiche, et filologiche, IV (1888), which gives a good summary of the opinions of chroniclers and poets about the crusades against Manfred and Conradin. See also Palmer Throop, Criticism of the Crusade (Amsterdam, 1940). Finally, Georges Digard's two volumes on Philippe Ie Bel et Ie Saint-Siege (Paris, 1936), though not definitive, contain much evidence on the deterioration of relations between the papacy and France.

11. The Crusades of Louis IX* HE CRUSADES of Louis IX mark both the culmination and the beginning of the end of the crusading movement.1 None of the earlier expeditions was as well organized or financed, none had a more inspiring leader, none had a better chance of success. The crusade of 1249 was the last wholehearted effort of Christen­ dom against the infidel—it was watched with friendly interest even in regions which were jealous of the leadership of the French king and suspicious of the policy of the pope. But the very magnitude of the undertaking brought disillusionment when it failed. If Louis, the richest and most powerful ruler in western Europe, could not conquer the Moslems and recover the holy places, who could? Thus the failure of Louis contributed to the loss of confidence, the hesitations, and even the cynicism which weakened all later crusades. The high hopes with which this crusade began were due in large part to the character and abilities of the leader. Louis' devotion to the crusading ideal was evident even to the skeptical Frederick II. * Reprinted from A History of the Crusades, ed. K. M. Setton (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1958-62), 11 (eds. R. L. Wolff and H. W. Hazard), 487-518. By permission also of The University of Wisconsin Press; © 1969 by the Regents of the University of Wisconsin. 1 The two chief narrative sources for the first crusade of Louis IX are Jean de Joinville's Vie de Saint-Louis (many editions, the most valuable being that of Natalis de Wailly [Paris, 1874]) and the continuation of William of Tyre known as the Rothelin manuscript (published in H.C., Occ., 11, 483-639). Louis himself gave a good brief account of his adventures in Egypt in a letter printed in Andre Duchesne, Historiae Franeorum scriptores (Paris, 1636-1649), v, 428-432. The French chroniclers and writers of pious lives (Guillaume de Nangis, GeofIroi de Beaulieu, et al.) appear in H.F., xx, XXII, and xxm; they contribute little additional information. Matthew Paris gives a tendentious account of the crusade but includes valuable documents in the Additamenta (vol. Vi of the Rolls Series edition). Most of the fragmentary financial records of the crusade are collected in H.F., xxi, 264-280, 283, 404, 513-515, 530-537. The Layettes du tresor des chartes, ed. Alexandre Teulet et al. (Paris, 18631909), Ii and in, contain scattered material on financial aspects of the crusade, but there is less than might have been expected from these royal archives. L. T. Belgrano's Documenti inediti riguardanti Ie due crociate di S. Ludovico (Genoa, 1859) is difficult both to find and to use; fortunately his valuable mate­ rial on Louis' financial arrangements with the Genoese was summarized by Adolf Schaube, "Die Wechselbriefe Konig Ludwigs des Heiligen," ]ahrbiicher fiir Nationalo\onomie und Statistic, LXX ([3rd series, xv], 1898), 603-621, 730-

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Neither the pressure of public opinion nor the emotional exhorta­ tions of the clergy was responsible for his taking the cross. Love of glory and hope of profit were equally foreign to his nature. He made his decision unaided by his family and advisers, but once he decided that the welfare of his soul and of Christendom required a crusade, he never looked back. He was not a reluctant crusader like Philip Augustus, or an impatient one like Richard the Lionhearted. He was willing to devote all the time, money, and energy to the crusade which the business required. The loss of opportunities for expanding his kingdom, the boredom of a long period of purely defensive operations, did not cause him to lose interest. From 1245 to 1270 the crusade was the basis of his foreign policy; he made every effort to keep peace in Europe, so that Christendom could unite in an attack on the Saracens. His singleness of purpose and his freedom from selfish motives gained him the devotion of many of his followers and the respect of all. To these qualities of character were added real abilities as a war minister. Louis had both the experience and the patience needed 748. Contracts for ships were published by Belgrano (Documenti inediti, and in Archives de I'orient latin, 11 [1884], 230-236) and by Auguste Jal (Pacta naulorum, Collection de documents inedits: Documents historiques, 1 [Paris, 1841]). Reinhold Rohricht's Kleine Studien zur Geschichte der Kreuzziige (Wissenschaftliche Beilage zum Programm des Humboldts-Gymnasiums zu Berlin, Easter 1890) include accounts of Louis' two crusades "in Regestenform" which include valuable bibliographical references. No secondary work has treated adequately all aspects of the crusade; the most readable accounts are in H. A. Wallon, Saint-Louis et son temps (Paris, 1875), 1, and Rene Grousset, Histoire des croisades, 111 (Paris, 1936), 426-531. For the Tunisian expedition, the primary narrative source is the chronicle of Primat, published in H.F., xxm. The other chronicles give briefer accounts; all are published in H.F., xx, XXII, or xxm. Information about finance and shipping may be found in books listed above. Most modern writers have passed over this crusade very rapidly; the one full account is by Richard Sternfeld, Ludwigs des heiligen Kreuzzug nach Tunis, 12J0, und die Politi\ Karls 1. von Sizilien (Berlin, 1896). Sternfeld's attempt to minimize the responsibility of Charles of Anjou is not wholly convincing, but he gives valuable material on papal and Angevin diplomacy, and his summary of the events of the crusade is good. The old Vie de Saint Louis by Le Nain de Tillemont (vol. v, ed. J. P. de Gaulle [Paris, 1849]) gives an account of the crusade which is still useful. Reinhold Rohricht sums up all available informa­ tion about the crusade of Edward I in his "Etudes sur Ies derniers temps du royaume de Jerusalem," Archives de I'orient latin, 1 (1881), 617-632.

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for organizing an army, and he had surrounded himself with men who knew how to carry out his plans. He overcame almost com­ pletely the material difficulties which had plagued earlier crusaders —finance, transportation, supply. He not only raised and equipped a large army; he succeeded in bringing most of it to the point of attack without the tremendous losses of men and supplies which had characterized earlier overseas expeditions. His courage was an inspiration to his army, but he never fell into the foolhardy rashness which destroyed other brave leaders. His one great weakness was in generalship—he was better at organizing an army than in com­ manding it in the field—but even in this respect he was no worse than most crusading leaders. It is also true that the situation in the Near East in the 1240's was not unfavorable to the Christians. Saladin's empire had been divided among heirs who hated one another as only relatives can hate. They were incapable of uniting against an invader; some of them were even ready to make an alliance with the crusaders against their rivals. The sultan of Egypt, whose outlying possessions in­ cluded the holy places, was a sullen, suspicious tyrant; his heir had been sent out of the country and was almost unknown to his future subjects; his slave army of mamluks was becoming conscious of its power and resentful of a regime of many punishments and few rewards. Farther east the thundercloud of Mongol invasion was about to break over Baghdad. The Syrian Moslem princes could not face their Christian enemies squarely with this menace rumbling behind their backs. All in all, the Moslem world was weakened and divided as it had not been for a century, so weak and divided that even when Louis went down to unexpected defeat it could not fully exploit the victory. Louis took the cross in December 1244. A serious illness was the immediate occasion for his decision, but the events which had taken place during the year must have impressed any sincere Christian with the need for a new crusade. The persistent quarrels of the descendants of Saladin had twice enabled the Christians to recover Jerusalem and a large part of Galilee, but the equally per­ sistent quarrels between imperialists and Ibelins, Temple and Hos­ pital, Acre and Tyre, had prevented any solid reorganization of the recovered territories. As a result, when the Aiyubid sultan of Egypt formed an alliance with the Khorezmian bands of northern Syria against a coalition of Syrian princes and Christians, the

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

inland parts of the kingdom were almost defenseless. The Khorezmians took Jerusalem, massacred a large part of the garrison, and destroyed the few remaining fortifications during the summer of 1244. Then they joined an Egyptian army coming up from the south and inflicted a complete defeat on the Christian-Syrian Moslem army at Harblyah, northeast of Gaza, on 17 October 1244. The work of the last two decades was undone. All that had been gained by the diplomacy of Frederick II in 1229, the crusade of Thibaud of Champagne and Navarre in 1239-1240, and the nego­ tiations of Richard of Cornwall in 1240-1241 was swept away. The holy city was lost, and the Christians, still bickering among them­ selves, were thrown back to their fortified coastal cities.2 The need was great, but the situation in western Europe was not entirely favorable to a new crusade. Italy and Germany were torn by the conflict between pope and emperor, and neither Innocent IV nor Frederick II was anxious to send supporters away on an expedition to the east. In England Henry III and his barons were on such bad terms that a concentrated effort for a crusade was almost impossible. Spain, as usual, had her own problems, and the king of Norway contributed only empty promises. France alone had both the will and the resources for a crusade, and Louis' army was almost entirely French. Yet in spite of troubles outside France, the church was able to secure some financial contributions from other countries, and small groups of Englishmen and Lorrainers took part in the expedition. Preparations began early in 1245. Eudes of Chateauroux, cardinalbishop of Tusculum, was given charge of preaching and organizing the crusade in France, and preachers were also sent to England, western Germany, and the Scandinavian countries. Innocent IV tried to ensure sufficient funds for the army, even though he had great need of money for his war on Frederick II. The Council of Lyons ordered a grant of one-twentieth of ecclesiastical revenues for the support of the crusade, and the French clergy voluntarily3 2 See History of the Crusades, ed. Setton, 11, chs. xvi and xx. On the Khorezmians, ibid., ch. xix, pp. 668-674. 3 "Voluntarily" may be a little too strong. Certainly both pope and king put pressure on the clergy. The archbishop of Narbonne and his suffragans pro­ tested that since they had not attended the assembly which raised the rate from a twentieth to a tenth they were not bound to pay. Innocent IV hesitated a

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increased the rate to one-tenth of their revenues. In addition many minor revenues, such as redemptions of crusade vows and legacies for the Holy Land or unspecified pious uses, were assigned to the king, his brothers, and other leaders. These grants produced im­ portant sums, even though the twentieth was not a success outside the French-speaking provinces bordering on Louis' realm. Lunt and Powicke agree that the subsidy was never collected in England.4 Haakon V of Norway managed to convert the levy in his kingdom to his own purposes, and in Germany proper the little that was received was used for the war against Frederick II. But the dioceses of the old kingdoms of Lorraine and Burgundy paid sizable sums, which were given to Louis and his brothers. This was an important precedent; throughout the rest of the century the clergy of these districts were taxed for the benefit of the French king, and French influence grew in the lands beyond the Meuse and the Rhone. In France itself the tenth was eventually extended to five years, and it became the chief source of revenue for the crusade. Unfortunately we do not have a complete record of the income produced by the tenth, but it is possible to compare the payments made by some dioceses with those made in 1289 when a total is available. The average payment for the first tenth is about seventyfive percent of that for the second, and since the tenth in 1289 produced 256,613 l.t. net, the earlier levy should have yielded about 189,894 1. a year or roughly 950,000 1. for the five years. Since the total cost of the crusade to the king was estimated in the fourteenth century as 1,537,570 1., it is evident that the French clergy paid by far the largest share of the expenses.5 This view is supported by Joinville, who told the king at Acre in 1250 that people believed that so far he had spent none of his own money on the crusade but had relied on the contributions of the clergy. This assertion little but finally ruled in July 1247 that since they were "in prefato regno constituti" they must pay at the same rate as the other clergy of the realm (Elie Berger, Saint-Louis et Innocent IV [Paris, 1893], p. 195). 4 W. E. Lunt, Financial Relations of the Papacy with England (Cambridge, Mass., 1939), p. 254; F. M. Powicke, King Henry 111 and the Lord Edward (Oxford, 1947), i, 366. 5 The evidence on which these calculations are based may be found in H.F., xxi, 404, 513-515, 533-536, 542, 556. The figures for total expense may well be inflated; the French government had reason to overestimate its expenditures on behalf of the church in order to justify new requests for assistance.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

was not literally true, and there is room for a considerable number of errors in our earlier calculations; but, no matter how the figures are cast, the church made a notable contribution to the financing of the crusade. No earlier crusade was as well supported; the sys­ tem of taxing the incomes of the clergy reached its full develop­ ment only in the middle years of the thirteenth century, and the 1249 crusade was the first overseas expedition to profit from the new techniques. The king also tried to increase his income from other sources. Most of the revenues from the royal domain were fixed, either by custom or through long-term leases, but the towns could be pressed to give money to the king. A very incomplete account shows that the towns of the old domain paid at least 66,000 l.t.6 This excludes the towns of Normandy and Languedoc, which must have paid something to the king. Even with these omissions it is a respectable sum; the king's annual income at this time was probably not more than 240,000 to 250,000 l.t.7 Moreover, the towns continued to send money to the king once he had gone overseas. When their accounts were being examined in 1260, many of them complained that they were heavily in debt, because they had contributed two or three times to the expenses of the crusade.8 Lesser sums were raised by the great counts and the barons who accompanied the king. As we have seen, the church gave generous grants to the king's brothers, and most lords could expect some contribution from their domains. Few could imitate Alphonse of Poitiers, who received 7,500 l.t. from Auvergne alone, but anything that they could collect was a gain for the crusade. In the end Louis had to assist most of the barons through gifts, wages, or loans, but the fact that they could support themselves for the first weeks or months of the expedition eased the drain on his resources. While money was being raised, the king arranged for transporta8

H.F., xxi, 264-280. Schaube, "Die Wechselbriefe Konig Ludwigs des Heiligen," Jahrbiicher fur Nationalo\onomie und Statistic, LXX, 614, estimates the expenditure of the French government, 1256-1259, at an average of 113,785 l.t. a year, H.F., xxi, p. LXXVI, gives a higher estimate of royal income for 1238 and a lower one for 1248 than the average stated above. Five livres tournois were equivalent to four livres parisis. s Layettes, 111, nos. 4598, 4609, 4611, etc. Roye, for example, gave 1,200 l.p. to the king before he sailed and 1,100 l.p. on three occasions while he was overseas. 7

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tion and supply. In 1246 his agents hired sixteen ships from Genoa and twenty from Marseilles. The contracts were drawn up with great care, with exact descriptions of equipment, provisions for defense, and number of seamen. The continued support of Genoa was as­ sured by giving the inhabitants of the city many opportunities for profit. For example, two Genoese, Hugo Lercari and Jacob di Levanto, were made admirals of the royal fleet. This position was more that of business manager than naval officer. The two admirals received important contracts, for example one for supplying cross­ bow bolts, and acted as bankers for the king on many occasions. Most other Genoese businessmen, great and small, had some share in the profitable work of exchanging or lending money to the king. The good relations between Louis and Genoa meant that the king was always well supplied with transportation and always able to secure money for his immediate needs. Even after his capture and ransom, his credit was good, and his drafts on the Paris treasury were promptly honored by Italian bankers in the Holy Land. While the work of securing ships was going on, the king sent agents to Cyprus to lay in a store of provisions. They did their work well; Joinville speaks with admiration of the mountains of grain and winebarrels which the crusaders found when they reached the island. Except when they were cut off from the sea by the Saracens' naval victory on the Nile, Louis' troops seem to have been well supplied with food. Raising money, securing ships, and buying supplies took about a year longer than the king had first expected. The first contract for ships called for them to be ready by midsummer of 1247; Louis actually embarked at Aigues-Mortes on 25 August 1248. It is difficult to know how much of the army sailed with him; certainly many crusaders either took ship later or embarked at other ports. Cyprus was the rendezvous, and the king, who reached Cyprus on 17 September, had a long wait before his forces were fully assembled. The delay in Cyprus was costly to the crusade in many ways. Many crusaders died, including important men such as Counts Jean of Montfort and Pierre of Vendome and the lord of Bourbon. Others ran out of money and had to borrow from Italian bankers or enter the king's service and so add to his expenses. Worst of all was missing a favorable opportunity to attack Egypt. The sultan as-Salih Aiyub had taken most of his army to Syria to attack an-

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Nasir, the ruler of Aleppo, and his troops were occupied with the siege of Homs during the winter of 1248-1249. It was precisely during those months that there was some chance for a rapid march up the Nile. To wait for spring meant that the crusaders could hardly hope to establish a beachhead before the regular summer rise of the Nile made progress through the Delta impossible. To counterbalance these disadvantages the king and his advisers had one great argument. The longer Louis remained in Cyprus, the larger his army became. Belated barons from France, seasoned warriors from Syria and the Morea, the troops of the Temple and Hospital more than made up for the losses caused by sickness. Even at its maximum size, which was probably attained in the spring of 1249, the crusading army was barely large enough to carry out its mission. As usual, the totals given by chroniclers (50,000 and the like) are mere guesses without authority. Most of the Christian writers obtained their information at second hand, and the Arabs had an obvious incentive to exaggerate the size of the defeated forces. Statements about the number of knights, mounted sergeants, and crossbowmen are worthy of a little more considera­ tion—these specially trained men were set apart from the bulk of the army in many ways and might have been roughly counted by men like Sarrasin and Joinville. If we accept Sarrasin's estimate of 2,500 knights (Joinville says 2,800) and 5,000 crossbowmen, and assume that there were about 2 mounted sergeants and 4 foot soldiers for each knight, we would come out close to Wallon's figure of a total force of 25,000 men. Even this seems high in view of what we know of the cost of the crusade. Knights were paid at least 160 l.t. a year (many received more), and crossbowmen and men-at-arms about 90 1. a year. If Louis had supported 1,500 of the 2,500 knights and 3,000 of the 5,000 bowmen and men-at-arms, he would have spent over half a million livres a year or about a million livres for the two years devoted to the Egyptian campaign. This would leave only half a million livres for shipping, the ransom, the long stay in Syria, and the cost of fortifying coastal cities, since we know that the treasury estimated his total expenses at 1,537,540 1. This is clearly impossible; we have accounts for the Syrian period of the crusade showing that the king spent well over a million livres after he left Egypt. The discrepancy is too great to be explained away. It is possible that Louis supported less than three-fifths of the army, though even the

CRUSADES

greatest lords called on him for financial assistance. It is possible that French officials, working years after the crusade, inadvertently omitted part of the expenses, though they had every reason to ex­ aggerate, since they were trying to impress the papacy with the sacrifices which French kings had made for the faith. Making all possible allowances for error, it still seems that Louis must have supported at least half the army and that he could not have spent much more than 350,000 1. a year during the Egyptian campaign, in view of what we know about his potential sources of income. This would indicate an army of some 15,000 men—a large force for the time, but one which could not stand many losses without falling below the level needed for the conquest of Egypt.9 By spring of 1249 the last troops, coming from Acre, had joined, and the fleet was ready. According to one source10 the mariners had spent the winter in repairing and building small boats for landing operations—a very natural occupation, even if unrecorded by men like Joinville who had little understanding of naval matters. Either at this time or earlier, Damietta was selected as the point of attack. Some chroniclers give an elaborate story of sealed letters containing the destination, which were to be opened only when the captains had put to sea, but it is unlikely that any such complicated device was used. It was obvious that the crusade was going to Egypt, for there was no other reason for wintering in Cyprus, and the only alternative in Egypt to Damietta was Alexandria. Damietta had been taken once before by a crusade, and most of the chroniclers seem to think its choice for Louis' expedition inevitable. Whatever precautions were taken were useless. The sultan was convinced the attack was to be made on Damietta, put a garrison into the city, and lay with the rest of his army a little farther up the Nile. The army sailed from Cyprus at the end of May, after a false 9 The best discussions of the size of the army are Louis de Mas Latrie, Histoire de I'ile de Chypre . . . (Paris, 1852-1861), 1, 350, and Wallon, SaintLouis et son temps, 1, 284. Schaube, "Die Wechselbriefe Konig Ludwigs des Heilgen," p. 615, has some interesting calculations about Louis' expendi­ tures in Syria. The essential figures are in H.F., xxi, 404, 513, 530. Material on pay for military service may be found in Edgard Boutaric, Saint-Louis et Alfonse de Poitiers (Paris, 1870), pp. 115, 116, and in J. R. Strayer, The Administration of Normandy under St. Louis (Cambridge, Mass., 1932), p. 65. 10 H.F., xxiii, 119, chronicle of John de Columna, an Italian Dominican who wrote before 1275.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

start, broken up by a storm, a week or two earlier. They reached the Damietta mouth of the Nile on 4 June (according to most of the sources), and a council of war decided on an immediate attack. This boldness had its reward; the landing on 5 June was the one completely successful operation of the crusade. The beach picked for landing was on the west bank of the Nile, across the river from the town. It was guarded by a strong detachment of the enemy, but some troops had to be left in the city and even more remained with the sultan in his camp up the Nile. The crusaders probably had a large numerical superiority, and they planned their landing skillfully enough to make the most of this advantage. They had a sufficient number of shallow-draft craft to embark a large part of the army simultaneously, and efforts were made to hold the force together instead of letting it waste its strength in piecemeal attacks. The Saracen defenders either failed to use their bowmen efficiently, or else were checked by the counterblast of crossbow bolts from the boats. In any case, they did little damage to the men afloat. Then, as the Christians began to jump out of the boats, often waistdeep in water, the defenders tried a cavalry charge. The horsemen were no more effective than the bowmen. The crusaders braced the butts of their lances against the sand, and the light-armed Saracens, whose horses were probably hampered by bad footing, were unable to ride them down. The king, with the courage he showed through­ out the crusade, came ashore as soon as his men had planted his standard on the beach, and had to be restrained from rushing at once on the enemy. The beachhead was soon well established, and the Saracens withdrew. The Christians had had only minor losses, but two of the Saracen emirs were killed. Good planning and brave fighting now brought an extra dividend. The Moslem coastal defense units, which retreated across the Nile on a bridge of boats, did not join the garrison of threatened Damietta, but sought safety further up the river. This was not very en­ couraging to the garrison, the Arab tribe of the Kinanah, who must have felt that they were being sacrificed to gain time for the rest of the army. They joined the retreat, apparently in a state of panic, since no one thought of destroying the bridge of boats.11 The 11

This may have been unimportant; a Genoese chronicler (M.G.H., Scriptores, xviii, 227) states that the Christian fleet was forcing an entrance to the Nile while the army landed. In any case, Louis had complete control of local waters, and could have ferried his army to the other shore; the bridge was merely a convenience.

CRUSADES

Christians soon discovered that the town was abandoned and en­ tered it the next day. This was a great achievement. Damietta was a good and easily defensible base, full of food and plunder. It had resisted the Fifth Crusade under Jean of Brienne for over a year before yielding. It was important enough to Egypt to be used as a hostage to secure the surrender of Jerusalem—this offer had been made to Jean of Brienne after the first capture of the city.12 And Louis had gained all this at the cost of a single skirmish—his army was intact, better supplied than he could ever have hoped, and absolutely secure while it planned its next move. If the decisive boldness which had led to a landing on a hostile shore the day after arrival had continued, the crusade might have achieved its objective at once. The Egyptians were terribly dis­ couraged—they had counted on a long siege of Damietta which would waste the Christian army while they gathered strength. The unpopular sultan was seriously ill, and the heir to the throne, living in semi-exile in Syria, was an unknown quantity. Christian morale was at its peak; an immediate attack might have broken all opposi­ tion. Instead the crusading army remained in Damietta for five and a half months. There were good reasons for delay, as there always are in war. Alphonse of Poitiers, the king's brother, was expected daily, with a large body of troops. He had benefited more from papal generosity than any other crusader, save Louis himself; he had raised large sums of money from the laymen of his provinces; his forces would be a welcome addition to the army. The Nile was about to overflow, and only a rapid march would bring the crusaders out of the Delta before the floods began. Perhaps the risk was too great, yet nothing went well after the decision to spend the summer in Damietta. The sultan in a last burst of energy restored discipline in his army by hanging the leaders of the runaway garrison of Damietta. He concentrated troops and supplies at the strategic point of Mansurah and sent raiding parties down to the crusading lines. Meanwhile morale among the crusaders declined. The usual vices of garrison life appeared in Damietta and, when part of the army was moved out of town to get food and exercise for the horses, Saracen raids became annoying. It was hard to restrain young knights, bored by the long delay, angered by loss of friends, from making wild sorties 12

History of the Crusades, ed. Setton, n, 419,423.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

among the enemy, and this resentment against discipline asserted itself later in more dangerous circumstances. No great physical damage was done the army during the summer, but when it moved again it had lost some of its edge. Alphonse arrived on 24 October, just as the best season for fighting in Egypt began. Discussions during the summer had made it clear that one group among the barons preferred an attack on Alexandria to a march through the Delta, and a council of war was held to decide between the two plans. There were strong arguments in favor of seizing Alexandria. The crusaders had full control of the sea, they could probably reach Alexandria before the sultan could move his army there from Mansurah, and possession of the chief Egyptian port would put tremendous pressure on the enemy. If an earlier sultan had been willing to surrender Jerusalem to regain Damietta, even greater concessions could be expected in exchange for Alexandria. Safe behind their fortifications, sure of ample supplies by sea, the crusaders could hold the key positions of Alexandria and Damietta until the Egyptians surrendered all their conquests in the kingdom of Jerusalem. This seemed both safer and surer than a repetition of the dangerous march through the Delta which had led the Fifth Crusade to disaster. The arguments on the other side are not as well known; the chroniclers who reported the discussion favored the attack on Alex­ andria and gave little space to the ideas of the opposing group. It seems clear that the party which wished to strike through the Delta at Cairo invoked the sound military principle of seeking the main force of the enemy. Why had they come to Egypt instead of Palestine? Was it not because any gains in the Holy Land were precarious if the main Egyptian army remained undefeated? And would the situation be any better if the crusaders forced the sur­ render of Jerusalem by occupying Egyptian seaports without de­ stroying the forces of the enemy? The Christians in the Holy Land were bound to be inferior in numbers to the Saracens who surrounded them; the only way to give them any security was to destroy the military and political organization of the chief Saracen state. As the king's brother, Count Robert of Artois, said, the best way to kill a snake is to smash its head. Joinville, who reports this phrase, also claims that Artois was the only prominent supporter of the Delta route, and that it was only because he was the king's brother that he succeeded in convincing Louis despite the opposition

CRUSADES

of most of the other barons. This may be a little unfair; there is a tendency in Joinville and some of his contemporaries to blame all the misfortunes of the crusade on Robert of Artois because of his fatal disobedience of orders later in the campaign. But though the advice to push on against the main Egyptian army conforms perfectly to Artois's impetuous character, the same advice might have been given by more sober councillors. It might have proved the best advice, had the terrain been favorable and supply assured. Even with tenuous lines of communication and the watery Delta to hamper their heavy-armed host, the crusaders brought Cairo to the edge of panic before they were turned back. The advance began on 20 November; a few days later the crusade had its last piece of luck when the sultan died. This caused a political and military crisis among the Egyptians. The heir to the throne, Turan-Shah, was far away, and it was many weeks before he could reach Egypt to take over the government. To avoid a panic the sultan's widow, Shajar-ad-Durr, with the aid of a few high officials, concealed the ruler's death and succeeded in forging an order which placed the emir Fakhr-ad-Din in command of the army. By the time the news leaked out, the regency was in full control of the situation, and the army had become accustomed to obeying its new commander. This adjustment was aided by the slow advance of the crusaders. It was difficult to move an army across the streams of the Delta; one canal had to be dammed in order to let them proceed. It proved equally difficult to bring a fleet of galleys and small craft up the Nile, and yet the fleet was absolutely essential to insure supply, since no garrisons were left along the way to keep open communications by land. As a result, it took the crusaders a full month to reach the main Egyptian defensive posi­ tion at Mansurah, protected by the Ashmun-Tannah branch of the Nile. Here the Christians met a serious obstacle. They could not cross a river with a powerful enemy holding the opposite shore, and they were pinned down in the triangle between the Nile and the AshmunTannah branch, where raiders could nibble away at their forces. They held their own in the skirmishes which followed during the next few weeks, but fighting in detail was dangerous to the cru­ saders. Some troops had had to be left behind to garrison Damietta; others had been lost during the advance; and the remaining forces

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

were too small to stand the attrition caused by frequent skirmishing. Louis realized the danger and issued strict orders to remain on the defensive; but he was not always obeyed, and even when he was, there were bound to be some losses. Another ominous sign was the beginning of attacks on the fleet bringing supplies up the Nile. The crusaders made a prolonged attempt to build a causeway across the Ashmun-Tannah branch, but the works protecting the cause­ way were swept by missiles and Greek fire, and what little progress had been made was negated when the enemy dug away the bank on the opposite side. The situation was serious when Louis discovered a way to turn the Saracen position. A native revealed, for a substantial reward, the existence of a ford further down the Ashmun-Tannah branch. Here, after weeks of waiting, was a wonderful opportunity to take the enemy by surprise, attack him in the rear, and win a complete victory. The operation was planned for 7 February 1250. An ad­ vance-guard composed of the best cavalry, including the force under Count Robert of Artois, the Templars, and an English contingent led by William of Salisbury, was to cross the ford at dawn, secure the further bank, and wait for the rest of the army. The king would then bring over the rest of the cavalry, with some of the in­ fantry crossing last. Duke Hugh of Burgundy was left to guard the camp, with a few horsemen and a strong contingent of crossbowmen. This detachment of a camp-guard, though necessary, still further reduced the size of the crusading army and made it abso­ lutely essential for it to act as a unit. Louis realized the danger, and issued strict orders for all groups to remain in contact and to ad­ vance only under his orders. The attack was made the next day, and this rapid execution of the plan gained the advantages of complete surprise. The ford proved difficult, but was crossed successfully by the advance-guard. Once on the other side, Robert of Artois became completely intoxi­ cated with the excitement of combat. He refused to wait for the rest of the army and led a wild charge against the Saracen camp. The movement was completely successful; the enemy had had no warning, and the Egyptian commander, Fakhr-ad-Din, was killed before he could arm himself. This victory deprived Artois of what little discretion he still possessed. The camp on the river was merely an outpost; the bulk of the Saracen army was quartered in the fortified town of Mansurah. Artois insisted on attacking this posi-

CRUSADES

tion at once, though he should have known, as many of his follow­ ers did, that cavalry was of little use in the narrow streets of a medieval town. He led his forces into a trap where the enemy was protected by house-walls, where the Christians were exposed to missiles from the roofs, and where it was almost impossible to keep formation. The Saracens saw their opportunity, rallied, and de­ stroyed most of the advance-guard. This success gave them encour­ agement and time to reform under subordinate leaders, most notable of whom was Baybars, the future sultan. Meanwhile the king had crossed with the rest of the cavalry. He did not yet know of the disaster which had overtaken the advanceguard, though he must have been disturbed to see no sign of it near the ford. He had barely time to form his troops in order of battle when the Saracens came down on him from Mansurah. Fol­ lowing their usual tactics, they fired repeated volleys of arrows to break the crusaders' ranks. This was an especially effective maneuver on this occasion, since few, if any, of the Christian bowmen had yet been able to cross the river, and the Saracen archers were not disturbed by counterfire. Retreat was impossible; the crusaders had to advance, but as they came into contact with the enemy their lack of numbers exposed them to new dangers. The Egyptians pressed them so closely that they could hardly move, and fresh enemy troops waited to take the place of weary units. Louis kept his courage, and through his own calm bravery held his army together. He soon saw that his best plan was to fight his way through the enemy till he reached a point opposite his old camp. There he might get some cover from his bowmen and re­ inforcements might be ferried across. But this sensible maneuver was halted repeatedly. The king, in typical feudal fashion, had to consult his chief subordinates before making any decision, and this meant that group commanders had to be sought out in the heat of battle and brought to him for hasty conferences. Then he heard, belatedly, that his brother Robert of Artois was trapped in Man­ surah, and halted while a small detachment went out in the forlorn hope of rescuing him and his troops. Joinville, who took part in this sortie, gives the impression that it was overwhelmed, almost before it started, by superior numbers. Meanwhile, however and wherever the king moved, his rear-guard was under heavy pressure and was more than once in danger of being cut off. Here again Joinville gives a vivid picture of how he and a few companions, returning

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

from their sortie, held a small bridge over a little stream which protected the king's rear. Thus the Christian host fought its way doggedly along, now decimated with arrows, now swaying back and forth under the shock of hand-to-hand fighting. Toward evening reinforcements of crossbowmen arrived under the constable Hum­ bert of Beaujeu. According to one source, they were brought across the river on a wooden bridge hastily constructed by the men who had remained behind to guard the Christian camp.13 This would indicate that the king had already fought his way through the enemy to a point opposite his old quarters. Wherever they came from, the reinforcements turned the tide. The Saracens withdrew to Mansurah, and Louis had the satisfaction of camping amid the wreckage of the Egyptian outposts. Crusading heroism had won the battle, but chivalrous folly had already lost the campaign. The only chance for success had been to destroy the Egyptian army, and that army, relatively stronger than ever, still lay at Mansurah, between the Christians and Cairo. If Artois had not lost the advance-guard, a more complete victory might have been gained, though it is doubtful whether the cru­ saders had ever had a large enough force effectively to cut the enemy's line of retreat. As it was, the Saracens had preserved their morale and most of their forces, while Louis' army had fallen be­ low the level necessary for offensive operations. The events of the next weeks showed that the Egyptians under­ stood how to profit from the situation. They kept up steady pressure on the crusaders without ever committing themselves so far that they risked a serious defeat. On n February they mounted a strong attack, in the hope of capturing the camp, or at least of cutting off some sections of the Christian army. The crusaders had to fight desperately to beat off the attack, and Louis again proved his high courage in rescuing the unit commanded by his brother, Charles of Anjou. In the end the Saracens withdrew in good order to Mansurah, leaving the Christians once more victorious, but reduced in numbers. Lesser raids also took their toll, while dysentery, scurvy, and all the other diseases of the camp began to weaken the forces which had survived the battles. 13

Other sources put the building of the bridge later, and it does seem diffi­ cult to believe that it could have been constructed so promptly, especially as the workmen would have been under enemy fire for part of the time.

CRUSADES

Prudence dictated a retreat, but at this point the piety of Louis overcame his generalship. He could not believe that the army had been brought so far, through so many dangers, only to fail at the last. He might still have gained large concessions by walling himself up in Damietta, but instead he remained obstinately in his positions on the Nile. His only hope was an outbreak of civil war among the leaders of the Egyptian army. Instead, there was a momentary solidifying of forces around the new sultan. Turan-Shah appeared at Mansurah on 28 February, and a few days later the enemy dis­ covered a new means of harassing the crusaders. The Moslems took boats to pieces, carried them on camelback around the Christian position, and relaunched them further down the Nile. This flotilla soon gained complete control of the river, and cut οίϊ the provisions which had been coming up from Damietta. Dozens of Christian ships were captured, and so few escaped the blockade that the crusading camp was soon on desperately short rations. It is hard to understand why more attention had not been given to securing the line of supply, or why the excellent sailors in the king's service found it impossible to arm galleys which could break the blockade. It may be that the commanders of a feudal army showed their usual lack of understanding of naval power, and that the shipmen were never given the materials or the money needed to create an effective river fleet. Many of the Christian chroniclers do not even mention the blockade, which would indicate that their sources of information in the army failed to understand its importance. The Moslem writ­ ers, on the other hand, stress the closing of the river and consider it one of the chief causes of the Christian collapse. Despite death, sickness, and starvation, Louis held out until the end of March. Then, far too late, he began a withdrawal. Skillful planning and heroic fighting by the rear-guard brought the army safely across the bridge over the Ashmun-Tannah branch, but the crusaders were not much better οίϊ in their old camp than they had been before. About this time there were some half-hearted negotia­ tions with the Saracens on a proposal to exchange Damietta for Jerusalem, but it is difficult to believe that the sultan and his ad­ visers took the proposals very seriously. The crusaders' position was hopeless, and a council of war soon decided to fall back on Damietta. The weaker members of the host were placed in the few galleys which remained, while the rest of the army withdrew by land. They left their fortifications on 5 April, and the full weakness of

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

the crusaders was soon revealed. Outnumbered, faint from illness and lack of food, they struggled halfway to Damietta, with the Saracens swarming around them like flies, to use Joinville's expres­ sion. At that point they could do no more. Louis, who had refused to try to escape by boat, surrendered with the land forces. Most of the galleys were captured at the same time, though one, carrying the legate, escaped. Except for the garrison in Damietta, the crusading army had ceased to exist as a fighting force. And even Damietta was not en­ tirely secure; when news of the surrender came, some of the sailors talked of abandoning the town. Fortunately for Louis, he had left Queen Margaret in Damietta, and she succeeded in stopping the proposed flight. Though she had just given birth to a son, she called in the Pisan and Genoese leaders, begged them not to leave her, and clinched the argument by raising a large sum of money for their wages and supplies. The Saracens were somewhat embarrassed by the completeness of their victory. They had to provide for thousands of prisoners, though they simplified the problem by massacring the sickly and the poor. The greatest possible profit had to be made from the capture of the king and the great barons, and there was difficulty in deciding how this could be done. The fact that Louis had no authority in the kingdom of Jerusalem made it useless to ask for cessions of territory there. The fact that his troops still held Damietta made it necessary to moderate extreme demands; a prolonged siege of the town might well cost more than could be gained from the prisoners. It was clearly to the interests of the Egyptians to get Louis and his army out of the country as soon as possible, before expeditions for rescue or revenge could be organized in France. Difficulty in deciding on terms was perhaps increased by the hos­ tility to Turan-Shah which was beginning to appear in the Egyptian army. Finally, an agreement was reached toward the end of April. After asking for a million bezants as ransom, the sultan reduced his demand to 800,000 bezants. Damietta was to be surrendered, and half the ransom paid before the king left Egypt. In return all surviving captured crusaders were to be freed, and the supplies stored in Damietta were to be preserved until ships could be sent for them. No sooner had this agreement been reached than it was threatened by a revolt of the Egyptian army. The mamluks had been restive

CRUSADES

under the old sultan, whom they feared; for Turan-Shah they had only contempt, and they were quick to strike for power. On 2 May the young sultan was assassinated in the presence of the whole army. Baybars was conspicuous in the plot (according to some sources he dealt the final blow as Turan-Shah pleaded for his life), but it was another mamluk, Aybeg, who became commander of the army, and soon husband of Shajar-ad-Durr, and co-sultan with the youth­ ful Aiyiibid al-Ashraf Musa. The blood-lust and the indiscipline caused by the revolt led to threats against the prisoners, but the army commanders soon realized that it would be foolish to sacrifice valuable captives. They decided to maintain the treaty; on 6 May Damietta was surrendered and the king was set free. Half the ransom (400,000 bezants) was paid during the next two days. There is some dispute as to its exact value in French money, but it is fairly clear that Joinville, who helped collect the money, thought it amounted to 200,000 l.t. Royal accounts, prepared much later, value it at only 167,000 l.t., but this could easily have resulted from writing the sum in terms of the more valuable livres parisis (which would amount to 160,000), and then failing to make the necessary adjustment when adding it to other expenses stated in livres tournois." (The odd 7,000 1. could be interest on loans or cost of exchange.) Whether 167,000 or 200,000 l.t., it was a large, but not impossible, sum to pay. As we have seen, the king's annual revenue was probably somewhat larger, and the tenth being paid by the French church brought in about as much each year. The fact that the money could be collected so quickly shows that the king's resources and credit were still intact. It is true that, to complete the payment, the king had to seize 30,000 1. from deposits entrusted to the Temple, but Joinville, who accomplished this mission, makes it clear that his use of force was merely symbolic, and that the Templars had no great objection to providing the money as long as they were freed from blame. The best proof that the ransom did not bankrupt Louis is found in the hundreds of drafts on the French treasury which were issued in the following years while the king stayed in Palestine. These drafts were honored by Italian bankers without question, and the charges for exchange and interest were kept at the very low figure (for the Middle Ages) of ten to fifteen 14 The value of the ransom is discussed by Schaube, "Die Wechselbriefe Konig Ludwigs des Heiligen," p. 615; Wallon, Saint-Louis et son temps, 1, 370, 389; Natalis de Wailly in his edition of Joinville, pp. 461-462.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

percent. Whether royal credit would have remained so good had the full ransom been paid is another question, but, as we shall see later, Louis was eventually freed from his obligation to pay the remaining 400,000 bezants. As soon as the ransom was paid, Louis sailed for Acre. He had few troops with him, since only the greater men had been released from prison, and some of these had headed directly for France. Nevertheless, he was received with joy by the inhabitants of Acre; a few hundred men were always a welcome reinforcement to the hard-pressed kingdom of Jerusalem. Louis was to remain in Pal­ estine for almost four years (about 13 May 1250 to 24 April 1254). It seems doubtful that he had at first planned so long a stay, but he had certainly determined to salvage what he could from the wreckage of the crusade. The release of the remaining captives had to be secured, and something might Ibe done to ensure the safety of the remnants of the kingdom of Jerusalem. Both operations took longer than had been expected, and before they were completed political events in the Arab world gave the king some hope of re­ gaining the holy city. So his stay was prolonged, month after month, much to the benefit of the crusading kingdom, and, despite the fears of his advisers, not greatly to the detriment of France. The moral greatness of Louis never appeared more clearly than in this decision to remain overseas. Most of his predecessors, when defeated in battle, had run for home as soon as possible; most of his followers were desperately anxious to return to France. Joinville gives a graphic description of the councils in which the king's decision was discussed. He may have exaggerated the importance of his own arguments, but it is clear that many great barons wanted the king to leave, and that Louis was grateful to Joinville for sup­ porting the opposite point of view. But while Louis could not be persuaded to depart, he could not prevent the departure of most of his followers. His own brothers, Charles of Anjou and Alphonse of Poitiers, sailed on 10 August, and the king had great difficulty in retaining even a small body of troops. No one had any money left; Louis had to meet all expenses and pay excessively high wages to the men who entered his service. According to Joinville, the king never had more than 1,400 troops at any one time in Palestine, and even this figure may be exaggerated. Fortunately for the Christians, the assassination or Turan-Shah

CRUSADES

had started a bitter quarrel between the Syrian and the Egyptian Moslems. Loyalty to the house of Saladin still existed, and the most prominent representative of the Aiyubid family, an-Nasir, the prince of Aleppo, knew how to profit from it. He seized Damascus in July 1250 and began planning an attack on the upstart Mamluk rulers of Egypt. This quarrel put Louis in a much stronger position than he could have expected when he went to Acre. He occupied a strategic block of territory between Cairo and Damascus and his small army of seasoned warriors might hold the balance of power in a war between two equally matched adversaries. As a result, both Syrians and Egyptians began to seek his support. The Syrians offered him Jerusalem, while the Egyptians began to concern themselves with the fate of the Christian captives. The Mamluks had been rather careless at first about obeying the terms of the treaty; the king's war machines and food stored in Damietta had been de­ stroyed and many of the prisoners slain. Now they began to restore the captives, in larger and larger groups, as they saw the need to conciliate the king. More than this, soon after the invading Syrian army had been driven back (2 or 3 February 1251), the Egyptians began negotiating with Louis for an alliance, holding out the hope that he could recover all Palestine up to the Jordan as a price for his aid. Some of the royal advisers, notably the Templars, favored an agreement with the Syrians, but Louis seems to have had little hesi­ tation in choosing the Egyptian side. This was probably a wise de­ cision, though it did not produce all the results which had been expected. Egypt was unified as Syria was not, and the Egyptian army had just inflicted a decisive defeat on the Syrians. It looked as if Cairo would, in the long run, dominate Damascus, and it was well for the Christians to be on the winning side. More important perhaps to the king was the fact that the Egyptians could offer him concrete advantages while the Syrians merely gave promises. An eventual cession of Jerusalem was an uncertain basis for policy. The wheel of fortune turned with extraordinary rapidity in Moslem countries; the rise of a new military leader, the advent of a new sultan, the creation of a new alliance might upset any arrangement. But the Egyptians had both Christian captives and the king's prom­ ise to pay the second half of the ransom, and once these were surrendered no political upheaval could bring them back. Louis secured all he could ask for on both these points. All the surviving

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

captives, even those who had been converted to Islam, were re­ turned. The payment of the remaining half of the ransom was canceled. With these tangible gains, Louis had no hesitation in making an alliance with the Egyptians early in 1252. He agreed to support their invasion of Syria in return for the cession of Jerusa­ lem, Bethlehem, and most of the lands west of the Jordan. The new allies were to meet in May between Jaffa and Gaza, to combine operations against the Syrians. The king, with as large a force as he could raise, was in Jaffa in good time, but the Syrians blocked the union of the two forces by occupying Gaza. Louis did not give up hope, but remained in Jaffa for over a year. Meanwhile al-Musta'sim, the caliph in Baghdad, did his best to end a war which might have had disastrous results for Islam. Since neither adversary had been able successfully to invade the other's homeland, they were not unwilling to listen to proposals of peace. A treaty was finally made on about 1 April 1253 which ended the war between Syria and Egypt and, at the same time, destroyed Louis' last hope of regaining Jerusalem. While negotiating with the Moslems, Louis had worked steadily to improve the defenses of the coastal strip still remaining in Chris­ tian hands. His mere presence in Palestine had done much to suspend the bickering among Christians which had made coopera­ tive efforts almost impossible. Under his leadership the fortifications of Acre, Caesarea, Jaffa, Sidon, and some smaller places were re­ built or strengthened. The value of this work was shown when the Syrian army, free to harass the Christians after the peace of 1253, made demonstrations along the coast. They did not dare attack Jaffa and Acre, which were well fortified, but did a good deal of damage to the people of Sidon, where the work of fortifying the town had just begun. Louis also tried to protect the northern flank of the crusading kingdom by strengthening the principality of Antioch. He reconciled the young prince of Antioch, Bohemond VI, with his mother Lucienne, and encouraged close relations between Antioch and the Christian kingdom of Armenia. Finally, Louis made earnest, if rather uncomprehending, efforts to come to some sort of understanding with the Mongols. He had begun the exchange of messages with the Great Khan Goyiik while still in Cyprus in 1248 and knew by this time that the Mongols had some leanings toward Nestorian Christianity and fairly definite plans to attack the Moslems of the Near East. Here were the raw materials for an

CRUSADES

alliance, but neither people could understand the other. Louis thought primarily of conversion, the Mongols of conquest. Louis was annoyed by Mongol attempts to treat him as a vassal prince, and the Mongols were irritated by French independence. A working agreement between Mongols and Christians was not entirely im­ possible, as was shown by King Hetoum I of Armenia a few years later, but it required a knowledge of the Orient and a flexibility which Louis did not possess. Most of the work of fortification was finished by the time peace was made between Damascus and Cairo. It soon became apparent that there was little more for the king to do. He sent part of the army on an unsuccessful raid on Banyas and learned that the enemy was now too strong to be shaken even by a surprise attack. There was no possibility of maneuver; the Christians could do little more than defend what they had. The king of France was not needed for garrison work. He was needed at home. The regent Blanche of Castile had died at the end of 1252, and the king's brothers, able though they were, could not quite fill her place. Sometime toward the end of 1253 or early in 1254 Louis decided to return to France as soon as good weather had set in. He left Geoffroi of Sargines with one hundred knights to reinforce the garrison of Acre and sailed from that port on 24 April 1254. After a long and dangerous voyage he landed at Hyeres in Provence early in July. King Louis often thought of the Holy Land during the pros­ perous years that followed his return to France. He maintained the French garrison in Acre under Geoifroi of Sargines, and helped the hard-pressed Christians raise money to defend their last frag­ ments of territory. The French treasury later estimated that this assistance in men and money cost the king an average of 4,000 l.t. a year between 1254 and 1270. The consciences of most rulers were satisfied with considerably less, but Louis was not content with such routine expressions of piety. He felt responsible for the failure of the 1249 crusade and longed to redeem himself by a successful expedition. He was encouraged in this hope by his brother Alphonse, who began planning a new crusade almost as soon as he returned from Syria. But, as usual, the internal politics of the commonwealth of Christendom interfered with its foreign policy. The popes were spending most of their time and all the money they could raise on the old quarrel with the Hohenstaufens. Louis' younger brother,

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Charles of Anjou, was drawn into the struggle; and, when he set oil to conquer the kingdom of Sicily from Manfred, he took with him some of the best fighting men of France. Only when he had won his decisive victory at Benevento in 1266 was it possible to consider the needs of the Holy Land. It was time, and past time, to think of the Christian outposts in the Levant. Baybars, sultan at Cairo since 1260, had revealed his great qualities as a military leader. Just before assassination had cleared his way to the throne, he had been largely responsible for defeating a Mongol army which had occupied Syria. There were few men, from the Mediterranean to the Yellow Sea, who could claim such a victory, and Baybars had greater prestige and authority than any Moslem ruler since Saladin. With Egypt and Syria united under him, Baybars began a steady attack on the Christian for­ tresses. One by one they fell, Caesarea and Arsuf in 1265, Safad in 1266, Jaffa and Antioch in 1268. Undermanned, divided by po­ litical and economic rivalries, the remaining towns were in no con­ dition to defend themselves. A new effort was needed if any Chris­ tian states were to survive in the eastern Mediterranean. With Charles of Anjou as king of Sicily, the pope no longer had to concentrate all his resources on Italy, but it seems doubtful that Clement IV planned a full-scale crusade as a result of the victory at Benevento. He continued the policy of the last few years, raising a little money for Palestine through a one percent tax on ecclesias­ tical income, and encouraging individuals to redeem their crusading vows by spending a few months fighting around Acre. It was not lack of energy which made him hold back, but rather the com­ plicated political situation in Italy and the Levant. There was still a Hohenstaufen heir, young Conradin, around whom all the op­ ponents of the papacy and the Angevins might unite. War or rebellion in Italy was not merely possible; it was probable. There was a difficult decision to be made about Constantinople. Charles of Anjou, hardly secure on his new throne, was planning a reconquest of Byzantine lands, and a revival of the Latin empire of Constantinople. Michael VIII Palaeologus, who had only recently regained the great city on the Bosporus, was countering with an offer to reunite the Greek and Latin churches. The old plan of persuading the Mongols of Persia to form an alliance with the Christians against Baybars had been revived and had to be inves­ tigated. The pope wanted to be very sure where the most effective

CRUSADES

blow could be struck before he called out the forces of western Europe. But Louis, always disdainful of power politics, saw only the captivity of the holy places and the oppressions of Baybars. Late in 1266 he secretly told the pope his intentions, and on 24 March 1267, at a great meeting of his barons, he and his three sons took the cross. There was little enthusiasm for the new crusade among the nobility of France. Joinville flatly refused to follow the king to whom he was bound by so many ties of memory and affection, and said bluntly that the new expedition was a mistake. Jongleurs and troubadours, who wrote for the upper classes, criticized the whole crusading idea. For generations the only successful crusades had been those directed against Europeans, and Frenchmen were be­ coming cynical about the reasons for, and pessimistic about the results of, overseas expeditions. One chronicler reports that the royal council was unanimously opposed to the crusade, and several say that the king had to make repeated efforts to persuade a respect­ able number of barons and knights to take the cross. Even the royal family was not united on the plan. A special embassy was sent to Charles of Anjou, and the terms of the king's letter indicate that he knew that his brother had no great liking for the expedition. The one favorable element in the situation was that there was some hope of securing aid from other countries. King James I of Aragon was dreaming of ending his long reign with a victorious expedition to the east, and Henry III of England, as he grew old, began to think that it was time to redeem the crusading vow he had taken so many years before. In view of the general lack of enthusiasm it seems likely that Louis had to bear even more of the expenses than he had on his previous crusade. We know that the duke of Burgundy received a generous stipend from the king, and if so great a man could not or would not rely on his own resources, the poorer crusaders must have leaned heavily on the king. Even Prince Edward, who was to lead the English forces in place of his father, borrowed 70,000 l.t. from Louis for crusading expenses in 1268, though the English clergy and laity were about to make large payments for his expedi­ tion. It may be that this money was to be used primarily to secure the aid of Edward's Gascon vassals, since the prince agreed to give 25,000 l.t. to Gaston of Bearn and to repay the loan from Gascon revenues. When Louis did not make direct grants, he paid indirectly

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

by allowing the pope to divert revenues to great lords. Thus Alphonse of Poitiers, Thibaud V of Champagne, Count Jean of Brittany, Count Guy of Flanders, and other lords of the Low Countries all received large sums from grants which had been made to the king by the pope.16 To meet these expenses the king had the same revenues as before. Grants by the church were once again the largest single source of income. A tenth of the revenues of the ecclesiastics of France and a twentieth of the revenues of churchmen in the border dioceses (Liege, Metz, Toul, Verdun, and the non-French parts of the prov­ ince of Rheims) were conceded soon after Louis took the cross. Since money for the Sicilian war was still being collected, the cru­ sade tenth could not begin until 1268—it then ran for three years. The king also received the small change of papal income in France —the remnants of the one hundredth of 1262, redemptions of crusading vows, indeterminate legacies, and the like. The towns were asked to pay an aid for knighting the king's eldest son and for the crusade, and this levy was extended as widely as possible, despite claims to exemption. At the same time it was far from covering all laymen, in contrast to the twentieth granted to Henry III by the English parliament. The royal ambassadors reminded Charles of Anjou that he owed his brother 49,000 1., but Charles made no effort to pay the debt until 1270. Alphonse of Poitiers relieved the king of a considerable expense by making energetic efforts to raise money in his own domains. He took aids from the nobles and received 30,000 l.t. from the pope, as well as indetermi­ nate legacies and redemption of vows in his lands. The nonnobles paid heavily; there was a double cens in the northern counties, and a fouctge for three years in his southern holdings. The Jews were seized and forced to ransom themselves. Altogether, Alphonse must have raised well over 100,000 l.t., which left him in a much better financial position than most of the crusaders.16 King Louis began to spend his money as soon as the first sums from the tenth became available. Contracts were made with the leaders of feudal contingents, and agents were sent to the Mediter15

The king, however, would not assent to Alphonse's request that he be given the proceeds of the tenth in all his lands: see Boutaric, Saint-Louis et Alfonse de Poitiers, p. 315. 16 See Boutaric, Saint-Louis et Alfonse de Poitiers, pp. 28off., for a descrip­ tion of Alphonse's financial expedients.

CRUSADES

ranean to secure ships. Venice and other maritime cities were ap­ proached, but in the end the contracts went to Genoa (nineteen ships) and Marseilles (twenty), just as they had before. The ad­ miral, this time, was to be a French subject, Florent of Varennes, but the Genoese chose two consuls who were in virtual command of their ships. Chartering old vessels and commissioning the build­ ing of new ones were an immediate drain on the king's resources, since the Genoese demanded down payments of one-third to onehalf of the total sum. Prices were somewhat lower than in the 1240's, but new ships still cost 7,000 l.t. apiece, while old ones were chartered at prices running from 850 to 3,750 l.t. It is not surprising that the French envoys were occasionally short of money. Louis, however, still had good credit in Genoa, and by the summer of 1269 most of the arrangements for the fleet had been made. The ships were to be at Aigues-Mortes by early summer in 1270. These contracts are much more specific than those of the 1240's, and in some of the details we may see the first signs that the king was thinking of Tunisia as a possible objective of the crusade. The king is given a very free hand in controlling the movements of the fleet. He may ask it to stop briefly at some port or island so that he may hold a council. He may land his army once, reembark it after a month, and land it a second time, at no extra cost. If his operations are so prolonged that he needs the fleet during and after the winter months, he may keep the ships by making an additional payment of two-fifths of the base price. No destinations are mentioned, but these provisions would permit a quick blow against a nearby enemy, such as Tunisia, to be followed, if possible, by a longer expedition to the east. They might also be interpreted as envisaging a stopover at some eastern base such as Cyprus or Crete in order to reassemble and reprovision the army before a landing in Egypt or Syria. The precedents of 1248 favor this second interpretation, but there are strong reasons for believing that no landing at an eastern base was contemplated in 1270. In the first place, no supplies were shipped ahead of the army to Cyprus, though Louis had found this very helpful for his earlier attack on Egypt. In the second place, these contracts, so specific in all other respects, are remarkably vague about the destination of the fleet. This could hardly have been accidental, since in the negotiations with Venice which immediately preceded those with Genoa, a voyage to the Holy Land and a halt in Cyprus or Crete were specifically mentioned. It looks as though

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Louis changed his plans sometime in 1268 to include an attack on Tunis. If he did, there was every reason to keep his destination secret, not only to deceive the enemy but to avoid alienating his friends. The Genoese had no desire to ruin their trade with Tunisia, and the crusade was unpopular enough without trying to explain an unprecedented diversion to the western Mediterranean. So the contracts were drawn in such a way that the king was free to move against Tunisia, while those who were not in on the secret could still think that an ordinary expedition against Egypt or Syria was planned.17 It may seem unfair to accuse an honest man of such tortuous behavior on very slender evidence, but it is difficult to come to any other conclusion. Certainly the attack on Tunisia must have been decided on before the army sailed in the summer of 1270. The fact that the rendezvous for the fleet was fixed at Cagliari proves this; Sardinia was impossibly remote from any eastern objective. Louis never made important decisions on the spur of the moment; it is difficult to believe that he made no plans about Tunisia until the spring of 1270. We know that he was in constant contact with Charles of Anjou, and Charles had had trouble with Tunisia from the beginning of his reign in the kingdom of Sicily. He must have told his brother of his difficulties, and the fact that a Tunisian embassy visited Paris in 1269 after negotiating with Charles shows that Louis was taking some interest in the problem. No one of these arguments is decisive, but the cumulative effect is strong. Louis must have decided on the Tunisian diversion late in 1268, or early in 1269. It is easier to accept the fact of an early decision to attack Tunisia than to understand the reasons which led to it. Contemporaries of Louis and modern historians have been equally puzzled by the act.18 Scholars of great ability have even denied that Charles of Anjou influenced the decision, and have claimed that he merely followed 17 The contracts with Genoa and Marseilles are published in the books by Jal and Belgrano cited in the bibliographical note. The contract proposed by the Venetians is in Andre Duchesne, Historiae Trancorum scriptores, v, 435-

43618 The fullest discussion of the problem is in Sternfeld's Ludwigs des heiligen Kreuzzug nach Tunis. H. F. Delaborde gives a useful criticism of Sternfeld's thesis in Revue de I'orient latin, iv (1896), /(23-428. The Moslem interpreta­ tion is treated in the chapter on North Africa in volume 111 of History of the Crusades, ed. Setton (in preparation).

CRUSADES

his brother reluctantly into the adventure. But can anyone believe that Louis would have concerned himself with Tunisia if Charles had not been king of Sicily? France had no political or economic relations with Tunisia, and Louis was interested in the Holy Land, not in the conquest of North African ports. Sicily, on the other hand, had an important trade with Tunisia and was immediately affected by unfriendly acts of the Hafsid ruler, Muhammad I. Charles had every reason to be dissatisfied with the behavior of the emir. He had been a friend of the Hohenstaufens; he had allowed supporters of Conradin to sail from his ports in 1268 to stir up rebellion in Sicily. Even after the shattering defeat of Tagliacozzo the emir had sheltered these enemies of Charles in his domains. Moreover, he had refused Charles the annual payments which he had regularly made to the Hohenstaufen emperors for free access to Sicilian waters and markets. Charles had been demanding these payments since he became king, and an attack, or at least a demonstration against Tunisia, was an obvious way of backing up his diplomacy. It is true that Tunisia was not a major objective and that Charles's policies at this time were aimed primarily at the reconquest of the Latin empire of Constantinople. But the crusade planned by Louis imposed a serious obstacle to this plan. Charles knew that his brother would keep his vow, and that many of the French warriors who might have joined an expedition to Romania would follow their king instead. He knew that Louis was anxious to have his sup­ port, and family pride, gratitude for recent assistance, and political expediency forbade him to reject the request. Charles could hardly escape a crusade, but he could hope to make it brief and profitable to himself. Louis was always willing to listen to advice from his brothers, and in this case he greatly needed the assistance which Charles could give. By himself he could hardly raise a respectable army; with Sicilian assistance he might be able to strike a real blow against the Moslems. Under these conditions Charles could argue that Louis should consider the interests of Sicily and strike a blow against the infidels across the strait. The chroniclers report some of the reasons which may have persuaded Louis to attack Tunisia. He had no very clear picture of the geography of North Africa, and he probably thought that Tunisia was closer and more accessible to Egypt than was actually the case. He was told that the mamluk army drew military supplies from Tunisia, and he may have believed that Tunisia would furnish

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

a base from which pressure could be exerted on Egypt. The rather remote danger of the Tunisian navy blocking the straits of Sicily was also mentioned. The payment owed by Tunisia for access to Sicilian ports may have been represented as a service owed by a vassal to his lord. Louis had strong feelings about disloyal vassals —witness his attitude to the English barons during their rebellion —and he would certainly have felt that a vassal who denied service to a Capetian prince deserved punishment. There was a rumor that the emir of Tunisia was ready to become a Christian if he could be assured protection, and it is quite possible that Muhammad I him­ self started the story in order to gain time in his negotiations with Charles. Louis may not have fully believed the report, but it would have quieted his religious scruples and made it easier for him to convince others. It was generally believed that Tunisia could be easily and quickly conquered, so that Louis could still hope to take his army to the east after an inspiring and profitable victory. All this is speculation, but behind the speculation lie the hard facts of Capetian family loyalty and the dependence of the two brothers on each other. Tunisia was the only objective which satis­ fied both the religious policy of Louis and the political needs of Charles. Each king could hope that after the Tunisian raid his inter­ ests would prevail. Louis could dream of a united French-Sicilian army sailing on to attack the Egyptians, while Charles, wise with his years of military experience, could feel sure that the crusade would break up after one campaign and that he might then recruit knights and bowmen for a war on the Greeks. Louis had planned his troop movements so well that he and the larger part of the army arrived in Languedoc several weeks ahead of the ships. The Genoese were late, and the king was not able to sail until 2 July 1270. This was at least a month behind schedule, and it was a month which Louis could ill afford to lose. Not only would he land in Tunisia during the worst of the summer heat; he would also have very little good weather left for the second stage of the voyage to the east. Most of the army seems to have embarked at Aigues-Mortes or Marseilles at about the same time; there were very few laggards compared to 1248. This would indicate a relatively small force, since it was very difficult, under thirteenth-century conditions, to embark a large number of men within a limited period. Other evidence supports the conclusion that Louis had a smaller army in

CRUSADES

1270 than in 1248. The king's own household included only about 327 knights, and yet this should have been one of the largest di­ visions of the army. The lower cost of shipping also indicates a small force; with no great demand for vessels, Genoa and Marseilles had to deflate their prices. Troops from the Latin states of the east, which had played a prominent role in the Egyptian campaign, were not present in Tunisia. Louis' great reluctance to undertake any important operations before the arrival of Charles of Anjou also suggests a small army. It is true that he had waited for Alphonse at Damietta, but he had been willing to risk a pitched battle and a siege upon landing, and the sultan of Egypt was a far more dangerous foe than the ruler of Tunisia. The Arabic historian al-Maqrizi regularly exaggerates the size of crusading forces, but his figures, for what they are worth, indicate a smaller army in Tunisia than at Damietta. Altogether, a very rough guess might place the number of men who sailed with the king at no more than 10,000.19 The rendezvous for the fleet was at Cagliari, in southern Sardinia. Here the final council was held, and the decision to attack Tunis was announced. The secret had been well kept, and both the sailors and the rank and file of the army were surprised. Many of the Genoese seamen were so sure that they were going to the Holy Land that they had contracted loans payable in Syria. No chronicler gives a very full account of the arguments used to persuade the men, but it is clear that the wealth and weakness of Tunis were stressed. There was also talk of the conversion of the emir and the value of Tunis as a Christian base against the Moslems. Pious crusaders were assured that they would receive the same indulgences for fighting western Moslems as for service in the Holy Land. There seems to have been no real opposition to the plan; Louis' reputa­ tion stood so high that few men could question his decisions. It took about a week to assemble the fleet at Cagliari. The run across to Tunisia was made quickly, and a landing was made on 18 July without serious opposition. Tunisian outposts harassed the crusaders, and tried to cut them off from water, but after the Genoese had taken the fort built on the site of ancient Carthage the Christian camp was reasonably secure. Then both sides settled down to a waiting game. Louis, conscious of the smallness of his army, remembering his experiences in Egypt, issued strict orders against any sorties. He was determined not to risk a pitched battle 19 See the estimates of Ferdinand Lot, L'art militaire et Ies armees au moyen-age (Paris, 1946), 1, 196.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

until Charles of Anjou arrived, and he did not wish to dribble away his forces in indecisive fighting. He was better obeyed than he had been in Egypt, and the army on the whole resisted the temptation to attack Moslem skirmishers. As for Muhammad I, he realized that he was reasonably safe behind the walls of his city, and that his greatest danger was to risk his army in the open. So he limited his operations to aggressive patrolling of the Christian lines and smallscale attacks on foragers. Meanwhile, heat, lack of sanitation, and scarcity of fresh food brought the usual diseases to the Christian camp. The royal family itself was stricken. The king's eldest son, Philip, was too weak to lead his division, and young Jean of Nevers soon became mortally ill. Born in Damietta during the dark days of the retreat from Mansurah, Jean died just as the king himself fell ill. Louis, no longer strong enough to fight off disease, weakened gradually, and on 25 August he died, as he had lived, in the service of the faith. Just as the king's death was being announced, the vanguard of the Sicilian fleet appeared. Charles of Anjou was saddened by his brother's death, but had no intention of becoming a martyr himself. The new king of France, Philip III, was in nominal command, but his illness and lack of experience forced him to leave everything to his determined uncle. Charles soon decided, after a few more skirmishes, that the crusaders' position was untenable. The army must either risk a full-scale attack on Tunis, or withdraw. The Hafsid emir was also anxious to end hostilities. Sickness had ap­ peared in his army, and he had no desire to face a prolonged siege. With both leaders in this state of mind, it was not difficult to arrange a peace. There was a good deal of indignation among the lesser men in the camp, but Charles had no great difficulty in per­ suading the leaders to follow his plans. The treaty was ratified on ι November, and seventeen days later the crusaders embarked for Sicily. A large part of the indignation against the treaty was caused by the fact that Charles was the only one to derive much benefit from its terms. True, Tunisia paid a war indemnity of 210,000 goldounces, but even if these were worth 50 sous tournois apiece,20 they amounted to only 525,000 livres. This was far less than the crusaders' This may have been their nominal value, but actual exchange rates at this time give a value closer to 40 sous tournois. See Belgrano, Documenti inediti, pp. 136, 142, 324-325. 20

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expenses, especially since the king of Sicily received one-third of the sum. Charles, on the other hand, regained all the old privileges of the kings of Sicily in Tunisia. His subjects and friends could trade freely in Tunisian ports, and could exercise their faith freely in Tunis. The supporters of the Hohenstaufens were to be expelled from the lands of the emir. The annual payment for the right to trade with Sicily was doubled and arrears were to be made up. On the whole, Charles had gained most of his objectives. He had en­ gaged in a crusade at a minimum cost in time and money, and in return he had restored his position in Tunisia and broken up a possible center of opposition there. Of all the crusaders, he was the only one who had reason to be pleased. The unsatisfactory results of the crusade were emphasized by the events of the return. Edward of England arrived just as the final negotiations with Tunisia were being concluded. He was not pleased with a peace which prevented him from fighting, but he could do nothing but accompany Charles and Philip to Sicily. When the fleet reached Trapani, it was struck by a storm which did great damage to the French and Italian vessels, but left Edward's ships unscathed. Pious crusaders were quick to see in this disaster a divine judgment on the fainthearted. In spite of the warning, all the leaders except Edward agreed to put off further expeditions for three years. More misfortunes were not slow in coming. Thibaud of Champagne and Navarre died of an illness contracted in Africa. With many of his ships out of commission and the winter storms beginning, Philip had to take the difficult land route back to France. The hardships of the journey were too much for his pregnant queen, Isabel of Aragon, and she died after giving birth to a dead child. It was not an army but a great funeral procession which returned to France. The young king carried with him the remains of his father, his wife, his stillborn son, his brother, and his brother-in-law. It is not surprising that the next appeal for an overseas expedition drew little response from the French. The final episode of the crusade was Edward's journey to the Holy Land. Deprived of all outside support, he was accompanied by only a few hundred of his own countrymen. This was too small an army for any effective fighting, as he soon discovered. A few raids in 1271 accomplished nothing, and a truce in 1272 between Acre and Baybars ended hostilities. True to his principles, Edward refused to accept the truce, but he could hardly continue fighting

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

when the town which was his chief base of supplies was at peace. He finally followed Louis' example, and left a garrison in Acre at his expense when he sailed at the end of the summer. As a military expedition, his crusade had been useless, but as a political gesture it was a great success. Edward's steadfastness and devotion to the Holy Land were contrasted with the weakness and political maneuverings of Philip and Charles. He gained a reputation for pious zeal which was to be of assistance to him in his later quarrels with Scotland, France, and the papacy. But while his record was better than that of the other kings he had drawn much the same con­ clusion from his experiences. Like Philip and Charles, he would talk of regaining the Holy Land, but he would always find some reason why it was impossible to make the effort. The age of the great crusades, led by the kings of the West, had ended.

