Full text of “Mediaeval History Europe From The Fourth To The Sixteenth Century”

UNIVERSAL

UBRARY

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

EUROPE
TO THE

FROM THE
SIXTEENTH

F O U RTH
C E NT U R Y

HA.RP.ER’.S. HISTORICAL SERIES

* * •• j

Dean Guy Stanton Ford

AN INTRODUCTION TO ECONOMIC HISTORY
By N. S. B. Gras

AMERICAN ECONOMIC HISTORY
Third Edition

By Harold U, Fapucnbr

THE FAR EAST, A POLITICAL AND DIPLOMATIC HISTORY
By Payson J. Treat

HISTORY OF ENGLAND
By W. E. Lunt

A SHORT HISTORY OF CHINA
By E. T. Williams

MEDIEVAL FOUNDATIONS OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION
By G. C Sellery and A. C. Krey

READINGS IN THE ECONOMIC AND SOCIAL HISTORY OF THE

UNITED STATES

By Felix Flugel and H. U. Faulkner

A HISTORY OF COLONIAL AMERICA
By Oliver P. Chitwood

READINGS IN EUROPEAN INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS SINCE 1879
By W. Henry Cooke and Edith P, Stickney

THE RENAISSANCE AND THE REFORMATION
By Henry S. Lucas

MEDIEVAL HISTORY: EUROPE FROM THE FOURTH TO THE
SIXTEENTH CENTURY
By Carl Stephenson

(Other Volumes in Preparation)

M E D I ^ m L
HISTORY

EUROPE FROM THE FOURTH
TO THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

CARL STEPHENSON

PROFESSOR OP HISTORY, CORNELL UNIVERSITY

ILLUSTRATED

Harper Brothers, Publishers
New York and London

1935

mediaeval history

No part of the text may be reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without permission in
writing from Harper & Brothers

FIRST EDITION

CHARLES HOMER HASKINS

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

Editor's Foreword xix

Preface xxi

INTRODUCTORY NOTE i

L THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT
WORLD

1. THE WEAKENING OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE 3

2. THE DECAY OF CULTURE I3

3. THE PROBLEM OF CAUSES 22

IL THE OLD AND THE NEW IN MEDIAEVAL
EUROPE

1. LATE ROMAN INSTITUTIONS 29

2. CHRISTIANITY 36

3. THE BARBARIANS 45

III. THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST

1. THE SUCCESSORS OF CONSTANTINE 54

2. THE BARBARIAN INVASIONS OF THE FIFTH CEN-

^ TURY 59

3. THE GERMANS iN THE EMPIRR 67

IV. THE CHURCH IN THE FIFTH CENTURY

1. THE SECULAR CLERGY 80

2. THE REGULAR CLERGY ^ 88

3. THE CHURCH AND EDUCATION 95

V, THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE

1. JUSTINIAN 105

2. THE EAST AFTER JUSTINIAN 1 13

3. BYZANTINE CULTURE II8

VI. THE ARAB EMPIRE

1. THE ARABS IN ARABIA 128

2. MOHAli^ED AND ISLAM I33

3. THE EARLY CALIFHATE I4I

4. The ommiaD caliphate at Damascus 148

VII. THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN

1. the MEROVINGIAN KINGDOM 1 53

2. THE LOMBARDS AND OREGORT THE GREAT l6o

3. THE SPREAD OF CHRISTIANITY I70

vii

Vlll

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

VIII. THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE

1. THE RISE OF THE CAROLINGIANS I77

2. CHARLEMAGNE 1 83

3. CAROLINGIAN SOCIETY AND INSTITUTIONS I90

IX. LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE

1. THE EASTERN WORLD 202

2. THE WESTERN WORLD 21 1

3. THE CAROLINGIAN REVIVAL OF LEARNING 221

X. POLITICAL RECONSTRUCTION

1. THE NEW BARBARIAN ATTACKS 229

2. THE DEGRADATION OF EMPIRE AND PAPACY 234

3. THE EMERGENCE OF NEW POLITICAL UNITS 243

XI. FEUDAL SOCIETY

1. FUNDAMENTAL ELEMENTS 25I

2. THE LIFE OF THE NOBILITY 257

3. THE LIFE OF THE PEASANTRY 264

XII. FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS

1. FRANCE AND THE FRENCH 272

2. THE NORMAN CONCIUEST OF ENGLAND 28 1

3. THE FEUDAL EPIC 289

XIII. THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY

1. THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE 297

2. THE MOVEMENT FOR ECCLESIASTICAL REFORM 305

3. GREGORY VII AND HENRY IV 3IO

XIV. THE CRUSADE

1. THE EAST BEFORE THE CRUSADE 320

2. THE WEST BEFORE THE CRUSADE 328

3. THE CONQUEST OF JERUSALEM 333

XV. THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS

1. COMMERCIAL REVIVAL 343

2. ELEMENTARY BOURGEOIS LIBERTIES 354

* 3. THE COMMUNES 360

XVI. FRANCE AND ENGLAND: THE RISE OF
THE CAPETIANS

I. LOUIS VI AND HENRY I j6p

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

2. HENRY n AND THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION 376

3. PHILIP AUGUSTUS 385

XVII. ITALY AND GERMANY: THE TRIUMPH
OF THE PAPACY

I- THE KINGDOM OF SICILY 392

2. GUELF VS. HOHENSTAUFEN 395

3. FREDERICK BARBAROSSA 399

4. INNOCENT III 406

XVIII. INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT

1. THE SCHOOLS OF THE ELEVENTH CENTURY 4 I 5

2. ABELARD AND HIS CRITICS 421

3. SCHOLASTICISM AND THE NEW SCIENCES 43 O

4. THE RISE OF THE UNIVERSITIES 435

XIX. DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE

I* MEDIEVAL LATIN 443

2. THE TROUBADOURS AND COURTLY LOVE 45 1

3. THE LITERATURE OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY 46 1

XX. DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS

1. ROMANESQ.UE ARCHITECTURE 470

2. GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE 477

3. THE DECORATIVE ARTS 4^8

XXL THE HEIGHT OF THE CHURCH:
SOCIETY AND CULTURE

1. THIRTEENTH-CENTURY SOCIETY 495^

2. THE CHURCH AND ITS ANTAGONISTS 505

3. THE CHURCH AND REFORM 5^^

^XXII. THE HEIGHT OF THE CHURCH:
POLITICS

1. THE FOURTH CRUSADE AND ITS PRELIMINARIES ‘ 5^^

2. FREDERICK II 5^9.

3. ITALY AND THE EMPIRE AFTER FREDERICK II 53^

XXIII. THE EMERGENCE OF CONSTITU-
TIONAL MONARCHY

I. FRANCE UNDER LOUIS VHI AND LOUIS IX 547

a. ENGLAND UNDER HENRY III AND EDWARD I 555

3. FKILIP IV and BONIFACE VIII 5^5

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

XXIV. CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE IN
THE LATER MIDDLE AGES

1. THE RUSSIANS AND THE TARTAR CONQUEST 575

2. GERMAN EXPANSION ON THE BALTIC 580

3. THE GERMAN KINGDOM AND THE RISE OF THE

HABSBURGS 589

4. THE BALKAN STATES AND THE OTTOMAN TURKS 597

^ XXV. THE HUNDRED YEARS^ WAR

1. THE OPENING OF THE WAR 603

2. CHARLES V AND THE RISE OF BURGUNDY 608

3. PARLIAMENTARY GOVERNMENT IN ENGLAND 616

4. JEANNE d’aRC ANP THE CLOSE OF THE WAR 622

XXVI. WESTERN EUROPE IN THE Lx\TER FIF-
TEENTH CENTURY

1. THE DECAY OF FEUDALISM 629

2. LOUIS XI ANP THE FALL OF BURGUNDY 634

3. THE GROWTH OF ABSOLUTISM 643

4. THE CITIES AND THE NEW TRADE ROUTES 649

XXVII. THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH

1. THE AVIGNON PAPACY 657

2. THE GREAT SCHISM AND THE NEW HERESIES 663

3. THE COUNCIL OF CONSTANCE AND THE FAILURE

OF REFORM 67 1

4. THE BEGINNING OF THE WITCHCRAFT DELUSION 679

^XXVIII. THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE

1. VERNACULAR LITERATURE: ITALIAN 685

2. VERNACULAR LITERATURE: ENGLISH AND

FRENCH 697

3. THE BEGINNINGS OF HUMANISM 708

4. THE NEW STYLES IN THE FINE ARTS 716

CONCLUDING NOTE 721

Genealogical Tables ) ^

V following page 725

Chronological ChartsJ

Suggested Readings 746

Index 770

maps

PAGE

I. Physical Map of Europe, Western Asia, and

Northern Africa frontispiece

II. The Roman Empire and Its Neighbors in the

Fourth Century 9

III. Europe at the Death of Clovis 75

IV. The Growth of the Arab Empire 143

V. The Anglo-Saxons in Britain 15S

VI. Italy After the Lombard Invasion 161

VII. The Formation of the Carolingian Empire 178

VIII. The Disintegration of the Carolingian Empire 236

IX. Europe at the Time of the First Crusade

between pp. 274—275

X. Latin States in Syria 340

XI. Towns of Western Europe in the Thirteenth

Century 344

XII. The Extension jof the Capetian Domain 390

XIII. The Eastern Mediterranean After the Fourth

Crusade ' 529

XIV. Spain at the Close of the Thirteenth Century 542

XV. The Extension of German Power in the Baltic 581

XVI. The Growth of the Swiss Confederation 595

XVII. The Ottoman Empire in 1481 598

XVIII. Central and Eastern Europe About 1475 635

XIX. France at the Death of Louis XI 643

FIGURES

PAGE

1. Greek Entablature 124

2. Dome on Pendentives 125

3. Example of Carolingian Minuscule 227

4. Plan of a Motte-and- Bailey Castle: Berkhampstead 261

5. The Expansion of Medieval Cologne 349

6. The Expansion of Medieval Ghent 350

7. An Armillary Sphere 417

8. Ground Plan of a Basilican Church 471

9. Section of a Basilican Church 471

10. Cross Vault 472

11. Section of Notre-Dame du Port 474

1 2. Arches 479

13. Gothic Vault 480

14. Skeleton of Amiens Cathedral 481

15. Section of a Gothic Pier 482

16. Ground Plan of Reims Cathedral 483

17. The Basilisk and the Adder (Amiens Cathedral) 491 '

18. Dante’s Scheme of the Universe 689

II.

III.

IV.
V.

VI.

VII.

VIII.

IX.

XI.

XII.

XIII.

XIV.

XV.

XVI.

plates

(^Between pp. 390-391)

Scenes from the Bayeux Tapestry

The Colosseum (Rome)

St. Sophia (Constantinople)

M0SQ.UE OF Cordova, Doorway
Great Mosq.ue (Damascus)

Cathedral of Pisa
Angouleme Cathedral
Saint-Sernin (Toulouse)

Abbey of Laach

Sant’ Apollinare in Classe (Ravenna)

Sant’ Ambrogio (Milan), Interior

Abbey of V^zelai, Interior
Saint-Trophime (Arles), Main Portal

Ab b aye-aux-Hommes (Caen)

Durham Cathedral
Notre-Dame (Paris)

Amiens Cathedral

Lincoln Cathedral
Salisbury Cathedral

Reims Cathedral, North Side
Notre-Dame (Paris), Chevet

Salisbury Cathedral, Interior
Amiens Cathedral, Interior

Abbey of Vj&zelai, Portal
Chartres Cathedral, Portal

Virgin of the Annunciation (Reims)
Mont-Saint-Michel, Cloister
Vintage Capital (Reims)

Mont-S Ai nt-Mich e l
Kenilworth Castle (England)

Cloth Hall (Ypres)

Castle of Kerak (Palestine)

Medici Palace (Florence)

Cloth Hall (Bruges) ^

Illumination from the Duke of Berry’s **Book of
Hours”

Van Eyck, “The Man With the Pink”

Giotto, **The Descent From the Cross”
Masaccio, “The Tribute Money”

Donatello, David”

Ghiberti, Bronze Doors of the Baptistery
(Florence)

siili

GEJSTKALOGICAL XABLEJ
AND CHRONOLOGICAL

CHARTS

(^Following page 725 )

Xables

I. The Carolingians

II. The Capetian House until 1328

III. Kings of England (1066—1485)

IV. Saxon and Franconian Kings of Germany

V. The House of Guelf

VI. The Houses of Hauxeville and Hohenstaufen
VII. The Valois House (1328—1498)

VIII. The Houses of Luxemburg and Habsburg

Charts

I. Fourth Century
II. Fifth Century

III. Sixth Century

IV. Seventh Century

V. Eighth Century

VI. Ninth Century

VII. Tenth Century

VIII. Eleventh Century

IX. Twelfth Century

X. Thirteenth Century

XI. Fourteenth Century

XII. Fifteenth Century

EDITOR^S FOREWORD

As A student primarily of what is called modern European
history, the editor of this series has found himself more and
more reluctant to capitalize and underline the word modern. He
has never shared the idea that the only history worth while is
that of the day before yesterday or since Watt patented a steam
engine in 1769- With regret he has faced year after year the
massed products of secondary schools whose growing numbers
are in inverse ratio to what the secondary school history courses
taught them of the beginnings of their own civilization and the
origin of the economic, political and social institutions that shape
their lives. The narrow view in the schools of what is significant
in the evolution of western Europe forces the college teacher of
modern history to explain the church, the beginnings of self-
government, the rise of the middle class, the historic bases of
democracy in education by the printed w’^ord, the origins of the
scientific spirit and of the university they attend. Even such
terms as Renaissance and Reformation are often words for some-
thing as vague to these young people fresh from high school as
is the quantum theory.

I am therefore as a teacher of modern history and an editor
glad to cooperate with a publishing house and with authors of
known scholarship who make it possible for the college student
and teacher to learn something of the historic heritage upon
which this and coming generations must build what in time may
be justly called modern history. This volume is my third op-
portunity and the justification of the volume may well rest upon
what its author says in his concluding note. I commend it to
student and teacher alike as prologue rather than epilogue.

But the justification would fail if Professor Stephenson had
not preceded his conclusion by an exceptionally well-organized
and clearly written text. He has steadily and sturdily kept as
the core of his work the great historic and persisting institutions
that take shape in the period we call mediaeval. These he has
clothed with an interest that prepares the student to understand
the succeeding centuries. As a student and teacher I am happy
to see this volume take its place beside the other sound and teach-

xvi

EDITOR’S FOREWORD

able volumes in this field in this and other series. They are a
promising effort to give roots to a generation in danger of float-
ing purposelessly like plankton in the shallow shoals of today.

Guy Stanton Ford

PREFACE

This introductory sketch of mediaeval history, being written
primarily with a view to the needs of American college students,
and being largely based on standard works, can have no very
revolutionary subject matter. It will be found to differ from its
predecessors in the field principally through its organization. By
emphasizing chronological development, I have attempted to give
a comprehensive view of European civilization stage by stage,
in preference to a political narrative with a series of postscripts
on other phases of life. That the volume is somewhat longer
than many texts on the Middle Ages is mainly due to the in-
sertion of additional illustrative material; anybody, I believe,
learns more from one concrete example than from quantities of
vague description. I have, furthermore, included a good deal
that histories of Europe have sometimes omitted. I have given
considerable attention — ^and yet it is inadequate — ^to the Moslems
and their contributions to our culture. As England was an im-
portant part of the western world, I have seen no justification
for excluding that country from the picture. And I have felt
it desirable to summarize the complicated story of the Slavic
peoples and their neighbors, if only for the sake of reference —
that the beginner may realize how far from new the contemporary
problems of eastern European politics really are. In teaching a
subject that can be indefinitely extended on all sides, each in-
structor will naturally stress certain matters in preference to
others. On the matters that are stressed he wants a text to be
reasonably full ; should he find more than he needs on the other
topics, he can easily leave some of it out.

The various supplementary features of the book have been
introduced as practical helps to the teadier and the student. The
chapters have been broken into sections to display their content
and to facilitate the making of assignments. Cross-references
have been added to show connections that might otherwise be
easily neglected. By excluding irrelevant details, the maps have
been simplified to bring out particuar facts of historical geog-
raphy. The Suggested Readings are precisely that — ^not a
bibliography for the scholar, but a few suggestions for the aver-
age student who may want to take a step bqrond the text. The

jtvii

XVlll

PREFACE

choice of plates has not always been easy. A score of examples'
usually came to mind when there was room for only one. In
such cases the deciding factor has often been the character of the
available photographs. The Chronological charts at the end of
the book will, I hope, be of service to the student in reviewing.
In the text various countties Mid various aspects of culture have
had to be separately treated. Here their development may be
seen in cross-section. The years are so plotted that each page
will give a visual impression of One Century and its sequence of
events. Mathematical accuracy should not, however, be expected.
The author and the printer have merely done their best, within a
very limited space, to indicate the proper relationships.

I have, first of all, to thank Dean Guy Stanton Ford for his
reading of the entire manuscript. Through his criticism, based
on a fine appreciation of historical balance and clarity, all of my
chapters have been greatly improved; some of them have been
reconstructed. I am also exceedingly grateful to my colleagues.
Professors M. L. W. Laistner, Nathaniel Schmidt, G. L. Hamil-
ton, G. H. Sabine, and E. A, J. Johnson, who have read portions
of the book in proof and have given me the benefit of their
specialized knowledge. Mr. H. H. King, Faculty Research As-
sistant in the Cornell University Library, has devoted weeks of
painstaking labor to the verification of names, dates, titles of
books, and other details throughout the whole volume. He has
saved me from dofens of mistakes, big and little. Equal time
and energy have been spent by my wife in the work of revising
the manuscript and of compiling the index, which is infinitely
better than it would have been if I had thrown it together myself
at the last moment.

In this connection I should also like to thank the Mediaeval
Academy of America and numerous other publishers for per-*
mission to reproduce drawings or to quote from their editions
of authors. Separate acknowledgments will be found in the
footnotes. For most of my plates I am indebted to the Library
of the College of Architecture, which has kindly allowed me un-
restricted use of the Andrew D. White collection of photographs.

Carl Stbphenson

Cornell University
February, 1935.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

This book seeks to defend no particular thesis with regard to
the period that has become known as the Middle Ages. For
reasons that will be seen in the opening chapters, the contrast
between ancient and mediaeval times can be readily appreciated,
even though no precise line can be drawn to separate the two eras.
At the other end of the narrative, however, no similar contrast
appears. In the later fifteenth century there was no collapse of
a world empire, with a characteristic civilization, to mark the
close of one epoch and the beginning of another. The political
and cultural diversity of Europe then continued without radical
change; and so many peoples, states, institutions, and beliefs had
emerged, either to flourish momentarily or to persist to our own
day, that to embrace them all under one formula is quite impos-
sible. Whether any of them, to the exclusion of others, can be
designated as t3q)ically mediaeval may be gravely doubted.

There is, in fact, no reason for trying to define the mediaeval,
except to establish a distinction from the modern — a. project
which has led to endless confusion. No such arbitrary procedure
is here attempted. The outstanding developments of the dozen
centuries that followed the reign of Diocletian are, in so far as
they affected Europe, treated in order, and the reader is left to
attach whatever labels he pleases. For the purposes of this his-
torical sketch, they are considered mediaeval simply because they
came! within a period called the Middle Ages.

Nor is any apology needed for presenting a view of just these
centuries. That they have a vital connection with the life of the
present will be obvious to any one with sufficient curiosity to study
history at all. For many who are interested in the origins of
modern European civilization they must hold a peculiar fascina-
tion, since in this respect they constitute the great formative
period. And even if they had no direct bearing upon our own
traditions, they would still possess the charm of the more primi-
tive past. The most cold-blooded of scholars could not, if he
would, take all the romance from the age when that term was
first invented.

Every historian must break historical continuity at some point.
Why it is convenient not to extend this narrative beyond the year
1500 will be indicated when the time comes to add another note
by way of conclusion.

CHAPTER I

THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT WORLD

I. THE WEAKENING OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE

At the very outset of our study- — ^and this is characteristic
of historical investigation in general — ^we encounter an unsolved
problem. We are confronted by the fact that the Roman Empire,
after being a synonym of grandeur and stability for hundreds of
years, disintegrated in the fifth century; and we„ cannot say with
assurance just how it came about. All sorts of causes — ^political,
economic, biological, psychological, and mystic — have been ad-
\^nced for the fall of Rome; yet none of them has been accepted
by scholars as altogether sufficient. Today, of course, it is no
longer customary to coi^ider the event a sudden catastrophe such
as befell Humpty Dumpty, and to assign it a date. We vtdliz^
that we have to do not merely with the pillaging of a city or with
the end of a dynasty, but with the decay of a whole civilization;
that the final crash of the Roman state had been long prepared
by the rotting of its social fabric. No adequate consideration of
so complex a problem can be attempted in these pages; all that
is here contemplated is to show something of its magnitude and
significance.

To gain any idea of how the Roman Empire declined, we must
first see how it grew; how Roman dominion, by the opening of
the Christian era,, came to extend throughout the Mediterranean
world. Five centuries earlier, when .Athens was at the height
of its glory, Rome was but one of many little states in central
Italy ;)the Romans but one division of the sturdy, practical, and
as yet crude people known as Latins, Within Another hundred
years the Romans had absorbed the other Latin immunities and
had started a triumphant march into Etruria and Campania.;
Victorious wars of defense led to defensive alliances, .,and these
imperceptibly to further wars and further alliances, ^pthe ^nd
pf another century Rome was in undisputed control of all Italy
south of the Apennines, This success was by -no- means due
solely to force of arms. From Jhe outset the Romans had dis-
played a surpassing gepius for political organiz-ation. Roman
iminion had cmne ffiroughout the peninsula to mean peace and

' 3

The prob-
lem of the
“Fall of
Rome’’

The growth
of the
Roman
Republic

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The col-
lapse of
the sena-
torial
govern-
ment

security, justice and toleration. Each Italian city, while recogniz-
ing the superior authority of Rome in some respects, remained
autonomous in all else. Except as specified by solemn treaty,
every community was free to govern itself and to develop its own
native institutions. At no time did the Romans proclaim a
dictatorship of language or religion or culture. On the contrary,
it was from their Greek allies that the Romans first learned to
appreciate the finer things in literature and art.

Contact with the cities of southern Italy introduced the
Romans not only to the beauties of Hellenistic civilization, but
also to the chronic rivalries of Hellenistic politics. Intervention
in Sicily led to a bitter conflict with C arthage, and when that
was ended, Carthage was no more. The Romans held all the
western Alediterranean. Its islands and its shores, from the Po
Valley and southern Gaul to Spain and northern Africa, were
Roman provinces. And in the meantime, as Rome advanced
from a small inland republic to a great maritime power, it was
inevitably drawn into the troubled waters of the east. There,
ever since the break-up of Alexander's empire, the three mon-
archies of Macedon, Syria, and Egypt had been accustomed to
decide all questions with regard only to their own rival ambitions.
The advent of a western upstart broke the established balance.
When the Hellenistic states objected, they were crushed with
amazing speed and thoroughness. By the end of the second cen-
tury B.C., Macedon and Syria had gone the way of Carthage; and
if the Ptolemies still ruled in Egypt, it was by virtue of a Roman
protectorate.

Through this dramatic series of conquests — one of the most
tremendous in all history — ^what we know as the Roman Empire
actually came into existence. As yet, however, Rome was
properly just the city on the Tiber, still governed by its ancient
laws. The Roman sphere of dominion was a haphazard accretion
of subject territories, allied states, and vassal kingdoms, admin-
istered by amafteur generals and statesmen; for the Roman
magistrate, whether at home or abroad, was essentially a gentle-
man elected for a term of years by his fellow citizens, ^he
imperium (whence eventually our word empire) was the sttpreme
authority of the republic, including civil, military, and religious
functions, held by a group of officials rather than by one man.. To
be a Roman citizen was to belong to the privileged body of Jtalians
who alone enjoyed full legal rights in the dominant city; but even

THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT WORLD 5

there all real power was restricted to the senatorial aristocracy —
the few families who, by controlling the elections, named the
magistrates and dictated their policies.' For hundreds of years
the senatorial government had functioned well, as the stupendous
success of the republic bore witness ; then with the closing century
of the pre-Christian era came discredit and ruin. A constitution
devised for a small city-state could not suffice for a world
emjpire.

From the ensuing welter of domestic conflict emerged Julius
Csesar, whose patrician name was to become a glorious title of The prin-
royalty for future generations. The completed conquest of Gaul of
won for him the devoted loyalty of the army; and this, combined
with his championship of the popular cause and his skillful ^
manipulation of political alliance, brought him ultimately to the
life dictatorship, which was monarchy lacking only the regal
crown. Perhaps Caesar dreamed of establishing a permanent
absolutism under which old distinctions would be ironed out amd
the entire Roman world would be subjected to one system of
administration. But he was struck down in the prime of life by
senatorial conspirators, amd the definitive reorganization of ^e
republic was left to his adopted son and heir, ..whom the world
knows by his hohorary naime of Augustus. Whatever the motives
tliat governed his action — ^and they are still a matter of dispute —
^Augustus preferred compromise to radical innovation. Refusing
all titles that smacked of monarchy, he chose to be called simply
the first man {princeps, prince) of the state; so his regime is
commonly referred to ais the principate.

In theory the administration of Augustus made no sudden
changy^ with-Ae past ; the republic remained tmaltered, except that
^it was now headed by one manA-a principal magistrate and com-
mander-in-chief chosen for life. The senate ^ivas retained, not
merely as '^n order of supreme social honor, but asj a governing
council for the city of Rome] and for those of the provinces that
required Ao large body of 1:roops. The highest officials, both
civil and military, were normally landed aristocrats. For a while
they were still dected by the ancient assemblies, which also voted
formal laws ; later these functions, in one way or another, came
to be exercised by the senate and the prince. Although Roman
citizenship thus lost much of its political significance, in other
respects it continued to be a very valuable privilege. It brought
the incalculdjle benefit of equd static tmder the Roman

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

The exten-
sion of the
municipal
system

The suc-
cession to
the prin-
cipate

law; it carried eligibility to the regular army and to othet
branches of the imperial service; and socially it was the more
highly prized because Augustus opposed any lavish extension of
the right into the provinces. By these fundamental considera-
tions he was led to reject a policy of indefinite territorial expan-
sion arid to establish fixed boundaries with a reduced number of
legions to guard them.

After his failure to secure the line of the Elbe, Augustus made
th^ Rhine and the Danube his northern defense. To the east the
Parthians were held along the upper Euphrates and the edge of
the Arabian de3ert. In Africa the Sahara provided a natural
frontier to the south. Within the limits thus drawn, construction
of highways and of other public works was actively pushed; but
an even greater accomplishment was the development of the
municipal system. As rapidly as was practical^ outlying terri-
tories were organized into city-states {civitates) — self-governing
towns, each surrounded by an attached rural district* Through-
out the east the Romans constructed their municipalities after
Greek models, merely continuing the process of Hellenization
begun by Alexander the Great. In the west, on the other hand,
where the Roman dominion was extended over more backward
countries, the urban plan, together with the civilization that accom-
panied it, was thoroughly Latin. By the time of Augustus, Sicily
and Cisalpine Gaul (the Po Valley) had become in every way
one with Italy proper; beyond them the shores of Transalpine
Gaul, Spain, and Africa were dotted with flourishing Latin"
colonies and native communities that rivaled them in prosperity#
and culture. To advance this work of Romanization northward
to the Danube and the Rhine, and southward to the Sahara,
remained a chief objective of the principate.

To the Mediterranean world at large the prince who assured
the blessings of the great Roman peace was lord and master.
Under the compulsion of public opinion, he tended to absorb all
central authority.. His title of mtp&rafor, which earlier had been
merely the designation of a victorious general, gradually came to
have the force of “emperor.” His statue replaced that of the
goddess Roma as the symbol of the Roman sovereignty in count-
less local temples ; for in those days, when every city was supposed
to be a free community, religious veneration took the place of
what We call patriotism or national feeling# To the unforgiving
remnant of the old senatorial aristocracy, however, the prince

THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT WORLD 7

seemed no more than a tyrant. As the title passed from
Augustus to unpopular members of his family, the ancient feud
blazed up again, and various Caesars wreaked their vengeance
in bloody deeds which subsequent historians have delighted to
dwell on at length. Their scandalous accounts are now being
corrected by the study of more sober records, which reveal a
Smoothly running government controlled by experts, and millions
of provincials thankful to it for the boon of an undisturbed life.
To the idlers of the capital the follies and excesses of a degenerate
Caesar might be matters of supreme interest; to the empire as a
whole they could mean extremely little.

In A.D. 68 occurred the death of Nero, the last of the Julian
house. It then became apparent that the principate, while remain-
ing an elective magistracy, had no regularly constituted electorate.
The popular assemblies of the republic had been abolished; the
senate, on which devolved the right of naming the prince,
became more and more servile. A prince could follow the
example of Augustus and designate his successor by the formal-
ity of adoption; on the failure of such action, however, who
should determine the succession? The only source of real au-
thority was the army, which had long enjoyed the vague privilege
of proclaiming imperatores. The army was not a coherent unit
capable of making a prompt decision. There were in actuality
jarious armies, scattered in various provinces under various
commanders, and in Rome itself was the praetorian guard. Thus,
^ithin the year following Nero^s death, each group of legions
, along the frontier vied with the guard in making and unmaking
emperors. Ultimately the prize was won in battle by Vespasian,
whose low birth — ^lie was the son of a tax-gatherer — did not
prevent his being ah excellent general and administrator.
Vespasian secured the purple for his two sons, Titus and
Domitian, but the dynasty ended with the assassination of the
latter in 96. Then followed nearly a hundred years of unbroken
‘calm^ during which the five '‘good emperors*' — ^Nerva, Trajan,
Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, and Marcus Aurelius — ^reigned in sucr
cession ; and of them the last four were all of provincial descenj.

Thus the old aristocracy passed from control of the state; its
passing showed not that the Roman nationality had been de-
stroyed, but that it had been extended into the province^) The
true Rome was now the empire itself rather than the imperial city.
First the Latins, then the Italians, md finally the westerners in

The

‘‘Good

Em-

perors^'

(96-108)

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The em-
pire in the
second
centnry

general had been assimilated by the dominant people. This is one
of the outstanding facts in European history. A polyglot of
races, inhabiting quite dissimilar regions, received an impress
which the revolutionary changes of all subsequent centuries have
not entirely obliterated. The result, it must be repeated, was
attained without resort to coercive legislation. If the west became
Latin, it was due to the persuasive force of example. The great-
ness of the Romans is preeminently attested by their power of
disciplining the minds, as well as the bodies, of foreign millions.

On the whole, the Roman Empire of the second century, judged
according to our best historical standards, was in a healthful
condition. Its military system, especially to our modern eyes,
seems a marvel of efficiency; for,'nvithout the mechanical aids of
today, it kept an enormous expanse of territory in a peace that
has since remained proverbial. Thanks to the virtually continu-
ous efforts of the emperors, the frontiers had been greatly
strengthened since the time of Augustus. Tremendous lines
of fortification were thrown across wild regions where neither
desert nor river afforded adequate protection, as in Asia Minor,
in the newly acquired provinces of Britain and Dacia, and in
Germany, to connect the Rhine and the Danube. Along the
frontiers were distributed small fortresses {castella) held by
permanent garrisons, and at wider intervals the great legionary
camps {castra)y which often attracted a considerable urban
population. In the earlier period most of this construction was
of earth and wood, but in the course of time masonry was sub-
stituted — of such massive strength that much of it has lasted
even to our own day. And the magnificent paved highways,
which linked the military outposts, with the cities of the interior,
were S.lso destined far to outlast the state that had them laid.

Even better evidence of Roman vigor in the second century is
provided by the ruins of countless towns that were then rising
all over the west; for the policy of municipalization received active
support from the successors of Augustus. It was, indeed, only
natural that, as provincials came to occupy the throne, the atten-
tion of the government should more and more be concentrated on
the welfare of the provinces. Hadrian, for example, is shown
constantly traveling from one end of the Roman world to the
other, supervising the improvement of its defenses, the erection of
public works, and the planning of new urban developments. The
founding of new cities and the growth of old ones testified to an

IN THE FOURTH CENTURY
^p^i^Bottndftry of the Roman

Boundary of territories aban-
doned in the Third Century
Scule of Miles

The level-
ing of the
empire

The mili-
tary des-
potism
of the
Severi

(193-235)

10 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

increase of population and marked a steady advance of the fron-
tiers of civilization. With progress in material prosperity and in
culture came extension of legal privilege. By the time of the
Antonines, not merely the status of Italian ally, but full Roman
rights, had been granted to scores of cities throughout the prov-
inces. Roman citizenship and even the senatorial order were
already becoming imperial in their scope.

Thus, in spite of the many republican vestiges that remained
embedded in the constitution, Rome by the second century was
actually a world state controlled by an emperor. The experience
of the past three hundred years had led to the gradual establish-
ment of a monarchical system to insure peace and livelihood to
the inhabitants of the empire. Such matters as imperial defense,
finance, and the legal relations of men from different communi-
ties had come under one uniform administration. The personal
household of the prince had developed into a far-reaching bu-
reaucracy, in which the places earlier held by freedmen were now
eagerly sought by members of the noble orders. With the ex-
tension of Roman rights, the governing aristocracy^ had ceased
to be a narrow group of Italians and had become world-wide;
had in fact become identified with the upper bourgeoisie of the
provinces. The empire, as will be remembered, had from the
outset been essentially a federation of autonomous city-states. It
was no mere coincidence that the municipal system and the princi-
pate reached their height together.

The tranquillity of the second century, once broken, was never
to return. One of its happiest features was the apparently easy
solution that had been found to the problem of the imperial suc-
cession. A series of four princes, with the cordial support of
the senate, had been able each to adopt and install a good man
as Caesar, the designated heir to the purple. Unfortunately,
however, Marcus Aurelius insisted on giving the office to an un-
worthy son, Commodus; and the latter’s assassination inaugu-
rated another period of chaos. In 193, as in 68, the legions
proved that theirs was the only substantial power ; but this time
the civil warfare was more prolonged and it had more disastrous
results. Septimius Severus, an African, was proclaimed by the
troops on the Danube and, having disposed of various rivals in
battle, he proceeded to turn the state into an undisguised military
despotism. The senate was terrorized into subservience and
privileges were showered upon the army. The legionaries’ pay

THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT WORLD ii

was raised ; they were allowed to contract legal marriages and to
enjoy domestic life outside the barracks. With increasing fre-
quency common soldiers were commissioned as officers, and so
launched on a career that might lead to the top of the imperial
service.

Such measures, if the army had actually remained what it was
in theory — a select group of Roman citizens — ^would have had no
serious consequences. As a matter of fact, however, the legions
had long tended, on the refusal of the urban classes to enlist, to
be recruited mainly from the peasant population of the outlying
provinces. Under Caracalla, son of Septimius, Roman citizenship
ceased to imply much more than ordinary free status, and only
a modicum of Latin or Greek culture. The policy of the Severi
led str^ght to the barbarization of the government. Was* that
policy inspired by hatred of the ruling aristocracy or by failing
confidence in its ability? Although other motives helped to
dictate his attitude toward the senate, the victor of 193 un-
doubtedly regarded the whole political situation from the sol-
dier’s point of view. In his eyes the military needs of the state
were paramount to all other considerations. And when we exam-
ine the events of the succeeding century, we find it hard to con-
demn such an opinion. The merit of an emperor strong enough
to defend the frontiers, even if he was no gentleman, was soon
to be appreciated to the full.

Once more, in 235, assassination ended a short-lived dynasty
and invited a contest for the purple, in which, as it happened,
none of the entrants was able to gain an unchallenged decision.
While one emperor held the city of Rome, others dominated the
provinces- During more than a score of years civil warfare was
virtually continuous; and as the legions followed their cham-
pions to distant battlefields, the frontiers were left open to hordes
of wandering barbarians. For the first time the Roman popu-
lace became familiar with tribal names that future centuries were
to make increasingly formidable.^ Alamans and Franks seized
coveted lands along the Rhine and carried their pillaging raids far
into Gaul. Goths broke into the Danubian provinces, slew an em-
peror who tried to stop them, and, taking to the sea, looted the
classic cities of the JEgean. Meanwhile the Roman dominion in
Asia threatened to collapse before the attack of a reconstituted

^ On these terbanaa peoples, see below, ch. iii.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Persian kingdom. The Persians were finally checked, but the
victory was won by an adventurer of Palmyra, who eventually
threw off all Roman allegiance to form an independent state
in Syria.

In the latter half of the third century the Roman Empire was
Aurelian thus faced with disintegration. Effective central authority had
(270-275) ceased to exist and the provinces were organized for local defense
into shifting groups, each with its own ruler. Already we en-
counter a situation that was to become chronic in the mediaeval
period. To contemporaries, however, the present disorder appeared
only a temporary evil, the prelude to a new era of stabilization.
This work was begun by Aurelian, who rose from the ranks to
be hailed as the Restorer of the Empire. In five short years he
disposed of all rival princes west and east, destroyed the rebel
city of Palmyra, and reestablished the frontier along the Rhine
and the Danube, abandoning to the barbarians all land to the
north and east of those rivers. Aurelian’s murder by a petty
conspirator was a calamity that threatened once more to plunge
the world into chaos; fortunately another soldier-emperor was
able to resume the unfinished task of reform and to devote his
life to its completion.

Of Diocletian’s early life little is known except that he was
Diocletian born of a humble Dalmatian family and attained high honor in
(284-305) the army under Aurelian and his successors. In 284 he was pro-
claimed emperor by his troops and, being lucky enough to secure
general recognition without a prolonged struggle, at once launched
a program of imperial reorganization. Absolute monarchy, long
since established in fact, was now formally proclaimed in law.
The emperor was officially endowed with royal insignia and sur-
rounded with the pomp of an oriental court. Social rank, as welly
as legal authority, henceforth depended solely on his favor. All.
officials, civil and military, were combined into an elaborate
hierarchy with resonant titles to distinguish each grade from the ^
next. The senate, deprived of all functions in the central gov-
ernment, became merely a municipal council for the city of Rome.
Italy was reduced to the rank of a province. In fact, the whole
empire was now treated as one territory, the inhabitants of which
were all equally subject to the sovereign emperor.

Diocletian’s system will in the main be recognized as an honest »
attempt to meet existing fact. The maintenance of political
unity demanded a military despotism, and, through the subordi-

THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT WORLD 13

nation of everything and everybody to that consideration, the
state was made to hold together for another hundred years or so.
Yet the evils that had conspired to produce that necessity were
not cured; they continued to reappear in aggravated form.
The only remedy that the government could think of was more
military despotism. Already under Diocletian the bureaucracy
was being extended downward to absorb all responsible author-
ity, even in the cities. The age-old self-government of the Graeco-
Roman world was yielding to an official tyranny both oppressive
and inefficient. A vicious cycle seemed to be at work : the help-
lessness of the municipalities had led to the application of force
from above, and this in turn served merely to produce greater
paralysis.

The decrees of the later emperors thus betray a much graver
deterioration than the passing of the semi-repuUican principate;
they show that vitality had somehow gone out of the state. And
if we compare the culture of the third and fourth centuries with
that of the preceding age, the same fact is brought home to us
even more convincingly.

2, THE DECAY OF CULTURE

As noted above, an outstanding fact for the history of civ-
ilization in the Mediterranean world is the distinction between
the east and the west. In the former the influence of the Romans
jyas necessarily ^j;estrirted to such matters as law, government,
and milita^iy o rganiz ation : for the aesthetic and intellectual stand-
ards of the Hellenized countries persisted unchanged by political
conquest. There Greek continued -to. be-^theTangimge of educa-
tion and culture. To be appreciated by urban society... hooks
had to be written in Greek, ideas had to conform to the habits
of \Greek thought, works of art had to ’^llow the Greek canons
of good taste. Throughout the west, on the contrary, the ex-
tension of Roman dominion generally implied the Latinization
of the inhabitants. Except. in a-iewjocalitiesy asjfor^^e^^

Sicily, Greek was never more than a foreign tongue. Although
RSfnarr aristocrats commonly knew Greek, they learned it as a
polite accomplishment, together with other refinements of the Hel-
lenistic world. As the Roman gentleman remained a Roman at
heaft, so his culture, while incorporating many borrowings, re-
mained distinctively Latin. In some fields the Greeks continued to

The end of
the prin-
cipate

The Greek
east and
the Latin
west

Roman art

Latin

Hterature

The re-
vival of
Greek cul-
ttire tmder
the prin-
cipate

14 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

be supreme; in others the western genius made noteworthy con-
tributions.

Throughout the realm of the fine arts the Romans were never
able to acquire the Greek delicacy of touch or the Greek feeling
for the beautiful. In sculpture their taste was generally satisfied
with mediocre reproductions of classic models, and in the decora-
tion of their great monuments they preferred the ornate and the
grandiose to the simple and the restrained. The Romans, however,
produced marvelous portrait statues — for example, those of the
early emperors — ^and they were magnificent builders. In the de-
signing of forts, aqueducts, amphitheatres, basilicas, and other
utilitarian structures they excelled. Although the exquisite sym-
metry of a Parthenon lay beyond their talent, their developnient
of the arch as a basic element in masonry construction would
alone entitle them to distinguished rank in the history of the
world’s architecture.^

To a certain degree, similar criticism will hold good of Roman
literature. Latin verse generally lacked the spontaneity of the
best Greek poetry. The Roman historians, as historians, were
unquestionably inferior to the Greek. The Romans never Jeamed
the value of metaphysical speculation or developed enthusiasm
for natural science. On the other hand, in the domain of politics
and practical morality they set a standard that has never been
surpassed. It is their dominant interest in the Roman character
that links together such authors as Cicero, Caesar, Sallust, Livy,
Vergil, Horace, and Seneca. And in the second century the tra-
dition was brilliantly maintained by Tacitus, Juven^, and Pliny
the Younger. Under the early principate Latin writings continued
to possess not merely elegance of form, but vigor and originality.

In the east, furthermore, this same period saw a noteworthy
revival of Greek thought and letters. There it had long been
the tendency of educated men to retreat from contemporary actu-
ality and to become absorbed in the criticism of classic texts.
Grammar and rhetoric were studied with passionate devotion;
manuals, dictionaries, and other compilations were produced in
great variety; while purely literary endeavor degenerated into
stylistic imitation. Endless dispute persisted over problems of
logic and metaphysics, but as yet no scholar emerged to show
that many of Aristotle’s most cherished abstractions were based

2 See below, pp. 123 f.

THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT WORLD 15

on error. The master's own spirit of inquiry was forgotten and
his pioneering work in biology and physics was left without a
sequel. The mathematical sciences fared somewhat better. In
the third and second centuries b.c., Euclid, Archimedes, Apollo-
nius, Eratosthenes, and Hipparchus had firmly established the
principles of geometry, trigonometry, mechanics, astronomy, and
geography; and throughout the later period a host of students
kept their zeal for these subjects. In medicine, likewise, though
np single writer attained the distinction of Hippocrates, good
progress, especially in anatomy, continued to be made.

To some extent, possibly, the Roman conquest had had a
deadening effect on the intellectual and aesthetic life of the Hel-
lenized world, but in general the decline was unquestionably due
to more deep-seated causes than a mere change of political mas-
ters. Since the days of Alexander the Great, classic Greece had
suffered from chronic poverty and depopulation. Leadership
in education and artistic activity had shifted from Athens and
Corinth to the cities of Asia and Egypt, notably the more recent
foundations of Antioch and Alexandria. Under Roman domin-
ion those cities remained essentially as they had been before.

Indeed, the principate brought appreciable improvement of con-
ditions throughout the eastern Mediterranean, and it was pre-
sumably this improvement that was reflected in the renewed glory
of Greek literature. Between the reigns of Domitian and Mar-
cus Aurelius flourished Dio Chrysostom, rhetorician and moral-
ist; Plutarch, autlior of the enormously popular Lives] Arrian,.
scholarly editor and historian; Lucian, whose satirical dialogues,
pamphlets, and novels have proved him one of the world's most
original writers. And in science we have during this same age
the two illustrious names of Galen and Ptolemy.

The former, the author of books on an astonishing variety of
subjects, is chiefly. famous for those on medicine. Combining Galen and
study of the classic authors with the results of his own experience, Ptolemy
he produced the most comprehensive sketch of the science that
had yet appeared. He discussed not only the use of drugs and
other practical treatments, but also anatomy and physiology. Al-
though much of his theorizing in the latter connection now seems-
ex^avagantly foolish, his conclusions were based oii what was
thefi bought to be sound authority. Ptolemy's books were simi-
lar "worics qf great erudttioii, covering the whole field of mathe-
matical astronomy ai^d geography. By his development of the

i6 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

system earlier set forth by Hipparchus, he consecrated for the
scholars of the next thousand years the concept of a geocentric
universe — one, as was later to be demonstrated, of many mis-
taken ideas that he accepted. To our eyes, furthermore, his
knowledge of geography was quite inadequate to support broad
generalization. Yet in pure mathematics, especially in trigonom-
etry, his work was a masterpiece of lucid exposition, well deserv-
ing its later renown.

To the typically Roman mind, as already remarked, these finer
Philosophy reaches of speculative thought remained wholly foreign. Among
in the the outstanding Latin writers, Lucretius (d. 55 B.c.) was the
only one whose work was inspired by a deep love of philosophy
in the Greek sense — ^that is to say, a rationalistic attempt to ex-
plain the working of the entire universe and man’s place in it.
Most of his compatriots, in so far as they had any philosophic
interest, restricted their attention to the more practical sphere
of ethics. For this reason they were attracted to Stoicism — ^
philosophy which, though originally based on metaphysical argu-
ment, had been popularized as the religion of the educated Roman.
Almost every western author of that age betrays its influence, but
it was given its. noblest expression — ^most significantly — ^by the
slave Epictetus and the emperor Marcus Aurelius.

All things, says Epictetus, are of two sorts : those which are
Epictetus in our power and those which are not. Outside our power are
worldly fame and fortune— wealth, office, family, even our own
bodies. He who concentrates his devotion on such matters is
truly the slave, for he is always at the behest of others. On the
contrary, our reason is our own; its rational judgments are
under no outside control. The man who steels himself to prize
only what lies in his own will to be and to do is free, for he is
beyond all hurt. ‘1 must die. But must I die groaning? I must
be imprisoned. But must I whine as well? I must suffer exile.
Can any one hinder me from going with a smile, with a good
courage, and at peace?” The tyrant orders me to tell a secret; I
refuse, for that is in my power. He threatens to chain me.
‘‘What say you, fellow? Chain me? My leg you will chain —
yes, but my will — ^no, not even Zeus can conquer that.”®

Epictetus was a slave and a cripple, but he is quoted by the
emperor Marcus Aurelius : “You are a little soul, burdened with

® Discourses, bk. i, ch. i.

THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT WORLD 17

a corpse.’’ The man who ruled the Mediterranean world and
was worshiped in provincial temples suffered from no delusions
as to his real grandeur. “A spider is vastly proud of itself when
it has caught a fly, one type of man when he has caught a tiny
fish in a net, a third when he has speared a boar, a fourth when
he has hunted down a bear, and a fifth when he has routed the
Sarmatians.”^ “What poor creatures are these dwarfs of men,
busied with their weighty matters of state and playing the philos*
opher to their own satisfaction !” “All things happen in accord-
ance with universal nature, nor will the time be long ere thou,
like Hadrian and Augustus, shalt be nothing, and thy place
unknown.” “Let it be thy hourly care to do stoutly what thy
hand findeth to do, as becomes a man and a Roman, with care-
fulness, unaffected dignity, humanity, freedom, and justice.”®

The keynote in the Stoic doctrine is will power, self-control
through reason. This reason, which sometimes appears as con-
science or soul, is the divine element implanted in man by God,
creator and governing principle of the universe. And since all
men, in this respect, have the same fundamental endowment, they
are equally sons of God, and so brothers to one another. The
parts assigned them in the world’s drama may outwardly vary,
but human character remains constant* If a man is true to his
real self, he is true to Nature ; he will then understand the divine
order that governs all things and will ask no other reward. This
lofty creed, with its heroic standard of conduct and its cosmo-
politan spirit, so perfectly combined the traditions of the republic
with the ideals of the empire that its popularity in the Roman
world is readily understandable. Stoicism, however, could appeal
only to educated men — ^to self-reliant men who had confidence in
human capacity. In an age of mounting ignorance and despair
it could not survive. Such an age was ushered in by the calami-
tous third century.

In jth^ arts the deterioratiorLthat occurred during the period
between Marcus Aurelius and Diocletian is no less than shock-
ing. The fine series of imperial statues comes to a melancholy
close ; even thg heads on the coins cease to be real portraits. Com-
parison of the great triumphal arches reveals the failure of all
skill in the carving of relief. Such realistic panels as are found,

barbarian pec^le whoni Marcus Aurdius bad trouble in d^eating. See
below, |>. 53*

® M^/Uations, iv, 41 ; x, 10; ix, viii, 5; ii, 5-

Marcus

Aurelius

Funda-
mental
principles
of Stoicism

The decay
of arts and
letters

The

failure of
philosophy

i8 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

for example, on the arch of Titus give way on that of Septimius
Severus to crudely scratched designs. And when, a few genera-
tions later, Constantine erected his arch, he was reduced to filch-
ing his decorations from the monuments of his predecessors.
Meanwhile, too, the princes strove to maintain the Roman tradi-
tion of magnificent building, but their structures were little
more than piles of inferior masonry lacking all architectural
beauty. The decline of Roman literature was even more abrupt.
No historian arose to take the place of Tacitus, no poet to take
that of Juvenal. Toward the end of the second century we en-
counter the names of Aulus Gellius, a collector of anecdotes, and
of Apuleius, a collector of stories; after them ensues a blank.
Virtually the only branch of Latin letters in which progress
continued to be made was jurisprudence. The work of expound-
ing the fundamental principles of the Roman law, and so of
facilitating its application to the entire Mediterranean world, was
not halted.®

Through the influence of the jurists many ideas of the Stoics,
particularly their doctrine of the natural law, came to be in-
corporated in the political and legal theory of the subsequent age.
Otherwise that virile philosophy, from the third century onward,
was supplanted by various forms of mysticism — ^an intellectual
revolution that was to have momentous consequences for the de-
velopment of European civilization. From the very outset Greek
speculative thought had been chiefly remarkable for the fact that
it discarded the authority of tradition and insisted upon the test
of independent inquiry. Not infrequently, as we now realize,
Greek scholars had tended to reason on the basis of insufficient
data ; had allowed imagination to outstrip observation. Neverthe-
less, the general validity of their method was amply demonstrated
by the most brilliant advance in science that the world had yet seen.
And although their schools of philosophy differed in the solutions
offered to various problems, all believed in' man’s capacity to learn
about himself and the universe through the normal human fac-
ulties. In contradistinction to the typical Greek thinker, the
mystic has always been the man who despairs of these faculties.
Truth, he holds, can be reached only by contemplation, by shut-
ting oneself off from the world, and by communing with the infi-
nite through the medium of the soul. Regarded from this point

• See below, pp. ii8 f.

THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT WORLD 19

of view, the acceptance of Neo-Platonism by the scholarly world
was equivalent to a declaration of intellectual bankruptcy.

That system, supposedly a revival of Platonism, was in fact
a pale reflection of what had been taught by the great Athenian. Neo-
Plotinus (d. 270) divorced Plato’s “idealism” from its original Platonism
context and developed it, together with various non-Greek ele-
ments, to be the alleged quintessence of all philosophy and religion.

The net result of his labor, however, was to demonstrate the ulti-
mate futility of all thought, and so to preach the necessity, in the
search for reality, of inner revelation though ecstatic vision. Thus
the way was made clear for the acceptance of any creed with suffi-
cient emotional appeal to captivate the imagination ; for although
the ideas of Plotinus might continue to hold the devotion of a
select few, most men would prefer a faith that was not reduced
to metaphysical abstraction. By this time many an oriental
mystery had come to attract the learned as well as the illiterate.

Since under the Roman dominion each city or tribe was nor-
mally free to worship whatever gods it chose, the possibility of The
religious variation throughout the empire at large became vir- oriental
tually infinite. As commerce or military service constantly pyrenes
brought men of all communities into contact with one another,
the more popular cults were carried throughout the length and
breadth of the Mediterranean world; so they came to reflect
the prejudices and aspirations of its cosmopolitan society. Bar-
barous ritual was softened and elaborated to suit more refined
tastes; crude mythology was explained in terms of Hellenistic
philosophy to reveal its hidden significance. What had proved
to be attractive features of one system were combined with others.

By this process of gradual fusion, known as syncretism, the out-
standing religions of the later empire all tended, despite a great
variety of forms, to share the same fundamental elements.

In an earlier age, presunfiably, the Romans had found spiritual
exaltation in the worship of their ancient deities ; yet long before
the establishment of the principate, the official cult had ceased to
be more than legal formalism. Educated men regarded the tra-
ditional stories of gods and goddesses — ^whether Greek or Latin
—as sheer myth, and rejected all religious doctrine that could
not be embraced under such a creed as Stoicism. On the other
hand, the uneducated, to vdiom philosophy could offer slight
consolation, naturally turned to the new faiths imported from
the east Tiny. wliat the legalistic ceremonial in the offi-

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Cybele,
Isis, and
Mithras

Common

religious

develop-

ments

cial temples of Rome could not provide : the emotional appeal of
a highly sensuous ritual, the certainty of truth mystically revealed,
and the assurance to the purified initiate of life in a blessed
hereafter. They demanded only what every man could give —
faith. And to all alike they promised a reward more precious
than wealth could buy. It is no wonder that, with the progres-
sive ruin of state and society, they numbered their converts by
the million.

Eventually one of these oriental faiths was to gain supremacy
throughout the Roman world, but for several centuries it had
to strive against many rivals for popular favor. Earlier mys-
teries,, such as those associated with .Bacchus, god of wine, and
Denieter, goddess of the harvest, celebrated the principle of
fertility and, by depicting the return of vegetation to the earth,
symbolized the initiate’s entrance into a new spiritual existence.
These elements, together 'with many others, were combined in
the worship of the Phrygian Cybele, whom the west knew as
Magna Mater. According to the sacred legend, she restored the
slain Attis to life through the power of her love; and about this
theme of death and resurrection was developed a cult tliat be-
came widely influential under the principate. Meanwhile a simi-
lar myth concerning the resuscitation of Osiris by Isis, an Egyp-
tian goddess, had been made the germ of another religion,
remarkable for its hierarchy of priests, its elaborate liturgy, and
its positive doctrine of immortality. A third popular mystery
was that of Mithras, which originated in Persia and so was
based on the sun-worship of that country. According to this
system, known as Zoroastrianism, man’s nature, like the uni-
verse, is the scene of perpetual conflict between the two gods of
light and darkness, the forces of good and evil. The individual,
to escape the realm of darkness after death, must hold to the
light, must follow a strict code of morality. As aid in the struggle
for righteousness, the cult of Mithras offered constant spiritual
fortification. To gain admission to it, the candidate had to be
purified through an elaborate ceremony. Thereafter he was said
to be reborn.

By the third century, as already remarked, these mystic re-
ligions had borrowed much from one another. To all of them,
for example, a sacrificial meal, in which the p^articipant symboli-
cally partook of the divine substance, had become a common
feature. All, likewise, tended to absorb the ancient astrology’

THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT WORLD 21

of the Babylonians, such as the lore connected with the signs
of the zodiac and the division of time into periods of seven
d^ys, each named for a heavenly body or its presiding deity.

Though some of these cults had originally been marked by license
rather than by restraint, all came with the passage of time to
emphasize ethicab teaching, and each claimed to embody the essen-
tial truths of every sect. Through metaphysical interpretation,
all gods were held to be but manifestations of one supreme power;
what every popular religion offered was an intermediary by
whose agency the individual might secure salvation. The Chris-
tian solution was but one of many offered; how it came to receive
universal acceptance is a story of truly epic character.

According to the familiar account of the gospels, Jesus was
jborn — ^while Augustus still ruled at Rome — in the Judean town The
of Bethlehem. Having been recognized* "by John the Baptist as Clmstian
the prophesied Christ, the Messiah of the Hebrews, He devoted
His life to preaching the kingdom which God was about to re-
store to His people. But this kingdom, said Jesus, was not the
earthly monarchy that the Jews had dreamed of reestablishing;
it was a spiritual kingdom, to enter which a man must be born
again jn^the, spirit Meticulous observance of the traditional law
was of no avail; the outward act was less than the inward
thought. In heaven the faith and love of a little child were of
greater worth than all the learned holiness, all the sanctimonious
piety in the world. Finally, because of His bitter attack upon
sacred tradition and vested interest, Jesus was sent to death on
the cross — a punishment commonly assigned to thieves and other
disturbers of the peace.

Then, as has so often happened, martyrdom served only to
advertise an obscure cause. The small band of the faithful pro-
claimed that Christ had risen from the dead, and that, through
His abiding spirit, they were able to perform all wondrous works.

Their fervor rapidly made converts; and one of the latter was
the apostle Paul, who has left us his dramatic story in his own
vivid words. He never knew the man Jesus; the gospel which
he preached was that of the risen Christ, seen by him in blinding
glory on the road to Damascus. And as the result of this
preaching, the Christianity that became famous under the Roman
Empire was Pauline Christianity. Paul was able, thanks to his
Greek education, so to present a religion built of essentially Jewish

The supe-
riority of
Chris-
tianity

Alleged
causes of
Roman
dedine

22 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

elements that it could be understood throughout the Mediterranean
world.

Detailed treatment of the Christian doctrine and of the organ-
ized Christian Church must be postponed for a succeeding chap-
ter; but at this point it may be well to indicate a few general
characteristics of Christianity as compared with its rivals. In
the first place, the story of Jesus is compellingly beautiful — in-
finitely superior, as a mere story, to the theme of any other
oriental mystery. This story is itself the expression of a religious
idea, for it tells of a savior who died to redeem all men,
and so needs no symbolic interpretation to make it intelligible.
Christianity could thus incorporate the mystic elements of other
creeds while avoiding their crude or revolting features. Further-
more, the ethical teachings of Jesus were of the very substance
of His gospel, not a supplement borrowed from Greek philos-
ophy. Christianity, as the event proved, appealed to all. It did
not, like the cult of Mithras, exclude women; nor did it, like
the cults of Cybele and Isis, exalt a feminine principle at the
expense of others. Lastly, the Christian religion took over from
Judaism its uncompromising monotheism. The world could
never become Jewish in faith because the world would never be-
come Jewish in nationality. Christianity, however, was launched
as a religion for all peoples — a religion which declared every
other to be false, a religion that was at once exclusive and aggres-
sive. Therein lay the avowed hostility to the Roman state that
was to invite persecution; yet therein lay also the strength that
was ultimately to bring triumph.

3. THE PROBLEM OF CAUSES

From the facts that have been noted, it is obvious that the
advance of Christianity and the decline of the Roman Empire
were intimately related. To say this, however, is not to affirm,
as has been done, that the relation was one of cause to effect.
General despair of human capacity to improve conditions on
earth was perhaps a contributing factor in the final ruin of the
state ; but would men despair of improvement before conditionV
had become desperate? Neither Christianity nor any other form
of spiritual consolation can be blamed for the evils which they
helped men to forget. Besides, the rising flood of mysticism
under the later empire was only one phase of an oriental reactiorf
which may likewise be detected in arts and institutions. This

THE DECLINE Of THE ANCIENT WORLD 23

reaction was prepared for by the weakening of Hellenism. In
the west, as already remarked, the decay of culture, from the
third century on, was even more tragic; and the ensuing reaction,
since there was no older civilization to reassert itself, was neces-
sarily toward barbarism. The time-honored allegation that the
barbarian invasions caused the fall of Rome is thus seen to be
entirely illogical. The process of barbarization was well under
way long before the collapse of the frontier defenses permitted
inroads by the tribes from beyond them, and was due, not to
the infiltration of uncivilized peoples, but to the failure of the
Romans to assimilate them. What was the reason for this
failure ?

The problem, it has been said, is essentially one of biology.

If we could be entirely sure that the Roman Empire was based
on the superiority of a Latin race, which was gradually corrupted
by intermixture with inferior races, our inquiry would be satis-
factorily closed. Unfortunately, we have little evidence to war-
rant such a conclusion. The Latins vrere in truth a superior
people. But who were the Latins? As far as we know, they
were never a biologically pure stock. The Latinization of the
west cannot be explained in terms of heredity, because the bulk
of the westerners were never descended from Latins. And that
the barbarian peoples of Europe were also endowed with great
native ability was to be convincingly demonstrated in the subse-
quent age. The fault clearly lay — ^to employ a crude metaphor
— ^not in the raw material, but in the finishing process. The
deterioration of Rome, we must conclude, was due to the weak-
ening of forces that had earlier helped to make it great. What
were these forces, and why did they weaken?

All sorts of answers have been* given to the question. Count-
less sermons have pointed to Rome as a horrid proof of the ThesignU
text that the^ wages of sin is death. Learned writers fcav^ at- icance
tributed the fate of the empii^e to su^h diverse factors as slavery,
ted taxation, princely ^ibition, Jtlxe exhaustion of the soil, or ^ ®
tfce lack of applied science. To repeat the arguments that have
been marshaled against these and similar contentions is impos-
sible in a brief review of the subject. Suffice it to say that they
have been shown to be untrue or inadequate. One point, however,
has become increasingly plain. The more Roman history has been
discussed, the more it has been found to turn upon the fortune
of the city-^t^^ In that institution the political and cultural life

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

{ Economic
i distress in
\ the third
century

The
growth
of a caste
system

of the Mediterranean world was concentrated. While the munici-
pal system flourished, the empire flourished ; when one weakened,
the other weakened.

The first symptoms of the economic distress that was later
to become general thus appeared in the cities under Marcus
Aurelius. The emperor, in response to their appeals, sent special
agents to supervise the local administration; but the situation
failed to improve. During the third century troubles rapidly
accumulated. To the ravages of civil war were added those of
pestilence. The population declined and the loss was never made
up. Lands ceased to be cultivated; urban properties stood va-
cant; taxes remained unpaid. The state was faced with bank-
ruptcy, and the non-productive regions, like Italy, with starvation.
To secure cash, the government debased the coinage, and this
served merely to drive all good money out of circulation. The
poverty of the masses deepened and became chronic. The result
was a frantic effort on the part of such, emperors as Aurelian
and Diocletian to check the encroaching tide of ruin. As local
initiative failed, • force was applied from above; and when civil
authority broke down, the military was called in. The imperial
federation of self-governing commonwealths degenerated into a
despotism of the old oriental type, supported by a corrupt and
rapacious bureaucracy.

A prominent feature of this degeneration was the establish-
ment j)f what amounted to a rigid system of castes. Many fac-
tors helped to bring about the policy — especially the financial
crisis of tlie third century. Diocletian was able to restore the
coinage, but not the wealth of the people. Cash remained so
scarce that the state had to collect most of its taxes in kind. As
a consequence, its employees were in turn compelled to accept,
produce for at least part of what was owed them. Even land
was used for paying wages — ^as, for example, those of the troops.
Soldiers already had been given a privileged status, had been
permitted to marry and to have their own homes. Being now
provided with fields from which to gain a livelihood,* they came
to constitute an agrarian, as well as a military, class. And this
system naturally enhanced a tendency already noted — ^the domi-
nance of the army by peasants, especially by barbarians, who were
always willing to accept land in return for service.

Meanwhile, the state’s financial difficulties had also led it
to extend the 'ancient system of requisitioning men,, animals, con-

THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT WORLD 25

veyances, and materials. Although it could be justified as Trade and
exempting the victim from an equivalent tax, such a practice, industry
when placed at the discretion of unscrupulous subordinates, in-
evitably led to the further burdening of an already overburdened
people. This particular scourge fell mainly on the peasantry,
but the merchant and the artisan were by no means free of simi-
lar oppression. For a long time the trades regarded as essential
to the state had been organized under highly privileged associa-
tions called collegia. Among them were, for instance, the millers,
bakers, and others who helped to supply the capital with food;
the carpenters and masons who constructed public buildings;
the craftsmen who furnished arms for the legions ; and the men
who transported all these things by sea or land. As times grew
worse an(^ public credit became insecure, business men naturally
hesitated to undertake contracts that meant certain loss. So
edicts were issued to- compel the performance of the customary
duties, and finally to prohibit the member of a collegium from
quitting his position, or his heirs from refusing the same re-
sponsibility. Every trade and every profession, by the extension
of this iniquitous system, thus tended to become a hereditary
servitude, and all prospect of commercial revival through private
initiative was utterly destroyed.

Equally significant developments took place in connection with
agriculture, which had always been of greater economic impor- Agricul-
tance to the Roman world than industry. According to Diode-
tian’s fiscal reorganization, each assessment district was made
liable for a certain quota of land-tax units, based upon the pro-
ductivity of the soil and the number of its inhabitants. The ar-
rangement, it is true, was not supposed to be immutable, but
the tendency was henceforth to avoid reapportionment and to
place each territory under a fixed diarge. And since the land
was worthless without cultivators, they too had to be converted
into stable assets. Under the republic a good many estates had
been worked by slave labor ; the establishment of world-wide peace
ended the supply of cheap slaves and made such a method of
agricultural exploitation generally unprofitable. Cash was lack-
ing for the employment of hired labor ; so the proprietor had to
settle his lands with peasants who would perform all necessary
work in return for plots assigned to each. Such a tenant was
called a colonus. 'Usually he was a freeman^ holding by lease
for an unlimited period* Then, to assure the payment of the

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The deg-
radation
of the
urban aris-
tocracy

assessed tax, the state forbade him to leave. He and his chil-
dren after him became attaclied to the soil, to be bought and
sold along with it.

Even a more bitter fate befell the aristocracy of the provincial
cities. Throughout the prosperous age of the empire, each of
them was governed by its own municipal council, which, like the
senate of the capital, installed the magistrates and supervised
their administration. And as at Rome the senatorial order re-
mained the highest social honor, so in each locality the distinction
of being a curialis (i.e., one eligible to the urban curia) was
eagerly sought. Since admission to the charmed circle was
principally a matter of high property qualification, a man of any
rank in life, even a freed slave, could found an aristocratic fam-
ily by the simple expedient of amassing a fortune. To live as a
gentleman, he would have to possess landed estates, ^nd part of
his time would be spent on some villa in the country; but his
chief residence would be his house in town, and there likewise
would lie his political career. To obtain the dignity of public
office, he would gladly spend huge sums on the building of tem-
ples, baths, amphitheatres, or other works that might be needed.

This, as we know from hundreds of inscriptions, was still
the normal system in the second century. Two hundred years
later how appallingly different was the situation! What was
once a prized distinction had become a sort of official slavery.
The hereditary rank of curialis carried with it responsibility for
taxes assessed within the territory of the city. Collection con-
stantly fell off; the mounting deficit had to be met by the unfor-
tunate dignitary. The law forbade him to resign his wretched
honor; if in despair he ran away, he might, like a fugitive
colomtSy be captured and brought back. He was actually worse
off than the colonus, for the latter was at least assured of a per-
manent living for his family. The only fortunate man in all this
miserable company was the great landlord who, through imperial
favor, attained the senatorial order and so escaped the baneful
liability for municipal office. Leaving the town to its evil des-
tiny, he retired to a fortified estate in the country. There, sup-
ported by his peasants and protected by his retainers, he defied
the tyranny of bureaucrats and spent his days in the society of
friends like himself.

The culmination of all these unhappy developments was the
ruin, in all but exceptional regions, of urban life and culture.

THE DECLINE OF THE ANCIENT WORLD 27

Through the multiplication of cities, the frontiers of civiliza- The ruin
tion had for hundreds of years steadily advanced; through the of the
influence of the cities, the east had tended to become Greek and
the west to become Latin. To make these results possible, there
had been a constant increase in the ranks of the urban aristocracy,
the affluent and educated bourgeoisie of the empire. Behind
that class lagged the poor of the cities and the semi-barbarous
peasantry of the countryside. Yet it was from the lower classes
that the aristocracy was constantly recruited; the progress of
one carried with it the progress of the others. As the reverse
process set in during the third century, it naturally brought
relapse toward more primitive conditions, those which we recog-
nize as mediaeval.

It would therefore appear that, if we could diagnose the mal-
ady that came to afflict the towns, we should have a satisfactory
explanation for the collapse of the empire and its culture. And
in the light of what we know of such phenomena in other ages
of history^ it is hard to escape the conclusion that the problem
is essentially economic; for in general the prosperity of the
towns must have been an economic prosperity. There is, indeed,
much that remains doubtful in the history of the Roman cities
and it would be wrong to make absolute generalizations about
all of .them. The civitas was not merely a city in our sense of
the word, but a territorial state organized about an urban center.

The growth of the latter may thus in part be attributed to its
importance as administrative headquarters of a district. It is also
certain that very few of the ancient cities, especially in the west,
were to any significant degree industrial settlements. Granting
all this, however, can we doubt that the enormous wealth, which
we find concentrated in the urban aristocracy of the second cen-
tury, was principally gained through trade? If this conclusion is
accepted — ^as it has been by many authorities — ^we are apparently
forced to believe that the very complex series of events, popularly
known as the fall of Rome, was intimately connected with the fail-
ure of commerce.

It is surely a remarkable fact that^e illustrious cities jof Greece
tose and fell with the growth and decline of their comm^ceT The
ihat as comings:ce was..shifted in the Hellenistic age to new cen- failure of
ters, and* leadership in culture, wejit withjtj comnaeroe

and that subsequently, in so far as ancient, ciygiz^tion persisted, it ?

did so ^ where jncient _commerce_ re-

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

mained least disturbed. The impoverishment of the western
provinces was anticipated by that of classic Greece. The for-
mer, it is true, were blessed with a more fertile soil, but this
did not save them from disaster. With the predominance of
agriculture, they entered the Dark Age of their history; their
modern greatness began only with a subsequent revival of trade.

There is still the question, Why did commerce fail? To that
it must be frankly admitted that we have no definitive answer.
We may say without fear of contradiction that commerce failed
because people became too poor to buy. But whether we affirm
that poverty increased or that wealth declined, we leave the fun-
damental mystery as it was. And as long as our foremost experts
of today, with all the exact information at their disposal, fail to
tell us just what produced the recent depression, how can we
expect to be entirely sure of what happened to a state that dis-
integrated fifteen hundred years ago? Fortunately, the historian
is not required to devise formulae in terms of final causes. Our
inquiry has been pushed far enough to make the beginning of
the mediaeval period reasonably intelligible; so, without further
attention to what has become a classic riddle, we may proceed
to consider the more obvious developments of the ensuing age.

CHAPTER II

THE OLD AND THE NEW IN MEDIJEVAL EUROPE

I. LATE ROMAN INSTITUTIONS

At the close of the third century Diocletian, as we have seen,
inaugurated a series of reforms, thereby ho^Ding to correct the
evils that had so nearly brought the Roman Empire to dissolution.
One chronic source of trouble had been the succession to the
purple; and it would appear that some of Diocletian’s measures,
though individually of no very revolutionary character, were
intended to provide a solution of the problem. For a long time
the emperor had normally borne the title of Augustus, and his
designated successor that of Caesar. Not infrequently, too, an
Augustus, with excellent precedent behind him, had elevated a
Caesar to supreme authority during his own lifetime ; for Roman
tradition Jiad always favored a system of magistracies each
held by two or more persons at the same time. The consuls, for
instance, actually shared one office, apportioning its functions
according to custom or to suit their own convenience. Wlien,
therefore, Diocletian associated with himself Maximian, to act
as Augustus in the east, no one could imagine that anything but
the administration had been divided. Experience had proved
that the _task of ruling the empire was too vast for one man,
and the contrast between the Greek and Latin halves suggested
a natural line of demarcation. Nor, when each Augustus then
named a Caesar to be his subordinate, and eventually t6 succeed
him, could any innovation be suspected.

To what extent Diocletian himself regarded his plan as a
permanent arrangement remains doubtful. Under his guiding
genius, at any rate, it worked smoothly. In. 305 the aged em-
peror not only abdicated his own office, but also induced Max-
imian to follow his example. Their authority then passed to
the two Caesars, Galerius and Constantins, for whom in turn
subordinates were named. But at this point the system broke
down. Caesars refused to be satisfied with inferior rank; sons
of emperors defied settlements that exchn^d them from the
succession ; allies st^l ^tervoaed to f^ace their favorites on the

1J9

Diocle-
tian’s plan
for the
succession

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Constan-

tine

I (306-37)

Civil

adminis-

tration

throne. It was thus by the old-fashioned method of sheer force
that Constantine, son of Constantins, began his illustrious career.

In 306, on the death of his father, Constantine was proclaimed
by the legions in Britain — ^as one of six rival emperors. By 312
death had reduced the number to four : Constantine and Maxen-
tius in the west, Licinius and Maximinus in the east. An alli-
ance between Constantine and Licinius then allowed each to
dispose of his own particular enemy, and for about ten years the
two victors shared the Roman world between them. In 324,
however, the civil war was revived. Licinius was crushed in a
decisive campaign and Constantine was left to do as he pleased
’with the entire empire. He chose to keep it all for himself and,
as if it were a family estate, ultimately divided it among his
three sons. So ended Diocletian’s attempt, such as it was, to solve
the problem of the succession. In his attitude toward the Chris-
tians, which will be separately treated below, Constantine also
reversed the policy of Diocletian; in all other principal aspects he
maintained it.

Supplemented by various measures of Constantine and his
sons, Diocletian’s administrative system henceforth continued to
be the basis of the imperial government, and as such was taken
over by the barbarian states of the west. Much of it was ob-
viously inspired by a dread of local dictators. Except in a few
frontier districts, civil magistrates were stripped of military
power and combined in an elaborate hierarchy extending upward *
to the emperor. The provinces,. now much smaller than they had
once been, were grouped in tliirteen dioceses, each under a vicar ;
the dioceses in four prefectures, each under a prefect. The heads
of all these administrative districts were appointed by the emperor,
were shifted about at his pleasure, and were held directly respon-
sible to him. Special agents {agentes m rebus) were constantly
employed in the provinces to supervise the administration of
the post roads, investigate complaints, spy oh local magis-
trates, and make reports to the central government. Their imme-
diate superior in the capital was the master of offices, who also
acted as superintendent of the four great secretarial bureaus.
The head of the legal department, responsible for the drafting
of laws and the supervision of the whole judicial system, was the
quaestor of the sacred palace. The chief officer of the imperial
household, who tended to absorb various extraordinary powers,
was the provost of the sacred bedchamber, a sort of grand cham-

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE 31

berlain. Two men, in one way or another, controlled finance : the
count of the private estates and the count of the sacred largesses.

These ministers, together with the praetorian prefect and other
high officials who might be present, made up the co^tsistoriitm,
or advisory council of the emperor.

On the military side of the state service a similar hierarchy
of officers was gradually created. Subordinate only to the em- MiHtary
peror were the masters of horse and masters of foot — exalted per- admin-
sons who, except in the case of actual hostilities, were likely to
be seen in attendance at the imperial court. Throughout the
provinces the actual command of the armies was in the hands
of generals called duces (dukes), and below them, of course, was
a series of divisional commanders and lower officers bearing a
variety of titles. This, as was to be proved repeatedly, was the
ladder of preferment leading to the imperial throne itself. In
spite of the occasional elevation of a son by his father, tradition
had it that the emperor should himself be a soldier, and in the
4 oiig run the army always controlled the succession.

Ui^er the principate the magi at the head gf the Roman state
had been merely a chief executive of_^ the republic, but that The
concept had faded in the third centujy. Tht later Roman em- emperor
peror officially wore the royal crown and other trappings of a^^his
oriental monarchy. His person and all that belonged to him ^
were sacred. Before him his subjects knelt as suppliants to a
god and were honored to kiss the hem of his purple robe. In
Latin he was known as domimts, lord; in Greek as basil etis, king.

He was the source of all political power and all social distinction.^

He was the fountain of justice. His edicts, expressing his Indi-
vidual will, were formal acts of legislation, the laws by which
the state was governed. Under such a glittering autocracy it
was natural that every man’s individual glory should depend
upon his nearness to the refulgent throne. Official documents
^of the late empire reveal service of the state, both civil and mili-
tary, inextricably combined with service of the emperor’s person,
and all servants meticulously graded according to their precedence
at court and the corresponding titles of honor. Members of the
imperial; family and a few other grand personages could alone
be termed nobilissimi (most noble). The prsetorian prefects, the
masters of horse and of foot, the master of offices, and the other
high rmnisterS who attended the consistormm had the right to be
called UhiS^^s fBl^strfeus). The immediate subordinates of

Fiscal

privilege

land

ation

32 MEDIEVAL HISTORY'

these officials, such as the vicars and the heads of administrative
departments, together with the governors of the more important
provinces and the duces of the army, were described as specta-
biles (admirable). Members of the senatorial order, lesser pro-
vincial governors, and their military peers were clarissimi (most
distinguished), while local functionaries and the like were only
perfectissimi (most perfect).

By the fourth century all the honorable distinctions of the re-
public thus tended to be converted into marks of imperial favor.
The equestrian order disappeared; the senatorial order became
only a decoration. The designation of patrician (patricius) was
likewise given, without any implication of political authority, to a
very select few, who were then addressed by the emperor as his
‘‘parents.^^ Another title which tended to increase in prominence
was that of count. Literally the conies was the companion of
the emperor, the ‘Triend of Caesar”; but what had at first
been a sort of informal flattery hacflTecome official by the time
of Constantine. The intimate circle about the prince were still
counts ; so were the members of his council and the high digni-
taries of the palace. The two counts who controlled finance have
already been noted. There were many others, such as the count
of the sacred vestment (chief of the wardrobe) and the count of
the stable (constable). Eventually the style that betokened the
successful courtier was extended into the provinces, for adminis-
trators and generals were alike proud to achieve the companion-
ship of the prince.

These high-sounding titles, furthermore, were not without
practical value. All the “illustrious,” “admirable,” “distin-
guished,” and “perfect” gentlemen, together with their innumer-
able underlings, were normally exempt from the ordinary state
charges. The services which they rendered to the emperor were
held to free them from more ignoble burdens ; and although each
privileged group had characteristic obligations^ they were not
oppressive. The clarissimi of the senatorial order, for example,
made an occasional “offering” of gold" to tlie emperor and were
theoretically liable for the expensive luxury of the consulship
or prsetorship at Rome, but they were blessedly released from all
municipal honors and from the more oppressive taxes. Besides,,
their social rank tended to make them immune from the tyranny
of rapacious officials. The maintenance of the court and the

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE 33

bureaucracy, however essential it may have been to the empire,
tlius placed a crushing load on the productive masses.

In the main, of course, tlie state had to be supported from the
great taxes which, by the fourth century, had become virtually
uniform throughout the empire. The indirect taxes were of
various kinds. Duties were collected not only on imports and
exports at the imperial frontier, but also on goods carried across
certain interior lines or beyond certain points on sea or river.

On every highroad and waterway the trader encountered toll
stations where various articles were taxed at regular rates. In ad-
dition, each city had the right of charging duties on articles
brought for sale within its limits, and the profits went toward the
expense of the urban government. While trade flourished, none
of these indirect taxes could be thought excessive; as times became
hard, the state increased its demands, exacting a percentage of
the city tolls and laying special imposts on every organized trade
and profession. And the less the revenue which could be got
from commerce, the greater that which had to be taken from agri-
culture.

Under tlie ear ly empi re a great variety of dues were collected
from“fhe rural classes, and some of them persisted into the later
period. We continue to hear, in some provinces, of a tribute
Qrilnitum) from the land and a poll tax (capitatio) from the
peasants. The heaviest fiscal burden, however, was that of the
annona, Diocletian’s great tax in kind. For this purpose every
district, Jn proportion to the fertility of the soil and the number
of the inhabitants, was assessed in units called iugera (yokes) and
capita (h^ds). The prpduce — grain, wine, oil, meat, etc. —
was collected by state employees and gathered in central ware-
houses, whence it was distributed to the troops and other con-
sumers. Every five ye^s there was supposed to be a reappor-
tionment; but since it was easier to juggle the figures than to
carry out a thorough survey, the assessed valuations tended to
become more and more arbitrary, and so to bear harder ojpi the
jmprivil^ed.

The social results of failing trade and oppressive taxation
have already been noted in the preceding chapter. The decay The great
of the urban system — ^marked by depopulation, impoverishment, estates
and the ruin of the curial class — continued unchecked. The west,
especially, tended to become predominantly agrarian. Lesser men,
either pcasat^ .p'tfK'iftors or landless fugitives from the cities,

34 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

found it more and more necessary to secure the protection of
the wealthy and powerful. The landed noble became patronns
for an increasing host of economic dependents who tilled his
fields, served in his household, and — despite the law — ^acted as
his armed retainers. With the progressive weakening of the
local administration, the imperial government was forced to rec-
ognize the political strength of the great estate. The landlord
was made responsible for the public obligations of his tenants
and clients. He levied their taxes, compelled them to repair the
roads and perform other duties to the state, tried them for petty
misdeeds and collected their fines. In such matters the magnate
'was, of course, the mere agent of the government; but if the
latter became too weak to enforce its claim to the proceeds, would
the great man forgo his exactions ?

During the fourth century, probably, no one thought of this
Changes possibility; thanks to the army, the emperor was yet strong,
in the In fact, the military was the one department of state in which
men like Diocletian and Constantine could be expected to show
the greatest efficiency. In this connection, as in others, precise
information concerning the imperial reforms is unfortunately
lacking ; but we can be sure that the age witnessed developments
of outstanding importance for the future. As remarked above,
the legions posted along the frontiers had by. this time 'been
turned into a privileged class of resident landowners, lacking all
mobility. To make up for this obvious defect, Diocletian created
a new field army which could be kept wherever the emperor
pleased. .Both forces now included separate units of horse and
foot, for the day of the infantry legion, with cavalry used only as a
subsidiary arm, had definitely passed. And as time went on, the
mailed horseman acquired ever enhanced prominence, until the
army became almost exclusively a mounted body.

Another significant tendency in the military organization of
the fourth century was the greatly extended employment of bar-
barians. The fact that the sons of legionaries were compelled by
law to follow their fathers’ profession shows that the government
was suffering from a shortage of men even in this privileged
career. The task of holding the frontiers was indeed tremen-
dous. Aurelian’s abandonment of Dacia and the triangle between
the Rhine and the Danube had not shortened the lines of de-
fense and, for reasons that will be seen below, the pressure of
the outlying nations was unremitting. Diocletian’s military ar-

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE 35

rangements called for a total force of possibly half a million men ;
if enough Romans could not be found, the emperors had to hire
barbarians. So, in one way or another, streams of Moors in
Africa, of Arabs in Syria, and of Germans in Europe entered the
imperial service. The auxiliary divisions had from the earliest
time been non-Roman ; by the fourth century even the “citizens’’
in the legions were such as Augustus would never have recognized.

Besides, through extension of another ancient precedent, whole
tribes had been admitted to the empire as allies {fcederati) and
assigned lands in return for their engagement to patrol a section
of the frontier. Ever since the days of Marcus Aurelius, such
arrangements had come to be increasingly common; they were
now to introduce a series of famous tragedies in the history of
the later empire.

The troubles of the third century also produced noteworthy in-
novations in military fortification. Under the early principate. Military'
the frontiers had come to be protected by elaborate works in earth fortifica-
and masonry. Although the latter had been constantly strength-
ened by the succeeding emperors, experience had proved that they
were not always stoutly held. Once through the barrier, maraud-
ing hordes had found the provinces lying defenseless before them.

As a consequence, Ajurelian decided to fortify the capital, and soon
every important city was encircled with stone walls. This practice,
incidentally, gives us definite information concerning the relative
size of urban areas under the late empire, for in most cases the line
of the ancient walls is still clearly traceable. Thus we know that
Aurelian’s fortification at Rome enclosed only a little more than
3000 acres, and that Rome was by all odds the largest city of the
Mediterranean * world. Alexandria, the metropolis of the east,
contained somewhat over 2000 acres. But none of the provincial
towns of the west extended beyond 1000 acres. Trier, the greatest
city on the Rhine, covered 704 acres; Nimes, the greatest city of
southern Gaul, 790; London, the greatest city of Britain, 330.

And these places were quite exceptional. Throughout Gaul, for
example, most cities contained less than 75 acres; many less
than 50.^

The significance of these figures will be appreciated when it is
noted that the legionary fortress, constructed to accommodate Hie citl^

five or six thousand men, normally covered about. 50 acres — ^ ofthelateij

. ^ empire '

^ There are 640 acres in a mile; a plot measM^ half a mile on each

side contak® >1 ^

The

Roman

attitude

toward

religion

Polytheism

and

Judaism

36 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

much the same ratio that we find in a deijsely populated town
of today. The Roman city, however, was primarily residential,
rather than industrial. So we have to consider half a million
inhabitants the maximum for the capital, and estimate the other
cities with proportionately less. Judged by the standard of the
western provinces, London, with perhaps 25,000, w^as a huge
town, certainly five times as big as the average. Another very
exceptional city of the late empire was Constantinople ; to under-
stand how it came to be founded, we must consider the rise of the
Christian Church.

2. CHRISTIANITY

The concept of a. church distinct from the state was- originally
foreign to Roman thought. Under the constitution of the prin-
cipate, as of the republic, Qtie set of magistrates held all political
functions — civil, militaiy, and religious. Any man legally elected
was" considered competent to ascertain the will of the gods by
formal methods of divination or to preside over the public cere-
monial of worship; no especially sanctified priesthood was neces-
sary. And as long as the Roman citizen outwardly submitted
to the official deities, he was free to believe anything that he
pleased. Citizens of other communities were permitted to main-
tain any faith that did not conflict with the general peace of the
empire ; but, as a sign of their proper reverence for the dominant
state, they were commonly required to recognize by solemn act
the cult of its living embodiment, Augustus — a. formality as ordi-
nary to that age as an oath of allegiance to ours.

Such requirements, in a polytheistic world, could be expected
to offend nobody. The believer would willingly admit one more
god to the Pantheon; the skeptic would regard an additional
ceremony as a matter of no consequence ; even the devotee of an
oriental mystery, while preferring one manifestation of divine
truth, would normally concede that there might be many others.
In this pol)^heistic world the Jew was an exception. To him all
faiths save his own were sheer idolatry, an abomination in the
sight of the Lord; he would never conform to the official system
of Rome. But since the Jewish religion, with its strict observance
of a peculiar law, could never be popular enough to be dangerous,
the Romans, after considerable trouble, wisely accepted it as a
national institution and exempted its followers from emperor-
worship. Even after the destruction of the Jewish state by Titus

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE 37

(a.d. 70) and the consequent dispersion of the Jews throughout
the provinces, their religious beliefs and practices were still
tolerated.

To the Christians no such liberty was extended. Although the
Roman government seems for a time to have considered Chris- The early
tianity a mere sect of Judaism, by the close of the first century Christian
the distinction between the two had become eminently clear.

Most of the Jews would have nothing to do with the new faith,
which, on the other hand, had spread rapidly through the Gentile
population. The Christians held that they had been freed from
the Hebrew law and, to emphasize the fact, celebrated the first
day of the week in place of the Jewish sabbath. Yet in their
monotheism they remained as intolerant of all other creeds as
the Jews. In Roman eyes, consequently, the Christians were no
better than seditious conspirators. Their associations were de-
clared illegal; to be a Christian was to commit a crime. Thus
it came about that the Christians were persecuted, not merely by
such tyrants as Nero and Domitian, but also by the very best of
the emperors. Trajan, Hadrian, Antoninus Pius, and Marcus
Aurelius, in so far as they conscientiously tried tb enforce the
law, were necessarily hostile to those proscribed by it.

One of our earliest and best sources on the Christian persecu-
tions is the letter written to Trajan by Pliny the Younger, then
governor of Bithynia.^ He reported that he had discharged all
suspects who made offerings of wine and incense to the statue of
the emperor. Those who refused he had handed over to
execution.

They affirmed, however, that this was the sum total of their guilt
or error. On a certain day they would meet before dawn and sing
in alternate verses a song to Christ as a god. They would bind
themselves by oath, not for the sake of criminal acts, but as an en-
gagement not to commit fraud, theft, or adultery, not to break faith
and not to refuse the surrender of a pledge when it was demanded-
It was their habit then to disperse, although they reassembled later
in order to partake of food.

Trajan replied that Pliny had acted very properly. The governor
should not himself undertake to ferret out tlje^ people, nor
should he listen to anonymous accusationsr But when Chris-

3 Pliny, 's^ 9$ (?f)-

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

Chris-
tianity
in the
third
century

tians were regularly denounced and found guilty, they should be
punished according to the law.

History has often proved that, merely as a matter of state
policy, a little persecution is worse than none. The fact that
the Roman government was so moderate prevented its staying the
progress of the outlawed cult. And the joyous courage with
which the condemned welcomed martyrdom proclaimed the qual-
ity of their faith and converted many a spectator. The Christians,
strangely enough, enjoyed a first respite from persecution through
a vagary of the profligate Commodus. They again suffered under
the Severi, and for another decade or so under the, predecessors
of Aurelian ; then, during most of the third century, they were
left in peace. Throughout that troubled period, indeed, the
energy of the state was exhausted in meeting much more serious
dangers than that offered by the mild followers of Jesus.
Even when the emperors had time to devote to the Christian
problem, their edicts w^ere chiefly directed against the making
of new converts — 3. tacit confession that the duty of punishing
Christians was becoming arduous. Furthermore, it was one
thing to issue a decree and quite another to put it into
effect. The increasing hesitance of provincial governors to en-
force the law is good evidence of its increasing unpopularity.

The third century was a period when many oriental mysteries
made rapid progress; Christianity was one of them. During the
earlier period, although Christian congregations had steadily mul-
tiplied in all the more important cities* of the Mediterranean, they
had mainly included the poor and uneducated. From now on,
however, we hear of more and more Christians in all walks of life
—-even in wealthy and socially prominent families. By gaining
recruits within the upper classes, the outlawed faith emerged
from its earlier obscurity and attained new political significance.
The time had passed when even an enlightened emperor could
believe that the Christians were commonly addicted to cannibalism
and other foul practices. But with its enhanced prominence
Christianity encountered a graver peril than governmental perse-
cution : once it had attracted the attention of the fashionable and
learned, there was a danger that it might be absorbed into the
mystic philosophy o’f the schools, and so lose its charming sim-
plicity and practical force.

By the third century Christian apologists had clearly recognized
the new enemy, and as a consequence their principal effort was

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE 39

shifted from the refutation of the Jews to that of the Gnostics.
The latter were an ill-defined group of writers who, while differ-
ing as to details, agreed in subordinating Christianity to a system
of metaphysics. In order to explain how a material and imper-
fect world could be derived from a spiritual and perfect God,
they imagined a series of divine emanations, called ceons. One
of them was the Creator described in the Old Testament; another
was the Christ of the Gospels. Yet Christ, they held, was never
really human; He was a spirit who merely pretended to die on
the cross. Through this redemption those men in whom the
material was overbalanced by the spiritual could secure salva-
tion. Others, who were predominantly material, could not ; while
a select few, the Gnostics proper, could attain spiritual perfection
through mystic philosophy, and so needed no savior at all.

Against these and allied doctrines appeared such able writers
as Irenseus under the Antonines, and Tertullian under the Severi,
proving that scholarship and eloquence were no longer confined to
the pagan schools. Thanks to their efforts, Gnosticism, as such,
failed of any permanent success, but similar ideas constantly re-
appeared ill new guises. The age, as we have seen, was one of
syncretism, when Neo-Platonists and other mystics were alike
engaged in an effort to combine all truth in a single authoritative
system. To affirm that Christianity absorbed nothing from its
rivals would undoubtedly be wrong, for the church early adopted
the policy of “spoiling the Egyptians” — ^that is to say, of taking
any worthy custom from an adversary and adapting it to a sacred
end. It is probable, for example, tliat Christmas came to be cele-
brated in December because it would thus coincide with the great
festival of the sun, which marked the first stage in the return of
warmth and life to the earth, Easter corresponds to the pagan
Floralia, the spring festival. And the Christian liturgy came to
include many features common to a number of popular religions.
In general, however, it must be admitted that, during this period
of conflict, Christianity remained essentially .what it had been
from the beginning; that controversy served rather to define its
characteristic teachings than to obscure them.

It had been a comparatively simple task for Christians to dis-
tinguish themselves from Jews and pagans; it was another mat-
ter, when various groups with conflicting ideas all pretended
to be Christiaais, io separate the true, from the false. Who
should dedd^^pid what basis should the decision be made?

The

stniggle

against

heresy

The prin-
ciple of
authority

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

From the second century on we constantly hear of heresies — of
doctrines which were advanced in the name of Christianity but
which were rejected by the faithful. The concept of heresy of
course implies the concept of orthodoxy, the standard according
to which opinions are to be tested. And the establishment of this
standard implies a recognized authority, either of writings or of
oral tradition.

In ecclesiastical history a collection of authoritative books is
The canon called a canon. The Christian Bible includes two such canons
of the Old that of the Old Testament and that of the New Testament. The
Testament former the church of course received from the Jews ; so at first
glance it might be supposed that the Jewish and the Christian
canons would be the same. As a matter of fact, however, Chris-
tianity, being a Hellenized religion, did not take over the official
collection of Hebrew writings, but the Septuagint — a Greek ver-
sion drawn up for the use of Hellenized Jews in Alexandria.
And this collection included various books that had never been
written in Hebrew — ^those later rejected by the Protestants, or
marked in their Bible as Apocrypha. The New Testament, on the
other hand, is a purely Christian compilation. It could not be
recognized all at once, for it was not all written at once. If a
New Testament canon eventually came to be universally accepted,
that was the result of a gradual process not unmarked by
controversy.

Throughout the second century, as we know from contempo-
The canon rary authors, certain of the New Testament writings were gen-
of the New erally received as authoritative in all Christian communities.
Testament were the Epistles of Paul, the four Gospels, and the book

of Acts. With regard to epistles attributed to the other apostles,
and to the book of Revelation, there was no such agreement. To
them many local churches preferred writings that do not appear
in the Christian Bible, notably the Shepherd of Hermas. As late
as the fourth century we are told by Eusebius, the famous eccle-
siastical historian under Constantine, that opinions were still
divided on many books ; so the determination of the canon as
we have it was part of the more thorough organization given the
church in the period immediately following. The point is, of
course, that the particular collection known as the New Testa-
ment rests primarily on tradition. The inspired character of its
separate parts had to be decided by men who themselves were
somehow regarded as inspired. The recognition of an authorita-

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIAEVAL EUROPE 41

tive Scripture ultimately depended on the recognition of authorita-
tive leaders.

Whatever may have been the primitive system — ^and this is
still a matter of violent controversy among the Christian sects —
the church of the third century was based on the episcopate.
Within each city the Christian congregation was considered a
unit, subject to the jurisdiction of a bishop {episcopus, overseer)*
Under him were various grades of subordinates, mainly priests
(^presbyter, elder) and deacons {diacomis, helper). Among them
they supervised Christian worship, cared for the sick and the
needy, maintained discipline, and decided disputed questions. It
was the bishops, however, upon whom devolved the chief re-
sponsibility; and their authority was justified by the theory of
the apostolic succession, that the episcopal power was identical
with and derived from that which had been given by Christ to
the apostles. The bishops were thus held to be the guardians of
sacred tradition. But what if they disagreed? As long as Chris-
tianity was unlawful, a practical solution of this problem was
hard to find. To understand the outcome, we must therefore
turn to the events that were to prove decisive for the organiza-
tion of the church.

As remarked above, Christianity had been declared illegal un-
der the principate, and its adherents had been consistently perse--
cuted by the ablest of the princes. With the completion of
absolute monarchy, the earlier policy would hardly be reversed.
According to the previous system, the living emperor was accorded
divine honors only in the provinces; Roman citizens were not
required to worship him. Now, however, practically all distinc-
tion between citizen and subject was erased; the emperor was
formally installed as a god, to be adored even by the highest
nobles. How could such an autocrat be expected to justify
Christian rebellion? The restoration of order inevitably led to
another era of persecution. Aurelian, we are told, issued a decree
against the Christians, but did not live to carry it out. So the
campaign for suppression was left to be resumed by Diocletian.
Why the latter took no action t^ntil late in his reign does not
appear ; but if there had been any doubt of his policy, it was re-
moved by the edicts of 303. They proscribed the holding of
Christian services and ordered the razing of Christian churches,
the burning of the Scriptures, the imprisonment of the clergy,
and the removal of all Christians from public office. Although

Episcopal

organiza-

tion

The last
persecu-
tion

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The con-
version of
Constan-
tine

there was no bloodshed under this law, Diocletian finally dropped
halfway measures just before his abdication, and commanded
that every one perform the accustomed state sacrifices or suffer the
ancient penalties for refusal.

Enforcement, after the retirement of the elder Augusti, natu-
rally came to depend on the personal disposition of their suc-
cessors. In the west Constantius was inclined to be lenitot; so
the only violent persecution was in the east, where Galerius •
maintained bitter hostility tow^ard the Christians until, on his
deathbed in 31 1, he gave up the struggle and issued a decree of
toleration. Meanwhile, Constantine had succeeded his father.
Like most of the emperors since Aurelian, Constantine in his
younger days seems to have been devoted to the sun god (Sof
l 7 izncfits)--r-the: cult which, together with the allied mystery of
Mithras, was the ruling favorite of the army. He had been-
brought up in Gaul and Britain, among the least Christian of the
provinces ; nor is there any evidence that, through family connec-
tions, he had received any direct instruction in Christianity.
Nevertheless, before his defeat of „Maxentius at the Milvian
Bridge in 312, Constantine seems to have become a convert to
the faith.

According to the story reported by Eusebius as having been
told by the emperor himself, Constantine, while advancing oil
Rome with his army, one afternoon saw in the sky a blazing cross-
with the motto IN HOC VINCE (In This Conquer), and dur-
ing the following night Christ appeared to him in a vision with
the same message. Historically, of course, we have no method,
by which the objective reality of such alleged miracles can be.
tested; but, to judge from the subsequent actions of Constan-
tine, he must have believed himself the recipient of some mystic
revelation. Before engaging in battle with Maxentius, he had the
Christian name placed on the shields of his soldiers and, having
won the victory, he spent the rest of his life as a fervent, if not
ethically perfect, Christian. The design was placed on his
military standards, and Christian symbols also appeared on his
coins and monuments. Some time after 311 he persuaded Lici-
nius to join with him in guaranteeing entire freedom of worship
to the Christians. Subsequently their church was recognized as

a corporation legally capable of holding property and performing

•

* The Greek letters Chi Rhc, standing for Christos.

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE 43

other acts. Besides, Constantine brought up his children in the
Christian faith, more and more favored Christians in public office,
and actively concerned himself with controversial problems of
Christian doctrine.

Thus, in 314, Constantine called a council of the western
bishops at Arles, to settle the question of the Donatists — a, fanati-
cal group in Africa wdio, refusing to recognize the newly installed
bishop of Carthage, raised the broader claim that the official act
of a clergyman, such as a baptism or a marriage, depended for its
validity on his personal character. This doctrine the council re-
fused to accept, and the Donatists were condemned.^ In addition,
the assembled bishops issued canons (in this sense, rules) dealing
with a uniform date for Easter and various matters of ecclesi-
astical discipline. But within a few years there arose in the
east a much more serious controversy, the echoes of which were
to be heard for many generations.

The trouble was started by a priest of Alexandria named Arius.
By a logical process which to him seemed unescapable, he argued
that, since Christ was the Son of God, He must have been
younger than the Father; must, indeed, have been a creature
rather than a divinity in the absolute sense. Otherwise, said
Arius, Christians would have to admit that they were worshiping
two Gods. This innocently propounded theory at once raised
a storm of opposition. Eloquent champions — ^notably an Alex-
.andrian archdeacon named Athanasius — at once arose to defend
the traditional faith. They insisted that, although the doctrine
•of the Redemption necessitated belief in the human character of
Jesus, Christians must also believe that He was truly God, or
their customary worship would be no better than pagan idolatry.

In 325 Constantine, following the policy already inaugurated at
Arles, summoned the bishops from all Christendom to decide
the question of Arianism in a great meeting at Nicsea — ^the first
oecumenical (or general) council in the history of the church.
Before the assembled prelates — ^perhaps three hundred in all, in-
cluding some from beyond the Roman frontiers — ^the emperor
appeared in person to urge the cause of unity. The answer was
a nearly unanimous declaration condemning the views of Arius
and prescribing the formula of Christian belief which, with later
amendments,- is» still known as the Nicene Creed. The victory

* The pmctical' of tie decision will be readily appreciated in con-
nection with (seevbelow, ch. ivp

The Coun-
cil of Arles

(314)

Arianism

The
Council
of Nicsea

(32s)

The new
era for
church
and state

The found-
ing of Con-
stantinople

44 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

thus lay with those who, like Athanasius, considered the dictates
of practical religion paramount to other considerations ,* for the
official dogma of the church, as now defined, was a frank state-
ment of an insoluble mystery.

In another way the Council of Nicaea was a triumph for Con-
stantine ; under his sovereignty and on his initiative a world-wide
Christian organization had been proved capable of legislating
with regard to its own affairs. Thereby a great revolution in
Roman history was completed, for the concepts of church and
state that henceforth dominated politics were utterly foreign to
classic tradition — ^belonged rather to the age which we call medi-
aeval. True, paganism still remained lawful under Constantine,
but his sons were to begin the long campaign for its suppression.
With one exception, all the succeeding emperors professed Chris-
tianity; so the outcome could not be a matter of doubt. The faith
that from the outset had asserted a monopoly of revealed truth
could not be expected, now that it had gained control of the im-
perial conscience, to brook any rivals. Constantine himself,
though he wisely refrained from any effort to Christianize his
capital with its staunchly pagan senate, carried out a policy which
he presumably regarded as a pious substitute : he built a new cap-
ital and there installed a new senate.

That the founding of Constantinople would eventually con-
tribute to the dissolution of the empire and the development of a
non-Latin state in the east Constantine, of course, could not fore-
see. And we may be sure that, if such a prospect had been
magically revealed to him, he would have been appalled by it. His
training had been almost exclusively western; he scarcely knew
Greek at all. His fundamental policy seems essentially that of a
Roman soldier-statesman, who believed that a mystic faith had
led him to supreme authority in the world. The last stage in his
upward career had been the war with Licinius. It was at least
appropriate that a place which had been prominent in his final
campaign should now be selected as the site for a new world-
center — 3. monument to Christianity as well as to himself.

Constantine, in any case, needed no voice from heaven to make
him appreciate the military strength of Byzantium. The old
Greek colony occupied the point of a small peninsula that juts
into the Bosphorus just where it widens into the Sea of Mar-
mora — a position which dominates the passage between the Black
Sea and the Mediterranean, and which cannot itself be attacked

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIAEVAL EUROPE 45

from either. To the south of the promontory is the channel
proper; to the north a narrow inlet called the Golden Horn, con-
stituting a magnificent harbor. Across the peninsula Constan-
tine threw a wall to enclose a space some four times as large as
the ancient Byzantium. There he laid out his forum and raised
his public buildings, including the senate-house, the palace, a num-
ber of baths, and the enormous hippodrome. The prominent
features of Rome were all reproduced except one: in the new
capital there were no pagan monuments. On his great column,
indeed, Constantine put what had been a statue of Apollo, but
the original head was now replaced by another, to represent the
imperial founder.

Constantine formally consecrated his city in 330. From the
west he brought many Latin colonists, and, with the growth of
commerce, settlers naturally drifted to the new metropolis from
all parts of the east. Within a hundred years another wall had
to be built to enclose the flourishing suburbs that had grown up
outside the first one. Thus arose one of Europe’s greatest cities,
destined to maintain at least a semblance of Roman glory for an
incredibly long time. Its far-reaching significance for the his-
tory of the later empire must, however, be left to be considered in
subsequent chapters. For the present it is necessary to divert our
account from the classic lands of the Mediterranean to the people
who were soon to occupy them.

3. THE BARBARIANS

In taking up the history of any age, it is impossible for the
student to read far without encountering the terms state, nation, The terms
and race. And since they continue to be the source of much state,
confusion, it might be well at this point to attempt an explanation
of each. The modern European state is essentially a territory
under the supreme authority of a particular government. No
matter what he may think about it, the individual resident of such
a state is subject to its jurisdiction. When, for example, a citi-
zen of France crosses an imaginary line to the east, he ceases to
be bound by French law and becomes bound by that of Ger-
many, Yet, normally, he will still be considered a Frenchman.

Although he leaves his state behind, he bears his nationality with
him. A man’s nation may sometimes be known from his lan-
guage, but not always. There is no Swiss language or Belgian
language, and a perscm who sp^ks Spanish may belong to any

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Alleged
races of
Europe

one of a dozen nations. Descent obviously has nothing to do
with the case or there would be — to mention one familiar instance
— no American nation.

On ultimate analysis, our present test of nationality will be
found to rest on nothing but the feelings of the individual. To-
day, it is true, every nation tends to have a government of its
own — to be also a state. That is the result of very recent polit-
ical developments. Throughout most of their history the states
of Europe have been arbitrarily formed units, with bound-
aries drawn by accident or caprice; and the Roman Empire,
though a state in our sense of the word, was the antithesis of the
modern nationalistic system. To the Romans, natio (nation) and
gens (tribe) were vague terms referring to local peoples each
distinguished by name and custom. There were multitudes of
such groups inside the empire and, of course, multitudes of others
beyond the frontiers. In the following pages, unless otherwise
indicated, ‘'nation^' will be used to imply nothing more than this.

If now we turn to the much abused word, race, it will be
found to denote an altogether different concept. A man may
change his state by moving away from it, his nation by trans-
ferring his affections ; but his race he cannot change, because it
is born with him. Properly understood, therefore, a race is a
people marked off from others by hereditary characteristics —
such as the black skin of the Negro. Although color, up to a
certain point, is a useful guide in identifying races, it utterly fails
when we come to consider the white inhabitants of Europe.
Can they, according to some other scheme, be classified in distinct
races?

It is still the confirmed habit of many writers to speak of a
Celtic, Slavic, Germanic, Latin, or even an Aryan race. But such
differentiation is based merely on language, and language —
however significant for the growth of culture — is not inherited.
There are many instances in history of a population that changed
its language as the result of conquest or of intermarriage. We
can never be safe in assuming that, because two groups spoke
kindred tongues, they were related by blood descent. So, of more
recent years, it has become fashionable to divide Europeans into
other races. The traveler who crosses the continent will, in fact,
have no difficulty in perceiving three dominant types of men.
In the south the majority of the people are short and slender.

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE 47

with dark complexions, black eyes, and long heads.“ In the cen-
tral regions, on the other hand, round-headed men become the
rule — stocky men with medium complexions and brown eyes.

In the north, finally, the inhabitants principally tend to be tall,
fair, and blue-eyed; and to have, like the southerners, long heads.

These three types — ^known respectively as Mediterranean, Alpine,
and Nordic — ^are presented by a popular school of writers as mark-
ing the three fundamental races of Europe, through whose antag-
onisms and interminglings the entire history of the western world
can best be elucidated.

