FOOTNOTES:

Superior Type of Jongleur

Each member of such a troupe has his specialty, and some of the feats are wonderful. There is usually a slim girl who can perform a "Herodias's daughter's dance" so magnificently that everybody can understand how the Palestinian princess took in the gullible king by heracrobatic feats. She can even dance on her hands and kick her feet in the air, to the great delight of all but the more sanctimonious guests. Vainly did the holy St. Bernard inveigh against the seigneurs who receive such troupes in their castles: "A man fond of jongleurs will soon possess a wife named Poverty. The tricks of jongleurs can never please God." Certain it is that at the wedding the bishop and his priests, after a fewpro formacoughings, seem laughing as loudly as do the barons at all the tricks of Conon's entertainers.

DANCER OF THE TWELFTH CENTURYDANCER OF THE TWELFTH CENTURYRestored by Viollet-Le-Duc (Musée de Toulouse).

DANCER OF THE TWELFTH CENTURYRestored by Viollet-Le-Duc (Musée de Toulouse).

DANCER OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY

Restored by Viollet-Le-Duc (Musée de Toulouse).

A great feast demands enough jongleurs to entertain many different circles. While one bold fellow is keeping the villeins roaring by the antics of his tame bear, while three others (including a woman) are dancing grossly upon a platform before other gaping hundreds, a superior member of their mystery is attracting again many noble guests to the banqueting tent. He is no common performer. Messire sent all the way to Chalons for him, promising ample reward. Maître Edmond boasts that he is a Christian—meaning he takes his profession as a kind of lay priesthood. He is on friendly terms with great prelates. He never recites the scurrilous littlefabliauxassailing the clergy. He knows by heart, however, nearly all the great epics and romances. His richbliaut of green silk sets forth his impressive figure. His gestures are eloquent. He can work upon the imaginations of his audience and move it to tears, acclamations, or wild excitement. In a later age he would, in short, be a great actor or an equally great "reader"—causing all the parts of a drama to speak through one person.

Maître Edmond has consulted Conon as to what romance or epic would please the best. There is a great collection of stories of heroes, usually in a kind of sing-song verse, and claiming very largely to have a Breton origin. One whole category revolves around the doings of Charlemagne and his peers; another deals with King Artus (Arthur) of Brittany (really Britain) and his Knights of the Round Table; still another cycle tells of the Trojan War, and Sire Hector, Sire Achilles, and Sire Ulysses, making the ancient Ilium into a North French castle besieged by decidedly feudal methods; while others rehearse the mighty deeds of Alexander. In all there are at least forty well-recognized epicchansons de geste(songs of mighty deeds), most of them six thousand to eight thousand lines in length, besides many shorter romances. Maître Edmond knows a surprising number of them all. These bald figures give some idea of the richness of this type of feudal literature.

Of course, the famous "Chanson de Roland" constitutes the most splendid narrative. Everybody knows the story of how Roland and Olivier, the favorite peers of Charlemagne, were betrayed to the Paynim in Spain by the foul traitor Ganelon; how they sold their lives right dearly after innumerable doughty deeds; how their souls ascended to heaven; and how later Charlemagne took terrific vengeance both on the Infidels and on Ganelon. It is an epic which in later days will be rated equal, ifnot superior, to its German rival, the "Nibelungenlied." But the "Song of Roland" is now nearly two centuries old and is very familiar. Besides, it is too long for one afternoon, and it is hard to pick out episodes. Maître Edmond proposes some scenes from the stories of Troy, but the baron thinks they are not sufficiently sentimental for the occasion. So they agree on the "Story of Tristan and Ysolt." This is fairly well known by the company, but is not threadbare; it gives plenty of opportunity for the women to weep, and the jongleur says that he has a new version not overlengthy.

Maître Edmond, therefore, strides out into the bridal tent, accompanied by a handsome youth in a saffron mantle, who thrums a harp with silver frets. The high jongleur begins his story in an easy recitative which occasionally breaks into melodious arias. It is really a mingling of verse and prose, although the language never loses a certain meter and rhythm.

Story of Tristan and Ysolt

THIRTEENTH-CENTURY HARPTHIRTEENTH-CENTURY HARPFrom sculpture in the cathedral of Chartres.

THIRTEENTH-CENTURY HARPFrom sculpture in the cathedral of Chartres.

THIRTEENTH-CENTURY HARP

From sculpture in the cathedral of Chartres.

The narrative runs along the conventional lines:—King Mark of Cornwall was a good man and wise prince. The beautiful Ysolt was his wife; the valiant and poetic Tristan his nephew. These last two, in all innocency, take a magic potion which compels them to fall in love, and any sinful deeds which follow are excused by the enchantment. King Mark suffers for long, trying to forgive, but at last, catching Tristan playing the lute in the queen's bower, smites him with a poisoned dart. The unhappy youth, mortally wounded, takes refuge in the house of his friend Dinas. While he is still alive, King Mark magnanimously says he issorry for his act, while poor Ysolt announces that she will not survive her lover.