12. Philip the Fair—A "Constitutional" King* /

HE reign of Philip the Fair offers one of the great paradoxes of French history. On the one hand, it sees the culmination of the medieval French monarchy; the royal government reaches a peak of power which it is not to attain again for generations. On the other hand, the king who presides over the government during these crowded years of great events is a shadowy, elusive figure, almost completely hidden behind a screen of bureaucrats. It is hard to prove that any important act of the reign was the result of a personal decision by the king. It is easy to argue that he did nothing, and by doing nothing allowed his ministers to express the traditions of the bureaucracy in a relentless drive for power. And yet those who be­ lieve that the important decisions of the reign were made by Philip's ministers merely change the form but not the substance of the para­ dox. For no one minister held power throughout the reign and no one minister had complete control of the government for even a short period. Yet basic policy remained constant, though tactics changed. If the king did not give continuity and direction to policy, who did P Can it be true that the whole bureaucracy was so imbued with the spirit of aggrandizement that it made no difference who was selected to sit in the royal council? Or did Philip express his hidden desires through a careful choice of ministers? This problem worried Philip's contemporaries, and it has worried historians ever since. On the whole, French writers of the early fourteenth century tended to believe that Philip was dominated by evil counsellors. This is the story of Yves of St. Denis,1 of Geoiiroi de Paris,2 even of such an ardent supporter of the monarchy as Pierre Dubois.3 Bishop Bernard Saisset made many indiscreet re­ marks, but the one which stung most and has been remembered longest was his comparison of Philip to the owl: "the handsomest of birds which is worth absolutely nothing . . . such is our king of France who is the handsomest man in the world and who can do * First published in American Historical Review, LXII ( 1956), 18-32. xxi, 205: heavy taxes and alteration of the currency were caused "consiliariorum suorum monitu magis quam proprio ejusdem regis instinctu." 1 H-F.,

2

Ibid., xxii, 97, 99, 119. Pierre Dubois, De recuperatione terre sancte, ed. C. V. Langlois (Paris, 1891), p. 120: the king has made some unwise decisions, "non motu proprio sed ducente suo consilio." Cf. pp. 123-124. 3

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

nothing except to stare at men."4 Foreign chroniclers such as the Italian Villani and the Fleming Gilles Ie Muisis also believed that Philip was a figurehead.5 Even Boniface VIII, in listing Philip's offenses in Ausculta fili, thought it wise to insert some lines attack­ ing the king's evil counsellors, though he added that this was no excuse and that the king bore full responsibility for allowing such men to have power.6 The Aragonese writer who said that Philip was a masterful ruler, emperor, pope, and king rolled into one7 was an exception. Modern historians have been less willing to write Philip off as a nonentity. The Germans, who see Philip as the originator of the French drive to the east, are especially emphatic on this point. Finke, Holtzmann, Kern, and Wenck all agree that Philip gave consist­ ency and strength to French policy during his reign.8 The English historian Boase warns against "believing that so much of France was created . . . with no central guiding will."9 French scholars, who should know the facts best, are a little less sure. Boutaric be­ lieved in Philip's leadership and personal responsibility,10 but Boutaric wrote at the very beginning of serious scholarly investigation of the period. Langlois felt that the problem was insoluble, but his discussion does not do much to convince the reader that Philip was 4 Pierre Dupuy, Histoire du differend d'entre Ie pape Boniface VIII et Philippes Ie Bel (Paris, 1655), p. 643. That the simile hurt is shown by the fact that it is mentioned several times in royal documents dealing with the bishop's imprisonment. Ibid., pp. 656, 660. 5 Karl Wenck, Philipp der Schone von Fran\reich—seine Personlich\eit und das Urteil der Zeitgenossen (Marburg, 1905), pp. 28-29. 6 Dupuy, Histoire du differend, p. 51. Boniface, like the chroniclers, suggests that the king's agents are feathering their own nests and that they use royal authority to oppress the people. 7 Heinrich Finke, "Zur Charakteristik Philipps des Schonen," Mitteilungen des Instituts fiir Osterreichische Geschichtsforschung, xxvi (1905), 209: "pus el es rey et papa et emperador." Dino Compagni (Cronica, ed. Isidoro del Lungo [Florence, 1902], bk. HI, ch. 23, p. 174) seems to feel that Philip was responsible for French policy toward the church. 8 Finke, "Zur Charakteristik Philipps des Schonen," pp. 219-221; Robert Holtzmann, Wilhelm von Nogaret (Freiburg, 1898), p. 213; Fritz Kern, Die Anfange der franzdsischen Ausdehnungspoliti\ (Tubingen, 1910), pp. 49, 95, 114; Wenck, Philipp der Schdne, pp. 49$. 9 T.S.R. Boase, Boniface VIII (London, 1933), p. 68. 10 Edgard Boutaric, La France sous Philippe Ie Bel (Paris, 1861), pp. 415^.

PHILIP THE FAIR

a strong king.11 Digard, without taking a very definite stand, tended to ascribe responsibility to the "counsellors of the king," to the "court," to Pierre Flote, rather than to Philip.12 On the other hand Fawtier, who knows the documents of the reign better than any other historian, has no doubt that Philip controlled and directed his government. He admits that some measures may have been initiated by members of the council rather than by the king, but he is sure that Philip always knew and approved what was done in his name.13 More opinions on both sides of the question could be found, but this is not a problem which can be settled by accumulating authori­ ties. Medieval chroniclers are not very reliable on such matters; many were ill-informed and all were influenced by the convention which blamed unpopular acts of kings on evil advisers. Modern writ­ ers are better informed, but are sometimes misled by other con­ ventions: that the great events of a reign must be the result of de­ liberate policy, and that such a policy can be imposed only by a king. In all the discussion there has been too much arguing from effect to cause, too much concentration on a few striking, and there­ fore exceptional, events. It may be worth shifting ground for a moment and approaching the problem from another angle, that of the normal, routine activity of the French government. If we find that the king took an active part in dull, routine work, we shall be less willing to admit that he was passive in greater matters. Moreover, small decisions have a way of adding up into major policies, and Philip could easily have set the tone of the entire gov­ ernment through acts which made no great impression on envoys or chroniclers. We can begin by admitting that many things were done in the king's name about which he knew nothing. France was a large 11

C. V. Langlois, St. Louis, Philippe Ie Bel et Ies derniers Capetiens directs (vol. HI, part 2 of E. Lavisse, Histoire de France [Paris, 1911], pp. 119-123. 12Georges Digard, Philippe Ie Bel et Ie Saint-Siege (Paris, 1936), 1, 284, 286, 305511, 75, 93. 13 Robert Fawtier, L'Europe Occidentale de 12JO a 1380, part 1 (vol. vi, part I, of Histoire Generale, ed. Gustave Glotz [Paris, 1940]), p. 299: "On peut done laisser a Philippe Ie Bel la responsabilite des evenements de son regne. Il est vraisemblable qu'il n'a pas eu l'initiative de toutes Ies mesures qui ont etc prises en son Conseil, mais ces mesures ont ete prises par des hommes qu'il avait choisis. Il ne Ieur a fait aucune opposition; rien n'autorise a croire qu'il n'en a pas compris l'esprit ou la portee."

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

country and had, even then, an unusually high density of bureau­ crats, both at Paris and in the provinces. Most of these bureaucrats were trying to distinguish themselves by ceaseless activity in pre­ serving, discovering, and increasing royal rights and revenues. With­ in certain limits, they had a free hand; they did not have to go to the king for authority for each act, and they received few specific orders regarding their ordinary work. Yet there were limits, and these limits became apparent whenever a provincial official tried to go too far or too fast in his task of in­ creasing royal power. The government of Philip the Fair was not very tender of the rights of bishops or of communes, but it had more respect for these rights than many local officials. It preferred to hold at least to the letter of the law; it would rather restrict than abolish privileges. It also knew that certain bishops were influential enough to need careful handling and that the loyalty of certain provinces (especially in the south) was too uncertain to stand much rough treatment. Therefore we have dozens of letters forbidding royal offi­ cials to trouble bishops such as Guillaume Ie Maire of Angers, or communes such as that of Toulouse.14 Some of these letters are so emphatic and so personal that it is hard to believe that anyone could have written them except the king himself. Certainly no ordinary royal official could have threatened a seneschal of Perigord with severe punishment for failure to observe the rights of the consuls of Cahors,15 or told a bailli of Caen that his goods would be con­ fiscated if justice were not done to a king's clerk.16 And the king seems personally concerned when he rebukes a seneschal of Carcas­ sonne for summoning men for military service, not only without a royal order but against a specific order: "such acts," says Philip, "will gain us the ill-will and hatred of our subjects."17 14 "Le livre de Guillaume Ie Maire," ed. Celestin Port, Melanges historiques, π (Paris: Documents inedits . . . , 1877), 331-334, 341, 370-373; Lettres inedites de Philippe Ie Bel, ed. Adolphe Baudouin (Paris, 1887), nos. 157, 158, 165, 168, 173, etc. (for the commune of Toulouse), nos. 4, 10, 17, 22, 35, 48, 54, 71-77, 105, etc. (for the clergy). Cf. B.N., ms. lat. 9192, fols. 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 (for the citizens of Montpellier). 15 A.N., J 341, no. 8. The king is especially angry because earlier letters for Cahors have been "scorned" (March 1308). 1β B.N., ms. fr. 25697, no. 28. The bailli is accused of neglect and contempt of royal letters. If he does not act at once "tibi predicimus quod in bonis tuis executionem propter hoc fieri fecimus" (25 Feb. 1305). Other letters which seem to me to have this personal touch are Ordonnances, 1, 379, 434. 1T H.L., x, preuves, col. 236. It is especially striking that this strong letter

PHILIP THE FAIR

It is, of course, impossible to prove conclusively that these letters were written by direct order of the king. But it is clear that there was an inner circle in the government which had full control over all other royal officials and which insisted that its policies should be carried out at all levels of administration. The character of Philip's reign was not determined by a blind drive for power by a horde of petty bureaucrats. Policy was made at the highest level by a very few men, by the king and his council. Accepting this, one can still argue that the king was the least im­ portant member of the governing group, that he merely ratified deci­ sions which were made by the council as a whole, or by some of its leading members. This hypothesis would seem to be strengthened, at first glance, by evidence that the king did not always know what members of the council did in his name. From time to time we hear of letters which have been obtained surreptitiously,18 of conflicting promises made by the king and members of the council,19 of con­ tradictory royal charters.20 But if these documents prove that the king did not always remember his promises or that he was not always informed of what was done in his name, they also prove that no one else was in complete control. In the competition for royal favors several men in succession might gain the king's ear; there was no single all-powerful favorite through whom patronage was channeled. Even more important, we hear of these contradictory orders because the king, in the long run, did become aware that his wishes were not being observed. And in every case he had his way; the surreptitious or conflicting letters were revoked; the claimant to whom the king really wished to give income or office received it. The only safe conclusion from this evidence is that there was some inefficiency, some failure of communication in the French govern­ ment of the late thirteenth century. The same weaknesses are ap­ parent in any other medieval government; they are not entirely absent in much more highly organized modern states. Furthermore, someone in the government—almost certainly the king or the keeper of the seal—made an effort to prevent the apof II March 1289 was followed (col. 238) on 17 September by a much milder one allowing the seneschal to demand service in case of necessity. Certainly someone in Paris had been worrying about the case. 18 Olim, 11, 497; A.N., J 317, no. 50, J 1046, JJ 42A, no. 1. 19 Olim, 11, 547, HI, 815; A.N., JJ 38, no. 29. 20 Olim, 11, 444.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

pearance of these unauthorized or conflicting letters. The rule was gradually established that every document issued in the king's name must carry at the bottom the name of the notary who wrote it and the name of the official who ordered it written.21 The earliest ex­ amples of this practice which I have found come from the 1290's;22 by 1314 most documents are so authenticated. What is even more helpful to the historian is that the scribes who copied royal letters into the registers of the last years of the reign included in their copies the names of the notaries, and of the officials who ordered the letters written. This means that we have hundreds of cases in which we know precisely who took the responsibility for a certain act of government. Most of the documents which appear in the registers deal only with trivial matters—such things as amortizations, approval of farms made by local officials, exchanges of property, gifts, acts of pardon and of grace. This has its advantages. We can be sure that we are watching the normal operations of government, not extraordinary procedures invented for great occasions. And it is at least a reason­ able supposition that the men who work steadily on these routine matters will be well informed about the kingdom, well versed in administrative procedures, well acquainted with all important mem­ bers of the court, and hence influential in making major decisions. A rough tabulation of the names on these documents during the last five years of the reign yields interesting results. First of all, a rather large number of men—at least thirty-two—have authority to order letters written in the king's name. Not all of these men are very active; the great lords of the council, men such as the counts of Valois and St. Pol, seldom command letters. On the other hand, there are about fifteen names which appear again and again. Purely numerical comparisons among this group would be meaningless, since the record is incomplete, and some letters are more important than others. It is clear, however, that there is a certain amount of specialization. For example, Philippe Ie Convers orders most of the letters dealing with forests; Hugues de la Celle is the expert on 21

Octave Morel, La grande chancellerie royale (Paris, 1900), pp. 154-166, 299-311. 22A.N., J 178B, nos. 48 (1292), 51 (1294), 55 (1297), 56 (1299). Morel, p. 160, gives as his earliest example J 162, no. 9 (1292). Arthur Giry, Manuel de diplomatique (Paris, 1925), p. 761, says he found some examples as early as 1286, but gives no reference.

PHILIP THE FAIR

the Saintonge-Poitou area; Guillaume de Marcilly and Geofiroi Coquatrix have been given the task of buying land and houses to make room for the extension of the royal palace. Others seem to have more general interests; in this group Nogaret, as keeper of the seal, and Marigny, as financial expert, are conspicuous but not unique. They are no busier than some of their colleagues and they have no exclusive powers; for example, Marigny is far from being the only councillor to deal with financial matters. Neither Nogaret nor Marigny is in the position of a chief minister; there is no chain of command which passes through them. They are merely two of a group of fifteen or so men who are very busy writing letters in the king's name. If there is any direction to this activity at all, it must come either from the group as a whole (and it seems a little large to act as a unit), or from the king. This leads to the most surprising fact of all. Out of a sample of 658 documents taken from registers JJ 45 through JJ 50, 280 bear the notation "per dominum regem." That is, over two-fifths of a very ordinary batch of letters were ordered by the king in person. In many cases there seems to be no very good reason for the king to take a personal interest, and it is impossible to establish categories of letters which were warranted by the king alone. Most pardons, most amortizations, most gifts to churches and royal favorites were ordered by the king, but letters in all of these categories were also warranted by members of the council.23 While most acts dealing with the royal family were ordered by the king, this was not always the case. Of a series of marriage contracts involving the Valois branch of the family, three were warranted by the lord of Chambly and Philippe Ie Convers, one by the keeper of the seal, and only two by the king.24 Favors for the dowager queen, who was not on good terms with her stepson, were usually ordered by members of the council.25 On the other hand, while the king did not always act in cases where he might have been expected to do so, he frequently took responsibility for ratifying farms of the royal domain, ex23 Most pardons not by the king are by the chancellor, A.N., JJ 46, nos. 134, 238; JJ 50, no. 78; but some are by Marigny, JJ 46, nos. 29, 151. It was fairly common for members of the council to order letters of amortization, cf. JJ 45, nos. 104, 108, 202; JJ 47, nos. 37, 46, 90. Gifts to churches, JJ 47, nos. 19, 132; JJ 48, no. 42; JJ 49, no. 40. Gifts to intimates of the king, JJ 47, no. 89; JJ 48, nos. 36, 75.

24 JJ 25 JJ

49>n0s· 58> 59) 7r> rl4> 229> 254· JJ 49' nos. 19,129.

47»no· 37;

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

changes of property between subjects, and marriage contracts of quite ordinary people.26 These were all routine acts which could have been accomplished by any councillor. It might be argued that these mentions of the king are purely formal, that he was merely approving acts which had been decided on by others. But if this were true, it would be difficult to explain why the chancery clerks thought there was a difference between let­ ters ordered by the king and those ordered by members of the council. It would also be difficult to explain why almost all letters warranted "per dominum regem" were written by a single notary, Maillard, and why Maillard seldom prepared letters for anyone else. If Philip's warrant were mere form, any notary could have written the document; only if the king took a personal interest would he need a personal scribe. Moreover, there is some reason for believing that letters ordered by the keeper of the seal sometimes reflected a personal command by the king. On at least two occasions, Philip sent a personal letter to Nogaret ordering him to prepare letters under the great seal.27 There is also an interesting case in which two letters ordered by the king were canceled, apparently because they lacked some details, and replaced by fuller letters ordered by the keeper of the seal.28 Here the keeper probably took the king's letters as warrants for the preparation of his own. Finally, we have a few cases in which the scribe notes that the keeper told him the king had ordered the letter written.29 Even if only a few of the letters ordered by the keep­ er of the seal were actually commanded by the king, it would still raise the proportion of letters in which the king took a personal interest to almost fifty percent of the total. To sum up, the impression given by this material is that the king controlled and directed the routine work of the government. He was the one who assigned tasks to his councillors, and he reserved the right to act directly and personally in any matter which inter­ ested him. There were too many councillors, and responsibility 26JJ 45, no. 121; JJ 47, no. 42; JJ 48, no. 127 (farms). JJ 47, no. 14; JJ 49, nos. 73, 193 (exchanges). JJ 46, no. 30; JJ 49, no. 221 (marriages). 27 Holtzmann, Wilhelm von Nogaret, p. 265: an order to Nogaret, 5 April 1308, to seal a charter granting land to the king's son Charles; p. 272: orders to seal letters to the baillis of Sens and Auvergne. 28 A.N., JJ 48, fols. 58V, 59. 29JJ 49, no. 145: "per dominum Regem, ut dicitis."

PHILIP THE FAIR

was too evenly divided among them, for any single minister to dominate the government. At the very least, the king was busier than any member of his council; he was informed about a great variety of matters and he made many decisions. Certainly Philip was not the lazy king who, according to some chroniclers, did nothing but hunt, nor yet the stupid king described by Bernard Saisset who understood nothing and only stared at people. This king who took such interest in the small details of govern­ ment cannot have been indifferent to greater affairs. If no one councillor was given full responsibility for handling routine business, it is a little difficult to believe that any councillor had unlimited power in making important decisions. We may therefore place more confidence in the scattered notes in the Olim, which show the king intervening in cases which came before the parlement, making decisions, ordering punishments, suspending sentences, reversing previous acts, directing that inquests be held.30 We may also believe that the rare references in financial documents to direct interven­ tion by the king31 would be more numerous if we had fuller records. And we can be reasonably sure that the king who inter­ venes in both judicial and financial business is Philip the Fair in per­ son and not some vague group of ministers acting in his name. It seems clear that Philip directed and controlled ordinary opera­ tions of government. This raises a strong presumption that he also directed and controlled the government when it made major policy decisions. But presumption is not proof, and it is precisely in this area that Philip seems to be screened most completely by his min­ isters. His opinions and wishes are never expressed; it is the minis­ ters who make the accusations against Boniface VIII and against 30

Olim, ii, 311, 404, 485; HI, 626, 891: king makes decisions in parlement. Olim, 11, 208, 262, 590, 604; in, 815, 818: king consulted before judgment is passed. Olim, 11, 590; 111, 542, 622, 705: king modifies punishments or reverses sentences. Olim, HI, 222, 879, 891: king orders inquests made. 31 Comptes royaux 1285-1314, eds. Robert Fawtier and Francois Maillard (Paris, 1953-56), in, nos. 27832, 27860: a list of difficult points in the accounts of All Saints, 1298; two are marked "loquendum cum rege." An accusation against Betin Caucinel, a master of the royal mints, published by C. V. LangIois in Revue historique, lx (1896), 327, suggests that Philip took a personal interest in having accounts carefully checked: ". . . quar d'unes de vos simples bailliees, sire, voulez que vostre conseill sache la verite, que Ie vous puent valoir, et voulez savoir se Ii baillez en rente bon conte et louial."

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

the Temple, who draw up the lawsuits which nag the king of England and the count of Flanders into war, who prepare the way for the annexation of Lyons and other imperial territories by adroit diplomacy and propaganda. And it is precisely on such mat­ ters that the foreign ambassadors complain that they can never get a personal interview with the king, that Philip will answer only with and through his council.82 And yet, even here there is some evidence to show that the king made the final decisions. The basic policies of the reign appear quite early, long before famous ministers such as Flote or Nogaret or Marigny play any role in the central government. For example, pressure by royal officials on the church increased sharply in the first years of the reign; by 1291 Nicholas IV could say that the churches of France were complaining daily of grave injuries.83 At­ tempts to annex imperial territories were also well under way by the early 1290's,31 and the parlement was already intervening in the affairs of Gascony and of Flanders.35 Even more significant is the fact that members of the royal family played an essential role in Philip's foreign policy. Franche-Comte was to be annexed through a carefully planned series of marriages of French princes; English friendship was to be gained by the union of Philip's daughter and Edward's son; Germany was to be controlled by proposing a French prince as a candidate for the imperial throne.88 Anyone who has 32 Acta Aragonensia, ed. Heinrich Finke (Berlin, 1908-1922), 1, 455: Philip refuses to discuss a marriage treaty because "ibi non erat suum concilium"; 1, 462: he refuses to speak with envoys of Aragon about the Val d'Aran because "non essent ibi presentes illi de suo consilio qui debebant huic negocio interesse." It should be noted that in each case Philip had good reasons for wish­ ing to evade an interview. There was little to be gained by a marriage alliance with Aragon, and the French claim to the Val d'Aran was so weak that delay was the best tactic. izLes registres de Nicholas IV, ed. Ernest Langlois (Paris, 1886-1891), no. 6849: the pope remarks that the churches of France "qui se a tuis ofEcialibus gravibus injuriis aflectas hactenus et affici cotidie conquerentes" were not dis­ posed to pay new tenths to the king. Ibid., nos. 281-283, 709"7Χ 1J 73&> ΙΧ75~ 1177, 1587: cases before 1290 in which Philip quarreled with the church. (I owe this list to the kindness of the Rev. Gerard J. Campbell, S.J.) Cf. Digard, Philippe Ie Bel et Ie Saint-Siege, 1, 83-100. 34 Kern, Ausdehnungspoliti\, pp. 1396?.; Finke, "Zur Charakteristik Philipps des Schonen," p. 219. 35 Olim, 11, 318, 321, 347 (Aquitaine); 291, 300, 311 (Flanders). 86 Kern, Ausdehnungspoliti\, pp. 49, 95.

PHILIP THE FAIR

read the documents of the reign knows that Philip took a deep personal interest in all matters touching members of his family, and it is inconceivable that he could have allowed his children and his brothers to be used as pawns to support a policy devised by others. He undoubtedly took advice, but the final decision on royal mar­ riages and candidacies for foreign thrones must have been his alone. And yet such marriages and candidacies, as we have seen, were es­ sential elements of French policy. Moreover, there are a few cases in which we can penetrate the screen of conciliar anonymity and see the king making decisions. One of the best examples is the discussion in the council following the arrest of Bernard Saisset.37 There is a long report of the argu­ ment between the clerical and the lay members of the council over the treatment of the bishop; the churchmen naturally wanted to be lenient, while the laymen were angry and urged severe punish­ ment. Philip had to intervene repeatedly, and while the speeches ascribed to him probably do not give his exact words, it is clear that he made the final decisions in a badly divided council. He was willing to proceed with the case, but he wanted it done with as little scandal as possible—a policy which pleased neither faction. Thus Philip made the decision which was to lead to the final quarrel with Boniface VIII. We can only speculate about the king's role during the acute stages of the quarrel. The formal approval given in his name to the acts of Nogaret could cover anything from mere acquiescence to active participation. But it has often been pointed out that, once Boniface was dead, Philip could have settled the whole dispute quickly, and on favorable terms, by sacrificing Nogaret. Nogaret himself seems to have feared this, since he begged the king to maintain his cause.38 Philip accepted the responsibility; only when Nogaret was absolved on easy terms did he make a final settlement.39 Yet this settlement was reached during a period when Marigny was rising to prominence; it is hard to see why Marigny, or any other leading member of the council, should have been so anxious to protect a rival. Nogaret certainly believed that he needed the king's support, and it is doubtful that anyone else could have saved him from severe penalties. On the other hand, it is difficult to see why Philip should have been so anxious to protect Nogaret if he 37

Gallia Christiana, xm, cols. 107-115. Wilhelm von Nogaret, pp. 131, 137, 253. 39 Ibid., pp. 163, 201-206.

38 Holtzmann,

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

felt that Nogaret was entirely responsible for the difficulties which followed Anagni. Only if Philip had made the policy was it his duty to protect a minister who had merely acted as an agent. The case of the Val d'Aran is less well known than that of Anagni; it is important because it produced some of the letters which seem to show Philip throwing all responsibility on his council. Yet if we examine these documents closely we shall see that no de­ cision could be made without the king, that all concerned tried to persuade the king to adopt their point of view, and that the king's decision could not be predicted through knowledge of the opinions of his council. The Val d'Aran had been occupied by French troops during the crusade of 1285 against Aragon, and retained because it had strategic importance.40 Philip had promised to restore all the rights of the king of Aragon, but his agents had been slow in de­ termining what those rights were. The matter was finally referred to the cardinal of Tusculum for arbitration, and by 1312 it was evident that the Aragonese were winning the case. The French envoys, distressed because the valley was useful to France, suggested that the king's council ought to look at the evidence before the arbitrator made a final decision.41 The king of Aragon, anxious to obtain possession, wrote to both Philip and Nogaret arguing that it was more honorable to surrender the valley voluntarily than to be forced out by an official decision.42 The envoys of Aragon tried re­ peatedly, and vainly, to obtain an interview with Philip to present their master's point of view.43 In these circumstances it is not sur­ prising that Philip played for time by insisting that he could not act without his council, and without full deliberation in the council.44 40A-N.,

J 588, no. 29: a report of the French envoys notes that the valley contains "quinque portus versus regnum Francie in montanis per quos habetur secretus introitus infra regnum"; it has been called "clavis regni Francie"; it would greatly profit the king if he could keep it "cum iusticia et absque pecato." Felix Pasquier gives a good account of the whole affair, "Cession definitive du Val d'Aran a l'Aragon," Revue de Comminges, vn (1892), 100113. See especially p. 113, where Philip says, in 1308, that his advisers claim that he has well-established rights in the valley. 41 A.N., J 588, no. 29. 42 Ibid., nos. 29 bis, 29 ter. Cf. Finke, Acta Aragonensia, 1, 458. 43 Acta Aragonensia, 1, 40off. For other Aragonese documents on the affair see pp. 159-160, 452, 458. ii Ibid., i, 462: Philip said at first that he could not discuss the affair because "non essent ibi presentes illi de suo consilio qui debebant huic negocio in-

PHILIP THE FAIR

It is clear that this was one of the affairs of the south in which Nogaret specialized,45 that he was expected to have a good deal of influence on the final decision, and that he opposed French with­ drawal. All the Aragonese reports recognize this fact; the letter to Nogaret was written at the suggestion of an Aragonese envoy who thought that he might be flattered into withdrawing his opposition to the surrender of the valley.46 But it is also clear that Nogaret did not have the final word, and that the Aragonese felt that they could overcome his opposition if they could convince Philip that their claim was just. In the end Philip gave up the Val d'Aran, even though this was against the wishes of his envoys and of Nogaret.47 The fact that Nogaret died before the final settlement may have made Philip's decision easier, but it is still true that the men who had been appointed to deal with the question wanted to keep the valley and that the decision to relinquish it must have been made by the king. Finally, we may notice that Philip's diplomacy was often very personal. On at least two occasions he sent several groups of envoys to the pope, each charged with a separate task.48 They were men who ranked high in the royal administration; no one but the king could have coordinated their activities. Another envoy to Rome was given such secret documents on the affair of Boniface that even after Philip's death he would surrender them to no one except by direct, personal order of the new king.49 Nogaret had been given teresse," but then shifted ground and claimed that while the council was pres­ ent it was too busy working on the Flanders question. 45 "Les papiers de Guillaume de Nogaret," ed. C. V. Langlois, Notices et extraits, xxxix (1909), part 1, pp. 2iiff. Nogaret had documents concerning the Val d'Aran in his possession. 46 Finke, Acta Aragonensia, 1, 458. 47 Pasquier, "Cession definitive du Val d'Aran a l'Aragon," p. 108; Geronimo Qurita (Zurita), Anales de la Corona de Aragon (Saragossa, 1562-1580), 1,

324· 48 Edgard

Boutaric, Clement V, Philippe Ie Bel et les Templiers (Paris, 1874), pp. 59-60, 68-69; Holtzmann, Wilhelm von Nogaret, pp. 192, 198 (three missions at Avignon in 1310). Clement V felt that at least two of the envoys were contradicting each other. "Documents inedits relatifs a l'histoire de France sous Philippe Ie Bel," ed. Edgard Boutaric, Notices et extraits, xx (1861), part 2, p. 146 (three sets of envoys at Rome in 1302). 49 C. V. Langlois, "Geoiiroi du Plessis, protonotaire de France," Revue historique, lxvii (1899), 75-76. Geoffroi received these documents at the time of the conclave in Perugia in 1304.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

copies at a later date, since they concerned his affairs, but apparently the council as a whole was not supposed to see them. (This would support the earlier argument that Philip took a personal interest in seeing that Nogaret was cleared.) A last example of personal diplo­ macy was Philip's attempt to gain papal support for the election of his son, Philip of Poitou, as emperor.50 The council had agreed that it was desirable to have a French candidate but had divided on the question of the person. Philip told the papal envoy, in secret and alone, that he was working for his son. Yet on this same occasion he let Marigny do the talking, though he was present, when a papal request for aid for a crusade was denied. Here again, the council had been divided. Most of the members had favored the papal project; Marigny had argued that France could not afford the expense. No one but the king could have overruled the majority of the council. Yet, though he must have made the decision, he allowed Marigny to announce it. He thus avoided an unpleasant task and left himself free to change the decision if the pope decided to give wholehearted support to Philip of Poitou.51 This long discussion has still not resolved the contradiction with which the paper began. On the one hand, there is too much evi­ dence that Philip took an active part in both small and great affairs to write him down as a figurehead. On the other hand, it is clear that both individual ministers and the council as a whole had too much power and responsibility to be dismissed as rubber stamps. And the king's habit of letting his ministers speak for him on the most important occasions cannot be explained as just a political trick; it seems to have expressed a deep-seated conviction that this was the proper way to act. The contradiction can be resolved only if we remember a fact which Philip's contemporaries never let him forget: that he was the grandson of Saint Louis. He had grown up in a court which was saturated with memories of the holy king; he had worked hard to secure the canonization of his grandfather; it was only natural that he should seek to imitate this model monarch. This meant, first of all, piety, and few historians have ever doubted that 50 Jakob

Schwalm, "Beitrage zur Reichsgeschichte des 14. Jahrhunderts," Neues Archiv, xxv (1900), 565-566. 51 Ibid., p. 564. It was suggested that Philip might do more for the crusade if a French prince were elected king of the Romans.

PHILIP THE FAIR

Philip was honestly and sincerely pious. But with the piety went a deep sense of the dignity, the greatness, and the mission of French kingship. The king was the high priest of the "religion of mon­ archy,"52 remote, aloof, withdrawn from all vulgar quarrels. He was to be approached only through his acolytes; the sacred mysteries were not to be revealed to the profane. Finally, a good king did not govern arbitrarily; he did not act on his own whims or make decisions in haste. He must be surrounded by "prud'hommes" who advised and informed him; he must always take counsel before act­ ing. Saint Louis had felt that even in the midst of a battle he must hold a council before changing his plans. Philip the Fair acted the same way in the midst of his political battles. But no one has ever doubted that Saint Louis made his own decisions after asking for advice, and there is no reason to suppose that Philip was any more bound by the opinions of his council. The best phrase to describe Philip is somewhat anachronistic; he wanted to be a "constitutional" king. But if we give the word "con­ stitutional" its broadest meaning it is a fair description of his policy. Philip tried to conform to the traditions of the French monarchy and the practices of the French government. As far as possible, he governed his realm through a well-established system of courts and administrative officials. He always asked the advice of responsible men; he was influenced by that advice in working out the details of his general policy. He tried to stay at least within the letter of the law; he tried to observe the customs of the kingdom. When he had to go beyond established custom he always sought to justify his action and to obtain the consent of those who were affected. This is why he called the Estates General to hear explanations of his policy toward Boniface VIII and the Templars, why he sought approval of unusual taxes from local assemblies,53 why, when he annexed the Lyonnais and imposed an onerous treaty on Flanders, he sent his agents to obtain the consent of each community which was affected by his acts.54 At the very least, consent satisfied the king's desire to remain within the limits of legality. Often, of course, it had im52 Fawtier, 53 J.

L'Europe occidentale, pp. 300-301.

R. Strayer and C. H. Taylor, Studies in Early French Taxation (Cam­

bridge, Mass., 1939), pp. 43-86. 54 Pierre

Bonnassieux, De la reunion de la Lyon a la France (Lyons, 1874),

pp. 96-105; Frantz Funck-Brentano, Philippe Ie Bel en Flandre (Paris, 1897), pp. 513-515.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

portant political consequences as well; it certainly facilitated the collection of taxes and strengthened the monarchy in the struggle with Boniface VIII. If we think of Philip as a "constitutional" king we see why he preferred to work through his ministers and council. This was the proper and customary way to act; it showed that the king was tak­ ing the advice of men learned in precedents and in the law. It preserved the king as a symbol of unity, far above transitory disputes and petty considerations of gain or loss. But it does not mean that Philip refused responsibility and allowed others to govern in his name. He worked hard at his job of being a king; he knew what was going on in his kingdom, and no important act could be ac­ complished until he made the final decision. This is not to say that Philip was the model of a wise and just king. His will was stronger than his intelligence; he could be led astray by the very intensity of his belief in the Christian faith and the French monarchy. His piety was as narrow as it was deep; if his own conscience could be satisfied by appropriate forms and phrases, he often failed to realize what consequences his acts might have for others. His faith in the mission of the French monarchy was so broad that it tended to blot out any other considerations—the interests of Western Christendom as a whole, or the rights and welfare of his sub­ jects. He sought moral and legal justification for all his acts, but he was easily persuaded that in any dispute right was entirely on his side and that opposition to his will was inexcusable. His real respect for custom and for law was vitiated by his tendency to ac­ cept appearances for reality. If the proper legal forms had been used in a suit to establish royal rights, if a plausible case had been made for the annexation of a border territory, if an assembly had given official support to his policy, he was not apt to inquire too closely how these results had been achieved. Royal officials knew of these weaknesses and sought to exploit them. Their interest clearly lay in extending royal power, and if they could achieve this end by playing on the king's piety and pride in the French monarchy they naturally did so. Thus the king was told repeatedly that it was his duty as a Christian ruler to persevere in the charges against Boniface VIII and against the Temple. Philip was undoubtedly influenced by this pressure, just as any ruler, no matter how strong, is influenced by the advice of his immediate sub­ ordinates. It is even probable that his tactics were altered by the

PHILIP THE FAIR

advice that he received. For example, his growing caution in the last years of the reign may reflect Marigny's worries about finance, just as his aggressiveness in the period 1297-1302 may owe something to Flote's impetuous nature. (On the other hand, the young, ener­ getic king may have sought out an aggressive minister, and the tired, middle-aged ruler may have looked for a cautious adviser.) But the fact that ministers may have influenced the king's tactics does not mean that they determined his basic strategy. They all submitted memorandums to him on important questions, and the mere act of submitting memorandums shows that the final decision lay with the king. And the fact that the broad outlines of policy remain consistent from one end of the reign to the other indicates that individual decisions had to be fitted into a general plan which only Philip could have established. No one, not even the king's badly spoiled brother Valois, could make him take much interest in the affairs of Italy. No one, not even the cautious Marigny, could make him give up entirely his attempt to reduce Flanders to obedi­ ence. None of his highly placed ecclesiastical advisers could persuade him to quash the charges against Bernard Saisset, or to abandon his policy of restricting the political power of the church. In fact, Philip's relations with his council were not unlike those of a modern prime minister with his cabinet. Special tasks were as­ signed to each member, advice was always asked and often taken, but final decision and general direction of policy remained with the king. This relationship made it easy for Philip to be a "constitu­ tional" king. He could allow his officials to act in his name because he knew that they would serve his purposes. He could follow due process of law, he could work through official channels, he could always ask for the opinion of his council because, in the last analysis, he controlled the government. He did not have to set up a group of household officers to control the official government, as his con­ temporary, Edward I, did; the government was but an extension of his household and he was very much at home in any of its offices. No bureau was autonomous; no minister was strong enough to make his will prevail; no organ of public opinion had any real power. Philip took responsibility for his reign in his own lifetime ;55 55 On his deathbed Philip is reported to have said that he had received bad advice but that "ipsemet erat causa mali consilii sui." Charles Baudon de Mony, "La mort et Ies funerailles de Philippe Ie Bel," Bibliotheque de I'Ecole des Chartes, LVIII (1897), 12.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

he must be allowed to bear that responsibility in the judgment of historians.56 56 Recently two criticisms of the points made in this article have appeared: Jean Favier, "Les legistes et Ie gouvernement de Philippe Ie Bel," Journal des Savants (April-June 1969), pp. 92-108; and Bryce Lyon, "What Made a Medieval King Constitutional?" in Essays in Medieval History Presented to Bertie Wil\inson, ed. T. A. Sandquist and M. R. Powicke (Toronto, 1969), pp. 157-175.

13. Viscounts and Viguiers under Philip the Fair* E KNOW something—not nearly enough, but still some­ thing—about the personnel of central government under Philip the Fair. We can identify not only the Nogarets and the Marignys but also a host of lesser men who served long apprentice­ ships in the judicial, financial, and secretarial branches of the king's court and who only gradually, if ever, moved to higher position. We also know something about the chief agents of royal power in the provinces—the baillis and seneschals, the enqueteurs and other special commissioners sent out from Paris. But we know very little about the personnel of local government below this top layer, about the men who were in direct contact with the mass of the population and who carried out the orders and policies of their superiors. These minor officials were important for two reasons. More than any other group they determined the popular image of royal govern­ ment. If they were competent, hardworking, and relatively honest the government was respected and admired; if they had none of these characteristics, loyalty and obedience to the government began to decline. In the second place, this group of minor officials formed a pool from which men could be recruited for more important posts. It is undoubtedly true that service in one of the bureaus at Paris was more apt to lead to promotion than service in a minor provincial office.1 Nevertheless, the bureaucracy was expanding rapidly under Philip the Fair, and men with any degree of adminis­ trative skill and experience were in demand wherever they could be found. The spectacular case of Nogaret, who began his career as juge-mage of Beaucaire,2 shows how far a provincial official could go. In this article I want to consider only two groups of lesser provin­ cial officials, the viscounts of Normandy and the viguiers of Languedoc. They were more nearly professional civil servants than the * First published in Speculum, xxxvm (1963), 242-255; now slightly ex­ panded. 1 The same point has been made for the reign of Philip VI by Raymond Cazelles, La societe politique et la crise de la royaute sous Philippe de Valois (Paris, 1958), p. 343. 2Robert Holtzmann, Wilhelm von Nogaret (Freiburg-im-Breisgau, 1898), P-15·

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

prevots of the north and the bayles of the south. They were paid salaries, while prevots and bayles usually farmed their offices. They could be promoted to higher positions; this seldom happened to prevots and almost never to bayles.3 The only other minor local officials who were frequently promoted were castellans, and judges in Languedoc. Both of these groups present special problems. We have relatively little documentary evidence about the castellans, and the southern judges had special training in the written laws which made them rather different from other officials. A study of the judges would lead to a discussion of the impact of Roman and canon law on French government rather than to a discussion of administrative techniques. Thus the viscounts and the viguiers seem to offer the best sample for a study of some of the personnel policies of Philip's government. Both viscounts and viguiers held very ancient offices, offices long antedating the establishment of royal baillis and seneschals. Orig­ inally deputies of the count (or duke) in a given area, in the early Middle Ages many managed to make their positions hereditary, and many others held their offices as farmers.4 But during the thir­ teenth century both of these practices were gradually eliminated.5 Viscounts and viguiers under Philip the Fair were paid regular salaries, were removable at the will of the government, and rendered regular accounts to their superiors. The early origin of the two offices explains why viscounts and viguiers had somewhat more importance than most local officials. As deputies of the counts, they had had judicial, administrative, financial, and military authority. They were also natural councillors of their lord and frequently appeared at his court. Growing spe­ cialization, especially in the south, was beginning to cut into these extensive powers by the end of the thirteenth century. Yet the vis3 Actes du Parlement de Paris, ed. Edgard Boutaric (Paris, 1863-1867), 1, 444, no. 820, Jean l'Archeveque, knight, was bayle of Grenade at some date before All Saints, 1292. But Grenade was a fortified town and Jean was castellan of Verdun-sur-Garonne at the same time. 4C. H. Haskins, Norman Institutions (Cambridge, Mass., 1918), pp. 4547; Paul Dognon, Les institutions politiques et administratives du pays de Languedoc (Toulouse, 1895), p. 51; Robert Michel, L'administration royale dans la sinechaussee de Beaucaire au temps de Saint Louis (Paris, 1910), pp. 54~5 I2795> I2994> "> n 0 - 1 6 5 1 4 ; H.L., x, cols. 4 7 8 , 4 8 5 ; A.N., JJ 4 8 , fol. i8v, no. 2 9 . 75 Lettres inedites de Philippe le Bel, ed. Adolphe Baudouin (Paris, 1 8 8 7 ) , annexe, nos. 6 , 11, 1 9 ; H.L., x, cols. 2 0 5 , 2 5 4 ; C.R., 1, no. 9 5 2 5 , 11, no. 1 4 6 5 1 . He was probably viguier of Toulouse in the late 1270's, see H.L., x, cols. 133, 164. 76

H.F., xxiv, 1 5 0 * ; Viard, Journaux, nos. 4 2 6 0 , 4 6 3 5 . H.F., XXIII, 3 7 3 ; C.R., 11, 2 1 2 3 1 - 2 1 2 3 8 ; Viard, Journaux, nos. 4 3 6 4 , 5 8 0 2 ; Soc. de l'Hist. de Normandie, Melanges, v, 4 3 5 . 77

78

fol.

Viard, Journaux,

3467-3468,

nos. 5372-5373, 5796; A.N., JJ 45, fol. 67, no. 96, JJ 48,

no. 9 2 . 79 Mahul, Cartulaire de Carcassonne, vi, part 1, p. 322, 11, 641. He was certainly viguier in 1275 (H.L., x, preuves 130), in 1287 (B.N., ms. Doat 155, fols. 198V, 2 8 3 V ) , in 1 2 9 2 (B.N., ms. Doat 1 5 6 , fol. 23V) and in the late 1290's (C.R., 11, no. 1 4 9 6 7 ) ; A.D., Aude, H 1 1 8 , H 1 7 6 . 51,

227

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

find him receiving a pension of 3 s.t. a day and an annual gift for "robes" of 6 1. 5 s.80 If our records were more complete there would undoubtedly be more examples of long periods of officeholding by viscounts and viguiers. Many men whose tenure can be proved for only five years or so have no immediate predecessor and no immediate successor; presumably they retained their positions during some of these empty years. But, even as it is, the evidence is sufficient to say that viscounts and viguiers were expected to stay in office for considerable periods of term and that those who did stay in one place for five or ten years cannot have been utterly abhorrent to the local population. Undoubtedly there were more accusations against these officials than have survived. The charges which have survived do not seem very serious, or at least were not taken very seriously by the royal government. Denis Ie Tavernier, viscount of Montivilliers since October 1294, was fined 500 l.t. by the enqueteurs in 1298, but he appealed from their sentence.81 Since he retained his office at least until October 1301, he must have been fairly successful in clearing himself. Pierre Dalart, viscount of Orbec, was fined 1000 l.t. in 1312 for misappropriating goods seized from a Jew. He may also have lost his position; at least he next appears in 1317 in the poorly paid viscountship of Carentan, where perhaps he was sent as a punish­ ment.82 In the south one viguier of Nimes was fined in 1286 for using royal transport for his own purposes83 and another was sus­ pended from office for a brief period in 1302-1303, but was rein­ stated.84 Gui Chevrier, as viguier of Beaucaire, was accused of threatening a clerk who had made charges against him, but he must have cleared himself in the ensuing investigation since he was made a seneschal only a few months later.85 Guillaume de Pezens lost his position as viguier of Albi not for his own faults, but because he had heretical grandparents.86 Finally, Maitre Jean Chevrel, king's clerk, 80 C.R.,

81 B.N., ms. fr. 25697, no. 10. i, no. 12776. C. V. Langlois, "Registres perdus des archives de la Chambre des Comptes," Notices et extraits, XL (1916), 201. For Pierre's appointment to Carentan see A.N., JJ 54A, fol. 22. 83 C.R., 11, no. 15017 (Jean de Changy). 84 C.R., i, no. 13615 (Guillaume Pollin). S 5 H . L · . , x, cols. 318-322. The king ordered an investigation 10 February 1295; the case was adjourned to Parlement by 9 July; Gui was certainly a seneschal by the end of 1295 or early 1296. 86H.L., ix, 335; Mahul, Cartulaire de Carcassonne, v, 659. 82

PHILIP THE FAIR

and viguier of Toulouse in 1314, was banished by die enqueteur Guillaume Flote. Though he was allowed a rehearing in Paris, his punishment was probably confirmed, since his goods were in the king's hand in 1322.87 Even with scanty records, one banishment and two fines in a reign of almost thirty years do not make the viscounts and viguiers look very wicked. The few expressions of public opinion which we possess support this conclusion. The two really hated groups of royal officials were the sergeants (more or less policemen), and the special commissioners sent out from Paris to collect subventions and maltoltes, or to enforce unpopular ordinances such as the ones on money. Viscounts and viguiers were not deeply involved in the most extreme manifestations of royal authority; their job was to keep local government running smoothly. This job they seem to have done fairly well, and in doing it they provided some of the stability which was badly needed in the France of Philip the Fair. APPENDIX Viguiers and the Revenues of the Vigueries The usual revenues for which a viguier accounted were profits of jus­ tice, reliefs, and payments for permission to transfer land.88 A few small farms of royal property might also be included.89 But the viguier never accounted for all royal revenues in his district, as the most cursory glance at existing accounts will demonstrate. A good test is to compare the checklist of income-producing rights and holdings in the vigueries of Beaucaire—a list which was kept up to date throughout the reign of Philip the Fair—with the actual returns made by viguiers in the senechaussee.90 The degree to which claviers were used to handle the revenues of the vigueries varied with time and from senechaussee to senechaussee. They do not appear in the records of Toulouse for this period. They were rare in Beaucaire; there was a clavier at Aigues-Mortes in the 1270's and 1280's; a viguier of Nimes was also clavier in 1303 and a clavier of Bagnols 87Boutaric, Actes, 11, 110. 4512; Comptes Royaux 1314-1328, ed. Francois Matllard, 1 (Paris 1961), no. 1471. 88 C.R., i, nos. 9535, 11572, 11, no. 17328 (viguier of Toulouse); 1, nos. 12667-12722, πι, nos. 29356-29396 (viguiers of Carcassonne); 11, nos. 175745?., 175831!. (two viguiers of Beaucaire). 8 9 C.R., 11, nos. 17593-17595» 17633. 17635^763790 The checklist is C.R., in, nos. 29404-30104. Accounts of vigueries are C.R., 11, nos. Ι7574ΪΪ., 17583!?., 17616#.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

rendered accounts for a year and a half in 1313.91 But in Carcassonne there seems to have been a real effort to make the office part of the regular machinery of government. A clavier of the viguerie of Beziers appears as of ι September 1305, and a note of χ March 1306 says that claviers were instituted on that date "per dominos magistros" in all the other vigueries of Carcassonne. They were paid 10 to 25 l.t. a year.92 Thereafter they are mentioned occasionally in the checklist of the royal domain of Carcassonne under dates ranging from 1307 to 1318.93 Another solution to the problem of getting viguiers to collect their revenues carefully was to revert to the old system of farming the office. This was done in Beaucaire in 1311, 1312, and perhaps 1313. Most of the vicarie of the senechaussee were farmed during these years at rates rang­ ing from 95 l.t. a year for Roquemaur to 750 l.t. a year for Nimes.94 The viguier still had to render accounts and the farm did not include the profits of justice nor even all the portions of the domain for which the viguier was responsible.95 These facts might suggest that the viguiers had simply farmed out a large part of their revenues to private individuals, but the documents will not support this interpretation. For one thing, while viguiers in Beaucaire were paid regular salaries in 1302-1303 no salary is listed for a viguier during the years when the vicarie are said to be farmed. Again, at Aigues-Mortes it is definitely stated, and at Meyrueis it is implied that the viguier was the farmer.96 Finally, while we have very few names of viguiers for this period, it is interesting to note that the few we do know seem to be of middle-class rather than noble origin.97 91 Alexandre Germain, Histoire du commerce de Montpellier (Montpellier, 1861), i, no. 64, pp. 361-363; C.R., i, no. 13615; C.R., 11, no. 17616. C.R., 11, no. 15046 mentions the expenses of the "clavarie" of Beaucaire in 1289, but this does not prove that there was a clavier then. 92 C.R., 11, nos. 16474-16479. 93 C.R., in, nos. 29317, 29325, 29333, 293342, 29348, 29354-29355; in some cases the clerks were not sure whether a clavier existed or not, and said that a revenue was to be collected by the viguier or the clavier, cf. C.R., in, nos. 29356 (Fenouilledes) and 29365 (Limoux). A.D., Aveyron, G 612, Bernard Guiscard was clavier of Beziers in 1310. 94 C.R., hi, nos. 28873 (Aigues-Mortes, 370 1.), 28996 (Lunel, 190 1.), 29444 (Beaucaire, 275 1.), 29515 (Nimes, 750 1.), 29574 (Sommieres, 180 1.), 29644 (Anduze, 140 1.), 29619 (Meyrueis, 103 1.), 29689 (Alais, 175 1.), 29789 (Bagnols, 180 1.), 29859 (Roquemaur, 95 1.). See also C.R., 11, no. 17634, Bagnols farmed for 180 1. a year in 1313, and no. 17578, Meyrueis farmed for 107 1. a year at an undetermined date, but near 1312. The vigueries of Uzes and St.-Saturnin do not seem to have been farmed at this time. 95 See the accounts listed in note 90. 96 C.R., 11, nos. 17596, "de firma vicarie a dicto vicario," and 17578. 97Benoit Gratia, viguier of Aigues-Mortes 1311; Pierre Chaloni, viguier of

PHILIP THE FAIR

In short, it looks as if during a period of peace the military aspects of the office of viguier receded into the background, at least in the senechaussee of Beaucaire, while the desire to make money for the king out of the position increased. But it should be noted that the profits were not very great. The saving in salaries was inconsiderable—the total for 13021303 had been only some 600 l.t. a year98—and the income of all the farmed vigueries taken together was only 2458 l.t. a year," less than that of a single Norman viscounty. Thus, whatever method was used—direct collection by viguiers, col­ lection by claviers, farming—the income from the vigueries was small. The viguiers were concerned with only a tiny fraction of the immense revenues produced by the three senechaussees of Toulouse, Carcassonne, and Beaucaire. Unlike the viscounts, they had little importance in royal financial administration. Beaucaire 1311; Benoit Esteve, viguier of Meyrueis c. 1312; Galvan Bonetbel, viguier of Nimes 1311, do not seem to have been nobles. 98 C.R., i, nos. 13567, 13615, 13640, 13653, 13660, 13675, 13688, 13694, 13702, 13724, 13768, 13825, 13849. 99 See note 94.

14. Pierre de Chalon and the Origins of the French Customs Service*

I

N 1275, Edward I of England imposed a substantial tax on the export of wool and leather.1 In 1277, Philip III of France forbade the export of wool and many other articles.2 Both acts led to the development of a customs service. But the difference is obvious: the English king was seeking additional revenue, while the French king was seeking internal economic stability and political advantage. This contrast in the policies of the two countries continued at least until the 1320's. While the kings of England occasionally used ex­ port controls as a political weapon, they were primarily interested in the large sums (at times a third or more of their annual income) which they could obtain from export duties.3 While the kings of France occasionally tried to make money by selling licenses to export forbidden articles, they were primarily interested in protecting the weak French currency, assuring a supply of raw materials to their own businessmen, and depriving their enemies of needed supplies.4 Down to 1320, only a small fraction of the income of the French kings came from duties on exports.5 This difference explains why we know so little of the early history of the French customs service. Records were less apt to be preserved when profits were small and arrears to be collected were even smaller. It is also probable that there never were many records, since the work was more that of policemen than that of revenue col­ lectors. Certainly Robert Mignon, who compiled an inventory of French financial records soon after 1328, knew of very few accounts rendered by the customs service.6

* First published in Festschrift Percy Ernst Schramm, 2 vols. (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1964), 1, 334-339; now slightly expanded. 1 William Stubbs, Select Charters, 9th edn. (Oxford, 1913), p. 443. 2 Ordonnances, xi, 353. 3 J. H. Ramsay, A History of the Revenues of the Kings of England (Ox­ ford, 1925), 11, 80-83. His figures are only approximations, but they give some idea of magnitudes. 4 Ordonnances, 1, 379, 422; xi, 386, 395. 5J. R. Strayer and C. H. Taylor, Studies in Early French Taxation (Cam­ bridge, Mass., 1939), pp. 14-17. 6 Robert Mignon, lnventaire d'anciens comptes royaux, ed. C. V. Langlois (Paris, 1899), nos. 2009-2037.

PHILIP THE FAIR

Vuitry and then Bigwood have discussed most of the documents which throw light on the early French customs service.7 But it is possible to be a little more precise about successive stages in the development of the service and especially about the role of Pierre de Chalon in this development. In the first place, it is clear that the French government was con­ cerned chiefly with the Mediterranean coast and the long land fron­ tier with the Empire. There are a few scattered mentions of guards in the Norman and Atlantic ports,8 but no one was going to export wool to England, and the northern and western ports were im­ possibly remote from all other buyers of prohibited exports. The Pyrenees frontier also seems to have caused little trouble. Both po­ litically and economically the chief targets of French policy lay in Germany and Italy; hence the concentration on the southeastern and eastern frontiers. In the second place, it was some time before there was any cen­ tralized control of stations and guards on the frontiers. As late as ι February 1305, Philip the Fair sent a letter listing forbidden exports to individual groups of guards in widely scattered regions.9 There are no general accounts until 1307 or 1308;10 instead the head of each regional office sent his individual account to Paris.11 Third, while licenses to export forbidden goods were sold from 1284 on, it was a long time before the idea was accepted that any merchant could export such goods on paying a fixed tariff. At first each license had to be negotiated separately with the government.12 The first change in this situation became evident in the period 1303-2:305. This was a difficult period for Philip the Fair and one element in his policy was strict control of relations with Italy and the papal court. He issued several letters ordering rigorous enforce­ ment of frontier controls and appointed men of relatively high po7 Adolphe

Vuitry, Etudes sur Ie regime financier de la France, nouvelle serie (Paris, 1883), 1, 120-135; Georges Bigwood, "La politique de la laine en France sous Ies regnes de Philippe Ie Bel et ses fils," Revue Beige de Philologie et d'Histoire, xv (1936), 79-102, 429-457; xvi (1937), 95-129. 8 Ordonnances, 1, 422, mentions guards in Normandy and in SaintongePoitou. 9 Ibid. The groups are in Vermandois, Vitry, Amiens, Chaumont, three Norman bailliages, and Saintonge and Poitou. 10 Mignon, Inventaire, nos. 2009, 2014. 11 Ibid., nos. 2015, 2025. 12 Bigwood, in Revue Beige, xv, 81-83.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

sition as frontier guards.13 But the most important step was to create the position of master-general or superintendent-general of ports and passages. Geofliroi Coquatrix, citizen of Paris, was named to this post on 6 February 1305.14 He had served the king for many years, chiefly as a buyer of military supplies and paymaster of the army,16 and apparently had already supervised export controls on some sections of the eastern frontier.18 A new reorganization soon followed. This may have been con­ nected with the death of the Guidi brothers (Biche and Mouche) who for many years had had the only important licenses to export wool.17 It may also have been influenced by the conclusion of peace with Flanders, which put an end to general taxes, and by the re­ valuation of the currency, which drastically cut down the profits from royal mints.18 In these circumstances, even the small revenues from export dues must have seemed desirable. At any rate, in 1308, and perhaps a little earlier, Guillaume de Marcilly, king's knight, and Pierre de Chalon, king's clerk, were associated with Coquatrix as general superintendents of ports and passages.19 These three men kept their offices during the rest of the reign and for some years thereafter.20 Pierre de Chalon soon became the most important member of the triumvirate. He had had experience as a local collector, probably 13

Ordonnances, 1, 379, 395, 422, 424. Seven knights and an cx-bailli served as frontier guards at this time, Jean d'Anonville, Jean de Cors, Jean de Rougemont, and Jean de Waissi in Languedoc (Comptes royaux, eds. Robert Fawtier and Francois Maillard [Paris, 1953-1956], 1, nos. 13862, 13937; Mignon, Inventaire, no. 2023; Ordonnances, xvn, 225; B.N., ms. Doat 51, fol. 188); and Imbert de Romans, Guillaume des Forges, Jean de Bucy, and Renier de la Belle (the cx-bailli) on the eastern frontier (Comptes royaux, 1, no. 5946; Mignon, Inventaire, nos. 2029, 2031, 2032). 14 Ordonnances, 1, 424. 15 Mignon, Inventaire, nos. 1998, 2513, 2514, 2585, etc. 16 Ibid., nos. 2010, 2011. At this time he was acting with the constable. 17 Bigwood, Revue Beige, xv, 431-433. The Guidi had licenses from 1291 to 1297 and from 1303 to 1305. They came closer to having a monopoly than Bigwood thought, see B.N., ms. Doat 156, fol. 20, and A.N., K 37, no. 15 ter. 18 Strayer, Studies in French Taxation, pp. 10, 77. 19 Joseph Petit, Essai de restitution des plus anciens memoriaux de la Chambre des Comptes (Paris, 1899), no. 572; Mignon, Inventaire, nos. 2009, 2014. 20 Paul Lehugeur, Philippe Ie Long: Ie mecanisme du gouvernement (Paris, 1931), p. 295. All three men were in office in 1321, but Coquatrix died soon thereafter (Bigwood, Revue Beige, xv, 97).

PHILIP THE FAIR

at Macon,21 and he had deep roots in the Saone valley, where one of the most important passages into the Empire was located.22 His name suggests that he came from Chalon-sur-Saone; he was a canon and then archdeacon of Autun, and he was for a while royal procurator in the bailliage of Macon.23 While he was a trusted ser­ vant of the king, he was given few tasks which would have taken him away from the frontiers.24 It was only at the very end of his career in 1335, after nearly forty years in the customs service, that Pierre de Chalon came to Paris and took a seat in the Parlement.25 Geoflfroi Coquatrix and Guillaume de Marcilly, on the other hand, had been and were to be deeply involved in other affairs. It is pos­ sible that they spent some time on problems of export controls down to 1311, although even in this period Marcilly was sitting in Parlement and the Chambre des Comptes,26 while Coquatrix was 21

Mignon, Inventaire, no. 2021, Pierre sent in a "relatio" on exports in "antequam constitueretur generalis collector. . . ." 22 Jean Richard, "Passages de Saone au XIIe et XIIIe siecles," Annates de Bourgogne, xxn (1950), 269-272, for a while at least, regulated exports were to cross the eastern frontier only at Andelot (in Champagne) and at St. Jean de Losne (in the Saone valley). 23 A.N., JJ 42A, no. 76, fol. 99 and no. 132, fol. 119V, J 474, no. 57. He was active as procurator in the bailliage from 1305 to 13it, when he was allowed to name a substitute (Comptes royaux, 1, 5929; A.N., P 2290, p. 221; Olim,

1298,

hi, 362). 24 He was collector of a subvention in Macon in 1305 (A.N., JJ 36, fol. 71V and Comptes royaux, 1, 5962). He collected tenths from the clergy of the province of Lyons in 1307-1308 and 1310 (Mignon, Inventaire, nos. 8ix, 825 and A.N., JJ 42A, no. 18, fol. 70). He acted as proctor for the abbot of Cluny in the assembly of 1308 {Documents relatifs aux Stats Generaux, ed. Georges Picot [Paris, 1901], p. 534) and was also sent by the king to the pope on the affair of the Templars (A.N., J 414, no. 63). As royal procurator he tried in January 1308 to persuade an assembly of notables of Lyons to accept the treaty made with the chapter of Lyons in 1307 (Pierre Bonnassieux, De la reunion de la Lyon a la France [Lyons, 1875], p. 105). After 1308, as he took increasing responsibility for the customs service, his outside activities fell oil sharply. He was sent on an embassy to Aragon in 1317 (H.L., x, col. 509), was an enqueteur in Languedoc in 1319 (Lehugeur, Philippe Ie Long, p. 301), and collected a subvention in Carcassonne in 1325 (H.L., x, col.