Unfortunately for the student, the more closely this theory is
examined, the weaker it appears. In the first place, the doctrine
rests almost solely on modern observation of physical character-
istics and takes for granted the primitive invasion of the conti-
nent by the three races exhibiting those characteristics. Aside
from a few scattered bones and certain vague remarks by ancient
historians, we actually have no evidence concerning the appearance
of early European peoples. Secondly, it assumes that such phys-
ical traits as stature, complexion, and skull formation are
essentially a matter of heredity. But this is strenuously denied
by many scientists, who point out that climate, diet, and other
environmental factors may produce radical alterations of human
physique within a relatively short period of time. Lastly, even
if we admit that such features as blondness and tallness and
long-headedness constitute true tests of race, we are still left to
wonder just what they may have to do with military genius,
political capacity, commercial shrewdness, artistic skill, or any
of the other qualities that make a people great in history.

The conclusion must be that, although racial factors may have
had tremendous importance for the development of European
civilization, it is as yet impossible to define them or to assess
their respective values. Until he can be more certain of his
facts, the historian had better avoid the subject altogether. As
far as the known history of Europe is concerned, the biologically
pure race — ^whether alleged to be inferior or superior — is a fig-
ment of the imagination.

If now we turn to examine the actual inhabitants of the
regions bordering on the Roman Empire, some, for the present, Frontier
may be passed over with a mere glance. The Moors of northern peoples

® That is to sa^ from bsidc to front than from side to side.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The
Asiatic
nomads:
Mode of
life

Africa, the Arabs of Syria, and their more cultured neighbors,
the Persians, need not occupy our attention until they rise to sud-
den prominence in connection with Mohammedanism. It is rather
the great belt of peoples extending from the plateau of central
Asia to the North Sea who first affect the destinies of the western
provinces : the widely extended nomads of the desert and the
steppe, and beyond them the Slavs, Celts,, and Germans. These
we may now take up in order.

The first group embraces a multitude of wandering tribes who
appear in the pages of history under a great variety of names —
Scythians, Sarmatians, Huns, Bulgars, Avars, Mag}"ars, Mon-
gols, Tartars, Turks,, and the like. Originally they have spoken
a class of languages known as Ural-Altaic — 3, term that implies
nothing more than a certain geographic distribution. As far
back as recorded history extends, these tribes have, in fact,
populated the wide region between the Altai Mountains on the
south and the Urals on the north; and this range of habitation is
accounted for by the fact that their life has, until very recent
times, been purely nomadic. Throughout that entire country of
desert and plain, agriculture is impossible ; the only wbj in which
man may exist is through pasturage. He becomes a parasite de-
pendent on his flocks and herds. If they die, he dies; where
they go for food he has to go too. In tlie winter the slopes of
the southern mountains provide the necessary pasturage and
shelter, but with the advent of the summer drought the nomad
is forced to take his animals to the northern grasslands. Thence,
in turn, he is driven by the snows of the succeeding winter, to
repeat the process interminably year in and year out.

Under such conditions, obviously, the nomad can have no set-
tled habitation, and his personal belongings must be reduced to
what can easily be carried on his long journeys — a tent made
of skins, together with its poles; cooking utensils, felt rugs, and
a few pieces of furniture. His wealth consists of his domes-
tic animals, in this region principally horses and sheep. Aside
from a little wild grain, with occasional fish or game, the nomad's
food is almost exclusively dairy produce ; and this is reduced, in
case of a military expedition,, to the milk of a few mares which
the warrior drives along with him. Social organization naturally
depends on the mode of life. The smallest unit is the family, as
many persons as can occupy one tent. The tents are combined
into camps, and these into dans and groups of dans. In general,

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE 49

however, each chieftain does as he pleases, unless forced by su-
perior show of arms to join some temporary coalition. Authority
rests exclusively with the men, who leave all domestic labor to
their womenfolk.

To the ordinary occupations of pastoral life the nomads,
throughout countless centuries, added those of professional ma-
rauders, terrorizing and enslaving the peasantry of all exposed
regions. The scourge of their raids was unceasing. Mounted
on the tireless desert horses which they had been accustomed to
ride since infancy, they covered unbelievable distances and struck
without warning. In case of counter-attack, they could always
find security in the wastes whence they had come. Inured to
heat, cold, famine, and thirst, they passed with ease where others
quickly perished. Normally these expeditions led to nothing
that could be called political construction ; but every once
in a while, impelled by economic calamity or overpopulation,
some extraordinary outpouring of nomads brought destruction
to far-distant states and substituted the ruthless dominion of the
invaders. Such episodes are familiar in the history of China,
India, Persia, Syria, and even Egypt. Nor did Europe escape.
Not long after the death of Constantine the tremendous drive of
the particular horde known as Huns began to have repercussions
all along the Rhine and the Danube.

In the eyes of civilized peoples, the Huns, like their kinsmen
generally, seemed peculiarly loathsome. The chroniclers shudder
at their savage fury and their bestial appearance. The primitive
Asiatic nomad was indeed no beauty. Among his striking fea-
tures are recorded a feck-set body with thin bowlegs; large
round head and broad face ; prominent ears, big mouth, and flat
nose ; dark eyes, widely spaced and obliquely sunken ; yellowish or
swarthy skin, sparse whiskers, and black, bristling hair. And this
physical exterior seems to have been backed by a stark fero-
city that daunted all antagonists. Many of the original nomad
traits, however, were quickly lost when the invaders, whose
numbers were always relatively small, remained in the midst of a
subject population. Having left their own women far behind,
they took mates from the conquered territories. So, in the course
of time, although their descendents might keep the ancient name
and perhaps the ancient language, they would inevitably be as-
similated to the type of the masses.

Among the pe^es on whom the nomads preyed for countless

Physical

features

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The Slavs generations were the Slavs, who lived to the north of the steppes
and to the south of the Baltic tribes, many of which were Ger-
manic. According to the writers who first mention them, the
Slavs were originally fair-skinned, but — ^presumably through in-
termixture with Asiatics and others — ^they later tended to become
predominantly dark. We know remarkably little about their racial
origin ; whatever it was, and however it may have been to blame,
the role of the Slavs in early European history was almost ex-
clusively that of the hunted and oppressed. Probably geographic
location had much to do with their unfortunate destiny. Placed
between Asiatic raiders from the south and Germanic raiders
from the north, the Slavs suffered unspeakable torments year
after year, century after century. Thousands were driven by
alien conquerors to till distant lands ; other thousands were carried
into captivity and sold throughout the markets of the west — so
that the name Slav® there came to designate the lowest person
in society. Yet, out of their experience the Slavs developed a mar-
velous talent for passive endurance. Though they were not
heroic, they lived and multiplied. As conquerors killed one an-
other off, the Slavs inherited their lands. As the more warlike
nations drove westward to despoil the provinces of Rome, it was
the Slavs who crept into the vacated territories. Without a single
battle to win the attention of the chroniclers, they made the plains
of eastern Europe almost solidly Slavic.

In a much earlier age the Celts — or, as the Romans called them,

The Celts the Gauls — ^liad inhabited the great interior forests of Europe
as far east as the Elbe. Thence, in a great migration that for
a time threatened to wipe out the little republic of Rome, they
swept across the Alps into Italy and across the Rhine into the
country which was thenceforth known as Gaul. A first wave of
invaders, the Gaels, occupied the islands off the northwest coast,
but the better part of the principal island — ^which thereby got a
permanent name — ^was subsequently conquered by a second wave
of invaders called Britons. All the ancient writers tell us that
the invading Gauls were tall and fair; later the Celtic-speaking
peoples are found generally dark. So we may guess that a Nordic
type was lost through intermarriage with Mediterranean peoples.
And if the Gauls had not been a mixed people already, they as-
suredly became one after the Roman conquest. Compared with

® Thence is derived our word slave — one of the ironies of history, for in the
original language the meaning was “glorious.”

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE 51

that of other barbarians, the culture of the Celts was remark-
ably advanced ; but as they became Latinized, its distinctive char-
acter was utterly lost. It was only in the wilder parts of the
British Isles that the Celts, as such, continued to have an inde-
pendent history. Thus we are brought to the people who came to
play so dramatic a part in the politics of the later empire — ^the
Germans.

The Germanic languages — ^like the Celtic, Slavic, Latin, Greek,
and Sanscrit languages — constitute one group within the wider
category known as Indo-European. Just how, if at all, the widely
scattered peoples who spoke these related tongues were them-
selves related is not known; nor can we be sure that all the
tribes who used a Germanic dialect were descended from one
primitive stock. Presumably it was from the Gauls that the
Romans learned to call their new neighbors Gcrniani; at any rate,
our usage is derived from the Latin. We may also be sure that
the country which has been termed Germany for two thousand
years was not the original home of the Germans, for their lands
at first did not extend west of the Elbe. From the region about
the Baltic the Germans moved southwest when the Celts migrate
into Gaul, and archaeologists tell us that the newcomers owed
much to their predecessors in the way of culture, including the
use of iron weapons.

From the pen of Julius Caesar we have our earliest description
of the Germans in any detail, but a much fuller account is given
us, a century and a half later, by Tacitus in his Germania, This
little book, it is true, must be taken with a grain of salt, for in
many places the author obviously touched up his picture to drive
home, by way of contrast, a lesson for his degenerate compa-
triots. On the whole, however, there is no reason for distrusting
his information, which in many places is corroborated from other
sources. Thus, with regard to the appearance of the Germans,
Tacitus repeats the general verdict: "fierce blue eyes and reddish
hair ; great bodies, especially powerful for attack, but not equally
patient of hard work; little able to withstand heat and thirst,
though by climate and soil they have been enured to cold and
hunger."' Caesar describes them as living mainly by pasturag^
together with fishing and hunting; Tacitus emphasizes rather their
agriculture.

None of the German tribes, he says, lived in cities; even within
their villages fftatfs home was surrounded by a considerable

The

Germans:

Early

sources

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Mode of
life

Military

and

political

organiza-

tion

open space. They used no masonry or tile; their houses were
built of rude lumber, sometimes smeared with colored earth. As
much land was occupied by the village as it heeded for the
raising of grain — ^the only crop that was normally planted —
and the fields were distributed among the villagers according to
their rank. Because they had land to spare, they changed the
arable yearly, and so did not exhaust the soil. But the German
freeman was no agricultural laborer ; he preferred the loot of war
to the profits of honest toil. When not fighting, he spent his
time in idleness, leaving all work connected with house and lands
to his women and dependents. Among the Germans slaves were
not primarily household servants, like those of the Romans;
rather they were coloni,'^ provided with houses and plots for
which they paid the lord a share of the produce.

By way of entertainment, the Germans had only one sort of
show — ^an athletic sword dance in which the young men were
very proficient. But they were also fond of gambling and of
protracted drinking bouts, in which they consumed great quan-
tities of a beverage fermented from barley and wheat (i.e., of
course, beer). In other respects Tacitus describes their personal
morals as being extraordinarily pure. He extols the simplicity
of their marriage customs and the beauty of their family life.
The picture that he paints is indeed so idyllic that he makes us
suspect a little exaggeration. The individual Germans whom we
later encounter were not at all models of virtue. And when
Tacitus dwells on the almost superstitious regard in which the
German women were held, we have to remember that it did not
prevent their being given plenty of hard work.

Only the menfolk played any part in warfare and politics. When
the German youth attained man^s estate, the ceremony marking
the event was a formal gift of arms, corresponding to the as-
sumption of the toga virilis at Rome. Thereafter he bore his
shield and spear on all public occasions. The tribal assembly was
essentially a military gathering. Proposals were there submitted
by the chief men, and if the people approved, they clashed their
weapons. This is the nearest approach to a political system th^t
is found among the early Germans. Some tribes had kings, but
the latter seem to have been little more than leaders in war. Cer-
tain families were regarded as noble, and everywhere the kindred
group was very strong. Also there was the association described

^ See above, p. 25.

OLD AND NEW IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE 53

by Tacitus as the comitatus. Any famous chieftain might attract
to himself a band of followers by the promise of adventure and
booty. The relationship was highly honorable to both parties:
the men received equipment and food, while in return they pro-
vided their leader with a distinguished retinue and made possible
his exploits. Together they fought and enjoyed the profits of
victory, or, in case of bitter fortune, together died. Of this cus-
tom much will be heard in later chapters.

Tacitus further gives, in connection with the geography of the
country, a long list of separate German nations, few of which are Germanic
ever heard of outside his pages. In his day a whole series of
petty tribes extended along the Rhine. On the upper Danube ^xg^tury
were the Marcomanni and the Quadi; below them, along the
Dacian frontier, the Asiatic Sarmatians. Within the next two
centuries, however, this distribution of peoples was considerably
changed. The Marcomanni and Quadi, after a desperate struggle,
were definitely broken by Marcus Aurelius and ceased to be for-
midable. On the upper Rhine there emerged a new group of
Germans who described themselves as Alamans (meaning '‘all
men’’), and it was to them that Aurelian was forced to
relinquish the triangle between the two great rivers.^ On the
lower Rhine another mass of tribes coalesced to form the great
nation of the Franks (meaning 'Tree'’) ; and the Saxons, who
came to dominate the lands adjacent to the North Sea, were evi-
dently a similar confederation. Meanwhile, from the interior
came Burgundians, Vandals, and others, willing to fight any one
for a chance to fight the Romans.

An even greater migration was that of the Goths who — for
reasons that remain obscure — struck south from the Vistula and,
having overcome the Sarmatians, invaded the Danubian prov-
inces. There, although checked by Aurelian, they kept pos-
session of Dacia. Henceforth we find them settled in two
loosely organized divisions along the northern shore of the Black
Sea: to the west the Visigoths and to the ,east the Ostro-
goths. Both groups, owing to their geographical location, were
soon brought into contact with the culture of the empire, in-
cluding Christianity, while their military prowess eventually
involved them in politics at Constantinople. This was the situ-
ation as Rome weakened under the successors of Constantine,

8 See above,

CHAPTER III

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST

Constan-

tine’s

d3niasty

Valen-

tinian

(364-75)

and Valens
(364-78)

I. THE SUCCESSORS OF CONSTANTINE

The death of Constantine in 337 had as its result a series of
wars and assassinations that eventually exterminated his family.
First of all, various nephews were murdered for the benefit of the
three sons. Next, one of the latter was defeated and slain by
a second, but he in turn fell before a usurper, who was finally
disposed of by the third brother in 353. So it came about that
Constant ius II, whose original portion had been the east including
Constantinople, reunited the empire under his sole authority and '
held it for some eight years. Then, in 361, the western armies
proclaimed Julian, a nephew of Constantine who had somehow
escaped the earlier massacre, and Constantins died while ad-
vancing against the rebel. Julian’s short reign of three years
was chiefly devoted to the revival and consolidation of paganism
— a sort of mystic revenge for the deeds of his Christian cousinO
By ecclesiastical historians, consequently, Julian has been brandei 3 r "
with the name of Apostate (i.e., renegade) ; but the man’s fasci-
nating personality, combined with the tragic brilliance of'. his
brief career, has made him a great favorite with the historical
biographer.

I^ 363 Julian died of wounds received in battle with the Per-
sians, and with him the dynasty of Constantine ended. A suc-
cessor, hailed as Augustus by the army, lived to wear the purple
for only one year. Then the office was secured in the same way
by Valentinian. The son of a Pannonian peasant who had risen
from the ranks to supreme command of the army in Britain,
Valentinian was a thorough soldier with a reputation for strict
discipline. As emperor, he set an admirable example to his
subjects by hard, work and honest devotion to the public interest.
Since he was a Christian, he annulled Julian’s edicts and reverted
to the religious policy of Constantine. By economies and other
reforms he sought to improve the administration and he gave hfe
personal attention to the defense of the frontiers. Dying in 373^
he was succeeded in the west by his able and experienced son,

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST

Gratian ; in the east he had already, at the request of the troops,
installed as Augustus his brother Valens.

It was just before Valentinian s death that the Huns* appeared
in Europe — ^an event that was to have momentous consequences The
for the empire. Sweeping across the steppe, the nomads fell upon
the Ostrogoths, many of whom were immediately subjugated, ^
Others fled westward to seek refuge in Dacia, whereupon some
of the Visigothic chieftains appealed to Valens for permission
to cross the Danube and to defend it as fcederati. Since there
was long-established precedent for such action, and since hundreds
of Goths had already proved their soldierly qualities in the Ro-
man army, the request was granted. But Valens, now deprived
of his brother’s counsel, foolishly placed in charge of the crossing
certain incompetent subordinates w'hose high-handed methods
brought about a violent quarrel with the newly arrived Goths.

Defying the Roman government, they turned to looting the
neighboring provinces — z congenial undertaking in which they
.were quickly joined by other bands from beyond the frontier.

Without waiting for the aid of Gratian, Valens led an inadequate
force to drive the invaders back. The result was disaster. Near
the city of Adrianople, in 328, the imperial army was destroyed
and Valens himself was slain.

TKe ultimate significance of the battle can only be appreciated 1

in connection with the events of the ensuing century/, for the Gratian j
moment it seemed to have no very serious consequences. To ( 375 -S 3 )[
succeed Valens, Gratian at once designated his best general,
Theodosius, through whose diplomacy the Balkans were soon (37^-95)1
pacified. The Visigothic tribes were settled along the frontier,
and, having obtained what they had originally wanted, they held
themselves in peace for the rest of the reign. The chief troubles
of Theodosius arose in the west, where Gratian was defeated
and slain by a usurper in 383. For the sake of the young Valen-
tinian II, Gratian’s half-brother, Theodosius was finally com-
pelled to intervene. The upstart was executed and the boy em-
peror was reinstated. The real master of the western provinces,
however, was Arbogast, a Frank who had attained high command
in the army and who now bore the title of count. In 39^ Valen-
tinian was found strangled— tte victim, as many bdieved, of
Arbogast:, at any rate, -set a new emperor to suit him-

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

self and so invited a punitive expedition on the part of Theo-
dosius. In 394 a decisive battle was fought. Thanks to an
opportune storm, which contemporaries regarded as a miracle
from heaven, Theodosius won the victory; the rival emperor was
slain and Arbogast committed suicide. Once more authority was
held by a single prince, but it was only for a brief interval. Theo-
dosius died in the next year, having already assured the succession
of his two sons : in the east Arcadius, in the west Honorius. And
since neither was competent for actual government, the former
was placed under the tutelage of the praetorian prefect, Rufinus ;
the latter under that of the Vandal, Stilicho, master of horse and
foot, patriciits, and cousin by marriii^ of the young emperors.

From this tale of bloody deeds it may be seen that, in spite
of administrative division, the unity of the empire was no mere
theory under an emperor like Theodosius. Until 395 the tradi-
tions of Diocletian, Constantine, and Valentinian were well main-
tained. If there were two Augusti, one w;as normally a sort of
senior partner, with a dominating voice in all major affairs. And
both were supposed to be mature men, chosen primarily because
of their ability to command armies and defend the state. To this
rule Valentinian II was an exception; out of veneration for his
father, he was raised to the purple at the age of four and he
never became more than a puppet emperor. That, of course, was
a matter of small consequence as long as there was a Gratian
or a Theodosius in the background. But what would happen if
both princes were incompetent? The career of Arbogast had
already supplied the answer. The empire, for good or for evil,
would be ruled by the great military commanders, who, like their
armies, were now generally barbarian.

We are thus confronted by one of the crucial facts in the his-

Barbaiians tory of the fifth century — a fact that must be thoroughly ap-
praised before the barbarian invasions can be at all understood.

Romans Arbogast has been called a Frank, and Stilicho a Vandal. Such
identification was only a matter of descent. Both undoubtedly
considered themselves Roman and were so considered by others ;
were, in fact, as Roman as legal right could make them. Both
held high public office and enjoyed the loftiest distinction at court,
and Stilicho was married to the favorite niece of Theodosius.
Today in America we all know of men prominent in politics, busi-
ness, or the professions, who are commonly referred to- as Irish,

THE BARBARIZATIOX OF THE WEST 57

Italians, Germans, Poles, and the like, but who are none the less
American citizens and worthy members of the community. In
accent or manner they may or may not betray a foreign origin ;
in ability and culture they are vastly superior to thousands of
Americans whose ancestors helped to found New England or
Virginia. Their Americanization has depended on the degree to
whijch they have been assimilated by the dominant element in so-
ciety, not on their descent. To a certain extent it was the same
in the Roman Empire : the question when a man ceased to be a
barbarian was not always easy to answer.

^ On the Roman side there was assuredly no race prejudice — es-
pecially against the Germans, who frequently married into the
noblest families of the empire. Barbarian charm had indeed be-
come so fashionable among Roman ladies that a brisk trade was
carried on in blonde wigs imported from the north. And it
would be a grave error to suppose that the Germans, on their
side, had the slightest feeling of nationalism. The barbarian
hordes beyond the northern frontier were a heterogeneous lot —
accidental combinations of tribes and fragments of tribes, who
normally were as willing to attack each other as any one else.
Defending the frontier were the Roman armies, but by the close
of the fourth century they had long been recruited from among
the barbarians. With them, whether or not they were Roman
citizens, war was a profession; as long as they drew their pay,
they cared nothing about the cause Nor was any patriotism de-
manded of them. Individually they were good soldiers, armed
and disciplined according to ancient Roman tradition. How well
they fought depended largely on the quality of the high command.

In this respect the administration of Theodosius was entirely
successful. Despite increasing pressure from the barbarian peo-
ples, the frontiers were solidly held, as they had been during
the previous hundred years. Economic conditions, we know,
were not good; yet contemporaries could have seen little cause
for violent alarm. There was no sudden deterioration; and the
imperial government, though not always enlightened, was active
and sincere in its efforts to carry out reforms. Finally, in okj-
nection with religious matters, the reign of TlKodoslus marked
the definitive triumph of the Christian Church. Beftwe recog-
nition by Constantine, Christiania could n(rt possibly — by the best
estimates — ^have held ffie devoticm of more than cme-fi,fth of the

Theodosii
and the
Christiai
Caiarch

58 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

population throughout the empire. It was accepted by the ma-
jority only after it had become the personal faith of the emperor
and was specially protected by law. Then, during the fourth
century, it made rapid headway in the army and in official circles.
The rural districts, however, remained largely pagan — ^as the
word {pagan ns, countryman) itself implies. Besides, the ancient
cults had powerful support in such strongholds of tradition as
Rome, Antioch, Alexandria, and Athens. The edicts of Con-
stantine’s sons proscribing all but Christian worship were declara-
tions of pious intent, which merely threatened punishment; and
they were of course repealed by Julian. Valentinian, as we have
seen, merely restored the system of Constantine; so the establish-
ment of Christianity as the only lawful religion of the state was
primarily due to Theodosius.

In his earlier reign that emperor, to be sure, seemed inclined
to maintain the tolerant policy of Valentinian ; it was Gratian who
first defied pagan sentiment by removing the statue of Victory
from the senate-house in Rome. Later, when Theodosius — ^as he
believed — ^had defeated Arbogast through the direct intervention
of God, his faith became more aggressive. With Ambrose,^ the
great archbishop of Milan, as his spiritual director, Theodosius
deliberately undertook to suppress every enemy of Christianity.
Pagan temples were converted to secular purposes, turned into
Christian churches, or destroyed by fanatics. Minor acts of
pagan worship were punished with fines, while the performance
of sacrifices was defined as treason, involving the death penalty.
At the same time Theodosius prescribed uniformity of Christian
doctrine. Arianism,^ which had continued popular in the east
even after the Council of Nicsea, was now condemned afresh and
its supporters were compelled to submit or to go into exile. Se-
vere measures were also enacted against other sects that denied
the tenets of the orthodox faith. Thus came into being the laws
against heresy which were to serve as a precedent for all Chris-
tian states during the next thousand years. And the fact that
so many generations elapsed before educated rrmi commonly cSs-
agreed with Theodosius shows how inevitable his policy was.
Religious toleration is natural only in an age of doubt and
dissension.

2 See below, p. 98.
* See above, p. 43.

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST 59

2. THE BARBARIAN INVASIONS OF THE FIFTH CENTURY

It was an unfortunate coincidence for the Roman Empire that
both sons of Theodosius were totally unfit to govern, so that in a Stilicho
tifne of crisis all decisive action devolved on their respective min- and Alanc
isters. In the west the actual ruler was Stilicho, patricins, master
of troops, and soon the father-in-law of the emperor. These
honors, it would seem, failed to satisfy the ambitious Vandal,
for at the first opportunity he led an army toward Constantinople.

There Arcadius had been placed under the control of Rufinus, the
praetorian prefect. The latter, however, had many rivals — among
them various barbarian generals. Likewise eager for power was
the talented Alaric, whom the Visigoths now joined in recogniz-
ing as their king. Theodosius, it will be remembered, had set-
tled that people as fa^derati along the lower Danube. Northwest
of them were established in the same way various bands of
Ostrogoths and Huns; and on the Rhine similar settlements of
Franks and others had existed from a much earlier time. The
status of the Visigoths, accordingly, was no novelty. Nor was
the fact that they should decide to have a king at all disturbing
to Roman tradition ; such a title implied merely the l^dership of
a protected tribe and had nothing to do with territorial sover-
eignty. Alaric, however, longed for high command in the Roman
army, and his people wanted better lands ; so, on the accessinniv€d
at the assassination of Rufinus. Then, being occupied for several

years with affairs in Italy and Afrka, he left tte Goths free to
continue thdr d(^e(fatio^, wirile a ^ries of adventurers fought
for qontrrf.of' tte astern ca|atai The was Akrfc
finally extc^:^ fe«n Ai^Gaditis an military

and^ havin^^^ped hfe' followers as prepared

for largA" Atorfc reeei^ed

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

population throughout the empire. It was accepted by the ma-
jority only after it had become the personal faith of the emperor
and was specially protected by law. Then, during the fourth
century, it made rapid headway in the army and in official circles.
The rural districts, however, remained largely pagan — ^as the
word {pagamis, countryman) itself implies. Besides, the ancient
cults had powerful support in such strongholds of tradition as
Rome, Antioch, Alexandria, and Athens. The edicts of Con-
stantine’s sons proscribing all but Christian worship were declara-
tions of pious intent, which merely threatened punishment; and
they were of course repealed by Julian. Valentinian, as we have
seen, merely restored the system of Constantine ; so the establish-
ment of Christianity as the only lawful religion of the state was
primarily due to Theodosius.

In his earlier reign that emperor, to be sure, seemed inclined
to maintain the tolerant policy of Valentinian; it was Gratian who
first defied pagan sentiment by removing the statue of Victory
from the senate-house in Rome. Later, when Theodosius — ^as he
believed — ^had defeated Arbogast through the direct intervention
of God, his faith became more aggressive. With Ambrose,^ the
great archbishop of Milan, as his spiritual director, Theodosius
deliberately undertook to suppress every enemy of Christianity.
Pagan temples were converted to secular purposes, turned into
Christian churches, or destroyed by fanatics. Minor acts of
pagan worship were punished with fines, while the performance
of sacrifices was defined as treason, involving the death penalty.
At the same time Theodosius prescribed uniformity of Christian
doctrine. Arianism,^ which had continued popular in the east
even after the Council of Nicaea, was now condemned afresh and
its supporters were compelled to submit or to go into exile. Se-
vere measures were also enacted against other sects that denied
the tenets of the orthodox faith. Thus came into being the laws
against heresy which were to serve as a precedent for all Chris-
tian states during the next thousand years. And the fact that
so many generations elapsed before educated men commonly dis-
agreed with Theodosius shows how inevitable his policy was.
Religious toleration is natural only in an age of doubt and
dissension.

2 See below, p. 98.

® See above, p. 43.

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST

2. THE BARBARIAN INVASIONS OF THE FIFTH CENTURY

It was an unfortunate coincidence for the Roman Empire that
both sons of Theodosius were totally unfit to govern, so that in a Stilicho
tifne of crisis all decisive action devolved on their respective min- Alaric
isters. In the west the actual ruler vsras Stilicho, patriciiis, master
of troops, and soon the father-in-law of the emperor. These
honors, it would seem, failed to satisfy the ambitious Vandal,
for at the first opportunity he led an army toward Constantinople.

There Arcadius had been placed under the control of Rufinus, the
praetorian prefect. The latter, however, had many rivals — ^among
them various barbarian generals. Likewise eager for power was
the talented Alaric, whom the Visigoths now joined in recogniz-
ing as their king. Theodosius, it will be remembered, had set-
tled that people as fcrderati along the lower Danube. Northwest
of them were established in the same way various bands of
Ostrogoths and Huns; and on the Rhine similar settlements of
Franks and others had existed from a much earlier time. The
status of the Visigoths, accordingly, was no novelty. Nor was
the fact that they should decide to have a king at all disturbing
to Roman tradition ; such a title implied merely the leadership of
a protected tribe and had nothing to do with territorial sover-
eignty. Alaric, however, longed for high command in the Roman
army, and his people wanted better lands ; so, on the accession of
Arcadius, the Goths rose in revolt and invaded the defenseless
provinces of Thrace and Macedonia.

Stilicho, for reasons best known to himself, avoided hostilities
with Alaric and marched on Constantinople, where he connived
at the assassination of Rufinus. Then, being occupied for several
years with affairs in Italy and Africa, he left the Goths free to
continue their depredations, while a series of adventurers fought
for control of the eastern capital. The result was that Alaric
finally extorted from Arcadius an official military appointment
and, having equipped his followers as Roman soldiers, prepared
for larger operations. Just what encouragement Alaric received
from Constantinople remains doubtful, but in 401 he turned west,
apparently hoping to force profitable concessions from Honorius.

The time was well chosen, for his inraskyn of Itaty came just as
Stilicho was faced wiA the task of drivmg tedc other hordes of
restless fcs^d^mli from the tipper Ds^he. Fot a number of years
he staved off by force against the ; and

S8 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

population throughout the empire. It was accepted by the ma-
jority only after it had become the personal faith of the emperor
and was specially protected by law. Then, during the fourth
century, it made rapid headway in the army and in official circles.
The rural districts, however, remained largely pagan — ^as the
word {paganus, countryman) itself implies. Besides, the ancient
cults had powerful support in such strongholds of tradition as
Rome, Antioch, Alexandria, and Athens. The edicts of Con-
stantine’s sons proscribing all but Christian worship were declara-
tions of pious intent, which merely threatened punishment; and
they were of course repealed by Julian. V'alentinian, as we have
seen, merely restored the system of Constantine ; so the establish-
ment of Christianity as the only lawful religion of the state was
primarily due to Theodosius.

In his earlier reign that emperor, to be sure, seemed inclined
to maintain the tolerant policy of Valentinian ; it was Gratian who
first defied pagan sentiment by removing the statue of Victory
from the senate-house in Rome. Later, when Theodosius — as he
believed — ^Iiad defeated Arbogast through the direct intervention
of God, his faith became more aggressive. With Ambrose,- the
great archbishop of Milan, as his spiritual director, Theodosius
deliberately undertook to suppress every enemy of Christianity.
Pagan temples were converted to secular purposes, turned into
Christian churches, or destroyed by fanatics. Minor acts of
pagan worship were punished with fines, while the performance
of sacrifices was defined as treason, involving the deatli penalty.
At the same time Theodosius prescribed uniformity of Christian
doctrine. Arianism,^ which had continued popular in the east
even after the Council of Nicsea, was now condemned afresh and
its supporters were compelled to submit or to go into exile. Se-
vere measures were also enacted against other sects that denied
the tenets of the orthodox faith. Thus came into being the laws
against heresy which were to serve as a precedent for all Chris-
tian states during the next thousand years. And the fact that
so many generations elapsed before educated men commonly dis-
agreed with Theodosius shows how inevitable his policy was.
Religious toleration is natural only in an age of doubt and
dissension.

^ See below, p. 98.
* See above, p. 43.

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST 59

2. THE BARBARIAN INVASIONS OF THE FIFTH CENTURY

It was an unfortunate coincidence for the Roman Empire that
both sons of Theodosius were totally unfit to govern, so that in a
tifne of crisis all decisive action devolved on their respective min-
isters. In the west the actual ruler was Stilicho, patricius, master
of troops, and soon the father-in-law of the emperor. These
honors, it would seem, failed to satisfy the ambitious Vandal,
for at the first opportunity he led an army toward Constantinople.
There Arcadius had been placed under the control of Rufinus, the
praetorian prefect. The latter, however, had many rivals — ^among
them various barbarian generals. Likewise eager for power was
the talented Alaric, whom the Visigoths now joined in recogniz-
ing as their king. Theodosius, it will be remembered, had set-
tled that people as fooderati along the lower Danube. Northwest
of them were established in the same way various bands of
Ostrogoths and Huns; and on the Rhine similar settlements of
Franks and others had existed from a much earlier time. The
status of the Visigoths, accordingly, was no novelty. Nor was
the fact that they should decide to have a king at all disturbing
to Roman tradition ; such a title implied merely the leadership of
a protected tribe and had nothing to do with territorial sover-
eignty. Alaric, however, longed for high command in the Roman
army, and his people wanted better lands ; so, on the accession of
Arcadius, the Goths rose in revolt and invaded the defenseless
provinces of Thrace and Macedonia.

Stilicho, for reasons best known to himself, avoided hostilities
with Alaric and marched on Constantinople, where he connived
at the assassination of Rufinus. Then, being occupied for several
years with affairs in Italy and Africa, he left the Goths free to*
continue their depredations, while a series of adventurers fought
for control of the eastern capital. The result was that Alaric
finally extorted from Arcadius an official military appointment
and, having equipped his followers as Roman soldiers, prepared
for larger operations. Just what encouragement Alaric received
from Constantinople remains doubtful, but in 401 he turned west,
apparently hoping to force profitable concessions from Honorius.
The time was well chosen, for his invasion of Italy came just as
Stilicho was faced with the task of driving back other hordes of
restless fcsderati from the upper Danube. For a number of years
he staved off disaster by playing one force against the other ; and

Stilicho
and Alaric

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Alaric’s
sack of
Rome
(410)

to strengthen the defenses of Italy, he called legions from the west,
thereby abandoning Gaul and Britain to their fate.

During all this turmoil, Honorius had done nothing more than
look after his personal safety. Shutting himself up in Ravenna,
which had the double protection of walls and impenetrable
marshes, he had permitted his master of troops to assume all re-
sponsibility and win all the glory. Now, at last, the emperor
asserted himself. In a fit of jealous fear, he commanded the
execution of Stilicho on a charge of treason (408). The order
was carried out, and so passed from the scene the one man able
to check the advance of Alaric. The latter immediately invaded
Italy, where he spent over a year negotiating with the fickle
Honorius and levying blackmail on the panic-stricken inhabitants.
Finally, as the emperor still refused to meet his demands, he
starved Rome into submission and gave the city to his followers
for three days’ pillage. Laden with booty and holding as a
hostage the emperor’s sister, Galla Placidia, Alaric then turned
toward the southern ports where ships had been collected for an
expedition to Africa. But his fleet was destroyed by a storm,
and before the end of the year the great adventurer was dead —
buried, according to the famous story, in the bed of a river tem-
porarily diverted from its course.

To contemporaries Alaric’s sack of Rome seemed a frightful
calamity. Pagan writers blamed it on the desertion of the an-
cient gods, while Christian apologists called it divine retribution
for the sins of the Romans. Neither group could restore the
lost prestige of the empire. Although the Goths had done little
more than carry off a mass of loose treasure, the incapacity of
Honorius and the defenseless state of his dominions were clearly
advertised to the world. Theoretically the empire continued;
actually, in the west, it disintegrated. Virtually the whole re-
gion beyond the Alps lapsed into political chaos — ^the prey of bar-
barian chieftains and other local tyrants. The last of the old
army in Britain was taken to Gaul by a usurping emperor, who
was killed in 412. Meanwhile, as the Rhine frontier had been
stripped of its defenders, hordes of Germans crossed it at will,
to take whatever they pleased.

Along the lower valley were the Franks, divided into two main
groups: Salian and Ripuarian, the dwellers by the sea (sal, salt)
and the dwellers by the river (ripa, bank). In the later fourth
century the Salian Franks had already occupied the territory be-

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST 6i

tween the Meuse and the Sdieldt, where, after checking their The
further advance, Julian had recognized them as fcederati. Since Germans
this was a thinly populated region of marsh and dune, the settlers
had made it thoroughly their own; in the fifth century it knew
neither the Latin language nor Christianity. Meanwhile the Ri-
puarian Franks had been repeatedly prevented from crossing the
frontier. Now, under Honorius, their ambitions were gratified
and they gradually took over the country between the Rhine and
the Meuse, together with the cities of Cologne, Aix-la-Chapelle,
and Trier. Beyond the Moselle, however, their progress was
blocked by the Burgundians, who had taken Worms, and by the
Alamans, who had settled the region thenceforth known as Alsace.

About the same time a conglomerate horde of Vandals, Sueves,
and Alans^ passed over the Rhine at Mainz and, without stopping
to preempt any of the frontier districts, pushed on through the
heart of Gaul into Aquitaine. In 409 they crossed the Pyrenees
into Spain, already paralyzed by civil war. There, after two years
of ravaging, they were assigned lands as fcederati; but they were
not to enjoy their new status for long.

f-In 412 southern Gaul was occupied by the Visigoths under
Alaric’s brother, Ataulf. He came with a sort of authorization The
from Honorius, and witliin a short time he had persuaded Galla Vandals in
Placidia to become his bride. Ataulf was murdered, but the event
served only to strengthen the Roman alliance ; for Constantins, the
new commander of the emperor’s troops, was willing to pay the
Goths handsomely for the return of Galla Placidii^ The upsliot
of this melodramatic story was thatfthe princess went back to
Rome, married Constantins, smd in due coarse of time became
the mother of the boy who was later to be crowned as Vakntinian
III. ' Wallia, the successor of Ataulf, was commissioned by the
government to take Spain away from the Vandals and their
allies. After a terrific war, the Visigoths destroyed one division
of the Vandals and most of the Alans. The survivcars then joined
in electing a king, the famous Gaiseric, who in 429 transferred
his whole people into Afri^ Of the original invaders, only the
Sueves ware left in Spam, occupying the region of Galicia in the
northwest comer. The rest of the peninsula eventually fell to the
Visigoths, who came to hold a wdl-organized kingdom on both
sides of the Pyrenees. In Africa Gaiseric met with no- efficient

* Other Saeves (or SwaWaiis) gave their name to a region of southern Gettnany.
The Aftins- were not Ommae, bat A^fie nomads related to the Huns.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The

Saxons in
Britain

Valen-
tinian III

(425-55)

and Aetius

resistance. Within a dozen years he had taken Carthage and had
forced Rome to recognize his possession of all the better provinces
west of Tripoli. From this advantageous position the Vandals,
collecting a powerful fleet, developed a profitable business of
piracy through all the adjacent seas — ^the first time in many cen-
turies that the Roman Empire had felt the lack of a navy.

The later fifth century thus found a Vandal kingdom in Africa,
a Suevic kingdom in Spain, a Visigothic kingdom in southern
Gaul and in Spain, and to the north a series of smaller kingdoms
held by Alamans, Burgundians, and Franks. Britain, meanwhile,
had long since been abandoned by the imperial government.
Honorius, in answer to appeals for aid, told the provincials that
they would have to look after their own defense as best they
could. Their best was not very efficacious. From the north
Piets swept over the wall which Hadrian had built against them ;
the western coasts were ravaged by Scots from Ireland, the east-
ern coasts by Saxons from the shores of the North Sea. The
attacks of these German pirates were, of course, no novelty in
Britain, but it was not until the collapse of the military govern-
ment under Honorius that they began to have momentous conse-
quences. The details of the Saxon occupation given us by later
chroniclers cannot be trusted. We may only be sure that about the
middle of the fifth century sporadic raids gave way to perma-
nent settlement; and as this progressed, Latin civilization was
wiped out. The surviving British, in so far as they were not
enslaved by the invaders, were driven into the mountainous re-
gions of the west.

In the midst of the havoc to which his weakness had largely
contributed, Honorius died, to be succeeded by the four-year-old
Valentinian III. Since the boy^s father was already dead, Galla
Placidia, ex-queen of the Visigoths, now became regent. That
lady — for all her remarkable energy — could not command an
army in the field; so she raised an able general, Aetius, to be
pafricius and master of troops. By this time the imperial army in
Italy was reduced mainly to Hunnic mercenaries, and the fact that
Aetius had spent several years living among that people undoubt-
edly influenced his military career. Thanks to the Huns, he first
secured control of Italy; then he undertook the restoration of
Roman sovereignty in Gaul. As long as the barbarians remained
within the regions that had been assigned them, Aetius left them
alone; Whe^i, however, the Burgundians attempted to extend

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST 63

their power to the west, they were given over to the mercy of his
Hunnic followers. Only a remnant of the nation survived,
to be resettled in the country about Geneva, whence they spread
south into the valley of the Rhone. Against the powerful Visi-
gothic kingdom Aetius had no such success ; and as it turned out,
his hostility was rather abruptly changed to warm friendship.

The cause lay to the eastward.

The Huns, as we have seen, had many years ago established
themselves in southeastern Europe, but until the opening of the Attilaand
fifth century they had never been combined in more than a loose ^he Huns
confederation of tribes under separate chieftains. Then, about
the time of Alaric, one Rua, or Rutila, had secured recognition
as king throughout a wide region extending from the valley of
the Don to that of the Danube. Rua was succeeded by his two
nephews, one of whom, Attila, finally became sole king in 444.

Physically, this famous chief is described as of the primitive
nomad type which western eyes found so hideous; and in char-
acter he was also like his fellows — ^treacherous, cruel, and rapa-
cious. Attila, however, was no mere brigand. He was pos-
sessed of a keen intelligence and, though illiterate, was a shrewd
judge of men — sl born leader and diplomat. Extending and
consolidating the dominion taken over from his uncle, Attila held
terroristic sway over countless thousands of Slavs and Germans.

The former, as usual, were treated as enslaved peasants; the
latter — including Ostrogoths, Heruls, Gepids, and many others
— were forced to serve in the Hunnic army. With such an
overwhelming force at his disposal, Attila was able to treat
even the proud Roman Empire as a mere dependency.

In the east the government of Theodosius II proved scarcely
better than that of Arcadius. The Huns invaded the Balkan The Battle
provinces at will and carried, devastation to the very outskirts of
Constantinople. Year after year the treasury was drained of gold
to provide Attila with regular tribute, thinly disguised as pay pieids^
for his services in the Roman army! Then, about the time that (451)
Theodosius died (450), Attila decided to shift operations to the
west. Up to this point he had remained on good terms with
Aetius and had continued to permit many of his subjects to
enlist in the army of Valentinian III. Now, all at once, Aetius
found himself deprived of his regular force and menaced by a
terrifying host of invaders. As the Germans along the Rhine were
neither united nor reliable, his only possible resource was a

The death
of Attila

(453)

The end
of the
Theo-
dosian
dynasty

64 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

Visigothic alliance. Fortunately for the Roman cause, Theo-
doric, king of the Visigoths, recognized the common danger and
proceeded north tO' join Aetius with a splendid army of veterans.
In the ensuing battle, fought in the region now known as Cham-
pagne, Attila was checked; and although Theodoric was num-
bered among the slain, it was he who deserved credit for the
victory.

The result of this famous battle was that Gaul for the time
escaped further devastation; beyond that all affirmation is haz-
ardous, for we cannot tell what Attila would have done had
he gained the day. It is very unlikely that, except for the purpose
of exacting tribute, he planned any extensive conquest. As a
matter of fact, his army was not destroyed; and Aetius seems
to have used his influence to prevent his allies from following
up the victory — indicating that he feared the Goths as well as
the Huns. However this may be, Attila proceeded without
hindrance to invade Italy, but after approaching Rome and col-
lecting blackmail, he for some reason turned north again, to
die in 453. With the passing of their great leader, the Huns
once more scattered to the four winds and their empire disap-
peared as rapidly as it had come into being. The subjugated
Germans regained their independence and for the most part
entered the Roman service as mercenaries or settled in the
Danubian provinces as fcrdcratL

At Constantinople, meanwhile, the dynasty of the great Theo-
dosius had ended In 450 with the death of his grandson, Theo-
dosius II, whose one great contribution to history was the code
that bears his name — a collection of imperial edicts issued since
the accession of Constantine.® Theodosius II had no heirs, but
at the last moment he designated as his successor a brave soldier
named Marcian, whose reign was chiefly remarkable for his
refusal to pay the accustomed tribute to the Huns, Fortunately
for the emperor, Attila's diversion toward the west and his sub-
sequent death obviated the danger of reprisals, and comparative
peace once more prevailed along the eastern frontier. Mardan’s
reign lasted for only seven years, when the commander of the
German mercenaries secured the elevation of an obscure general
named Leo. Then, to the surprise of all, the new emperor exe-
cuted his patron and replaced the German troops with Isaursans,

® See below, p. 120.

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST 65

wild mountaineers from soutiiern Asia Minor. Leo’s chief de-
pendence was the Isaurian chieftain Tarasicodissa, whose name
was changed to Zeno when he married the emperor’s daughter.

As the result of that happy alliance, Zeno himself secured the
throne in 474; ^^nd the new Rome, though ruled by a strange
Roman, at least escaped the danger of a German dictatorship.

In the west, the old tale of incompetence and treachery, of
murder and pillage, still continued. Galla Placidia died in 450,
leaving the general Aetius all-powerful at court. Valentinian III
did nothing until 454, when he unexpectedly developed enough
energy, with the help of another conspirator, to murder Aetius
— 3. deed which led to his own assassination in the following
year. With tliis appropriate termination of the Theodosian
house, the emperors at Rome became a series of puppets, set up
and pulled down by barbarian chieftains. Momentarily, indeed,

Italy was left without a military government, and the crafty
Gaiseric used the opportunity for carrying out an unhampered
sack of the capital. Sailing up the Tiber, the Vandals deliber-
ately and systematically stripped Rome of its treasures, including
even the gilded roofs of the temples. Yet in spite of the reputa-
tion attached to their name in popular language, the Vandals
seem to have stopped short of wanton destruction. Like Alaric’s
Goths, they left the city empty of valuables, but standing.

A few months later such an enterprise would have been im-
possible, for Ricimer, a Suevic adventurer, by disposing of vari- Ridmer
ous rivals, secured the position earlier held by Aetius and Stilicho. (4S'5“72)
Until his death Ricimer ruled Italy to suit himsdf, installing
four emperors one after the other and treating all with open (47^2)
effrontery. For a short time after 472 no successor to Ricimer’s
office appeared, and in the interim an emperor was sent over
from Constantinople — 3 feeble effort toward imperial unity that
accomplished notliing. In 475 Orestes, ex-secretary of Attila,
obtained control of the army and deposed the eastern candidate
in favor of his son, Romulus, nicknamed Augustulus. The troops
who had made possible the coup cPetat were German mercenaries
— Heruls and others who, since the death of Attila, had been
settled in the Danubian provinces — ^and they now demanded their
reward. Instead of being quartered in barracks, they wanted
lands on which they could live like other barbarian gentlemen.

Orestes refused; so the army proclaimed as king one of their
own number, a certain Odovakar, or Odoacer, and in 476 he

The end
of the
western
emperors
(476)

The rise of

Theodoric

the

Ostrogoth

66 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

slew Orestes and deposed Romulus. The comedy was now
played out. Odoacer dispensed with the farce of a western em-
peror and sent the imperial insignia to Zeno at Constantinople,
who in return allowed him the traditional title of patriciiis.

In theory, the empire was once more united under one Au-
gustus, but this was mere pretense. Odoacer, whatever his
Roman title, ruled as the king of the Heruls and the other
Germans who had raised him on their shields. Italy, with the
removal of the shadow-emperor, became frankly a barbarian king-
dom, like those already established in Africa, Spain, Britain,
and Gaul. So, although the events of the year 476 were in them-
selves relatively insignificant, they served to proclaim the passing
of a great state. By the later fifth century Rome as a world
power was dead, and in its place had definitely emerged a new
political system which thenceforth, with temporary interruptions,
was to characterize Europe.

As long as he was left undisturbed, Odoacer was entirely will-
ing to maintain the fiction of imperial control ; but his reverence
did not extend to the point of tamely submitting when, in 488,
Zeno sent another man to oust him. This was Theodoric the
Ostrogoth, whose career is worth describing in some detail be-
cause it may be considered the ideal of all the barbarian adven-
turers. After the death of Attila, many Germanic peoples who
had been subjects of the Huns were admitted as fwderati to the
Danubian provinces. Among them were three Ostrogothic tribes
under their respective kings. The usual altercations then en-
sued over lands and subsidies, with the result that in 461 the
emperor Leo arranged a new treaty with his troublesome allies:
and in this connection one of the three kings sent his son Theo-
doric as a hostage to Constantinople. There the boy remained
for eight years, acquiring a warm admiration for Roman ways
and absorbing at least a modicum of Greek and Latin culture.

In 471, on the death of his father, Theodoric was elected king,
and he immediately became involved in the maze of intrigue and
violence which then characterized imperial politics. Theodoric
played his cards skillfully and for a time enjoyed high favor at
court, rising to be a Roman citizen, master of troops, and pa*
fricius. In the year 484 he was actually named as one of the two
consuls for the capital. He disposed of various rivals and united
the Goths under his leadershijx But before long he was again
at odds with the emperor and fell back on Alaric^s device of ex-

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST 67

torting further concessions by ravaging Thrace. Finally, in 488,

Zeno hit upon the happy expedient of sending him to Italy with a
commission against Odoacer. A change of administration in the
west could not hurt the emperor, and he would be rid of a man
who had grown dangerously powerful.

Theodoric accepted the proposal and in 489 led his Ostrogoths
over the Alps toward Rome. A series of battles gave him the Theo-
mastery of the peninsula, except for the city of Ravenna, where
Odoacer withstood a siege of two and a half years. Then, under
the auspices of the local bishop, a treaty was sworn by the (489-93)
antagonists under which they agreed to share the rule of Italy.

As far as Theodoric was concerned, this was a mere ruse; for
in the course of the banquet held to celebrate the reconciliation,
he suddenly fell upon Odoacer and slew him. At the same time
his troops carried out a general massacre of all important persons
in the opposing army. By Ihis murder — and was it much fouler
than that committed by Valentinian III? — ^the Ostrogoth became
the unchallenged ruler of Italy. He made no change in legal
relationships. Like Odoacer, he continued to hold a sort of im-
perial lieutenancy, implied by his titles of pafricnts and master
of troops, together with a personal kingship over his Germanic
followers. How he organized his state will be seen in the fol-
lowing section.

3. THE GERMANS IN THE EMPIRE

From the facts noted above it should be quite clear thdt the

Roman Empire did not fall through the shock of foreign conquest Thenature

or become barbarized through any deliberate attack on its an- of the

cient culture. When we come to examine the problem closely,

... ., .... invasions

It IS by no means simple to tell just what the barbarian invasions

were. In the later fourth century the empire already contained
thousands of Germans, but they were not ipvaders. They were
men recruited by the government to serve in the regular army
or settled as auxiliaries along the frontiers. The former, espe-
cially, often attained full Roman rights and rose to high posi-
tions in state and society. If they failed to become thoroughly
Latinized, it was not because of antagonism on their part. The
case of Alaric was fundamentally nothing new. In spite of
attendant disorders, the Visigoths were officially admitted to the
empire and awarded definite legal status. Alaric, like Stilicho,
became master of tro^ m the imperial army. Although his

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

methods were somewhat crude, he did not introduce civil war and
rapine as novelties to the Roman troops.

Then came the great barbarian inroads into Gaul. Franks,
Alamans, Burgundians, Vandals and others poured across the
frontier. Most of them, presumably, came without invitation;
yet, ultimately, their occupation of Roman soil was legalized and
their position in the state became indistinguishable from that
of other foederati, such as the Visigoths and the Salian Franks.
And when the mercenaries of Orestes revolted and proclaimed
Odoacer as their king, they also were given lands and so became
domiciled allies like the rest. Where does employment of bar-
barians end and invasion by barbarians begin? If we allow our-
selves to become fascinated by the forms of law, we may ulti-
mately decide that there were neither invasions nor barbarians;
that there was neither a western empire nor a fall of Rome.

The truth is, of course, that by the fifth century legal theory
was wholly belied by actuality. Under Aurelian Dacia was defi-
nitely abandoned to the Goths; under Valentinian III Britain
was no less definitely abandoned to the Saxons. For a time
the imperial government kept up a pretense of authority in
Africa ; but in the face of Gaiseric’s deeds, it could have deceived
no one. By more gradual stages, Spain and Gaul were also lost.
Whatever the official explanation of settlement by fcederati, those
provinces were conquered and organized into kingdoms by vari-
ous Germanic peoples. After 476, although Zeno in theory held
the administration of an undivided empire, and although his
sovereignty was specifically recognized by Odoacer and Theo-
doric, he had as little real power in Italy as in Dacia. Zeno,
himself a soldier and a semibarbarous one at that, unquestionably
realized the truth. If he did nothing to change th€ situation,
it was because he lacked the strength. Before long the strength
was to be found, and used, by the clear-sighted Justinian.

Another question raised by the history of Rome in the fifth
The fate century is why the eastern half of the empire was able to survive
of the east while the western half fell into ruin. The entire administrative
system, civil and military, was the same in both regions, and it
of the west ^ Latin, not a Greek, creation. Why should it perish in
the land where it was native and persist in that where it was
foreign? In the time of Augustus Hellenic civilization had long
seemed decadent; yet it outlived that of the younger and pre-
sumably more vigorous people. In large part this strange cul-

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST 69

mination was due to mere accident. Although the empire,
through sheer weakness, was doomed to lose some of its west-
ern provinces, Italy could surely have been hdd if the govern-
ment there had been a little more efficient The rulers of the
east were remarkable neither for wisdom nor for energy. It
was only their good fortune that, sooner or later, most of the
barbarian hordes were attracted to the rich lands of the west,
and that the Persians launched no great offensive for another
century and a half.

Nevertheless, the divergent fate of east and west throughout
the ensuing centuries suggests that we are dealing with scone-
thing more fundamental than what we call luck. The empire in
the east displayed a really astonishing vitality, surviving the
Theodosian d3masty for a thousand years. During this entire
period its life was the city of Constantinople, which still main-
tained the imperial tradition after all its provinces had been
given up. The old capital was utterly unable to support itself,
for its population produced nothing. Deprived of the surround-
ing dominions from which its wealth had been drawn, Rome was
faced with extinction. Even as a military position, it was in-
ferior to many other cities; Alaric proved that it could easify
be reduced by cutting off the grain supplies from Africa. The
new capital, on the other hand, quickly became the center of a
flourishing trade that down to the present has never lagged.

Like Alexandria, it has been a constant source of wealth for
the power that has held it. And of all cities ever built, it is
one of the most impregnable. Being on the sea, it cannot be
starved into submission by a land force; with proper defense,
it is immune from attack by water. How could a state utterly
fail when it held Constantinople?

In this connection it may be noted that the imperial gov-
ernment in the east ccmtinued to run on a cash basis, employing The
a paid bureaucracy and a mercenary army — which would ob- continued
viously have been impossible if commerce load not been the chief
resource of the state. It is surely significant that by the end of
the fifth century the emperor was able to repeal much of the op-
pressive legislation contained in the Theodosian Code — ^such as
the burdensome tax on trades and professions, ffie responsibility
of the curial class for the annona, and various other measures
whkh had tend^ to in^Kjse a caste system on society. In the
west no ecbnoJ!^ recovery took place. Instead, the decline &at

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Ulfilas
(d- 383)
and his
Gothic
Bible

had begun to have serious consequences in the third century
gained increasing headway, to culminate, after the barbarian
invasions, in what is known as the Dark Age./

Inevitably, under such conditions, the decay of Latin arts and
letters continued unchecked. The restoration of order under
Diocletian and Constantine, it is true, led to a sort of literary
revival extending from the later fourth to the early sixth century.
Yet, as will be seen in the next chapter, it produced almost noth-
ing that was vital or original; and the Christian writings of
that age, which included some eminent works, were in both style
and spirit utterly foreign to the classic tradition. It is plain
that, in many respects, the barbarization of society actually pre-
ceded the barbarian invasions. Latin culture had been weak-
ening for two centuries before the reign of Honorius. The
new rulers of the provinces were not altogether to blame for
the continuation of the process. Many of them, in fact, were
interested in preserving what they could of Roman institutions.

Of all the barbarians who settled within the empire in the
fifth century, the J^oth s were furthest advanced in civilization.
Even before they were permitted to cross the Danube, most of
them had been converted to Christianity. Their’ first bishop was
Ulfila s. It is said that one of his parents was a Greek Christian
who had been captured by the barbarians. At any rate, Ulfilas
was brought up in the faith and he devoted his life to spreading
it among his countrymen. It so happened, however, that he had
been trained and consecrated by the bishop of Constantinople,
who was then the leader of the Arian faction. Ultimately, the
Goths had the tragic experience of finding that they were here-
tics. In an age when such questions aroused a fanatical ani-
mosity that to us seems incredible, Arianism was to prove a great
disadvantage to all the nations that upheld it — ^not only to the
Goths, but also to the Vandals, the Burgundians, and the
Lombards.

Along with Arianism, Ulfilas introduced the Goths to a regular
system of writing — an art which the primitive Germans seem
to have regarded as a sort of magic. From an early time certain
rudimentary letters, or runes, had been known to a few skilled
persons among them, who thereby were able to send secret mes-
sages and, according to legend, to make powerful charms. Occa-
sionally runes were also used for inscriptions on monuments,
sword blades, and the like; but as far as we know, they were

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST 71

never adapted to more extensive composition. Accordingly, it
was not until a Germanic people had been converted to Chris-
tianity that its spoken dialect as a whole came to be expressed
in writing, and for that purpose the Greek or the Latin alphabet
was employed. In the history of literature the Gothic transla-
tion of the Scriptures by Ulfilas ranks as .a momentous event,
for it gives us our first direct knowledge of a Germanic language.

The work is doubly precious because, on settling within the em-
pire, most of the Germans adopted Latin for official and literary
productions.

All the barbarian kingdoms on Roman soil at the end of the
fifth century combined Roman and Germanic institutions, but Thegov-
the combination w^as in varying proportions. The most thor- emment of*
oughly Roman was that of the Ostrogoths in Italy. Thanks to
good accounts of Theodoric by contemporary Greek historians, to (493-526)
the letters of his talented secretary, Cassiodorus, and to the legal
compilation described as the Edict of Theodoric, his government
is very fully known. Under him the ancient administrative sys-
tem continued without a break. He was surrounded by officials
bearing the same titles as of old — ^governor, vicar, praetorian
prefect, master of offices, count of the sacred largesses, and the
like. At Rome the consuls and other magistrates were still an-
nually installed and the senate still enjoyed tremendous prestige.
Theodoric’s decrees were principally devoted to the enforcement
of the Roman law. His taxes were the same as those collected
under the Theodosian house. He even distributed grain to the
populace of the capital and provided the accustomed shows. All
military power, on the other hand, was reserved to the Goths,
who were settled as fcederati on the lands assigned to them —
presumably in the north of Italy. They continued to be governed
by their ancient customs, because, not being Roman citizens, they
had no recourse to the Roman law. They could not marry into
Roman families and they were not eligible to civil office. This,
however, was a legal disability, not one of race or of nationality.

By act of the emperor a Goth might be made a Roman, as in
fact Theodoric himself had been; and he was very proud of the
rank.

In strict theory the kingship of the Ostrogoth, like that of
Odoacer, was a personal leadership conferred by a group of
Germans domiciled in the empire; his military and civil authority
in Italy rested ttfK>n offices given him by Zeno. When dealing

His

devotion
to Roman
ideals

The

Visigothic

kingdom

72 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

with the barbarian princes of the west, he acted as one sovereign
among others, but he always treated the emperor with great defer-
ence. His scrupulous attitude in such matters and the careful
distinctions maintained throughout his government were not at
all necessary; they arose from his admiration of Rome and all
that it stood for. In every possible respect Theodoric consci-
entiously tried to be a good Roman. Although he is said to have
been illiterate, the greatest Latin writers of the day served at
his court : Cassiodorus as his secretary, and Boethius as his mas-
ter of offices.® He paid considerable attention to the repairing of
aqueducts and other ancient monuments; and he himself erected
buildings at Ravenna that rivaled in splendor the earlier structures
of Galla Placidia — ^not of course in the style misnamed Gothic,
but in that called Byzantine.*^ He favored the church and, in
spite of the fact that he was an Arian, kept on remarkably good
terms with the orthodox clergy. So great was his reputation for
honesty that a disputed election to the bishopric of Rome was
brought to him for settlement. He W’as a firm believer in tolera-
tion and, once in power, generally abstained from acts of terror-
ism. Aside from the rather mysterious execution of Boethius
on a charge of treason, his reign ended in general tranquillity and
good feeling — a bright interlude in a gloomy tragedy of degra-
dation.

Next to Theodoric^s kingdom, that of the Visigoths was the
strongest and best governed in the west. That people, as already
remarked, had long been lawfully established in Aquitaine, and,
as the consequence of their wars with the Vandals, had extended
their dominion into Spain, where they encroached more and more
upon the Roman provinces and upon the Suevic kingdom in the
northwest. Under their able and warlike king, Eurk (466-84),
the Visigoths also pushed rapidly eastward until they had secured
most of Provence. Euric, like Theodoric, issued a code of law,
and from it we can glean considerable information concerning the
institutions of his state. In general, the government still fol-
lowed Roman precedent, but not so completely as that of the
Ostrogoth. Most of the great administrative officials had disap-
peared. Each city with its surrounding territory was under the’
control of a count. Romans and Goths were legally distinct, each
group being subject to its own law; and most of the Goths still

« See below, p. 96.

^ See below, p. 127.

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST 73

wore their barbarian dress and spoke their native language. The
two groups of noblemen, however, dwelt side by side, gaining a
livelihood from estates worked by slaves and coloni', and the
invaders, being numerically weaker, soon tended to lose many of
their old peculiarities. Latin was the language of the govern-
ment and was generally spoken by all persons in authority. Al-
though Germanic custom still persisted, it was of secondary
importance.

Much the same conclusions may be drawn with regard to
Africa, where, in spite of their military prowess, the Vandals The
were swallowed up in a Latin population. What seems to be a Vandal
reliable estimate — indeed a rarity in the chronicles of that day!

— ogives the number of the Vandals who crossed from Spain
as 80,000 all told. So Gaiseric’s force of warriors could hardly
have been larger than that of Alaric after the sack of Rome,
which is reported as 40,000. Such a group, though controlling
the government by force of arms, could not possibly keep its
national identity for very long, and with the adoption of lux-
urious ways, the fierce vigor of the invaders rapidly ebbed. Upon
his conquest of Africa, Gaiseric had forcibly usurped all im-
perial authority, and under his despotic control the Vandal king-
dom remained a great power in the western Mediterranean. But
after the heroic founder had gone, his state weakened, and within
a little more than half a century it had been utterly destroyed.

The details of its constitution may therefore be passed over as
a matter of relatively slight importance.

As far as the Saxon kingdoms are concerned, their definite his-
tory hardly begins before the introduction of Christianity in the The Saxon
seventh century. For the earlier period we have practically no
records ; we may be sure of only a few simple facts that may be ”
deduced from the writings of a later day. By tradition there
were three Germanic peoples who invaded the province : Angles,

Saxons, and Jutes. The last of these, we are told, settled in
Kent, and that region long continued to have marked peculiari-
ties of custom. Angles and Saxons, on the other hand, seem to
have been much the same. It does not matter whether we say
Angles (i.e., English) or Saxons or Anglo-Saxons. This latter
term, however, is useful to distinguish the Saxons of Britain from
the Saxons of the continent. And in referring to the language
of the barbarian conquerors, one has to say Anglo-Saxon or Old
English, for they did not speak what we know as English, but

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The Bur-
gundians
and the
Pranks
in Gaul

The reign
of Clovis
(481-511)

various dialects related to Low German. Knowledge of Latin
in Britain virtually disappeared by the sixth century, and
when it was reintroduced by Christian missionaries, it never en-
tirely supplanted the vernacular even in formal documents. We
thus find writings in Anglo-Saxon, transcribed 4 n Latin charac-
ters, as early as the seventh century, when certain local kings
began to record the customary law in statements known as dooms.
From these sources may be drawn much interesting detail con-
cerning Germanic law and institutions — a subject on which more
will be said in the following pages.

In Gaul, as we have just seen, the Visigoths toward the later
fifth century held the whole Mediterranean coast as far east
as the Alps. To the north of Provence, meanwhile, the Bur-
gundians had gradually built up a considerable kingdom, one
of the most peaceable and the most thoroughly Romanized among
the barbarian states. Settled as foederati in the region about
Geneva, the Burgundians had pushed their dominion into the
valley of the Rhone to include the important city of Lyons —
the country since known as Burgundy. Here their position was
formally recognized by the emperor, toward whom — ^through
"fear of the Visigoths — ^they continued to be very respectful. And
here they remained;' protected by the rivalry of their neighbors
until the sudden advance of the Franks broke the established bal-
ance and threw all Gaul into turmoil. For tlie early history of
this famous people we are mainly dependent on Gregory of Tours,
a famous bishop of the next century.® ITis account, of course,
is largely based on tradition; but, while malting due allowance
for the author’s easily recognized prejudices, we have every rea-
son to believe in the essential truth of the story as he gives it

In 481 a fifteen-year-old boy named Chlodowech— or, in mod-
ernized form, Clovis — ^became one among several kings of the
Salian Franks. He was the son of Childeric and the grandson
of Merowech, and from the latter is derived the name applied to
the family — Merovingian. The little territory which he inher-
ited was about the city of Tournai, for as yet the Salians had
made no attempt to penetrate far into Gaul. To the east of them
lived the Ripuarian Franks and the Alamans. Below the Loire
lay the great kingdom of the Visigoths. But between the latter
and the Frankish lands a Gallo-Roman adventurer named Sya-

« See below, pp. 158 £F.

medi;eval history

His con-
quest of
northern
Gaul

His con-
version to
orthodox
Chris-
tianity

grius maintained a sort of imperial governorship by means of a
small mercenary army. Up to this point the Franks had seemed
the least formidable of the barbarian peoples. Now, as if they
had merely been waiting for an energetic leader, they rapidly
became the dominant power in the west.

Of Clovis’s character and motives we have no direct account,
but his acts were eloquent. He must have been an ambitious
man of tremendous personal force, combining audacity with
shrewd calculation ; and he certainly was unscrupulous. In 486,
heading a coalition of all the Salian chiefs, Clovis fell upon Sya-
grius at Soissons, destroyed his army, and took over his do-
minions. Following up his victory, the Frank then extended
his power — ^by just what steps we do not know — over a wide
territory reaching west to Brittany, south to the Loire, and east
to the Meuse. This success marked him as an important politi-
cal figure. His sister was now married to Theodoric the Ostro-
goth, and he himself secured as bride the Burgundian princess
Clotilda, who, in spite of her Arian relatives, had become an
orthodox Christian. But Clovis, according to Gregory of Tours,
remained heathen until God had helped him, like another Con-
stantine, to win a battle over the Alamans in 496. However
that may be, Clovis did intervene in a war between the Ripuarian
Franks and the Alamans, with the result that the latter were
crushed. While the fragments of their nation secured new lands
in Rhaetia from the Ostrogothic king, Clovis took possession of
their former holdings on the Rhine.

About the same timet Clovis was induced to accept orthodox
Christianity. Many facfors, apart from supernatural influences,
helped to bring about the result, notably the urging of his wife
and of the bishops throughout the Gallic provinces. Clovis, as a
statesmanlike ruler, could readily perceive an enormous advan-
tage in adopting the faith of the Roman world. All the impor-
tant barbarian kings were Arians. Could he not, as champion
of the true church, surpass them all? So he was baptized at
Reims by the bishop Remigius who, says Gregory, admonished
him in the famous words: ‘^Meekly bow thy head, O proud
Frank. Adore what thou hast burned; burn what thou hast
adored.” This was one of Europe’s great events, for it. led
straight to the establishment of a Frankish empire in the wes^

Having disposed of the Alamans, Clovis turned to his other
rivals in Gaul, the Burgundians and the Visigoths. The former

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST 77

were beaten, but spared on condition that they should engage
in a joint campaign against the Visigoths. The decisive battle
was fought in 507 at Vouille, near Poitiers, where Alaric II, the
incompetent son of Euric, was slain. All his dominions north
of the Pyrenees were being threatened by the allies when Theo-
doric, whose warnings had been left unheeded, intervened to
check the Frankish advance. Provence he occupied and kept
for himself; the coast to the west, Septimania, he restored to
the Visigoths. Clovis meanwhile took the rest of Aquitaine;
and at Tours, in 508, he enjoyed the honor of wearing a purple
robe sent him by the emperor, along with a privilege making him
honorary consul. Although he was now “Roman” as well as
Christian, he remained at heart the same old barbarian. Gregory
tells how, by treachery and assassination, Clovis disposed of the
other Salian kings ; how he instigated the murder of the Ripuarian
king by the latter’s son; how he then sent messengers who, by
a clever trick, slew the son ; and how he acquire 4 all the Frankish
territory. “For daily,” remarks the pious Gregory, “the Lord
laid his enemies low under his hand and increased his kingdom,
because he walked before Him with an upright heart, and did
that which was pleasing in His sight”

To Clovis likewise we owe the remarkable document known
as the Salic Law — a sort of code which he issued somewhere
toward the end of his reign. The Edict of Theodoric, as we have
seen, was principally derived from the Roman law; so was the
collection made by the Visigothic king, Alaric II, and that by
the Burgundian king, Gundobad. To a large degree, in fact,
they were adaptations of the Theodosian Code, to govern cases
affecting the Roman population. If the barbarian subjects of
these kings were still tried according to Germanic custom,, the
latter was not considered worthy of formal statement. Qovis’s
compilation, on the other hand, reflected the institutions of the
Franks themselves, and for that reason is of extraordinary in-
terest to the historian. Among the Franks, as among the Anglo-
Saxons and other Germanic peoples, law was essentially popular
custom. It was not created by royal legislation; the duty of the
king was merely to enforce it. For this purpose he appointed
officials to preside over courts where decisions were made by the
assembled freemen of the district.

For his share in the administration of justice, the king re-
ceived a portion of all sums collected from convicted persons,

His con-
quests in
southern
Gaul and
among the
Franks

The Salic
Law

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Germanic

trials

but as yet the concept of crime had hardly emerged. Homicide,
assault, theft, and other misdeeds were considered offenses against
the individual and his kindred. If they were not compensated,
they were entitled to secure revenge by prosecuting the blood
feud. The Salic Law, like the Anglo-Saxon dooms, therefore
consists largely in elaborate tariffs of charges made for all sorts
of injuries. Their minute distinctions of penalty introduce us to
the habits and prejudices of a primitive folk. Among the Franks,
for example, to call a man a fox or a hare was an affront punish-
able by fine ; to say that a man had thrown away his shield — z,
reminiscence of Tacitus — ^was as serious as to strike him with
the fist. From the list of sums paid for manslaughter — ^generally
known as tvcrgelds — ^we furthermore obtain valuable information
concerning social classes. The sum paid for a free Frank was
tripled if the person were in the king’s service. This is clear evi-
dence of a nobility based on the advancing power of the monarchy.
And by the same test we may distinguish various groups of semi-
free peasants between the warrior class and that of the slaves
proper.

Trials, according to Germanic law, were extremely formalistic.
First of all, the plaintiff had to summon the defendant and see
that he appeared. Then a formal accusation was made by re-
peating a solemn oath, and the court decided how the accused
should clear himself. Occasionally a man of high reputation
would be allowed to do so merely by swearing that he was inno-
cent ; an ordinary person would normally have to bring a stated
number of oath-helpers — ^nien who would swear with him that
he was innocent. This process, called compurgation, did not
require the production of any evidence. The oath was a sort of
test by which, in theory, God would not allow the guilty to
escape. So any failure to repeat the right w^ords, any hesitation,
or any stuttering cost the defendant his case.

As a further example of primitive formalism may be cited
the custom of the chrenecruda reported in the Salic Law:

If any one shall have killed a man, and having given up all his
property, shall not have enough to fulfil the requirement of the law,
he shall present twelve oath-helpers to swear that, neither above the
earth nor under it, has he any more property than he has already
given. Then he shall go into his house and shall gather in his hand
dust from its four corners ; and then he shall stand upon the thres-
hold, looking toward the interior, and then shall throw over his

THE BARBARIZATION OF THE WEST 79

shoulder some of tliat dust upon the nearest relative that he has.. . •
And then in his shirt, without girdle and without shoes, and with a
staff in his hand, he shall jump over his hedge.

By this procedure his nearest relative, or other persons thus desig-
nated, became obligated to pay the remainder of the wergeld
that was owed. Such were the legal usages that throughout a
large portion of the western provinces came to supersede the an-
cient and dignified law of Rome.

At this point the account of the Germans in the empire must
be broken off in order to examine other significant developments.
If the period just reviewed seems no more than a wild confusion
of disconnected happenings, that is inevitable. The history of
Rome in the fifth century is, by itself, almost as meaningless as
a nightmare. Of what was to emerge from that chaos no one
at the time could have had the slightest inkling. The historian,
wise after the event, can point to certain institutions as destined
to survive. Of outstanding importance among them were the
Christian Church, the Frankish monarchy, and the imperial gov-
ernment at Constantinople. But the great Roman Empire was a
thing of the past. The fate of the European world was thence-
forth to lie with the barbarian peoples.

Territorial

organiza-

tion

The
relative
rank of
bishops

82 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

tion on a territorial basis modeled on that of the empire. In the
earlier period the Christians of each city formed a relatively small
community. At the head of it was a bishop, assisted in matters
of worship by a group of priests; in matters of administration
by a group of deacons. Yet the bishop remained^ in close touch
with his congregation ; and when he died, his place was filled by
a somewhat informal election, for the person to receive consecra-
tion was designated by the faithful over whom he was to preside.
Later, when the whole Roman world had been officially Chris-
tianized, the government of the church inevitably became more
complex and more rigidly defined. The unit of episcopal admin-
istration remained the Roman civitas, eventually called the dio-
cese. In each important city there was one and only one bishop,
whose church was the cathedral.^ The diocese was then sub-
divided into parishes, both urban and rural, each of which was
intrusted to a priest named by the bishop. The deacons came to
have important functions in connection with the mass and other
services of the church, while routine work was passed on to a
greatly increased staff of subordinates. As the episcopal office
rose to greater prominence in 'sefciety and politics, it became a
prize to be secured through influential patrons, or even to be
fought over by rival factions. Consequently, although we still
hear of episcopal elections in which popular acclaim was the de-
cisive factor, the choice of a bishop was gradually taken over
by the clergy of the diocese, and little was left to the populace
but a sort of confirmatory applause to mark the end of the pro-
ceedings.

In both civil and ecclesiastical administration a number of cizd-
fates were combined to form a province, within each of which
one city served as the metropolis. The bishop of such a city
was styled the archbishop or metropolitan, and to him was nor-
mally given the right of consecrating all bishops within his juris-
diction. So far there was general agreement; but with regard
to the higher ranks there were many causes of dispute. If the
imperial system of government were applied in its entirety to the
church, there would have to be prelates corresponding to the
vicars and prefects. And would not the ultimate authority then
be shared by the bishops of Rome and of Constantinople? As a
matter of fact, the analogy was pushed to the extent of allowing

1 From cathedra, the episcopal chair. The bishop's diocese is also called his
see — from sedes, seat.

THE CHURCH IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 83

certain bishops the title of primate or of patriarch, and the bishops
of the two great capitals were exalted above all others. Never-
theless, a rigorous hierarchy of ecclesiastical offices exactly corre-
sponding to that of the state was never established. Although
the influence of such an ideal was clearly perceptible in some
quarters, it was offset from an early time by a factor of a totally
different sort. This was the matter of apostolic foundation.

If the authority of the bishop and the authority of Scripture
were alike based on tradition, and that tradition was considered
essentially apostolic, a church that could point to an apostle as
its founder would inevitably be regarded with peculiar venera-
tion. In the east there were a number of such churches, but
only those of Alexandria and Antioch — cities of outstanding
political importance — ^were mentioned in the canons of Nicsea as
holding, along with Rome, special powers by virtue of ancient
custom. Some writers were Inclined to add Jerusalem, but in
that city there had really been no continuity of Christian organ-
ization. The old Jerusalem had been destroyed by Titus; the
Jerusalem of subsequent centuries was a new. settlement founded
by Hadrian. In the west, at any rate, there was no ground for
controversy. By the test either of apostolic foundation or of
civil preeminence, Rome stood alone.

The early history of the Christian community in the capital
remains very obscure. According to a tradition which even
Protestant scholars are today inclined to accept, both St. Peter
and St. Paul ^were martyred at Rome, and the church there has
always claimed the former of those apostles as its founder. The
bishop of Rome, or pope, as he came to be known, has thus been
distinguished as the successor of St. Peter and, on the basis of
that succession, has proclaimed the doctrine of the Petrine su-
premacy. In the Gospel of Matthew occur the famous words of
Christ :

And I say also unto thee that thou art Peter,^ and upon this rock^
I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against
it. And I will give unto thee the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven:
and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven ;
and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven,

* In Aramaic, the veraacnlat pf Palestine, both words are Caipha, This has
been called the.greatcsb pmn in histo^. It is partially kept in Greek and Latin
by Peiros(m) and feitm. Mc^^rnt xvi, 18-19.

The theory
of the
Petrine
supremacy

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Pope

Damasus I
(366-84)

Ecclesi-
astical
issues of
the fifth
century

So the apostlesj according to the Roman view, were not endowed
with equal powers but were placed under the headship of Peter
— a headship which inevitably made the church a papal monarchy.

To state this theory was of course one matter; to enforce it,
quite another. For the first two Christian centuries the known
history of the papacy is little more than the names of the bishops,
and the oldest assertion of their primacy in the church comes
not from them, but from ’others. It is only after the time of
Constantine that certain popes begin to emerge from the sources
as distinct individuals. Damasus, as far as we know, was the
first to describe the Roman church as the Apostolic See — a
phrase that was to serve as the ke3mote of his entire pontificate.
In rapid succession he promulgated a positive statement of the
Petrine supremacy, a digest of Roman belief and discipline, and
what was henceforth to be the official canon of the New Testa-
ment. And it was Daqjasus who encouraged the eminent scholar
Jerome® to revise the Latin translation of the Bible. The papal
exposition of the' orfftOdox faith was accepted in both east and
west and had the active support of the emperor Theodosius. But
the general council which he called at Constantinople in 381
flatly contradicted the Roman claim that ecclesiastical authority
was solely a matter of apostolic tradition. By declaring that Con-
stantinople was the second see of Christendom because it was the
new Rome, it implied that Rome was the first see merely because
it was the older capital. Thus two irreconcilable views were
brought into conflict, and although as yet both parties worked
together in apparent harmony, the groundwork was laid for seri-
ous controversy in the following centuries.

The policy of the emperors was obviously opposed to the estab-
lishment of an ecclesiastical monarchy except one reserved to
themselves. As long as Rome remained the chief city of a prince
who considered himself divinely appointed to control both church
and state, the Roman bishop could hardly be more than a promi-
nent subordinate — as, in fact, the patriarch of Constantinople
continued to be in relation to the emperor there. The clergy of
the new Rome were only too willing to proclaim their see co-
ordinate with that of the pope. Nor was it certain that such
apostolic foundations as Alexandria and Antioch, or even such
western churches as Carthage and Milan, would accede to the

* See bdow, p. 99.

THE CHURCH IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 85

Roman program in its entirety. These issues could not be set-
tled in a day or in a century ; they were left to be determined by
historical circumstance, which one may or may not read as the
working out of divine providence. It is in any case amazing how
the events of the succeeding age conspired to enhance the papal
authority.

In the fifth century came the collapse of the empire in the
west, which not only removed the emperor from Rome but gave
the western provinces into the hands of heathen and Arians. The
great Latin heritage — a tradition of law and order, of unity and
civilization — fell to the church to maintain. And the voice of
this church, in what seemed a time of universal ruin, was recog-
nized as the voice of St. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles, heard
through the agency of the Roman pontiff. To the men of the
west, at least, this appeared entirely fitting; for Rome, though
bereft of an emperor, was still the imperial city. The leadership <-
of the world was merely transferred from a temporal to a spir-
itual Caesar. The state might perish, but the infallible church
lived on. The barbarians might conquer the land, but might not
the church conquer the barbarians? Perhaps, after all, their
advent would not be found an unmitigated evil. Along with
the last stubborn remnants of paganism, they destroyed the men- •. ;
ace of local resistance to the Roman see. From the papal view-
point the barbarian west was to prove more solidly Christian than
the Greek east.

By the opening of the sixth century the church was assuredly
confronted by a magnificent opportunity, which — it must be ad- Pppes
mitted — was admirably developed through the efficiency of the Smaus
papal leadership. Not all the successors of Damasus were great
men, but their average was high and they formed a brilliant innocrait I
contrast to the successors of Theodosius. Siricius deserves men- (402-17)
tion because he was the author of the first known papal decretals
— formal letters onbodying decisions on points of law and doc-
trine which had been submitted to Rome by other churches in
the west. Under Innocent I there was a notable increase in
such correspondence, and throughout it the pope never missed
a chance of reiterating the Petrine claims. Yet in general the
situation^ remained unchanged. While the empire was paralyzed
by civil /war and invasion, the three great sees of the east —
Alexandria, Antiodi, and Constantinople— were embroiled in a

Pope Leo
the Great
(440-61)

The First
and
Second
Councils of
Ephesus
(431, 449)

86 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

series of theological controversies which owed much of their
bitterness to political rivalry and personal animosity.

Upon this troubled scene entered Pope Leo I, called the Great.
Of his earlier career practically nothing is known except that he
had long been identified with the Roman church and had proved
his ability in the office of archdeacon — i.e., the deacon who acted
as the bishop’s right-hand man. As pope he created an inspiring
ideal for all subsequent generations, an outstanding example of
religious sincerity, moral force, eloquence, vigor, and practical
sense. He was one of the great preachers of all time; from that
day to this his sermons have been considered models of their
kind. Leo also, like his predecessors, took an active part in the
definition of the orthodox faith and the suppression of heresy.
He exercised a now undisputed sovereignty over the local churches
4 n Africa and Spain, and in Gaul he victoriously opposed the
effort of the archbishop of Arles to make himself independent.
Meanwhile the east had once more been plunged into fanatical
conflict over theology, and out of this confusion the statesman-
ship of Leo was able to win a signal triumph for the Roman see.

In 431 a general council, called at Ephesus by Theodosius II,
had condemned Nestorius, bishop of Constantinople, for so far
distinguishing the divine and human natures in Christ as to
deny to the Virgin Mary the title. Mother of God. On this occa-
sion Nestorius had been supported by Antioch and opposed by
Alexandria. Eighteen years later the emperor was induced to
summon a second council at Ephesus to deal with another phase
of the same controversy. Now the positions were reversed: it
was the Alexandrian party which was accused of heresy (called
the monophysite doctrine) — ^holding that Christ had really pos-
sessed only one nature, the divine. Leo, carefully watching the
course of events, protested that no council was necessary because
the pope was thoroughly competent to settle the matter alone;
but since the emperor decided against him, he prepared and dis-
patched by deputies a summary statement or *^tome’’ to explain
the doctrinal points at issue. In the west Valentinian III, of
course, could not be expected to- do anything, and in the east
Theodosius II obtained little but ill repute through what Leo
was to brand as his Robber Council. The assembly was packed
by Dioscurus, the Alexandrian bishop, and Leo’s tome was not
allowed even to be read. By threats and violence a majority of
the bishops were terrorized into condemning all the leaders of

THE CHURCH IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 87

the opposition, and the single papal delegate who had spoken
in the meeting was forced to flee after registering a formal pro-
test against the whole proceeding.

The result of this scandalous alfair was that Leo now received
urgent and remarkably humble appeals from Constantinople and
Antioch. As the recognized champion of justice and orthodoxy,
he denounced the action taken at Ephesus and took vigorous
steps to rehabilitate the men who had there been condemned.
Theodosius did not move, but his successor, Marcian, clearly
saw that to leave matters as they were would hopelessly discredit
the imperial government and its policy of controlling the church
through representative assemblies. So in 451 he called a new
council to meet at Chalcedon, where a special deputation of im-
perial ministers would see to the maintenance of law and pro-
priety, The Council of Chalcedon, the largest assemblage of
the sort that had been held, at once revoked the decrees of the
Robber Council, reinstated its victims, and deprived Dioscurus
of his see. Then the bishops proceeded to take up the problem
of doctrine, and after mature deliberation approved the tome of
Leo, which was made the basis of an official creed affirming the
combination in Christ of two perfect natures, both the human
and the divine. Up to this point the council had merely carried
out the papal program ; toward the end of the session, however, it
adopted a canon reaffirming the one promulgated at Constanti-
nople in 381, As, it was stated, Rome had secured high ecclesias-
tical privilege because it was the imperial city, so the new Rome
was accorded equal privilege and should enjoy precedence second
only to that of the ancient capital.

Beginning in harmony between east and west, the council thus
ended by assuring their disagreement; for Leo, of course, reg-
istered determined protest against any such depreciation of the
Apostolic See, and until his death in 461 labored to secure the
rejection of the offensive canon. His effort was in vain, and his
successors had to be content with the victory won by his policy
in other respects. To many, indeed, the recognition already given
to the papal demands seemed altogether excessive. Nestorians
and monophysites still flourished in many quarters despite the
ban of the empire, and from time to time determined attempts
were made to, reverse the decrees of Qialcedon. Finally the em-
peror Zeno sought to obtain religious peace with a theological
statement of his own^ which instead brought papal excommunica-

The

Council of
Chalcedor
(451)

Causes of
schism
between
east and
west

medi;eval history

Leo the
Great in
legend

Mysticism

and

asceticism

tion^ upon himself as well as tlie patriarch of Constantinople.
Leo, of course, did not live to see this eventuality, but he unques-
tionably would have approved it, as every staunch upholder of
the Petrine supremacy was bound to do. The Greeks continued
to be fascinated by metaphysical controversy and refused to aban-
don it at the behest of the more practically minded Latins. That
dilference was ineradicable. And by the close of the fifth cen-
tury the political divergence of east and west was equally sharp;
the former remained subject to an imperial government, while
the latter fell into the hands of barbarian adventurers.

Although Leo could not realize the fact, the destiny of his
church lay with these barbarians ; along with them it was to mold
a new and glorious western world. So it came about that in
legend Leo’s greatest achievement was his miraculous repulse
of Attila from the gates of Rome. As a matter of cold history,
we cannot say just how the Roman delegation, of which Leo was
one member, accomplished its object. There was, however, a
certain poetic justice in making the great pope, backed by the
portentous figure of St. Peter, the heroic defender of Italy
against the foul Hun. Like other legends, this one had an element
of truth — the strength of Leo’s moral leadership in an age of ruin
and disillusionment.

2. THE REGULAR CLERGY

In general we may say that religion in all ages and climes has
carried with it a certain element of mysticism — ^an unending
search for hidden truth through some form of supernatural reve-
lation. In this search men have very generally believed that they
have been aided by asceticism — ^by denying themselves lawful
pleasures or by inflicting upon themselves unnecessary hardships.
Among the commonest of ascetic practices have been fasting;
prolonged prayer at the expense of sleep; the renunciation of
luxurious habits, including soft beds and bathing ; the wearing of
uncomfortable clothes, such as hair shirts ; and celibacy. On cer-
tain particular occasions the church required all Christians to ob-
serve a stricter discipline than was normal — ^as, for example, on

* In the broadest sense of the term, excommunication meant separation from
the Christian communion — a. sort of spiritual outlawry which, since it involved
exclusion from the sacraments, carried the threat of damnation. Throughout
the entire medircval period it was the principal weapon used by bishops to cn»
force their decrees. When two bishops denied each otheris authority by mutual
excommunication, the result was a schism.

THE CHURCH IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 89

Fridays and during Lent they should abstain from eating meat.
The ordained clergy were held to a still more rigorous standard.
The priest, as the shepherd of the flock, should set a good exam-
ple by his holy life. Many things permitted the laymen, notably
warfare, were forbidden him ; and, at least in the west, he was
not supposed to marry.

After all, however, the mystic devotions and ascetic exercises
of the secular clergy were necessarily restricted by their calling,
which was to live in the world (scBcula) and perform the work
of the church among the people. To many this seemed inadequate
for their personal needs. They felt that, to assure salvation,
they must escape from the world and give themselves utterly to
religion. So, in mediaeval usage, ^'the religious^’ was a term ap-
plied specially to monks — also called the regular clergy because
they came to live according to a rule (regula). Yet originally,
as the word literally implies, the monk was a hermit who sub-
mitted to no discipline except such as he chose to establish for
himself. Retreating into solitude, he found a cave, or built a
cell, where he could devote himself to the attainment of merit
through continual worship and the mortification of the flesh.
For sustenance he relied upon the offerings of the faithful, who
thereby secured the blessing of his prayers. The Christian hermit
was thus a variety of the oriental holy man, throughout countless
centuries a very familiar figure in connection with many Asiatic
mysteries. The life is relatively easy in a warm dry climate,
such as that of Syria or Egypt, and it was in the latter country
that the first noteworthy development of Christian monasticism
took place during the fourth century.

In this connection the first great name is that of St. Anthony
of Egypt. After fifteen years of ascetic life on the outskirts
of his native town, he retreated to a lonely spot in the desert and
there spent twenty years as a hermit. Gaining a great reputation
for sanctity, he was imitated by a host of others and, at their
request (about 305), he finally established for them a sort of
common discipline. But the Antonian system, which henceforth
prevailed in Lower Egypt, prescribed no real community life.
Each hermit occupied his own isolated cell and there devoted
himself to whatever practices he liked, meeting with the others
for church services only on Saturdays and Sundays. Accord-
ingly, it was left for St. Pachomius, about ten years later, to
draw up the first true monastic rule. Beginning his religious

The
secular
and the
regular
clergy

St.

Anthony
and St.
Pachomius

St. Basil

St. Simeon
Stylites
(d. 4S9)

Monasti-
cism in
the west

go MEDIEVAL HISTORY

career as a hermit, he was eventually led to found a series of
religious communities. Although the members still occupied
separate dwellings, they employed their time according to a defi-
nite plan in divine worship, the reading of the Scriptures, and
manual labor. By the close of the fourth century, we are told,
there were no less than seven thousand Pachomian monks in
Upper Egypt, and a similar system had been applied to several
colonies of nuns.

The next great step in monastic evolution was made in the last
quarter of the fourth century by St. Basil, a Greek of Pontus.
After studying the customs of the Egyptian hermits, he rejected
them for his country and substituted what we still know as a
monastery — a house where the monks all live together, sharing
common quarters and participating in the samq routine existence.
Under the Basilian rule no trace remained of individualism in
worship or discipline ; the monk found each day taken up with a
prescribed order of activity, which left nothing to personal ca-
price. The principal objective was, of course, divine worship;
but the many services were interspersed with hard work, which
Basil thought preferable to exaggerated asceticism.

This system of monastic life proved very popular and rapidly
spread throughout the Hellenized regions of Asia and Europe,
and thence among the Slavic peoples. Egj-pt, however, remained
loyal to its own traditions, and in Syria hermits and extremists
of all sorts continued to enjoy great renown. Among them one
of the most distinguished was St. Simeon Stylites. Having been
ejected from a monastery because of his refusal to be satisfied
with ordinary austerities, he took up his abode on top of a pillar
just wide enough to lie on. Tliere he lived without descending
for thirty years, and in the course of that time increased the
height of his perch from six to sixty feet, getting needed sup-
plies by lowering a basket on the end of a rope. Under the force
of his example, pillar saints for a while tended to spring up in
large numbers, but the vogue was restricted to Syria.

In the west, meanwhile, monasticism had apparently been in-
troduced as a novelty from Egypt. By the close of the fourth
century it became increasingly common for persons of good birth,
both men and women, to renounce the world and adopt some
form of ascetic life. Hermits appeared on all sides, and there
were also many religious communities of the Pachomian type.
The moitasteries of Tours and Larins in Gaul were especidly

THE CHURCH IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 91

famous in the fifth century, and from there similar institutions
were carried to Ireland by the famous St. Patrick, of whom
more will be heard in the following pages. In spite of this early
zeal, however, Egyptian monasticism won no lasting success in
the west. Many of its practices were there rendered impossible
by the more rigorous winter climate, and, more generally, its
demands proved excessive to the Latin temperament, which had
always been revolted by the vagaries of oriental mystics. Con-
sequently, it was not until the system had been adapted to the
new environment that it became a dominant force in European
history. This was the work of the illustrious St. Benedict of
Nursia, who thereby earned a place among the great reformers
of all time.

Benedict, we are told by Pope Gregory I,® was born of a noble
family in the Roman municipality of Nursia and, like other
youths of his class, was sent to be educated at Rome. There he
quickly became disgusted with the vicious life of the fashionable
world and decided to become a hermit. For a number of years
he lived in a solitary cave overlooking the valley of Subiaco,
being scantily fed by a friend in a nearby monastery. As the
fame of his holiness spread abroad, disciples thronged to the
vicinity, and Benedict soon found himself the spiritual director
of a large community. Then came persecution from various rival
establishments devoted to a laxer code of morals ; so, about the
year 520, Benedict led a band of his most ardent followers to
a new abode on the summit of ^a commanding hill called Monte
Cassino. There, within the next few years, he composed the
famous rule that was to dominate the religious life of the west.
It has often been held that this rule was drawn up primarily for
the group of monks at Monte Cassino, but careful analysis of
Benedict’s language proves that from the outset he contemplated
a reformed discipline for monasteries generally. Indeed, any one
who reads the rule may readily perceive that it takes for granted
the ideals of monasticism and restricts its emphasis to the means
by which they are best to be attained. The keynote is practicality.

He is, says Benedict in his prologue, ‘^about to institute a
school for the service of God,” in which he hopes ^^nothing harsh
or burdensome will be ordained.” In some respects it may seem
a bit severe, but so it must be in order to "‘amend vice and pre-

St. Bene-
dict of
Nursia
(c. 480-

C - 550)

Thepiar-
pose of
his rule

* See bdow, p. nIS, ' ^

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The Ben-
edictine
vows

The abbot

serve charity/’ And at the end he warns the reader not to be
satisfied with what he has just perused. To mount the “lofty
heights of doctrine and virtue,” he should study the Scriptures
and the works of the holy fathers ; what Benedict has composed
is “merely a little rule for beginners.” His discipline applies only
to cenobites, “the best kind of monks” — ^those who live together
as a religious community. After long training in the monastery
one may safely become a hermit; without this experience Bene-
dict considers the solitary life dangerous. There can be no true
holiness without law; the man who shuts himself up without a
shepherd is in his own fold, not the Lord's.

(Anyone who desires to be admitted to the community must
first serve for a considerable time as a novice, and so prove his
determination and sincerity. Finally, after his fitness to enter
has been demonstrated, he is to sign a solemn vow in writing of
“stability, proper monastic conduct, and obedience ” — that he
adopts the religious life and will remain steadfast in observing
its demands, and will in all ways submit to the authority of the
abbot, the elected head of the monastery. The monk, of course,
abandons all worldly connections: he can have no family ties;
he gives up his name, his rank, and his property. Benedict takes
for granted his perpetual chastity, but specifically insists on his
absolute poverty.*^

No one, without leave of the abbot, shall presume to give, or re-
ceive, or keep as his own anything whatever: neither book, nor
tablets, nor pen — ^nothing at all For monks are men who can claim
no dominion even over their own bodies or wills. All that is neces-
sary they may expect from the father of the monastery; and they
shall keep nothing which the abbot has not given or allowed. All
things are to be common to all.

Under such circumstances, the responsibility of the abbot is a
very heavy one ; he is answerable to God not merely for his own
acts, but for those of his subordinates. In his keeping are the
souls of the brethren, as well as their bodies, the house which
they inhabit, and everything of which they enjoy the use. Before
deciding any weighty matter he must call the monks together
for consultation; then, after hearing their advice, he must do
whatever he considers right, acting always “in the fear of God
and according to the Rule.” Within the monastery he shall make
no distinction of persons, whether freeborn or servile, except as

THE CHURCH IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 93

one or another may excel in humility and good works. Accord-
ing to the capacities and deserts of the brothers, he shall fill all
offices in the monastery, apportion all routine work, and assign
special tasks as the need for them may arise. He enforces the
prescribed monastic discipline; yet, doing so, he is allowed wide
discretionary powers in almost every particular. So it is not
surprising that Benedict recurs again and again to the supreme
importance of the abbot’s character. When a vacancy occurs,
the monks shall elect one distinguished for virtue and wisdom,

"‘even if [by order of seniority] he be the last in the community.”

As to the daily life of the monastery, Benedict established a
regime which — compared with the prevalent Egyptian System — The daily
was eminently moderate and sensible. Divine worship, which
he calls “the work of God,” is the chief duty of the brotherhood,
and is to include principally the chanting of psalms, reading from
the Scriptures, and prayer. There are to be eight regular services,
or “offices,” beginning with matins at the “eighth hour of the
night,”® followed by lauds at daybreak, and ending with com-
pline at dusk, so that the brothers may retire without the aid of
artificial light. This arrangement would allow an unbroken sleep
of somewhat over eight hours in the winter. Since in the summer
it would be less, compensation is made by a siesta after the mid-
day meal. The monks are to sleep in their clothes — ^the regu-
lar tunic and cowl, bound at the waist with a cord — ^but each is
to have a bed in f:he common dormitory, together with a mattress,
a blanket, and a pillow.

Although opportunity is given the individual for prayer, read-
ing, and contemplation, most of his day, outside the four or five Manual
hours of religious service, is taken up with manual labor; for labor and
“idleness,” says Benedict, “is the enemy of the soul.” In the
summer the brothers are to begin whatever work is assigned
them shortly after sunrise and are to continue until the fourth
hour; then they are to engage in reading until the sixth hour
(about noon), when they have their first meal. Afterwards,
they are to rest in silence on their beds for somewhat over two
hours, when the afternoon office is sung and all return to work
until evensong, followed by supper, the final office, and bed at
dark. In the winter, when everybody would rise later, reading

® The Romans, like the Greeks, reckoned twelve hours of day, from sunrise
to sunset, and twelve hours of night, from sunset to sunrise. So their hour was
a variable quantity, d^en(^g in l^gth t^n the season of the year.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

is placed first on the schedule, then labor until dinner, which is
had at the ninth hour and is again followed by reading. Sunday
normally is to be a day of rest and meditation; yet even then,
if any brother is unable or unwilling to occupy his time profitably,
he may be set to work.

By estimate, therefore, Benedict prescribes six to seven hours
of daily labor — at least twice the time allotted to study. The
abbot, however, is to moderate this routine for the benefit of the
aged and infirm, and there are many tasks to be assigned besides
agriculture — such as cooking and serving at table, care of the
buildings and of all the monastic property, various skilled crafts,
the copying of manuscripts and other clerical work, and the teach-
ing of younger monks and of boys sent to be educated. Occa-
sionally there may be missions outside the monastery, but no
brother is to set foot beyond its precincts without tlie specific
authorization of the abbot. Lastly, certain monks shall be ap-
pointed to look after any guests who may arrive, for hospitality
is enjoined by Benedict as a sacred obligation. Every one who
comes, whether rich or destitute, is to be received in love and
humility as if he were Christ Himself.

Although the Benedictine rule prescribes fasting until noon or
Food and later, it normally allows two meals a day. At each meal there
drink are to be two cooked dishes, besides green vegetables and fruit;

and each brother shall daily receive a pound of bread. The eat-
ing of meat, like bathing, is generally forbidden, except in the
case of invalids. Benedict, however, is generous in the matter
of drink. He admits that wine has by some been declared im-
proper for monks ; but in his day, he says, '‘they cannot be per-
suaded of this.” So he permits a pint of wine to each monk
daily, with an extra allowance because of specially hard work
or hot weather. While deploring drunkenness and gluttony,
Benedict does not discourage hearty eating. And it should be
remembered that, by his definition, meat is only the flesh of four-
footed beasts.

This was and is Benedictine monasticism. Its direct influence
on the religious life of Europe was incalculable, for it set a new
and eminently practical standard of discipline not only for monks,
but also; — with certain modifications — for nuns. And its more
indirect contributions to the civilization of Europe were equally
remarkable. Since, within fifty years after Benedict’s deatli,
his system was officially adopted by the Roman church, its fur-

THE CHURCH IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 95

ther progress will be considered in connection with the history
of the papacy.

3. THE CHURCH AND EDUCATION

As the empire lapsed into chaos, the Roman educational sys-
tem, which had long ceased to have any contact with the actuali-
ties of existence, continued on its course unperturbed. For cen-
turies the mark of the gentleman had been his training in rhetoric
— his ability to compose and pronounce declamations on conven-
tional subjects in a conventional way. According to the accepted
standard, the truly cultured should never by any chance be inter-
ested in practical questions, should never say anything simply and
directly. Themes had to be drawn from classical sources ; argu-
ment had to proceed by the weaving together of literary allusions ;
the style had to be elevated. Intricate, and ornate. The more diffi-
cult it was to understand what the autlior was driving at, the
more necessary it was for the refined audience to applaud the
product; and the narrower the group that could play the game
according to the rules, the greater the distinction of belonging to
it. Such was the circle of elegant conversationalists pictured for
us in the pages of IMacrobius (d. 423), and still reflected in the
letters or^pollinaris SIdonius (d. 488) while the Goths were
completin^heir conquest of southern Gaul.

Under s^h circumstances, little could be expected of Latin
literature in ifehe fourth and fifth centuries. Although there were
many writingvsthey all suffered from the blight of artificial rhet-
oric. The best mstorian of the age was Ammianus Marcellinus,
who endeavored to continue the work of Tacitus down through his
own lifetime, writing in all thirty books, of which only the last sev-
enteen are extant. As a literary artist, Ammianus was a very
inferior imitator of Tacitus; yet we are grateful to him for his
straightforward account of the events leading up to the battle
of Adrianople, where his narrative ends. The compositions of
Symmachus, regarded by contemporaries as a peerless stylist,
now seem a wearisome mass of turgid phrases, quite empty of
meaning. Much the same criticism can be made of Ausonius,
whose poetry, while occasionally giving us a valuable glimpse of
the author’s native Gaul, can be read only at the expense of
appalling fatigue. Claudian is better. He at least knew how tq
compose musical verse in the true classical manner — enough to
mark him as a 'genius in that age — but his subjects wer| un-

The

Roman

rhetorical

education

Latin
letters in
the fourth
and fifth
centuries

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

Famous

textbook

writers

jThe intel-
Jlectual
dominance
(of the
^ichurch

worthy. Adulation of such men as Honorius and Stilicho can-
not be great literature.

Of more lasting influence were the compilers. Martianus Ca-
pella’s Marriage of Philology and Mercury (early fifth century)
consecrated for the Middle Ages the notion of the seven liberal
arts, of which we shall subsequently hear much. Priscian’s In-
stiHites of Grammar (late fifth century) remained the standard
text in that field for many centuries.*^ And the works of Boethius
were of supreme importance for the history of education in
Europe. As already noted, that distinguished man, after long
enjoying the favor of Theodoric the Ostrogoth, was finally exe-
cuted on a charge of treason in 524. While in prison he com-
posed the enormously popular Consolation of Philosophy — an
allegorical melange of verse and prose which, strangely enough,
includes no word of Christianity. For this reason the mediaeval
tradition that made the author a holy martyr has become some-
what discredited. Yet, pagan or not, Boethius performed a mem-
orable service for western Christians when he translated into
Latin certain of Aristotle’s works on logic, as well as Porphyry’s
Isagoge, a manual on the same subject. These books, together
with the editor’s own essays on the mathematical sciences, were
to provide the most advanced education that the schools of the
Dark Age knew.

In this connection we encounter one of the dominating facts
for the cultural history of the whole succeeding period-^tha| 4 iy
the sixth century Gredc learning had virtually disappeared in the
west. In the east the Latin tradition of Constantine remained
strong until after the reign of Justinian; then it rapidly faded,
making one half of the Roman Empire a land utterly foreign
to the rest\ This is another fact of epodi-making significance,
A third is that, (with the ultimate failure of the Roman state
and the establishment of barbarian dominion in the western
provinces, education there became essentially the monopoly of the
church. 2 Such men as those mentioned above still maintained
the tradition of pagan letters, but they had no successors. The
intellectual leadership of their world had already passed to the
great ecclesiastical writers, whose works, though not always ele-
gant, had the surpassing merit’ of being vibrant with life.

7 It was rivaled by the Grammatical Art of Donatus, a writer of the fourth
century.

THE CHURCH IN THE FIFTH CENTURY 97

Until the later fourth century the outstanding exponents of
Christian thought were mainly Greeks. The first important Latin The Latin
author to devote himself to the defense of the church was Ter- church
tullian in the time of the Severi. A prolific and eloquent writer,
he undertook the refutation of many heresies, only himself to fall
under the ban of the orthodox for upholding an ultra-rigorous
standard of Christian discipline. Although Lactantius, who
flourished about a hundred years later, is famous for the perfec-
tion of his Latin style, he fell short of greatness through igno-
rance of the theology which he tried to discuss. Meanwhile, of
course, the west had produced many worthy and heroic bishops
but none of such commanding stature as Athanasius, the author
of the Nicene Creed. Then, on the eve of the barbarian inva-
sions, emerged three illustrious men : Ambrose, Jerome, and Au-
gustine. They, together with Pope Gregory the Great, are called
the four Doctors (that is to say, teachers) of Latin Christendom.

Ambrose (Ambrosius), destined to be the ideal 'bishop of the
western world, was born about 340 of an eminent Roman fam- St.
ily that had long be^ devoted to Christianity. His father was Ambrose
no less a person than the prefect of Gaul, one of the four high-
est officials in the state. So the young Ambrose was naturally
given the finest education available in the capital — Greek as well
as Latin. Finally, having spent a number of years in the study of
law, he entered the imperial service and was named by Valen-
tinian I as a -provincial governor with headquarters in Milan,
which normally was also the residence of the emperor. At that
time the bishop of which remained in
the possession of Alamans, Bavarians, Lombards, and other
barbarians.

1 See below, ch, vii.

Ill

THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE

Even within this limited area the reconstituted empire of Jus-
tinian had no real vitality. That only the most tenuous of bonds
held the outlying provinces to Constantinople was to be proved
within a surprisingly short time./ Long before Africa and Spain
were reached by the Arab advance, Italy had in large part fallen
to the Lombards, and Macedonia had been overrun by hordes of
Slavs and Asiatics. How could a state unable to defend the
Danube frontier dream of ruling the Mediterranean? Although
we may admire the energy and determination displayed by Jus-
tinian in his devotion to an ancient ideal, the fact remains that
he squandered precious resources on a lost cause. His project
of political reunification was from the outset hopeless of real
accomplishment, and Jhe cost of his adventure was die exhaustion
of his original empire.