So Tristan sends for his uncle and tells Mark that he bears him no ill will; while the king (realizing his nephew is not morally guilty) laments: "Alas, alas! Woe to me for having stabbed my nephew, the best cavalier in the whole world!" After that Mark and Ysolt visit Tristan and make lamentation over his dying state. He presently causes his sword to be drawn that he may see it for the last time. "Alas! good sword, what will become of you henceforth, without your trusty lord. I now take leave of knighthood, which I have honored. Alas! my friends, to-day Tristan is vanquished!" Then, with tears, he bequeathes his sword to his comrade in arms. Next he turns to the queen. "Very dear lady," he gasps, "what will you do when I die? Will you not die with me?" "Gentle friend," says Ysolt, "I call God to witness that nothing would afford me so much joy as to bear you company this day. Assuredly, if ever a woman could die of anguish or sorrow, I should have died already." "And would you like, then, to die with me?" asks Tristan. "God knows," replied the queen, "that never did I desire anything more sincerely." "Approach me, then," whispers the knight, "for I feel death coming upon me and I should like to breathe my last in your arms." Ysolt leans over Tristan, who embraces her and presses her so tightly that her heart bursts, and he expires with her, thus mingling their last sighs.

Needless to say, by the time Maître Edmond (after much skillful prolongation and stirring of the feelings) has finished, all the noble dames are indulging in sobs, and, indeed, many of the barons blink hard. It is a delightfully tragic story! Although the minstrel is of too high a quality to cry "largesse!" when he concludes,like all the humbler jongleurs, there are many deniers thrown his way (which the harpist duly gathers), the duke tells him, "Come to my court at Christmas and recite the love of Launcelot and Guinevere—it shall be worth your while," and Conon orders that a good Aragonese mule be added to the money payment originally promised.

A Literary Baron

Maître Edmond, has, however, another line of business. His opportunity opens this way. Among Conon's guests is a baron of Harvengt. This rich seigneur has spent much time in the south country. He has learned the gay science of the troubadours. Superior minstrels are always welcome at his castle; in fact, he is something of a minstrel himself. Indeed, it is claimed he is too much interested in matters which are primarily only for villeins or at best for the women, and neglects his hawks, tourneys, and even his proper feuds with his neighbors. Nevertheless, Orri de Harvengt is an extremely "gentle" man. He possesses a considerable number of books in Latin—Virgil, Ovid, Lucan, and others—although a visiting monk has grumbled that nearly all the volumes are by questionable pagans, and that this baron has almost no parchments of saints' lives and Church fathers. However, Orri spends little time over the Latin. He holds that the classical language is best for religious matters, but that for telling of brave deeds and affairs of the heart nothing surpasses romance—the tongue of North France.

A friend of Orri's was Geoffroi de Villehardouin, who has written in French an excellent history of the Fourth Crusade, in which he participated; and although the churchmen complain that "his abandonment of Latin means the ruin of all learning," the use of the vulgar tongue for all kinds of books is undoubtedly increasing.

For the less formal kind of writings there is already aconsiderable French literature. Conon himself has a book of philosophers' proverbs, a collection of wise saws and maxims that are often attributed to such ancient worthies as Homer, Æsop, Moses, and Solomon, but which have a flavor extremely French. Here you can find many a saying that will long survive the thirteenth century, although it is doubtless much more ancient. "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush"; "All is not gold that glitters"; "God helps those who help themselves"; "A friend in need is a friend indeed"; "Still waters run deep"—all are threadbare wisdom around St. Aliquis, as well as such maxims as do not transmit so well, such as, "Among the blind, the one-eyed man is king"; and, "Famine drives the wolf out of the woods."

But the bulk of this "vulgar" literature is in poetry. The epics (chansons) have been growing ever since a certain Turould is said to have composed the "Song of Roland" not very long afterA.D.1000. We have just seen what a wealth of romances Maître Edmond has at his disposal. The earlier of these tales are mere recitals of war and adventure; but in the later, though they continue in the North French dialect, the South French (troubadour) influence appears. We have stories turning about lawful or illicit love rather than about lance thrusts. The troubadours of the Langeudoc language find now compeers in thetrouvèresof the northern Languedoil. Baron Orri is atrouvèrehimself. He has tried his hand at making achansonon the adventures of the hero Renaud of Montauban; while composers of less exalted rank prepare the shorterfabliaux,contes, andditswhich abound with comedy and sarcasm, striking at all the vices and follies of society.