632). 25

Raymond Cazelles, La societe politique sous Philippe de Valois (Paris, pp. 113-114. Though appointed in 1332 he probably did not take his seat until he had rendered his last account as head of the customs service in 1335. 26 L. L. Borrelli de Serres, Recherches sur divers services publics (Paris, 1895-1909), π, 252; Olim, in, 221, 496.

1958),

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

squeezing money out of the Lombards.27 But in 1311 both men were given the job of acquiring land for the enlargement of the royal palace28 and this kept them busy for the rest of the reign. It may be significant that the last accounts of income from export dues rendered by Marcilly and Coquatrix came early in 1311,29 just before they became involved in the building program at Paris. From that time on they (and especially Coquatrix) may have given general advice and approved general policy, but it is unlikely that they took much part in the detailed operations of the customs service. Another proof that by 1311 Pierre de Chalon was virtually head of the customs service is afforded by his appointment, on 20 Janu­ ary of that year, as a member of the council and household.30 Such a formal appointment was rare at this time; it would scarcely have been needed by a man who had a high rank in the Parisian admin­ istrative group or who was frequently at court. It was precisely the fact that Pierre was seldom at court, that he took little part in ordinary administrative business, which made it necessary to give him this formal recognition. He had the personal rank of councillor even though he did not sit on the council; he was made the equal of the men who ran the central government under the direction of the king. A logical reason for doing this would have been that he had made himself the indispensable expert and the managing di­ rector of an important government service. Moreover, there is evidence to show that Pierre de Chalon, be­ tween 1308 and 1311, took the initiative in certain reforms of the customs service. The first was a decision to sell export licenses on a larger scale than ever before. The merchants of Milan and the Fini of Florence received open licenses allowing them to export any amount of wool at a rate of 50 s.t. a bale. These were not exclusive licenses; other merchants also could export wool, and we know that some did. But it is clear that the Milanese and the Fini expected to control the bulk of the exports, since each group promised to make large minimum payments to the king each year—6,000 l.t. in the 27

Mignon, Inventaire, no. 2052. JJ 48, no. 9, fol. 9v; nos. 79-87, fols. 47V-49V; nos. 151-156, fols. 63v-65v, and many others. 29 Mignon, Inventaire, nos. 2009, 2014. 30 A.N., JJ 42A, no. 132, fol. 119V, printed several times, first by Edgard Boutaric, La France sous Philippe Ie Bel (Paris, 1861), p. 164. He received a similar appointment from both Philip V and Philip VI (A.N., JJ 58, fol. 5V and Cazelles, La societe politique, p. 440, document no. 2). 28A.N.,

PHILIP THE FAIR

case of the Milanese, 4,500 l.t. in the case of the Fini. In the long run neither group was able to keep its promises, but for a time the king gained an appreciable amount of new revenue.31 And this demonstration of the possibilities of deriving more income from export dues was almost certainly the work of Pierre de Chalon. By special permission of the king he was allowed to receive a bro­ ker's fee from the Milanese and the Fini for arranging their con­ tracts.32 Coquatrix and Marcilly are not mentioned in this docu­ ment. The other innovation was an attempt to improve the organization of the customs service. In 1309 the eastern frontier was divided into carefully delimited sections, each supervised by a visitor-general.33 Most of these men received 10 s.t. a day, a salary higher than that of the Norman viscounts, who had heavy financial responsibilities, and equal to that of knights serving in the royal army.34 New ap­ pointments were also made in Languedoc, and special groups were named to investigate frauds in both the eastern and southern fron­ tier districts.35 Most of the men named at this time never held any other official post. They did not come from the pool of experienced clerks and laymen who were usually called on for these duties. Many of them were from districts on or near the frontiers,36 men who knew local conditions well. These facts suggest that they were nominated by Pierre de Chalon, who was well acquainted with the frontier areas. Coquatrix and Marcilly would have chosen men from the usual group of professional and semiprofessional administrators, as they did for most of their other enterprises. Pierre's dominant position in the customs service became even stronger after 1311. An agent of the Fini in Paris, writing to his principals in August 1314, makes it clear that "mastro Piero" is the chief authority on all matters concerning exports.87 In 1318 Philip V 31 Bigwood,

Revue Beige, xv, 433-440; xvi, 102-118. A.N., JJ 45, no. 98. fol. 69. 33 A.N., JJ 42A, no. 91, fols. 104,104V. 34 J. R. Strayer, "Viscounts and Viguiers under Philip the Fair," Speculum, xxxviii (1963), 246, 248 [reprinted here, pp. 219-222]. 35A.N., JJ 42A, nos. 90, fol. 103V; 93, fol. 104V; 54, fol. 85V; H.L., x, col. 32

5°336 E.g.,

GeofIroi de Flavigny, Gui Bovozuti of Nuits-St.-Georges, Jean Julian of Lyons, Nicolas L'Epicier, canon of Lodeve, Ozil d'Autejac. 37 Published by Armand Grunzweig as an appendix to Bigwood's article in Revue Beige, xvi, 122-129.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

named Pierre de Chalon as the sole commissioner to enforce the rules on clothmaking and export of forbidden articles in Languedoc.38 In a memorandum on export problems drawn up a little later (probably in 1322) it is evident that Pierre has all the essential documents ("les ordenances des passaiges qui Me Pierre de Chalon a par devers soy") and that he is expected to handle all the difficult problems.39 And Pierre alone rendered general accounts of revenue from exports from 1311 to 1335.40 Thus it seems likely that the rapid growth of export duties in the 1320's was due to the advice of Pierre de Chalon. While prohibitions against the export of wool were issued by both Philip V and Charles IV, licenses to export were easily obtained after 1321, and were sold to a large number of merchants.41 In 1324 a fixed tax on the export of many other commodities (the droit de reve) was instituted.42 Both these policies had been foreshadowed by Pierre's actions in 1309. It would be interesting to know more about the personality of this man, who had one of the longest and most unusual careers in the history of the early French bureaucracy. He served five kings of France faithfully and was trusted and honored by all of them.43 He was not involved in the financial scandals or palace intrigues which followed the death of Philip the Fair. He knew his job thoroughly and he did it well. More than any other man, Pierre de Chalon was the founder of the French customs service. 38

Joseph Petit, Memoriaux, pp. 122-124. Ibid., pp. 124-127. 40 Mignon, Inventaire, nos. 2013, 2017, 2035. 41 Bigwood, Revue Beige, xv, 84-86, 441-451. Actes du Parlement de Paris, ed. Edgard Boutaric (Paris, 1863-1867), 11, no. 7596, there was a cartularius registrator at St. Jean de Losne in and shortly before 1324 to check on exports of wool. 42 Bigwood, Revue Beige, xv, 84-86. 43 My friend, M. Jean Richard, Professor of History at the University of Dijon, has kindly pointed out to me that Pierre became bishop of Chalon in 1342 and died in 1345; see Gallia Christiana, iv, 919. 39

15. Italian Bankers and Philip the Fair*

O

NE of the many puzzles in the financial policy of Philip the Fair is his failure to take full advantage of the presence of the large and wealthy community of Italian bankers who lived in France during his reign. The Italians controlled a considerable part of France's foreign trade and could have afforded to pay fairly high taxes on their commercial transactions. Such taxes would have given Philip a substantial and, what was perhaps more important, a rea­ sonably stable addition to his revenues. The Italians could also have mobilized large sums of capital, either to meet the financial emer­ gencies caused by Philip's wars or to provide working balances to smooth out fluctuations in royal income. Philip was certainly aware of these possibilities. In 1294 he insti­ tuted regular taxes on transactions among Italians in France, the so-called "penny in the pound,"1 and sold export licenses to Italian merchants.2 He used the Franzesi firm, headed by Albizzo (Biche) and Musciatto (Mouche) Guidi, as his bankers. In the 1290's Biche and Mouche were receivers-general, and for a while treasurers of the king.3 Their role was particularly important in the crisis of 1294-1295 which followed the confiscation of Aquitaine. In this period they advanced money to the king against anticipated royal revenues and centralized most of the important receipts of the crown.4 They and * First published in Explorations in Economic History, vix (1969), numbers ι and 11, pp. 113-121. Copyright 1969 by The Kent State University Press. 1 Ordonnances, xi, 377; ibid., 1, 326; L. L. Borrelli de Serres, Recherches sur divers services publics (Paris, 1904), 11, 458. Actually the rate was a little more than a penny in the pound, but the tax produced litde revenue, 13,000 to 16,000 l.t. a year; see Borrelli de Serres, Recherches, and Strayer and Taylor, Studies in Early French Taxation (Cambridge, Mass., 1939), p. n. 2 Georges Bigwood, "La politique de la laine en France sous Ies regnes de Philippe Ie Bel et de ses fils," Revue Beige, xv (1936), 79, 429; xvi (1937), 95; Strayer and Taylor, Studies, pp. 14-16; B.N., ms. Doat no. 155, fol. 196; no. 156, fol. 20; no. 165, fol. 12. 3 A.N., J 474, no. 31, the Guidi are called receivers of the king by Septem­ ber 1290. This remained their usual title, but for a brief period in 1295 they acted as and were called treasurers of the king; see Inventaire d'anciens comptes royaux dresse par Robert Mignon (hereafter cited as Mignon), ed. C. V. Langlois (Paris, 1899), no. 2065; Ordonnances, 1, 326; Borrelli de Serres, Recherches, HI, 15-17. 4 For example, Mignon, nos. 2055-2057, in 1295 they advanced money for military expenses for which they were later repaid. See also Archives anciennes

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

their agents succeeded in securing a very large loan, well over 5 600,000 l.t., from individuals and communities in all parts of France. In the next crisis, caused by the Anglo-Flemish alliance of 1297, the Guidi brothers provided a loan of 200,000 l.t. from their own resources and those of other Italian bankers. 6 Philip, however, did not pursue these policies with any enthusiasm. The taxes on sales and exports were never developed as they could have been, and never became important sources of revenue. Though Biche and Mouche remained favorites of the king, their responsibilities for royal finances declined steadily after 1297. No other Italian banking house took their place. After 1297 Philip seems to have cut back sharply on his borrowing; certainly there were no more loans on the scaJe of those of 1294-1295. In all these respects Philip's policies differed from those of his contemporary and rival, Edward I of England. Edward made export taxes a regular and substantial part of royal income. Throughout his reign he used loans from Italian bankers-first the Riccardi and then the Frescobaldi-as a regular part of his financial system. Certainly the "Lombards" were disliked in France, but there is no evidence that this dislike was strong enough to keep Philip from dealing with them on a regular basis. Nor is there evidence that he himself shared this prejudice. He obviously trusted Biche and Mouche; in fact, as their financial responsibilities declined he tended to use them for delicate diplomatic missions to Germany and to Rome. 7 Mouche played an essential role in the most striking de la ville de St. Quentin, ed. Emmanuel Lemaire (St. Quentin, 1888-1910), p. 140, no. 153, where the bailli of Vermandois is told to turn over all receipts, ordinary and extraordinary, to agents of the Guidi, royal treasurers, July 1295. The extraordinary receipts included tenths on the church, the subvention of 1/100 for war, tall ages, fines, loans, and levies on the Jews. 5 For the loan, see Mignon, nos. II06-I163, and Edgard Boutaric, "Documents inedits relatifs a l'histoire de France sous Philippe Ie Bel," in Notices et extraits, xx, part II (1862), 128. Both sources give a total of about 630,000 l.t., but this is incomplete. For other activities of the Guidi at this time see Mignon, nos. 703-706, 2058, 2084-2II2. 6 Boutaric, "Documents," p. 127, Biche and Mouche lent about 200,000 l.t. "de leur deniers et qu'ils enprunterent sus euls aus foires de Champagne et Paris." 7 Les iournaux du tresor de Philippe IV le Bel, ed. Jules Viard (Paris, 1940), nos. 2443, 2985. For other embassies to Rome and to Germany see nos. 912, 155 0, 3797, 4176, 43 66 and the references given in the footnote to no. 397.

a

240

PHILIP THE FAIR

event of the reign, the attack on Boniface VIII at Anagni. To take another sensitive area, the Italian Betin Caucinel was Philip's chief agent in carrying out royal monetary policy. Betin was mintmaster at St. Quentin as early as 1278 and mintmaster at Sommieres and at Paris under Philip the Fair.8 As master of the monies9 he kept the king's confidence in spite of an anonymous accusation against him.10 It is true that Betin had become a permanent resident of France and that he founded a French family of some importance,11 but this in itself shows that there was no insurmountable prejudice against Italians. Moreover, when Philip wanted to improve his gold coinage, it was again to Italians (the Peruzzi) that he turned for expert advice.12 The basic difficulties ran far deeper than hostility to bankers in general and Italians in particular. For one thing, it was difficult for Philip to put his relations with the Italians on a stable basis when there was no stability in his financial system as a whole. The great effort he made in the decade 1295-1305 produced only one more or less permanent addition to royal revenue. The quarrel with Boniface VIII broke the church's resistance to taxation, and after the acces­ sion of Clement V tenths from the clergy could be counted on as an almost annual source of supply. But while a tenth produced about 260,000 l.t.,13 this was not nearly enough to meet all the king's needs, especially as tenths sometimes had to be shared with the pope. All other innovations had proved either unrewarding or dangerous. Sub­ ventions from laymen had met increasing resistance, were practically 8 Camille Piton, Les Lombards en Trance et a Paris (Paris, 1892), pp. 114119; Nicolas Brussel, Nouvel examen de I'usage general des fiefs (Paris, 1727), i, 471 (for St. Quentin); B.N., ms. fr. 20683, ί°1· 2 (Sommieres); Viard, Journam:, nos. 35, 58, 65, etc. (Paris). He held this last post until just before his death in 1312. 9 Viard, Journaux, no. 635 and note; he had this title at least as early as 1296. 10 C. V. Langlois, "Notices et documents relatifs a l'histoire de France au temps de Philippe Ie Bel," Revue historique, LX (1896), 327, an anonymous letter to the king accusing Betin of rendering false accounts. 11 Piton, Les Lombards, pp. 114-115. 12 Ordonnances, 1, 434 the new gold coins were to be struck by agents of the Peruzzi, July 1305. A.N., JJ 36, nos. 236, 237, the Peruzzi, who were striking gold coins, were to have all the profits of the mints of Paris, Troyes, Tournai, and Sommieres, July 1305. Both earlier, in 1291-1293 (B.N., ms. lat. 9018, no. 31), and later, in 1311 (Ordonnances, 1, 478), Betin struck gold coins. 13 Borrelli de Serres, Recherches, 11, 465#.; Ii.F., xxi, 545, 560.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

abandoned after 1305, and caused unrest when they were reintro­ duced in 1313-1314. The sales tax had proved equally unpopular.14 Overvaluation (and a slight debasement) of the currency had been bitterly criticized; revaluation had touched off riots.15 Export taxes had given disappointing results, partly because France had no staple, such as England's wool, for which there was a steady demand, partly because no one had worked very effectively to make the tax profit­ able. Export licenses were sold or granted on an ad hoc basis; Biche and Mouche paid nothing, while the Milanese and the Fini paid too much.16 The reforms in the French customs administration which Pierre de Chalon was beginning to introduce were not to have their full effect until the 1320's.17 This lack of steady and easily collected revenues created two difficulties in Philip's relations with the Italians. On the one hand, it was difficult for him to establish normal banking relations with them because he could not furnish adequate security for a large loan, or for a continuing line of credit. On the other hand, if normal banking relations were difficult to establish, then there was less rea­ son to avoid the abnormal expedients of partial or complete expro­ priation. The Italians, like the Jews and the Templars, were tempt­ ing targets for a hard-pressed king. It was safer to attack foreigners, or members of an international order, than to tax Frenchmen. It probably seemed morally preferable as well. Philip, as I have said elsewhere, wanted to be a "constitutional" king, and taxation, ex­ cept in real emergencies, was hardly yet accepted as proper behavior on the part of a ruler. But Jews, Templars, and Lombards had no support in France and no powerful outside protector. They could always be accused of usury, or of dishonesty in their dealings with the government. Philip lost no popularity and had no troubles with his conscience when he squeezed these victims. Even when Philip was using the Italians most extensively, he had been unable to resist the temptation to seize some of their wealth. Renier Accorre, who had been receiver of Champagne, was dis14Strayer

and Taylor, Studies, pp. 43-77, 81-88, 12-13. Borrelli de Serres, Les variations monetaires sous Philippe Ie Bel (extract from the Gazette numismatique frangaise 1902), pp. 309-345; E. Boutaric, La France sous Philippe Ie Bel (Paris, 1861), pp. 313-316. 16 Strayer and Taylor, Studies, pp. 15-17. 17 J. R. Strayer, "Pierre de Chalon and the Origins of the French Customs Service," Festschrift Percy Ernst Schramm (Wiesbaden, 1964), 1, pp. 334-339 [reprinted here, pp. 232-238]. 15

PHILIP THE FAIR

graced and arrested in 1293 and lost most of his property.18 Gandulph of Arcellis had to pay a fine of 4500 l.t. in 1299-1300,19 and on his death in 1308 the king took almost half his property. Yet Gandulph had lent money to some of the greatest men in France, including members of the royal family.20 The "Lombards" paid a heavy tal­ lage in 129221 and their large contributions to the loans of 1295 and 1297 may not have been entirely voluntary. They also paid a tallage in 1297, though at a lower rate than in 1292.22 But the worst pressure came after 1303, culminating in the seizure of Italian goods and debts in 1311. The Italians regained their assets only by paying heavy fines.23 Philip could hardly use the Italians as bankers if he was going to seize the capital which made banking operations possible. It may be that the deaths of Biche and Mouche in 1307 removed a restraining influence on the king. Philip had worked closely with these men; no other Italians had such opportunities to influence his 18

For Renier see Didier Ozanam. "Les receveurs de Champagne," Recueil . . . Clovis Brunei (Paris, 1955), n, 343 and the works cited there. Comptes royaux, 1285-1314, eds. Robert Fawtier and Francois Maillard (Paris, 19541956), 11, nos. 15281, 15299, Renier was in prison in 1293 and 1294 and paid 15,000 l.t. for his release. 19

Viard, Journaux, nos. 2146, 4241. Les Lombards, pp. 99, 101, 157, 173; Mignon, nos. 2038-2047, 2049. A.N., JJ 48, fol. 7, no. 6, in the end the king took one-half of five-sixths of Gandulph's property. 21 Mignon, nos. 2073, 2076. The first estimates the value of the tallage at 141,484 l.t., the second at 152,000 l.p. or 221,000 l.t. 22 Notices et extraits, xx, part 11, p. 129, "de la taille des Lombars singuliers et de la finance de la compagnie des Richars de Luques, environ 65,000 livres tournois." 20Piton,

23 Mignon,

no. 2053, the Italians paid a fine to a royal agent in 1303-1304. Olim, HI, 172, they were tallaged by Biche and Mouche shortly before 1306. Mignon, no. 2050, another fine was paid in 1309-1310. A.N., JJ 45, fol. 64, no. 93, in 1310 the merchants of Milan were exempted from penalties imposed on other Italians and from the jurisdiction of the superintendents of the Lom­ bard affair, which suggests that fines were being imposed with some regu­ larity. Ordonnances, 1, 489-491, 494, the goods and debts of Italians living in France were seized by royal officials in 1311, and heavy fines were paid to redeem them. B.N., ms. Clairembault 71, no. 183 shows how thoroughly the operation was carried out. The gens des comptes were indignant because "Estreille Macet" of Macon escaped paying a fine; they said nothing would please the king more than his arrest. "Estreille" may be the "Eschaque" or "Escaille" of Florence who was receiver of the county of Burgundy in 1303 and 1306; see Mignon, no. 110 and Borrelli de Serres, Recherches, 11, 31.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

policies. But one may wonder whether the two brothers could have done much to help their compatriots even if they had lived. Philip had cut down their responsibilities sharply since the days when they were receivers-general for the whole kingdom and had their agents in every province. In the years just before their death they had no important administrative or financial functions. Their last general account with the king, according to Mignon, was in 1303.24 After that date, they collected an apparently light tallage on the Lom­ bards, and subsidies in Carcassonne and Beaucaire.25 None of these operations involved large sums of money. On the other hand, while Biche and Mouche had imposed a heavy tallage (100,000 l.t.) on the Jews in 1291-1292213 and must have known a good deal about the Jewish community, they were not used in the seizure of Jewish prop­ erty in 1306. Perhaps they were growing old and tired, but some of their younger associates were still available if Philip had wanted to use them.27 In any case, when Biche and Mouche died, their long and faithful service did not protect their property from the usual penalties inflicted on Italian moneylenders. Philip seized all their assets in France, on the usual excuse that they owed him money as a result of their earlier dealings with him.28 In short, all the evidence suggests that after 1305 Philip had concluded that he no longer needed anything but incidental services from the Italians, and that he could therefore pillage them with impunity. This decision was probably made easier by Philip's growing con­ fidence in his own bureaucracy. The Italians had had very little to 2i Mignon,

no. 2071. nos. 2059, 2063; Comptes royaux, 11, no. 21401; Olitn, HI, 172. 26 Mignon, no. 21x3. No. 2114, Biche and Mouche imposed new tallages on the Jews in the period 1293-1296. 27 For example, "Thotus" and "Vanna" Guidi, nephews of Biche and Mouche were active from 1307 on in collecting the indemnity owed by Flanders; see Thierry de Limburg-Stirum, Codex diplomaticus Flandriae (Bruges, 1879-1889), 11, 61; Mignon, nos. 1979, 1981, 1982. Comptes royaux, 11, nos. 27533, 27555, 27560, they also acted as assayers for the mints of Troyes and Tournai in 1309-1310. But they had to work with the Peruzzi and they had little to do with the main elements of French finance. Piton, Les Lombards, p. 135, the relationship to Biche and Mouche is shown in the Paris tallage of 1298: "Vane, neveu messire Mouche,—Estoude, son frere. . . ." 28 H.L., x, col. 469, a royal order to seize the goods of Biche and Mouche dated 30 November 1307. See also A.N., JJ 40, fol. 13, no. 32, and Mignon, nos. 2116-2118. A.N., JJ 45, fol. 45, no. 81 seems to show that Biche and Mouche died shortly before 8 March 1307. 25 Mignon,

PHILIP THE FAIR

do with Normandy; Norman financial affairs had been handled by baillis, viscounts, and receivers who were almost all from northern France. Yet revenues from Normandy remained high, and were paid in regularly, as a glance at the Journal of the Treasury shows. Some able financiers were emerging in the center and the south, notably the Gayte family of Clermont in Auvergne. Finally, the period after 1305 is the period in which Marigny was rising to power, and Marigny was especially competent in matters of finance. As Philip's reliance on Marigny grew, he would feel less need of the Italians. Another factor was Philip's strong desire for complete independ­ ence, manifested in all aspects of his reign. Bankers whom he could not control completely were a threat to that independence. In the first part of his reign he could not get along without bankers, but he could protect himself by playing one group off against another. Thus the peak of Italian influence came in the 1290's, when Philip was try­ ing to find an alternative to using Templars as his principal bankers. The establishment of the Treasury of the Louvre gave Philip a third choice: he could somewhat reduce the importance of the Italians without necessarily improving the position of the Templars. When, in 1303, Philip did turn back to the Temple as his chief bank, Italian participation in French finance declined notably, without being en­ tirely eliminated. But in the end Philip seems to have decided to avoid dependence on any private bankers. When he turned against the Templars in 1307, he turned against the Italians too, though not as brutally and abruptly. He simply accelerated the policy, already evident since 1303, of squeezing the Italians out of important posi­ tions. This policy was especially evident in appointments to receiver­ ships of bailliages and senechaussees. As Ozanam has shown, the receivership of Champagne, which had long been in the hands of Italians, was given to a French royal official in 1305 and was held by French officials for the rest of the reign.29 The same things hap­ pened in the center and in the south. Italian financiers, who had held most of the receiverships in their area in the 1290's, almost disappeared after 1305.80 Or, to use a broader test, I have some data 28 Ozanam,

"Les receveurs," Recueil. . . Clovis Brunei, 11, 344-345. Gerard Chauchat, 1296, 1298, 1299, 1306, 1308, 1311 (Comptes royaux, nos. 10695, 30109, Viard, fournaux, no. 5890; Mignon, no. 97.) Beaucaire: Betin Caucinel, who was almost French by this time, was re­ ceiver in 1308 (Mignon, no. 106). However, in 1309 the joint treasurers were 30Auvergne:

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

on eighty-nine Italians who worked for Philip the Fair between 1285 and 1305. Of these, only sixteen retained any official connection with the government after 1305, and this figure includes Biche and Mouche, who died in 1307, and the thoroughly Gallicized Betin Caucinel. Of the great banking houses, only the Peruzzi retained any importance, and their contribution was marginal—the receivership of Carcassonne, the collection of the Flemish indemnity, and some technical assistance in the mints.31 From 1305 to his death in 1314, Philip was in no way dependent on Italian financiers. For example, when he was raising money for a Flemish war in 1314, the Italian contribution was minimal—less than 12,000 l.t.32 Ricobonus Aycardi and Hugo Beti (A.D., Lozere, G 256, Lettres de Philippe le Bel relatives au pays de Gevaudan, eds. Jean Roucaute and Marc Sache [Mende, 1 8 9 6 ] , no. 1 8 ) . Ricobonus was probably Italian; Hugo certainly was, see Comptes royaux, no. 2 1 4 5 1 . Carcassonne: Probably remained in Italian hands, see Mignon, no. 103. Tancred Benchaveni, treasurer of Carcassonne in 1305 and 1310, was an agent of the Peruzzi (A.D., Tarn, J 5 4 / 2 4 6 , Comptes royaux, no. 2 2 5 5 3 , A.N., JJ 46, fol. 2, no. 3, A.N., JJ 49, fol. 84, no. 196). Loterius Blanchi, treasurer in 1314, was probably an Italian (A.D., Aude, H 358). Perigord-Quercy: Gerard Baleine, 1296 (Mignon, nos. 99, 107) Pierre Baleine, 1 3 0 2 , 1 3 0 4 (A.N., JJ 3 8 , fol. 53V, no. 1 0 5 , A.N., JJ 4 5 , fols. 5 6 V - 5 8 , no. 86); Arnaud de Proboleno, burgess of Cahors 1309, 1310, 1311 (Mignon, no. 99, A.N., JJ 38, fol. 99V, JJ 50, fol. iov, no. 8, JJ 46, nos. 70, 88, fols. 57,65v).

Rouergue: Geoffroi Coquatrix of Paris, 1300, Nicolas de Ermenonville, 1302, Arnaud de Proboleno, 1305 (Mignon, no. 101); Nicolas de Ermenonville with Raimon Bernart as his deputy, 1 3 0 7 (A.N., JJ 4 4 , fols. 3 7 V - 3 9 , no. 6 6 ) ; Raimon Bernart (as deputy?), 1 3 0 7 - 1 3 0 8 (Cartulaire de Bonneval, eds. P. A. Verlaguet and J. L. Rigal [Rodez, 1 9 3 8 ] , p 2 8 1 ; A.D., Aveyron, G 4 7 2 ) . Rouergue seems to have been financially subordinate to Toulouse at this time. Saintonge: Pierre de Souplessano, 1 3 0 2 - 1 3 0 3 , 1 3 0 5 - 1 3 0 6 , i 3 i o ( ? ) (Mignon, no. 9 7 , Comptes royaux, no. 1 6 1 3 4 ) ; Gerard Tronquiere, 1 3 1 1 , 1 3 1 2 , 1 3 1 3 , 1314 (Mignon, no. 97; A.N., JJ 48, fol. 106, no. 183, JJ 49, fols. 32, 8iv, nos. 6 8 , 1 9 0 ) . Toulouse: Geoffroi Coquatrix, 1299, 1301, 1303 (Comptes royaux, no. 1 2 0 7 8 ; Viard, ]ournaux, no. 5 8 0 8 ; Mignon, no. 1 0 0 ) ; Nicolas de Ermenonville, 1 3 0 2 - 1 3 1 5 (Mignon, no. 1 0 0 ; Viard, ]ournaux, no. 5 8 9 1 ; A.N., JJ 4 0 , fol. 8 7 , no. 1 6 8 , JJ 4 5 , no. 1 3 4 ) . 31 Mignon, no. 1 0 3 , under Carcassonne has "a xxn Aprilis MCCCVI, societas Perruchiorum." For Flanders, see Franz Funck-Brentano, Philippe le Bel en Flandre (Paris, 1 8 9 7 ) , p. 5 2 2 and Limburg-Stirum, Codex diplomaticus, n, 61. For Peruzzi advice on coinage see above, notes 12 and 27. 32 Viard, Journaux, nos. 6 0 3 7 , 6 0 4 1 , 6 0 4 2 , 6 0 4 3 , 6 0 4 8 , 6 0 5 8 . Even this

246

PHILIP THE FAIR

Nationalism, even in the rudimentary form of xenophobia, had little to do with these changes. After all, the Temple was headed by a Frenchman and its banking experts in Paris were French. But the Temple was an international order, just as the Italians belonged to international banking houses. Both groups had outside bases of power and income; Philip could not be sure that either would be entirely amenable to his wishes. He therefore replaced them with men who derived all their power from the king. The search for sovereignty, rather than any dislike of the Italians as Italians, is the key to understanding Philip's policies. We do not have to believe that he read or understood all the theories of his legists. But he had an exalted idea of the sanctity of the French mon­ archy and there was no place for independent or quasi-independent groups in his political system. There could be local and subordinate powers, but in the last resort everyone had to acknowledge the supremacy of the king. Philip would attack anyone who seemed to challenge that supremacy—the pope, the bishops, the great feudal lords, and the communes. The Italians were no real threat to his power; neither, for that matter, was Bishop Bernard Saisset of Pamiers. But even the remote possibility of opposition irked Philip. As soon as the Italians were no longer indispensable he freed him­ self from any dependence on them. figure assumes that the finances mentioned in no. 6041 were one-third of what was eventually paid—an assumption based on the fact that so many payments end in 6 s. 8 d. Thus the Scali, who made the biggest contribution, paid 743 1. 6 s. 8 d., which, multiplied by three, would give 2,200 l.t. The Bardi and the Peruzzi paid 488 1. 6 s. 8 d. each, or probably a total of 1,765 l.t. apiece. No other companies paid as much. Cf. nos. 6038, 6060, 6061, Philippe de Marigny, archbishop of Sens provided 10,000 l.t.; the archbishop of Rouen did the same; the Chauchat family, well-to-do financiers of Auvergne but scarcely the equals of the Peruzzi, furnished 3,000 l.t.

16. The Laicization of French and English Society in the Thirteenth Century*

S

TUDENTS of medieval society have long been aware of a sharp change in attitudes and values which took place in the thirteenth century. During that period, while Europe remained sincerely and completely Catholic, the church lost much of its influence. Though it perfected its organization and carried on its religious activities with great energy, the standards which it had set for secular activi­ ties were increasingly disregarded. The forces released by the great revival of civilization in the twelfth century could no longer be con­ trolled by the church. They broke out of the old channels and either found new courses for themselves or dissipated their energy in the swamps and backwaters of uncoordinated endeavor. This secularization of European society is apparent in every field of human activity, in art and literature as well as in politics and economics. But while the fact of secularization is undisputed, the reasons for this great change in European opinion and the way in which the change was brought about are not clear. It is a problem which is well worth studying, not only because it is the key to much of the later history of the Middle Ages, but also because it is an interesting example of the ways in which public opinion is changed. This paper is an attempt to study one aspect of secularization, the laicization of French and English society in the thirteenth century. Laicization may be defined as the development of a society in which primary allegiance is given to lay governments, in which final decisions regarding social objectives are made by lay governments, in which the church is merely a private society with no public pow­ ers or duties. When society has been laicized leadership has passed from the church to the state. In the modern period this assumption of leadership by the state is usually manifested in attempts to con­ trol social services, such as education, to regulate family relation­ ships, and to confiscate all or part of the church's property. These particular manifestations of the idea of laicization should not be * This paper was read, in a somewhat abbreviated form, at the meeting of the American Historical Association in 1938. First published in Speculum, xv (1940), 76-86. An excellent discussion of the topic, from a somewhat differ­ ent point of view, may be found in Georges de Lagarde, La naissance de I'esprit la'ique au declin du moyen age (Saint-Paul-Trois-Chateaux, 1934-1946); 3rd edn. (Louvain-Paris, 1956-1970).

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

confused with the idea itself. There was no demand for govern­ ment regulation of marriage and divorce in the thirteenth century and very little protest against church control of education. There were efforts to limit the church's acquisition of new property, but only a few fanatics advocated confiscation of what the church al­ ready possessed. Yet during the thirteenth century leadership passed from the church to lay governments, and when the test came under Boniface VIII it was apparent that lay rulers, rather than the pope, could count on the primary allegiance of the people. Laicization is the political aspect of secularization. As such, it cannot be wholly explained by purely economic factors. I am quite willing to accept the conventional view that the economic changes of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries made society more worldly, but worldliness is not the same thing as laicization. One is negative, the other positive. Worldliness made the leadership of the church less effective, but it did not necessarily create a new leadership to supplant that of the church. Gothic art, for example, did not express religious ideas as well in 1300 as it did in 1200, yet it was still an art dominated by the church. Society was more worldly everywhere in 1300 than in 1200, yet the church did not lose political power to the same extent everywhere. Germany was fully as worldly as England, yet England was far more independent of the papacy. It took strong lay governments to challenge the leadership of the church, and economic change by itself does not explain the develop­ ment of such governments. For example, throughout Europe the new economic forces were concentrated in the towns, but outside of Italy the towns were not the dominant factor in creating the new leadership. In England and France the royal officials who were most active in pursuing the policy of laicization were not exclusive­ ly, or even primarily, bourgeois. In short, while economic changes created an atmosphere in which it was easier for lay governments to assume leadership, they did not ensure the creation of lay govern­ ments which could make the most of the opportunity. A discussion of laicization really should be prefaced by a discus­ sion of the way in which the church had obtained the leadership of society. For the church's leadership was not unquestioned in the earliest centuries of the Middle Ages. It may even be argued that the complete predominance of the church was attained only as a result of the great revival of civilization which began in the latter

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

part of the eleventh century. Limitations of space forbid the discus­ sion of this problem; at least we can assume that in the twelfth century the church's control of society reached its highest point. Disregarding the endless variations of a pattern which was every­ where fundamentally the same, we can say that political units of the twelfth century fell into three classes. First, there were the local units, the feudal baronies and the towns. Then there were the inter­ mediate units, the kingdoms, and the great feudal states which were practically independent. Finally there was the great unit of Christen­ dom, headed nominally by the emperor and the pope, but which, as an effective political force, was almost wholly controlled by the pope. All men were subject to at least three governments, which represented these three types of political organization. No govern­ ment had a monopoly of power, each had its own work to do and each was supposed to give the other governments a free hand to do their work. In practice there were endless quarrels, especially among the local and intermediate units, but for a long time these quarrels led to no decisive changes. This was a situation which, from a political point of view, was wholly favorable to the church. Loyalty to lay governments was divided between the local and intermediate units. In many cases the greater loyalty was to the small local unit, for it was the local unit which controlled economic and social status. Far more important than this divided allegiance to lay govern­ ments was the loyalty to the great undivided unit of Christendom. The scale of allegiance of most men would have gone something like this: I am first of all a Christian, second a Burgundian, and only third a Frenchman. The emphasis on Christianity as the most important bond between men meant that there was a real European patriotism, expressed in the armies of the crusade. It means that there was such a thing as European citizenship or nationality, shown by the fact that a well-trained clerk or knight could find employ­ ment anywhere in Christendom, regardless of his origin. And the pope controlled the citizens of Europe and through this control he could exercise decisive influence on all aspects of European society. From a political point of view this situation was satisfactory to the church. From the point of view of morality there was less reason for complacency. The division of responsibility between governments meant that none of them did their work very well. The quarrels between lay governments created a chronic state of warfare. This

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

was intolerable to a church which had been preaching the ideals of peace and justice for centuries. The church was bound to support or at least to look favorably on any reforms which would make lay governments more capable of enforcing peace and dispensing justice. Here the contrast between political and economic change is most apparent. From the very beginning the church was suspicious of the increase in business activities, and did nothing to aid it. On the other hand the church wanted more efficient lay governments, and was of great assistance in the development of such governments. Yet stronger lay governments proved to be at least as dangerous to the church as the increase in trade and the growth of urban settlements. Efficient lay governments were dangerous to the church because they could become efficient only by obtaining a practical monopoly of political power in the districts which they controlled. Then the mere exercise of this power, even without a deliberate plan, would tend to transfer primary allegiance from the church to the state. Finally, as lay officials became aware of what was happening they could make deliberate efforts to secure the allegiance of the people. These three tendencies led to the laicization of society. During the latter part of the twelfth and the first half of the thirteenth centuries the old medieval hierarchy of governments broke down in many regions. The old division of responsibility and power ended. In each region affected by these changes one government became dominant, and gained control of political ac­ tivities. The dominant government was not always that of a king— in Italy, for example, it was that of the town—but whether king, count, or commune came out on top the result was the same. Only one government was left which was strong enough to inspire loyalty. The monopoly of power secured by the dominant government was, of course, not complete. It was a de facto monopoly, which would not meet the tests of later political theorists any more than our present economic monopolies meet the tests of the lawyer or the economist. The political monopolies of the thirteenth century worked very much as our economic monopolies work today. Other units were tolerated, and were allowed a certain share of the business of government, as long as they recognized that they held this share only by grace of the dominant power. This is the policy of Edward I in the Quo Warranto proceedings, and of Philip the Fair in his

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

pariages with the semi-independent feudal lords of southern France.1 Only admit that you hold your power from us, that you exercise it subject to our correction, and we will let you retain a large degree of jurisdiction. It was a policy which could be applied to the church fully as much as it was applied to competing lay governments. A direct attack on all ecclesiastical jurisdiction would have been futile and dangerous. Minor officials who were tactless enough to make such attacks were always disavowed by their superiors. The inner circle of royal advisers wanted to weaken the church courts, but they knew that a head-on collision of authorities was not the best way of securing this result. They never denied that the church courts should have a certain amount of power. But they were going to define that power; ecclesiastical courts were to retain only the juris­ diction recognized by the royal council. The first example of this policy is found in the reign of Henry II of England, and while his attempt at definition was not completely successful, the precedent was not forgotten. By the end of the thirteenth century royal gov­ ernments in both France and England were regularly defining the powers of church courts. The excesses of minor officials were a use­ ful weapon in establishing this power of the central government. When the church was annoyed by such officials its only recourse was to beg the royal government to define and defend ecclesiastical jurisdictions.2 As Professor Graves has shown, this is the story be­ hind Circumspecte Agatis in England.3 In France, even so power­ ful a prelate as the bishop of Toulouse had to seek the intervention of the royal council almost every year in order to preserve the most elementary rights.4 The effects of this policy on public opinion are obvious. If the church's rights of government were dependent on 1 Ordonnances, vn, 7, in a compromise with the bishop of Viviers the king insists only on recognition of his "superioritas," his right to hear appeals from the bishop's court, and his power to punish temporal oiEcials of the bishopric, 1308. 2Ibid,., xvii, 221. The monastery of St. Saturnin surrenders many of its rights in a pariage after being harassed by local officials, 1302; Gallia Chris­ tiana, i, lnstr. 33, the bishop of Cahors made a pariage for the same reason in 1307; A.N., JJ 45, nos. 88 and 90, similar transactions with the chapter of Rodez and St. Papoul, 1309 and 1310. 3 Ε. B. Graves, "Circumspecte Agatis," English Historical Review, XLIII (1928), 1-8. lLettres inedites de Philippe Ie Bel, ed. Adolphe Baudouin (Paris, 1887), nos. i, 6, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 22, 24, and passim.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

the good will of lay rulers, if the church could maintain its juris­ diction only through the aid of the state, lay governments must be more powerful and important than the church. Then, as certain governments obtained a de facto monopoly of political power they began to do more work. Their courts met more frequently, they heard more cases, they welcomed appeals from subordinate jurisdictions. These governments began to tax and to legislate, even though taxation was at first considered little better than robbery and legislation was felt to be sacrilegious tinkering with the sacred and unchangeable law. In order to perform this increased amount of work they multiplied the number of their offi­ cials. All this meant that they had more contacts with the mass of the people, that they touched at some point on the life of every man. No one could be ignorant of the fact that he was subject to one of these dominant governments. No one could fail to realize that the activities of his government were important, perhaps more impor­ tant than the activities of the church. This sense of the increasing importance of lay governments was not the same thing as loyalty to those governments, but the first sentiment could very easily lead to the second. Men respect what is powerful and they can easily become loyal to what they respect. The multiplication of the number of lay officials is one of the most striking phenomena of the thirteenth century. In every country the conservatives protested again and again that there were too many officials, and in every country the number of officials went right on increasing in spite of the protests. This increase had important effects on public opinion. It was not only that officials, with their friends and families, formed a large group which would support any action of the government. More important was the fact that every official, consciously or unconsciously, was a propagandist for his government. He had to spread the government's explanation of its policies; he had to enforce decisions which showed the govern­ ment's power. Many officials, especially those of lower rank who were in direct contact with the people, were openly anticlerical. The fact that such men could brutally disregard the church's rights and still keep their positions must have convinced many people that lay governments were going to be supreme. Finally, with the steady increase in the number of government jobs a new career was opened up for able men of all classes. The church could no longer count on securing the services of the great majority of educated and intel-

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

ligent men. Many laymen who might have entered the church chose to serve the king instead. Many churchmen entered the service of lay governments and became so absorbed in that service that they forgot their duty to the church. And as the church lost exclusive control of the educated class it lost much of its ability to control public opinion. Fully as important as the increase in the number of permanent lay officials was the increase in the number of men who were not officials, but who were forced to aid the government in its work from time to time. Professor A. B. White has shown how much of the work of local government in England was performed by juries, or selected knights of the shire.5 France had a much larger paid bureaucracy, but even in France the royal government could not function without requiring the services of its subjects. In France, as in England, local notables were associated with royal officials in administrative investigations or judicial inquests.8 In France, as in England, thousands of men were forced to aid the government in the wearisome work of assessing and collecting taxes. For example, when the aid for knighting Louis of Navarre was collected in 1314, there were 322 collectors in the viscounty of Paris alone, excluding the city proper and the castellany of Poissy.7 It seems unlikely that many people enjoyed dropping their own work in order to spend days and weeks in serving the government for little or no pay. Yet the men who performed these expensive and burdensome tasks did not become disloyal to the government which imposed them. Rather, they became increasingly conscious of the dignity and power of secular government. They acquired the habit of obedience to lay authorities, they accepted the point of view of the permanent offi­ cials with whom they had frequent contacts. A modern parallel to this process would be found in the results of military conscription. Most men who are drafted into an army regard military service as a burden. Yet compulsory military service has proved one of the 5A.

B. White, Self-Government at the King's Command (Minneapolis,

I9 33)· 8

Paul Guilhiermoz, Enquetes et proces (Paris, 1892), p. 605, ordinance for Parlement of 1278. In order to obtain auditors to hold inquests "bailie chascuns des bailliz Ies nons en escrit jusques a .x. personnes aus clers des arres, lesquiex personnes soient souffisables a faire ce que Ten Ieur commandera en droit. . . ." A.N., J 237, no. 120; J 208, no. 6; J 292, no. 910, examples of the use of local notables in appraising and assigning land. 7 B.N., ms. Clairembault 228, pp. 929#.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

most successful means for building up fanatical loyalty to the state. Just so the compulsory civil service of the thirteenth century created loyalty to the governments which imposed it. The processes discussed so far worked indirectly, and almost auto­ matically, to build up loyalty to lay governments. It was natural for any ruler to try to increase his power in a given area. As he gained a virtual monopoly of power it was necessary for him to add new functions to his government and to increase the number of men who assisted him in governing. There was little theorizing behind these developments, merely the desire to gain power and to use that power effectively. But the result of this drive for power was the creation of something very like a sovereign state. There was no place for such an entity in the old medieval system; it was ab­ solutely opposed to the belief in the unity of Christendom and the hierarchy of political organizations. It had to be justified, explained, sold to the people. As a result, toward the end of the thirteenth century a definite theory to justify laicization appears. This theory, like so many other things in the thirteenth century, was the work of lawyers. This new class of men, produced by the in­ creased activity of twelfth-century governments, set the tone of the thirteenth century even more than the new class produced by in­ creased business activity. The thirteenth century was a legalistic century, a century in which men sought exact definitions of all hu­ man relationships, a century in which men wanted to work out the logical implications of all general ideas and projects, a century in which men wanted to complete and to justify the work of their predecessors. And because the thirteenth century was legalistic, be­ cause it was a period of definitions and detailed explanations, it was a much less tolerant century than the twelfth. It was no longer pos­ sible to harmonize divergent views by thinking of them as merely different aspects of universal truth. Thus definition of the doctrines of the church forced many reformers into heresy. Definition of the rights of the state forced many men to choose between loyalty to the state and loyalty to the church. It was only when a choice had to be made that laicization was possible. The definition of the powers of the ruler worked out by thir­ teenth-century lawyers developed into something which was almost a theory of the sovereign state. Such a theory could not be reconciled with the old medieval system; it forced a choice between loyalties. Briefly, it ran something like this. First, there are definite boundaries

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

to all states. The twelfth, century had known spheres of influence rather than boundaries; power decreased in proportion to the dis­ tance from the ruler until a region was reached in which his authority was counterbalanced by that of another lord. In the thirteenth-century theory the power of the dominant government was to extend, undiminished, to a precise frontier. This idea may be seen especially clearly in the south of France, where royal offi­ cials worked steadily to fix an exact boundary with Aragon;8 where they insisted again and again that the eastern boundary of the realm was the Rhone; where they flatly denied that there could be a no-man's-land of independent bishoprics,9 in which the king's authority was neutralized by that of the emperor. Then, within these precise boundaries there is to be a definite superior, who can supervise and correct the work of all subordinate governments. This idea may be found in England earlier than in France,10 but it was most clearly expressed by Beaumanoir: "The king is sovereign over all, and has as his right the general guardianship of all the realm. . . . There is none so great beneath him that he cannot be haled to his court for default of justice or for false judgment."11 Moreover, this definite superior, if he observes certain formalities, 8A.N., J 1029, no. 9; JJ 42A, no. no. Cf. Fritz Kern, Die Anfange der franzosischen Ausdehnungspoliti\ (Tubingen, 1910), p. ijff. for similar efforts on the eastern frontier. 9 Ordonnances, vn, 7; "Memoire relatif au pareage de 1307," ed. Abel Maisonobe, Bulletin de la Societe d'Agriculture, Industrie, Sciences et Arts du Department de la Lozere (1896-1897), p. 520. Guillaume de Plaisian argued that "fines Francie usque ad flumen Rodani extenduntur" and that "omnia que sunt infra fines regni sui sint domini regis, saltim quoad protectionem et altam jurisdictionem et dominationem. . . ." The bishop of Mende stated the older point of view when he replied "non sequitur quod infra fines regni non possit aliquid esse liberum a jurisdictione regali. . . ." It is unfortunate that this important document, which contains the fullest summary of the theories of Philip's officials, is available only in this rare and incomplete edition. 10Glanvill, De legibus et consuetudinibus regni Angliae, ed. G. E. Wood­ bine (New Haven, 1932), pp. i49ff.; Bracton, De legibus et consuetudinibus Angliae, ed. G. E. Woodbine (New Haven, 1915-1922), 11, 24, all justice is held of the king, and power of supervising it remains with him. 11 Philippe de Beaumanoir, Coutumes de Beauvaisis, ed. Amedee Salmon (Paris, 1899-1900), xxxiv, 1043. "Voirs est que Ii rois est souverains par dessus tous, et a de son droit la general garde de tout son roiaume. . . . Et si n'i a nul si grant dessous Ii qui ne puist estre tres en sa court pour defaute de droit ou pour faus jugement...."

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

may issue orders which are binding on all men in the realm. As the dictum de Kenilworth says: "The king, and his legitimate orders and instructions, must be fully obeyed by each and every man, great and small, in the realm."12 Guillaume de Plaisian is even more emphatic: "All those in the realm are ruled by the king's authority; even prelates and clerks, in temporal matters, are bound by the laws, edicts, and constitutions of the king."13 The central government may state the law, or make special rulings where the laws fail to give a solution to a problem. This was recognized in England as early as Glanvill's time, when it was said that laws for the entire kingdom might be made "in doubtful cases by the author­ ity of the prince with the advice of the magnates."14 It took some­ what longer for this power to be recognized in France, but by the end of the thirteenth century Beaumanoir could say: "The king may make such establishments as please him for the common good, and that which he establishes must be obeyed."15 For the common good taxes may be imposed on all property in the kingdom. The most extreme statement of this right was made by Guillaume de Plaisian: "Everything within the boundaries of his realm is the lord king's, at least as to protection, superior jurisdiction, and lord­ ship. Even as property it is the king's, for he can give, receive, and Statutes of the Realm, ι (London, Record Commission, 1810-1828), 12. ". . . atque ab universis et singulis majoribus et minoribus ipsius regni hominibus, ipsi domino Regi et mandatis ac preceptis suis licitis plene obediatur et humiliter intendatur." Edward I's lawyers said that the king's orders could override even the common law. Rotuli parliamentorum, ed. John Strachey et al. (London, 1767), 1, 71, "dominus Rex, . . . pro communi utilitate, per prerogativam suam in multis casibus est supra leges et consuetudines in regno suo usitatas," 1292. 13 "Memoire relatif au pareage," p. 521. "Item, quod dominus Rex sit imperator in regno suo, et imperare possit terre et mari, et omnes populi regni sui regantur imperio, et omnes etiam prelati et clerici quoad temporalia legibus et edictis et constitutionibus suis ligentur. . . ." 14 Glanvill, De legibus, ed. Woodbine, p. 24. English laws are "eas scilicet quas super dubiis in consilio deffiniendis, procerum quidem consilio et principis accedente auctoritate, constat esse promulgatas." By the time of Edward I general laws were made by the central government without hesitation. For our purposes, the question as to who controlled the central government is un­ important. The barons claimed the right to be consulted, but they did not deny that the central government could make law. 15 Beaumanoir, Coutumes, ed. Salmon, xxxiv, 1043, ". . . il [li rois] puet fere teus establissemens comme il Ii plest pour Ie commun pourfit, et ce qu'il establist doit estre tenu." 12

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

use any property, movable and immovable, in his realm for the public good and defense of the kingdom.>!l6 An English lawyer would not have said this, but the English government did insist that all property could be taxed for defense of the realm.17 Finally, while no lesser political authority can be exempt from, or control the decisions of the king, there is no higher political authority which can interfere with the king's powers of government. Here English and French lawyers are equally emphatic. Bracton's "the king has no equal, much less a superior"18 is matched in a letter sent by the French government to the emperor Henry VII: "Since the time of Christ the realm of France has had only its own king, who never recognized nor had a temporal superior.>!l9 These ideas add up to something very like the theory of sovereignty. Within fixed boundaries there is a definite superior who has the final decision regarding all political activities. It is not quite the theory of sovereignty, not only because the word is lacking, but also because it is a theory of comparative rather than absolute power. The words which the French lawyers use show this: the king has "superioritas," he has "majus dominium," he has "altior dominatio." His power is greater than that of any subject, but it is not a different power; he makes the final decisions, but he does not make all the 16 "Memoire relatif au pareage," p. 521, " ... omnia que sunt infra fines regni sui sint domini Regis, saltim quoad protectionem et altam jurisdictionem et dominationem et edam quantum ad proprietatem omnium singularum rerum mobilium et immobilium regni sui, quas idem dominus Rex donare, recipere et consumere potest, ex causa publice utilitatis et deflensionis regni sui...." This doctrine was repeated in a letter to the clergy of Tours in 1305, d. A.N., J 350, no. 5. 17 Bartholomaeus Cotton, Historia Anglicana, ed. H. R. Luard (London: Rolls Series, 1859), p. 317, in asking the clergy for a grant in 1296, after the pope had forbidden taxation of the church, Hugh Ie Despenser said: "Ego ex parte domini regis, comitum, baronum, militum et aliorum domini regis fidelium vobis dico, quod de tali subsidio per quod terra defendatur de bonis ecclesiae provideatis, ne dominus rex, comites et barones de rebus vestris ecclesiastic is ordinent et disponant pro suae libito voluntatis." The Parliamentary Writs and Writs of Military Summons . .. , ed. Francis Palgrave (London, 1827-1834), I, 393, the clergy were outlawed until they paid. 18 Bracton, De legibus, ed. Woodbine, Ill, 9, 3 "[Rex] parem autem habere non debet, nec multo fortius superiorem...." 19 Karl Wenck, Philipp der Schone (Marburg, 1905), p. 72, " ... quod a tempore Christi citra regnum Francie solum regem suum sub ipso Jhesu Christo ... habuit, nullum temporal em superiorem cognoscens aut habens ...."

261

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

decisions. But, sovereignty or not, this theory clearly conflicts with earlier medieval ideas. It sets up the kingdom as the most important unit of government and demands that all subjects give their primary allegiance to the kingdom. Moreover, these ideas were not the work of isolated theorists. Every quotation which has been given was written by a high royal official. Most of them were taken from official documents—laws, pleas in royal courts, or letters written in the king's name. Innumer­ able statements of a similar sort could be found in official records. This means that everyone who attended a royal court, everyone who did business with the government, was exposed to the new theories. This must have done a great deal to spread the idea of the supremacy of royal government, and hence to make laicization easier. Even this was not enough, and at the end of the century deliberate propaganda in favor of the new theories was begun in both France and England. Local and national assemblies were called, at which royal officials could expound their new doctrine. It has long been apparent that the Estates-General and local assemblies held in France at the time of the quarrel with Boniface were called solely for purposes of propaganda. Professor C. H. Taylor of Har­ vard has also given strong reasons for believing that the French assemblies which met to consider taxation were called primarily to create a public opinion favorable to taxation. They did not con­ sent to taxation; in 1314, for example, the tax was already ordered before the assembly met.20 But they could be impressed by argu­ ments showing the necessity for taxation, and they would report those arguments to their constituents. I feel that the same thing is true of the English Parliament, as far as the knights and burgesses were concerned. True, they were asked to assent to taxation, but their assent was, at first, a matter of form. Much more important was the fact that they could be harangued by royal officials, that they could be used to spread propaganda which would make the work of the tax collector easier. At the same time the governments of France and England began to encourage nationalism in order to gain support for their policies. There had always been a certain amount of latent nationalism in Europe; the French had sneered at the drunken English and the Italians had despised the boorish Germans. But this early national­ ism had not been very strong in comparison with provincial loyal20J.

R. Strayer and C. H. Taylor, Studies in Early French Taxation (Cam­ bridge, Mass. 1939), p. 151.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

ties and it had been frowned on by lay and ecclesiastical rulers alike. It was contrary to the basic principles of Christianity and it was dangerous to lay rulers whose territories seldom coincided with national units and whose policies were not always nationalistic. The concentration of political authority in France and England en­ couraged the growth of nationalism by decreasing the differences between provinces and increasing the differences between countries. But even in the middle of the thirteenth century nationalism was not yet respectable. Nationalism was associated with rebellion against constituted authority, with such movements as the protests of the English clergy against papal exactions, or the opposition of the English baronage to Henry III. Men like Saint Louis and Henry III, who believed sincerely in the old international ideals, could not follow a nationalistic policy. In fact, many of Henry's troubles were caused by his unwillingness to accept the nationalistic ideas of his selfish and narrowminded barons. About 1300, however, the governments of France and England began to see that nationalism could be useful to them, and once the idea was supported by a recognized authority it grew rapidly. At one point in the war over Gascony, Edward I accused the French of wishing to annihilate the English race21 and the anticlerical legislation of his reign shows a tacit acceptance of nationalistic ideas. In France, the government appealed even more openly to nationalism. During the struggle against Boniface VIII repeated efforts were made to convince the country that the pope was anti-French, and that he was threatening the independence of France.22 In the same way, when the French clergy were asked for money to carry on the war with Flanders, they were reminded of the preeminence of France as a Christian country and were told that it was their duty as Frenchmen to de­ fend their native land.23 In 1305 the king wrote to the clergy of the province of Tours: "You should realize that all the clergy and laity of our kingdom, like members of one body . . . are bound to give each other spiritual and temporal aid to preserve, defend, and pro21 Parliamentary Writs, 1, 30. The king of France, "praedictis fraude et nequitia non contentus . . . linguam Anglicam . . . omnino de terra delere proponit." 22 Documents relatifs aux Etats Generaux, ed. Georges Picot (Paris, 1901), p. 37, Boniface was accused of saying "se magis velle esse canem vel asinum . . . quam Gallicum," that "ad deprimendum regem et Gallicos, si aliter non posset fieri, precipitaret se, et totum mundum et totam Ecclesiam," and that no scandal was too great "dum tamen Gallici et eorum superbia destruantur." 23A.N., J 1035, nos. 36, 37, 39; J 259, Cluny 3.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

tect the unity of this realm."21 The extremes to which French nationalism could go appear in the ingenious schemes of Pierre Dubois for subjecting all Europe to French rule. It is true that Dubois was only a minor official, and was never promoted, but that does not mean his views were not in harmony with those of the central administration. Generally speaking, minor officials spoke more bluntly and acted more brutally than the immediate advisers of the king, but the basic ideas of the two groups were the same. A tactless minor official, such as Dubois, might not be promoted, but neither would he be discharged. And the views of such a man, since they were never expressly repudiated, might be very influential with certain groups. When Boniface VIII, alarmed by the growing power of lay gov­ ernments, tried to limit their authority, he found that he was too late. The people of France and England remained loyal to their kings; there was not even a half-hearted rebellion in favor of the pope. In France the government had such control of public opinion that it was able to seize the church's own weapon of a charge of heresy and turn it against Boniface. A few years later it succeeded in ruining the Templars by the same method. This perhaps marks the extreme limit of medieval laicization—a secular ruler determines the policy of the church and uses the church for his own ends. This feat was not immediately repeated, but from the time of Boniface on there was no doubt that lay rulers had the primary allegiance of their people. Society was controlled, as far as it was controlled at all, by lay governments and not by the church. It is true that during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries this lay control was not always very intelligent, or very effective. During these years there was a re­ action against central governments; a reaction caused, at least in part, by the fact that they had gained power by a mixture of black­ mail, chicanery, and bullying and that a generation educated in these techniques began to use them against their rulers. But this very period of weak lay government showed how effective the work of laicization had been. The church could not regain its old power in spite of the opportunity afforded by a new period of i i Ibid.,

J 350, no. 5. "Novistis plenius qualiter omnes et singuli clerici et laici regni nostri tanquam membra simul in uno corpore vere vivancia sibi debent ad invicem compati, mutuumque sibi prestare teneretur auxilium spiritualiter et temporaliter ad conservationem, deffensionem, et custodiam unitatis ipsius regni..." 1305.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

anarchy. There was no substitute for centralized lay government in France or England, however weak that government might be. The reaction against central governments after 1300 may explain why laicization went no further; why education and care of the sick and poor remained the province of the church. But it should also be remembered that medieval governments were satisfied with relative, rather than absolute, power. Totalitarianism was foreign to their ways of thinking—it would also have been too expensive. Police work cost money—so there was no objection to letting the barons do much of it. Education was expensive—so there was no objection to letting the church do it. Some townspeople in England and France did object to church control of education and tried to set up their own schools, but as far as I know the count of Flanders was the only lay ruler who gave any support to this movement.25 As for social service work, the whole tendency was to make the church do more of it, rather than less. Anyone who has studied grants to the church must have been struck by the great increase in the number of gifts made specifically to hospitals, poorhouses, and university colleges after the middle of the thirteenth century.26 The old unlimited grant for the general purposes of the church al­ most disappears in the fourteenth century. This may be, indirectly, a form of laicization; the church is to be made to do "useful" work instead of spending its money on purely religious purposes. But there is no hesitation in allowing the church to perform these serv­ ices; rather, it is encouraged to do so. Not until the next great wave of laicization in the sixteenth century is there an attempt to deprive the church of its educational and philanthropic functions. Once the leadership, the "superiority," of medieval lay governments was recognized, they had no further quarrel with the church. 25 Henri Pirenne, "!/instruction des marchands au moyen age," Annates d'histoire economique et sociale, 1 (1929), 24-26; K. F. Stallaert and P. Van der Haeghen, De Γinstruction publique au moyen age (Brussels, 1850); extract from Memoires couronnes et memoires des savants Strangers publies par I'academie royale de Belgiques), xxm, 101, 107-108, 109. 26 Powerful communes, such as those of the Rhineland and the Low Coun­ tries, did place certain hospitals under lay control, cf. Histoire litteraire de la France (Paris, 1733), xxxv, 120, and Lagarde, L'esprit laique, 1, 220; 3rd edn., i, 181. But while there are no statistics on the subject, my impression is that the church gained more hospitals through new foundations than it lost through such acts of secularization.