Justinian, one of the world’s greatest legislators, can hardly be
accused of wanton misgovernment. Nevertheless, the mounting The ruin
cost of his grandiose wars meant the continuance of extortionate of Italy
taxes and official spoliation. To millions of his subjects the
splendor of his reign proved to be no cause for rejoicing. And
although the Roman conquest may have produced some benefits
in Africa, it brought to Italy nothing short of ruin. The city of
Rome, which had survived pillage by Goth and Vandal, was
virtually destroyed by the frightful wars of the sixth century.

Through five successive sieges the once glorious capital was
reduced to a mass of wreckage. Under Justinian its time-honored
privileges — ^notably the distribution of free grain — ^were not re-
stored ; the result was depopulation and increasing misery. Sen-
ate and consuls alike disappeared, and the only remaining mu-
nicipal officials soon became papal subordinates. Nor was Rome
the only one of the ancient cities to suffer. Henceforth urban
civilization throughout the peninsula rapidly declined, leaving
society to be dominated by the agrarian life of the countryside.

This was the end of classic Italy.

Justinian’s ecclesiastical policy was even less successful. His
aim, of course, was complete uniformity — ^the inclusion of all Justinian’s
Roman subjects within one church dominated by himself. This ecclesi-
naturally implied the rigorous suppression of pagans and heretics,
in which connection Justinian riot only confirmed the edicts of his ^
predecessors,; but excluded from the teaching profession all per-
sons tainted with what he called Hellenism. The schools of Athens,
with their illu^Jow Mstory running back to the days of Plato,

1 12

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

were closed; at Constantinople and elsewhere the faculties of in-
structors were thoroughly purged of suspects. Although most
Jews continued to enjoy a half-hearted toleration, they were ex-
cluded from all state service — ^as were likewise all persons who
could not prove their entire orthodoxy. Heretics were deprived
of civil rights and subjected to severe penalties. Manichaeism^
was punished with death.

In none of these matters was the opposition to the imperial ad-
ministration strong enough to occasion serious trouble; but in
connection with the monophysite doctrine,* condemned by the
Council of Chalcedon, Justinian encountered a problem tliat defied
all his attempts at solution. Arianism, as we have seen, was up-
rooted in the empire, only to spread throughout the Germanic
world beyond the frontier, whence it was reintroduced into the
west during the fifth century. In much the same way Nestor ian-
ism, driven frcan the Roman provinces, found a refuge in Persia.
Thence it was widely extended in Asia by zealous missionaries
and has persisted down to the present. The monophj'site heresy
was to prove even more stubborn because in that regard the
imperial government was never able to carry out a consistent
policy. Immediately on his accession, Justin had ended the schism
with Rome by supporting the canons of Chalcedon. For a while
Justinian maintained the same attitude — one dictated alike by
his passionate orthodoxy and by his ambition to regain Italy.

Theodora, on the contrary, S3Unpathized with the monophysites
and used her influence to relax the official persecution. So the
■emperor swayed first one way and then the other. Ultimately
his decision was largely controlled by the political situation. As
soon as his armies had occupied Rome, he proclaimed a theologi-
cal compromise and sought to force it upon all parties. One pope
was deposed ; his successor was taken to Constantinople and Aere
compdled, in some measure, to accept the imperial dictum. A
general council summoned to meet in the imperial presence also
submitted. Justinian felt tliat he had won a complete victory; yet
he had merely aggravated the trouble. The monophysites, inst^id
of agreeing to the official program, were encouraged to establish
a separate church, which still continues today.'* And in tlie west

2 See above, p. loi.

3 On this and the following subjects, sec above, pp. 45, 86 f.

^ It is commonly called the Jacobite church after its principal organizer, J^cob
Baradseus, bishop of Edessa in the sixth century.

THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE 113

the only effect of Justinian’s despotism was to assure the perma-
nent antagonism of the papacy and thereby to weaken the impe-
rial hold on Italy. The logical reply to the reign of Justinian
was the pontificate of Gregory the Great.

2. THE EAST AFTER JUSTINIAN

Justinian’s death in 565 ended the last brilliant chapter in
what can properly be called Roman history. The three emperors The
who succeeded him in the later sixth century were conscien- coming
tious men of superior ability who remained loyal t6 his
glorious tradition. Yet they had to abandon all thought of offen-
sive warfare. Their energies were exhausted in a vain effort to
defend the dominions inherited from Justinian. ' In the west
Africa was successfully held because no formidable enemy ap-
peared on that flank ; but most of Italy was lost to the Lombards,®
and the Visigoths soon reduced the imperial province in Spain to
a few cities on the coast. In Asia the whole Roman position was
again threatened by the Persians. To the north the Danube
frontier was lost as the Balkans were swept by a fresh horde
of nomads from the steppe. These were the Avars, whose drive
into Europe was largely a repetition of the earlier attack by the
Huns.

In the fifth century die latter had imposed their dominion over
a wide territory extending from the Caspian to the valleys of
the Danube and the Rhine. This event tended to produce a huge
shift of populations in Europe. The westward movement of
the Germans was greatly accelerated and the lands which they
evacuated were occupied by masses of Slavs, either on their
own initiative or as serfs of the Asiatic conquerors. By the end
of the fifth century, however, the Hunnic power had been broken
and the territory once ruled by Attila was divided among a large
number of barbarian princes. On the upper Danube were now
the Alamans and the Bavarians. ' Below them two other impor-
tant Germanic peoples were engaged in a bitter struggle for su-
premaiqr, the Lombards and the Gepids, who between them had
conquered various lesser nations. The grasslands to the east
were dominated by various groups of nomads, among whom the
most prominent were known as Bulgars, presumably a remnant
of the Huns reinforced by new arrivals from Asia.

» See below, ch. vii.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

I The Avars
I and the
Slavs in
the Balkan
peninsula

1 14

Upon this conglomeration of peoples in the later sixth century
fell the Avars, driven from their homelands by the encroaching
power of the Turks.® Following the track of the Huns, the
Avars subjugated the hordes of the Pontic steppe, and with
them spread terror and destruction far to the north and west.
By the later sixth century the Avar khan, Baian, ruled a vast
tributary empire between the Black Sea and the Baltic. Like the
Huns, the new conquerors formed a relatively small class, whose
resources were chiefly obtained through merciless exploitation of
the Slavic peasants. In tens of thousands the latter were driven
into battle against the enemies of their masters or settled as en-
slaved colonists in subject territories. The details of this po-
litical upheaval are very imperfectly known, but there can be no
doubt that it was one of the decisive events in the history of
Europe. In particular, it began a new epoch for the Balkan
peninsula.

Following a long-established precedent, Justinian had largely
depended on barbarian fcederati for the defense of his northern
frontier, and by the skillful distribution of subsidies he had been
able throughout his reign to keep the Danubian provinces in a
fairly peaceful condition. Among his most useful allies were
the Lombards, whom he employed to hold back their fierce rivals,
the Gepids. Under his successors this policy was reversed, with
the consequence that the Lombards appealed for aid to the
Avars. The latter proved to be terrible allies. The nation of
Gepids was so completely destroyed that their name vanished
from history. And shortly afterwards the Lombards, threatened
by the same fate, moved westward into Italy, to bring a fresh
series of calamities to that distracted country. Thus the Avars
came to be solidly established in the old provinces of Dacia and
Pannonia, whence the host at their command overflowed into
Thrace, Macedonia, and Illyricum,

This was the situation at the opening of the seventh century,
when Maurice, Justinian^s third successor, resumed the offensive
on the northern frontier. Thanks to a truce with Persia, he was
able to make excellent progress, and by 602 the imperial forces
were once more beyond the Danube. At this point he met dis-
aster, not from the enemy, but at the hands of his own troops.

« A kindred nomadic people who then dominated the Asiatic plateau from the
borders of China to those of Persia. Much more will be heard of them in sub-
sequent pages.

THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE 115

Although he had earlier been faced by a serious mutiny in the
east, the emperor now gave orders that the army, instead of re-
turning to civilization, should spend the winter in the field.

The command was the signal for another rebellion. Led by a
brutal soldier named Phocas, the army occupied the capital, slew
Maurice, and proclaimed its own commander — events which im-
mediately plunged the empire into chaos. The government lost
all hold on the provinces both east and west. While the Persians
seized the opportunity to overrun Armenia and Syria, the Avars
and their subjects obtained undisputed control over the interior
of the Balkan peninsula.

During these crucial years the head of the provincial adminis-
tration in Africa was Heraclius, who had risen from obscurity to Heradius
a high post in the army under Maurice. Refusing from the first (610-41)
to recognize Phocas, he finally launched an expedition to depose
the usurper and in charge of it placed his son, also named Hera-
clius. The latter enjoyed a brilliant success. Hailed at Constan-
tinople as a liberator, he was carried to the throne by popular
enthusiasm, and so given charge of an empire on the point of
dissolution. Justinian, because his offensives — ^under charge of
subordinates — ended in a dazzle of glory, has gone down in his-
tory as the last of the great Roman sovereigns. But why should
Heraclius be forgotten? Engaged for thirty years in a heroic
struggle against terrific odds, he won astonishing victories
through sheer force of personal leadership. Although, by a tragic
reversal of fortune, he finally met defeat, it was such as neither
he nor any one else could have foreseen. To Heraclius is due the
honor of saving all that was humanly possible to save of a
doomed empire.

For a dozen years after securing the crown, Heraclius was
compelled to witness the continuous advance of his enemies on
all sides. Spain, most of Italy, and the entire Danube valley
had been irretrievably lost. Avars and Slavs roamed at will
throughout the Balkans and penetrated far into the classic lands
of Greece. It was now that the Long Walls, erected in the later
fifth century to connect the Sea of Marmora with the Black Sea,
stood the capital in good stead ; but even they were not always
successfully held against the barbarians. A ruse of the Avar
khan during pretended negotiations for peace gave him possession
of these outworks, and although the city itself was saved from
surprise, the wealthy suburbs were almost totally destroyed.

The

Persian

advance

ii6 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Finally, in 619, Heraclius bought off the Avars at their own price
and so obtained a short respite in which to concentrate his scanty
resources against his principal foe, Persia.

This great state had emerged in the third century through a
victorious revolt against the Parthians. To a large degree the
revolution was inspired by the traditions of the ancient Persian
Empire which, after long dominating Greece, had fallen before
Alexander the Great. On political grounds the Persian rulers
were pledged to combat all Hellenic influence in the orient; and
during the later period the cause was given a doubly sacred
character by the anti-Christian agitation of the magi, the priests
of the Zoroastrian religion.^ Under such circumstances, peace
between Persia and Rome could never be more than temporary;
and, as we have seen, the emperors of the third and fourth centu-
ries had been repeatedly called on for great defensive campaigns.
Then had ensued a lull as the Persian energies were diverted
against the Turks, and it was not until the reign of Justinian that
the eastern menace again became grave. To have his hands free
for his western offensives, that emperor bought off the Persians
with subsidies; but they were stopped by his successor, and the
war blazed out again, just as the exhaustion of the empire began
to show itself in the weakening of its defense on all fronts.

The climax came with the usurpation of Phocas. After 602
the Asiatic provinces lay at the mercy of the Persians, who natu-
rally refused the overtures of Heraclius. In rapid succession they
took Antioch, Damascus, and Jerusalem. By 619 they had
reached Chalcedon, across the strait from Constantinople, and
had J^egun the reduction of Egypt. But the very magnitude of
these calamities proved an advantage to Heraclius. Since the
most sacred relic of Christendom, the Holy Cross at Jerusalem,
had been carried off by the invader, the war for its recovery took
on the aspect of a crusade. For once the tumultuous populace
of Constantinople was united in a common cause. The churches
donated their sacred vessels to be made into coin. And the em-
peror prepared himself by religious exercises to command in
person a desperate expedition by which he vowed to win either
victory or death.

In the spring of 622 Heraclius solemnly intrusted the defense
of the capital to subordinates and, with the small army that he

See above, p. 20.

THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE 117

had been able to assemble, crossed over to the Asiatic shore. The inva-
Other troops would have to be found on the way. So Heraclius, sion of
with amazing audacity, at once struck at Armenia, an excellent
recruiting ground as well as a sympathetic Christian country. (623-27)
Besides, the move might divert the invading Persians from Syria
and Eg3^t. Advancing from Nicomedia, Heraclius outflanked
the enemy position in Asia Minor and by the end of 623 he had
actually taken the capital of Persian Armenia. The next three
years he spent in successful campaigns to prevent the junction
of the various armies sent to dislodge him ; then, in 627, he again
took the offensive. Driving south from Armenia, he reached
the Tigris at Nineveh and there won a victory just in time to
glorify his celebration of the Christmas festival. Chosrofe, the
Persian king, fled to Ctesiphon, and Heraclius, after coming
within a few miles of the city, decided not to risk an attack.

While the mountain passes were still dear of snow, he made good
a retreat to his base in Armenia.

No additional campaign was necessary. In the spring of 628
Heraclius received the glad news that Chosroes had been over- The siege
thrown by a palace revolution and that the new king was willing of Cen-
to sign a treaty of peace. By the terms of the settlement thus
made, the Persians evacuated all their conquests, reestablished the
frontier as it had existed under Maurice, and restored the Holy (626)
Cross to Christian possession. Meanwhile Constantinople had
bravely withstood a last terrific assault from the Avar khan. In
626 a barbarian host beset the city by sea and land, cooperating
with a Persian army which advanced to the southern shore of the
Bosphorus. But the day was saved by the imperial fleet, which
destroyed the boats of the Avars and so prevented the union of
the attacking forces. All attempts of the khan to storm the walls
failed before the stubborn defense of the citizens. Discomfited,
he finally withdrew his besieging hordes, and the Persians could
do no more than follow his example. When, therefore, Heraclius
returned in 629, bearing with him a fragment of the Cross as a
sacred memorial of his triumph, the paeans of thanksgiving with
which the capital resounded were entirely justified.

In five years, however, a new storm burst in Asia : the Arabs
launched the tremendous drive that was to destroy the kingdom
of PersisM and (^d the Roman dominion in Syria, Egypt, and
AfricaJ ^Jp to mis point, without regard to events in the west,
the empire in the east had remained essentially as it was under

The
passing
of the
Roman
Empire

The devel-
opment
of the
Roman
law

ii8 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Constantine. Henceforth its efficient area was reduced to a por-
tion of the Balkan peninsula and Asia Minor — in reality a small
Hellenistic kingdom built round the great capital, Constantinople.
The southward advance of the Avars and Slavs had wiped out
the Latin civilization of the Illyrian provinces — the homeland of
Justinian — ^and removed from the later empire all but traces of
Roman character. Accordingly, it has come to be known in his-
tory as the Byzantine Empire — an apt designation, since the well-
spring of its life was the city originally called Byzantium.

3. BYZANTINE CULTURE

Whatever judgment may be passed on Justinian’s foreign
policy, there can be no doubt of his greatness as a legislator. His
codification of the Roman law ranks among the world’s finest
achievements in the realm of statesmanship — b. verdict which is
borne out by the fact that his compilation has been in continuous
use since the day when it was first promulgated. Although the
empire over which he ruled perished long ago, his Corfnts lives
on in states then undreamed of — ^not only in those of continental
Europe and their colonies, but also in Scotland, Quebec, Loui-
siana, and the republics of Latin America. Later we shall have
occasion to see how this came about ; the present connection calls
rather for a retrospect. Justinian’s enactment was the culmina-
tion of a legal evolution extending over a thousand years. Origi-
nally, when Rome was a small city-state, the Roman law was
properly that which applied merely to the narrow class of Roman
citizens. It was an inflexible system pervaded by archaic custom.
The rights which it protected were relatively few, and to take ad-
vantage of its protection, the individual had to follow a for-
malistic ritual filled with solemn declarations and symbolic acts.
Such arrangements were very well for a conservative agricultural
community ; as Rome became the metropolis of the western Medi-
terranean, the courts inevitably developed new methods of admin-
istering justice. The ancient law of citizens (21/^; cknle) was
constantly supplemented from the law applied to non-Romans
{ms gentium).

The latter, from the outset, was intensely practical, being for-
mulated to govern the relations of men drawn from all countries
by the lure of commercial opportunity. Thus it dealt primarily
with contractual matters, such as sale, lease, partnership, loan, and
pledge; but it also came to include many sensible innovations

THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE 119

with regard to marriage, testamentary succession, conveyance,
and the like. This law was administered by a special praetor with
jurisdiction over foreigners at Rome, and it became customary
for each of these magistrates to issue an edict defining the
particular rules that he intended to enforce. The praetors with
jurisdiction over citizens likewise promulgated edicts, and in the
course of time introduced into the ius civile many of the speedy
and effective remedies that characterized the other system — ^a
development that was greatly accelerated under the principate.

For a time the ancient methods of legislation by act of an as-
sembly (Jex) or of the senate (^senatiis consultnm) still con-
tinued ; but they gradually became obsolete as legislation took the
form of imperial constitutions, technically classified as mandates,
rescripts, edicts, and decrees. Inevitably, too, as the authority
of the prince came to dominate that of the praetors, their power of
modifying the law by proclamation was superseded. Under
Hadrian the edicts of earlier magistrates were consolidated into
one official document which could be amended by no one but the
emperor. And during the same period the extension of Roman
citizenship throughout the empire necessitated the removal from
the civil law of its last archaic features and compelled its further
adaptation to the needs of a cosmopolitan society. Educated
Romans had long since fallen under the charm of the Stoic philos-
ophy,® and in no respect was the influence of the latter more
deeply significant than in the field of legal speculation. The
Stoics taught that all men were brothers, being alike the sons of
one Creator; that he had endowed them with common faculties
and so given them a common responsibility to live according to
reason — ^to observe the dictates of nature, which transcended all
enactments by particular states. To the eyes of the Romans this
natural law {ms natiirale) inevitably suggested their own ins gen-^
tiiim, which was a body of equity based on the usages of many
communities, and. in the writings of the jurists the two concepts
tended to be identified.

Jurisprudence — ^the study of the principles underlying the law
— ^had come to attract many able men under the later republic.
According to the normal practice of the Roman courts, the magis-
trate heard only the preliminaries of a suit ; after the nature of
the controversy had been made clear, it was turned over for settle-

lus Civile,
Ius

Gentium,
and Ius
Naturale

The jurists

®‘See above, pp. i6f.

120 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

ment to a judge {index) agreed on by the two parties. Such a
person was an ordinary private citizen with no specialized legal
training, who was supposed to determine the facts and then render
a decision according to the law already stated by the magistrate.
But cases continually arose where the application of established
precedents was extremely difficult, and on such occasions the
judge would call for the opinion of an expert — ^usually a man
who had made a reputation as a teacher in a law school. Conse-
quently the jurists came to exert increasing influence over the
administration of justice, and in order to assure sound results,
Augustus began the custom of naming certain scholars as official
advisers to the courts. The scheme worked admirably, for, while
avoiding the danger of visionary innovations, it allowed the con-
stant improvement of the law through the inspiration of philo-
sophic ideals. In the course of the next three centuries arose a
series of eminent jurists — ^among them Julian, Pomponius, Gaius,
Papinian, Ulpian, Paulus, and Modestinus — ^whose works have
never ceased to affect human thought and institutions.

With the reign of Diocletian, the Roman law entered the last
Justinian’s stage of its development in ancient times. The emperor was now
legislation the only source of law; all republican forms and distinctions
became obsolete. The long-established practice of adjudication
through laymen advised by professional jurists was superseded by
a thoroughly despotic system under which all judges were im-
perial officials. This change, another indication of Roman deca-
dence, eventually led to the final unification of the law in one
authoritative body. As may readily be imagined, the magistrates
of the sixth century were quite incompetent for the task of
research in Latin archives. Even if all the pertinent manuscripts
were available, how many Greeks of that day would be able to
read them? The decisions of the courts had to rest on two
great series of monuments: the constitutions of the emi)€rors and
the writings of the jurists. The former, from time to time, had
been gathered into collections — of which the most recent was the
Theodosian Code — but they in turn had never been combined.
And although judges were now forbidden to cite any books on
jurisprudence except the classics of an earlier age, the latter
constituted a huge library in themselves. To consolidate all this
material in a single official publication was the undertaking which
Justinian set himself to accomplish.

THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE 121

Almost immediately after his accession to the throne, Justinian
appointed a commission of distinguished lawyers, under the presi- The Code
dency of Tribonian, to collect and edit the imperial constitutions. the
This project was carried through with amazing speed. In less
than two years the new compilation had been drawn up and
promulgated — ^the first edition of what is properly called the
Codex. Some five years later a second edition was issued, and ■
this is the volume that has come down to us. It includes 4652
constitutions, arranged according to subject matter in twelve
books. Some hundreds of these acts were Justinian’s own ; the
rest were tliose of his predecessors, often in abridged and revised
form, which henceforth could be cited only as they appeared in
the Code. But since the emperor continued to legislate on all
sorts of matters, it was subsequently found convenient to add a
supplement known as the Novellm, or new constitutions.

Meanwhile the commission had been enlarged and set upon the
infinitely harder task of codifying the writings of the jurists. As TheDigest
a preliminary, the emperor rendered decisions on fifty disputed and the
questions and the experts were then commanded to summarize .the
whole of Roman jurisprudence in fifty books. On each subject
in turn they were to give the fullest and soundest opinions avail-
able, whenever possible preserving the language of the original.

How many manuscripts the commissioners examined is not
known, but their final compilation actually cited 1544 separate
works by thirty-eight authors. The result of this enormous
labor, known as the Digesta or Pmdectce, was published in 533
and, like the Code, was made legally binding on the courts,
which were forbidden thenceforth to use the jurists except as they
had been officially quoted. It was the preparation of the Digest,
with the accompanying settlement of ancient controversies, that
led to the revision of the Code. It also inspired the production
of the Instituta, a textbook of first principles arranged accord-
ing to the anal3dical plan adopted by Gains in the second century.

Code, Digest, and Institutes (the Novels were an unofficial
appendix) made up the Corpus Juris Civilis. Within this collec-- The
tion it is not Justinian’s Code that constitutes what we think of
under that name, but his Digest. The Code resembles rather
a present-day collection of revised statute^; however, interesting
it may be to the historian, the legislation that it contains
has, of course, long been outmoded. On the other hand, the

The
failure
of Latin
'in the east

Byzantine

education

and

literature

122 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Digest, being a systematic exposition of fundamentals, can never
become obsolete as long as Roman law remains a living system.
For the same reason the Institutes must continue indefinitely to
serve as an introduction to the subject. From the lawyer’s
point of view it is therefore the two latter works that have
always been especially valuable. Modern scholarship naturally
prefers originals to any sort of compilation ; but we may be sure
that, were it not for the Digest, the writings of the jurists would
in large part have perished. All learning was then threatening to
disappear in the west, and only Greek learning was to persist in
the east.

By the time of Justinian, in fact, Latin was almost a dead
language at Constantinople. The emperor’s own Novels were
issued in Greek, and before the end of the sixth century his
great law books were commonly used only in Greek translation.
]\Iany Latin words and phrases — ^the ghost of a famous Roman
tradition — ^long continued to be official in connection with Byzan-
tine law, government, and military organization; but eventually
they lost all meaning or were absorbed into Greek. In its spoken
form, Greek had come to reflect the cosmopolitanism of the cap-
ital, becoming intermixed with Latin, oriental, and barbarian ele-
ments. Even the vernacular of the educated was no longer classic
in vocabulary, syntax, or pronunciation. Nevertheless, it re-
mained so close to the ancient language that the latter could be
maintained inviolate in all formal literature. Accordingly, when
the Byzantine gentleman addressed his employees, he spoke one
form of Greek ; while conversing at home, he used another ; if he
attempted refined composition, he had to employ still a third.

As was to be expected under such circumstances, literary educa-
tion tended to become more and more artificial. The boy of good
family continued to study grammar and rhetoric as it had been
studied for centuries. He learned Homer and other poets by
heart, and he gained an intimate knowledge of Herodotus, Thucy-
dides, and the great orators — sl pagan tradition which the church
in the east never broke down. Although, with the passing of the
ancient schools of philosophy, advanced education became more
thoroughly Christian, Byzantine literature kept such an ardent
attachment to classic forms that originality was discouraged. The
multitude of authors were content with imitations, commentaries,
or anthologies. Verse continued to be written in ancient meters

THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE 123

based on quantity. It was, however, inferior to the new Christian
poetry which, being unbound by precedent, adopted the popular
system of stressed syllables and rhyme. Greek prose, like the
Latin prose of the late empire, chronically suffered from rhetorical
over-adornment. In science, aside from a few practical inven-
tions, no progress was made ; the best scholars of the age did no
more than read and reread the famous texts of an older genera-
tion. Yet good technical essays were written on law, administra-
tion, and military affairs. Some of the church fathers were masters
of prose style as well as of theological controversy. And in his-
toriography the successors of Procopius maintained a relatively
high standard.

If we compare Byzantine learning and literature with what
had preceded, it is at once apparent that the east suffered Byzantine
no such cultural decline as introduced the Dark Age in the west, architec-
The same truth emerges from a study of Byzantine architecture,
which holds a recognized place among the world’s greatest styles.

Very remarkably, it owed almost nothing to the Greeks. Despite
certain features borrowed from the orient, it was fundamentally
Roman — a fact that further testifies to the strength of Latin tradi-
tion at Constantinople down through the reign of Justinian. As
already remarked, the peculiar genius of the Romans made them
superlative builders of utilitarian structures, which were generally
characterized by employment of the arch. This element, of course,
had been known for thousands of years, but hitherto it had never
been developed into an architectural style.

The fundamental principle may be very briefly stated : if placed
on adequate piers, a semicircular arch of masonry, either stone Roman
or ’brick, will hold up a portion of wall twice as wide as the arch is Greek
high (see Figure 12 ). A single arch may be employed to provide a
door, a window, or some other aperture; a series of arches may
be raised to support an aqueduct, a bridge, or a much more elabo-
rate superstructure. If extended, such an arch constitutes what
is called a barrel (semi-cylindrical) vault. Continued in a circle,
as if rotated on its axis, it forms a dome. And either vault
or dome may be used as a roof* The principles of arched con-
struction were thoroughly understood by the Romans; yet when
they came to decorate their buildings they continued to be fasci-
nated by Greek draditicm, to which the arch was entirely foreign.

In their finest 4 orks the Greeks had held to a system inherited

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

Byzantine

construc-

tion

124

from ancestors who had built only in wood — a system in which the
central element is a horizontal slab supported by columns. When
a series of such units are placed side by side, the result is a colon-
nade surmounted by an architrave. In the typical Greek temple
the architrave bears a decorative frieze and a projecting cornice;
and these three parts are together called the entablature (see
Figure i). Such members could of course be decorated in a
variety of ways, and the dilferent schemes of carving the capi-
tals — ^the blocks placed on top of the columns — ^gave rise to the

three classic orders, known as
Doric, Ionian, and Corinthian.

When the Romans built an
aqueduct, they naturally made
no attempt at adornment, leaving
bare the simple row of piers and
arches. But when the same
method of construction was em-
ployed for a monument intended
to be beautiful, they sought to
embellish the exterior by fram-
ing the arches with quite un-
necessary columns and entabla-
tures superficially attached to the
masonry walls. In the famous
Colosseum, for example, the
three tiers of arches are thus set
off by the classic orders, one
over the other — a characteristic
bit of Roman ostentation never found in the works of ancient
Greece (see Plate II). And this same obsession for pseudo-
classic adornment led to even greater absurdities in such pre-
tentious buildings as the baths of the later empire. It was not
until the fourth century that architects, especially those in the
east, began to free themselves from Greek tradition and to make
their arches spring directly from supporting columns — a practice
that in turn necessitated other changes (see Plate IV — San-
PApollinare). Columns, when they were designed for the new
purpose instead of being filched from pagan temples, became
heavier. Capitals, to suit their new environment, were carved
in unconventional designs, thus clearing the way for later experi-
mentation in decorative sculpture.

THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE 12^

These innovations coincided with an increasing use of the
dome, an architectural fashion which seems to have been spread The dome
through Syrian influence. At Rome the Pantheon had long be- Pf^i-
fore been covered with a dome, but since the building was itself
round, the construction offered no great difficulty. The hard
problem was to adapt the dome for employment on a rectangular
building like a fifth-century church. In Syria this had been
crudely accomplished by placing slabs of stone across the angles
of a square aperture to form an octagon, from which the hemi-
spherical dome was raised. The first artistic solution was in-
vented by the Byzantine architects. It is known as a dome on
pendentives® and cannot be dearly understood without the aid of
a diagram (see Figure 2). The preliminary step is to design a
dome touching the four comers of the square to be covered, and
then to trim it off perpendicularly
where it extends beyond the four sides
of the square. The remaining portion
will be an imperfect dome such as was
actually placed over Galla Placidia’s
tomb at Ravenna. The final step is to
cut off the top of this first dome at the
height of the arched openings on each
side, and to construct the real dome
over the cirde thus provided. _ ^

It was fitting that this great struc- Pendentives.

tural achievement should have been

first accomplished in the magnificent cnurcn 01 at. aopnia me
(see Plate II), erected by Justinian to replace an older edifice church of
burned during the Nika Revolt. Since the Turkish conquest of
the fifteenth century, it has been used as a Mohammedan mosque,^®
and at one time or anotlier parts of it have been removed and
other parts — ^notably four lofty minarets — ^have been added. But
the central portion, rebuilt after an earthquake in 558, yet stands
as it was so lyrically described by Procopius nearly 1400 years
ago — eloquent testimony to the solidity of its construction and
to the excellence of its design. Structurally Justinian’s church
is indeed one of the world’s marvels. The central dome, rising
180 feet above the pavement, is more than a hundred feet wide

® The pendentives are the four spherical triangles on which the dome rests. ^

At the present moment it is being turned into a museum by the Ttirkish
government.

126 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

and, together with the two half-domes built against it on north
and south, covers an area some 250 feet in length. As noted, the
dome is borne on pendentives, and they are held in place by four
great arches springing from the four central piers, each of which
is backed by a huge buttress. Since the dome is not held together
by chains or other steel supports, it does not tower in the air
like those of more modern times ; and for that reason the church
of St. Sophia is often found rather disappointing. The materials
also are rather mean — ^plain brickwork with a covering of plaster
or, in the case of the dome, of lead. This is characteristic of the
Byzantine style. The arcliitects paid little attention to the external
appearance of their buildings and concentrated their talents on pro-
ducing interiors of unparalleled brilliance.

Sculpture, except for the adornment of capitals, altar fronts,
Sculpture and minor details, was little used ; and in such places carving was
and mosaic normally restricted to geometrical designs or those drawn from
plants and birds, frequently showing Persian influence. But
the smooth walls, arches, and vaults were made to blaze with color.
Variegated marbles, stripped from pagan temples, were used in
rich profusion throughout the lower portions of the church, while
the upper surfaces were covered with splendid mosaics. In this
art the Greeks of Constantinople attained a perfection whicli has
been the despair of all subsequent generations. Bits of tinted glass,
placed edgewise to catch the light, were made into remarkably
beautiful pictures of a somewhat conventionalized t3q)e — com-
monly human figures against a plain gold background, interspersed
with trees, birds, animals, and other figures of symbolic meaning.
The drawing of men and women was generally poor, with bodies
out of proportion, attitudes stiff and ungraceful, and features lack-
ing all individuality. The colors employed were few and crude.
No attempt was made to produce more than a flat decoration. Yet,
for these very reasons, Byzantine mosaic was more successful than
if it had tried for greater realism or subtlety. The total effect is
one of barbaric splendor, combined with a religious appeal that is
the more direct and forceful because the art is primitive. The men
who created these works had plainly lost all reverence for the in-
sipid classicism of the preceding centuries. Their inspiration
came rather from the orient and the new faith which had there
developed.

Although the Byzantine style of construction was not perfected

THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE 127

till the days of Justinian, the accompanying scheme of decoration
was developed considerably earlier — ^not only in Constantinople
and the surrounding region, but also in Italy. As we have seen,
the chief residence of the emperors in the west, beginning with
Honorius, was shifted from Rome to Ravenna, and it was there
that the finest architectural monuments of fifth-century Italy were
erected. Three of these remarkable works still remain : the baptis-
tery of Bishops Ursus and Neon, the mausoleum of Galla Placidia,
and the church of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, construction of which
was begun by Theodoric the Ostrogoth. These buildings — espe-
cially the first — ^liave wonderful mosaics, and in this respect, as
well as in structural details, clearly show the directing hand of the
eastern workman. Even more noteworthy is the domed church of
San Vitale, built at Ravenna under the patronage of Justinian and
Theodora, whose portraits appear in the famous mosaics that
adorn its walls. The beautifully decorated church of San-
t’Apollinare in Classe (see Plate IV) dates from the same period.

The art of Constantinople did not, of course, end with the
sixth century. It lived on, to have as widespread an influence
as any other feature of Byzantine civilization — ^an influence that
will be encountered in many connections, among Christians as well
as among Mohammedans.

Byzantine
arts in
Italy

CHAPTER VI

Arabia
and the
Semitic
peoples

THE ARAB EMPIRE

I. THE ARABS IN ARABIA

In previous chapters we have seen how the plateau of central
Asia served as a vast reservoir of nomadic tribes, who from time
to time overflowed with devastating effect into the surrounding-
regions. Arabia, to a certain extent, has played a similar part in
history. It is a roughly quadrangular peninsula, which on the
north has no clearly marked natural frontier. There it abuts on
two rich and famous countries : Syria, which lies on the eastern
shore of the Mediterranean, and Mesopotamia, which is the valley
of the Tigris-Euplirates. Time and again these countries have
been swept by great migrations from out of Arabia. Such, it is
generally held, was the common origin of the peoples known as
Semitic, including the Assyrians, Chaldaeans, Hebrews, Phoeni-
cians, and Aramaeans. The theory, however, is largely conjecture
based on similarity of lang-uage ; it had no place in the traditions of
the seventh century.

Neither Romans nor Greeks had encountered anything more
serious than petty raiding from the direction of the Arabian desert,
the interior of which had remained unknown to them. Accord-
ingly, the Arab conquest seemed to contemporaries as new and un-
precedented as the Mohammedan faith, and the entire upheaval was
considered essentially religious. Today we find it hard to be-
lieve that any degree of mere fanaticism could possibly have ac-
complished so tremendous a revolution in so short a time. To
explain it, we must take into account economic and social condi-
tions not only in Arabia, but also in the invaded districts. The
religious factor provided merely a final impetus to latent forces
which had been gaining strength for many hundreds of years.
On the side of the Roman Empire Hellenism had long been weak-
ening in the face of an oriental reaction, and this reaction was
now championed and turned to enormous profit by the hosts of
Islam. The problem is to see how these hosts came to be
constituted.

Whatever the condition of the Arabian borderlands, the inte-
rior of the peninsula remains today as it has been throughout

X28

THE ARAB EMPIRE 129

the whole of recorded history. It is the home of the Bedouins, The
who yet live as they were living in the time of Mohammed, and Bedouij^:
as — ^to judge from the stories in the Old Testament — ^the ancient Noiiiadic
Hebrews had lived before they settled in the Promised Land. ®

The Arab nomad depends for existence upon his flocks, and they
in turn depend upon the pasturage of the desert. Normally the
autumn rains produce a scanty vegetation, sufficient for sheep and
goats if they are kept constantly on the move. Throughout the
winter, accordingly, they are driven south, and then, just in ad-
vance of the summer drought, they are turned north, to eat their
way back to the point from which they started the year before.

The ordinary beast of burden is the camel, but Arabian horses,
bred for speed and endurance, have of course been famous for
centuries.

The life of the Bedouins is thus purely nomadic, and their
social and political organization such as normally accompanies it.

The patriarchal system is universal. Family groups, each under
the absolute rule of its chief man, are united to form a tribe
headed by a sheik. The latter holds authority over a certain
strip of territory within which his people wander back and forth.

It is part of his office to lead his young men on profitable expedi-
tions against his neighbors. Caravan-raiding has been the special
delight of the Bedouin for literally thousands of years. He has
no use for centralized government and resists all interference
with his time-honored habits. And we may be sure that, as long
as the desert remains as it has been, its inhabitants — secure from
outside molestation — ^will continue as in the past to do precisely
as they please.

Physically, the desert Arab is a splendid type of manhood —
slender and graceful, with piercing black eyes and regular, often Physical
handsome, features. In youth the women too are likely to be aud moral
attractive, but, under the domestic labor to which they are doomed,
their beauty soon fades. In bearing, the Arab sheik is the per-
sonification of dignity combined with a certain, wild freedom
that has ever endeared him to romantic authors. His courtesy
and hospitality are proverbial, and according to his own peculiar
standards — ^which do not exclude professional robbery and bloody
feuds — he is strictly honorable. The average of intelligence
among the Bedouins is high. Entirely illiterate, they are far from
ignorant. They can recite from memory the genealogies not
merely of tjieir jeibdmg men, but also of their famous horses

The Arabs
in the
seventh
century

130 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

throughout an amazing extent of time. They have always been
passionately fond of poetry, story-telling, and speculative discus-
sion. And of all the nations of the globe they have proved them-
selves, when in alien environments, among the most adaptable —
extraordinarily quick to learn by observation and to apply to ex-
cellent advantage the information thus acquired.

Nomadic society tends to follow an invariable routine of exist-
ence for an indefinite period, but this routine is one that de-
pends on static conditions — 3. certain food supply and a limited
population. If the former unduly decreases or if the latter unduly
increases, the whole balance of life is wrecked. When, for exam-
ple, climatic change brings persisting drought to a region that has
earlier supplied regular pasturage, a host of tribesmen are imme-
diately faced with starvation. To secure other territory, they
have to drive out the present holders ; and such a disturbance, once
started, may have repercussions in far-distant lands. Occurrences
of this sort have been common in the history of nomadic peoples,
and they help us to understand the case of Arabia in the seventh
century. It has been argued with considerable plausibility that
the gradual desiccation of the interior was fundamentally re-
sponsible for the outpouring of its inhabitants. At any rate, in
the light of what actually happened, we must believe that the
country was overpopulated; that here, as In central Asia, hordes
of land-hungry adventurers were ready to grasp the opportunity
for migration and conquest just as soon as it was presented.

In the seventh century the overwhelming majority of the popu-
lation was nomadic; yet in certain localities there were tribes
that had long since adopted a settled mode of life. Beside the
infrequent streams agricultural communities had grown up, while
along the coasts, both on the east and on the west, sea trade had
developed a number of small towns, from which caravan routes
led to the greater markets of Syria and Persia. In ancient times
the most advanced section of the peninsula had been the south-
western corner — ^what is now called Yemen. There a people
known as Sabieans (whence the Biblical queen of Sheba) had
built up a flourishing kingdom, from which famous gums and
spices, such as frankincense and myrrh, were exported to the
Mediterranean countries. And it was presumably from this re-
gion that a Semitic language was carried into Ethiopia, the mod-
ern Abyssinia. Although the earlier history of the connection re-

THE ARAB EMPIRE 13 1

mains obscure, the final result was the destruction of the Sabaean
kingdom, early in the Christian era, by the Abyssinians. Mean-
while new centers of Arabian civilization had arisen to the north.

Trajan extended the Roman dominion over Petra and the lands
of the Nabataeans, which thenceforth were organized as a prov-
ince {Arabia Petrcca), Under imperial patronage the neighbor-
ing Arab tribes were then enrolled as allies against the nomads.
Persia, to defend the territory of Mesopotamia, followed the
same policy. So, in the sixth century, we find two Arab kingdoms
guarding the desert frontier, one as a Roman and the other as a
Persian protectorate. By the opening of the next century both
buffer states had been destroyed through the jealousy of the
great monarchies which, being engaged in a bitter struggle with
each other, overlooked the potential danger from the soutli.
Yet at the time what actual menace could be detected in Arabia?
Throughout the entire peninsula there was neither prince nor
people who could boast of an authority more than local. The
memory of man did not run back to an age when the Arabs
had ever united in a common cause. What could be more incred-
ible than that such a union would be brought about by an obscure
camel-driver of Hejaz?

That region, the strip of coast lying directly south of the
Roman province, now held the commercial leadership of Arabia.
Thither came vessels from Africa and India, bearing precious
goods for trans-shipment to the north. The chief port for this
traffic was Jidda, inland from which about fifty miles lay the
little town of Mecca {Makka) the center of a flourishing trade
with the desert Arabs and the starting-point of the chief caravan
route to Syria. Some two hundred miles to the northward was
Yathrib, later renamed Medina — ^ settlement principally devoted
to the raising of dates. But Mecca was by all odds the more
important commercially, and in addition it had the reputation of
being a particularly holy place. It contained a square temple
called the Kaaba (i.e., the cube), in which were housed the statues
of various local deities and a sacred black stone, presumably a
meteorite, for it was said to have fallen from heaven. To visit this
shrine and to attend a sort of fair in the neighborhood, crowds of
pilgrims annually came from far and wide. So Mecca, together

^ In the following pages names will normally be given in the form

f thronghlor^ with the more echolaarly spends in ps^^thesis.

Arab
states of
the north

The region
of Hejaz:
Mecca and
Medina

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The

Arabic

language

and

literature

Religious
beliefs of

132

with the tribe of Kuraish which furnished its ruling families,
were known to Arabs everywhere.

We have little sure information as to intellectual conditions in
Mecca, or throughout Arabia generally. From time immemo-
rial the Arabs had held poets and story-tellers in high esteem, and
so had developed a literature of song and fiction that was virtually
common to the entire people. It was, however, almost exclusively
an oral literature preserved by memory. Writing as yet was
used only in scattered communities along the frontiers. Although
the Sabsean language is known from very ancient inscriptions, it
had never become more than a local dialect. What is called classic
Arabic was the vernacular of the Bedouins ; and the fact that it
was elaborately developed, with rich vocabulary and vivid im-
agery, is further testimony to the remarkable genius of the people.
It came to be written through northern influence. Aramaic, the
language of Christ and the apostles, had for hundreds of years
been the principal means of communication among the traders of
Syria and the adjoining regions. Spreading among the Naba-
tseans, it inevitably reached also the Arabs of Hejaz, and when
they came to write their own vernacular, they naturally adapted
to the purpose the Aramaic alphabet. But in this respect, as in
so many others, the career of Mohammed marked the beginning
of a new epoch.

Meanwhile there had also been an infiltration of foreign reli-
gions into Arabia, for as yet the natives had no faith of their
own that could compete with those of Syria and Mesopotamia.
Although the Bedouins had a number of traditional beliefs with
respect to the supernatural, they were of the most primitive
kind. The people of the interior kept up a rather perfunctory
worship of various local gods and goddesses, such as those hon-
ored at Mecca; they recognized many sacred rocks, trees, wells,
and the like; and they had a lively respect for the spirits {jinn)
which, they thought, inhabited the desert. Along the northern
frontier, on the other hand, the Arabs quite generally had adopted
the cults of their civilized neighbors. On the side of Persia Zoro-
astrianism had obtained an extensive following, while from Syria
Jewish and Christian influences had come, at least in some meas-
ure, to affect the western Arabs, notably those of Mecca and
Medina. This fact must now serve to introduce the story of the
illustrious prophet of Islam.

THE ARAB EMPIRE

133

2. MOHAMMED AND ISLAM

Mohammed {Muhammad) was born at Mecca about the year
570. His family, though belonging to the tribe of Kuraish, was Early life
not wealthy, and as a boy of nine or ten he was left an orphan.

Thus coming under the care of an uncle, Mohammed spent his
youth in comparative poverty — a. period of which we know
nothing except that he became thoroughly familiar with con-
temporary methods of trade. Of formal education he could have
had little; that he ever learned to write Arabic has been denied,
but is not improbable. In his travels with caravans, however,
Mohammed unquestionably picked up a great deal of miscellane-
ous information. As a trader, he would have the opportunity of
meeting men from different lands; as an intelligent Arab, he
would store in his memory much of what they told him. And
since there were many Arabic-speaking Jews and Christians,
such a smattering of their doctrines as he later displayed would
not be hard to obtain. We may be positive that he never read
their Scriptures.

By the age of about twenty-four Mohammed had so far per-
fected his professional training that he was employed as com- Religious
mercial agent by a wealthy widow of Mecca named Khadija. convictions
And after he had successfully led a caravan to Syria on her
behalf, he became the lady’s husband — ^her third. Mohammed
was of course much the younger of the two, but the marriage was
a happy one; and it was during his long life with Khadija that
he began his career as a religious reformer. Being now a man of
substance and leisure, he could devote himself to the problems of
faith and conduct which must first have attracted his attention
long before. The traditional pol3ffheism of the Arabs, he felt,
was wrong; there was only one God (Allah), the creator of all
things, in whose sight man must live righteously in order to win
salvation on the awful day of judgment that momentarily im-
pended. When the last trump sounded, the good would be raised
to the everlasting joys of paradise, while the bad would be cast
into the flames of hell.

To Jews and Christians these ideas would seem very familiar;
they must, in fact, have been somehow derived from such teach-
ers. Mohammed insisted that his God was the God of the Jews
and of the Christians — ^the God testified to by the prophets, in-
cluding Moees, Abraham, Noah, and Jesus. The latter, he said.

The
prophet
of AllaJa

134 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

though miraculously born of the Virgin Mary, was not Himself
divine. Since Christian doctrine was in his eyes incompatible
with strict monotheism, he would have none of it. On the whole,
therefore, his inspiration was essentially Hebrew. Christianity
he regarded as at most a variety of Judaism. And even as the
prophets of old had received direct commissions from the Al-
mighty for tlie instruction of the people, might not he, Moham-
med, be made the intermediary for a new dispensation from on
high?

It was not until Mohammed was over forty and had spent
much time in prayer and fasting, that he was rewarded by visions
which convinced him of his prophetic mission. From the angel
Gabriel, as he told his wife and a few intimate friends, came the
messages that were eventually to found a new religion for Arabia
and the world. There can be no question of his sincerity. Even
if his sayings were often tinged with practical or perhaps oppor-
tunist considerations, we should no more impugn his honesty than
that of his Hebrew predecessors, who also had employed common
sense while acting as the spokesmen of God. The subconscious
mind, as we know from the modem study of psychology, can
perform marvels — especially in the case of a man like Mohammed,
nervously high-strung, extraordinarily sensitive, and subject to
periodic attacks of hysteria which he and others considered mani-
fest evidence of supernatural powers. Yet, whether or not we call
his visions hallucinations, the fact remains that they were real
to him and to his followers; being so, they revolutionized the
course of events in three continents. The historical importance
of a religion is not that it is true, but that people believe it so.

At first Mohammed had little success with his preaching.
While his wife Khadija and his cousin Ali embraced the new
faith from the outset, most of his relatives, including the uncle
who had brought him up, held aloof. Among the other early
converts the only prominent man was Abu Bakr, who was to
remain Mohammed’s closest friend and adviser. Later he gained
another important recruit in a young man named Omar (Umar)^
eventually to prove himself one of the world’s great statesmen.
The majority of the Kuraish, however, bitterly opposed the up-
start prophet, who denounced the traditional worship to whidh
they were attached by business interest as well as by sentiment.
They ridiculed Mohammed as a crazy poet. His teachings, they
said, were absurd. How could God restore them to life after they

THE ARAB EMPIRE 135

had turned to dust and dry bones ? Why should they believe a
simple fellow from among themselves, who ate like them and
walked like them in the market ? If he had a divine commission,
let him show them an angel or work for them some evident
miracle. To which Mohammed replied with eloquent stories
about the persecution of the ancient prophets and with lurid
descriptions of the hell that yawned for unbelievers.

Finally, after his position at Mecca had been further weakened
by the death of his wife in 619, followed by that of his uncle. The
Mohammed decided to leave that town for a more sympathetic Hegira
environment. At Yathrib there was a considerable colony of
Jews, or Judaized Arabs, at least some of whom were willing to
recognize Mohammed as tlieir promised Messiah. There was,
furtliermore, a long-standing feud between rival tribes of the
neighborhood which had come to be found inconvenient for all
parties. The upshot was that the men of Yathrib made a solemn
treaty with Mohammed, swearing to accept whatever peace he
might dictate and to protect him and his followers a§ members
of their own families. l[So, in 622, the prophet and his little band
of followers left Mecca, breaking all connection with their own
groups of kindred. This was the famous Hegira® (Hijra ) — ^the
Separation from Mecca, from which Mohammedans re^on their
years. And it was a noteworthy event, for it marked the definite
organization of the new religion.

Yathrib was now renamed Medina (Madinat-an-Ndbi, City of
the Prophet), and from there Mohammed continued the promul- The formal
gation of his divine messages, now turned from short exhorta-
tions in a higWy poetic vein to detailed edicts on social and politi-
cal problems as well as on matters of faith and worship. The
Mohammedan religion formally appears as Islam, meaning sub-
mission to God. One who has made his submission is a Moslem
(Muslim). His confession of faith is extremely siifiple: "There
is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is His prophet.” .After cere-
monial ablution with water or with sand, he should pray at certain
fixed hours of the day — tradition says five times — ^and these
prayers are accompanied by a mild discipline of bodily postures
resembling athletic exercises. Service in the mosque is merely
common prayer under the guidance of a leader, for there has
never been a Mohammwkn priesthood. At first the faithful

» ProBKJtmce with fifst syllable and with ah vowels short.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

136

prayed with their faces toward Jerusalem; subsequently, wlien
Mohammed found that most Jews rejected his teaching, he sub-
stituted Mecca. To that holy place the Moslem should make
a pilgrimage at least once during his life. He should, further-
more, give alms for charitable and pious ends, and he should fast
from sunrise to sunset throughout the sacred month of Ramadan.

These were and are the major requirements of Islam, to which
were added from time to time a large number of moral precepts —
rather modifications of existing custom than radical innovations.
To a limited degree polygamy and slavery were both retained.
The prophet himself, after the death of Khadija, took many
wives, making such alliances for the sake of political advantage.
Yet in various ways he sought to ameliorate the condition both of
slaves and of women. Marriage customs were greatly improved.
Sexual promiscuity, which earlier had been common, was severely
punished. The primitive system of the blood feud, by which
the family avenged wrongs done to its members, was restricted
by enforcing the acceptance of compensation when that was
rightfully offered.® The Arabs were already acquainted with
taboos in connection with food and drink, and Mohammed wisely
refrained from adding any very rigorous prohibitions. Moslems
should abstain from the flesh of all animals slaughtered in the
name of any god except Allah, as well as from pork and from
wine. But the latter restrictions, it should be noted, could work
no great hardship on the Bedouins. As the mark of a national
cult, the new discipline was eminently sensible in its moderation.

With respect to all these matters our primary source of infor-
The Koran mation is the Koran {Quran, Reading), a collection of Moham-
med’s saymgs, which in its present form dates from the period
just after the prophet’s death. Most of its contents, however,
had been written down earlier— -either by Mohammed himself
or by others — and much of it had been committed to memory by
the devout. The authenticity of its substance is thus unquestion-
able, and allowance need only be made for revision of its wording
and rearrangement of its parts. The latter consideration is of
little importance, since the compilers — except for an opening prayer
■ — merely placed the 114 chapters, or suras, in decreasing order
of their length. The Koran is therefore so devoid of logical co-
herence that to read and appreciate it as a whole is extremely

® Compare the Germaoic customs noted above, p. 78.

THE ARAB EMPIRE 137

difficult. Each fragment must be taken as it was originally uttered
— as a separate message delivered on a particular occasion.

Thus understood, the Koran is magnificent. To the student
of Arabian law and institutions the later suras promulgated at
Medina are the most instructive; but as literature, revealing the
very heart of Islam, the earlier ones are infinitely superior. Most
of them, being short, are to be found toward the end of the
book. In form they resemble modernistic verse, being made
up of irregular lines without definite meter or rhyme pat-
tern, but with rhythmic cadences and combinations of syllables
according to resemblance of sound. Although Mohammed con-
sidered the term an insult, he really was a poet, and a great one.
To turn the Koran into matter-of-fact prose is to spoil it. Indeed,
much of its beauty is inevitably destroyed by any kind of trans-
lation. Nevertheless, those of us unfortunate enough to be igno-
rant of Arabic may gain some inkling of the original by a good
version in a modern language.

This is the opening prayer (i) :

Praise be to Allah, Lord of the worlds.

Merciful and compassionate.

King of the Day of Judgment !
r Thee do we serve, and of Thee do we beg assistance.

^ Guide us in the right way —

The way of them who are pleasing in Thy sight,

Not of them who bear Thy wrath; not of them who are astray

Other suras are strongly reminiscent of the Psalms, but with
'X)uches peculiar to Arabia, For example (Ixxxvii) :

/Praise the name of thy Lord, the Most High,

Who created and designed all things.

Who preordained them and directs them ;

Who makes the grass to grow in the pastures,

: And then bums it brown like straw. ...

» Happy is he who purifies himself

And remembers the name of his Lord in prayer.

But ye prefer the life of this world,

Though that to come is better, and is everlasting.

For this of a truth was in the books of old,

The books of Abraham and Moses.

On one occasion we ate told that Mohammed had for several
days failed'to receive my revelation and was on that account being

T3^ical

Early

Suras

138 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

ridiculed by his enemies. Then God spoke to him as follows
(xciii) :

By the splendor of day.

And by the darkness of night —

Thy Lord has not forsaken thee, nor does he hate thee.

Verily the life to come shall be kinder to thee than is the present;
Thy Lord shall give thee a reward and thou shalt be well pleased.

Did he not find thee an orphan and give thee shelter?

Did he not find thee wandering and give thee guidance?

Did he not find thee in need and give thee riches ?

Wherefore oppress not the orphan.

Drive not the beggar away.

But proclaim the goodness of thy Lord.

The majestic opening of this sura — in form a solemn oath — ^is
characteristic of many others. Among them the one following
is perhaps the finest (c) :

By the panting war-horses.

Striking fire from their hoofs.

Charging at dawn,

Under a cloud of dust
Piercing the enemy host —

Truly man is ungrateful toward his Lord,

And he himself is witness of his ingratitude ;

For truly his heart is set on worldly gain.

Does he not know that, when the graves are opened.

All in the breasts of men shall be as daylight?

That on this Day their Lord shall know them ?

The Last Judgment is an ever recurrent theme, and is described
under many names. For instance (ci) :

The Day of Smiting! What is the Day of Smiting?

And what can make thee understand the Day of Smiting —

The Day when men shall be as scattered moths,

When the mountains shall be as flecks of carded wool !

He whose balance is well weighted — ^lae shall gain a life joyful ;

He whose balance is yet empty — ^Iie shall go down to the pit of hell.
And what can make thee understand the pit of hell ?

Burning fire! 1

Paradise (Ivi), on the contrary, is a cool place, watered by
streams and shaded by thornless trees which bear an inexhaustible^
crop of delicious fruits. There shall dwell the “people of tl^

THE ARAB EMPIRE

139

right hand/* reclining on sumptuous couches, eating choice viands,
and quaffing a heavenly beverage that causes neither headache nor
drunkenness! They shall be waited on by handsome pages,
always in the bloom of youth, and as wives shall have hotiris
created for them by a special providence — ^lovely damsels with
eyes like black pearls 1

To the modern reader these descriptions of rewards and pun-
ishments in the hereafter must seem rather childishly realistic ; but
for that very reason did they not hold a greater appeal to a primi-
tive people ? The audience to which Mohammed addressed him-
self could hardly have appreciated a doctrine based on philo-
sophical abstraction. Like all successful reformers, he had to
teach new ideals in a familiar language. The rich imagery of
the Koran was only such as even the illiterate Bedouins delighted
in. And its religious ideas were so lofty that they could offset,
in the eyes of the more sophisticated, a possible crudity of pres-
entation. After all, the essence of Mohammed’s preaching was
not belief in hell fire and heavenly bliss, but man’s submission to
God, to be shown by repentance and a virtuous life.

As a religion, Islam was founded during the prophet’s ministry
at Mecca. His later life was devoted to the establishment of an
organization to enforce its dominion ; and since there was no pre-
existing Arabian state, his system was of necessity semi-political.
At Medina Mohammed was confronted by multifarious problems.
He had to prescribe details of worship and everyday morality for
his followers. He became involved in conflicts with the Jews and
other local inhabitants who, refusing to recognize his prophetic
mission, opposed his authority on all occasions. Also to be con-
sidered was the project of speading the faith among the Bedouin
tribes. All these matters depended on the outcome of the feud
with Mecca. Since the Hegira, the band of Moslems had, of
course, ceased to owe any loyalty to the tribe of Kuraish, and
they now, with the constant support of revelations from heaven,
began raiding the caravans of their erstwhile kindred. This
policy led to greater hostilities, and finally, in 624, Mohammed
gained his first major success. At Badr, near the Red Sea, his
followers won a pitched battle against a force that outnumbered
them three to one. The Meccans had never ceased their clamor
for a miracle. This, the victors, was now afforded them ;
for without tl^ hdp of God’s angels, who c^ppeared beside him in

Moham-
med’s re-
ligious and
political
leadership

The cap-
ture of
Mecca
(630)

140 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

the field, the prophet could never have prevailed against the hos-
tile army.

Then ensued three more years of desultory fighting, in which
the troops of Islam — as yet only a few hundreds — sometimes won
and sometimes lost. Yet on the whole the Moslem cause steadily
advanced. The antagonistic Jews were driven from Medina arid
their lands were confiscated by the faithful. More booty flowed
in from successful raids against the enemy. Then, in 627, Mo-
hammed obtained another signal victory. An army of several
thousand men, recruited by the Kuraish from among their Bed-
ouin allies, besieged Medina but were repulsed through Mo-
hammed’s employment of a trench as a line of defense — a trick
which he is said to have learned from a Persian slave. However
this may be, the battle proved another turning-point in the history
of Arabia. The prophet became undisputed master of his city
and so found himself in a position to assume the offensive against
Mecca.

Thenceforth the opposition rapidly weakened. In 628 a ten
years’ truce was sworn between the two parties and Mohammed
for the first time was able to carry out the sacred pilgrimage
to Mecca which he had continually emphasized as an essential
part of the new faith. The occasion served mainly to advertise
the prophet’s increasing fame, and several prominent men of the
Kuraish — among them the great warriors, Khalid and Amr ibn
al-As — announced their conversion to his cause. In the follow-
ing year came the final triumph, when the breakdown of the truce
brought the renewal of hostilities. Mohammed, now possessed
of an overwhelming force, was allowed to occupy Mecca almost
without striking a blow, and the first chapter in the Holy War of
Islam may be said to have come to a close.

Mohammed used his power wisely. The Kaaba was formally
purified by casting out the idols which it had so long housed. But
the temple itself was preserved, and with it the sacred black
stone — ^an action justified by a special revelation. The Meccan
cult, the prophet declared, had originally been founded by Abra-
ham ; his modern successor was merely restoring its pristine char-
acter. Thus, consciously or unconsciously, Mohammed made the
revolution easy for the Kuraish to accept As a matter of fact,
they soon found that, by guarding Islam’s holiest shrine, they
stood to gain infinitely more than they had ever thought to lose.

THE ARAB EMPIRE 141

And with that ultimate testimony to the might of Allah, all resist-
ance crumbled.

To the mass of his converts the sudden death of Mohammed
in 632 was a frightful calamity. But his work was done. Within
ten years after leaving Mecca as a fugitive he had returned as
a conqueror. His fame had spread throughout the length and
breadth of Arabia ; and while as yet all the Bedouin tribes had by
no means submitted to his dominion, the war which he had pro-
claimed against the enemies of Islam was to bring an amazing
series of triumphs such as his wildest dreams could never have
foretold.

3. THE EARLY CALIPHATE

The first problem raised by the unexpected death of Moham-
med was how to perpetuate the organization which he had
founded. On this point, strangely enough, the prophet had an-
nounced no revelation; yet it was one that could hardly have
escaped consideration by his relatives and associates. In spite of
his many weddings, Mohammed was survived by only one child,
Fatima, daughter of Khadija. She was married to Ali, the
prophet's cousin, and by him had two sons. If the headship of
Islam were declared hereditary like that of an ordinary family,
the office would fall to Ali ; but he was more remarkable for his
piety than for his ability. Rather than to him, Mohammed's
confidence had been given to three tried counselors : Abu Bakr,
Abu Ubaida, and Omar, And their position was further strength-
ened by the fact that in his later years Mohammed's favorite wife
was the young and spirited Aisha, daughter of Abu Bakr. When
the crisis arose, it was this group that was prepared for decisive
action.

Coming before the assembled tribesmen — ^among whom the
rivalry of Mecca and Medina was already threatening to produce
armed conflict — ^Abu Bakr, as spokesman for the prophet's com-
panions, insisted that the leadership be given to one of their
number. He suggested Omar or Abu Ubaida, but they joined
in acclaiming the elder statesman himself. The excited crowd
was swept off its feet, and Abu Bakr was enthusiastically rec-
ognized as caliph {Khalifa, Successor of the Prophet). Thus in-
formally, and in apj^arance without premeditation, was estab-
lished the institution which was thenceforth to dominate the
Mohammedan world. And although there were factions that

The death
of Moham-
med (632)

Abu Bakr
(632-34)
and Omar
(634-44)

The unifi-
cation of
Arabia

Moslem
raids into
Persia
and the
Byzantine
Empire

142 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

remained bitterly hostile to the new settlement, its astounding
success made organized opposition for a time impossible. The
aged Abu Bakr was left only two years of life; then, on his
nomination, the caliphate passed to Omar, whose rule of ten
years ranks as one of the most brilliant in history. It was this
caliph who formally adopted the style. Commander of the Faith-
ful {Amir al-Mtiminin).

One great responsibility of the caliphate was the Holy War
to extend Moslem supremacy throughout Arabia. Mohammed’s
authority, in spite of legendary exaggeration, had scarcely reached
beyond the district of Hejaz, and at the news of his death even
those Bedouins who liad already been subjected tended to throw
off allegiance to Medina. This reaction was immediately checked
by the energy of Abu Bakr. Under command of Khalid, the
little army of Islam won battle after battle against the tribes of
central Arabia, so that within hardly more than a year the caliph
could shift operations from the desert to the adjoining regions,
thus resuming a project already contemplated by Mohammed.
As he had perceived, nothing would so quickly stimulate adhesion
to the sacred cause as profitable raids against a common foe..
Accordingly, while offensives were still being pushed in the
southern peninsula, Abu Bakr sent various bands of volunteers
into Syria and Mesopotamia.

The time was well chosen. Persia, since the great defeat ot
some five years earlier, had fallen into a state of helplessness.
The deposition of Chosroes IP had been followed by a prolonged
civil war, and the ultimate recognition of his grandson, Yez-
degerd, had brought only a superficial restoration of the mon-
archy. Nor were conditions much better in the Byzantine Em-
pire. Heraclius seemed exhausted by his heroic campaigns
against Persia. His provinces were groaning under an atrocious
burden of taxation, and to economic grievances were added those
occasioned by the imperial policy of religious despotism. Out-
side the Hellenized population of the great cities the government
had few loyal supporters. The inhabitants of the countryside,
exploited for a thousand years by the Greek aristocracy, would
fight no desperate battles in its behalf. The Semitic peasantry
of Syria, like that of Mesopotamia, would inevitably feel more
akin to Arabs than to Byzantines or Persians. And the desert

‘See above, p. 117.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

144

The battle
of the
Yarmuk
(636)

The

conquest
of Syria

tribes along the border, although they might be Christian or
Zoroastrian in faith, would be only too willing to join expedi-
tions that promised unlimited plunder.

The possibilities of an aggressive campaign on the part of
the Moslems were thus tremendous and were clearly advertised
by Khalid’s great raid of 634. His first success was at Hira on
the Euphrates, which paid him well to get rid of him. Thence
he turned toward Syria, where scattered Arab forces were being
threatened by a Byzantine army under Theodore, brother of
Heraclius. Combining speed with good generalship, Khalid
drove past Palmyra and Damascus, effected a junction with his
compatriots, and with the combined forces met and defeated
Theodore in July, 634. Just at this point Abu Bakr was suc-
ceeded by Omar, and that caliph, at once appreciating the oppor-
tunity that lay before him, began the systematic conquest of the
old Roman provinces. While roving bands of Arabs occupied
the exposed countryside, Khalid advanced to the siege of Damas-
cus, which, with the help of allies inside the wails, was taken
before the end of 635.

Meanwhile Heraclius had collected a new and greater army,
and in the spring of 636 it fell upon Khalid's little force which
had been pushed some hundred miles to the north of Damascus.
Again showing rare generalship, Khalid made no effort to hold
his recent conquests, but rapidly fell back on the valley of the
Yarmuk, a westward-flowing tributary of the Jordan that would,
if necessary, afford a sure means of escape into the desert. That
eventuality, however, did not arise. Khalid's retreat had allowed
him to call up needed reinforcements, while his opponents had
been seriously weakened by the rivalry of their generals and by
the desertion of their Arab allies. After weeks of futile skir-
mishing with an elusive foe, the Byzantine army was trapped
between two converging streams and there annihilated in August,
636.

Thus was established the military superiority of the Arabs,
which was due not only to the greater mobility of their light
cavalry, but also to the intelligence of their commanders and to
the ilan of their troops — ^the characteristic verve of the Bedouin
•intensified by religious exaltation. Furthermore, the battle of
the Yarmuk assured the Arabs unmolested possession of Syria.
Henceforth they had merely to consolidate their positions and to
organize a permanent government — a task which Omar assigned

THE ARAB EMPIRE 145

to the wise and experienced Abu Ubaida. Under his able direc-
tion, Khalid and the other Moslem generals quickly rounded out
their occupation. To the north the recapture of Damascus was
at once followed by the capitulation of Antioch, Aleppo, and
all the Byzantine fortresses below the range of the Amanus. To
the south all Palestine was speedily taken, except only the greater
cities, which offered stubborn resistance to the invaders. But at
last Jerusalem fell in 638, and Caesarea in 640. The Asiatic tide
had turned, sweeping away the work of Alexander and his Roman
successors.

As long as the issue in Syria still hung in doubt, Omar began
no major operations in Mesopotamia; then, after the great vic-
tory on the Yarmuk, a relatively small force was sent against
the Persiains to avenge the defeat of a marauding expedition
several years earlier. The result must have come as a surprise
to both parties. Yezdegerd’s best army was shattered in one
battle, and the whole of Irak (i.e., the lower valley of the Tigris-
Euphrates), together with the capital city of Ctesiphon, fell into
the hands of the Arabs. The next step was to connect Irak and
Syria by reducing the rest of Mesopotamia — a. task completed
by the capture of Mosul in 641. For a time the Persians suc-
ceeded in holding the line of the mountains to the east, but by 642
that too had been broken and all but local resistance to the Moslem
advance came to an end. The last of the Persian kings, a fugitive
far beyond the Caspian, is said to have been slain by one of his
own satraps in 651, while the triumphant forces of Islam were
occupying the remains of his kingdom. By the second half of the
century, at any rate, the ancient state of Persia had been obliter-
ated and a new epoch had begun for the history of western and
central Asia.

Meanwhile Omar had launched a third great offensive. This
was against Egypt, where conditions once more proved an enor-
mous advantage to the invaders. Not only was the province suf-
fering from the usual evils of overtaxation and maladminis-
tration, but it was also — even more than Syria — paralyzed by
religious discord. For a long time the population had been rather
sharply divided into two parts ; the Hellenized inhabitants of the
cities, and the descendants of the original Egyptians, or Copts.
The former, which included the ruling aristocracy, were naturally
obedient to the emperor and accepted his dictates in religion. The

The

conquest
of Persia

(637-51)

The

conquest
of Egypt
(640-42)

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

146

The Arab
migration
and the
spread of
Islam

latter, on the contrary, were fervently monophysite and the
tyranny of Cyrus, installed by Heraclius as patriarch of Alex-
andria, served merely to intensify their bitter opposition to the
government. At this propitious moment there appeared from
beyond the isthmus a Moslem army under the command of Amr
ibn al-As, a general who had proved his ability during the cam-
paigns in Syria. In 640 he broke the defending force of Byzan-
tines and followed up this success by capturing the Egyptian
Babylon (or Cairo). The sympathy of the Copts, the personal
ambitions of Cyrus, and the death of Heraclius (641) all con-
spired to make the subjection of the province ridiculously easy.
Even Alexandria was surrendered before the end of 642, and in
the next year Amr completed his conquests by seizing the adjoin-
ing district of Barca.

Whatever doubt of Allah’s omnipotence had still lingered in
the minds of the Arabs vanished before the stupendous victories
of the years following the death of the prophet. When ancient
and powerful states had been swept away like straw before the
desert wind, what further justification of the Moslem claims
could be demanded? One who was not drawn to Islam by
sincere faith would inevitably be attracted thither by material
advantage. Here were countries of fabulous wealth placed at the
disposal of God’s elect. By becoming one of that blessed group,
even the poorest Bedouin might attain riches and honor. The
prophet himself had declared that the good things of the world were
for the faithful ; it was their sacred duty to force the unbeliever
to submit and pay them tribute. Thus the conquest of Persia,
Syria, and Egypt was no mere series of military adventures.
The Arabs by tens of thousands poured into the occupied lands
to exploit their resources, and this migration permanently altered
their social complexion.

The expansion of Islam, however, was not solely due to the
shifting of the Arabian population. Large numbers of Zoroas-
trians, Jews, and Christians became enthusiastic converts to the
new faith. Its creed and discipline, as we have seen, were
extremely simple ; to accept them must have seemed to many, if
not an actual religious advance, a mere change of ritualistic
forms. And the practical considerations were most alluring : the
Moslems were the lords of creation, the rest of mankind their

* See above, p. 112.

THE ARAB EMPIRE 147

servants and tributaries. The notion that Mohammedanism was
a religion of the sword, forced upon defenseless masses by a
bloodthirsty horde of fanatics, is the exact contrary of the truth.

The Moslem conquest was a political conquest; its leaders depre-
cated unnecessary slaughter of unbelievers, or even their com-
pulsory conversion, because they were to be the financial support
of the government. Fundamentally, the Arab state began much
like that of the Huns or of the Avars — ^as a glorified system of
tribute-taking. Further consideration of this question, however,
must be postponed until we have examined the later fortunes
of the caliphate.

In 644 the triumphant presidency of Omar was brought to
an untimely end by an obscure assassin ; but before he died, the Othman
caliph named an electoral commission of six men, authorized to (^ 44 "" 55 )
select one of their own number to succeed him. The choice
ultimately fell on Othman, a member of a prominent Meccan
family known as Ommiads (more properly Umayyad, descended
from Umayya). Othman proved a much easier master than
Omar had been — ^perhaps that was why he was elected — ^yet no
amount of good nature could make up for utter lack of states-
manship. Before long the new caliph^s weakness, together with
his policy of filling the greater offices with his own relatives, led
to widespread discontent. As the great wars of conquest came
to a close, the flow of captured treasure naturally dwindled, while
the increase in the number of true believers meant a proportionate
decrease in the revenue from taxation. The government was as
yet a haphazard affair without any sound financial basis, and
Othman was no constitutional reformer. As a matter of fact, he
was totally unable even to maintain order in his dominions, and
finally, in 655, an insurrection at Medina resulted in his murder.

The natural result of this affair was a reaction against the
caliphate as originally established, and the first man to gain by it Ali
was Ali. As the son-in-law of the prophet, he was the logical
chief of the legitimist party — ^those who protested that the head-
ship of Islam could rightfully be held only by a member of Mo-
hammed’s own family, and that, accordingly, the first three ca-
liphs were usurpers.. Proclaimed at Medina after the murder of
Othman, Ali found his chief support in Irak and Persia; so he
established his capital at Kufa on the Euphrates. Syria, on
the other hand, was mdkt the control of the Ommiad, Muawiya,
whom Omar bad appointed to the governorship. An able and

Mimwiya

(66i~8o)

The Arabs
on the sea
and in Asia
Minor

148 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

energetic man, Muawiya at once took up the cause of the mar-
tyred Othman and before long he succeeded in forming an alliance
with Amr, the master of Egypt. These two carried all before
them in the west. In 660 Muawiya was hailed as caliph at Jeru-
salem, and with the assassination of Ali in the following year,
the legitimist cause collapsed.

4. THE OMMIAD CALIPHATE AT DAMASCUS

With Muawiya the caliphate may be said to have passed from
the republican to the monarchical stage. As Medina had now
ceased to be in any respect the true center of .\rab dominion,
and as the caliph’s chief support lay in Syria, he moved the capi-
tal of Islam to Damascus. This transfer, in more ways than
one, was a change from Arabian to Roman custom. Hitherto the
caliphate had been essentially a personal leadership of the faith-
ful — a. religious office with certain political functions attached.
Henceforth it was to be a territorial kingship which carried with
it control of faith and morals. The caliph thus came to be sur-
rounded by professional ministers chosen solely with a view to
their political usefulness — ^among them many Christians. He
headed a regular system of administration largely borrowed from
the Byzantine Empire. Lastly, Muawiya succeeded in placing
the state on a dynastic basis. At his death in 680 his son secured
the throne in spite of opposition from Arabia and Irak. A legi-
timist insurrection headed by a son of Ali was put down, and
for the next seventy years the caliphate remained a monopoly of
the Omraiad house.

The period of disorder that ensued upon the death of Omar
naturally interrupted the advance of Moslem conquest; then,
with the reorganization of the caliphate at Damascus, the offen-
sive was triumphantly resumed on all fronts. As governor of
Syria, Muawiya early turned his energies to the construction of
a fleet, and in this project he was ably seconded by Amr in Egypt,
The result was the establishment of a Mohammedan naval suprem-
acy on the Mediterranean that lasted for the better part of five
centuries and vitally affected the later history of Europe. In
649 the Arabs took Cyprus, and from this base they directed
plundering expeditions against Rhodes, Crete, the .£gean islands,
and the coasts of Asia Minor. In 655 a Byzantine fleet, per-
sonally commanded by the emperor, was utterly destroyed in a
battle which was to prove as decisive as that on the Yarmuk.

THE ARAB EMPIRE 149

It not only isolated the imperial possessions to tlie westward, but
also exposed Constantinople to direct attack by sea — ^an advan-
tage that was to be pushed with great ardor by the Ommiad
caliphs.

From Mesopotamia the Arabs had already penetrated far into
Armenia, and this whole country — ^both the Persian and the
Roman halves — ^was now definitely conquered. From SjTria and
from the shore of the Black Sea Muawiya’s armies converged on
Chalcedon, while year after year his fleet sought to force an
entrance to the Bosphorus and so to assure the fall of the great
city. But the Greeks, while abandoning their outlying territories,
were always able to muster enough strength by sea to defend
their capital ; and after the death of Muawi]^ the Moslems tem-
porarily relaxed their eiforts in this direction. In Asia Minor,
too, the Byzantine fortunes took a slight turn for the better, so
that, by the end of the seventh century, the Arabs were once more
being held along the line of the mountains to the south. The
next great triumph for Islam, as the event soon proved, was to
be won in Africa.

From Amr’s position at Barca it was an obvious policy to
launch raids into the imperial provinces to the westward, but
no attempt at systematic conquest of these lands was made until
after the final success of Muawiya. Advancing without serious
resistance through Tripoli, the army of the caliph then, in 670,
established a great military base at Kairawan, and thence began
the reduction of the ancient Carthaginian territory. From the
first the Byzantines, having lost control of the sea, were power-
less to defend their possessions ; the formidable enemy was rather
the Moors, who in the previous century had almost undone Jus-
tinian’s conquest of the Vandal kingdom. Since then, through
the constant arrival of fresh recruits from the wild borderlands,
their hold on the country outside the great cities and fortified
camps had steadily strengthened. And as the Arabs, unused to a
peasantry of such independent spirit, maintained their usual atti-
tude of magnificent pride, the Moors rose in revolt and drove
them out of the whole region west of Barca,

This defeat coincided with a civil war over the succession to
the caliphate; then another able Ommiad, Abd-al-Malik (685-
705), made good his claim to the throne, and under him the
tost territory was slowly but solidly reoccupied. The new com-
manders follow®! a policy of force combined with diplomacy to

The con-
quest of
northern
Africa

The

conquest
o£ Spain
(711-18)

Arab

operations
in Asia

150 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

detach the Moors from the Byzantine cause, and it succeeded
admirably. A last naval expedition from Constantinople in 697
failed to achieve its objective. Carthage fell, and the entire
southern C9ast of the Mediterranean came into the hands of the
Moslems. Many years were of course to be spent in the reduc-
tion of the mountainous interior, but in the meantime thousands
of Moors found a fresh outlet for their untamed energy by
espousing the cause of Islam. Thanks to their religious fervor and
warlike ambition, Musa, the African governor, eventually secured
the armies wherewith to undertake the invasion of Europe.

Concerning the later history of the Visigoths there is little
of interest to record. By the opening of the seventh century
they had finally annexed the lands of the Sueves in Galicia and
retaken the Mediterranean shore from the Byzantine garrisons.
This advance, however, was due rather to the weakness of the
enemy than to the strength of the Visigothic kingdom, the annals
of which become a wearisome succession of petty conspiracies
and insurrections. To a prince seeking an adventure with which
to occupy his restless subjects, Spain seemed a promising field.
So in 71 1 Musa authorized one of his lieutenants, a certain Tarik,
to lead a force of Moors across the strait. Skirting the rock
that still bears his name (Gibraltar, Gcbcl Tarik), he landed in
the Bay of Algeciras and thence proceeded toward Cadiz. Rod-
erick, doomed to be the last king of the Visigoths, tried to drive
back the invaders, but instead suffered a crushing defeat. Before
the end of the summer Tarik was in Toledo, the royal capital.
What had begun as a mere plundering expedition thus turned
into another momentous triumph for Islam. Musa appeared on
the scene with a larger army, and as the result of his campaigns,
the Visigothic state soon went the way of Persia. Within seven
3^ears the Moslems had reached Septimania beyond the Pyrenees,
and within a further seven years they were raiding the plains
of central Gaul.

In the orient, also, the hosts of Islam were still advancing.
While completing the reorganization of Persia, the Arabs —
thanks to the zealous recruits whom they found among the Ira-
nians — ^pushed their raids far beyond its frontiers into the lands
of the Turks, Chinese, Afghans, Thibetans, and Hindus. There,
as usual, marauding served as a preparation for conquest. By
the second quarter of the eighth century the domains of the
caliph had come to include the valleys of the Indus and the Oxus,
with advance posts extending into Turkestan. In Asia Minor,

THE ARAB EMPIRE 15 1.

however, the Byzantine power, which had earlier seemed on the
point of utter collapse, revived sufficiently to hold a frontier ex-
tending roughly from Adana on the Mediterranean to Trebizond
on the Black Sea. And out of the warfare in this Anatolian
country emerged a general named Leo, who secured the imperial
cronm in 717 — just in time to organize the defense of the capital
against another great attack of the Moslems by land and sea.

Again the issue turned on the holding of the Bosphorus and
when, after twelve months of bitter fighting, the caliph’s fleet had
been driven off, his armies abandoned the campaign.

The Arab Empire of the eighth century, reaching from the
Atlantic Ocean to the Himalayas, was the ultimate product of The
marauding expeditions undertaken by the nomads of Arabia, i^ature of
When they came into the territories of their powerful neighbors,
they brought with them no political institutions beyond those of
their ancient tribal system, and no political ambition beyond that
of collecting tribute. But they were not mere savage despoilers |
like the Huns. On taking over the administration of the con-
quered lands, they carefully preserved anything that might be
turned to their own advantage. The provincial organization of
Romans or Persians they left intact, merely substituting Arabs
for natives in the topmost offices. Subordinates, as long as they
proved loyal to their new masters, remained unmolested. Ac-
cordingly, the only persons to suffer complete ruin were the mem-
bers of the old official aristocracy. To lesser men — such as peas- \
ants, laborers, petty traders, and civil servants — ^the Moslem
conquest was a blessing rather than a calamity. Their burdens
under the new regime could be no heavier than those already
borne, and by the easy process of accepting Islam they could
themselves enter the favored class in the state.

Hundreds of thousands quickly grasped the advantages offered
by the new faith, and throughout the centuries down to the
present their descendants have largely remained Mohammedan.

Legally they became Arabs as well as Moslems, for converts had
to be adopted into Arab tribes and receive Arab names. At
first such recruits were treated as an inferior order ; but eventu-
ally, as the nomads dropped the primitive customs of the desert
and mixed with the native population, maintenance of the old
distinctions became impossible. The religion, language, and to
some extent the traits .of the; conquerors came to be shared by the
inhabitants of a: region, and although the latter were not

Arabs like the Bedcwis' who bad remained in the homeland, their

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The

weakening
if the
O mmia H

caliphate

The

Abbasid

d5niasty

(750-1258)

152

culture may properly be called Arabic. The Romans of the prin-
cipate were by no means all descended from citizens of the ancient
state on the Tiber; what is known as Latin culture was largely
Hellenic by origin. Even if the Arabs borrowed much from
Greeks, Romans, Persians, and Hindus, the civilization which
they developed truly reflected their own genius and ranks as one
of the greatest contributions made by any people in history.

Fuller discussion of this subject must be postponed until a
later chapter, for at present we are dealing merely with the earlier
caliphate, which came to an end in 750. Although the Ommiads
were still able to extend their dominions both to the east and to
the west, it soon proved impossible to support the state from the
profits of war and conquest. Consequently, the ancient freedom
of true believers from all tribute was gradually restricted to an
exemption from personal taxes, and lands were assessed without
regard to the holders. Yet, while the Ommiads thus broadened
the liability for taxation, they maintained the old tradition that
the original Arabs constituted a ruling aristocracy. Political au-
thority and social eminence remained virtual monopolies of a few
families from Mecca and Medina — ^ policy which, coming more
and more into conflict with the interests of the Moslem popula-
tion, produced increasing discontent.

As was to be expected, the opposition came to a head in Persia,
where a deep antagonism to Syrian domination outlived the
monarchy from which it had been inherited. There the preju-
dices of the Iranian population coincided with the ambitions of
the Arab tribes who had momentarily enjoyed great prestige
during the caliphate of Ali. And there the legitimist party nat-
urally maintained its headquarters. By fanatics of this persua-
sion Ali and his son were glorified as holy martyrs, and various
religious doctrines were turned into watchwords for the sacred
cause of revenge. From time to time they launched insurrec-
tions, but none had any success until the Ommiad dynasty had
come into general disrepute throughout the empire. Then a
revolutionary movement, obscurely begun in the extreme east of
Persia, suddenly swept everything before it. In 750 a certain
Abu-l-Abbas, great-great-grandson of Mohammed's uncle, Abbas,
was proclaimed caliph in Irak. The Ommiads and their friends
were massacred and within a few years the capital of the Arab
empire was moved to the newly built city of Bagdad on the
Tigris — B. momentous event for the history both of Islam and
of Christendom.

CHAPTER VII

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN

I. THE MEROVINGIAN KINGDOM

By the time that the Arabs had swept across Africa to invade
Spain and Gaul, two great powers had risen to a dominating
position in western Europe : the Frankish kingdom and the
Roman church. The former, as established by Clovis,^ stopped
considerably short of the Mediterranean coast, leaving the upper
‘Rhone valley to the Burgundians, Provence to the Ostrogoths,
and Septimania to the Visigoths. On the northeast, however, it
reached well beyond the Rhine, for it included not only the an-
cient territory of the Ripuarian Franks, but also that of the
Alamans. In the interior of Germany two important nations
held lands adjoining those of the Franks. To the north were the
Saxons; below them, between the Main and the Saale, the
Thuringians. Along the upper Danube, in the old province of
Rhaetia, lived the remnants of the Alamans under the protection
of the Ostrogoths, and down the river were situated the Bava-
rians, the Lombards, and the Gepids. On the death of Clovis
in 511, his realm was divided among his four sons. They were
an able, warlike, and unscrupulous lot. Like their father, they
took whatever they could without the slightest regard for moral
principles. Indeed, they respected each other’s rights only
through fear of each other’s strength; when one of them died,
his children were likdy to be murdered and his domains to be
seized by his brothers. Such details must here be passed over.
By 558 the three elder Merovingians had perished; so the entire
kingdom was reunited by Clotar (or Lothair), the youngest, who
himself died in 561.

Meanwhile the Frankish dominion had been extended in vari-
ous directions, for the royal brothers, in spite of their jealousies,
generally ccK>perated for the sake of offensive war. Their first
expedition, against the Burgundians in 523, broke the power of
that kingdom, but was prevented from ultimate success by the
intervention of Theodpric the Ostrogoth, So they turned to
the side of Germ^y, where they subjugated the Thuringians and

Territorial
expansion
under the
sons of
Clovis
(sii-61)

1 See abov^ 74 f.

The

Franks

and their

neighbors

in the later

sixth

century

154 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

brought their supremacy as far east as the Slavic settlements
on the upper Elbe. Then, as the Ostrogoths weakened after the
death of Theodor ic, the Merovingians once more directed their
attention to the south. They definitely conquered Burgundy, and
by threatening to ally with Justinian, they extorted from the
Ostrogothic king all his territory on their side of the Alps. This
arrangement resulted in the Frankish annexation of Provence
and the extension of a Frankish protectorate over the Alamans
and the Bavarians on the Danube. At that point they were
checked by the Lombards, and in the opposite direction they
failed to take Septimania from the Visigoths.

By the second half of the sixth century the Franks thus held
important rank in the western world. They ruled almost all
Gaul, together with a wide territory to the east of it. And their
prominence tended to be enhanced by the evil fortunes that befell
their greatest rivals. Both the Vandal and the Ostrogothic king-
doms were destro37ed by Justinian. The Visigothic state persisted
in Spain for well over another hundred years, but long before it
was annihilated by the Moslems it had fallen into complete decay.
Of the other Germanic peoples on the continent, only one was to
play a leading part on Roman soil, namely, the Lombards, whose
invasion of Italy will be considered in the following section. The
Gepids were crushed by the Avars. The Bavarians, Alamans,
and Thuringians recognized Frankish overlordship. The Saxons
and the Frisians remained wild and heathen, like the Scandinavian
peoples to the north. Even their kindred who had settled in
Britain were as yet hardly touched by Latin civilization.

There the Anglo-Saxons had occupied the whole agricultural
plain of the southwest and partitioned it into many small king-
doms: Northumbria, East Anglia, Mercia, Kent, and the East,
Middle, South, and West Saxons (Essex, Middlesex, Sussex,
and Wessex). In the highlands of the north lived the Piets, en-
gaged in warfare with invading Scots from Ireland. The Piets
were probably Celtic; the Scots were assuredly so, as were the
Britons. The latter, called Welsh by the Anglo-Saxons, still
held the rough country in the west of Britain; but as the West
Saxons seized the valley of the Severn and the Mercians reached
the sea at Chester, the Britons were driven into the three separate
regions of Cornwall, Wales, and Strathclyde. Meanwhile, to
escape destruction at the hands of the Germanic barbarians, num-
bers of Britons had crossed the Channel into the nearby Armor-

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN 155

lean peninsula. Like the Welsh who stayed behind, they were
rather Celtic tribesmen than Roman gentlemen; for even if their
ancestors had possessed any Latin culture, it had been lost in
the troubled century preceding. Into the westernmost part of
Gaul the invaders thus brought the Celtic speech and customs
which, despite the tremendous changes of subsequent ages, have

persisted down to the present. Brittany, as the land came to be
named after its new inhabitants, thus became a country entirely
foreign to the Merovingian kingdom.

That kingdom, as marked on the map, has an imposing appear-
ance, but its grandeur should not be exaggerated. What little The
strength it possessed in the early sixth century quickly faded in
the subsequent years. The decline began when Qotar, last sur-
viving son of Clovis, partitioned the reunited kingdom among his vingians
four sons. Two of led by their wives, became involved

Mero-

vingian

govern-

ment

Justice

156 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

in a bloody feud, which was perpetuated under their children and
grandchildren. During this barbarous war the two rival courts,
one at Metz and the other at Soissons, became the centers of
two virtually independent principalities: Austrasia, so called be-
cause it lay to the east, and Neustria, the newest territory of the
Franks. Even after the Neustrian ruler had finally exterminated
the rival dynasty, Austrasia maintained its separate identity
under the domination of the local aristocracy. Burgundy and
Aquitaine had long been autonomous. On the Danube the Bava-
rians threw off the overlordship of the Franks and in Thuringia
their control was at most a doubtful quantity. Meanwhile, too,
the royal authority had become a mere sham. Dagobert (d. 639)
was the last of the Merovingians who amounted to anything.
Thenceforth the house of Clovis degenerated into a series of
inconsequential puppets controlled by favorites.

On the subject of the Merovingian government controversy
once raged between the rival schools of Germanists and Roman-
ists : the scholars who sought to derive everything important from
the Germans and those who insisted on a Roman origin for all
significant institutions. Today historians are inclined to regard
the problem in a more sensible way — ^to explain the Frankish
constitution as a haphazard combination of odds and ends, rather
than a logical development of some one system. In general, how-
ever, it appears that the forms of the monarchy were Roman.
The king was more of a despot than a simple barbarian chief-
tain, and he issued orders to a host of dignitaries with titles
borrowed from the imperial court— chamberlains, seneschals, mar-
shals, constables, and the like. For purposes of local adminis-
tration the old Roman civitas was normally the unit employed,
but in regions beyond the Rhine rural districts about important
royal estates were substituted. In each of these units the king
named a count {comes or graf) to carry out his orders and
hold office during his pleasure. Upon the counts depended the
stability of the whole political structure, for it was through
them alone that the king could enforce his rights, which may
be classified as judicial, military, and fiscal.

It is impossible to generalize with regard to the administration
of justice, except to say that everything had come to depend on
local custom.- The Merovingian king did not legislate like a

2 See above, p. 77.

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN 157

Roman emperor, and it was only occasionally that he issued
comprehensive instructions to his agents. Earlier princes had
often promulgated codes for the settlement of disputes among
the various groups of their subjects, but by the seventh century
the old national distinctions had pretty well broken down.

Whether a man was governed by the Roman law or by some
variety of barbarian law — ^Frankish, Visigothic, or Burgundian —
became largely a matter of accident. Each little region had
its own usages administered by its own court. There, under the
presidency of the count, judgments were rendered by a group
of prominent landowners {rachintburgiy who knew what rules
and penalties should be enforced. The character of this cus-
tomary law varied according to the dominant tradition of the
countryside: in the south it remained fundamentally Roman; in
the north it was almost purely Germanic.

In connection with military obligations, too, the earlier con-
trast between Roman and barbarian disappeared under the Mero- The army
vingians. In time of war the king treated all able-bodied men
as Franks, liable for service when called. But he did not, of
course, summon the whole force at one time; only the neigh-
boring population was normally mustered for a particular
campaign. The man in charge of such proceedings was usually
a duke a high commander placed in charge of a wide,

territory^ — especially one on the frontier — ^and so given authority
superior to that of m'any counts. Under this system the army
could hardly be more than a haphazard collection of rudely armed
infantry. In the sixth century, apparently, the Franks overcame
their enemies through strength of numbers rather than through
superiority of organization. It was not for another two hundred
years that the Frankish host became an efficient body of cavalry
able to meet the Saracens on even terms.

The financial structure of the Merovingian kingdom was ex-
ceedingly simple. Officials were paid no regular salaries; in- Finance
stead they were given landed estates from which to support
themselves, together with a share of the revenues that they might
collect for the king. The administration of justice was a source
of income rather than an expense. Military service was exacted
without remuneration, as were also necessary provisions, mate-
rials, transportation, and labor. As a whole, the government cost
the king little m cash, 3^ he was supposed to maintain his do-
mestic estahlidbmeat frotp the proceed of his own estates. As

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

158

Political

and

cultural

decay

St.

Gregory
of Tours

(538-94)

a consequence, the Merovingian state — if it can be honored with
such a title — depended very little upon public taxes. And that
was necessarily the case, for the imperial fiscal system had long
since fallen in ruins.

Diocletian’s taxes, of course, were never abolished. The scanty
records of the Merovingian kings prove that they continued to
enforce, as best they could, whatever rights came to them by
Roman tradition. Yet, without an efficient governmental ma-
chine, it was impossible for them either to collect the old imposts
or to assess new ones. As time passed, the direct taxes, both real
and personal, tended to lose their original character altogether
— to become a sort of rent owed from certain lands only or a
charge on the heads of particular men, chiefly the unfree. On the
other hand, the indirect taxes continued to be levied on highways,
rivers, and coasts. But all these dues, with the acquisition by the
aristocracy of special privileges and exemptions, ceased to be royal
monopolies and came to be attached to many great estates. This
weakening of the central government, accompanied by the fading
out of distinctions between public and private rights, came to be a
prominent characteristic of feudal society — a subject which will be
given detailed treatment in a later connection.

The Merovingian kingdom, although it perpetuated a num-
ber of imperial forms, was thus a poor imitation of the Roman
state, even as that had been in its last stage of decadence. In
the earlier period the Frankish monarchy seemed great and
powerful chiefly through the ruthless energy of the kings. When
they degenerated into the utter incompetents of the seventh cen-
tury, their kingdom was shown to be a sprawling territory with-
out cohesion or unity, inevitably doomed to disintegrate unless
in some way the royal authority could be restored. Under such
circumstances, Latin civilization in Gaul threatened to disappear
altogether. The official documents issued by the king prove that
his clerks were ignorant of the simplest grammatical rules. Their
handwriting was a grotesque scrawl. Compared with the bar-
barism that prevailed under the later Merovingians, the culture
of fifth-century Rome appears a golden age.

In the midst of the calamitous wars between Neustria and
Austrasia lived Gregory, bishop of Tours from 573 to 594. His
writings are our chief source for the political and ecclesiastical
history of Gaul during the fifth and sixth centuries, but they are
even more valuable for their revealing glimpses of contemporary

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN 159

thought and morals. Gregory was born in 538 at Clermont in
Auvergne. His family was one of the most distinguished in the
province, being of senatorial rank and carrying the tradition of
high office in both state and church. The boy, in preparation for
an ecclesiastical career, was given the best education then avail-
able, and in 563 he was ordained deacon. Shortly afterwards,
seeking a cure for his chronic ill health, he went to the famous
shrine of St. Martin at Tours. While living in that city, he won
the reputation for holiness and all-round ability that led to his
election as bishop.

During his pontificate of twenty-one years Gregory was promi-
nent in local politics, and on many occasions came into direct
contact with the rival kings and queens of the Merovingian house.
His devotion, however, was primarily given to the church, and it
was in this interest that he composed his famous books : the His-
tory of the Franks, the Miracles of St Martin, and various other
essays and biographies. At first, he tells us, he was loath to
undertake literary endeavors because he realized the inferiority
of his Latin. Grammar, he confesses, he had never been able
to master: he could be sure neither of genders nor of cases. As
a rhetorician, he was at most a '"stolid ox.^’ Yet he found en-
couragement in the thought that, even because his writing was
crude, it would be understood by all readers, and that he could
best serve God by not trying to be other than he was. By descent
a Roman gentleman, Gregory thus chose to lead a useful life
rather than to sink himself in a dead world of tradition. For
his honesty and sincerity, for his simplicity and enthusiasm, the
historian as well as the clergyman must be intensely grateful.

In his own story Gregory well illustrates the decay of learning
among the aristocracy, the brutality of the life to which its mem-
bers had become accustomed, and the complete dominance of the
church over the minds of the educated. His naive attitude toward
the deeds of Clovis has already been noted,® and it is character-
istic of the author. In his eyes the outward acceptance of the
orthodox faith served to excuse what would otherwise be the
blackest iniquity.. He was inclined to interpret all events, even
the most absurd trivialities, as evidence of supernatural interven-
tion, either divine or diabolic. Although much of his history is
extremely valuable as a graphic picture of contemporary society, it

3 See abcjve, pp. •

Gregory’s
History
of the
Franks

i6o

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

is full of edifying anecdotes. With regard to the efficacy of holy
relics, his faith was boundless. He had the utmost scorn for
scientific medicine, preferring to the prescriptions of physicians
the marvelous powers of St Martin. A drink mixed with dust
from the holy man’s sepulcher Gregory found a sovereign remedy
for ailments of the stomach. Licking the rail in front of the tomb
cured a sore tongue; the cloth that hung there, when rubbed on the
throat, removed a troublesome fishbone. Objects taken from the
sacred environment would allay fevers, cast out devils, prevent
storms, and perform many other wonders. In all such matters
Gregory was the child of his time — ^that which we know as the
Dark Age.

2. THE LOMBARDS AND GREGORY THE GREAT

The

Byzantine

adminis-

tration

The

Lombard
invasion
of Italy
(568)

Immediately after his first success in Italy, Justinian pro-
claimed the restoration of the old imperial government, with its
sharp separation of civil and military authority. But as the
Gothic war persisted, that method of administration proved quite
impractical, and the commander of the army, Narses, was given
complete control of the government, with subordinate generals
{duces) in charge of the provinces into which the peninsula was
divided. Even after the death of Justinian in 565, followed by
the recall of Narses in 567, the arrangement still continued. The
supreme representative of the emperor was styled the exarch, with
headquarters at Ravenna. This city together with the surround-
ing territory, was thenceforth known as the exarchate ; the other
districts, now permanently organized, were called duchies {dii-
catus ). That the military system thus came to be perpetuated was
due to the Lombard invasion, which produced a state of chronic
warfare.

Only a few facts are known concerning the earlier history of
the Lombards. At one time they had been neighbors of the
Saxons in the lower valley of the Elbe, but by the later fifth
century they had established themselves on the Danube between
the Bavarians and the Gepids. Although nominally converted to
Arian Christianity, they still had the reputation of being utterly
savage, and for that reason were especially sought as recruits for
the Byzantine army.'* The greatest victories of Narses were,
indeed, largely won with Lombard auxiliaries. Then the Avars

< See above, p. 108.

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN i6i

appeared on the scene and the Lombards decided to move. Ill
feeling had arisen between them and the government at Con-

stantinople, and a picturesque legend tells us that Narses invited
them to cross the Alps as revenge for his disgrace. There is no
need to fall back on such invention; Italy, now that the Gothic

i 62 mediaeval history

The extent
of the
Lombard
conquests

power was broken and the emperors were distracted by' hostilities
on many fronts, was easy prey for any horde that chose to take it.
The Italians were probably fortunate that their visitors were
Lombards rather than Avars.

The story of the Lombard conquest is a very famous one.
With its romantic plot and gory details, it has been told and
retold in countless books. What has not been so frequently em-
phasized is the fact that it is almost wholly taken from the
pages of Paul the Deacon,^ who lived over two hundred years
later and has been proved generally unreliable. It is impossible,
therefore, to be sure of an3d:hing in this connection beyond the
meager series of events attested by contemporary sources. In 568
the Lombard king, Alboin, led his people into the fertile valley
of the Po. This region he easily conquered from the weakening
Byzantine government, and it has since been known as Lombardy.
But Alboin’s reign was cut short by assassination, as was that of
his successor; whereupon the Lombard nobles decided to dispense
with a king, and none was elected for ten years or so. Then,
through fear of the Franks, the monarchy was revived about the
year 584, after which the crown passed, often by usurpation and
murder, to a long series of rulers.

Meanwhile various Lombard chiefs, with their respective
bands, had penetrated far into the peninsula. There they set up
a series of principalities which, in imitation of the Byzantine sys-
tem, came to be called duchies. The Lombard dukes, however,
were very slightly, if at all, under the control of the king. And
the imperial power was now reduced to a collection of scattered
provinces, isolated from each other as well as from Constanti-
nople. Of these the exarchate of Ravenna was the most impor-
tant. To the north of it, along the marshy estuaries of the rivers,
extended the duchy of Venetia, where the great city of Venice
was yet to arise ; and at the head of the Adriatic the Byzantines
also held the peninsula of Istria, with the city of Trieste. Ad-
joining the exarchate on the south they had the region known
as Pentapolis, but this territory was widely separated from their
other possessions : Apulia, Calabria, Sicily, the duchy of Naples,
the duchy of Rome, and, in the extreme north, the coast of
Liguria, with the city of Genoa.

A glance at the map will show that the empire thus kept all

® See below, p. 233.

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN 163

the great seaports, leaving to the Lombards the interior of the
peninsula and the less important coasts. Their kingdom, as we
have seen, consisted primarily of the Po Valley; but even this
region was really controlled by the local counts, who are said to
have numbered over thirty and who, like those of Gaul, had for
centers of their administration the outstanding Roman cities.

Although the kingdom extended south of the Apennines over
Tuscany, the royal authority was weaker there than in Lombardy.

And the four great duchies of Trent, Friuli, Benevento, and
Spoleto were independent principalities in everything except
name. Under such circumstances, it is quite evident that the
Lombard kingdom possessed few of the attributes that we con-
sider essential to the existence of a true state. Again we discover »
the forms of Roman law serving to mask a very crude barbarian
exploitation. In fact, what has already been said of the Mero-
vingian monarchy can be applied, with the change of a few names,
to that of the Lombards in Italy.

Of infinitely greater significance for the future of Europe was
the conte mporary developmen t-of the Roman church. The papal Gregory
theory hadrTFen eloquently promulgated by Leo the Great in the *he Great
fifth century. Yet, in spite of occasional deference to Rome, the (S9o~6o4)
doctrine in its eitirety had never been accepted by the four great -
eastern patriarchs: those of Constantinople, Antioch, Jerusalem,
and Alexandria. A hundred years after Leo the situation re-
mained unchanged, except that the issue had been somewhat
sharpened through the emperors’ attempts to enforce their own
authority. On the other hand, all opposition to the papal claims
had ended with the barbarian invasions. Then, in the next cen-
tury, a series of Asiatic conquests revolutionized the course of
events in Syria and Egypt. Antioch, Jerusalem, and Alexandria
— three great apostolic foundations — were submerged by the hc^ ts |
of Islam. And as they losT all prominence in the Christian world, i
there remained as the rival of Rome only Constantinople, an
upstart city with a church that was great only through imperial
patronage.

Halfway in point of time between Justinian and Mohammed
the see'o’f St. Peter was held by the eminent statesman and
teacher. Pope Gregory I. He was bom about the year 540 of
a noble and wealthy Roman family, one which had long been
distinguished in bcrfh i|mrch and state. Of his youth nothing is
definitely known,, that he received a good education in

i 64 mediaeval history

Rom^ and
Constan-
tinople

Latin grammar and rhetoric ; of Greek he remained entirely igno-
rant. As he grew to manhood, he witnessed the final phase of
the Gothic war, the last gloomy years of Justinian’s reign, and
the invasion of Italy by the Lombards. During this time Gregory
apparently worked through the lower grades of a political career,
for in 573 he appears as prefect of Rome — ^the highest municipal
office in the city. But within a year or so he had resigned his
honors, given his fortune to charity, converted his family mansion
into a monastery, and there become one of the brothers, presum-
ably under the rule just composed by the famous Benedict of
Nursia.

It was about 578 that Gregory was called from his retreat to
be ordained deacon at Rome, and not long afterwards he was sent
as papal ambassador to Constantinople. The period was one of
critical importance for the papacy. The popes had found the
Byzantine conquest by no means an unmixed blessing; under
Justinian they had enjoyed less toleration than under the Arian
Ostrogoths. Even after the death of that willful emperor they
remained in an uncomfortable position. To submit to eastern
opinion and modify the canons of Chalcedon was to lose the sup-
port of the west; to refuse to do so was to inviteJmperial perse-
cution. Nevertheless, for a pope unwilling to renounce moral
grandeur the way was clear. What could he do but follow the
tradition of Leo the Great? And as it turned out, this decision
was made easier by the Lombard invasion. Although the Lom-
bards were heretics as well as savage barbarians, they constituted
an effective counterpoise to the ambitions of the emperor. The
logic of the situation inevitably suggested that the papacy, to
assure its necessary independence, play off one potential enemy
against the other.

Whether or not Gregory appreciated this truth when he went
to Constantinople, he did so after a residence there of about seven
years. Officially, his mission — ^to secure imperial aid against the
Lombards — ^was a complete failure. The g mperor Mgurke,® pre-
occupied with wars against the Avars and the ]Pefsiansi could or
would do nothing for Italy. That country, Gregory discovered,
must work out its own salvation — a conviction that he brought
back with him to Rome and ultimately made the corner-stone of
the papal policy. For a while, however, he again retired to his

® See above, p. 114.

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN 165

monastery, this time as abbot. Then, on the death of the pope
in 59^> Gregory was unanimously raised to the vacant see. His
reluctance to assume. authority was not the conventional modesty
of the bishop elect, for he always regretted the years of his abbacy
as the happiest of his life. Yet, if ever a man was fitted by birth,
training, and capacity for the office to which he was elevated, it
was Gregory. During the fourteen years of his pontificate the
nobility of his ideals, combined with his rare practical wisdom,
brought the Petrine supremacy from the realm of theory to that
of actuality. With him the papacy may be said to have become
definitely a world power.

While Gregory always maintained a formal attitude of deep
respect toward the emperor, this did not prevent his following a Gregoiy’s
policy that at times verged on insubordination. By an edict of Lombard
Justinian, the bishops throughout Italy had been associated with Policy
imperial officials in the work of local administration. Then came
the Lombard advance, and since it cut off Rome from the exar-
chate, the pope was left de facto ruler of his capital. With or
without special authorization, Gregory proceeded to assume re-
sponsibility for the defense of the city. Indeed, he went so far
as to negotiate a truce with the Lombard king and to advise the
emperor that it should at once be extended into a permanent
settlement. For this action he was severely reprimanded by
Maurice in what Gregory regarded as an insulting letter. His
reply was, to say the least, frank. He virtually accused the em-
peror of negligence in the handling of Italian affairs, and it was
characteristic of the age that the government was too feeble to
take action against him. Finally, after a more capable exarch
had been sent to Ravenna, Gregory's policy was officially adopted.

In 599 general peace was signed with the Lombards, recognizing
their title to the lands which they had so long occupied.

In his dealings with the prelates of the east, Gregory could do
little more than reiterate a claim to sole headship for the see of The papal
St. Peter. In the west, on the other hand, his superior authority supremacy
was not merely asserted but actually enforced. Throughout Italy, ^
except for a few refractory bishops in the north, the papal will
was generally recognized, both within and without the Lombard
territory. In Africa, likewise, Gregory's supervision of all major
ecclesiastical affairs was constant and efficient. Nor was there
any question of the papal supremacy in Gaul. The trouble there
was to maintain even a semUanc^ of Christian unity and disci-

i66

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

pline when the Frankish kings, plunged in murderous feuds, ap-
pointed and controlled the local clergy to suit their own selfish
interests. It was largely in vain that Gregory preached reform
of public or private morals to the Merovingians and their bishops ;
yet it was not without consequence that the cause of idealism
was identified in the minds of the more intelligent Franks with
that of papal intervention. And in Spain, meanwhile, Gregory
won a great triumph through the conversion to the orthodox faith
of Recared, king of the Visigoths — an event followed by general
submission to the papal authority throughout the country.