North French Epics and Romances

Baron Orri, however (who is not an original genius),is perhaps to be classed really as anassembleur—that is, he adapts old romances and puts them in a new setting. He changes over stories from the Languedoc or from the Breton to his North French dialect. To-day, at a quiet interval, Maître Edmond takes him aside. "Fair baron, you know that we master jongleurs seldom wish to set written copies of the poems we chant before strangers, but how can I deny anything to so liberal a seigneur as you? I have with me transcripts of a new song concerning Charlemagne's paladin, William of Orange, and another prepared by the greattrouvère, Robert of Borron, concerning the finding of the Holy Grail by King Artus's knight, Sire Perceval. Would you have sight of them?"

Baron Orri is only too pleased. Before he quits St. Aliquis he will have possessed himself of the precious parchments, and Maître Edmond becomes the richer by several Paris livres. A fine copy of a greatchansonis worth its weight in silver. The monks complain that the capital letters are as carefully elaborated in gold, and the miniature illustrations are as delicately executed, as those in a copy of the Gospel; and that the bindings of embossed leather make the books so heavy that they require reading stands, before which the ladies, nevertheless (neglecting holier things), seem willing to stand all day long.

However, before the wedding guests end their happy day, another entertainer thanMaîtreEdmond is asked to perform. It is Baron Orri himself. He has lived so long in the south country that he has caught the troubadour gallantries. Stories run that he has left three lady loves in three different castles; that he has had a most romantic duel with a jealous husband, which ended however, in a reconciliation on proof that the friendshiphad been only platonic; and that he is a past master in all the thirty-four different methods of rhyming and the seventy-four different kinds of stanzas with which the expert bards of southern France serve up their sentimental ditties. At a suitable moment just before the noble guests are gathering for the supper Adela addresses him:

"We know, kind Sire Orri, that you are a practitioner of all the 'gay science' of the South. You can singchansons, songs of love;vers, the poems of slower movement;sirventes, poems of praise or satire; and also are master of thetenso, the debate on some tender subject, carried on in courtly verse. Honor us with your skill; for our northern poetry is rude and uncourtly beside that of the Languedoc."

Barron Orri makes an elegant bow: "Ah, gracious lady," he says, "I wish I could convince you that a good refusal were worth more than a poor gift, but doubtless you would think me rude; therefore, I will obey. Though many of you, I fear, do not speak the beautiful Languedoc tongue, yet in so noble a company I am sure most of you will at least understand me. What shall it be, atensoby Bernart de Ventadorn discussing most wittily, 'How does a lady show the greater affection—by enjoining her friend to win renown, or by urging him simply to love her?' or shall I attempt a shortchansonby that other high troubadour, Arnaut de Maruelh?"

"Thechanson—the love song!" cry the company.

"Ah! very well, my gentle mistresses and lords," answers the minstrel—"you have chosen. And now I pray Queen Venus to inspire me. Here, boy, my harp!" He takes a small lute and touches the strings. His blue mantle floats back in statuesque folds as with clear, deep voice he sings:

South French Troubadour Songs

"Fair to me is April bearingWinds that o'er me softly blow;Nightingales their music airingWhile the stars serenely glow.All the birds as they have powerWhile the dews of morning wait,Sing of joy in sky and bower,Each consorting with his mate.And as all the world is wearingNew delights while new leaves grow,'Twould be vain to try forswearingLovewhich makes my joys o'erflow....Helen were not worth comparing,Gardens no such beauty show,Teeth of pearl, the truth declaring,Blooming cheeks, a neck of snow,Tresses like a golden shower,Courtly charms, for baseness hate.God, who bade her thus o'ertowerAll the rest, her way made straight!"[36]

Helen were not worth comparing,Gardens no such beauty show,Teeth of pearl, the truth declaring,Blooming cheeks, a neck of snow,Tresses like a golden shower,Courtly charms, for baseness hate.God, who bade her thus o'ertowerAll the rest, her way made straight!"[36]

And so through many similar stanzas. The Baron Orri's eyes are fixed mischievously on a certain countess with whom he had talked intimately all the afternoon. Her husband looks somewhat awkward, but at the end he joins in the warm applause. So the entertainment at the wedding feast ends; and the great secular literature, which is to be the priceless heritage of later civilization, is (despite much crudeness and false sentimentality) being born.

Hitherto we have seen the life of St. Aliquis at peace; now we must gradually turn toward its grimmer aspects and the direct preparations for war.

FOOTNOTES:[33]If St. Aliquis had been a slightly larger fief, its lord would probably have allowed himself the luxury of a professional minstrel in residence—half musician and half jester.[34]It was not unknown for jongleurs of this inferior grade to stop at an exciting part of the story they were narrating and say (as in the poem "Gui of Burgundy"): "Whoever wants to hear more of this recital must haste to open his purse; for now it is high time to give me something." The company would thus be straightway held up. Or the entertainer would announce, "It was too near vespers," or "He was too weary to finish that day," the result being that he could claim hospitality at the castle of his hosts another twenty-four hours until he could satisfy the general curiosity.[35]The viol was practically like a violin, although more round and more clumsy. It was played with a bow.[36]Translated by Justin H. Smith. Reprinted by kind permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons.