17. The Statute of York and the Community of the Realm* HE Statute of York marked the end of a period of revolutionary experiments in English government. For over a decade the mag­ nates had sought to limit the king's power and to increase their own influence on the central administration. But in 1322 Edward II crushed his opponents at Boroughbridge and regained complete freedom of action. He naturally wished to remove and to denounce as utterly illegal all the restrictions which had been placed on his authority. The Statute of York was the legal expression of this policy. The chief purpose of the act was to put an end to the devices by which the barons had gained control of the central government and to make it impossible to use those devices again. This objec­ tive was clearly stated and effectively secured by the statute. The Ordinances were annulled, and no attempt was ever made to revive them. These negative clauses were the essential part of the statute in the eyes of contemporaries; it was enrolled under the title of "revocacio novarum ordinationum." But the statute also contained a positive clause, a clause which caused no particular comment at the time but which has aroused a steadily increasing amount of controversy in recent years. This clause stated what was normal, constitutional procedure, in contrast to the abnormal and revolution­ ary methods which were repudiated in the first part of the act. There was no particular emphasis on this statement, and it claimed to be nothing more than a reminder of past usage. Yet many mod­ ern historians feel that this clause marked an important step in the growth of representative institutions. Some have argued that the statute granted new powers to the commons.1 Others, admitting * First published in American Historical Review, XLVII (1941), 1-22; re­ printed with an additional note. 1Rudolph Gneist, The History of the English Constitution, tr. P. A. Ashworth (New York, 1886), n, 21; the statute "lays emphasis on the fact that where a consent to royal ordinances was to be given the assens of the Com­ mons . . . must be as essential as the assent of the lords." Gaillard Lapsley, "The Commons and the Statute of York," English Historical Review, xxvm (1913), 124; the statute shows "the point at which the guardianship of the great principle that the king should be under the law . . . passed from the hands of a class into the hands of the nation." James Conway Davies, The Baronial Opposition to Edward II (Cambridge, Eng., 1918), p. 515; the last clause of the Statute of York "normalized the exceptional and perpetuated

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

that the statute made no sudden innovation, nevertheless believe that it was a formal recognition of the growing importance of the representatives of shires and boroughs.2 Richardson and Sayles are almost the only modern writers who have denied the importance of the last clause of the Statute of York. They state flatly that "the purpose of the measure was to annul the hateful Ordinances and there was no ulterior purpose beyond preventing a like happening in the future. . . . The suggestion that the constitutional position of the commons was in some way thereby recognized rests upon the assumption that la communalte du roialme must mean the knights and burgesses . . . and for this assumption we can find no war­ rant."3 In view of this open contradiction of a generally accepted belief it seems advisable to make a new study of the clause in question. The historians who believe that the Statute of York recognizes the rights of the commons are unable to agree as to what these rights were. Lapsley, followed by Tout and Lefebvre, claims that the statute made the assent of the commons necessary only when "con­ stitutional changes," such as the Ordinances, were contemplated.4 what might otherwise have proved a mere temporary expedient." Bertie Wilkin­ son, Studies in the Constitutional History of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries (Manchester, 1937), p. 52; "it seems probable that the Statute of York added something to the claim of the Commons to be a necessary part of the normal parliamentary assembly." 2 Williams Stubbs, Constitutional History oj England, 11, 4th edn. (Oxford, 1896), 258, 369; C. H. Mcllwain, "Medieval Estates," Cambridge Medieval History, vn (Cambridge, Eng., 1932), 678; Μ. V. Clarke, Medieval Repre­ sentation and Consent (London, 1936), p. 172. 3 H. G. Richardson and G. O. Sayles, "The Early Records of the English Parliaments," Bulletin oj the Institute oj Historical Research, vi (1928-1929), 76. William A. Morris, in the introduction to The English Government at Wor\, ι (Cambridge, Mass., 1940), 22, expresses some doubts as to the sig­ nificance of the statute and says: "it is clear that it did not assume participa­ tion of the commons in legislation to any greater extent than that customary in the past." George Burton Adams, Constitutional History oj England (New York, 1924), p. 199, had already said that "the constitutional importance of the Statute of York has been greatly exaggerated." 4 Lapsley, "Commons and the Statute of York," 123-124. T. F. Tout, The Place oj the Reign oj Edward Π in English History, 2nd edn., rev. Hilda Johnstone (Manchester, 1936), p. 136. Georges Lefebvre, Studies and Notes Supplementary to Stubbs' Constitutional History, with C. Petit-Dutaillis (Manchester, 1908-1929), part 111, p. 502, expresses some hesitation in agreeing with Lapsley. Lapsley published a new study of the statute, "The Interpreta-

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

According to this interpretation the statute did not apply to ordinary laws, which could be made by the king without any reference to parliament. This explanation has not been accepted by the most recent writers on the subject. Following a suggestion by Mcllwain, Haskins has argued, very ingeniously, that the whole statute was concerned with finance rather than with legislation and that the last clause merely recognized the power of the commons to consent to taxation.5 This theory has not been generally accepted, and the words of the statute seem definitely connected with legislation rather than finance.6 The interpretation which has the largest num­ ber of supporters was stated most clearly by Miss Clarke: The opinions of all parties, from right to left, were converging in the same direction; in great matters, both legal and political, the final decision must rest with Parliament. Parliament must be summoned in due form by the king himself; it must include the commonalty of the realm as well as the magnates; the king must enact, but the common assent of the estates is essential to the valid­ ity of enactments. The sum of these opinions was expressed suc­ cinctly in the Statute of York. . . . The clear intention of the statute was to assert the authority of the Parliament of estates.7 Mcllwain had already taken this position when he wrote that the Statute of York provided that enactments touching the estate of the whole realm must have the participation of the "representative estates."8 Gneist, Davies, and Wilkinson start with different assump­ tions, but they all agree that the statute recognized that "the people" or "the commons" were to be consulted in matters of general con­ cern.9 tion of the Statute of York," English Historical Review, LVI (1941), 22-51, 411446. The first section of his study appeared when this article was in proof; the second had not yet been received when it went to press. 5C. H. Mcllwain, The Growth of Political Thought in the West (New York, 1932), p. 378; G. L. Haskins, The Statute of Yor\ (Cambridge, Mass., 1935), pp. 9 gS. 6 See below, p. 269. 7 Clarke, Medieval Representation, p. 172. 8 Mcllwain, Cambridge Medieval History, vn, 678. Mcllwain later changed his views and said that the last clause referred only to the commons' power over taxation. See above, note 5. 9Gneist, History of the English Constitution, 11, 20-21; Davies, Baronial

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

The writers who believe that the Statute of York granted new powers to the knights and burgesses are in a very weak position. They must explain away the definite statement in the last clause which says that it was merely a rehearsal of past usage. The cir­ cumstances in which the statute was made show that this was not just the usual sop to medieval conservatism. The purpose of the statute was to restore normal government, to return political activity to its old channels. Innovations would have been out of place in an enactment of this sort; the king's power had to be restored before he could plan reforms. Moreover, as will be shown below, the statute was quite correct in saying that it had been customary to secure the assent of the "community of the realm" to legislation in recent years. Those who argue that the statute merely recognized changes which had already taken place are on safer ground. It is undoubted­ ly true that representatives of shires and boroughs played a some­ what more important role in parliament after 1300 than they did before. An admission of this fact would not have been incom­ patible with the claim that the statute merely restored old customs. But while such an admission might have been made, there was no reason why it had to be made. The powers of the knights and burgesses were not yet so well established that they could not have been omitted in a brief description of the normal processes of gov­ ernment. The burden of proof is on those who claim that the Statute of York contains a definite reference to the representatives of the commons. Does the language of the last clause justify such a claim? Let us examine the passage in question. "Mes Ies choses que serount a establir pur lestat de nostre seignur Ie roi et de ses heirs, et pur lestat du roialme et du poeple, soient tretes, accordees, establies en parlementz par nostre seignur Ie roi et par lassent des prelatz, countes et barouns et la communalte du roialme, auxint come ad este acustume cea enarere."10 This might Opposition, p. 515; Wilkinson, Studies, pp. 52-53. Lapsley, in the introduction to Desire Pasquet, An Essay on the Origins of the House of Commons, tr. R.G.D. Laffan (Cambridge, Eng., 1925), p. xi, sums up recent discussion by saying: "The Statute of York, however you interpret it, still leaves the im­ pression that on certain occasions and for certain purposes the cooperation of the Commons in Parliament was a thing of such importance that it should be made indispensable." 10 Statutes of the Realm, 1 (London, 1810), 189.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

be paraphrased as: "When matters of general concern11 are to be decided, they shall be discussed and determined in parliaments by the king and by the assent of the prelates, earls and barons, and the community of the realm,12 as was the custom in the past." Let us assume for a moment that the "assent of the community of the realm" does not mean the assent of the representatives of shires and boroughs. That this is not an entirely unjustifiable hypothesis will be shown below. Once this assumption has been made, it is evident that there is nothing very new in the last clause of the Statute of York. It is a description of the normal functioning of government at any time in the preceding twenty years. Ever since the reign of Henry III it had been customary to make important decisions in parliament. Exceptions to this rule, not uncommon at first, had become increasingly rare since 1295. The most important legal decisions had regularly been made in parliament since the beginning of Edward I's reign. During the same reign there was a tendency to treat important legislation in parliament and to secure grants of general taxation in the same place. These tendencies be­ came even stronger in the reign of Edward II. By 1322 everyone could agree that it was customary and desirable to make important decisions in parliament. But an admission that important acts should be done in parlia­ ment is not an admission that they must be ratified by everyone present at parliament. As Lapsley has well said, parliament was "a 11 The technical meaning of the phrases "lestat de nostre seignur Ie roi" and "lestat du roialme et du poeple" is not entirely clear, but most scholars have given them the force indicated above. Gneist, History of the English Constitu­ tion,, 11, 21, thinks these words mean "legislation"; Wilkinson, Studies, p. 52, that they refer to "the most important affairs of the realm"; Davies, Baronial Opposition, p. 515, that they mean "general legislation and administration"; Clarke, Medieval Representation, p. 172, that they refer to decisions "in great matters, both legal and political." Mcllwain, Growth of Political Tbought, p. 378, and Haskins, Statute of Yor\, p. 103, paraphrase the text as "fiscal matters." Lapsley, "Interpretation," p. 48, suggests that it refers to "changes in the control and organization of the central government." 12 There seems to be no warrant in the usage of the period for the usual translation of "communalte" as "commonalty." The Latin equivalent, "communitas," ordinarily means "community" or even "association." Moreover, the French word is used in the plural, e.g., Rotuli parliamentorum (London, :1767-1777), i, 451, "le communaltez de tuz Ies countez du roialme." Here the only translation which makes sense is "communities."

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

place and occasion rather than a constitutional body."13 This is quite evident in the work of parliament as a law court. Many law­ suits were decided in parliament, but the decision was usually made by a small group of royal officials and magnates." The whole group of magnates was not consulted about these decisions, much less the representatives of shires and boroughs. There is no reason to assume that everyone present at parliament took part in all the work of government in parliament. Many acts of parliament rep­ resented only the decisions of the king and his officials. Why was it necessary to do these things in parliament when most of those present at parliament had no influence on them and usually no interest in them? A complete answer to this question would involve a detailed examination of parliamentary origins which would be out of place in this study. It may be suggested, however, that one of the chief reasons for the growth of parliamen­ tary institutions in thirteenth-century Europe was that lay rulers found it necessary to secure publicity for their acts. The men of the Middle Ages had a horror of secret transactions, a feeling that is perfectly understandable in a period when people depended on public acts and oral tradition for their rights and possessions. When the king was primarily a feudal lord, he could run his ordinary affairs like any other private person. Sufficient publicity was secured if he accomplished his acts in the presence of his household and a few vassals. But when the king became primarily a sovereign, ruling his subjects directly instead of through a feudal hierarchy, more of his acts were of a public nature, more frequent public assemblies were necessary, and a larger number of people had to be called in. A king claiming to be direct ruler of all the people was bound to let all the people know of his acts. As a matter of practical politics it was often advisable to let them know the reasons for these acts. The king and his ministers had to explain and justify their policy, especially when it was a policy which would cost the country money. Thus, during the reigns of Henry III and Edward I an increasingly large number of affairs were treated in parliament, and an increas­ ingly large number of people were called to hear them discussed. 13 "Knights of the Shire in the Parliaments of Edward II," English Histor­ ical Review, xxxiv (1919), 27. 14 Richardson and Sayles, "The Early Records of the English Parliaments," Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research, ν (1927-1928), 129-154; vi (1928-29), 71-88, 129-155.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Following this interpretation, representatives of the shires and the towns were summoned primarily to hear descriptions and explana­ tions of royal policy.15 Parliament, for the lower orders at least, was first and foremost an agency of propaganda.16 It is easy for us to underestimate the effectiveness of the speeches which were delivered at the formal sessions. We should remember that these people were accustomed to respond to the spoken rather than the written word, that these speeches gave them their only authentic information about the plans of the government, and that even the knights would be impressed by the presence of the king and the greatest men of the realm. In these circumstances almost any speech would be remem­ bered, and a good speech would make a tremendous impression. Knights and burgesses would repeat what they had heard to their friends and neighbors, and thus public opinion would be brought to 151

am not unaware of the fact that the first large groups of representatives summoned before the king came to give information rather than to hear ex­ planations of royal policy. See A. B. White, "Some Early Instances of Concen­ tration of Representatives in England," American Historical Review, xix (1913-1914), 735-750. But this function became less important after 1250, and it is difficult to find any clear example of the knights and burgesses giv­ ing information to the king in the reigns of the first two Edwards. Even in the earlier period it seems possible that the representatives were brought together not only to give information but also to be convinced of the good intentions of the government. In 1227, for example, it would have been easier to follow the precedent of Henry II and send out commissioners to receive complaints against the sheriffs rather than to summon representatives to pre­ sent the complaints to the king. However, by concentrating representatives before him Henry III was able to impress the country with his desire to observe the charters. 16Stubbs, Select Charters, gth edn. (Oxford, 19x3), p. 395; sheriffs in 1261 are ordered to send three knights from each county "nobiscum super praemissis colloquium habituros, ut ipsi per effectum operis videant et intelligant quod nihil attemptare proponimus nisi quod honori et communi utilitati regni nostri noverimus convenire." This is an early example of the use of representatives to spread royal ideas. See Lapsley's remarks on "the plan of moulding public opinion through elected representatives, to whom the case for the crown could be put viva voce" in his introduction to Pasquet, p. xi. See also Η. M. Cam, "The Relation of English Members of Parliament to their Constituencies," in L'organisation corporative du moyen age a la fin de I'ancien regime (Louvain: Etudes presentees a la Commission Internation­ ale pour l'Histoire des Assemblees d'Etats, 111, 1939), p. 147: "Edward I was . . . making use of the representative system for propaganda purposes; dem­ onstrating to the communities of shire and borough . . . the justice of his own cause."

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

favor or at least to acquiesce in royal policy. This preparation of public opinion was especially necessary when taxes were to be levied, and it may well be true that taxation was the chief reason for sum­ moning representatives of shires and towns to parliament.17 I would suggest, however, that the most important thing was not to obtain consent from the representatives but rather to explain the necessity for taxation to them. Actual consent could have been, and occa­ sionally was, obtained elsewhere, in regional or local assemblies, but public opinion could be moved much more effectively in par­ liament.18 Be this as it may, the function of parliament in the reign of Edward II was primarily that of securing publicity for acts of gov­ ernment. As Lapsley has said, it "was an excellent place and a suit­ able occasion for registering acts or statutes which were intended to be permanent, for creating or influencing public opinion, for transacting, in short, any business that required to be done publicly 17

J. G. Edwards, "The Plena Potestas of English Parliamentary Repre­ sentatives," in Oxford Essays in Medieval History Presented to Herbert Edward Salter (Oxford, 1934), pp. 146#. Edwards's emphasis on the plena potestas clause as proof of the right of the commons to consent to taxation is probably unjustified. Professor Gaines Post, [then] of the University of Wis­ consin, placed the discussion of this clause on a new footing by his paper read at the 1940 meeting of the American Historical Association. [Later printed as "Plena Potestas and Consent in Medieval Assembles," Traditio, 1 (1943), 355-408, revised version in Gaines Post, Studies in Medieval Legal Thought (Princeton, 1964), pp. 91-162.] He showed that the plena potestas clause was regularly included in commissions of proctors and attorneys who represented individuals and communities in law courts and that far from giving proctors a right of consent it bound them in advance to accept the decisions of the court before which they appeared. It was only natural for the English government to desire that representatives who appeared before the high court of parliament be accredited according to the usual form. The government, however, does not seem to have used the clause to force the repre­ sentatives to accept taxation. See the following note for remarks about its use in France. 18 As Charles Taylor has shown, in France representatives from the whole country were concentrated to hear government officials explain the need for new taxes, but the actual grants of taxes were made in local assemblies or by local authorities. In connection with Edwards's argument that the grant of full powers to English representatives was required because the govern­ ment wished them to have authority to grant taxes, it is interesting to note that the French representatives, who granted no taxes, also had full powers. See J. R. Strayer and C. H. Taylor, Studies in Early French Taxation (Cam­ bridge, Mass., 1939), pp. n3fi.j i44ff.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

and solemnly, or for which the country had to be prepared by means of preliminary statements."19 If the existence of parliament limited the executive and legislative powers of the king, it did so only because it required publicity and explanations for some of his acts. The initiative remained with the king, and most of the deci­ sions were made by the king or his ministers.20 It is possible that some officials, especially those of the household, were annoyed be­ cause the custom of making important decisions in parliament pre­ vented swift, secret action. The Ordainers seem to have felt that in the first years of Edward's reign there had been a deliberate policy of acting outside of parliament and of holding parliaments less fre­ quently than was customary.21 They, of course, went to the other extreme. Their initiative was substituted for that of the king in proposing measures to the assembly, and they insisted that many administrative acts, which had never before been referred to parlia­ ment, take place there.22 The Statute of York rejected both these extreme points of view and merely asked for the observance of cus­ tom. The initiative in policy and lawmaking was restored to the king, and only matters of public concern were to be treated in parliament. The right of the king to run his own affairs and to name his own officials was not to be questioned. On the other hand, there was a promise that matters of public interest would be discussed in parliament, as was customary. Edward and his advisers were not going to abuse their victory. They wished to restore the normal machinery of government and to allow parliament to function as it had in the past. This is all that is promised in the last clause of the Statute of York. Now let us consider the words which are supposed to have recog­ nized the increased importance of the commons. Acts done in parlia­ ment are initiated by the king, but they require the assent of the prelates, earls and barons, and the community of the realm. Let us be careful not to overemphasize the force of the word "assent." At this time it means little more than "acquiesce" or "acknowledge." A great scholar, John of Paris, can solemnly maintain that bishops are 19

"Knights of the Shire," p. 27. G. L. Haskins, "The King's High Court of Parliament," History, xxiv (1939-1940), 305; "it is the council, with the king as presiding officer, which is the heart and core of the medieval parliament." 21 Statutes of the Realm, 1, 165, art. 29. 22 Ibid., pp. 158®., arts. 7, 9, 14, 15, 16. 20

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

elected with the "assent" of the people23—this at a time when even the memory of popular participation in episcopal elections has al­ most vanished. Assent in parliament is usually a mere formality, for few measures are proposed in parliament until all opposition has been conciliated or overridden. This is not to deny that the magnates who attend parliament have a very real influence on the policies and acts of the government, but that influence is exerted outside of par­ liament, in private conversations or in council. Once the balance of agreement or power has been struck, it will be registered in parlia­ ment. Any person or group with sufficient power can secure assent to their acts in parliament. Lancaster's acts against Edward, Ed­ ward's acts against Lancaster, the exile of the Despensers, the punishment of the Despensers' enemies are all ratified in parliament. Yet the need for obtaining assent in parliament, even though it is usually a mere formality, has its importance. It makes parliament a necessary part of the machinery of government; it creates the prece­ dents which eventually enable parliament to become the most im­ portant part of the machinery of government. And if, in 1322, the assent of the knights and burgesses is a necessary formality in the enactment of legislation, then we can be sure that they have a defi­ nite and significant place in the government, that they are organized and act as estates, that they have been recognized as a force to be conciliated. This is true even if the assent is a mere acknowledge­ ment that the statute has been read in their presence. But, except for the words of the Statute of York, there is very little to support the assumption that the knights and burgesses have fully attained this position by 1322. And the words of the Statute of York itself are not very explicit. Does "la communalte du roialme" mean the knights and burgesses, or is it merely a redundant expression, in apposition with "prelatz, countes et barouns" r21 We should note, in the first place that the chancery was perfectly capable of using unnecessary expressions. The precision of chancery language has been somewhat overrated; demands of style and rhythm often led to the insertion of unnecessary words. A compar­ ison of petitions with the writs based on them will show how simple matter-of-fact statements were elaborated as they passed through 23 Melchior

Goldast, Monarchia (Hanover and Frankfort, 1611-1614),

n>

ch. 11, 120. 24 Lefebvre, Studies and Notes, part 111, 501, admits this latter possibility in spite of his tendency to accept Lapsley's interpretation.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

the hands of the king's clerks. It was customary for the chancery to end an enumeration with a vague general phrase. In the earlier period it would list witnesses and close by saying that many others were present. In the fourteenth century it will speak of "prelates, earls, barons, and other great men,"25 of "archbishops, bishops, abbots, priors, and other prelates,"26 of "earls, barons, magnates, proceres, and other nobles."27 There is nothing in chancery style which makes it necessary to assume that "the community of the realm" and "prelates, earls, and barons" are different groups. Historically there is every reason to suppose that the magnates were considered representatives of, and spokesmen for, the commu­ nity of the realm. They first appear in this role in article 61 of the Magna Carta, where the Twenty-five and the "communa totius terre" are given power to distrain the king. It is clear from the context that the community here referred to is that of the magnates and their feu­ dal dependents.28 During the long struggle between Henry III and his barons, which filled the middle years of the thirteenth century, the magnates constantly claimed to represent the interests of the com­ munity of the realm.29 Thus the oath which the barons took at Oxford was called the oath of "le commun de Engleterre."30 The Twelve who were elected by the barons to meet with the council in parliament were to act "pur tut Ie commun de la terre," and the peace of 1264 was made by the unanimous assent of the prelates, 25

Rot. pari., i, 343 (1315). p. 456 (1321). 27 Statutes of the Realm, 1, 151. 28 W. S. McKechnie, Magna Carta, 2nd edn. (Glasgow, 1914), p. 472, says that the phrase could mean at most only the feudal tenants and perhaps only the magnates. 29 J.E.A. Jolliffe, The Constitutional History of Medieval England (London, 1937), p. 262, says that when the barons speak of the community of the realm, "their view is essentially one of a community of tenures. . . . This baronial conception of communitas, and the sense of their own quality as its natural representative inspires the baronage to act as a national opposition in the thirteenth century." See also his remarks, p. 287, about the growth of "the more modern notion of the assembly of the barons as an institution of the community rather than of the crown, whose affinities are with the universitas regni or body of tenants in chief, for which it acts as representative." 30 Stubbs, Select Charters, 9th edn., p. 379. This oath is almost that of a commune and could have been taken only by a relatively small group of men who were closely bound together by status and interests. 26 Ibid.,

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

earls, barons, and "communitatis regni."31 It is probably true that on these occasions many lesser landowners were associated with the magnates, but it is also true that the magnates were the dominant element in the revolutionary group. They alone could speak for the community of the realm; when lesser men put forward a program, they called themselves the "communitas bacheleriae Anglie."32 In the troubles of 1297 the rebellious barons again spoke for the com­ munity of the realm; Rishanger relates how "nuncii ex parte comitum" laid before the king the grievances of the prelates, earls, barons, "et tota terrae communitas."33 The use of this phrase by the magnates can be explained by condi­ tions in thirteenth-century England. By the reign of Henry III it was evident that a mere assertion of individual feudal rights was not enough to guard the magnates against the encroachments of the central government or to give them the power and authority which they desired. To gain their ends it was necessary for them to act as a group which would influence or control the central government. This was a political necessity, but it could hardly be justified by purely feudal arguments. The magnates had to find a moral basis for their claims, and they did so by appealing to the new idea of the "communitas regni."34 If England was to be conceived of as a 81

Ibid., pp. 381, 400. Other examples of the use of this phrase are discussed in R. F. Treharne, The Baronial Plan of Reform (Manchester, 1932), pp. 67, 83-89, 118, 180, 185. Treharne thinks that the whole body of tenants in chief was included in the "communitas regni," but he admits that the greater barons spoke for the group. 32 Annales monasterii de Burton, ed. H. R. Luard (London: Rolls Series, xxxvi, part 1, 1864), p. 471. The composition of this group is discussed by Treharne, pp. 160-164. seems clear that it included many landholders of considerable local importance. 33 Willelmi Rishanger Chronica, ed. H. T. Riley (London: Rolls Series, xxviii, part 2, 1865), pp. 175-176. 34F. M. Powicke, "England and Europe in the Thirteenth Century," Har­ vard Tercentenary Publications, Independence, Convergence, and Borrowing (Cambridge, Mass., 1937), pp. 142-143, says that in the reign of Henry III "King, magnates, judges, knights had now one common concern . . . they came to look upon England as a whole and were conscious of some form of general will which could be expressed by the whole body of responsible men summoned together to discuss the affairs of the realm—the body de­ scribed as the 'communitas regni.'" This interpretation makes the "commu­ nitas" somewhat more of a national body and ascribes less importance to

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

community with rights and interests distinct from those of the pope, the king, or any other individual, then there must be some group which could preserve the rights and speak for the interests of the community. The magnates claimed that this was their function, that they were the natural guardians of the welfare of the realm. Thus when the king violated custom, made foolish decisions, or placed undue burdens on his subjects, the barons and prelates had the right to protest in the name of all. Naturally they made these protests only when they themselves were aggrieved, but they did not limit their complaints to their own grievances.35 Thus it is easy to see how the magnates became spokesmen for the community of the realm. No other group could have filled this role, for it is doubtful if many other men felt at that time that they were part of a nation-wide po­ litical community. The idea that there could be such communities was a rather new one in the thirteenth century, and it was grasped by the clergy and barons long before it was understood by other classes.36 The magnates first claimed to be speaking for the community of baronial revolt than mine, but even if it is accepted, it remains true that the most powerful element in the "body of responsible men" summoned to dis­ cuss the affairs of the realm would be the barons. See also A. B. White, "Was There a 'Common Council' before Parliament?", American Historical Re­ view, xxv (1919-1920), 11: "During the twelve-forties especially, writings, both chronicle and official, were becoming suddenly filled with every possible use and combination of communis and communitas, and the idea these words carried were ideas to conjure with in those days." 35 This is evident in the lists of grievances which they gave the king in 1258 and 1297, as recorded in the Annals of Burton, pp. 439-443, and Rishanger, pp. 175-176. 36 The whole question of the development of politically conscious groups on a large scale in medieval states is still very obscure. It is being attacked by the Commission Internationale pour 1'histoire des assemblies d'etats, which has already achieved some notable results. Especially important for the subject of this paper are the following studies: Emile Lousse, "Les caracteres essentiels de l'etat corporatif medieval," and Georges de Lagarde, "L'idee de representa­ tion dans les oeuvres de Guillaume d'Ockham," both in "Histoire des as­ semblies d'etats," Bulletin of the International Committee of Historical Sci­ ences, ix (1937); Lousse, "La formation des ordres dans la societe medievale," in L'organisation corporative du moyen dge a la fin de I'ancien regime (Louvain: Etudes presentees a la Commission Internationale pour I'Histoire des Assemblies d'Etats, n, 1937); Georges de Lagarde, "La structure politique et sociale de !'Europe au XIVe siecle," in vol. 111 (1939) of the same series.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

the realm when they were opposing or rebelling against the king. But by the end of Henry Ill's reign the king had accepted the idea and was using the phrase to describe baronial support of his plans. Thus when Henry III was excusing himself in 1270 for not going on the crusade, he said that it had seemed inexpedient to "praelatis, magnatibus et communitati regni nostri" for both the king and his eldest son to be absent at the same time.37 Edward I used the phrase in the same way. The customs of 1275 were granted by the magnates at the request of the merchants, but one official document says that they were conceded by the "communitas regni."38 Edward also claimed that the Welsh war of 1282 was begun "de consilio procerum et magnatum regni nostri necnon et tocius communitatis ejusdem."39 In 1290 he announced that certain bishops and barons had granted an aid to marry the king's daughter "pro se et communitate totius regni quantum in ipsis est."40 Royal clerks also accepted the baronial claim and enrolled under the headings "communitas Anglie" or "communitas regni" petitions which were drawn up by the mag­ nates and dealt primarily with their interests.41 Some of these pe­ titions may also have had the support of the knights and burgesses, but this was not true in all cases. No one will argue that in the reign of Edward I the "community of the realm" meant the representa­ tives of the commons.42 The claim is made, however, that under Edward II the meaning of the term shifted. It is said that the magnates ceased to be con­ sidered spokesmen for the community of the realm and that the knights and burgesses acquired a monopoly of this function. When, therefore, the Statute of York required the assent of the community of the realm to certain acts, it meant that the representatives of the 37 Thomas

Rymer, Foedera (London, 1704-1735), 1, 864. Writs (London, 1827-1834), 1, 1, 2, nos. 2, 3, 7, 10. See Jolliffe's discussion, Constitutional History, p. 399. 39 Pari. Writs, i, 10. The commons were not summoned in that year. 40 Rot. pari., 1, 25. 41 These petitions are discussed by G. L. Haskins, "Three Early Petitions of the Commons," Speculum, xn (1937), 315-318; Richardson and Sayles, "Early Records," p. 77, and "The Parliaments of Edward III," ibid., ix (1931-1932), 7-9; H. L. Gray, The Influence of the Commons on Early Legislation (Cam­ bridge, Mass., 1932), p. 201. 42This is admitted by Gray, The Influence of the Commons, p. 201, and by Clarke, Medieval Representation, p. 171, both of whom argue strongly that under Edward II the community of the realm did mean the commons. 38Parliamentary

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

commons had to be consulted on these occasions. Let us examine the way in which the term was used in the first fifteen years of the reign of Edward II and see if this contention is justified. The most impressive evidence is from parliamentary petitions. Generally speaking, until 1307 petitions in the name of the com­ munity of the realm are the work of the magnates, or at least of groups in which the magnates played the leading part. After 1307 this is no longer true. Other men, especially those belonging to the merchant class, try to make their requests seem more urgent and important by presenting them in the name of the community of the realm. But, as Richardson and Sayles have pointed out, many of these petitions come from people who have no claim to be repre­ sentatives of the whole community.43 They deal with affairs which interest only small groups, and it seems unlikely that they are the work of the whole body of knights and burgesses or even of repre­ sentatives of individual constituencies. For example, the "commu­ nity of the land" complain that toll for crossing the Humber near Barton has been doubled;44 the "community of the realm" ask that certain forms be observed when they account in the wardrobe;45 the "community of the land and especially those of the east of Lon­ don" ask that certain roads and bridges be repaired;46 "certain men of the realm, petitioning for themselves and the community of the realm," ask for the extension of the Statute of Fines.47 Admitting, for the sake of argument, that individual knights and burgesses might use this form of petition, it still is not true that they are the only ones to do so. The magnates still speak for the com­ munity of the realm, and their right to do so is never questioned. Thus the barons write a letter to the pope in 1309 in the name of the community of the realm.48 In 1312 the earls of Pembroke and Here­ ford protest in the name of the magnates and "toute la communalte du roiaume" against Langton's appointment as treasurer, because it vio­ lates the Ordinances.49 The magnates hand in petitions in the name of 43

"Parliaments of Edward III," p. 9. pari., 1, 291 (1315). 45 Documents Illustrative of English History in the Thirteenth and Four­ teenth Centuries, ed. Henry Cole (London, 1844), p. 27. On page 42 this same petition is entered as a petition of "aliquorum qui habent computare in Garderoba Regis" (1318). ia Rot. pari., 1, 308 (1315). 47 Ibid., p. 295 (1315). 48 Davies, Baronial Opposition, p. 513. 49 Ibid., appendix, p. 551. ii Rot.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

"prelatz, contes, et barons et tute la communalte du roiame,"50 or in the name of "ercevesques, evesques, prelatz, counts, et barons et autre gentz de la communaltee d'Engleterre, que tenent lour manoirs en cheif de nostre seignor."51 It is evident that the magnates still think of themselves as the spokesmen for the community of the land and that they believe that their interests are those of the community. They are not the only ones to think so. On several occasions a petition from the magnates alone is described by a royal clerk as a petition of the com­ munity of the realm. Richardson and Sayles have pointed out that a petition of 1314 from the bishops and barons, asking the council to limit the price of meat, is called in the writ which answers it a petition of the "archiepiscoporum, episcoporum, comitum, baronum et aliorum de communitate regni nostri."52 Another example is the answer to a petition of the magnates asking that they be allowed to have immediate possession of fines, amercements, and chattels of their felons without the intervention of the exchequer. The answer runs: "Responsum est in communi in quadam petitione exhibita coram rege et consilio que continet materiam istius petitionis et plures alios articulos tangentes communitatem regni."53 This is probably a reference to a petition of the bishop of Ely in 1318 ask­ ing for this and other rights. In answering this petition the king's legal advisers had suggested that the privilege of immediate posses­ sion of the chattels of felons be extended to all magnates, and the king and council had agreed.54 In any case, the "community of the 50

Cole, Documents, p. 6. In the body of the petition the request runs "prie Ie barnage od la communalte de people"; p. 7, a petition from "le barnage od Ie commun poeple." δ1 Rot. pari., 1, 416. 52 Ibid., p. 295. Gray, The Influence of the Commons, p. 208, thinks the writ is correct in assuming participation of the commons but does not explain why they were not named in the petition. 5s Ibid., p. 203. Gray assumes that this refers to a petition of the commons and that it proves that such petitions were considered first because they were more important. 54 H. G. Richardson and G. O. Sayles, Rotuli parliamentorum Anglie hactenus inediti (London: Camden Society, 1935), p. 68. The other articles were the right to use privileges in charters which might have lapsed from disuse and the right to have a coroner. It is possible that there was another petition touching forfeitures of felons before the council at this time, since the legal advisers say, "et de ce fut mis avant peticion en parlement ore depart Ie poeple." But this may refer only to the general petition of the magnates, which might have come in before the bishop's petition was answered.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

realm" interested in forfeitures of felons could be only the com­ munity of magnates. After ruling out petitions in the name of the community of the realm which are the work of either a small number of private per­ sons or of the magnates, we are left with some petitions which might have been handed in by the whole group of knights and burgesses. They deal with grievances which concerned the whole country and resemble in some respects the long petitions of the commons which become frequent in the next reign.55 It would prove very little if it were established that all these petitions were sent in by the commons, since we have already seen that many groups covered themselves with the name of the "community of the realm" and that the knights and burgesses had no monopoly of the appellation. But it is very doubtful that all these petitions came from the group of representatives in parliament. We have one petition which states that it comes from the knights, citizens, and burgesses in behalf of the counties, cities, and towns.56 If the commons were so specific in describing themselves one time, how can we assume that they were content with the vague "community of the realm" at other times? Again, in the long petition of 1309 to the king from "la communalte de son roialme" there is a special article on the griev­ ance of "les chavaliers, gentz de citez e de burghs et d'autres villes" who found no one to receive their petitions.57 If the knights and burgesses were the "community of the realm," why did they have to give a new description of themselves when it came to this grievance ? Finally, we should notice that in the Ordinances, unquestionably drawn up by the barons alone, we find mentioned many of the grievances brought forward in petitions of the community of the realm. Thus abuse of prises, the new customs, insufficient sheriffs, holding of pleas by the steward and marshal, too easy granting of the king's peace, and abuse of letters of protection are all con­ demned by the Ordinances and are all petitioned against at one time or another by the "community of the realm."58 This is not s5 Roi. pari., 1, 289, 290, 372, 430, 443; Cole, Documents, p. 6. These are discussed by Gray, The Influence of the Commons, pp. 202ff., and by Richard­ son and Sayles, "Early Records," p. 77, and "Parliaments of Edward III,"

PP-

8-9.

se Rot.

pari., 1, 371, "quedam peticio per milites, cives, et burgenses pro comitatibus, civitatibus et burgis regni" (1320). 67 Ibid., p. 443. 58 Ibid., pp. 324, 443-444; Cole, Documents, p. 6. Compare these with articles

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

conclusive proof that the magnates were responsible for all such petitions, but it does show that they were interested in these matters and that they might well have joined in petitions concerning them. It seems impossible to establish that during the reign of Edward II any petition in the name of the community of the realm was ex­ clusively the work of the knights and burgesses.59 The evidence from petitions should not be given too much weight. The wording of petitions usually represented the views of private persons, and the notes written in answer to them were often in­ formal and unofficial. Let us turn to official pronouncements of the government. When we do this, a striking divergence is at once noticeable. When the government is ordering the collection of a sub10, ii, 17, 26, 28, and 29 of the Ordinances. Another interesting case is that of the petition printed by Davies, Baronial Opposition, p. 582, in which "la communalte dengleterre" asks that no sheriffs be appointed who are officials or pensioners of great lords (dated by Davies 1316-1322). It would seem that the magnates could not have been interested in such a petition, yet the Statute of Sheriffs, 1316 (Statutes of the Realm, 1, 174), which forbids the appoint­ ment of sheriffs who are officials of great lords, was made "par demonstraunce des Prelatz, Contes, Barons, et autres grantz du Roiaume . . . et par grevouses pleintes del poeple," and the enacting clause mentions only the assent of the magnates. Thus some, at least, of the magnates had joined in the complaint. 59Gray, The Influence of the Commons, pp. 201-214, argues strongly against this point of view. He proves that the magnates were not responsible for all petitions in the name of the community of the realm during the reign of Edward II, but he does not prove (1) that the magnates were not respon­ sible for some of these petitions or (2) that the knights and burgesses were exclusively responsible for any of them. His chief argument on the second point is the resemblance between some of these petitions and the commons' petitions of the reign of Edward III (though he admits that they were not treated in exactly the same way). But the commons' petition must have developed very slowly, and a period of transition, such as the reign of Edward 11, was needed between the time when petitions for the community were primarily the work of the magnates and that when they were exclusively the work of the commons. The situation was very different after 1327, when the knights were closely associated with the burgesses and when petitions from private persons began to decline rapidly. In these circumstances general peti­ tions would always come from the knights and burgesses, who would soon feel that they alone spoke for the community. Prior to 1327 the knights were often associated with the magnates (see below, p. 285), and hundreds of peo­ ple were sending in petitions every year. Thus the "community of the realm" was a vague phrase which could be used by almost any group in petitions, though government officials, with their usual conservatism, still tended to apply it to groups of which the magnates were a part.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

sidy, it is always careful to specify that it was granted with the con­ sent of the "communitates comitatuum regni nostri" and the "cives et burgenses civitatum et burgorum regni."60 But when a statute has been made, we find only the assent of the magnates and "la communalte de nostre roialme" or, in a few cases, the assent of the magnates alone.61 In other words, in the case in which we know that it was advisable to obtain the consent of the knights and burgesses they are specifically mentioned. In the case in which we suspect that their assent was not necessary, knights and burgesses drop out of the enacting clause, and only the indefinite "community of the realm" (and not always that) is left. When the commons are per­ forming their most important function and exercising their most definite privilege, they are not called the "community of the realm."62 60 Rot. pari, i, 442 (1307), 448 (1313), 454 (1319), 457 (1322). The same distinction was usually made in the latter years of Edward I. See ibid,., p. 227 (1295), and Pari. Writs, 1, 178 (1306). Note the use of the plural "communitates" to describe the groups represented by the knights and the burgesses. They speak for their local districts, not for the realm as a whole. 61

Statutes of the Realm,

1, 169, 170, 177, 179, 180, 185;

Rot. pari.,

1, 456.

The exceptional cases, in which the community of the realm is not mentioned, are Statutes of the Realm, 1, 174 (1316) and 195 (1324). In the last year of the reign of Edward I the Statute of Carlisle (ibid., pp. 151, 152) speaks of the assent of the communities of the realm, just as a writ on taxes would do. This statute was made in exceptional circumstances, and it is possible that the knights, at least, were consulted in order to give an appearance of national solidarity in a struggle with the church. This unusual formula is not repeated. Another unusual form is found in the repeal of the pardon granted to the enemies of the Despensers (ibid., pp. 187-188), in which the enacting clause mentions the assent of the "prelatz, countes, barons, chivalers des counteez et la commune du roialme." This act exposed some very powerful men to prosecution, and the king may have felt it advisable to gain the support of the knights and perhaps of the burgesses, although, given the usages of the period, it is very doubtful that "la commune du roialme" refers to the burgesses here (see notes 62-67). Γ should take it to be a phrase which sums up the groups already mentioned. In any case, "la commune du roialme" does not refer to both knights and burgesses; it is not an equivalent of "commons." 62 Ludwig Riess, The History of the English Electoral Law in the Middle Ages, tr. K. L. Wood-Legh (Cambridge, Eng., 1940), pp. 12, 13, points out that in the crisis of 1297 the barons specifically requested that the right of the knights and burgesses to assent to taxation be recognized and that Edward I, in weakening their program as far as he dared, substituted the "community of the realm" for the specific reference to knights and burgesses. A promise to the "community of the realm" did not bind him to secure the assent of knights and burgesses. Jolliffe, Constitutional History, p. 357, expresses much the same view.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

This makes it very doubtful that they are ever designated by this phrase. We can go even further. In the writs ordering the levy of taxes the "community of the realm" is frequently mentioned after the specific grantors have been named. But it is always mentioned in connection with the earls and barons or the earls, barons, and knights, never in connection with the burgesses. Thus in 1306 the magnates and knights grant a thirtieth "pro se et tota communitate regni," while the town representatives grant a twentieth.63 In 1309 the earls, barons, knights, freemen, "ac tota communitas regni nostri" grant a twenty-fifth."1 In 1315 the "magnates et communitas regni" grant the king one armed man from each vill, while the "cives, burgenses, et milites de comitatibus" grant a fifteenth.65 We should not make too much of this last grouping, even though it is repeated in a later writ, for in other writs the knights are associated with the magnates in the grant of soldiers.66 But we can say defi­ nitely that in grants of aids the "communitas regni" always includes the earls and barons while it never includes the burgesses. It is a vague and unnecessary expression, but its meaning can never be stretched widely enough to include all the commons.67 In statutes and other legislative acts we find, as was said above, that the clause expressing advice or assent regularly mentions the prelates, earls, barons, and the community of the realm. Thus 63

Pasquet, Origins of the House of Commons, appendix, pp. 235-236. 65 Ibid., pp. 351, 450. 60 Ibid., p. 451. Rot. pari., 1, 445. 67 There is some evidence to show that the knights, profiting by their associ­ ation with the magnates, were recognized as having some right to speak for "the community of the land" during the crisis of 1327, while the burgesses were still considered only representatives of the local interests of their towns. Clarke, Medieval Representation, p. 194, the Pipewell Chronicle, describing the dele­ gation sent to depose Edward II, says that it included "quatre chivalers pur la communalte de la terre." Richardson and Sayles, Rot. pari., p. 125, "la com­ mune" asks that answers to its petition be given to the knights but says nothing of the burgesses. Perhaps there is a faint echo of this distinction in a poem (c. 1400) quoted by Cam, "English Members of Parliament," p. 155, in which the "knyghtis of the comunete" are distinguished from the "citiseyns" in parliament. This is what might be expected from the social structure of England. The knights could associate with the magnates and join them in speaking for the community. By the early years of the reign of Edward III they were independent enough to act alone. The burgesses, more interested in local affairs, were recognized much more slowly as representatives of the whole community. 64

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

"ercevesques, evesques, abbes, priours, countes, barons et la communalte de nostre roialme" agree that no one is to be sued for the death of Piers Gaveston. In 1314 "les prelatz, contes, barons, et la communalte de nostre roiaume" decide that the king can forbid men to come armed to parliament. The statute made at York in 1318 is made "par assent des prelatz, countes, barons et la comunaute de son roiaume."68 A slight variant occurs in the Statute of Westminster iv, made "par assent des prelatz, countes et barouns et tote la com­ mune de son roialme."69 Thus the last sentence of the Statute of York contains the exact words of the enacting clause of most legislation of the reign of Edward II. The fact that it uses this language shows that it is describing primarily legislative activity. And the precedents just noted show that the authors of the sentence were quite right when they said that it described what was customary. But does "la communalte du roiaume" mean the commons when applied to legislative activity ? The fact that the phrase does not mean the commons in other connections creates a strong presumption that it does not mean the commons here. In petitions the "community of the realm" may refer to the magnates alone, to the magnates and their supporters, or to indefinite and unorganized groups of private persons. In grants of subsidies the earls, barons, and knights speak for the "community of the realm." How can we assume that in legislation, and in legislation alone, the "community of the realm" means the knights and burgesses ? If we knew more of the ideas and purposes of the men who drew up the coronation oath of 1308,70 we might find it easier to interpret references to the "community of the realm" in the legislation of Ed­ ward's reign. When they made the king promise to observe "les leys et les custumes droitureles les quiels la communaute de vostre roiaume aura esleu,"71 were they merely thinking of the customs and 68

Statutes of the Realm, 1, 169, 170, 177. Ibid., p. 180 (1320). 70 The most recent discussions of the oath may be found in Bertie Wilkinson, "The Coronation Oath of Edward II," Historical Essays in Honour of ]ames Tait (Manchester, 1933), pp. 405-416; H. G. Richardson and G. O. Sayles, "Early Coronation Records," Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research, XIIi (1935-1936), 129-145, Xiv (1936-1937), 1-9, 145-148; P. E. Schramm, A History of the English Coronation, tr. L. G. Wickham-Legg (Oxford, 1937), pp. 203^., and "Ordines-Studien, III: Die Kronung in England," Archiv fiir Urkundenforschung, xv (1938), 339£E.; H. G. Richardson, "The English Coro­ nation Oath," Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 4th series, xxm (1941), 129-158. 711 use the French version, since it gives the form of the oath taken by 69

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

the statutes which had already been ratified by common usage?72 In that case the "community of the realm" of the coronation oath has no connection with parliament, since English law as it existed in 1308 was largely nonparliamentary in origin. The phrase would refer primarily to the magnates, whose acceptance of legal innova­ tions had usually been decisive. Or was the emphasis meant to fall on future legislation, and was the king promising to accept the "future decisions of the common council," that is, normally, of parliament?73 Though this interpretation is supported by the high authority of Richardson and Sayles, it seems somewhat exagger­ ated. Neither Edward nor his successors felt bound to accept all the decisions of parliament. They could reject, modify, or suspend parliamentary legislation without being accused of violating their coronation oath. But even if this extreme view be adopted, it still does not make the "community of the realm" a synonym for the commons. Approval by the magnates was essential for parliamentary legislation, while it was not until late in the fourteenth century that approval by the commons became necessary in all cases. It seems safe to say that a king who promised in 1308 to accept the future decisions of the common council or of parliament was promising primarily to accept the decisions of the prelates and barons. Wilkin­ son accepts this conclusion but tries to avoid the difficulties created by the assumption that the king made an unlimited grant of power to the magnates. He claims that the oath was devised to meet a specific problem which arose in 1308 and that it was only by accident that it became a permanent part of the coronation ritual. His argument is that the barons were dissatisfied with Edward's behavior before the coronation and that they delayed the ceremony until he promised to meet their demands for reform. The promise was worked into the coronation oath in the shape of a pledge to Edward II. Schramm, "Ordines-Studien," pp. 349-350, argues on philological grounds that the Latin version ("leges et consuetudines . . . quas vulgus elegerit") is the original. Richardson and Sayles say that the French was the original and that the Latin represents an attempt to make the new oath re­ semble the old one more closely ("Early Coronation Records," pp. 140-141). 72 McIlwain, Growth of Political Thought, p. 196, is almost the only modern scholar who holds this view. Richardson and Sayles admit, however, that the form in which the question was asked in 1308 might suggest that it was merely an amplification of the first promise in the oath to preserve the ancient laws ("Early Coronation Records," p. 143)· li Ibid., pp. 142-143, xiv, 9. Richardson later receded from this extreme position. See "English Coronation Oath," pp. 146#., and note 76 below.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

accept all laws chosen by the "community of the realm," and the barons used this pledge to secure the exile of Gaveston and the appointment of the Ordainers.74 It is a great temptation to accept this hypothesis, since it supports the views urged in this paper, but there are two facts which make it untenable. In the first place, as Wilkinson himself says, it "is difficult to understand why it [the promise] was passed over with so little comment at the time, and was so seldom referred to in unmistakable terms in succeeding years."75 If Edward had promised to do whatever the barons asked, why did they fail to remind the people of England of this promise in the repeated crises of the reign ? In the second place, if the prom­ ise in the coronation oath led directly to the Ordinances, why were words reminiscent of this promise placed in the Statute of York, which abolished the Ordinances? This last consideration suggests that it is possible to interpret the oath in a way which is less un­ favorable to royal authority. Why can we not assume that the oath, like the statute, described normal, constitutional procedure? The king had always promised to enforce the good old laws, the customs which had existed from time immemorial. But now men were becoming aware that there was a new sort of law, which was not customary but statutory. Therefore the oath had to be modified to include a promise to enforce statute law. The king did not promise to accept anything and everything demanded by the "community"; he merely promised to enforce ("tenir et garder") laws which were properly made.76 Laws should be made77 solemnly and publicly; they should receive the assent of the people who were to be bound by them, but in 1308, as in 1322, no one doubted that that assent could be given by the barons and prelates, the ancient representa7i

Wilkinson, in Historical Essays, pp. 407$. Schramm, English Coronation, pp. 2oyS., follows Wilkinson with some reservations. 75 Wilkinson, in Historical Essays, p. 412. 76McIlwain, Growth of Political Thought, p. 196, translates the "tenendas" and "protegendas" of the Latin version as "give effect to." Schramm, English Coronation, p. 205, thinks that the barons felt that the recent legislation of Edward I had to be preserved, but he argues that this was done in the first article of the oath, taking the Edward there mentioned to be Edward I rather than Edward the Confessor. Richardson, "English Coronation Oath," pp. 150-151, denies that the clause refers primarily to statutes but says that it is "a guarantee that those agreed corrections or amplifications of the law shall be observed which the commonalty have demanded or willingly accepted." 77 I use "make" here in the most general sense, without trying to answer the question as to whether statutes could make new law or merely interpret and expand old law.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

tives of the community of the realm. This interpretation, like all others, is open to certain objections, but it is not necessary to insist on it for the purposes of this article. The important thing is that, by any interpretation, the "community of the realm" of the coronation oath cannot refer exclusively to the commons, that it must include the magnates, and that it probably means primarily the latter group. Study of the coronation oath confirms our earlier impression that approval of the community of the realm was necessary for legisla­ tion but that the magnates were considered capable of giving such approval. One more point may be considered. There are certain acts of the reign of Edward II which have the form of a statute but which are actually judgments of the high court of parliament. Even at the height of their power the commons never succeeded in gaining the right to participate in the judicial activity of parliament. Yet in describing these actions, in which the commons could have had no part, the authority of the community of the realm is invoked. The clearest case is in 1319, when the prelates, earls, barons, "et totam comunitatem regni" record that all gifts to Piers Gaveston were declared utterly void, "tam per prelates, comites, et bar ones quam per totam comunitatem regni," and therefore reject a petition by his widow for some of his lands.78 To record a judgment and to decide a petition are purely judicial acts, and it is hard to believe that the commons were consulted on this occasion. We conclude, therefore, that the use of the phrase "the community of the realm" had little constitutional significance. It was a re­ dundant expression, which could be inserted or left out at the pleasure of a clerk.79 It was usually inserted in statutes, perhaps 78 Cole,

Documents, p. 49. The case of the acts against the Despensers is not so clear. Statutes of the Realm, 1, 181, says that the charges against the Despensers were brought by "prelatz, countes, barouns et Ies autres piers de la terre et commune du roialme," but the judgment against them (ibid., p. 184) mentions only "piers de la terre, countes et barouns." But the Despensers claimed (Calendar of the Close Rolls, 1318-1323 [London, 1895], p. 545) that no petition was sent in against them in the ordinary course of parliament and that charges were brought only when the magnates came in arms "and made their said award against reason as of a matter treated and agreed on amongst themselves by their own authority in the king's absence." There is no doubt that the judgment against the Despensers was the work of the lay barons alone, and it seems likely that they alone brought the charges, though they covered themselves with the name of the "commune du roialme." 79See above, note 61, and Statutes of the Realm, 1, 187, 188. The statute revoking the pardon granted to those who had attacked the Despensers was

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

because it made it appear that they were based on that universal consent which was so dear to medieval political theorists. It was not a technical phrase which meant the representatives of shires and boroughs, and it was not used when it was necessary to describe those representatives precisely. The knights and burgesses could not yet claim to be the only, or even the chief, spokesmen for the com­ munity of the realm. The use of this phrase in the Statute of York was not a recognition of the increased importance of the repre­ sentative elements in parliament. The statute, in attempting to restore the normal functioning of government, did recognize the importance of parliament,80 but it said nothing about the position of the commons in parliament. The gains which the knights and burgesses made during the reign of Edward II were not conse­ crated by the Statute of York.81 made with the assent of "prelatz, countes, barons, chivalers des counteez et la commune du roialme," but in a writ sent to the judges the king said the pardon was revoked "de comuni consilio prelatorum, comitum, baronum et aliorum procerum regni nostri." 80 Richardson and Sayles, Rot. pari., p. 95. At a parliament of 1325 at which the commons were not present, Edward II made a speech about recent disasters in Gascony. The opening words seem a good example of the pro­ cedure described by the Statute of York: "Seignurs, ieo vous ai monstre ascunes choses qi appendent a la coroune qi cheent en debat, come celi qest vostre chief et qi en ad la souereyne garde et come celi qi prest est a meintenir la coroune en touz ses dreitz, par conseil et eide de vous, et a deffendre Ie come un homme purra fere . . . sur quele chose iai touz iours voz conseals demandez et rien en la dite busoigne sanz conseil nay fet, par qoi ie entenge avoir fait ce qi a moy apertient." Here we have the king, at a time when he was absolute master of the government, explaining his policy to a parliament composed only of magnates and asking their advice. See Gaines Post, Studies in Medieval Thought, Chapter vm on "L'estat du roi" in the Statute of York, pp. 374-378, and 404-414. Post argues that the estate of the crown is the equivalent of the estate of the realm and that both phrases meant "the king's public duties and rights in governing" to preserve the realm and the common welfare of the people. The king should take advice but must have the final right to make decisions. He agrees that advice was given by "prelates, magistrates and community (communalte)—which does not mean, but could include the 'commons' of the realm." 81 For further evidence of the meaning of the word "community" under Edward I and Edward II see J. R. Strayer and George Rudisill, "Taxation and Community in Wales and Ireland, 1272-1327," Speculum, xxix (1954), 410-416. A strong criticism of my interpretation may be found in W. A. Morris, "Magnates and Community of the Realm in Parliament, 1264-1327," Medievalia et Humanistica, 1 (1943), 58-94.

18. Defense of the Realm and Royal Power in France*

I

N 1124 the kingdom of France was threatened with a German invasion. Great efforts were made to repel the danger; the feudal lords of the north rallied around the king and a large army was raised. Suger, who gives us the most complete report of this episode,1 may have exaggerated both the danger and the French reaction to it, but it is clear that he believed that there was a real emergency and that the king needed all his resources to meet it. At the height of the crisis Louis VI went to St. Denis to receive the oriflamme and to pray for the aid of the patron saints of the royal family in de­ fending the realm.2 On this occasion he granted certain rights of justice and rights in the fair of Lendit to the monastery. The pattern of his thought is clear: divine aid is necessary to defend the kingdom and the best way to secure divine aid is to give to the church. In 1305 Philip the Fair was making peace with Flanders. He had avenged the crushing defeat of Courtrai on the hard-fought field of Mons-en-Pevele, and he had gained many (though not all) of his objectives in the conventions of Athis. He was in a difficult financial position—the currency was inflated, the government owed large sums of money—but the country was in no immediate danger of attack. Yet in this year Guillaume de Plaisian was sent to the province of Tours with instructions to collect a subsidy from the clergy with or without their consent. The king justified his attitude in a long letter of 10 October 1305.3 The clergy are part of the body politic: "... omnes et singuli, clerici et laici, regni nostri tanquam membra simul in uno corpore vere vivencia ... tenerentur ad conservationem, deffensionem et custodiam unitatis ipsius regni...." True, if defense can be assured without taxing the church it is well. But in time of peril "omnes tenentur ad talem deffensionem assurgere." Natural reason, divine law, and the custom of the realm demand that the church should aid in defense. Let it not be said that the * First published in Studi in onore di Gino Luzzatto, 4 vols. (Milan: A. Giufifre, 1949), iv, 289-296. 1 Suger, Oeuvres completes, ed. Albert Lecoy de la Marche (Paris, 1867), pp. 115-121. 2 Monuments historiques, ed. Jules Tardif (Paris, 1866), p. 217, "pro regni defensione." Suger, loc.cit., uses many of the phrases of the charter in his account, but sums it up neatly by saying that the king begged the saint "tarn precibus quam beneficiis . . . ut regnum defendat. . . ." 3 A.N., J 350, no. 5.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

clergy care more for their goods than for the welfare of the people for whom the goods were given. Once more the reasoning is clear: the obligation to defend the realm overrides all rights and privileges and the church is bound to aid in defense by contributing to the royal treasury. The general nature of the change in attitude from Louis VII to Philip the Fair is well known to historians. But perhaps not enough attention has been paid to a key phrase which signalized and justi­ fied the change: the phrase "defense of the realm." What "reason of state" was to the late sixteenth century, "defense of the realm" was to the late thirteenth century; it suspended all ordinary limitations on the government and excused arbitrary and unprecedented actions. A study of the use of this phrase in official documents will illustrate the growth of loyalty to the French monarchy. It is obvious that the government would have gained little by using the phrase "defense of the realm" unless subjects had been convinced that they were members of a kingdom and that this kingdom was worthy of being defended. Certainly they did not have this conviction in the first part of the twelfth century. The phrase "defense of the realm" is exceedingly rare in royal documents; in fact, the only example I have found is the one quoted above. And here, it should be noted, the patron saints rather than the subjects of the king were asked to aid in de­ fense. The obligation was mutual; twelfth-century kings never tired of repeating that they were bound to defend the possessions of the saints.4 In fact, the king was primarily defender of the church—he was always promising "defensio," "protectio," "tuitio" to ecclesiastics and their possessions, but very rarely to secular persons and hold­ ings. Moreover, it is doubtful that "defense of the realm" would have meant much to the average military tenant. His obligation was personal rather than territorial; he was bound to aid his lord rather than to protect a political unit. His loyalty was directed toward a man, not toward a body politic. This personal element is so strong that there are times when it seems that "regnum" should be trans­ lated as "rule" or "government" rather than as "realm" or "king­ dom."5 If the word is given this meaning it is easy to see why little 4 Many

examples in Achille Luchaire, Etudes sur Ies actes de Louis VII (Paris, 1885), for example, nos. 3 and 181. 5 This is true even in some thirteenth-century documents, for example, Layettes du tresor des chartes, ed. Alexandre Teulet et al. (Paris, 1863-1909),

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

use was made of the expression "defensio regni." It would mean little more than defense of the royal government and this would be far less effective than an appeal to the ties of personal loyalty which bound "fideles" to their lord. Confirmation of the belief that "regnum" had not yet acquired the meaning of a state with definite boundaries is given by a curious phrase which appears in charters of Louis VII. This king occasion­ ally promised that neither he nor his heirs would ever transfer their rights of lordship over certain men or territories to third parties. The usual form was a pledge to retain the rights in the king's hand, but occasionally Louis promised to keep them attached to the "corona regni."6 This implies something more than personal alle­ giance, something less than loyalty to a territorial state. The "corona regni" is the mass of rights and powers associated with the royal government, held by each king as successor to the monarchy rather than as an individual. The same phrase was used when the bishop of Mende, who had never recognized royal suzerainty, appeared at court to do fealty. In order to make it certain that this was no individual act, binding only the bishop of the moment, the record carefully stated that the bishopric was "de corona regni" and that the bishop had pledged fealty to the king and to the "regnum."7 As might be expected, there was a considerable advance in both the idea of a territorial kingdom and of the king's duty to defend the realm during the reign of Philip Augustus. Soon after he be­ came king, Philip was alarmed by the efforts of the Bretons to sever their connection with the ecclesiastical province of Tours and π, no. 2491, Jeanne of Flanders in 1237 swears that she will make no alliance "a anemi apert del roi ne del regne, ne a . . . nul home dont je croie ke mals viegne al roi ne al regne." Cf. 11, no. 2052, where Hugh of Lusignan promises to choose no guardian for his children who is "contra regem Francie vel regnum," 1230. 6 Layettes, 1, no. 143 (1156); Luchaire, Etudes sur Ies actes de Louis VII, no. 611 (1171-1172). The phrase occurs more frequendy in the next reign, e.g., Recueil des actes de Philippe Auguste, ed. H. F. Delaborde et al. (Paris, 1916-1966), i, 225-226, 402; 11, 106. 7 Layettes, 1, no. 168, the bishop "cognovit episcopatum suum de corona regni nostri esse . . . nobis et regno fidelitatem fecit" (1161). An oath of fealty to the regnum remains rare, though there are examples under Louis IX {Layettes, 11, nos. 2491, 27482) and the prelates invited to the coronation of Louis IX were summoned "sub fidelitate qua regno tenemini" (Layettes, 11, nos. 1823-1827).