Gregory’s famous mission to Britain was of even greater sig-
The nificance; but this subject, together with his interest in the ad-

Patrimony vancement of monasticism, will be separately treated below. The
Peto result of his labors in many directions was to give the papacy
the international character that it was to maintain in the succeed-
ing ages. Being actually independent of such transitory factors
as imperial residence or political favoritism, it could logically as-
sert a universal authority transcending all temporal arrange-
ments. The practical Gregory, however, saw that, to preserve this
fortunate status, the papacy must be put on a sound economic
basis. Scattered throughout Italy and the other western prov-
inces lay the estates that constituted the Patrimony of St. Peter —
chiefly lands donated to the Roman church by pious benefactors.
Under Gregory the administration of this property was brought to
a new state of efficiency. Although some of it was leased to tenant
farmers, the greater part was worked directly by the church
through stewards, almost always clergymen, appointed by the
pope. Gregory’s correspondence reveals the meticulous care with
which he looked after each source of income, whether fields, do-
mestic animals, or peasant cultivators. His attention to detail is
nothing short of amazing. While engaged in multifarious proj-
ects of world-wide interest, he still found time to issue specific
instructions to his agents concerning everything that they were
supposed to do — from the supervision of agricultural routine to
matters of poor relief and reports on the conduct of local ecclesias-
tics. Gregory, in fact, was a model landlord — ever watchful of
legal obligations and material resources, but always just, chari-
table, and humane.

Even yet we have not reached the contributions for which
Gregory's Gregory enjoyed the greatest fame in the Middle Ages. As a
writings statesman and administrator his influence was profound and last-

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN 167

ing, but in these respects his personality became merged in the
dominant tradition of the papacy. As an author, however,
Gregory remained an individual, loved and revered by coimtless
millions, both learned and unlearned. Among the four Doctors
of Latin Christianity^ he was beyond question the most popular.
For scholarship in itself Gregory cared nothing, and for conven-
tional literary style he expressed positive dislike. The simplicity
of his writing was the result not so much of ignorance as of
conscious effort. His books, like his acts, were wholly governed
by practical considerations. He composed them for the average
reader of his day and — as it happened — of many centuries to
come. In the succeeding age, though all students continued to
admire the towering genius of Augustine, few could understand
what he had written. Everybody who could understand Latin
could understand Gregory.

One of the great pope’s most widely read books was that en-
titled Pastoral Care — a manual on the character and duties of the
bishop, which he wrote shortly after his elevation to the papacy.
No ordinary man, says Gregory, should be chosen for so re-
sponsible a task. The bishop must be a trained man, but along
with his learning he should po^ssess spiritual purity, despising all
pleasures of the flesh and all goods of this world. Especially to
be shunned is the man*who seeks ecclesiastical preferment through
'ambition, or the man whose erudition is the cloak of pride and
viciousness. The bishop is the pastor of the flock, who must
teach by example as well as by words ; the physician of souls, who
must himself enjoy the health that he tries to share with others.
To be a successful ruler, he should above all have a broad and
sympathetic understanding of human nature, so that he may be
able to distinguish one kind of people from another and to vary
his instruction to suit the needs of each. Gregory enumerates
no less than thirty-six distinctions of this sort, and then devotes a
chapter to the admonitions that must be given to each pair of op-
posites : such as men and women, masters and servants, prelates
and subordinates, the rich and the poor, the joyful and the sad,
the wise and the foolish; the sick and the well, the impudent and
the bashful, the gluttonous and the abstinent. This is the meat
of the book — ^practical advice from a practical man who was him-
self a distinguished bishop.

The

Pastoral

Care

’ See above, p. 97.

i68

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

In the Pastoral Care preaching is emphasized as one of the
The chief episcopal duties, and in this respect as in others Gregory

Homilies provided a model for future generations. His sermons were

enormously popular not only when they were delivered, but also
in their published form, as Homilies on the Scriptures. These
were simple discourses to explain texts from the Bible and through
them to present the lessons of Christianity. Devoid of all florid
rhetoric, they spoke plainly for the edification of plain people.
Gregory had a talent for direct and forceful statement, which —
despite the pseudo-classic tradition — was then as now the best
form of eloquence. And to drive home a moral, he adopted the
unconventional device of the pious anecdote. Thus the popular
story of saint or of sinner was introduced to formal ecclesiastical
literature, and another precedent of great significance was set for
the Middle Ages.

This same vein was further developed by Gregory in his re-
The markable Dialogues, As the name implies, the author expounds

Dialogues his subject by means of a conversation with a friend — one Peter,
who combines extraordinary curiosity with a rather slow wit,
and so is made to represent the audience for whose instruction the
volume is compiled. Aside from the slender continuity thus pro-
vided, the Dialogues are a collection of marvelous stories concern-
ing holy men and women, to illustrate the ever present power of
God — ^and of the devil — in daily life. The entire second book is
devoted to St. Benedict of Nursia and constitutes, as noted above,
the earliest biography of that illustrious monk. Yet, like the
first and third books, it resolves itself into a series of visions and
other miracles. The fourth book tells how various persons, both
good and bad, met death, and seeks by such examples to demon-
strate the immortality of the soul.

Gregory’s honesty in reporting these tales of the supernatural
is, of course, unquestioned. The extent to which they are to be
believed is a matter of faith, not of historical evidence, for most
of them are presented merely on the basis of traditional knowl-
edge. Students of history are interested in these narratives pri-
marily because they reflect the convictions of the early Middle
Ages, when everybody constantly expected and discovered miracu-
lous events in everyday life. Gregory the Great, like all educated
Europeans of the time, was inclined to explain almost any occur-
rence as the result either of divine or of satanic influence. Greg-
ory’s book — and it is only one of many similar compositions —

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN 169

relates a profusion of marvels. There are literally scores of
apparitions, prophecies, ecstatic visions, and raisings from the
dead, as well as miraculous cures, inventions, and deeds of all
kinds. Gregory tells of streams that changed their beds at saintly
command ; of birds, beasts, and serpents that fulfilled commissions
given them by holy men; of wicked magicians, haunted houses,
and disembodied ghosts ; of demons who appeared on all sorts of
occasions and in all sorts of guises. The catalogue of diabolic
pranks and priestly remedies is rich and varied. To be appreciated
however, the stories must be read in full.

Much Christian doctrine, obviously, is woven into the Dich
lognes, but Gregory’s chief work in the realm of theology is that The
called the M or alia, a commentary on the book of Job. Although M or alia
neither his method of exposition nor the conclusions which he drew
were invented by the author, the book brought into absolute clarity
much that had been obscure in the earlier sources. Here, for ex-
ample, appeared in complete form the allegorical system of Bibli-
cal interpretation that was to remain fundamental to all medi-
aeval scholasticism. To Gregory the entire Old Testament
contained a hidden prophecy of the New Testament. The books
of the Hebrews, to be sure, were valuable for their literal message;
yet they were infinitely more valuable for the mystic revelation
that underlay the superficial meaning of the words. To under-
stand the former was a task for the comparatively simple ; appre-
ciation of the latter was the test of true wisdom. And this wis-
dom, it should be noted, was not something which the individual
could secure through his unaided faculties. Without the sacred
tradition of the church he was powerless to discover the truth.

This is the starting-point of Gregory’s entire exposition of
Christianity. Although violent controversy still rages over the Gregory’s
precise origin of various doctrines and usages of the mediaeval theology
church, every one must admit that, at least in large part, they go
back to Gregory the Great, and that he did no more than restate
the established beliefs of his day. Most of his theology he took
from the massive works of St. Augustine ; other ideas, which his
own writings emphasized for the first time, he evidently adopted
from oral tradition — 2l procedure which must seem entirely logical
and right to one who accepts that tradition as itself inspired. In
Gregory’s works we accordingly find definite presentation of
such mediaeval beliefs as the constant intervention in human life
of angels and demons, the efficacy of prayers to the saints, the

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The con-
version
of the
Irish

St. Patrick
(d. 461)

170

sacrificial nature of the eucharist, and the purification in purgatory
of men who fail to perform adequate penance in this life. These
doctrines illustrate ohe phase of Gregory’s remarkable mentality.
Whether or not we believe what he believed, we must recognize
the commanding greatness of a man who could be eminent, not
only as a monk and a bishop, but also as a statesman, an adminis-
trator, and a writer.

3. THE SPREAD OF CHRISTIANITY

From the testimony of archaeology, as well as of written
sources, we may be certain that Christianity was introduced into
Britain during the time of the Roman occupation, but the extent
of its progress remains doubtful. It is probable that the faith
had been adopted by only a minority of the population before the
province was abandoned to the barbarians. The Anglo-Saxon
invaders were entirely heathen, and, as the result of their con-
quests, the British church was broken and isolated from the
continent. Latin civilization suffered a complete collapse. In the
meantime, a famous British missionary, had undertaken the con-
version of the Irish — or Scots, as they were then called — in the
neighboring island.

The future St. Patrick — ^according to the traditional stoiy,
which is now accepted by most historians — was born in Britain
of Christian parents about 389 and originally named Sucat. As
a youth he was taken by Irish pirates and held captive by them
for six years. Having then effected his escape by means of a
ship bound for Gaul, he became a monk at Lerins, the most promi-
nent of the pre-Benedictine monasteries in that country. Later
he was ordained deacon at Auxerre, where he passed many years
in the service of the local church, being now called by a Latin
name, Patricius. But his great desire was to carry the gospel to
the wild people who had enslaved him, and finally, in 432, he
was consecrated bishop and formally dispatched on a mission to
Ireland. Spending there the rest of his long life, he had the satis-
faction of seeing the bulk of the people enrolled under the stand-
ard of the Cross. Until Patrick’s advent, Christianity had made
slight headway in the island; henceforth it was to have an
organized church, the fame of which soon extended throughout
the western world.

From the beginning this church seems to have been peculiar in

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN 171

many ways. Irish life was still dominated by the tribal system; The
the population was divided into a large number of clans, each church in
under a petty king. When such a chief was converted, his fol- ^^ 1 ^^
lowers were normally converted along with him; so the clan be-
came also the unit of ecclesiastical government. And as the
missionaries were monks, the center of all Christian activity
remained the monastery, which, being of the Egyptian type,
was really a colony of hermits. The abbot acted also as arch-
bishop and consecrated a large number of lesser bishops to attend
to the work of the church among the people. Other monks de-
voted themselves to study and teaching — ^to such good effect
that, between the sixth and the eighth centuries, the Irish monas-
teries were renowned for their learning throughout the entire
west of Europe. While Gregory the Great at Rome was igno-
rant of Greek, it was being read in a savage country that had
never been part of the empire ! The Irish monks, it is true, made
few original contributions in the field of thought, but they well
appreciated the importance of preserving what had been handed
down to them. Their manuscripts are among the most beautiful
ever produced. Written in clear and handsome characters, such
works were also decorated with amazing skill. The delicate
tracery and lovely coloring of a manuscript like the Book of Kells
(eighth century) were rivaled at the time only by the designs of
oriental artists — a fact indicating obscure monastic connections
with Egypt and Syria.

I Among all their activities, however, the Irish monks continued
to be preeminent for austerity and religious enthusiasm. They St.
were great travelers, seeking by choice the wildest and most Columba
inaccessible places. The barren islets of the adjoining seas be-
came dotted with the cells of holy men, who prided themselves B^tish
on facing one ’of the world’s most disagreeable climates without mission
even the comfort of a fire. All of them, however, were not satis-
fied with a purely contemplative life. In 563 one Columba, who
had already helped to found several monastic communities in his
native land, established himself with a band of companions on
the island of Iona. There, eventually, arose a great monastery
which served as headquarters for the Christianization of the
nearby British coasts. Under Irish influence the church was re-
vived and reorganized in Wales. .(And through Columba’s own
efforts, the faith was carried to^ the Welsh of Strathclyde, to the
Scots of Galloway^ Jnd beyond to the Piets. )Nor was it

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

172

strange, after such developments, that missionaries from' the
west should penetrate into the adjacent kingdom of Northumbria.
Thither^ from Iona came the pious and learned Aidan (d. 651)
who, following the Irish custom, combined the offices of abbot
and bishop. His Holy Island (Lindisfarne) was made into a
center like that which earlier had been his home.

As the Irish missionaries pushed their activities among all the
St. Celtic peoples, they inevitably reached Brittany, and from there it

Columban was easy to see that much work remained to be done throughout
an^his^^^ the Merovingian dominions. In many regions the Franks,
continental tho^gli nominally converted to Christianity, remained wholly bar-
mission barous. Often the priests were hardly better than their parish-
ioners. And in the Germanic lands to the east the population
was still largely heathen. Such was the environment found by
Columban, the renowned disciple of Columba. Settling as a
hermit in Burgundy about tlie year 585, he soon attrafcted enough
followers to establish several monasteries, of which the most
famous was at Luxeuil. Thence the influence of his monks
quickly extended in all directions ; for most of them, like their
brethren in the British Isles, were not content with a cloistered
existence but insisted on playing an active part among the people.
This, of course, led to bitter remonstrance on the part of the
secular clergy, and through their favor at various royal courts,
they brought persecution upon the saintly leader.

Columban, driven from Luxeuil, eventually made his way to
the shores of Lake Constance, where he preached for a time to
the Alamans, and where a great monastery came to bear the
name of his disciple, St. Gall. Before long Columban was again
forced to move, and this time he sought a quiet refuge in Italy.
At Bobbio, on the slopes of the Apennines, he founded the last
of his monasteries and there he died in 615. By that time many
religious communities had come to follow his rule, and for a
century or so their number continued to increase. Columban's
system naturally embodied the peculiar features of Celtic monas-
ticism already noted — ^an extremely austere discipline combined
with remarkable freedom for the individual. These hermit
priests, as long as they kept the zeal of fresh converts, maintained
a high standard of Christian conduct; but would such a lax or-
ganization be practical in a less idealistic age? And how could
it be reconciled with the established government of the western
church? The influence of the Celtic monks was to prove of

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN 173

lasting importance for the development of European culture, yet
•ultimately their system yielded to that of Benedict.

From Rome, in the meantime, had been launched a missionary
enterprise which was eventually to absorb and surpass that of
the Irish. Bede, the great English scholar of the eighth century,®
tells how Gregory, before he became pope, saw some Northum-
brian boys in the slave market at Rome and so became fired with
ambition to Christianize their country. Whatever may be thought
of that popular legend, there can be no question of Gregory’s
interest in the conversion of the Anglo-Saxons. The opportunity
for action arose toward the end of the sixth century, when .®thel-
bert, king of Kent and overlord of various other regions, married
Bertha, a Merovingian princess. She, of course, was a Christian,
and it was stipulated that she might bring with her a Frankish
bishop. The man whom she chose, however, lacked the talent for
missionary endeavor; and since nothing more could be expected
from the clergy of Gaul, the pope decided that the time was ripe
for his intervention.

Gregory had begun his ecclesiastical career as a monk and
had spent several. years as abbot. Though later called on to serve
the church in the world, he remained an ardent champion of
monasticism and devoted much care to the founding of new re-
ligious communities and the reform of old ones. To him, as is
proved by his letters on the subject, the monastic ideal was that
of St. Benedict. Gregory held that a monk should stay in his
monastery unless specially authorized to leave by his abbot and
by the bishop of the local diocese; only under such circumstances
could he share the work of the secular clergy. And if a priest
wished to take the vows, he should surrender his parish and sub-
mit to monastic discipline like the rest of the brothers. The two
callings, for the good of both, had to be kept distinct. The pope,
therefore, while applauding the Christian zeal of the Irish, disap-
proved of their lax organization. His dispatch of Roman mis-
sionaries to Britain was an epoch-making event not only for the
Anglo-Saxons, but for the entire western world.

The story of this mission and its results must be very briefly
summarized. In 596 Gregory sent to Britain a group of Bene-
dictine monks, headed by Augustine, from Gregory’s own mon-
astery in Rome. In 597 they arrived at Canterbury, the old

Gregory's
mission
to Britain

« See beiow, pp. 220

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

174

The con-
version
of the
Anglo-
Saxons

Ecclesi-
astical
Drganiza-
:ion of
Britain

Roman city which now served as JEthelbert’s capital. Within
a short time the king had been converted and Kent had become the
first Christian state of the Anglo-Saxons. Thence the Gospel was
carried to the neighboring kingdoms, but many years passed
before all of them accepted it. Mercia, under the staunch heathen,
Penda, offered especially stubborn resistance, and his victories
counteracted an earlier success of the Romans in Northumbria.
In 655, however, Penda was killed in battle by Oswy of North-
umbria, and the extension of his overlordship marked also the
final triumph of Christianity among the Anglo-Saxons. Mean-
w’’hile Aidan and his Celtic monks had established themselves in
the northern kingdom and Oswy was faced with the embarrassing
task of choosing between two rival Christian churches.

The fundamental antagonism of the Roman and the Irish eccle-
siastical systems has been emphasized above. It was inevitable
that the party which supported the one would refuse all com-
promise with that which supported the other. Instead of using
the round tonsure that was now customary, the Celtic monks
shaved the front of the head from ear to ear. They also fixed
the date of Easter by a computation that had elsewhere been aban-
doned. These practices, however, were mere symbols of inde-
pendence; the great issue before Oswy was whether his people
should or should not be enrolled in the great church that looked
to Rome for its leadership. To settle that question, the king
summoned to the monastery of Whitby in 664 a council of clergy
and laymen, and, after long argument by the representatives of
both sides, decision was rendered in favor of Rome. The Irish
thereupon left Northumbria and all the Anglo-Saxons were
brought within one church.

It had been Gregory's original intention to divide Britain be-
tween two metropolitans, one at London and one at York. Lon-
don, however, proved inhospitable and so Augustine, having re-
turned to Gaul for consecration, was installed as archbishop at
Canterbury. Although much credit is due him for the establish-
ment of Christianity among the Anglo-Saxons, the enterprise
from the outset was planned and directed by the pope. Gregory's
correspondence in this connection remains a monument of polit-
ical wisdom as well as of religious zeal. Augustine was advised
to convert heathen temples into Christian churches rather than to
destroy them, and, whenever possible, to adapt heathen practices
to the celebration of Christian festivals, ‘Tor," said Gregory,

THE WEST AFTER JUSTINIAN 175

‘‘it is undoubtedly impossible to root out everything at once from
savage hearts; he who wishes to ascend a height must mount,
not by leaps, but step by step.’^

Gregory did not, of course, live to see more than the victory
of his church in Kent; it was only after the Council of Whitby
that the Roman ecclesiastical system was extended throughout
the hther kingdoms. The man chiefly responsible for this accom-
plishment was Theodore of Tarsus, archbishop of Canterbury
from 669 to 690 — ^the first prelate of that see to enforce his au-
thority as primate of Anglo-Saxon Britain. Although York re-
mained the head of an ecclesiastical province, its archbishop was
treated by Theodore as a subordinate The pontificate of Theo-
dore may thus be said to have ended the period of missionary ef-
fort and begun that of permanent organization. In his day the
Celtic lands still maintained their peculiarities, but by the end of
the next century general conformity to Roman practice — ^at least
in superficial matters — ^had been established, and more complete
subjection to papal authority inevitably accompanied the political
changes of the subsequent age.

For the continent, too, the Christianization of the Anglo-Saxon
kingdoms was to have momentous consequences. As the influence
of the Celtic monks in their own country yielded before that of
the Roman missionaries, it became impossible for Columban’s
foundations to maintain their original independence. By the end
of the seventh century the Benedictine system, with the powerful
backing of the papacy, had definitely gained supremacy in western
Europe. And by that same time the work of spreading the Gospel
to heathen lands had come under the direction of Anglo-Saxon
monks, acting as zealous agents of the pope. About 690 Willi-
brord, a Northumbrian educated in Ireland, undertook the task
of converting the Frisians, who inhabited the estuary of the Rhine
between the Franks and the Saxons. He was so successful that
some five years later he was summoned to Rome and there conse-
crated bishop of Utrecht under the name of Clemens.

Shortly before Willibrord’s death He was joined in Frisia by
a man destined to win even greater renown. This was Winfrid,
a West Saxon monk, who had felt the urge to quit the career of
a learned recluse for that of a missionary among the heathen.
But Winfrid’s stay in Frisia was brief. Having — ^under the
name of Boniface — secured direct authorization from the pope
in 719, he b^ook himself to eastern Austrasia, where he soon

Anglo-
Saxon
monks
on the
continent

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

St.

Boniface
(680-754)
and the
ecclesi-
astical
organiza-
tion of
Germany

176

reported thousands of converts among the Thuringians and other
Germanic peoples] Hitherto all effort toward Christianizing
these regions had been sporadic. Irish monks and other volun-
teers had founded monasteries and local churches without the
slightest supervision on the part of any central authority, for
the chaotic conditions that prevailed throughout the Merovingian
dominions had prevented any decisive action from the monarchy.
In such an environment Boniface, as he is always known, showed
a superlative genius for organization. In the name of the pope,
he created a unified ecclesiastical system for this entire East
Frankish territory. Older monasteries were reformed and new
ones established on all sides — chief among them the illustrious
Fulda. Bavaria and Thuringia, together with the adjacent coun-
try, were divided into bishoprics and placed under the archbishop
of Mainz — ^an office eventually held by Boniface himself. Yet, as
an old man of seventy-four he still longed for a fresh world to
conquer. Resigning his see, he resumed his missionary career
among the Frisians and was there slain by heathen pirates in 754.

As Augustine had begun a new epoch- for Britain, so Boni-
face — B, product of the earlier mission — ^began a new epoch for
Germany. A century and a half of European history serves as a
commentary on the surpassing wisdom of Pope Gregory I.

CHAPTER VIII
THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE

I. THE RISE OF THE CAROLINGIANS

In 639 occurred the death of Da^obert, great-great-grandson
of Clovis, and with him seemed to die the last spark of Merovin-
gian ability. Henceforth the members of the royal house ceased
to play any part in the world of affairs ; they became rois faineants
— ^Icings in name only, who spent their lives in seclusion and were
hardly seen by their subjects except when, like long-haired dolls,
they were drawn in their regal ox-carts from one estate to an-
other. As a lot, they were pampered weaklings, dying young and
leaving other weaklings to succeed them. For over a century,
accordingly, while the crown was still worn by the members of
one dynasty, all real authority was exercised by their chief min-
isters, whom we know as mayors of the palace.^ Whatever the
exact origin of the office, there can be no doubt that its greatness
depended on control of the royal resources. By the seventh
century the mayor of the palace, in any of the Merovingian king-
doms, was not merely the chief officer of the household, but also
head of the entire government, and he usually commanded the
army in person.

The house that was to be called Carolingian, after its most dis-
tinguished member, began its brilliant career in Austrasia. There,
in the time of Dagobert, a certain great landlord named Pepin
acted as mayor of the palace, and his descendents were ultimately
able to make the honor hereditary. For a considerable time their
rivals at home and in the other kingdoms kept them in compara-
tive obscurity. Then Pepin II, grandson of Pepin I, crushed the
Neustrian mayor in battle (687) and made himself supreme in
both regions. This proved to be the opening of a new epoch in
Frankish history, for it brought under one strong ruler the two
main fragments of the Merovingian domain. Pepin’s success was
given permanence by the deeds of his remarkable son, Charles.
The latter, though illegitimate,, made good a doubtful claim to
his father’s office through a display of energy and determination

1 See above, p. 156. The latin is mc^or domus, which is more Kterally repre-
sented by the expression “major-domo.”

♦. 177

The Aus-
trasian
mayors
of the
palace

Charles

Martd

(714-41)

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE 179

that the age sorely needed. Having speedily forced recognition
in Neustria, Aquitaine, and Burgundy, he again subjected the
Alafnans and the Bavarians to Frankish dominion. And by ac-
tively supporting the work of the, Anglo-Saxon missionaries be-
yond the Rhine, Charles secured three great advantages : Chris-
tianity was spread to the heathen, the cause of the monarchy was
advanced in Germany, and his own family was endeared to the
papacy.

In the midst of these significant projects, the Austrasian mayor
was compelled to divert his attention to southern Gaul, where in
720 the Moors had crossed the Pyrenees to complete the conquest
of the Visigothic provinces. From Septimania, following their
usual practice, they sent raids into all the adjoining regions. In
732, having utterly defeated the duke of Aquitaine, they laid
siege to the city of Poitiers and threatened even Tours, with its
holy shrine of St. Martin. The danger was great and it was for-
tunate for the Franks that they had a man of genius to lead them.
With an army composed at least in part of heavy-armed cavalry,
Charles met the Moslems near Poitiers and stopped the trium-
phant advance that had brought them across Africa and into
Europe. This battle was not so decisive for world history as
used to be stated in popular books. The caliphate was on the
eve of a profound revolution that was to break the power of the
Ommiad dynasty and turn its empire into a cultural union of
autonomous states.^ The great days of Arab conquest were al-
ready, past when the Frankish mayor saved the city of Tours.
Yet the victory was a notable one in Christian annals. By it
Charles gained not only the surname of Martel (the Hammer),
but the acclaim of the western world. Furthermore, it coincided
with a series of events that induced the papacy to look to the
Franks for aid.

In 717 the Byzantine Empire had found an able and energetic
ruler in Leo III, erroneously known in history as the Isaurian.®
Having earned great prestige through his successful defense of
Constantinople against the Moslems, Leo undertook a vigorous
reform of the state. Much of his work, particularly in the realms
of military and financial administration^ was well conceived;
thanks to his leadership, his remnant of the ancient Roman Em-
pire again became relatively secure and prosperous. His religious

2 See below, p. 202.

* See above, p. t^u ^

The

battle of
Tours (or
Poitiers)

Leo III
(717-40)
and the
Icono-
clastic
Contro-
vert

The

renewed
schism
between
east and
west

The
revival
of the
Lombard
monarchy

i8o MEDIEVAL HISTORY

policy, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. During his early
life in southern Asia Minor, Leo had become intimately
acquainted with Mohammedanism, as well as with other faiths
which rejected much of the contemporary Christian doctrine.
Especially widespread at that time was the sect of the Pauli-
cians, who condemned virtually the whole sacramental system,
the institution of an ordained clergy, and what they termed the
pagan ritual of the church. While sympathizing ndther with
heretic nor with Moslem, the emperor seems to have been con-
vinced that they were right in at least one respect : the customary
use of images and pictures in Christian worship smacked too
much of idolatry.

In 725, accordingly, Leo denounced the practice and launched
an official campaign of iconoclasm (image-breaking). Though
zealously supported by many of the educated, the decree was in-
tensely unpopular with the mass of the people. Riots broke out
both in Greece and in Italy. The aged patriarch of Constanti-
nople, because he opposed the change, was supplanted by one more
subservient to the imperial will. Of all the great sees — ^now that
Antioch, Jerusalem, and Alexandria were submerged by the
Saracens — only Rome was left to voice the. opposition to Leo’s
arbitrary dictation, and of the papal attitude there could be no
question. Gregory II (715-31) vigorously protested the em-
peror’s action. His successor, Gregory III, called a council of
ninety-three bishops, which formally excommunicated all who
accepted the iconoclastic program. Thus east and west were once
more at odds over a matter of religion and the pope became all
the more strongly confirmed in his determination to maintain po-
litical independence.

At Rome, meanwhile, the Lombard danger had again become
acute. That people had long since abandoned the Arian heresy
and, through continued residence in the peninsula, had tended to
become indistinguishable from the rest of the Italians. And as
long as the king’s effective rule hardly extended beyond the Po
Valley, he could be no serious menace to the security of the pope.
Now, however, the Lombard monarchy suddenly developed un-
expected strength. In 712 the crown passed, as the result of a
successful revolt, to a certain Liutprand. During his reign of
thirty years he was able not only to annex a considerable portion
of the exarchate, but also to establish real control over the duchies
of Spoleto and Benevento. When the pope sought to protect the

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE i8i

dukes, the king replied by threatening Rome itself. The icono-
clastic controversy made cooperation with the emperor Leo im-
possible; so Gregory III, in 739, sent an embassy to Charles
Martel. He was beseeched to bring aid to the beleaguered city
and in turn to be recognized there as consul — ^at least a suggestion
that the Frankish ruler might take the place of the emperor as
sovereign over the papal duchy.

Charles, as it happened, was unwilling to embark on such an
adventure. Liutprand had been closely allied with him against
both the Saracens and the Bavarians, and he was no longer an
adventurous youth. So, at the time, no Frankish army was sent
over the Alps, and the Italian question remained to trouble a new
generation of political leaders. Charles Martel died in 741, hav-
ing already — ^as if he were the sole possessor — divided the Mero-
vingian kingdom between his two sons: Austrasia and the Ger-
man duchies to Carloman, Neustria and Burgundy to Pepin.
Before the end of the same year ^Zacharias had succeeded Gregory
III on the papal throne. Liutprand lived on till 744; then, after
two other kings had been deposed, the Lombards proclaimed
Aistulf, who at once revived the Byzantine war and defied the
pope to hinder his conquests. Meanwhile the death of Emperor
Leo III in 740 had brought to power his son, Constantine V —
a fanatical iconoclast whose violent measures served only to
aggravate the existing schism.

The eighth century thus witnessed the emergence of two great
powers in the west, both of which — by a remarkable coincidence
— lacked the ultimate* sanction of legality. The Frankish mayor
of the palace actually reigned and yet could wear no crown;
the pope governed the duchy of Rome but remained the subject of
an emperor in Constantinople with whom he had forbidden all
good Christians t 6 have any dealings. Was not the alliance of
these two powers inevitable? All the great events of the previous
hundred years — ^the collapse of the Byzantine Empire, the trium-
phant advance of the Saracens, the victory of the papal missions
in Germany, the revival of the Lombard monarchy — contributed
to the one momentous result. The dramatic climax of this de-
velopment came on Christmas, 800 ; the logical preliminaries were
provided by the career of Pepin HI.

For six years the two sons of Charles Martel ruled the Frank-
ish lands together, cooperating to such good effect that they
easily crushed all separatist tendencies in troublesome regions like

The
papacy
and the
Frankish
monarchy

King
Pepin I
(751-68)

Pepin’s
interven-
tion in
Italy
(754, 756)

182 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Aquitaine and Bavaria. Then, in 747, the elder brother decided
to become a monk, and Pepin was left to rule alone. Four years
later certain Frankish prdates appeared before Pope Zacharias
and asked his advice as to the value of the Merovingian kingship.
The pope replied that, in his opinion, the man who had the actual
power better deserved the royal title than one who had not. So,
in the autumn of 751, a great assembly of the Franks was held at
Soissons, and there Mayor Pepin III became King Pepin I,
through election by his people and through solemn consecration
by the prelates of the church. The last of the Merovingian kings,
with shorn locks, was sent to spend the rest of his days in a mon-
astery, and the house of Clovis ended in oblivion.

Aistulf, the Lombard king, had in the meantime launched his
offensive against the exarchate; and it was final, for Ravenna fell
in 751. He then occupied Pentapolis, established his personal
authority at Spoleto, and laid siege to Rom^. Nor would he agree
to an armistice until tribute was paid him as sovereign over that
duchy. Stephen II, the recently elected pope, thereupon an-
nounced that he would come to Gaul for an interview with the
king. In the summer of 754 he did so. Following the ritual
of the Old Testament, he anointed Pepin with consecrated oil and
declared excommunicate all Franks who should dare to refuse him
recognition as lawful monarch. At the same time he proclaimed
Pepin as patricius of the Romans — a title that vagfuely served to
recall the distingushed series of imperial representatives in Italy
that had ended with Theodoric the Ostrogoth. But if the office
was more than an empty honor, what right had the pope to bestow
it? Although the language displayed a certain respect for tradi-
tion, the act was as revolutionary as Pepin’s assumption of the
crown.

The important fact was that the Frankish king had already
pledged intervention in Italy. Within a few months he led an
army across the Alps and defeated the Lombards in battle. Ais-
tulf signed a treaty ceding the exarchate and Pentapolis to the
pope and promising tribute to Pepin as overlord. But the en-
gagements were not carried out, and, after repeated exhortations
from Stephen, Pepin again invaded Italy in 756. This time he
seized the disputed lands and by formal charter gave them in
perpetual ownership to the church of St. Peter. Thus came into
existence the Papal States of history — ^an irr^^ilar territory ex-
tending across the peninsula from Rome on the west to Ravenna

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE 183

on the east. Aistulf barely outlived his defeat, being accidentally
slain before the end of the same year. His successor was De-
siderius, duke of Tuscany, who also was to prove a troublesome
neighbor for the papacy.

For the remainder of his life, however, Pepin was allowed to
concentrate his attention dn domestic affairs. Before intervening
in Italy, the new king had succeeded in conquering all Septimania
except Narbonne. In 759 this city too came into his possession,
and for the first time the Frankish dominion reached the line of
the Pyrenees. Aquitaine still remained a source of chronic
trouble, and it was not until after a prolonged war that the re-
bellious duke was killed in battle and his duchy subjected to royal
administration. On the eastern frontier the kingdom remained
much as it had been left by Charles Martel. There the work of
that valiant warrior was to be taken up by his grandson and
namesake.

2. CHARLEMAGNE

Following long-established precedent, Pepin divided his do-
minions between his two sons : Charles to have Austrasia, Neus-
tria, and the northern half of Aquitaine; Carloman to have Ala-
mania, Burgundy, Provence, Septimania, and the rest of
Aquitaine. From the first they lived on bad terms with each other,
and in all probability civil war was prevented only by the sudden
death of the younger brother in 771. Charles then acted promptly,
seizing the entire inheritance, while Carloman’s widow and chil-
dren took refuge with the Lombard, Desiderius. Meanwhile
Charles had married a daughter of that king, but he now repu-
diated the lady and prepared for the invasion of Italy. In this
policy he was strongly supported by the newly elected pope,
Hadrian I, who complained that Desiderius was seeking to undo
Pepin^s settlement.

In 773 the matter finally reached a crisis. Charles led an army
southward, outflanked the position of Desiderius in the Alps,
and shut him up in Pavia. Then, leaving his troops to continue
the siege, the Frank paid a ceremonious visit to the pope at Rome,
Pepin’s donation, somewhat amplified, was confirmed and the two
princes swore a solemn alliance. Inside a few months Pavia had
surrendered, and with the capture of Desiderius, Charles assumed
the kingship of the Lombards for himself. So began a new epoch
in the history of Italy^ iwhich throughout many centuries was to

The con-
quest of
Septi-
mania

Charles

and

Carloman

(768-71)

The

conquest
of the
Lombard
kingdom

(773-74)

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Charles
and the
Saxons

184

be intimately associated with the Frankish monarchy. Charles’s
control, of course, was primarily restricted to those regions which
had been held by Desiderius, but from the outset he acted as
much more than a theoretical overlord within the Papal States.
His authority was recognized over all the northern peninsula ; oc-
casionally he even intervened in the duchies of Spoleto and Bene-
vento. Perhaps he might eventually have brought all southern
Italy under his dominion, if in the meantime his attention had
not become absorbed in more grandiose ambitions.

It would seem that Charles was primarily interested not in
fighting Greeks or Saracens for the control of the Mediterranean,
but in completing the Frankish conquest of Germany. This
Merovingian project, after languishing for a hundred years or
so, had recently been revived by Charles Martel. He and Pepin,
by actively backing the missionary efforts of the' Roman church,
had greatly strengthened the royal authority tleyond the Rhine.
Alamania, Thuringia, and even Bavaria were now much more
effectively held than ever before. The stubborn Frisians had
gradually yielded to the combined force of Christian persuasion
and Frankish arms. There remained the fierce Saxons, who up
to date had never paid more than intermittent tribute to their
powerful neighbors. The logic of the situation inevitably urged
the vigorous young king, for the glory of God and for the exten-
sion of his own realm, to undertake the reduction of this wild
people.

In the eighth century the Saxons still lived very much as the
Vandals or Goths or Franks had lived at an earlier time. They
constituted no unified nation and had no firm political organiza-
tion. They were divided into three secondary groups, called the
Westphalians, Eastphalians, and Engers; but these in turn were
mere aggregations of other tribal units which normally joined
only for some extraordinary purpose, such as a great war of self-
defense. Virtually to a man, they were yet heathen, devoted to
ancient deities which had earlier been worshiped by the Anglo-
Saxons. The region which they occupied included roughly the
valleys of the Lippe, the Ems, and the Weser, extending east to
the line of the Elbe and Saale, and north to the country of the
Danes in Jutland. As yet Saxony was a savage region of forest,
plain, and marsh, with scattering agricultural settlements and an
occasional fortified refuge, or burg.

Even before his descent into Italy, Charles had led a prelimi-

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE 185

nary expedition into the Saxon territory, advancing to the Weser
and forcing the recognition of his supremacy by the Engers.
Then, having disposed of the Lombards, he returned to the unfin-
ished task. In 775 a greater campaign extended the Frankish
dominion over all the Saxons, and new fortresses were built to
keep the conquered territory in subjection. A Frankish assem-
bly held there in 777 promulgated measures looking toward the
Christianization of the inhabitants and the organization of a more
permanent government. The Saxons, however, would not tamely
submit to their new masters, and whenever Charles’s back was
turned they reverted to their customary insubordination. After
780, accordingly, the king tightened his system of administration
and issued the cruel Capitulary for the Saxon Territory, prescrib-
ing the death penalty for all who refused baptism or continued
heathen practices.

The result was a general insurrection of the Saxons under the
leadership of the Westphalian Widukind — b. movement in which
many of the Frisians immediately joined. Accepting the defiance,
Charles, during the years 784-85, crushed the rising in blood.
Eventually the whole country was subdued; Widukind yielded
and received baptism. And although there continued to be spo-
radic outbreaks, followed by violent reprisals, Saxony thenceforth
constituted an integral part of the Fra^ish kingdom. In 789 the
first Saxon bishopric was established at Bremen. Others were
rapidly created while great Benedictine monasteries were erected
on all sides. Within another century Saxon scholars and mission-
aries were glorifying the work which their ancestors had so bit-
terly opposed.

Almost immediately after gaining a decisive victory in Saxony,
Charles turned his attention to Bavaria. That territory had in
some fashion or other belonged to the Frankish kings for over
two centuries, but the subjection had been little more than nomi-
nal. Even more recently, with the revival of the monarchical au-
thority under the Carolingians, the Bavarian ruler had generally
conducted himself like an independent prince. Tassilo, the pres-
ent duke, had earlier deserted Pepin in the midst of his war in
Aquitaine and had then entered into dose alliance with the Lom-
bard, Desiderius. Charles, having himself had many causes of
complaint, seems deliberatdy to have resolved upon Tassilo’s
ruin. In 787 an overwhdming force occupied Bavaria and com-
pelled the duke to acknowledge the king’s supremacy. Nor was

The con-
quest of
Saxony
(772-85)

The con-
quest of
Bavaria
(7S7-88)

The de-
struction
of the
Avar
power

(795-96)

The

eastern

marches

186 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

this all. In the very next year Tassilo was suddenly accused of
treason, deprived of his duchy, and immured for the rest of his
life in a monastery.

Though xmaccompanied with bloodshed, this action amounted
to the armed conquest of another great province, and it completed
the establishment of Charles’s dominion on a wide front ex-
tending from the western end of the Bciltic to the head of the
Adriatic. The next step, obviously, was to organize this frontier
by breaking any hostile force that might threaten it from the east
and by erecting along it a system of permanent defense. During
the last decade of the eighth century that work was made possible
chiefly through the final defeat of the Avars — ^the Asiatics who
had come to dominate the lower Danube Valley, the interior of
the Balkan peninsula, and a belt of Slavic lands to the northward-^
For a time they had threatened Italy and southern Germany, but
on that side they had finally been held in check by the Lombards
and the Bavarians.

• Now that Charles had taken over the territories of both these
peoples, it was logical that he should accept their responsibilities
with regard to the nomads of the steppe. As a matter of fact,
the Avars, though still maintaining their power in Pannonia and
Dacia, had long ceased to be very formidable. Toward the Black
Sea the Bulgars, and toward the Adriatic the Serbs, Croats, and
other Slavs had made themselves independent. Carinthia had been
taken by the Bavarian dukes, and it was from there that Charles
rapidly pushed his control southeast to the Dalmatian coast.
Driving the Avars beyond the Danube, the Frankish army finally
broke tlieir huge round camps, which were called the Rings.
Thence the victors carried home enormous treasure — ^the accumu-
lated loot of a thousand raids — ^and Charles could justly assert
that he had won another momentous victory for the Cross of
Christ.

As the eastern boundary was finally drawn, the Frankish king-
dom contained Istria, Carinthia, Bavaria, Thuringia, and Saxony;
beyond them lay a series of frontier districts called marks or
marches, each under a special count with extensive military au-
thority who was known as a marquis or margrave (markffraf).
These borderlands included, south of the Danube, Croatia and
Pannonia; north of the Danube, Moravia and Bohemia, the coun-

< See above, p. 114.

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE

187

try of the Czechs; and east of the Saale and Elbe, the territory of
the Sorbs, Wiizi, and other Slavic peoples. Against the Danes,
similarly, a march was created in the region that was later to
become known as Holstein. As the Franks were held on other
fronts, they, with their new recruits from Germany, now tended
to surge eastward, conquering, converting, and exploiting the sav-
age tribes of the interior.

While devoting many years to the reduction and defense of
Germany, Charles had not forgotten his western possessions. The
Having inherited from Pepin effective control of Aquitaine and creation
Septimania, he was in a position to intervene in Spain. Until
732 the Moslem advance into Europe had triumphantly continued ;
then, after the victory of Charles Martel, the Moors had little by
little been driven back on the Pyrenees. This reversal of their
fortunes in the west was symptomatic of their declining strength
in the east. The Ommiad dynasty fell in 750, and with the re-
moval of the caliphate to Bagdad, the hold of the central govern-
ment over its outlying provinces rapidly weakened. Abd-ar-.
Rahman, last survivor of the Ommiads, escaped from Damascus
and made his way to Cordova. There, from 756 on, he ruled as
emir, successfully defying the authority of the Abbasid caliph.

As a consequence, appeals against the emir were carried to Charles
from various interested persons. Even the gorgeous caliph
Harun al-Rashid,® in far-away Bagdad, sent him wonderful gifts
and flattering letters urging his cooperation against the usurping
Ommiad.

Charles, early in his reign, seems to have been persuaded that
he might actually conquer Spain with little effort. But an expedi-
tion in 778 utterly failed, and on the return journey his army was
ambushed by the Christian Basques in the pass of Roncevaux and
some of his noblest followers were slain — ^an incident from which
pious legend developed a glorious epic for the feudal age.® To
Charles himself it probably served merely as a warning not to
indulge in fantastic projects beyond the Pyrenees. Adopting a
defensive policy, he thenceforth sought merely to check the Sara-
cen raids that still occasionally troubled Gaul. By 795 sufficient
territory had been occupied for the organization of a frontier dis-
trict, and six years later a further advance of the Franks gave
them the city of Barcelona, 'fhus arose the Spanish March,

» See below, p. 202.

• See below, pp. 293 £•

Kingship

and

patriciate

The

imperial
coronation
of 800

188 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

which was to remain an outpost of northern influence for many
centuries to come.

In the meantime, however, another matter of surpassing inter-
est had turned men’s attention from such paltry events as the
capture of a Spanish fortress or two. This was nothing less than
the revival of the imperial office in the west, and in order to grasp
its significance we must carefully examine the preliminaries that
led up to it. In 754 Pepin, newly elected king of the Franks,
received from the pope the title, patrickis of the Romans, and
shortly afterwards he took the exarcliate from the Lombards and
gave it to the Roman church. Charles, continuing to bear his
father’s titles, confirmed Pepin’s donation and then, after the
fall of Desiderius, assumed the Lombard kingship. In 781 he
had Pope Hadrian crown his second son, Pepin, king of Italy, and
his third son, Louis, king of Aquitaine. But these acts were
mere formalities. The kingdom of Aquitaine was created largely
to please the native population, and its establishment made no
change in the actual administration. The kingdom of Italy was
only Lombardy with a few minor additions, including neither the
exarchate nor the duchy of Rome. In those regions Charles him-
self continued to act as sovereign, and his authority there must
have been exercised not as king, but as patrickis of the Romans.

Hadrian I, though he fully cooperated with Charles on all occa-
sions, was a distinctly proud and forceful prince. In 795, how-
ever, his place was taken by Leo III, who soon proved himself
more submissive to the great Frankish ruler. He at once notified
Charles of his election to the papacy, and from the outset he
dated his acts in the year of that monarch's reign. Perhaps he
anticipated the need of outside support. At any rate, tlie opposi-
tion of certain local nobles led in 799 to a riot in which the pope
was cruelly handled. Escaping ihrough the timely aid of certain
Frankish ministers, Leo fled to Charles, who at once provided
the forces necessary to re-establish him in his capital. But the
arrest of the conspirators brought a flock of evil charges against
the pope, and Charles decided that the matter ^demanded his per-
sonal attention. In November, 800, he proceeded to Italy. A
great assembly of clergy and laity was held at Rome early in
December, and it was there decided to allow the pope to clear him-
self by his unaided oath.^ This he at length did on December 23,

^ See above, p. 78.

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE 189

swearing' on the Gospels that he was wholly innocent of what had
been alleged against him.

Two days later, being now formally reinstated as supreme
pontiff, Leo presided over the Christmas festival in St. Peter’s
church. After mass had been said, and while Charles was praying
at the altar, the pope placed a diadem on his head and the assem-
bled throng shouted, “To Charles Augustus, crowned of God,
great and pacific emperor of the Romans, life and victory!” Are
we to believe, as we are told by the official annalists, that this
ceremony took Charles entirely by surprise and that he was actu-
ally displeased at the high honor so unexpectedly thrust upon him?

The statement seems incredible. The stage was too carefully set
for the affair to have been other than premeditated. Charles was
not a man on whom, to try experimental coronations. Nor was
Leo the sort of prelate who would dare to concoct such a plan on
his own initiative. The assumption of the imperial title was the
dramatic climax of Charles’s whole career. He must have
willed it.

As far as justification w’as concerned, the facts spoke for
themselves. His territory was much larger than that held by The nature
any Byzantine emperor since Heraclius; fiis personal authority of the
was infinitely greater than that of any western ruler since Theo- Carolmgian
dosius. The tradition of an indestructible Roman Empire still
charmed the minds of men,' including unquestionably that of
Charles himself. The west had had no resident emperor since
476; now one was again installed. In strict theory, of course,

Leo had no more right to bestow the crown than Charles had to
assume it ; but a pope had earlier given a Frankish king the title
of patriciiis and it was now superseded by the title of emperor.

The revolution had been so gradually brought about that to
contemporaries it seemed logical enough. Besides, legalization
might be procured from Constantinople. To this end Charles
devoted earnest efforts, and just before his death he was assured
that, in return for the cession of Dalmatia and Venetia, his newly
acquired rank would be recognized by the Byzantine emperor.

So emerged the institution which, in its later form of the Holy
Roman Empire, was to live to a preposterous old age — until, in
fact, the myth of its existence was exploded by Napoleon’s guns
at Austerlitz. In 800 it was somewhat more of an actuality; yet,
when examined closely, it is seen to have been fatally weak from
its very inception. Its only real strragth was the might of the

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

190

one man whom later generations were to call Charles the Great,
or Charlemagne. It was truly his empire, the Carolingian Em-
pire. Though glorified by the blessing of the church, it was in-
spired by nothing but his personal ambition and was Roman
merely by virtue of a tradition. It might just as well have been
called the kingdom of the Franks, for Italy was no more of a
separate state than was Bavaria or Burgundy or Aquitaine or
many another region within its bounds. The fact that it included
all the Germanic kingdoms of the continent has given it, to mod-
ern eyes, a specious appearance of unity. Would it have been
much less coherent if it had embraced Sicily, Spain, Ireland, Po-
land, and Macedonia? As it was, it lacked all national solidarity,
and the common bond of religion never had any political strength.
Could such a hasty agglomeration of disparate lands and peoples,
though styled an empire, succeed under conditions which had pro-
duced the disintegration of Rome? We should hardly suppose so.
Before attempting a more positive statement, let us look more at-
tentively at the internal structure of the monarchy.

3. CAROLINGIAN SOCIETY AND INSTITUTIONS

At the head of the Carolingian state stood the king, whose
The tv-ing office was essentially the same as it had been under the Merovin-
gians, for the title of emperor added little to his real authority.
Like other barbarian monarchs, he had three principal functions :
to command the army, to administer justice, and to protect the
church. He was not supposed to be absolute. Extraordinary
measures were adopted on the counsel of his great men ; matters
of supreme importance were promulgated at great assemblies
called Fields of May, though they were not always held in that
month. To deduce principles of democracy or of constitutional
government from the informal practices of the Carolingians is to
read modem notions into an age that knew them not. It is quite
impossible to define the respective rights of king and people in
terms of strict legalism. A powerful ruler like Charlemagne
might often act despotically, and we may be sure that his acts
were mainly inspired by his own interest. Yet he would always
have admitted that the law was fundamentally ancient custom,
over which he had no arbitrary control. And he knew that, if he
violated it too flagrantly, he would incur the penalty of armed
rebellion.

Between the administration of Charlemagne^s household and

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE

191

that of his empire no clear distinction was drawn. One set of The
high officials superintended both. Prominent among them were officers of
the chamberlain, who acted as governor of the palace and of the
royal treasure; the seneschal, who managed the king’s food and
in some degree supervised the estates that produced it ; the butler,
who had charge of the royal cellar and vineyards ; and the marshal
or constable, who, through his control of the stable, had high
command in the army. Below these great officials were a host of
subordinates with shifting powers, whom it would be tiresome to
enumerate. A few words, however, may be said of the king’s
religious service, because it came to have certain very significant
developments. The chapel (capella) was originally the repository
of that sacred relic, the cloak (cappa) of St. Martin, and the
chaplain was the custodian. Later, however, all the clergy at-
tached to the palace were said to belong to the royal chapel, and
their chief, the arch-chaplain, became a very important person at
court. Under him were not merely the priests who administered
the sacraments to the king and his family, but also the clerks who
wrote his letters and the notaries who drew up his legal docu-
ments. The chancellor, as head of this particular department,
emerged after the time of Charlemagne.

As in the earlier period, the agents of the central government
in the provinces were the dukes and the counts. Under the Dukes and
Merovingians there had been many powerful dukes who con- counts
ducted themselves in all ways like local kings. With the Carolin-
gian succession, their offices were generally abolished and dukes
of the old princely type remained only where the royal authority
was more or less nominal, as among the Lombards of southern
Italy, the Basques on the Pyrenees, and the Bretons in their iso-
lated peninsula. Elsewhere within the empire the title of duke
was merely a synonym for that of marquis — a, frontier count who
held certain extraordinary powers. It was, in fact, through
, his counts that Charlemagne governed his dominions; the key
i to his success lay in his control of those all-powerful lieutenants.

Without regard to the boundaries of sub-kingdoms like Italy
and Aquitaine, Charlemagne appointed counts at his own pleasure,
holding them constantly subject to his orders and removing them
whenever he became convinced’ of their treachery or incompe-
tence. The trouble was, of course, to keep efficient check on the
acts of unscrupulous agents widely separated from the court and
paid through grants of land in the regions which they administered.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

192

The difficulty was principally met by the prodigious activity of
the emperor himself, who was continually moving about at the
head of his troops. To the same end, however, Charlemagne sys-
tematically employed missi — ^men ‘‘sent out'’ from headquarters
to inspect the operation of the local government. This was a
practice which had formed a regular part of the Roman admin-
istration,® but which had generally lapsed under the Merovingians.

By his elaborate decree of 802, the emperor announces that he
The missi has chosen from among his wisest nobles, both clergymen and
laymen, those who shall go about the whole kingdom to see that
the various enumerated classes of persons are living as they
should. Whenever the missi hear of any injustice in the law as
then administered, they are to report back to him so that he may
remedy it. They are to listen to all complaints and investigate
the facts by securing the sworn testimony of witnesses; and if
they and the local authorities are unable to render justice, they
are to refer the matter to the king. They are to see that all men
take an oath of fealty to Charles as emperor ; that no one neglects
a summons to his army, disobeys his ban, or wrongfully makes
away with his property; that families do not prosecute blood
feuds after just cpmpensation for injuries has been offered; that
causes are not maintained in court by oppression or bribery ; and
that a dozen other matters are seen to. The missi are to super-
intend not only the acts of officials and ordinary laymen, but also
those of priests and monks, who should live according to the
holy canons. Every one must strive, to the extent of his ability, to
govern his conduct by the precepts of the Almighty.

There is, unfortunately, every reason to believe that the re-
The capit- suits attained by Charlemagne’s envoys fell far short of his pious
ularies ideals; the age was not noted for universal observance of the
golden rule. Nevertheless, there can be no question of the em-
peror’s sincerity, and, thanks to his earnest efforts, his govern-
ment set a relatively high standard of honesty and efficiency. In
spirit, at least, it was infinitely superior to that of the Merovin-
gians — a truth that emerges with especial force from the great
ordinances called capitularies. They were not invented by Charle-
magne, but under him they were issued in unprecedented num-
bers to deal with every phase of the royal administration. Occa-
sionally one capitulary was restricted to one subject — ^as, for

« See above, p. 30.

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE 193

example, the improvement of education, the care of the imperial
estates, affairs of Italy, or the organization of the Saxon terri-
tory. Usually, however, the capitulary was a haphazard mass
of decisions that chanced to be rendered at the same time. And
the fact that they were so utterly unsystematic — that they indis-
criminately treated of church and state, law and discipline, public
and private rights — is quite typical of the government that pro-
duced them.

Though Charlemagne considered himself responsible for the
administration of justice throughout the empire, he of course
introduced no uniformity of practice. Law continued, as before,
to be a matter of local custom. Each little region still had its
own popular court which enforced rules drawn from Roman,
Frankish, Gothic, Burgundian, Lombard, Bavarian, or other tra-
ditional usage. The presiding officer was still the count or his
subordinate. One reform, however, was introduced in the Caro-
lingian period ; in place of the rachimburgi, who had occasionally
served as judgment-finders in the Merovingian courts,^ Charle-
magne had the counts appoint regular boards of judges. These
men, called scabini, were important local landowners, who came
to act for the whole assembly except at the general sessions —
usually three a year — ^when all suitors had to attend. On a some-
what wider scale, the same procedure was probably followed in
the extraordinary courts held by the missi, and even in the cen-
tral court of the king. The nucleus of the latter would be the
royal ministers and advisers, but at any moment it might be
indefinitely extended by calling in *‘the people.”

Between such a great meeting and a military convocation no
distinction was necessarily made. Scarcely a year passed without
the launching of some major campaign; so the Field of May often
coincided with the mobilization of an army. In theory the an-
cient principle still held good that all able-bodied men were
liable for service, but far-reaching modifications of the primitive
system were rapidly introduced. Specific rules were established
prescribing the weapons and defensive armor to be possessed by
each person in proportion to his means. And since the obligation
of serving at one's own cost for a period of three months was a
heavy one, the emperor restricted it to men owning certain
amounts of land — ^amounts which varied from region to region

Judicial

organiza-

tion

Military

service

» See above, p. 157.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

194

Cavalry

forces

Taxation

and

finance

according to the distance from the scene of war. For this pur-
pose, therefore, estates came to be assessed in a rude unit known
as the manse or hide — ^the land presumed requisite for the support
of one family. Great landlords were made responsible for one
soldier from every so many hides. Small men were grouped
together so that by joint contributions one of them might go.

For the procuring of mounted troops, similar arrangements were
even more essential. The emperor might, of course, require cer-
tain properties to furnish horses instead of men ; but to obtain a
force of expert cavalry, something better was demanded than
casual levies made through the count. This truth had long been
appreciated, Charles Martel, needing horsemen with which to
combat the Saracens and lacking funds to hire them, solved the
difficulty, we are told, at the expense of the church. He took
ecclesiastical lands and granted them to his own retainers as
life estates, or benefices, in return specifying military service
with horses and arms. Presumably, however, the king had
already created such benefices out of his own property; at any
rate, it became increasingly common, toward the end of the cen-
tury, for all great men to do so. Charlemagne, to strengthen his
army, encouraged the practice, providing that in time of war
armed retainers might follow the standard of the lord whom they
served. So, alongside the levies of the counts, two additional ele-
ments tended to acquire enhanced prominence: the bands of the
king’s own personal followers and the similar bands furnished
by the grandees of the realm. This, as will be seen in connection
with feudalism, was a development of great significance for the
future of Europe.

In financial organization, likewise, the monarchy remained fun-
damentally as it had been in the previous age. The two great
political concerns of the royal administration, justice and mili-
tary defense, were taken care of through service on the part of the
individual subject. In the same way the maintenance of public
works, the housing and provisioning of royal agents, and the
transportation of men and materials were secure by direct requi-
sition. An endless plague of such exactions had, in fact, con-
tinued to affiict the countryside since the days of the Roman
Empire. Nor was there any interruption in the levy of indirect
taxes, now called theloneay tolls. On the other hand, the ancient
system of taxes on land and persons had so far decayed that only
indistinct vestiges of them henceforth appear in the records. And

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE 195

Charlemagne invented no new imposts to take their places. Trib-
ute might be collected from newly subjected peoples, but the near-
est approach to a general tax throughout the empire was the
practice of taking contributions, styled gifts {dotia), from the
great men when they attended the formal assemblies. That they
in turn recouped themselves by requiring similar offerings from
their followers is extremely probable. Finance, like military serv-
ice, was tending to become a matter of seignorial arrangement,
that is to say, a matter brought under the control of the lordly
class in society.

The bulk of Charlemagne’s income, plainly, was got from his
own estates, for he was the greatest landowner in the kingdom.
This side of the emperor’s activity is known to us in intimate
detail from his famous capitulary concerning his villas {Capitu-
lar e de Villis) which contains minute instructions as to how they
should be managed. Each villa was placed under a steward
called maior or villicus, responsible to a superior official who
acted as superintendent for a considerable number of such prop-
erties. The steward saw to the cultivation of the estate and had
the produce carried to central barns, where the superintendent
kept it for the disposal of the emperor. Each steward, according
to the capitulary, was to make out an annual statement, describing
the sources of income under his care and listing everything that
was produced: grain, hay, fruits, nuts, vegetables, wine, beer,
vinegar, oil, flax, hemp, honey, wool, hides, horns, tallow, meat,
lumber, firewood, domestic animals and fowls, eggs, dairy prod-
ucts, game, fish, and all manufactures. He was to keep account
of all the tenants and their respective obligations ; to see that there
were skilled artisans for the production of all necessary articles ;
to make an inventory of all buildings, tools, and furnishings ; and
to attend to a dozen other matters as well. And from extant
reports made by his agents, we may see that the emperor’s regula-
tions in this connection were actually enforced.

Charlemagne, regarding himself as the anointed of God and
the successor of Theodosius, constantly asserted a general power
of supervision over the church. His capitularies regularly in-
cluded measures affecting both clergy and laity. Even when
problems arose of a purely ecclesiastical nature, it was through
his initiative and under his presidency that action was taken by
the bishops in council.. They, in fact, were normally quite sub-
missive to his desires^ for episcopal flections were under his con-

The

imperial

estates

Charle-
magne
and the
church

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

196

trol. State and church he evidently considered two departments
of one government: for some duties he employed counts, for
others bishops. The pope he seems to have regarded somewhat
as the Byzantine emperor regarded the patriarch of Constanti-
nople. He very plainly held that Rome was under his supreme
jurisdiction and that he merely allowed its bishop such autonomy
as befitted a distinguished prelate. In all matters, however, he
acted entirely on his own responsibility, feeling that he was him-
self the holder of a divine commission. The pope, on his side,
seemed to acquiesce in the imperial leadership. Charlemagne’s
services to the cause of Christianity were evident to all, and Leo
III had good reason for personal gratitude as well. Besides,
there was no threat of an immediate dictatorship over the see of
St. Peter. The emperor chose to live far from Italy; he was
exactly what the pope wanted — a powerful but distant protector.

Abbots, too, Charlemagne virtually appointed; through them
The he sought to maintain a high level of religious discipline and so

Carolingian to advance the civilization of his country. All the great
monastery nionasteries had now been brought under the Benedictine sys-
tem. Except by special authorization, the monks stayed
within their respective houses, where the ancient routine of divine
service and manual labor was supposed to be kept up indefinitely.
Much, however, depended on the character of the abbot and the
relative wealth of the community. Although the brothers were
individually sworn to poverty, collectively they might have any-
thing that they could possibly want. When all the necessities of
life were supplied by peasants on outlying estates, there was no
necessity for the monks themselves to do any hard work. Their
manual labor would consist mainly in caring for one another and
for the monastic buildings. The latter normally included a
church for the daily offices ; a chapter house for meetings of the
brothers; a refectory where they ate; and a dormitory where
they slept. In addition, there would have to be a kitchen and
various storehouses. The principal buildings were often arranged
about an open quadrangle with an arcaded cloister, which was a
center of monastic activities except in the severest weather. The
individual monk, it must be remembered, had no room of his
own.

Very commonly, in the time of Charlemagne, both abbots and
Grants of bishops held extensive temporal authority. This was the conse-
immunity quence of a gradual development which had begun long before

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE 197

with the Merovingian charters of immunity. Such a grant as-
sured the beneficiary that within a specified territory he should be
immune from the jurisdiction of the count; that he should there
exercise the regalian rights himself. Originally, perhaps, he
was obliged to make an equivalent return to the king; but by
the ninth century the effect of an immunity was to give the
immunist the profits of justice, tolls, military service, and other
dues that normally would have accrued to the state. As every
important monastery and bishopric obtained the privilege, their
heads became actual princes, sharing the king’s sovereign author-
ity and equaling the counts in official dignity. Thus was devel-
oped another important element in the society known as feudal —
a subject which at once introduces us to some of the most difficult
problems in European history.

Definitive solutions, fortunately, do not have to be attempted
in an elementary sketch such as this. An outline of social condi-
tions existing in the Carolingian period is not hard to draw, and
the obscure stages by which those conditions had been evolved
may be summarily passed over. For reasons already set forth, it
is difficult to avoid the conclusion that western Europe witnessed
a progressive economic decline from the third century onward.
Though not primarily the result of the barbarian invasions, it
was undoubtedly stimulated by them. In both Gaul and Italy
conditions were much worse in the sixth and seventh centuries
than they had been in the fifth. And by the eighth, Arab sea
power had broken almost all the ancient routes across the Mediter-
ranean. With Africa, Spain, and Septimania in the hands of
the Moslems, and with Italy tom by chronic warfare, the lands
to the northwest of the Alps were further isolated. It is very
significant that Charlemagne’s revival of learning was inspired
by the example of Irish and Anglo-Saxon monasteries.^® Charle-
magne’s state was entirely a construction of the mainland, which
left Dalmatia, Venetia, and southern Italy to Byzantine control
and had little success against the Moors of Spain. The Carolin-
gian Empire was a brilliant but superficial accomplishment; it in
no way provided the foundation for a new political order. Eco-
nomically, the period was one of continuous deteripration. Europe
was not to emerge from the Dark Age for another three hundred
years.

The

economic

back-

ground

w See below, pp. t

The decay
of trade in
the west

198 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Whatever may have been its causes, this economic decline car-
ried with it a progressive decay of commerce, and so tended to
make society more and more thoroughly agrarian. By the ninth
century, the overwhelming mass of the population lived through
agriculture and fell into two main classes : the few, who consti-
tuted the aristocracy of landlords, and the many, who constituted
the servile or semi-free peasantry. Such a society had no con-
spicuous place for a town-dwelling middle class of traders. Small
industry, of course, continued, for people had to have manufac-
tured articles; but production was localized on the great estate.
As described in Charlemagne's capitularies, artisans were at-
tached to the villa and subordinated to its agrarian routine. Trade
tended to be reduced to petty dealings in a neighborhood market
which was attended only by persons who could conveniently go
there and return home within tlie one day when it was held.
The market itself necessitated no resident population of mer-
chants ; the sellers were normally peasants with surplus produce.
It is significant also that the only money coined under the Caro-
lingians was silver pennies ; and since the minting privilege was
widely distributed, each little region came to have its own cur-
rency — ^ situation that bespeaks small transactions on the part of
folk who were chronically poor.

In the east no such thoroughgoing decline took place. There
commerce continued to flourish, and there the cities of the Arabs
continued to rival those of the Greeks. Moslem Africa and Spain
remained in close touch with Egypt and Syria, preserving a bril-
liant culture of which more will be seen in the following chapter.
The Italian ports, too, never lost touch with the great metropolis
of Constantinople; and while the Franks fought for control of
the interior, the city of Venice, under Byzantine protection, arose
on the lagoons of the upper Adriatic. From these regions bands
of wandering merchants, usually Syrians and Jews, still pene-
trated into the remote provinces of the west, but all the evidence
tends to prove that they were relatively few in number. And on
their infrequent visits they brought principally articles of luxury
— ^perfumes, drugs, spices, precious stones, armor, silks, and the
like — ^which could be afforded only by the very wealthy. Com-
merce of this kind could give permanent employment to few per-
sons in Gaul or Britain.

Throughout the old Roman territories, it is true, we constantly
hear of places called cities (civitates), which still bore their an-

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE 199

cient Latin names. Physically they continued to exist. Yet, be-
fore any real continuity of urban life is presupposed, certain facts
must be taken into account. Many of the cimtafes in Gaul and
other regions had never been much more than centers of adminis-
tration and defense ; and after the fifth century official usage made
no distinction between the civitas and the castrum, which origi-
nally had been a fortified camp.^^ Furthermore, archaeology
proves that what had been relatively great cities, like Cologne and
London, lost all but a few of their inhabitants long before the time
of Charlemagne. Land within the old walls sometimes reverted
to gardens, or vineyards, or pasture. And though bishops and
counts commonly used cities for their capitals, the persons whom
they attracted were principally soldiers, clerks, and serving men,
supported, like their masters, by the labor of peasants on ad-
joining estates. The inevitable conclusion must be that, in spite
of possible exceptions, the cities of the Carolingian Empire were
chiefly military positions and official residences. They had little
or no mercantile life and they included few, if any, professional
traders or artisans. Economically, they were not centers of pro-
duction. Socially, they had no peculiarity to mark them oflf from
the countryside. Politically, they lacked every vestige of true
municipal organization. When, subsequently, we again find flour-
ishing towns in the west, they appear as new developments, bear-
ing no real connection with the cities of antiquity.

Today scholars are by no means so confident as they once were
that liberty was universal among the primitive Germans; some
have gone so far as to affirm the opposite. In any case, the noble
German had no prejudice against tlie enslavement of the other
fellow. When the barbarians came into the empire, they were
quite willing to adopt any institution that added to their wealth
or authority. There can, for example, be no doubt concerning
the persistence of the Roman villa under the new masters of the
countryside; the model for the mediseval manor was unquestion-
ably the great estate of the later empire. There we encounter the
division of the arable between the proprietor and the tenants so
that each of the latter had his own plot in return for rents and

^ See above, pp. 8, 35. The confusion of the Latin words is reflected in the
vernacular languages. The Germanic burg (Jburh, bury, borgo, etc.) appears in
the names of many Roman cities and other fortified places. The Latin castrum
became the Anglo-Saxon ceaster or Chester and was applied in Britain either to
old dties or to legionary camps. In Welsh the same word was turned into caer—
as in Oaerleon ^Cdstrusis Oarmarth^s., Oarhsl^ and the lilce. ^

The
“cities”
of the
Dark Age

The
origin
of the
manorial
system

200

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The

benefice

labor owed to the former. Among the cultivators there were
slaves {send) as well as the theoretical freemen called coloni.
Eventually, however, all came to be settled in much the same way;
through imperial legislation the coloni were as firmly attached to
the estate as if they had been slaves. By the fifth century, the mass
of the agricultural population in the west had already become an
economically dependent peasantry. And as the government deputed
its authority to the great landlords, this dependence came to have
also a political character.

Then came the barbarians, who for the most part seem merely
to have taken over a share of the existing estates, leaving them to
be cultivated as before. Although the invaders were for a while-
differentiated from Romans, all such distinction had utterly van-
ished by the time of Charlemagne. There remained only one
agrarian aristocracy, usually speaking a Latin dialect throughout
Gaul, but in dress, custom, and mentality predominantly barba-
rian. Beneath this aristocracy Roman dependents, poorer Ger-
man settlers, captives in war, and other subjected persons had
been fused into the villein class of the Middle Ages. To what
extent free Germanic villages may have been established on im-
perial soil or may have survived in territories beyond the frontier
is a dubious matter. Such villages, in so far as they existed, must
have rapidly disappeared, for in Carolingian times the system of
seignorial exploitation was well-nigh universal. Many, perhaps
most, of the peasants were legally free; yet economically they
were unfree, being reduced to the position of coloni. Even the
servus became what we know as a serf; and to designate the
rightless bondman, a new word was introduced — slave or esclave,
derived from the unfortunate Slavs whom the nomads sold in
droves to the peoples of the west.^^

Along with the development of manorialism — ^the economic
subjection of the masses to great landlords — ^the records of the
Merovingian period reveal a striking tendency toward dependent
tenure on the part of men who were entirely free. In the trou-
blous centuries of the Dark Age the lot of the small proprietor
became increasingly hard. Often, to secure necessary protection
or relief from oppressive exactions, he would give his land to a
church and receive it back as a benefice (beneficium)^ an estate
held of the church in return for some service, whether substantial

“ See above, p. 50, below, ch. xi.

201

THE CAROLINGIAN EMPIRE

or nominal. In the same way a bishop, abbot, or other lord
might of his own initiative grant benefices to worthy adventurers
who would agree to fight in his defense. And the same result
would be obtained when a destitute man requested land from
which to gain a livelihood. In the latter case the benefice might
also be called a precaria because it had been granted in answer to
prayer (preces). The name is a matter of secondary interest.

The important point to remember is that the benefice was not the
holding of a peasant within an estate ; rather it was an estate itself
— ^that is to say, land under cultivation, together with the cul-
tivators.

The precedents for all such developments in land tenure were
undoubtedly Roman, but alongside them we find another widely Corn-
prevalent institution which seems to have been essentially bar- mendatior
barian in origin. This was the honorable relationship of lord and
vassal.^* For protection the primitive German had looked pri-
marily to his family or clan, which was solemnly bound to avenge
any wrong done to one of its members. Though vestiges of the
ancient tribal system lasted for many centuries in the Germanic
states of western Europe, the actual power of the kindred groups
rapidly waned before the advance of the royal authority. Yet the
times remained lawless ; murder and robbery thrived in spite of
royal decrees and judicial prosecutions. Experience proved that
a great man was an exceedingly useful ally. So the weaker com-
mended themselves to the powerful, and the latter proportionately
gained in prestige. Even the king encouraged the practice, for he
could then hold the superior person responsible for the deeds of
his followers, and the number of elusive vagabonds would be
reduced. These factors stimulated the extension of the custom
which Tacitus had described as the comitatus. It remained a per-
sonal relationship— from one side lordship, from the other vas-
salage. The tie might involve the obligation for support in war
and it might carry with it the tenure of a landed estate. In the
Carolingian period the combination of these elements was by no
means necessary or usual ; how it came to be made universal will
be seen in connection with the feudalism of the ensuing period.

** “Lord” is from the Anglo-Saxon Wa/wi, meaning provider of bread; “vassal"
appears in Late Latin as vassus, one various terms used to designate a man
in the sense a retainer.

CHAPTER IX

The

contrast
between
east and
west

The Arab
Empire
under the
Abbasids

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE

I. THE EASTERN WORLD

(When we refer to the five centuries that followed the bar-
barian invasions as the Dark Age, we are, of course, speaking in
relative terms. The darkness was not absolute, for at no time was
the light of culture entirely extinguished. It is in fact possible,
by concentrating attention on forms and traditions, to obtain an
impression of wonderful continuity from ancient to mediaeval
times. This is to gain a false perspective of European history.
If, rather, we contrast actual conditions in the seventh century
with those in the second century, we seem to be faced with the
results of a frightful catastrophe — ^the utter collapse of a great
civilization. In the west, at any rate, there was a Dark Age,
which was very dark indeed. The Carolingian Empire marked
some improvement; yet its relative barbarism will at once be
appreciated when it is compared with the contemporary empire
of the Arabs.

Just before Pepin was crowned at Soissons, the Ommiads were
supplanted in the caliphate by the Abbasids. The second of the
latter dynasty was al-Mansur (754-75), who designed and built
the new capital at Bagdad on the Tigris. Soon after him reigned
the famous Harun-al-Rashid (786-809), and the latter was suc-
ceeded, after a short interval, by al-Mamun (813-33). Under
these gor'^eous princes the caliphate lost the remaining vestiges
of its old simplicity. The rulers of Islam were no longer Arab
chieftains living on terms of equality with their nomad followers,
but oriental despots raised to a dizzy height above their subjects,
among whom the great families of Mecca and Medina were
treated quite like other Mohammedans. The Abbasid revolution
thus reacted to the benefit of a wide constituency — especially the
Iranian population of Persia — ^and this fact gave an entirely new
character to the civilization of the succeeding period.

By breaking the old aristocracy, however, the Abbasids accele-
rated the transformation of their empire into a loose union of
autonomous provinces. Spain, as has been noted, led the way,
coming under the absolute control of an Ommiad emir at Cor-

202

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE 203

dova. In 788 another rebel, claiming descent from Fatima and
Ali, secured dominion over the westernmost portion of Africa,
the modern Morocco, where the succeeding emir built himself
a new capital at Fez. Early in the next century the emir of
Kairawan made himself virtually independent, and after 868 a
Turkish adventurer secured a similar position in Egypt and
Syria. Meanwhile, to the eastward, various powerful governors
had successfully followed the same policy. By the end of the
ninth century, accordingly, the caliph governed only the central
portion of his theoretical empire, and even there he lived in con-
stant fear of his own ministers and generals. He kept himself
in magnificent isolation, guarded by half-savage Turks; and to
maintain his authority in the palace, he developed a capricious
terrorism equaled in few epochs of history. Such a despot,
actually known to few outside his harem and his household of
slaves and eunuchs, lacked the heroic and inspiring character of
the early caliphs. His headship of the faith remained little more
than a legal form; religious unity was lost among the “two and
seventy jarring sects'' of Omar Khayyam.

Nevertheless, the great Arab empire continued to possess a
common civilization that sharply distinguished it from the rest The
of the world. From the Oxus and the Himalayas to the Sahara Arabic
and the Pyrenees, Moslem society and culture were very much
the same. Despite the endless quarrels of Mohammedan theo-
logians, all recognized the sanctity of the Koran and obeyed the
command that it should not be used in translation — ^a fact which
maintained the supremacy of Arabic tliroughout the world of
Islam. No one could there be thought educated unless he knew
the vernacular of the Prophet, And tliat flexible language soon
proved itself equally well adapted to the technicalities of philos-
ophy and science. By the eighth century relatively few who spoke
Arabic were of pure Arab descent; they were not even all Mos-
lems. Thousands of Hindus, Parsees, Jews, and Christians
learned the dpminant tongue as a matter of course, and so came
into a position to combine the learning of a dozen scattered
countries. Through them the culture of Islam rapidly developed
the cosmopolitan richness and variety that characterized it under
the Abbasids.

The linguistic unity of the Arab dominions was also a great Trade and
stimulus to commerce. The. Moslem conquest by no means ruined culture
the cities of Syris^ Africa, Their economic connec-

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

204

tions with Greece and Italy were, it is true, largely destroyed;
but to make up for the severance, they were now brought into
much closer contact with Persia and the orient* The caravan
trade of central Asia naturally fell into the hands of the Arabs,
who had long been expert in that business. They brought the
precious goods of China and the Indies direct to the ports of
S3rria. On the north they had access to the Black Sea and,
through the nomads of the steppe, dealt largely in furs and
slaves from eastern Europe. From Egypt they penetrated into
Ethiopia, and from the Sahara into the gold-bearing country
about the Niger. By sea their ships linked the coasts of India,
Persia, Arabia, and eastern Africa as far south as Madagascar.
Much of this traffic converged on Egypt, where Alexandria and
Cairo enjoyed unparalleled prosperity through the trans-shipment
of goods bound to the westward. The Mediterranean, except for
the Adriatic and the ^gean, became virtually the sole possession
of the Moslems; from the mountains of Asia Minor to those
of Spain the shores of the mainland were all theirs. In the
ninth century one or another of the nearby emirs secured the
Balearic Islands, Sicily, Malta, and Crete. A hundred years later
it was still doubtful whether Italy could be successfully defended
by the Christians.

In spite of these offensives in the Mediterranean, however, the
great period of Arab conquest had come to a close. The sumptu-
ous wealth of the Moslem cities in the following centuries was
the product of their teeming economic life, rather than of war.
There was, of course, fighting on the frontiers, and the chronic
rivalries of princes led to occasional hostilities ; yet in general the
age was one of peace and prosperity. The commerce and industry
of Islam then approached — ^possibly surpassed — ^the standards of
the ancient world. Mercantile activity produced not only mate-
rial riches, but also, by stimulating the interchange of customs
and ideas, a more lasting treasure of cultural achievement. Al-
though we admit that Arabic civilization was the work of a very
heterogeneous population, the Arabs deserve the chief credit
It was that talented and adaptable people who built the empire
and established the traditions that governed its destiny.

The art of the Arabs was t3rpical of their avilization. Odds
Arabic art and ends from the four corners of the earth were combined with
new elements to produce a strikingly original result. In archi-
tecture, for example, the Arabs obviously began with the forms

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE 205

of construction already existing in Persia and 83^3. The first
of the great Mohammedan buildings was the so-called mosque of
Omar at Jerusalem — a timber dome placed over an octagon of
masonry. It employs semicircular arches supported by columns
taken from older structures and is principally decorated with
mosaic. Here is very little that can be surely ascribed to the Arabs
themselves. On the other hand, the splendid mosque at Damas-
cus, built early in the eighth century, contains many original fea-
tures. The horseshoe arch appears prominently and the whole
building is dominated by minarets — ^slender towers from which
the muezzin calls the faithful to prayer (see Plate II). The
greater mosques that subsequently arose at Cairo, Bagdad, Cor-
dova, and elsewhere repeated the same elements : domes and cu-
polas in a variety of forms, lofty minarets, and horseshoe arches,
often pointed or cusped (see Figure 12 and Plate II, Cordova).

As far as painting and sculpture were concerned, Moslems
from the outset suffered from one disadvantage; they were for-
bidden by the Koran to make representations of human beings
or of any living animal. The rule was not always observed in
secular art, but it was natural that in the prohibited field Arabs
should make no remarkable progress. By way of compensation
Moslem artists came to excel in all forms of ornamentation that
were strictly lawful. Following models already perfected in the
orient, they drew charming patterns from flowers and leaves,
either naturalistic or conventionalized. And from geometrical
figures they developed the intricate and graceful designs that
became known as arabesques. These schemes of decoration were
applied in rich profusion to both the interior and the exterior
of the later Moslem buildings — ^among which the most familiar
are the Moorish palaces of Spain. Even greater skill was shown
in the minor arts that flourished ever3rwhere throughout the Mo-
hammedan world. Whether he worked in stone, wood, ivory,
metal, glass, pottery, doth, or leather, the Arab craftsman pro-
duced things of surpassing beauty. No lengthy description of
such products can be attempted here; it need only be said that
among the great artistic triumphs of the world rank the Arabic
luster ware, enamded pottery, brass and steel inlayed with gold
and silver,^ carved ivory, brocaded silk, pile carpets, and tooled
leather.

1 Called damascening, ^ter the city of Damascus.

206

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Arabic

literature

and

scholarship

Transla-
tions from
the Greek

Poets had flourished in Arabia long before Mohammed’s time;
and although he was not very favorable to the profession, it
continued to enjoy great honor. As the Arabs spread over the
world and increasingly adopted city life, the older poetic forms
naturally became obsolete and popular demand shifted from con-
ventional tales of tribal warfare to matters of personal experi-
ence — in other words, toward lyric themes. Yet the old passion
for story-telling lived on; tales from every land were reworked
and put into prose. This was the origin of the collection known
as the Thousand and One Nights, which in some measure reflects
the early Abbasid age. As would be expected, the Arabs also
maintained a high standard in the writing of history. Merely to
list the names and works of important Moslem historians between
the seventh and tenth centuries would fill a page of print — a cata-
logue that must be left to more specialized works on the subject.

Exactly what, if any, influence was exerted in Christian Europe
by the more popular forms of Arabic literature remains a con-
troversial subject. In the realm of learning, however, no one
has doubted or can doubt that western borrowings from the
Arabs were of epoch-making importance. The marauders and
conquerors of the seventh century, of course, brought with them
nothing that could be called scholarship. The rudiments of their
science and philosophy, as of their ^rts, had to be taken from the
lands which they invaded. There, especially in the cities of Syria
and Egypt, they found great schools with traditions of study
running back to the golden age of Athens. Immense libraries
were stocked with books embodying the accumulated wisdom of
a thousand years. But since they were in Greek, they remained
closed to the inquiring minds of Islam, as did the writings of
Hebrews, ‘ Persians, Chinese, and Hindus. Such works had to
be translated into Arabic before the cause of higher education
among the Moslems could be far advanced.

With the development of a cosmopolitan civilization under
the Abbasids, conditions became favorable for the introduction
of Hellenistic learning. The needed intermediaries were readily
found. Since the time of Justinian, various groups of Chris-
tians, particularly Nestorians and Jacobites,^ had extended their
missionary efforts far into central Asia, and through their agency
many Greek works had already been put into Persian and Ara-

2 See above, p, 113,

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE 207

maic. Besides, there were numerous Hellenized Jews who had
been led to make a thorough study of Arabic. Thanks to the
patronage of the caliphs the work of translation was rapidly
accomplished. Begun under al-Mansur, it was continued under
al-Rashid and greatly developed under al-Mamun, who organized
a regular school for the study of Greek philosophy and science.
The chief translator of this later period was a Nestor ian Chris-
tian named Hunain ibn Ishaq (d. 877) — a skilled physician and
a prolific writer. Hunain and his pupils translated Galen, parts
of Hippocrates, and a large number of other books on medicine
and allied subjects. Ransacking the cities of Eg^^pt and Syria
for manuscripts, they formed at Bagdad one of the greatest libra-
ries in the world. Other scholars, meanwhile, had turned their
attention to such authors as Aristotle, Euclid, Archimedes, and
Ptolemy. Eventually the whole body of Hellenistic learning was
made available to Moslem students, who thus continued without
a break the work of the Greeks under the Roman Empire.

The mass of writings to which the Arabs fell heir was already
a strange mixture, combining classic philosophy and science with
mystic elements from Neo-Platonism. To this mixture the
Arabs contributed the sacred tradition of the Koran, together
with considerable lore from JPersia, India, and even China. The
result was an original advance in thought which can be best
appreciated by examining particular fields of study. Hunain,
the translator, was one of four great Arabic scholars in the later
ninth century. As an author, he added to the wisdom gained
from wide reading the results of his own experience as a prac-
tising physician. Among his works were commentaries on the
classics of medicine, a compendium of the subject as a whole,
and the earliest known treatise on the eye. A contemporary of
his, al-Kindi, has the distinction of being called the first Arab
philosopher. He was, at any rate, the first Arab to make an
extensive study of Aristotle and so to become interested in the
reconciliation of that system with orthodox Moslem theology —
a project that was to occupy his successors for many centuries.
Al-Kindi was a sort of universal scholar, writing not merely on
logic and metaphysics, but also on meteorology, optics, spe’cific
gravity, and music. The reputation which he came to enjoy may
be judged from the fact that — rightly or wrongly— no less than
265 books are attributed tQ him.

In astronomy, aird jn^ematics, meanwhile, we have the great

Philos-
ophy and
science in
the ninth
century

208

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Tenth

Century

names of al-Farghani and al-Khwarizmi. Since the reign of
al-Mansur the Arabs had been acquainted with the work of Ptol-
emy, thenceforth known as the Almagest.^ And together with
this book, they had come to be familiar with the astronomical
instruments of the ancients — especially with the astrolabe, by
which the relative positions of the heavenly bodies can be ascer-
tained and data secured for the calculation of latitude. The
next step was to build observatories for the compilation of elab-
orate astronomical tables. With the expert aid of al-Farghani,
the undertaking was carried out by the caliph al-Mamun. The
result, of course, was increasing activity in the field of mathe-
matics, and it was there that the Arabs made their most impor-
tant contribution to science.

From the Greeks had come the perfected geometry of Euclid,
together with Ptolemy’s fundamentals of trigonometry. The
latter was now greatly developed by the scholars of Islam, and
in addition they virtually created the mathematical process which
still bears its Arabic name, algebra. These were great accom-
plishments, and yet they were less important than the invention
of our everyday arithmetic. The nine signs which we know as the
Arabic numerals were apparently derived from the Hindus. Be-
sides, the Arabs employed a zero, by means of which figures
may be arranged in columns to designate units, tens, hundreds,
thousands, and so on. Just how the system came to be perfected
is still being debated by historians; but as far as may now be
judged, the introduction of the all-important zero was original
with the Arabs. What a vast improvement the new arithmetic
was over that of the Latin world may be realized by any one
who tries to add, subtract, multiply, or divide while using only
the Roman numerals.

In the following period Arabic science continued to make
splendid progress. To mention only a few of many distinguished
names, we encounter in the tenth century al-Razi (Rhazes),^
physician and writer on medicine, physics, astronomy, and the-
ology; al-Farabi (Alpharabius), philosopher and musician; Ibn
al-Haitham (Alhazen), brilliant student of optics; al-Battani
(Albategnius), mathematician and astronomer. Nor was this

* This is the Latinized form of the Arabic corruption of certain Greek words
in the original title.

* The names in parentheses are those given to the Arabs by Latin writers of
the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. See below, chs. xviii, xid.

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE 209

the end. Medicine reached a new height with the illustrious Ibn
Sina, more familiar to us as Avicenna (d. 1037) ; general science
with al-Biruni (d. 1048) ; astronomy with the loved poet, Omar
Khayyam (d. 1123) ; and philosophy with Ibn Rushd, best known
as Averroes (d. 1198). To discuss the contributions of all these
writers is out of the question in this cursory sketch. It may,
however, be noted that the finest medical essay of the Middle
Ages was that of al-Razi on smallpox ; that the theory of meas-
ured music® began with al-Farabi; and that the study of mirrors
and lenses by Ibn al-Haitham was a noteworthy step toward the
invention of the microscope and the telescope.

A very remarkable feature of Arabic science was its practical
aspect. The greatest of the theoretical writers by no means de-
spised an interest in common things. A chemist might write
not only on the composition of the universe, but on paint, dye-
stuffs, and glass-making. Dozens of handbooks were composed
on animals, plants, trees, stones, and metals. In one way or an-
other, the Arabs covered the whole range of manufacture, agricul-
ture and navigation. Through trade th^ came to lead the world
in their knowledge of geography.® It was their voyagers who seem
to have made the earliest use of the magnetic compass. Paper-
making and block-printing'^ were both Chinese inventions, intro-
duced into the west by the Arabs. Their knowledge of fireworks,
drawn from the same source, was probably the foundation for
the European invention of gunpowder.®

To the mediaeval scholarship, sis well as to the mediaeval art
of Islam, the world is profoundly indebted. Yet there were msiny
fields in which the Arabs, like all their contemporaries, went
astray. Although they carried out much sound research in
astronomy smd medicine, both subjects remained encumbered with
mistaken theories and popular superstitions. In general, the
astronomers of Islam based their work on Ptolemy’s Almagest,
which consecrated the notion of a geocentric universe. Accord-
ing to that doctrine, the round earth was encircled, one after the
other, by the spheres of air, water, and fire — ^thus making’ up
the four material elements of Aristotle. About these stationary
spheres revolved the seven planets: the moon. Mercury, Mars,

‘ See below, p. 469,

• See below, p. 654.

’ See below, p. 715.

• See below, p. 629.

Astronomy

and

astrology

210

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

the sun, Venus, Jupiter, and Saturn. The/eighth heaven was that
o£ the fixed stars, including the belt of constellations known as
the zodiac. To account for the apparent motions of all these
bodies, Ptolemy had perfected a series of intricate mathematical
explanations. The planets, for instance, were supposed to de-
scribe not only great orbits about the earth, but at the same
time lesser circles called epicycles.® Such formulae, together with
the whole Ptolemaic system, were commonly accepted in the Mos-
lem world, for they were sufficiently accurate to comprehend any
observations that could then be made. The Arabs, however, elab-
orated the Greek concept of the celestial spheres by imagining
them not as geometrical abstractions but as actual shells of trans-
lucent substance, like crystal.

To supply a motive force impelling the stars along their sev-
eral paths, even the best scholars fell back on an appeal to angels
or spirits of some sort; and at that point science tended to give
way to mythology. From very ancient times the seven planets
had been associated with divisions of time,^® traits of human
character, metals, and many other things. The signs of the
zodiac were thought to have mystic significance in various ways,
especially in connection with the health and happiness of indi-
vidual men. By mathematical computation, one familiar with
the stars could evaluate the celestial influences that had ruled
any person since the moment of his birth. The casting of a horo-
scope then seemed no more mysterious than the prediction of an
eclipse. If the sun could affect the growth of crops and the
moon could control the movement of the tides, why could not
Mars govern the course of a war or Venus that of a love affair?
In the absence of scientific demonstration to the contrary, the an-
cient lore of the Chaldseans and Persians naturally continued to
flourish among the Arabs. Indeed, for many centuries to come,
every astronomer, merely by applying his science, was likely to
be also an astrologer.

In Arabic medicine the situation was very similar. Despite

® By way of illustration, imagine a long arm revolving on a pivot; then a short
arm revolving on a pivot at the end of the long arm; finally a light attached to
the end of the short arm.

The week is, of course, a group of seven days named for the seven planets.
The English Sunday, Monday, and Saturday still betray their celestial connec-
tions. The other days commemorate Germanic deities substituted for Mars,
Mercury, Jupiter, and Venus. The latter names clearly appear in French:
mardi {martis dies), jeudi (jams dies), etc.

2II

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE

much excellent work, the science as a whole was retarded by Medicine
undue veneration for the authority of Galen. His physiology and
was in particular the source of endless confusion. The vital alchemy
principle in the human body, he taught^ was the pneuma (liter-
ally, breath), which was manifested in three forces: the psy-
chical, the animal, and the natural. The first had its seat in the
brain, the second in the heart, the third in the liver; and they
respectively acted through the nerves, the arteries, and the veins.

Man, said Galen, was the universe in miniature. Corresponding
to the four Aristotelian elements (earth, air, water, and fire)
were the four bodily humors : blood, phlegm, yellow bile (choler),
and black bile (melancholy). As one of these humors predomi-
nated over the others, the individual’s temperament was said to
be sanguine, phlegmatic, choleric, or melancholic.

This fantastic system, accepted without question by the
scholars of Islam, readily lent itself to combination with the
current beliefs in astrology, magic numbers, and the mystic prop-
erties of things in general. Under such circumstances, the
philosopher who sought to discover the secrets of medicine and
chemistry was inevitably drawn into what we know as alchemy.

If all substances are formed from common elements, transmuta-
tion of one into another is theoretically possible. The alchemist’s
ideal was the same as that of the modern scientist, but the medi-
asval scholar wasted his time in seeking impossible refinements.

For example, by purifying ordinary mercury he tried to obtain
philosophical mercury — ^which would be the veritable principle
of mutability. With such an elixir, one could change anything
to anything else! Centuries were to pass before the doctors
either of Islam or of Christendom were to decide that the pursuit
was vain.

2. THE WESTERN WORLD

Even a cursory review of the subject demonstrates the absurd-
ity of regarding either the Byzantine or the Frankish empires The de-
as bulwarks of civilization against the destructive hordes of
Asia. If Europe had been taken by the Moslems, its subsequent
development would have bem vastly different, but the immediate
result of the conquest might well have been to raise the level of
material prosperity and of culture. The history of Byzantine
civilization, when ail possible credit ftas been allowed it, is one
of general stagnati6h. It was khportaat as a conservative;^ not

212

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The degen-
eration of
Latin

as a progressive, force. To balance the many original accom-
plishments of the Arabs during the centuries after Heraclius, is
there one forward-looking achievement that can be attributed to
the Greeks of the old empire? In the west, despite the heroic
deeds of an occasional statesman or reformer, the story is one of
steady deterioration.

Economically, the Dark Age was the culmination of a long
decline — ^the reversion to a dominantly agrarian society, marked
by the near extinction of commerce and urban life. An accom-
paniment of this social decay was the gradual failure of Latin
culture. The fine arts suffered first. From the third century on,
Roman architecture and sculpture lost all vitality. The east, it
is true, witnessed a noteworthy artistic revival with the perfec-
tion in the sixth century of the style known as Byzantine. This
style, however, remained essentially foreign to the west, which
of its own produced nothing remarkable in architecture for an-
other five hundred years. Latin letters proved more vigorous.
The classical tradition outlived the disastrous third century and
kept its fascination for the educated Italian even into the reign of
Theodoric the Ostrogoth. That was the end. Thenceforth the old
literature ceased to live, and became merely a subject to be studied
in the schools. Poetic composition based on quantity entirely
lapsed, except as an antiquarian diversion. Latin prose no longer
followed the ancient standards; although it was adapted to new
and useful purposes, it developed in ways that would have seemed
barbarous to Cicero.

As a matter of fact, the average Roman had never talked the
language of Cicero; with the passage of time, the divergence be-
tween that language and tlie spoken vernacular became wider and
wider. In the east, literary Greek was kept alive through the
unbroken traditions of classical education; in the west, the failure
of such education made a knowledge of literary Latin increasingly
difficult to obtain. By the seventh century, a man like Gregory
of Tours found it impossible to observe the conventional rules
of grammar because the dialect of the countryside had long
ignored them. Genders, declensions, and conjugations became
hopelessly confused; case endings were dropped off; construc-
tion was revolutionized by the increased employment of prepo-
sitions and conjunctions; tense came to be expressed by auxili-
aries ; spelling was altered to fit local pronunciation ; many words
were forgotten, while new words were introduced from colloquial

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE 213

usage. Long before the barbarian invasions, a good deal of
German had crept into Latin through the influence of the army,
and the process was of course accelerated in the later centuries.

The depth of this degradation was reached in Merovingian
Gaul. There the Latin even of the king's official instruments
became unspeakably bad and was matched by a handwriting that
to us seems childishly grotesque. Yet the ignorant clerks who
wrote the jargon were attempting to use a learned tongue. That
was the trouble. If they had composed these acts in the spoken
vernacular, the result would probably have been more sensible
and pleasing. It would assuredly have been of great interest
to philologists, who are still disputing many points in connection
with the origin of the Romance languages. It is, of course, uni-
versally held that the modern French, Provencal, Italian, Spanish,
Portuguese^ and Rumanian were derived from vulgar Latin, i.e.,
the language of the people rather than of books. But the extent
to which they were individually affected by pre-Roman elements
remains doubtful. That, for example, the French u and the
French nasalization of a vowel before % or m were due to pecu-
liarities of Gallic pronunciation is affirmed by some scholars and
denied by others.

In the present connection such minor questions may be left
to one side. The important matter is that, in spite of all invasion
and conquest by Germanic peoples, the spoken Latin of the native
population persisted throughout a wide region of western Europe.
This language is referred to by contemporary writers as the
lingua romana (French roman, English romance ). One or another
of its dialects has been continuously used by the mass of the people
in Italy, Gaul, and Spain, where the Goths, Lombards, Burgun-
dians, Franks, and other Germans rapidly forgot their own
tongues. In Africa Romance was lost before the Berber speech
of the ancient inhabitants and the Arabic of the Moslem in-
vaders; but in Spain historical accident — of which more later —
brought about its ultimate victory. The Greek of southern Italy,
which persisted far into the Middle Ages, was an exception, as
were certain languages of Gaul.

From time immemorial the slopes of the P3rrenees have been
held by the Basques, who have maintained their own vernacular
despite the advent of Celt, Latin, German, and Arab. Basque,
therefore, is one of the very oldest languages of Europe and on
that account is of especial interest to the philologist. Another

The origin
of the
Romance
languages

Germanic
and Celtic
languages

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

214

isolated region of Gaul was Brittany, which was settled by Celtic-
speaking Britons during the migration of the Anglo-Saxons.
Of much greater importance historically is the linguistic frontier
which now cuts across Belgium and northeastern France, and
which has remained fundamentally unchanged since the fifth cen-
tury. Ever since the left bank of the Rhine was given by the
Romans to Franks and Alamans as f oe derail y Germanic dialects
have prevailed along it. From the speech of the Alamans is
directly descended that of the present-day Alsatians ; and Flemish,
like the closely related Dutch, is a modern form of the Low
German spoken by the Salian Franks. Elsewhere in Gaul the
triumph of Romance was complete, as will be more fully explained
when we come to the subject of mediaeval French literature.

Of the old Celtic tongue little trace remained at the time of
the barbarian invasions except in place names, such as those de-
rived from the designations of Gallic tribes.^^ In Britain, on
the other hand, Latinization had been thorough only in the south-
east of the island, and there the process was undone by the Anglo-
Saxon conquest. To the north and west persisted the Celtic dia-
lects which are today represented by Welsh and Gaelic. Between
^ them and the Germanic speech of the invaders spoken Latin
virtually perished. Anglo-Saxon, which is known to us from
writings of the seventh and following centuries, shows almost
no Romance borrowings — ^a fact which testifies to the solidity of
the barbarian occupation. In respect to language, as to institu-
tions, the English country was an extension of continental
Germany.

On the east, the boundary of Charlemagne's empire virtually
Slavic coincided with the linguistic frontier, except that to the north
languages the former excluded the Germanic nations of Scandinavia. From
the Baltic to the eastern shore of the Adriatic extended a vast
territory throughout which the dominant speech was Slavic.
There, as early as the Carolingian period, divergence had already
produced the two major groups of North Slavs and South Slavs.
Of the many dialects spoken by the former, the chief descendants
are Russian, Polish, Czech, and Slovak, to which are related
such Baltic languages as Lithuanian and Lettish. Within the
southern group are classified the Serbs, Croats, Slovenes, and

^ So, for example, Auvergne from the Avemiy Poitou from the Pictavi, Reims
from the Remiy Soissons from the Stiessionesy Amiens from the Amhianiy Paris
from the Parisiiy etc,

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE 215

Bulgarians ; for the last-named, though originally Asiatic, eventu-
ally adopted the Slavic speech of their dependents.^^

In the eighth century the Balkan peninsula had as intricate a
mixture of peoples as it has today. Since the time of Justinian,
Avars, Bulgars, and Slavs had gradually occupied the interior,
crushing or driving out the resident Germans. The Greeks held
Thrace, the coast of Macedonia, and most of the Peloponnesus.
Latin was still heard along the Dalmatian shore, but throughout
the rest of Illyricum it had disappeared. Elsewhere in the Bal-
kans there extended a wild jumble of nationalities which has
continued to defy systematic classification. Here, preeminently,
language is no test of race. Many of the nomadic invaders, like
the Bulgars, became Slavicized; others, along with thousands of
Slavs, seem to have become merged in a Greek- or Latin-speaking
population. By some strange accident Latin was carried east
into Dacia and so became the basis of the modern Rumanian.
Just how this came about remains a mystery, for the old story
that the speech of the ancient Roman garrison survived the
devastating floods of Sarmatians, Goths, Heruls, Huns, Bulgars,
Avars, and other savage invaders is utterly incredible. But with-
out stopping longer on the European confusion of tongues, let us
return to the simpler topic of Latin education.

The collapse of the imperial government in the west necessarily
involved a revolution in methods of instruction. As the state
schools disappeared, and with them the old professional teachers,
learning became virtually a monopoly of the clergy, who had
their own ideals of education. The attitude of the church fathers
has already been well illustrated in the views of Ambrose, Jerome,
Augustine, and Gregory the Great. All four were fundamentally
mystic, in that they placed first the necessity of faith and to that
entirely subordinated the use of the rational faculties.. All, fur-
thermore, were enthusiastic advocates of monasticism, and three
of them at one time or another were actually monks themselves.
Jerome and Augustine were both scholarly men who in youth had
been passionately devoted to pagan letters, but who, by virtue of
what they considered supernatural warnings, deserted that calling
for the service of the church. Thenceforth their study, though
profound, was consecrMed to pious ends: to refute pagans and
heretics, to expound the truths of revelation^ and in all practical

The ideals
of ecclesi-
astical
education

» See bdaw, pp. ■

MJiDi^VAL HlbTUKY

Monastic

schools

215

ways to advance the cause of Christianity. A passionate delight
in literature or learning as ends in themselves they were inclined
to consider sinful. Gregory admonished the erudite to forsake
their “foolish wisdom’’ for the “wise foolishness of God.”

Although similar opinions were held by the great organizers
of monasticism, the varieties of monastic discipline permitted wide
divergence of conduct. Among the Irish monks, in particular,
there were many who spent their lives in studying and copying
texts ; yet their conscious purpose was solely the promotion of the
true faith. Through pious works each hoped to attain salvation,
and by spreading the knowledge of sacred books he hoped to
convert the heathen. These Irish monks, it should be remem-
bered, commonly acted as priests among the people, and for that
calling education was especially demanded. Latin was not their
native language; to read it and to write it, they had to obtain
formal instruction. For this purpose the study of pagan letters
continued to be thought essential. The best models of composi-
tion were known to be the classics, and from them might also be
gleaned many edifying lessons in human character and conduct.
To combat worldliness, should not one first become familiar
with it?

The Benedictine system of education seems to have given less
encouragement to scholarship. Benedict, of course, authorized a
limited amount of clerical work ; the monastery had to have mis-
sals from which to learn the routine of divine service, and books
for those brothers who knew how to read. To supply this de-
mand, younger monks were to be given instruction by those most
competent to teach them, and boys from the outside might be
permitted to share the lessons thus offered. Nevertheless, the
Benedictine monastery was not primarily an educational institu-
tion; the religious life which it enjoined consisted essentially of
divine worship alternating with manual labor. Certain hours
were devoted, by way of rest, to reading or contemplation; but
the average monk would be neither willing nor able to engage
in arduous study. It was exceptional that a Benedictine house
became a center of intellectual life.

In the course of the seventh and eighth centuries Benedictine
monasticism was rapidly extended all through the west of Eu-
rope, superseding in particular the organization fostered by St.
Columban and his followers on the continent. The change was in
the nature of a practical reform sponsored by the papacy, and

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE

217

•^•eatly contributed to the efficiency of the church cann'
By the strict isolation of the regular clergy, ho\
^ ? monastery lost whatever prominence it had enjoy<

'H'i-yr. ic Irish system as a center of education for priests. Ea(
of monks became subject to the discipline prescribe
^ tr’-' -t.'.jbot. If he chanced to have scholarly leanings, his hou
i.ccome famous for its learning; but such abbots were rel
?cw. The average monastic library in this early age w;
a pi ess containing perhaps a score of books — ^mainly tho,
t er^^^ tor Christian worship. The average monastic school w;
r’ roup engaged in the study of elementary subjects lil

; t .p and Latin composition. More advanced work was

Mcr ^ individual enterprise and was all too often overbalanc<
1 y r.v: illiteracy of the majority.

1 ular clergy, meanwhile, were left responsible for tl

w' e church in the world. To accomplish this work, pries

had to have a certain amount of education. If the
uU! not be obtained in monasteries, the bishops wou
ovide it. Eventually the cathedral school became
-.nent feature of ecclesiastical organization, but in tl
e rij oerio^i, if such an institution existed, it remained very 0
SCI re. Aral we may be sure that, at least in eighth-century Gai
the fiftesthood was generally debased. Even the bishops we
frequ ^:lly ignorant and. worldly, spending their lives in fami
feud, pontical intrigue, warfare, hunting, and other favorite pu
suits of jhe senii-hnrbarons nobleman. Those exceptional prelat
who were competent to act as intellectual leaders found the
energies so :doCirbed by the Christianization of new countries, <
the attempted reform 01 old ones, that much scholarly endeav
was beyond th.in. ll h not remarkable that, under such circur
stances, the sevealh and eighth centuries were a singularly unpr
ductive age in litei nture and leamiing. Authors worth mentionii
in the history of hairt pean thougii| were exceedingly few, ai
such as there were had a tnent^l ou^pok which to us seems i
credibly childlike. ' If the> were the f^t teachers, what shall ^
think of their pupils? * \

The enormous success, ol Gregory thi^Great as a writer W5
of course, due to his genius for ^^i^ainin^^ge subjects in simj
language; men used his^ popultll^ions^ ^far as possible,
preference to older and more difficm.bo^a* ^Bie same tenden
was clearly marked in all fl|^^^^^^^time, in fa

The sec-
tdax dergy
and

education

Writers of
the Dark
Age:
Orosius

2i8

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Isidore of
Seville
(d. 636)

the decline of scholarship had stimulated the production of man-
uals and epitomes, which in turn were frequently combined into
still briefer texts. In this way the body of actual knowledge
among the learned suffered a continuous loss of substance, and
men were confirmed in the pernicious habit of accepting state-
ments merely because they had long been repeated. Among the
post-classical authors whose works were constantly cited as au-
thoritative were, in addition to the church fathers, Boethius,
Martianus Capella, Priscian, and Orosius. Of these the first
three have already received brief notice;^® the fourth, a mediocre
pupil of Augustine, enjoyed the distinction of having composed
the most popular book on ancient history during the early Middle
Ages. As a supplement to his master’s City of God, Orosius
developed the thesis that the distress of the contemporary world
really marked an improvement in human affairs. To prove that
ancient times had not been happy, he picked all the worst calamities
from the classic authors and combined them in one horrific narra-
tive. The result was not accurate history, but it was easy reading
with an edifying moral — Whence its great vogue in the schools.

With the Vandal invasion, Roman Africa lost its intellectual
preeminence, and Justinian’s reconquest, however beneficial in
other respects, brought about no revival of Latin scholarship.. In
Spain, meanwhile, the churcL preserved what for those times
was a superior culture, the chief exponent of which was Isidore,
bishop of Seville from about 600 to 636. As if to celebrate
Gregory the Great’s conversion of the Visigoths, Isidore produced
a series of books that at once made his name synonymous with
learning. He was a prolific author, writing on theology, history,
literature, and various sciences. Finally, toward the close of his
life, he composed a summary of his teachings and gave it the title
of Etymologice. The book had an immense success, for it served as a
manual of universal knowledge throughout the next five centuries.

From Isidore’s Etymologies, accordingly, we may gain a more
complete picture of what constituted wisdom in the Dark Age
thanr from any other one volume. The key to the compilation is
provided by its title. Isidore believed that the essence of a thing
was contained in its name: by discovering the derivation and
significance of the latter, one could come to understand the for-
mer. So his compendium resolves itself into a series of defini-

^ See above, p. 96.

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE 219

tions based, often enough, on purely fanciful etymology. The
following examples will at least serve to illustrate his approach
to a variety of subjects.^^

Night {nox) is so called from injuring {a nocendo')^ because it
injures {noceat) the eyes. It has the light of the moon and the stars
so that it may not be unadorned and that it may console all who work
by night; also that the light may be adequately tempered for those
creatures that cannot stand sunshine.. ..

Man (^hojno) is so called because he was made of earth (^ex humo),

as is told in Genesis The liver (iecur) has its name because

there is resident the fire which flies up into the brain. Thence

it is spread to the eyes and the other senses and members and by
its heat it changes into blood the liquid that it has drawn from food,
and this blood it supplies to the several members to feed and nourish
them.. .. The spleen {splen) is so called from corresponding to
(a supplemento) the liver on the opposite side, so there may be no
vacuum. And certain men say that it was also made on account of
laughter. For by the spleen we laugh, by the bile we become angry,
by the heart we gain wisdom, and by the liver we love.