[33]If St. Aliquis had been a slightly larger fief, its lord would probably have allowed himself the luxury of a professional minstrel in residence—half musician and half jester.

[34]It was not unknown for jongleurs of this inferior grade to stop at an exciting part of the story they were narrating and say (as in the poem "Gui of Burgundy"): "Whoever wants to hear more of this recital must haste to open his purse; for now it is high time to give me something." The company would thus be straightway held up. Or the entertainer would announce, "It was too near vespers," or "He was too weary to finish that day," the result being that he could claim hospitality at the castle of his hosts another twenty-four hours until he could satisfy the general curiosity.

[35]The viol was practically like a violin, although more round and more clumsy. It was played with a bow.

[36]Translated by Justin H. Smith. Reprinted by kind permission of G. P. Putnam's Sons.

Some days intervene between the wedding festivities of the sister of Messire Conon and the adubbement as knight of his brother with the tourney which follows this second ceremony. No baron can be rich enough to make presents to all the knights who frequent the tourney, if they were also guests at the wedding; on the other hand, numerous cavaliers who have no interest in the affairs of Olivier and Alienor are glad to come and break lances in the jousts and to shatter helmets in the mêlée. Most of the original guests at the wedding, however, stay on for the adubbement, and are joined by many others. Meantime there are hunts, hawkings, dances, garden feasts, and jongleur recitals. It is all one round of merry excitement. Yet gradually there creeps in a more martial note. Maître Edmond's chants have less to do with parted lovers and more to do with valiant deeds. The bride and groom recede from central gaze. Young Squire Aimery is thrust forward.

While the lists are being prepared for the jousting, one can examine the public economy of the seigneury; discover how it is a military as well as a political unit; and learn the process of education which has enabled Aimery to claim the proud status of a knight—amiles—a first-class fighting man.

BANNER OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURYBANNER OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURYFrom a manuscript in the Bibliothèque nationale (Viollet-Le-Duc).

BANNER OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURYFrom a manuscript in the Bibliothèque nationale (Viollet-Le-Duc).

BANNER OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY

From a manuscript in the Bibliothèque nationale (Viollet-Le-Duc).

Types and Privileges of Fief Holders

The status of St. Aliquis is typical of that of manybaronies. Fiefs are not necessarily composed of real estate: for example, one of Conon's vassals does homage to him merely for the right to fish for a mile along the Claire, and another for the privilege of maintaining the baronial mill, with corresponding perquisites, in an outlying section of the seigneury.[37]Nevertheless, as a rule a "fief" means a section of land held by a person of noble family. He does not own this land by complete right, but pays a kind of rent to his suzerain in the form of military service, of sums of money in various emergencies determined upon, and of various other kinds of moral and material assistance. Ordinarily every feudal lordship will center round a castle; or, failing that, a fortalice, a strong tower capable of considerable defense, or a manor house not vulnerable to mere raiders. Every noble fief holder claims the right to have his own banner; to a seal to validate his documents; and of late there have been appearing insignia soon to be known as heraldic coats of arms, which will be used or displayed by everybody of "gentle condition." Many fief holders also claim the right to coin money, even when their lands are on a very modest scale; but suzerains are gradually curtailing this privilege, base-born merchants churlishly complain that the mints of the lesser seigneurs strike money too full of alloy and of vexatiously variable standards; and, indeed, there is even talk that thisprivilege of coining is likely to be monopolized by the king.

THE COAT OF ARMS OF THE DUKES OF BRETAGNETHE COAT OF ARMS OF THE DUKES OF BRETAGNE (THIRTEENTH CENTURY)

THE COAT OF ARMS OF THE DUKES OF BRETAGNE (THIRTEENTH CENTURY)

Feudalism, if systematized, would seem an admirably articulated system, extending upward from the petty nobles to the king or even the emperor.[38]The little castellans would do homage to the barons, they to the viscounts, they to the counts, they to the dukes, and they to the supreme suzerain, His Grace Philip Augustus, at Paris. Actually, of course, nothing of the kind occurs. Not merely do many fief holders have several suzerains (as does Conon) and serve some of them very poorly, but there is no real gradation of feudal titles. Conon, a baron, feels himself equal to many counts and superior to most viscounts. The mighty Count of Champagne holds his head arrogantly as the equal of the Duke of Burgundy. Of late years, especially since Philip Augustus began to reign (1180), the kings of France have made it clear that they are the mightiest of the mighty, and deserve genuine obedience. Yet even now many seigneurs grumble, "These lords of Paris are only the Capetian dukes who began to call themselves kings some two hundred years ago. Let them wax not too proud or we will send them about their business as our forefathers sent the oldCarolingians." In short, the whole feudal arrangement is utterly confused."Organized anarchy," despairing scholars of a later age will call it.