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

to secure a Breton archbishopric. Lucius III for a time seemed to favor this project, and Philip protested vigorously. He told the pope that the archbishop of Tours had given peace to the "partes extreme regni nostri usque ad oceanum" and that the creation of an arch­ bishopric at Dol would threaten the "integritatem regni nostri."8 A little later he secured Aubigny from the monastery of St. Martin of Tours because the place was "regno Francie perutilis."9 He was obviously thinking of a territorial unit when he said that the diocese of Langres was "in confinio regni et imperii sita," and when he disclaimed responsibility for the offenses of the citizens of Cambrai by reminding the pope that Cambrai was not "de regno nostro sed de imperio."10 Philip also used the concept of defense of the realm to obtain services to which he was not otherwise entitled. For example, in 1197 he asked the chapter of Rheims to send soldiers to suppress the re­ bellion of the count of Flanders. He admitted that they did not owe the service, but said that he was summoning "gentes nostras et universos fideles nostros, tam pro capite nostro, tam pro corona regni defendenda. . . This is not as forceful or as clear as similar summonses of Philip the Fair a century later, and it still speaks of defending the "corona regni" rather than the "regnum" alone. The rule, however, seems to have been generalized, for the chapter later admitted that when there was a general summons "in regno Francie per Xpristianitatem pro deffensione corone et regni" they were bound to do as the other chapters of France.12 There was no am­ biguity whatever in the provision in Philip's will leaving a sum of money to his heir to be used "ad deffensionem regni Francie."13 The only important wars of Louis VIII, Louis IX, and Philip III were crusades, and there was no need to invoke "defense of the realm" for such expeditions. Minor feudal risings could be handled by the ordinary service owed by the king's vassals, though there was one case in which an extraordinary summons for defense was made in the south.14 But while the practice of taking extraordinary meas8 Actes de Philippe Auguste, 1, 166, 180-181. All these letters were written about 1185. 9 Ibid., i, 321, written in 1189-1190. 10 Ibid., 11, 344 (in 1203-1204) and 11, 548 (in 1206). 11 Ibid., 11, 47, in 1197. 12 Layettes, 1, no. 827 bis, in 1207. 13 Ibid., no. 1546, in 1222. Louis VIII had a similar provision in his will, no. 1710. li H-L., x, preuves, col. 113, the prelates of Narbonne protest that their

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

ures for defense developed little during these reigns, the theory that the king could act in unusual ways for the general welfare made important advances. For example, the custom of Touraine-Anjou settled an old dispute over the extent of military service by saying that the king's men must serve at his expense as long as he needed them to defend the realm.15 Even more important was the growth of the idea that the king could issue general ordinances, binding on all, for the common welfare. This idea, long held by canon law­ yers,16 was certainly not accepted by the barons under Philip Au­ gustus, when ordinances took the form of treaties binding only the magnates who subscribed.17 Saint Louis, on the other hand, did make ordinances binding on all, for example, the ordinance against blasphemy which was cited by Beaumanoir as an example of a law which should be generally enforced.18 The idea of "defense of the realm" and the idea that the king can make new statutes for the common welfare come together in Beaumanoir's famous chapter on "establissemens." Here he states the theory of legislation for the common welfare, but binds it closely to the idea of defense. In time of peace there should be no interference with ordinary usage, but in time of war or threat of war the king can do many things which would ordinarily be wrong. He can make new statutes for the common welfare; for example, "pour sa terre defendre," he can order all men to provide themselves with arms and serve in the royal men owe no military service to the king. The seneschal replies that they, like all others, are bound, since the summons is "pro pace custodienda . . . et pro deffensione regni," 1272. A somewhat similar claim was made by agents of Saint Louis, Layettes, v, no. 783. They argued that the men of the bishop of Lodeve could be called for military service "in pacis fractione et ad tuitionem patrie senescallie Carcassonensis," 1265. Cf. C. V. Langlois, Le regne de Philippe III Ie Hardi (Paris, 1887), p. 350. 15 Les Etablissements de Saint Louis, ed. Paul Viollet (Paris, 1881-1886), HI, 31, unlimited service owed "por Ie roiaume deffandant" (written about 1246). 16 Langlois, Philippe 111, p. 287; Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, part 11-2, q. 57, art. 2: ". . . lex proprie primo et principaliter respicit ordinem ad bonum commune: ordinare autem aliquid in bonum commune est vel totius multitudinis vel alicujus gerentis vicem totius multitudinis. . . ." 17 Emile Chenon, Histoire generale du droit jrangais, 2 vols. (Paris, 19261929), i, 521-522, 600. 18 Ordonnances, 1, 81; Beaumanoir, Coutumes de Beauvaisis, ed. A. Salmon (Paris, 1899-1900), 1, 51.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

army.19 It is true that Beaumanoir concedes the same powers to the barons in their lands, but it is clear that this doctrine of an emer­ gency power applies chiefly to the king. The whole reign of Philip the Fair is an application of these theories of Beaumanoir. Insistence on the right of the king to hear appeals from and protect individuals in the great fiefs of Gascony and Flanders led to war with Edward I and Guy de Dampierre. The government immediately took extraordinary measures to raise and pay for an army. The clergy was asked to give a tenth for defense, and many of their grants were made "ob necessitatem dicti regni . . . et propter deffensionem regni ecclesiarum et personarum ecclesiasticarum. . . ."20 A preliminary levy for defense of the realm in the Midi21 was followed by a general tax of a hundredth for "defensione generali regni nostri."22 Succeeding taxes were also ordered for defense or else the whole population was summoned for military service and then allowed to fine for exemption.23 The great quarrel with Boniface VIII over royal taxation of the clergy was settled by appealing to the principle that everyone in the realm was bound to aid in its defense. Prelates like the archbishop of Rheims argued that the clergy were scorned by the laity because they refused to aid in defense, and every step of Boniface's grudging retreat from the prohibitions of clericis laicos was justified by invok­ ing the king's need to act quickly in cases in which the realm was in peril.24 The final break with Boniface and the attack at Anagni 19

Beaumanoir, Coutumes, n, 261-262. A.N., J 1035, nos. 36, 37, 39; Le livre de Guillaume Ie Maire, ed. Celestin Port, Melanges historiques, 11 (Paris: Documents inedits . . . , 1877), 320, grants for defense in 1294 by clergy. 21 B.N., ms. Doat 161, fol. 1, the seneschal of Carcassonne rules that all men of the count of Foix must serve in the royal army or fine for exemption, since defense of the realm is involved, 17 March 1294. Cf. B.N., ms. lat. 9192, fols. 54, 61, similar rulings about Montpellier in 1294 and 1295. 22 Guillaume Ie Maire, p. 342. 23 Ordonnances, xi, 380 (1296); 1, 350 (1302); 1, 369 (1303); Lettres de Philippe Ie Bel relatives au pays de Gevaudan, eds. Jean Roucaute and Marc Sache (Mende, 1896), no. 93 (1314). For a discussion of all these subventions see my article on "Consent to Taxation under Philip the Fair," in J. R. Strayer and C. H. Taylor, Studies in Early French Taxation (Cambridge, Mass., 1939). 24Georges Digard, Philippe Ie Bel et Ie Saint-Siege (Paris, 1936), 1, 269, 296-297» 305-308, 341-342. 20

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

were excused on the grounds that the realm was endangered by the unreasonable hostility of the pope.28 A glance at the legislation of Philip the Fair will show how frequently "defense of the realm" was used to excuse actions which carried royal power far beyond its old limits. Prohibition and regulation of exports, debasement of the currency, interference with baronial rights of coinage, prohibi­ tion of tournaments and duels, setting a royal official as warden over the subjects of a peer of France, forbidding subjects of the count of Flanders to take part in wars in the Empire—all were justified by the need to defend the kingdom.26 The effectiveness of the phrase is shown by the fact that so many of these unprecedented actions interfered with rights of property—a subject on which medieval men were notoriously sensitive. Theory developed as rapidly as practice. In the great burst of political writing which was stimulated by the struggle with Boniface VIII the king's right to act for defense was stressed. A striking case is that of Pierre Jame, professor of law at Montpellier. Like most of his fellow townsmen he had no great love for the zealous agents of royal authority who were constantly trying to break down the autonomy of Montpellier. Yet Jame admitted about 1311 that the king could levy taxes without consent for the defense of the realm.27 Another witness who cannot be accused of extreme royalism is Egidius Colonna. In his treatise on gifts to the church he recognizes that the king has a right to subventions in return for defense; that he may tax the clergy, even without papal consent, in cases of necessity; and that defense is a primary obligation on the ruler 25

Documents relatifs aux Etats-Generaux, ed. Georges Picot (Paris, 1901), p. 26, the prelates are summoned to deliberate on matters touching "honorem, statum, et libertatem antiquam ac deffensionem regni nostri"; pp. 40-45, at the assembly of June 1303, the pope is accused of trying to destroy the realm. Pierre Dupuy, Histoire du differend d'entre Ie pape Boniface VIII et Philippes Ie Bel (Paris, 1655), preuves, p. 308, in a plea by Nogaret to Benedict XI he says that Boniface was trying to stir up attacks against France and to absolve subjects from their oath of fealty, although "quisque teneatur patriam suam defendere." Nogaret was ready to die to defend the realm against this danger. 26 Ordonnances, 1, 351, 379, 389, 347, 390, 492; xi, 386, 395; Frantz FunckBrentano, Philippe Ie Bel en Flandre (Paris, 1897), p. 173. See the very inter­ esting statement by a royal agent in A.N., J 768, no. 51, that the king may acquire casdes in the fiefs of great lords when they are necessary to enable him to defend the realm, since public welfare overrides all customs. 27 Histoire litteraire de la France (Paris, 1733), xxxvi, 515.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

which cannot be delegated.28 If this is the language of men who were independent of or even unfriendly to the king it can be imag­ ined what views were held by his supporters. Thus the author of Antequam essent clerici says that the king can make any statutes necessary to protect the realm from enemies, that no liberties can prevent the ruler from taking necessary steps for defense, and that all members of the common body of the realm must work together for defense.29 Pierre Dubois, in the De recuperatione, argues that all men owe military service in time of war, and that the need of de­ fending the realm overrides all law, so that the king may take what he needs of the goods of the church.30 Royal lawyers went even be­ yond this in the suit over the king's rights in the Gevaudan. A few of the most extreme imperialists had argued that under Roman law the emperor was actually the proprietor of all the goods of his sub­ jects.31 This view had been generally rejected, but it was revived by Philip's agents. They said that everything within the realm was the king's, not only for purposes of protection and jurisdiction, but even "ad proprietatem." The king can give, take, and use any property, movable and immovable, in the realm "ex causa publice utilitatis et deffensionis regni sui."32 The reign of Philip the Fair saw royal power carried to a point which it was not to reach again for many decades. The reaction which began in 1314 and culminated in the charters of 1315 put 2s Histoire litteraire, xxx, 554; Richard Scholz, Die Publizisti\ zur Zeit Philipps des Schdnen (Stuttgart, 1903), p. 94. 29 Dupuy, Histoire du differend, p. 21. Cf. the Disputatio inter clericum et militem in Melchior Goldast, Monarchia (Hanover, 1612), 1, 17, where the same arguments appear. The author cites the case of towns free from all exactions which "patienter solverunt et solvunt hodie quod piacuit principi pro defensione regni." 3° Pjerre Dubois, De recuperatione terre sanete, ed. C. V. Langlois (Paris, 1891), p. 115, "in casu necessitatis defensionis regni, que legem non habet, dominus rex quatinus sibi deest ad commodum defensionem exigere et capere poterit de bonis ecclesiarum et ecclesiasticarum personarum." 31 A. J. and R. W. Carlyle, A History of Mediaeval Political Theory in the West (London and Edinburgh, 1903-1936), 11, 74, quote Azo as saying that the emperor can dispose of the property of his subjects "si tamen hoc reipublicae expediat. . . ." Ibid., v, 102, Odofredus denied this, saying that the em­ peror was "dominus, non quoad proprietatem, sed quoad protectionem." 32 "Memoire relatif au pareage de 1307," ed. Abel Maisonobe (Mende, 1896), p. 521. The authors of this statement were clearly familiar with the discussion among the civilians, since they repeat phrases from both Azo and Odofredus.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

many restrictions on the king. But it should be noted that the power to raise subventions for defense of the realm was not seriously threatened. Most charters did not mention the subject at all; and the one which raised the problem in its most general form, the charter for the Normans, merely tried to limit the taxing power to cases of imminent danger.33 Since the king was the judge of what was a case of necessity these restraints were ineffective and the sons of Philip the Fair took subventions much as their father had done. In the end, in spite of all the troubles of the fourteenth century, the basic prin­ ciple that defense of the realm justifies extraordinary actions was never forgotten, and it became one of the foundations on which the new monarchy of the fifteenth century was raised. 33 Ordonnances, i, 552, no subventions "nisi evidens utilitas vel emergens necessitas id exposcat." For a discussion of the provisions of the charters see Andre Artonne, Le mouvement de 1314 et Ies chartes provinciales de /3/5 (Paris: Universite de Paris, Bibliotheque de la Faculte des Lettres, xxix, 1912), ch. vi, esp. p. 105.

19. France: The Holy Land, the Chosen People, and the Most Christian King* WO turning points are obvious in the development of the mod­ ern state in western Europe. The first was a shift in loyalties. As long as loyalties (and obedience) were hopelessly divided be­ tween ecclesiastical and secular authorities, and as long as the frac­ tion of loyalty which went to secular authority was still further divided among local lords, provincial rulers, and kings, it was hard to frame a concept of the state and almost impossible to make the concept a reality. Only when primary (though not exclusive) loyalty went to one secular authority could the state come into existence. The other turning point was closely related to the first. A state must have a certain permanence, and it must have this permanence in geography as well as in time. A state must have authority not only over such people as choose to give loyalty to its head but over all people who live within certain boundaries. Early kings were kings of peoples, not of regions. A king of the Goths was king of the Goths whether they were settled on the shores of the Baltic, the Black Sea, or the Bay of Biscay. A king of the Franks was king of the Franks whether he ruled east or west of the Rhine. Kingship was like kinship, primarily personal and only incidentally territorial. A kingdom was composed of people who recognized a certain royal family as their royal family, just as a kin-group was composed of people who recognized the founders of a certain family as their common ancestors. A state could not be based on such uncertain foundations. In the thirteenth century there were, in the heart of what we would now call France, men who denied that they belonged to the kingdom of France or that they owed any service to its ruler.1 The king and * Reprinted from Action and Conviction in Early Modern Europe, ed. Τ. K. Rabb and J. E. Seigel (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), pp. 3-16. 1 See, e.g., the part of the record of the great lawsuit over royal and episcopal rights in Gevaudan published by the Societe d'Agriculture, Sciences, et Arts de la Lozere under the title "Memoire relatif au pareage de 1307," ed. Abel Maisonobe (Mende, 1896). The bishop of Mende asserted his in­ dependence throughout the process: e.g., p. 522, "non erat memoria mortalium quod aliquis Gaballitani Episcopus recognovisset se regis Francie fidelem vel subditum aut episcopatum de regno Francie esse." The nobles of Gevaudan

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

his agents, quite rightly, viewed these assertions as a threat to their new concepts of government. They insisted that the kingdom was a geographical unit and that within certain boundaries the king had final authority.2 The concept of the kingdom as a territorial entity was essential in solving the problem of divided loyalties. Brute power and administrative skill were necessary factors in establishing both loyalty to a single authority and acceptance of the idea that the single authority controlled all men and all lands within fixed limits. There was no point in being loyal to local lords who could be crushed by a stronger ruler. There was more reason to ac­ cept the assertion of central authority in regions where it had never existed if accepting central authority meant increased security and better government. But although power and administrative skill were necessary factors, they were not sufficient by themselves. A state based on power alone has a poor chance for survival. A state built on improved administrative techniques is not apt to gain un­ dying popularity. People soon take the benefits of the new tech­ niques for granted and regret the cost, both in money and in the loss of local privileges. They find that the new techniques may only create new problems—long and expensive foreign wars instead of short, cheap, local wars, financial extortion by bureaucrats instead of by barons. The best administration creates only a tepid loyalty, and very few administrations remained at their best during the Middle Ages. In short, real loyalty is based neither on fear nor on self-interest. There has to be genuine respect, admiration, and, if possible, love for the object of loyalty. This sort of attitude is not always easy to achieve, and, unfortunately, in Western Europe the state emerged at a time when it was difficult to have respect and admiration for went even further and said that the bishop was "rex in Gaballitano" (A. D., Lozere, G 872, fols. 38V-40). 2One of the strongest statements appears in the Gevaudan case, p. 521. Since the bishop is "intra fines regni, erat imperio predicti domini regis subjectus." The king can take any property within the realm for the common welfare, "cum omnia que sunt intra fines regni sui sint domini regis. . . ." The king is "imperator in regno suo et imperare possit terre et mari, et omnes populi regni sui ejus regantur imperio. . . ." The bishop's lawyers answered this last assertion very much in the fashion of Hotspur: "Porro utrum dominus rex sit imperator in regno suo vel non, et utrum possit im­ perare terre et mari et elementis et si obtemperarent ipsa elementa si eisdem imperaret, responsio advocato regio relinquatur . . ." (p. 532).

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

any man or any institution. In some regions the problem was never really solved—hence, the chaotic condition of parts of Germany and Italy after 1300. In France the problem was solved, not completely, but well enough so that the French state could survive the disasters of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. One peculiar aspect of the problem in France was that the transfer of loyalty to the king and the definition of the kingdom as a ter­ ritorial unit took place almost simultaneously, culminating in the reign of Philip the Fair. England had had clearly defined bound­ aries for generations, and it was equally clear, at least by the end of the twelfth century, that all authority within those boundaries came directly or indirectly from the king. But the thirteenth-century Capetians had to invent the France which they claimed to rule. They had to make men proud of the country as well as loyal to the king; they had to expand the idea of France to make it match the ex­ pansion of their own power.3 Some excellent things have been said about the "religion of mon­ archy" in France, often by Germans who have looked on the early growth of French nationalism with some envy.4 These works touch on the concomitant theme of France as a favored land filled with superior people, but they do not give it quite the importance it should have. A religion without followers would be an idle dream; a most Christian king ruling over the heathen or infidel might become a martyred saint but scarcely a power in European politics. It was the union of the two ideas of the sacred king and the holy country which speeded the emergence of the French state at the end of the thirteenth century. It is scarcely necessary to mention the development of the beliefs which made the king a sacred ruler: the coronation oil brought 3

This paragraph was written before the appearance of the stimulating article by C. T. Wood, "Regnutn Francie, a Problem in Capetian Administrative Usage," Traditio, χχπι (1967), 117-147. 4 P. E. Schramm, Der Konig von Fran\reich (Weimar, 1939); Helene Wieruszowski, Vom Imperium zum nationalen Konigtum (Munich/Berlin, 1933); Karl Wenck, Philipp der Schone von Fran\reich (Marburg, 1905); Heinrich Finke, Weltimperialismus und nationale Regungen im spateren Mittelalter (Freiburg/Leipzig, 1916): Fritz Kern, Die Anjange de fran­ zosischen Ausdehnungspoliti\ (Tubingen, 1910); Hellmut Kampf, Pierre Dubois und die geistigen Grundlagen des jranzdsischen Nationalbewusstseins um 1300 (Leipzig/Berlin, 1935). The basic book in French is Marc Bloch, Les rois thaumaturges (Strasbourg, 1924).

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

down from heaven, the healing of the scrofulous, the possession of the relics of Charlemagne, the crusade tradition. All this has been discussed with great learning by Bloch and by Schramm. Only one point needs to be stressed: the holiness of the king reflects credit on his kingdom. As Guillaume Ie Breton puts it, "because our king is more worthy than any other king, the greater excellence of our king­ dom is made clear."5 Another closely associated idea is that the holy and pious king reigns over an especially devout kingdom. For ex­ ample, the protest on behalf of the king to the pope in 1245 calls Louis IX a "most Christian prince" and then goes on to speak of the "kingdom of the Franks, where men are accustomed to be most devout."6 Primat expressed the same idea a generation later when he said that the faith was held more fervently in France than in any other land.7 He added that one reason for this devoutness was that "la fonteine de clergie" flourished at Paris and that chivalry and scholarship worked together for good.8 Guillaume de Nangis tied all these ideas together when he used the fleur de lis, a symbol of royal holiness, as a symbol of the preeminence of France. In his interpretation the three petals of the flower represent faith, learning, and military power; France is illustrious for all three, and these virtues flourish more abundantly in France than in other kingdoms.9 It is clear that by the middle of the thirteenth century the ideas of the unique position of the French king10 and the special devotion of his kingdom to the true faith were generally accepted. Neither 5 ". . . quo major nostri patet excellentia regni dignior ut vere rex noster rege sit omni," Oeuvres de Rigord et de Guillaume Ie Breton, ed. H. F. Delaborde (Paris, 1882-1885), n> 21J ^nes 345-346. 6 ". . . regnum Francorum, ubi solebant homines esse devotissimi," Matthew Paris, Chronica majora, ed. H. R. Luard (London: Rolls Series, 1872-1883), vi, 99, 100. 7 Les grandes chroniques de France, ed. Jules Viard (Paris, 1920-1953), i, 5: "la foi . . . fust plus fervement et plus droitment tenue que en nule autre terre...." 8 Ibid., pp. 5-6. 9H.F., xx, 320: "Jesus Christus voluit tribus predictis gratiis, scilicet fide, sapientia, et militia specialius quam cetera regna regnum Francie sua gratia illustrare. . . . Quasi dicerunt toti mundo: fides, sapientia et militie titulus abundantius quam regnis ceteris sunt regno nostro. . . ." 10 Even the Englishman Matthew Paris admits this uniqueness, Chronica majora, v, 480: "rex Francorum qui terrestrium rex regum est, tam propter eius coelestum iniunctionem, turn propter sui potestatem et militie eminentiam"; and 606, "rex Francorum regum censetur dignissimus."

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

had yet been fully tested in the work of building a state, however. Louis IX, in extending his authority, relied more on his own reputa­ tion for decency, justice, and determination than on theories of sacred kingship. There were several vigorous arguments between him and the Church, but none of these controversies went so far that a man had to choose between loyalty to the king and loyalty to the pope. He went further in forcing a choice between loyalties in secular affairs; in many parts of the realm it was made clear that loyalty to the king took precedence over loyalty to a great lord. This obligation, however, was stressed especially in the region of fully developed feudalism. In parts of the south, and especially in the ecclesiastical lordships, men could doubt for another genera­ tion whether they were bound to the king in any way. Louis also made a start—but only a start—in defining the ter­ ritorial limits of his kingdom. The treaty with England made it clear that Aquitaine was part of the kingdom, and the treaty with Aragon cancelled French claims to Roussillon and Catalonia in return for Aragonese renunciation of suzerainty over parts of Languedoc. But very little was done to define the long eastern frontier with the Empire, and the status of southern prelates, such as the bishops of Mende and Viviers, was left in doubt. Even in the settlements which were reached with England and Aragon, Louis thought more in terms of feudal and family relationships than in terms of fixing the boundaries of a sovereign state. In short, although Louis did a great deal to strengthen loyalty to the monarchy and made some attempt to define the boundaries of his kingdom, he never pushed either process to its ultimate limits. No emergency which required such an effort arose in his reign, and Louis by character and training preferred compromise to sweep­ ing assertions of royal authority. Louis' successor, Philip the Bold, did little more than his father. By asserting his right to the lands of Alfonse of Poitiers, Philip strengthened his position in the south, especially in forcing the count of Foix to recognize royal suzerainty. But this was only a partial success; the count of Foix in the next reign tried once more to gain a wide measure of autonomy, and in the campaign which led to the surrender of the castle of Foix the southern bishops denied that they owed military service to the king.11 Philip the Fair was in a very different position. For the first time 11

H.L., x, preuves,

cols. 111-115.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

in almost a century the king of France had to wage a long, dan­ gerous, and expensive war. For the first time in two centuries a French king found himself involved in a bitter controversy with the pope. The test could no longer be avoided. Philip had to demand men and money from all parts of his kingdom. He had to assert that all people living within certain boundaries were "in regno et de regno" (in the kingdom and part of the kingdom), and hence were required to aid in the defense of the kingdom. He had to in­ sist that loyalty to king and kingdom took precedence over all other loyalties, including loyalty to the pope and to the church. Philip did not, of course, succeed completely in making these claims effective. He had to compromise in many cases. He received less money than he wanted, and he had to leave more power in the hands of some bishops and barons than he would have liked. The amazing thing is that he succeeded as well as he did and that his success did not require, to any significant degree, the use of force. Every part of what he considered to be the kingdom of France contributed men and money to his campaigns. Every part of the kingdom supported him in his controversy with Boniface VIII. There was, naturally, opposition to his policies, but the opposition usually took the form of legal protests and could be handled by political manipulation or decisions of the royal courts. Only at the very end of the reign, when both king and people were weary after years of crisis, were there serious rebellions. The concessions made by Philip and by his successor show how little inclination the government had to use force to put down internal opposition. The relative moderation of the demands of the rebels shows how successful Philip had been in gaining acceptance for his basic doc­ trines. The baronial leaders admitted that defense of the kingdom took primacy over all other loyalties and privileges. Their chief goal was to limit the consequences of this principle. If Philip did not rely on force, then he must have relied on persuasion and propaganda. This fact has long been realized, and I do not propose to repeat the analysis of documents which are al­ ready well known. I do want to stress two points: first, that the propaganda was effective in all parts of the realm and, second, that it glorified the kingdom fully as much as it did the king. The basic theme ran something like this: the kings of France have al­ ways been pillars and defenders of the faith; the people of France are devout and pious; the kingdom of France is so specially favored

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

by God that it is the most important part of the church. (As one recent German writer put it, "God couldn't get along without France.")12 Therefore, any attack on the rights of the king or the in­ dependence and integrity of his kingdom is an attack on the faith. Conversely, any steps taken by the king to defend and strengthen his kingdom are for the good of the faith and the benefit of Chris­ tendom. The first of these propositions needs little discussion, but a few special points may be made. Although Valois was quite right in saying that the title "rex Christianissimus" was not a monopoly of French kings at this time13 and that it was seldom used by the popes of the late thirteenth century,14 it should be noted that the phrase appeared in almost every type of royal propaganda. It is not surprising that Nogaret and Dubois spoke constantly of the most Christian king of France,15 but so did the prelates of France writing to Boniface VIII in 130216 and the masters of theology of Paris dis­ cussing the arrest of the Templars.17 Moreover, writers who had no special reason to call the king "most Christian" did so as if it were common form: for example, the provincial Council of Sens in 129218 and a rather pro-papal crusade propagandist.19 Counting 12Friedrich

Sieburg, Gott in Fran\reich (Frankfurt-am-Main, 1932), p. See also the excellent discussion of this topic in Wieruszowski, Vom lmperium zum nationalen Konigtum, pp. 146-150. 13 Noel Valois, "Le roi tres chretien," in La France chretienne dans I'histoire, ed. Alfred Baudrillart (Paris, 1896), pp. 319-320. 14 Ibid., p. 322. 15 Pierre Dupuy, Histoire du differend d'entre Ie pape Boniface Vlll et Philippes Ie Bel (Paris, 1655), pp. 45, 242, 326, 358; Pierre Dubois, Summaria brevis, ed. Hellmut Kampf (Leipzig, 1936), p. 26; Pierre Dubois, De recuperatione terre sancte, ed. C. V. Langlois (Paris, 1891), p. 100; Robert Holtzmann, Wilhelm von Nogaret (Freiburg-im-Breisgau, 1898), pp. 257, 275. 18 Dupuy, Histoire du differend, p. 67. 17 Georges Lizerand, Le dossier de Faffaire des templiers (Paris, 1923), p.

56.

62. 18

Georges Digard, Philippe Ie Bel et Ie Saint-Siege (Paris, 1936), p. 281. Philipp der Schone, p. 18. It might be added that the popes occasionally used the phrase; e.g., Nicolas IV in 1289, asking Philip to ease pressure on the church of Lyons, spoke of him as a "princeps Christianissimus" and told him that through honoring the church "locum magnum obtines inter ceteros catholicos principes orbis terre," Pierre Bonnassieux, De la reunion de Lyon a la France (Lyons, 1875), p. 45. In the bull Ausculta fili, Boniface VIII managed to use the term as a rebuke in comparing Philip to "progenitores tui, Christianissimi principes," Dupuy, Histoire du differend, p. 52. 19Wenck,

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

references proves nothing, but I have a strong impression that Philip was called "rex Christianissimus" more often than his father and grandfather had been and that this was not a purely accidental occurrence. As for the other phrases describing the king's piety, his zeal for the faith, his responsibilities as "champion of the faith and defender of the church,"20 they are too numerous and too well known to list. We might note, however, the remarkable sermons of the Dominican Guillaume de Sauqueville,21 in which he says that the "heir of France" is, like Christ, "the son of David"22 and that "Christ, the king of the Franks [the free or the French: the word has both meanings in the text], used and uses in His two comings two ban­ ners," the fleur de lis and the war banner which is "entirely blood colored." "The sign of the first coming of Christ was the lily of virginity . . . but at His second coming, to war on sinners, he will carry the blood-red banner." So the first banner signifies the mercy of the king, but the second marks his wrath.23 If the king of France is a type of Christ and if, as Guillaume implies, the kingdom of France is a type of the heavenly kingdom,24 then resistance to the king and attacks on the kingdom are obviously sinful. 20 Ibid., p. 102. See also pp. 297, 517, and Lizerand, Le dossier, p. 127. A variant of this idea is that the royal house of France was always "veritatis directrix ac ecclesie auxiliatrix" (see Dupuy, Histoire du differend, pp. 124,

297). 21Noel Valois, in Histoire litteraire de la France (Paris, 1733), xxxiv, 298ff., gave a general account of Guillaume's life and work but said nothing about the sermons praising the king. Kampf, Pierre Dubois, printed the ser­ mon "Osanna filio David" on pp. 112-114. The most thorough study was made by Hildegard Coester in a typewritten thesis (Frankfurt, 1935/1936) entitled "Der Konigskult in Frankreich um 1300 im Spiegel von Dominikanerpredigten." The late Professor Kantorowicz, who directed the thesis, was kind enough to let me use his copy. Unfortunately, this copy could not be found among his papers after his death. I therefore quote directly from the manuscript in the Bibliotheque Nationale, but it was Miss Coester's work which called this manuscript to my attention. 22 B.N., ms. lat. 16495, fol. 97. 2s Ibid., fol. ιοί: "Modo rex Francorum Christus in duplo adventu suo usus est et utetur duplici vexillo. . . . Signum enim adventus sui primi fuit flos vel lilium virginitatis . . . set vexillum adventus secundi, quando veniet contra adversarios ac peccatores debellandum erit totum coloris sanguinei. . . . Primum vexillum non indicabit furorem sed pacem et mansuetudinem regis. . . . Sed secundum vexillum sanguineum ab eo indicabit furorem regium. . . ." 2i Ibid., fols. 97V, 101. See the discussion of these texts below, pp. 311-312.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

One immediate deduction from this doctrine would be the right of the king to require money for defense of the realm. This argument was, in fact, especially effective with the clergy. In 1294 Cluny made a grant to the king as "the leader . .. of the cause of God and the church and the fighter for all of Christendom."25 About the same time the bishops of Brittany, the prelates of the province of Lyons, and the order of Premontre all praised the faith and ortho­ doxy of the French kings in making their grants.26 Philip gave the idea a somewhat different turn—and incidentally showed the close connection between the holiness of the king and the sanctity of the kingdom—when he asked the clergy of Tours for a double tenth in 1305. He told them that they owed "spiritual and temporal aid to preserve, defend and guard the unity of this realm . . . a venerable part of the Holy Church of God." He went on to say that they should not value their goods above the welfare of the people—"since it is for this welfare that Jesus Christ. . . exposed himself to death" —and that failure to pay would be to violate a "sacred ministry."27 Almost equal emphasis was placed on the piety and orthodoxy of the French people, a proposition which may seem a little strange, considering the vast number of heretics in France in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Yet, as far as I can find, the claim was never seriously challenged; perhaps the zeal of the royal family covered the sins of the people. Nogaret spoke of the Gallican nation, a nation "well known to be most Christian,"28 and the so-called Remonstrances du peuple de France claimed that "la pueble du royaume de France . . . ha este et sera par la grace de Dieu devost et obeissant a seinte Yglise plus que nul autre."29 Dubois praised the right reason, constancy, and firmness of the French, in which they excelled all other nations,30 and, as we shall see, Clement V called the French a chosen people.31 25

". . . prosecutor . . . cause Dei et ecclesie, et totius Christianitatis athleta," A.N., J 259, no. 3; printed in part in Recueil des chartes de I'abbaye de Cluny, eds. Auguste Bernard and Alexandre Bruel (Paris, 1876-1903), vi. 28 A.N., J 1035, nos. 36, 37, 39. 27". . . auxilium spiritualiter et temporaliter ad conservationem, defifensionem, et custodiam unitatis ipsius regni . . . pars venerabilis ecclesie sancte Dei"; "hec enim est salus pro quam Jesus Christus . . . morti se ipsum exposuit," A.N., J 350, no. 5. 28 Dupuy, Hisioire du differend, p. 335. 29 Lizerand, Le dossier, p. 84. 30 Dubois, Summaria brevis, pp. 12, 21. 31 See below, p. 313.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

Both the merits of its kings and the devoutness of its people made France a holy land, and much of the praise of the kingdom was actually praise of either the rulers or their subjects. Philip him­ self said in 1308 that the kingdom was blessed by the firmness of its belief in Christ,32 and he repeated the idea in a letter of 1312 to Henry VII: "Jesus Christ, the Most High, finds in this realm, more than in any other part of the world, a sure foundation for the holy faith and the Christian religion and the deepest devotion to Himself and His vicars and ministers, since He has noticed that He is loved, feared and honored in this country above all others."33 Dubois, also, spoke of "the habitual devotion of the kingdom of the French, greater than that of other kingdoms,"34 and an appeal to the king to carry on the case against Boniface VIII condemned attacks on the honor and liberty of "the most Christian . . . king of France and his most devout and most Christian kingdom."30 An effective variant on this theme was the idea that the kingdom was an essential or even principal part of the church and that, therefore, to injure France was to weaken the church. Very early in the reign, while Philip was still on reasonably good terms with the papacy, he said that to lessen his "status" would hurt the French and perhaps the universal church.36 Again and again during the struggle with Boniface, Nogaret spoke of France as "a venerable part" of the church, as "the chief and most noble member of the church," or even as the "principal pillar supporting the Roman church and the Catholic faith."37 Thus, Nogaret could argue that 32 Documents

relatifs aux Etats-Generaux, ed. Georges Picot (Paris, 1901), P- 487· 33 "Altissimus Jhesus Christus in regno ipso pre ceteris partibus mundi sancti fidei et religionis christiane stabile fundamentum reperiens sibique et eius vicariis et ministris summam devocionem considerans sicut se in eo pre ceteris amari, timori, et honorari conspexit," Wenck, Philipp der Sehone, p. 72; from Constitutiones et acta publica imperatorum, iv, no. 811. 84Dubois, Summaria brevis, p. 26, "solita devocio regni Francorum pre ceteris regnis." 35 Holtzmann, Wilhelm von Nogaret, p. 257. Boniface himself in Etsi de statu spoke of the "Christianissimi regni Francie." 36Digard, Philippe Ie Bel et Ie Saint-Siege, 11, 250 (about Sept. 1289). 37 Dupuy, Histoire du differend, pp. 241, 309, 325; Holtzmann, Wilhelm von Nogaret, p. 275. See esp. Dupuy, p. 241; France is a "venerabilem partem ecclesie sancte Dei, ac principalem columnam sustentionis ecclesie Romane, doctrine sacre pagine et fidei Catholice splendore lucens. . . ."

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

in defending his fatherland, as he was bound to do,38 he was actually working for the salvation of the church.39 Even more, the kingdom had been blessed by God with wisdom and justice as well as piety. It was therefore flourishing, prosperous, and deservedly preeminent in the world. Dubois' remarks on this subject are well known40 but have often been dismissed as the exag­ gerations of an obscure pamphleteer who was seeking to attract attention.41 But, as we have seen, some of this glorification of France dates back to a period long before Dubois wrote,42 and some of the most fervent praise of France comes from a letter written by Philip at a time (c. 1289-1290) when neither Dubois, Nogaret, nor any of the other extremists could have influenced him. Philip said that all Christians agreed that no other kingdom abounded in "such peace, such regard for justice, such prosperity, such happiness."43 38

Dupuy, p. 309, "quisque teneatur patriam suam defendere," see also pp. 310,312. 39 Dupuy, p. 250; Nogaret says he acted with righteous zeal to defend the faith, the church, and the kingdom "agonizando pro iustitia, pro Romana Ecclesia, pro Republica . . . ac pro sua patria . . . ac pro suo domino Rege Francie. . . ." See also Holtzmann, Wilhelm von Nogaret, p. 268. There is an excellent discussion of this material in Ε. H. Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies (Princeton, 1957), pp. 249-259. 40Dubois, Summaria brevis, pp. 11, 12, 21, and De recuperatione, pp. 128, 129, 139. 41 There is some danger that, after being overrated, Dubois is now being underrated. He is important, not because he influenced policy, but because he represented the views of the hundreds of officials who worked for the king throughout France. The Summaria brevis, especially, is not a patriotic tract; it is a lawyer's brief suggesting ways of curbing the power of ecclesiastical courts. I have studied the careers of several hundred lawyers who worked for the king in this period; most of them, and especially the procurators (the position Dubois held) would have agreed with Dubois' main line of argument. See note 43. 42 See above, and also Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, pp. 237-238. 43 Digard, Philippe Ie Bel et Ie Saint-Siege, 11, 269. Note that this document is an emphatic statement of the supremacy of royal justice over the claims of the church of Chartres to exemption. Cf. p. 249: "nullum et nullius judicis territorium . . . infra fines regni nostri exemptum a nostra jurisdictione recognoscimus . . . nec recognoscere proponimus in futurum." In other words, praise of France as a land of piety, peace, and plenty is used to justify sweep­ ing assertions of royal power, especially in the field of justice. This is Dubois' formula long before Dubois wrote; the idea came to him from higher author­ ity, and by the time he composed his pamphlet it was already a common­ place in the royal court.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

He went on to claim that even Jews and Saracens admitted that France was more prosperous than any other kingdom in the world, a prosperity based on "a highly developed regard for justice, from which in turn, by the grace of God, has come the fullness of our peace."44 It is not surprising that Nogaret spoke of France as a kingdom "which God established to endure forever," strong in arms and firm in faith. But in the same place he refers to an old theme, that the kingdom has the singular privilege "that there the source of wisdom and knowledge shines and flourishes among the learned" ;45 this kingdom, blessed by God, surpasses all other kingdoms in faith, justice, respect for the freedom of the church, and other virtues. Strongest of all is the assertion that "God . . . chose it as his own, special kingdom,"46 or, in another document, that "the kingdom of France was chosen by the Lord and blessed above all other king­ doms of the world."47 This claim is echoed, a little more modestly, in 1312 in the letter Philip sent to Henry VII (which Nogaret might well have helped compose). Because France is firm in the faith, and loves and honors Jesus Christ, "He determined that it should be honored above all other kingdoms and principalities by a certain unique and distinctive eminence."48 Guillaume de Sauqueville was a much less lucid writer than Nogaret, perhaps because some of his comparisons would have seemed too bold if he had stated them explicitly. But the way in which he plays with the word France is striking. First France comes from "freedom . . . because the heirs of France are not subject to the Empire." The Empire is evil (in a bad pun he derives "empire" from "en pire"), and to be free of the Empire is to be free of sin. When Saint Nicholas freed himself from worldliness by fasting, he was "part of the kingdom, not of the Empire." Spiritually, "no kingdom is Frank or free except the kingdom of heaven," or, as 44 ".

. . ex matura observacione justicie ex qua observacione Deo summe grata provenit habundantia nostre pads," ibid., p. 274. 45 Dupuy, Histoire du differend, p. 326. See above, p. 303. 46 "Deus . . . tanquam sibi peculiare regnum illud eleget," Dupuy, Histoire du differend, p. 384. 47 ". . . regnum Francie a domine electum et benedictum pre ceteris regnis mundi," Lizerand, Le dossier, p. 116. 48". . . sic ipsum pre ceteris regnis et principatibus singulari quadam eminencio prerogativa disposuit honorari," Wenck, Philipp der Schone, p. 72, from M.G.H., Constitutiones et acta publica imperatorum, iv, no. 811.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

he put it later, "properly speaking no kingdom should be called the Frank [French] kingdom except the kingdom of Christ."49 This remark is followed by the passage in which Christ is said to use the fleur de lis and the oriflamme as his banners. Now, Guillaume cer­ tainly does not say that the kingdom of France is the heavenly king­ dom; but he does imply that there is some resemblance between them, and those who heard (rather than read) his sermons might have been a little confused about how close the resemblance was. Even if Guillaume were only making a series of learned puns, they were puns which could have been made only about France. And since the first pun ("France comes from freedom because France is free of the Empire") would have seemed true and sensible to most Frenchmen, the last pun ("the Frank or free kingdom is the king­ dom of heaven") may have seemed equally true. It may appear that men like Nogaret, Dubois, and Guillaume de Sauqueville took such extreme positions that their assertions have little importance. But these were not lonely zealots working for hopeless causes like Ramon Lull (who, incidentally, agreed with the French propagandists on the virtues of Philip the Fair).50 They were all responsible men, even if their degree of responsibility varied from that of a minister of state to that of a court preacher to that of a provincial procurator. The really surprising thing is how well such different men agreed and how clearly they were reflecting the com­ mon opinion of many Frenchmen. Clement V may have been weak, but he was not foolish, and, when he was trying to end the wretched business of the accusations against Boniface VIII, he found it ex­ pedient to use most of the ideas, and even the phrases, which we have been discussing. The bull rex glorie gave papal sanction to the concept of the holy kingdom and the chosen people: "The King of Glory formed different kingdoms within the circuit of this world and established governments for diverse peoples according to dif49". . . franchyse . . . quia heredes Francie non subiciuntur imperio"; "nullum regnum est Francie seu liberum nisi regnum celorum"; "proprie loquendo nullum regnum debet vocari regnum Francie nisi solum regnum Christi," B.N., ms. lat. 16495, fols. 97, 97V, 101. See Kampf, Pierre Dubois, pp. 112-113, and Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies, pp. 238, 255. 50Wenck, Philip der Schone, pp. 11-12, quoting Lull's Liber natalis·. "Philippus rex Francie in quo, pre ceteris mundis rectoribus, singulariter pollent hodie justitia, Veritas, fides, charitas, recta spes . . . humilitas et devotio et christiana religio . . . cum ipse sit pugil ecclesie et defensor fidei christiane. . . ."

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

ferences of language and race. Among those, like the people of Israel . . . , the kingdom of France, as a peculiar people chosen by the Lord to carry out the orders of Heaven, is distinguished by marks of special honor and grace."51 After this endorsement little more needed to be done. The publi­ cists of the reign of Charles V repeated, and perhaps sharpened, the old themes, but they added nothing new. Within another genera­ tion a peasant girl from the very fringes of the kingdom believed as firmly in the sacred king and his holy kingdom as she did in God and the saints.52 Like her better educated predecessors, she was sure that God needed France. This was the great good fortune of the French kings and their people. In the difficult task of rearranging basic loyalties to concen­ trate them on king and kingdom, they could avoid, to a very large degree, any feeling of contradiction between their duties to the church and their duties to the state. The most Christian king ruled a chosen people who lived in a kingdom which was the principal support and eternal defender of the faith. Loyalty to France was bound to be loyalty to the church, even if the church occasionally doubted it. As Kantorowicz has shown, all governments of the pe­ riod were trying to develop a "political theology" which transferred religious symbols and slogans to the political sphere. It was easier for the French to do this than for any other government because the transfer started early and was largely completed by the end of the thirteenth century. For the same reason, the French, earlier than any other conti­ nental kingdom, solved the problem of the "mosaic" state—that is, 51 "Rex glorie . . . in huius orbis orbita diversa regna constituit, diversorum populorum regimina secundum divisiones linguarum et gentium stabilivit, inter quos sicut israeliticus populus . . . sic regnum Francie in peculiarem populum electus a Domino in executione mandatorum celestium specialis honoris et gratie titulis insignitur," Registrum Clementis Papae V (Rome, 1885-1892), no. 7501. Gregory IX had said almost as much in 1239, Layettes du Tresor des chartes, ed. Alexandre Teulet et al. (Paris, 1863-1909), 11, no. 2835: ". . . Dei Filius . . . diversa regna constituit . . . inter que, sicut tribus Juda inter ceteros filios patriarche ad specialis benedictionis dona suscipitur, sic regnum Francie pre ceteris terrarum populis a Domino prerogativa honoris et gratie insignitur. . . ." My attention was drawn to this bull by Leon Gautier, La chevalerie, 2nd edn. (Paris, 1895), pp. 64-65, note 2. 52 J.E.J. Quicherat, Proces de condamnation et de rehabilitation de ]eanne d'Arc (Paris, 1841-1849), v, 127 ("Tous ceulx qui guerroient audit saint royaume de France, guerroient contre Ie roy Jhesus . . .").

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

a state put together out of provinces which had strongly autonomous cultural, legal, and institutional traditions. These local loyalties could not be eradicated, but they could be subordinated to a higher loyalty to king and kingdom. No local lord, however ancient his lineage, could be compared to the king, heir of Charlemagne, anointed by heaven, worker of miracles. The king could be ac­ cepted as a symbol of unity because, as Guillaume de Sauqueville pointed out, he was a type of Christ. And the unity which he sym­ bolized, the unity of the kingdom of France, could be accepted be­ cause France was a symbol of the kingdom of heaven. In France the religion of nationalism grew early and easily out of the religion of monarchy, and, although neither the degree of French unity nor the depth of French nationalism should be exaggerated, both were strong enough to give France a clear advantage over her neighbors for many centuries.

20. The Promise of the Fourteenth Century* HE TITLE of this paper may seem somewhat paradoxical. Anyone who knows anything about medieval history knows that the fourteenth century was an unhappy period in which every imaginable calamity afflicted western Europe. It was a century of war and rebellion, of famine and plague, of misgovernment and eco­ nomic depression. No secular ruler was able to cope with these problems, and the church, which had formerly given direction and guidance to medieval society, had lost much of its influence. Dis­ credited by the Babylonian Captivity, then torn asunder by the Great Schism, the church could advise and exhort, but it could no longer command. With secular leadership not yet ready to take full responsibility and with ecclesiastical leadership weakening, western Europe floundered helplessly in a morass of troubles. Nothing seemed to be working right; momentary periods of stability were always followed by new waves of disorder and insecurity. It is not surprising that there was a good deal of pessimism, a good deal of emotional instability in the last half of the fourteenth century. Yet this poor, battered, strife-ridden Europe was the same Europe which a century later began the conquest of the world. The institu­ tions and the culture which seemed so inadequate in the fourteenth century were the basis of the institutions and the culture which spread around the globe. The Europe of the first age of discovery and expansion had almost no new resources, either intellectual or material. It used what it inherited from the later Middle Ages. Clearly there must have been some strength, some promise in the fourteenth century if it could serve as the foundation of the modern world. The first sign of promise in the fourteenth century was its tough­ ness. Faced with every conceivable discouragement, a large number of men still refused to give up. They worked stubbornly to preserve their faith, their institutions, and their way of life. They moved quickly to repair the damage caused by war, misgovernment, and plague. They never gave up hope that they could improve the func­ tioning of their institutions and the behavior of their fellow men. An idea that recurs again and again in the writings of the fourteenth century is the idea of "reform," "amendment," and "betterment." * First published in Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, cvi, no. 6 (1961), 609-611.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

This is not just a religious idea; the practical politicians of the Eng­ lish Parliament used these phrases at least as frequently as did the men and women who were recognized as saints.1 There was a fierce determination to preserve and improve the civilization which they had inherited from their ancestors. And if improvement was rare, preservation was not. In spite of human failure and natural calami­ ties, nothing essential was lost during the fourteenth century. In this respect it contrasts sharply with those times of trouble in which institutions and techniques wither away and vanish. Just to stave off collapse was a notable achievement, but the men of the fourteenth century were able to do more than this. Under­ neath all the turmoil they were making small but notable advances in fields which were to give Europeans an advantage over all other peoples. These fields were technology, science, and political organi­ zation. The history of technology is both complicated and imperfectly known; it cannot be adequately surveyed in a brief paper. The really significant thing is that Europeans continued to improve their technology in almost every area during the fourteenth century. They did nothing that was not being done somewhere else by some other people, but it is doubtful that any other people were doing as many different things as the Europeans. To name only a few: the substitu­ tion of water and wind power for human and animal power—a process which had already begun in the early Middle Ages—con­ tinued to be an important factor in European technology. A notable example is the use of water power to work bellows for smelting fur­ naces. As this example suggests, there were also improvements in metallurgy during the fourteenth century. Early types of blast fur­ naces were in use by 13402 and these furnaces could turn out much more iron than their predecessors. Advances in metallurgy, in turn, made it possible to profit from the discovery of gunpowder. Euro­ peans were not the first, nor the only people to use firearms, but they took to this new method of warfare with great enthusiasm. By the end of the century they could make cannon which could resist 1 One

can find these phrases in almost every parliamentary record in the last years of the century; see, for example, Rotuli parliamentorum (London, 1767-1777), in, 6 (1377), 100 (1381), 221 (1386). 2 A . C . C r o m b i e , Medieval and Early Modern Science, 2 vols. (Garden City, N.Y., 1959), i, 214-215. }. U. Nef, Mining and Metallurgy in Medieval Civilization, ed. Michael Postan and Ε. E. Rich (Cambridge, Mass., 1952), π, 461-462.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

the shock of repeated discharges, and the transition from the old to the new type of warfare was well under way. Turning to another type of technology, both the craft of ship­ building and the art of navigation continued to improve during the fourteenth century. Dates of discovery of the Atlantic islands are notoriously uncertain, but there is no doubt that the Canaries and Madeiras were known and repeatedly visited. Oceanic navigation was not a European monopoly in the fourteenth century but Euro­ peans were developing the ships and the skills which were to give them a virtual monopoly of oceanic commerce in the early modern period. Other things might be mentioned—improved looms and the spindle wheel in the textile industry, the mechanical clocks which eventually revolutionized European attitudes toward time—but the essential thing is that the pace of technological change was acceler­ ating. European technology of the fourteenth century was still in­ ferior to that of China, but it was acquiring a momentum which was to carry it far ahead. Fourteenth-century science was important for two reasons. First, this was the period in which science started to become a European monopoly. The independent Indian tradition had almost disap­ peared; the Chinese tradition was weakening. The Greek tradition had been preserved by both the Christian and Islamic communities, but it was precisely in the fourteenth century that Moslem scholars began to complain that no one cared any more about the study of science.8 It was tremendously important just to keep this tradition alive, and if the scholars of fourteenth-century Europe had done no more than this they would still have conferred a great advantage on their civilization. But they did more than this. European science had for a long time been derivative and imitative. It was only in the last part of the thirteenth century and during the fourteenth century that Eu­ ropean scholars began to break away from accepted doctrines and to do really original work in science. It was during this period, for example, that Aristotelian explanations of motion were attacked, and that new theories of acceleration were developed.4 It was during 3 Ibn

Khaldoun, Les prolegomenes, tr. G. de Slane (Paris, 1935-1938), 441, 454; III, 128-129. 4Marshall Clagett, The Science of Mechanics in the Middle Ages (Madison, Wise., 1959), pp. 255ff., 42 iff. Crombie, Medieval and Early Modern Science, 11, 44-67. II,

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

this period that scholars such as Buridan and Oresme were at least willing to discuss the hypothesis of the rotation of the earth.5 And, to use a test which Professor Gillispie thinks is crucial in the devel­ opment of modern science,6 it was during this period that the idea developed that Aristotelian "qualities," such as heat, could be meas­ ured and expressed mathematically.7 As Professor Clagett has shown, almost all the work of fourteenthcentury scientists was printed during the Renaissance and was avail­ able to the scholars who founded the modern scientific tradition.8 It is certainly no accident that the problem of the acceleration of falling bodies which had absorbed the attention of fourteenth-cen­ tury scholars was also a problem which interested Galileo. And even more important than examples of specific influence is the fact that the new theories and new solutions of fourteenth-century scientists helped keep interest in science alive. If Europeans had simply con­ tinued to repeat the old, basically Aristotelian explanations of natural phenomena, the study of science might have died out in Europe as it did elsewhere. It was the existence of alternative explanations and the controversies which they caused which made science an intel­ lectually rewarding study. It may seem strange to speak of political organization as the third field in which the fourteenth century made significant advances. Fourteenth-century governments were notoriously unsuccessful in preserving law and order and in adjusting to a difficult economic situation. But it was precisely during the fourteenth century that European governments developed some of the basic administrative devices which were to prove so effective in the early modern period. For example, it was during the fourteenth century that the first really professional bureaucracies appeared. Thirteenth-century ad­ ministrators were still largely amateurs—men with a taste for politics who could handle the most diverse assignments. Fourteenth-century administrators served long apprenticeships; they usually specialized in one branch of government; they developed a strong esprit de corps and they worked out careful and precise procedures for their offices. They had all the faults of bureaucrats, sometimes in exag5 Clagett,

The Science of Mechanics, pp. 594-599, 600-609. C. Gillispie, The Edge of Objectivity (Princeton, i960), pp. 10, 42-43. 7Clagett, The Science of Mechanics, pp. 333-335. Crombie, Medieval and Early Modern Science, n, 86. 8 Clagett, The Science of Mechanics, pp. 629#. and esp. 659-671. 6 C.

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

gerated form. But they had many of the virtues of bureaucrats, too— a sense of orderly procedure, an ability to coordinate the efforts of many men, and a willingness to take on new duties. European bu­ reaucracies have seldom been loved, but they have been one of the strengths of European states. Another important administrative innovation of the fourteenth century was the transformation of the king's council into an effec­ tive executive agency. Here again, some of the groundwork had been laid in the thirteenth century. But in the thirteenth century the line between the large advisory council of nobles and the small administrative council was still not clearly drawn. It is only in the fourteenth century that we see a small group of men, holding fre­ quent meetings, who oversee all the work of the government. It is only in the fourteenth century that we can say that the composition of the council determines the character of a regime. The council was to prove itself to be an effective administrative agency; it re­ mained the key element in government from the fourteenth century well into the modern period. Even more fundamental than these specific improvements in ad­ ministration was a political idea which was slowly taking shape— the idea of the sovereign state. The idea appears in almost complete form in the reign of Philip the Fair (1285-1314) and during that reign it looked as if the new concept would quickly become dom­ inant in political thought.9 Here the political turmoil of the four­ teenth century did do harm; the concept of the sovereign state developed much less rapidly than one would have expected from its precocious beginnings. But the idea was only slowed down; it was not killed. As Professor Kantorowicz has shown, all during the fourteenth century there was a tendency to transfer to the state some of the sacred character of the church, to give it a life and value of its own, to insist that its interests took precedence over everything else.10 This transfer of basic loyalty from the church to the indi­ vidual state was perhaps the most important of all the changes that marked the transition from the medieval to the early modern period. It was this transfer of loyalty which made the sovereign state a 9 J. R. Strayer, "Defense of the Realm and Royal Power in France," Studi in onore di Gino Luzzatto (Milan, 1950), iv, 289-296 [reprinted here, pp.

291-299. 10 E.

207-272.

H. Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies (Princeton, 1957), pp.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

political reality. And while the sovereign state has not proved an unmixed blessing in recent years, it was for a long time the most effective form of political organization. It was also a form of or­ ganization which was very nearly a European monopoly and which gave Europeans a great advantage in their dealings with the nonEuropean world. Thus the fourteenth century shows promise in two ways. First, the men of the fourteenth century did good work in areas which proved to be of great value to the future of western Europe—tech­ nology, science, and political organization. Second, in a time of great stress enough men kept up their courage so that the basic structure of society and the ideals on which that society was based were pre­ served. They kept working at their jobs even when the effort seemed useless; they kept trying to make reforms even when the chances of failure were greater than the chances of success. There is some encouragement for us in this story. If Western civilization could survive the fourteenth century, it may even be able to survive the twentieth.

21. The State and Religion: An Exploratory Comparison in Different Cultures* GREECE

AND ROME, THE

WEST, ISLAM

HIS paper is intended merely to frame certain hypotheses and present some comparisons and contrasts which may stimulate discussion. Our basic problem is one which has been important and persistent in the history of all societies which have risen above the primitive level. Both the optimists and the pessimists about human nature have overestimated the significance of self-interest in creating ad­ vanced societies. Enlightened self-interest is one of the rarest of human qualities—at least as rare as altruism—and it is difficult to imagine any large group of men voluntarily renouncing immediate advantages or making radical changes in their way of life just be­ cause they were promised great material gains in return for decades of struggle and self-repression. Unenlightened self-interest—pure selfishness—is an even less promising basis for organizing a society. As Saint Augustine said, a state without justice—that is, without ideals—would be no state at all, but merely a great assembly of robbers. It is probably true that man is by nature a social animal and that the small groupings of primitive peoples are formed spontaneously without any organizing force or principle. But it is hard to see how any larger grouping, anything embodying the intensive and ex­ tensive cooperation which makes a civilization, could be formed as the result of mere natural instincts. Any really complicated social grouping must have required both a vision and a conscious effort at organization, that is, both the persuasive force of an ideal and the coercive force of a government. In the early stages of any society, the ideal is almost always some form of religion and the government some form of monarchy. The two are so closely associated that it is sometimes difficult to separate them. The king who is high priest of his people, the high priest who wields the ultimate political authority are common and familiar figures. Often it seems that the state exists primarily to honor the gods and the gods exist primarily to protect the state. * First published in Comparative Studies in Society and History, ι (1958),

38-43·

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

But the close connection between religion and government, which must have been typical of many early states, was easily troubled by the flow of events. As we all know, institutions and ideas have a life of their own; they often outlive the society which created them. Nothing is more common than for a religion to survive the state which it helped to create. The gods of Asia Minor and of Syria were worshiped—many of them more widely—long after the city-states where they had originated had been swallowed up in great empires. It is perhaps a little less usual for a state to survive the religion on which it formerly based its authority, but the example of Rome shows that this is by no means impossible. Short of these catastro­ phes, it is still true that the ideals (religious or otherwise) of a society are apt to become fixed in an early stage of its development, and that as the society becomes more complicated it finds increasing difficulty in keeping a close relationship between its ideals and its political behavior. What was once an easy and natural symbiosis becomes a difficult and artificial process of reconciling conflicting interests and demands. Western Europe inherited one of the most complicated and diffi­ cult of all these problems of religion and the state. The Roman Empire had outlived its old religion; it had then officially adopted a new religion which, in the West, outlived the Empire. The new religion had not been universally accepted within the limits of the old Empire, yet while the Empire was falling the religion began to spread to people who had never accepted the authority of Rome. Thus it was at the same time both an official, established religion, and a voluntary, missionary religion. Christian ideals were fully developed and widely held before any real states rose in the West to replace the Empire. Then, as Western rulers gained power, these ideals had to be reconciled with new forms of political authority. There are parallels to each of these stages in the history of other religions, but I know of no other religion which had to go through quite such a long and complicated process of defining its relations with political authority. Moreover, one of the longest and most significant stages of de­ fining religious-political relations in the West was the stage for which it is hardest to find a parallel elsewhere—the stage in which the church not only survived the Roman Empire, but took over much of its political machinery and law. The medieval church— as Maitland pointed out long ago—had many of the aspects of a

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

state: involuntary membership, coercive power through laws and courts and taxation, even at times an army. For centuries during which political authority was weak and divided, it was more of a state than most of its secular rivals. During the feudal period the church alone had a centralized government, the church alone had a bureaucracy, the church alone kept records and followed legal precedents. And yet the church, at the height of its power, never took over all the functions of the state; secular rulers were always necessary. This made it possible for real states to rise again in Eu­ rope, but when they appeared, clashes with the church were almost inevitable. This was not merely because religious ideals and political commands conflicted; much more often it was because the bound­ aries between the state-like activities of the church and those of secu­ lar rulers had never been clearly drawn, or because they had been drawn at a point which seemed intolerable to the ruler of a real state. Thus what we call struggles between state and church were often purely political conflicts between two states, an old clerical state and a new secular state. This unusual institutional situation was reflected in an unusual political theory—the theory of the two coordinate powers first clearly stated by Pope Gelasius (492-496). According to this theory the world is ruled by two powers, the priestly and the royal, both de­ riving authority directly from God. Each power must obey the other in its proper sphere: the bishops are bound by civil law in worldly matters, but secular rulers must submit to the judgment of prelates in religious affairs. And while the two powers are coordinate, they are not equal. Even Gelasius, at the very beginning of the Middle Ages, suggests that the responsibility of the clergy is great—later writers compare the church to the sun and the Empire to the moon. Thus the interests of religion, as determined by the clergy, should always prevail over the interests of secular rulers, if there is a conflict between them. This is a very difficult theory to apply in any specific situation; even in the Middle Ages extremists on both sides sought to modify it. It was easy to push it into theocracy, as many ardent supporters of the papacy did. It was somewhat more difficult to explain it away as giving the church mere moral authority, with no coercive power, yet this feat also was accomplished. But these extreme positions never gained many adherents, and Western peoples continued to believe in the two coordinate powers. Men were subject to both, they

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

had to obey both, and if there was a conflict there was no logical, often no honorable way out. One loyalty had to be sacrificed to an­ other, and while the balance of loyalties might shift, the conflict of consciences remained. Now, as I suggested earlier, this seems to me an extreme case, far at the end of the spectrum of possible relations between religion and government, by no means typical of the experience of other peoples. Even if we try to eliminate the unique historical conditions in which the Christian church came to maturity, we still have throughout the Middle Ages a religion which demanded, and indeed required, special treatment by secular authorities. It was a religion which claimed exclusive possession of the truth and was unwilling to admit that other faiths might teach the same truth in a different guise. It therefore demanded the cooperation of the state in supporting the truth and in suppressing error. It was a religion in which salvation was based on sacraments, which could be administered only by a self-perpetuating, specially consecrated body of priests. It demanded obedience to these priests in matters of faith and morals, and it could enforce its demands by withholding the sacraments from any layman. It was a religion which insisted that salvation was incom­ parably more important than worldly comfort, and which therefore could reject proposals based on political expediency. In short, it was the right and duty of the church to be independent of lay authority, and it was therefore very easy for it to come into conflict with lay authority. These are truisms, but their full force can be felt only if we com­ pare Christianity with religions which had none of these charac­ teristics, religions which were not exclusive, not sacramental, not greatly concerned with the future life. On the whole, the official religions of the Greek city-states and of the Roman Republic and early Empire conform to this definition. They were quite ready to admit that the same god might have many names and many forms, and that new divinities might be added to their pantheons. Many local gods had to be combined to form a Jupiter, and a Roman of the early Republic would not have recognized all the divinities worshiped under Augustus. Neither governments nor their religious experts were greatly concerned with the private religious practices of individual citizens; they made little effort to organize and regu­ late them. The only salvation with which they were concerned was the salvation of the state—its continuous existence on this earth. The

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

only future life they foresaw for their citizens was uninteresting and unimportant—as far as there was any concern about life after death, that again was a private matter. Thus, instead of setting up goals and standards which might conflict with those of the state, Greek and Roman religion lived only through and for the state, and almost by necessity had the same objectives. It has been said, loosely, that the ancients deified the city-state. This is not quite accurate, but they certainly came very close to it. Monarchy, after all, had had many religious aspects; in the absence of monarchy it was necessary to give the state the same religious aura. In Greece the city was identified with its protecting god or goddess; in Rome not only the protecting gods but the ideals and ideas of the Republic were worshiped. These beliefs certainly made it easier to reverse the earlier process and to go back to the idea of a deified ruler when the city-state was swallowed up in great em­ pires and monarchy had replaced democracy. The new rulers em­ bodied the state, which had had sacred characteristics; it is not surprising that they themselves became sacred. Thus, obedience to the ruler was obedience to the gods, and a real conflict of loyalties was rare, if not impossible. I have been speaking, of course, of official religions. It is true that this type of religion became increasingly unsatisfactory to both Greeks and Romans, as they moved from the city-state to the im­ perial phase of their political development. New religions sprang up which stressed the future life and the idea of salvation, which had sacraments and organized priesthoods. But none of these re­ ligions had the exclusive character of Christianity; they recognized the existence of other gods and other rites. Even more important, they remained almost entirely in the sphere of private life. They were substitutes, not only for the old religion, but also for the old political system in which the citizen had rights and responsibilities. They enabled the individual to endure a society in which he no longer had influence; they did not set goals and standards for that society. The best proof of this is that every attempt to associate these new religions with the state, to use them to revivify political loyalty and political interest, was a failure. They remained cults; they could not clash with the government because they took little interest in public affairs. Thus, if the Western experience in the Middle Ages stands at one end of the spectrum of possible relationships between religion and

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

the state, the Greek and Roman experience stands at the other end. Official religion existed chiefly to serve the state; private religion had little influence on politics. Islam, it seems to me, occupies a middle ground between these two extremes. It had a more typical history than Christianity in that it developed steadily along with its society; it did not have to face, early in its history, the problem of surviving the collapse of the civ­ ilization in which it had originated. It was more closely associated with the state than medieval Christianity was with any government. During its formative period, the caliph was more like the Roman combination of emperor and pontifex maximus than he was like the Christian pope. And when the power of the caliph declined, it was lost to new political leaders and not to religious authorities. On the other hand, Islam was as exclusive as Christianity and just as insistent on the importance of the future life. It lacked, however, both the sacramental system and the organized priesthood which were so important in the history of the Christian Church. These characteristics explain, to a large extent, the nature of the relation between state and religion in Mohammedan countries. Ob­ viously, it was possible to have a conflict of interest between the demands of the state, centered on worldly prosperity and survival, and the demands of religion, centered on right behavior in this life, and salvation in the future. Religious dissidence in Islam could easily lead to political dissidence, even if the religious dissidence was more a matter of the strict application of moral principles than a dispute over doctrine. Witness the Almoravides of the eleventh century, or the Wahabis of the nineteenth and twentieth. But while there could be conflicts between religious principles and political expediency it was much harder, in fact almost impossible, to have conflicts between religious institutions and political institutions. There was nothing like the Church in Islam, no separate organiza­ tion devoted to the preservation of the faith and the salvation of the individual. There were preachers and teachers, there were doctors of law and theology who headed rival schools of interpretation of the Koran and the Sunna. These men might have great influence and moral authority, but they had almost no power of their own. They did not control the "divine mysteries"; they did not stand between the individual and God. They were not even presiding officers of congregations of the faithful; they could not inflict pen­ alties like the Christian excommunication. Without the support of

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

the secular power, their decisions could not harm a private citizen. Much less could they contradict the authority of the state, short of joining a political revolution. They did not have the independence, the authority, the organization or the autonomy which enabled the Christian Church to stand in open opposition to secular rulers for decades at a time. If a ruler's name were omitted from the Friday prayer in the great mosques—the most solemn politico-religious ceremony in Islam—it simply meant that he had lost political con­ trol of that area, not that he had erred in faith or in morals. On the other hand, the secular ruler was responsible for the re­ ligious welfare of his people—he was a defender of the faith, both against the infidel on the outside and the atheist or idolater within. The state had to be a Mohammedan state; neutrality or hostility to the established religion was unthinkable. Law was supposed to derive from the Koran and the Sunna, and in many respects it did lean very heavily on religion, though purely secular additions could be and were made. But the law, religious or otherwise, could be enforced only by the ruler, even when decisions were made by semi-religious judges such as the cadis. And, after the early caliphate, purely secular courts and the even more purely secular police power made all important decisions. Even more significant was the fact that the permissible limits of religious speculation and divergence were determined by the ruler. For example, the rationalistic Mutazilah movement flourished under al-Mamur (813-833), but was abandoned in favor of a rigid orthodoxy by al-Mutawakkil in 848. In short, a religious leader who felt strongly about some problem of doctrine or morals could gain his point only by converting or dethroning the ruler. Thus, the general rule in Mohammedan countries—stemming back to the Prophet himself—was that political power was neces­ sary to achieve religious ends. The list of religious leaders who have headed rebellions is a long one, from the martyr Husain down to the Mahdi of our own age. If it seemed politically impossible to gain control of a large state, then the minority might secede and found a new and smaller state, as the Ismailites did. Short of this, the reformers could stir up public opinion, put pressure on the ruler, use the threat of disobedience or rebellion to make him change his conduct. But in a showdown, when there was a real conflict be­ tween the will of the ruler and the desires of the religious leader, the latter had to back down, or risk rebellion.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

This really amounted to the primacy of the state in matters of religion, tempered by the fear of revolution. As long as the ruler remained officially Mohammedan, as long as the government ad­ hered to the few essential tenets of Islam, religious opposition was difficult. And, as I said earlier, this strikes me as being, over all, the most common pattern in history, certainly in recent history. The autonomous state-like medieval Church, the political religions of Greece and Rome are both extremes. Much more common is the religion which is neither state-controlled nor yet a state in itself, which harmonizes with its society without being entirely dominated by it, which is a moral force, an influence on public opinion, but which becomes a political force only in exceptional circumstances.