The ant (formica) is so called because it carries morsels (ferat
micas) of grain. For it looks forward to the future and in summer
makes ready food to be eaten in the winter. At the harvest, too,
it picks out wheat and refuses to touch barley. After a rain it
always puts out the grain to dry. It is said that in Ethiopia there are
ants shaped like dogs, which dig up golden sand with their feet and
watch it to see that no one carries it off ; and those that do take it
the ants pursue and kill.

Frequently the author’s information was somewhat more accu-
rate than is displayed in these passages, but that was because he
sometimes copied from more reliable sources. In no case can
we attribute much critical insight to Isidore himself, for all he
did was to compile a scrapbook from older writings, good, bad,
and indifferent. Often he adopted statements that flatly contra-
dicted each other, and occasionally we may be positive that he
quite misunderstood what he sententiously repeated. Even the
plan of the book Isidore in large part took from Cassiodorus,
Theodor ic’s famous secretary, who had spent the last years of
his life in a monastery and had there written a comprehensive
sketch of ecclesiastical education. Following Cassiodorus, Isi-
dore first sketched the ^v^ lft>eral arts^^ and then passed on to

‘ - i ". ' ' ' ^ '

V, 21; '

^ See the following sedaon. * ' ' - ' " ". > ^

Irish and
Anglo-
Saxon
scholars

The

Venerable
Bede
(d. 73S)

220 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

a review of medicine, law, theology, the natural sciences, and
other great subjects — ^all covered in the same desultory and super-
ficial way. The contrast between the book’s lofty pretensions and
its feeble performance seems ridiculous to us ; yet we should not
laugh at a man who was doing what he could to enlighten a
desperately ignorant world.

In Italy, meanwhile, Gregory the Great had composed his many
influential works, and in Gaul Gregory of Tours had written his
truly remarkable History of the Franks. For real devotion to
scholarship, however, we must turn rather to the British Isles,
where monks had long been aigaged in the enthusiastic study
of ancient books, both Christian and pagan. By the seventh cen-
tury we find not only Irish, but Anglo-Saxons, with an excellent
knowledge of literary Latin and occasionally with a smattering
of Greek as well. For instance, Aldhelm, a West Saxon who
died in 709, had a wide acquaintance with the classics and, by
way of diversion, composed riddles in accurate hexameter verse.
The rather pedantic Aldhelm was to be far surpassed by the
great scholar, Bede. He was a Northxunbrian who, as a boy of
seven (about 680), began his education under the famous Benedict
Biscop, abbot of Wearmouth. Later Bede became a monk at
Jarrow and there spent the rest of his life, dying in 735.

In Bede the learning of the Irish monks was combined with
the devotion to papal ideals characteristic of the Anglo-Saxons.
Thus, although Bede’s familiarity with pagan letters was exten-
sive and his knowledge of Greek remarkably thorough, all his wis-
dom was entirely subordinated to the practical ends of Christian
teaching. His works never betray even an unconscious delight in
literature as an aesthetic study. Among his numerous writings
the majority are concerned with the exposition of Scripture— a
field in which he of course followed the method consecrated by
Gregory the Great, but in which he was far from being a mere
imitator. For the use of his pupils he early composed a series
of essays on grammar, orthography, and other elementary sub-
jects, drawing liberally from Isidore. And that he maintained a
lively interest in the sciences is proved by his publication, in later
life, of two books: one on the nature of the universe and the
other on chronology. The former is largely an adaptation of
Isidore; but in the latter he made a valuable contribution to west-
ern education, popularizing the system of dating events as before
Christ or in the year of the Lord (a. d.).

221

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE

The book for which Bede has been chiefly famous is, however,
the Ecclesiastical History of the English) and for once a mediaeval
reputation has been confirmed by modem criticism. Bede’s his-
tory is by far the best written in western Europe between the
seventh and the twelfth centuries, not merely because of' his ex-
cellent Latin, but because of his superior intelligence and thorough
honesty. He was almost invariably careful — ^and that was no
less than a marvel — ^to give the source of his information. Much
he reported on his own knowledge; for earlier events he relied
on documents preserved in local archives, on written accounts that
were provided for his express purpose, and on oral tradition
which he got by interviewing persons known to be well informed.

Often he quoted letters and charters in full; when the tale was
only a matter of hearsay, he frankly said so.

We cannot, of course, expect Bede to be critical of the universal
belief that human life was constantly subject to supernatural in-
tervention. His books are filled with accounts of miracles, many
of them given on his own authority. He says that a snake will
die when brought into the air of Ireland ; that even a tincture of
scrapings from Irish manuscripts will cure snake-bite. He tells
how the sudden recovery of a sick horse led to the discovery of the
place where Oswald, the Christian king of Northumbria, had been
slain in battle ; and how a great hole was made there as people took
the dirt away for the sake of its well-known curative properties.

And there is much else of the same sort. Yet, if all the writers of
the age had been as scrupulous as the venerable Anglo-Saxon
scholar, how much better would be our knowledge of it !

3. THE CAROI/INGIAN REVIVAL OF LEARNING

Recent criticism has tended somewhat to belittle Charlemagne’s
role as an innovator in the field of learning. That lie was deeply Charle-
interested in the cause of education is apparent from his own let- magne
ters and decrees ; many of his capitularies, as we have seen, dealt
widi the conduct of the clergy, and any great reform in that con-
nection would have to be based on a general improvement of in-
struction. In all such matters, however, he was merely continuing
projects begun under his predecessors. Both his father and his
grandfather had warmly supported the activities of the papal
missionaries and organizers, prominent among whom were
learned Anglo-Saxon monks. The illustrious Boniface had long
been a teach» before he undertook his greater work on the cmi-

222 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

tinent. Clearly it was such men as he, rather than the Carolin-
gians, who inaugurated the reform of the Frankish clergy. Yet
it was characteristic of the emperor that he should assume the
initiative in advancing any cause which he considered essential
to the welfare of church or state.

There is no evidence that Charlemagne established any new
system of schools for the kingdom at large; in this connection, as
in others, he seems to have relied more on personal supervision
than on radical innovation. He himself saw that learned abbots
and bishops were placed in key positions, and through them strove
to raise the general level of clerical education. It was already cus-
tomary for a number of teachers to be attached to the royal court
for the instruction of young nobles in elementary subjects. From
such a nucleus Charlemagne early developed his famous palace
school, which was to serve throughout his reign as a center of
educational propaganda. And to superintend the work, he secured
in 781 the distinguished Northumbrian scholar, Alcuin, who had
long directed the most famous school in Britain — ^that of York,
founded by Archbishop Egbert, a pupil of Bede.

Alcuin was therefore the representative of a noble tradition,
Alcuin and he was a man eminently fitted to carry out the king^s plans,

and his To Aix-la-Chapelle, Charlemagne’s favorite residence, Alcuin at-

associates tracted teachers from all sides — Irish, English, Italians, and Span-
iards, as well as Franks of Gaul and Germany. Within this early
generation were few noteworthy authors, but their enthusiasm
for learning, imparted to their students, inspired the production
of many influential works in the following century. On men
from this group Charlemagne conferred great abbeys and bish-
oprics, intrusting to them the task of organizing local schools,
collecting libraries, reproducing ancient texts, standardizing the
services of the church, and improving the quality of ecclesiastical
music. Such projects, badced by the amazing energy of the
emperor himself, rapidly produced the cultural advance in his
empire that is often known as the Carolingian Renaissance. The
description is somewhat exaggerated. What was actually done
was to make more general a system of education that already ex-
isted in isolated communities, particularly those of the British
Isles.

Although in minor respects some of the Carolingian scholars
may have surpassed Bede, on the average they were distinctly
inferior. Alcuin’s own books were not at all remarkable, con-

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE 223

sisting chiefly of dialogues on the liberal arts and of commentaries
on the Scriptures. In both respects his work was continued with
great success by his pupil, Hrabanus Maurus, who rose to be
abbot of Fulda and archbishop of Mainz (d. 856). Hrabanus
wrote a number of books that were regarded as authoritative for
centuries: among them a sort of universal encyclopaedia, which
was only a revision of Isidore’s Etymologies; a long essay on
the education of the clergy, which was largely a compilation of
extracts from the church fathers ; and many volumes of Biblical
interpretation, using, of course, the allegorical approach. These
products, on the whole, were characteristic of Carolingian schol-
arship, which but rarely ventured into the more dangerous fields
of original speculation. A profound thinker was out of place in
the ninth century; it was the very mediocrity of Hrabanus. that
assured his renown.

Aside from official documents, our chief sources for the po-
litical history of the period are monastic annals — ^records of con-
temporary events kept year by year. When conscientiously writ-
ten in one of the greater abbeys, such annals might be filled with
interesting information; but all too often they degenerated into
meager lists of deaths, calamities, and trivial portents. Of much
greater interest from the literary point of view are two famous
historians : one who ended and one who began his career during
the reign of Charlemagne. Paul the Deacon was a Lombard who,
after a number of years in the service of Desiderius, retired to
the monastery of Monte Cassino and there devoted himself to
study and writing. He was resident at Charlemagne’s court for
only a short time ; we have no evidence that he was ever promi-
nent in the palace school. Returning to Italy in 787, he spent
his last years in composing the History of the Lombards — a work
cut short by his death some time before 800. The book proved
enormously popular not only because it told another chapter in
the triumph of the orthodox faith, but because it was filled with
a great variety of engaging stories. As already noted, Paul’s
history is not to be trusted as a recital of fact. The earlier part
is little more than picturesque legend and the author unfortunately
did not live to reach the age of which he had direct knowledge.

About the time that Paul the Deacon was writing his history,
a young Frank named Einhard came to the palace school from t^

Historical
writing:
Paul the
Deacon

w See above^

Einhard
(d. 840)

The fate of

classical

scholarship

224 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

monastery of Fulda. Having been born beyond the Rhine, he
spoke German as his native tongue, but through intensive study
he had already obtained a fluent command of Latin. At Aix
Einhard won the friendship of the emperor and more especially
of Prince Louis, who, on becoming king, loaded him with offices
and distinctions. Einhard thus was able to pursue a literary
career without becoming either priest or monk, and w^hile a mere
layman to write the most remarkable biography of the early
Middle Ages. Being steeped in the Latin classics, Einhard con-
sciously set out, as a second Suetonius, to describe the deeds of
another Caesar, the late emperor Charlemagne. This fact is of
great significance for evaluating his book as a historical source.
In that respect it cannot always be taken literally, for the author
constantly borrowed language from his model. Nevertheless, as
a literary essay, Einhard’s of Charlemagne was a brilliant
piece of work, made doubly remarkable by the environment in
which it was produced. And parts of it have real historical
worth. In particular, the graphic picture of the aged emperor is
unforgettable and should be read by every one interested in the
Carolingian age.

Einhard, it is clear, represented that current of mediaeval
thought which prized literary study as something beyond an ele-
ment of practical education. Like many of the Irish and Anglo-
Saxon monks, he felt that, within limits, admiration of the classics
was not incompatible with Christian character. In the ninth cen-
tury there were even prominent clergymen who shared his atti-
tude. Lupus, abbot of Ferrieres, devoted much more time to
pagan letters than to theology. And among less prominent stu-
dents many are known to have attempted imitations of classic
authors. To modern eyes the most remarkable of them was John
the Scot, an Irishman who came to Gaul about the middle of the
ninth century and who seems never to have secured ecclesiastical
preferment. His knowledge of Greek was so excellent that he
even tried his hand at verses in that language. But his truly sig-
nificant accomplishment was a book which he called On the Divi-
sion of Nature, a reconciliation of Christianity and Neo-
Platonism, which few if any of his contemporaries could have
understood. John the Scot was the only man of the period whose
mentality approached that of the greater church fathers, and he
had no intellectual heirs.

However brilliant the occasional success of am Irish, Anglo-

LIGHT IN THE DARK AGE 225

Saxon, or Frankish student in literary experimentation, they The seven
were the advocates of a lost cause. Scholarly investigation of liberal arts
antiquities was out of the question, and an uncritical devotion to
the ideals of ancient authors could lead only to affectation. The
future lay with the men who gave their energies to the advance-
ment of practical education, such as had been advocated by
Gregory the Great. In theory the instruction given by the Caro-
lingian schools, whether attached to monastery or cathedral, was
based on the seven liberal arts. This was an idea which had been
constantly emphasized by authoritative writers for some hundreds
of years. Under Charlemagne it was given final consecration by
the teachings of Alcuin and his associates. The sacred seven were
divided into two groups: the trivium, consisting of grammar,
rhetoric, and dialectic; and the quadrivium, consisting of arith-
metic, geometry, astronomy, and music. What of all this did the
student actually get?

In the first place, he would learn to read and write Latin, The
which in itself was an accomplishment far beyond the average trinum
prince of that time. Einhard tells us that even the great emperor
never learned the art. He kept writing materials under his pillow
and in moments of leisure attempted to master the formation of
letters, “but he began it too late and the results were mediocre.”

Having gained a knowledge of elementary Latin, the youth could
proceed with such fundamental texts as Donatus and Prisdan,”
together with the popular commentaries by Martianus Capella,

Boethius, Isidore, Bede, Alcuin, and Hrabanus. Besides, if he
were to perfect his style, the leading masters agreed that he should
have at least selections from the pagan classics. The more zedous
learner would not stop with a mere knowledge of grammatical
construction ; according to ancient tradition, the first of the lib-
eral arts included much that we should call literature or history.

This, however, was a secondary consideration, pursuit of which
depaided on the talents and S3nnpathies of the instructor.

In rhetoric and dialectic ordinary instruction was restricted to
the reading of standard treatises by Alcuin and his predecessors,
all of whom said very much the same. Classical oratory had lost
all practical meaning except as it might be adapted to the needs
of the Christian preacher. To be effective, he now had to speak
in the vernacular .and would probably find the homilies of Gregory

See above, p, 96.

226

AIEDI^VAL HISTORY

The quad-
rivium

The devel-
opment of
hand-
writing

more useful than theoretical discussions of the ancient art. Dia-
lectic, too, had slight practical importance in the Carolingian age;
and even if curiosity impelled a student to exhaust all his au-
thorities, he could not progress very far. After working back to
Boethius, he could read in translation Porphyry’s Isagoge and
those logical essays of Aristotle which were called the Organiim.
Of Plato nothing beyond the Timcetts was available in Latin. All
the rest of Greek philosophy and science, aside from scattering
quotations, remained unknown in the west.

From this fact it follows that the learning imparted under
the head of the quadrivmm was negligible. Neither the Romans
nor the Greeks before them had been able to do much with arith-
metic because they had continued to use letters for numerals — a
system under which addition and subtraction remain very for-
midable operations, while multiplication and division are almost
impossible. And since even Euclid’s geometry was lacking in the
western libraries, the Carolingian scholar could not be expected
to be very proficient in advanced mathematics. On the theoretic
side he had only such essays as those of Boethius, Isidore, and
Bede; on the practical side he was interested in nothing more
abstruse than determining the date of Easter (the first Sunday
after the first full moon after the vernal equinox). Music had
been included in the quadrivmm through the Greek discovery of
the mathematical ratios underlying the musical scale; but the
notion of music as a liberal art was now little more than a vague
tradition, and the actual technique of playing instruments or of
singing was not a subject of academic instruction.

Accordingly, aside from fundamental training in grammar,
the education offered by the Carolingian school was very super-
ficial, consisting of little more than definitions and catch phrases.
Compared with the contemporary learning of the Arabic world,
that of the Latin west was puerile. Yet, if it had not been for
the enthusiasm of Charlemagne and his helpers, our irreparable
losses of ancient literature would have been immensely greater;
for many a classic has come down to us through a single manu-
script written in some Frankish monastery. To the obscure
scholars of the eighth and ninth centuries our modern culture is
also indebted for the system of letters in which this book is
printed — a remarkable development, of which only the first stage
may be considered here.

For their formal writings the Romans employed the large

light in the dark age 227

square letters which are familiar to us as capitals; for informal
writing they employed, as we do, a running hand, or cursive.
Both, in modified form, persisted into the subsequent period.
Roman cursive finally degenerated into the atrocious scrawl of
the Merovingian charters, but in the meantime what may be
called a cursive influence had changed the shape of the large hand
in which books were commonly written. In the uncial style
rounded forms came to characterize many of the letters, such as
'C for T, ^ for D, and m for M. And as the breakdown of
oriental commerce took papyrus out of the western markets and
compelled the use of parchment, the factor of economy became
increasingly potent. To get more words on a page, the scribe
had to use smaller letters and squeeze them closer together.
Some, to preserve their distinctive shapes, were extended
above the line, others below. The ultimate result was the
form of writing called minuscule — ^little letters, with capitals in-
serted for emphasis — ^as distinguished from majuscule, which con-
sisted only of large letters.

J[ fufhxindouolcnf^jl^cnci^c^uamoJioduQfyx^^

Uxtyep^tofeph^ cumrcomun^dicxxcfi'utr^oms^ ,IU

Figure 3. — ^Exahple of Carolingian Minuscule.®

The precise way in which this evolution came about is a highly
technical and somewhat controversial subject. It need only be The
remarked here that by the eighth century there were several well- C^hngiaii
defined minuscule hands : the Irish, from which was derived the
Anglo-Saxon ; the so-called Visigothic, which had been devised in
Spain; and the Beneventan, universally employed in southern
Italy. Through the migrations of scholars and the interchange
of manuscripts, all of these hands became known in Gaul, where
the Carolingian revival of learning produced an increased demand
for handsomely and legibly written books. Through this demand
there eventually was developed the Carolingian minuscule, char-
acterized by the rounded form of its letters and its general dis-
tinctness and simplicity (see Figure 3). Written in this beautiful
hand and illuminated in color — the method of decoration perfected
by the Irish monks — a manuscript became a treasure of art as

® The reads^^ In sectmdo naleis exponere quomodo duos patres

potuearit habere c^us ecmiunx dicta uirgo maria, illud. ♦.

228

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

well as of learning. It was no wonder that, indirectly, the books
of the ninth century later became the models followed by the
printers of Italy, from whom our most popular type has been
inherited.^®

Outside the narrow field of Latin education there was no Caro-
lingian Renaissance. Vernacular literature as yet did not exist,
except in the form of heroic tales chanted by wandering minstrels.
Einhard tells us that Charlemagne had these “ancient barbarian
poems” put into writing; none of them, unhappily, has survived,
and we may only guess that they were somewhat like the
sagas preserved from a later age. As far as the fine arts were
concerned, we have only one Carolingian monument of any im-
portance. Einhard says :

He also constructed at Aix an extremely beautiful basilica, which
he adorned with gold and silver, with candelabra and balustrades and
doors of massive bronze. And since he could not procure elsewhere
the columns and marbles necessary for his building, he had them
brought from Rome and Ravenna.

Charlemagne’s church is still preserved as a chapel within the
cathedral at Aix-la-Chapelle. It is, as Einhard implies, built in
the Byzantine style, but it is not imposing, being only a domed
octagon some forty-seven feet across. Was not this pathetic
little imitation of Roman grandeur somewhat typical of the king’s
whole imperial structure?

“ See below, p. 715.

CHAPTER X

POLITICAL RECONSTRUCTION

I. THE NEW BARBARIAN ATTACKS

In the ninth century Europe was afflicted by another series of
barbarian invasions. Peoples who had acquired a modicum of The
civilization were subjected to inroads such as their own ances- vikings
tors had visited upon the Roman provinces a few centuries earlier.

These new marauders, coming* from the region now known as
Scandinavia, were of the Germanic stock that had long inhabited
the shores of the Baltic. According to their respective places of
origin, they may be classified as Danes, Norwegians, and Swedes ;
but at that time the three, distinct nations of today hardly existed
^much less the three territorial states which are now marked
on the map. To attempt more than vague national distinctions
among the northern pirates of the ninth century is not worth the
effort. It will be simpler, as well as more accurate, normally to
refer to them all as vikings — the name by which the sea-raiders
called themselves, meaning creek-men, or men of the fjords.

The Germans who had earlier terrorized Europe had been
drawn into the Roman- Empire and had there developed inland
states. Even the Anglo-Saxons, on settling in Britain, had
largely abandoned seafaring for agriculture. The Scandinavian
peoples, on the contrary, were allowed no choice. The Swedes
and Norwegians were virtually surrounded by water, and the
Danes were cut off from the continent by the frontier of Charle-
magne's empire. To reach the outside world, the northerners had
to take to boats. Their own rocky shores could provide a scant
living for only a small population; so younger sons and all dis-
contented persons naturally turned to the sea as an avenue leading
toward wealth and adventure. What the southern steppes were to
the nomad the rivers and inlets of the north became to the viking.
Although Scandinavians had occasionally appeared as freebooters
at an earlier time, it was not until the ninth century that their raids
became a source of terror throughout the Christian northwest.

The fundamental cause of the outpouring was overpopulation,
but there were contributory factors. The advancing authority of
various local kings undoubtedly added to the dissatisfaction of ad-

229

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Character

and

customs

230

venturous spirits and drove them to find an outlet for their en-
ergies abroad. And the defenseless condition of the neighboring
countries, quickly advertised by the success of preliminary expe-
ditions, encouraged a growing stream of invaders.

For the character and activities of the vikings we are dependent
upon the contemporary accounts of Christian chroniclers, eked out
by the northern sagas.^ But the latter, being written down at a
much later time, give traditional stories in poetic form and must
be used with great caution. To draw a complete picture of the
primitive vikings in their homeland is out of the question ; only
a few of the more certain facts need be stated in the present con-
nection. The vikings were still heathen. Although Christian
missionaries appeared in the Scandinavian countries during the
ninth century, the bulk of the people continued to worship Woden,
Thor, and the other Germanic deities to which the Anglo-Saxons
had earlier been devoted. At first the vikings showed no mercy
for Christian churches or for Christian clergy. It was, in fact,
the wealth of the monasteries and cathedrals that from the outset
chiefly lured the northern plunderers. And along with their
looting, they seemed to take a savage delight in devastation and
bloodshed. Putting entire settlements to the torch, they slaugh-
tered the inhabitants with a cold fury that spread universal horror.

The political and social organization of the vikings was that
which had earlier been common to all the Germans — a dominant
tribal system, supplemented by honorable associations for war-
like adventure. The comitatus described by Tacitus reappears
in the wandering band of warriors led by the Scandinavian jarL
As far as institutions were concerned, the invaders could con-
tribute little that was new to the semi-barbarous nations of the
west. In the material arts of civilization, as in matters of educa-
tion and morals, the vikings were learners rather than teachers.
In one respect only they were manifestly superior to the peoples
whom they despoiled : they were beyond doubt the greatest sailors
of Europe. In open boats, propelled by oars or small sails, they
not only skirted the coasts of Europe from the Baltic to the
Mediterranean, but constantly made long voyages into the stormy
north Atlantic, where days had to be spent beyond the sight of
land. How great their accomplishments were on the sea can best
be understood from an enumeration of their actual expeditions.

1 See below, p. 290.

POLITICAL RECONSTRUCTION 231

As the Scandinavian peoples spread across the seas, geographic
position naturally dictated the routes which they took. The The viking
Swedes, facing east, were attracted to the southern shore of the
Baltic; the Norwegians, facing west, tended along with the Danes
to attack the British Isles and the Atlantic coast of Europe. The
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle tells how, in 787, “three ships of the
Northmen” landed in Wessex and there slew the king’s reeve who
tried to arrest them, not knowing who they were. “These,” says
the chronicler, “were the first ships of the Danish men that sought
the land of the English.” This is the oldest recorded instance of
a viking expedition, but we may be sure that it was not the first.

Raiders must already have appeared among the Shetlands, Ork-
neys, and Hebrides, and thence sailed down the shores of Britain
and Ireland. In the next half-century they carried destruction
to virtually every part of both islands. Iona, Lindisfarne, and
dozens of other religious houses were destroyed. The kingdoms
of Northumbria, East Anglia, and Kent were pillaged from end
to end. The city of London was taken and sacked.

The vikings also found splendid opportunities for looting on
the continent. Beginning with inroads in Frisia, they gradually
pushed their fleets along the coast to Brittany, Gascony, and
Spain. Utrecht, Rouen, Paris, Nantes, Saintes, Bordeaux, and
Seville went up in flames. In 859 a great expedition actually
rounded Gibraltar. Plundering the Mediterranean shore as far
as Italy, the marauders took Pisa and Luna, thinking that the
latter was Rome itself. Yet this was only a raid on a grand scale ;
the vikings first developed a policy of systematic conquest in re-
gions nearer home. There the visits of the northerners became
more frequent and more prolonged. Instead of leaving at the end
of the summer, they would spend the winter in the invaded coun-
try. Capturing a walled city, or building a fortified camp, they
would use it as headquarters for expeditions by land. To secure
transportation, they would steal horses from the unfortunate in-
habitants. Finally, if they remained unmolested, they would send
for their families and m^e their occupation permanent. Some-
times the native population was subjected and forced to supply
the conquerors with food; sometimes colonists were brought from
the homeland and settled in regions that had been entirely dev-
astated.

In Ireland the former plan was adopted. From a series of
strongholds alot^ the eastern coast, such as Dublin, Wexford, and

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Viking

settlement

and

conquest

Bulgaria
in the
ninth
century

232

Waterford, the vikings dominated the countryside, compelling the
local peasantry to pay them tribute. In Britain, on the other
hand, the Danes^ not only conquered but largely recolonized wide
sections of Northumbria, Mercia, and East Anglia. As centers
of government they used either old Roman cities like York, Lin-
coln, Leicester, and Colchester, or newly erected fortresses like
Nottingham, Derby, and Stamford. By the last quarter of the
century they were attacking Wessex both by sea and by land. On
the continent there was a similar extension of viking operations.
At the mouths of the principal rivers — ^particularly the Rhine,
Scheldt, Somme, Seine, and Loire — Danes and Norwegians
founded great camps, which tended to grow into permanent set-
tlements. From these points, advancing either by boat or on
horseback, they carried destruction throughout the interior.
Scarcely a city of northern and central Gaul escaped them.
Amiens, Noyon, Beauvais, Orleans, Tours, Poitiers, Angouleme,
Limoges, and innumerable other places were sacked and burned.
It was not until the closing years of the century tliat the vikings
were driven out of most regions and so led to concentrate their
efforts in the lower Seine valley and the adjacent coasts.

Eastern Europe, too, witnessed a series of remarkable events.
In 865, as we are told by Byzantine historians, Constantinople
was attacked by tlie Rhos. These Russians — or Varangians, as *
they are sometimes called — ^appear from other sources to have
been Swedish vikings, who had by tliat time secured control of
the river routes connecting the Baltic and the Black Sea. Just ;
when or how this result had bear effected we cannot be certain ;
we may guess that it was the result of continuous raiding on
the part of the northern adventurers, lured ever farther by the.
wealth of the orient, for which the slaves and furs of eastern
Europe had long been traded. From piracy and brigandage, as ;
usual, the transition to political conquest was easy. Novgorod ’
and Kiev became important centers of trade and of domination ^
over the neighboring Slavs. Thus, as will be explained in a sub- s
sequent chapter, was formed the nucleus of a great empire. J

Many years were to elapse before Russia emerged as a Euro-
pean power. In the ninth century the attention of the Slavic
world was centered rather on the sudden rise of the Bulgarian
monarchy. Charlemagne, by destroying the Avar do mini on, had '

2 The Anglo-Saxons called all the Northmen Danes. ^

POLITICAL RECONSTRUCTION 233

not only assured Frankish supremacy on the upper Danube, but
also helped to extend Bulgarian influence in the Balkans. Origi-
nally a section of the Hunnic people, the Bulgars had by this time
lost many of their primitive traits. In particular, they had tended
to forget their native language and to adopt that of the Slavs with
whom they had mingled for many generations. Under their own
independent khan, they now built up a formidable state at the
expense of their neighbors. With the weakening of the Moslem
attack, the Byzantine Empire bad again relapsed into a state of
helplessness. In 814 the city of Constantinople was saved from
Bulgarian capture rather by the death of the khan than by able
defense, and in the ensuing peace the empire was forced to cede
a large section of Thrace, including the upper valley of the
Maritza and the city of Philippopolis. To the westward the Bul-
gars had already launched an ambitious offensive against the Slavs
of Macedonia and Illyricum. The Serbian princes, in particular,
put up a stubborn resistance, but in the end they had to yield.

The khan thus became the ruler of a powerful frontier state
lying between the Frankish and Byzantine empires. It was natu-
ral that, to comport with his added dignity, he should assume the
title of tsar (Caesar) and in other ways seek recognition among
civilized princes. In 870 Boris I signed a treaty with the Byzan-
tine emperor, accepting Christianity for himself and his people
under general ecclesiastical control from Constantinople. Slavic
was recognized as the official language of Bulgaria and came to
be written in the modified Greek alphabet devised by missionaries
among the Bohemians.® Although the political force of the By-
zantine Empire continued to wane, its cultural influence advanced
to fresh conquests among the barbarians to the north.

For the development of Slavic Europe the conversion of the
Bulgars was an event of prime importance ; another was the ap-
pearance on the Danube of the Hungarians. This name the in-
vaders received because of their affinity to the ancient Huns, but
they have always called themselves Magyars. From the language
which they still speak, and from the accounts of early chroniclers,
it is certain that by origin the Hungarians were Asiatic nomads.
Like their predecessors, the Huns and the Avars, they were ap-
parently forced to migrate by some sort of disturbance in the
homeland, and they c^me by the same route, sweeping across the

The

advance
of the
Hungarians

3 See bdow, p. 324-

Arab raids
in the
Mediter-
ranean

The suc-
cessors of
Charle-
magne

234 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

grasslands of the southeast. Closely pressed by the Petchenegs, a
similar people, they crossed the Dniester and finally, in the closing
years of the ninth century, occupied the plain between the Car-
pathians and the Danube. There the remnants of the Avar
nation became amalgamated with the newcomers, so that ever
since then the territory has been known as Hungary. The Mag-
yars, according to all contemporary descriptions, were of the
primitive nomad type — savage horsemen, repulsive in appearance,
rapacious and pitiless. While the Frankish lands of the west were
still suffering from the inroads of the vikings, those of the east
were devastated by the Hungarians. Overrunning the Slavic
frontier, they broke through the feeble Carolingian defenses and
drove unchecked through Bavaria, Venetia, and Lombardy. In
the following years they turned northward, desolating Thuringia,
Saxony, and the Rhine Valley. By 925 they had even penetrated
into Lorraine and Burgundy.

In the meantime the Arabs had continued their offensives in the
Mediterranean. Holding Sicily, Corsica, Sardinia, and the Bal-
earic Islands, they could raid the coasts of Provence and Italy
with impunity, and throughout the ninth and tenth centuries their
attacks were virtually continuous. Ports were taken and held
for years by Moslem pirates. In 846 the great church of St.
Peter, outside the walls of Rome, was plundered and burned ; and
not long afterwards the famous monastery of Monte Cassino
suffered the same fate. On the sea the Franks had no defense ;
on the land they seemed almost as helpless. Under repeated
blows delivered from north, south, east, and west, the glorious
empire of Charlemagne collapsed and disintegrated. But the bar-
barian attack was responsible only for the final shock ; the fatal
weakness of the state was inherent in its structure — z truth that
clearly emerges from the unhappy story of the later Carolingians.

2. THE DEGRADATION OF EMPIRE AND PAPACY

Charlemagne continued Frankish custom by dividing his do-
minions among his three sons; but as the two elder died pre-
maturely, the entire inheritance fell to the survivor, Louis. The
new emperor, having received an excellent education in the palace
school, was sincerely devoted to the ideals of the church, and in
personal morality he was a distinct improvement over his illus-
trious father. So his nickname of ‘^the Pious” was not unde-
served. It cannot be doubted that he conscientiously strove to

POLITICAL RECONSTRUCTION 235

maintain the efficiency of the government and the defense of the
kingdom. Louis, however, was no Charlemagne, and before his
death in 840 the political situation had got completely out of
hand. There were preliminary raids by the vikings ; there were
small frontier wars with Moors, Bretons, and Slavs; and there
was an insurrection in Italy. These troubles proved to be of
minor importance compared with the conflict that broke out
among the emperor’s own children (see Table I).

By his first wife Louis had three sons, to each of whom he early
assigned a kingdom : to Lothair, as the eldest, Italy, together with
the succession to the imperial crown and the general authority
which it implied; to Pepin Aquitaine, with the rest of southern
Gaul; and to Louis Bavaria, with, command over the eastern
frontier. Then the emperor’s second wife presented him with a
fourth son, Charles, for whose benefit he created a new princi-
pality. The consequence was a revolt of the elder brothers, joined
through selfish interest by many of the imperial magnates. Mu-
tual jealousy soon broke up the coalition and Louis regained his
authority. But the death of Pepin in 838 again occasioned a re-
apportionment of territories, followed by further disturbances
which continued until the emperor himself died in 840. That
event brought Lothair to the imperial throne, and to check his as-
sertion of supreme power, his younger brothers at once made
common cause against him. The alliance led to the famous Stras-
bourg oaths, preserved for us by the contemporary historian,
Nithard. He tells us how Louis (the German) first swore un-
failing loyalty to Charles (the Bald), using the lingua romana
so that his brother’s retainers could understand him; and how
Charles then followed, speaking in the lingua teudescaJ^ Through
the written forms thus preserved, we know how Romance and
German were spoken in the ninth century.

More important from the political viewpoint was the final
settlement forced upon Lothair in 843. This was the Peace of
Verdun, which, though only an arbitrary allotment of lands,
chanced to have permanent results. The territory of Charles
the Bald, now installed as king in Gaul, was extended eastward
to an irregular line running from the Scheldt to the upper Moselle
and thence to the Sa^e and the Rhone. The eastern kingdom of
Louis the German was -brought over to the Rhine, excluding Frisia

* above, p. 1213. ^ -
Homage niony of homage.® On inheriting or on being granted a fief, B
presented himself before A, his prospective lord, who would be
seated in state. B knelt, placing liis two hands between those of
A, acknowledged himself A’s man, and promised him fealty. A
then raised B to his feet and kissed his cheeks, formally accepting
his homage and recognizing him as vassal. Thenceforth the pair
were supposed to be bound to each other by a lifelong tie of mu-
tual loyalty and support — a relationship which early feudal litera-
ture portrays as in the highest degree sacred and honorable.'* The
untrue vassal was a felon, an evil name that could be thrown at a
gentleman only as a deadly insult. In actual life, however, condi-
tions were not so ideal. Disputes over land and privileges con-
stantly arose between lords and their vassals, and in the absence
of any strong superior authority produced a state of chronic war-
fare in many refigions.

Wherever fief-holding had not degenerated into a mere fiction,
Feudal it was held to imply a contract between tire two parties. From the
service lord the vassal received a livelihood in the form of agrarian es-
tates, as well as a guarantee of protection and justice; in return
he owed to the lord various forms of service and assistance.
Very commonly the fief bore a specific obligation for mounted
soldiers, or knights, in which case the vassal was said to hold by
knight service. Occasionally he was bound only to furnish arms
or other objects of value, or to perform some ceremony at court,
and such tenures are commonly classified as serjeanty. Churches
were often given lands in free alms — owing no service except
prayer for the donor’s soul or for those of his ancestors. But this
tenure was quite exceptional; even on the part of ecclesiastics

® From the Latin homo, a man.

* See bdow, pp. 293 f.

FEUDAL SOCIETY 255

knight service was the rule, for it provided what the average lord
was most anxious to obtain — ^an army.

In addition the vassal owed suit to the lord’s court; that is to
say, he had to attend the lord whenever summoned. At irregular
intervals great assemblies would be held for ceremonial pur-
poses, and on these occasions the lord would submit to his men
for their approval projects of general interest to his territory.
Such times would also be appropriate for celebrating a son’s knight-
hood or a daughter’s marriage. Often, however, the court would
be held for the sake of administering justice, in which connection
the vassal might be called either as defendant or as a judgment-
finder. The feudal court, though presided over by the lord, was
supposed to render decisions according to valid custom as deter-
mined by the suitors themselves. Thus the vassal always claimed
the right to judgment by his peers, his social equals. And if he
were sent to trial, he still kept his gentleman’s weapons, deciding
the issue by judicial combat. After God had been solemnly in-
voked to defend the right, the two parties fought it out and the
victor was held to be justified in his contention. Here again
practice was by no means as perfect as theory. Disputes often
arose between nobles who had no common lord, when — ^in the
absence of a higher sovereign to enforce his control — ^they were
only too likely to take up arms without any formality at all.

To his lord, furthermore, the vassal owed hospitality — a very
expensive obligation when the former came with a large retinue
and made a protracted stay. Since even the greatest princes spent
a large part of their time visiting prominent ecclesiastics and other
faithful supporters, the exaction of entertainment came to be
limited by written grant or changed into a money payment. If
the lord incurred some extraordinary expense, the vassal was
usually liable for a contribution called aid. The occasions varied
from region to region ; in northern France an aid was commonly
due when the lord knighted a son, celebrated the wedding of a
daughter, or was captured and held for ransom. In case the lord
was a clergyman, the installation of a successor or the necessity
of a trip to Rome provided a good excuse for seeking pecuniary
assistance. Th^^^er^l rule always held good, however, that the
vassal was notei»i|e€t to arbitrary taxation: if subsidies were
wanted for pulses other than those definitely recognized by
custom, they could be obtained only as free-will offerings. Nor
was the vassal responsible for military service oftener than once a

Feudal

justice

Feudal

taxation

2s6 medieval history

year, and then only for a fixed period — in northern France forty
days.

Especially profitable to the lord were the perquisites known as
The feudal the feudal incidents. Although the fief was hereditary, vassalage
incidents not. Before an heir could lawfully possess his inheritance,

he had to go to the lord and perform homage. On this occasion
he normally was expected to pay what was known as a relief, a
sum often equivalent to the first year’s revenue of the fief. Should
a vassal die leaving only children under age, the lord^en joyed
the right of w^ardship, holding the fief in his own hands and
appropriating its regular income during the period of the minority.
In default of sons, a girl might inherit the fief. Then the lord
controlled the lady’s choice of a husband — a privilege which
commonly led to the selection of the highest bidder in a sort of
private auction. Finally, if there were no heirs, the fief was said
to escheat to the lord, who could then grant it out again or keep
it, as he chose. Forfeiture was the technical penalty for felony.
It was incurred by a vassal who refused to perform his owed serv-
ice; but the matter of enforcement was often difficult, and a weak
lord was helpless before a strong rebel. Fiefs held by ecclesias-
tics, of course, produced no income from relief, wardship, mar-
riage, or escheat ; so the lord, by way of compensation, very gen-
erally took over the lands of a dead bishop or abbot and treated
them as his own until a successor was elected and installed — ^the
custom known in French as regale.

From infeudated lands — ^that is to say, lands granted as fiefs to
Subin- vassals — z lord received the services and incidental revenues just

feudation enumerated. Whatever was left in his own possession was called
his demesne,® and from it he received the manorial income that
will be described in a following section. Each vassal in turn
could subinfeudate whatever he chose to vassals of his own, or
he could keep all of his estates in demesne. For example, sup-
pose A granted to B a fief of fifty villages for the service of
twelve knights. If B continued to hold all in demesne, he would
have to hire eleven knights when a summons came from A, for
he could serve as only one knight himself. If, on the other hand,
he subinfeudated ten villages to C for five knights, eight to D for
three knights, five to E for two knights, and two to F for one
knight, his service could be performed without hiring anybody.

® This spelling will be used in the following pages to mark the technical word,
while “domain^* will be left with its ordinary meaning.

FEUDAL SOCIETY 257

And in the meantime he would have twenty-five villages left in
demesne from which to support himself and his family. C, D, E,
and F would have the same choice in managing their respective
affairs. One village might therefore be part of many fiefs, but
eventually some landlord would hold it in demesne. Below the
feudal hierarchy and supporting it by their labor were always the
peasants.

The gulf between the two classes was hard to cross. Men of
low birth, though not actually unfree, could rarely enter the aris- The
tocracy of fief-holders. Through the service of a prince — by church and
acting as steward or administrative agent of some sort — ev«i
serfs occasionally gained wealth and power ; yet in the eyes of the
gentry they never lost their base blood and it was long before thdr
origin could be forgotten. Another avenue to advancement was
the church. By entering the priesthood, a peasant had the pros-
pect of securing a parish through nomination of some patron, usu-
ally a landlord of the locality. Yet sudi priests had to spend their
lives among the people, like them poor and, all too often, ignorant.

The prizes of the profession, the great bishoprics and abbacies,
went as a rule to younger sons of noble families through the
favor of some territorial prince. To secure one of these great
offices was a matter of political influence, perhaps of cash pur-
chase; and the successful candidate became the vassal of the
patron, as he would for any other fief.

With the lapse of the Carolingian reform, and with the feudal-
ization of the state, prelates generally came to be distinguished for
qualities other than piety and learning. We hear of many bishops
who, unmindful of ecclesiastical law, personally took part in
warfare; and of mere laymen who became abbots solely for the
sake of the attendant income. As a whole, the clergy formed no
separate class in society, but tended by association and common
interest to be identified with either the aristocracy or the
peasantry.

2. THE LIFE OF THE NOBILITY

Intimately connected with feudalism, though not identified with
it, was the set of customs known as chivalry. The word is derived Chivalry
from the Fraich ckevdier, cavalryman or knight; hence chivalry
was the cqde of etiquette implied by knighthood. In the early
feudal age ffie boy of noble birth, unless destined for an ecclesias-
tical career, was not expected to have an education in letters.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The

Bayeux

Tapestry

258

Since his profession was to be that of a mounted warrior, his
training was centered in arms and horsemanship. When he was
still a mere child, his lessons began in riding and in the use of
weapons. His graduation from this rude school may be said to
have been the attainment of knightly rank. But first he had to
pass through two preliminary grades. Commonly he would serve
in some feudal court as page (French valet), learning how to
conduct himself in polite society and continuing his martial exer-
cises. Later, in his early teens, the youth would rise to be a
knight's assistant, known as a squire (French ecuyer, shield-
bearer). Eventually he would be allowed to ride to battle with his
elders, and, after proving his fitness for the honor, he would be
knighted — an act which could be performed by any other knight,
but which would naturally devolve upon the lord at whose court
the boy had been brought up.

The final ceremony was the adouhement,^ when the candidate
was formally invested with the arms and armor that betokened
his maturity — obviously a perpetuation of the ancient Germanic
custom described by Tacitus. Originally, therefore, chivalry was
non-Christian, and in the early period it had no feminine implica-
tions. It was essentially the standard of conduct imposed on
members of the warrior class to govern their relations with one
another. The knight should be brave to the point of foolhardi-
ness. He should fight according to certain accepted rules, scorn-
ing tricks and strategy as savoring of cowardice. He should be
loyal to his friends. He should keep his plighted word. He
should treat a conquered foe with gallantry. Yet, although the
gentleman was chivalrous toward social equals and their women-
folk, he felt no such obligation toward the base-born. In this
respect, as in all, his attitude was intensely aristocratic. The fact
that in contemporary records miles (Latin for soldier) always
means the mounted fighter summarizes a whole chapter in the
history of warfare. And tlie virtual equivalence of knight, noble,
and vassal well illustrates the social constitution of the early
feudal age.

On the subject of chivalry our best sources are the French
epics, ^ which also give us precious information concerning feudal
warfare. But the most vivid picture of the eleventh-century
knight is to be found in the famous Bayeux Tapestry, an embroi-

• Cf. the English “dubbing” to knighthood. See above, p. 52.

’ See below, pp. 291 f.

FEUDAL SOCIETY

259

dery made to decorate the interior of the cathedral in that city
and still preserved in the local museum (see Plate I). It is a
strip of linen twenty inches wide and over 230 feet long, with
scenes worked in colored worsted to describe the 'Norman Con-
quest of England.^ Although the story thus told is interesting
as a partisan tradition, the great historical value of the tapestry
lies in its realistic presentation of contemporary life. This unique
work, probably completed before 1100, allows us to be positive
with regard to many odd details of military activity, of domestic
habits, and; above all, of costume. (See Plate I.)

On ordinary occasions men of all classes wore tunic and hose.

The former was a loose-fitting jacket belted in at the waist; the Civil
latter w^ere a sort of tights pulled on over the legs, which were costimie
further protected by strips of cloth or leather wound like modern
puttees from the knees to the shoe-tops. For warmth or cere-
mony the man might also throw over his shoulders a mantle,
fastened with a buckle or pin on the right side to leave the sword
arm free. Women were dressed in robes of almost classic sim-
plicity extending from the chin to the ground. For outdoor
wear both sexes used cloaks fitted with hoods that could be
brought over the head in bad weather. Even the very wealthy
w’ore plain clothes, substituting for homespun the finer stuffs
trimmed with fur. Einhard tells us that Charlemagne very sel-
dom put on Roman dress ; that he normally preferred his native
Frankish costume. And his attitude was maintained by the
princes of the Middle Ages, who submitted to long robes only on
extraordinary occasions. In the Bayeaux Tapestry the English
king, when sitting on his throne, appears with a crown, orb, and
scepter; the duke of Normandy, only with a mace.

Defensive armor in this early period was not elaborate. The
knight’s lower legs remained unprotected. Over the upper body Arms and
he wore a hauberk, a shirt of link mail slashed at the bottom so
that it could in some way be fastened about the thigh. His head
was covered with a helmet, a conical steel cap with a narrow
extension in front to serve as a nose-guard, and with mail at-
tached at the rear to hang down over the nape of the neck. On
his left arm the knight bore a kite-shaped shield some four feet
long. It was presumably made of wood faced with metal and
was customarily decorated with some fanciful design. For of-

« See below, pp. 281 f.

26 o

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

fense his weapons were principally a cross-hilted sword slung
on a belt at the left side, and a lance about eight feet long which
was held couched by the right hand. In the Bayeux Tapestry
the French knights are not shown using battle-axes, though from
other sources it would appear that they sometimes did so.

These facts help us to understand the character of feudal ten-
Feudal ure. The obligation for knight service was heavy: one knight
warfare would include not merely the warrior himself, but a supply of
expensive arms and armor, a change of horses, perhaps a squire
and his mount, a number of grooms and other servants, and,
finally, enough food to maintain all these men and animals for the
specified period. The entire feudal host would obviously be sev-
eral times larger than the body of knights who led the attack.
Among them discipline was slight, for each gentleman considered
himsdff the ally rather than the subordinate of the commander.
Fighting for the lord did not at all prevent his fighting for him-
self; and except through personal acquisition of booty and cap-
tives, he stood to make nothing from the .campaign. Pitched
battles were infrequent; when one occurred, it resolved itself
into a series of individual encounters — of charges and counter-
charges with lances atilt, followed by hand-to-hand combat with
sword and axe. There would be a magnificent display of knightly
prowess, but little generalship. Although one side might gain
much in honor and plunder and prisoners, the opposing force
would largely escape, to fight again on some more fortunate day.

Feudal warfare, as a matter of fact, was normally restricted to
The feudal skirmishing between roving bands and the devastation of the
castle enemy’s territory. During most of the time tire efforts of the

combatants were concentrated in and about castles, which had
come to serve as the principal defenses of every great fief. Origi-
nating largely as a center of refuge from the invading Northmen,
the castle had now become a specialized form of stronghold,
adapted to the needs of a feudal chieftain and his garrison of
professional warriors. This form, after its two essential parts,
is known as the motte-and-bailey castle (see Figure 4). The
bailey was a court surrounded by a moat, an earthen embankment,
and a palisade of tree trunks — or a series of such fortifications.
Friends gained admittance by means of a gate and a drawbridge
which could be let down for their special benefit. This bailey,
enclosing houses, stables, and other necessary buildings, consti-
tuted the castle’s outer defense. The motte was its more inac-

FEUDAL SOCIETY 261

cessible portion — a rock, hill, or artificial mound, protected by
a separate line of intrenchments. Here stood the donjon, a
wooden tower with its own drawbridge giving access to what we
should call its second story. Such a crude fortress, in an age
that had forgotten Roman siegecraft, could offer stout resistance
to attack, but — ^as illustrated on the Bayeux Tapestry — it was
especially vulnerable to fire. To correct this fault by massive
construction in stone was left to later and wealthier generations.

Like the barbarian described by Tacitus, the feudal noble con-
sidered himself primarily a warrior. This preference he carried Feudal
into his amusements. The tournament familiarized by historical amuse-
fiction was largdy a pageant — a contest with a maximum of dis-
play and a minimum of bloodshed. In the primitive age, how-
ever, the toumameait was an actual battle, differing from one in
the field only because it was deliberately arranged in advance.

One was as deadly as the other, and in both the victor claimed
as spoil the horses and accouterments of the vanquished. Next

< Taken bom £. S. Annitage, JEarly Norman CasOes 9/ fhe British Ides, Fig. 9
(John Mtirtay; London, i;9i2).

262

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Food and
drink

to fighting, the noble loved hunting — ^riding down stags and other
large game with dogs. So every prince maintained wide pre-
serves in which he and his retainers enjoyed a monopoly of the
chase. There too — ^and this was a recreation in which the ladies
frequently joined — ^many days were spent in hawking. The tak-
ing of herons, pigeons, waterfowl, rabbits, and other small game
by means of trained hawks, while the attendant company galloped
across the country, was a sport which had continued to enjoy
great popularity since Roman times, and which still flourishes
in the orient. In the Middle Ages Norwegian falcons or fine
hunting dogs ranked along with battle chargers as gifts fit for a
king.

When condemned to remain indoors, the feudal gentleman
seems to have spent his time largely in feasting, drinking, and
gambling. Dice had been taken over from the Romans, and from
them too had probably been learned a form of backgammon
which the Middle Ages knew as tables. Chess was introduced
in the west only after the crusade of 1095, playing cards
were a much later invention. Throughout the grape-raising prov-
inces of the Roman Empire wine remained the standard drink,
but in the more purely Germanic regions of the northwest its
place, except in wealthy homes, was taken by beer. The quanti-
ties of each consumed by the average person were such as to
stagger the imagination of the modern tippler. And temperance
was equally unknown in eating. During the Middle Ages the
appetite of the hunter and the fighter raged unchecked by an
etiquette of delicacy.

When it is remembered that Louis XIV in his gorgeous palace
of Versailles still ate with his fingers, much in the way of table
manners cannot be expected of the mediseval gentleman. He
supplied his own knife and with it served himself, and perhaps
his lady; after that it was catch as catch can. Bones and scraps
he threw on the floor for the dogs to fight over. His food was
primarily flesh — commonly game, such as a deer or a boar roasted
whole — ^with smaller dishes of fowl, cured meats, pasties, vege-
tables, and fruit. Bread and cheese were of course staples, but
sweets were rare because the sole available sweetening was honey.
Spices were luxuries found only on the tables of the great On
fast days, to be sure, the meats were supposed to disappear; then
the platters were well filled with fish and eggs. As far as cooking

FEUDAL SOCIETY 263

was concerned, we are led to believe that quantity was the prin-
cipal consideration.

Princes commonly had castles as their chief residences; yet
all classes of nobles spent much time in manor houses on favorite
estates. In any case, the center of domestic life was the great
hall, which, according to modern standards, was picturesque
rather than comfortable. Heat was supplied by open fires, the
smoke from which found its way out past the grimy rafters
overhead. As windows were generally unglazed, the weather had
to be kept out by means of shutters. The walls were hung with
arms, banners, and trophies of the chase. The floor often was
merely hard-trodden earth covered with straw or rushes, where
the ever-present dogs made themselves at home. Light was
furnished by candles. Here the lord sat in state to receive hom-
age or to confer with his vassals in formal court. Here was
spread the festive board, with the company seated on benches
in order of rank. Here of an evening took place whatever liter-
ary entertainment the age afforded — ^the tales of heroic deeds
chanted by wandering minstrels. And here, finally, after the
lord and his family had retired to their chambers, would be laid
the pallets of retainers and of guests who could not be accommo-
dated elsewhere.

The feudal gentleman did not have to be much of an adminis-
trator, Customary arrangements made the superintendence of
landed property largely a matter of routine. The care of the
house and servants was chiefly left to feminine management.
Occasionally we hear of some extraordinary lady who, on the
death of her husband, continued his work in the world, playing a
dominant role in politics and warfare. Normally, however, the
feudal age followed the good old maxim that woman’s place is
the home. Although we have every reason to believe that love
was important in society even before it became a fashionable
theme in literature, marriages among the aristocracy were as a
rule dictated by dynastic and financial interest. The first requisite
of the wife was to bring the inheritance of a fief, or at least a
handsome dowry; the second was that she should bear at least
one son. And if she were unfortunate in the latter respect, a
complaisant bishop was usually at hand to declare the wedding
invalid. In this regard, as in others, early feudal Europe was
essentially a man’s world.

The

baronial

hall

The posi-
tion of
women

264

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

3. THE LIFE OF THE PEASANTRY

However’ the beginnings of the manor may be explained — ^and
The manor endless controversy has raged on the subject — ^there can be little
question of its nature in the feudal period The term is derived
from a word meaning a house,® in this case referring to that of
the man who dominated the community. Normally the manor
was a village controlled and exploited by a lord, as distinguished
from a free village where the inhabitants worked only for them-
selves. But since the lord’s authority was political as well as
economic, his rights as a landowner were inextricably confused
with those which we should classify as public — ^as properly be-
longing to the state. It was probably through the powers derived
from the monarchy that the seignorial class had been able to
extend its domination throughout the comitryside. There is con-
siderable evidence that the lord often took over an agrarian system
which he had not created. In any case, the foundation of all
manorial arrangements was agriculture.

In this connection it is impossible to make absolute generaliza-
Mediasval tions ; customs varied according to climate, soil, and the aptitudes
agriculture of people. What held true in a fertile plain would not hold

true in a mountainous region or in a country of marsh and sand
dime. No one method of tillage could be applied to vineyards,
orchards, and cornfields. What may be described as the standard,
however, was an agricultural practice tliat widely prevailed
throughout the northwest of mediaeval Europe, where feudail
institutions were earliest and most fully developed. There the
staple crop was wheat or rye, for the raising of which plowing
was fundamental. And in that operation certain common factors
everywhere tended to produce uniform results. The soil, on
account of shallow working, was very heavy; the plow, being
only a small iron blade fastened on a wooden frame, was light.
Draft animals, because of poor breeding and undernourishment,
were small and scrawny. Merely to prepare a field for planting
commonly required a team of eight oxen — ^all of which, together
with a plow, the average peasant did not possess.

The solution, obviously, was for a group of men to pool their

The resources and gain a living from the soil through cooperative

open-field agriculture. Economic necessity, apart from the need of pro-
S3ratem

• Latin tmneriani, from manere, to dwdl; cf. the Bi^Iish “manse.”

FEUDAL SOCIETY 265

tection, thus forced the country population to dwell in villages.

Within such a settlement each household was supposed to make
a contribution toward a common fund, in either labor, materials,
tools, or animals. It logically followed that each should have an
equal portion of the harvest. If, however, the villager — or vil-
lein, as he was technically described — had all his land in one
place, the returns would vary according to the fertility of the
allotment. So the usual plan was to equalize the holdings by
forming them of strips scattered in all sections of the arable.

Since the strips were not individually fenced, the whole arrange-
ment is known as the open-field system. This most characteristic
feature of mediaeval agriculture, though long superseded in mod-
ern states, has left its mark not only on the countryside, but also
on the languages of Europe.

In England, for example, the open field was divided into par-
cels called shots, and each of these was subdivided into acre strips. Measures
Such a strip would be bounded on the sides by ribbons of un- ^>f 1^^
plowed turf called balks, and at the ends, similarly, by headlands,
on which the team could be turned about. The length of the strip
was described as a furrow-long or furlong; the width as four
perches, rods, or yards — ^not the cloth yard of modern usage, but
the long stick used as an ox-goad. So the acre strip was held to
include four yardlands, each measuring one perch by one furlong.

The normal holding of the villein household was held to be thirty
acres. The acre of the Middle Ages, however, did not always
contain the same number of square feet by actual measurement.

It was a plot of rather uncertain area based on little more than
ancient usage. The important fact for estimating manorial values
is that the average yield per acre was only six to eight bushels of
wheat — a, fourth of what might be expected on an ordinary Ohio
farm.

The open-field system should not be confused with the three-
field system, which originated in an entirely different way. Ex- The
perience had long proved that land continuously devoted to the three-field
raising of wheat, rye, barley, or oats would quickly become ex-
hausted. We know that the cause is the depletion of nitrogen
which must be replaced before another good harvest of grain can
be secured. Today this is done by applying a fertilizer or by

ID To the mediaeval peasant, this spelling will be preferred to ** villain,”

which will be left to bear its modern implication. How the baseness of the villein
came to make him a villain is an interesting problem for the philologist.

266

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

planting a nitrogen-producing crop, such as peas, beans, clover,
or alfalfa. In the Middle Ages no one understood the scientific
rotation of crops. Vegetables were grown only in separate plots
and hay was obtained only from natural meadows. There were
no manufactured nitrates to buy. Manure was scarce because
.domestic animals were few. So the only available method of
preventing exhaustion was that of allowing the land to lie fallow
once in a while. In the case of the two-field system the arable
was divided into two portions, which would alternately be turned
into pasture. The three-field system was more advantageous, ex-
cept in comparatively barren regions. Under it one-third of the
land rested every year; of the remainder one-half was planted
with a spring crop and the other half with an autumn crop. The
fallow was only scantily refertilized through the plowing under
of weeds and through incidental manuring by animals put out
to graze, yet the process was sufficient to maintain the agricultural
routine for an indefinite period.

The t3^ical villein, as we have seen, had about thirty acres of
Rights of arable in scattered strips. In the cultivated fields all the work
common of plowing, harrowing, sowing, reaping, and the like was done
by the villeins in common; but at the end each got only what
was raised on his own acres. After the harvest each strip-owner
had the right of turning his beasts into the field ; and before that
they could be pastured on the fallow and on the common waste —
such as marsh and rocky hillside. Meadow was carefully set aside
as the only source of hay. Woods provided not only fuel and
lumber, but also feed for swine, which were allowed to run wild
and live as best they might. The mediaeval village Avas thus based
on cooperative labor and rights of common, not on communism.
Individual property in land Avas fundamental, and we have no
evidence of a time when it had not been so.

Along with his arable, each peasant, of course, had his own
The house — ^the meanest sort of hut, commonly made of wattle plas-

peasant’s tered with mud, and provided with a roof of straw thatch. Ad-
home joining it was a small plot where he could plant a vegetable garden
and keep a few geese or chickens. Here he and his family lived
in what to us would seem unbearable filth ; but in those days even
members of the aristocracy were not particular in such matters.
The peasant’s clothes were of the coarsest, his belongings of the
simplest. His furniture would be little more than a rude table
and a bench or two, his beds only bags of straw laid on the floor.

FEUDAL SOCIETY 267

His principal food was black bread, supplemented by dairy prod-
uce, eggs, and a few coarse vegetables. Occasionally he might
enjoy a fowl; normally he could not aiford meat. Game and fish
he was forbidden to take. Sheep, cows, and oxen were too
precious for slaughtering, except when the approach of winter
and the lack of fodder made it imperative — and then the cost of
salt led to very insufficient curing. The peasant, however, had a
plenteous supply of home-brewed beer or, in favorable regions,
of very ordinary wine.

A traveler through the countryside in the feudal age would
have no difficulty in perceiving the subjection of the agricultural The manor
village to seignorial control, for the settlement would be domi-
nated by the manor house. In this age it was normally built of kiland
wood. Sometimes, especially when used by the lord as a dwell-
ing, it was defended by a moat and a drawbridge. Often, how-
ever, the manor house served merely as administrative headquar-
ters under the charge of a resident steward. Surrounding it, in
any case, was the lord’s close, containing gardens, fruit trees,
beehives, barns, stables, and other outbuildings. Here was stored
the produce from the estate, together with the usual wagons and
agricultural implements. The lord generally had his own
meadow ; but his arable, as a rule, consisted of acre strips scat-
tered among those of his tenants. And like tliem, he would pas-
ture his beasts on the common. All labor required to maintain
the lord’s particular property — ^known as the manorial demesne or
inland — ^was left to be done by the villeins. They cultivated the
lord’s arable along with their own, harvested the crops, threshed
out the grain, and disposed of it according to instructions. To
see that all rightful obligations were performed, so that the estate
would show the normal profit, was the responsibility of the
steward. He it was also who held the manorial court for the
settlement of disputes among the peasants, the trial of persons
accused of petty offenses, and the general enforcement of the
lord’s authority. In all such matters law was held to be not the
will of the lord or his steward, but the custom of the manor as
stated by the best men of the locality.

It has already been shown that the entire feudal class was
supported, directly or indirectly, by the peasants. This fact The lord
should not be taken to imply that, in general, the latter were and his
cruelly treated. In time of war, of course, the people of the
countryside were the first to suffer from the enemy’s attack, and

268 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

there were always barons who acted like brigands — especially to-
ward the defenseless tenants of neighboring churches. Even the
nobles who were appointed official “protectors’^ of ecclesiastical
estates frequently gained an evil reputation as tyrants and de-
spoilers. Of his own men, however, a lord would naturally be
somewhat considerate; without them his lands would be worth-
less. Although the average peasant’s life may seem inconceivably
hard by comparison with modern conditions, it was all that he
knew or hoped for; and it was, after all, reasonably secure. Even
serfdom was infinitely preferable to starvation or to the constant
fear of death by violence. Under the lord’s protection the peasant
was assured only a bare living; yet it was, none the less, a
living.

Except in England after the Norman Conquest,^^ villein and
Serfs and serf were not equivalent terms. The latter, like the Roman
villeins servus, was the bodily property of a master; the former was

not necessarily servile, although he was commonly attached to
the soil and subjected to some lord’s arbitrary authority. He
often resembled rather the Roman colomis, who remained legally
a freeman. But the serf could not be sold apart from the soil
which he possessed and cultivated like any other peasant, and
a liberty such as that of the average free villein could not have
been especially valuable. The really superior peasants were those
described in the records as so free that they owed only fixed
services, or so free that they could sell their holdings and depart.
Compared with them, the majority of peasants were unfree.
This unfreedom, however, was economic rather than legal, and it
continued only until new social developments provided ways of
escape. In the Dark Age the manorial system became practically
universal because under it, and only under it, the mass of the
people found the possibility of livelihood. The feudal noble who
exploited the peasantry owed his position not so much to his
own rapacious greed as to the defenseless condition of the coun-
tryside and the actual needs of the inhabitants. The manor was
a very simple administrative machine which, assuring food and
protection to the mass of the people, ran on and on with amaz-
ingly little supervision.

If these considerations are kept in mind, it will be understood
why the obligations of the peasant community cannot be sharply

^ See bdow, p. 288.

FEUDAL SOCIETY 269

classified either according to the nature of what was owed or Peasant
according to the status of the persons liable. In this latter con- obliga--
nection all that can be affirmed is that the services of the freest
tenants were generally fixed, whereas those of the more servile
tenants remained unrestricted. Even this generalization should
not be pushed too far; all agrarian arrangements depended on
local custom, which was hardly the same in any two places. The
variety of rents, for example, was almost infinite. Although
each peasant normally owed the lord certain payments, the times
when they were due were distributed throughout the year, and
the specified amounts might be an3rthing produced on the manor.

It was only in the later age that sums of money were commonly
substituted for rents in kind.

Virtually every peasant was also responsible for labor service,
or corvee^ for it was in this way that the lord's inland was taken CorvSes
care of. Lowest of all were the men said to be corveable a
merciy bound to do anything commanded them at any time. The
average villein owed rather a certain number of days each week,
together with extra days in spring and autumn for sowing and
harvest. A fortunate few might be free of all except such boon
works on special occasions. While ordinary corvees had to do
with agriculture, others resembled what we think of as political
services. The burden of repairing roads and bridges naturally
fell on the peasants. It was they who actually built the castles,
and it was they who were regularly called on to strengthen the
fortifications. The military obligations of the rural population
in France — commonly known as ost et chevaiicJiee — ^were an
almost continuous plague. Villeins were of course not prized as
combatants except in case of emergency ; normally they were de-
manded rather to transport supplies and to work about the camp.

In this respect as in others the man of the people, though un-
honored, was extremely useful.

How the average peasant spent his time is accordingly no mys-
tery, for it must be remembered that, when he was not toiling
for the lord, he had his own household to support. In this enter-
prise he had the assistance of his family. His wife, sons, and
daughters all labored in the fields, and since the service owed the
lord consisted of certain units due from the peasant's land as a
whole, it could be performed by any able-bodied man. We fre-
quently hear of poor villeins who had no arable in the village,
but only huts and gardens. Such cotters were available when

MEDIiEVAL HISTORY

Extraor-

dinary

payments

Tallage

270

extra help was needed, for it was only by doing odd jobs that
they could pick up a living. Exceptional in another way were the
skilled craftsmen who might be placed at specialized tasks in-
stead of ordinary labor. One villager, for example, would main-
tain a smithy for the repair of iron tools and another would have
charge of the local mill. And along with the smiths and the
millers — ^whose name is yet legion — ^there might also be peasants
who in some degree served as masons, carpenters, leather-work-
ers, and the like. Such an artisan still lived primarily by culti-
vating his own lands, following his trade as a sort of specialized
corvee and paying his rent in articles of manufacture. He was
like the parish priest who, while holding a share of the arable,
devoted most of his energy to the saving of souls.

Whether legally free or unfree, the peasant and his family
constituted a valuable asset within the estate. If a son entered
the priesthood, he was lost to the manor; so it was everywhere
the rule that such a step could not be taken until the lord’s per-
mission had been obtained, and that might not be gratuitous.
For the same reason a daughter could not be wedded outside the
manor without the payment to the lord of a sum known in
France as formariage}^ On the peasant’s death his holding
passed as a matter of course to his children, but on one ground
or another the lord frequently claimed all the chattels. The vil-
lein, having no right of inheriting movables, was said to have a
dead hand (mainmorte) — 3. term which was then applied to the
lord’s right of seizing the best beast as a token. Occasionally
we also find villeins contributing a yearly head tax (chevage)
in recognition of their personal subordination.

The local impost known as tallage or taille, on the other hand,
seems by origin to have been connected with the lord’s militar}"
and judicial authority. The name is derived from failler, to cut
— a reference to the primitive method of keeping accounts by
means of notched sticks, or tallies. A sum of money was repre-
sented by a series of peculiar cuts across the grain, and the stick
was then split down through the cuts, so that one half would
serve as a receipt when matched with the other. The tallage
itself was a more or less informal contribution taken from all
peasants under the lord’s jurisdiction. Frequently it was levied
annually, but sometimes only when there was special need. If

From the Latin foris^ outside, and maritagium, marriage.

FEUDAL SOCIETY 271

the amount was restricted solely by the tenant’s ability to pay,*
he was said to be taiUable a mercL And the fact that the sum
taken was sometimes called a ‘‘gift” or an “aid” hardly made the
burden lighter. In this way, if in no other, the villein was
prevented from accumulating undue wealth. It should, however,
be noted that he was always left with the means of subsistence,
and that, when overtaken by calamity, he got food, clothing,
shelter, and even new equipment at the lord’s expense.

Within the rural community the lord also enjoyed certain cus-
tomary monopolies. Game and fish could be taken only by his The lord^s
permission, and poaching was severely punished. The villein was luonopolies
allowed to gather fallen branches in the woods either for fuel or
for minor building purposes, but the lord’s license was required
for the cutting of standing timber. Sometimes the lord had his
own mint, and he normally held control of local trade. This was
exercised by issuing regulations known as bans, the proceeds from
which were called bandites. He thus established official weights
and measures and enforced their use in the market, levying cus-
tomary tolls on all articles displayed for sale. Commonly he had
the only lawful winepress, mill, and bake-oven. And for the
service which the peasant was forced to accept he had to con-
tribute a percentage of his wine, flour, or bread. In this same
category may be included the lord’s income from the manorial
court — fees collected from the parties to suits and fines assessed
for violations of the local law. Justice in the Middle Ages was
highly regarded as a source of profit, and all too often, especially
when enforced over other people’s tenants, was made an excuse
for sheer extortion.

The items enumerated in this section, when combined, will be
seen to constitute the manorial income that any nobleman received
from his demesne. His feudal income was what he obtained
from infeudated estates; but that, as may easily be realized, was
ultimately derived from some vassal’s manorial income. Eventu-
ally every obligation oi a superior was passed on down the scale
to the peasant at the bottom. Once this truth is appreciated, the
economic basis of feudal society will be clearly understood and an
intelligent approach can be made to the economic history of the
later Middle Ae^^es.

CHAPTER XII

The legend
of the
year looo

FEUr AL STATES AND ADVENTURERS

I. FRANCE AND THE FRENCH

Historians of an older generation tell a very pretty story with
regard to the opening of the eleventh century. From the Apoca-
l)^se In the New Testament men had learned to expect the end of
the world in the year lOOO. Then, they believed, would be heard
the dread sound of the last trump, summoning all to final judg-
ment. Consequently, as the fateful hour approached, a wave of
piety swept Europe. Men turned from the sordid routine of
existence to prepare their souls for the blessed hereafter. The
year arrived and the world did not come to an end, but the ideal-
istic surge, having gained a momentum that could fiot be checked,
rolled onward. The papacy advanced to an unprecedented height
of power. At its bidding, great hosts marched eastward to re-
deem the Holy Sepulcher, Cathedrals, typifying the new spirit
and emblazoning a new art, rose in air. Trade grew, cities sprang
up, learning revived, civilization flourished. The splendor of
mediaeval culture can thus be traced back to a mistaken confi-
dence in the word of Scripture.

This is what historians once asked their readers to believe.
And to whom would such an engaging narrative not appeal?
Unhappily it is false. Research has proved that, if people feared
the year lOOO more than another, they gave no evidence of the
fact ; that the chronicles of the later tenth century reflect no un-
usual perturbation of mind; tliat the references in contemporary
documents to ‘‘the approaching end of the world’' were mere
rhetorical flourishes used long before and long after that partic-
ular time. There was, indeed, no reason why any one should
have especially dreaded the year looo, for the millennium of
which the Apocalypse speaks in veiled terms began with the death
of Christ, not with His birth. This pretty story, like many an-
other, must therefore be classified among the legends of history.
Yet the century following the year lOOO actually witnessed a
great improvement in conditions throughout western Europe —
the beginnings of a cultural advance which has been virtually

272

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 273

continuous down to the preset. The rejection of the legend
merely forces us to substitute another and sounder explanation.

To do so is by no means a simple task. The decline of ancient
civilization, as we have seen, presents an extronely complex and The
difficult problem, for which no definitive solution has as yet been recovery
found. We are now confronted by a similar problem : how civ- ^
ilization once more arose in the west and why it developed those
peculiar features which we know as mediaeval. At this point no
generalization can be attempted. The evidence must first be ex-
amined, and it is too extensive to put into one chapter. Among
the topics that must be taken up are the conflict betweai the rein-
vigorated papacy and the German, kingdom, the Norman conquests
of England and southern Italy, the Christian offensive against
the Moors in Spaiin, and the great crusade of 1095. These in
turn introduce such broad subjects as the reform of religion,
the stimulation of higher education, the advance of literature and
the arts, the expansion of trade and industry, the increase of
population, and the development on all sides of new urban
centers. A mere list like the foregoing can, of course, have little
meaning at present. It may, however, serve to indicate that by
the close of the eleventh century Europe was well on the road to
recovery. And since at that time the cultural leadership of Eu-
rope was held by the French, it might be well to see something
of their earlier character and achievements.

In 987 the throne of the western Frankish kingdom was se-
cured by Hugh Capet of the Parisian house.^ His ambitions had The

been rewarded only after thirty years of costly endeavor. By Capetian
,. r 1 ■ • 1 1 -1 1 r 1 domaiTi

the time of ms coronation he was no longer a rich and powerful

prince like his father, Hugh the Great. The duchy of Burgundy

had been given to his brother Robert, and of the great Neustrian

march there remained nothing more than a small fragment lying

between the Seine and the Loire. This territory, called the He

de France, was an irregular strip some hundred miles long and,

on the average, about a third that in width. On the north it

reached Laon, on the south Orleans. Its center was Paris, which

thenceforth was to be the capital of France. Besides, the king

had various isolated patches, of which the more important were

about Corbie and Bourges. Such was the royal domain of the

eleventh century— not an estate which the king held by virtue of

1 See above, p. 248.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

274

his kingly office, but a duchy which he continued to possess as
the heir of the Parisian counts. Narrow as it was, it gave the
monarchy a definite position to fall back on. In an age when
the royal authority had been reduced to a mere title, that was a
matter of considerable importance.

For a long time there was to be no question of reviving the
king’s power tliroughout his kingdom as a whole. The problem
was 'rather to save what was left of the Neustrian march.
Throughout the He de France were many petty seigneuries over
which the king had slight authority, if any. Equally troublesome
were the numerous chdtelains who, though supposed to be mere
keepers of the king’s castles, generally defied their lord and lived
by rapine. From his own estates the king enjoyed the manorial
income of the ordinary feudal noble. Agents styled prevots su-
pervised the exploitation of his lands, collected his revenues, held
his courts, and summoned the peasantry for military service and
corvies. But they also proved hard to control; frequently, in-
stead of their lawful share, they kept all the proceeds of admin-
istration and claimed their offices as fiefs.

What redeemed the situation for the early Capetians was the
support which they received from the great ecclesiastics of the
north. In or near tlie He de France were many wealthy abbeys
and bishoprics subject to royal patronage and protection. The
king not only named the holders of these ecclesiastical offices, but
also enjoyed many powers of direct jurisdiction within their
estates. Most of his time was spent in visiting first one loyal
prelate and then another. In the case of rebellion against his
authority, it was they who supplied a large part of the necessary
troops and provisions. His resources, however, were at the best
meager. Compared with many of his vassals, the eleventh-
century king — except in the matter of theoretical eminence — was
a rather insignificant person.

Although sizable volumes have been written about the first
The first four Capetians, our actual knowledge of them is surprisingly
four slight. Hugh Capet is chiefly remarkable for the fact that a
Capetiais dynasty was named after him. Yet all that he did was to have
^9 7 no ) Robert crowned during his own lifetime, setting a prece-

dent followed by his successors for the next two centuries. Dur-
ing that time the ceremony remained essentially the same. On
the day appointed by the king the coronation of his heir took
place in the cathedral of Reims. After the ardibishop had cele-

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 275

brated mass, he formally explained his right to cast the first vote
and chose the prince as his candidate for the throne. This ‘‘elec-
tion'^ was then repeated in order of precedence by the other prel-
ates and nobles. The populace approved by shouting. Finally
the new king was formally invested with the symbols of regal
office, though perhaps not anointed with the consecrated oil till
after the death of his father. Thanks to the continuation of this
policy and to an unfailing supply of heirs, each of the early Ca-
petians was peacefully succeeded by his son. So Hugh Capet
was followed by Robert (996-1031), Henry I (1031-60), and
Philip I (1060-1108). But these long reigns were singularly
empty.

Because of a monkish education and an interest in theology,

Robert was known as the Pious; yet, in spite of his ability to
read Latin, he seems to have been a good soldier. His one no-
table success was the acquisition of Burgundy on the death of his
uncle, the duke. This action, however, brought no real increase
of the royal domain, for the duchy was at once given to the
king’s younger son; and the latter, by means of a successful war
against his brother, Henry I, made good his claim to independent
authority. Henry likewise became embroiled with various other
rebellious vassals ; and although he was saved from complete hu-
miliation by their dissensions, the conflict brought him no renown.

Nor was the renown of the monarchy enhanced by Philip I. It
is true that he added to his domain one or two petty districts, but
this was slight achievement for a reign of nearly half a century,
during which his barons made the name of France illustrious
throughout the entire Mediterranean world. It was, in fact, the
virtual accession of Louis VI toward the close of the century
that first shed luster on the Capetian name.

In spite of the dynastic change, the eleventh century thus wit-
nessed no alteration in the relative strength of king and baron- Aquitaine
age among the West Franks. Brittany to all intents and pur- and the
poses remained a foreign state, and the territory south of the
Loire was almost as far removed from royal influence. The
counts of Barcelona and of Toulouse, like the dukes of Gascony
and of Aquitaine, ruled their respective principalities without pay-
ing any attention to their theoretical sovereign, except to date
their acts in the year of his reign. By construction, their lands
are commonly described as royal fiefs; yet they never appeared
at the Capetian court for the rendering of homage or for any

Blois and
Anjou

Burgundy

and

Flanders

276 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

other service. Two more centuries were to elapse before the
king’s authority was to extend into the fair region of the Midi,
which spoke its own language, Proven9al, and remained true to
its own cultural traditions. Politically it was dominated by the
counts of Poitiers, who by the end of the tenth century had defi-
nitely secured the duchy of Aquitaine. A series of able rulers,
they not only kept their near-kingdom from disintegrating, but
considerably enlarged it. Gascony was permanently incorporated
under William VIII (1058-86) and Toulouse narrowly escaped
the same fate at the hands of his son, William IX. As it was,
Aquitaine by 1100 had become a broad realm extending from
the Loire to the Pyrenees and from the Bay of Biscay to the
Rhone.

What contemporaries called France (Francia) was merely the
old march of Neustrla, which had now shrunk to the lie de
France. As the Parisian counts had earlier become independent
of the Carolingians, so various subvassals tended to become inde-
pendent of the Parisians. Two viscounts, in particular, laid the
foundations of important states — ^the counties of Blois and
Anjou. In the early eleventh century these fiefs were inherited
rppectively by Odo II and Fulk Nerra, great warriors and bitter
rivals. To his own county Odo united that of Champagne, a
miscellaneous g^oup of lands that had been acquired by the counts

Troyes. This led to a war with King Henry I, who would
have fared badly if it had not been for the aid of the Angevins.
Odo, beaten in the west, took up a series of projects to the east-
ward, in the course of which he lost his life. Under his successors
Blois dropped back to second rank among the feudal states of
the north. Anjou, on the other hand, continued to advance from
one victory to another, until its rulers threatened to secure all
France, as well as England. The terrible Fulk Nerra was the
greatest warrior of his da)^, and his policies were continued by
an equally fierce and capable son, Geoffrey Martel. Between them
these princes took lands from both Blois and Aquitaine. They
found their match only in the Norman duke, who resisted their
attacks and eventually forced them to abandon the territory of
Maine.

Burgundy and Flanders, as already noted, originated as
marches under Charles the Bald. The former, having come into
the possession of Hugh the Great, passed to his second son, and
then to the second son of Robert the Pious. Thenceforth it

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 277

continued under the same family for some three hundred years.
During this whole period Burgundy remained a comparatively
poor and backward state, the rulers of which are scarcely heard
of in connection with the great events of the age. Flanders, on
the contrary, occupied a position of outstanding importance in
mediaeval Europe — eminent alike in the fields of political, eco-
nomic, and cultural achievement. The successors of Baldwin
Iron- Arm were indeed a remarkable line. Using as a base the
county lying between the Scheldt and the sea, they took skillful
advantage of their frontier position to obtain various fiefs from
the German king. Baldwin V (1036-67) married his daughter
to William of Normandy and himself acted as regent in France
during the minority of Philip I. His younger son, Robert the
Frisian, was a great adventurer. Failing in a series of desperate
excursions to Spain and Norway, he was fortunate enough to find
a more practical enterprise nearer home. Marriage to the widow
of the count of Holland made him regent of that territory, and
eventually, after a series of wars, he secured Flanders as well.
Having crushed all opposition, he spent two years in pilgrimage
to Jerusalem, whence he returned to die at a ripe old age in
1093. is no wonder that his son gained renown as a crusader.

In the meantime, the commercial revival that was to revolu-
tionize Europe was already being felt in Flanders.^ A wave of
prosperity swept the country and made its ruler the richest prince
in France. Lord of wide dominions on both sides of the fron-
tier, supreme protector of wealthy churches, patron of many
rising towns, and head of an efficient government, he carried on
the best political traditions of the age. Although he himself
owed his position to the disintegration of the Carolingian mon-
archy, he saw to it that his own rights did not go by the same
road. From his castles — ^such as Ghent, Bruges, Ypres, and Arras
— ^radiated an orderly administration. The chdtelcdiiSy though
holding their offices by feudal settlement, were kept in close control
and continued to act primarily as the count's agents in military,
financial, and judicial matters. Altogether, we here find an
example of the feudal state at its best. In actual might the count
of Flanders had no western rival except the duke of Normandy,
and that only after the latter had conquered England.

In 91 1 Charles the Simple had invested the viking Hrolf with

« See below, pp- 343 f •

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Normandy
and the
Normans

278

a duchy at the mouth of the Seine. For another half-century
migration continued from the old homeland, but eventually Nor-
mandy took on its familiar aspect — ^a saddle of territory reaching
from the peninsula of the Cotentin almost to the Somme. Con-
cerning the internal history of the country during this early
period we have only legendary accounts, and even after authentic
records begin, the dukes remain little more than names until we
reach the illustrious William whom contempo-raries called the
Bastard. His father was Robert the Magnificent, fifth duke;
his mother Arlette, daughter of a Falaise tanner. Though the
union was unhallowed by the church, it was not contrary to
Norman habit and seems to have been eugenically perfect. The
boy William, called to the ducal throne when his father started
on the holy pilgrimage from which he never returned, was
brought up in the rude scliool of feudal warfare. He proved
an apt pupil. By the time that he was thirty he had crushed
the rebellious baronage, beaten off the savage Bretons, taken
Maine from the Angevins in spite of the king’s opposition, se-
cured a marriage alliance with Flanders, and begun the plans that
led to his conquest of England.

If at this time we look for a sharp distinction between the
Normans and their neighbors, we fail to find it. By the eleventh
century the culture and institutions of Normandy were thor-
oughly French. Perhaps there was a peculiarly northern iciness
in the temper of the Norman, but in general he merely shared
the hardness of the feudal age. And although viking traits may
also be detected in the Norman passion for combat under dis-
tant skies, it should be remembered that the so-called Norman
armies were drawn from all the adjacent regions. The Normans
merely carried to the peak of perfection the characteristic ideals
of contemporary France; they were only the greatest of many
great French adventurers. In every warlike expedition of the
feudal nobility we find the Normans well up toward the front;
and wherever they went, they showed an uncanny faculty for
seizing political opportunity and turning it, often by unscrupu-
lous means, to their own advantage. These traits they pre-
eminently displayed on the great crusade of 1095. Yet, long
before tliat, the Normans had become famous — or infamous,
according to the point of view — ^in Italy, Spain, and England.

The chaotic conditions that prevailed in Italy by the opening
of the tenth century have already been briefly noticed. A hun-

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 279

dred years later the situation remained little changed, except that The
the German kings now claimed the crown of the Lombards.® Normans
But even the theoretical kingdom that had long been fought over ^
by northern princes did not extend throughout the lower penin-
sula. There a series of petty nobles, some of than holding of
the Byzantine emperor, engaged in a never-ending war of siege
and skirmish, varied by attacks of Saracen raiders and outbursts
of violent insurrection on the part of dissatisfied subjects. Op-
portunities for mercenary service and loot were therefore abun-
dant, and among the adventurers drawn by this congenial eiiviron-
ment were the inevitable bands of Normans. From the first
years of the eleventh century we hear of them eilisting under
various local employers, and as early as 1030 a certain Norman
knight was rewarded with the little fief of Aversa, lying to the
north of Naples. His success naturally attracted a swarm of
newcomers, among whom were a group of brothers destined
to begin a new political epoch for the central Mediterranean.

An obscure Norman gentleman named Tancred of Hauteville
had been blessed — ^and this was not unusual in those days —
with twelve sons, five by his first wife and seven by his second.

Being devoid of prospects at home, the younger boys, like hun-
dreds of their compatriots, took to the roads of adventure, and
eventually most of them turned up in southern Italy. There, by
the middle of the century, three of the brothers Hauteville —

William Iron-Arm, Humphrey, and Drogo— had made great rep-
utations, and under their leadership an army of Normans had
found it even more profitable to fight for themselves than to
fight for others. Seizing castles in the mountains of the interior,
they rapidly developed haphazard brigandage into organized
conquest. William was the first elected count of these feudal
adventurers ; later his place was taken by his. half-brother Rob-
ert Guiscard (the Sly), who by sheer native force and devemess
rose from a free-lance robber to create and rule a splendid state.

Robert Guiscard, with the hdp of his brother Roger, com-
pleted the systematic reduction of the southern peninsula, and Robert
from there turned covetous eyes upon the glorious island of
Sicily, held since Ihe ninth century by the Saracens. Meanwhile
the bitter conflict of the papacy and the empire had reached a Roger
crisis; and this, for reasons that will be explained in the next (d. noi)

® See below, pp. 300 f.

2«0

MEDIEVAL HiSTUKY

Spain in
the tenth
century

The
French
in the
Spanish
jwars

chapter, brought Robert the legal recognition that he otherwise
might have desired in vain. In 1059, after surviving many anath-
emas, the ex-brigand was accepted by the pope as a vassal of
the Apostolic See and formally proclaimed didce of Apulia and
Calabria. To Count Roger, his brother, was immediately in-
trusted the conquest of Sicily — z project blessed by the pope as a
holy war against the infidel. Messina was taken in 1061, Palermo
in. 1072; and although the Mohammedans still held out in other
parts of the island, it was only a matter of time until they were
forced to surrender. Thus were laid the foundations of the
great Norman kingdom that in the following century was to
become a marvel of the European world.

Another theater of constant warfare was the Spanish penin-
sula, where the Ommiad caliphate of Cordova, after reaching
its height of splendor in the tenth century, rapidly declined in the
eleventh. Moslem culture still kept its brilliance, but the coun-
try lost all political cohesion, falling under the control of a dozen
local emirs. This situation naturally provided the opportunity
for a Christian offensive, which might have gained headway
somewhat earlier if the Christians too had not suffered from
disunion. At the eastern end of the Pyrenees the old march of
Charlemagne had become the virtually independent county of
Barcelona. To the westward the Basque mountaineers, fighting
with equal zeal against all invaders, had successfully defended
themselves against both Frank and Moslem, and so had eventually
made possible the foundation of two little kingdoms, Aragon and
Navarre. In the mountains of Asturias, meanwhile, other Chris-
tians had similarly maintained their independence. And from
this region a small Galician state, the origins of which are lost
in a mist of legend, grew into the kingdom of Leon, extending
south to the Douro River. The kingdom of Castile was orig-
inally a frontier county of Leon, named after the castles that
had been built to defend it.

In the eleventh century Leon and Castile, which for a time
were united under one king, both expanded rapidly: the former
into Portugal as far as Coimbra and the latter over the interior
as far as Toledo. Navarre, after reaching the Ebro, found the
way barred by Aragon. That kingdom, indeed, was long unable
to make any progress against the emirate of Saragossa to the
south, but a great victory at Barbastro in 1065 opened the way
to the annexation of the lower Ebro valley in the next century.

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 281

These conquests could hardly have been made by the little Span-
ish kingdoms, had they been dependent solely on their own re-
sources. From the beginning of their offensive they had drawn
an endless supply of eager recruits from the French principalities
to the north. Since the ninth century the shrine of St. James at
Santiago de Compostella had been a famous center of pilgrimages
from all parts of western Christendom, and out of the streams
of armed men who came thither many were found to serve in
the holy war against the Moslem. In the eleventh century the
great monastery of Cluny,^ and eventually the papacy, gave active
support to the cause, issuing widespread appeals for enlistment
under the banner of Christ and holding forth the promise of ex-
traordinary spiritual benefits to any who should die on so sacred
an undertaking.

It is to be suspected, however, that most of the adventurers
were attracted not so much by the prospect of a martyr^s paradise
as by that of booty and conquest. As would be expected, a host
of volunteers came from the nearby territories of Gascony, Tou-
louse, and Aquitaine; yet men of the northern fiefs also crossed
the Pyrenees in large numbers — especially Normans and Bur-
gundians. One of the latter group, a son of the duke, secured
the county of Portugal as dowry with a princess of Leon and
so founded what was to become the Portuguese royal house.
And many another French knight won for himself a Spanish fief
at the expense of the infidel. To warriors of this ty^e the cru-
sade of 109s came as merely another and greater adventure.

iEthelred

the

Reddess

(978-1016)

2. THE NORMAN CONQUEST OF ENGLAND

Previously we have seen how the kingdom of England emerged
in the early tenth century as the consequence of a successful war
against the Danish invaders. Under the talented house of Alfred
the monarchy remained strong and prosperous until the last quar-
ter of the century. Then, in 978, there came to the throne the
unfortunate man whom contemporaries called JEthelred the Rede-
less, meaning that he never knew the right thing to do. In the
absence of any permanent administrative machine, the efficiency
of a state in this early age normally depended on the character
of the king; so the accession of a ruler like JEthelred inevitably
spelled trouble. Actually the kingdom, though nominally brought

* See bdow, pp. ^6 L

The Scan-
dinavian
kingdoms

The
Danish
conquest
pf England
(1013-16)

Canute

,(1016-35)

282 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

under one system o£ government, was far from unified. The
Danish regions in particular, being largely populated by Scan-
dinavian adventurers and colonists, had not as yet been assimi-
lated to the rest of the country. The aldermen placed there were
hardly more than viking jarls, likely at any favorable opportunity
to break away from royal control — ^in which project they could
find many helpers among the freebooters who still roamed the
northern seas.

By this time Denmark, Sweden, and Norway had all, in some
fashion, been organized as kingdoms. Denmark, as would be ex-
pected, was the most advanced, having been Christianized under
Harold Blue-Tooth, who was succeeded in 986 by his son Sweyn
(Svein) Fork-Beard. In Sweden Christianity was made official
under a certain Olaf, who became king in 993 ; and a ruler by
the same name (St. Olaf) carried out the same work in Norway
after 1015. Henceforth these countries rapidly yielded to po-
litical influences from the south, and the raids of individual vi-
kings were superseded by organized expeditions under the com-
mand of kings. To this invasion of foreign custom the Norse
were the last to yield. Before 900 many of their bands had
already settled in Iceland, and from that base adventurous spirits
continued to make voyages of exploration all through the follow-
ing century. So it was that they discovered Greenland and finally,
about 1000, the shore of North America.

Meanwhile, encouraged by the rapid weakening of the mon-
archy, Danes and Norse again made themselves the scourge of
the English coasts. The incompetent JEthelred, to buy them off,
impoverished his kingdom by levying a tax on all landowners —
the famous Danegeld. This expedient naturally led to increased
exaction of blackmail by the raiders, until at last the Danish king,
Sweyn, decided to annex the source of supply. As a bid for sup-
port against the approaching danger, JEthelred married Emma,
daughter of the Norman duke. Then in 1013, after a feeble
defense, he abandoned his kingdom to the invader and fled to
the continent with his wife and young son. Sweyn, however,
did not live to enjoy his conquest. Dying in 1014, he left Eng-
land to be recovered by his son, Canute (Knut), after the way
had been made clear by tlie death of ^thelred in 1016.

The reign of Canute proved that, instead of the pirate feared
by the English, they had obtained a pious, sensible, and states-
manlike king. In addition to the crowns of Denmark and Eng-

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 283

land, conquest soon brought him that of Norway; other cam-
paigns extended his dominion over southern Sweden, the Baltic
islands, and the coast of what is now Esthonia. Yet Canute’s
main interest was from the outset England. Anticipating the
danger there of Norman intervention, he shrewdly offered mar-
riage to ^thelred’s widow; so Emma left her son Edward in
Normandy and returned as queen for the second time. To
avoid trouble with the Scottish king, Canute ceded to him the
territory of Lothian — ^all of Northumbria between the Tweed
and the Firth of Forth. This treaty had two important results : it
established the northern boundary of England where it has since
ranained and it brought the Scottish court into an English-
speaking country. In the meantime Canute had given his island
kingdom an orderly government based on ancient custom. His
only important innovations had to do with defense. It was at
this time, apparently, that the Danegeld was turned into a regu-
lar tax to maintain the Scandinavian guards known as house-
carls — ^the nucleus of a combined army and navy.

Remarkable as it was, Canute’s imperial structure proved to be
short-lived. When he died prematurely in 1035, he left no com- Edward
petent successor. Norway regained its independence, and after
Canute’s two sons had died without heirs, the English magnates (JQ42-66)
broke away from Denmark and gave the crown to Edward
the Confessor, son of .^thelred. This king, as his nickname
implies, was chiefly noted for his piety. Lacking a strong will
of his own, he was constantly led by others. Since he was child-
less, the great issue came to be which of various rival factions
should control the kingdom when he had gained his heavenly
reward. For a time the dominant influence was Norman. Hav-
ing lived in his mother’s country until he was nearly forty,

Edward came to England virtually a foreigner and brought with
him a swarm of French-speaking favorites, who soon held many
of the important offices in both church and state. Edward, how-
ever, was prevailed on to marry Edith, daughter of Godwin, earl
of Wessex and head of a powerful native group opposed to the
Normans. Godwin for a time was forced into exile; then, in
1052, he turned the tables on his adversaries and drove most
of them out. In the next year the earldom of Wessex was in-
herited by his son Harold, who thenceforth remained the most
influential man at court. His dominance, naturally, was resented

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

The

jBattle of
•Hastings
(October
;i4, 1066)

284

by other nobles, some of whom, as usual, turned for aid to the
kings of Denmark and Norway.

Under such circumstances, William, duke of Normandy de-
veloped a violent interest in English politics. Although he
undoubtedly realized that he had no hereditary title to the Eng-
lish crown, he nevertheless advanced one. And when Earl Har-
old chanced to visit his shores — ^perhaps as the result of ship-
wreck — ^William seems to have exacted from his guest some sort
of engagement to support his claim. If Harold took such an
oath, he assuredly failed to keep it, for when Edward died early
in 1066, the earl himself accepted election and was formally
crowned. Immediately he was threatened by two hostile expedi-
tions: one led by Harold Hardrada, king of Norway, and the
other by William, duke of Normandy. The former had the
backing of various malcontents in England, including Harold’s
own brother, Tostig; but William had a more powerful champion
in the pope. Some time earlier, under the influence of Godwin,
the Norman archbishop of Canterbury had been driven into exile
and his successor, an Englishman named Stigand, had never
obtained lawful confirmation of his appointment at Rome. He
it was who consecrated Harold, and since the two were so closely
allied, the pope inevitably gave his blessing to the Norman enter-
prise, sending a holy banner to be carried by the invading host.®

Harold, of course, had warning of William’s* preparations,
and through the summer of 1066 he kept his fleet in the Channel
and his army concentrated in the south. Then, early in the
autumn, the landing of the Norwegian king forced a diversion to
the northward. On September 25 Harold won a great battle
at Stamford Bridge, in which Hardrada and Tostig were both
slain. Only three days later William landed in Sussex ; a favor-
able wind had brought him to the southern shore at the very
moment when it was unguarded. Harold, with an exhausted
army supplemented by rural levies, advanced to a hill near Has-
tings. There the English — ^all, of course, on foot — ^stood on the
defensive, the house-carls in the first line with overlapping shields.
Charging them front and rear, the Norman knights eventually
broke their array. Harold fell in the fight, and with him fell
the Anglo-Saxon monarchy. The rest of the campaign was a
triumphal procession, for there was no one to organize the de-

5 See bdow, p. 314.

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 285

fense. Finally the surviving magnates, assembled in London,
offered the throne to the Conqueror, who celebrated Christmas
by wearing the crown of England.

In the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle we have a very famous char-
acter sketch of William. He was, says the anonymous author, The policy
‘‘a very wise and a great man,” but '‘stern and wrathful” — of the
"severe beyond measure to those who withstood his will.” Yet he Conqueror
was "mild to those good men who loved God,” and he endowed
many noble monasteries. Throughout England he established a
firm peace, to the great benefit of all and, incidentally, to his
own enrichment. For William was "sharp-sighted to his own
interest” and "greedily loved gain.” He built many castles and
set apart wide forests as hunting preserves, enacting cruel laws
against those who took game without license. "He loved the
tall stags as if he were their father.” "The rich complained and
the poor murmured, but he was so sturdy that he redked naught
of them; they must will all that the king willed if they would
live or keep their lands.” Such, indeed, was the Conqueror, as
we know not merely from his monkish biographers, but also from
his own acts. To explain his policy in England requires no
abstruse argument; by combining Norman and Anglo-Saxon
customs he sought to make himself as powerful as possible.

Since feudalism afforded the most advanced political structure
with which William was familiar, it was made the basis of his The intro-
new state. In England, before this time, the institution of per- duction of
sonal lordship had long been widespread, and occasionally lands
had been granted in return for military and other services. There
had, however, been no uniform system of feudal tenure such, as
was now introduced. William proclaimed the revolutionary
principle that every bit of English soil was by ultimate title his ;
all that he did not keep in his own hands formed part of some
fief, to be held by its possessor directly or indirectly of the crown.

Actually, of course, the establishment of the new principle did
not imply that every piece of land changed hands. The mass of
the people, the cultivators of the soil, were hardly affected. It
was only the members of the aristocracy who were dispossessed
in order to provide rewards for William’s chief followers. .And
many ecclesiastical estates remained untouched because they could
be given to Normans as soon as the existing holders died. In
either case the fiefs consisted of manors, and the recipient, who
was styled a tenant^-mndiief or baron, was left at his own conven-

286 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

. The cen-
^ tral gov-
I eminent

Castles

ience to provide for his retainers by subinfeudation. In fact,
all the feudal arrangements described in the preceding chapter
were now suddenly, as the result of the Conquest, imposed on
England, to remain for centuries the basis of its political and
social constitution.

Since even in France many lands had continued to be allodial
properties, held in full ownership by virtue of family inheritance
or purchase, England became the most completely feudalized
kingdom of the contemporary world. William, we may be sure,
would never have inaugurated such a regime if feudalism, as
stated in many books, had been incompatible with strong mon-
archy. Many feudal principalities, though produced from a
decadent state, were not themselves weak; one of them, Nor-
mandy, served as the model for the feudalized kingdom of Eng-
land. Under the system there established by William, the royal
authority was enormously strengthened. The institutions of
Norman England will be examined somewhat more carefully
in a later chapter. Here a brief summary must serve to indicate
the immediate effect of the Conqueror’s innovations.

After 1066 the central administration of the kingdom was
in general Norman — ^which means that it was essentially feudal.
Earlier the king’s advisory council had been a loosely organized
group of clergy and nobles known as the witan (wise men). This
body was henceforth supplanted by the curia regis, the king’s
feudal court, which included his barons, or those of them whom
he chose to call in. Here justice was administered and other
matters decided according to the feudal custom of Normandy.
The king, of course, continued to levy the established land tax
known as the Danegeld, but along with it he also collected aids
and incidents. From his vassals he obtained a feudal army, the
superiority of which had been amply demonstrated at Hastings.
Each baron, when he received his fief from the Conqueror, was
made liable for a certain number of knights, usually five or a
multiple of that figure. The total force thus drawn from the
land seems hardly to have exceeded 5000; if the king wanted
more knights, he had to hire them. In time of necessity, however,
he kept the power, justified by both Norman and English prece-
dent, of calling on all able-bodied men without regard for feudal
liability.

Under the Anglo-Saxon monarchy the only great royal strong-
holds had been the boroughs — pld Roman cities and fortified

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 287

camps, together with newer constructions made after Roman
models. The Normans, on the other hand, immediately covered
the land with castles, feudal fortresses of the motte-and-bailey
t3^e already perfected in northern France® and as yet built of
earth and wood. The castle, though it might be intrusted to
the keeping of some official, was legally the king’s. No baron
could lawfully raise a castle without royal license and any that
he had were primarily for the defense of the kingdom, not for
his private use. In England, as in Normandy, William enforced
the rule that no warfare could be indulged in except by his au-
thorization. The ordinary fief was not a compact principality,
but a number of scattered manors, taken over as a collection from
some Saxon predecessor. It was only on the Welsh and Scottish
borders, where fighting was constant, that marches were set up
under the control of palatine earls endowed with all regalian
rights.

Throughout most of the kingdom the king’s authority was
directly enforced by constables placed in charge of the royal Local gov-
castles ; but this system, imported from Normandy, was super im- eminent
posed on the Anglo-Saxon local government, much of which was
preserved unchanged. Long before 1066 England had been di-
vided for administrative purposes into shires, and these into hun-
dreds. The shires were relatively large units, over each of which
was a royal official called a shire-reeve, or sheriff. He acted as the
king’s judicial, financial, and military agent and presided over the
shire court, an infrequent assembly of local magnates for the con-
sideration of exceptional cases. ' Ordinary trials and other matters
of routine were taken care of in the hundred court, which met
monthly under the presidency of a hundredman, or reeve. The
latter was thus the subordinate of the sheriff, and he, in turn,
was sometimes placed under an earl, who held a group of shires
as a sort of principality.

The shires and hundreds, with their respective courts, con-
tinued after the Norman Conquest without change, except that
the shires came to be called counties.**^ So too the earl was now
styled a count; yet except on the frontier, he lost all share in the
royal administration. The sheriff, on the other hand, was identi-
fied with the Norman viscount and so made constable of the

« See above, p. 260.

7 “County” remains in Englidi the synonym of “shire,” but “count” and
viscount” failed to secure acceptance in place of “earl” and “sheriff.”

288

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Social
results
of the
Norman
Conquest

chief castle in the shire. Thence he carried out the king^s will
in all matters, holding his office only during the royal pleasure,
not as a fief. Much of the law which he helped to enforce was
the ancient custom of Saxon England, but this from the outset
was considerably modified through the influence of feudal in-
stitutions and the establishment by the king of new measures
for the maintenance of the peace. While, for example, the older
methods of trial by ordeal and compurgation® still remained in
vogue for the common people, members of the feudal class in-
sisted on their own favorite trial by combat.

The social results of the Norman Conquest were equally sig-
nificant. After 1066 the aristocracy, consisting of the barons
together with their vassals and subvassals, became thoroughly
Norman — or rather French, for some two-thirds of William’s
followers were not actually from his own duchy. French accord-
ingly became the language not only of the court, but of the upper
classes generally. And with the language were established all
the other customs of northern France, including dress, arms, chiv-
alry, styles of architecture, modes of life, and habits of thought.
The civilization of mediaeval England thenceforth developed on
a solidly French foundation. The church, too, was inevitably
brought under the influence of great ecclesiastics trained on the
continent — ^with momentous consequences for both clergy and
monarchy- As far as the peasants were concerned, the coming
of the Normans resulted primarily in a change of masters, for
the manorial system had long dominated a goodly part of the
countryside. Before the Conquest the rustic population of Eng-
land had been divided and subdivided into innumerable groups
with peculiar names and even more peculiar degrees of freedom
and unfreedom. These distinctions the Normans largely ignored.
To them the peasant was a villein and the villein was a serf.
Under English law villeinage and serfdom thus became equivalent
terms, and thereby the mass of the people came to suffer degrada-
tion in legal status, if not in economic condition. As far as the
towns were concerned, the French connection began a new epoch,
enormously stimulating mercantile activity and with it the advance
of burgess privilege.®

The Danish Conquest of England, seen in historical perspective,
was a mere episode — ^the brief reign of a foreign king that proved

® See above, p. 78; below, p. 382.

* See below, pp. 357 f.

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 289

to have no lasting results. But the more thoroughly we come to
understand the Norman Conquest, the greater appears its signifi-
cance. There was not a phase o£ English culture and institu-
tions which it left unaffected. That is why it must be ranked
as one of the crucial events in the history of Europe.

3. THE FEUDAL EPIC

Of all the Germanic languages, Anglo-Saxon was the first to
develop a variety of perfected literary forms. As early as the Anglo-
sixth century we find portions of the customary law beginning Saxon
to be written down in what are called dooms.^^ The great period
of Anglo-Saxon literature, however, opened with the reign of
Alfred. That king, appreciating the catastrophe that had be-
fallen Northumbrian culture at the hands of the Danes, devoted
much energy to the restoration of learning in Britain. There
were of course many scholars under Alfred and his successors
who wrote in Latin, but the more interesting works are those com-
posed in the vernacular. Alongside a greatly expanded series of
dooms now appears the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, the first great
original composition in Germanic prose. Briefly reviewing the
traditional history of the earlier centuries, it tells with dramatic
fullness the story of Alfred^s conflict with the Danes and, con-
tinued by many hands, covers the whole succeeding period down
into the twelfth century.

Alfred also commissioned various translations from the Latin,
of which the most famous is the Anglo-Saxon version of Greg-
ory's Pastoral Care, Meanwhile, a good many remarkable poems
had come to be composed in the vernacular : some, like those of
.Elfric, dealing with religious subjects, some rather with war
and adventure. Within this latter group may be mentioned the
brilliant song of triumph to celebrate JEthelstan's victory at
Brunanburh/^ which is inserted in the Chronicle, and the mag-
nificent piece on the battle of Maldon where the alderman B3^ht-
noth was slain by the viking Aniaf in 991. Of more direct interest
to us in the present connection is the cdebrated po^, Beowulf,
Although in its existing form the composition cannot be dated
before the eighth century, it unquestionably contains elements that
go back to a very primitive age. Many of the characters are

10 See above, p. 74.

« See above, p. 245.

290 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

known to have been real persons who lived in the early sixth
century, and their alleged exploits are combined with legendary
material that must be even older. The great fight with the sea
monster Grendel, in particular, would seem to be a bit of very
ancient folklore which originally had no association with the
deeds of one Beowulf. At any rate, the scene of the action is
laid in Denmark, and the framework of the story, though over-
laid with Christian adornment, is essentially heathen.

Not only from internal evidence, but from extant writings
The north- in other languages, we may be sure that the core of Beowulf
em saga ^vvas some sort of saga — one of the many heroic tales that consti-
tuted a common stock at one time shared by all the Germanic
peoples of the Baltic region. In German itself almost nothing
remains of what must have been a rich oral literature. We have
one ninth-century fragment, the Hildebrandslied, composed in
the continental Saxon dialect. The Wdtharilied exists only in
a Latin version by a tenth-century monk named Ekkehard. The
more famous Nihelungenliedy familiarized by Wagnerian opera,
is a comparatively late adaptation made in Austria under the in-
fluence of romantic chivalry somewhere toward the year 1200.
Like Beowulf y it combines a legendary story of the supernatural
— ^in this case, of a magic treasure guarded by a dragon — ^with
the imaginary deeds of actual historical characters. Here we
encounter, though hidden under fanciful disguises, Attila the
Hun, Theodoric the Ostrogoth, and the members of the Burgun-
dian court at Worms.

Strangely enough, the older form of this saga, quite uncon-
nected with events of the fifth century, is found in an Icelandic
collection called the Edda, Here the tale appears as the VoU
sungasagOy but this itself proves to be a prose version of a poetic
original, known through an older collection of the twelfth cen-
tury. The Norse, it would seem, took the ancient sagas of their
homeland to Iceland, where, in a primitive environment, they
were hardly affected by subsequent literary developments on the
continent. Through them, consequently, we secure vivid glimpses
of the beliefs and habits of the old heathen Scandinavia. These
sagas, however, are not all based on mythological themes ; some
tell of actual viking expeditions and so furnish us with valuable
information to supplement the meager reports of Christian
annalists.