SEAL OF THE DUKE JEAN OF BRETAGNESEAL OF THE DUKE JEAN OF BRETAGNE (THIRTEENTH AND FOURTEENTH CENTURIES)

SEAL OF THE DUKE JEAN OF BRETAGNE (THIRTEENTH AND FOURTEENTH CENTURIES)

Duties of Fief Holders

Yet there are some pretty definite rules about fief holding. Generally speaking a fief includes enough land to maintain at least one knight and his war horse. This warrior is obligated usually to lead out a number of armed villeins, proportionate to the number of knights. The conditions on which the estate can be held vary infinitely. The great obligation is military service. The average vassal is bound to follow his suzerain for forty days per year on summons to an offensive war. He is required to give much greater assistance in a strictly defensive war, and especially to aid in the defense of his lord's castle. He has to wait on the suzerain at times, when the latter may desire a great retinue to give prestige to his court. At such gatherings he must likewise assist his lord in dispensing justice—a matter sometimes involving considerable responsibility for the judges. When his seigneur marries off his eldest daughter, bestows knighthood on his eldest son, or needs ransom money, if held a prisoner, the vassals must contribute, and the St. Aliquis fief holders are blessing their patron saints that Alienor and Aimery are not their overlord's children—otherwise they would pay for most of the high festivities themselves. They must also, when their lord visits them, give him proper hospitality in their castles. Of course, they must never betray his secrets, adhere to his enemies, or repudiatethe pledges made to him. To do so were "treason," the worst of all feudal crimes.

We have seen that holding a fief usually implies military service, and that if the estate falls to a woman the suzerain can administer the property until the maid is of marriageable age, and then give her to some competent liegeman. It is about the same if the heir is a boy. The overlord can exercise guardianship over the fief until the lad is old enough to lead out his war band and otherwise to prove a desirable vassal. Even when the vassals are of satisfactory sex and age, the suzerain is entitled to arelief, a money payment, whenever an old knight dies and his battle-worthy son takes over the barony.[39]This is always a fairly heavy lump sum; and is still heavier if the fief goes not to the son, but to a collateral heir. Also, when the vassal wants to sell his fief to some stranger, not merely must the suzerain approve the change, but he is entitled to an extra large fee, often as much as three years' revenue from the entire holding.

Nevertheless, when all is said, many fief holders act as if they were anything but humble vassals. Happy is many a suzerain when he is so exempt from squabbles with his feudal equals and his own overlord that he can compel his loyal lieges to execute all their promises, and when he can indulge in the luxury of dictating to them the manner whereby they must rule their lands. Some of the mottoes of the great baronial houses testify how little the feudal hierarchy counts with the lord of a few strong castles.

Boast the mighty Rohans:

"Dukes we disdain:Kings we can't be:Rohansare we!"

And still more arrogant is that of a seigneur whose magnificent fortress-château is in the process of erection; "No king am I, no prince, no duke: I'm just the Sire of Coucy." And to be "Sire of Coucy" means to dispose of such power that when the canons of Rheims complain to King Philip against his deeds of violence, the king can merely reply, "I can do no more for you thanpraythe Sire of Coucy to leave you unmolested."

Sometimes, in addition to money payments or personal or military service, a vassal is required to make symbolic gifts in token of loyal intentions. Thus annually Conon sends to the Duke of Quelqueparte three black horses; while for his holdings of the local abbey, every June he presents the abbot with a basket of roses and a bunch of lilies, and many other estates are burdened with some such peculiar duties.[40]

Barons Largely Independent

So long as he discharges his feudal obligations a seigneur can run his barony practically to suit himself. If he treats his own vassals and his peasants too outrageously they may cry out to the suzerain for justice, and sometimes the overlord will delight in an excuse to humble an arrogant feudatory. But the limits of interference are well marked. No seigneur should undermine a faithful vassal's hold on his own subjects. Every noble will feel his own rights threatened if a suzerain begins to meddle with a dependent, even if the reason for doing so is manifest. Many a baron can therefore play the outrageous tyrant if so the devil inspires him. Hehas (as we have seen) to observe the vested rights of his subordinates on the fief; otherwise he may provoke a dangerous mutiny within his own castle.[41]Baron Garnier of St. Aliquis, however, has been typical of many of his class. Prisoners, travelers, peasants are subject to unspeakably brutal treatment. As has been written concerning one such seigneur: "He was a very Pluto, Megæra, Cerberus, or anything you can conceive still more horrible. He preferred the slaughter of his captives to their ransom. He tore out the eyes of his own children, when in sport they hid their faces under his cloak. He impaled persons of both sexes on stakes. To butcher men in the most horrible manner was to him an agreeable feast." Of another such baron, the trembling monks record: "When anyone by force or fraud fell into his hands, the captive might truly say, 'The pains of hell have compassed me about.' Homicide was his passion and glory. He treated his wife in an unspeakably brutal manner. Men feared him, bowed down to him and worshiped him!"[42]

Types of Evil and Good Barons

Evidently, such outrageous seigneurs hold their lieges in a kind of fascinated obedience, just as do the emirs and atabegs among the Infidels. Of course, they treatmerchants as merely so many objects for plunder. If they do not watch the roads themselves, they make bargains with professional robbers, allowing the latter to infest their seigneuries in return for an agreed share of their booty. Even noble folk are liable to be seized, imprisoned, and perhaps tortured to get a ransom. If you cannot find the deniers, you may leave your bones in a foul dungeon.