22. Empires—Some Reflections on

ω

Roman and

Modern Imperialism*

ΙΙ. BRUNT's thoughtful article on British and Roman im­ perialism1 scarcely touched one important aspect of the prob­ lem—the difference in military organization between ancient and modern societies. This difference is so great that it has added an en­ tirely new dimension to the legacy of imperialism. Most societies, in the early stages of their development, have seen no need for a separate military organization, either for adminis­ trative or command purpose. The army was the people in arms, or the fraction of the people who had full political rights. The com­ manders were the peacetime political leaders (e.g., the consuls in Rome). Equipment was simple and durable, often provided by the soldier instead of the state. In these circumstances there was no need for Departments of War, Quartermaster Corps, Offices of Procure­ ment, or military academies. Even the empires which became so large and powerful that they found it necessary to make some differentiation between civilian and military personnel did not develop elaborate military admin­ istrative structures. In the first century of the Empire, Rome had a professional army and an officer corps, but it could scarcely be said to have had a War Office. (It might have avoided some of its internal troubles if it had.) And Rome, like a good many other empires, found it increasingly difficult to maintain a professional army composed of its own citizens. It turned, as did other empires, to the nearby barbarians, who had little sense of military organiza­ tion. As long as they could be fitted into the framework of a Roman army, the barbarians did not destroy the rudimentary Roman mil­ itary system, although they certainly weakened it. But by the end of the Empire most of them were not organized as Roman armies; they fought as allies (foederati) under their own kings. This meant, in effect, reverting to the old concept of the people in arms, except that the people who had arms were outsiders. In all the discussion of survivals of Roman institutions in the suc­ cessor states no one has ever suggested that the old Roman army *First published in Comparative Studies in Society and History, ix (1966), 101-104. 1 P. A. Brunt, "Reflections on British and Roman Imperialism," Compara­ tive Studies in Society and History, vn (1965), 267-288.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

survived. No one could. The military organization of Augustus had vanished long before the empire collapsed. The army of the Late Empire had had some professional soldiers, but these disappeared as the Germanic kingdoms achieved independence. The rulers of the successor states were greatly concerned with military problems, but they had to solve them according to Germanic, not Roman, tradi­ tions. If they had had a professional army like that of first-century Rome, they might have found it easier to preserve or adapt other elements of the Roman state. Certainly there would have been less need for the development of the sort of practices which eventually led to feudalism. As feudalism gradually gave way to the early modern state we see the same sort of lag that we have noticed before. Law courts, ac­ counting offices, secretariats were clearly defined institutions with professional personnel by the early fourteenth century. But military affairs were still administered in a haphazard way. A society whose ethos supposedly derived from the military virtues acted as if war was a rare and accidental event. When war did come, finance and supply, command and recruitment were handled on an ad hoc basis. Some civil servants would be made treasurers for the war; others would be sent out to collect supplies. Great nobles (often members of the royal family) acted as generals; lesser nobles as company commanders. Theoretically all able-bodied men were liable for military service; actually the company commanders were responsi­ ble for recruiting their soldiers. As late as the seventeenth century a company (or a regiment) could be considered the property of its commander. With these improvised methods, it is not surprising that longsustained campaigns were rare and that most wars consisted of brief periods of combat followed by lengthy truces. Over long periods a few men did develop some expertise either as administrators or commanders, but the absence of permanent military institutions made it hard for even such men to function effectively. It took centuries for European governments to develop either Departments of War (and related organizations) or a really professional officer corps. Some remnants of the old methods persisted even into the nineteenth century. It is no coincidence that the high point of European imperialism was reached at exactly the time that military activities became ef­ fectively institutionalized. Efficient and specialized organizations in

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

the metropolis supporting the work of professionally trained officers in the colonies made it possible to use relatively limited resources to achieve maximum results. Sporadic outbursts of violence (not un­ like those of medieval warriors) were useless in the face of steady pressure exerted by small groups of well-supplied professional soldiers. Superior military organization was not the cause of the great wave of imperialism in the nineteenth century, but it certainly was the chief factor in making it possible. Resources, however, were spread thin. The new empires, like the old, had to supplement their own troops with outsiders. But this time, thanks again to new forms of organization, the outsiders were effectively incorporated in the professional armies. They were given the same training and the same weapons; they were commanded by professional officers of the governing power; the best of them be­ came fully as effective in modern forms of warfare as the Europeans. As a result, a native professional military class, and even a native officer corps developed in most colonies. The fact that native officers usually could not rise above a certain level did not keep them from developing an esprit de corps or from acquiring many of the atti­ tudes and patterns of behavior of the European officers with whom they served. Thus, when the European empires broke up, one of their most important legacies was armed forces organized on a European model. The value of the legacy differed sharply from region to region— Pakistan perhaps marking the high point and the Belgian Congo the low. But even in the Congo the handful of native N.C.O.'s have played a role completely disproportionate to their numbers and training. In almost every newly independent country the army is becoming increasingly important as a political force. Directly or in­ directly it is the army which holds the country together and pre­ serves as much as it can of the administrative system and economic infrastructure left behind by the former colonial rulers. This is a sharp contrast to the situation in the Germanic king­ doms after the fall of the Roman Empire. It was not that the Ger­ manic armies wanted to destroy Roman institutions; it was simply that they had not been incorporated in the Roman system and did not understand it. On the other hand, the native officers of British India or Nigeria or French Africa were probably more imbued with Western ideas of organization and Western ideals of public service than most of their countrymen. This sense of organization

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

gave them greater advantages than their familiarity with Western weapons and mechanical devices, though the latter was not unim­ portant. But the essential thing in keeping a state going is organiza­ tion, and the discipline and sense of order that goes with organiza­ tion. Native professional soldiers had, to some extent at least, these qualities, and they became more and more convinced that civilian political leaders lacked them. So, in state after state the army has taken control of the government. The professional soldier admires tight organization and discipline. He is not greatly impressed by the "love of freedom" which Mr. Brunt, very tentatively, thinks could be a legacy of imperial rule. The professional soldier believes that his chief job is to hold his country together by any means. If an organized state can be pre­ served only by dictatorship, then he will use dictatorship to avoid chaos. Perhaps he can do no more, but much of value will be lost if he can do no more. On the other hand, if he does less, then the net effect of imperialism will simply have been to create a new and more dangerous barbarism. The Roman sense of organization and discipline were preserved by the Church, which was, on the whole, virtuous but powerless. The western European sense of organization and discipline is preserved by professional armies which have power but which may lack virtue and vision. The Church saved its ideals but could not prevent political and social disintegration. The armies may prevent disintegration but lose their ideals. Whatever they do, they will be a dominant factor in the post-imperial world of the twentieth century.

23. The First Western Union* HEN we talk about forming a Western union, and an army for that union, we usually forget that we are not dealing with an entirely new problem. Our medieval ancestors had a Western union—the Respublica Christiana or Christian common­ wealth—and this commonwealth had an army—the army of the crusade. Our world is not the world of Urban II and Godfrey of Bouillon, but the basic difficulties of forming a union and a union army are so deeply rooted in human character that we can learn something from the earlier experiment. It is not merely the obvious mistakes of the first union which are worth studying; even more important are its partial successes. For success has a disconcerting way of raising a host of new problems, more difficult than the ones which have just been overcome, and it was success rather than failure which wrecked the Christian commonwealth. Let us glance briefly at the circumstances in which the crusading army was born. The old civilized world of the Mediterranean had broken into three fragments of unequal size: western Europe, the Byzantine empire, and the Islamic caliphate. Of the three fragments, western Europe was the poorest and most backward. All the great cities were Byzantine or Mohammedan; all the great trade routes led to Constantinople or Bagdad. The West had lost almost all its Greek learning, and a large part of even the inferior Latin culture, while the East had not merely preserved, but had greatly increased its store of knowledge. It is true that the West had inherited the Roman gift for organization and administration, but it was not conspicuously successful in using this legacy before the end of the eleventh century. Most of the continent was divided among petty feudal lords who fought each other continuously, while the two powers which represented the Roman tradition of unity—the Ger­ man Empire and the papacy—were bitterly hostile to each other. The church was undoubtedly better organized than the Empire, but it lacked material strength, so that every moral victory was matched by military defeats. And this poor, backward, disunited Europe was ringed about with peoples who denied its basic beliefs—by Moham­ medans, schismatic Greeks, and the yet unconverted heathen of the north. * First published in Virginia Quarterly Review, xxvn, no. 2 (Spring 1951), 196-205.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

It speaks well for the courage of our ancestors and the vision of the great popes of the late eleventh century that in these conditions they could dream of attacking the most dangerous of their ad­ versaries, the Mohammedans. We shall never know the germ of the idea, through how many pontificates it matured, or even why Urban II decided to act in 1095. Certainly the religious motive —the freeing of the holy places—was uppermost in his mind, as it was in the minds of most of those who responded to his appeal. But Urban was no man to scorn political advantages which came as a reward for doing God's work, and the political advantages of a crusade were very great. First, and most important, the creation of a crusading army marked a spectacular advance toward European peace and unity. It imposed a truce on the quarrels of European princes and moved the most bellicose warriors overseas. At the same time, the success of Urban's appeal practically ended the struggle between pope and emperor for primacy in Christendom. The pope had acted as head of a Christian commonwealth; he had determined a common foreign policy for western Europe and had raised an army to enforce that policy. If his leadership in these fields was accepted without question, then the papal claim to su­ premacy in other affairs could hardly be opposed. With a united Europe behind him, Urban could dream of even greater achieve­ ments. Perhaps the Greeks, hard-pressed by the Turks since the defeat at Manzikert in 1071, might be grateful enough for Western aid to forget their old grievances and reunite the churches. After all, the final breach between Western and Eastern Catholicism, though preceded by centuries of bickering, had taken place only in 1054. Perhaps the Islamic world could be split in two by a wedge of Christian conquests, and then be brought back to the true faith by slow but steady advances. And at the very least, the open scandal of a Holy Land under infidel domination could be ended. In spite of incredible hardship, brought about by almost equally incredible ignorance of the geography and politics of the Near East, the First Crusade was a success. There were defections and dis­ sensions, but enough of the army held together long enough to do the job. This was due partly to the fact that for most of the expedi­ tion there was a unified command, exercised by the pope's very able legate, Bishop Adhemar of Le Puy, and partly to the fact that the army was organized on a provincial, not a national basis. Provincial rivalries were bad enough, but not so bitter as later na-

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

tional rivalries were to be, and no provincial leader had enough men under his command to wreck the expedition by withdrawing. It is also true that the Mohammedans were even less united than the Christians, and thus were never able to mass their full strength against the crusaders. The capture of Jerusalem created a problem with which we are not unfamiliar: Who was to rule the conquered territory? The pope seems to have thought of an arrangement not unlike the modern mandate or trusteeship. One of the crusading princes was to administer the conquest, under the general supervision of the pope as head of Western Christendom. It would have been an inter­ esting experiment, but it never had a real chance of success. Crusaders in the Holy Land could hardly say that they wanted to get back to God's country, but they felt exactly as American troops have felt at the end of the last two world wars—they were desper­ ately anxious to go home. The few who were willing to remain would stay only on their own terms and as lords of their own land—not as trustees for Christendom or agents of the Church. So, instead of a mandate, four independent states were created: a weak kingdom of Jerusalem and the three still weaker principalities of Tripoli, Antioch, and Edessa. Probably no better solution of the problem was possible, but the crusaders' states were never very successful political units. The Mohammedans soon recovered from the political paralysis which had afflicted them at the end of the eleventh century and formed larger and larger armies under capable leaders such as Saladin. Greatly outnumbered, the Christians in Syria and Palestine had to appeal to Europe for aid. When these appeals resulted in new cru­ sades, there was always friction between the newcomers and the old Palestine hands. The newcomers felt, often with reason, that their hosts were much more interested in preserving or recovering their own holdings than in defending or regaining the holy places. The old Palestine hands felt, often with reason, that the newcomers caused unnecessary trouble through their ignorance of local condi­ tions. No crusade after the First was successful and after 1144 the area of the crusaders' states shrank steadily. Edessa was lost in 1144, Jerusalem fell in 1187, and the last foothold on the seacoast was wiped out in 1291. There were other causes for failure besides friction between the

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

new crusaders and the barons of Jerusalem. After the First Crusade there was almost never a unified command. No later papal legate had either the ability or the authority of Adhemar, and the pope could not keep control from a distance. The Fourth Crusade went utterly astray and captured two Christian cities, Zara and Constan­ tinople, instead of Moslem lands. The Seventh Crusade wasted its strength against the remote and strategically unimportant city of Tunis. Moreover, the later crusades were usually led by kings, not counts and dukes, and so the inevitable disputes were national rather than provincial in character. Bad feeling between French and Germans greatly weakened the Second Crusade, and friction be­ tween French and English on the Third Crusade deprived Richard Lionheart of a very real opportunity to recapture Jerusalem. Even Saint Louis, commanding an expedition (the Sixth Crusade) which was predominantly French, was unable to prevent a quarrel between his men and a small English contingent led by the Earl of Salisbury. It is significant that the only one of the later crusades which had some chance of success was the Fifth, and that this expedition was not troubled by national rivalries. If this were all the story, it would hardly be worth repeating. We can find later and better-known examples of the familiar evils of quarreling allies and absence of a unified command. But it was not quite right to say, a moment ago, that all crusades after the First were failures. All crusades overseas were failures, but there were some thirteenth-century crusades in Europe which were spectac­ ularly successful. And these successes, far more than the failures in Palestine, put a serious strain on the precarious unity of the Christian commonwealth. The crusade in Europe, even more than the crusade overseas, bears a close resemblance to our modern idea of an international army to enforce peace. Almost all Europeans, at the beginning of the thirteenth century, believed that peace in the deepest sense of the word—peace of soul as well as political peace—could be assured only through accepting the leadership of the church. Therefore, any­ one who attacked the church or threatened its leadership was an enemy of peace and should be suppressed by the army of Christen­ dom. The great Innocent III was the first pope to draw this logical conclusion and to send a crusading army against enemies of the church in Christian countries. From his time to the end of the

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

thirteenth century there were innumerable small expeditions, and three major crusading movements in Europe: the crusades against the Albigensian heretics in south France, the crusades against the Hohenstaufen rulers of Italy, and the crusade against the king of Aragon in 1285. All but the last of these expeditions were successful. Minor enemies of the popes were crushed, the Albigensian heresy was wiped out, and the kingdom of Sicily was taken from the Hohenstaufen and given to a French prince. But papal victories did not have the expected effect of strengthening the unity of the Christian commonwealth; instead, they aroused increasing suspicion of papal policy. The Albigensian crusades were the only ones devoted to a purely religious purpose, and even in the Albigensian crusades a re­ ligious end was to be reached by political means—rulers who favored or tolerated heretics were to be replaced by ardent Catholics. The pope either could not wait for or did not trust the slow and peaceful methods of social pressure and missionary activity. The other cru­ sades in Europe were even less religious in character—they resulted from papal worries over a difficult political situation in Italy. The Hohenstaufen rulers of Germany had inherited the kingdom of Naples and Sicily, as well as the old claims of earlier emperors to north Italy. It is certain that this combination of territories threatened the security of the papal states and perhaps the independence of the church. It is less certain that the only way of meeting the danger was by force. The popes of the twelfth century had won a spectac­ ular series of victories by playing a waiting game, by building up the pressure of public opinion until their opponents were forced to yield. The popes of the thirteenth century were unwilling to wait for the slow results of this technique. Confident of their strength, they resorted rather too quickly to military means and at times even waged preventive wars. They fought the Hohenstaufen and their descendants for almost half a century; they proclaimed that no one of Hohenstaufen blood was fit to rule a European country; they attempted to control all major political decisions in Germany and Italy in order to enforce their policy. Such behavior weakened the unity of Europe and the idea of the crusade. Europe would not have tolerated Hohenstaufen domination of the church, but many Europeans did not believe that the only way to ward off this threat was to have papal domination of Italy and Germany. As the popes pursued a private political feud with the Hohenstaufen, other rulers

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

were encouraged to concentrate on their private political interests. This tendency was strengthened by the fact that a by-product of the crusades in Europe was the strengthening of one particular dynasty, the Capetian rulers of France. The Albigensian crusades subjected the autonomous feudal principalities of south France to the French king, gave him an outlet on the Mediterranean, and greatly increased his revenues. The crusades against the Hohenstaufen made the brother of the French king ruler of Naples and Sicily. The crusade against Aragon, had it succeeded, would have placed another French prince on a Spanish throne. This was an inevitable but unfortunate result of the position which France then occupied in western Europe. Like the United States today, she was the largest, wealthiest, and most populous political unit in the Western union. Only the French had the resources for a successful crusade, and so the French alone profited from the crusades. This did not increase the loyalty of other peoples toward the Christian commonwealth and papal leadership of that commonwealth. They became skeptical of papal appeals, uninterested in the crusading idea, and deeply suspicious of French ambitions. Strangely enough, the French themselves became dissatisfied with the crusade. Their gains at times seemed hardly worth what they had cost. It might seem advantageous to have a French prince as king of Sicily, but almost the first act of the newly established ruler was to drag France into an unnecessary and disastrous crusade against Tunis. When the island of Sicily revolted against its French ruler in 1282 and received help from Aragon, the French had to attack the Spanish kingdom to support their church and their dynasty. This crusade against Aragon was a complete failure and King Philip III died during the retreat. He was succeeded by Philip IV —Philip the Fair—an ominous name in the history of the papacy. It was this Philip who accused Pope Boniface VIII of heresy, who sent agents to arrest him at Anagni, and who succeeded in moving the papacy to French soil, where it was to remain for seventy years. It is hard to say what motives inspired him, but certainly the bitter memories of his first year of kingship must have played a part—the beaten army, the empty treasury, and the long sad journey through France with the corpse of his father. Whatever the rea­ sons, Philip consistently refused to act as the police agent of the church, and devoted himself to increasing royal power and French

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

territory. Deprived of its army, the Christian commonwealth ceased to have political significance. Meanwhile, one final, important development was taking place. The size of crusading armies has been grossly exaggerated, but, when all corrections have been made, they were still very large by medieval standards. They numbered from ten to twenty-five thousand men—this at a time when an army of one or two thousand was big enough to win decisive victories in many wars. They created entirely new problems of organization, supply, and finance. There was a strong prejudice against taxation in medieval Europe, but the crusades could not be supported without taxes. By the end of the twelfth century the pope was encouraging the kings of France and England to tax their subjects for the expenses of the Third Crusade. A little later, Innocent III imposed a tax on the clergy of Europe, and gave the proceeds to crusade leaders. These were important precedents. Taxation brought in more money than rulers could derive from any other source, especially when the clergy, who were exempt from almost all other services, were forced to contribute. The king of England almost immediately began to ask similar taxes for his own purposes and the king of France eventually followed his example. The transition was made easier by drawing an analogy between the crusade tax for the defense of Christendom and the royal tax for defense of the realm. There were resistance and resentment; there were long periods when no taxes of any kind could be collected, but in the end the kings gained their point. By the end of the thirteenth century national taxation, based on the tax for the crusade, was firmly established in both France and England. Even more surprising, the Western kings succeeded in forcing their clergy to pay them the equivalent of the crusading tax to support their private wars. Pope Boniface VIII protested vehemently against this abuse in his famous bull, Clericis laicos, but he was forced to back down by Edward I of England and Philip IV of France. In the end he admitted that the clergy, like all other subjects, were bound to pay taxes for the defense of the kingdom in which they lived. This growth of taxation laid the foundations of the modern na­ tional state. The power and institutions of the modern state are based on its ability to tax—on the fact that, in the last analysis, it

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

can raise more money than any competing social group. And the acceptance of the principle that all subjects must pay taxes for defense of the state, whatever their other loyalties and obligations, was a long step toward nationalism. It meant that the primary loyalty of all inhabitants of a kingdom must be to that kingdom, and that supranational or subnational organizations were of less importance. Thus, ironically enough, the great effort of medieval Europe to create a Christian commonwealth and an international army con­ tributed largely to the development of a completely antithetical sys­ tem, a system of rival, sovereign, national states. It would be inter­ esting if we should come full circle—if the establishment of a new international army should end the process which began with the first international army of the crusades. But history is seldom that symmetrical, and human society tends to move in irregular spirals rather than in perfect circles. The one thing of which we can be certain is that if we create a Western union and a Western army we shall face again some of the problems of the twelfth and thir­ teenth centuries. We must have real union—not loose and sporadic cooperation. We must keep one state from dominating the union; and this can be done only if all the others assume full responsibility, hard as it may be for them. We must use the union army only for the purpose for which it was created, not for selfish gains or quick solutions to problems which could be dealt with by peaceful means. And, most of all, we shall have to watch closely the new institutions which will inevitably grow out of the union, and see if they are compatible with the kind of society which we desire.

24. The Historical Experience of Nation-Building in Europe* HE roots of modern European states go back to the barbarian regna which arose in the period of the collapse of the Roman Empire and the concomitant migration of peoples. I am using the Latin term for these units because the English word "kingdom" carries too many overtones of an organized state. The barbarian regnurn was certainly not a state, although it is rather difficult to say just what it was. Though the ruler often took an ethnic title {rex Anglorum, rex Francorum, and so on), most of the regna were not ethnic units. The usual pattern was a dominant warrior group, drawn from several Germanic peoples, ruling a subject population which was Latin, Celtic, or Slav. To take the most famous example, the Franks were themselves a federation of peoples; they conquered and gradually merged with other Germanic groups, such as the Burgundians and the Alemanni; they ruled Romanized Gauls, Italians, Celtic refugees from Britain, and a certain number of Slavs. It is clear that such a regnum could not be a cultural unit any more than it was an ethnic unit—there were always many dialects, frequently many languages, always different customs, and usually different laws for each of the constituent groups. Even geography does not help much, for a regnum was only roughly a geographical unit. It might have had a core, but it would be hard to define its boundaries—there were, everywhere, contested districts and loosely attached, more or less autonomous dependencies (e.g., Aquitaine for the Franks, Wales for the Anglo-Saxons). Thus, a regnum had to be defined in terms of its king, or better, its royal family. A regnum was made up of the people who recog­ nized a certain family as their royal family. This group may have fluctuated in size and the territories which it occupied, but as long as a sizable number of people held a certain man to be their king, a regnum existed. These regna were amorphous and, at first, ephemeral. Yet, some of them survived, and merely by surviving took the first step in nation-building. Very slowly, very gradually, they built up a per­ sisting identity. Certain peoples, occupying certain areas, long con* Reprinted from Nation-Building, ed. K. W. Deutsch and W. J. Foltz (New York: Atherton Press, 1963), 17-26.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

stituted, and were therefore expected to go on constituting, a certain regnum. And because their regnum endured for many gen­ erations there began to be a feeling that it was a permanent part of the political landscape and that it should continue. It is not surprising that the regnum had little resemblance to a state, for, in the early Middle Ages, it is doubtful that anyone had a concept of a state. Some memory of the state lingered among the better-educated members of the clergy, but even they were not able to express the idea very clearly. Some kings, taught by the church and perhaps by surviving Roman traditions, tried to preserve some of the governmental apparatus and public authority of a Roman emperor. Their efforts were frustrated. Most members of the ruling class had no idea of an impersonal continuing public power. Loyalty was to individuals or to families, not to the state. And even this personal loyalty was not wholly reliable; it was tested afresh every time there was a request for service or a demand for obedience. Political power more and more entered the domain of private law; it was a personal possession which could be transmitted by marriage or divided among heirs. Being personal, political power was hard to exercise at a distance or through agents. Hence, there was a constant tendency for local representatives of the king to be­ come independent rulers, a tendency aggravated by the low level of economic activity, which made each district almost self-sufficient. All these factors—the emphasis on personal loyalty, the treatment of public power as a private possession, and the tendency to local autonomy—existed long before feudalism became established. In fact, feudalism was simply the recognition of an already existing political situation. The process of building a state out of these unpromising materials took a long time, especially as it was done almost entirely with internal resources. The Byzantine model had little influence, and the Roman model was not very well known until the revival of legal studies in the twelfth century. By that time, some of the essential steps in state-building had already been accomplished. The process seems to have been started by purely practical con­ siderations. The mass of the population suffered from petty wars and general insecurity; it wanted more and better government, especially better administration of justice. This popular desire might have had little influence—after all, the people always want peace and seldom get it—but it was backed by the church, then at the height

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

of its power. Churchmen played important roles in every govern­ ment and consistently taught that justice was the highest attribute of a king. They gave their prestige and their administrative skill to any effort to improve the administration of justice. Finally, the rulers themselves wanted to preserve and increase their political power and to hand it on unimpaired to their heirs. They found that the best way to do this was by trying to satisfy the popular demand for law and order. By suppressing violence, by forcing powerful men to settle their disputes through the courts, they gained a much greater degree of control over their vassals and subjects than they had ever had before. But to do this, rulers had to develop systems of law and regularly functioning courts. They had to get a monopoly of all the important cases for their courts or develop an effective appellate jurisdiction which could control the courts of their vassals. They had to create a corps of judges and administrators entirely dependent on them, men who could be rotated from district to district and office to office. And, in doing this, they had to create stable and enduring institutions. These institutions, built up in the late eleventh and twelfth centuries, became the nuclei around which states were formed. While these institutions were developing, a great revival of learning took place. As a part of this revival, the logical, scientific, and political works of Aristotle were translated into Latin and the Corpus juris of Justinian was studied with greater and greater in­ tensity. Universities began to appear, and many university grad­ uates became administrators and judges. A considerable number of teachers of law, philosophy, and theology began to speculate on political subjects. Out of this intellectual ferment, a theory of the state began to develop. It owed much to the revived study of Roman law, but it was not just a copy of Roman doctrines. Twelfthand thirteenth-century scholars had to pay some attention to the political environment in which they lived, which was very different from that of Roman lawyers of the classical period. Thus, they had to consider problems of interstate relations, of church-state rela­ tions, and of feudal or semifeudal relations—topics which had not been of any great importance in Roman law. Working with this mixture of old and new ingredients, medieval scholars developed a theory of the state which persisted, in its main outlines, well into the seventeenth century, that is, well past the period in which the European state-system became firmly established.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

This theory, when it reached its full development at the end of the thirteenth century, contemplated a Europe divided into a num­ ber of sovereign states. The word "sovereignty" had not yet been invented, but the fact of sovereignty was there, even if it took a series of phrases to describe it. The idea of external sovereignty was rather easily accepted and there was no great difficulty in de­ fining it. It was obvious that there were a number of political units which were entirely independent of one another, and phrases were soon found which described this independence. Early in the cen­ tury Pope Innocent III spoke of a "king who recognizes no superior in temporal affairs."1 Later (the exact date and author are still in dispute) someone coined the phrase: "Rex est imperator in regno suo" ("The king who has no superior, the king who is emperor in his own realm, is sovereign as far as any outside power goes").2 The idea of internal sovereignty was more difficult to accept and to state in unambiguous terms. Most scholars of the period used the organic analogy: the state is a body; all members must obey the head; all members must work together for the common welfare, and so on. By the middle of the thirteenth century, some writers were saying that this body politic was a corpus mysiicum (just as was the church), which would imply that it should be preserved at all costs.3 This conclusion was quickly drawn; by 1300, it was almost commonplace to say that the head of the state can demand the lives and goods of all other members of the body politic to pre­ serve the common welfare or establish the common defense.4 One man even argued that an individual should not hesitate to commit a mortal sin if by doing so he could save the state. As this example 1R.

W. Carlyle and A. J. Carlyle, A History of Mediaeval Political Theory in the West (London, 1903-1936), v, 143-148; Gaines Post, "Two Notes on Nationalism: II. Rex Imperator," Traditio, ix (1953), 296-320 (a revised ver­ sion in Gaines Post, Studies in Medieval Legal Thought . . . [Princeton, 1964], pp. 453-482). 2Post, in Traditio, ix, 304-307, 320 (Studies, pp. 463-467, 481-482). Cf. Ε. H. Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies (Princeton, 1957), pp. 51, 97. 3 Ibid., p. 208, but the reference to Vincent of Beauvais should be Speculum doctrinale, vn, 15, and not vn, 8. 4J. R. Strayer, "Defense of the Realm and Royal Power in France," in Studi in onore di Gino Luzzatto (Milan, 1949), iv, 289-296 [reprinted here, pp. 291-299]; Gaines Post, "Ratio Publicae Utilitatis, Ratio Status und 'Staatsrason' (1100-1300)," Die Welt als Geschichte, xxi (1961), 8-28, 71-99 (a slightly revised version in Studies, pp. 241-309).

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

shows, and as Gaines Post has pointed out, "reason of state" is no invention of the Renaissance; it exists already in the thirteenth century.5 But this theory of internal sovereignty came up against other theories of a permanent and unchanging body of law, of impre­ scriptible rights and privileges held by local lords and autonomous communities, and of irremovable limitations on the power of central governments. As a result, the theory was usually stated in compara­ tive terms: the king has superioritas, he has "greater power."6 The theory of internal sovereignty also came up against some hard polit­ ical facts. Although Western rulers, in general, found it fairly easy to make good their claim to external sovereignty, even against the pope, they did not yet have the authority or the administrative machinery needed to establish fully their claim to internal sover­ eignty. As a result, there was a long period of floundering, and it was not until the sixteenth century that the more advanced states could really assert sovereignty in all internal affairs. And it was only then that the theory of sovereignty could be purged of some of its ambiguities and stated in clear and definitive terms. Nevertheless, before this process was complete, another important change had taken place. This was the transfer of basic loyalties from the church to the secular state, a change which, more than any­ thing else, marks the end of the Middle Ages and the beginning of the modern period. In the period between the Gregorian reform (c. 1075) and the middle of the thirteenth century, the church had set the standards and goals of European society. When its policies were opposed, the church had had the support of the bulk of the population, and had often been able to coerce lay rulers by urging their subjects to rebel against them. This tactic was increasingly in­ effective after 1250. Habits of obedience to secular governments had been established, and a certain attachment to the laws of the country and the person of its ruler had developed. This was not s Ibid. On p. 96 (Studies, p. 305) he cites an anonymous author who says adultery is justified if it leads a woman to betray plans that would destroy the community. eFor example, when Philip the Fair was trying to establish his rights over the Gevaudan (held by the bishop of Mende) the argument was over who was major dominus, who had major jurisdictio or superioritas. See "Memoire relatif au pareage de 1307," ed. Abel Maisonobe (Mende, 1896), pp. 5065°7> 5*7, 531·

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

yet patriotism, (except in a few rare cases),7 but it was a feeling that no outside authority should intervene in the internal affairs of an established political community. People were not very eager to give up their lives and property for any cause, but they were more willing to make these sacrifices for the state than for the church. It was a rather tepid loyalty, but nothing else was hotter. The test came when Boniface VIII entered into open conflict with the kings of France and England and found that he had almost no sup­ port in either country. Even the clergy told him that they would lose all influence if they were suspected of disloyalty to their kings. From that time on, the only loyalty which had much chance of being built up into a powerful, emotional factor was loyalty to the state or to the ruler who embodied the state. At about this time (c. 1300), differing patterns began to develop out of the general process of state-building. The most important difference was between the regnurn which became a single state and the regnam which splintered and gave birth to many states. England and France are obvious examples of the first type; Ger­ many and Italy, of the second. Almost as important was the differ­ ence between the unitary state with no significant provincial liberties and the "mosaic" state in which a king had slowly extended his authority over one province after another and in which, therefore, each province had had time to develop its own peculiar laws and institutions. England was the best example, and one of the few early ones, of the unitary state; France was the model of the "mosaic" state. Both these differences are important in the next stage—changing the state into a nation. Where a whole regnum became a state, na­ tionalism developed early and naturally, with no great strain or ex­ aggerated emotional appeals. In such a state, people were gradually brought into closer and closer association with each other. The ringwall of the state cut them off, to some extent, from the rest of the world; they were forced to work together and to adapt to each other. They had time to gain a clear sense of identity, to smooth out some of their regional differences, and to become attached to their ruler and the institutions through which he ruled. Where the framework of the state was strong enough and persistent enough, it even created a common nationalism out of very different linguistic 7 Kantorowicz,

The King's Two Bodies, pp. 232-272; Post, "Two Notes on Nationalism...."

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

and cultural groups. Languedoc was very like Catalonia and very unlike north France, yet it finally became thoroughly French. It is also clear that the unitary state had an advantage over the "mosaic" state. The central government of a unitary state did not have to worry about provincial privileges, nor did it have to create a huge, and often unpopular, bureaucracy to coordinate and control diverse and quarrelsome local authorities. Local leaders did not have to be looked on with suspicion as men whose primary loyalty was to their province. Instead, they could be used to explain and adapt the government's program to their communities. They grad­ ually began to think in terms of the national interest, because there were no provincial interests to distract their attention. Common laws and common institutions created a greater sense of identity than there was in countries where a man from one province could not understand the governmental procedures of a neighboring province. Thus, England was clearly a nation-state in the fifteenth century, at a time when a French prince (the duke of Burgundy) could still hope to split off provinces from France and combine them with his holdings in the Low Countries to make a new king­ dom. The great surge of French nationalism at the end of the eighteenth century coincided with a successful effort to destroy provincial privileges and create a unitary state. On the other hand, where several states grew up within a splin­ tered regnum the process of building a nation-state was much more difficult. Many of these states were too small to satisfy any political emotion except the desire for law and order. Even the larger ones found it hard to appeal to the same sentiments that were so easily tapped by the governments of France and England. There was no correspondence between the political framework and the ancient traditions of the people. The historical, cultural, and linguistic group to which people felt they belonged was always larger than the state to which they were supposed to give their allegiance. At the same time, many of the splinter-states developed strong administrative and military systems which could not easily be overthrown. Thus, when, in the nineteenth century, nationalism seemed to ensure both political success and psychological satisfac­ tion, violent efforts were still needed to make the state and the na­ tion coincide. The Germans and Italians could assemble and hold together the fragments of their old regna only through repeated wars and only by pitching nationalist appeals at a dangerously high

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

emotional level. The Habsburg monarchy was in even worse shape, since it was a "mosaic" state largely made up of splinters of several regna. No nationalism could be developed for the state as a whole, and there was considerable confusion as to which nationalisms were appropriate for each of its fragments. The European provinces of the Ottoman Empire were in a somewhat similar condition. The resulting instabilities in these two areas were one of the major causes of the European tragedy of the twentieth century. Historians look for morals as sociologists do for models; perhaps we can find both in this hastily sketched story. Building a nationstate is a slow and complicated affair, and most of the political entities created in the past fifty years are never going to complete this process. Mere imitation will not solve their problems; institu­ tions and beliefs must take root in native soil, or they will wither. The new states that have the best chance of success are those which correspond fairly closely to old political units; those where the experience of living together for many generations within a con­ tinuing political framework has given the people some sense of identity; those where the political unit coincides roughly with a dis­ tinct cultural area; and those where there are indigenous institutions and habits of political thinking that can be connected to forms bor­ rowed from outside. Poland and Czechoslovakia are such states, and it is interesting to see how their strong personalities assert them­ selves even under Communist control. On the other hand, a state whose boundaries bear no relation to an earlier political unit, whose inhabitants are well aware that their state is only a splinter of an ancient political or cultural grouping, and whose institutions have no connection with the mores of the people is a state which will certainly not become a nation and which will probably soon cease to be a state. Jordan is the best example of this type, though many of the new African states may be as bad. Creating a viable system of states in most of the former colonial areas is going to be a painful process. We can only hope that the rest of the world can avoid being drawn into what promises to be an endless round of coups, conquests, revolutions, and wars.

25. Problems of Dictatorship: The Russian Experience* γ

HE development of the West European sovereign state in the early modern period was an important innovation in the art of political organization. The most successful states of earlier times had either been large empires which were militarily strong but failed to enlist the loyalty and active support of their subjects, or small kingdoms and city-states which secured loyalty and participation but were militarily weak. In the great empires, only a small core of military-political leaders had any real interest in preserving the state. When their position was threatened, either by internal dis­ sension or external pressure, the bulk of the population passively accepted the collapse of the political structure, as in the case of Rome. The little states were far more effective in using their human resources, but they seldom flourished for more than three or four generations. Sooner or later a powerful neighbor swallowed them up and their citizens sank back into apathy, as in the case of Athens. The West European sovereign state combined the strengths and avoided many of the weaknesses of its predecessors. It was large enough to generate the military strength necessary for survival; it was small enough and homogeneous enough to attract the loyalty and participation of an increasing number of its subjects. Both these advantages, however, depended on the existence of stable, effective and respected leadership. This leadership, at first, was provided by hereditary, divinely sanctioned monarchy. The king was a focus of loyalty, and he could invest his officials with enough of his authority to obtain the obedience and cooperation of his subjects. But, as usual, success raised new problems. States developed more complicated mechanisms of government, took on new responsibilities (e.g., regulation of the economy), involved more people in their operations, and required more from them. Increased complexity and greater involvement led, almost inevi­ tably, to wider discussion of political issues. More men had to be consulted and informed; more men were affected by decisions of governments. In order to ensure understanding of and compli­ ance with their orders, governments had to issue public explana­ tions. Any explanation invites discussion and any discussion is apt * Reprinted by special permission from Foreign Affairs, XLIV (January 1966), 264-274. Copyright Council on Foreign Relations, Inc., New York.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

to lead to criticism. Criticism could be suppressed among the masses; it was somewhat more difficult to silence men who had essential roles in the intellectual, economic, or political life of the state. Government actions, especially in the fields of religion and economic policy, often elicited angry responses from preachers, writers, law­ yers, merchants, and landholders. And the example was contagious: at the end of Elizabeth's reign Cecil said in horror that "men were discussing Parliament matters in the street!" Some states were more successful than others in suppressing public criticism, but driving criticism underground did not mean that it ceased to exist. Over the long run, belief in the sanctity of monarchy and the authority of the small ruling group was impaired. Loyalty and cooperation diminished and the structure of the state was weakened. It became evident that a new kind of leadership was needed, a leadership based more on appeals to common interests (especially nationalism), and less on hereditary right, a leadership which actively sought support (at least from key men and powerful groups) rather than commanded obedience. During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries there were widespread attempts to shift to this new basis of leadership. The transition was difficult but when it succeeded, the state—based on nationalism and the active participation of most of its citizens—became more powerful and closely knit than ever before. On the other hand, there were many failures and partial failures. To strengthen the state by the general consent of its subjects re­ quired consensus on general principles and adherence to a rather unusual set of rules of political behavior. Such a consensus and such adherence often depended more on good luck than good manage­ ment. Even when they were obtained, they did not guarantee adequate leadership in times of stress. Thus where the consensus was imperfect, as in Latin America, or where the leadership proved weak, as in France, there was a tendency to try the short cut of dictatorship. Dictatorship theoretically combined the most effective aspects of divine-right monarchy (charisma and personal loyalty) with the most effective aspects of the nation-state (nationalism and appeals to the public interest). Most dictators began their rule with these advantages, but they also usually began with the great disad­ vantage of depending primarily on military support. If the dictator kept the army happy he gradually alienated civilians, and vice versa. Moreover, no dictator solved the problem of succession. As

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

he aged, military factions began to vie for his inheritance, or else the army began to lose its grip and suppressed popular forces began to emerge. No dictatorship lasted for more than one generation. Even in Latin America, where dictatorship was endemic, there were interludes of democracy or bloody factional fights between the departure of one dictator and the consolidation of the power of the next. Down to 1914 the apparent short cut of dictatorship proved to be a blind alley. Dictatorship weakened rather than strengthened the state. This brief review of the experience of West European states, and of their offshoots, is of some value in explaining the political problems of Communist states. Without exception, they are coun­ tries in which a transition to the new West European model had been begun but not completed, countries in which participation in the political process was limited and loyalty to the state was weak. It is true that the original aim of Communism was not to strength­ en the state, but rather to create a society so perfect that the state would wither away. But when the Communists seized power in Russia, they found that a strong state was necessary, not only to put their ideas in practice, but also to ensure their personal sur­ vival. They had to create this state rapidly, before their foreign enemies and internal rivals overwhelmed them. So they fell back on the short cut of a dictatorship, not the "dictatorship of the proletariat" which had been a vague and ill-understood article of their creed, but a one-man show in which all the devices of earlier dictators were employed. They did, however, avoid the fundamental weakness of earlier dictatorships. Instead of basing power on an army, with all the dangers this involved, they based it on a party. This was a new and promising variation on the old theme, and in developing the Communist party they showed great ingenuity in combining hitherto separated elements. The party had all the assets of an ordinary political party: a widespread network of local branches, personnel in key government positions, and effective machinery for propa­ ganda. In addition, it directed and controlled activities in which ordinary Western parties had shown little interest, such as science, literature and the arts, education and recreation. Finally, and most important, it had many of the characteristics of a military organiza­ tion. It had its own armed forces in the secret police. It had rigid

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

discipline which was strong enough to keep the party functioning even when there were bitter quarrels among the top leaders. It was highly centralized so that control could be maintained at the local level even when disastrous mistakes were made by local leaders and the appeal of propaganda had worn thin. In short, the party was far more useful than an army in supervising the varied activities of an increasingly complex society and just as efficient as an army in suppressing threats to the dictatorship. As a result, the U.S.S.R. has broken all the records by keeping a dictatorship going for two generations. It has accomplished the difficult feat of transferring power from one dictator to another four times, not without argument or bloodshed, but certainly without the kind of disturbance that would seriously weaken the state. It is quite likely that another change in leadership is im­ pending. The position of party boss Brezhnev is by no means secure and he could be forced out at any time. But such a change would cause even less commotion than the ouster of Khrushchev did a year ago. Brezhnev lacks the popularity which Khrushchev, with all his faults, had acquired; a new leader might have wider support, both within and outside the party. On the record, it looks as though the Soviets have created a new and viable type of political structure which has all the strengths and few of the weaknesses of previous dictatorships. Actually, they are probably in the position of West European states at the time when divine-right monarchy first began to face criticism. The charismatic quality of leadership has almost vanished, the need for involving more people in the process of decision-making is grow­ ing, and the frequency of open debate on important issues is increasing. The "cult of personality" was denounced by Khrushchev, but his own actions showed that he realized its importance in the Soviet system. The leader must be respected, even if he is not admired; he must appear to be in full control of all important activities, even if in practice he is guided by an inner circle of advisers. Lenin was admired and Stalin was feared, but both achieved full control of the country. Malenkov had too brief a period of authority to make much of an impression and he cer­ tainly never had full control. In retrospect, it looks as if Khru­ shchev was always in a precarious position. He certainly had a

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

vivid personality, but he was never admired enough or feared enough to overcome a rising tide of ridicule and criticism. The present faceless leadership is very much in Malenkov's position and may suffer the same fate. It is always possible that a stimulat­ ing and powerful figure, such as Shelepin, will emerge from the present unresolved situation, but even such a man probably will be unable to recapture the prophet's mantle of Lenin or the tyrant's scepter of Stalin. Too many people know that a leader gains his position by intricate political manipulations and not by apostolic succession from Marx and Lenin. With senior party leaders estab­ lished in strongly entrenched positions it is not easy to override all opposition and criticism. Finally, and most important, Soviet society has become too complex for one man to make and impose decisions in all fields. What is needed is a top-flight manager and coordinator, a man who is as much a politician as a dictator. In fact, the very success of the Communist effort to modernize Russia has created a new political climate. Large groups of experts have emerged—administrators, economic managers, scientists, mil­ itary leaders—and the opinions of these groups cannot wholly be disregarded. Each group has its own interests to protect; each group believes, often with reason, that it knows better how to solve its own problems than does the top leadership. Each group not only in­ cludes many party members, but also has access to and support from men who rank well up in the party hierarchy. The result is that too many people are involved in basic policy decisions to con­ tinue the practice of settling all important issues in small secret meetings. There has been an increasing amount of public discussion of politico-economic problems ever since the death of Stalin. The oldest argument, which was heard occasionally even in the days of Stalin, is about the size of the military budget and the share to be given to each service. Soviet military leaders are not very different from those of other countries. They are never sure that they have enough; they dislike admitting that introduction of new weapons systems can justify cuts in conventional forces. Allied with the proponents of heavy industry, they have resisted proposals to decrease the percentage of G.N.P. devoted to defense and they have been outraged by reductions in military manpower. Consumer-oriented groups naturally advocate a different allocation of resources and have found some support in the top leadership. Malenkov, Khrushchev, and Brezhnev have all found it necessary

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

to discuss this controversy in public statements. Any literate inhab­ itant of the U.S.S.R. must know that the controversy exists and that it has caused divisions in the party and some wavering in the party line. This is not calculated to preserve the image of a mono­ lithic, all-wise leadership. Even more interesting is the discussion of reform of the Soviet economic system. Every leader since Stalin has recognized that the economy was not performing as well as it should, but none of them has been very certain about the proper remedies. Khru­ shchev's fluctuating and often contradictory economic policies were probably one of the chief reasons for his ouster. Uncertainty at the top and confusion at the operating level have encouraged Soviet economists to express their views. Since they agree no better than their American counterparts on the best policies to promote healthy economic growth, the result has been a long and increasingly pub­ lic discussion of such topics as the role of centralized planning, the degree to which market demand should influence production, and the effectiveness of present types of collective farming. To discuss these topics is to question some of the basic theories and institutions of Soviet society. The party has not only tolerated this discussion; at times it actually seems to have welcomed it. It is always possible, of course, that leaders who prefer traditional policies are hoping to give the proponents of innovation enough rope to hang themselves. If so, it is a risky game. This may be one case in which the lie will find it hard to catch up with the truth, and in any event the lack of una­ nimity among the leadership will have been made painfully evident. It seems somewhat more likely that the top leadership sees no other way of finding answers to its difficult economic problems. It cannot impose a solution because it doesn't have one. It cannot assemble all the leading Soviet economists in a room and expect them to come up with a unanimous report. Only through a certain amount of public discussion can it get the ideas it needs to reach a decision. Only by experimenting with some of the new proposals can it discover which solutions are desirable. Every new idea and every experiment encourages the formation of groups defending or attacking the innovations. And if economic policy, so fundamental to a Communist state, can be the subject of open discussion and

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

political maneuvering, what is left that is sacred and untouchable? When stronger leadership emerges and postponed decisions are made there will doubtless be an attempt to suppress the present extraordinarily free discussion of economic problems. But the his­ tory of the last two decades shows that real differences of opinion are not killed by driving them underground. Powerful interest groups have shown remarkable stubbornness in clinging to their opinions and in surfacing them again as soon as they felt it safe to do so. No one, for example, has ever succeeded in silencing for long the proponents of emphasis on heavy industry, the "steeleaters," to use Khrushchev's angry phrase. No one has ever kept the military from fighting for bigger, stronger, and more expensive forces or from resisting cuts in conventional forces as advanced weapons become more numerous and more effective. A much weaker interest group, the scientists, showed the same stubborn­ ness in the Lysenko case. They would not accept half-measures or a quiet reversal of policy; they kept up their pressure until they had gained an almost complete victory. The debate on eco­ nomic policy, which has already been mentioned, did not spring full-grown from the cracks in Khrushchev's brain. It was preceded by a long period in which the economists, while outwardly con­ forming, were becoming more and more convinced that reform, both in economic techniques and economic policy, was necessary. In short, the Soviet government cannot function without using these groups; it cannot make sensible decisions without their advice, and it cannot get that advice without allowing some discus­ sion of basic issues. Just as it cannot falsify statistics without creating gross errors in planning and production, so it cannot distort expert opinion without making gross errors in policy. Just as it is begin­ ning to allow some of the mechanisms of the marketplace to influ­ ence the economy in order to improve production, so it is beginning to allow some ideas to be tested in the intellectual marketplace in order to improve policy. This permissiveness is strictly limited and the limits are subject to change without notice. The party could decide to suppress all public discussion, though only at the price of stagnation and economic inefficiency. It seems more likely, however, that some debate on important issues will continue, and if it continues, it will have a significant impact on the Soviet po­ litical system.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

As every absolutist government has always known, freedom of discussion, however limited, has inherent dangers. In the first place, if one set of problems can be openly discussed, or if one group of experts is encouraged to voice its opinions, then there is bound to be pressure from other experts to discuss other problems. Moreover, the number of problems and the number of interest groups increase geometrically with the growth of the political and economic com­ plexity of the state. Finally, if administrators and technical experts can express their ideas publicly, others may feel that their opinions should be given some consideration. So far, the ordinary inhabitant of the U.S.S.R. who holds no key position and who can join only party-controlled organizations has had no way of making his voice heard. This does not mean, however, that he can be entirely dis­ regarded. For one thing, the intellectuals, as in many earlier dictatorships, can express frustration and discontent in subtle and ambiguous lan­ guage which is hard to control. They stand halfway between the apparatus of the state and the unorganized masses. They have no independent organization; they are not absolutely essential to the state (while scientists and technicians are), and in a pinch they can be either silenced or made to conform. But they do have a place in the kind of society the Soviet leadership envisages, and to silence them is a real confession of defeat. It deprives the ruling group of a potentially valuable asset and it tarnishes the Soviet image abroad, especially in areas like western Europe where intellectuals are both influential and inclined to favor leftist causes. So in recent years there has been a rather wobbly party line which has given the intellectuals some freedom of expression and allowed them to voice rather strong criticisms of some aspects of the regime. Warnings and occasional crackdowns have not been very effective. The intel­ lectuals are proving to be almost as stubborn as the scientists; as soon as pressure eases they return to forbidden topics. And they have a following. The enormous popularity of poetry readings shows that the intellectuals are providing an outlet for deep-rooted feelings. Furthermore, there is a public opinion in the U.S.S.R., nebulous, unorganized, and powerless though it be. It is doubtful if the Soviet leaders themselves know quite what this public opinion is or how strong it is. But they know it is there, and ever since Malenkov they have tried at times to play upon it. Khrushchev occasionally

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

sounded like an American politician running for office. The present leadership seems less eager to placate the public than he, but it has not abandoned all efforts to persuade and cajole the masses. It is in­ teresting to note also that every leader who has tried to appeal to public opinion has stressed the themes of nationalism and material self-interest, not Marxist ideology. Here we come to a more important point, the role of the party in assuring the continuity and authority of the leadership. The effectiveness and the degree of responsibility assigned to the party have varied considerably over the years, but it has never ceased to be an efficient agent of political control. On the other hand, it has never been much more than an agency for political control. Soviet leaders have hoped that it could change the thinking of the mass of the population and create the "Soviet man" who accepts without questioning the decisions and requirements of the leader­ ship. They—and especially Khrushchev—have also hoped that the party could stimulate economic growth. But, quite understandably, politicians have not been very successful either as entrepreneurs or as priests. The party's business is to maintain and use its political power, and this it has done effectively. It has preserved its organiza­ tion; it has survived its factional disputes without any serious loss of authority; it has continued to control access to all positions of power. These are not small accomplishments; on them are based the continued existence and growing power of the Soviet state. But they are not enough to ward off the difficulties which are emerging. The party can undoubtedly keep criticism and dissent from reaching dangerous levels for at least another generation, but it should play more than a policeman's role if it is to make the most of the human resources of the U.S.S.R. Coping with the problems of an increasingly complex society will require the cheerful coopera­ tion of large numbers of people, and this cooperation can be achieved only if the party develops a credo which inspires real enthusiasm. So far it has failed in this task. Marxist-Leninist doctrine for some time has had little effect on the attitudes and feelings of the people of the U.S.S.R. There are still some party members—Suslov is the most conspicuous example —who are interested in the problems of Communist theory. Even these men at times seem to be engaging in intellectual exercises rather than in the discussion of deeply felt convictions. Most party members are mere careerists who use Marxist doctrine only as a

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

shield to defend their own actions and as a sword against their rivals. The intellectuals think doctrine is boring; the administrativemanagerial types find it irrelevant to their problems. The masses do not understand sterile repetitions of the orthodox creed and are not moved by them. Just as the loss of faith in divine right created a demand for a new set of political beliefs in the West, so loss of faith in the infallibility of the leadership and in the doctrines it proclaims requires a new source of inspiration for the U.S.S.R. This need has not yet been met. The course of the Sino-Soviet dispute confirms some of the hypotheses advanced above. The basic Chinese criticism of the Soviet leadership is that it has subordinated doctrinal purity to po­ litical expediency. The Chinese are unquestionably right; to anyone who takes Marxism seriously the Soviet leaders are backsliders. The Chinese leaders are still true believers who are convinced that they can impose their faith on the masses and so create a new type of man. They have made tremendous sacrifices to uphold their beliefs and they are ready to make more. They are grimly determined not to repeat the Soviet experience and they will attempt to suppress every tendency which might lead them toward "revisionism." As long as their leadership is drawn from the comrades of the Long March they will probably be successful. The Soviet response to the Chinese challenge is equally revealing. The Kremlin quite clearly does not wish to engage in an ideological debate. Its comments on doctrinal issues have been infrequent and almost perfunctory. On the other hand, in defending its foreign policies it has used the arguments that any great power, including the United States, would use—the dangers of war, the need to preserve its alliance system, the unimportance of differences in dogma and even of differences in political and economic organiza­ tion as long as its partners give it support on major issues. Soviet leaders have been less vocal in defending their internal policies, partly because they may not be quite sure just what those policies are going to be. But they have made it quite clear, if only by silence and inaction, that they also reject Chinese theories in this field. In fact, while Chinese ideas about foreign policy are adventurous, some Soviet leaders may believe that under certain special circum­ stances they could succeed. But the Kremlin must feel that an at­ tempt to apply Chinese doctrine and practice to Soviet society would

PROBLEMS OF STATE-BUILDING

be a disaster. This is why there is little chance of complete recon­ ciliation between China and the U.S.S.R. The present Soviet leaders, less bitter than Khrushchev, could perhaps reach some accommoda­ tion with China on foreign policy. But they cannot agree to reverse the evolution of Soviet society and go back to the early type of Com­ munism from which they emerged some years ago and to which the Chinese are so firmly attached. All this is not to say that the U.S.S.R. is on the verge of a great upheaval or that it will necessarily become a democracy of the Western type. It also does not imply any weakening of Soviet military power; in fact, if intelligent discussion could solve some of its current economic problems, the U.S.S.R. might be a more formidable opponent than it now is. In any case, a strong political organization has considerable staying power; it can be both harsh and economically inefficient and still survive the resulting criticism and discontent. It can endure for generations, even when the ide­ ology which originally justified its authority is moribund. It is also true that ideologies have considerable staying power. Even if an ideology seems to be reduced to a set of empty for­ mulae, the mere use of the formulae will influence the style and at times the behavior of those who invoke them. But to say that a process will be slow and uneven is not to say that it will not occur. There are signs of political change in the U.S.S.R.; there is at least a beginning of open discussion of important problems. We know what the eventual results of such discussion were in the West; we should also remember that it was more than a cen­ tury before the full effect of criticism and discussion was felt. Historical parallels are always dangerous, but they are not always completely misleading. Only in our century has the U.S.S.R. be­ come a modern state. It is hard to believe that it will not repeat some of the experiences of the countries which became modern states three centuries ago.

26. Introduction to The Interpretation of History* HE ordinary historian has always been somewhat embarrassed when asked to justify his devotion to his subject. Interest in history seems to him natural and inevitable; it no more needs explanation than the act of breathing. If he is completely honest with himself, he will wonder if his original decision to concentrate on the study of history was not due more to the fact that it gave him pleasure than to any profound conviction of its value and significance. When under attack, he may develop elaborate argu­ ments to prove the social usefulness of his work, but these bursts of enthusiasm are apt to leave him with the uneasy feeling that he has yielded to the common human failing of inventing good reasons for doing what he would have done in any case. Nagging by scientists and social scientists may drive him to formulate laws of historical research, but the next day he will be wondering if he has not invented a complicated terminology to disguise a method which must be based more on instinct and common sense than on the principles of the physical sciences. History, at least in its final stages, is more of an art than a science, and historians, like artists, have seldom been able to describe their work in purely intellectual terms. In both cases there is a belief that a certain arrangement of carefully selected facts will illustrate some aspect of universal truth, and a feeling that this belief can never be fully justified by purely rational arguments. This normal reluctance of historians to discuss the validity and significance of their work has been weakened in recent years by both external and internal criticism. Writers who are not historians have had no hesitation in explaining to the world just what history is and what it should do. Their ideas have often been helpful, since men viewing the subject from the outside may see its general characteristics and relations to other activities more clearly than those who are always burrowing deeper into the mountain of his­ torical facts. At the same time, these appraisals by outsiders have led to such contradictory conclusions that working historians have been somewhat bewildered. Thus one school of critics tells them that they are so full of conscious and unconscious prejudices that they can never hope to tell the truth—if, indeed, there is such a * Reprinted from The Interpretation oj History, ed. J. R. Strayer (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1943), pp. 3-26.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

thing as historical truth. Another group admits that they are truth­ ful but damns them as cowards because they will not try to develop from their studies a few simple laws of human behavior which would explain the past, present, and future of all societies. His­ torians are useless because they can never achieve certainty, and they are slackers because they refuse to draw blueprints for a brave new world from their poor, fallible pseudo-knowledge. Other studies can show men the narrow road to salvation, but history merely leads its devotees into a revolving squirrel cage of doubt and confusion. Most historians feel reasonably sure that their discipline is neither as influential nor as contemptible as these critics would claim. History, they would say, may not be the neglected gateway to a new "science of society" or a new "religion of humanity" but it is more than "a pack of tricks we play on the dead." History at its best merely suggests; it cannot command. History at its worst dis­ torts reality, but cannot escape from it entirely. But in reacting to these criticisms historians have been forced to reconsider their traditional beliefs, procedures, and objectives. They have realized that the old view of history placed too much emphasis on individual values and not enough on social values. History must be more than an adornment for the cultivated gentleman, more than a pastime for the intellectually curious, more than a tower of refuge for the skeptic and the philosopher. It must be a guide to action, not an excuse for contemplation. The essays included in this volume show how widely interest in the problems of the value and significance of history has spread. Here we have scholars who received their original training in France, Germany, England, Italy, and the United States all con­ cerned with the question of the interpretation of history. As the title indicates, they have not tried to deal with all aspects of his­ toriography—for which, indeed, there was scarcely space—but rather with "history as communication," to borrow Professor Barzun's admirable phrase. That is to say, how does, or how should, the historian proceed in his effort to make available to laymen the products of scholarly research, what results does he expect from this effort, how are these results modified by other interests and beliefs of his readers ? If we, in this volume, are dealing with the communication of history, we must first define what it is that we are seeking to com-

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municate. What is history? The only possible answer is that history is the study of all past human activities. This is a broad and ambi­ tious program—so broad that scholars in other fields accuse his­ torians of invading their preserves, so ambitious that no single histo­ rian or group of historians can ever hope to fulfill it. Yet it is hard to see how history may be confined within narrower limits. All human activities are interrelated, and none is so trivial that it may not influence or illustrate others which seem more important. The tools men use or the food they eat may determine the chances for survival of a people; the games they play or the stories they read may establish the character of a nation. The conscientious historian may even wonder if he should not know something of the past of the earth and all that is therein. Changes in climate may have influenced men more than wars, and the migration of the herring from the Baltic to the North Sea may have been as important in the history of English commerce as the voyages of discovery. At one time, the chief problem of the historian was to discover records of the past activities which he wished to investigate. Devel­ opment of research techniques in history and allied subjects has almost solved this problem. Historians have learned that most human activity leaves some sort of trace behind it, and they have be­ come more and more expert in learning where to look for these relics of the past. Available written records have been classified and catalogued, and students of history are giving an increasing amount of attention to other types of evidence. Written records are not the only, nor are they necessarily the best sources for gaining an under­ standing of the past. A scholar who tried to write the history of agriculture in the Roman and early medieval periods from written records alone would have little to say. He would soon find that he must study archeological relics which happen to illustrate methods of harnessing and using animals—fragments of ancient tools, votive offerings, children's toys, and art objects. He would learn that the earth itself has preserved traces of ancient field-systems and that photographs taken from an airplane will reveal primitive patterns of cultivation. There are few written records dealing with the early history of commerce, but hoards of coins or precious objects found in tombs make it possible to map out the great trade routes of the ancient world. Even for more recent periods, written records must be supplemented by other evidence. The first signs of a distinctly American culture are found in houses and furniture rather than in

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written records or books, and the influence of new groups of im­ migrants may be more evident to a lover of regional cooking than to a student of government documents. The discovery and classification of a great body of source mate­ rials has simplified one of the historian's problems and has tre­ mendously complicated another. This problem, in its simplest terms, is to find a pattern in, or impose a pattern upon, a multitude of individual facts. There are always more facts available than any historian can master; he can deal with them only by arranging them in categories, and by generalizing from the classifications which he has made. Yet he knows that no one historical event is exactly like another, and that a single difference may be more significant than many resemblances. He must always wonder whether the pattern which he sees in history is really justified by the facts, and he is often troubled by the feeling that the more facts he knows the less clear the pattern becomes. To take an extreme example, it would be very difficult for anyone to assimilate, classify, and reduce to general terms all the factual statements in a single issue of the New Yor\ Times. Yet the modern historian is supposed to accom­ plish this feat for the great files of newspapers which stretch back into the eighteenth century. And these are by no means the bulk­ iest or the most detailed records available to the historian. There are the records of the English courts, which run in an uninterrupted series for over seven centuries, and which are so voluminous that no historian has even attempted to analyze them. There are the records of bankers, merchants, and manufacturers, which become numerous in the fourteenth century and almost unmanageable in the modern period. Only by confining himself to brief chronological periods can the historian hope to deal with the mass of material which is available, and even then he has solved only half his prob­ lem. He has reduced the number of facts to manageable propor­ tions, but he still must find the significance of the facts with which he deals. He must establish some principles for the interpretation of history; he must ask himself fundamental questions about the nature of his discipline. What is the value of history to the in­ dividual and to society? Is it worth the time and effort which it requires? And, granting that history has certain values, how can these be best attained ? To answer these questions it is necessary to forget formal history for a moment and to consider the ideas and behavior of the ordinary

TEACHING OF HISTORY

man. If we do this, it is at once evident that man is essentially and incorrigibly historically-minded, and that this is one of the traits which separates him most clearly from the other animals. He can plan for the future only because he remembers the past; he can add to his knowledge only because he does not lose the memory of former experiences. Everyone, from the peasant to the scholar, tries to meet new situations by discovering familiar elements which make it possible to evoke analogies with the past. When, as sometimes hap­ pens, a man forgets his own personal history, he is useless to him­ self and society until he has recovered his past, or created a new past as a substitute for the old. The unfortunate individuals who cannot remember or cannot use their past experiences are con­ sidered feebleminded and are treated as inferiors. In short, to twist Becker's famous phrase a little, every man must be his own his­ torian if he is to be fully a man. What is true of individuals is also true of societies. No community can survive and no institution can function without constant reference to past experience. We are ruled by precedents fully as much as by laws, which is to say that we are ruled by collective memory of the past. It is the memory of com­ mon experiences which makes scattered individuals into a commu­ nity, just as it is the memory of his own experiences which makes a child into a man. This memory of common experiences does not always reach the level of history, since a primitive people has little sense of chronology and is apt to stir all its past into a timeless brew of custom. But as soon as a community substitutes conscious decisions and rational choices for the automatic responses of cus­ tom it finds that its memories of the past must be kept distinct and arranged in some sort of order. Every deliberate modification of an existing type of activity must be based on a study of indi­ vidual precedents. Every plan for the future is dependent on a pat­ tern which has been found in the past. Thus history is an essential part of civilized human life, and it is futile to argue whether we shall or shall not devote some atten­ tion to it. The real problem, as Professor Barzun points out in his lecture, is to improve the quality of the history which we use. History is a guide to life, but too often the indications which it gives are vague, incomplete, or actually misleading. The task of the pro­ fessional historian is to remedy these defects as far as he can. The difference between history which is a reliable guide and history which is not is more than the difference between accuracy

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

and inaccuracy. The layman is apt to suppose that if each individual statement of fact in a historical work is correct the whole book is trustworthy. This belief involves a serious misunderstanding of the nature and function of historical writing. In most cases, the easiest, the most mechanical part of the historian's task is to estab­ lish the truth of individual facts. Even when his sources are inac­ curate or incomplete he possesses recognized techniques for dealing with prejudiced authorities, for detecting forged and altered docu­ ments, for establishing a proper chronological sequence in a series of undated events. A properly trained historian is as careful as a scientist in his use of evidence, and his statements of fact have equal validity. In fact, we have rather better evidence for saying that the Battle of Jutland took place on May 30, 1916 than for saying that water is composed of two atoms of hydrogen and one of oxygen, since the first statement is based on the direct personal ex­ perience of thousands of men while the second is based only on inference. But establishing the truth of an individual fact, or even the truth of a whole series of facts, is not history. If history is to be a guide to life it must deal with whole situations, not mere isolated facts; it must deal with causes and effects, not mere chronological sequences. It would be quite possible to write an account of the Battle of Jutland describing, with a high degree of accuracy, every movement of every ship which took part in the engagement, but such an account would not be a history of the battle, and no one would be very anxious to read it. What we want to know about Jutland is why the battle took place, why the Germans scored their initial successes, why the British failed to cut off the German retreat, what effect the battle had on the course of the war, how a modern naval battle differs from one in the past, and what modifications of accepted principles of strategy, tactics, and naval construction were suggested by the battle. These questions can be answered only by massing many facts together to give a general impression, and by linking these groups of facts to establish a sequence of causes and effects. This massing and linking of facts is not only essential, if history is to have any value; it is also inevitable, since it is the way in which the human mind deals with any past experience. Essential and inevitable though it be, it is the point of greatest danger in all historical writing. It is obvious that facts can be massed in such

TEACHING OF HISTORY

a way as to produce a misleading impression, even though each individual fact may be true. Any judicial system may be made to appear obnoxious by dwelling only on cases in which there have been clear miscarriages of justice. Any foreign country may be rendered ridiculous or hateful by stressing certain aspects of its history. Individuals and communities may become convinced that the whole world is conspiring against them, if they remember only the occasions on which they have been treated unjustly. Even more dangerous, because more apt to be the result of un­ conscious error, are the mistakes which can be made in trying to establish sequences of causes and effects.1 The causes of any his­ torical event are always complicated and often obscure; there is usually a great temptation to oversimplify them or to seize on surface explanations which merely state the problem in new terms. Laymen are especially likely to fall into the second error—to say, for example, that the Roman Empire fell because the Romans were degenerate. Professional historians are less apt to be superficial, but in digging deeper they can become even more narrow in their interpretation. As Professor Heaton points out in his essay, ex­ planations of historical events based entirely on economic factors are seldom entirely convincing, even though they are the result of prolonged research, and the same objection may be made to any system of historical causation based on study of only one type of activity. The historian cannot legitimately evade this problem of massing and linking together his facts. If he does, he becomes a mere dealer in intellectual antiques, who heaps together materials which will be arranged and used by others. Only when the past has a pattern does it have meaning, and if the historian cannot find the pattern men who are less skillful or less honest will make it for him. Only a tiny fraction of the population can draw sound his­ torical conclusions from a mass of raw facts, and even this frac­ tion can do it for only a few limited topics. We are all laymen in most fields of history, and if those fields are to be of any use to 1Not being a systematic philosopher, I shall not attempt to discuss the problem of historical causation. There is an interesting symposium on this question in the journal of the History of Ideas, in (1942), 3-50. Historians are seldom entirely satisfied with their efforts to discover causal relations, but they would insist that historical events do not occur in a completely haphazard way, and that certain events could not have occurred unless other events had preceded them.