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 291

As may readily be appreciated, the scattered remains of ancient
Germanic literature offer fascinating but enormously difficult The
problems of criticism. The task of separating the truly primitive character
from the accretions of all the later centuries is one that demands
the attention of an expert — ^and experts often arrive at widely
different conclusions. From the isolated pieces that survive, it
appears that the original saga was a heroic poem to be chanted
by a minstrel. It was composed in a simple and forceful meter
which suited the accompaniment of chords struck on a harp, and
which made it easy to remember. In such a poem the thoughts
and feelings of the individual author are of no significance. In-
terest is concentrated on the tale itself, which is dramatic and
intensely serious, telling of famous adventures and expressing
lofty ideals. Poetry of this sort is called epic and is recognized
as characteristic of a peculiar stage in cultural development —
such as that of Homeric Greece or of early mediaeval Europe.

Some of the Icelandic sagas are magnificent epics, and Beo-
witlf, though lacking unity in its present form, is made up of The
true epic elements. These poems, great as they are, stood apart
from the main current of European civilization. The epics that
more faithfully reflect what we know as mediaeval culture were ‘
the chansons de geste — ^as the name literally implies, songs of
great deeds. Presumably the early Franks had shared the com-
mon stock of Germanic sagas,^^ but what influence they had on
the subsequent literature is a matter of guesswork, for none of
them have survived. The chansons de geste are very different
from such poems as Beowulf or those of the Icelandic collec-
tions. The epics of France are written in the lingua romana, that
is to say, in French. Their heroes are usually Franks of the
Carolingian court. The society which they take for granted is
thoroughly feudal. Scholarly opinion is now inclined to consider
them unified compositions of the eleventli and twelfth centuries,
rather than ancient sagas which grew during a long period. Quite
valueless for the earlier age, they give us a splendid picture of
that in -which they were sung.

In the present connection the chansons de geste are especially
valuable because they vividly reflect the spirit of feudal adven-
ture. Here, as in no other group of sources, are revealed the
habits and aspirations of the French aristocracy that led all Eu-

See above, p. 228.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The

Chanson
de Roland

Roland

and

Oliver

292

rope in knightly prowess. One example must suffice, and that
will of course be the Song of Roland, the earliest and best of
the chansons, and one of the finest things in all literature. Critics
are still disputing whether it was composed before or after the
crusade of 1095 ; that question is for our purpose of secondary
importance. Nor need we worry as to whether the author’s name
was Turold or something else. He seems to have been a Norman
clerk who, about the year 1100, wrote under the combined in-
spiration of Carolingian legend and contemporary events in Spain.
The meter of the poem, like its language, is simple, having
five stressed syllables to the line, with a pause usually falling
after the second. There is no rhyme, but instead a rude asso-
nance, by which the final syllables throughout a group of lines
have the same vowel sound.^®

The chanson starts by introducing Charlemagne who, we are
told, has spent seven years in Spain and has subdued the entire
peninsula except Saragossa. Marsile, king of that city, “who
serves Mohammed and prays to Apollo,” holds a council of war.
There it is decided to send an embassy to the emperor, offering
rich presents and treacherous terms of peace. Charlemagne, on
receiving this offer, takes a seat under a pine tree and summons
his barons for advice. They are very distrustful of Marsile, and
Coimt Roland, the emperor’s nephew, voices their sentiment in
urging further war. Ganelon, however, persuades Charles to
accept, and the question then arises as to who shall make the
perilous journey with the answer. The emperor refuses to
allow either Roland or his friend Oliver to go, but agrees to send
Ganelon. The latter, furious with jealousy, swears revenge on
Roland. Thus it comes about that Ganelon turns traitor and joins
Marsile in an attack on the Frankish rear guard, left under com-
mand of Roland.

Charlemagne and his host have advanced out of Spain. Ro-
land, with a picked force of twenty-thousand knights, remains
behind in the pass of Roncevaux. Oliver, full of foreboding,
climbs a hill and so perceives the Saracen army preparing for
attack. It is a magnificent sight.

The following quotations are from C. K. Scott-Moncrieff, The Song of Roland
(Chapman & Hall, Ltd.: London, 1920), and are used by permission of the
publishers. The translator very happily reproduces the meter and to some
extent the assonance of the original. Wherever necessary, the English words
must be given an archaic pronundation to suit the rhythm.

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 293

Fair shines the sun, the day is bright and clear.

Light burns again from all their polished gear.

A thousand horns they sound, more proud to seem ;

Great is the noise, the Franks its echo hear.

Says Oliver: “Companion, I believe,

Sarrazins now in battle must we meet/^

Answers Rollanz : “God grant us then the fee !

For our King’s sake well must we quit us here ;

Man for his lord should suffer great disease.

Most bitter cold endure, and burning heat.

His hair and skin should offer up at need.

Now must we each lay on most hardily.

So evil song ne’er sung of us shall be.”

“Roland is gallant; Oliver is wise.” Oliver urges Roland to
sound his horn, by a miraculous blast to summon Charles to the
rescue. But Roland refuses all entreaty and prepares for combat,
thinking only of glorious battle and of the bright blood that
shall soon paint his beloved sword, Durendal. If he is to die, he
hopes only that the man who gets it may be able to say that
it belonged to a “noble vassal.”

Up rides the archbishop Turpin and preaches the Franks a
sermon, brief and to the point :

'*My lords barons, Charles left us here for this ;

He is our King, well may we die for him :

To Christendom good service offering.

Battle you’ll have, you all are bound to it.

For with your eyes you see the Sarrazins.

Pray for God’s grace, confessing Him your sins !

For your sotils’ health. I’ll absolution give;

So, though you die, blest martyrs shall you live.

Thrones you shall win in the great Paradis.”

The Franks arise, and stand upon their feet;

They’re well absolved, and from their sins made dean.

And the Archbishop has signed them with God’s seal.

So Roland now leads his troops to battle, galloping on Veillantif,
his. good horse. Proud and brave he goes, brandishing his sword
and turning against the sky the point of his lance, from which
streams a ’white j^ntion. Fringes beat his hands as he rides,
noble of body, with faoe clear and smiling. And what does he

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

294

say to his companions? “Lords, before night great and rich
booty shall be ours !”

The battle is joined — z series of combats, man to man, lance
The battle against shield. After fifteen strokes, Roland’s lance breaks and
he draws Durendal. Striking the first-comer, one Chernuble,
he cuts through helmet, man, saddle, and horse, slicing the spine
“without striking a joint.”

The count Rollanz, he canters through the field,

Holds Durendal, he well can trust and wield,

Right great damage he’s done the Sarrazines,

You’d seen them, one on other, dead in heaps.

Through all that place their blood was flowing clear!

In blood his arms were and his hauberk steeped.

And bloodied o’er, shoulder and neck, his steed.

The fight becomes fiercer. Both Frank and Saracen strike mar-
velous blows, but the mightiest strikers are Roland, Oliver, and
Turpin.

The Franks strike on ; their hearts are good and stout.

Pagans are slain, a thousandfold, in crowds,

Left of five score are not two thousands now.

Says the Archbishop : “Our men are very proud.

No man on earth has more nor better found.

In Chronicles of Franks is written down,

What vassalage he had, our Emperour.

The archbishop has a splendid horse, taken from a Danish king
whom he had slain. He has a magnificent sword, equaled ap-
parently only by his right arm. He rides against Abisme and
cuts right through his magic shield.

So Turpin strikes, spares him not anyway;

After that blow, he’s worth no penny wage ;

The carcass he’s sliced, rib from rib away,

So flings him down dead in an empty place.

Then say the Franks ; “He has great vassalage.

With the Archbishop, surely the cross is safe.”

The Franks, however, are sorely outnumbered. Before long
The end very few will be left. So Roland, still unscathed by the enemy,
sounds his horn — ^a mighty blast that starts the blood from his
lips and cracks his temple. Charlemagne, distant thirty leagues,
hears, summons his troops, and turns back. Too late! By the

FEUDAL STATES AND ADVENTURERS 295

time that the Saracens, hearing the approach of reinforcements,
have fled, all the Franks are doomed. Oliver has died, breathing
a last prayer for his emperor, France, and ‘‘above all men Roland,
his companion.’* The archbishop is able only to pronounce a
last blessing over the slain nobles laid before him by Roland.
The latter, weakened by loss of blood, faints on finding the body
of Oliver, and Turpin dies in the effort to bring him water.

Roland, thus left with an army of corpses, feels death ap-
proaching. Rather than have his sword Durendal, with all the
sacred relics in the hilt, fall into pagan hands, he tries to break
it, but cannot. As his strength fails, he throws himself under a
pine, his face toward the enemy.

His right-hand glove, to God he offers it ;

Saint Gabriel from’s hand hath taken it.

Over his arm his head bows down and slips.

He joins his hands : and so is life finish’d.

God sent him down His angel cherubin.

And Saint Michael, we worship in peril ;

And by their side Saint Gabriel alit ;

So the count’s soul they bare to Paradis.

More battles ensue — battles of revenge, in which the Franks
decimate tlie Saracens and complete their conquest. Then comes
the journey homeward. At the imperial palace in Aix-la-Cha-
pelle Charlemagne is confronted by Aude the fair, betrothed of
Roland. He tells her not to grieve; that she may have instead
his own son Louis. Aude replies that without Roland life is not
worth living, and she falls dead at the emperor’s feet. Ganelon,
after his guilt has been determined through trial by combat, is
executed. Charlemagne lies down to sleep, but St. Gabriel ap-
pears to him in a vision and tells him of more Christians to be
rescued from pagan oppression.

‘^God !” said the king : ^‘My life is hard indeed !”

Tears filled his eyes, he tore his snowy beard.

This is the Song of Rolandy the fame of which was spread by
French knights from Ireland to Jerusalem. Wherever feudal
ideals came to triumph, there men thrilled at the bitter fight
at Roncevaux. Reading the chanson today, we can under-
stand, if we cannot share, their emotions; for through the song
we plainly know the singer and his audience. In the background
of the poem are Charlemagne, a majestic but shadowy figure;

Epic

chivalry

296 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

France, his empire, with a geography of the vaguest; and the
weary, ceaseless war against the infidel. The real theme, how-
ever, is vassalage, epitomized in the person of Count Roland.
Charles is not merely king and champion of the faith; he is
Roland’s lord. To Charles Roland is unswervingly loyal, yet
his loyalty is not disinterested. Fighting for his lord, Roland
also fights for himself — for conquest, loot, glory, and sheer de-
light. It is on his reckless valor, not the wisdom of Oliver, that
the story turns. Like a true knight, he is straightforward ; the
schemers of the piece are rogues. Ruthless to his foes, Roland
is tender to his friends. Nearest his heart stands his devoted
companion-in-arms, Oliver; and next in his affections come his
war horse and his sword. Of love for woman there is no word.
His fiancee dies at the news of his death; that is all. Roland’s
virtues are those of the battlefield. Even the religion of the
chanort directly to the king.

On all sides, meanwhile, victorious wars were fought against
Territorial the enemies of Germany. To the west Otto, by supporting first
expansioa the Carolingian and then the Parisian cause, maintained a firm
hold on Lorraine. To the north the Danes were driven back and
a new march, Schleswig, was set up against them. To the east
the Saxons, under Hermann Billung and Gero, carried on a suc-
cessful offensive against the Slavs, gradually occup3ring the lands
between the Elbe and the Oder and organizing them about hurgen
like those of Henry the Fowler. The more serious campaign
against the Bohemians was undertaken by the king himself. That
people. Christianized in the previous century, now appeared as a
formidable power under their duke, Boleslav, who extended his
dominions to include the modern Silesia, as well as the whole of
Moravia. So it was not an inconsiderable triumph when Otto
forced him, about 950, to recognize German overlordship and
pay annual tribute. By this time the ambitious king had also

1 That is to say, counts attached to fixe service of the palace. In the later
centuries the title lost all particular signMcance.

THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY 299

been induced to launch projects of far-reaching* importance to the
south.

In the later ninth century the territorial inheritance of Lothair,
eldest son of Louis the Pious, had broken into four kingdoms. Burgundy
Of these Lorraine was absorbed by Germany, but three others a^^d Italy
persisted into the tenth century : Italy, Provence, and Burgundy.

The crown of Italy, after being secured for a time by the German
Arnulf, had passed to various Italians.^ In 900 it was held by
Berengar of Friuli, and to counteract his authority, the local no-
bility now appealed to the rulers of the little kingdoms beyond the
Alps, especially Provence and Burgundy. The complicated events
of the next fifty years need not detain us. A series of murders
and petty wars served merely to enhance the prestige of the Ger-
man king. In 937 the combined kingdoms of Burgundy and
Provence, henceforth known as the kingdom of Arles, fell to a
boy named Conrad. Otto, anticipating the aggression of other
neighbors, took Conrad under his protection; kept him, in fact,
a sort of captive guest and released him only after he had recog-
nized German overlordship. In the meantime Conrad’s sister,

Adelaide, had been married to one of two rivals for the throne
of Italy. On the death of her husband, she was imprisoned by
his enemy. The dukes of Suabia and Bavaria both showed an
interest in her fate, but it was again Otto who took the decisive
step. Crossing the Alps in 951, he forced the Italian king to
acknowledge him as lord, rescued the fair Adelaide, and, being
now a widower, married her. ^

Remembering the precedents established by Charles the Fat
and Arnulf, we can hardly escape the conclusion that Otto’s Insurrec-
aggressive policy was leading straight toward the assumption of
the imperial title. Momentarily, however, any such ambition had
to be dropped, for in 953 he was faced with a great insurrection
that proved the utter inadequacy of family control for the duchies.

The ringleaders were his son and his son-in-law, dukes, respec-
tively, of Suabia and Lorraine. They were joined by the arch-
bishop of Mainz and a host of malcontents throughout the coun-
try. Otto’s other son, Henry of Bavaria, remained loyal, but a
large section of his subjects, led by the local count palatine, raised
the standard of revolt. To cap the climax, the Hungarians re-
newed their raiding in 954, spreading terror across Franconia and

2 See above, pp. 242.

MEDI/EVAL HISTORY

The
revival
of the
empire
(962)

Ecclesi-

astical

reforms

300

into the Rhinelands. Yet Otto, after many critical days, was
able to reassert his mastery. The rebels were all compelled to
submit, and in 955 the king won a crowning victory over the
Hungarians on the Lech near Augsburg — a decisive battle, for it
ended the last great Magyar invasion of Germany. Meanwhile
the duchies of Bavaria and Lorraine had been given to more
reliable holders, and the troublesome archbishop of Mainz had
died. By 961 all was again quiet and Otto found himself free to
resume the Italian project.

After the brief German intervention of ten years before, the
peninsula had reverted to its chronic anarchy. The pope was
now the profligate John XII,^ concerned only with the mainte-
nance of his Roman principality. Like his predecessor Formosus,
he became involved in conflict with the Italian king and appealed
to Germany for aid. Otto responded promptly. Advancing over
the Alps with a formidable army in 961, he assumed the crown of
Italy himself, and early in the next year received that of the em-
pire from the hands of the pope. The latter, however, soon
changed sides and fomented an insurrection at Rome. So in 963
Otto took the city by assault; John was deposed by a synod of
complaisant clergy, and the emperor’s own secretary was installed
in his place. After two more campaigns to assure imperial con-
trol of the papacy, Otto attempted the conquest of the southern
peninsula, but abandoned the project in favor of a treaty with
the Byzantine emperor. Thereby he secured the hand of the
princess Theophano^ for his eldest son, Otto, together with the
expectation of the southern Italian duchies as her dowry.

Otto’s dominance at Rome enabled him to carry out another
measure that lay next his heart — ^the ecclesiastical reorganization
of the Slavic borderland. Hitherto the entire region from the
Baltic to the Danube Valley had belonged to the province of
Mainz. By this time, however, the Germanization of the Slavic
marches had progressed far enough to warrant the creation of
many new bishoprics, such as those of Brandenburg, Merseburg,
Meissen, and Zeiz. They were now combined under a newly
established metropolitan at Magdeburg. Like their brethren to
the west, the bishops and abbots of this eastern country were
loaded with immunities that made them peers of the lay princes.
While placing men of his own over all the duchies, Otto very

® See above, p. 243.

^ See below, p. 322.

THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY 301

naturally took every opportunity to install loyal prelates in the
church, and in this work he enjoyed the zealous collaboration of
his youngest brother, Bruno, archbishop of Cologne. The latter,
in particular, devoted himself to a restoration of learning, which
German scholars often refer to as the Ottoman Renaissance.

In this respect, as in all others, Otto unquestionably deserved
the title of Great which has been accorded him in history. His The sig-
reign cannot be passed over by one who hopes to understand the nificanre
subsequent development of central Europe. A man, obviously,
of magnificent energy and personal force, Otto seemed able to
accomplish any task to which he set his hand. He was the creator ^
of what later generations called the Holy Roman Empire; and
to him, as it had been to Charlemagne, it was both holy and
Roman. Indeed, all of Otto’s many achievements can be readily
seen to have been inspired by the example of the illustrious Frank
— ^his method of government, his conquests, his Christianization
of the heathen, his seizure of Italy, his domination of the papacy,
and his reform of education. It has been argued that Otto’s
assumption of the imperial title was principally dictated by his
desire to control the church, and so to strengthen the German
monarchy. Although this motive should not be overlooked,

Otto’s imperialism seems on tlie whole an inseparable part of the
Carolingian tradition to which he devoted his life. He merely
revived and extended the policy of Amulf. We can hardly doubt
that he wordd also have taken the western kingdom if he had
seen any way of getting it.

As it was, his dominions were too vast to be efficiently admin-
istered. Where the Carolingians had failed, the Saxons cotdd
hardly be expected to succeed. Had he concentrated his attention
on his original kingdom, and had his dynasty remained loyal to
the same policy, it is possible that Germany might have been
welded into a solid political structure. Saxony, at any rate, could
have been made the nucleus of a powerful state with infinite pos-
sibilities of expansion to the east, or perhaps to the north ; for as
yet there were no Scandinavian kingdoms of any strength. But
Otto chose to abandon Saxony and to attempt the government of
Germany through personal control of the dukes, while he fol-
lowed imperial ambitions into Burgundy and Italy. It is unfair,
as some modem writers have done, to condemn him as unpa-
triotic; in those days there was no sudr thing as national pa-
triotism. Yet Otto’s policy was to prove the bane of his succes-

Otto II
(973-83)

Otto III
(983-1002)
and Sil'
vester II
(999-1003)

302 JMEDIiEVAL HISTORY

sors for the next three centuries. Among them few were to
realize that the pseudo-imperial connection of Germany and Italy
could bring only grief to both countries.

The reign of the first Saxon emperor has been examined in
some detail because it was he who established the precedents that
governed the fortunes of Germany for a long time to come. The
same consideration will justify a very cursory survey of the four
subsequent reigns. In 973 Otto I was succeeded by his eighteen-
year-old son, Otto II, who had already been crowned king and
emperor several years previously. The latter part of his father’s
life had been largely spent in Italy; Otto II was diverted even
further from German interests tlirough the influence of his By-
zantine wife. Nevertheless, it was tlie northern kingdom that
first demanded his attention. A revolt of Henry the Wrangler,
duke of Bavaria (see Table IV), in alliance with Boleslav of
Bohemia, was completely suppressed only after five years had
elapsed. Then Otto had to deal with a similar affair in Lorraine,
actively supported by Lothair, the Carolingian king of France.
Finally, in 980, the emperor found himself free to launch his own
pet project — ^the conquest of southern Italy, which he claimed as
unpaid dowry from the Byzantine Empire. There he failed to
take into accotmt the strength of the Saracais, who utterly de-
troyed his army in 982 ; and before he could recoup his fortunes,
he died of fever, leaving only an infant son.

The accession of the three-year-old Otto HI, though confirming
the hereditary claim of the Saxon house, naturally produced a
revival of the old disorders in Germany. The regency of the
Greek Theophano was immediately opposed by Henry the Wran-
gler, who had earlier lost his dukedom, and by Lothair of France,
who still fixed covetous eyes on Lorraine. But after Henry had
been reinstated in Bavaria, the troubles in eastern Germany, ex-
cept for border wars with the Slavs, generally subsided. On the
west Otto’s cause was saved by a loyal party in Lorraine, which
had the support of Hugh Capet, count of Paris. The decisive
event in this connection was Hugh’s election to the French throne
in 987,® which was largely engineered in the imperial interest by
Adalbero, archbishop of Reims. Theophano died in 991, and
after three more years of tutelage under a council of regency,
Otto assumed personal control of the government. Alm ost his

* See above, p. 248.

THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY 303

first act was to cross the Alps in order to secure the imperial
crown. He was then only sixteen, and since he died before he
was twenty-three, much could not be expected of his reign.

From infancy Otto III, under the teaching of his mother, had
been greatly impressed with the sacrosanct character of his im-
perial office. His earliest tutors had been Greeks and Italians;
as an adolescent, his closest friend and adviser was a school-
master, the remarkable Gerbert. The latter was by birth an Aqui-
tanian, who began his studies in a monastery at Aurillac and
later passed some little time in the county of Barcelona- Through
this Spanish connection he seems to have gained a smattering of
Arabic science; at any rate, he is found, in the last quarter of
the tenth century, especially famous for proficiency in mathe-
matics, astronomy, and music.^ For the moment it is only his
public career that is of concern. Continuing work in dialectic at
Reims, Gerbert was made head of the cathedral school by Arch-
bishop Adalbero and became also his trusted assistant in political
matters. Being a warm devotee of the imperial cause, as well as a
renowned scholar, Gerbert was then appointed instructor to the
young Otto III and, under his patronage, rose to be successively
archbishop of Reims, archbishop of Ravenna, and finally Pope
Silvester II.

For the first time in many generations, the western church
thus came to be led by a man of splendid character and ability,
who furthermore enjoyed the unique advantage of largely domi-
nating the emperor. Both Gerbert and Otto were charmed by the
Carolingian tradition of intimate union between church and state.
Together they strove to carry out a very idealistic program of
reform, under which the empire would have been a sort of uni-
versal lordship entirely independent of the German kingship. But
this program was destined to remain a matter of theory. Otto’s
passion for imperial grandeur far exceeded anything that his more
sensible friend, the pope, could have advised- He built a palace
on the Aventine at Rome, where, surrounded by logothetes and
other officials with Gredk titles, he aped Byzantine ceremonial
and issued fanciful documents in high-flown language. The sub-
stitution of such play-acting for the old-fashioned work of royalty
naturally disgusted his Gr^mian subjects and encouraged a host of
rivals to defy his authority. Nor was Otto’s devotion to Italy

• See below, 415!.

Henry II
(1002-24)

Conrad II
(1024-39)

304 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

reciprocated by the Italians. When stricken by fatal illness, he
was actually being besieged in his palace by an army of Roman
rebels. The net result of his tragic reign was to discredit the
proud monarchy of his grandfather. That it was not permanently
ruined was due to the wisdom of his successor, Henry II.

The man proclaimed king in 1002 owed his election primarily
to his descent, being the son of Henry the Wrangler and so the
great-grandson of Henry the Fowler. His reign of twenty-two
3'ears was not spectacular, but it was a distinct success compared
with that of his predecessor. Reviving the policy of Otto the
Great, Henry II gave his diief attention to Germany, where by
moderation and unflagging industry he largely coimteracted the
disaffection that had been widely prevalent. Although chronic
difficulties with the dukes and the great ecclesiastics still con-
tinued, there were no very serious outbreaks, and eventually the
king found opportunity to pursue a number of projects beyond
the German frontiers. To the east the Poles had suddenly
emerged as a powerful nation under a CJiristian king named
Boleslav. Having conquered Bohemia, he launched a great coun-
ter-offensive against the Germans. Before the new Slavic attack
the Saxon defense collapsed, and virtually the whole region be-
tween the Elbe and the Oder was laid waste. After a long war,
Henry II was able to restore the independence of Bohemia and
to compel Boleslav to become his vassal. This relationship, how-
ever, gave the Germans no real authority in Poland, and the
marches were not recolonized for another century. In Burgundy,
too, Henry enjoyed only a theoretical overlordship. He made
three expeditions across the Alps and secured the imperial crown ;,
yet, on his death in 1024, Italy was as far from being a true state
as ever, and the papacy had suffered another relapse into helpless
corruption.

With Henry II the house of Saxony, by descent on the male
side, died out ; but the German magnates, remaining loyal to the
dynastic principle, chose a Franconian noble named Conrad, great-
grandson of (jonrad the Red, son-in-law of Otto I (see Table
IV). So the new line of kings, known as the Salian or Fran-
conian house, was merely the continuation of the old. There was
no innovation either in theory or in practice. In fact, Conrad’s
reign was little more than a continuation of Henry’s. The new
king put down revolts in Suabia and Lorraine, spent a year in
Italy, secured the imperial crown, fought the Slavs, and reasserted

THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY 305

German overlordship in Poland and Bohemia. The outstanding
event of his reign came in 1032, when the last king of Arles died
without heirs. Conrad immediately acted to enforce the sover-
eignty established over that country by Otto I. A rival claimant,
Odo of Blois,’^ was driven out and Conrad added a fourth crown
to his collection. Henceforth the Holy Roman Empire was held
to contain three kingdoms : Germany, Italy, and Burgundy. It
was indeed a glittering inheritance that passed to Henry III in
1039. How insubstantial it was to prove will be seen when we
come to examine the later fortunes of the Franconian dynasty.

2. THE MOVEMENT FOR ECCLESIASTICAL REFORM

As the establishment of the Carolingian Empire had carried
with it a great ecclesiastical reform, so the decay of that empire
had naturally produced a relapse into conditions that had prevailed
during the Merovingian age. There were, of course, exceptions.
Wherever an especially able prince succeeded in creating an or-
derly state, monasteries might continue to flourish and bishops
might still provide examples of true piety— for instance, in Eng-
land under the descendants of Alfred and in Germany under the
Saxon dynasty. But in all such cases the improvement was due
rather to the wisdom of the ruler than to the inherent strength of
the ecclesiastical system. Throughout the wide regions subjected
to foreign invasion and' torn by civil warfare the local churches
were poweidess to reform themselves. In most religious houses,
particularly in those given to lay abbots, the ancient discipline had
utterly collapsed and the brethren lived as they pleased from the
proceeds of the monastic endowments. Most bishops were en-
tirely submerged in secular activities and were frequently as
vicious as their non-derical associates. And in this respect, as
we have seen, the popes were often no better than the rest.

Naturally all zealous Christians realized that conditions had
become intolerably bad throughout the church at large; some few
of them were intelligent enough to see that one chief cause of
the disorder lay in the contemporary organization of society.
Along with the state, the church had tended to become feudalized.
Ecclesiastical properties and offices had in general been turned
into fiefs, to be secured by the methods that were everywhere in
vogue among laymen. On all sides bishoprics, abbacies, parishes.

The
chtirch
in the
tenth
century

See above, p. 276.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The con-
gregation
of Cluny

306

and other preferments were solicited from patrons by means of
suitable presents. The successful candidate, as a matter of
course, recouped himself from his subordinates. Bishops charged
priests for ordination, and the priests took fees from the people
for the administration of other sacraments. The rule of celibacy
long asserted by the Roman church above the grade of subdeacon
was everywhere relaxed. Priests and even bishops were com-
^nonly married, and so came to endow their children with estates
that were supposed to be used for the maintenance of religious
service. The church, like the CaroUngian Empire, was threatened
with dispersion among a host of feudal dynasties.

At the opening of the tenth century most persons took these
' practices quite for granted., Only occasional purists denounced
the marriage of priests as concubinage on the ground that they
could not be lawfully wedded, and the buying of ecclesiastical
preferment as simony — ^i.e., the sin of Simon Magus, who had
offered money for the gift of the Holy Spirit.® Such agitation,
as we should expect, first gained significant headway in the clois-
ter. Benedictine monasticism had earlier supplied the impetus
of the Carolingian reform; now it was to lead a great move-
ment to renew that reform and to amplify it. Long before the
alleged mystic year 1000, various religious establishments had
become famous as centers of zeal for a Christian revival, but
only one of them was destined to achieve European prominence.
This was the illustrious abbey of Cluny, established in 910 by
William I, duke of Aquitaine. By the terms of his foundation
charter, soon confirmed by the pope, the little village of Cluny,
situated near Macon in Burgundy, was to be the exclusive prop-
erty of the monastery there erected. The monks should live
according to the rule of St. Benedict, and they were specifically
authorized to choose as abbot whom they pleased, without the
intervention of the duke or of any other authority. They were to
be subject only to the Roman pontiff.

From the outset, therefore, Cluny stood for ecclesiastical inde-
pendence of lay control and for the exaltation of the papal power.
Under a series of remarkable abbots, Cluny became the center of
a powerful organization pledged to extend these principles among
all the monasteries of the west. The original Benedictine system,
by which each house was autonomous under its own elected head,

See AdSf viii, 18.

THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY 307

had all too often resulted in subjection to some local chieftain and
the decadence of religious life. Now, as the new community
became widely renowned for purity and zeal, many ancient monas-
teries asked to become affiliated with it, submitting to the rule of
priors named by the abbot of Cluny. Thus arose the Cluniac
Congregation, which eventually came to include over three hun-
dred separate houses reaching from Poland to the British Isles.
The man chiefly responsible for this development was Odilo, abbot
from 994 to 1049. Outliving three emperors and a dozen popes,
he remained a commanding figure in Europe throughout the reli-
gious revival of the early eleventh century. And to a large de-
gree it was he who supplied the moral leadership that men had
ceased to find at Rome.

Cluny may therefore be considered the most potent factor in
the movement for reform that later came to be championed by
the papacy. This is not to interpret the whole movement as a
Cluniac enterprise. The Congregation of Cluny by no means in-
cluded all the purified houses of tlie eleventh century; although
many reforming organizations of the age owed their domi-
nant inspiration to the Burgundian abbey, there were others that
had a quite independent origin. The Cluniac order was always
fundamentally French; outside France it extended chiefly into
those regions where French influence was dominant — ^Norman
England, Spain, western Germany, and the Burgundian kingdom.
The only real interest of the Cluniacs was monastic; they sought
to restore religion in the Benedictine houses, not to remodel church
and state in all Europe. Following the modified discipline that
had become customary^ under the Carolingians, they allowed
manual labor to be supplanted by increased ‘‘offices,” so that the
brothers' time was almost wholly taken up with divine service.
Nor did they emphasize learning beyond the minimum necessary
for practical purposes. Cluny produced a host of great preachers,
statesmen, and reformers, but few scholars.

Without temporal support, even the Cluniacs could accomplish
little, and the first half of the eleventh century was singularly
lacking in great political figures. After Silvester II there were
no more outstanding popes ; and aside from Canute of England
and Denmark, the western monarchies had no very important
kings. The German sovereigns consequently towered over their
contemporaries in truly imperial grandeur; as the successors of
Charlemagne, they w#uld naturally be expected to assume the

Church
and state
in the
early
eleventh
century

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

308

initiative in any work of ecclesiastical reform. Following the
example of Otto I, they had, indeed, appointed many worthy
prelates; but in general their interest was political rather than
religious. They wanted loyal bishops and abbots to serve as a
counterpoise to the lay nobles, whose hereditary status made them
perpetually unruly. For this reason the Saxon kings had loaded
the ecclesiastical princes with land and privileges. The typical
German bishop of the eleventh century was more of a count than
a shepherd of souls, and the typical abbot was less concerned with
the rule of St. Benedict than with the defense and administration
of his fortified estate. The emperors had discountenanced the
graver scandals that troubled the church; yet they had taken no
vigorous stand against the marriage of the clergy and had con-
tinued to accept the usual offerings of candidates for all sorts
of offices.

The first emperor to take to heart the teachings of the re-
Henry III formers on these points was Henry III, who succeeded his father
(1039-56) Conrad in 1039. He proceeded immediately to purify his court
from all taint of simony and to enforce the rule that no son of
a clergyman could hold any honor under the crown. But Henry
III never dreamed of relinquishing in any degree his control of
ecclesiastical affairs. Like Charlemagne, he regarded the church
as one department of the royal government, and by his official acts
he soon demonstrated that in this respect no distinction was to be
made between Germany and Italy. After establishing or reestab-
lishing overlordship in Poland, Bohemia, and Hungary, and
after enforcing a new political settlement in Lorraine, he pro-
ceeded to Italy in 1046. By that time the Romans were enjoying
the unusual spectacle of three rivals, all claiming to be pope at
once. This scandal Henry summarily ended by having all three
deposed in assemblies of the clergy. Then he procured the elec-
tion of a German bishop as Pope Clement II, who on the very day
of his consecration crowned Henry emperor. Clement lived only
a short time and was succeeded by three other royal nominees, all
Germans. Of them the second was Leo IX, whose pontificate —
to be discussed below — ^marks the resumption by the papacy of
spiritual leadership in Europe. Meanwhile Henry had returned to
Germany, where after nine rather uneventful years he died in
1056, leaving a boy of six to inherit the crown as Henry IV.

The reign of Henry III, characterized by easy successes on all
fronts and by comparative freedom from major disturbances, has

THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY 309

generally befo called the height of the mediaeval empire. Actu- Germany
ally it was the calm before the storm— one that had been long
brewing. In this connection, it might be well to review the
political situation in the empire toward the middle of the eleventh
century. At that time Germany was still essentially what it had
been under Otto I — ^a rather loose union of great duchies. The
kings, it is true, had continuously enforced their right to make
and unmake dukes at pleasure, and frequently they had installed
members of the royal house. Experience had proved that ties of
blood were wholly inadequate to overcome the separatist tenden-
cies within the ancient territorial divisions. Nor was the Fran-
conian policy of keeping the duchies under royal administration
permanently successful. Henry III, after dispensing with half
of the dukedoms, was eventually forced, through lack of an ade-
quate civil service, to go back to the old system. The dukes of the
eleventh century, however, generally found themselves with re-
duced territories and restricted powers.

Of the ancient principalities which thus persisted, Saxony was
the only one that largely retained its original character. There a
son of Hermann Billung was recognized as duke under Otto II,
and he was succeeded by four lineal descendants, the last of whom
was to be the cause of much trouble for Henry IV. Meanwhile
the powerful duchy of Bavaria had hardly survived the rebellion
of Henry the Wrangler. From its borderlands Otto II created
the independent duchy of Carinthia, as well as two frontier dis-
tricts called the North Mark and the East Mark.® Under this
same king occurred the permanent division of the old western
duchy into Upper Lorraine and Lower Lorraine.^® Suabia, after
remaining for a while in the possession of the crown, was again
granted out by Henry III. Franconia, on the other hand, con-
tinued to be administered by the emperor, and so, as a political
entity, disappeared before the advance of many local princes —
the archbishop of Mainz, the bishops of Worms and Speier, the
count palatine of the Rhine, and others. Even within the terri-
tories of the dukes, the kings tended, as a check on the princely

*The North Mark lay between Franconia and Bohemia; the East Mark
extended down the Danube to the Hungarian frontier and was soon to become
famous as the duchy of Austria.

10 Lower Lorraine included the territory between the Rhine and the Scheldt;

Upper Lorraine consisted primarily of the Moselle Valley. As the former virtually
disappeared, its ruler came to style himself duke of Brabant. Upper Lorraine
then became known simpty as Lorraine.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The ad-
vance of
the feudal
nobility

The

minority

Henry IV
(1056-66)

310

authority, to defend the independent powers of the counts and
margraves.

In the west of the empire various factors combined to produce
a rapid dispersion of all regalian rights. For example, the duke
of Lower Lorraine lost all effective control over the bishop of
Liege and over the counts of Hainaut, Namur, Limburg, Luxem-
burg, Holland, and Friesland. For the same reason the kingdom
of Arles, which was inherited by Henry III along with that of
(Germany, brought him little beyond an empty title. The accession
of a distant king, in fact, definitely assured the autonomy of the
local baronage, headed by the marquis of Provence and the count
of Burgundy (Franche-Comte). In Italy, too, the royal policy
had been deliberately turned to the aggrandizement of the smaller
nobles at the expense of the greater. It was in pursuance of this
same design that Conrad II issued his decree of 1037, guarantee-
ing heredity of tenure for those who held of his Italian vassals.
Henry III was able to maintain at least a semblance of the old
Carolingian government throughout his empire. But how long
would the structure hold together under a weaker or less fortunate
ruler? Within this whole aggregation of kingdoms, was there
one little portion that the emperor could really call his own? In
striving for a continent, he might fail to keep even a duchy.

3. GREGORY VJI AND HENRY IV

The death of Henry III gave the regency to his widow, Agnes
of Poitou, who governed Germany in the name of her infant son
for six years. Agnes, being a woman of mediocre ability and
suffering from the added handicap of having a foreign upbring-
ing, utterly failed to control the situation. On all sides ambitious
princes sought to profit by the king’s minority and before long the
kingdom was in turmoil. In 1062 the regency of Agnes came
to a sudden and dramatic end. Encouraged by a group of dis-
contented nobles, the archbishop of Cologne secured control of
the royal administration by the simple expedient of kidnaping the
young king. Next it was the archbishop of Bremen who made
himself all-powerful at court. Finally, in 1066, Henry decided
to take charge of the government himself. A youth of seventeen,
he was thus called on to restore order in three kingdoms, where
for the past ten years his vassals had become accustomed to act
very much as they pleased. In Italy and Burgundy he could as yet
hope to accomplish little; but in (jermany the prestige of the

THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY 31 1

monarchy, though impaired, was still great. And for a time
circumstance continued to aid the king in developing an inde-
pendent policy.

Henry IV, though somewhat spoiled as a child, quickly grew
into a man of very remarkable ability. Easily intoxicated by
success, he was constantly liable to overreach himself by foolish
violence; and yet, when met by disaster, he displayed intelligence
and resolution deserving a kindlier fate than was his. It was
indeed a tragic destiny that compelled him to fight a losing battle
against insuperable odds. Although the cause that he defended
was not altogether noble, it was one which he inherited with his
crown and which he felt that he could not abandon without utter
loss of self-respect. If he had been left free to concentrate his
energy in a struggle with the German baronage, he might well
have triumphed and still, like William the Conqueror in England,
have remained on good terms with the reformed papacy. It was
the imperial heritage that led' to his ruin and the ruin of the king-
ship that he bequeathed to his unfortunate successors.

For a while, however, Henry was concerned principally with
local problems. Apparently realizing that the monarchy still The Saxon
lacked a solid foundation on which to erect any permanent gov-
emmental structure, Henry began an intensive campaign to reor-
ganize and consolidate his domain lands. Since these lay pri-
marily in Saxony, the contemplated reform would have the added
advantage of strengthening the royal control over that almost in-
dependent duchy. So the king proceeded with a high hand to re-
assert his title to broad estates which he said had been unlawfully
alienated, to substitute low-born South Germans for unruly Saxon
officials, and on all sides to raise castles as centers of defense and
administration. Such procedure was tantamount to the creation
of a new royal principality, and the Saxon aristocracy, with con-
siderable justification, felt that the step boded ill for their cher-
ished autonomy. One of the magnates to be displeased by the
king’s action was Otto of Nordheim, a Saxon noble whom Agnes
had made duke of Bavaria. In 1070 Otto was suddenly accused
of traitorous conduct and deprived of his dukedom. Fleeing to
the north, he found ready support from Magnus, son of the
Saxon duke, and the result was the first insurrection against
Henry IV.

The king, however, acted promptly and in 1071 captured both

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

Leo IX
(1049-54)
and the
rise of
HHde-
brand

312

rebels — a success that encouraged him to extend his ambitious
projects. When the duke died in the following year, Henry kept
IMagnus in prison and threatened, by the further erection of cas-
tles, to establish personal dominion throughout the entire duchy.
The vanity of such an ambition was proved by the great explosion
of 1073. Almost every Saxon noble, lay and clerical, seized arms
to oppose the royal aggression. Henry, engaged in preparation
for a Polish war, 'was taken completely by surpfise and for a year
remained powerless to resist the demands either of the Saxons
or of the southern dukes, who were quick to take advantage of
the situation. Yet within another year, by adroitly playing off
one party against another, Henry had regained his mastery. Not
a prince outside the rebellious duchy dared refuse his summons
in the spring of 1075. With an imposing army of knights, Henry
then fell on the Saxon host, still largely made up of old-fashioned
foot-soldiers, and in June won a decisive victory. By the end of
the year, with the revolt crushed and’ its leaders in prison, Saxony
again lay at his feet. Once more Henry overestimated the quality
of his triumph. At a moment when every German prince was
alarmed over the king’s ruthless treatment of his opponents, he
saw fit to invite a bitter conflict with one of the great popes of all
time.

This man, until his election to the see of St. Peter, bore the
name of Hildebrand. From that fact it has been supposed that
he was of Germanic extraction; but little is known of his early -
life except that he was brought up in Rome and took minor ordefs
under Gregory VI, one of the popes put out of office by Henry III
in 1046. Following Gregory into exile, Hildebrand spent several
years as a^monk in the Rhinelands, where he became identified
with the reform sponsored by Cluny and other religious, centers.
There, too, he attracted the notice of Bruno, bishop of Toul, who,
on being nominated to the papacy in 1049, him back to
Rome, Leo IX, as the new pope styled himself, immediately
assumed the leadership of the reform movement in EuroJ>e and
through his energetic personality made his pontificate of six
years one of the most significant in history. With him the long
degradation of the Roman church suddenly ended. Traveling
through France and Germany, as well as Italy, Leo everywhere
held councils devoted to the punishment of simony and .clerical
marriage, and at the same time he revived the papal influence

THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY 313

over the great prelates and temporal princes of the west. In all
this work Hildebrand was from the outset intimately associated.

After the death of Leo’s successor, the line of German popes
came to an end. In 1058 an Italian bishop was elected as Nicho- Nicholas
las II, and with his pontificate the* growing independence of the
Roman church became clearly apparent. Hildebrand, whose re-
forming activity had been unceasing, was now made principal
assistant to Nicholas, with the title of archdeacon. So it was
hardly mere coincidence that in this same year, 1039, the papacy
should adopt two measures df the utmost significance. One was
the alliance with the Normans in southern Italy, by which — ^as
noted above — Robert Guiscard’s conquests were made into a
papal fief and the Sicilian expedition of Count Roger received the
formal blessing of the church.^^ This treaty was a notable victory
for the diplomacy of Hildebrand, who had conducted the pre-
liminary negotiations, and its meaning was plain to all observers :
the papacy, backed by the lances of the Normans, was no longer to
be subservient to the German king.

The complement to the new departure in external policy was the
famous electoral decree of 1059. The provision of the canon
law,^^ that a bishop should be elected by the clergy and people of
the diocese, had long since come to mean that the effective decision
rested with the former only. And very generally the right
had devolved in particular on those clergy who were attached to
the service of the cathedral and were organized in a chapter under
a monastic or semi-monastic rule^ These groups, however, had
almost without exception come under the domination of some
king or prince, whose nomination to the vacant see was the equiva-
lent of appointriient. Such power had regularly been enjoyed by
Charlemagne and his successors, including the Saxon and Fran-
conian kings. The control of the papacy by the latter rested on
the extension of the same system into Italy through the revival
of the imperial title. Even the pious and virtuous Henry III
had named popes quite as a matter of course, and his impetuous
son Had not the slightest intention of renouncing his inherited
rights.^ To the imperial claim the decree of 1059 issued a sharp
challenge, for it vested the control of papal elections in the

See above, p. 280.

The law forced in ecclesiastical courts is technically known as the canon

law.

HUde-
brand’s
election
as pope

(1073)

314 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

cardinal clergy of Rome.^^ All initiative in the matter was given
to the cardinal bishops ; the emperor was left no function beyond
that of confirming an accomplished act.

On the death of Nicholas in 1061, the imperial court made
an effort to dictate the election of his successor ; but the abduction
of the king resulted in the triumph of the Roman candidate,
Alexander II, who thereupon held uncontested sway throughout
the remainder of his life. During his entire pontificate it was
Hildebrand who generally dominated the papal counsels.
Through the vigorous policy of the latter, Alexander gave his
support to the Norman expedition against Harold of England,
the success of which assured papal control of the church in
Britain. Even, in Germany the cause of reform made distinct
headway. Henry IV, in the early years of his personal govern-
ment, showed himself very conciliatory, readily agreeing to dis-
miss from his court various bishops found guilty of simony. And
since the Saxon war broke out just as Alexander died in 1073,
the king was given no opportunity to protest the election of Hilde-
brand. That event, as far as Roman sentiment was concerned,
was a foregone conclusion, for the passing from the scene of all
other prominent figures left the great archdeacon as the sole out-
standing candidate. The populace, indeed, refused to wait for
the action of the cardinals ; they acclaimed Hildebrand pope even
before the funeral services for Alexander had been completed.
The election was at best a tumultuous affair; but there was no
one to challenge its validity, and the new pope, assuming the
name of Gregory VII, was promptly recognized by Henry IV.

Gregory is described by contemporaries as a small and rather
unattractive man; as in the case of Napoleon, his physique was no
measure of his greatness. Though not called on to lead armies or
to remake the map of Europe, he possessed the genius for com-
mand and the statesmanlike intelligence that are commonly known
as Napoleonic. And the fact that his entire life was unswervingly
devoted to a lofty ideal gave him a moral grandeur that has been
commonly wanting in generals and world-rulers. There can be as
little question of his sincerity as of his experience. Gregory’s
every word and act prove that his own personality was submerged
in the office which he fervently believed to be the supreme au-

The name comes from the Latin cardo^ a hinge. The cardinal clergy are
by definition those who serve at the axis of Christendom — ^at Rome.

THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY 315

tharity on earth. Nor was this concept of the papacy the product
of scholarly study. He was a comparatively unlearned man,
holding, like the first Gregory, to the “wise foolishness of God/'
To him, as to St. Augustine, the problem of church and state re-
solved itself into a matter of right and wrong. The power that
could absolve from sin must be above all others. And to him the
Petrine supremacy was no merely convenient theory. When
Gregory said that through him one might hear the voice of St.
Peter, Chief of the Apostles, he expressed his profoundest convic-
tion. Furthermore, we may be sure that Gregory sought no
violent altercation with Henry IV. His attitude toward William
of England shows that he was quite willing to arrange a sensible
agreement with a powerful king who was loyal to the papacy.
His controversy over the imperial authority was provoked not by
his regard for abstract principle, but by a very practical issue that
could not be avoided. When such an issue arose, Gregory thought
clearly and acted decisively.

During the early years of his pontificate Gregory's chief atten-
tion continued to be given to the campaign against simony and
clerical marriage. In this connection he encountered much oppo-
sition from prelates in Germany and Lombardy who had been
appointed through the influence of the king. Even those bishops
who favored reform bitterly resented the efforts of the pope to
enforce his direct authority. Henry, plunged in political troubles
and anxious to secure coronation as emperor, still maintained
a submissive attitude. So Gregory proceeded without hesitation
to suspend a number of bishops for disobedience, and finally, in
the spring of 1075, struck at what he considered another root
of evil by prohibiting lay investiture. Kings and princes might
still be allowed to exert some influence in elections, but the sym-
bols of ecclesiastical office could be conferred upon the successful
candidate only by an ecclesiastic.

To the announcement of this decree Henry made no reply and
by the end of the year showed only too clearly that his earlier
humility had been assumed merely to gain time. In December,
therefore, Gregory sent him a warning letter, threatening excom-
munication unless he at once proved his good faith and whole-
heartedly joined the Apostolic See in supporting the program of
reform. Henry, dazzled by his recent triumph in Saxony, then
threw aside all cation and announced to the world that he pro-

The in-
vestiture
con-
troversy

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

316

Excom-
mtmica-
tion of
Henry
(1076)

Canossa

(1077)

posed to reassert his power in Italy and reduce the papacy to its
old subservience. Summoning his bishops to a council at Worms
in January, 1076, he easily inspired them to denounce the pope as
a usurper and declare him deposed from office. Adopting their
sentence and decorating it with insulting language of his own,
Henry wrote the pope to the same effect, calling him a “false
monk” and bidding him to come down from the apostolic seat
which he had secured through violence and “be accursed through
all the ages.”

Gregory’s answer to this challenge could not be a matter of
doubt. Every king, being human, was subject to the discipline of
the church for his sins. Nearly seven hundred years earlier Am-
brose of Milan had enforced that lesson against the magnificent
emperor Theodosius. Henry had been warned to repent and to
correct his ways. He had not only refused, but had attacked the
divine authority of the Roman bishop. So Gregory, in solemn
language of admirable simplicity, declared Henry excommunicate
and deprived of his regal authority; his subjects, released from
their oaths of fealty, were to be free to elect another in his place.
The very boldness of this pronouncement caused a tremendous
sensation. Yet, if it had not been based on shrewd political cal-
culation, it would have remained only a heroic gesture. As it was,
Gregory proved that he had analyzed the situation in Germany
more accurately than had Henry. The princes, already aroused
by the threatening attitude of the monarchy, welcomed the pope’s
authorization of revolt. Meeting at Tribur in October, 1076,
they declared Henry deposed unless he could secure absolution
within a year and, being unable to agree on a rival candidate, post-
poned further action until, in the following February, they could
reassemble at Augsburg under the presidency of the pope.

By the end of 1076 Henry found his victories of the previous
year entirely undone. All the Saxon rebels had beai released and
were again intrenched in their old positions. Virtually the whole
lay nobility of the kingdom had turned against him; even the
bishops, frightened at the consequences of their action, had
hastened to make submission. There was only one escape for
the king: to prevent the union of his enemies at Augsburg, he
must swallow his pride and come to terms with the pope. Ac-
cordingly, in the last days of December. Henry set out on his
arduous and humiliating journey. Gregory, in the meantime,
had started for Germany; but hearing that Henry had already

THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY 317

crossed the Alps, he fell back to Canossa, a castle of his staunch
supporter, the countess of Tuscany. Here in January, 1077, ap-
peared Henry — ^barefooted, garbed in coarse wool, and stripped
of all regalia. Gregory, as he tells us in his own letter, kept
Henry waiting for three days ; perhaps he was reluctant to aban-
don the dictatorship of German affairs. As a priest of the church,
however, Gregory had to receive the penitent and grant him
absolution.

This famous episode was hailed then, and has since been re-
garded, as a great moral victory for the church. It proclaimed
to the world that the papacy, within the lifetime of one man,
had been rescued from its long-continued decadence and raised
to a new height of renown. Captivating the imagination of feu-
dal Europe, the incident seemed to usher in a new and glorious
age — ^the age of the crusades. For the moment the chief gainer
was Henry, who had circumvented his enemies and given himself
another chance to rebuild his fortunes. The princes, to be sure,
went ahead with their plans. Rudolf, duke of Suabia, was finally
set up as anti-king, and civil war continued to blaze. Yet the
king’s cause made progress, and in 1080 he succeeded in disposing
of Rudolf. Having once more broken with Gregory and incurred
a second excommunication, he now took an array to Italy and en-
gaged in a three-year war with the papal forces. At last, when
Gregory had refused aU compromise, Henry took Rome, installed
an anti-pope, and from him received the imperial crown (1084).
Gregory, holding out in one of his castles, appealed for aid to
Robert Guiscard, just returned from an expedition to Greece.^*
The Normans, as usual, proved to be unscrupulous allies. They
not only drove Henry from Rome, but subjected the city to
pillage. When they left, Gregory, irf fejir of reprisals, went with
them — ^to die at Salerno in May, 1085. His last days were spent
in bitter despondency. At the end he is reported to have ex-
claimed; “I have loved righteousness and hated iniquity; there-
fore I die in exile.”

Nevertheless, the cause for which Gregory lived and died had
suffered no lasting defeat. Henry’s attempt to dominate Italy
resulted merely in the weakening of his hold on Germany. The
civil war could not be quenched. Although he pacified Saxony
by abandoning his original project, he was faced by a series of

The death
of Greg-
ory VII
(1085)

The

death of
Henry IV
(1106)

See bdow, {>. 331.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Theories
of church
and state

318

Other rebellions, in which his own sons came to play a prominent
part. Long before his death in the midst of this miserable
struggle, Henry had abandoned Italy, and the Roman church
had regained complete independence. The first great conflict be-
tween the empire and the papacy thus ended in a triumph for the
latter. This advantage it was to maintain for well over a hundred
years — a, period of glorious achievement for western Europe.

During that time many other German kings were to revive the
ill-fated ambitions of Henry IV and to be thwarted by other
statesmanlike popes. While the circumstances changed, the fun-
damental issues remained the same. A mountain of controversial
literature was to accumulate, yet its essential arguments can be
very briefly stated. The imperialists continued to be fascinated
by the tradition of Charlemagne, which was the tradition of the
Roman Empire. The ecclesiastical theory of Otto I and his suc-
cessors was substantially that of Justinian, Theodosius, and Con-
stantine : the church, though permitted to decide matters of doc-
trine and to establish its own discipline, was a department of
state. Like other departments, it was under the supreme control
of the emperor, who held himself directly responsible to God.
The ministers of the church, no less than lay officials, were im-
perial subjects; for men should “render unto Csesar the things
which are Caesar’s.” As a matter of history, this was an excellent
thesis. The question was : Could it be applied to the Europe of
the eleventh century? The imperialist doctrine ignored the fact
that the Christian world was no longer an empire except in
imagination. It was to become increasingly doubtful whether
the emperor could enforce any real authority even in those regions
where his nominal sovereignty was recognized. As a matter of
academic discussion, it was all very well to appeal to memories of
Roman majesty. In actuality, how could such an appeal bring
security or inspiration to western Christendom?

To the advocates of ecclesiastical reform the conclusion seemed
inescapable. The church, as an international organization, could
not be subject to any state, whether or not the latter styled itself
an empire. The papacy owed its existence as a world power to its
independence of any western Csesar. It was the dominance of the
Byzantine government that had constantly brought the Greek
church into conflict with the papacy. Furthermore, the great
fathers, headed by St. Augustine, had doquently demonstrated
that all political institutions were the consequence of Adam’s

THE EMPIRE AND THE PAPACY 319

sin. If man had remained in his pristine innocence, there would
be no evil in the world. And without evil, there would be no
need of governors, armies, police, courts, and penal laws. The
state, therefore, was an ephemeral thing, necessary, but not di-
vine like the church. The latter was the immediate representa-
tive of God on earth. It held the sole power among men of dis-
tinguishing good from evil. All persons, including kings and
emperors, were subject to its jurisdiction. Its supreme head,
the Roman bishop, held the keys of heaven and hell. He had to
be recognized as the final arbiter of all human affairs. Under him
all Christians formed one commonwealth. Separate kingdoms
and principalities might each have its rightful and necessary func-
tions, but in case of conflict all should obey the church and its
sovereign spokesman, the pope.

Stated by a John XII, such a pronouncement would have had
few listeners. Stated by Gregory VII, it swept Europe. The
consequence of the enthusiasm which he awakened may be seen
in the crusade of 1095.

CHAPTER XIV

The

Byzantine
Empire
under the
Macedo-
nian
dynasty

THE CRUSADE

I. THE EAST BEFORE THE CRUSADE

The Turks, against whom the crusade was suddenly launched
in logs, ^ose to prominence in Asia through the decay of two
powers : the caliphate at Bagdad and the Byzantine Empire. The
latter, after heroic defense against the Moslem attack in the
eighth century, sadly declined in the ninth. It was during this
period of weakness that the Bulgarians extended their conquests
across the Balkan peninsula, and Pope Nicholas I denounced the
imperial government for unlawfully deposing a patriarch of Con-
stantinople.^ The wearer of the purple at the most critical mo-
ment was the unworthy Michael III who, from one of his minor
vices, came to be called the Drunkard. Being passionately fond
of chariot-racing, he singled out from among his low-born com-
panions a Macedonian horse trainer named Basil and loaded him
with honors. From the office of chief equerry, Basil eventually
rose to be co-emperor, rivaled in power only by MichaeFs uncle.
In 866 the latter was disposed of by assassination, and when
Michael gave signs of transferring his affections, Basil secured
undisputed title to the throne by having him murdered also. Thus
was founded the illustrious Macedonian dynasty which, in one
fashion or another, maintained its authority at Constantinople for
nearly two hundred years.

Basil's reign (867-86) was not unsuccessful. He actively
pushed a much needed reform of the finances, issued some ad-
mirable law books to supplement Justinian's compilation of three
centuries earlier, and called a general council to reestablish peace
in the church. Basil's son and grandson were men of scholarly
tastes, who not only encouraged learning on the part of others,
but themselves produced many noteworthy books, mainly dealing
with phases of the imperial administration. In private morals,
however, the Macedonian emperors were far from paragons and,
as time passed, the record became unbelievably fantastic. In the
later tenth century the court came to be dominated by the empress

1 See above, pp. 233, 241.

THE CRUSADE 321

Theophano. She, it was said, made her husband emperor by
helping to murder his father, and then made herself a widow
by poisoning her husband. In 963, at any rate, she married the
victorious general, Nicephorus Phocas.

A noble of Cappadocia descended from a long line of distin-
guished soldiers, Nicephorus had recently gained renown by tak-
ing Crete and fighting successful campaigns in Asia. As emperor
by marriage, he now continued his triumphant oflFensive, complet-
ing the conquest of Cilicia, Cyprus, and a portion of northern
Syria, including Antioch and Aleppo. Momentarily it seemed as
if the Roman state, surviving the short-lived empire of the caliphs,
might yet revive the glories of Heraclius. The empress, mean-
while, had tired of her soldier-husband’s severity. So, in 969,
she connived at his assassination by his nephew, an Armenian
cavalry officer named John Tzimisces (originally Chemshkik).
Having already stooped to very foul means, John did not hesi-
tate at perjury to assure his coronation. All blame was cast on
Theophano and she was locked up in a convent for the rest of
her life. To legitimate his usurpation, the new sovereign then
married a princess of the Macedonian house. Normally we
should hardly expect noble achievements from a reign thus in-
augurated ; but such circumstances were not unusual at Constan-
tinople, and John made a good emperor. While maintaining reli-
gious peace and political stability, he won a military success on
the northern frontier that was destined to have important con-
sequences.

Bulgaria, Christianized in the later eighth century under Boris
I, reached its height of power under his son Simeon, the first of
the line to assume the title of tsar, or emperor. On Simeon’s
death in 927 the monarchy weakened; by the time of Nicephorus
the western half of Bulgaria had broken off as a separate state,
the Serbs had reasserted their independence, and from the north
had appeared a new host of invaders led by the Russians. The
latter, as we have already seen, were by origin Swedish vikings
who had gained control of the trade routes between the Baltic
and the Blade Sea.^ By the tenth century their scattered bands
had come to be more or less united under the rule of a prince at
Kiev, who also enjoyed a wide dominion over the nomads of the
steppe and the Slavic tribes of the interior. From the Dnieper

Nice-
phorus
Phocas
and John
Tzimisces
(963-76)

The rise
of the
Russians

See above, p. 232.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Basil II
(976-1025)

The end
of the
Macedo-
nian
d3masty

322

the Russians, at the head of mixed armies, extended their plun-
dering, on the one hand to the shores of the Caspian and, on the
other, to the Balkan kingdoms. Down to the middle of tlie tenth
century the princes of Kiev bore Scandinavian names, after that
Slavic. For example, it Tvas Igor who led an attack on Constan-
tinople between 941 and 945. His wife and successor was Olga,
but their son was called Svyatoslav and his son was the famous
Vladimir. At the accession of John Tzimisces, the Russians had
overrun Bulgaria and from there were preparing to advance on
Adrianople. In 971 the emperor intervened. The Russians were
driven beyond the Danube and forced to make peace. Eastern
Bulgaria was turned into a Byzantine province.

John’s northern war was continued by Basil II, brother of the
princess Theophano who had been married to Otto II.® After
putting down an insurrection in Eastern Bulgaria, Basil turned
upon the western kingdom and reduced it also. By an amazing
recovery, the imperial border was thus brought back to the Dan-
ube. Meanwhile Basil had established friendly relations with
the Russian prince, Vladimir, whose dominions extended from
the frontiers of Poland to the coast of the Black Sea. By the
peace now sworn, both states secured valuable commercial rights.
The emperor, furthermore, obtained an army for his personal pro-
tection — ^the famous Varangian guard, which continued to serve
at Constantinople for well over a century. On his side, Vladimir
agreed to accept Christianity for himself and his people. This
promise he faithfully carried out, and thereby the Russians were
brought within the pale of civilized nations.

Basil II died in 1025, and an ignoble brother survived him
only three years, leaving two daughters, Zoe and Theodora, to end
the dynasty. The former selected in turn three emperor-hus-
bands, and yet had as heir only her sister, who died unmarried
in 1056. There were to be no further revivals of imperial strength.
The Macedonian family, in spite of the slimy intrigue that per-
petually entangled it, had produced a number of talented em-
perors. In the eleventh century the old depravity continued, un-
relieved by even sporadic outbursts of constructive energy — a
weary recital of civil war, palace revolution, and vicious incom-
petence. The outstanding events which thenceforth affected the
fate of the empire cast no credit on its rulers — ^the permanent

3 See above, p. 300.

THE CRUSADE 323

schism with the Roman church, the loss of Italy to the Normans,
and the triumph of the Turks in Asia Minor. One of these
events has already been noted ; the other two must now briefly oc-
cupy our attention.

Relations between the eastern and western churches had fre-
quently been broken before the eleventh century; even when the
two sections of Christendom had been nominally at peace, they
had never been in complete agreement. The fundamental cause
of this chronic disharmony was of course the ancient contrast
between the Greek and Latin cultures, which led to different ideals
in religion and in ecclesiastical organization. Such differences,
however, were in themselves hardly adequate to produce a major
schism. Congregations might well use a variety of languages,
follow separate rituals, and even disagree on points of discipline,
without denying to one another communion in the one true faith.
The sole issue of grave importance was the papal headship, to
which the eastern bishops had never given enthusiastic support.
Nor, so long as they were dominated by the imperial court, would
they ever do so, for Rome had become identified with the principle
of ecclesiastical independence. Yet the emperors were in the
main easy-gojng politicians, anxious to avoid religious contro-
versy; and even the more aggressive popes were too sensible to
insist on a program of perfection. Normally, therefore, both
parties were willing to compromise on a working agreement; it
was only some untoward event that precipitated a crisis.

In the eighth century a violent breach had been occasioned by
the Iconoclastic Controversy,^ in the course of which the pope
met the hostility of the emperor by recognizing the sovereign
authority of the Frankish king. The final restoration of images
throughout the east in 843 ended that schism, but almost at once
Pope Nicholas I brought on another by championing the cause of
a deposed patriarch at Constantinople. On this occasion Photius>
the imperial nominee to the patriarchate, had formally condemned
the Latins for various irregularities — ^such as eating eggs in Lent,
using unleavened bread in the mass, shaving the faces of priests,
and saying that the Holy Spirit proceeded from the Father and
the Son (Filiogue). Just at the crucial moment, however, the
accession of Basil I relieved the situation, and after much re-
crimination peace was restored in 898. Then ensued the degrada-

The

eastern

and

western

churches

^ See above,, pp. J79 f-, 241*

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Ecclesi-
astical
rivalry
among the
Slavs

3^4

tion of the Roman church, and the Byzantine emperors of the
tenth century came to disregard the possibility of interference
from the west. It was logical, therefore, that no serious trouble
should arise until the epoch-making pontificate of Leo IX.

Meanwhile another cause of ill-feeling between Rome and
Constantinople had arisen — ^the bitter rivalry of the two churches
for the domination of eastern Europe. This contest began in the
ninth century, after the extension of Charlemagne’s empire had
first brought Christian missionaries into direct contact with the
Slavic peoples along the frontier. There the Roman cause was
f fom the first identified with that of the German conquerors, who
were led by political as well as by religious motives to oppose all
Greek influence from the east. So it happened that the work of
two brothers from Salonica, later known as Saints Cyril and
Methodius, at once became the subject of controversy. Fired
with the ambition of spreading the Gospel into Moravia, Cyril
devised an alphabet of modified Greek characters in which to
write the Slavic language, and by means of it translated books of
divine service and portions of the Bible for use among the
heathen. The two brothers then went to Moravia, but there, in
the face of opposition from the west, failed to obtain permanent
success. Although the Czechs rapidly adopted Christianity, their
ecclesiastical system was destined to be Latin — a result assured by
the Magyar invasion and the subsequent establishment of the
Holy Roman Empire. By the end of the tenth century, not only
Bohemia, but also Poland and Hungary had been organized as
Christian states under German influence and with a clergy depend-
ent on Rome.

To the south and east, however, the work of Cyril and Metho-
dius won a triumph such as they could never have foreseen.
Cyril’s liturgy, originally composed in the vernacular of Mace-
donia, was readily accepted by the Serbs and Croatians, and when
Boris I adopted Christianity, it was that same system which
became official throughout Bulgaria. The popes, to be sure,
tried to enforce their authority over the newly organized churches,
but in this respect their cause was ruined by the schism that lasted
from 867 to 898. Afterwards the advancing power of the Mace-
donian emperors, together with the collapse of Roman prestige,
assured Byzantine dominance in the BaBcans. Under Basil II,
Constantinople gained an even more significant victory through
the conversion of the Russians, for Vladimir’s acceptance of the

THE CRUSADE

325

Greek ecclesiastical system resulted in its extension from the
Black Sea to the Baltic. With the Greek church went Greek in-
fluence in the fields of politics, commerce, art, and all intellectual
life. Even today the prevalence of a semi-Greek alphabet —
modification of Cyril’s original invention — ^marks off one great
section of the Slavic world from the other, which has continued
to use the Latin alphabet ever since the tenth century.

Another long-standing cause of friction between the papacy and
the Byzantine Empire was the ecclesiastical status of southern The final
Italy. At the height of the Iconoclastic Controversy the emperor schism
Leo III formally removed his Italian provinces from the juris-
diction of the Roman church, and in spite of the later reconcilia-
tion, his decree remained in effect. Whether it could be enforced (1054)
by the feeble successors of Basil II remained problematical until
the whole situation was changed by the conquest of Robert Guis-
card.® That event immediately raised another question: What
should be the attitude of the papacy toward the Normans? The
pope at the time was the able Leo IX. At first he thought, by
joining forces with the emperor, to advance the Roman cause at
Constantinople. Unfortunately for this plan, the Normans had
no difficulty in defeating both the imperial and the papal armies.

Then, while the pope's attitude was still in doubt, the headstrong
Michael Cerularius, patriarch of Constantinople, precipitated a
religious crisis. Reviving the policy of Photius, he denounced
all the peculiar usages of the Latins and closed all churches in
his capital where they were in force. The pope, accordingly, was
given no choice. Just before his death, Leo IX signed peace with
the Normans and excommunicated the patriarch. The latter, tak-
ing advantage of the vacancy at Rome, drove the incompetent
emperor into a reversal of policy, called a synod in the summer of
1054, and there secured formal condemnation of the Roman
church and all who accepted its authority.

Thus was written the final act in the intermittent conflict be-
tween the eastern and the western churches, for the breach made
in 1054 has remained unhealed down to the present. Careful
analysis of the events leading up to it tends to place the responsi-
bility with the patriarch Michael Cerularius. Some, of course,
may argue that morally his action was wholly laudable; but it is
hard to see why the schism was inevitable. The papacy at that

* See above, pp. 279 f., 513.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

326

The rise
of the
Seljuk
Turks

The

Battle of

Manzikert

(1071)

time was no other than it had claimed to be for many centuries,
and* Leo’s conduct throughout the affair was irreproachable.
Michael, an able but politically ambitious prelate, deliberately
broke with Rome by condemning practices which Rome would
never abandon. In any case, as far as the Byzantine Empire was
concerned, the step was suicidal. At the very moment when the
papacy was assuming the leadership of a reinvigorated Europe,
Constantinople chose to assert its uncompromising independence
— and this on the eve of another great Mohammedan offensive in
Asia!

The disintegration of the Arab state under the Abbasids has
been briefly described in a previous chapter. By the end of the
tenth century the caliphate had become a mere name; actually
the Moslem territories were held by a large number of inde-
pendent princes, some of whom were avowed supporters of hereti-
cal doctrines. Since 945, in fact, one of these unorthodox-
chieftains had controlled Bagdad itself, making and unmaking
caliphs at discretion. Among the adventurers who profited by
this state of affairs were many Turks.® Adopting Islam and
migrating westward in large numbers, they had become especially
prominent as mercenary troops — a profession that has always
tended to produce streams of conquerors. By such a transition
one band in particular was now to achieve spectacular fortune.
The tribe of a Turk named Seljuk is first heard of in the service
of a local emir to the east of the Oxus. Early in the eleventh
century the sons of Seljuk, with the permission of the authorities,
led their forces into Khorassan, where they quickly became so
powerful that they could defy all their neighbors. When the
governor of the province tried to put them out, they put him out,
and thenceforth recognized no superior except the caliph. By
1038 Togrul Beg, grandson of Seljuk, had established himself at
Nishapur with the title of sultan.*^ In 1055 he entered Bagdad,
freed the caliph from the despotism of the Persian heretic, and
substituted his own control. So a Turkish adventurer, now styl-
ing himself Right Hand of the Commander of the Faithful, came
to rule the Arab empire, or as much of it as he could conquer.

In 1063 the power of Togrul Beg was inherited by his son Alp
Arslan (Brave Lion), who proceeded with amazing energy to ex-
tend his dominion on every side. Having subdued all Persia,

® See above, p. 114.

^ A vague Arabic word meamug ruler.

THE CRUSADE 327

together with the territory eastward to the Oxus, he turned in the
opposite direction to complete the reduction of Armenia. That
unfortunate Christian kingdom, after regaining its independence
from the weakening caliphate, had recently been annexed by the
Byzantine Empire. It was now left to a cruel fate, being virtually
destroyed by Alp Arslan in 1065. Then, while bands of Ar-
menian fugitives were finding new homes in Cilicia, the Turks
pressed on into Cappadocia. At Constantinople, meanwhile, the
throne had passed to Romanus IV, a brave soldier but a poor
general. Taking the field against the Turkish raiders, he rashly
drove them far back into the mountains of Armenia, where in
1071 Alp Arslan annihilated his army at Manzikert. Like the
Moslem victory on the Yarmuk four centuries before, this battle
radically changed the course of history. The Byzantine military
power, so carefully preserved by the Macedonian emperors, was
permanently destroyed, and the whole of Asia Minor, together
with the conquests of Nicephorus Phocas, was engulfed by a
new tide of Mohammedan invasion. Anatolia, which for hun-
dreds of years had supplied the empire with the best of its com-
manders and civil servants, was now recolonized by savage immi-
grants, whom the prospect of easily won riches brought in swarms
from their distant homelands. Greek civilization persisted in the
towns of the coast, but from that day to this the interior of Asia
Minor has been solidly Turkish.

Alp Arslan did not live to see the momentous consequences of
his victory at Manzikert. Dying in the year, he was suc-
ceeded by his son Malik Shah (1072-92), with, whom the Seljuk
power reached its height. Theoretically, he remained merely the
dq)uty of the caliph ; actually he bore what had been the caliph’s
own title. Commander of the Faithful, and his word was law over
a vast expanse of territory. In Asia Minor Byzantine resistance
completely broke down, and there Suleiman, a cousin of Malik
Shah, established himself as sultan of Roum (Rome) with his
capital at Nicsea, just across the strait from Constantinople. In
Syria, meanwhile, the local d3masty put up a stubborn fight against
the Seljuks, but by 1080 it too had yielded. So Turkish emirs
came to rule at Jerusalem, Damascus, Aleppo, and Antioch. His-
tory then repeated itself. The death of Malik Shah was followed
by civil war over the succession, and the reconstituted Moslem
empire broke apart into warring fragments. That was the situa-
tion when, for ti»e first time since the decay of ancient Rome, an

The Turks
in Asia
Minor and
Syria

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Christian
offensives
in the
west

Spain

328

army from western Europe assumed the offensive on the eastern
shore of the Mediterranean.

2. THE WEST BEFORE THE CRUSADE

In the last decade of the eleventh century widely separated
currents of influence converged to produce the great movement
known as the Crusade. In the east the collapse of the Byzantine
Empire before the Turkish onslaught provided a favorable oc-
casion for western intervention, but the power that made possible
a magnificent counter-attack was the feudal aristocracy of the
west marshaled under the banner of the reformed papacy. This
dramatic climax cannot be explained by drawing up a simple list
of alleged causes. Obviously, before we can see why the war-
like hosts of western Christendom launched an ambitious offen-
sive in far-off Asia, we must understand how they had come to
assume any offensive at all. In the eighth century the original
drive of the Arabs against Europe had been checked by two
powers: the Byzantine Empire in the east and the Franks in
the west. Both had then been compelled to stand on the defensive
for a long time. As late as the tenth century, while the Mace-
donian emperors were reconquering Crete, Cyprus, and north-
ern S3a'ia, the African Moslems were still extending their domin-
ion in the western Mediterranean, occupying Sicily and ravaging
the coasts of Gaul and Italy. It was not until the eleventh cen-
tury that they were gradually compelled, through the increasing
strength of their foes, to withdraw from their advanced positions.

How the Christian princes of Spain, aided by thousands of
French recruits, began a successful advance against the paralyzed
caliphate of Cordova has been seen in an earlier chapter. By
1085 they had gained such headway that the local emirs, as a last
desperate resort, decided to call in the Almoravids (al-murabitun,
religious ascetics). The latter had begun as a group of fanatical
Berbers pledged to revive the original purity of the Mohammedan
faith. Emerging from the region of the Sahara, they had quickly
built up a formidable army llirough an effective combination of
preaching and raiding, and so had won absolute control of north-
ern Africa as far east as Algiers. On hearing the appeal of
the Spanish Moors, their chiefs naturally answered with enthusi-
asm and in 1086 dispatched a force across the strait. The result
was the battle of Zallaca, in which the Christians suffered a terrific
defeat. They were, in fact, able to hold their recent conquests

THE CRUSADE 329

largely because the reforming zeal of the Almoravids immediately
embroiled them with the easy-going princes whom they had come
to rescue. Thanks to this respite, the Christians were able to
secure necessary reinforcements, and eventually their hosts again
swept forward.

The fate of Spain was of course decided by land warfare, but
to the eastward a contest of even greater significance was taking
place on the sea. By means of their naval supremacy, the Mos-
lems had secured possession of the western Mediterranean islands
and from these bases had established for themselves a virtual
monopoly of trade between Europe and Africa. Until the Sara-
cen fleets were swept from the neighboring waters, Provencal and
Italian merchants could expect no relief from the piratical attacks
to which they had long been exposed. And in the absence of any
competent royal or princely authority, it was the cities of Italy
which had to assume the leadership. How the eleventh century
brought a striking revival of commerce and urban life to the
more progressive regions of the west will be seen in the next
chapter. For the moment it need only be stated that the opening
of that century found three great seaports able and willing to
undertake a war against the infidel: Venice, Genoa, and Pisa.
Venetian ships were already engaged in cleaning out the nests of
freebooters along the Adriatic shore; from there it was a simple
matter to turn against the corsairs of Sicily. In 1022 a joint
expedition from Pisa and Genoa captured the island of Sardinia
and during the ensuing years these cities, together or separately,
carried out successful offensives all through the western Mediter-
ranean. Finally, in 1087, their occupation of Mahdiyah in Tunis
forced the emir of that region to submit to their terms, and this
victory may be said to have ended, the Moslem sea power in the
west.

The Italian cities, in return for commercial advantages, also
gave valuable aid to the Norman advance. Within six years after
Leo IX had broken with Constantinople, his successor, Nicholas
II, recognized Robert Guiscard as duke of Apulia. In 1071 the
capture of Bari completed the conquest of the Byzantine prov-
inces, and the fall of Palermo in the next year assured the ulti-
mate reduction of Sicily. Turning to the north, Guiscard then
took Salerno and pushed his troops into the old duchy of Bene-
vento— aggressions which for a time won him the hostility of
Gregory VII. Bnt the latter, on becoming once more embroiled

The war
on the sea

The

Norman
power in
Italy

MEDI^Vx\L HISTORY

330

with Henry IV, saw fit to renew the Norman alliance in 1080,
and so gave at least moral support to Guiscard’s plan for the con-
quest of Constantinople, This move — influenced, of course, by
the Greek schism — ^boded ill for the Byzantine Empire, and it set
a precedent for momentous actions in the future.

From the very outset the popes had been vitally interested in
The papal the campaigns being waged against the Moslem power in the
policy west. In the first place, as temporal princes, they had cooperated
in many attempts to check the plague of Saracen raids in Italy.
Secondly, through their claim to spiritual headship, they could not
fail to support any attack on the arch-enemies of the church. So
the papacy had formally blessed the Christian war in Spain, the
Norman conquest of Sicily, and the various enterprises under-
taken by Genoa and Pisa. Some of these expeditions had also
been encouraged by a guarantee of extensive indulgence — ^the as-
surance to any one who participated that his previous obligations
for penance would be largely remitted. Besides, under Hilde-
brand’s energetic guidance, the papacy had definitely formulated
a policy of active intervention in European politics to enforce the
Petrine supremacy and to advance the cause of ecclesiastical lead-
ership throughout the world.

The predecessors of Gregory VII had backed William the Con-
queror against a schismatic king of England, and Robert Guis-
card against schismatic Greeks in Italy. Now Gregory himself
was willing to take a much more ambitious step — one which might
even lead to the revival of western domination in the east. Ro-
manus IV survived his fearful defeat at Manzikert, but not the
palace revolution that ensued. His successor, confronted on all
sides by mounting disaster, appealed for aid to the pope, whose
imagination was at once fired by the magnificent prospect thus
unfolded. Then, in 1078, another insurrection at Constantinople
brought to the throne another incompetent, and in three years he
was supplanted by a military intriguer named Alexius Comnenus.
Meanwhile the new master of southern Italy had inevitably been
attracted by the provinces just across the narrow Adriatic. In-
deed, some of his own rebellious vassals had already taken refuge
in that country, and their success was clearly demonstrating the
weakness of the Byzantine government. For a variety of reasons,
Gregory VII decided in 1080 to support the Norman enterprise,
and in the following year Guiscard, with the able assistance of his
son Bohemund, launched a drive which he hoped would carry

THE CRUSADE

331

him to the imperial throne. After taking Corfu and Durazzo,
however, Guiscard was compelled to lead an army against Henry
IV,® and the continuation of his eastern campaign was brought
to a sudden end by his death in 1085, two months after that of
Gregory VII.

With the passing of the great Norman adventurer, his domin-
ions were threatened with disruption. In Sicily, to be sure. Count Urban 11
Roger triumphantly completed the Christian conquest ; but on the (1088-99)
mainland Guiscard’s son, also named Roger, proved totally unable
to control his restless vassals, chief among whom was his re-
markable brother, Bohemund. To the north, meanwhile, the
warfare between the imperial and the papal forces still raged.

An aged friend of Gregory, dected to succeed him, died after a
year of failure and the cardinals then chose a younger and an abler
man, the famous Urban II. The new pope was a noble of C3iam-
pagne who had left the world to become a monk at Quny. There,
however, his talents had quickly marked him out for distinction
and about 1078 he had been delegated, at the pope’s request, for
service at Rome. For years the trusted assistant of Gregory VII,
he now accepted the papacy as a solemn obligation to carry out the
ideals of his departed master. He won an amazing success. ' In
part it was due to the prestige which had been given to the office
by Gregory. Yet Urban himself contributed to it in no small de-
gree, for he very happily combined what in his day was pro-
found learning with what in any day has constituted good sense
and tactful leadership.

By 1095 the aging Henry IV had given up all ambitions beyond
the Alps, and the papacy was once more in control of Rome. The
Urban thus found the occasion auspicious for launching a great project
project that had long occupied his thoughts; In the east the em- ^
peror Alexius had succeeded, with the help of the Venetians, in
driving out the Normans and in reestablishing his sovereignty
throughout the Balkans; but, except for a portion of the coast,

Asia Minor remained in Turkish possession. Knowing that by
himself he was powerless to regain his lost provinces, Alexius ap-
pealed for aid to various western princes, including Pope Urban
and Robert, count of Flanders, who had recoitly return^ by way
of Constantinople from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.® All, of
course, that the emperor expected or wished was a force of mer-

* See above, p, 317.

® See above, p,

The

Council of

Clermont

(1095)

332 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

cenaries who might, like the French knights in Spain, accept a
share of lands in return for their services. The war should con-
tinue to be his war, waged for the recovery of his territory.

Urban, on the other hand, conceived a magnificent Latin enter-
prise, organized and controlled not by any secular prince, but by
the papacy — a great Christian offensive which should absorb and
surpass the lesser offensives that had already begun. If success-
ful, such an undertaking might restore to Alexius some of his
provinces; that was a minor consideration. The main objec-
tive was to unite all Christendom in a super-campaign to recover
the Holy Land, substituting for the civil war that had long dis-
tracted Europe a general pacification under the dictatorship of the
church. Accordingly, although Urban’s plan had novel features,
it was solidly based on religious idealism that was by no means
revolutionary. For over a century the local clergy, especially in
France, had been engaged in a rather fruitless effort to check the
excesses of feudal warfare. Persons who refused to respect
sacred places and to spare the non-combatant population were
solemnly anathematized; and to enforce such decrees, sworn as-
sociations of nobles were formed in many dioceses.* More re-
cently this so-called Peace of God had been supplemented by the
Truce of God — a similar organization to assure peaceful week-
ends by prohibiting all fighting between Thursday evening and
Monday morning. Now, under papal leadership, such movements
were taken up and combined with a dozen other momentous proj-
ects to constitute what became known as the Crusade.

It was apparently in the summer of 1095 that Urban and his
counselors decided on the action which was dramatically taken
before the end of the year. Being himself a Frenchman, the pope
well knew the audience to which he should first address himself*
After a sort of triumphal progress throughout northern Italy, he
crossed the Alps into France, where he spent many weeks investi-
gating local conditions. Finally, in November, he held a council
at Clermont, the chief city of Auvergne, to which the French
clergy and nobility — knowing that untoward events impended —
streamed from all directions. Urban naturally dominated the
assembly. The papacy had now entered upon a great ascendancy
in Europe; Urban, a man of culture, of handsome presence, and
of great personal charm, was in the heart of his native land* The
council attended to its routine business, including a renewal of the
Truce of God and another excommunication of the king, Philip I,

THE CRUSADE 333

for his evil life and his indifference to the cause of reform. Then
the pope, addressing the multitude in its own vernacular, deliv-
ered his epoch-making appeal. The exact text has not come down
to us, but the substance of his speech is known from the reports
of several chroniclers.

The Turks, he eloquently reminded his hearers, after almost
destroying the Byzantine Empire had but recently seized the holy
places in the east. What a noble work it would be to rescue
the Lord's Sepulcher from their foul hands and to restore Chris-
tian dominion throughout the lands to which they had brought
impiety and desolation! Who should assume this most sacred
obligation if not the Franks, a people long distinguished for
purity of faith, and a people famed beyond all others for glory
in arms? Here, said Urban, they lived in a narrow country,
crowded in by sea and mountain — ^a country which failed even to
produce enough food for its teeming population. Syria, on the
contrary, had been given by the Almighty to the children of Israel
as a land ‘‘flowing with milk and honey." Jerusalem, the very
center of the earth, called upon the western Christians for aid
in her distress- Let them cease from their endless wars and dis-
sensions. Let them no longer murder one another ’for petty gain.
Let them rather join in one blessed enterprise, to wrest from the
infidel the lands defiled by his presence, knowing that God would
grant them not merely a rich earthly reward, but imperishable
glory in the kingdom of heaven. And as the pope concluded, Qer-
mont resounded with what was to become the war-cry of the
crusaders : ^^Dieu le veut — God wills it !"

3. THE CONQUEST OF JERUSALEM

How shrewdly Urban had calculated his chances of success was
proved by the event. Thanks not only to the pope's eloquent
pronouncement at Clermont, but also to his untiring efforts dur-
ing the following months, thousands soon vowed their adherence
to the sacred cause. Each of them, as prescribed by the pope,
marked his peculiar status by sewing on his garments a cross cut
from cloth. Thus he became a crudatus (French, croise) and
his expedition a crusade. Every man who took the cross, together
with his family and all his belongings, at once came under the
direct protection of the pope and, no matter how sinful, was as-

Prelim-
maiies
of the
cnasade

See below, p. 369.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The
leaders
of the
crusade

334

sured immediate entrance to paradise if he died repentant. On
the other hand, any one who injured a crusader’s person or family
or property incurred the direst penalties that the church could
enforce. To heighten the general enthusiasm now appeared many
volunteer preachers, of whom the most famous was Peter the
Hermit. Under their fervent exhortations, indeed, the crusading
movement tended to get out of control. Crowds of ill-armed
persons, devoid of adequate funds and without competent leaders,
started on a mad pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Their march
across the Balkan peninsula was attended by many disorders, and
of those who reached Constantinople, the majority, on rashly ad-
vancing into Asia, w'ere killed by the Turks. The few survivors
who reached Palestine did so by awaiting the principal host.

These scattering efforts took place in the spring and summer of
1096. Meanwhile the princes who were to carry out the real
crusade were slowly gathering forces in their respective countries.
From the first, Urban had realized that the success of his project
would depend on the support of the French, who in the last half-
century had repeatedly proved their aptitude for great military
undertakings. From the emperor Henry IV nothing could of
course be expected, and most of his German subjects continued to
be absorbed in local politics. Nor was Philip I of France, having
just had his excommunication renewed at Clermont, the sort of
person to lead a crusade. The king of England was William
Rufus, second son of the Conqueror, intent on taking the duchy
of Normandy from his elder brother Robert, and not at all eager
for distant adventures. So it is plain why the chief actors in the
great drama were not the wearers of royal crowns.

In the absence of Philip I, the Capet ian house was represented
by his brother Hugh, count of Vermandois — a man who proved
to be otherwise undistinguished. Robert of Normandy also took
the cross ; and although he personally lacked statesmanlike quali-
ties, he brought with him the prestige of an illustrious family
and a group of important friends, including his brother-in-law,
Stephen, count of Blois. A much more prominent crusader was
Robert, count of Flanders, son of the great adventurer Robert
the Frisian, who had himself made a famous pilgrimage to
Jerusalem. And the neighboring house of Boulogne contributed
no less than three important chiefs, the sons of Count Eustace II,
who had fought with William the Conqueror at Hastings. Of the
three brothers — Eustace, Godfrey, and Baldwin — ^the second was

THE CRUSADE

335

destined to become an exalted hero of romance as the first Chris-
tian prince of Jerusalem. Yet in 1096 he was poor and relativdy
unknown. Being, through his mother, the grandson of a previous
duke of Lower Lorraine, he had secured that duchy by con-
firmation from Henry IV ; but the title gave him little real au-
thority outside his own territory of Bouillon and in ail his sym-
pathies he remained essentially a French baron.

Raymond, count of Toulouse, headed an imposing contingent
from the south of France. Being pious and wealthy, and having
served against the Moors in Spain, he had a grand rq)utation, and
his influence was further enhanced by the fact that the papal
director of the crusade was his vassal, Ademar, bishop of Puy.

But in spite of Raymond’s pretensions, the best general within the
Christian ranks was unquestionably Bohemund, son of Robert
Guiscard. From such a father what military lessons could not
be learned by a talented youth? Bohemund had seen action in
Italy, Sicily, and Greece. He was familiar with the peoples and
institutions of those countries and, to some extent at least, with
their languages. He was awed neither by popes nor by emperors
nor by sultans. And among his associates were many experienced
soldiers of the same type, notably his nephew Tancred. Being left
in Italy with nothing better than a narrow fief, Bohemund now
eagerly grasped the opportunity of resuming Guiscard’s oriental
adventure. If not at Constantinople, he might yet reign at
Antioch.

From this review of the foremost crusaders, the character of
their followers may readily be imagined. On the whole, the The
Christian host that surged eastward in 1096 was much like those njotives
which had earlier fought in Spain, England, and southern Italy.

It differed only in the fact that, instead of being enlisted for the
service of a secukur prince, it was mustered under the supreme
command of the papacy. The church had previously blessed
many enterprises launched by other authorities; now it had ini-
tiated and was proceeding to direct a vast campaign of its own.

This in itsdf was eloquent testimony to the might of the organiza-
tion headed by Urban II. Yet the men who were to put his
plan into execution remained distinct individuals. Among them
there might be a few idealists truly inspired by mystic rdigion.

And the great multitude of knights, being quite sincere in their
childlike faith, could easily be induced under mconentary enthusi-
asm to forget all worldly motives. It is more than coincidence.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

336

however, that the chief gainers from the crusade were to be
hard-headed adventurers like the Norman Bohemund and shrewd
merchants like the shipowners of Pisa and Genoa. Such men
the papacy might for a time be able to use. Could it ever really
dominate them ?

That question had not as yet arisen when the various sections
The march of the crusading host started east in the autumn of 1096. Ar-
on Con- rangements had already been made that all groups should con-
sto^ople ygj-gg Qj]^ Constantinople, where tlie emperor Alexius agreed to
furnish money, provisions, and troops to facilitate a rapid advance
against tlie common foe. Godfrey of Lorraine, together with
various French contingents, took the route down the Danube that
had already been used by the earlier bands of irregulars. Ray-
mond of Toulouse crossed the Alps into Lombardy and thence
proceeded along the Dalmatian coast until he struck the main
highway from Durazzo through Macedonia.- This, latter road
was also chosen by the other leaders, but to reach it they took ship
across the Adriatic from the Norman ports in southern Italy.
There were many delays and various open conflicts between
Greeks and Latins before all had assembled at the rendezvous.
Friction had also developed between Alexius and the chiefs whom
he sought to enroll for his service. Before he would provide
for their further progress, he insisted that all should do homage
to him for whatever lands they might conquer, and to this de-
mand a few offered stubborn resistance. Nevertheless, in the
face of necessity, all finally agreed to some sort of oath, and in
the spring of 1097 the crusaders crossed into' Asia for their first
attack on the Moslem power.

In this connection it should be remarked that no trust can

The

advance
into Asia
(1097)

normally be placed in the figures of mediseval chroniclers, who
describe the size of armies and other multitudes with no regard
for numerical accuracy. It is quite incredible that, as we are
soberly told by many books, hundreds of thousands of crusaders

started out from Constantinople in 1097. Such numbers, if our
estimate is restricted to knights, must be divided by ten. Althor^h
to our eyes an army of twenty to thirty thousand is not im-
pressive, it was tremendous for the deventh century. And
against it the local Turkish princes could bring no equal force,
for all Moslem unity in Asia had again vanished since the death
of Malik Shah. The Christians, therefore, had every prospect
of success if only they held together. With the hdp of a Byzan-

THE CRUSADE 337

tine army, Nic^ea was taken after a siege of well over a month
and was immediately given up to the emperor. Then, while the
latter diverted his force to reconquer the ^gean coast, the cru-
saders struck bravely across the interior of Anatolia. Despite
the unaccustomed heat and a grave shortage of food, they main-
tained their triumphant advance, routing the Turks at Dory-
laeum in July, and by September crossing the passes of the Taurus
Mountains into Cilicia.

Here, on the very border of the Promised Land, the Latin
host began to disintegrate. Encouraged by the Armenian Chris-
tians who had recolonized the country, several of the princes
now left the main army for the sake of individual conquest.

Tancred, nephew of Bohemund, and Baldwin, brother of God-
frey, led bands of followers into Tarsus, where they were en-
thusiastically welcomed by the inhabitants, but where they nearly
came to blows over the possession of the city. At last Baldwin
yielded to the Norman strength and shifted operations to the
eastward, securing control over various positions on the upper
Euphrates. The rest of the crusaders, in the meantime, had ad-
vanced to the walls of Antioch. Having no siege engines and
being short of necessary supplies, they remained encamped
throughout the entire winter of 1097-98. It was not until an
Italian fleet arrived in the spring that the city could be closely in-
vested. On June 3 it surrendered, five days before a large relief
army was brought up by the emir of Mosul.

The man responsible for the narrow escape of the host was
Bohemund, whose negotiations had led to the opening of a gate The con-
by a traitor inside the walls. Being a shrewd politician as well quest of
as a resourceful general, he had already secured a pledge from
the other princes that the one who should make possible the cap-. ^ ^

ture of Antioch should be its lord. Bohemund, to be sure, was
bound by an engagement to the emperor, but the latter had con-
tributed nothing to the taking of the city and the Norman had
no intention of relinquishing his hold. Now the Turkish siege
brought another crisis. A party of the faint-hearted, led by
Stephen of Blois, actually deserted the host and started for Con-
stantinople. Meeti;^ Alexius, who was advancing with an army
from the north, tJ% told him that all was lost. Foolishly he
turned back and so threw away his valid claim to Syria, for
Bohemund, acting as commander-in-chief, drove off the besiegers
by a successful coimter-attadc on June 28.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

338

The affair
of the
Holy
Lance

This battle had momentous consequences for the future of the
crusading movement. In the first place, it opened the roads to
the south for an easy advance on Jerusalem. Secondly, it pro-
duced an open breach between the Latins and the Greeks. Bohe-
mund’s title to Antioch was confirmed by the failure of Alexius
to bring aid during the critical month of June, and the crusaders’
defiance of his sovereignty soon led to the outbreak of active
hostilities in Cilicia. Because of the Greek schism, the pope
found no occasion to intervene on behalf of the discredited By-
zantine government And since Italian fleets had now established
direct contact with Syria, Constantinople no longer dominated
communications with the west. The crusade thus became an in-
dependent Latin venture, the course of which was to be deter-
mined by the generals in the field.

The passing of acute danger at once precipitated a bitter con-
troversy between Bohemund and Raymond of Toulouse. The
latter had himself been eager to rule at Antioch and he now, in
the face of the whole northern French party, espoused the cause
of the emperor Alexius. Furthermore, all the southern French
attributed the recent victory not to the generalship of Bohemund,
but to the mystic power of the Holy Lance — alleged to be that
which had pierced the side of the crucified Christ. As a matter
of fact, one Peter Bartholomew, a follower of Raymond, had
found a lance in a place said to have been revealed to him by a
vision. The discovery had at first produced great enthusiasm
among the beleaguered Christians. Subsequently, as the lance
became the standard of Ra3miond’s faction, the Normans scoffed
at the whole affair, intimating that the southerners had merely
uncovered what they had already buried.

This quarrel, together with the outbreak of plague, delayed
any further advance for six months. At last Raymond yielded
to the general clamor and the march on Jerusalem was resumed
in January, 1099. Proceeding down the coast, the crusaders
again stopped to lay siege to Archas, a fortress near Tripolis.
During the halt, as dissension still raged in the host, Peter Bar-
tholomew agreed to undergo ordeal by fire to prove the truth
of his statements. Clad only in a shirt aij^ bearing the Holy
Lance, he actually walked through a heap of Hercely blazing olive
branches and emerged on the other side. Twelve days later he
died — ^as the consequence, said his friends, of excited handling
by the crowd. The Normans, on the contrary, declared that he

THE CRUSADE 339

had been burned to death. So the dispute continued as before —
a remarkable illustration of the strange mixture of religion and
politics that characterized the whole crusade.

In spite of all distractions, the Christian host eventually found
itself encamped before Jerusalem. Now all was again harmony.
And now, thanks to the cooperation of the Italian cities, there
was a plentful supply of materials and trained men for conduct-
ing a siege. On July 15, less than six weeks after their first
sight of the Holy City, the crusaders stormed its walls, and the
principal goal of Urban’s magnificent project was attained. One
week later Godfrey of Lorraine, whose forces had led tlie final
assault and who had maintained a sort of neutrality throughout
the earlier quarrels, was elected and proclaimed Defender of the
Holy Sepulcher. Thus, although he never assumed the crown,
he actually became the first Latin king of Jerusalem, and on
August 12 the success of his rule was assured by his victory
at Ascalon over a formidable Egyptian army. Strangely enough,
the man chiefly responsible for this dramatic series of exploits
, survived, but did not live to celebrate, its triumphant conclusion.
Pope Urban II died at Rome on July 29, just before the glad
news arrived that Jerusalem had fallen.

The fame of the crusade had, of course, enormous repercussion
throughout Europe. All Christendom rang with the deeds of
the great heroes who had participated, and for many generations
the force of their example was a potent influence upon the chiv-
alry of the west. In particular, the success of the crusade logi-
cally tended to glorify the papacy which had sponsored it, and
so contributed greatly to the dominance of the church in the en-
suing period. Deepening knowledge of mediaeval civilization has,
indeed, made it impossible to attribute to the crusade all the
major political, economic, and intellectual developments of the
twelfth century; in these respects its influence is now seen to
have been restricted. Nevertheless, even if the crusade be con-
sidered a mere episode in the cultural history of Europe, such an
episode richly illustrates the thought and habits of the early
feudal age. In itself it wais a very great and very wonderful
event. Leaving the ultimate significance of the crusade for treat-
ment in subsequent chapters, we may at present attempt merdy
to summarize the changes which it immediately produced in Asia.

The first of the crusading states to be created was the county
of Edessa. Ag already noted, Godfrey’s brother Baldwin left

The cap-
ture of
Jeru-
salem
(1099)

The im-
mediate
effect of
the

crusade

The Latin
states in
Syria

340 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

the main host in the autumn of 1097, and, after quarreling with
Tancred over control of Cilicia, proceeded, through the friendship
of the Armenians, to build for himself a principality on the upper
Euphrates. In the spring of 1098, having secured aid from
other crusaders, he took the city of Edessa, which thenceforth

remained his capital. Meanwhile the Normans under Tancred
had established themselves in Tarsus and the adjoining cities,
and after Bohemund had secured possession of Antioch he
treated Cilicia as his northern province. This territory, how-
ever, was taken by the Byzantines while he was occupied in fight-
ing the Turks; and the war thus begun was continued under his
nephew and successor, Tancred. The next conquest of the cru-

THE CRUSADE

341

saders was Jerusalem itself, which was given to Godfrey of Lor-
raine as temporal ruler. Eventually a fourth principality center-
ing in Tripolis was set up for Ra)miond of Toulouse; but since
he died before that city was actually taken, it was only his heirs
who enjoyed more than a theoretical lordship.

Godfrey, too, was allowed but a brief time in which to hold
dominion in Palestine, for he died just a year after his installa- The Idng-
tion as Defender of the Holy Sepulcher. Thereupon his brother dom of
Baldwin gave Edessa to a relative and on Christmas, 1100, was
crowned king of Jerusalem. At that time his kingdom contained
little more than the one city, but under Baldwin’s energetic com-
mand it was rapidly made into a reality. To the southeast his
sovereignty was extended beyond the Dead Sea; to the north the
strip of coast between the Jordan and the Mediterranean was
occupied as far as Beirut. In the course of this advance vassals
were placed in charge of important positions, with rights and
obligations determined according to contemporary feudal prac-
tice in France. Thus appeared barons with such picturesque
titles as Lord of Sidon, Count of Jaffa, and Prince of Galilee.
Meanwhile the states of Antioch, Edessa, and Tripolis had been
organized in much the same way— each to suit the interests of
its own hereditary dynasty. In theory the rulers of these terri-
tories were sometimes described as royal vassals ; actually, owing
to the circumstances of their accession to power, they remained
independent princes.

Too many writers have described the feudalism established in
the Latin states of Syria as an idealistic abstraction. It is true
that in the thirteenth century, after the Turkish reconquest of
the Holy City, a symmetrical set of customs was drawn up by
a group of lawyers and labeled the Assises of Jerusalem,

Whether they had ever been enforced in Syria is somewhat doubt-
ful, and in any case they did not reflect the original institutions of
the crusaders. Men like Bohemund, Tancred, Godfrey, and Bald-
win created principalities for thraiselves by wholly practical means
and applied feudal tenures in political organization because they
were familiar with no other workable system. Their procedure
was no different from that of their contemporaries in England,

Spain, Italy, and Sicily. Indeed, when we take into account the
handicaps faced from the outset by the western invaders, it is
amazing that some of their states lasted for the better part of
two centuries. As a military problem, the holding of an extended

342 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

coast without control of the plateau on which it bordered was
nothing short of desperate. No modern conqueror would con-
sider such a mad enterprise. The odds against these isolated
princes were terrific; and yet, as long as reinforcements streamed
from the west, they kept what they had taken. On ultimate analy-
sis, it will be found that the success of the crusade was due less
to religious enthusiasm than to a very practical alliance between
the leaders of the army and the Italian merchants. Logically,
therefore, we are brought to the subject of commercial revival
in the eleventh century.

CHAPTER XV

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS

I. COMMERCIAL REVIVAL

Of the many centuries that had elapsed since the disruption
of the Roman Empire, the eleventh was the first to witness posi-
tive signs of economic recovery in western Europe. One such
sign was the increase of population. It was armies of younger
sons that made possible the Norman conquests in Britain and
Italy, the Christian offensives in Spain, and finally the crusades.
During these same years we begin to hear of many projects that
indicated a mounting demand for agricultural labor. Wide
reaches of waste land were now reclaimed for production by the
draining of swamps and the clearing of forests, and this, of
course, necessitated extensive colonization. Landlords became
willing te issue charters guaranteeing to any settler on particular
estates complete exemption from all but fixed rents and stated
services. And as such opportunities for an improved livelihood
arose, a host of men appeared from somewhere to take them.
The inhabitants of the countryside were also multiplying rapidly.

In the later Roman period a vicious cycle of impoverishment
and depopulation brought ruin to whole provinces of the empire.
Now the reverse process brought renewed prosperity. More jobs
made it possible for more people to live, and the demands of these
people led in turn to the creation of still more jobs. The cause
of this improvement was assuredly no sudden increase in human
fecundity. It was not that the men of the eleventh century had
more offspring, but that more of their offspring were permitted
to survive and have offspring of their own. In part, this happy
result was due to better political conditions : the stabilization of
society on a feudal basis, the development of more efficient gov-
ernments, and the cessation of barbarian inroads. Another im-
portant factor was undoubtedly the new wealth created by reviv-
ing trade and industry. Yet, as usual, when economic phenomena
are encountered, it is impossible to say precisely what was cause
and whkt was effect. Perhaps the great future scholar who will
positively account for the decay of Rome will also explain the
recovery of Europe in the Middle Ages!

343

Evidences
of eco-
nomic
recovery

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS 345

At any rate, we have no difficulty in perceiving evidence of in-
creasing commercial activity throughout the eleventh century,
and within another hundred years this activity had tended to
produce revolutionary changes in virtually every phase of Euro-
pean life. During the Carolingian period, while Byzantine sea
power was maintained in the ^gean and the Adriatic, the Sara-
cens gained control of the southern and western Mediterranean.
Within the Moslem dominions trade continued to flourish ; within
western Christendom, in spite of Charlemagne’s temporary gran-
deur, it suffered almost total collapse. The one noteworthy ex-
ception was the regular intercourse kept up between Constanti-
nople and the ports of Italy — a. connection which was not only
maintained in the subsequent period, but greatly strengthened
through the rise to power of Venice. Meanwhile a holy war
against the Moslem on the sea had been launched by the Genoese
and Pisans, who thereby were able to gain rich commercial ad-
vantages in Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily, and Africa. Then, with
the crusade, the Italian merchants found themselves in a position
to reopen direct trade with Syria, carrying eastward the armies
of pilgrims with their horses and necessary supplies, and bring-
ing westward cargoes of oriental products.

This revival of the old water routes linking Europe and Asia
inevitably brought new life to the land routes running north
from Italy. The great Roman highways which had been built
to join the capital with the provinces included two coast roads:
one from Genoa to Marseilles and Spain, the other from Aquileia
to Trieste and Dalmatia. Between them extended fanwise two
sets of roads across the Alps : those crossing by the western passes
to the valley of the Rhone and those crossing by the eastern
passes to the upper valleys of the Rhine and Danube. Thence
other paved highways paralleled the military frontiers and led
through Gaul to the ports of the Atlantic and the North Sea.
But the mediseval merchant preferred to travel by water when-
ever possible. The Garonne, Loire, Seine, Somme, Scheldt,
Meuse, and Rhine provided important routes to the west and the
northwest. The British Isles were easily reached by ship from
across the Channel ; two centuries were to pass before direct sea
trade was established between them and the Mediterranean.

Since anc;ient times, however, enormous changes had been made
in the political map of Europe. What had been a wilderness
inhabited by savage tribes had now been brought within the pale

Trade
routes;
The Medi-
terranean

Overland

North-

western

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

The com-
mercial
impor-
tance of
Flanders

Towns and
trade

346

of Christendom and, at least to some degree, that of civilization.
Germany, in particular, had come to play a prominent part in
European affairs, and along the Baltic now extended the do-
minions of Polish, Russian, Swedish, and Danish princes. In
the ninth century the vikings had appeared on the continent as
pillagers and destroyers ; by the eleventh they had been absorbed
into older states or had founded new and vigorous states of their
own. With the enrollment of the Scandinavians among the civ-
ilized peoples of Europe, their fleets had been diverted from
piracy to peaceful trade. Thus the waterways of the viking free-
booters now served as commercial links connecting the lands bor-
dering on the Baltic and the North Sea. Furthermore, through
the mediation of the Russians, who held the valleys of the Dnieper
and other rivers, this region was brought into economic contact
with the Black Sea and the Caspian, and so with the Moslem
and Byzantine empires.

In the history of the world the commercial prominence of
Italy was no new phenomenon. The unprecedented development
was rather that which now took place in the northwest. A glance
at the map will show how Flanders served as the focal point for
all the great routes of the eleventh century. Goods brought by
land and water through central France, down the Rhine, west-
ward from the Baltic, or eastward from the British isles, all easily
converged on the little county, of Baldwin Iron- Arm and his de-
scendants.^ In Roman times that district had been largely unin-
habited — ^held merely as a military frontier. Now, on the con-
trary, it rapidly became a great center of population and wealth,
a source of enormous power for its fortunate rulers, and for
that reason the object of wars and political intrigues that have
continued down to our own day. Of secondary economic im-
portance in this region were Picardy, Normandy, the middle
Rhine Valley, the lie de France, and England. Central France
remained backward, but the Mediterranean littoral, advanta-
geously situated between Spain and Italy, tended to share the
prosperity of those two countries.

The connection between these developments and the revival
of urban life in western Europe is obvious. On all sides towns
and trade grew together: no important trade route could exist
apart from towns, and every great town arose on a trade route.

^ See above, p. 246.

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS 347

The regions characterized by flourishing commerce were also
those to become distinguished for the prosperity of their cities.
This connection serves to explain many important facts. The
outstanding features of town life, which were to have enormous
influence on the cultural development of Latin Christendom, were
very new in the age of the crusades. By the close of the twelfth
century scores of urban communities in western Europe are found
enjoying extensive legal privileges, sometimes including rights
of self-government. Two hundred years earlier such privileged
communities had been non-existent. What amounted to a social
revolution had been produced by economic advance during the
intervening period. Some writers, it is true, have traced the
municipal institutions of the Middle Ages back to Roman tradi-
tion or to the primitive customs of the Germans. Careful analysis
of the problem tends to show that they have been misled by
treacherous words.