Nevertheless, St. Michael and all angels be praised! this evil is abating. In the direct royal dominions such "men of sin" have been rooted out since old Louis VI's time. The Church is using its great influence against evil sires. The communal towns are waxing strong and sending civic armies to besiege their towers and protect the roads. The better class of seigneurs also unite against these disgraces to nobility. As for Baron Garnier, he died betimes, for hissuzerainthe duke (weary of complaints) was about to call out the levy of the duchy and attack St. Aliquis. In other words, law and order are gradually asserting themselves after the heyday of petty tyrannies, yet there are still queersome happenings on every seigneury, and the amount of arbitrary power possessed by the average baron is not good even for a conscientious and high-minded man.

It is not the theoretical powers of a seigneur, but his actual mental and ofttimes physical ability, which determines the real extent of his power. Fiefs are anything but static. They are always growing or diminishing. A capable seigneur is always attracting new lands to himself. He ejects unfaithful vassals and adds their estates to his own personal domain land. He induces his vassal's vassals to transfer their allegiance directly to him. He wins land from his neighbors by direct conquest. He induces his neighbor's vassals to desert tothe better protection of his suzerainty. He negotiates advantageous marriage treaties for his relatives which bring new baronies into his dynasty. When his own suzerain needs his military aid beyond the orthodox "forty days," he sells his assistance for cash, lands, or valuable privileges.

Then, often when such an aggressive seigneur dies, his whole pretentious fief crumbles rapidly. His eldest son is entitled to the central castle, and the lion's share of the barony, but not to the whole. The younger lads each detach something, and the daughters cannot be denied a portion.[43]The suzerain presses all kinds of demands upon the weakened heir. So do neighboring seigneurs who are the new baron's feudal equals. One little quarrel after another has to be compounded after ruinous concessions. Worst of all, the direct vassals of the incoming baron refuse him homage, hunt up more congenial suzerains, or, if swearing fealty, nevertheless commit perjury by the treacherous way they execute their oaths. In a few years what has appeared a powerful fief, under a young or incapable baron seems on the very edge of ruin—its lord reduced to a single castle, with perhaps some question whether he can defend even that.

Accession to a Barony

Through such a peril Conon passed inevitably when, as a very youthful knight, he took over the estates of his unblessed uncle. Only the saints' favor, his mother's wise counsels, and his own high looks and strong arm kept the fief together. But after the vassal petty nobles had been duly impressed with the fact that, even if the new baron were less of a bloody tyrant than his predecessor, he could storm a defiant fortalice and beheadits rebellious master, the barony settled down to relative peace. There was a meeting at St. Aliquis of all the vassals. Conon, clothed in full armor, then presented himself in the great hall.

"Will you have Sire Conon, the nephew of your late lord, as your present undoubted baron and suzerain?" demanded Sire Eustace, the seneschal.

"Fiat! Fiat!—So be it!" shouted all the knights. Whereat each in turn did homage; and Conon was now their liege lord by every Christian and feudal law. Next Conon himself visited the Duke of Quelqueparte, paid his relief, in turn did his own homage; and henceforth had his position completely recognized.

From that time Conon had been obeyed by his vassals with reasonable fidelity. They had never refused military service; they had fought round his standard very faithfully at the great battle of Bouvines; they had given him no reason to doubt that if he were hard bestead they would discharge the other feudal duties of defending his person at the hazard of their lives, of resigning a horse to him that he might save himself in a battle, or even of going prisoner for him to secure his release, if he were captive. On the other hand, Conon had earned their love by proving himself a very honorable seigneur. When his vassal, Sire Leonard, had died, leaving only a minor son, he administered the lad's fief very wisely and gave it back a little richer, if anything, when the heir came of age. When another vassal had fallen into a feud with a neighboring sire, Conon had afforded military help, although it was not his direct quarrel. He had respected the wives and daughters of his petty nobles as though they had been his sisters. In short, on St. Aliquis had been almost realized that happy relation mentioned in the law books, "The seigneur owes faithand loyalty to his 'man' as much as the man to his seigneur."