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us someone must simplify and arrange the facts. Even in our daily life we cannot make decisions without drawing on a stock of gen­ eralizations which we have built up from the facts of our own personal history. It would be an intolerable burden if we had to re­ view the details of all past purchases before deciding to trade with a certain store, or all our former conversations with a friend before inviting him to dinner. If formal history is to widen and deepen our own personal experience, if it is to be a guide to action and not an escape from reality, it must make generalizations and draw conclusions. The scholar who will not do this for fear of being inaccurate is guilty of the greatest inaccuracy of all—he is saying, in effect, that history has no value, except to the specialist. We all know better than that. The value of history, like the existence of free will, cannot be proved—it is simply a basic fact of human experi­ ence. We all believe that the past explains the present and forecasts the future—not in the crude sense of an absolute duplication of events, but in the sense that there will always be familiar elements in a new situation which will aid us in making decisions and in judging what the results of those decisions will be. The wider and deeper our experience the greater our chances of recognizing these familiar elements, and history, properly written, can in­ crease our stock of experiences many fold. We may go wrong in following the clues which it offers, but we would be lost without them. No one could stand the strain of beginning each day in a new world in which there was no rational basis for any decision and no way of predicting the results of any action. History, even at its worst, gives us the comforting and necessary feeling that the world is stable and intelligible. History at its best gives us a real chance of reacting sensibly to a new situation. It does not guarantee the correctness of our response, but it should improve the quality of our judgment. A rough parallel may be found in certain card games. There is almost no chance that one distribution of cards will be repeated in a subsequent deal in bridge. Yet a man who has played several thou­ sand hands of bridge should be able to make intelligent decisions and predictions even though every deal presents a new situation. He should be able to use his high cards and long suits effectively; he should be able to make some shrewd guesses about the location of cards in other hands. Not every experienced player will develop

TEACHING OF HISTORY

these skills. Some men are unable to generalize from their past experience, and others cannot see analogies between the present and the past. But, generally speaking, the experienced player will make better use of his cards than the man who has played only ten hands. There is such a thing as card sense, developed from long experience. There is also such a thing as a sense of the realities and possibilities of social activity, which can be developed from a study of the proper sort of history. It is in acquiring, or seeking to acquire, this sense of social realities that the historian ceases to be a scientist and becomes an artist. In criticizing source material, in establishing the truth of individual facts there are certain rules which can be applied almost automat­ ically. A papal letter, supposedly of the fourth century, which uses the formula servus servorum Dei is probably a forgery, since the phrase was not used by the popes of the period. A pamphlet issued by a government to justify a declaration of war must be used with great caution, since no government has ever printed all the relevant material in such a situation. But there is no automatic way of check­ ing the accuracy of historical generalizations or statements about causal relationships. A historian may be extremely careful about the truth of each individual fact, he may guard himself scrupulously against prejudice, and yet his conclusions may be misleading. Ac­ curacy and honesty by themselves will not enable a man to under­ stand the past, or to present the record of human experience in a usable and useful form. The historian must be accurate and honest, but he must also possess sympathy, imagination, and understanding. These are qualities which cannot be learned like chemical formulae or reasoned out like geometrical theorems. They can be acquired only through long years of study and reflection, through the example of wise and understanding teachers, through the reading of books which stir the imagination. The student may be shown the terrible complexity of the problem, but he cannot be taught the solution. In the long run his ability to write history will depend on his ability to profit from his own experience, which is only to say that a man must understand his own history before he attempts to understand the history of others. It is easier to describe the qualities of good historical writing than it is to tell anyone how they may be acquired. Good historical writing is distinguished, above everything else, by a sense of balance and proportion. There must be a balance between the familiar and

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

the strange, between the importance given to individual effort and to great social trends, between the influence ascribed to thought and to action. The writer who cannot keep these proportions fairly even will not only mislead his readers, he will also bore them. There must be a balance between the familiar and the strange because the concept of continuity and change is the basis of all his­ torical thinking. If the essential elements of human nature and human institutions never changed there would be no point in studying history—a few years of practical experience would teach everyone all that he needed to know. If, on the other hand, human nature and human institutions changed completely with every decade or every generation the study of history would be equally useless, since it would have no points of contact with existing realities. But our lives are based on the assumption that while change is inevitable, it will never be complete—that there will al­ ways be some familiar elements in a new situation. There is a sound instinct in most students and readers of history which leads them to reject the work of historians who depart too far from this assumption. If the past is described in terms of the present it be­ comes a pale, unsatisfactory imitation of real life. If the past is described as if it had occurred on another planet, it becomes a fantasy, and not a very good one at that, since it is bound to be contaminated by some reference to reality. This lack of balance is especially common and especially dan­ gerous in dealing with the earlier periods of European history. In the Middle Ages the principle of continuity and change can be completely obscured by overemphasis on the peculiar nature of medieval beliefs and customs. Properly handled, study of the Mid­ dle Ages stimulates the historical imagination more than that of any other period. The student sees men who have all the normal human passions and interests responding to ideas which have little influence today. He sees institutions which are an essential part of our civilization arising in a society very unlike our own. He sees that a successful response to the need for social organization can be built on assumptions which we reject, and that human nature, if not changeable, is at least more flexible than some dogmatists are willing to admit. The student who limits himself to the history of the last two centuries is like a novice cardplayer whose teacher has given him only hands with normal distribution. Study of earlier periods is essential if the unusual combinations which have occurred

TEACHING OF HISTORY

in the past and which may occur again in the future are to be un­ derstood. But all these values are lost if the Middle Ages are de­ scribed either as a poor imitation of modern civilization, or as a period in which men were so childish or so saintly that they were un­ aware of the actual needs of organized society. Balance between the importance of individuals and the impor­ tance of social trends is even harder to attain. Everyone who has ever written a biography is aware of the danger of making his hero more important and influential than he actually was. Every­ one who has worked with the history of political or economic institutions is aware of the danger of ascribing to these institutions a power of autonomous development which is not dependent on in­ dividual effort. Both extremes contradict the facts of ordinary ex­ perience and obscure the values inherent in the study of history. In actual life we know that individual decisions may be of the ut­ most importance, and that the man who merely drifts with the current of events is apt to wind up in obscurity or disaster. We know, on the other hand, that there are general trends which must be considered in making any individual decision and which often rule out certain courses of action. Mere awareness of these trends, however, will not automatically solve our social problems. The general tendencies of a society furnish a framework within which decisions must be made, but the decisions are made by individuals and not by abstractions labeled "Law," "Religion," "Capital," and the like. Even the Marxists, who have pushed the theory of eco­ nomic determinism to its extreme limit, have had to reserve a place for individual effort. They do not believe capitalism will automatically evolve into socialism; rather, they feel that the deci­ sive change can be brought about only by the desperate efforts of a minority of determined individuals. The assertion of the neces­ sity of revolution is an assertion of the necessity of individual decision. The study of history reinforces our almost instinctive belief in the equal importance of individual effort and general social trends. We see that widespread economic or social change can create prob­ lems which demand an immediate answer, but these social and economic changes do not dictate the answers which may be given. The individual may not have an unlimited range of choice, but he always has at least two choices, and the cumulative effect of a series of individual decisions may be enormous. The classic exam-

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pie is the different development of English and French institutions. Here are two countries which had almost identical experiences, which were closely associated politically and culturally for many centuries, and which nevertheless developed very different types of government and very different economic activities. The fact that England had a William the Conqueror when France had a Philip I, the fact that France had a Richelieu when England had a Buck­ ingham, may explain some of these differences. Yet it is as dan­ gerous to overemphasize the importance of individuals as to ex­ plain everything in terms of impersonal social forces. History becomes flat and lifeless if it is written exclusively in terms of great men. If the great men are isolated from the society of which they were a part, they become so much alike that they are not very in­ teresting. Plutarch's Lives and many modern biographies share this weakness. The reader becomes a little weary of hearing the same strong character and the same lovable and harmless eccentric­ ities described over and over again. On the other hand, if history is written in a purely deterministic vein it becomes valueless. The machine grinds on and on; complicated societies build themselves up automatically and break down of their own weight, and nobody can do anything about it. A roller-coaster offers an intensified form of the same sensations at the cost of much less effort. Finally, there is the need for balancing the influence of ideas and actions. This is the place where the historian finds it most difficult to distinguish between cause and effect. It is perfectly clear, to take one example, that political theories are always de­ veloped to justify an existing set of political facts. It is equally clear that a political theory, once developed, is an extraordinarily hard thing to kill. It will live on for centuries and men will make desperate efforts to force new political facts into conformity with the old theory. It is certain that actual conditions never correspond fully to existing political, economic, or religious theories. And yet a society which has no ideals, no standards, and no goals is a so­ ciety which is ready to disintegrate. Life must have meaning if men are to make the sacrifices which are necessary to secure whole­ hearted cooperation, and life is given meaning by the great ideas which are developed in crucial periods. The historian must recog­ nize the power of ideas. They are just as much facts of social ex­ perience as forms of government or means of production; in many cases, they are the most important facts about the society which is

TEACHING OF HISTORY

being studied. At the same time, it is an error to assume that they are entirely autonomous, that they are not affected by purely physi­ cal activities. There are many political histories which are unsat­ isfactory because they do not allow sufficient importance to ideas, but there are just as many intellectual histories which are meaning­ less because they discuss ideas as if they operated in a vacuum. A history of Europe which failed to recognize the effects of religious beliefs on political events would not make sense. A history of reli­ gious beliefs which left out the social and political background would leave the reader with a feeling that theologians were a rather peculiar group of people who enjoyed raising unnecessary issues. It is evident that this balance among the different elements in historical thinking is difficult to attain. Is there any chance that the historian can reach his goal, that he can know enough about all the factors involved to give the proper weight to each? On the purely mechanical side, conditions are all in his favor. As a result of the efforts of generation after generation of scholars, we have an abundance of source material which illustrates every aspect of so­ cial activity. The old overemphasis on political materials is prac­ tically ended; intellectual history, economic history, art history, so­ cial history have been given a fair share, or even more than a fair share of attention in recent years. Historians are becoming more and more interested in the study of whole civilizations and this has forced them to think more about the problem of balance and proportion. At the same time the constant testing of old hypotheses and the multiplication of new ones have effectively discredited simple, unilinear explanations of complex historical phenomena. This work has made the historian aware of the many forces which operate in human society, it has made him realize that there is usually more than one cause for any important event, and it has forced him to consider all aspects of human life in his attempt to understand the past. The essential limitation is now the mind of the historian, rather than the materials which are available for study. This limitation can never be entirely overcome, for no human mind can ever grasp all the factors involved in a given social situation. Yet there is no reason to despair simply because we cannot achieve perfection. Historians once felt inferior because they could not speak with the certainty of the natural scientist, but no reputable scientist will now claim that he has reached, or has any hope of reaching, absolute

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truth. He will merely say that he has found ways of building working hypotheses which enable him to make intelligent use of certain factors in his environment. Every statesman—even every successful politician—has likewise had to make working hypotheses about the nature of his own society and to stake his reputation and his political life on their approximate accuracy. A good historian should be able to do at least as well. Many scholars would affirm, with Professor Holborn, "the validity of the results" obtained "through the critical and systematic approach to history." A man who has spent years in studying a particular period, in soaking himself in all the available records, should develop a feeling for that period which will enable him to come fairly close to under­ standing the social and intellectual forces which were operating at the time. No historian believes that he will ever know the whole truth about any episode in the past, but it should be possible for us to come a good deal nearer the truth than any of our predeces­ sors. The historian who has both knowledge and wisdom, accuracy and insight, should be able to develop hypotheses which are both useful and usable. If all our historical writing could come up to the level of our best historical writing, we could profit from the experience of our ancestors as no previous generation has ever done. Even if he cannot reach this level, the honest and conscientious historian will have something to contribute. History is almost the only academic study which still deals with the facts of ordinary experience, which still dares appeal to common sense. Both the sciences and the arts have turned away from external reality and have become more and more involved in the study of abstract con­ cepts. The scientists of an earlier period could draw diagrams of the world as they saw it; now they must express their theories in elaborate mathematical formulae. Science has given up the attempt to represent the world in visual terms and is seeking only satis­ factory intellectual concepts which will accommodate a host of lesser abstractions. The arts and literature have also shown a tendency to turn away from the visible world and to seek refuge in the hid­ den depths of the subconscious. Even the sister studies of politics and economics are trying to escape the problem of dealing with specific individuals and situations by reducing everything to statis­ tical tables and mathematical formulae. The historian may be ac­ cused of dealing only with the surface of things while his colleagues

TEACHING OF HISTORY

and competitors seek the inner truth. The historian can only answer that he is dealing with life as the ordinary individual sees it and that for the practical conduct of affairs we must act as if the visible, ex­ ternal world were the ultimate reality. Someone must try to make sense out of the world of direct experience and the historian's great opportunity comes from the fact that other scholars have abandoned the task as hopeless. It is this closeness to ordinary life which gives history its interest and its influence, just as it is this closeness to ordinary life which is most apt to lead the historian into errors of interpretation and judgment. The historian is not living in a world of his own crea­ tion; he must still test all his work by the standards of common sense, and the common sense of one generation is apt to seem somewhat eccentric to the next. Thus, our own age is apt to think that economic interest is the most obvious motive for men of any period and the historian who is not careful may find himself over­ emphasizing the profit motive in his study of the past. This danger can never be entirely eliminated, though the more thorough the historian's knowledge of any special period the less apt he is to read present interests into it. But great as the danger is, it is com­ pensated by the advantage which the historian has in dealing with the world of ordinary experience rather than with the worlds of rational, sub-rational, or supra-rational abstractions. He can still talk the language of the ordinary man and, if he knows his job, he can communicate with and influence the ordinary man directly. The scientist needs an interpreter and is often very much annoyed by the quality of the interpreter's work. The historian should be able to speak to his own generation face to face. The historians who are represented in this volume have dealt with the problem of communicating history to the ordinary man in different ways. Professor Barzun is concerned with the question of the gap between scholarly history and the history which is remembered and used by the average citizen. Professor Holborn, in illustrating his concept of the "science of history," describes the principles which inspired two great historians and the values which they found in their work. Professor Heaton discusses the impact of the economic interpretation of history on historians, and uses this example to warn against overemphasizing any single aspect of social activity. Professor Malone stresses the danger of drowning individual achievements in a foggy sea of social forces, and points

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out the obstacles which make biography one of the most difficult forms of history. Professor LaPiana shows the danger of trying to fit history to a pattern imposed by non-historical beliefs. They all feel that history is a humanizing, if not necessarily a humanistic study, that when it is properly treated it can enable us to act more intelligently in the world of today, but that unless it is written with wisdom and understanding, honesty and sympathy, imagina­ tion and insight, it will be of no avail.

27. United States History and World History* HE main points of this essay may be summed up in four categorical assertions; the proof, or attempted proof, will follow. 1. The most important values to be derived from the study of history cannot be obtained from a study of United States history alone, or from a combination of United States and contemporary European history. 2. It is therefore urgent that students be introduced to the history of non-American regions and non-contemporary periods. 3. Few high school students and only a minority of college stu­ dents now secure this training. 4. It is possible to develop courses which will add the elements missing in United States history without taking an excessive amount of time and without trying to teach the history of all civilizations and all periods. Let me begin my argument with a question. Why is it important to study any kind of history? Much has been written on this subject recently, too much to be summarized in a brief article. We may limit the discussion by considering three results which are gen­ erally supposed to be produced by the study of history, and see what kind of history must be taught in order to give these results. The first is the acquisition of information—knowledge of the facts of history. This is the least important result in the eyes of historians, the most important (usually) to laymen. A recent ex­ ample of this bias was shown in the New York, Times investiga­ tion of the teaching of American history, which placed excessive emphasis on detailed knowledge of facts. The professional historian knows that facts alone do not contribute much to historical or so­ cial understanding, that they are difficult to learn and easy to for­ get, that general impressions and attitudes linger long after the facts have vanished. But we should not dismiss the learning of facts too easily—there is a minimum which must be learned and re­ tained for any serious thinking about social problems. This mini­ mum forms a nucleus in the mind around which information acquired later in life can crystalize. If this nucleus does not exist, scattered impressions cannot be organized into meaningful patterns. * First published in The Journal of General Education, 11, no. 2 (1948), 144-148.

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We can all think of basic facts in our own history with which every citizen should be familiar. It is important to know that there was a Civil War and a Reconstruction—these facts still influence political and social relations between North and South. It is important to know that there was a great depression which began in 1930—the fact of that depression colors not only our own thinking but the thinking of many foreigners about us. We must learn the essential facts about our own country—no one doubts that. But are all the essential facts included in United States history as it is usually conceived? The Reformation, for ex­ ample, is a very important fact in our history; it not only stimulated colonial settlement but was a major element in our thinking for at least two centuries. Yet it is usually thought of as belonging to European history. The Industrial Revolution offers another set of facts, only a few of which fall within the narrow limits of United States history. Americans are not responsible for all the great inven­ tions—though some of our textbooks seem hardly aware of this— yet every great invention had its impact on our history. The steam locomotive, developed by Englishmen, had a more profound effect on our society than the steamship, developed by Americans. Beyond this debatable land lies the broad area of facts which are clearly not part of our history, but which are essential if our people are to judge intelligently the policy of our government. If it is our task to preserve Western civilization we had better know some of the elementary facts about the development and nature of West­ ern civilization. If our great diplomatic problem is dealing with Russia, we had better know some of the basic facts of Russian his­ tory. To take the simplest possible example—how many students know that Russia fought in the First World War, much less what side she fought on? Teachers who try that question on their classes may be surprised, as I was, at the amount of ignorance it reveals. However, we should not stress facts unduly; I shall merely re­ peat that a nucleus of facts is necessary and that this nucleus must extend beyond the history of the United States. I turn now to my second point. Most recent writing on the teaching of history has stressed the value of history as a basis for understanding human behavior, as a way of extending ordinary experience. This is far more important than information, in fact it is probably the main reason for study­ ing history. All human activity is based on history, on the memory

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of what has happened—either collective memories which have hardened into customs and institutions, or individual memories which determine personal reactions to new problems. Life would be intolerable if we could not rely on experience, if every day brought new problems to which no precedent applied. A man with­ out memory of his past is desperately ill—he is helpless until he can regain his old past or acquire a new one. The same thing is true of societies. Even in what seems an utterly new situation you see statesmen searching desperately for something familiar in the past which they can use: witness the Founding Fathers in 1787 studying Greek and German examples of federation, or the Bolshevists of the 1920's worrying over Thermidor and Bonaparte. In primitive and uncomplicated societies it is fairly easy to obtain the necessary experience without special study. Much of it is em­ bodied in custom and tradition; the rest comes through personal participation in the activities of the group. More complicated so­ cieties can't rely on this unconscious and unplanned training— tradition is a very coarse sieve which catches only the largest nug­ gets of triumph and disaster, while personal experience is limited to a very few out of all the possible activities of the group. Even worse, this limited personal experience may not include any of the really important activities of the society and is almost certain to exclude some of the fundamentals. Therefore, in all advanced societies some form of education, some way of widening the individual's range of experience is neces­ sary. And of all subjects, history bears the heaviest responsibility in giving experience. It should deal with all activities and not with certain selected topics, in contrast to economics and politics. It should discuss the experience of ordinary as well as extraordinary people, in contrast to art and literature. It should give more con­ crete examples than abstractions and generalizations, in contrast to sociology and the sciences. When history does this it becomes the best source of understanding about our society, the best (though by no means a perfect) guide to action. But does the study of United States history alone give all the experience which is necessary for understanding and intelligent action ? Aren't there forms of behavior and types of activity not il­ lustrated by the American record, which are yet essential for full understanding of the situation in which we find ourselves ? Let me fall back on an illustration which I used in an earlier investigation.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Learning history is like learning a card game—say bridge. No two historical events—no two hands of cards—are exactly alike. But if you play several thousand hands you develop a certain card sense. You know what is most likely to happen; you can make sensible decisions, even if you guess wrong you can save something. So if you study much history you develop a sort of historical sense which helps you make more intelligent decisions about human affairs. Up to a certain point any history is helpful, just as any distribution of cards is for learning bridge. But would you be a good card player if you played constantly with only one suit as trump P That is very much what results from studying only United States history, or even a combination of United States and recent European history. Diamonds were always trump in the nineteenth-century game, and men brought up in that tradition find it hard to believe that trump can change. Witness our policy toward Europe in the 1920's, or the British belief that they could control Fascist states through loans and trade agreements. Both countries were rather bewildered when they found that clubs had become trump and most of us still don't like to think of playing the game that way. Or, to drop the metaphor, where do you find examples of societies where the profit motive was not dominant, where nationalism was not the most important faith, where a consecrated elite made decisions for all? Where do you find examples of rival civilizations, each proud of its own way of life, each determined to maintain its individuality, each vowed not to compromise with or imitate its competitor. Not in United States history—nor in recent European history. You have to go back to the Middle Ages or even earlier to find records of these experiences. And yet, can we make wise decisions in the world today without knowing something about such nondemocratic societies and such rival civilizations ? That is not merely the opinion of an academician, it is the opinion of a distinguished soldier and statesman. In his speech at Princeton on 22 February 1947, Gen­ eral Marshall said: "I doubt seriously whether a man can think with full wisdom and with deep convictions regarding certain of the basic international issues today who has not at least reviewed in his mind the period of the Peloponnesian War and the fall of Athens." Few historians would dare go so far (ancient history is almost a lost cause), but it is an emphatic way of saying that the American ex­ perience is not enough. The third desirable outcome of the study of history is harder to define because it is not an intellectual quality, such as knowledge,

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understanding, and good judgment, but a moral or emotional one. We might call it stability, balance, a sense of being at home in the world. History, even more than the drama, can purge the spirit of fear and self-pity. Its function is not merely to enable men to act intelligently but also to live serenely, to keep their equilibrium and sanity. The older writers were aiming at this when they spoke of history demonstrating the inconstancy of Fortune and the vicis­ situdes of states. We have rather neglected this value of history, but it is worth thinking about in a period when the foundations of society are shaking. Neither over-optimism nor excessive pessimism are healthy conditions of the soul. History can remind us that man is neither angel nor animal—that neither his triumphs nor his failures are ever complete. Jt can keep us from arrogant pride and from deadening despair, from feeling that either our accomplish­ ments or our sufferings are unique. It is the unfamiliar that is utterly terrifying; history can show us that other men faced problems as great and dangers as threatening as ours. But, once again, will the study of United States history alone give us this ability to face all possibilities serenely? Isn't it true that millions today are unhappy and bewildered because nothing in their personal or educational experience has prepared them to face exist­ ing conditions? The two great problems at present are the trans­ formation of our Western civilization and the clash between it and other civilizations which were long subordinate but which are now reviving. I say transformation advisedly, for I do not know whether we are facing the decline and fall of the West, or merely a great reconstruction such as our ancestors experienced between 1400 and 1600. But in either case, for our own peace of mind, we must know something of earlier transformations, none of which occurred with­ in the geographical limits of the United States or the chronological limits of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. We must know not only that Rome fell, but also that something of Rome survived. We must know not only that there was a transition from medieval to modern but also that the transition, stormy and painful as it was, nevertheless was quicker and less destructive than most profound alterations in civilization. As for relations between coexisting rival civilizations, it might give us some peace of mind if we studied relations between Western Christendom, Byzantium, and Islam during the Middle Ages. No one of these three bitter rivals ever fully conquered its opponents, no one of them lost its identity, no one of them ever admitted the superiority of an alien way of life.

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And yet they were at peace more often than they were at war, the greatest trade route west of China connected all three, and modern science, born of Greek parents, was long fostered by Mohammedan scholars before it found its final home in the West. If the full value of history comes only when knowledge of other countries and other times is added to that of our own country and period, are we planning our high school and college curricula so that this full value may be realized by our students? The answer is so obvious that it is hardly worth discussing. The schools are under terrific pressure—from educators who want more time for other subjects, from politicians and patriots who want to use for United States history all the time allotted to social studies. The course in European or world history is optional, where it exists at all, and is taken by only a handful of students. My own state of New Jersey has recently passed a law requiring two years of United States history in high school. This act has almost killed European history in the high schools; only students with fanatical devotion to history can squeeze the European course into crowded schedules. Few men entering college have had anything but United States history, and this condition is getting worse rather than better. As for the colleges, the situation is not much more consoling. The courses listed show a better balance between United States and nonUnited States history, but the course enrollments tell a different story. Outside the survey courses, the largest enrollments are al­ ways in United States and modern European history and the latter has almost the same limitations as the former. As for the surveys— useful as they are, they still have the serious defect of going very rapidly over early periods and touching very lightly on non-Euro­ pean civilizations—precisely the areas where emphasis is most need­ ed. In short, it is possible for men, otherwise well educated, to take four or six one-term history courses in high school and college, and still never study anything before 1776 or beyond the narrow limits of the United States and western Europe. If this is, as I think, a disturbing situation, what can we do about it? We are limited in many ways; we shall never have enough time or enough student interest to teach everything about every period and every region. We have to compete with subjects which are much more exciting for many young people than history. As Pro­ fessor Krey pointed out long ago, we have to teach most of our history at the worst possible age, after students have lost the child's interest in anything new and strange and before they have acquired

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the mature man's interest in past experience. History is seldom the most popular subject in school, though it sometimes reaches this level in college. Also, while I think we teach more United States history than is absolutely necessary, we cannot and we should not cut it much. It is not enough by itself, but it is an absolutely essential basis for understanding other regions and other ages. So our prob­ lem is to devise courses which will attract hesitant students and which will give in a relatively brief length of time the material which does not appear in United States history. Obviously this can be done only by some form of sampling—sampling of types of ex­ perience which are not covered in United States history, of regions and periods which have other motivations, other dominant activities than ours. To this must be added illustrations of the great prob­ lems of the rise and fall of civilization, of the contact and conflict of cultures. We must get all this in and still not be superficial; we must leave out much and still strive for an accurate portrayal of human behavior. What sort of courses come near meeting these impossible requirements? There are three possibilities worth con­ sidering: 1. A modified and abbreviated form of the old survey of Western civilization, deliberately shortened to allow more emphasis on key ideas. It would start in the fifteenth century (with some medieval background material) and discuss the nature of medieval civiliza­ tion, the reasons for its collapse, the transformation of medieval into modern civilization, the development of modern civilization, its past achievements and its present weaknesses. 2. A revised version of the old expansion of Europe course, using much of the same material, but with changed emphasis. We can no longer think in terms of an inevitable and all-conquering ex­ pansion of western European civilization; instead we must think of interactions among civilizations. We must ask questions such as these: what were the qualities of European civilization which en­ abled it to expand; how did it affect other civilizations; how are they reacting to European influence; what is happening to Euro­ pean civilization now that its successful colonies are stronger than the old center, now that unsuccessful colonies are reasserting their native cultures? 3. Third, a less orthodox type of course, which abandons chrono­ logical continuity and studies intensively certain periods which seem especially important. One such course, proposed by a group of historians at an Eastern university, begins in the fourth century

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and discusses the fall of Rome, the conversion to Christianity, and the rise of suppressed Eastern cultures. It then jumps to the twelfth century, when the Commonwealth of Christendom was at its height and relations between Christian and Moslem societies were most active. The third period deals with the sixteenth century and the beginnings of modern society, the national state system, and the ex­ pansion of Europe. It ends with the twentieth century, with em­ phasis on contrasts to, and parallels with, earlier ages of stress. I must admit that this type of course seems to me to sacrifice one of the great values of history, that of showing, through continuous chronological development, how change is never absent yet never complete, how old institutions and ideas live through many ages, modifying their new environment and being modified by it. These doubts may be a little old-fashioned; I cannot deny that experi­ ments with this type of course have given relatively good results at the college level. Do we have any hope of inserting courses like these into our present curricula, and, more important, of persuading large num­ bers of students to take them P I am not competent to answer this question at the high school level. Representatives of the schools know far better what is and what is not possible for them, and a college professor can only say that he would be very glad if more entering freshmen had had this kind of preparation. At the college level I can speak with more assurance. There is no excuse for teach­ ing United States history to freshmen. The schools are doing a better job all the time; most freshmen have just had a good course in United States history and should not be asked to repeat it im­ mediately. Most freshmen will take at least one course in history; this is especially true in the East, where there is a growing tendency to require all students to take some work in history during their first year. The freshman history course should be stimulating and enlightening. These results will not be achieved by repeating a sur­ vey of United States history, or by giving the history of contempo­ rary Europe which is the same play with different costumes. What is needed is a course which will show the infinite possibilities of human behavior, and the great drama of the rise and fall, the con­ tacts and conflicts of civilizations. Only with this kind of training will we give our students the preparation which they need to be in­ telligent citizens and well-balanced individuals in the world of today.

28. The Teaching of World Cultures: A Historian's Viewpoint*

I

T IS appropriate for a medievalist to start with an example drawn from the Middle Ages. Many of you know the legend about the year iooo—how the approach of that dreadful date shook all western Europe with fear lest it be the real millennium, mark­ ing the end of the world. The fear did exist, but it has been greatly exaggerated. Most people didn't know it was the year iooo, and of the few who did not all were terrified. We are now approaching the year 2000—our students will see it even if we don't. And there is more reason to fear the year 2000 than there was to fear the year iooo. All our problems—exhaustion of material resources and pollution of the environment, pressures of population growth, proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, the anger and despair of the underdeveloped nations—will reach their peak about then. There is no guarantee that learning and education will save us from these dangers, but certainly ignorance will make them worse. And of all forms of learning, understanding of human behavior is going to be most important during the next three decades. We have the technical skill to solve, or at least to mitigate, most of our problems. What we lack is understanding—understanding of the ways to use our techniques effectively in a world society, under­ standing of the motives which might inspire various peoples to make the great effort needed to use new techniques effectively. I do not pretend that history alone will give this understanding. But it is one of the most effective means of doing so, especially in the middle years of education—say from the sixth through the fourteenth grades. It has the advantage of dealing with concrete problems rather than with abstractions which are hard for younger students to comprehend. It stresses the time dimension, which is still important. Historical development has speeded up enormously, but not yet to the point where everything can be done in a few years. Tradition and past experience still affect all peoples, especially the peoples who are in the greatest trouble today. Finally, there is no aspect of human behavior which cannot be illustrated by historical examples, no finding of the other social sciences which is not based * This lecture is published here for the first time.

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on historical experience, even if it is very recent historical experience. In short, history properly taught covers a wider range of human behavior—in time and space and diversity of relationships—than any other subject. This breadth is important because our students are going to face an unbelievable number of new situations and problems—situations and problems for which ordinary life in the United States gives no preparation. Living in an almost entirely urbanized country they know little about agrarian societies. Living in a country which values freedom of expression they find it diffi­ cult to understand traditional or absolute or authoritarian govern­ ments. Living in a country with an incredible diversity of political and religious beliefs they have little realization of the impact which a single universally accepted creed can have. Living, for the most part, in prosperity, they cannot comprehend the depressing effects of all-pervasive poverty or the tremendous drive of people who are climbing out of that poverty. It will help, then, in facing a new situation, to find in it some familiar element. Even if the familiar element is only a remembered phrase from a book, even if the familiar element is only a small part of the new problem, finding something familiar can prevent panic and the folly which results from panic. It is only the wholly unknown which is wholly terrifying. The familiar element is some­ thing to take hold of, a clue leading into the labyrinth of a new and complex social pattern. History should provide many such clues. If we had time enough to learn all we should and if our stu­ dents had the time, and inclination, to learn all they could from us, history would be the most valuable course in the curriculum. Unfortunately, there is no time to read all we should and even less time to think about the little we have read. Fortunately perfection is not required in human affairs; if we are sixty percent right we usually do fairly well. We do not know all we should about the French Revolution or the Russian Revolution or the Chinese Rev­ olution, but we know enough to give students some idea of what revolutions can do to the structure of a society. For the students the problem is even more serious. They read less, and most of them will read about a particular period only once. They have little time for reflection, and in any case they are not at a reflective age. What is worse, they are at an age which is naturally in rebellion against parents, established standards, and

TEACHING OF HISTORY

traditional behavior. It is easy to confuse this resentment against the dead hand of the past with a conviction that the past has nothing to teach us. It says a great deal for the pulling power of the discipline that many young people became interested in history even when they are in the most anti-historical period of their lives. But we should not ignore the fact that we start with a bias against us. Anything that happened more than ten years ago seems unimportant to a teenager; it is up to us to prove otherwise. All these difficulties are, of course, multiplied when we venture into the study of world cultures. There is some personal experience to build on when a student takes up United States history, and a strong probability that there will be time enough to study some episodes in depth and to reconsider them in later courses. But world history is tied to nothing familiar; it is always short of time, and it very rarely allows repeated examination of important problems. In most schools world history is not well taught, because teachers are forced to cover too much too fast. And yet our students are living in an age when knowledge about the rest of the world is essential. Ideally there should be a fairly drastic revision of the curriculum if world history is to have much value as a means of understanding world cultures. It would be a revision which would affect mainly the ninth through the twelfth grades. I doubt that much can be done with world history in the earlier grades, .though certainly some ideas 'about the diversity of peoples and their different ways of life can be learned. But in high school, students can profit from a more 'Organized and formed study of the history of other peoples. The first job is to get world history out of the ninth or tenth grade slot where it usually is placed. Students at this level may be interested in the world around them, but they are often deficient in a sense of time, especially when a course deals with centuries instead of decades. They also find it difficult to see the interrelationships among widely scattered events, or to make comparisons among different periods and countries. It might be very profitable to give a course on human geography, or world cultures at this level, though this would have ·to be very well done to avoid a static, rote-memory quality. But the worst possible course at this stage is world history. Next, I would start United States history in the tenth grade. I realize the difficulties. The advanced course in U.S. history is one

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of the real successes of our high schools, and many teachers think it would be spoiled by moving it down one or two grades. But if, as I am about to propose, we had a three-year sequence leading from American history into world history, then the first few months would deal with the familiar and relatively simple problems of the colonial and early national periods. By the time the more difficult material of the post-Civil War period was reached students would have developed some sense of history and some skill in using the techniques of the social sciences. (Parenthetically I might add that a United States history course in the tenth grade would benefit both the lower and the upper groups of the school population. More dropouts would have had the course before they departed. More college-bound students would be apt to resume the study of United States history in college. A student who has just finished a twelfthgrade American history course is usually not eager to take the same subject his freshman year.) In any case, I propose that the three-year sequence begin with about a year and a half of American history. This section should end with a study of the problems of the United States in the world of today, with special emphasis on the contacts and conflicts of cultures, and the drive of underdeveloped countries for moderniza­ tion. This would not be too difficult to justify as part of the "Prob­ lems of Democracy" course, which is taught in many school sys­ tems and required in a fair number. If the United States history course ended in this way, then a foundation would have been laid for three questions with which to start the world history course: 1. What is this Western civilization out of which the United States way of life grew and how did it come into existence? 2. What is a non-Western civilization like, and why did contact with the West have such upsetting effects on non-Western peoples ? 3. What is the process called modernization? In what ways will it be like the Western (or the American) experience and in what ways different? In answering these three questions a large amount of material on the origins of Western civilization and the development of one or two other civilizations could be brought together. There would have to be some breaches in continuity—you can't teach the history

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of mankind in one year, or even in ten—but if students see the process of development taking place over a couple of centuries in a selected period, they will probably suspect that there is some continuity in the periods they haven't studied. Again, if they see the beginning and the end of a process they can make some rea­ sonable guesses about what went on in between. Allowing for some gaps, we could, in the course of a year and a half, discuss key periods in the development of Western civilization and com­ pare each of these periods with a similar one in another civiliza­ tion. It would probably be best to stick to the Middle East or China in looking for parallels, both because the similarities and diver­ gencies are so obvious and because good teaching materials are avail­ able. Thus the Roman Empire and the later Han Empire in China have some points of resemblance; Europe at the height of the Middle Ages and China under the Mongols could scarcely be more different. Yet there were contacts and influences between the two regions in both periods and there are some excellent books which illustrate these points. The same can hardly be said of India (where parallels are hard to find) or Africa (where teaching materials are still skimpy). In any case, such a course would become more detailed and touch on more different peoples as it reached the nineteenth century. The characteristics of several civilizations would certainly have to be examined as we come into the second half of our own century and begin to consider current problems. I realize that pressures on students and the quite legitimate de­ mands of other subjects make it unlikely that such a three-year sequence can be adopted by many schools. But there is still much that could be done to improve the world history course and make it more effective in giving students an understanding of world cultures. Even as a separate one-year course, it should come later in the high school curriculum than it does. Especially as a separate one-year course it should be drastically pruned; it should cover only selected topics and not the whole sweep of history. Even in covering selected topics there will have to be breaks in continuity and omis­ sion of many details. No historian will regret giving up the attempt to cover all his­ tory in one year. It is harder to give up continuity, but, as I said above, if we get some reasonably long time sequences we will have made our basic point about the importance of the time dimension. But leaving out detail goes against the basic training and beliefs

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of historians. Detail is needed because it is only through knowl­ edge of detail that generalizations and comparisons have any mean­ ing. The vast majority of countries in the world today have written constitutions (including the Soviet Union). Does this mean that constitutional government is the dominant form of government— or even the most common? Only detailed knowledge enables one to answer such a question. But while detail properly used helps make history meaningful, when it is overemphasized it takes away all meaning. The mind can hold only a limited number of facts and it can't always make effective use of the facts that it holds. Connections among facts are more important than the facts themselves and it takes longer to establish the connections and show their significance than to learn the facts. Thus it takes about thirty seconds to memorize the facts that Wilson was elected president in 1912, the First World War began in 1914, and the Treaty of Versailles was signed in 1919. It has taken some scholars years of their lives to explain the relationships among these three facts. In short, no details should be included, no facts should be memorized unless they are essential to the understanding of fundamental problems of human and social behavior. Everyone will have his own preferences as to what should be included and what omitted. My own ideas on this shift from time to time as I become more and more aware of the difficulties of the problem. But I think that I would still adhere to the general prin­ ciples which I published a few years ago: 1. At least one early, preindustrial society should be studied. 2. At least one non-Western society should be studied. 3. There should be more detail and wider coverage as the course gets into the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. 4. The history of science and technology should be stressed. 5. There should be a few unanswerable problems, largely those which arise from comparative history. I should like to say a little more about my fourth and fifth points. Under technology I include business, political, and artistic tech­ niques—not just the history of tools and machines. The point is for students to see how something was done rather than what was done. It is meaningless and boring for students to memorize the names of great Italian painters and paintings, but they can usually

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be interested in finding out how the Italians achieved their effects (perspective, for example). It is stupid to memorize a list of prime ministers; it is often fascinating to learn how a prime minister gained power. For the same reason, history of technology in the narrower sense is also interesting and important. No high school senior will be greatly thrilled by reading once more that Columbus discovered America, but if he learns how a fifteenth-century ship was built and navigated he will have more respect for Columbus and more understanding of the process of European expansion. Emphasis on the how also provides a good criterion for the adop­ tion and use of audiovisual materials. If they are not prepared and used with great ease, they tend to stress the what, rather than the how. To take a simple example, a good map—especially one with overlays—can illustrate a development such as the spread of Chris­ tianity admirably, but it cannot explain how the work of conversion was done. A motion picture which shows primitive means of transport gets close to the how, but even then many important details can be overlooked if the strip has not been carefully pre­ pared and carefully studied before it is used. And the new mate­ rials can be just as boring as the old textbooks unless connections with other groups of facts can be demonstrated. As for the fifth point, the unanswerable question is both a stimulus and a warning. It is a stimulus to independent thinking and a warning not to take any answer in the social sciences as more than an approximation. These problems involve the whys rather than the hows of history, although they can develop logical­ ly out of the hows. Why, for example, are some techniques unique discoveries, only slowly diffused (e.g., the alphabet), while others are nearly universal (e.g., some system of writing) ? Why was the wheel either invented many times or rapidly diffused throughout the Old World, while it was never known in the New World until Columbus ? Why did science become virtually a Western monopoly in the later Middle Ages, after once flourishing in many other societies, and why did its development speed up so markedly after it became a Western monopoly? Why did the great European voyages of discovery have such an impact on the whole world, while the slightly earlier Chinese voyages produced almost no re­ sults? Or, to shift from technology and science, why does the need for and the influence of religion vary so from time to time and society to society?

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

To make meaningful comparisons, to be able to stress the how and why in history, the same topics should be covered in each period and for each society, as far as this is possible. It is not very useful to stress only political history in teaching about western Eu­ rope, and then to emphasize art, poetry, and peasant life in dis­ cussing East Asia. There will have to be some discrepancies. Polit­ ical history and institutions are important in understanding Europe and are of much less importance in understanding India, but this does not mean that all references to Indian political history should be omitted. Instead it should raise problems: Why has India, by and large, had a record of political failure? Has the long contact with England made the Indians more political-minded? Conversely, in discussing western Europe we do not need to spend much time on the peasant village. But we should not forget that Europe was once a region of peasant villages, and that Europe had to trans­ form peasants into industrial workers just as many non-European countries are doing today. Finally, we should remember that all world cultures influence each other and that every world culture is constantly changing. The record of the past shows how important cross-cultural influ­ ences can be. It also shows what strange results can come from imitation and borrowing. Change in society is the essence of his­ tory; if we know something about change in the past we can bet­ ter understand changes now in progress. In short, an important contribution of history to the study of world cultures is to remind us that no culture is static, that it is moving and changing even as we seek to describe it. Every people, every government are and will be faced with an endless number of choices, and even the small decisions added together may prove to be crucial. Knowledge of history gives us some points of reference by which we can check the direction and rate of change. It will not enable us to predict the final outcome, but it will help us understand the process. And it is the process that we have to live with. We can run the new rapids of change only by remembering the ones run before—the markings which show the shoals of ignorance, the rocks of traditional prejudices, the snags of inadequate reforms. Past experience has to be our guide in these troubled waters. Un­ fortunately I often picture past experience as an old man with only one eye, and that eye affected with astigmatism. But one-eyed or not, the old man of the past is the only guide we have.

29. Graduate Training in the Humanities*

C

OMPLAINTS about graduate education are almost as old as gradute education itself. In the twelfth century, John of Salis­ bury denounced the overspecialization, lack of imagination, and excessive interest in methodology of a group of advanced students of logic. His indictment has been repeated and expanded many times—but graduate education has expanded even faster. Either the human race is incorrigibly addicted to a peculiar form of in­ tellectual suicide, or there are some values in graduate education which its detractors fail to see. Let us admit one point right at the start. Graduate education is not apt to produce "creative writers," nor is it meant to do so. At best it can provide some new insights, some unexpected points of view which will help set the imagination free. At worst it can dull the mind by insisting on unrelated facts and plodding reasoning. But anyone who goes to graduate school to learn "creative writing" has already shown himself deficient in imagination and even in ordinary common sense. Few men in any generation are going to become great, or even good, writers, and it is usually difficult to see a relationship between their achievements and any part of their formal education. What graduate schools are expected to do is to train teachers and scholars—men who will preserve the intellectual heritage of the past, perhaps add to it, and most important of all, interpret it and adapt it so that it has meaning and value to our society. If they fail in this job, they have really failed to justify their existence. And this is precisely what lies at the basis of the most serious charges against graduate schools—that they produce teachers and scholars who can't do their jobs, who not only add nothing to our understanding but actually succeed in anaesthetizing or degrading it. Graduate stu­ dents, forced to spend years in learning trivial things, naturally be­ come teachers with trivial minds. Writers of the Ph.D. dissertation, forced into meaningless pedantry, are naturally unable to see the real values of the subject they are studying. And the system per­ petuates itself because the mentally crippled students of one genera­ tion are the leaders of the next. * Reprinted from The Carleton Miscellany, v, no. ι (1964), 43-46. Copy­ right by Carleton College.

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Certainly these things can happen. It is even possible, I suppose, for a graduate student to spend three years in a university without meeting a single person who can rise above trivia and pedantry. But if this happens it is less a fault of the system of graduate educa­ tion than a fault of American society. We tend, as a people, to believe that if ι χ is good, ιοοο χ is one thousand times better. It is precisely because graduate education has been so successful that we have multiplied graduate schools beyond any reasonable limits and so have recruited both teachers and students who don't know what it is all about. William James says somewhere that a man can see into a gen­ eralization only as far as his knowledge of detail goes. This is cer­ tainly true in my own field of history. It is, of course, the connec­ tions among facts rather than the facts themselves that count, but the fewer the facts, the fewer and more tenuous the connections which can be established. Conversely, the accumulation of facts, like the accumulation of electricity, can set off sparks that bridge gaps and fuse together bodies which were once completely sepa­ rate. The ability to see new and unexpected connections is one of the marks of a great historian, but he will not make the new con­ nections if there is nothing in his mind to be connected. It is true that some minds produce their own insulating materials and are amazingly successful in keeping one set of facts from com­ ing in contact with another. But would these minds be bolder and more imaginative if they were nearly empty of factual knowledge ? In many cases it is the generalizations which are arid, pedantic, and remote from reality and the details which are full of juice and life, so full that if enough of them get into a mind they may break down some of the insulating barriers. It is certainly better to read and discuss some scores of manorial documents than to read a book on theories of manorialism. It is probably better to read a literary text carefully, even if only to count the number of times a certain word appears, than to rely on a critic's opinion backed up by a few random quotations. In short, the trouble is not in the teaching and learning of facts, but in what is done with them afterwards. Here personal charac­ teristics count for more than methods or subject matter. There are no useless facts or dull subjects; there are only men who do not have enough imagination to see how the fact can be used or the subject treated. History of law and history of agriculture are not

TEACHING OF HISTORY

usually fascinating topics, but two of the greatest historical works of the last hundred years are Maitland's history of English law and Bloch's history of French agriculture. Some literary history is dead­ ly, some, like that of Bedier, reads like a detective story and illu­ mines a vast range of social history. No form of humanistic re­ search requires more attention to obscure and seemingly trivial de­ tail than art history, and yet in the hands of a Panofsky it becomes a powerful tool for understanding the development of our civiliza­ tion. Few of us will ever be Maitlands or Panofskys, but it is not foolish or useless to seek to come as close as we can to their achieve­ ment. Those who are unwilling to master detail often wind up talking about things they do not understand in phrases borrowed from authors they have not read. If we have to choose between pedantry and superficiality let it be the former, for the pedant at least is trying to pin down some small part of reality. The same considerations apply to that other supposed enemy of free and liberal minds—the Ph.D. thesis. True, many theses are bad in every possible way, in style, organization, and content. True, many writers of theses will never produce another piece of scholarly work in their lives. But if most graduate students are going to be teachers, it is well for them to learn how the materials which they are going to teach are produced. If they are going to rely on other men's books, then they had better learn how to judge the scholarly quality of these books. Writing even a bad thesis teaches a student something about the difficulties of research and the agonies of composition. This should help him recognize first-class work when he encounters it, and provide him with some touch­ stones by which he can identify the dishonest and the shoddy. I am saying, in effect, that we are living in a professional age, that the days of the gifted amateur have almost ended. There are, of course, exceptions, and we do not always recognize these excep­ tions as quickly or as graciously as we should. But the best amateurs put themselves through a course of training which is not very dif­ ferent from that followed by an imaginative graduate student, and in any case there are never going to be enough of these gifted amateurs to staff our schools and colleges. For better or for worse we shall have to rely on people with professional training. Our professional training in history and the humanities could be made better than it is. But the fault is not in the system, it is in the people who do not know how to make the system work. There

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

are dull teachers; there are also lazy and unimaginative students. No one ever solved a problem without learning a great many de­ tails about that problem. No one ever explained the solution of a problem to others until he had learned to express his thoughts in a coherent and orderly fashion. This is all we are trying to do in graduate instruction, and in a surprisingly large number of cases this is what we succeed in doing.

J. R. Strayer A Chronological Bibliography

Bibliography 1929

"Knight Service in Normandy," Has\ins Anniversary Essays, Cambridge 1929, pp. 314-327. I930

"History teaching in other lands," with Ruth McMurry, Historical Outlook, Vol.21 (1930), pp.317~319,3 6 6 - 369. 193,1

"History teaching in other lands," with Ruth McMurry, Historical Outlook, Vol. 22 (1931), pp. 17-20, 65-68, 108-113, 159-166, 214-221, 265-274, 397-401. 1932

The Administration of Normandy under St. Louis, Cambridge, 1932. "History teaching in other lands," with Ruth McMurry, Historical OutlooT{, Vol. 23 (1932), pp. 28-30, 83-85, 123-125, 172-177, 235-239. Review of James Truslow Adams, The Epic of America, North Dakota Historical Quarterly, Vol. 6 (1932), pp. 177-178. 1933

Review of D. C. Douglas, Feudal Documents from the Abbey of Bury St. Edmunds,

Speculum,

Vol. 8 (1933), pp. 87-89.

Review of Sidney Painter, William Marshal, Speculum, Vol. 8 (1933), pp. 529-530. 1936

The Royal Domain in the Bailliage of Rouen, Princeton, 1936. Review of Ch. Perrin, Recherches sur la seigneurie rurale en Lorraine, American Historical Review, Vol. 42 (1936), pp. 101-102. 1937

"Le bref de nouvelle dessaisine et le 'commun' en Normandie," Revue Historique de Droit Frangais et Stranger (1937), pp. 481-489. Review of S. E. Gleason, An Ecclesiastical Barony of the Middle Ages— the Bishopric of Bayeux, Speculum, Vol. 12 (1937), pp. 400-402. .1938

Review of J. H. Le Patourel, The Medieval Administration of the Channel Islands, American Historical Review, Vol. 43 (1938), pp. 593-594. Review of Sidney Painter, Peter of Dreux, Scourge of the Clergy, ibid., P-68 3 . Review o£ J. T. Adams, Building the British Empire: to the End of the First Empire, Saturday Review of Literature, Sept. 17, 1938, p. 12. Reviews of A. L. Morton, A People's History of England, and C. Seignobos, The Rise of European Civilization, Saturday Review of Literature, Oct. 22, 1938, p. 18.

401

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1P39. Studies in Early French Taxation (with C. H. Taylor), Cambridge. The Delegate from New Yorl^: Proceedings of the Federal Convention of iy8y from the Notes of John Lansing, Jr., Princeton. Review of J. Boussard, Le comte d'Anjou sous Henri Plantagenet et ses fils, American Historical Review, Vol. 44 (1939), pp. 955-956. Review of A. Masse, Histoire du Nivernais, ibid., p. 976. Review of P. Courteault, Histoire de Gascogne et de Beam, American Historical Review, Vol. 45 (1939), p. 216. Review of W. B. Pemberton, Lord North, Saturday Review of Literature, Jan. 28, 1939, p. 15. Review of Leonard Woolf, After the Deluge, Vol. 11, Saturday Review of Literature, Dec. 30, 1939, p. 7. 1940

"The La'icization of French and English Society in the Thirteenth Cen­ tury," Speculum, Vol. 15 (1940), pp. 76-86. Review of Jean Ramiere de Fortanier, Chartes de franchise du Lauragais, American Historical Review, Vol. 46 (1940), p. 200. Review of The Letters of John Chamberlain, ed. by N. E. McClure, Saturday Review of Literature, Aug. 5, 1940, p. 18. Review of P. Quennell, Caroline of England, Saturday Review of Litera­ ture, January 27, 1940, p. 7. Review of W. L. Dorn, Struggle for Empire: 1J40-1J63, Saturday Review of Literature, March 2, 1940, p. 31. Review of H. Boullier de Branche, Feuda Gabalorum, Vol. 1, American Historical Review, Vol. 45 (1940), pp. 452-453. 1941

"The Statute of York and the Community of the Realm," American His­ torical Review, Vol. 47 (1941), pp. 1-22. Review of P. E. Schramm, Der Konig von Fran\reich, ibid., pp. 384-385. Review of G. P. Cuttino, English Diplomatic Administration /259-/339, Speculum, Vol. 16 (1941), pp. 246-248. Review of Jane Butzner, Constitutional Chaff, Social Education, Vol. 5 (I94I), PP- 549-55°· 1942

The Middle Ages (with D. C. Munro), New York. "Compulsory Study of American History—an Appraisal," Public Opinion Quarterly, Vol. 6 (1942), pp. 537-548. 1943

The Interpretation of History (editor and author of first chapter), Prince­ ton.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Review of W. D. Wallis, Messiahs: Their Role in Civilization, Annals of the American Academy of Political Science, Sept. 1943. 1944 American History in Schools and Colleges, ed. by E. B. Wesley, New York (member of drafting committee and author of ch. 2). Review of Jacques Barzun, Romanticism and the Modern Ego, Theology Today, April 1944. 1 945 Report on the Editing of Materials in Medieval Research (mimeographed pamphlet), Mediaeval Academy of America. "What is Medieval History?," Social Education, Vol. 9 (1945), pp. 295-298. Review of J. W. Spargo, Juridical Folklore in England Illustrated by the Cucking-stool, Journal of Modern History, June 1945.

1946 Review of A. L. Poole, Obligations of Society in the 12th and 13th Centuries, American Historical Review, Vol. 52 (1946), p. 166. Review of R. Gandhilon, Politique economique de Louis XI, Journal of Economic History, Vol. 6 (1946), pp. 201-202. 1947 The English Government at Wor\ 1327-1336, Vol. 2, Cambridge, editor, with W. A. Morris, and author of introductory chapter on royal revenues. Review of E. S. Duckett, Anglo-Saxon Saints and Scholars, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ List, Vol. 3 (1947), pp. 164-165. 1948 "United States History and World History," The Journal of General Education, Vol. 2 (1948), pp. 144-148. "The Mcllwain Collection," The Princeton University Library Chronicle, Vol. 9 (1948), pp. 211-214. Review of Marguerite Boulot, ed., Quaestiones Johannis Galli, Speculum, Vol. 23 (1948), p. 477. Review of George Boas, Essays on Primitivism and Related Ideas in the Middle Ages, American Historical Review, Vol. 54 (1948), pp. 184185.

Review of R. Boutruche, L'alleu en Bordelais et Bazadais du XI0 au XVIII6 siecle and La crise d'une societe: Seigneurs et paysans du Bordelais pendant la Guerre de Cent Ans, Journal of Economic History, Vol. 8 (1948), p. 178. Review of D. E. Martin-Clarke, Culture in Early Anglo-Saxon England, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ List, Vol. 4 (1948), p. 521.

403

BIBLIOGRAPHY 1949

"Defense of the Realm and Royal Power in France," Studi in onore di Gino Luzzato, Milan, 1949, Vol. 1, pp. 289-296. Review of K. M. Setton, Catalan Domination of Athens, 1311-1388, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ hist, Vol. 5 (1949), p. 79. Review of Guido Kisch, The Jews in Medieval Germany, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ List, Vol. 5 (1949), pp. 508-509. 1950

"Graduate Training Problems in History," The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, Vol. 74 (1950), pp. 235-240. Review of Hardin Craig, Freedom and Renaissance, Journal of Higher Education, Vol. 21 (1950), p. 51. Review of Ferdinand Schevill, The Medici, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ List, Vol. 5 (1950). PP- 73-74Review of Philippe Dollinger, L'evolution des classes rurales en Baviere, Speculum, Vol. 25 (1950), pp. 268-270. Review of Sidney Painter, The Reign of King John, Saturday Review of Literature, May 6, 1950, pp. 49-50. Review of J.S.P. Tatlock, The Legendary History of Britain: Geoffrey of Monmouth's Historia, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ Review, Vol. 6 (1950), P- 537Review of Charles Higounet, Le comte de Comminges, de ses origines a son annexion a la couronne, Speculum, Vol. 25 (1950), pp. 570-571. 1951

"The First Western Union," Virginia Quarterly Review, Vol. 27 (1951), pp. 196-205. "Economic Conditions in the County of Beaumont-le-Roger, 1261-1313," Speculum, Vol. 26 (1951), pp. 277-287. Review of G. J. Renier, History: Its Purpose and Method, Saturday Re­ view of Literature, March 17, 1951, pp. 14-15. Review of H. F. Williams, An Index of Mediaeval Studies Published in Festschriften, American Historical Review, Vol. 56 (1951), pp. 947948.

Review of Yvonne Bongert, Recherches sur Ies cours laiques du Xe au XlIIe siecle, Traditio, Vol. 7 (1949-1951), pp. 507-508. Review of E. S. Duckett, Alcuin, Friend of Charlemagne, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ Review, Vol. 7 (1951), pp. 224-225. Review of Ernst Levy, West Roman Vulgar Law: The Law of Real Property, ibid., pp. 274-275. Review of Alan Gewirth, Marsilius of Padua, ibid., pp. 270-271. Review of H. J. Wolff, Roman Law: an Historical Introduction, ibid., P- 394-

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Review of Mason Hammond, City-State and World State in Gree\ and Roman Political Theory, ibid., pp. 386-387. 1952 Review of S. K. Mitchell, Taxation in Medieval England, Speculum, Vol. 27 (1952), pp. 112-114. Review of U. T. Holmes, Daily Living in the Twelfth Century, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ Review, Vol. 8 (1952), p. 159. 1953

"The Crusade against Aragon," Speculum, Vol. 28, pp. 102-113. Introduction for Marc Bloch, The Historian's Craft, pp. 1-7. Review of R. Foreville, ed. & trans., Histoire de Guillaume Ie Conquerant, Speculum, Vol. 28 (1953), pp. 160-161. Review of The Cambridge Economic History of Europe, Vol. 2, Trade and Industry in the Middle Ages, The Annals of the American Academy of Political Science, Vol. 287 (1953), p. 231. Review of R. Barroux, La France et son role dans I'histoire de la civiliza­ tion, Erasmus, Vol. 6 (1953), pp. 426-427. Review of C, C. Mierow, trans., The Deeds of Frederick Barbarossa, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ Review, Vol. 9 (1953), p. 271. 19S4

"Taxation and Community in Wales and Ireland, 1272-1327" (with G. Rudisill, Jr.), Speculum, Vol. 29, part 2 (1954), pp. 410-416. Review of R. A. Newhall and Jean Birdsall (ed. and trans.) The Chronicle of Jean de Venette, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ Review, Vol. 10 (1954), p. 26. Review of S. H. Cross, ed. and trans., The Russian Primary Chronicle, ibid., pp. 163-164. Review of H. G. Richardson and G. O. Sayles, The Irish Parliament in the Middle Ages, Erasmus, Vol. 7 (1954), PP- 246-248. Review of H. Mitteis, Der Staat des Hohen Mittelalters, American His­ torical Review, Vol. 59 (1954), pp. 910-911. Review of Jean Richard, Le royaume latin de Jerusalem, Speculum, Vol. 29 (1954), pp. 608-609. :955

Western Europe in the Middle Ages, New York. Review of E. W. McDonnell, The Beguines and Beghards in Medieval Culture, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ Review, Vol. 11 (1955), p. 75. Review of Carl Stephenson, Mediaeval Institutions, American Historical Review, Vol. 60 (1955), pp. 587-588. Review of G. B. Parks, The English Traveler to Italy, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ Review, Vol. 11 (1955), p. 181. Review of Ludwig Buisson, Konig Ludwig IX der Heilige und das Recht, American Historical Review, Vol. 61 (1955), pp. 101-102.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

I956 "Philip the Fair—a 'Constitutional' King," American Historical Review, Vol. 62 (1956), pp. 18-32. "The Idea of Feudalism," and "Feudalism in Western Europe," chs. I and II, pp. 3-25 of Feudalism in History, ed. R. Coulborn, Princeton. "Humanities and Social Studies," in College Admissions: The Interaction of School and College, 3 (College Entrance Examination Board), pp. 37-42. Review of F. G. Heymann, John Zizka and the Hussite Revolution, U.S. Quarterly Boo\ Review, Vol. 12 (1956), p. 14. Review of Paul Renoz, La chancellerie de Brabant sous Philippe Ie Bon, Speculum, Vol. 31 (1956), pp. 401-402. Review of Jean Richard, Les dues de Bourgogne et Ie formation du duche, Speculum, Vol. 31 (1956), pp. 714-715. x957 "The Historian's Concept of Public Opinion," in M. Komarovsky, ed., History and Public Opinion Research: A Debate, Glencoe, 111., pp. 263268. Review of Pierre Dupare, Le comte de Geneve, Speculum, Vol. 32 (1957),

PP- 358-359· Review of Philippe Wolff, Commerces et marchands de Toulouse, Eras­ mus, Vol. 10 (1957), pp. 495-497. Review of E. A. Kosminsky, Studies in the Agrarian History of England, Journal of Economic History, Vol. 17 (1957), pp. 494-496. 1958 "The State and Religion: Greece and Rome, the West and Islam," Com­ parative Studies in Society and History, Vol. 1 (1958), pp. 38-43. "Charles Homer Haskins," Dictionary of American Biography, Vol. 22, supplement 2, pp. 289-291. Review of F. Lot and R. Fawtier, eds., Histoire des institutions frangaises au Moyen Age, Vol. 1, American Historical Review, Vol. 63 (1958), pp. 388-389. Review of Steven Runciman, The Sicilian Vespers, The Annals of the American Academy of Political Science, Vol. 318 (1958), p. 171. Review of B. D. Lyon, From Fief to Indenture, American Historical Re­ view, Vol. 63 (1958), pp. 945-946. Review of A. Latreille, E. Delaruelle, and J. R. Palanque, Histoire du catholicisme en France, Vol. 1, Erasmus, Vol. 2 (1958), pp. 615-616. Review of F. Bavoux, Hantises et diableries dans la terre abbatiale de Luxeuil, ibid., pp. 744-745. *959 The Middle Ages (with D. C. Munro), revised edition, New York.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

"A Forged Charter of Henry II for Bival," Speculum, Vol.

34 (1959)'

pp. 230-237.