We have already seen that the “cities’^ {civitatcs') of the Dark
Age could have been little more than fortified centers of defense
and administration.^ In fact, any position surrounded by an
ancient Roman wall— even a deserted legionary fortress — ^might
in those days be called a city. And since the church had regu-
larly installed’ a bishop in each dvitas, that term was frequently
applied to a place merely because it served as episcopal head-
quarters. That a given locality continuously bore a Latin name
does not prove that it enjoyed any real continuity of urban life.
Nor were the burgen constructed by kings and princes of the
ninth and tenth centuries necessarily what we should call towns.
Even under the Roman emperprs the German word burg^ Latin-
ized as bitrguSy had come to be used’ as a sjmonym of castellum^
a small fortress; and in the subsequent period these terms were
often used interchangeably witli cir/itas. In general, however,
burg was the name given to a more recent structure — such as
those erected by the counts of Flanders against the Northmen
or by the German kings against the Hungarians^ In England
the same word appears as burh (borough). A fort of this kind,
whether called burg or chateau (castle), had few if any urban
features.^

On the whole, it appears that the cities and burgen of western
Europe in the ninth and tenth centuries were important chiefly

2 See above, p. 199.

» See above, pp. 244, 247* 250.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The trans-
formation
of old
cities and
hurgen

Cologne

348

as military positions and centers of government. Even when
they included official markets, the latter were insufficient by them-
selves to support a mercantile population of any considerable size.
Some trade, of course, persisted all through the Dark Age, but
the professional merchant and the free artisan remained very
exceptional. By the twelfth century the situation had been radi-
cally changed. Thenceforth, through the influence of revived
commerce, a city tended to become what our vocabulary makes it
out to be — ^an especially large and prosperous town. About the
same time “borough” {burff or bourg) acquired the meaning of
a privileged urban community, the member of which was known
as a burgess, burgher, or bourgeois. That these words all came
to denote a townsman, rather than the defender of a fort, was due
to the transformation of the place where he lived. Much of the
pertinent evidence is contained in charters and other documents
which will be referred to in a later section ; of recent years much
valuable information in this connection has also been obtained
through ^he study of local topography. By examining the traces
of early fortifications and other archaeological remains, it is pos-
sible to prove by a map just when and how a particular tovra
grew up.

The Roman city of Cologne, for example, was a walled rectan-
gle of approximately 239 acres, with one side paralleling the
Rhine (see Figfure 5). In the period following the barbarian
invasions the city population dwindled, so that only a small por-
tion of the area within the walls remained inhabited. By the
beginning of the eleventh century, however, a settlement of mer-
chants had appeared between the wall and the river. Within an-
other hundred years it had become necessary to fortify three addi-
tional suburbs. Thai in 1180, a new wall was built to enclose
all of the earlier settlements and much besides. Already, there-
fore, the mediaeval town of Cologne had grown to be over twice
the size of Roman Cologne — ^a physical expansion reflecting the
contemporary expansion of commerce in that favored locality.
Very much the same development can be proved to have taken
place in dozens of other ancient cities. It was only rarely that,
as in the case of London, the Roman walls contained sufficient
ground to accommodate the immigrants that streamed thither
during the twelfth century.

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS

349

* COLOGNE »

* KOmAN WAki.

— — lOXWCettTURVAOOmOM
VMLLOr 1106
— WAUL. or iieo

|6 mkMWtcR (Sf«u9

Figube S- — The Expansion of Medleval Cologne."

In those days, it will be noted, the mercantile population was
attracted to a place that combined two prime advantag^es: first, Ghent
a convenient situation with regard to trade and, secondly, the
protection afforded by some kind of fortification. Along routes
that had earlier been used by the Romans it was natural tliat set-
tlements should be formed in or about Roman cities or fortresses.

In more recently organized countries, where no such positions
existed, towns sprang up about other centers — ^usually the castles
or bitrgen of princes. Particularly fine examples of such devel-
opment are to be found in the great towns of Flanders, such as
Ghent, Bruges, Arras, Ypres, and Saint-Omer. What is stiU
called the Vieux-Bourg (Old Burg) at Ghent was the original
fortress of the count, a triangle of about twenty-five acres at the
intersection of the Lys and the Lieve. But across the former
river had appeared by the eleventh century a trading quarter
known as the Port or 'the New Burg, which eventually became
what we know as the town of Ghent. When surrounded by for-
tifications in 1191, it had come to include over two hundred
acres, and this was only the beginning of a rapid expansion that
continued throughout the mediaeval period (see Figure 6).

* From C. Stephenson, Borough and Town; by courtesy of the Mediseval Acad-
emy of America.

350

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

Beyond the Rhine most great towns of Germany developed,
The town like Ghent, in conjunction with an earlier hurg — ^as is often tes-
, tified by their names (Magdeburg, Merseburg, Quedlinburg,
England the early history of boroughs like Bristol,
Nottingham, Northampton, Oxford, and Norwich seems to have
been very similar. Occasionally, in those countries, as well as
in France, a fortified cathedral or abbey served as the nucleus
for an extended urban settlement — e.g., Durham, Bury St. Ed-
munds, Saint-Riquier, Vezelai, and St. Gall. But without the
vital advantage of a good commercial location, neither church nor
castle nor Roman fortress could ever become more than it had
been in the earlier age. Towms grew up in mediaeval Europe as
naturally as they have in modern America,^ through the operation
of economic forces which no one could entirely foresee or control.
The princes of the Carolingian age, though celebrated as hurg-
builders, were not true founders of towns. It was the result
of historical circumstance that some of their constructions even-
tually attracted urban populations. Subse?quently, after the spon-

® From C. Stephenson, Borough and Town; by courtesy of the Mediaeval Acad-
emy of America.

^ Compare, for example, Venice and Chicago, Novgorod and Detroit, Bergen
and San Francisco, Nuremberg and Indianapolis. Differences in means of trans-
portation must, of course, be taken into account. There were no railroads in the
Middle Ages to affect the growth of inland towns, but the greatest ships then in
use could sail up very small rivers. The location of Ghent was relativ^y as
advantageous as that of St. Louis today.

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS 351

taneous growth of many communities had shown what might
happen under favorable conditions, lords often tried to create
towns by deliberate planning, and some of these experiments
were very successful.

By whatever process the result was attained, the typical town
of the later Middle Ages thus appears to have been essentially
a mercantile settlement — colony of persons engaged in com-
merce and allied activities. Only a restricted number of the
inhabitants would be merchants in our sense of the word. The
mass of the townsmen would be rather artisans and laborers.
Many, in fact, would still be employed in agriculture, for the
increase of the urban population inevitably stimulated the pro-
duction of food and raw materials in the immediate neighbor-
hood. And since transportation by land depended largely on
domestic animals, wide pastures remained a vital necessity. In
spite of its rural features, however, the town was economically
very distinct from the simple village. The town had a continu-
ous market, where an increasing number of persons made a living
through buying and selling at a profit. There a craftsman could
earn enough for himself and his family by industry alone, and so
become entirely independent of any manorial organization. In
the smaller towns, which served chiefly as distribution centers
for agricultural produce, a limited number of manufacturers could
exist merely by supplying the local residents with articles of daily
use — such as clothing, leather goods, tools, and food. Occa-
sionally some community, becoming famous for the excellence
of its work, would export goods to far-distant lands, and so
develop industry on a much larger scale.

Preeminent among such communities came to be the cities of
Italy and Flanders, but originally their prosperity depended rather Ships
on their location with regard to the great trade routes by sea
and land. Business always flourished where cargoes had to be
unloaded for trans-shipment, and in this respect seaports or places
toward the mouths of rivers tended to have the advantage. For
example, we find among the outstanding towns of the Middle
Ages Venice, Pisa, Marseilles, Bordeaux, Rouen, Ghent, Liege,
Cologne, Bremen, Hamburg, London, York, and Bristol. And
it should be noted that important towns like Arras, Bruges, and
Liibeck, which the modern map shows apart from navigable
water, were actually situated on strearps readily ascended by
mediaeval ships. Much trading continued to be carried on in

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Gilds

Fairs

352

long fast boats propelled by oar, using sails only when the wind
was favorable. Such were the galleys of the Mediterranean,
as well as the viking ships of the north, and they were all of very
shallow draft. For bulky cargo, such as grain and lumber,
slow, round-built sailing ships were preferable, but even these
remained comparatively small in the northern waters. The larg-
est of the period were those constructed by the Genoese and
Venetians in connection with the crusades. They were built with
two or even three decks, with raised “castles” at bow and stern
for the accommodation of noble passengers; and by the thir-
teenth century they were sometimes a hundred feet in length,
with a breadth of nearly half that amount.

During the earlier period we have very little information con-
cerning the life and habits of merchants on land. The roads,
we know, were unspeakably bad in all directions, so that wagons
were of no use and goods had to be carried on pack animals.
Many regions were infested by robbers, and every feudal boun-
dary was made the excuse for the collection of tolls. Under
such conditions, merchants became accustomed to travel in con-
siderable bands accompanied, like oriental caravans, by escorts
of armed men. Since journeys of this sort entailed careful plan-
ning and a considerable outlay of money, they could not be left
to the chance meeting of adventurers. The greater undertakings
were due to the enterprise of organized groups called gilds,
hanses, fraternities, and the like. These merchant associations
are first definitely heard of toward the close of the eleventh cen-
tury, when princes came to guarantee their liberties in formal
charters. By that time, however, gildsmen might possess valu-
able privileges in widely separated countries. At London, for
instance, the Flemings, the men of Cologne, and the men of
Rouen were enjoying special rights long before the Norman
Conquest.

The gild thus appears as a prominent feature of reviving com-
merce in twelfth-century Europe. Another such feature was the
fair. The rural market, normally held once a week for the ex-
change of local produce, played no part in the distribution of
articles imported from abroad. The men who engaged in that
business needed larger gatherings attended by merchants from
all the neighboring towns. Religious festivals might provide
occasions that could be turned to profitable advantage by mer-
chants; but commonly the fair was established by a territorial

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS 353

prince, who guaranteed special protection to all persons coming
to a certain place at a certain time every year. Annual fairs,
each lasting for a number of days, were eventually organized
in series, so that the great traders arranged their trips in order
to attend as many as possible.® There they disposed of merchan-
dise in large quantities, and there the small dealer obtained stocks
for resale or for use in manufacture. The lord of the fair got a
handsome revenue by collecting stallage — fees charged for dis-
playing goods in the stalls.

With regard to the articles which were thus distributed, noth- Articles
ing more than a few brief indications can be attempted here. trade
A large proportion of the finer manufactures still came from the
Saracen countries of Spain, Africa, and Asia — especially silks,
rugs, and other luxurious fabrics ; damascened arms and armor f
and artistic products in the precious metals, ivory, earthenware,
and other materials. The demand for oriental spices, drugs, dyes,
perfumes, and gems was enormous, especially after the crusades
began. In fact, the derivation of many common words from the
Arabic or Persian shows that originally they denoted imports
from the east. Thus any word in the following list can be seen
to illustrate an interesting chapter in economic and cultural his-
tory: sugar, syrup, cotton, gauze, satin, damask (from Damas-
cus), muslin (from Mosul), scarlet (from the cloth of that
color), azure (i.e, lapis lazuli), lilac, spinach, artichoke, orange,
lemon, apricot, camphor, saffron, alkali, alcohol, lute, and guitar.

By the twelfth century, however, the Moslem cities were coming
to be rivaled by those of Italy. Venice, in particular, soon be-
came famous for glass-making, metal-working, and other skilled
crafts. By that time, too, the woolen cloth of Flanders was find-
ing a ready market throughout Europe.

Other regions of the north and west exported principally food
and raw materials. There was everywhere a flourishing trade in
salt, which was obtained either from mines or from marshes on
the seacoast. Iron was in great demand. Stone and wood were
scarce in some regions. French merchants carried wine to Eng-
land and returned with wool and hides. The Germans from
the Baltic brought not only oriental goods that had been trans-
ported through Russia, but also furs, lumber, naval stores, and
amber. It was in connection with this sort of trade that most

« See bdow, p. 504.

« See above, p. 205 n.

The new
towns of
north-
western
Europe

354 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

towns developed in the twelfth century. Even the greatest of
them were still commercial rather than industrial — ^and they
would not seem very great to us. In those days a city of 25,000
was relatively huge. Yet even the smallest trading settlement
was sharply distinguished from the villages of the surrounding
country.

2. ELEMENTARY BOURGEOIS LIBERTIES

Many European writers, especially those devoted to legal study,
have attempted to show that the towns of their own respective
countries were based upon some sort of national trait or custom.
Such a notion is unquestionably wrong. The differences that
existed among mediaeval towns were due not to national or racial
peculiarities, but to historical circumstance and environment. De-
spite political and linguistic variations, the urban institutions of
the Middle Ages were fundamentally the same throughout wide
regions. It is quite possible, for example, to consider the liberties
of townsmen in northwestern Europe as a single subject. On
the other hand, it would be hazardous to extend such generaliza-
tion into the Mediterranean region. The Greek and Moslem
cities belonged to worlds that were altogether foreign to the
Carolingian lands. Some parts of Italy had never lost contact
with the Byzantine Empire. In spite of other differences, north-
ern and southern Spain remained economically akin. And the
southernmost provinces of France were in many ways more
closely related to Italy and Spain than to the Capetian domain.

In subsequent pages a more comprehensive picture of urban
development may be obtained by examining each of these coun-
tries separately; as a preliminary, it will be simpler to restrict
attention to the northwest. And within that region it will be
convenient to begin not with the big towns, but with the little
ones. The former, having developed rapidly in the eleventh
century, needed no written guarantees of elementary privileges
in the twelfth, when such grants became usual. Their charters
were commonly restricted to the definition of exceptional or newly
acquired rights. For a detailed account of fundamental bour-
geois liberties we must rather turn to a ville neuve. Such a town
was a deliberately planned foundation. Inspired by the example
of old and prosperous communities, some prince would seek to
establish a similar source of revenue within his own territory.
With the advice and financial support of interested business men.

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS 355

he would select a good site, lay out a market place with streets
leading into it, put up a church and other structures, and then
offer inducements to prospective settlers by means of a solemn
charter.

•A document of this sort would naturally emphasize the advan-
tages that townsmen everywhere insisted on. Indeed, if we com- Freiburg-
pare the hundreds of foundation charters that have been pre- hn-
served, they are found to bear a strong family resemblance. By
analyzing several of the earlier grants, we may gain an introduc-
tion to all. The first successful experiment in urban colonization
to be carried out by a German prince was that of Conrad, duke
of Zahringen, for as the result of his efforts, the town of Frei-
burg-im-Breisgau recently celebrated the eight-hundredth anni-
versary of its foundation. On waste land adjoining his castle,

Conrad in 1120 created a market town, liaving called together and
organized under oath, says his charter, distinguished traders from
the neighboring regions. Each settler was provided with a plot
measuring fifty by a hundred feet, for which he was to pay a
fixed annual rent of one solidus,'^ This land he should hold by
hereditary right, with the privilege of freely selling it or be-
queathing it by will. The community was to be governed only
by the custom of trading towns, especially that of Cologne. The
inhabitants were to be exempt from all forced entertainment,
from all arbitrary exactions, and from all tolls throughout the
duke’s possessions.

Chiefly because of its location — on the main road running
through the Black Forest from the Rhine to the Danube — Frei-
burg prospered from the first, and its liberties, originally taken
from Cologne, were in turn given to many other new towns in
southern Germany, notably Colmar and Bern. In the north also,
a number of similar foundations were made in the course of the
twelfth century, of which the most influaitial was Liibeck.® In-
deed, a prominent feature of the German advance into the Slavic
country was the continuous establishment of trading settlements
modeled after those that had already appeared to the westward.

This development, however, hardly reached significant propor-
tions before the thirteenth century, and in the meantime urban
colonization had rapidly progressed in France. The first of the

^ The soUdus (shilling or tsou) was a weight of silver pennies (denarii or demerit.

Often, as in England, it waa a twentieth of a pound.

* See below, p. 405.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

356

Capetians to take an active part in such matters was Louis VI
(1108-37),^ who not only intervened on behalf of the bour-
geoisie in many of the episcopal cities, but himself founded the
very famous liberties of Lorris.

This little town, situated in the vineyard country of the upper
Lorris Loire Valley, was evidently designed by the king to serve as a
center for the wine trade in that portion of his domain. Every
man who came there to live was assured by the king’s charter of
a house and lot at only six deniers rent a year. If he resided
without challenge for a year and a day, he was thenceforth free
and could not be claimed by a previous master. He was to be
quit of tallage and forced exactions ; of all military service, save
for one day within the immediate vicinity; and of all corvee, with
the exception of certain occasional duties.^® Whenever he pleased,
he could sell his possessions and go elsewhere. He could not be
brought to trial outside the town, and there only according to
certain specified rules of procedure. Fines and punishments were
strictly limited. No one should be molested while coming to or
going from the market of Lorris unless he had committed an
offense on that same day. Tolls and other stated customs were
restricted as to amount and as to mode of collection. The king
forbade that any one should take food or materials from the
townsmen without just remunerations. Nor should any one be
entitled to credit unless it was freely extended. Even the king
and queen were to pay their bills inside two weeks.

The liberties of Lorris proved enormously popular. Extended
Mon- by various kings to many other small towns in the royal domain,

tauban these liberties were also taken by numerous barons as a model

for their foundations. So, within the next two centuries, the
one set of customs came to be enjoyed by scores of communities
in Champagne and Burgundy, as well as in the He de France.
And Lorris was but one of the many towns whose charters were
widely copied throughout northern France. In the south too,
new settlements of the same sort were common under the name
of bastides. Perhaps the most successful of them was that estab-
lished in 1144 by Alfonse, count of Toulouse. As the conse-
quence of a feud between the abbot of Saint-Theodard and the
residents of a bourg adjoining his monastery, Alfonse offered

® See bdow, pp. 370 f.

^®On these and other manorial obligations mentioned in this chapter, see
above, pp. 269 f.

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS

357

the townsmen a new site on territory of his own. To guarantee
their future security, he issued a formal charter, containing the
promise of building lots at fixed rents, restriction of tolls, prohi-
bition of various exactions, exemption from farced hospitality,
and other familiar provisions. The tenor of the whole charter
shows that it was a business arrangement, and it assuredly worked
to the benefit of both parties, for the count’s little colony became
illustrious under the name of Montauban.

Thanks to the matchless records of William I, we can trace
back to about 1066 the establishment in England of specially Newcastle-
privileged trading communities. From an obscure little Norman on-Tyne
bourg called Breteuil Some of the invading barons borrowed a
set of ‘‘laws” which they applied to new settlements along the
Welsh frontier. And from there the Laws of Breteuil were
eventually carried into Ireland. Meanwhile Henry I (iic>o-35)^^
was instrumental in founding a number of towns — ^among them
Verneuil in Normandy and Newcastle in England. The latter
borough, named from the new Norman castle overlooking the
river Tyne, received from Henry a grant of liberties destined to
have wide influence. If a peasant came to Newcastle and com-
pleted the lawful residence of a year and a day, no lord had any
further claim on him. The burgesses were entirely exempt from
manorial or servile obligations. They could sell or bequeath
their lands and were free to come and go as they pleased. Within
the borough, together with a certain district outside it, they
enjoyed a monopoly of all trading. These liberties of Newcastle
were extended to many other towns in the north of England
and also, through the favor of the Scottish king, became the stand-
ard of urban privilege in his kingdom.

Such charters as we have briefly examined present only the
miniinum demands of the townsman in the twelfth century. But The
these demands at once show how great was his superiority over
the peasant. First of all, the bourgeois enjoyed free status. No
matter what his origin, the man who lived in a town unchallenged
for a year and a day secured complete liberty. The town air, it
was said, made him free. To be more exact, it was residence
on privileged soil that broke any ties of personal or manorial sub-
jection that had bound hijn to an outside lord. The town was a
sort of territorial immunity, created by virtue of some prince’s

“ See bdow, pp. 373 ^

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

Burgage

tenure

358

political authority. It is, therefore, a mistake to explain the
mediaeval town as a servile community which gradually or sud-
denly became emancipated. From its very inception the town
was a free community. And this legal principle was merely the
expression of a social fact, that the mercantile pursuits of the
inhabitants were incompatible with serfdom. Settlers would not
come to a place as traders or laborers unless they were guaran-
teed unhampered control of their own bodies and of whatever
they might acquire.

The personal freedom of the bourgeois tended to carry with
it exemption from all the typically servile or manorial obliga-
tions — such as mainmorte, formariage, arbitrary tallage, corvee,
unrestricted military service, and subjection to seignorial monopo-
lies. Whatever services were owed by the townsmen were owed
as a community to the common lord, and these services were
very generally defined in advance. Under such conditions, a
member of the community necessarily held his land by very ad-
vantageous terms. Since the holder was not attached to it, he
could freely sell it or any part of it ; and since it was not burdened
with manorial or feudal obligations, he could dispose of it by
will. Unlike the acres of the villein or the fief of the noble,
bourgeois land was not bound by inflexible rules of inheritance;
it could be alienated like an ox or a bale of cloth. This free
tenure, peculiar to the bourgeois class, is known by various
names in various countries, but in English law is familiar as
burgage. That it, rather than any other mediaeval tenure, antici-
pated what we call ownership of real property is obvious.

In general, burgage land was held by a fixed rent in lieu of
all service, and this rent was commonly very small. When a
new town was founded, the patron was likely to establish it on
land which he owned himself; and to attract settlers, he would
offer building lots at a nominal rent. So in a great many urban
centers the rule prevailed that the townsman’s holding was charged
with the annual payment of a shilling {solidus) ^ or perhaps of
only a penny {denarius). In the case of a great and rapidly
growing city, however, the fortunate owners of surrounding
lands could make a handsome profit by selling them to bourgeois
for houses and shops, even if the rents placed on tlie soil were in-
significant. At Paris, for example, as a commercial suburb
developed on the right bank of the Seine, the belt of marsh that
extended to the heights of Montmartre for the first time became

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS 359

valuable as more than pasture. This fact was soon realized by
the clergy who held title to it, with the result that they were up-
braided by the pope for giving more attention to the real estate
business than to the cure of souls.

Another almost universal feature of early municipal charters
was the guarantee to the men of the town that they should not Jtistice
be tried outside it. The reason was that the bourgeois community
enjoyed a peculiar law, and to secure its benefits the member had
to be exempted from courts which administered justice accord-
ing to feudal or manorial custom. Townsmen naturally objected
to procedure devised for knights or peasants; they demanded
forms of action by which debts could be collected, contracts could
be enforced, and property rights in land and chattels could be
safeguarded. These advantages were obtained in the town court
because there the judgment-finders were bourgeois. According
to the general practice of the age, the presiding magistrate was
appointed by the ruler, but the court itself was made up of leading
men from the locality. The actual system of proof and process
which thus came to be used in the mediaeval towns is too technical
a subject to be explained here. Each of the older communities
normally had its own usages. When, however, a new town was
established, the patron very commonly proclaimed some existing
custom as the one which he would uphold. Thus Freiburg-im-
Breisgau was given the law of Cologne, and a dozen other places
later secured that of Freiburg.

Select men of the town also took charge, under the superior
authority of the lord, of all matters touching commerce and in- Mercantile
dustry. The chief mercantile privilege of the bourgeois was his privilege
right to sell freely in the town market. Any one from the out-
side, even the citizen of a nearby town, was a foreigner, against
whom the local tolls served as a protective tariff. Frequently it
was provided that certain articles could be manufactured or sold
there only by members of that particular community, that they
had the first right to purchase certain kinds of imports, or that
all merchants coming within a certain region had to display their
goods in the town. All these and many other regulations would
have to be administered by men familiar with the details of busi-
ness — ^in other words, by the same sort of group as that which
enforced the law in the court. Often the townsmen were organ-
ized in a gild which had charge of all mercantile affairs; in that
case the men who ccmtrolled local affairs would be its governors.

36 o medieval history

But with or without a gild, the community had to have some sort
of informal organization, and from this to a grant of formal self-
government transition might be easy.

In the twelfth century only exceptional towns had any political
The lord’s powers of their own. Under the liberties of Lorris, for instance,
interests in rights of government remained with the king, who merely
the town guaranteed equal justice and protection to the inhabitants. What
the bourgeois chiefly wanted was economic and legal freedom —
the opportunity to make a living where and as he pleased, with-
out being subject to the arbitrary control of a manorial lord.
On his side, the prince who founded the town was swayed by
equally practical motives. He had learned from experience that
trading communities could not be managed like agrarian estates.
He was willing to renounce all the rights objected to by bour-
geois populations. He was willing even to provide lands at
nominal rents, abandoning to the men who took them the chance
of profit on future sales. Yet his action was by no means altru-
istic. He hoped to make a fortune out of the revenue that would
later accrue to him if the settlement flourished. The greater and^
more prosperous the town, the more he could expect by way of
tolls, profits of justice, and other incidentals. Wealthy communi-
ties were always glad to pay well for new privileges or for the
confirmation of old ones. And by politic negotiation handsome
subsidies might be secured from townsmen who appreciated the
value of a benevolent patron.

3, THE COMMUNES

The word comnuuna in the Middle Ages came to bear various
The mean- interpretations. Fundamentally it was used, like commimitas or
ingofthe universitas, to distinguish a group of people marked by some
common characteristic — ^such as all residents within a certain

commune

place, or all persons engaged in a particular occupation. More
specifically, it often had the meaning of a sworn association.
Such a society might be formed for a good end, as in connection
with the Peace of God,^^ or for an evil purpose, when it would
be more in the nature of a conspiracy. Accordingly, when the
inhabitants of a town, by taking a solemn oath, formed a league
in defense of their rights, they were said to have set up a “com-
mune,” to be praised or denounced according to the writer’s per-

^ See above, p. 332. ^

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS 361

sonal attitude. If, finally, the insurrectionaries triumphed and
secured legal recognition, their association would be turned into
a permanent municipality. So it came about that the word com-
mune eventually acquired the meaning of a self-governing town.

Some great mediaeval towns, it is true, were never called com-
munes, and some of those which did bear the name were relatively
insignificant. But in general we may quite properly employ the
term to distinguish those towns which enjoyed some measure of
autonomy.

In this respect the region first to attain prominence was Italy,
and, strangely enough, the city which there assumed the leader- The rise
ship was unknown to antiquity. While the older urban centers Venice
of the west were threatened with depopulation, Venice took form
and prospered. The causes for this exceptional development were
chiefly economic. In the sixth century, after Justinian’s recon-
quest of the peninsula, the low-lying district between Istria and
the Po was organized as a separate duchy.^® Earlier its popula-
tion had been very scanty. Now it became a refuge for thousands
of immigrants, for the marshes that fringed the eastward-flowing
rivers afforded safer protection against barbarian or brigand than
the stone walls of the inland cities. To gain a living in such an
environment, the newcomers naturally turned to the established
industry of salt-making and to coastwise trade. Then, as the
Lombards took Ravenna, the settlements along the Venetian coast
found their unbroken connection with Constantinople of tremen-
dous commercial advantage. And this preeminence was definitely
assured when Charlemagne abandoned the region to the Byzan-
tine emperor.^^

Within the next hundred years an increasing population gath-
ered at Rialto, the lagoon which experience proved to be the most
favorably situated — ^and the illustrious city of Venice was bom,
as poets have sung, of the sea. Being built on islands and a shore
cut by numerous streams, Venice from the outset used waterways
for streets. On the west the city was isolated from the mainland
by a great expanse of swamp which made it virtually immune
from military attack; to seaward lines of sand bars constituted
a naval barrier of even greater strength.. To some degree Venice
thus shared the natural advantages of Constantinople and by
the opening of the eleventh century had become undisputed queen

^ See above, p. 162.
See above, p. 189.

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

The ttrbaii
nobility
of Italy

Genoa and
Pisa

362

of the Adriatic. Although in theory part of the Byzantine Em-
pire, the city was actually a republic, holding dominion over a
considerable portion of the coast. The duke of Venetia had now
become the doge of Venice — ^110 longer an appointed official, but
an elected magistrate who ruled by the advice and consent of
the local aristocracy. In every respect Venice acted as a sov-
ereign state; it coined money, signed treaties, and waged war.
Venetian fleets assumed an active offensive against the Dalmatian
pirates, the Saracens of Sicily, and various rival communities
that threatened to invade Adriatic commerce. When the Vene-
tians joined the emperor Alexius Comnenus against the Nor-
mans/® it was as allies rather than as subjects; and in return
they gained the enormous advantage of free trade throughout
all the Byzantine possessions, including the city of Constantinople
itself.

In northwestern Europe at this time the feudal nobility was
essentially an agrarian class, living in the country and despising
town dwellers as social inferiors — a chivalrous prejudice that
still clings to the word bourgeois. Venice, on the contrary, re-
mained loyal to the traditions of antiquity. The aristocratic
families of Venetia identified themselves with the rising city.
They lived in it, ruled it, and prospered with it, ii:ivesting their
wealth in ships and mercantile enterprise. As at Constantinople,
legal and economic institutions could be traced back by direct
continuity to imperial Rome. Though hardly emerging until the
ninth century, Venice was a true city-state of the t3q)e made
famous by the Greeks. To a lesser degree the same consideration
holds true for the other cities of Italy. In all of them the local
nobles, despite their feudal titles, played a prominent part through-
out the Middle Ages. Even those who originally held aloof
from the communal movement were eventually drawn or forced
into it. This fact alone gives to the social history of Italy a
character that sharply distinguishes it from that of Germany or
France or England.

Nevertheless, it was not the landed aristocracy that really cre-
ated the splendor of the Italian cities in the later Middle Ages,
but the humbler citizens engaged in trade and industry. The
great political changes that revolutionized Italy between the tenth
and the twelfth centuries can be understood only by taking into

^ See above, p. 330.

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS 363

account the contemporary revival of commerce. Although eco-
nomic ties with Constantinople stimulated the early development
of Venice, it was rather the opening of new markets to the north
and west that led to its amazing expansion in the age of the
crusades. So, at the same time, Genoa and Pisa rose to great
prosperity without the advantage of a Byzantine connection.

While the sea belonged to the Saracens these cities remained
obscure. Then, as the Moslem power weakened, they assumed
the leadership of a Christian offensive in the western Mediter-
ranean. By 1095 their fleets had gained control of the European
coast from Sicily to Barcelona; they held the islands of Corsica
and Sardinia, and they enjoyed special rights in northern Africa.

From the very beginning the Genoese and Pisans gave active
support to the crusade. As we have seen, their ships saved the
Christian host before Antioch and later made possible the cap-
ture of Jerusalem. Their reward was the allotment of trading
quarters in the towns of the Syrian coast and a series of valuable
concessions from the princes of the newly organized Latin states.

This success ended tlie earlier hesitation of the Venetians, who
now joined their western rivals in the profitable business of
transporting pilgrims and exploiting the Christian conquests.

. Meanwhile Genoa and Pisa had tended, like Venice, to become
autonomous republics. Before the end of the eleventh century The Lom-
both cities appear as communes, governed by groups of elected bard and
magistrates styled consuls. By that time, or within the next few
years, the same result had been attained in a host of other north
Italian towns — ^such as^ Siena, Florence, Lucca, Milan, Pavia,

Brescia, and Bologna. Each of these municipalities had, of
course, its own history, influenced by peculiarities of local cus-
tom and the varying attitude of persons in authority. In gen-
eral, however, the commune arose as a sworn association of citi-
zens — ^both noble and plebeian — for the maintenance and extension
of their liberties. Though occasionally it might be formed with
the consent and support of the existing government, it was more
frequently a revolutionary organization which achieved its ends
by means of insurrection. When, as was generally the case in
Lombardy, the city had been legally subordinated to the bishop,
the outbreak was primarily directed against his power. But the
commune might also be employed as an effective weapon against
a lay prince. Whatever the preliminaries, the ultimate result was
the establishment ol.z^de facto republic based on a league of citi-

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

364

zens sworn to advance their common interests by persuasion,
boycott, or force of arms.

In the absence of an efficient monarchy, northern Italy thus
became a mosaic of city-states. Each of the Lombard and Tus-
can communes, like Venice and Genoa, held control not merely
of the walled area, but of a considerable district outside, which
the commune sought to expand by annexing the castles, country
estates, and lesser towns of the neighborhood. Such an aggres-
sive policy was dictated largely by commercial considerations —
the necessity of controlling highways, streams, passes, and other
essentials of economic independence. The situation was further
complicated by the antagonistic ambitions of noble families, who
maintained bitter feuds with rivals in the country, in other com-
munes, and even in their own commune. This warlike character
of the influential citizens was reflected in the most prominent
buildings of the typical Italian city — ^the fortress-like palaces, each
constructed to house a whole clan and provided with a huge
tower from which to spy out the movements of the enemy.

The complete sovereignty of the cities, together with the
The chronic strife which it entailed, remained characteristic of Italy

northern for many centuries. In other countries the development of the
communes towns was more closely dependent on the powers and S3mipathies
of the greater princes. The restricted authority of the French
king allowed him to exercise direct control only over the towns
in his own domain. Similar rights were enjoyed within their
respective territories by all his great barons, among whom the
more important as founders of towns were the rulers of Flanders,
Normandy, Aquitaine, and Toulouse. These princes, while care-
fully preserving their political supremacy, showed themselves gen-
erally favorable to the ambitions of the bourgeoisie. The same
was true of the Norman duke’s policy in England. In Germany,
on the other hand, the emperors habitually gave their support to
the bishops, and the latter tended, like their brethren in France
and Italy, to oppose the extension of urban liberties.

By the early twelfth century, as already remarked, flourishing
Flanders towns had grown up about various bur gen in Flandfers, especially
at Ghent, Bruges, Arras, Ypres, and Saint-Omer. These com-
munities — or communes, as they are sometimes called — ^had then
come to enjoy considerable powers of self-government, as well as
the elementary bourgeois liberties enumerated above. By entirely
peaceful arrangement, each had now secured permission to elect

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS 365

its own echevins ^^ — ^magistrates who, under the superior author-
ity of the count, had charge of the local administration. Each
town, furthermore, seems to have had a gild merchant,^"^ which
included all persons who were there engaged In trade. The gild,
under its own officers, thus held a virtual monopoly of business
in the locality, regulating all such matters as tolls, rights of sale
or purchase, and standards of manufacture. For such purposes
the members had regular meetings in their gildhall. Frequently,
too, this building served as headquarters for the municipal gov-
ernment — 3. natural arrangement, since the same men would be
in control of both organizations. The gildsmen, however, did
not always spend the evening in serious debate — as we learn from
a remarkable Saint-Omer document of about iioo. Every so
often the gild held a wine-drinking, from which no brother could
absent himself without good excuse. When he came into the
hall, he had to leave at the door not merely his arms, but likewise
his wooden shoes — ^lest they be used as weapons. And a tariff
of penalties was applied to offences that disturbed the drinking —
including blows with the fist, with a stone, or with a loaf of bread !

In contradistinction to the Flemish communes, those of Picardy
very generally rose to power through violence. That region was Picardy
sprinkled with many old Roman cities, which earlier had been
little more than fortified centers of administration under the
resident bishops. By the opening of the twelfth century, how-
ever, most of these cities had attracted a considerable population
of merchants and artisans, who commonly occupied separate quar-
ters beyond the ancient walls. And as the bishops, or other lords,
refused to meet the demands of their bourgeois, the latter rose in
revolt, forming sworn associations much like those of Lom-
bardy. The first such revolutionary commune in the north was
that of Cambrai in 1077. Although this rising was put down,
a later insurrection was more successful. The townsmen then
forced the bishop to grant them a communal charter, which was
quashed only when, in 1107, the emperor intervened on the side
of the church. Many more years passed and much more trouble
ensued before the city obtained definite recognition of its liber-
ties. Meanwhile the example set by Cambrai was widely fol-
lowed throughout the region to the south. One after another.

In Latin, scaUni, The name had earlier been applied to the judgment-
finders in a territorial court; see above, p. 193.

Merchant** is an adjecrive. The expr^rion means a gild of merchants.

Normandy

and

England

366 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

rebellions broke out in Saint-Quentin, Amiens, Laon, and Beau-
vais. Some failed and some succeeded, but sooner or later these
towns and many others throughout the neighboring region se-
cured recognition as communes under elected magistrates.

In many cases the troubles of the northern cities were ended
through the intervention of Louis VI, who restored order by
arranging some sort of compromise. On the whole, his policy
clearly favored the bourgeoisie, for his settlements tended to
break the effective government of the cities by the bishops and to
substitute that of the citizens under his own superior control.
Eventually, after the revolutionary phase had passed, the Picard
communes came to be organized quite like those of Flanders —
normally under a board of elected officials called jiires}^ Every
resident was bound by oath to obey his magistrates and, to lend
aid to the enforcement of their judgments. Any townsman who
refused to do so was declared a public enemy and subjected to the
penalty of having his house torn down. Or should a noble of
the countryside deny justice to a member of the commune and
defy its authority, the citizens would be assembled in the market
place by the ringing of a great bell and all would march* forth
to take vengeance on the common foe. Such provisions as these
are usual in the communal charters, and they show how, in
the feudal society of the early twelfth century, the individual
bourgeois was helpless without an armed union to support him.

In Normandy we have clear evidence that the merchants of
Rouen were organized as a powerful gild even before the duke’s
conquest of England. From Henry I the city apparently received
at least some political rights, but it is only at a later time that we
definitely learn of a communal administration headed by a group
of elected jures. In his island kingdom Henry also gave a re-
markable charter to London — ^the first known grant of formal
self-government to an English town. In this respect, as in all
others, the rest of the boroughs lagged far behind the metropolis.
Until the closing years of the twelfth century, most of them en-
joyed only the elementary liberties of free status, burgage tenure,
and the like. Almost every English borough had its gild mer-
chant, through which, in some degree, the burgesses might actu-
ally control their local affairs. In this connection, too, should
be mentioned the league of the Cinque Ports. As the name im-

That is to say, sworn” to act as r^resentatives of the community.

THE GROWTH OF THE TOWNS 367

plies, there were originally five (Hastings, Sandwich, Dover,

Romney, and Hythe), but later the number was increased. Ac-
cording to a custom dating from the reign of Edward the Con-
fessor, each of them was bound to furnish the king a certain
number of ships for fifteen days’ service annually, and in return
enjoyed freedom from toll throughout England, together with
other privileges. Under the Normans the Cinque Ports gained
even more extensive liberties, and eventually all became self-
governing. From this unique organization directed by the con-
stable of Dover Castle, the king secured a regular navy all through
the Middle Ages.

In twelfth^entury Germany the most advanced town, both
economically and politically, was Cologne, where, by way of Germany
exception, mimicipal development seems to have continued with-
out serious opposition from the local bishop. Before 1100 the
city had a flourishing gild merchant, and within the next fifty
years a communal organization under elected magistrates took
form. The other cities of the Rhine Vall^ — such as Mainz,

Trier, Worms, Strasbourg, Frankfort, Constance, and Basel —
became self-governing only in the following century. The' same
statement will apply to the leading tovras of the Danube, headed
by Ratisbon, and of eastern Germany, where the foremost urban
center was Magdeburg. As yet the only great town of Holland
was Utrecht, and on the Meuse Liege was hardly rivaled by
Namur and Verdun. Most of Lorraine, in fact, remained com-
paratively backward — ^as did the central region of the Burgundies,
Champagne, and Auvergne. The towns on the upper Seine and
Loire — even Paris and Orl&ns — ^were of second rank as late as
1200. Brittany had no towns of any considerable size. Along
the Bay of Biscay, however. La Rochefle, Bordeaux, and Bayonne
were becoming important for sea trade, especially in wine.

Throughout Toulouse and Provence, meanwhile, the revival of
commerce in the western Mediterranean naturally brought new Southern
life to such Roman cities as Marseilles, Arles, Nimes, B&iers,
Montpellier, Narbonne, and Carcassonne. By the middle of the
twelfth caitury at least a dozen of these towns had peaceably
obtained extensive liberties from their respective lords, usually
lay nobles. Following the example of the Italian cities, they
installed magistrates with the title of consuls, and in other re-
spects many of them resembled the southern rather than the north-
ern communes. In Spain, too, municipal organization tended to

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

368

be of the Italian type. It is true that many small trading settle-
ments grew up under the protecting walls of castles, and some of
them became prosperous enough to receive formal charters like
those given to northern towns. But the Spanish nobles, like
those of Italy, continued by preference to live in the great cities
which, through the influence of the constant warfare against
the Moors, remained especially important as military centers. Of
those in Qiristian hands before 1200, the only one to attain
prominence in European commerce was Barcelona.

The preceding pages have, of course, merely introduced a very
large and complex subject. In the history of the mediaeval town
the twelfth century was the formative period. Further details
concerning urban life and institutions must be left for a subse-
quent chapter. Meanwhile it should be noted that in all the
great states of Europe the bourgeoisie came to exert a powerful
influence on constitutional development and on political affairs
generailly. This influoice will be apparent as we review the his-
tory of the French, English, German, and Italian kingdoms.

CHAPTER XVI

FRANCE AND ENGLAND : THE RISE OF THE
CAPETIANS

I. LOUIS VI AND HENRY I

In an earlier chapter the story of the French monarchy was
dropped at the time of Philip I.^ While witnessing great exploits
on the part of his barons in England, Spain, Italy, Sicily, and the
Holy Land, he lived to a dishonored old age, to die finally in 1 1 08-
Like his contemporary, Henry IV of Germany, Philip spent many
years under papal excommunication; but unlike the headstrong
emperor, he gained the distinction through sheer apathy. It may,
indeed, be said that Philip’s only great accomplishment was the
begetting of his son Louis. That prince, by admirably combining
valor and industry, high ideals and common sense, opened a new
age in the history of France. With Louis VI the Capetian
dynasty began a splendid career, which was to culminate six hun-
dred years later in the gorgeous reign of Louis XIV.

At the opening of the twelfth century, however, the prospects
of the royal house seemed by no means brilliant. The king
still possessed the theoretical rights of the Carolingians : he was
supposed to be the protector of the church, the fountain of justice,
and the commander of the nation in arms. Actually, the royal
authority had long since been divided among a dozen great dukes
and marquises. For two centuries the king had ceased to have
any direct contact with the French people as a whole, either lay
or clerical. His effective government was restricted to the lie de
France, Even there his resources were meager. A long, narrow
territory, devoid of seaports and natural frontiers, the royal do-
main was hemmed in on all sides by the states of powerful and
unscrupulous barons. To make the situation worse, the king
had little control over his immediate subordinates — ^the prevots
who collected his revenues and the chatelains who held his castles.
In every direction lawless vassals made the roads unsafe for
travel and terrorized the churdies of which the king acted as
patron. Obviously, before the Capetian could hope to extend

1 See above, p. 275.

369

The
French
kingdom
about HOC

Louis VI
and the
pacifica-
tion of the
royal
domain

370 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

his influence throughout the kingdom, he would have to make
himself master of his own principality. It was to this task that
Louis VI devoted his life.

Louis is described by contemporaries as tall and handsome —
an athlete, passionately fond of riding and hunting, and a brave
soldier. He was also a huge eater. In his later years he put on
so much flesh that he gained the nickname oi le Gro$) but even
as Louis the Fat, he remained extremely active. His reign actu-
ally began before the death of his father: at eighteen he had
already been knighted, associated in the royal office, and placed in
charge of military operations on the Norman frontier. As soon
as his defenses on that side had been put in better condition, he
turned to the unspectacular but highly essential work of pacifying
his domain. Year after year the indefatigable Louis assembled
a small force and launched a campaign against some obstreperous
official or robber baron. Gradually the royal cause triumphed.
By 1120 the king could again move about in the lie de France
without an army to cut a passage. His castles were placed in
charge of loyal vassals. Revenue once more flowed steadily into
his treasury. Peasants and traders joined the clergy in fervent
thanks to God for a virtuous and able king.

In connection with this work, Louis developed an active policy
of stimulating new economic projects. Like other progressive
lords of the day, he issued special charters to attract cultivators to
his waste lands. The colonist, or hdte, who would settle in some
particular region was promised a status very superior to that of
the ordinary villein : he should be exempt from all arbitrary exac-
tions, held only for a small rent and strictly defined services.
Much wider liberties, as we have seen, were established by the
king at Lorris,^ whence they were extended into many other small
towns. To Paris and Orleans, as to most places under his imme-
diate authority, he made no formal grants of self-government;
but on ecclesiastical territory he helped to found communes at
Laon, Amiens, Beauvais, Noyon, Soissons, Corbie, and Saint-
Riquier. The alliance between monarchy and bourgeoisie, which
was to be of tremendous importance throughout the later history
of France, was essentially the product of Louis VPs reign.

Except for his intervention on behalf of the communes, which
was a matter of recognizing the inevitable, Louis remained a

® See above, p. 356.

THE RISE OF THE CAPETIANS 371

staunch friend of the church. Throughout the better part of his
reign, in fact, he had the support of the greatest clergyman in
France, Suger. The latter began life as a peasant, but as a youth
entered a monastery. Having acquired a considerable reputation
for learning, he was appointed instructor to Prince Louis.
Through this friendship, and through his own extraordinary tal-
ents, Suger came to be adviser to the king and, in 1122, abbot of
Saint-Denis, one of the great religious houses near Paris. So,
with regard to his own career, he quoted Psalm 113 :

He raiseth the poor out of the dust and lifteth the needy out of the
dunghill, that He may set him with princes.

Suger, as will be seen in the following section, actually governed
France for many years under Louis VII and continued to play a
prominent part in all affairs of state until his death in 1151.
From his letters and other writings he gives us a vivid picture
of contemporary politics, as well as of his daily cares in the great
royal abbey of Saint-Denis. It was not the least of his distinc-
tions that he directed the building of the first great church to be
planned throughout in the new Gothic style.^

While consolidating his position within the royal domain, Louis
VI by no means neglected opportunities to interfere in affairs
touching the gteat fiefs. In this respect, however, his resources
were inadequate to win him any lasting success. No new terri-
tories were brought under the king^s direct control and his
princely vassals continued to act very much as they pleased.
When left to their own devices, they treated the king with re-
spect, occasionally appearing before him to perform homage or
to take part in a solemn convocation of his feudal court. Yet
there is no evidence that they ever paid him reliefs or aids, and
the military service which they gave him was quite nominal.
Earlier we have had occasion to review the political subdivisions
of France under the early Capetians. Throughout the first half
of the twelfth century conditions remained fundamentally un-
changed.

On the extreme south Catalonia was united in 1137 to the
kingdom of Aragon and so, though nominally remaining part of
France, actually broke away from it. Between the Pyrenees and
the Loire extended the great duchy of Aquitaine, which now in-
cluded that of Gascony. Until 1 127 its ruler was the remarkable

Suger
(d. iisi)

Louis and
the great
fiefs

Southern

France

* See below, p. 4S1.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

37 ^

William IX. Being widely criticized for his lack of crusading
ardor, he finally led an expedition to the east, but was badly
beaten by the Turks in Asia Minor and returned home to pursue
his more congenial career as a troubadour.* On his death he was
succeeded by his son, William X. And when the latter was
stricken by mortal illness in 1137, he expressed the desire that
his daughter and heiress should be married to the son of Louis VI
— a. great tribute to the enhanced prestige of the monarchy and,
as will be seen below, a momentous decision in more ways than
one. Along with his magnificent principality, William passed to
his successors the unfinished project of conquering Toulouse.
That county, in fact, had barely escaped absorption into Aquitaine
on several occasions. Raymond IV, the famous crusader, never
returned from the Holy Land, and after him two sons and a
grandson sought to make good their claim to Tripolis. In theory
their pious undertakings were supposed to bring immunity to their
possessions at home; actually their protracted absences served
only to encourage their rivals.

In the north of France, meanwhile, four great states were en-
Northem gaged in a bitter struggle for supremacy: Flanders, Normandy,
France Anjou, and Blois. Burgundy still remained comparatively ob-
scure under a branch of the Capetian house, and Brittany con-
tinued to be little more than a scene of barbarous warfare. Cham-
pagne and Blois had for a time been separated, but in 1125 both
fiefs were again united under Thibaut IV, the implacable enemy
of Louis VI. Thibaut’s father was the Stephen of Blois who had
taken the cross in 1095; his mother was a daughter of William
the Conqueror. And it was through this connection that his
younger brother, also named Stephen, secured the crovra of Eng-
land in 1 135. On the one hand Blois had a bitter enemy in the
Capetian monarchy, on the other in Anjou. The count of that
territory in the early twelfth century ended the civil wars that had
recently paralyzed the country and so prepared the way for the
brilliant success of his son and successor, Geoffrey Plantagenet®
( 1 129-5 1 ) • To understand his fortunes, we must turn to the his-
tory of Normandy.

William the Conqueror died in 1087, leaving Normandy to his
eldest son, Robert, and England to his second son, William. His

* See bdow, p. 453.

' So called from the broom flower that he was accustomed to wear. It was
his personal nickname and was not home by his descendants.

THE RISE OF THE CAPETIANS 373

third son, Henry, as yet had nothing beyond a sum of cash. Wil-
liam II, or William Rufus, as he is commonly known, proved
himself an able though unscrupulous king. Crushing an insurrec-
tion of discontented barons, he stoutly maintained the authority
left him by his father. Indeed, by pushing his rights to unprece-
dented extremes, he soon gained an evil reputation for tyrannical
and extortionate government. The church in particular com-
plained that, when prelates died, William deliberately prolonged
the vacancies for the sake of incidental revenue.® After the death
of Lanfranc, archbishop of Canterbury under William I, we are
told that the king was induced by what he thought a mortal illness
to appoint the learned Anselm, and that, when he recovered, he
sorely repented his piety. William fought with success against
the Welsh and the Scots, reestablishing the lordship which his
father had asserted over those countries. Of greater importance
was his occupation of Cumberland and Westmoreland, which thus
extended the northwest boundary of England to the point where
it has since remained. Meanwhile there had been intermittent war
between William and his brother Robert, which was interrupted
only by the latter’s assumption of the cross in 1095. And before
he had returned from the crusade, William was accidentally killed
while hunting in iioo.

. The chief gainer by this misadventure was Henry, who for
years had been living quietly in England, hoping for a favor-
able turn of events. Quickly he seized the opportunity that
was now afforded. Taking possession of the royal treasury,
he secured the support of the chief barons by pledging a re-
formed administration, and inside two days was solemnly
crowned king of England. As part of the bargain just ef-
fected, he then issued his famous Coronation Charter, promising
to abolish all the abuses that had characterized his brother’s gov-
ernment. Some of the articles were too vague to be of any prac-
tical value-7-such as the one stating that only "‘just reliefs” should
henceforth be taken from heirs. Others included very specific
engagements, but we have positive evidence from later records
that the king generally broke his word. For example, Henry’s
promise never to take anything from the demesnes of the church
during a vacancy in abbacy or bishopric seems to have been utterly
disregarded. His Coronation Charter, accordingly, did not open

The Nor-
man suc-
cession

Henry I,
king of
England
(iic30-3s)

• See above, p. 256.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

374

Diike of

Normandy

(iio6)

I Rdations
‘with
! Louis VI

a new epoch in English constitutional history; it served merely
as a useful reminder that the king had once recognized limits to
his authority.

Henry, as a matter of fact, never dreamed of himself as a ca-
pricious despot. He held loyally to the fundamental customs es-
tablished by his father, strengthening his monarchy not by usurpa^
tion, but by statesmanlike development of existing institutions.
One of his first acts after securing power was to marry Edith,
daughter of the Scottish king and on her mother’s side a
descendant of Alfred. This alliance was shrewdly calculated to
make him popular with the native English; and to please the
Normans, the lady’s name was changed to Matilda (Maud). In
the meantime Robert, duke of Normandy, had returned from the
crusade and he at once provoked an insurrection of the more
turbulent barons in England. Robert, however, was notoriously
incompetent, and the intrigue merely gave Henry a good pretext
for extending his ambitions to the continent. After a long series
of minor quarrels in which the French king vainly supported the
elder brother, Henry won a decisive victory at Tinchebrai in iio6.
Robert spent the rest of his life in prison, while Henry thence-
forth held undisputed sway throughout all his father’s dominions.

Louis VI, making the best of a situation which he could not
control, received Henry I as his vassal for Normandy. But rela-
tions between the two continued strained, and before long they
were embroiled in a war that lasted for the better part of twenty
years. Throughout this struggle Henry maintained his position
with complete success, securing recognition of his overlordship in
Brittany and extending his authority over certain disputed terri-
tory on the Seine. Hitherto the French king had regularly de-
pended on the count of Anjou for aid against the Normans, and
Henry had countered by allying with Louis’s bitter enemy, the
count of Blois. In 1128, however, there was a surprising diplo-
matic reversal. Some years ^rlier Henry’s two sons had both
been drowned by the tragic sinking of the White Ship in the
British Channel; so the king was left with, only a daughter, Ma-
tilda, already married to the emperor, Henry V. In 1125 the
latter died and Matilda was brought home, to be solemnly recog-
nized by the barons as heiress of both Normandy and England.
Then, to assure the lady powerful support, Henry gave her in
marriage to Geoffrey Plantagenet of Anjou, who in the next year

THE RISE OF THE CAPETIANS 375

(1129) inherited his father’s county. Finally, in 1133, the aging
king was delighted by the news that he had a grandson, who was
to be named for him and who, it might be expected, w'ould in time
rule the combined states of England, Normandy, and Anjou.

Nevertheless, when Henry died in 1135, most of his barons
refused to carry out the settlement to which they had earlier Stephen,
pledged support. Recognition of the infant Henry was out of king of
the question. As good Normans, they hated to submit to their
ancient enemy, the Angevin, and they did not like the idea of ^

being ruled by the ex-empress. This was the situation when a
claim to the succession was raised by Stephen of Blois, brother
of Count Thibaut and grandson of the Conqueror. Being well
known to the magnates and personally popular, he received their
support and was crowned. War with Anjou thus became inevi-
table, while Stephen’s weakness soon encouraged the outbreak of
widespread civil disorders in both England and Normandy. Once
more fortune favored the French king, but Louis VI did not live
to profit by the opportunity. Dying in 1137, he left the throne to
the son who had already been associated in the royal dignity and
who, by a lucky marriage, had just acquired the magnificent in-
heritance of Aquitaine. With such prospects, how could Louis
VII avoid winning for his house a dominant position in western
Europe?

The new king, it soon appeared, utterly ladced the statesman-
ship of his father. Virtuous and lovable in personal character, he
seemed never able to adopt a sensible policy, flying from one im-
practical scheme to another and constantly ruining fine prospects
by stupid blunders. At the beginning of his reign much, of
course, might be pardoned him on the score of youth; but unhap-
pily for his country, Louis never devdoped a keen intelligence.
Although the experienced Suger might save the royal cause in
some respects, he could not do everything. During the crucial
years between 1137 and 1 145 the king seemed blind to the menace
that threatened him from Anjou. Having wasted his energies in
futile quarrels with the pope and with the count of Blois, he then
chose to desert his kingdom for a poorly managed crusade.'’^ After
the total failure of his expedition to Syria, he finally returned
home and was fortunate enough, thanks to Suger, to find his do-
main intact.

^ See below, p. 522*

The rise
of the
Angevin
power

376 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

2. HENRY II AND THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION

The question of the Norman inheritance had, of course, to be
settled on the battlefield, for Stephen’s succession was immediately
challenged by the Angevins. While Geoffrey undertook the re-
duction of Normandy, the dauntless Matilda led an army across
the Channel. There she fought the English king with varying
success until, in 1148, she abandoned the campaign as hopeless.
By that time her husband had achieved his objective. As Ste-
phen’s party on the continent had never been strong, and as Louis
VII made no effort to intervene, Geoffrey steadily pushed his
occupation of Normandy, finally taking Rouen in 1144. This
conquest he carried out in the name of his son Henry, and in
1150 the seventeen-year-old boy was actually invested with his
grandfather’s duchy. Then, in the next year, Geoffrey died and
Henry came into possession of Anjou. Louis VII, having per-
mitted Geoffrey to complete his project without the slightest inter-
ference, could not refuse to accept the homage of his heir for the
two great fiefs.

As it turned out, Henry’s good fortune had only begun. The
year 1151 saw the death of Suger; and the king, as if to celebrate
his independence, proceeded to his crowning folly — the divorce of
his wife. Eleanor, the granddaughter of a famous troubadour,
had been brought up in an atmosphere of romantic gallantry.
Perhaps she chafed under the restraints of the somewhat bar-
barous court at Paris and the growing indifference of her spouse.
At any rate, during the course of the crusade, Louis was shocked
by her flirtatious conduct and now, in 1152, he prevailed upon the
ecclesiastical authorities to declare the marriage void because of
an alleged blood-relationship between the pair. Possibly the fact
that the queen had as yet failed to bear a son also had weight with
the king. Whatever his motive, Louis deliberately repudiated not
only Eleanor, but Aquitaine as well. To make the situation in-
finitely worse, the affronted lady found revenge by marrying,
just two months later, the young Henry of Anjou. On the side
of the groom, assuredly, it was no love match, for he was some
ten years her junior. It was, however, a masterpiece of political
strategy, and since his queen gave him no less than five sons and
three daughters, it assured the future of the d3masty.

Strangely enough, although war had already broken out be-
tween the two, Louis in 1152 granted Henry a truce, which he

THE RISE OF THE CAPETIANS 377

used for an attack upon Stephen in England. The latter, hav- Hemy 11
ing no stomach for fighting, at once agreed to recognize Henry as of England
heir to his crown — ^an arrangement that was peacefully carried
out when Stephen died in the very next year. By 1 154 Henry II,
as he may henceforth be called, thus combined under his personal
dominion an impressive territory, extending on the continent from
tlie Atlantic to the imperial border along the Rhone and from the
Pyrenees to Flanders. As duke of Aquitaine he held a claim to
the county of Toulouse, which from time to time he later tried
to make good. As duke of Normandy, he enjoyed the overlord-
ship of Brittany. This title, in itself, meant little, but the subse-
quent marriage of his third son, Geoffrey, to the heiress of the
county offered at least the possibility of important consequences.

As king of England, finally, he asserted a theoretical superiority
over the Welsh princes to the west and the Scottish king to the
north.

In Scotland the twelfth century marked a great advance of civi-
lization. David I (1124-53), been brought up in Eng- Scotland

land, largely reorganized th6 kingdom on a feudal basis. The and Wales
English-speaking lowlands® had already come to include many
Norman-French adventurers; under David a host of others car-
ried their influence even into the Celtic highlands. At this same
time the customs of Norman-French trading settlements were
extended to the Scottish boroughs by granting than the liberties
of Newcastle-on-T3me.® Meanwhile the Welsh had likewise been
pushed fartha and farther back into their rocky peninsula. Espe-
cially along the northern shore of Bristol Channel, the Norman
barons of the frontier, the famous Lords Marchers, built up a
series of little feudal states from Cardiff to Pembroke. And as
the invaders raised their castles, they founded many new towns,
commonly endowed with the laws of Breteuil.^® Under Henry
II Norman aggression was not only continued on these two fronts,
but also extended into Ireland.

That island, in the course of the ninth century, had been rav-
aged from end to end by the vikings, some of whom had founded Irdand
permanent settlements along the east coast Afterwards the Scan-
dinavians, adopting Christianity and mixing with the native popu-

» See above, p. 283.

• See above, p. 357.

w See above, p. 357.

378 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

lation, had tended to become indistinguishable from the rest of the
inhabitants. Divided into numerous warring clans, the Irish in
the twelfth century were as far from political unity as ever. In
1 1 66 Henry II's aid was solicited by an exiled chieftain named
Dermot who received permission to seek aid from the barons.
Accordingly, in 1169, a Norman force was sent into Ireland by
Richard, earl of Pembroke, popularly known as Strongbow. The
sequel may readily be guessed : Dermot’s assistants took not only
his territories, but many others, carving out fiefs for themselves
exactly as they had in Wales. Finally, in 1171, Henry decided
to intervene. Placing a justiciar at Dublin, he organized the
Norman conquests on the east coast under direct royal authority
and exacted homage from many Irish chiefs. The customs of
Bristol were established in the principal towns. English dominion
was thus extended over a portion of Ireland; many centuries
were to pass before the whole island was subjected.

Through the almost imperial extent of his territories, Henry II
was vastly more powerful than Louis VII of France; indeed, he
far surpassed the Holy Roman Emperor in everything save dig-
nity. Most of his time was naturally spent on the continent,
where lay his principal interests. Not only French politics, but
affairs of Italy, Germany, Spain, Constantinople, and Jerusalem
received his attention. His daughters were married to the king
of Castile, the king of Sicily, and Henry the Lion, the great duke
of Saxony and Bavaria.^^ From a prince of such eminence mat-
ters of English administration could demand only an occasional
glance. Nevertheless, among all the kings of England, none has
left a greater impress on the history of the country than Henry
II. Being a man of forceful personality who inspired extremes
of hatred and devotion, Henry was vividly described by many
writers. Like his Angevin father and grandfather, he had red
hair ; and with that went a freckled complexion, a thickset frame,
and a fiery temper. Although passionate and ambitious, Henry
remained preeminent for his practical sense, always preferring the
realities of power to any sort of visionary project.

To maintain efficient authority throughout his widely separated
dominions was almost a superhuman task for the twelfth cen-
tury. That he did so is sufficient evidence of his greatness as an
administrator. All contemporary writers agree on Henryks amaz-

^ See bdow, pp. 398 f.

THE RISE OF THE CAPETIAXS 379

ing energy. His courtiers complained that they hardly had a
chance to sleep ; the king was forever getting up early in order to
go somewhere. When he was not fighting or hunting, he was
always fiercely engaged in some matter of business. Even dur-
ing mass he had to be supplied with writing materials to keep him
from fidgeting. These characteristics appear very prominently
in connection with Henry’s reforms in England. His entire
reign was marked by a continuous process of experimentation,
much of which proved of permanent value to the kingdom. For
almost twenty years under Stephen the country had been plunged
in chronic disorder — ^the period known to English historians as
the Anarchy. Henry’s first task was to restore the system of his
grandfather, Henry I. All his enactments were fitted into the
Norman tradition ; none of them was published as an innovation.

Yet, taking advantage of the public demand for strong monarchy,

Henry was able by subtle changes to effect an enormous increase
in the royal power. To make this point clear, it will be necessary
to review the development of English institutions in the period
following the Norman Conquest.

That event, as explained above, made England into a thor-
oughly feudal state. Under H^ry I the situation remained fun- 'ITie curia
damentally unchanged, but in the course of his reign certain «gijand
constitutional elements of great significance may first be plainly ^chequer
distinguished. By this time, for instance, there had emerged a
group of professional administrators and judges — ^the core of a
permanent central government. Although the king might occa-
sionally summon a general assembly of all his barons, both great
and small, his ordinary administration was superintended by a
select body of trusted advisers and high officials. Such were par-
ticularly the treasurer, the chancellor, the constable, and the chief
justiciar, the man who headed the government while the king
was abroad. These persons, together with other ministers, con-
stituted the usual council of the king,'or citm regis. And as yet
there was only one such group, attending to all sorts of business.

On one day it might discuss relations with the French king, on the
next sit as a court of law, and on a third take up matters of
finance.

In this last capacity, the curia under Henry I became known as
the exdiequer because the table about which the members gathered
had a top like a chessboard. The exchequer was a form of

Taxation
ind the
owns

380 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

abacus/^ designed to facilitate the work of addition and subtrac-
tion without recourse to the clumsy Roman numerals. By ancient
custom the king's ordinary revenue in a shire was farmed to the
sheriff — ^that is to say, was leased to him in return for a fixed
annual payment. When, accordingly, the sheriff appeared before
the court, the clerks arranged counters in columns to represent
the pounds, shillings, and pence that he owed. Then they sub-
tracted, item by item, whatever cash he had paid into the treasury
and all expenditures which he had made on the king's order and
for which he presented receipts or tallies.^® Finally, after the
account was completed, the sum remaining on the table indicated
what he still owed. Meanwhile, other clerks had kept a written
record of the transaction on sheets (or pipes) of parchment.
These, when sewn together and rolled up, were known as a pipe
roll. The oldest one extant is that of the year 1130, the sole sur-
vivor from the reign of Henry I. But from the time of Henry II,
who reestablished the financial system of his grandfather, the
annual accounts have been preserved complete.

Just before the Conqueror’s death he ordered a great survey
by which the actual value of every manor in England was to be
determined. In every hundred a number of men, both French
and English, were placed on oath to answer questions put to them
by royal ministers — a procedure introduced by the Normans and
technically known as an inquest. The testimony thus given was
written down by clerks and eventually condensed to form the huge
compilation known as Domesday Book, which is our most precious
source for English institutions in the eleventh century. Although
the chief motive of the Domesday inquest was apparently the re-
assessment of the ancient land tax, that project was never carried
out. Henry I's pipe roll shows him collecting annual Danegelds
on the basis of the old ratings. The only change was that the
boroughs were now charged round sums more in accord with
their ability to pay. To supplement the Danegeld, the king also'
exacted '‘aids” or "gifts” from the county courts and from indi-
vidual military tenants. This practice was systematized and
greatly extended by Henry II, so that he could soon afford to drop
the old Danegeld altogether and rely on his newly perfected
taxes, principally the scutage and the tallage. The former was
a sort of aid taken from the barons in place of military service.

“ See bdow, p. 418.

See above, p. 270.

THE RISE OF THE CAPETIANS 381

The latter consisted primarily of arbitrary sums collected from
the boroughs ; but similar payments were also taken from manors
of the royal demesne, from the communities of Jews under the
king’s protection, and from other non-nobles.

Although the barons were normally quite willing to substitute
the payment of money for knight service, the ultimate advantage
lay with the king. By taking the cash and hiring troops, he
could procure a force entirely subject to his command and so
become less dependent on the baronage. The scutage, marking
a departure from the agrarian arrangements characteristic of feu-
dalism, was significant of a new age in economic and political
history. The same transition was even more clearly indicated by
the tallage, for that tax showed an amazing development in the
course of only a half-century. Rapid increase was made not
merely in the number of boroughs which paid, but also in the
amounts collected, so that the tallage soon became the largest item
in the king’s revenue. From the towns, too, came larger rents,
together with handsome sums for the receipt of special privileges.

Thanks to the pipe rolls, we may see precisely how Henry II
profited by his patronage of the bourgeois class. His grandfather,
as already noted, had granted self-government to London and es-
tablished more elementary liberties in many other towns, Henry
II issued municipal charters by the score. It is true that the
Londoners, because of their hostility to his mother, now lost their
right to elect magistrates, but Henry confirmed communes in
Rouen and other continental cities, and on the English boroughs
generally he conferred lesser rights with a lavish hand*

Financial interest may also be said to have dominated Henry
II’s judicial reforms. During earlier reigns members of the Judicial
king’s central court had occasionally been sent out into the coun- reforms
ties on special missions — ^to hold trials, make investigations, or
enforce decrees. Under Henry II these itinerant justices became
a regular part of the government, and with the passing of the
years their powers were constantly increased. Every so often
they held full meetings of the county courts, where they were met
by representatives of the hundreds and boroughs for the sake of
taxation, police, and other administrative matters. One of the
king’s chief concerns w^s the restoration of law and order
throughout the countryside, and, as the result of the anarchy
under Stephen, he encountered great trouble in bringing suspected
criminals to justice. Furthermore, he realized that current meth-

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

382

ods of trial, such as combat and compurgation, were far from
satisfactory. If in some way he could devise a means of provid-
ing juster decisions, he might improve the efficiency of the gov-
ernment and also add enormously to his income. These needs he
finally met by adaptations of the jury.

This famous English institution developed not from the pro-
cedure of the Anglo-Saxon courts, but from the Norman inquest,
which was derived, somewhat obscurely, from Carolingian and
late Roman practice. The essence of the inquest was that a ques-
tion was asked a group of men selected because of their special
knowledge and put on oath to tell the truth. The group was
called a jury (from jurati, sworn men) and thdr return a verdict
(veredictum, a true statement). As already noted, William I
employed juries to gain the information for his Domesday sur-
vey ; the same procedure was commonly followed in order to as-
certain the liberties to whidi a person or a community was en-
titled, to assess a man’s property for taxation, to investigate the
conduct of an official, and for other administrative purposes.
Henry II now adopted it as a means of starting criminal prosecu-
tions. Within each shire, he commanded, twelve men from every
hundred and four men from every vill should meet the itinerant
justices and on oath present to them the names of all persons
suspected of being robbers, murderers, and the like. This was
the origin of the grand jury — ^i.e., the big jury, which brings accu-
sations (presentments or indictments) preliminary to criminal
trials. During the twelfth century the accused was still tried by
the ordeal of hot water,^* but the king showed his mistrust of that
method by sending a man of very bad reputation into exile even if
he passed the test.

Under Henry II jury trial was restricted to civil suits. In cer-
Jtiry trial tain specified cases of a disputed title to land, the king provided
that the question at issue should be put to a jury of lawful men
chosen from the neighborhood by the sheriff. For instance, if A
was in possession of a property X, and B claimed it by right of
inheritance from his father, the jury would be asked: Did B’s

The two customary ordeals tinder the old Anglo-Saxon law were those of
hot water and hot iron. In the former the accused plunged his arm into hot
water; in the latter he carried a heated bar of iron for a certain distance. In
either case the wound was wrapped up and left for three days. If at the end of
that time it was pronounced **,clean,” the man was innocent. It would seem,
therefore, that guilt was determined by signs of infection, rather than of scalding
or burning.

THE RISE OF THE CAPETIANS 383

father possess X on the day when he was alive and dead ? And
according to their verdict the land would or would not be given
to B. As yet, it will be noted, even this trial jury (the petit,
or little, jury) was a group of expert witnesses who rendered
a decision on their own knowledge, not from evidence produced
in court. Many centuries were to pass before our familiar jury
procedure was developed. As it was, however, Henry’s trial jury
was a great improvement over combat, and since the king had a
monopoly of its use, his courts gained a great advantage over
those of the barons. JBy a variety of legal technicalities, every
freeholder, whether or not the king’s tenant, was allowed to buy a
writ bringing his case before the curia regis. So the feudal law
of the seignorial courts, as well as the ancient custom of the
Anglo-Saxon courts, was rapidly superseded by a growing body
of royal law, known as the common law because it was common
to the entire kingdom.

In his fiscal and judicial reforms Henry II thus extended and
systematized practices which had already been employed by his Relations
predecessors. Likewise with regard to the church he in general
followed the established custom of the Norman monarchy. The
conquest of 1066, having been blessed by the pope, naturally
brought to an end all local peculiarities of ecclesiastical govern-
ment disapproved by Rome. Episcopal sees were removed from
country villages to more important urban, centers the primacy of
the archbishop of Canterbury was definitely recognized; monas-
teries were thoroughly reformed in harmony with the Cluniac
ideals; a series of church courts entirely separate from those of
the state was established. In all these matters the Norman king
acted in hearty cooperation with Archbishop Lanfranc and the
papal legates. When, however, Gregory VII suggested that Wil-
liam perform homage to him for England, he was met with blunt
refusal. The Conqueror also continued to appoint and invest
prelates at his own pleasure. Gregory never brought this matter
to an issue in England, but it was revived by Anselm after he had
quarreled with William II, and it remained to trouble the ad-
ministration of Henry I. Finally, in 1106, both parties agreed
to a compromise. Although bishops and abbots were to be elected
respectively by the cathedral and monastic chapters, the election
had to be held in the king’s presence, ^nd the chosen prelate had
to perform homage before receiving his lands from the king.

St.

Thomas

Becket

384 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Formal installation with the ring and staff, the symbols of spir-
itual office, was to be subsequently carried out by a clergyman.

Thenceforth the matter of investiture was a closed issue, but
various other questions were to force themselves on Henry II’s
attention. During the troubled reign of Stephen, the church,
like the baronage, had naturally tended to encroach on the royal
authority. The age was one of new enthusiasm for the study
of canon law.^® Church courts were generally claiming jurisdic-
tion not only over purely ecclesiastical questions, but over all cases
which involved persons in holy orders. ^ Henry II was quite
willing that the church should continue to decide such questions as
perjury, the enforcement of wills, and the validity of marriages.
But he felt that courts of canon law, since they were forbidden
to take life or to shed blood, were hardly in position to deal with
thieves and murderers. He insisted that, according to the custom
of Henry I’s reign., clerg3rmen convicted of serious crime in the
church court should be stripped of their holy orders and turned
over to the state for punishment. This position was one sup-
ported by many authorities on canon law ; yet it came to be bitterly
opposed by the new archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket.

The latter was the son of a London merchant who earlier
had zealously served the king as royal chancellor. Then, on being
appointed to the see of Canterbury in 1162, he turned completely
about and became a fanatical champion of ecclesiastical inde-
pendence. In 1164 Henry secured the agreement of a great coun-
cil to the famous Constitutions of Clarendon, which prescribed
the king’s plan for the treatment of criminous clerks, prohibited
appeals to Rome without royal license, regulated procedure in
disputes between laity and clergy, and in general defined the rela-
tions of church and state. Becket, after signing the Constitu-
tions, repudiated his promise and proceeded by word and deed
to infuriate the hot-blooded king, who replied with every form of
legal persecution. Six years of violent controversy ended in a
hollow reconciliation. Finally, after a fresh quarrel, certain cour-
tiers took the king’s angry words too literally and slew the arch-
bishop before his altar at Canterbury. The result was the canon-
ization of Becket as a martyr and the partial failure of the king’s
reform program. For many centuries thereafter a criminal could
get off virtually scot-free on the first offense by pleading ‘‘benefit

See below, p. 431.

THE RISE OF THE CAPETIANS 385

of clergy” and proving that he was a clerk by reading one passage
in the Bible. In major respects, however, the king’s authority
over the English clergy remained tmdiminished and was •not
seriously challenged for another generation.

All in all, Henry II’s reign established constitutional and legal
precedents which have affected England from that day to the Books on
present. And it is worth noting that these momentous results lawmd
were accomplished not by formal legislation, but by adminis-
trative experimentation — ^through sets of instructions to his itin-
erant justices somewhat like the capitularies of Charlemagne.

These assizes, as they are called, constitute our most important
source for the king’s reforms, but they are supplemented by two
private works very characteristic of the new age. One is the
Dialogue on the Exchequer, written by the treasurer, Richard
Fitz-Nigel — a. highly technical essay on the working of Henry’s
financial system. The other is the Treatise on the Laws and
Customs of the Kingdom of England, by Henry’s justiciar,

Ranulf de Glanvill — ^the first of many famous writings on the
English common law. These books, together with the multiplica-
tion of pipe rolls and other administrative records, show how the
king’s service' was becoming a profession worthy of the best
talent that the kingdom could offer.

3. PHILIP AUGUSTUS

After peacefully observing Henry II’s spectacular rise to power,

Louis VII continued to reign uneventfully for another quarter Accession
of a century. By his first wife, Eleanor, he had no sons ; by his
second, a daughter of the count of Blois, he was finally blessed
with an heir. And this son, Philip, to whom later historians were
to gi-ve the surname Augustus, was soon called to undertake the
government of the kingdom. Knighted and crowned at the age of
fourteen, he actually began his reign in 1179. In the next year
his father died, and Philip celebrated his independence by marry-
ing the niece of the Flemish count. By this alliance the youth-
ful king accomplished two aids: he counteracted the threatening
influence of his mother’s family, the great house of Blois, and he
secured as dowry the promise of Artois, the region about the
wealthy to-wns of Arras and Saint-Omer. The count of Flanders,
however, was disappointed in his hope of controlling France; for
Philip next arranged a treaty with Henry II, who, being old and
in poor health, was quite willing to spend his last days in peace.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The ac-
quisition
of Artois
and Ver-
mandois

386

Philip as a mere boy thus displayed the wisdom that was to
characterize him throughout life and was to make his reign one
of the most significant in history. As to his physique, we hear of
no very striking traits, except that in later years he became bald
and that he was said to have one bad eye. He was not at all
ascetic, being fond of good cheer; and although he was somewhat
less licentious than his Angevin rivals, his private life was by no
means spotless. Being forced at an early age to begin the career
of a soldier and statesman, he never progressed far in education —
never, in fact, learned to read Latin. He was pious enough in
outward conduct, but piety can hardly be said ever to have dictated
any of his important actions. Fundamentally he was what the
French call a politique, a man whose career was dominated by
political considerations. Not in the least chivalrous, Philip fought
when he had to as a matter of business, and fought well. In
traditional goodness he was greatly inferior to Louis VII, and
yet there can be no question as to which was the better king.
Philip’s crafty self-control and hard intelligence, while they won
for him few warm friends, enabled him to redeem his father’s
mistakes and triumphantly resume the policy of his grandfather.

Philip’s alliance with Henry in 1180 brought him six years of
immunity from Angevin aggression — 3, period which he used
to full advantage. By a shrewd combination of fighting and
diplomacy, he not only broke up a feudal coalition headed by his
uncles, but emerged from the contest with a noteworthy accession
of territory. The count of Flanders was forced to recognize his
title, first, to Artois and, secondly, to Vermandois, the succession
to which had been disputed. As a consequence, the king eventu-
ally added to his domain a large section of Picardy, including the
famous Somme towns of Amiens, Peronne, and Saint-Quentin.
No sooner had Philip brought the northern war to a successful
close, than he proceeded to attack the Angevin power — ^not so
much through direct military operations as through intrigue with
Henry II’s jealous sons. Of the latter, four had survived to
come into contact with Philip: Henry, already crowned as his
father’s successor; Richard, invested with his mother’s duchy
of Aquitaine; Geoffrey, by marriage count of Brittany; and
John, for obvious reasons nicknamed Lackland (Sans-Terre),
They were a cruel and ungrateful lot ; and as the result of their
treacheries, encouraged by the foolish indulgence of the old king,

THE RISE OF THE CAPETIANS 387

the scheming Philip found a means of humbling his formidable
adversary.

Henry was the first to rebel against his father and engage in
war with Richard over Aquitaine; but as the young king died
in 1183, Richard became heir to the throne, and this event pro-
voked a contest between him and Geoffrey. Next, Geoffrey died,
leaving an infant son, the ill-fated Arthur of Brittany. The
fall of Jerusalem and the agitation for a new crusade^^ caused
a momentary diversion. Then, in 1189, the revolt of both Rich-
ard and John brought needless shame and grief to the dying
Henry II. In all these disturbances Philip from the outset was
an interested participant, always acting with great show of legality
and always by his support fomenting further discord among the
Angevins. Earlier he had supported Geoffrey against Richard;
subsequently he and Richard had become boon companions. Now
that Henry was dead, what would be Philip's attitude? During
the previous year both princes had taken the cross : Richard act-
ing in whole-hearted enthusiasm, Philip only through pressure of
public opinion. Until the crusade was accomplished, other mat-
ters would have to wait. So Philip temporarily overlooked the
insolence of his rival and in 1191 sailed with him to the Holy
Land.

The new king of England was a fine figure of manhood and,
as a soldier, richly deserved the name given him, Richard Lion-
Heart (Cosur de Lion), He possessed not only the bravery and
gallantry of the typical knight, but also the generalship of the
natural-born commander. And in military engineering he proved
himself the ablest prince in the west. Richard was likewise, ac-
cording to the standard of the age, a cultured man, speaking Latin
fluently and composing verses after the fashion of a troubadour.
Yet he lacked the conscientious statesmanship of his father. Pas-
sionately devoted to warfare, he regarded government merely as a
source of income. What little interest he displayed in matters of
administration was r^tricted to his original principality of Aqui-
taine, where alone he was thoroughly at home. To England he
was almost as foreign as his mother Eleanor. Crossing the Chan-
nel in 1189 for the sake of his coronation, he left after the pas-
sage of a few months and during the rest of his life paid the
kingdom only one other fleeting visit. It was by virtue of the

Intrigues

with

Henryks

sons

Richard

Lion-

Heart

(1189-99)

» See below, p* 5^5.

The

accession
of John

(1199)

388 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

efficient machine created by Henry II and through the skill of
Hubert Walter, archbishop of Canterbury and justiciar, that the
royal government continued to run smoothly whether the king
was present or absent.

On the crusade Richard was of course in his true element.
There, by the storming of Acre, he gained high renown, which
his later romantic adventures served to enhance. Richard’s glory
was gall to Philip, who could not shine as a crusader and who felt
an imperious urge to resume political manipulations in France.
So, even before the year was out, he excused himself on the
ground of sickness and, leaving part of his army with Richard,
took ship for Italy. On arriving at home, he proceeded to take
possession of various territories claimed under earlier treaties
and now left vacant by the death of the Flemish count. Then he
turned to the congenial task of encouraging John to plot against
his absent brother. To the delight of the conspirators, Richard,
while returning through Germany in 1192, was taken prisoner
by the duke of Austria, turned over to the emperor Henry VI, and
-by him held for ransom.^’^ Philip and John offered large sums to
have the imprisonment continued indefinitely, but Richard met the
emperor’s terms and, after the ransom had been raised by heavy
taxation, he was released in 1194.

This event brought to a sudden end John’s dream of an inde-
pendent principality. Richard, after spending a few weeks in
England to put down what little resistance still showed itself,
returned to the continent for the sake of organizing a great war
of revenge against the deceitful French king. Nor were his
hopes disappointed. During five years of conflict he succeeded
on every front. Philip was driven headlong out of Touraine and
Richard’s authority was reestablished throughout the Angevin
dominions. Meanwhile, to assure the defense of Normandy, he
had blocked the Seine Valley with the magnificent Chateau Gail-
lard, the strongest castle of the age. But in 1199 Richard died
of wounds received in a minor engagement, and his passing
proved a boon to the Capetian cause. The magnates now had to
choose between Prince John and Arthur, the son of his elder
brother. John being a mature man, gained immediate recogni-
tion in England, Normandy, and Aquitaine. Philip, who had
shifted his affections to Arthur, eventually failed to secure even

" See below, p. 402.

THE RISE OF THE CAPETIANS 389

Anjou for his protege. So, in 1200, he signed peace, recognizing
John as successor to Richard in all the great Angevin fiefs and
guaranteeing to Arthur only Brittany, to be held directly of the
French crown.

At the time, of course, John was comparatively unknown, or
he would never have received the acclaim of clergy and baronage.

To the bitter disillusionment of his supporters, he soon showed
himself a thoroughly mean person, without a spark of nobility or
a single generous impulse. The age was one which readily for-
gave a certain amount of cruelty, sensuality, or avarice on the
part of a prince. Neither the Angevins nor the Capetians had
been notably free from such vices, but even the worst of them had
possessed redeeming traits of sincerity, courage, determination,
or loyalty. Although Philip Augustus might not be loved, he
could be admired and respected. John seemed destined to evoke
only a universal hatred. It was not that he lacked ability. The
fact that he had imdoubted talents, which were either wasted or
turned to ignoble ends, only made him appear the more despicable.

The verdict was unanimous : he was a bad man and a bad king, -
without even the poor excuse of stupidity.

When Philip signed peace with John in 1200, he had no in-
tention of allowing it to stand. Being for the moment embar- Philip’s
rassed by a controversy with the pope,“ he preferred to play a conquests
waiting game, hoping for what is popularly known as a break.

Such a favorable opportunity soon arose. By carrying off a lady
betrothed to one of his own vassals and through other high-
handed actions, John inspired appeals to the court of his lord, the
king of France. Under the earlier Angevins an incident of this
sort would have been little more than a political gesture When
had a Capetian been able to hale into court one of his powerful
barons for failure to give a vassal justice? But times had
changed and Philip had made careful preparations for decisive
action. Having already determined on war, he needed only a use-
ful pretext. So, in 1202, when John, after being summoned three
times, quite naturally refused to appear before Philip’s court,
the latter formally adjudged him guilty of felony and declared
his fiefs forfeit.^

The amazing part of the story was that which followed. A

See below, p. 409.

1® See above, p. 256.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

390

decree of forfeiture was one matter; to enforce it quite another.
Even when Philip invaded Normandy and invested Arthur with
the remaining Angevin fiefs, John’s position was the same as
that which had so effectively been held by Richard. John, in fact,
began the war with a notable victory. Leaving Philip’s advance
to be checked by the great Norman castles, he concentrated his

forces against the Breton army and captured his young nephew,
Arthur. For a year or so the unfortunate count was kept prisoner
in Normandy; then he disappeared — ^murdered, as the world has
since believed, at the instigation of his uncle. Although the
details of the crime were never revealed, no one doubted that it
had occurred ; and the immediate consequence was a general revuL
sion of feeling. Maine, Anjou, and Touraine declared for Philip

Duke William Knights Earl Harold

-Mosque of Cordova, Doorway p.

Great Mosque (Damascus) {See p. m)

Sant* Ambroglo (Milan). Interior (Sve p, 474)

Notre-Dame (Paris)
{See p, 482)

Amiens Cathedral
{See p, 484)

Nofre-Dame (Paris), Chevet (6V^ />, 4fyj)

Reims Cathedral, North Side (See p, 483)

PW» tonce ffwi Salisbury Cathedral, Interior ’ {Hie pp. M ^
Amiens Cathedral, Interior (S«« pp, ^”)

Medici Palace ence Cloth Ha ge 7J6]

THE RISE OF THE CAPETIANS 391

and so cut off all communications between Aquitaine and Nor-
mandy. At this critical moment John chose to lose interest in
the war, allowing his enemies to overrun his patrimony almost as
they would. After a siege of eight months, Philip actually took
the Chateau Gaillard in February, 1204; in the following summer
Rouen surrendered, and the proud duchy of Normandy was added
to the royal domain. The last of John’s castles on the Loire
fell in 1205. Within another year Philip had also taken most of
Poitou and was dictating a new political settlement for Brittany.
Only then did John bestir himself sufficiently to hold what re-
mained of Aquitaine; it was too late to save the ancestral fiefs
to the north.

Like the Norman Conquest of England, this series of events
marked a significant turning-point in the history of the western
monarchies. As far as France was concerned, Philip Augustus
revolutionized the political situation. Henceforth the king, in-
stead of being one of the less powerful princes of the kingdom,
suddenly emerged as its master, many times stronger than any
one of his remaining barons. Consequently, royal rights that for
centuries had been only theoretical now tended to become actuali-
ties. As Picardy, Normandy, Anjou, and Poitou were joined to
the He de France, Philip devised for the combined territories a
new administrative system under royal officials called baillis. And
as the king’s service became a profession for trained lawyers and
financial experts, what we recognize as the mediaeval French con-
stitution began to take form.

For England John’s loss of Normandy, though long considered
a shame and a disgrace, eventually proved an enormous benefit.
The island kingdom, instead of being merely the outlying posses-
sion of a continental prince, became a state regarded for its own
sake. Norman barons, who hitherto had held lands on both
sides of the Channel, iiow had to choose which they should be,
English vassals or French vassals. The Angevin house still, of
course, held southern Aquitaine, but that land had always been
foreign to its northern fiefs. The first step in the direction of an
English nationality had perforce been taken. John lived on to
engage in. two other famous contests : one, with Innocent III,
made England into a paj^l fief for over a hundred years; the
other, with the baronage, resulted in the granting of Magna Carta.
These matters, togetter with the latter part of Philip’s reign, can
b& more conveni^tly treated in aratively mature age. Instruction was quite haphazard, lacking
even the rudimentary organization of a cathedral school. And
there was no efficient royal government to take charge of it. Pre-
sumably the masters had long constituted some sort of gild in
order to regulate their common affairs, particularly the quali-
fications demanded for admission to their own ranks. But our
first clear evidence of corporate action comes rather from the side
of the students.

The initiative in this direction seems to have been taken toward
the close of the twelfth century by men who had thronged to
Bologna from the surrounding countries, and who felt that they
were being despoiled by the townsfolk. Law students from cer-
tain regions united to form what they called nations, and these
combined to force advantageous concessions. Unless the citizens
of Bologna would guarantee rooms and commodities at fair rates,
the students declared that they would move to another city —
and the masters, being entirely dependent on fees, would have to
go along. As the students won the victory, they became per-
manently organized in two universities : the cismontane, including
men from Italy, and the transmontane, including men from out-
side it. These two universities, however, always acted together
through two groups of deputies, each headed by a rector, and so
came to be thought of as one. Having humbled the municipal
authorities, the combination then proceeded, by threat of boycott,
to enforce a series of statutes governing all phases of instruction.
Each master had to give a certain number of lectures, covering a
certain minimum of work in a certain way, being careful to ex-
plain all difficult passages in the text. He had to begin on time
and quit on time. He could not leave town without permission.
Even on the occasion of his wedding he was allowed only one
day off. His conduct was supervised by student inspectors, and if
he violated any regulation he was fined. Earnest lads, these
jurists of Bologna!

Under this system, then, the university was actually a union
rheUm- of student gilds, which gained control of all academic matters
^ersityof save only what we should call graduation. The bestowing of
degrees remained the prerogative of the masters’ gilds, or col-
leges, as they were styled at Bologna. At Paris, on the other
hand, contemporary development produced a diametrically oppo-

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT 437

site result. There from the outset the great mass of the students
came for instruction in arts and so, on the average, were mere
boys, who would naturally be held responsible to the men under
whom they studied. The masters, in fact, might well be pushed
in that direction by two other authorities which always had to
be reckoned with in the French capital : the king and tlie bishop.
Politically, Paris was thoroughly subordinated to the royal admin-
istration. When a commune of bourgeois had never been set
up, it was unlikely that one of students would be tolerated. And
the cathedral clergy never forgot that the original school of Paris
was theirs.

Nevertheless, the cathedral school was not the only one which
had attracted students to Paris. In the days of Abelard, the Faculties
abbeys of Saint-Victor and Sainte-Genevieve each had its nucleus
of masters. And with the sensational advance of dialectic and
allied subjects, the cloisters of Notre^Dame could not accommo-
date a tithe of the learners who flocked to the island in the river.

Long before 1200 the academic population had preempted, first,
one of the bridges leading to the left banki — ^the famous Petit-
Pont — ^and then the left bank itself, which thenceforward — from
the scholarly language there spoken — became known as the Latin
Quarter. Under such circumstances, the power of the chancellor,
who had controlled the old cathedral school, was inevitably super-
seded by that of a masters’ gild. There came to be, in fact, four
such associations ; the faculties of arts, theology, law, and medi-
cine. Among them the supremacy was eventually, through force
of numbers, won by the faculty of arts, the rector of which be-
came the recognized superior of the three deans elected by the
other faculties, and so the head of the entire organization. This
process, however, was not completed till the fourteenth century;
by origin the university was really a cooperative union of gilds,
as at Bologna.

At Paris, too, we find nations, but here the teachers controlled
the units, so that a' student was not a full-fledged member until Legal
he had obtained his master’s degree. In the meantime he was immunity
supposed to be subject to the authority of his instructors, who,
as dergy, claimed for themselves and their pupils immxmity from
the ordinary dvil courts. The students were a very turbtflent lot
and from time to time indulged in free-for-all fights with the
bourgeois and with the villeins of the neighboring monasteries.

One of these affairs occurred in 1200, and when the royal prevot '

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

438

and his police intervened, they were clumsy enough to kill some
high-born German students. In protest, all the professors sus-
pended their classes and threatened to leave the city unless the
king gave immediate redress. Philip Augustus acted promptly
I to avert such a calamity, throwing the prevot and his men into

j jail and issuing the document which is celebrated as the founda-

I tion charter of the university. Actually, he merely confirmed the

j exemption of his scolares at Paris from all but ecclesiastical juris-

I diction and specified the procedure that was to be followed in

' case of unfortunate disturbances in the future.

! About the same time Innocent III, who had himself studied

i Papal reg- at Paris, became interested in further defining the rights and
julation obligations of those who were undertaking to become theologians.

So it was his legate, Robert de Cour9on, who in 1215 gave the
university its first set of general regulations. To become a master
of arts, a student must be twenty years of age and have com-
pleted six years of academic work; but to teach theology, he
must be thirty-five and have spent ten additional years in that
subject The master should maintain a decent exterior and should
in particular wear a clerical gown of dark color reaching to his
heels. He should not begin to teach at all unless willing to con-
tinue the profession for at least two years. There are to be no
students-at-large; each must attach himself to a master, who
shall be responsible for him and have the right to discipline him
if necessary. Students and masters may form associations to
defend their rights or to aid one another in charitable enter-
prises.

From these statutes it may be seen that originally the academic
Degrees degree was essentially a license to teach, and it made no difference
wdiether the licentiate was styled master, doctor, or professor.
So we still, employ the letters A.M. {Artium M agister), M.D,
{Medicince Doctor), S.T.P. {Sanctce Theologies Professor), and
others of the same sort. The baccalaureate, or rank of bachelor,
was at the outset only a preliminary grade, considered of no value
in itself. Having passed the required examinations and success- ‘
fully defended a thesis by way of demonstrating his ability, the
candidate was formally admitted to the society of masters by
the bestowal of the biretta, the teacher’s square cap. This was
his inception or commencement — ^liis entrance upon his chosen
profession. Thenceforward he was technically a brother of the
gild and could offer instruction to all comers. At first there was

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT 439

no other prerequisite for membership in the faculty; later, as
endowed chairs were set up by wealthy patrons, there came the
distinction between holding a degree and holding a job which is
so unhappily prominent in the modern world. By the opening
of the thirteenth century some scholars were already sighing for
the good old times, before education had become entangled in so
much red tape !

As far as regulation of students was concerned, our evidence
tends to show that university statutes were easier to pass than to Student
enforce. The students of the Middle Ages gained a reputation
for being a roistering, irreverent lot. The scholar who wastes his
father^s money in riotous living, and who shows disrespect for
God and man, is a favorite text in mediaeval sermons. The clerk
who appears as the hero of so many thirteenth-century tales is
a model neither of virtue nor of piety.^® And the verdict of the
preachers and story-tellers is to a large degree borne out by the
writings, of the students themselves.^® Judicial records all too
often report murderous affrays in which students were involved,
and not always as innocent victims. Especially disturbing in uni-
versity communities were the fights between town and gown,
which frequently had fatal consequences for some of the partici-
pants.. As today, however, the wilder elements in academic so-
ciety tended always to be the more prominent. It is likely that,
judged by the standards of his time, the average student then
was as law-abiding and conscientious as now.

A rich variety of detailed information concerning student life
comes to. us from the thirteenth and later centuries. Many writ-
ings, official and otherwise, give vivid glimpses of disputations
in the classroom, of dinners held to celebrate graduation, of
hazing administered to the unfortunate freshman or, as he was
then called, the yellow-beak {bejaunus, bee jaune). Manuals for
the use of students provide Latin words and phrases for every-
thing that could be thought of, and incidentally illustrate daily
habits in the university community. Even more remarkable are
the letters exchanged by students and their parents. For such
correspondence, as for most other kinds, models were kept by
the professional letter-writers of the day. Well adorned with
rhetorical floui-ishes and appropriate quotations from the Bible
or a classical author, they served very practical purposes. Almost

See below, p. 465.

2® See below, pp. 447 f.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Origins
of the
collegiate
system

440

invariably the student asked for money and was chiefly interested
in a good excuse for being short of cash. Sometimes the father
replied promptly and generously. More often he took occasion
to deliver a lecture on the evils of sloth and extravagance. Doubt-
less there were hosts of youths who always did as they should,
but from such the business of letter-writing made no profit.

Among those who sought an education there were at all times
hundreds of boys from poverty-stricken homes. The church
offered the baseborn the surest means of advancement, and it is
greatly to the credit of the mediaeval university that it recognized
scholarship without regard to social distinction. Many a peas-
ant’s son rose to fame as a master and author. Yet, at the be-
ginning of his career, the poor boy found life desperately hard.
He was left to look out for himself as best he could. In the
early days, when there were no university buildings, classes were
held in any available rooms, often enough in a tavern. Having
paid the instructor’s fees, the student attended lectures, sitting
in the straw and taking* notes on wax tablets. Only the well-to-
do could afford to own the texj: that was being studied, and there
were no libraries for general use. A greater trouble was the
matter of lodgings. Masters usually had their own halls. Stu-
dents lived wherever and however they could- The richest main-
tained separate establishments ; the rank and file clubbed together
in cooperative houses ; the poorest starved in garrets and cellars.

To remedy the situation, benevolent patrons from an early time
began to provide quarters where the needy could dwell free of
charge. But the first great improvement came with the founda-
tion of the jnendicant orders.^^ Though pledged to absolute
poverty, the Dominican or“Franciscan in a university found at
his disposal a comfortable building provided with heat, light,
food, drink, and even a library. Youths who did not want to
be friars were pla^d at a tremendous disadvantage. So, about
1258, Robert derSorbon endowed a hall at Paris for sixteen per-
sons of this sort who desired to continue work for the doctorate
in theology. This was a great event in the history of European
culture, for it marked the beginning of the famous Sorbonne,®^
the oldest of academic colleges. Similar establishments soon came

^ See bdow, pp. 513 f.

2* Thanks to further endowments, the college grew very rapidly, coming even-
tually to house the whole theological faculty. So that faculty its^ came gen-
erally to be known as the Sorbonne.

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT 441

to house the bulk of the university population, both masters and
students, and eventually they became centers of instruction as
well as residences. From Paris the collegiate system spread far
and wide, attaining great popularity especially in England.

As already remarked, the model universities for Europe were
Paris and Bologna. Both developed much the same method of
teaching and came to grant much the same degrees. But they
continued to emphasize different studies. At Bologna jurispru-
dence always dominated and very little attention was given to
arts or theology. For those subjects the student went by prefer-
ence to Paris, where canon law was of secondary importance
and civil law was not taught at all. During the thirteenth cen-
tury leadership in medical study passed from Salerno to newer
universities, such as Padua, formed in 1222 as an offshoot of
Bologna; Naples, founded outright by Frederick II in 1224;^
and Montpellier, where famous schools had already existed for
well over a hundred years. About the same time a distinguished
university emerged also at Orleans, and it quickly became the
foremost center of legal instruction outside Italy. Oxford Uni-
versity seems to have originated toward the close of the twelfth
century through the settlement of certain masters who had earlier
been at Paris. Cambridge, the second English university, began
through a migration from Oxford in the thirteenth century. The
first Spanish university to be permanently successful was estab-
lished at Salamanca by the king of Leon about 1220. Germany
had no university until the fourteenth century, when such insti-
tutions were set up at Prague, Vienna, Erfurt, Heidelberg, and
Cologne. By that time universities had b^en founded also in
Angers, Toulouse, Pavia, Florence, Lisbon, Cracow, Buda, and
a score of other places. Throughout Italy the standard was
always the University of Bologna, the influence of which was
strong also in Spain and southern France. The rest of Europe
looked to Paris for its academic patterns. Indeed, the whole
Latin world regarded the university on the Seine as the peerless
leader of instruction in the arts and in theology — one subject the
foundation of all learning, the other the crowning glory of Chris-
tian wisdom. To escape the intellectual domination of Paris, the
mediaeval scholar had to find a home among Greeks or Moslems.

Despite all national and political variations, one uniform sys-

The in-
fluence of
Paris and
Bologna

See below, p. 538.

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

442

•The tem of teaching was in vogue from Poland and Plungary to the

cumculmn British Isles, from Sicily and Portugal to the Scandinavian
kingdoms. The basis of the system was still the liberal arts ; but
alongside the texts of the Dark Age were now the New Logic,
the other works of Aristotle, and all the sciences recently trans-
lated from the Greek and Arabic. The arts course was supposed
to occupy six years; then the “artist” was permitted to advance
to the study of tlieology, law, or medicine. In theology he would
use as texts the Bible and Peter Lombard’s Sentetices; in civil
law Justinian’s Digest-, in canon law Gratian’s Decretum and
its supplements; in medicine Hippocrates and Galen, together
with the Arabic authors known as Avicenna and Rhazes. In all
these subjects dialectic remained the fundamental study, for even
in the sciences emphasis was placed on the criticism of books,
rather than on direct observation of nature. As yet scholars could
do little more than follow the Arabs in arithmetic and algebra,
Euclid in geometry, Ptolemy in trigonometry and astronomy,
Aristotle in physics and other natural sciences, Galen and his
Arabic commentators in physiology and anatomy.

The scholastic education of the thirteenth century thus toided
to neglect, on the one hand, literary study and, on the other, ex-
perimental science. Each of these causes had its champions, but
temporarily their protests were unheeded in the great centers of
learning. The consequence for the cultural development of Eu-
rope will be better appreciated in a later connection.

CHAPTER XIX

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE

I. MEDIEVAL LATIN

A PREVALENT tiotion concerning the Middle Ages is that the
Latin then used was bad Latin. What should be said is that Vitality
mediaeval Latin was not classical — ^which is by no means the same prac-
as calling it bad. When the universities arose, Latin had been “^^^^lity
a living language of the educated for over a thousand years
since the days of Augustus. How could it live and remain the
same during that entire period? A man of the twelfth century
could no more express himself in Ciceronian Latin than we can
describe our motorized civilization in Shakespearean English —
and Shakespeare wrote only a little more tlian three hundred
years ago. The prohibition of all but classical Latin in the me-
diaeval schools would have been equivalent to the prohibition of
the language altogether. As a matter of fact, that is what sub-
sequently took place when the humanists came to dictate educa-
tional standards.^ Then, after gentlemen had learned to scorn
all but antique Latin, every writer on subjects of contemporary
interest was driven into the vernacular. Since then Latin has
been a dead language, and the scholarly world has suffered from
a growing confusion of tongues.

In the Middle Ages the learned man was not worried by anti-
quarian standards of linguistic propriety. If he needed a new
word to denote a new concept, he coined one. So the writer on
theology, canon law, mathematics, alchemy, or national institu-
tions employed a technical vocabulary — ^sprinkled, to be sure, with
barbarisms, but intelligible. The writs and charters of a king
like Henry II, though filled with expressions that horrify the
classicist, are models of clarity and precision. If, for instance,
he wished to free a certain community from all gelds and tal-
lages, from murder fine, and from suit to hundred and shire
courts, his clerk wrote de omnibus geldis et tallagiis, de murdro,
et de sectis hundredorum et scirarum. There was no other way
of making the necessary definitions. The worst Latin of the

1 See below, pp. 71 1 f.

443

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

444

Gram-

matical

correctness

Varieties
of medi-
aeval Latin
writing

Middle Ages, in fact, was that of the pretentious chronicler.
Thinking it beneath him to employ common expressions, he loaded
his pages with rhetorical bombast that served merely to obscure
his meaning. In other words, mediaeval Latin was best when it
was simplest and most practical ; when, as every living language
must, it continued to meet the demands of a changing environ-
ment.

Nor should it be supposed that mediaeval Latin was necessarily
ungrammatical. There were, of course, at all times persons whd
could not write correctly, just as at present there are many whose
English composition is not above reproach. In the Dark Age,
the average Latin of royal chanceries became very bad, but that
was no lorfger true in the twelfth century. Every reputable scribe
then knew better than to put a plural verb with a singular subject,
a masculine adjective to modify a feminine noun, or an ablative
case after the preposition ad. He would not be likely to slip even
on the proper use of the subjunctive. And if his constructions
were sometimes unclassical, they were not on that account in-
ferior. For example, every student who has toiled through Cae^
sar’s Commentaries will remember that indirect discourse was
once expressed by the infinitive with subject accusative. The
mediaeval scholar used quod and a dependent clause — ^precisely
the same construction that is found in modern English or French.
Dixit quod exercitus pugnare nolebat: He said that the army
did not want to fight. The only objection that can be made to
this sentence is that Cicero would have said it in another way.

To sketch the development of Latin literature in the age of
the crusades would of course be a formidable undertaking, and
one that would entail much quotation from the original. In the
present connection, where it is intended merely to introduce the
subject of vernacular literature, a few generalizations must suf-
fice. Throughout the Christian countries of western Europe,
Latin remained the universal language of the church, and so,
virtually, of education and government. Any book or record that
was composed for a learned audience was put into Latin. It was
not until the thirteenth century that certain types of official docu-
ments came to be normally written in the vernacular, and this loss
was more than balanced by the increase of scholarly production
in the universities. Needless to say, the resultant mass of writ-
ing was enormous. Yet it can be readily classified. The great
majority of such compositions were essentially practical. This

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 445

was obviously true of all governmental records, of all technical
essays on law and administration, and of many books connected
with the service and discipline of the church. And very nearly
the total output of the schools was dominated by professional
interest.

Caring little for literary study, the average schoolman had no
thought of imitating the classics. He was not inspired to be an
orator, a poet, a dramatist, a philosopher, or an imaginative
essayist after the antique manner. His only interest in history
was to draw from past ages illustrations that might serve as les-
sons for the present, and in this connection he preferred a late
Roman epitome to great authors like Caesar, Livy, and Tacitus.

Under such circumstances, he could not be expected to write
much history himself. That task, in fact, was generally left to
local chroniclers and annalists. In the twelfth and thirteenth
centuries their productions were far superior to those of the
previous age, but the best of them can hardly be trusted for events
lying beyond their own .time. The usual procedure of the more
ambitious writer was to copy out of earlier compilations an ac-
count of world history from the Creation down to a recent period,
and then to add something of his own at the end. The typical
historian of the Middle Ages was therefore little more than a
writer of memoirs. It is for this reason that the modern scholar
prizes the works of such men as Robert of Torigny, Otto of
Freising, and Matthew Paris.

Although the credulity of the mediaeval chronicler should not
be exaggerated, it must be admitted that, all too often, his chief Rhythmic
motive was to spin a pleasing or edifying tale. The Middle Ages
had an insatiable appetite for story-telling. Great tomes were
filled with selections from the writers of antiquity ; with lives of
the saints and miracles of the Virgin; with fables about animals,
bits of folklore, anecdotes from real life, heroic legends, cour-
tiers’ trifles, and the like. This material served to illustrate count-
less sermons and to adorn the pages of many a book on Christian
morals. But few today would read either the homilies or the
chronicles for the sake of aesthetic pleasure. As historical sources
they may be iqyaluable; as literature they fail to charm the mod-
ern generation. The greatest Latin of the Middle Ages is rather
to be foimd in the liturgy of the church — a rhythmic prose sol-
emnly chanted to the accompaniment of gorgeous ceremonial.

This same majestic quality pervades much of the official writing

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Rh5rmed

verse

446

by great ecclesiastics. A formal document issuing from the papal
chancery has a sonorous timbre that to the trained ear is very
characteristic.

The Middle Ages also produced an enormous quantity of re-
ligious poetry, much of it distinctly mediocre. In Latin, as in
Greek, ^ the changing pronunciation of the post-classical period
tended to preclude the writing of verse based on quantity ; and the
new fashion of rhyme, when not subordinated to other elements,
could make a jingle of the most solemn composition. Too many
of the ecclesiastical songs, if unaccompanied by music, have an
unhappy way of sounding like 'Twinkle, twinkle, little star’’ :

Mica, mica, parva stella ;

Miror quaenam sis tarn bella.

To be appreciated, they must be sung. Whatever may be thought
of their form, however, there can be no question of their sincerity
— ^the prerequisite of any great art.

O Roma nobilis, orbis et domina,

Cunctarum urbium excellentissima,

Roseo martyrum sanguine rubea,

Albis et virginum liliis Candida,

Salutem dicimus tibi per omnia,

Te benedicimus : salve per secula.

Merely to read the Latin of this eleventh-century poem is to catch
its unforgettable resonance. Yet it should be heard as a pil-
grims’ chorus, chanted by lusty voices while persistent feet
thudded along some road leading to the center of Christendom.