Nevertheless, Conon ("wise as a serpent, butnotharmless as a dove," as FatherGrégoiresays, pithily) takes nothing for granted. Twice he has somewhat formally made the circuit of his seigneury, stopping at each castle, allowing each little sire to show hospitality, and then receiving again his pledges. Homage can be done many times. The more often it is repeated the more likely it will be effective.[44]Your vassal who swore fealty last Christmas is much more likely to obey theban(the call to arms) than he who took his oath ten years ago. The St. Aliquis vassals have all performed this devoir quite recently, save one, Sire André of the sizable castle of Le Chenevert, whose father died last Lent, and who has waited for the present fêtes to take his vows and receive due investiture.

This ceremony, therefore, takes place some day after the wedding feast. There is nothing humiliating therein for Sire André; on the contrary, he is glad to have many of the noble guests be witnesses—they will serve to confirm his title to his father's fief.

Ceremony of Homage

The great hall has been cleared. Messire Conon sits in his high chair under the canopy. He wears his ermine and his velvet cap of presence. Adela sits at his side, with many cavaliers on either hand. The other St. Aliquis vassals and the noble leaders of the castle men at arms, all in best armor, stand before the dais in a semicircle. Sire Eustace holds a lance with a small red pennon. Sire André, in silvered mail and helmet and his sword girded, comes forward, steps up to the dais, and kneels. Conon rises, extends both hands, andAndré takes one in each of his, then repeats clearly the formula dictated by Father Grégoire, now, as so often, acting as baronial chancellor:

"Sire baron,I enter into your homage and faith and become your man, by mouth and hands, and I swear and promise to keep faith and loyalty to you against all others, saving only the just rights of the Baron of Braisne, from whom I hold two farms and certain hunting rights, and I swear to guard your rights with all my strength."

HOMAGE IN THE TWELFTH CENTURYHOMAGE IN THE TWELFTH CENTURYThe future vassal has put his hands in those of his lord and pays him homage; a soldier holds the lance which the lord will give to his subject as a mark of investiture in the domain.

HOMAGE IN THE TWELFTH CENTURYThe future vassal has put his hands in those of his lord and pays him homage; a soldier holds the lance which the lord will give to his subject as a mark of investiture in the domain.

HOMAGE IN THE TWELFTH CENTURY

The future vassal has put his hands in those of his lord and pays him homage; a soldier holds the lance which the lord will give to his subject as a mark of investiture in the domain.

Whereupon Conon makes reply, "We do promise to you, vassal André, that we and our heirs will guarantee to you the lands held of us, to you and your heirs against every creature with all our power, to hold these lands in peace and quiet."

Conon then bends, kisses André upon the mouth, and the latter rises to his feet. Father Grégoire holds out a small golden box flashing with jewels, a saint's reliquary. The vassal puts his right hand upon it and declares:

"In the name of the Holy Trinity, and in reverence of these sacred relics, I, André, swear that I will truly keep the promise which I have taken, and will always remain faithful to Sire Conon, my seigneur."

The first formula has technically been the "homage." The second is the "oath of fealty"; now comes the "investiture." Sire Eustace steps forward and gives to the vassal the lance, the symbolic token of the lawful transfer to him of the fief. In other places, local custom would make the article a glove, a baton, or even a bit of straw, but some symbol is always required. This act completes the ceremony.

Sire André is now in possession of Le Chenevert and its lands, and cannot be ousted thence so long as he performs his feudal duties. Of course, if the fief hadbeen granted out for the first time, or had been transferred to some one not a direct heir, there would be a deed of conveyance drafted in detail, and sealed by many ponderous lumps of wax attached to the parchment with strips of leather. In many cases however, no new document is needful, and, indeed, all through the Feudal Ages even important bargains are likely often to be determined merely by word of mouth—a reason for requiring many witnesses.

There is little danger, however, of a quarrel between such congenial spirits as Baron Conon and Sire André. At its best, vassalship is not a state of unworthy dependence; it is a state of junior comradeship which, "without effacing distances, created a close relation of mutual devotion"; and if vassals are often rebellious, vassals again and again in history and in story have proved willing to lay down their lives for their lord. There are few sentiments the jongleurs can repeat in the average castle with surer hope of applause than when they recite once more from the "Epic of Garin," concerning the Duke of Belin, who declared that there was something more precious than all his riches and power; for "wealth consists neither in rich clothes, nor in money, nor in buildings, nor in horses, but is made from kinsmen andfriends; the heart of one man is worth all the gold in a country!"