Review of M. Bloch, La France sous Ies derniers Capetiens, 1223-1328, American Historical Review, Vol. 64 (1959), pp. 423-424. Reviewof Werner Goez, Translatio Imperii, American Historical Review, Vol. 65 (1959), p. 101. Review of R. Cazelles, La societe politique et la crise de la royaute sous Philippe de Valois, Speculum, Vol. 34 (1959), PP- 656-658. 1960

Review of E. Duckett, The Wandering Saints of the Early Middle Ages, American Historical Review, Vol. 65 (i960), pp. 654-655. Review of May McKisack, The Fourteenth Century, ibid., pp. 876-877. Review of R. Fawtier, The Capetian Kings of France: (987-1328), American Historical Review, Vol. 66 (i960), pp. 119-120. 1961

The Course of Civilization (with Ε. H. Harbison and H. W. Gatzke), 2 vols., New York. "The Development of Feudal Institutions," in Twelfth Century Europe and the Foundations of Modern Society, eds. M. Clagett, G. Post, and R. Reynolds, pp. 77-88. "Medieval Political Institutions," in Chapters in Western Civilization (Columbia), Vol. I, pp. 166-198. "The Promise of the Fourteenth Century," Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, Vol. 105 (1961), pp. 609-612. Review of M. Bloch, Seigneurie frangaise et manoir anglais, Speculum, Vol. 36 (1961), pp. 459-460. 1962

"History," in The Social Studies and the Social Sciences, ed. Gordon Turner, pp. 20-41. "Political Crusades of the Thirteenth Century," and "The Crusades of Saint Louis," in A History of the Crusades, ed. K. M. Setton, Vol. 2, PP- 343-375» 487'5l8· Review of Wolfram von den Steinen, Der Kosmos des Mittelalters, Ameri­ can Historical Review, Vol. 77 (1962), pp. 383-384. Review of Feudalism and Liberty: Articles by Sidney Painter, ed. Fred A. Cazel, ibid., pp. 763-764. Review of Marie Fauroux, Recueil des actes des dues de Normandte, 91/1066, Speculum, Vol. 37 (1962), pp. 607-610. 1963

"Viscounts and Viguiers under Philip the Fair," Speculum, Vol. (1963), pp. 242-255.

38

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1963 (continued) "The Historical Experience of Nation-Building in Europe," in NationBuilding, ed. K. W. Deutsch and W. }. Foltz, pp. 17-27. Review of Lynn White, Medieval Technology and Social Change, Tech­ nology and Culture, Vol. 4 (1963), pp. 62-65. Review of F. J. Pegues, The Lawyers of the Last Capetians, American Historical Review, Vol. 68 (1963), pp. 717-718. Review of R. Vaughan, Philip the Bold: The Formation of the Burgundian State, ibid., pp. 1111-1112. Review of J. F. Lemarignier et al., Institutions ecclesiastiques de la France au Moyen Age, American Historical Review, Vol. 69 (1963), pp. 101102. 1964

"Graduate Training in the Humanities," The Carleton Miscellany, Vol. 5 (1964), pp. 43-46. "The Norman and Swabian Kingdom of Sicily: A Comment," Com­ parative Studies in Society and History, Vol. 6 (1964), pp. 320-325. "Pierre de Chalon and the Origins of the French Customs Service," Fest­ schrift Percy Ernst Schramm, Vol. 1, pp. 334-340. "The Organization of World History Courses," in New Perspectives in World History, ed. S. H. Engle, pp. 613-617. Review of Jean Favier, Un Conseiller de Philippe Ie Bel: Enguerran de Marigny, American Historical Review, Vol. 69 (1964), pp. 814-8x5. Review of Charles Green, Sutton Hoo: The Excavation of a Royal Ship Burial, The American Scientist, Vol. 52 (1964), pp. 120A-121A. Review of W. H. McNeill, The Rise of the West, Journal of Modern His­ tory, Vol. 36 (1964), pp. 184-185. Review of H. A. Miskimin, Money, Prices, and Foreign Exchange in 14th Century France, Journal of Economic History, Vol. 24, pp. 408-409. Review of V. H. Galbraith, Introduction to the Study of History, Ameri­ can Historical Review, Vol. 70 (1964), p. 95. Review of Bernard Guene, Tribunaux et gens de justice dans Ie bailliage de Senlis, Speculum, Vol. 39 (1964), pp. 527-528. 1965 Feudalism, Princeton. Review of G. A. Knowles, Jean V, due de Bretagne, Speculum, Vol. 40 (1965), p. 146. Review of M. Pacaut, Louis VII et son royaume, American Historical· Review, Vol. 70 (1965), pp. 1159-1160. Review of A. L. Gabriel and G. C. Boyce, eds., Liber receptorum nationis Anglicanae, ibid., p. 1165. Review of Henri Gilles, Les Etats de Languedoc au XVe siecle, American Historical Review, Vol. 71 (1965), pp. 155-166.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1966 "The Problems of Dictatorship: The Russian Experience," Foreign Affairs, Vol. 44 (1966), pp. 264-274. "Empires: Some Reflections on Roman and Modern Imperialism," Com­ parative Studies in Society and History, Vol. 9 (1966), pp. 101-104. Review of M. Rey, Le domaine du roi et Ies finances extraordinaires sous Charles Vl and Les finances royales sous Charles VI, American His­ torical Review, Vol. 71 (1966), pp. 935-936. Review of A. Higounet-Nadal, Les comptes de la taille de Perigueux, ibid., p. 1315. Review of J. F. Lemarignier, Le gouvernement royal aux premiers temps capetiens, American Historical Review, Vol. 72 (1966), pp. 144-145. 1967 "The Two Levels of Feudalism," in Life and Thought in the Early Mid­ dle Ages, ed. R. S. Hoyt, pp. 51-65. Review of R. Vaughan, John the Fearless: The Growth of Burgundian Power, American Historical Review, Vol. 72 (1967), p. 956. Review of M. M. Postan, ed., The Cambridge Economic History of Eu­ rope, Vol. i, 2nd ed., ibid., pp. 1373-1374. Review of M. Bloch, French Rural History, Journal of Economic History, Vol. 27 (1967), pp. 400-401. Review of Frangoise Lehoux, Jean de France, Due de Berri, Vol. 1, Specu­ lum, Vol. 42 (1967), p. 745. Review of J. M. van Winter, Ridderschap, ideall en wer\elij\heid, Cahiers de civilization medievale, Vol. χ (1967), pp. 251-252. 1968 "The Tokugawa Period and Japanese Feudalism," in Studies in the In­ stitutional History of Early Modern Japan, eds. J. W. Hall and Μ. B. Jansen, pp. 3-14. "La noblesse du Gevaudan et Ie pareage de 1307," Revue du Gevaudan, n.s., t. 13 (1967), pp. 66-72. Review of Frangoise Lehoux, Jean de France, due de Berri, Vol. 11, Ameri­ can Historical Review, Vol. 74 (1968), pp. 571-572. 1969

The Mainstream of Civilization (with H. W. Gatzke, Ε. H. Harbison, and E. L. Dunbaugh), New York. "France, the Holy Land, the Chosen People and the Most Christian King," in Action and Conviction in Early Modern Europe, eds. Τ. K. Rabb and J. E. Seigel, pp. 3-16. "Normandy and Languedoc," Speculum, Vol. 44 (1969), pp. 1-12. "Italian Bankers and Philip the Fair," in Economy, Society, and Govern-

BIBLIOGRAPHY

1969 (continued) merit in Medieval Italy, eds. D. Herlihy, R. S. Lopez, and V. Slessarev, pp. 113-121. Review of R. H. Jones, The Royal Policy of Richard II, Annals of the American Academy of Political Science, Vol. 381 (1969), p. 183. Review of Recuetl des travaux historiqucs de Ferdinand Lot, American Historical Review, Vol. 74 (1969), pp. 1014-1015. Review of Essays in Mediaeval History Presented to Bertie Wilkinson, T. A. Sandquist and M. R. Powicke, eds., Canadian Historical Review, 1969, pp. 329-330. Review of Actes du gie Congres Nationale des Societes Savantes, Ameri­ can Historical Review, Vol. 75 (1969), p. 464. 1970 The Middle Ages (with D. C. Munro), 5th ed., New York. Les gens de justice du Languedoc sous Philippe Ie Bel, Toulouse. On the Medieval Origins of the Modern State, Princeton. Review of Robert Fossier, La terre et Ies hommes en Picardie, American Historical Review, Vol. 75 (1970), pp. 1093-1094. Review of Peter Gay, The Bridge of Criticism, The New Republic, June 20, pp. 29-30.

Index The arrangement of names is that usually found in English-language indexes, except that medieval Frenchmen are listed in the French fashion (e.g. Guillaume de Sauqueville, not Sauqueville, Guillaume de). Aachen, 135-36 Accorre, Renier, receiver of Champagne,

Guichard des Moulins, Raymond de Montsalvi

2 2 4 '43 Achaea, 147 Adam de Marolles, viguier of Minervois, 215 n. 7, 221 n. 39, 227 Adam de Montoire, viguier of St.-Saturnin, 220 n. 36 Adam de Morrecerio, viguier of Bagnols, 221 n. 39 Adhemar, bishop of Le Puy

Angevins: reorganize Normandy, 52, 54; in Sicily, 108-9, I49» 152 and s e e Charles of Anjou Anglo-Norman jury, 54 Anjou, 68 n. 15, 81 n. 6, 87; viscount of, 71 Antioch, as independent state, 335 Aquitaine, duchy of, 79 A r a g o n . boundary with France, 259;

(1080-1098), 334

Africa, native army officers in, 331-32 Agennais, seneschal of, see Blayn Loup aid, feudal, 81-83 Aigues-Mortes, 165, 185, 188; viguier of, 217 n. 25, 230 n. 94; see Benoit Gratia, Guillaume de la Mare, Guillaume de Linieres Guillaume de Chatelet; revenue of viguier, 230 n. 94 Albania, 147 Albert of Parma, papal notary, 139-40 Albi: judge of, 216 n. 19; viguier of, see Guillaume de Pezens, Hugues de "Changeyo," Renaud de "Nunciaco" Albiegensian Crusade, 125-28, 337 Albigeois, 46 Alexander III, pope (1159^1181), 31, 35, I 2 4 Alexander IV, pope (1254-1261), 141-42 Alexandre Viart, viscount of Carentan, 221 n. 38 allods, 42, 78, 84 alphabetical order, 115 Alphonse, count of Poitiers (1241-1271), 164, 169-70, 178, 181,184 Alured de St. Martin, constable of Drincourt, 30-31 Anagni, 155, 206 "ancienne assiete" of Normandy, 17 Ancona, march of, 125, 135, 137, 139 Anduze, judge of, 216 n. 19; viguier, 216 n . 19, 217 n . 23, 230 n . 94, and see

c r u s a d e against, 25, 107-22, 147, 151-52, 33g.

"exposition" by Martin IV, n o ; n. 32, 206-7; J I. J e II Archambaud X, lord of Bourbon (1242-1249), 165 aristocracy: Frankish, 69; owes fidelity political power of, 70-71 to a n d V a l d 'Aran dispute, 204 a n d see aime aim

a r m y > as a political force> 33I_32

Arnaud de Proboleno, treasurer of Perigord-Quercy and Rouergue, 245 n. 30 arrSt, definition of, 3 Artois, dispute over succession to, 13-14; see also Mahaut, Robert of al-Ashraf Musa, Muzaffar-ad-DIn, Aiyubid co-sultan of Egypt (1250-1252), 177 assent of community of the realm, 266-90; see also Statute of York Athens, 349 Athis, conventions of, 291 Auge, viscount of, 215; see Laurent Tihart, 220 n. 35, 221 n. 38, 227 Auvergne, 46, 164, 245 n. 30; bailli of, 202 n. 27 Auxerre, count of, 71 Avranches, cathedral of, 41 n. 10; viscount of, 219, and see Raoul de Verneuil-en-Brie Aybeg, al-Mu'izz 'Izz-ad-DIn, Mamluk co-sultan of Egypt (1250-1252), sultan (1252-1257), 177 A z o ( d . ca. 1230), 298 n n . 31-32

411

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Bagnols, viguier of, 230 n. 94, and see Adam de Morrecerio bailli, office of, 47, 52-54, 87, 223-25 Bakafu, 102 Baldwin II, titular emperor of Romania (1261-1273), 143-47 Balkans, 147, 149 Bardi, Italian bankers, 246 n. 32 Bartholomew of Neocastro, Sicilian chronicler (c. 1285), 149-50 Barzun, Jacques, 364, 367, 377 Baudouin Poutrel, receiver of Rouen, 221 n. 38 Bayeux, viscount of, 215-16, 222, and see Geoffroi d'Anisy, Louis Ie Convers bayles, 214 Beaubec, monastery, 30 n. 10, 31, 33, 35 Beaucaire: judge, 213, 216 n. 19, and see Raoul de Courjumelles; procurators, 55 n. 34; receivers and treasurers, 245 n. 30; seneschal, 215 n. 6, and see Pierre de Machery, Jean d'Arrabloy; viguier, 214 n. 5, 216 n. 19, 219, 229 n. 88, 230, 230 n. 94; viguier and castellan, see Gui Chevrier, Jean d'Arrabloy, Pierre "de Bosco" or "de Buci," Pierre Chaloni Beaumanoir, Philippe de (d. 1296), 57, 259-60, 295-96 Beaumont-le-Roger, county of, 13-27 Beaumont-sur-Oise, prevot of, see Laurent Tihart Beauvais, Milon I, bishop of, 128-29 Becker, Carl, 367 benefice, 42, 73 Benevento, 146, 182 Benoit Esteve, viguier of Meyrueis, 230 n. 96 Benoit Gratia, viguier of Aigues-Mortes, 230 n. 97 Berengar Fredoli, cardinal-bishop of Tusculum (1309-1323),206 Bernard, St., abbot of Clairvaux (d. 1153), 124, 130 Bernard Guiscard, clavier of Beziers, 230 n. 93 Bernard Saisset, bishop of Pamiers (1297-1308), 195-96, 205, 211, 247 Bernay: parish of, 22-23; sergeanty of, 19; viscounty of, 16 Berthold of Hohenburg, regent of Sicily in 1254, r4°

Betin Caucinel, master of royal mints, 203 n. 31, 241; receiver of Beaucaire, 245 n. 30, 246 Beziers: judge of, 216 η. ig; seneschaussee of, 46, viguier of, 216 n. 19, 219, 230, and see Jean Lagayte, Pierre de Machery, Renaud d'Auxy Biche, see Guidi, Albizzo Bival, nunnery, 28-38 Blanche of Castille, wife of Louis VIII, regent of France (d. 1252), 181 Blayn Loup, military governor of Gascony, 218 n. 28; seneschal of the Agennais, 225; seneschal of Toulouse, 226; viguier of Toulouse, 219, 221 n. 39 Bohemond VI, prince of Antioch (1252-68), 180 Bondeville, priory, 33-34 Boniface VIII, pope (1294-1303): accused of being anti-French, 263; accused of heresy, 203, 210, 264, 338; crusade against Colonnas, 154-55; an^ lay government, 196, 264, 346; against misuse of taxation of clergy, 154, 296-97, 339; refers to "most Christian kings," 306 n. 19, 309 n. 39; relations with Philip the Fair, 121-22, 205, 207, 209, 241, 296-97, 339 Bonsmoulin s, income of prevote of, 26 Bourbel, church of, 33 Bourbon, Archambaud X, lord of, 165 Brabant, Jean I, duke of, 114 n. 34, 115 Bracton, Henry of (d. 1268), 7-8, 261 Brezhnev, Leonid, 352-53 Brienne, Gautier III, count of, 125; Jean de, king of Jerusalem, 169 Brittany, 49, 293-94, 308; Jean I, count of, 184 Bruges, 113 Buddhism in China, 104 Bulgaria, 147 bureaucracy, 85-86, 100 burgesses, 279-80, 282-83 Burgundy (county), 204; Otto IV, count of, 114 n. 34; receiver of, see Escaille of Florence Burgundy (duchy), 68 n. 15, 71, 75, 79, 91, 347; see also Hugues III, Hugues IV, Robert II Byzantine empire, 147, 149; see Michael VIII

INDEX

Cabardes, viguier of, 217 n. 23, 219 Caen: bailli of, 198, and see Chretien Ie Chambellan, Jean de Vertot, Nicolas de Villiers, Pierre de Bailleurs; viscount of, 215, and see Chretien Ie Chambel­ lan, Geoffroi d'Anisy, Henri de Rie Cagliari, 186,189 Cahors: Raymond de Pauchel, bishop of, 255 n. 2; consuls of, 198 Cambrai, 294 Capetian dynasty, 108, 338 Capocci, Peter, cardinal (1244-1259), I35> 139 Carcassonne, 235 n. 24; constable, see Pierre de Machery, Philippe de Marolles; judge, 216 n. 19; receivers, 246; seneschal, 198, 215 n. 6, 296 n. 21, and see Gui Chevrier, Jean d'Arrabloy; seneschaussee, 46 and n. 8, 230-31, 294 n. 14; viguiers, 216 n. 19, 229 n. 88, and see Jean Foulques de Tournai, Jean Longuepee, Mayeul Robutin, Pierre de "Provino," Philippe de Marolles Carentan, viscount of, see Alexandre Viart, Pierre Dalart castellans, 74, 214 Cecil, Sir Robert (d. 1612), 350 cens et rentes, revenues from, 24, 26-27 Chambly, Pierre VI, lord of, 201 Champagne, 50, 80, 87 n. 25, 92, 113; receiver of, 245 Charlemagne, countship under, 69-72 Charles I of Anjou, king of Sicily (1266-1285): attempts to conquer Byzantine empire, 147-50, 182; crusade against Manfred and Sicily, 139-40, 143-47, 181-82; death of, 119; in Greece and Balkans, 147; Sicilian discontent with, 108-9; Tunisian Campaign, 186-87, 190-91

Charles II of Anjou, king of Naples (1285-1309), 120

Charles IV, king of France (1322-1328), 202 n. 27, 238 Charles, count of Valois (d. 1325), 111-12, 120, 151-52, 200, 211

charters: early Norman, 39-43; forged for Bival, 28-38 Chateau Vire, income of prevote of, 26 Chauchat family, financiers of Auvergne, 246 n. 32

Chaumont-en-Vexin, prevot of, see Pierre Dalart China: Buddhism in, 104; bureaucracy in, 100-1; communism in, 358-59; Confucianism in, 101; indigenous civilization of, 103-4; social mobility in, 101-2 Cholet, Jean, cardinal (d. ca. 1292), IIO-II

Chretien Ie Chambellan, viscount of Caen, bailli of the Cotentin, bailli of Caen, 223 Christian commonwealth, 333-39 Christianity, compared with other religions, 324-25; see also Church Church (Christian): adopts political machinery of Roman Empire, 322-23; control of society before thirteenth century by, 252-53; loss of influence in thirteenth century, 251; opposition to the recognition of, 9-10 church and state, 321-28; in ancient Greece, 324-25; in ancient Rome, 324-25; in Islam, 326-28; political conflicts between, 323; theory of two coordinate powers, 323-24; in Western Europe, 322-25 city-state, deification of, 325 claviers, 217, 229-31 Clement IV, pope (1265-1268), 145,182 Clement V, pope (1305-1314), 59, 207 n. 48, 241, 308, 312-13

clergy, 291-92; see also Church Clericis laicos, 154, 339 clerks, 86-87 Clermont, Hugues de la Tour du Pin, bishop of, 128-29 Cluny, 308, 68 n. 15 Colonna, Egidius, 297-98; Colonna family, 154-55 "commun, le," 4-5, 11, 276 Communism: Chinese doctrine of, 358-59; original aim of, 351 Communist party: characteristics of, 351-52; and leadership in Russia, 357-58 "communitas regni," see community of the realm community of the realm, 266-90; evidence from petitions, 279, 280-83; evidence from statutes and writs, 283-86; knights and burgesses as

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

community of the realm (Cont.) spokesmen for, 279-80, 282-83, 283 n. 59, 285 n. 67; magnates as spokesmen for, 276-79, 280-82 Confucianism, 97, 101 Congo, native military class in, 331 Conrad IV, emperor (uncrowned) of Germany and Sicily (1250-1254), 138, 140 Conradin, king of Jerusalem and Sicily (1266-1268), 142,146,148,182 Coquatrix, Geoffroi, royal official, treasurer of Rouergue and of Toulouse, 201, 234-37, 245 n. 30 coronation oath of 1308, 286-89 Cotentin, bailli of, 223-225, and see-. Chretien le Chambellan, Geoffroi Avice, Geoggroi le Blond, Henri de Rie, Louis le Convers, Nicolas de Villiers, Pierre de Bailleus, Raymond Passemer, Robert Busquet Coutances, Walter of, bishop of Lincoln (1183-1184), archbishop of Rouen (1184-1207), 28 n. 1, 31 crusades: financing, 112-16, 126, 128, 136-37, 339; indulgences for crusaders, 124, 128, 131; overseas crusades, failure of, 335-36; First, 334-35; Second, 336; Third, 336; Fourth, 125, 336; Fifth, 336; Sixth, 336 and see crusades of Louis IX; Seventh, 336, 338 crusades of Louis IX, 159-92, 336; against Egypt, 114-15, 159-78; against Tunisia, 160 n., 183-92 crusades, political, 123-55, 336-38; bibliography on, 156-58; against Albigensian heretics, 125, 128, 337-38; against Aragon, 25, 107-22; 151-52, T 55, 338; Boniface VIII against the Colonnas, 154-55; against Byzantine Empire, 147-50; against Ezzelino Romano, 142; against Ghibellines, 123; Gregory IX against Frederick II, 127-33; Innocent III against Markward of Anweiler, 124-26; Innocent IV against Conrad IV, 138-41; Innocent IV against Frederick II, 136-37; papalimperial war over Sicily, 129-46 crusading army, 333-34 curia regis, 51-52 customs service, French, 232-38 Cyprus, 165, 185

Czechoslovakia, 348 daimyo, 91, 93, 96-101 Damietta, 167-70, 175-76 Dammartin, Renaud II, count of, 114 n. 34 danger, 19 Dauphine, 49 defense of the realm, 291-99, 344-45 Denis le Tavernier, viscount of Montivilliers, 228 Denmark, 128 Desclot, Bernardo, Catalan chronicler, 107 n. 1, 109 Despenser family, 261 n. 17, 275, 284 n. 61, 289 n. 78-79 dictatorship, 350-51; in Russia, 351-59 Domesday Survey, 42-43, 94-95 donzel, 221-22 Drincourt, 28 droit ecrit, 51, 55 droit de reve, 238 Dubois, Pierre, Norman lawyer (d. after I32 1 ). 58, 195) 264, 298, 306, 308-10 dukes, 40-41 Edessa, 335 Edmund of Lancaster, titular king of Sicily (1255-1259; d. 1296), 140-42 Edward I, king of England (1272-1307), 112, 211, 254, 263, 339; export taxes of, 232, 240; trip to Holy Land, 191-92 Edward II, king of England (1307-1327): borrows money in 1268, 183; coronation oath of, 286-89; a n d Statute of York, 266-90 Egypt: alliance of Khorezmians with, 161-62; crusade of Louis IX to, 165-78; alliance of Louis IX with, 178-80 Ely, bishop of, 281 empires, 329-32 England: clergy pays for crusades, 128, 131, 137, 141; concept of sovereignty, 258-62; Domesday Survey, 42-43, 94-95; export duties, 232; feudal authority, 79-80, 83; franchise theory of justice, 84; juries, 257; laicization, 251-65; lay administration, 87; nationalism, 262-64, 347; Parliament, 262, 268, 270-72; political structure in 1100, 77, 78; Statute of York, 266-90; as unitary

414

INDEX

state, 346; writ of novel disseisin in, 6-9 Enguerran de Fieffes, juge-mage of Beaucaire, 56 n. 37 Enguerran de Marigny, royal minister (d. 1315), 201, 204-5, 2°8) 211, 245 enquete, French, 9, 10-11, 54 Eric Laspe, king of Sweden (1223-1250), 128 Escaille (or Eschaque) of Florence, receiver of Burgundy, 243 n. 23 Estreille Macet of Macon, 243 n. 23 Eu, Henri II, count of, 31 Eudes of Chateauroux, cardinal-bishop of Tusculum (1244-1273), 162 Eugenius IV, pope (1431-1437), 32-33 Exchequer, Norman, 3-12 Exmes, income of prevote of, 26 "exposition" of land by popes, no, 126 Ezzelino III of Romano, tyrant of Padua and Verona, 142 Fakhr-ad-Din ibn-ash-Shaikh, Egyptian emir (d. 1230), 171-72 Falaise: income of prevote of, 26; viscount of, 223; and see Guillaume as Cros Fauroux, Marie, 39 Fecamp, abbey, 4-5, 11 Fenouilledes: judge of, 216 n. 19; viguier of, 216 n. 19, 222; and see Guillaume de Montcelard, Jean Vigier feudalism (European): administration, 78, 85-86, 87-88; armed retainers, 64, 65, 66-67; breakdown in authority of kings and aristocracy, 78-79, 80-83; concept and nature of authority, 96; courts of kings and princes, 96; definitions, 63-65, 77, 90; development of bureaucracies, 85-88, 92-93; development of feudal institutions, in twelfth century, 77-89; establishment of great commands, 91; feudal chain of command, 83; as foundation of modern European state, 75-76; origins, 40-43, 65, 66-72; period of feudal principalities, 92; two levels of, 40-41, 63-76 feudalism in Japan, 90-104; authority based on family pattern, 96-97; comparison with European feudalism,

90-98; control of religious groups, 93; defects, 101-4; education of vassals, 99, 100; feudal incomes, 94-96; shoguns, 93-94; transition to Westernized society, 99-104 feus, 21-22 fief(s), 20-21, 66-67, 73! values of, 64, 94-95 fieffermes, 24 Fieschi, Sinibaldo, see Innocent IV filiation, in Congregation of Savigny, 32-33 firearms, in fourteenth century Europe, 316-17 FitzRalph, William, seneschal of Normandy, 28-31 Flanders, 27, 68 n. 15, 79-80, 87, 92, 108, 140, 204, 209, 265; Gui de Dampierre, count of, 184, 296; Jeanne, countess of, 293 n· 5 fleur de lis as symbol, 303, 307 Florent of Varennes, French admiral, 185

Flote, Guillaume, enqueteur, 229 Flote, Pierre, royal chancellor (d. !302), 197, 204, 211 Foix, county of, 55, 296 n. 21, 304; Roger-Bernard III, count of, 114 n. 34 forests, revenues from, 22-24 forgery, in Congregation of Savigny, 32 fouage, 18-19, 21 Foulquois, Guy, see Clement IV fourteenth century Europe, 315-20 France: annexation of Normandy and Languedoc, 44-56; boundaries in southern France set, 259; Capetian rulers strengthened, 338; clergy pays for crusades, 144-45, 153, 163-64, 184; concept of sovereignty, 258-62; defense of the realm, 291-99; development of centralized administrative bureaucracy, 49-50; dispute over succession of Artois, 13-14; export duties, 232-33; growth of royal power, 296-99; as a holy land, 308-13; judicial system, 55-56; laicization in thirteenth century, 251-65; as "mosaic" state, 313-14, 346; nationalism, 57-59, 262-64; origins of customs service, 232-38; period of feudal principalities, 92; political

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

France (Cont.) structure in 1100, 77-78; "religion of monarchy," 302-4, 306-8, 313; representation in, 273 n. 18 Franche-Comte, 204, and see Burgundy (county) franchise theory of justice, 84 Francia, duchy of, 91 Frankish kingdom, 66-67, 69-72 Franzesi firm of bankers, 239 Frederick I ("Barbarossa"), emperor of Germany (1152-1190), 80, 84-85, 89,

Geoffroi of Sargines, seneschal of Jerusalem (i254?-1269), 181 Gerard Baleine, treasurer of PerigordQuercy, 245 n. 30 Gerard Chauchat, receiver of Auvergne, 245 n. 30 Gerard Tronquiere, treasurer of Saintonge, 245 n. 30 Germanic kingdoms, armies in, 330-31 Germany: attempts by Innocent IV to weaken Frederick II in, 134-37; feudalism under Frederick Barbarossa in, 80, 84; feudal principalities in, 92;

Frederick II, emperor of Germany and

knights in post-Carolingian period in,

Sicily (1211-1250), 1 0 8 , 1 3 3 - 3 4 , 1 3 7 .

67

162; attempts to rule Lombardy,

political structure in 1100, 77-78

129-30; a n d G r e g o r y I X , 127-29, 132-33

lay a d m i n i s t r a t i o n

in

>88;

G e r o n a , siege of, 117-19, 152

Frescobaldi, Italian bankers, 240 frontier guards, 234 Galvan Bonetbel, viguier of Nimes, 222 n. 41, 230 n. 97 Gandulph of Arcellis, Italian banker,

"68;

Gevaudan, 55, 298, 300 n. 1, 301 n. 2, 345 n - 6 Ghibellines, 123, 145 Giles,

archbishop

of Tyre (1254-ca.

154 G l les AlceIl n a r c h b l s h °P o '

°f

R

(1311-1318), 55, 246 n . 3 2

°uen

„ s o T> Gascony, 204,263,290 n. 80; military governor, see Blayn Loup, Guichard de Marzy; paymaster, see Jean

Gilles le Muisis, Flemish chronicler, iq6 Gisors: bailli of, see Pierre de Bailleus; viscount of, see Jean de Luzarches; viscounty of, 16,46 n. 6

1 Archeveque, 218 n. 28 Gautier III, count of Bnenne (1189-1205), 125

Glanvill, Ranulf (d. 1190), 5,82 n. 9, 200

Gaveston, Piers earl of Cornwall (d.

governments: advances in fourteenth

GIos

Gelasius, pope (492-496), 323-24 Genoa, 127, 132-33, 148, 165, 185-86, i88 8 " 9 Geoffroi d'Anisy, viscount of Bayeux, Mortain, and Caen, 223 n. 46, 227 Geoffroi Avice (Avisse), mayor of Rouen, viscount of Rouen, bailli of the Cotentin, 221 n. 38, 224, 224 n.

c e n t u r y ; 3 l 8 . 2 0 ; medieval 252

. 5 4 ; see

hierarchy of

also modern state; nation-

building; states great khan of the Mongols (1246-1248), 180 graduate education, 395-98; aims, 395; pedantry vs. superficiality, 396-97; ph dissertation, 395, 397;

Goyuk,

53, 3 2 5 n - 5 8 Geoffroi le Blond, bailli of the Cotentin, 224 n. 53 Geoffroi Coquatrix, royal official, treasurer of Rouergue and of Toulouse, 201, 234-37, 245 n. 30 Geoffroi de Flavigny, customs officer,

shortcomings, 395-96 Grandmont, Order of, forgery in, 32 Gratian (ca. 1140), r24, 126 Greece: ancient Greece, relations between religions and state, 324-25; Charles of Anjou attempts to control, 147

237 n - 36 Geoffroi de Paris, French chronicler, 195 Geoffroi du Plessis, prothonotary, 207 n. 49

Gregory IX, pope (1227-124^, 313 n. 51; crusade against Frederick II, 127, 129-33 Gregory X, pope (1271-1276), 148-49

416

INDEX

Gregory of Montelongo, papal legate in Lombardy (d. 1269), 134 Grenade, bayle of, see Jean FArcheveque Gui Bovozuit of Nuits-St.-Georges, 237 n. 36 Gui Chevrier, castellan and viguier of Beaucaire, seneschal of PerigordQuercy, Carcassonne, Saintonge, and Poitou, 218 n. 26, 221 nn. 39-40, 225, 226, 228 Gui de Dampierre, count of Flanders (1251-1304), 184, 296 Gui IV, count of St. Pol (1292-1317), 200 Guichard de Marzy, viguier of Nimes, "captain" of Gascony, seneschal of Perigord-Quercy and Toulouse, 215 n. 7, 218 n. 28, 221 nn. 39-40, 226, 227 n. 71 Guichard des Moulins, viguier of Anduze, 221 n. 39 Guidi brothers, Albizzo and Musciatto (Biche and Mouche), 234, 239-46 Guidi, "Thotus" and "Vanna," 244 n. 27 Guillaume dAuvergne, bishop of Paris (1228-1248), 127 Guillaume Bocuce, castellan of Sommieres, viguier of Aigues-Mortes, 217 n. 25 Guillaume de Charenton, castellan of Sauveterre, viguier of St.-Saturnin, 217 n. 25, 221 n. 39 Guillaume de Chatelet, castellan and viguier of Alais, 218 n. 26 Guillaume as Cros, viscount of Neuchatel and Falaise, 219 n. 29, 223 n. 46, 227 Guillaume Durand II, bishop of Mende (1296-1328), 259 n. 9, 300 n. 1, 301 n. 2 Guillaume FritzRalph, seneschal of Normandy, 28-31 Guillaume Flote, enqueteur, 229 Guillaume des Forges, frontier guard, 234 n. 13 Guillaume de Hangest, treasurer, 15 n. 6 Guillaume de Linieres, viguier of Aigues-Mortes, Rochefort, and Lunel, 218 n. 26, 220 n. 34, 220 n. 36, 221 n. 39, 223 n. 47,227

Guillaume le Maire, bishop of Angers (1291-1314), 198 Guillaume de Marcilly, royal official, 201, 234-37 Guillaume de la Mare, viguier of Aigues-Mortes, 221 n. 39 Guillaume de Montcelard, viguier of Fenouilledes, 220 n. 36, 221 n. 39 Guillaume de Nogaret, royal minister (d. 1313), 55, 58, 201-2, 204-8, 213, 297 n. 25, 306, 308-11 Guillaume Pazier, viguier of Nimes, 221 n. 39 Guillaume de Pezens, viguier of Albi, 228 Guillaume de Plaisians, royal minister, 57-58, 259 n. 9, 260-61, 291 Guillaume Pollin, viguier and clavier of Nimes, 217 n. 22, 228 n. 84 Guillaume Renard, viscount of Maulevrier, 221 n. 37 Guillaume de Sauqueville, O.P. 58, 307, 311-12, 314 Guillaume Talbot, 30, 36 Guillaume Ysarn, viguier of Toulouse, 222 n. 42 Haakon V, king of Norway (1217-1263), 163 Habsburg monarchy, 348 Hainaut, 68 n. 15,140 han, 94, 102 Harbiyah, battle of, 162 haro, 6 Heaton, Herbert, 369,377 Henri II, bishop of Bayeux (1165-1205), 31 Henri II, count of Eu (1170-1185), 3T Henri de Rie, viscount of Caen, bailli of Cotentin, 221 n. 38, 224, 224 n. 53 Henry I, king of England (1100-1135), 83 Henry II, king of England and duke of Normandy (1154-1189), 15, 52, 255; forged and genuine charters for Bival, 28-38 Henry III, king of England (1217-1272), 140-42, 144, 162, 183, 263, 271, 276-77, 279 Henry VII, emperor of Germany (1308-1313), 261, 309,311

417

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Henry Raspe IV, landgrave of Thuringia (1242-1247), king of Germany (1246-1247), 134,137 Henry of Segusio (Hostiensis) (d. 1271), 123-24, 136 Hetoum I, king of Cilician Armenia (1226-1269), 181 history: art of, 371; as basis for understanding human behavior, 380-82, 387-88; criticism of, 363-64; and common sense, 376-77; compared to bridge game, 370-71; curriculum of, 380-89; definition of, 364-65; detail in, 391-92; distortion in, 368-69; pattern in, 369-70; sense of balance and proportion from, 371-75, 382-84; as sequences of cause and effect, 368-69; significance and reasons for studying, 366-67, 370, 379-84, 389-94; source material in, 365-66; teaching of, 364-65, 377-78, 389-94, 396-97; United States history vs. world history, 379-86; validity of facts of, 367-68; world history, 383-84, 389-94 Hodeng-en-Bray, church of, 30, 33 Hohenstaufens, 108, 137-38, 140-41; crusades against, 123, 126, 145, 337-38 Holborn, Hajo, 376-77 homage, 66, 72-74 Honorius III, pope (1216-1227), 127 Honorius IV, pope (1285-1287), 109 hospitals, 265 Hostiensis (Henry of Segusia) (d. 1271), 123-24, 136 Hugh le Despenser, earl of Winchester (d. 1326), 26r n. T7 Hugo Beti, Italian treasurer of Beaucaire, 245 n. 30 Hugo Lercari, Genoese admiral, 165 Hugues III, duke of Burgundy (1162-1192), 86 Hugues IV, duke of Burgundy (1218-1273), 172, 183 Hugues de la Celle, royal minister, 200-1 Hugues de "Changeyo," viguier of Albi and Limoux, 220 n. 34, 221 n. 39 Hugues X, lord of Lusignan, count of La Marche and Angouleme (1219-1248), 293 n. 5 Hugues XIII, lord of Lusignan, count of La Marche and Angouleme

(1270-1302), 114 n. 34 Hugues de la Tour du Pin, bishop of Clermont (1227-1249), 128-29 Humbert V, lord of Beaujeu (1216-1250), 174 Hungary, 137, 147, 149 Imbert de Romans, frontier guard, 234 n. 13 imperialism, 329-32 India, British, 331-32 Innocent III, pope (1198-1216), 124-27, 344, 336, 339 Innocent IV, pope (1243-1254): crusade against Conrad IV, 138-41; crusade strategy, 134-37; holds general council in Lyons, 134; negotiations for peace with Frederich II, 133-35; a n d taxes of Louis IX, 162 n. 3 Isabel of Aragon, wife of Philip III (d. 1271), 191 Islam, 326-28 Italian bankers in France, 239-47 Italy: feudalism in, 77; political crusades in, 337-38; attempts to unite, 130; see also Sicily Jacob di Levanto, Genoese admiral, 165 Jaime I, king of Majorca (1262-1311), 114 Jaime I, king of Aragon (1213-1276), 183 Jaime II, king of Sicily (1285-1291), king of Aragon (1291-1327), 206 Jame, Pierre, professor at Montpellier, 297 Japan: and China, 103; Confucianism in, 101; feudalism in, 64, 90-104; imitation of European models in, 99-100; military tradition in, 102-3; and Westernization, 99-104 Jean dAnonville, frontier guard, 234 n. 13 Jean l'Archeveque, bayle of Grenade, castellan of Verdun-sur-Garonne, viguier of Toulouse, paymaster for Gascon War, 214 n. 3, 215 n. 7, 218 n. 25 and n. 28, 22r n. 39, 223 n. 50 Jean d'Arrabloy, viguier and castellan of Beaucaire, seneschal of Perigord, Carcassonne, and Beaucaire, 215 n. 7,

418

INDEX

218 n. 26 and n. 28, 220, 220 n. 36, 2 2 1 n . 39, 225-26, 227 n . 71

Jean I, duke of Brabant (1261-1294),

Jews, 242, 244, 311 J o a n of A r c , St. ( d . 1 4 3 1 ) , 313

John of Paris, theologian (d. 1306),

114 n . 3 4 , 1 1 5

274-75

Jean de Brienne, regent of Jerusalem (1212-1225), 169 Jean I, count of Brittany (1237-1286), 184 Jean de Buci, frontier guard, 234 n. 13 Jean de Changy, viguier of Nimes, 2 2 8 n. 83 Jean Chevrel, viguier of Toulouse, 222 n. 42, 228 Jean de Cors, frontier guard, 234 n. 13 Jean Foulques de Tournai, viguier of Carcassonne, 221 n. 39 Jean, lord of Joinville (d. 1319), 163-67, 170-71, 173-74, 176-78, 183 Jean Julian of Lyons, 237 n. 36 Jean Lagayte, viguier of Beziers, 2 2 I n. 39 Jean de Longeau, viguier of St.-Saturnin, 212 n. 39 Jean Longuepee, viguier of Carcassonne, 221 n. 39 Jean de Luzarches, viscount of Gisors,

John of Salisbury (d. 1180), 395 Joinville, Jean, lord of (d. 1319), 163-67, 170-71, 17374, 176-78. 183 Jordan, 348 judges, 214-16 jury, 8-9, 54, 257 Khorezmians, 161-62 Khruschev, Nikita S., 352-54, 356-57 kings: decline of Frankish, 70; as defenders of the church, 292; homage and fidelity owed to, 72-74; military service owed to, 295; "most Christian," 306-8; ordain for common welfare, 295 knights: fees of, 95; "free," 67; income of, 95, 222; military service by, 41-42, 72; as Norman viscounts, 221; origins of, 66-69; political power of, 67-69; in post-Carolingian period in Germany, 67-68; as spokesmen for the community of the realm, 279-80,

220 n . 3 5

282-83, 2 8 5 n . 6 7 ; as v i g u i e r s , 221-22

Jean de Machery, castellan of Montreal, viguier of Toulouse, seneschal of Lyons and of M k o n , bailli of Vitry ( ? ) , 218 n . 25, 2 2 1 n . 39, 225-26

Jean Minhoti, viguier of Lunel, 221 n. 39 Jean I, count of Montfort (1241-1248), Jean, count of Nevers (1261-1270), ' , i . , , . ., T

Jean de P a n s , theologian (d. 1306), 74'75

laicization of society, 251-65 L a

Marche

>

c o u n t s of

'ofHuguesX

a n dHuguesXIII,lordsofLusignan

Langres, 294 L a n g u e d o c , 44-47, 51, 5 5 - 5 8 , 1 2 0 , 3 4 7 ;

l 6

2

Krey, August C., 384-85

, of, 213 31 LaPiana, George, 378 Laurent Tihart, prevot of Beaumont^

_

^

pont

Jean de Rougemont, frontier guard,

v i s c o u n t d e

of A u g £

afld

p A r c h e , 2 2 0 n . 35, 221 n .

a

30, 227 2 34 n - J 3 Jean Sarrasin, chamberlain of Louis IX, 166 Jean de Vertot, viscount, bailli of Caen, 224, 224 n. 59 Jean Vigier, viguier of Fenouilledes, 221 n. 39 Jean de Wassi, frontier guard, 234 n. 13 Jeanne, countess of Flanders (1206-1244), 293 n. 5 Jerusalem, 161-62, 335

J a w courts, development of, 342-43 lawyers, 7-8, 10-11; and French monarchy, 55-57 Lenin, Vladimir, 352-53 L e Puy, Adhemar, bishop of, 334 Lercari, Hugo, Genoese admiral, 165 Levanto, Jacob di, Genoese admiral, 165 liege homage, 81 Limousin, 46 Limoux: judge of, 216 n. 19; viguier of, 216 n. 19, and see Hugues de "Changeyo"

419

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Lodeèe, 294 n. 14 Lombard League, 127, 134 Lombards, in France, 242-44 Lombardy, 129-30,134,142 lordships, local, 78 Loria, Roger de, Italian admiral (d. 1305), 117-18

Majorca, Jaime I, king of, 114 Malaspina, Saba, 109 Malenkov, Georgi M., 352-53 Malone, Dumas, 377-78 Mamluk, 143, 148, 179 al-Mamun, abu-al-'Abbas 'Abdullah Abbasid caliph at Baghdad (813-833), 3 2 7

L o r r a i n e , 75 n . 27, 79, 108, 162-63

Loterius Blanchi, treasurer of Carcassonne, 245 n. 30 Louis VI, king of France (1108-1137), 85, 291 Louis VII, king of France (1137-1180), 85, 293 Louis IX (Saint Louis), king of France (1226-1270), 16, 108, 208-9, 263, 294 n - 14 303-4; in Palestine after first crusade, 178-81; and administrative reorganization of Normandy, 52; allies with Egyptians against Syria, 179-81; attempts alliance with Mongols, 180-81; attempts to define boundaries of France, 304; c h a r a c t e r a n d abilities of, 159-61; h i s c r u s a d e t o E g y p t , 114-15, 118,

Manfred, king of Sicily (1258-1266), 108,138-42, 146 Mansurah, battle of, 171-74 al-MaqrizI, Arabic historian (d. 1442), 189 Margaret of Provence, wife of Louis IX (d. 1296), 176 Marigny, Enguerran de, royal minister (d. 1315), 201, 204-5, 208, 211, 245 Marino Filangieri, archbishop of Bari (1226-1251), 138-39 Markward of Anweiler, imperial steward (d. 1202), 124-26 Marseilles, 165, 186 n. 18, 188-89 Marshall, George C„ 382 M a r d n

159-81 336; his crusade to Tunisia, taxation axa ion,Cahors, 1 2 -56 4 ,n.137 7 7 - 7 , 1 1,1 4

l y

( s i m o n

of Brie) , p o p e

(1281-1285), 1 0 9 - n , 119, 149-51

de

CourjumelleS; judge

of

M a t t h e w Paris, E n g l i s h c h r o n i c l e r

Louis X, king of France (1314-1316): ,, as k i n s of Navarre 2^7 (d. 1259), 153, 303n. 10 Matthew of Vendome, abbot of Louis le Convers of Villepereux, St D ' 1 te l s I 12 viscount of Bayeux and Rouen, p ' . ' enqueteur, 220 n. 35, 224-25, 225 n. 60 Maulevner, viscount of, Lucienne of Segni, wife of Bohemond V G u i l k u m e Renard of A n t i o c h (1235-1252), 180

Lucius III, pope (1181-1185), 294 Lull, Ramon (d. 1316), 312 Lunel: judge of, 216 n. 19; viguier of, 216 n. 19, 219 n. 31, 230 n. 94, and see Guillaume de Linieres, Jean Minhoti, Pierre de Loys

M a

Macon, 46; bailli of, see Jean de Machery magnates, 276-82 Mahaut, countess of Artois (1302-1329), 13-14 Maillard, royal notary, 202

Robutln

>

a n d see Benoit

L y o n s , 59, ro8, 144, 209, 235 n . 24, 306,

308; Council of (1245), 134, 137, 162-63; seneschal of, see Jean de Machery

?eul

VI

Smer

of

Carcassonne, 221 n. 39, 227 Mende > bishopric of, 55, 259 n. 9, 2 8 9 > 300 n. 1, 301 n. 2, 345 n. 6 mercenaries, 72, 82-83, i ° 2 metallurgy, 23, 316 Meyrueis, viguier of, 230, 230 n. 94, Est

eye

Michael VIII Paleologus, emperor of Byzantium (1259-1282), 147-50, r82 Mignon, Robert, clerk of the Chambre des Comptes (d. after 1360), 232 miles, 66-67; see also knights military service, 20, 81-83, 330 Milon I, bishop of Beauvais (1217-1234), 128-29 mills, revenues from, 24-25 Minervois, viguier of, see Adam de

420

INDEX

Marolles, Philippe de Marolles, Raymond de Niort ministeriales, 88 missi, 69 modernization, 103 monarchy: deification of, 302, 325; see also kings Mongols, 180-82 Montfort, Jean I, count of, 165 Montivilliers, viscount of, see Denis Ie Tavernier Montpellier, 55, 198 n. 14, 296 n. 21; rector of, see Guichard de Marzy Montreal, castellan of, see Jean de Machery Mortain, viscount of, 222, and see Geoffroi d'Anisy Moslem world: religion and state in, 326-28; in 1240s, 161-62 Mouche, see Guidi, Musciatto Muhammad I, Hafsid emir of Tunisia (1249-1277), 187-90 Muntaner, Ramon, Catalan chronicler, 107 η. ι al-Musta '?im, 'Abbasid caliph at Baghdad (1242-1258), 180 al-Mutawakkil, 'Abbasid caliph at Baghdad (847-861), 327 Mutazilah movement, 327 Naples, 139,152 Narbonne: archbishop of, 162 n. 3; prelates of, 294 n. 14; seneschal of, 294 n. 14 an-Nasir YCisuf, Salah-ad-DIn, Aiyubid ruler of Aleppo (1236-1260), 165-66, 179 nation-building in Europe, 341-48 nationalism, 262-64, 3I3-I4> 346-48 navigation in fourteenth century, 317 Neubourg (Ie), 22-23 Neuchatel, viscount of, 222, and see Guillaume as Cros Neufchatel-en-Bray (Drincourt), 28 Nevers, Jean, count of, 176,190 Nicholas, St., 311 Nicholas III, pope (1277-1280), 148-49 Nicholas IV, pope (1288-1292), 119-20, 121 n. 51, 204, 306 n. 19 Nicolas l'Epicier, canon of Lodeve, 237 n. 36

Nicolas d'Ermenonville, treasurer of Rouergue and of Toulouse, 245 n. 30 Nicolas de Villiers, viscount, bailli of the Cotentin and Caen, 224 Nigeria, 331-32 Nimes, 46,113 n. 26; clavier of, 217; viguier of, 217, 230, and see Galvan Bonetbel, Guichard de Marzy, Guillaume Pazier, Guillaume Pollin, Jean de Changy Nogaret, Guillaume de, royal minister (d. 1313), 55, 58, 201-2, 204-8, 213, 297 n. 25,306, 308-11 Norman Conquest, 44-45 Normandy: administration of, 16-17, 49-54, 87; annexation of, 44-45, 92; customs of, 48-49; diffusion of rights of justice in, 75 n. 27, dukes of, 40-41; early charters of, 39-43; economy of, 13-27; Exchequer of, 3-12, 14-15, 52-53; feudalism in, 20-21, 68 n. 15, 79-80, 81 n. 6, 83; forests of, 22-24; fragmentation of political power in, 74-75; influences develop­ ment of French state, 44-49; population of, 21-23; royal revenues from, 45-47; surveys of lands and revenues, 14-17; viscounts of, 213-31; writ of novel disseisin in, 3-12 Norway, Haakon V, king of, 163 novel disseisin, writ of, 3-12 Octavian (Ubaldini), cardinal-deacon (1244-1273), 142 Odofredus, 298 nn. 31-32 Orbec, 16, 19, 22-23; viscount of, see Pierre Dalart Ordainers, 274, 288 Otto IV, count of Burgundy (1279-1303), 114 n. 34 Ozil d'Autejac, frontier guard, 237 n. 36 pagus, disintegration of, 74 Pakistan, 331 Palestine, 143, 335 Pallavicini, Oberto, tyrant of Cremona and Piacenza (d. 1269), 142 Pantaleon, Jacques, see Urbain IV papacy: diplomacy, 107-8, 152-55; resistance to taxation broken, 241; see also Church; individual popes pariages, 254-55

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Paris, Matthew, English chronicler (d. 1259), 153, 303 n. 10 Parlement of Paris, 10, 14 n. 5, 50, 55, 226, 235, 257 n. 6 Parliament: assent of the community of the realm, 266 n. 1, 267-70, 274-90; commons, in judicial activity, 289; consent to taxation, 273; petitions, 280-83; as propaganda and publicity agency, 271-74 Parma, 134 Perigord-Quercy, seneschaussee of, 46, 225-26; receiver of, 246 n. 30; seneschal of, 198, and see Gui Chevrier, Guichard de Marzy, Jean d'Arrabloy Peruzzi, Italian bankers, 241, 244 n. 27, 246, 246 nn. 31-32 Peter III, king of Aragon (1276-1285) and of Sicily (1282-1285), 109-10» 114,118-19, r5°-52 Peter Capocci, cardinal (1244-1259), i35>139 Peter Damian, cardinal-bishop of Ostia (1058-^Λ. io66, d. 1072), 126 Philip II ("Augustus"), king of France (1180-1223): and defense of the realm, 294; concept of territorial kingdom, 293-94; preserves Norman institutions, 49-50, 54 Philip III ("the Bold"), king of France (1270-1285): in Tunisian campaign, 190; alliance with Charles of Anjou in Sicily, 108; asserts rights in south of France, 304; forbids export of wool, 232; his taxation, 112-16; crusade against Aragon, 116-19, 151-52, 338; death, 107 Philip IV ("the Fair"), king of France (1285-1314): arrest of Bernard Saisset, 205; concept of kingship, 208-10, 296-99, 304-6, 319; after crusade against Aragon, 119-20, 152, 155; evaluation of, 195-212; feudal monarchy of, 254-55; foreign policy, 108, 204-5; frontier controls, 233-34, grant to Robert of Artois, 14, 19; interest in details of government, 197-203; and Italian bankers, 239-47; judicial procedures under, 55, 198; letters and documents, 198-203; local government personnel under,

213-31; peace with Flanders, 291; personal diplomacy, 207-8; planned annexation of Franche-Comte, 204; quarrel with Boniface VIII, 154-55, 205, 209-10, 296-97; relations with council, 210-12; revenues, 239, 24144; theory of defense of the realm, 291-92, 296-97, 308; Val d'Aran case, 204 n. 32, 206-7; viscounts and viguiers under, 213-31; war with Edward I and Gui of Flanders, 296; weakens power of papacy, 120-22, J55> 338-39; weaknesses, 210-n Philip V, king of France (1316-1322), 236 n. 30, 237-38; as count of Poiton, 208 Philip VI, king of France (1328-1350), 213 n. i, 236 n. 30 Philippe de Beaumanoir (d. 1296), 57, 259-60, 295-96 Philippe Ie Convers: see Philippe de Villepreux Philippe Ie Convers, nephew of Philippe de Villepreux, maitre des requetes under Philip V, 14 n. 5 Philippe des Fontaines, viguier of Toulouse, 222 n. 41 Philippe de Marigny, archbishop of Sens (1309-1316), 246 n. 32 Philippe de Marolles, viguier of Minervois, constable of Carcassonne, 218 n. 26, 221 n. 39 Philippe de Villepreux (Philippe Ie Convers), king's clerk, maitre des eaux et forets, 14-15, 200-1 Pierre de Bailleus, viscount of Valonges, bailli of Gisors and the Contentin, seneschal of Saintonge, 221 n. 37, 224-25 Pierre Baleine, treasurer of PerigordQuercy, 245 n. 30 Pierre "de Bosco" or "de Buci," viguier and castellan of Beaucaire, viguier of Uzes, 218 n. 26, 223 n. 47 Pierre de Chalon, royal official, bishop of Chalon (d. 1345), 232-38, 242 Pierre Chaloni, viguier of Beaucaire, 230 n. 97 Pierre VI, lord of Chambly, 201 Pierre Dalart, prevot of Chaumonten-Vexin, viscount of Orbec and

INDEX

Carentan, 219 η. 29, 220 η. 35> 221 η. 38, 228 Pierre Dubois, Norman lawyer (d. after 1321), 58, 195, 264, 298, 306, 308-10 Pierre Flote, royal chancellor (d. 1302), 197, 204, 211 Pierre de Hangest, royal bailli, 14-15 Pierre Jame, professor at Montpellier, 297

Pierre de Loys, viguier of Lunel, 221 n. 39 Pierre de Machery, constable of Carcassonne, viguier of Beziers, seneschal of Beaucaire, 218 n. 25, 221 n. 39, 225-26, 227 n. 71 Pierre II de Machery, 226 n. 70 Pierre Ie Minier, viscount of Vire, 221 n. 37 Pierre de Provino, viguier of Carcassonne, 227-28 Pierre de Souplessano, treasurer of Saintonge, 245 n. 30 Pierre, count of Vendome (1239-1249), 165 Pierrement, 30, 33, 35-36 Pipard, Gilbert, 31 Pisa, 132 plena potestas, 57, 273 n. 17 Poitou, 46, 87, 92; seneschal of, 226 Poland, 137, 348 Pont-Audemer, viscount of, see Raymond Passemer Pont de l'Arche, viscount of, see Laurent Tihart population of Normandy, 21-23 Premontre, order of, 308 prevdtes, 22, 24-26, 47, 52, 214 Princeton University, Scheide ms. 6992, 28, 36-38 principalities, disintegration of, 71 procurators, 55, 57 Provence, 68 n. 15, 75, 149 Provins, 113 n. 26

Raymond Arnaud, viguier of Toulouse, 221 n. 39, 227 Raymond Bernart, treasurer of Rouergue, 245 n. 30 Raymond de Montsalvi, viguier of Anduze, 221 n. 39 Raymond de Niort, viguier of Minervois, 221 n. 39 Raymond Passemer, viscount of Pont-Audemer, bailli of the Cotentin, 221 n. 38, 224 n. 53, 225 Raymond de Pauchel, bishop of Cahors (1300-1312), 255 η. 2 receivers, 217, 245-46 regnum, 40, 45 n. 2, 59, 292-93, 305, 341-42, 346 religion: and the state, 321-28; of monarchy, 57, 302 Renaud d'Auxy, viguier of Beziers, 220 n. 36, 221 n. 39 Renaud II, count of Dammartin (1267-ca. 1298), 114 n. 34 Renaud de Nuciaco, viguier of Albi, 221 n. 39 Renier Accorre, receiver of Champagne, 242-43 Renier de la Belle, frontier guard, 234 n. 13 retainers, armed, 65-67; see also knights Rheims, 153, 184, 294; archbishop of, 296 Riccardi, Italian bankers, 240 rice economy of Japan, 95-96 Richard, earl of Cornwall, emperor of Germany (1257-1272), 139, 162 Richard I ("Lionheart"), king of England (1189-1199),336 Richard II, duke of Normandy (996-ca. 1027), 39-40 Ricobonus Aycardi, treasurer of Beaucaire, 245 n. 30 Robert I, count of Artois (d. 1250),

Quercy, see Perigord-Quercy

170-74 Robert of Artois (d. 1343), 13-14, 17-27 Robert de Bival, 35 Robert II, duke of Burgundy

Raoul de Courjumelles, judge of

(1272-1305), 114 n. 34,115 Robert Busquet, bailli of the Cotentin,

Beaucaire, 56 n. 37 Raoul de Verneuil-en-Brie, viscount of Avranches, 220 n. 35, 221 n. 37

224 n. 59 Robert de Gilocourt, viscount of Valonges, 220 n. 35, 221 n. 37

MEDIEVAL STATECRAFT

Robert, archbishop of Lyons (1227-1234), 127 Robert Mignon, clerk of the Chambre des Comptes (d. after 1360), 232 Robert I ("the Magnificent"), duke of Normandy (d. 1035), 41-42 Robert II ("Curthose"), duke of Normandy (d. 1134), 80 Rochefort, viguier of, 219 n. 31, 223, and see Guillaume de Linieres Rodez, chapter, 255 n. 2 Roger de Loria, Italian admiral (d. 1305), 117 Roger-Bernard III, count of Foix (1265-1302), 114 n. 34 Roman empire, 322, 324-25, 329, 349 Roman law, 56-57 Roquemar, viguier of, 230 Rotrou, archbishop of Rouen (1165-1183), 35-36 Rouen: bailli, 25; archbishops, see Gilles Aicelin, Rotrou, Walter of Coutances; mayor, see Geoffroi Avice; receiver, see Baudouin Pontrel; viscount of, 215-16, 219, and see Geoffroi Avice, Thomas Ie Convers of Villepreux Rouergue: procurators, 55 n. 34; receivers, 246 n. 30; revenues, 46 Roye, 164 n. 8 Rudolf I (of Habsburg), emperor of Germany (1273-1291), 11 n. 16 Russia, 64, 351-59 St. Denis, 291; Matthew of Vendome, abbot of, 112, 155; Yves of, 195 St. Papoul, abbey, 255 n. 2 St. Pol, Gui IV, count of, 200 St. Saturnin: monastery, 255 n. 2; viguier of, see Adam de Montoire, Guillaume de Charenton, Jean de Longeau St. Wandrille, abbey, 3-4, 11, 41-42 Saintonge, 46; receivers, 246 n. 30; seneschal, see Gui Chevrier, Pierre de Bailleus Saisset, Bernard, bishop of Pamiers (1297-1308), 195-96, 205, 211, 247 as-Salih Aiyub, Najm-ad-Dm, Aiyiibid sultan of Egypt (1240-1249), i6x, 165-67,169-71 Salisbury, John of (d. 1180), 395

samurai, 94, 98-101 Sardinia, 129,149, 186, 189 Sarrasin, Jean, chamberlain of Louis IX, 166 Sauveterre, castellan, see Guillaume de Charenton Savigny, Congregation of, 29 n. 9, 32-35

Scali, Italian bankers, 246 n. 32 science in fourteenth-century Europe, 317-18 seal, keeper of, for Philip IV, 199-201; Nogaret as, 202 Sens: archbishop of, see Philippe de Marigny; bailli of, 202 n. 27; Council of (1292), 306 Serbia, 147 Shajar-ad-Durr, wife of as-Salih Aiyub and Aybeg, 171, 177 Shelepin, Alexandr N., 353 shipbuilding, 317 shogun, 91, 93-94, 96-97, 100, 102 Sicilian Vespers, 109, 147, 150 Sicily: conflict between Innocent IV and Frederick II, 135; division of kingdom, 152; government of Charles of Anjou, 108-9; Innocent Ill's policy toward, 125-26; papalimperial war, 129-38, 149, 152-53; political crusades against, 337-38; rebellion against Manfred, 138-39; relations with Tunis, 187-88 Simon of Brie, see Martin IV Sommieres: castellan, see Guillaume Bocuce; viguier, 219 n. 31, 230 n. 94 sovereignty: internal, 344-45; royal, 57; theory of, 258-62 Spain, 77,144 Spoleto, duchy of, 135 Stalin, Joseph V., 352-53 state: and Church, 321-28; boundaries, 258-59; development of, 300-2, 319-20, 341-48; and dictatorship, 349-51; "mosaic" and unitary, 346 Statute of Westminster II (1285), 6 Statute of Westminster IV (1320), 286 Statute of York (1322), 266-90 Suslov, Mikail A., 357 Sweden, 128; Eric Laspe, king of, 128 Tagliacozzo, 146 Talbot family, 30 n. 10, 36

INDEX

Tancred Benchaveni, treasurer of Carcassonne, 245 n. 30 Taranto, 140 taxation: by Alphonse of Poitiers, 164, 184; of clergy, 47 n. 9, 112, 137,

Val d'Aran, 204 n. 32, 206-7 valletus regis, 221-22 Valognes, viscount, see Robert de Gilocourt, Pierre de Bailleus "vassal," 67, 72 n. 19

154,163, 184, 241, 296-97, 339;

Venice, 1 4 2 , 1 4 7 , 1 4 9 , 1 8 5 , 1 8 6 n . 17

in England, 240-46, 285; by Louis IX, 46, 164, 177, 181, 184; by Philip III, 112-13; by Philip IV, 46-47,121,

Verdun-sur-Garonne, castellan, see Jean l'Archeveque Vermandois, 45, 48

232-38, 239-44, 296

Verneuil, 16, 26

Templars, Knights, 46,172,179, 209, 235 n. 24, 242, 245, 264, 306 Thibaud V, count of Champagne and king of Navarre (1253-1270), 184, 191 T h o m a s le Convers of Villepreux, viscount of Bayeux and Rouen, 220 n. 35 tiers, 19-20 Tosa, 191 Toulouse: bishop, 255; commune, 198; count, 83; receivers, 246 n. 30; regent, see Jean l'Archev£que; seneschal, see Blayn Loup, Guichard de Marzy; seneschaussee, 46; viguier, see Blayn Loup, Guillaume Ysarn, Jean l'Archeveque, Jean Chevrel, Jean de Machery, Philippe des Fontaines, Raymond Arnaud Vitry, Touraine, 113, 295 Tours: ecclesiastical province of, 263, 291, 293-94, 308; monastery of St. Martin, 294 Trapani, 148, 150 Tripoli

viguiers, 213-31; compared with viscounts, 220-22; duties, 216-18; f a r m i n g the office, 230-31; honesty and efficiency, 226-29; of northern origin, 220; origin of office, 214-15; promotion opportunities, 222-26; salaries, 216 n. 19, 219, 222; social origin, 221-22, 230 Villani, Giovanni (d. 1348), 196 Vire, viscount, see Pierre le Minier viscounts, Norman, 213-31; compared with viguiers, 220-22; duties, 215-16; honesty and efficiency, 226-29; nonN o r m a n , 220; origin of office, 214-15; promotion opportunities, 222 26 - > s a l a r i e s 219 2 2 2 ; social origin, 221-22 Viterbo, treaty of (1267), 147 bailli, see Jean Machery Viviers, bishop of, 255 n. 1 W

(1184-1207), 335

I umsia, crusade against, 185-92 Turan-Shah, al-Mu 'azzam, son of as-Salin Aivub, Aiyubid sultan 01 J Egypt (1249-1250) 171, 1 7 5 7 9 Tusculum, cardinal-bishop, see Berengar Fredoli, Eudes of

28 n. I, 31 wardships, 81-83 Westernization, military emphasis Wilham I, duke of N o r m a n d y , o \ 1 • c t- , , (1035-1087), king of England (1066-1087), 41-43 wmiam

CMteauroux United States history, 380-84, 389-90 Urban II, pope (1088-1099), 334-35 Urban IV (Jacques Pantaleon, patriarch of Jerusalem, 1255-1261), pope

n> CQunt

of

Holknd

( 1234-1256),

king in Germany

(1247-1256),

134-37, 139

William (of Auvergne), bishop of Paris (1228-1248), 127 William, heir to earldom of Salisbury (1226-1250), 172 world history and culture, teaching

(1261-1264), 138, 143-45

Uzes: judge, 216 n. 19; viguier, 216 n. 19, 223, and see Pierre "de Bosco"

of f Coutances bishop of Lincoln ("83-1184), archbishop of Rouen

of, 389-94

Yves of St. Denis (ca. 1317), 195

425