FOOTNOTES:[37]The right to profit from certain beehives could constitute a fief, or to a fraction, say, of the tolls collected at a certain bridge.[38]The emperor of the Holy Roman Empire (Germany and Italy) was usually acknowledged as the social and titular superior of the king of France, but he was never conceded any practical power over Frenchmen.[39]Sometimes the relief was also payable when a new suzerain came in, not merely when the fief changed vassals.[40]In a South Country castle a certain seigneur was obligated, if his suzerain, the Duke of Aquitaine, visited him, to wait on the duke's table, wearing himself scarlet leggings with spurs of gold. He had to serve the duke and ten knights with a meal of pork, beef, cabbage, roast chickens, and mustard. Many other obligations for payments or rendering of hospitality which were equally curious could be recorded.[41]One might describe the situation by saying that many a baron who would order a stranger or captive to be executed in cold blood without form of trial, would hesitate to have him hanged or beheaded save by the hereditary executioner of the seigneury, who had a vested right to perform such nice matters.[42]What could go on in feudal families earlier, in the eleventh century, is illustrated by the tale of three brothers, noblemen of Angouleme, who quarreled. Two of them treacherously invited the third to their joint Easter festivities. They seized him in bed, put out his eyes, and cut out his tongue that he might not denounce them. The facts, however, leaked out. Their suzerain, the Duke of Aquitaine, ravaged their lands with fire and sword (thus ruining their innocent peasants), took the two criminals and cut out their own tongues and put out their eyes in retaliation.[43]The absence of a strict rule of primogeniture in France and other continental countries added much to the complexities of the whole feudal regime.[44]Homage may be likened somewhat tovaccinationin a later day—the more recently performed the greater its effectiveness.

[37]The right to profit from certain beehives could constitute a fief, or to a fraction, say, of the tolls collected at a certain bridge.

[38]The emperor of the Holy Roman Empire (Germany and Italy) was usually acknowledged as the social and titular superior of the king of France, but he was never conceded any practical power over Frenchmen.

[39]Sometimes the relief was also payable when a new suzerain came in, not merely when the fief changed vassals.

[40]In a South Country castle a certain seigneur was obligated, if his suzerain, the Duke of Aquitaine, visited him, to wait on the duke's table, wearing himself scarlet leggings with spurs of gold. He had to serve the duke and ten knights with a meal of pork, beef, cabbage, roast chickens, and mustard. Many other obligations for payments or rendering of hospitality which were equally curious could be recorded.

[41]One might describe the situation by saying that many a baron who would order a stranger or captive to be executed in cold blood without form of trial, would hesitate to have him hanged or beheaded save by the hereditary executioner of the seigneury, who had a vested right to perform such nice matters.

[42]What could go on in feudal families earlier, in the eleventh century, is illustrated by the tale of three brothers, noblemen of Angouleme, who quarreled. Two of them treacherously invited the third to their joint Easter festivities. They seized him in bed, put out his eyes, and cut out his tongue that he might not denounce them. The facts, however, leaked out. Their suzerain, the Duke of Aquitaine, ravaged their lands with fire and sword (thus ruining their innocent peasants), took the two criminals and cut out their own tongues and put out their eyes in retaliation.

[43]The absence of a strict rule of primogeniture in France and other continental countries added much to the complexities of the whole feudal regime.

[44]Homage may be likened somewhat tovaccinationin a later day—the more recently performed the greater its effectiveness.

One of the great duties of a high seigneur is to render justice. It is for that (say learned men) that God grants to him power over thousands of villeins and the right to obedience from nobles of the lower class. Indeed, it can be written most properly that a good baron "is bound to hear and determine the cause and pleas of his subjects, to ordain to every man his own, to put forth his shield of righteousness to defend the innocent against evildoers, and deliver small children and such as be orphans and widows from those that do overset them. He pursues robbers, raiders, thieves, and other evildoers. For this name 'lord' is a name of peace and surety. For a good lord ceaseth war, battle, and fighting, and reconciles men that are at strife. And so under a good, strong, and peaceable lord, men of the country are safe."

The best of barons only measurably live up to this high standard. Yet Conon is not wholly exceptional in telling himself that a reputation for enforcing justice is in the end a surer glory than all the fêtes around St. Aliquis.

Justice, of course, does not mean equality before the law. There is one legal measure for country villeins, another for citizens of the commune, another for petty nobles, another for greater nobles of Conon's own rank. The monks and priests can always "plead their clergy"and get their cases transferred to a special Church tribunal.[45]The question really is: Has a man been given everything due to others of his own class? If not, there is denial of justice.

The laws enforced in the St. Aliquis region are the old customary laws in use ever since the Frankish barbarians' invasions. Many of these laws have never been reduced to writing—at least for local purposes—but sage men know them. There are no professional jurists in the barony. Sire Eustace, the seneschal, understands the regional law better than any other layman around the castle, though he in turn is surpassed by Father Grégoire. The latter has, indeed, a certain knowledge of the Canon law of the Church, far more elaborate than any local territorial system, and he has even turned over voluminous parchments of the old Roman law codified by the mighty Emperor Justinian. Up at Paris, round the king there are now trained lawyers, splitters of fine hairs, who say that this Roman law is far more desirable than any local "customary law," and they are even endeavoring (as the king extends his power) to make the Code of Justinian the basis for the entire law of France. But conditions on most baronies are still pretty simple, the questions to be settled call merely for common sense and a real love of fair play on the part of the judges. One can live prosperously and die piously under rough-and-ready laws administered with great informality.

Back to Index Next