By the twelfth century there were plenty of men able to make
passable imitations of classic verse, but such productions, though
correct in quantity and meter, could reveal at best only an af-
fected elegance. Study of antique models could no more make
a poet in the Middle Ages than it can today. Then as now,
poetry, to deserve the name, had to be vibrant with life. Throb-
bing with religious emotion, the great Latin hymns of the church
must always be ranked among the literary monuments of the
world. It would be a mistake, however, to think they alone among
mediaeval poems deserve such an honor. Strangely enough, the
period whicli is commonly held to mark the height of ecclesiasti-

2 See above, p. 123.

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 447

cal influence in Europe witnessed a marvelous flowering of secu-
lar poetry, partly in the vernacular and partly in Latin. Neither
of these literary developments can be understood without taking
the other into consideration. Like the preacher on addressing
different audiences, the author might be led to compose verses
first in the language of the schools, and then in that of the people.

We may even suspect that the same man would often produce
songs both sacred and profane.

Abelard was a hymn-writer as well as a dialectician, and he
tells us himself that his poems in praise of Heloise were widely Secular
sung in France. He had two special gifts, she said, to captivate po^^ry
any woman: composing and singing. He could write either in
the classic meters or in the modern rhythms. And his verse was
so lovely, his music so sweet, that the name of Abelard — ^and,
we may add, of Heloise — ^was known everywhere, even among
the illiterate. How many volumes of scholastic lore would we
not gladly exchange for one of those lyrics? None, unfortu-
nately, has come down to us; yet from the works of his con-
temporaries we may at least guess their nature. Abelard, it
should be remembered, was long ‘"an emulator of the Peripatet-
ics.^^ It was wandering scholars such as he rubbed elbows with
— ^poor students, clerks without preferment, talented wastrels, and
occasionally a rogue living by his wits — ^who gave us the price-
less literature known as Goliardic verse.^

To those who have considered the world of the Middle Ages
one vast monastery it comes as a shock to discover a mass of
twelfth-century poetry, fresh, virile, blithe, and utterly sensuous.

Was its frank paganism a reflection of classical study? Some
features — ^notably the references to mythology — ^were undoubt-
edly so. But its ruling spirit would seem to be rather the uni-
versal paganism of youth, which needs no instruction from an-
tiquity to learn that the sky is very blue, that the grass is very
green, that springing flowers and running brooks and lilting bird-
songs are very gay, and that wine and love are both intoxicating.

Later one might be an erudite professor, or even a solemn bishop;
in the meantime one was young and unfettered by convention,
and with enough education to warrant at least the expression of
life’s elemental joys.

3 The wandering scholars called themselves Goliardi, sons of Golias — ^that is
t ) say, Philistines,

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Goliardic

verse

The Arch-
poet’s
Co7ifession

448

Many of these student lyrics are nothing more than frivolous
jingles, like the famous begging song, which begins:^

I, a wandering scholar lad,

Born for toil and sadness.

Oftentimes am driven by
Poverty to madness.

Literature and knowledge I
Fain would still be earning,

Were it not that want of pelf
Makes me cease from learning.

These tom clothes that cover me
Are too thin and rotten ;

Oft I have to suffer cold.

By the warmth forgotten.

Scarce I can attend at church.

Sing God^s praises duly ;

Mass and vespers both I miss,

Though I love them truly.

Oh, thou pride of (Normandy),®

By thy worth I pray thee.

Give the suppliant help in need ;

Heaven will sure repay thee.

The same theme, when touched by genius, could be developed
into very great} poetry. The Archpoet, a noble-born starveling
patronized by high ecclesiastics under Frederick Barbarossa, will
always live for us in his Confession of Golias,^

Seething ever inwardly.

With fierce indignation,

In my bitterness of soul.

Hear my declaration.

I am of one element.

Levity my matter.

Like enough a withered leaf
For the winds to scatter.. ..

^ Translation by J. A. Symonds, Wine, Women, and Song,

® Left blank in the manuscript, so that the singer could insert any appropriate
name.

® Translation by Helen J. Waddell, Medieval Latin Lyrics (Constable & Co.,
Ltd.: London, 1929), PP* 171 This selection and those following are used by
the permission of the publishers.

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE

449

Never yet could I endure
Soberness and sadness ;

Jests I love and sweeter than
Honey I find gladness.

Whatsoever Venus bids
Is a joy excelling ;

Never in an evil heart

Did she make her dwelling.

Down the broad way do I go.

Young and unregretting; *

Wrap me in my vices up.

Virtue all forgetting.. ..

Yet a second charge they bring :

I’m forever gaming.

Yea, the dice have many a time
Stripped me to my shaming.. ..

Look again upon your list.

Is the tavern on it?

Yea, and never have I scorned.

Never shall I scorn it.

Till the holy angels come.

And my eyes discern them.

Singing for the dying soul
Requiem etemam.

For on this my heart is set :

When the hour is nigh me.

Let me in the tavern die,

With a tankard by me ;

While the angels, looking down.

Joyously sing o’er me,

Deus sit propitius
Huic potatork

This is very nearly Francois Villon in the twelfth century — a
gay jesting with dishonor and death.

Scores of ditties celebrate the joys of love and springtime, with
constant and rather afEected reference to Venus and Cupid,
nymphs and dryads. Pan and Bacchus. Then, occasionally, some

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

450

Lyrics of anonymous author strikes an unconventional note, and the result

love and jg a work of sheer grace and beauty."^
nature

Down from the branches fall the leaves,

A wanness comes on all the trees,

The summer’s done ;

And into his last house in heaven
Now goes the sun.

Sharp frost destroys the tender sprays.

Birds are.a-cold in these short days.

The nightingale

Is grieving that the fire of heaven
Is now grown pale.

The swollen river rushes on

Past meadows whence the green has gone.

The golden sun

Has fled our world. Snow falls by day.

The nights are numb.

About me all the world is stark
And I am burning; in my heart
There is a fire,

A living flame in me, the maid
Of my desire.

One of the loveliest is called by its first line, Dum Diane vitrea :

When Diana lighteth
Late her crystal lamp.

Her pale glory kindleth
From her brother’s fire.

Little straying west winds
Wander over heaven,

Moonlight falleth.

And recalleth.

With a sound of lute-strings shaken.

Hearts that have denied his reign
To love again.

Hesperus, the evening star.

To £J1 things that mortal are.

Grants the dew of sleep.. ..

^ Helen J. Waddell, Medieval Latin Lyrics, pp. 265, 275,

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 451

Sleep through the wearied brain

Breathes a soft wind

From fields of ripening grain.

The sound

Of running water over clearest sand,

A millwheel turning, turning slowly round.

These steal the light
From eyes weary of sight.

Lyrics such as these spread all over Europe and are found,
interspersed among hymns of devotion, in manuscripts of many Satiric
countries. -There also stand parody and satire: a mock creed, composi-
which becomes a profession of sin, and even a topers’ mass,
a burlesqued service of the eucharist. The Gospel according to
Marks of Silver is a bitter parable of a poor man who seeks
charity at the papal court, but is told :

•*Triend, thy poverty perish with thee! Get thee behind me, Satan,
because thou knowest not the wisdom of cash. Amen and amen ! I
say unto thee, thou shalt not enter into the joy of thy Lord until thou
hast given the uttermost farthing.”

Even after he has sold his clothes, he cannot gain admittance, and |

is cast into outer darkness. Then comes to Rome a certain clerk ?

guilty of homicide, but rich. He tips the usher and the cham-
berlain and the cardinals.

Then the lord pope, hearing that his cardinals and ministers had
received many gifts from the clerk, fell sick, even unto death. But the
rich man sent him an elixir of gold and silver, and straightway he
was healed. Then the lord pope called unto him his cardinals and min-
isters and said unto them : ‘‘Brethren, beware lest ye be seduced by
vain words. For lo ! I give unto you an example, that even as I grab,
so also shall ye grab.”

These excerpts will at least show how dangerous it is to gen-
eralize about the “mediaeval mind.” As soon as we look beyond
certain conventional writings, there is no uniformity of senti-
ment. That all thinking persons of the twelfth century were
struck from the same mold is one of many legends invented by
imaginative historians. This truth will be even more apparent
when we turn to vernacular literature.

2. THE TROUBADOURS AND COURTLY LOVE

In an earlier chapter we saw something of a typical feudal
epic, the Song of Roland. At one time it was the general belief ’

Epic and
lyric

lyilliam
IX of
Aquitaine
(1071-
1127)

452 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

that such chansons de geste were gradual accretions, which in the
course of many centuries had grown up about cores of historical
fact. Now, on the other hand, it is beginning to be realized that
no work of art could ever have been formed in this way ; that the
great heroic poems of the twelfth century were composed, like the
Divine Comedy and Paradise Lost, by individual authors. Thus
understood, the chansons de geste become much more intelligible,
for they can be interpreted as true products of the feudal age,
owing to more primitive times virtually nothing except a few
traditional names. This form of literature originated in north-
ern France and from there spread throughout all the countries
visited by French knights. The vogue lasted for many genera-
tions, in the course of which over a hundred of these chansons
came to be written. As one piece gained renown, its characters
were made to appear in many sequels. Thus arose the cycles of
poems about Charlanagne’s court and the legendary dynasties of
Lorraine, Cambrai, Roussillon, Orange, and the like.

By the close of the twelfth century the chansons de geste some-
times came to include new elements, but in general they remained
true to the epic tradition — ^the impersonal narration of heroic
deeds, with the entire subordination of all love interest. Lyric,
on the contrary, is dominated by the author’s individual emotion,
which is nearly always of feminine inspiration. In all ages the
t3q)ical lyric has been the love song, and tliat is best when it is
most spontaneous. Great epic is long, sonorous, and dramatic — a
majestic recital suited to a monotonous, rhythmic chanting. Great
lyric is brief, simple, and passionate — a little song that can be
sung to a lilting tune. As may be seen from the examples quoted
above, the Goliardi produced some exquisite lyrics in their rhymed
Latin, but during the twelfth century it became evident that in
this field of composition supremacy was to lie rather with the
vernacular. Even then the standards of modem l3n-ic poetry
were being set by the southern French troubadours.®

The chansons de geste were sung by jongleurs,^ wandering
minstrels, who also acted as popular entertainers at fairs and mar-
kets, being commonly skilled as actors, dancers, acrobats, and
sleight-of-hand performers. In general the jongleurs were men
of low birth, but the troubadours were usually gentlemen — nobles

» Literally finders, that is to say, composers. In the northern dialect the word'
is trouv^res.

• Literally jugglers.

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 453

who prized their skill in poetry and music as highly as a knightly
reputation. So the first known troubadour was none other than
William IX, duke of Aquitaine, grandfather of the famous Elea-
nor. From his pen we have eleven lyrics, varying from deli-
cate songs of love and spring to compositions of very fleshly
character. But the fact that his verse was sometimes libertine
did not prevent his having sincere religious convictions, as is
shown by his famous song on departing for the Holy Land.^®

Since now I have a mind to sing,

111 make a song of that which saddens me.

That no more in Poitou or Limousin
Shall I love’s servant be.

While he is away, what will happen to his fair sdgneurie of
Poitiers, and to his son, who is young and weak? He prays his
neighbors to forgive him for any wrongs which he may have done
them, and he offers the same prayer to Jesus, ‘'both in Romance
and in Latin.”

Of prowess and of joy I had my part,

But now of them my heart hath ta’en surcease.

And now I go away to find that One
Beside whom every sinner findeth peace.

All that which I have loved I leave behind.

The pride and all the pomp of chivalry.

Since it so pleases God, I am resigned ;

I pray Him have me of His company.

There was, however, no necessity that a troubadour should be
of aristocratic birth, as is proved by tlie careers of Marcabrun, a Bernard
foundling, and of Bernard de Ventadour, the son of a servant in
the local castle. Bernard, according to legend, long enjoyed the
favor of the viscount, but was finally driven from Ventadour
because he had a fatal attraction for the viscountess. At any rate,
he left his native land to serve, first, the English queen, Eleanor
of Aquitaine, and later the count of Toulouse. Of his poems,
which were very famous throughout Europe, at least forty-five
have survived. They are virtually all love songs, celebrating with
remarkable delicacy and grace a number of ladies— each of them
disguised by a pet name, so that we have no idea who they really

10 Helen J. Waddell, The Wandering Scholars (Constable & Co., Ltd.: Lon-
don, 1927), p. 1 16. This and the selection below are used by permission of the
publishers.

Jaufre

Rudel

454 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

were. To show the simplicity of his verse, one stanza may be
quoted in the original :

Quan la douss’ aura venta
Deves vostre pais,

Vejaire m’es qu’eu senta
Un ven de paradis,

Per amor de la genta
Vas cui eu sui aclis,

En cui ai mes m’ententa,

E mon coratge assis ;

Quar de totas partis
Per leis, tan m'atalenta.

A fairly literal translation, preserving the meter if not the rhyme,
runs as follows :

When blow the gentle breezes
From out your countryside.

They breathe upon my senses
As winds from paradise ;

Through love of the fair lady
Towards whom I fondly lean,

On whom my thoughts are centered.

For whom my passions burn :

To her I pledge myself
Alone, so she has charmed me.

The true beauty of the Provencal lyric, however, can be more
fully appreciated from a free translation, such as Helen Waddell’s
exquisite version of Jaufre Rudel.^^ Of the poet almost noth-
ing is known, except that he was a baron of Limousin who went
on the Second Crusade. And before he left, he wrote this enig-
matic poem, celebrating a dream lady in a far-off land, whom his
heart longed for, but whom his reason told him he should never
meet.

When the days lengthen in the month of May,
Well pleased am I to hear the birds
Sing far away.

And when from that place I am gone,

I hang my head and make dull moan,

Since she my heart is set upon
Is far away.

“ Helen J, Waddell, The Wandering Scholars^ p. 205.

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 455

So far, that song of birds, flower o’ the thorn.

Please me no more than winter morn.

With ice and sleet.

Ah, would I were a pilgrim over sea,

With staff and scrip and cloak to cover me.

That some day I might kneel me on one knee
Before her feet.

Most sad, most joyous shall I go away.

Let me have seen her for a single day,

My love afar.

I shall not see her, for her land and mine
Are sundered, and their ways are hard to find.

So many ways, and I shall lose my way.

So wills it God.

Yet I shall know no other love but hers.

And if not hers, no other love at all.

She hath surpassed all.

So fair is she, so noble, I would be
A captive with the hosts of paynimrie
In a far land, if so be upon me
Her eyes might fall.

God, who hath made all things in earth that are.

That made my love, and set her thus afar.

Grant me this grace.

That I may some day come within a room,

Or in some garden gloom
Look on her face.

It will not be, for at my birth they said
That one had set this doom upon my head,

— God curse him among men ! —

That I should love, and not till I be dead,

Be loved again.

Altogether, poems are extant from some four hundred trou-
badours of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and we know Origins
the names of many others whose works have perished. No at- of the
tempt can here be made to discuss this mass of literature, except
by way of setting down a few conclusions as to its general nature
and influence. The original language of the vernacular lyric,
though called Provengal, was actually the dialect of Limousin,

456 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

and the fact that it was not the native tongue of William IX
shows that conventional standards for this kind of composition
had already been established before his day. Since the art could
not have been perfected all at once, the problem of its origin has
occasioned much speculation. Some have thought that it was a
gradual development out of folk poetry, but the total absence of
direct evidence renders this explanation dubious in the extreme.
The influence of classic literature on the Goliardic verse is obvious.
The Goliardi, however, were students in the schools, and most
of their work dates from a period subsequent to the appearance of
the Provengal lyric. Can we imagine the gentlemen of southern
France in the eleventh century obtaining their inspiration from a
study of Vergil and Ovid, or from those who had been thus in-
spired? Their works, certainly, reveal slight if any knowledge
of the classic poets.

Recently the once discredited thesis of Arabic influence has been
revived, and good evidence has been produced to show that the
Romance peoples learned much of rh3rme and meter from the
Moors. It is also possible that the music of Islam, as well as
that of the Christian Church, had some effect upon the art of the
troubadours, for they, it should be remembered, composed their
lyrics to be sung. Like Abelard, the typical troubadour was
famous not only for his verses but also for his tunes, and both
were frequently recorded in the same manuscript. The trouble is
that the musical notation employed for these early pieces gives
no indication of time,^^ and scholars are still disputing as to how
the rhythm of the melody should be fitted to that of the words.
Nevertheless, it is possible to gain some idea of how the twelfth-
century poems were sung, and for that information we must be
very grateful. Comparative study of music should eventually
throw more light on this very obscure subject of origins.

Meanwhile, it is obvious that, even if we could be sure of the
models that lay before the eyes of the earliest troubadours, we
could by no means account for their genius. To know what was
read or heard by an English schoolboy of the early nineteenth
century will hardly explain the emergence of a Keats. We have to
conclude that the Provengal l3nrics, like those of the Goliardi,
owed their vigor and beauty to the society in which they were
produced. Poetic composition again flourished, along with other

^ See bdow, p. 462.

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 457

forms of artistic expression, as part of the great intellectual and
cultural awakening that characterized western Europe in the
twelfth century. The themes of the poets were very old, as were
some of their forms, but their vec&e was marked by the fresh-
ness of youth.

From southern France the new fashion spread to all neighbor-
ing countries. Long before 1200, troubadours had come to enjoy The
the patronage of all the Spanish princes, of the Sicilian king, and Trouveres
of other lords to the northward. In this respect the marriage
of Eleanor of Aquitaine, first to Louis VII and then to Henry
II, began a new epoch in the literary history of their kingdoms.

Bernard de Ventadour was only one of many lyric poets who
sang at the Angevin court. Bertran de Bom, a turbulent baron
of P&igord, became famous throughout Europe for political as
well as love intrigues, and both of these interests are reflected
in his poetry. Having been attracted, like other gallant authors,
to Normandy, he became a warm partisan of Henry IPs eldest
son. And when the yotmg king suddenly died, Bertran wrote a
famous lament that stands among the finest works of the century.

Later he became a friend and follower of Richard Lion-Heart,
who was himself a troubadour, though hardly one of genius.
Meanwhile the poetic urge had come to be felt by dozens of north-
ern French nobles whose grandfathers had rarely been able to
read or write.

Down into the thirteenth century poets of southern Europe,
even in Spain and Italy, continued to write in Provenqal ; but in
the north many trouvh'es were using French by the later twelfth
century and occasionally producing very attractive verse. As
would be imagined, however, most of their lyric lacked the spon-
taneity of that which had been composed earlier. For example,
when Conon de Bethune, on departing for the Fourth Crusade,
writes a love song for his lady, we feel that he is doing so because
it is the fashionable thing to do.^® “My Body,” he says, “may
go to serve our Saviour, yet my heart remains wholly in her keep-
ing.” Had the first crusaders gone “sighing to S3n:ia” or thought
that each must “act chivalrously to secure at once paradise and
honor and love of his lady” ? By this time, in fact, aristocratic
literature had entered a world of make-believe. More and more
it had become dominated by a code of courtly love — ^what the

See the complete poem in C. C. Abbott, Early Medicsval French Lyrics ^ p. 105.

MEDLEVAL HISTORY

458

French call coiirtoisic. Warfare, adventure, and the old mascu-
line chivalry had been subordinated to a new literary creed—the
glorification of woman.

Under courtoisie love is made into an ideal, transcending all
Courtoisie earthly relationship, and defined as a sort of spiritual vassalage.

The knight must have a lady to serve; the lady must have a
knight to do her service. And if the two are kept apart by geo-
graphic separation, by social inequality, or by marriage to other
persons, the situation is all the more conducive to poetic effusion.
So in the later mediaeval lyric we can never be sure just where
actuality ends and artistic imagination begins, for it is a poor poet
who cannot invent mysterious lady-loves and entrancing situa-
tions. Some of these conventions in a formative stage may easily
be detected throughout the works of the earliest troubadours;
subsequently they became enormously exaggerated. The lyric
grew stereotyped both in sentiment and in form. Ultimately,
when a certain type of verse was chosen, it not only had to follow
a certain theme; it also had to contain a certain number of lines,
each with a certain number of syllables and a certain rhyme.

Many of these literary forms had been well established by the
end of the twelfth century. We find, for instance, the alba, or
dawn song, in which two lovers are warned that the night is past,
but protest the incredible news — “it is not day; the lark has lied
to us.” The pastoiirelle tells how the knightly singer meets a
simple shepherdess, how he talks to her, and how she inevitably
succumbs to his masculine charm. The spinning song is a form
of ballad wherein the lonely maid or the unhappy wife, over her
monotonous work, sighs for; the man of her heart. Some of tliese
lyrics, written in the northern dialect, are very attractive. There
is, however, a limit to the enjoyment of pieces which tell only of
belle Solans, belle Aiglentine, or belle Amelot, always uttering
the same thoughts. They make one long for a story written from
a point of view other than that of the fine gentleman with a fatal
power of captivating both queens and peasant girls.

^ Courtoisie naturally affected also the French epic. Along-
The side the traditional chanson de geste now appeared the long poem

romance written in rhymed couplets, to be read rather than r han tH This

we know as the romance— a literary form which has enjoyed con-
tinuous popularity down to the present. Its substance is what
will easily be reco^ized as romantic: fair ladies, brave knights,
cruel husbands, sinister plots, magicians, talking animals, fairies.

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 459

mysterious forests, enchanted palaces, fantastic adventures, peri-
lous quests, and the like. Love is always prominent and the exotic
element is strong. To be an ordinary French baron, like the
chief actors in the old chansons, is not romantic. The hero should
come from a distant land, or he should go there to find a damsel
in distress. The authors of this new fiction ransacked antiquity,
writing of Troy and of Rome, of Alexander the Great and of
^neas. Yet, no matter whence the characters were drawn, they
were made to act and talk like lords and ladies of feudal France.

The courtoisie was unchanged by the foreign environment. Thus
also began the enormous vogue for the story of King Arthur
and his Knights of the Round Table.

Some of this material may have come into France by way of
Brittany, but most of it seems to have been popularized rather
by Norman writers in England. Of the latter the most illustri-
ous was Geoffrey of Monmouth, a clerk from the Welsh border,
who in the first half of the twelfth century wrote a History of the
Britons, This he offered to the public as a scholarly work, trans-
lated from an ancient Celtic chronicler. A number of critics,
however, are convinced that Geoffrey's alleged source was a fig-
ment of the imagination ; that his book was actually a combination
of legend and sheer invention. Whatever its character, it had
an amazing success, eventually winning for its author the bish-
opric of St. Asaph. Even before that promotion his romantic
composition had become a mine for poets and other story-tellers,
who in turn added characters and episodes to suit their own fancy.

By the end of the twelfth century a cycle of Arthurian tales had
been put into French verse by a number of talented authors,
whence they were made over into German and English versions,
eventually to inspire Tennyson's Idylls of the King and many
famous operas.

One of the first poets to dip into the matiere de Bretagne was
Marie de France. Of this gifted person little is known except Marie de
what she says of herself : ‘‘Marie is my name ; I am from France." France
So, although she wrote at the court of Henry II and Queen
Eleanor, she was presumably born in the Capetian domain. Per-
haps she was of noble extraction ; at any rate, she was well edu-
cated, knowing Latin and possibly a smattering of the Celtic
vernacular. She called her romances Lays, and for them she
adapted, as she confesses, old materials, having no thought beyond
the composition of an entertaining story in the language of the

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

460

aristocracy. That the Lays were very popular is attested by
various references in subsequent literature, as well as by the large
number of surviving manuscripts. From her romantic tales, re-
counted in easily flowing verse, we may judge the taste of polite
society in her day.

In all, we have a dozen lays which are certainly by Marie.
They include stories of a knight who changes himself into a
falcon in order to visit his lady-love (Yonec), of a fairy princess
who carries off her lover to Avalon (Lanval), of a werewolf (Le
Bisclavef), and of various episodes in the Arthurian legend. Very
characteristic is the lay of Gugemar. He, Marie tells us, was a
baron of King Arthur and had but one fault, that he remained
untouched by love — ^and so, of course, brought upon himself dire
trouble. One day, while hunting in the forest, he wounds a
marvelous white doe. But the arrow, glancing back, strikes him
in the thigh. Then the doe speaks to him and tells him that he
can never be healed except through the love of a dolorous lady.
Mounting his horse, Gugemar rides to the sea, where he finds a
ship with a bed waiting for him. He goes to sleep and a magic
wind wafts the ship to the shore of a garden, beside which a
beautiful lady is imprisoned in a tower by a cruel husband. She
finds the knight, nurses him back to health, and for a while enjoys
his love. Then he is discovered by the husband and sent away
on the ship by which he arrived. Other adventures follow, and
eventually, after long separation, the lovers are reunited. The
husband is slain and the two henceforth live happily.

By the end of the twelfth century polite society in France had
Chretien become thoroughly infatuated with the courtoisie of the poets,
de Troyes Lords and ladies found infinite delight not only in listening to
romantic tales of all sorts, but also in discussing the niceties of
amatory conduct. Ovid’s Art of Love enjoyed a great vogue
in translation and inspired a number of similar compositions
in the vernacular. It was for such a fashionable world that
Chretien de Troyes wrote his Arthurian romances. He was a
native of Champagne and for a while enjoyed the patronage of
Countess Marie, a daughter of Louis VII and Eleanor of Aqui-
taine; later he became attached to Philip, count of Flanders, who
died on the crusade in 1 191. Like Marie, Chretien seems to have
been essentially a popularizer of old materials. In suave verse he
retold familiar stories, adorning his pages with elaborate pictures
of beauty and chivalry in luxurious surroundings and with emi-

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 461

nently courteous conversations. Especially noteworthy is his
emphasis on the psychology of love.

Each of Chretien’s romances is, in fact, a problem play. For
instance, his Lancelot turns on the conflict between a knight’s
honor and his passion for a lady. In Erec et 6nide the plot is
based on the question as to what tests of devotion one lover could
demand of the other. But these tales are too familiar to need
detailed comment ; leaving them, we may pass on to a considera-
tion of literary developments in the subsequent period.

3. THE LITERATURE OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY

If one investigates any phase of secular literature in the Middle
Ages, he will find it bearing close affinity to some phase of eccle-
siastical literature. A similar generalization clearly holds good
for mediaeval music. From an early time the church had declared
official what is known as plain chant — ^a system under which
certain limited scales are used in certain prescribed ways. Only
those notes represented by the white keys on the piano are sounded
and the notes hardly vary in length, though some may be empha-
sized to suit the rhythm of the Latin prose. All voices sing the
same part in unison, and without instrumental accompaniment
Ultimately derived from the choral music of the ancient Greeks,
plain chant was consecrated by usage in the church at Rome and
through papal influence was made universal throughout the west
Though often called Gregorian, it was not invented by Gregory
the Great ; he merely gave it, as part of the Latin ritual, the pres-
tige of his support.

Plain chant, being eminently suited to the practical demands of
ecclesiastical service, has proved, through sheer force of sim-
plicity, to be one of the great artistic successes of all time. Yet
its triumph forced out or subordinated many other musical forms,
some of which were perhaps of popular origin, for secular music
of various kinds persisted all through the Dark Age. In this re-
spect we have only the vaguest of information ; without definite
knowledge of the songs themselves, we can hardly determine the
exact relationship that existed between those sung in the church
and those sung outside. In the present connection the problem
may be evaded by merely stating that the Middle Ages witnessed
two musical innovations of great significance to the modern
world: the beginnings of formal composition based upon har-
mony and a system of measuring music by distinguishing notes

Mediaeval

music:

Plain

chant

Harmony

and

mensural

music

The begin-
nings of
the drama

462 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

according to their respective time values and grouping them in
units of the same length.

The earliest arrangement of music to be sung in parts — for
example, with tenor and bass — seems to have been inspired by a
practical consideration ; since voices in a men^s choir would natu-
rally vary in pitch, some would be allowed to sing above the
melody and some below it. Such a practice would gradually lead
to experimentation in harmonious effects, like those obtained by
striking chords on a harp. This development can be traced back
at least to the Carolingian period, and by the thirteenth century
it had progressed far enough to be applied to the singing of
popular rounds and to be explained by theoretical discussions of
counterpoint. The music of the troubadours, like the plain chant
of the church, was based upon free rhythm — ^that is to say, the
melody was simply made to follow the rhythm of the words,
without any regular beating of time. With the introduction of
harmony, however, it became vitally important to measure the
music so that each note should be sounded precisely at the proper
moment. How the innovation came to be made is an obscure
subject, but it is certain that mensural music was known to the
Arabs as early as the tenth century and was first clearly presented
to Christian Europe by Franco of Cologne (or Paris) some-
where about the year 1200. Our modern music, which is one
of the most characteristic of European contributions, may thus be
said to have definitely emerged in the thirteenth century.

Out of this same background of music and ecclesiastical Latin
was evolved another great institution of modern culture — ^the
drama. From a very early time parts of the official liturgy had,
on special occasions, been enlarged by the insertion of added
features. At Easter, for example, the choir might present, by
way of a musical dialogue, the story of the Resurrection, or at
Christmas that of the Nativity. From merely singing the sacred
story, it was an easy step to act it out, with appropriate costumes
and stage effects. Thus arose the religious plays called mysteries,
concerning which we have a wealth of sources dating from, the
early Middle Ages. The more prominent themes were taken from
the Bible, but the lives of popular saints also came to be fre-
quently represented, and this practice allowed the introduction of
many a realistic touch drawn from everyday life. At first the

1“* It is doubtful whether one man bore both names or whether they were two
separate ?nen. On musical theory among the Arabs, see above, p. 209,

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 463

mystery, being merely a supplement to the regular service, was
given inside the church and in Latin. Eventually, however, the
performance was transferred to the porch or to a stage erected
beyond it. And since the object of the play was to instruct the
people, it might to good advantage be put in the vernacular:

A very early example of such practice is the Mystere d'Adam,
written in the first half of the twelfth century. The parts were of
course taken by clergymen and for their benefit the stage direc-
tions are in Latin; but the dialogue is in French verse, amazingly
spirited, with a touch of subtle wit that is wholly delightful. As
the scene opens, Adam is working at one end of the stage, while
Satan approaches Eve and says that he wants to talk to her. She
promises discretion, for which Satan compliments her. Adam, he
thinks, is distinctly her inferior. A little hard, admits Eve.
^Though he be harder than hell {pliis dure qtie n'est emfers), he
shall be made soft,” promises Satan; for he really should take
better care of his wife.

You are fresher than the rose and whiter than crystal, or snow that
falls on ice in the vale. The Creator did not mate you well : you are too
tender and he is too rough. Nevertheless, you are wiser than he.
That’s why I have done well to speak with you.

With such diabolic flattery the main question is introduced. The
fruit which God has allowed them is no good, but that which He
has denied them has marvelous* virtue. In it is the secret of life
and of power, the knowledge of both good and evil. “How does
it taste?” asks poor Eve. “Celestial.. . .” “Is that the fruit?”
“Yes, look at it.” And so the story proceeds to its familiar end —
a very human little drama, as may be seen from even these brief
excerpts.

For a long time most plays, even when they came to be given
by gilds and private associations, continued to be built on reli-
gious themes. In the thirteenth century, however, various new
forms became popular, some of them inspired by the rich vernacu-
lar literature of that age. As already noted, one very prominent
feature of scholastic learning was a fondness for symbolism and
allegory. On the stage a similar tendency is perceptible in the
vogue for the morality play, in which actors personifying virtues
and vices develop a plot of edifying character. How the fash-
ionable romance came under the same influence appears from the

The

Mysthre

d*Adam

Allegory

and

mysticism

The

Fabliaux

464 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Romance of the Rosey as begun by Guillaume de Lorris/'* Here
the Rose typifies the Lady sought by the Lover, who is aided or
impeded by Idleness, Danger, Evil-Tongue, Shame, Fear, Fair-
Welcome, Reason, Cupid, and Venus. About this time, too, the
force of religion reasserted itself in allegorizing the Arthurian
cycle. Various thirteenth-century authors combined Christian
tradition, Celtic legend, and contemporary courtoisie in the
famous sequence dealing with the Holy Grail. The central theme
is the quest for the vessel that had caught the blood of the crucified
Christ. And the fact that the successful hero is Gakhad, the
knight of perfect purity, shows how literary fashion had swung
from the worldly loves of the troubadours to the mystic love of
the church.

On the one hand, therefore, polite literature tended in the thir-
teenth century toward a moral and religious symbolism; on the
other, it came to be strongly affected by an entirely different fac-
tor — ^realism. The courtly poetry of the twelfth century had, at
its worst, the merit of refinement and graceful expression, and
its romantic appeal is still powerful. Today, as then, one who
craves escape from the actual world finds the world of make-
believe wholly entrancing, at least for a while. But sooner or
later the artificiality of the conventional romance grows tiresome.
The monotony of people who could never have lived and of events
that never could have happened becomes insufferable. The oppo-
site extreme then seems a. welcome change. It is found in the
fabliaux, which were written solely for the sake of causing a
laugh. The authors were, in general, the jongleurs — 3. class that
by the thirteenth century had come to be increasingly disrepu-
table. These entertainers, when they appeared in the baronial
hall, sang one of the ancient chansons de geste, or perhaps one of
the newer lays on a romantic theme; before a less fashionable
audience in the local inn or market place, they selected less polite
recitations, such as the fabliaux.

Well over a hundred stories of this sort have come down to
us, mostly dating from the thirteenth century. They are written
in rhymed verse which is often very crude. The literary form,
however, is of no consequence; interest lies solely in the subject
matter, which stands in sharp contrast to that of the contemporary
romance. The fabliaux reveal no chivalrous prejudice; nobles

^ For the additions by Jean de Meun, see below, p. 508,

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 465

are treated as very htonan persons, sometimes good and some-
times bad, and in any case as relatively unimportant characters.
Nor is the peasant a leading character; he is too stupid to be
interesting. More prominent are the ordinary bourgeois of the
street. The merchant is commonly pictured as rich and success-
ful, but in other respects a fool, liable to be victimized by any
clever rascal who comes along. The favorite of the piece is
likely to be the clerk — a. wandering student or man of education
without a job. When he arrives, the sensible citizen will lock up
his valuables — ^also his wife and daughter, for, according to the
fabliaux, women are never to be trusted. Though clever and
desirable, they are utterly devoid of moral principles. High or
low, young or old, women are a source of unending trouble to all
but the happy adventurer who loves and leaves. Other stock
characters are the priest and the monk, for neither of whom is any
sympathy ever shown. Both are vicious h3^ocrites who deserve
all the grief that they get. And they always get it. As soon as
priest or monk is introduced, we know who is going to be the butt
of the joke.

To judge from the frequency of certain tales in the manu-
scripts, the bourgeois audience of the thirteenth century was not
overly nice in its tastes, for many of the fcibliaux are nothing but
smut. Others are risquS stories cribbed from classic authors or
similar inventions from a more recent age. Some, however, can
be told before any audience, and can still be counted on to raise
a laugh. A good example of elementary humor is found in the
tale of Brunain. A villein and his wife go to pray at Notre-Dame
and there they hear a sermon by the priest, who tells them that all
should give liberally to God and so receive a double reward. At
home the villein and his wife talk over the matter and decide to
give the priest their cow, Brunain. They do so, and the priest,
after blessing them, puts Brunain out to graze along with his
own cow. But during the night Brunain becomes homesidc,
breaks down the fence, and escapes, bringing the priest’s cow
along with her. So in the morning the villein and his wife dis-
cover that they have indeed received a double reward, and give
fervent thanks to God for an evident miracle.

The story of the Poor Pedlar is a little more subtle. Arriving
in a certain region with his horse and padc, he is unable to pay
for fodder at the inn. But he hears from a local merchant that
nearby is the pasture of a nobleman who is known to be very gen-*

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

466

erous. The pedlar takes this suggestion, solemnly intrusting his
animal to the care of the nobleman and to Almighty God. Then
in the course of the night a wolf breaks into the pasture and kills
the horse. What to do? In desperation the pedlar goes to the
nobleman and tells him what has happened. “All right/’ says the
latter; “here are thirty sous for the half of the horse that was
entrusted to me; the other thirty you will have to collect from
God.” So the pedlar starts down the road on foot, and before
he has gone far, he meets a monk. “Whose man are you?” he
asks the worthy brother. “I am a man of God,” is the response.
“Aha!” exclaims the pedlar; “you’re just the fellow I’m looking
for.” Whereupon he makes off with the monk’s clothes for the
thirty sous still owed him.

That only men of low birth enjoyed the fabliaux would be a
The conclusion entirely unwarranted by the evidence. All classes

Romance might relish a little fun and satire, as is shown by the enormous

oj Reyftard popularity of the Reynard cycle of romances. Fables about ani-
mals, notably those of JEsop, had been widely read since ancient
times and there seems also to have been a body of Germanic folk
tales about a fox (Reynard), a bear (Bruin), a wolf (Isengrim),
a cat (Tybert), and the like. Yet it was unquestionably French
clerks who first worked these various materials into a series of
mock romances which remain among the best-loved works of the
Middle Ages. Reynard and his peers are vassals of King Noble,
the lion, who is very grand, but who is quite powerless to control
his state. His barons are engaged in endless feuds and Reynard,
in particular, is a professional robber. This unprincipled rascal
plays cruel tricks on Isengrim and Tybert, eats the favorite wife
of Chantecleer, lies his way out of solemn trials before the royal
court, and keeps the reader’s sympathy throughout. His fame is
still attested by the fact that in modern French any fox is still
un renard, instead of un voupil (from the Latin vidpes).

Inevitably, too, the realistic touch came to be applied to the
Aucassin more conventional romance, and the result, among lesser pieces,
et Nicolette -^-as the immortal story of Aucassin et Nicolette. Although the
author’s name is unknown, he lived in the early thirteenth century
and was a great artist. To be appreciated, the romance should be
read; here may be mentioned only two or three points of especial
interest. In the first place, the form is very original, being part
prose and part verse — ^both clever, and blended in such a way as to
enhance the charm of each. Secondly, the substance, though super-

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 467

ficially conventional, is constantly turned in a very unconventional
way. Aucassin is told by his father that he may not marry
Nicolette, who was originally a slave girl, and that, if he does not
give her up, he will go to hell. Aucassin replies that he does not
mind ; all the best people go there and he prefers their company.

Later we hear of a miracle^ but such a miracle as never appeared
on the ecclesiastical stage. A pilgrim, lying sick in bed, is sud-
denly healed by the sight of Nicolette, who chances to pass that
way with her kirtle and smock held high.

In such passages the quiet irony of the author is obvious; he
never takes even his leading characters quite seriously. But once,
when we least expect it, we obtain a brief glimpse of real tragedy.
Aucassin, searching for Nicolette with tears running down his
face, meets a villein, who asks him why he weeps. Loath to tell
the truth, Aucassin lamely answers that he has lost his dog. Then
the villein turns on him and cries him shame, that he should weep
over such a trifle. As for himself, he has cause to grieve.
‘Wherefore so?” asks Aucassin.^®

“Sir, I will tell thee. I was hireling to a rich villein, and drove his
plough; four oxen had he. But three days since came on me great
misadventure, whereby I lost the best of my oxen, Roger, the best of
my team. Him go I seeking, and have neither eaten nor drunken these
three days ; nor may I go to the town, lest they cast me into prison,
seeing that I have not wherewithal to pay. Out of all the wealth of the
world I have no more than ye see on my body. A poor mother bare
me, that had no more but one wretched bed ; this have they taken from
under her, and she lies in the very straw. This ails me more than
mine own case, for wealth comes and goes ; if now I have lost, another
tide I will gain, and will pay for mine ox whenas I may ; never for
that will I weep. But you weep for a stinking hound. Foul fall whoso
thinks well of thee !”

So Aucassin tells him that he is a good comforter and gives
him money to pay for his ox — but the writer was thinking of
more than an episode in a sentimental story.

The romance of Aucassin et Nicolette is partly in prose; others
of the same period, notably the series of the Holy Grail, are en- French
tirely so. Henceforth the newer form of literary composition be- prose
comes more and more popular.. French prose had already been
used by Geoffroy de Villehardouin for his chronicle of the Fourth
Crusade, the substance of which will be seen in another connec-

From the translation by Andrew Lang.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

468

He was the first of a famous series of memoir-writers
which was to include Joinville, Froissart, Commines, and a host
of subsequent authors. In this respect, as in epic, lyric, and
romantic poetry, France led and Europe followed. In the thir-
teenth century the homeland of chivalry, courtoisie, scholastic
theology, and Gothic arts held a cultural supremacy unquestioned
throughout the west. Centuries before, the Germanic saga had
emerged in written form, but the age of the crusades witnessed
the abandonment of that literary t3q>e, save in far-off Iceland.
With the Norman Conquest of England, the old Anglo-Saxon
virtually disappeared as a language of formal composition, and
what we recognize as English literature — ^the first that we can
read without a grammar and dictionary — ^began with Chaucer in
the late fourteenth century. And unfortunately the vogue for
French forms among the Germans of the continent led to the
almost total destruction of their ancient heroic poems.^®

The Nibelungenlied, as it now stands, is half saga and half
German romance, being an old tale reedited in the thirteenth century under
literature the powerful influence of French courtoisie. Fine as it is, we
regret the loss of the original. Meanwhile, too, German poets
had been inspired to produce their own versions of many French
works. The Chanson de Roland became the Rolandslied, and
alongside it appeared by the end of the twelfth century various
romances of Alexander, of Troy, of the Arthurian court, and
even of Reynard {Reinhart Fuchs), Another imported fashion
was the courtly lyric of the troubadours, whose German disciples
called themselves Minnesinger (singers of love). From them
flowed a prodigious stream of spring songs, dawn songs, pastorals,
amorous dialogues, and the like. Much of this literature, being
sheer imitation, was of course very inferior; but by the thirteenth
century certain German developments of the Arthurian cycle had
attained striking originality — especially the Tristan of Gottfried
von Strassburg and the Parsifal of Wolfram von Eschenbach.
And among the Minnesinger had emerged one great lyric poet,
Walther von der Vogelweide.

Born of a lesser noble family in the Austrian Tyrol, Walther
apparently served his poetical apprenticeship at the court of
Vienna, then the most fashionable center of literary production
in Germany. As the protege of a Hohenstaufen prince, the young

See below, pp. 524 f.

See above, p. 290.

DEVELOPMENTS IN LITERATURE 469

poet naturally took that side in the troubled period following the
death of Henry VI, devoting much of his earlier work to a bitter
attack on Pope Innocent III. Yet from these years date his finest
lyrics, simple love songs like the immortal Unter den Linden.
Subsequently Walther lost his favored position at Vienna and
spent many years as a professional Minnesinger, wandering from
court to court. Finally the emperor Frederick II gave him a little
fief that helped to make his later life somewhat happier. Al-
though he continued to produce lyrics, most of them were inevi-
tably of the bread-and-butter variety, and his later art suffered,
like that of all his contemporaries, from an undue fondness
for intricate meters and rhyme systems. From first to last, how-
ever, Walther maintained an admirable originality of thought,
refusing merely to echo conventional sentiments and praising what
he really admired — ^unaffected love for woman, whether or not
she could style herself a lady.

Likewise in Spain and Italy the literary models of the time
were French or Provencal, and most poets, when they came to
write in their native vernacular, were satisfied with copies and
adaptations. The first truly great monument of Spanish literature
is the Poema del Cid — an epic fragment composed in the twelfth
century on the life of the great Castilian hero, who had already
become a legendary figure. In actual life the Cid was Rodrigo
Diaz de Bivar, a by no means saintly adventurer of the later elev-
enth century. The Poeina, earliest of a whole series of romantic
glorifications, deals only with a few episodes in the Cid"s career.
As literature, it lacks polish and symmetry, but it is imbued with
true poetic fervor, and it presents a vivid picture of Spanish life
and ideals in the age of the great Moorish wars. With respect
to vernacular literature, Italy lagged far behind France — behind
even Spain and' Germany. Our first very clear evidence con-
cerning the literary use of Italian comes from the reign of
Frederick II (d. 1250), and another half-century passed before
the glorious Dante set a new standard of composition in the
language. These subjects will be treated in following chapters.

Walther
von der
Vogel-
weide

Spanish

and

Italian

literature

Relation
to Byzan-
tine art

I The
I basilican
1 church

CHAPTER XX

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS

I. ROMANESQUE ARCHITECTURE

The languages developed out of Latin in the Middle Ages we
call Romance, whereas the system of architecture that was evolved
from Roman elements during the same period we call Roman-
esque. In French both ideas are expressed by the same word,
ronmn^ and that usage is more logical than ours, for the parallel
between the two phases of mediaeval culture is very striking. The
sixth century witnessed the perfection of the East Roman art
known as Byzantine,^ from which much was later borrowed by
the Arabs when they first began to put up great mosques and
palaces. In Italy, too, Byzantine influence was strong for a time
after Justinian’s reconquest of the peninsula and it remained
dominant at Venice for many centuries. During the Dark Age,
however, the west generally was in no condition to appreciate the
civilization of Constantinople and remained as little affected by its
art as by its literature. Not until the eleventh century did Latin
Christendom begin to produce architectural monuments of any
significance, and then it very characteristically preferred Roman
to Greek models. The Romanesque style was thus a postponed
development from the primary sources of the Byzantine, rather
than a direct offshoot from the latter.

The central feature of the typical Byzantine church was a great
dome, to which lesser domes, half-domes, vaulted passages, and
the like might be added in a variety of designs. The Romanesque
church, on the other hand, was invariably built on the plan of a
Roman basilica. This was a comparatively simple building, much
used under the emperors for all sorts of public gatherings, and
therefore adaptable to the needs of a Christian congregation.
In form the basilica was an elongated rectangle, divided length-
wise by two rows of columns into a nave running down the middle
and an aisle (or two aisles) on each side. Supported by the
colonnades, there was a clerestory — a. section of the building ele-
vated above the rest and fitted with windows to illuminate the

1 See above, pp. 123 f.

470

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS 471

interior. The four walls might, of course, be constructed of stone
or brick, but the roof, whether flat or gabled, was of timber. The
entrance of the basilica was at one end; the other was frequently
rounded to form an apse, where, on a raised platform, was placed
the chair of the presiding magistrate.

(See Figures 8, 9). # Ap^lb***

To such a basilica, when specially de- Transept

signed for Christian worship, might be
added transepts, bringing the whole edifice
into the shape of a Latin cross. And it
was normally given a definite orientation,
with the altar placed in the apsidal end,
facing the nave and the main entrance to
the west. So, on stepping within the portal,
the worshiper was immediately confronted
by an impressive vista — sl stately colon-
nade that led the eye to the holiest s3mibols
of the Christian mystery. Here shone
marbles stripped from pagan temples,
combined with' fresco, gilding, and — ^in some of the earlier struc-
tures — Byzantine mosaic (see Plate IV — Sant’ Apollinare). But
all this splendor might be ruined if, as often happened, the timber
roof burned off. Accordingly, architects came to devote their

Figure 9. — Section of a Basilican Church.

attention to the problem of vaulting the aisles and the nave with
stone, and out of their experiments in this connection were
evolved new structural principles that eventually led to the system
called Gothic.

f For vaulting a rectangular area two methods had been used
by the Romans ; the barrel vault and the cross vault. The first

Figure 8. — Ground
Plan of a Basilican
Church.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

472

Barrel was merely the prolongation of a semi-circular arch to form a
vaults and half-cylinder of masonry, tlie weight of which was equally dis-
tress tributed along the supporting walls. The area to be covered

vaults might, on the other hand, be divided into squares (called bays),

over each of which two barrel vaults were made to intersect at
right angles (see Figure 10). The weight of such a cross vault
would be concentrated at the four corners (A, B, C, D), joined
by four semi-circular arches (AB, BC, CD, DA), and diagonally
by two lines of intersection called groins (AC, BD). In the
basilican church the aisles could not readily be barrel-vaulted be-
cause on one side there was a colonnade instead of a wall, but by
introducing certain structural changes they could be cross-vaulted.
The inward thrust of the arches toward the nave was counteracted
by the weight of heavy clerestory walls resting on sturdier col-
umns. Toward the outside the thrust
was met by raising buttresses — ^thick fins
of masonry — ^against the aisle walls (see
Figures il, 14).

The more difficult problem was the

vaulting of the nave. Because of its

^ ^ greater width, it could not be divided into

Figure 10.— Cross Vault, f ^ 1 j r • 1

bays that equaled those of the aisles.

Transverse lines from column to column
across the nave would produce oblong rather than square compart-
ments — ^and how could half-cylinders of different heights be made
to intersect on the same plane ? Besides, it was hard to see how to
buttress the clerestory walls above the aisle roofs. Normally,
therefore, architects made no* attempt to cross-vault the nave.
Instead they used a barrel vault, and such a mass of stone-work
thrown over the nave tended to doom both the colonnade and the
clerestory windows. Slender columns had to be replaced by
enormous piers to support the walls that carried the massive vault.
And since these walls had to be of uniform thickness, they could
not be pierced to admit much light. The result was a low,
gloomy interior, characterized by heavy masonry, extensive flat
surfaces, and strongly marked horizontal lines. To a certain
extent, the plainness might be relieved by frescoing, but the style
of construction was not such as to encourage delicacy of oma-.
mentation. f

Such in general was the Romanesque church of the early |
twelfth century, whether erected in Italy, Germany, France, Spain, I

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS 473

or England. For by that time all these countries were witnessing Tsrpes of
a rapid advance in ecclesiastical architecture — z. striking phase of Roman-
the great religious, intellectual, and economic revival that swept
western Europe in the age of the crusades. Merely to glance at
the magnificent structures raised by Latin Christendom between
the eleventh and thirteenth centuries is to gain direct evidence of
mounting wealth and advancing culture. Minute criticism of in-
dividual churches is, of course, impossible here ; tliere is no space
for many illustrative photographs. Yet it may not be unprofitable
to mention a few outstanding examples of the Romanesque style,
in the hope that interested students will look up the pictures neces-
sary to make these remarks intelligible.

Many basilican churches can be found in Italy, especially at
Rome; but aside from matters of decoration, they have slight Tuscany
architectural interest. For more ambitious mediaeval structures
we must turn, as would be expected, to the great commercial
republics. The famous St. Mark’s at Venice, which was designed
in the eleventh century and decorated in the course of the next
two hundred years, is wholly Byzantine — z. Greek cross with a
great dome at the center and a lesser one over each of the four
arms. At Pisa, on the other side of Italy, the sumptuous
cathedral, consecrated in iiiS, is Romanesque.^ Although its
plan was very advanced for that age, including double aisles and
widely extended transepts, its construction remained somewhat
primitive. Only the aisles were cross-vaulted ; the nave was given
the timber roof of the ordinary basilica, which permitted the
retention of a windowed clerestory and of antique columns to sup-
port it. Inside and outside the church is virtually covered with
varicolored marble and the external decoration is particularly
striking. Simple but remarkably beautiful arcading across the
faqade is carried up to the very tip of the gable, and this effect
is repeated on the campanile, the famous leaning bell-tower of
the later twelfth century (see Plate III).

Compared with the cathedral of Pisa, the contemporary build-
ings of Lombardy seem coarse and semi-barbarous. In place of Lombardy ;
marble we here find rough local stone, and in place of antique ;

columns rudely carved masonry piers. Nevertheless, it was the j

northern region that first witnessed the completion of the Roman- i

esque system. No church, assuredly, had a prouder history than |

® Except for the central tower and the baptistery.

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

Provaice

474

that of St. Ambrose (Sant’ Ambrogio) at Milan; so one might
expect it to lead the way toward new architectural standards. The
existing structure is said to be the oldest completely vaulted church
in Italy. Rebuilt in the later eleventh century, it somehow escaped
destruction at the hands of Frederick Barbarossa and, with con-
siderable “restoration,” yet stands today. The vaults in their
entirety can hardly antedate i lOO, but they are very remarkable.
The nave is divided into five bays, each corresponding to two in

the aisles and so obtaining a square out-
line. Of these bays, three are cross-
vaulted, one is barrel-vaulted, and one
is topped by a low octagonal tower to
admit light over the altar. Otherwise
the church would be thrown into gloom,
for one continuous gabled roof covers
the whole building, dispensing with a
clerestory altogether and providing only
an enclosed gallery (called a triforium)
over each aisle. Thus, in spite of the
cross-vaulting, the architects were not
able to perceive how that systan could
be used in connection with derestory
windows (see Plate IV).

Elsewhere in Lombardy the barrd-
vaulted nave was usual, and in French
Romanesque it long remained the nor-
mal construction. So in the churches
of Provence the aisles alone are cross-
vaulted, while the nave is covered by
solid masonry shaped on the outside to form a gable roof and on
the inside to constitute a barrel vault. The enormous weight of
this superstructure is borne on thick walls buttressed over the
aisles by quadrant vaults, quarter-cylinders of stone, which leave,
no room for clerestory windows (see Figure 1 1 ). The piers and
ardies of the interior thus rise overhead in semi-darkness. A fine
example of such construction is the church of Saint-Trophime at
Arles, which was built toward the middle of the twelfth century.
Here, as if to make up for the plainness inside the church, is a
glorious portal, with rich carvings very happily combined with
flat wall spaces. Above the door is seen Christ surrounded by the

Figure ii. — Section of
Notre-Dame DU Port.

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS* 475

four beasts of the Apocalypse,® and below them a frieze bearing
the twelve apostles, together with other figures representing the
saved and the damned. To right and left are statues of various
saints set off by columns and pilasters (see Plate V). To the
rear of the church is a remarkably beautiful cloister, decorated by
sculpture that suggests Roman inspiration. Yet the total effect
is entirely original and we can only say that the art of Saint-
Trophime and of the neighboring churches is characteristically
Proven9al, and very lovely.

Almost exactly the same style of construction is found in the
churches of Auvergne and Toulouse, such as Notre-Dame du Port Southern
at Clermont-Ferrand and Saint-Semin at Toulouse. The latter Prance
is particularly noteworthy for its great size and monumental de-
sign.'* It has double aisles and an apse with five projecting chap-
els, thus completing the t3Tpical end of the French cathedral —
what is known as the chevet (see Plate III). In Aquitaine, on
the other hand, the great mediaeval buildings are surprisingly By-
zantine in their system of vaulting. The church of Saint-Front at
Perigueux, for example, has five domes arranged as in the famous
St. Mark’s at Venice, and the contemporary cathedral of Angou-
leme is provided not merely with a dome over the crossing, but
with three others that serve to vault the nave. Little more than
the design could have been brought from the east. The workmen,
like the materials, were obviously Aquitanian. So the sculpture
that was effectively used to decorate the- facades of the local
churches was essentially a native product (see Plate III).

The greatest Romanesque monument of Burgundy — since only
ruins are left at Cluny — is the abbey church of Vezelai which was Northern
begun in 1089. Structurally it is very remarkable. At Cluny the Prapce
nave was barrel-vaulted according to the ordinary plan ; here, on
the other hand, it was cross-vaulted. And although the vaulting
was crudely done, the bold architect took advantage of it to obtain
a relatively high clerestory (see Plate V). What he did not
understand was how to buttress the transverse arches from the
outside; and if it had not been for subsequent improvements, the
vault would have collapsed. For one other feature the church of
Vezelai is especially noteworthy — ^the extraordinary sculpture
over the main portal (see Plate X). The figures, to be sure, are
badly drawn; the details are crude, even grotesque. Yet the com-

^ See below, p. 490.

* The lofty tower and .^eple over the crossing are later additions.

MEDIJEVAL HISTORY

476

position as a whole is very decorative, and it has a vigor that
proclaims it the beginning of anew art, rather than a reminiscence
of the past.

Owing to the development that will be explained in the follow-
ing section, little Romanesque construction survives in northern
France. For additional examples of the style we must pass
through the Capetian domain to Normandy, the rulers of which
proved themselves as ardently devoted to building as to warfare.
In their tremendous structures — ^plain to the point of grimness,
but magnificently strong and admirably proportioned — ^the Nor-
man character is vividly reflected. Such are the two great abbeys
founded at Caen by William the Conqueror and his wife Matilda,
the Abbaye-aux-Hommes and the Abbaye-aux-Dames. Each of
them apparently was at first provided with a wooden roof over the
nave, which was later rq)laced by a masonry vault of advanced
design. In both cases, too, the exterior has been much altered by
additions made in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The
primitive Romanesque must be looked for bdow the steeples and
decorated upper stories. If attention is centered on that portion,
the characteristic Norman fagade will stand out prominently —
the gabled end of the nave, with round-arched doors and windows
flanked by massive square towers almost devoid of ornamentation
(see Plate VI).

In their Sicilian kingdom the Normans quite naturally made
^ England use of the architectural forms which had already appeared there.

Such great buildings as the palace chapel at Palermo and the
cathedral of Monreale are a combination of the Romanesque,
Byzantine, and Saracenic styles. In the England of 1066, on the
contrary, there was no art to rival that of Normandy, for the
Saxons had never been great builders. On taking over the coun-
try, tlie Normans systematically razed such cathedrals and abbeys
as already existed and at once began work on new structures of
unprecedented grandeur, thus turning much of their confiscated
wealth into thank-offerings to Ciod. Few of the great churches
erected between 1066 and 1100 have retained their original de-
sign, but in spite of all subsequent demolition and remodeling,
England contains a great deal more Romanesque architecture than
does Normandy.

The finest monument of the sort is unquestionably Durham
Cathedral, with its commanding position inside a loop of the
River Wear (see Plate VI). Begun in 1093, the exterior of the

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS 477

church was virtually completed in the first quarter of the twelfth
century. Only the central tower is of a later style ; the two west-
ern towers are tjq)ically Norman and deserve to be ranked among
the world’s architectural triumphs. The beautiful cathedral of
Norwich may likewise be classified among the Norman churches,
although it received a munber of additions in the fifteenth century.
Winchester Cathedral, with a total length of over five hundred
feet, was also remodeled in the later Middle Ages, but it still
has its Romanesque transepts and central tower. And in many
other churches — ^notably those of Ely, Canterbury, St. Albans,
and Tewkesbury — various features clearly reveal their eleventh-
century origin. Everywhere the Norman work is characterized
by its massive construction — tremendous columns, piers, and
arches, decorated with simple geometrical patterns in spirals, dia-
monds, zigzags, and the like. Only very rarely did the Norman
artists attempt human figures, and then their results were ludi-
crous. They were masons rather than sculptors.

The early Christian architecture of Spain was Romanesque of
the southern French t3q)e, as in the cathedrals of Santiago de Spain
Compostella, Avila, Lerida, and Salamanca. The Romanesque and
of Germany, on the other hand, was largely inspired by that of Germany
Lombardy. And since it continued to be the ruling style of the
Rhinelands throughout the thirteenth century, many fine examples
have come down to us. Though built on a basilican plan, these
German churches are marked by certain striking peculiarities. As
a rule, they have an apse at each end of the nave — a feature that
rules out the splendid western fa9ade so characteristic of the
French cathedral. The main entrance is placed on the side; for
the sake of symmetry a second transept is sometimes added ; and
in any case both eastern and western ends are marked by a series
of three towers, either round or square. Quite typical in such
respects are the great cathedrals of Worms, Speyer, and Mainz,
as well as the famous abbq^ of Laach (see Plate III). German
Romanesque, like the Norman, is extremdiy plain, and all too
often its plainness is not relieved by delicacy of proportion.

Though sturdy and honest, it lacks grace — the quality that almost
invariably pervades the contemporary architecture of France

2. GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE

In Romanesque as in Roman construction the building con-
sisted essentially of walls which supported a roof. When the roof

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Origins of
Gothic
construc-
tion

478

was light, the walls could be pierced by many arched openings, or
even — as in the case of the clerestory walls — partly replaced by
colonnades. When, however, a barrel vault was substituted for a
timber covering, the added weight made clerestory windows im-
possible and forced the placing of heavy piers between nave and
aisles. Cross-vaulting had the advantage of concentrating this
weight at certain points and for that reason came to be regularly
employed over the aisles. But architects who sought to apply
the system to the nave found that it raised two problems of ex-
treme difficulty : how to intersect half-cylinders of different
heights and how to support the thrust of the arches against the
clerestory walls. Out of efforts to solve these problems was grad-
ually evolved the revolutionary method of construction which we
know as Gothic.® The craiit for this achievement — one of the
most noteworthy in the entire history of art — ^unquestionably goes
to the versatile French people.

At the opening of the twelfth century the greater churches in
northwestern Europe were abbeys rather than cathedrals. But
the rapid development of material prosperity in the towns, which
coincided with a great religious and intellectual revival, rendered
possible new standards of architecture for the secular clergy.
Especially in the Capetian domain each city strove to erect a more
splendid church than the world had yet seen, and under this im-
petus ecclesiastical architecture made astonishing progress. At
the accession of Louis VI the Romanesque style was universal
throughout the kingdom ; his grandson lived to see the perfection
of Gothic. By this later age the new art included a system of
lavish ornamentation that cannot fail to impress even the super-
ficial observer. Yet it should always be remembered that the
Gothic style was fundamentally a matter of construction, that its
decorative effects were secon^ry developments. To give win-
dows a fancy outline, to spread exuberant carvings across a
facade, or to cover a roof with spires and pinnacles is not and
never has been to produce a Gothic building. The latter must be
characterized by certain structural features which are logically
necessitated by a peculiar form of vaulting.

As already remarked, mediaeval architects had trouble in put-
ting a cross vault over an oblong space. Half-cylinders of dif-

' It had, of course, no connection with the Goths. In the fifteenth-century re-
action against the mediaeval styles, the term Gothic came to be used as a syno-
nym for barbarous.

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS 479

ferent diameters could not be made to intersect without resorting The
to clumsy expedients. But if the cylinders were pointed at the
top, the task could be done easily and elegantly, for the height
of a pointed arch can be varied without changing its breadth. It
was the realization of this fact, rather than the invention of the
pointed arch, that revolutionized cross-vaulting. The Roman-
esque churches of Provence had normally been made with barrel
vaults of pointed section because that form of construction les-
sened the outward thrust on the walls. The Arabs, long before,
had used pointed arches for the sake of variety in decoration.

Until the experiment was tried by French architects in the early
twelfth century, however, no one had used the unconventional
form to simplify cross-vaulting (see Figures ii, 12).

nnnrth

Bonnd Pointed Horseshoe Cosped Flsmboyaat

Figure 12. — ^Arches.

In the same way another old device was now discovered to pos-
sess unexpected value. This was the practice of ribbing the vault. The rib-
In a barrel vault heavy transverse ribs had often been placed from and-panel
pillar to pillar. In a cross vault the same scheme was sometimes
applied to the four sides of each bay; and it now occurred to
builders that, if diagonal ribs® were built along the groins, lighter
stone could be used to cover the intervening spaces. Thus the
weight of the vault would be reduced and a considerable saving
made in the cost of materials. But when oblong compartments
were cross-vaulted, the groins were inevitably twisted in peculiar
ways. So the bolder architects abandoned the old surfaces alto-
gether. Ribs were constructed from four or from six supports''
to the geometrical center of the bay, thus constituting a series
of intersecting arches. And finally thin slabs of stone were arched
to form a panel between each rib and the next (see Figure 13).

This was the Gothic vault, radically different from the Roman

• A very early use was in Sant’ Ambrogio at Milan.

^Called respectivdy quadripartite and sexpartite vaulting. The latter was
devdoped first, as a modification of the Sant’ Ambrogio plan, whereby one bay
of the nave corresponds to two bays of the aisle.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

480

The flying cross vault out of which it had been developed. Through its em-
buttress plojTnent of the pointed arch and because of its relatively light
weight, the Gothic vault could be carried to heights undreamed
of in Romanesque construction. And as was soon demonstrated
in actual practice, it could be readily adapted to cover irregular
areas of all sorts — ^such as those encountered at the apsidal end
of the church. The one problem that remained was an efficient
method of counteracting the outward thrust of the vaulting arches
where they converged on piers along the clerestory wall. Fre-
quently, when a nave was barrel-vaulted, continuous support was
provided along the sides by means of quadrant vaults under the
aisle roofs.® When cross-vaulting was similarly employed, such a
quadrant vault would logically be reduced to a series of curved

buttresses placed only against the
points that needed support. But
these points, if a clerestory were
constructed, would be high above
the aisle roofs. No matter; the
Gothic architect, caring nothing
for tradition, brought the but-
tresses out from their concealment
and built them right through the
air to meet any possible thrust
from the interior arches.

As the result of these improve-
The ments, the church no longer consisted of walls holding up a roof.

The perfected Gothic building, on the contrary, was a towering
s e e on framework of slender masonry piers and arches supported from
the outside by flying buttresses. As far as stability was con-
cerned, it needed no walls, even after the vaults had been com-
pleted and slanting timber roofs had been placed over them to
keep off the weather. When architects came to appreciate this
truth, they enlarged the windows of aisle, clerestory, and apse,
so that glass filled virtually the entire space from one pier to
the next. The interior was thus flooded with light; the massive
columns, the heavy arches, the extensive wall surfaces that had
characterized the Romanesque style disappeared. The three
horizontal stages of the nave — arcade, triforium, and clerestory
— ^were still indicated by delicate moldings, but their height was

* See above, p. 474.

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS 481

enormously increased and all structural members were given
soaring outlines that rose from the pavement to the crown of the
vault. (See Figure 14.)

The development briefly sketched above can be traced step by
step in the churches of northern France. As earty as the opening Transi-
years of the twelfth century an attempt was made at Vezelai to tional
cross-vault the nave and so to provide a high clerestory. The churches
builders, however, underestimated the outward thrust of their
arches, and subsequently, when the
device had come into general use,
flying buttresses were added.

Meanwhile, in the first quarter of
the century, the advantages of
diagonal vaulting ribs and of the
pointed arch had also come to be
clearly understood. Profiting by
this experience, the illustrious
Suger, about 1136, began a new
abbey church at Saint-Denis, the
first great edifice to be designed on
a truly Gothic plan. Within a hun-
dred years it was already thought
out of date and was largely re-
placed by a more magnificent
structure. Yet enough of Suger’s
church remains to show that, while
round arches were preserved in the
faqade, pointed-arch construction

ruled throughout the interior. So,

. ,1 j 1 r o !• o Figure 14. — Skeleton of Amiens

too, the cathedrals of Senlis, Sens, Cathedral.

and Noyon, all dating from the

middle of the twelfth century, display a transitional stage of archi-
tecture. Although their system of vaults and buttresses is Gothic,
they still retain such vestiges of the Romanesque style as roimd-
arched windows, massive piers, and tylindrical columns.

This last feature reappears in the nave of the great cathedral of
Notre-Dame at Paris, which was commenced in 1163. But it is Gothic
interesting to note that, before the western end was completed, cathedrals
some one had been inspired to substitute for the round column one
with four attached shafts (see the cross-sertion in Figure 15).

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

Chartres

Paris

482

Such piers immediately became characteristic of the perfected
Gothic interior, bringing the structural lines of the vault and
clerestory down to the pavement itself — a process which culmi-
nated in the cathedrals of Chartres, Amiens, and Reims. Here
we encounter an important fact that must be taken into account
when considering the greatest architectural monuments of medi-
aeval France : it is very exceptional for one of them to be designed
throughout in a single harmonious style. Even when a uniform
plan was attempted, it would not be consistently followed out.
The advance of Gothic art was so rapid that one portion of the
church would be antiquated before another was started, and con-
tinual changes would be introduced as the work progressed. In-
stead of comparing cathedrals, it is thus necessary to compare
their individual features.

At Chartres, for example, we find in the faqade two square
towers remaining from an older church which was largely de-

♦ stroyed by fire in 1194. One of them is sur-
mounted by a celebrated masonry spire of the
twelfth century; the other by an ornate construc-
tion of the sixteenth. Between the towers are
three famous sculptured portals, almost Roman-
esque in outline, and above them a handsome rose
window. Behind the facade the body of the
church remains very much as it was built in the
early thirteenth century. Nave, aisles, transepts, and apse are of
the purest Gothic throughout. The stained glass is the finest
in the world. And the transepts end in porches of unrivaled
magnificence, containing a wealth of statuary that is ahnost in-
cre^bl'e. The fagade, accordingly, is quite out of harmony with
the rest of the building. In this respect Chartres yields pre-
eminence to Paris. (See Plate X.)

Perhaps it was due to the influence of a twelfth-century design
that the fagade of Notre-Dame is so charmingly simple. The
arched openings are only slightly pointed. The horizontal lines,
which roughly indicate the stories of the interior, are strongly
brought out by uninterrupted bands of decoration. And they, to-
gether with the richly carved portals and the splendid windows,
are relieved by extensive plain surfaces. The fundamental plan >
is still that of the Abbaye-aux-Hommes at Caen and other Ro-

Figure 15. —
Section of a
Gothic Pier.

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS 483

manesque churches : two great towers stand in front of the aisles
and dominate the whole edifice. Here at Paris they are mag-
nificently executed, skillfully combining an effect of airy grace
with a very obvious solidity (see Plate VI). The nave of the
church, as already noted, varies considerably, retaining a good
deal of transitional work alongside later improvements. Apart
from the western front, the most remarkable portion is unques-
tionably the double-aisled apse. Internally it is a marvel of Gothic
vaulting; externally, with its charming pattern of flying but-
tresses, it provides a subject which artists along the Seine never
tire of sketching (see Plate VIII).

Figure i6. — Ground Plan of Reims Cathedral.

Of all the mediaeval French cathedrals, that of Reims has long
been considered the finest, and, at least in point of monumental Rams
design, the verdict must be confirmed. The old church was
burned in 1210 and the new one, immediately begun, was almost
wholly completed before the end of the century. Unlike Paris
and Amiens, Reims Cathedral has a single-aisled nave, but beyond
the tramsepts the aisles are doubled. One aisle is then continued
about the apse, which is also surrounded by a series of five semi-
circular chapels — ^together forming the handsomest chevet in
France (see Figure 16). In fact, the whole body of the church,
through elegance of proportion and perfection of design, quite
deserves its reputation. Especially the exterior of the nave, with
its series of pinnacled buttresses, has gfreat dignity and charm
(see Plate VIII). Although the ends of the transepts are com-
paratively plain, the western fa9ade, which was not completed
till the fifteenth century, is excessively ornate. The exaggerated
portal roofs are provided with false gable ends that obscure the
true structure of the building. The towers are so overloaded witb

Amiens

and

Beauvais

The

Gothic

interior

Gothic in
the north-
ern fiefs

484 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

ornament that they have a frosted effect. Here may be discerned
the tendency of later Gothic to degenerate into meaningless deco-
ration.

Amiens Cathedral was begun shortly after Reims, and its fa-
9ade, though more elaborate than that of Paris, follows very much
the same design. As originally contemplated, it must have been
very beautiful; unfortunately the upper portion was modified to
suit the flamboyant tastes of a later generation and topped with
fancy towers that have neither symmetry nor sturdiness (see Plate
V'l). Structurally, this cathedral has been hailed as the peak of
jothic accomplishment. Indeed, the only criticism raised against
t has been that it is too coldly mathematical in its perfection,
[ts nave reaches a total height of 141 feet, as compared with 125
it Reims and 106 at Chartres. Only one Gothic building over-
ops it, the cathedral of Beauvais, where the arches intersect 154
eet above the pavement. But this structure proved over-ambi-
ious, for the vault fell twice, necessitating the insertion of an
xtra pair of columns in each bay. Although only half of
Beauvais Cathedral was built, and that not very securely, it is
ery lovely, with a relatively lower arcade than at Amiens and a
)wering clerestory set with magnificent windows.

Any one who has imagined that the Gothic style implies a riot
of exuberant ornament should study the interiors of these great
French cathedrals. There he will find, aside from the designs
in stained glass, only the simplest of decoration. The capitals
and an occasional molding are carved in unostentatious patterns,
and a little delicate tracery may be added to set off the openings in
the triforium and elsewhere. That is all, except for an almost
incredible refinement of structural outlines. The breath-taking
beauty of nave, transepts, and apse resides in their undecorated
stonework. Here, rather than in accidental features of the ex-
terior, is to be seen the acme of Gothic art (see Plate IX).

In the preceding pages it has been possible to mention only a
few outstanding examples of French Gothic. A fuller account
would have to give attention to the cathedrals of Bourges, Laon,
and Soissons, as well as to various lesser churches in the lie de
France. By the thirteenth century, furthermore, the Gothic style
had come to dominate throughout the fiefs of Normandy, Flan-
ders, Champagne, and Burgundy. Rouen, Bayeux, Coutances,
Ghent, Brussels, Troyes, and other towns now witnessed the erec-

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS 485

tion of towering Gothic structures, largely inspired by those of
the royal domain, but preserving many features peculiar to the
respective localities. Especially remarkable is the famous Nor-
man abbey of Mont-Saint-Michel, built on the summit of a rocky
islet just off the Breton border. The original church is a charm-
ing example of early Romanesque, to which was added in the thir-
teenth century a beautiful cloister and other fine Gothic buildings.

The latter constitute what is known as the Merveille, because they
are supported on the north by a marvelous series of buttresses
rising off the face of the cliff. (See Plates XI, XII.)

From the thirteenth century onward many structures of
pointed-arch design also came to be raised in Aquitaine, Toulouse, Southern
Spain, and Italy. The south, however, remained generally loyal Gothic
to its native Romanesque, and there the Gothic style was essen-
tially a foreign importation. In this connection it will be suffi-
cient to name the cathedrals of Burgos and Toledo as good exam-
ples of Spanish Gothic — characterized by heavy masonry and
rather excessive ornamentation, mudi of it inspired by Moorish
example. To the Italians Gothic art was largely a system of
decoration, marked by gables, pinnacles, and pointed openings.
Occasionally, as in the great church of St. Francis at Assisi, the
structural features of the northern style were used to good effect.

More commonly the Italian arcliitects seem to have striven for
effect rather than sound construction. They, for instance, were
very fond of bold arches tied together with iron rods instead of
being buttressed with stone. Their overindulgence in pseudo-
Gothic embellishments served to produce a violent reaction toward
classic forms in the subsequent period.

For this reason, apparently, many books have asserted that
Gothic art was Teutonic in spirit. It was just as Teutonic as German
Paris. In Germany there was very little Gothic construction Gothic
before 1300, and what there was merely followed French models.

In some cases, as at Worms, a rib-and-panel vault was placed
over a purely Romanesque nave; in others a large portion of the
church was built in the perfected (jothic style. At Strasbourg
the result was pleasing; but the pretentious cathedral of Cologne,
which was not finished till the nineteenth century, is generally
felt to lack the refinement of true beauty. On the whole, German
Romanesque, with all its plainness, is artistically superior to Ger-
man imitations and adaptations of Gothic. For an architectural

English

Gothic

Lincoln

Cathedral

486 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

development approaching the French in originality and charm we
must turn to England.

As already noted, the Normans, in the years following their
epoch-making conquest, covered their island kingdom with great
Romanesque churches. Then, in the second half of the twelfth
century, the older architecture was superseded by the new style
known as Early English — ^though whether it was any more Eng-
lish than the preceding Norman style is at least a debatable point.
In any case, the chief characteristic of Early English is its pointed
design, originally introduced as a mere variation in the shape of
the arch, quite devoid of structural significance. The first impor-
tant work to be based throughout on pointed-arch construction
was that carried out at Canterbury in the years following 1174.
The architect was from Sens and the portion of the church which
he rebuilt strikingly resembles the cathedral in his home town,
being therefore of the* type known on the continent as transi-
tional. Not long afterwards Bishop Hugh of Avallon, a Bur-
gundian, began the reconstruction of Lincoln Cathedral, which
may be taken as a fine example of early Gothic in England (see
Plate VII).

At Lincoln many features which are obviously French are com-
bined with many others that are not. Among the latter may be
noted the peculiar form of the vaults, which are provided with
many extra ribs and paneled in a way unknown on the continent.
Although the vaults are supported by flying buttresses, the walls
are heavier than those of contemporary French cathedrals, and
groups of small lancet windows are found instead of wide open-
ings extending from pier to pier. The whole church is low and
long, rather than short and high. The original design included a
single-aisled nave, two transepts, an eastern apse, and two square
towers on the west. But eventually a square eastern end was
substituted for the apse and a screen-like facade was erected to
mask the bases of the western towers. The great central tower
was added in the fifteenth century. As it now stands, Lincoln
Cathedral displays a considerable variety in its parts, yet the total
effect of the church, nobly situated on the crest of a steep hill, is
magnificent And in spite of its many peculiarities, it is obviously
Gothic in structure as well as in decorative pattern. *

The same cannot, without redefinition of terms, be said of all
contemporary churches in England, for many of them continued

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS 487

to exhibit the fundamental traits of Romanesque construction. Salisbury
So Wells Cathedral, while employing the pointed arch through- Cathedral
out, depends for its stability on massive walls and piers, thus
avoiding the use of flying buttresses altogether. Aside from the
form of the arcade, it is substantially like the cathedral of Dur-
ham, where a rib-and-panel vault was placed over a purely Roman-
esque nave. To a large degree this is also true even of Salisbury
Cathedral, which was built as a whole — except for the central
spire — ^between 1220 and 1258, and may thus be taken as a sym-
metrical expression of the Early English ideal. Here again,
although we find Gothic arches and vaults, the latter are sup-
ported by massive walls some six feet thick, so that the buttresses
placed under the low aisle roofs serve no useful purpose. Under
such conditions one would expect a heavy interior ; but since the
vault is raised to a height of only eighty feet and the workman-
ship is uniformly excellent, the clerestory is easily held on widely
spaced piers of graceful outline (see Plates VII, IX).

Tastes in architecture, as in other matters, have always varied.

To English eyes the cathedral of Salisbury remains more charm- Westmin-
ing than that of Chartres. And since the term Gothic is a late in- ster Abbey
vention — ^and a mistaken one at that — ^any one is free to apply it as
he chooses. Few, assuredly, will be shocked at hearing the Early
English style described as Gothic. But the fact remains that little
of it is Gothic in the sense that the cathedrals of Reims and
Amiens are Gothic. Such a church as Salisbury, despite its
pointed design, is essentially a walled building. According to the
French point of view, the purest Gothic in England is to be found
in Westminster Abbey, the eastern end of which was erected by
Henry III during the years following 1245. Here is to be ob-
served a complete Gothic framework, including only necessary
vaulting ribs and an extensive system of flying buttresses. No
clerestory walls are left ; the entire space from pier to pier is made
into window. The vault is the loftiest in England, rising a hun-
dred feet above the pavement. And the principal fa9ade, in this
case the end of the north transept, bears a general resemblance to
the western facade of Amiens. Nevertheless, the total effect of
the church is very distinctive and it is justly regarded as an Eng-
lish monument, rather than a foreign imitation. One is left to
marvel that its structural beauty was so little appreciated by sub-
sequent generations.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Architects

and

craftsmen

The
didactic
motive in
mediaeval
art

3. THE DECORATIVE ARTS

There are, unfortunately, many fascinating subjects in connec-
tion with mediaeval architecture on which we lack detailed infor-
mation. No one in the Middle Ages wrote books about the en-
gineering problems involved in the raising of a great church, or
about such matters as masonry, carpentering, stone carving, the
letting of contracts, and the hiring of men. Occasionally, some-
thing may be found out from the chance remarks of a monastic
chronicler or a stray record preserved in some cathedral. We
know the names of many architects, but little else about them.
Although they enjoyed no such personal renown as their suc-
cessors of the Italian Renaissance, they were equally fine artists —
often finer. Like the humbler craftsmen, they were organized in
societies or gilds. They learned their profession by actual work
under a master, as an apprentice learned how to weave cloth or
to make a silver cup. They had neither textbooks nor aca-
demic institutions. Their school was that of experience. They
observed what was being done in rival communities and perfected
improvements according to the best of their inventive talents.
How excellent were those talents has already been seen. The
character and attainments of the lesser men engaged in putting up
the great churches must be judged in the same way — ^by the re-
sults of their labor.

In studying the sculpture and painting of the twelfth and thir-
teenth centuries, two facts should be kept in mind : that these
arts were virtually monopolized by the church, and that they were
very largely subordinated to architecture. Whatever the genius
of the artist, it was devoted to the service of the clergy who paid
him; when hired to decorate a cathedral, he could not be expected
to produce other than ecclesiastical work. To understand the
typical art of the Middle Ages, we must take into account not
only the skill of the craftsman, but likewise the ideals of the men
who employed him. All the sculpture and painting found in
a Gothic church was, to be sure, put there for the sake of adorn-
ment; yet much of it was also intended to teach, a lesson, since
even the illiterate might read the meaning of pictures in stone and
glass. So the great cathedral came to be a sort of religious pano-
rama, illustrating for the benefit of the people the truths df revela-
tion and science.

The dominant theme was of course tlie Christian story— a

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS 489

magnificent epic embracing past, present, and future. Merely Tbefagade
to catalogue the favorite subjects of the mediaeval sculptor would of Amiens
occupy a page of print. Here it will be sufficient to indicate what
may be observed on the outside of one or two churches. The
western facade of Amiens, for example, is in every way typical of
the best composition. Between the doors ©f the central portal
stands Christ (the famous Beau Dieu), with rows of apostles and
prophets on either side, and above is the Last Judgment. The
left-hand portal (i.e., the one on Chrisf s right) is dedicated to the
Virgin, representing especially her death and coronation. The '

right-hand portal, by a similar group of carvings, celebrates St.

Firmin, patron of the cathedral. In addition, each of the great
arches is decorated with tiers of sculptured angels, saints, and
other figures. On the jambs of the doors are the wise and the
foolish virgins. Below the principal statues runs a double series
of reliefs depicting virtues and vices, months, signs of the zodiac,
and similar subjects. And over all, extending from tower to
tower, is the majestic gallery of kings — ^not those of France, but
those of Judah, the ancestors of Christ.

Much the same system of decoration was applied to the western
fronts of various other churches. At Chartres, on the other hand, The
the main facade was a relic of an older building, and to make up porches of
for its relative plainness the local clergy added in the thirteenth
century the two marvelous porches of the north and south tran-
septs. About the three western portals may yet be seen the
original twelfth-century sculpture: at the center Christ in glory,
on the right the Ascension, on the left the Virgin and Child, with
other scenes from their lives represented in subordinate carvings ;
also the twenty-four elders, the arts and sciences, the months, and
a gallery of kings (see Plate X). But this entire composition is
rendered comparatively insignificant by the rich decoration of
the north and south portals, devoted respectively to the Old and
the New Dispensations, The former alone has been reported to
contain over seven hundred individual figures. To mention only
some of the principal subjects, we here find the Creation, Samuel,

David, Solomon, Job, Samson, Esther, Judith, Gideon, Tobit, the
patriarchs and the prophets, the Annunciation, the Nativity, the
Adoration of the Magi, the death and coronation of the Virgin,
the Synagogue and the Church, the heavenly beatitudes, the arts
and sciences, the months and signs, the wise and the foolish vir-
gins, and the battle of the virtues and vices. And in the south

490 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

porch are shown Christ and the apostles, the Last Judgment, the
nine orders of angels, and the lives of many saints, including St.
Stephen, St. Martin, St. Nicholas, St. Theodore, and St. George.

To make a complete enumeration of such sculptures, however,
Symbolic would be merely to touch the subject, for each of them is likely
art to embody an ancient religious and artistic tradition that requires

lengthy explanation. The complicated problem of origins cannot
here be considered ; it need only be said that from very early times
Christian art, like Christian thought, had been deeply tinged with
symbolism, and that many of the decorative themes on the Gothic
church were taken from Romanesque or Byzantine sources. A
good example is the representation of Christ surrounded by the
four beasts of the Apocalypse, which may be seen over the main
portal of Chartres and of Saint Trophime at Arles (see Plate V).
These winged beasts — ^as explained in Revelation, iv, 6-8 — ^Iiad
the heads respectively of a man, an eagle, a lion, and a calf. Ac-
cording to mediaeval interpretation, they typified the four evan-
gelists. The calf was St. Luke, because he begins his gospel with
the sacrifice of Zacharias. The lion was St. Mark, whose gospel
opens with ^'the voice of one crying in the wilderness.’’ The eagle
was St. John, for he introduces us at once to Divinity, as the eagle,
by repute, was the only bird that could look the sun in the face.
The man, finally, was St. Matthew, whose first chapter gives the
descent of Christ according to the flesh. Furthermore, as Christ
had taken on human form, the man represented the Incarnation ,*
the calf, being the sacrificial beast, the Crucifixion ; the lion, the
Resurrection, because that animal was alleged to restore his cubs
to life by roaring at them; and the eagle, flying into the sun, the
Ascension.

To understand most of the figure sculpture on a mediaeval ca-
thedral, one has to know the conventional symbols with which it
is expressed. A plain nimbus marks a saint ; one with a superim-
posed cross denotes God. Wavy lines are water ; curved lines with
zigzags in between are the sky. A stalk with a few leaves is a
tree or a forest. A battlemented tower is a city ; if an angel peers
from it, it is heaven. Doll-like figures in the fold of a benevolent-
looking man’s robe are souls reposing in Abraham’s bosom, that
is to say, enjoying the state of blessedness. Hell is designated by
a monster’s yawning mouth into which devils with pitchforks cast
the souls of the damned. The apostles and many of the saints are
nictured in neculiar wavs, so that thf»v mav pacihr

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS 491

Holy men frequently stand on symbolic objects or persons — such
as the kings who persecuted them.

In this connection may be cited a famous example. Below
the Christ on the main portal of Amiens are various sculptures
illustrating the text ; ‘‘Thou shalt tread upon the adder and the
basilisk ; the lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under foot.'’^
Immediately under Christ’s feet in the statue are in fact a lion and
a dragon, here taken to symbolize the Antichrist and Satan. And
a little lower on the shaft are two other beasts. The first, half
cock and half serpent, is the basilisk or cockatrice, a fabled mon-
ster that could kill by a glance and so typified death. The second
is a long-legged dragon which holds one ear to the ground and

Figure 17. — The Basilisk and the Adder (Amiens Cathedral).

(From E. Male, L’Art Religietix dti XIII^ Siecle en France,)

stops the other with the tip of his tail. This is the adder, which
was said to follow such a plan to avoid being charmed by singing
and so to embody the willfulness of the sinner (see Figure 17).

The entire composition therefore constitutes an eloquent sermon
in stone : here at the very entrance stands the Savior proclaiming
the victory of the church over sin and death.

Work of this sort obviously followed designs dictated by the
ecclesiastical authorities. The sculptor commissioned to represent (^thic
a cockatrice or the mouth of hell could not go beyond the tradi- statuary
tional concepts. In such allegorical pictures as the Last Judg-
ment, consequently, we should not expect to find realistic art.

Greater scope was allowed the artist in the execution of individual
statues ; yet even here his finished product had to conform not only
to the spiritual ideals of the church, but to the architectural de-
mands of the structure that he was set to decorate. The skill with

Le Beau
Dieu of
Amiens

* This is the reading of the Vulgate: Fsalms, xc, 13.

Master-
pieces of
Gothic
sculpture

492 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

which the Gothic statuary of the thirteenth century was made to
observe these prerequisites, and at the same time be intrinsically
beautiful, is one of the world’s great artistic triumphs. To appre-
ciate this fact, it is of course necessary to study the originals, or
at least good photographs. If that is done, the absurd legend
preserved in older books, that mediaeval art is stiff and lifeless,
will be at once dispelled.

The twelfth-century sculpture that adorns the facade of Char-
tres is distinctly primitive in many respects, but it marks an enor-
mous advance over that of Vezelai. The statues placed beside
the main portals are elongated like columns and resemble in their
complete rigidity the figures of Byzantine mosaic. Yet each of
the faces in the gallery of kings is distinct, and some of them are
extraordinarily handsome (see Plate X). This, we may say, is
the sculpture of the transition; that of the perfected Gothic has
lost all its archaic stiffness and is characterized throughout by
charming ease and grace. The principal statues become lifelike
from head to foot. To gain this effect the artist had, of course,
to take his details from living men and women, from their clothes
and from the other things that they used. The result of his work,
however, was not to depict a single ordinary person. He produced
an ideal portrait of the man Jesus, who was also God ; or of the
Virgin Mary, who was the Mother of God. A saint could be
more plainly human, but after all he had to have a visible saintly
quality. It is the exquisite blending of realistic detail with the
idealism of the church that distinguishes Gothic sculpture from
the work of every other age.

Among the masterpieces of this art must ever be ranked the
impressive Christ of Amiens and the equally famous St. Firmin
on the faqade of the same church, St. Theodore of the south porch
at Chartres, the queenly Virgin'^of the north transept at Paris, and
at least a half-dozen of the major statues at Reims. Here stands
the irresistible smiling angel of the Annunciation, which should
be compared with the smiling Virgin of Amiens. And here are
the marvelous draped figures of Mary and Elizabeth, which are
almost Athenian in them dignity and grace (see Plate XI). For
serene loveliness, in fact, the Virgin of the Salutation is quite
incomparable. Worthy of the highest praise are also the minor
sculptures of Reims — compositions in which the artist was al-
lowed almost entire freedom of execution. So in the illustrations
of Old Testament history we find vivid pictures of contegiporary

DEVELOPMENTS IN THE FINE ARTS 493

life in France; Abraham, for example, is the perfect mail-clad
knight of the thirteenth century. Capitals and arches are adorned
with a wealth of design taken directly from nature — ^leaves,
flowers and fruits from the countryside of Champagne. For
architectural decoration some may prefer more conventional pat-
terns, but that in itself the naturalistic art of Reims approaches
perfection none can deny. Very obviously, if most Gothic sculp-
ture was as yet subordinated to the demands of ecclesiastical archi-
tecture, it was not because the sculptors lacked the skill for other
kinds of work. (See Plate XI — decorative details.)

With regard to mediaeval painting there is less to be said. We
know that color was liberally applied in many Romanesque Mediaeval
churches, but except for faint vestiges, none of the original deco- pamtmg
ration survives. Figure painting was employed in the older struc-
tures to cover the flat wall surfaces, and the designs appear to
have been largely inspired by Byzantine art. In the Gothic build-
ing these surfaces largely disappeared, and with them the oppor-
tunity for large pictorial compositions. In thirteenth-century
France, therefore, the art of the painter, aside from the applica-
tion of solid color to architectural details, was mainly restricted
to the illumination of manuscripts and the production of stained
glass. Although much charming work was done in the former
of these fields, it continued, like handwriting, to follow tradi-
tional conventions of the Carolingian age and remained associated
with monastic learning rather than the world of the secular crafts-
man. In glass-making, on the other hand, we encounter an art
that was developed iri the twelfth century alongside Gothic sculp-
ture. It was only when the new system of construction had sub-
stituted great openings for clerestory walls that artists could be
attracted to the designing of ornamental windows.

Of their labor nothing is known except the results. Virtually
the oldest-bits of stained glass that survive are in Suger’s abbey of Stained
Saint-Denis. Then come the glorious windows of Chartres.

Nothing finer than these has ever been produced, for in spite of all
recent technological inventions, mediaeval glass remains the de-
spair of the modern artist. Although later generations made
enormous progress in painting on plaster Or canvas, they produced
inferior windows. The success of the thirteenth-century crafts-
man in this respect was, for one thing, due to the fact that he
never attempted to disguise his window. That architectural fea-
ture can hardly be other than a flat, translucent surface. It offers

French
leadership
in the arts

494 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

no opportunity for realistic art, much less for perspective drawing.
The men of the Middle Ages gained their effect by the crudest of
designs. Their figures were outlined by the strips of lead in
which the pieces of glass were set, and for this glass only solid
colors were used, with details of face or costume indicated by the
scantiest of pencil touches. And since the glass was applied in
thin sheets, the tint could be gradually deepened by adding to the
number of sheets.

Entire windows were often made by combinations of plain
colored glass in geometrical designs, set off by stone tracery.
This was done especially in the case of the great rose window
placed in the western facade to catch the rays of the setting sun.
The principal windows of aisle and nave, however, were com-
monly devoted to the portrayal of religious lessons — ^the lives of
the saints or stories from the Bible. In such connections we find
the most graphic examples of symbolic art. Episodes from the
Old and New Testaments are placed in pairs to show the harmony
of the Scriptures obtained through allegorical interpretation.^®
Fabulous animals like the unicorn and the salamander, because of
their mystic symbolism, stand in close association with scenes de-
picting the life of Christ. A stained-glass window, like a carved
portal, became a chapter of popular faith as well as a thing of
beauty.

French preeminence in mediseval architecture as a whole has
often been disputed, for many critics continue to prefer a Roman-
esque or semi-Romanesque style to the logically perfected Gotliic
of the lie de France. But in the decorative arts French preemi-
nence throughout the age of the crusades is unquestioned. In this
field the combined achievements of the other western countries —
though they produced many beautiful works — are not in a class
with the glories of Chartres and Amiens and Reims.

10 See above, p. 428.

CHAPTER XXI

THE HEIGHT OF THE CHURCH: SOCIETY AND

CULTURE

I. THIRTEENTH-CENTURY SOCIETY

Western Europe made an astounding advance in civilization
during the twelfth century — an advance hard to match in any
similar period of time before or since. When the curious histo-
rian tries to imagine how it came about, he finds the subject too
complex to admit of easy explanation. There is, in fact, no simple
formula by which we can account for all the rich and varied
accomplishments of Latin Christendom in the age of the crusades.
The crusades themselves may by no means be held chiefly re-
sponsible, for we have seen that they constituted only one phase
of a greater movement. The contemporary religious, intellectual,
and artistic revival may likewise be recognized as a symptom of
improvement, not its impelling cause. The progress of monar-
chical government appears to have followed, rather than to have
preceded, a general social reinvigoration. Without the economic
recovery of the eleventh century, neither the political system nor
the culture of the later centuries would have been possible.

It is, for example, easy to perceive that the great cathedrals
could not have been erected without the wealth of the bourgeoisie,
and that the funds by which the kings and princes built up their
new administrative systems were largely drawn from the same
source. The towns became centers not merely of business enter-
prise on an unprecedented scale, but of university education and
of new movements in thought and letters generally. By the open-
ing of the thirteenth century, European culture was predominantly
urban, and this characteristic- became more and more clearly
marked in the subsequent period. It is surely more than coinci-
dence that the civilization of the ancient world i>ersisted, despite
the Arab conquest, in just those regions where city life continued
unbroken, whereas in the west it decayed with the cities, and with
them was reborn. In the light of these facts, can we not say that
what we recognize as a high culture is the accompaniment of a
flourishing commerce? Yet, even if this statement be accepted,
it remains a vague explanation. For who can say with assurance

495

Social
change
and the
growth of
culture

The

weakening
of the
manorial
system

496 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

precisely why commerce revived when it did, or how such an
economic factor interacted with others to produce the known
results ?

We may, at any rate, be certain that the commercial revival
of the eleventh and twelfth centuries was of vast importance not
only for the town-dwelling class, but for the peasantry and the
aristocracy. The rapid growth of the mercantile population cre-
ated an unprecedented demand for food and raw materials, which
led to a great extension of agricultural production. To develop
the new lands, they had to be colonized with free settlers and such
enterprises, unlike the old manorial establishments, were delib-
erately undertaken for the sake of profit, depending on the sale of
produce in the open market. So it was learned by experience
that, in favored localities, a lord might advantageously free his
serfs, commute their services into money, and rent his inland to
farmers or cultivate it by hired labor. The advance of cash econ-
omy was rendering obsolete the agrarian institutions of the Dark
Age.

The same changes, of course, made it easier for the villein to
improve his condition, either by substituting money payments for
servile obligations or by running away. The thirteenth century
witnessed the establishment of countless new villages and towns,
in any of which the settler was normally assured complete lib-
erty. The peasant, whether legally free or not, found avenues of
escape opening on all sides; so proprietors found it increasingly
necessary, as a minimum, to limit their more arbitrary exactions.^
Mainmorte and formariage were reduced to nominal sums, unre-
stricted corvee was abolished, and tallage was made into a fixed
annual payment. It was sometimes provided that peasants could
not be fined above a certain amount for any ordinary offense.
Other privileges, which had long been enjoyed by all bourgeois,
were now extended into many rural, communities. In these ways
the economic status of the peasantry was gradually improved, but
in the thirteenth century the process was only getting under way.
Except in very advanced regions, like Flanders and Italy, serf-
dom was still the rule throughout the countryside. It will there-
fore be better to leave the breakdown of the manorial system for
detailed consideration in a subsequent chapter.

Feudalism, too, remained a powerful influence upon the life of

1 See above, pp. 264 f. For other factors that were beginning to be felt, see
below, pp. 631 f.

THE CHURCH: SOCIETY AND CULTURE 497

the European world, contributing a variety of customs to such
yvidely separated countries as Ireland, Spain, Sicily, Palestine,
Greece, the Slavic borderlands of Germany, and the Scandinavian
north. Yet even in France and England, where the system had
been most completely developed, it was clearly weakening under
the pressure of new economic forces. We have seen that the
practice of granting fiefs to secure various forms of service had
developed at a time when wealth was almost exclusively in land.
As soon as the service could be readily paid for in money, feudal
tenure became actually unnecessary, lingering on as a form of
law or as a traditional mark of gentility. By the opening of the
thirteenth century feudal relationship had already lost much of its
personal character and was tending to be a mere business arrange-
ment. Hospitality was regularly commuted into an annual pay-
ment. The knight’s fee, land owing the service of one knight,
could be divided into halves, quarters, eighths, and even sixteenths
— a. partition that of course depended on the substitution of cash
equivalents. Feudal aids and subsidies were turned into pretexts
for seignorial taxation. A maze of legal technicalities came to
obscure the simple fundamentals of the primitive system.

For example, the essence of vassalage was originally the per-
sonal loyalty of a man to a single lord, and the fief was a quite
subordinate factor. Subsequently, as one man might accumulate
a dozen fiefs and for them owe homage to as many lords, how
could he remain a Roland at heart? Lawyers, it is true, invented
the saving distinction of liege homage, by which the claims of the
chief lord were recognized as paramount; but by this time the
spirit of ancient feudalism was dead. Chivalry, under such con-
ditions, became more and more of an aristocratic affectation,
overlaid with the courtoisie of the fashionable romance. At the
opening of the twelfth century adonbement^ was still the bar-
barian custom of giving arms to the noble youth who had proved
his manhood on the field of battle. By the end of the thirteenth
it had been made into an elaborate ceremonial — ^half mystic sacra-
ment, conforming to the religious ideals of the church, and half
courtly pageant, to delight the eyes of high-born ladies. The
further decline of feudal institutions in the succeeding period
served merely to intensify the passion for chivalrous display.

As far as warfare was concerned, no striking innovations were

The deca-
dence of
feudalism

Chivalry

See above, p. 258.

498 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Warfare made before the closing years of the thirteenth century. Until
then the great armies of western Europe continued to be thor-
oughly feudal. The knight still fought in the old way, using the
weapons of his ancestors. Often, too, his defensive armor re-
mained essentially unchanged, consisting mainly of a steel cap and
a hauberk. But the warrior’s body was now likely to be more
completely covered by the extoision of mail over his arms and
legs, and by the addition of a great helmet fitted with a visor that
could be pulled up over his face. His trappings, furthermore,
became increasingly gorgeous. In the course of the twelfth cen-
tury knights generally had adopted the custom of identifying
themselves by painting heraldic devices on their shields. Each
noble family came to be recognized by a particular coat of arms,
the details of which could be modified to designate the individual
member. In the thirteenth century, the feudal gentleman com-
monly placed the same prideful decoration on the back of a surcoat
which he wore over his hauberk — one evidence of the luxurious
tastes that were ever3nvhere increasing the financial burdens of
the landlord class.

A more significant development took place in the domain of

The castle military architecture. Since feudal warfare continued to be the
same in fundamentals, the castle retained its ancient strategic im-
portance, but it was no longer a primitive structure of earth and
wood.® In the twelfth century palisades and blockhouses had
everywhere been replaced by walls and keeps of solid masonry.
The keep, or donjon, when it came to be erected in stone, was at
first a square tower placed against one side of the wall that en-
closed the bailey (see Plate XII). Along the top of this wall ran
a parapet, behind which a continuous walk provided advantageous
positions for the defenders. Outside was a moat, normally filled
with water, across which a drawbridge could be let down from
a massive stone gatehouse. Such a fortress was an enormous
improvement over the eleventh-century castle, and yet it proved
to be vulnerable in many respects. Experience on tlie crusades
taught men the use of battering-rams, catapults, and other siege
engines, which were found to be particularly effective when di-
rected against square comers. Accordingly, in the thirteenth
century the castle came to be designed without them.

The old distinctions of motte and bailey and of wall and keep

* See above, p. 360.

THE CHURCH: SOCIETY AND CULTURE 499

v\'ere now abandoned. The castle became an integrated structure,
no part of which could be reached without exposing the besiegers
to a flanking counter-attack. Rounded towers and bastions were
placed at intervals along the walls to command every threatened
section. Even if an enemy, by means of scaling-ladders, took one
portion, it could be entirely isolated from the rest. And eventu-
ally a system of concentric walls was devised to give the defenders
a tremendous advantage over any attacking force. Such a castle
— of which Kerak in Syria (see Plate XII) is the best surviving
example — ^was virtually impregnable to a feudal army. Beyond
starving its garrison into submission, nothing could be done with
it until the invention of cannon in the fourteenth century rendered
obsolete all traditional methods of fortification.

Turning now to the bourgeoisie, we find that class continuing
the rapid progress which had begun over a century earlier — a Villes
progress which implied, first, the creation of new urban communi- Neuves
ties and, secondly, the growth of old ones in population, wealth,
and privilege. Although the number of villes neicves^ was enor-
mously increased throughout western Europe, practically all the
famous towns of Italy, Spain, France, and England had emerged
by 1200. The northeast witnessed the most significant advance
in this connection, for there the thirteenth century brought the
foundation of Berlin, Dresden, Prague, Rostock, Stralsund, Dan-
zig, Kdnigsberg, Riga, and many other cities which later com-
bined to form the great Teutonic Hansa.® As Wales, Scotland,
and Ireland had previously taken their urban models from Nor-
man England, so now the Slavic and the Scandinavian countries
took theirs from Germany. And comparison of municipal char-
ters proves that, from one border to the other, elementary bour-
geois liberties were very much the same.

These liberties have been analyzed in an earlier chapter; here
it need only be remarked that they remained fundamental for the
town-dwelling population of Europe, largely contributing to the
social heritage of modern times., Besides, as noted above, they
more and more came to affect the status of the peasantry. The
customs of small towns like Lorris, Beaumont-en-Argonne, and
Prisches were extended in the thirteenth century to scores of tiny
rural communities. Groups of villages in the neighborhood of
Laon were organized into communes patterned after that turbu-

* See above, p. 354.

^ See below, pp. 585 f.

Mumcipal

constitu-

tions

500 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

lent city. From evidence of this kind many writers have asserted
that the mediaeval town was developed out of a preexisting village
community. Such an argument reverses the testimony of the
sources, for we hear of no rural communes until similar organiza-
tions had flourished in urban centers for over a hundred years,
and the separate privileges enjoyed by peasants in the later Middle
Ages had long before appeared as bourgeois liberties. Sometimes
the founder of a ville nettve evidently hoped, by the concession of
special franchises, to induce the growth of a real city on his
estates. In many cases, however, the intention of the patron
could liardly have gone beyond the encouragement of agriculture
through the setting up of a local produce exchange.

It is harder to generalize concerning the older towns, for by
the thirteenth century their constitutions had come to vary widely.
The communes of northern Italy, some of which will be dealt with
individually in later chapters, were now sovereign republics in
all but name. In Germany, too, the failure of the central au-
thority eventually gave equal independence to the free cities —
those holding directly of the empire. On the other hand, the
towns subject to the various territorial princes had to be satisfied,
like those of the western monarchies, with lesser autonomy. The
boroughs of England never enjoyed more than limited rights of
self-government under dose royal supervision. The same held
true of the Norman communes under their old dynasty, and when
they were taken over by the Capetians, the system — ^typified by the
&tablissements of Rouen — ^was continued and extended to many
other towns. The French kings, indeed, consdously strove to re-
duce all the great cities of their domain to more complete subor-
dination. Many a northern commune, which had acted very much
as it pleased during the feudal disorders of the earlier period, lost
all independence in the thirteenth century and came under the
rule of agents appointed by the crown. But in Flanders the towns
advanced from one victory to another. Through sheer force of
their wealth they came to dominate the whole county both eco-
nomically and politically — & situation which, as will be explained
below, was largely responsible for the outbreak of the so-called
Htmdred Years’ War.

We have seen that, in the twelfth century, the autonomous
municipality was normally governed by a group of elected magis-
trates bearing a variety of titles. By the thirteenth century this
single board had commonly been divided into a series of courts and

THE CHURCH: SOCIETY AND CULTURE 501

councils, at the head of which stood one principal official. So the
typical Italian commune came to be ruled by a podesta, frequently
a foreigner installed by rival factions as a means of avoiding civil
conflict. In German regions the chief magistrate was generally
styled Biirgermeistery in French regions maire. And it was
through French influence that the mayoralty became usual in the
greater English boroughs. The fashion was started by London,
which took advantage of Ricliard’s absence on the crusade to re-
gain the self-government lost under Henry II. Henceforth the
city was administered by a mayor and a board of aldermen elected
by the citizens in local districts called wards — ^a form of municipal
constitution which was eventually imported to our country as one
of the established customs of England.

It should be noted, however, that many towns continued to
prosper without a mayor or equivalent officer ; and that, whether
they had one or not, local affairs were normally controlled by the
wealthier citizens — ^the men who in the earlier period had often
been united in a gild merchant. Now, in the thirteenth century,
the gild merchant had generally been superseded by a series of
craft gilds, each of which included persons engaged only in one
trade — such as weavers, fullers, dyers, chandlers, butchers,
millers, bakers, shoemakers, goldsmiths, and the like. The es-
sence of the gild’s power lay in its official monopoly of a particular
industry, which enabled it to exclude outside competition and to
prescribe elaborate rules governing production. According to the
universal practice, a boy entering the profession first had to serve
as apprentice for a number of years, during which he got nothing
beyond board and lodging. Having learned the trade, he became
a journeyman, i.e., a man working by the day (French joiirnee) ;
and such he remained until he had saved enough to start a business
establishment of his own. Meanwhile, to be ranked as a master,
he commonly had to submit a masterpiece — 2. product of his labor
to meet the standards of the gild.

In those trades which catered only to the local market it was thus
possible for a man to start at the bottom and work his way to the
top^ But the number of masters who could make a living was
nece^rily proportionate to the j^pulation of the town, and when
the worker had reached the height of his profession he would still,
to our eyes, be a very small dealer. On the street particularly
devoted to the members of his craft he owned or rented a little
shop. There he not only produced his wares but also sold them by

Craft gilds

Little
business
and big
business

Capital-

istic

enterprise

502 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

retail. And there, in the projecting upper stories, he lived with
his family, probably housing his apprentices in attic rooms. Ex-
cept through a fortunate marriage or inheritance, he would be held
to strict equality with his fellows ; for the gild system, by its in-
tensely conservative regulations, discouraged all individual enter-
prise for the sake of unorthodox gain. In the greater industries
organized for export trade, on the contrary, the masters were little
more than hired artisans. Although they worked in their own
homes, they used materials, and often tools as well, which were
furnished by the wholesalers. Between these two groups the
social cleavage tended to be absolute, and it was destined to be the
source of much political disorder in the subsequent age.

In the leading cities of the thirteenth century we may therefore
distinguish three prominent classes: first, a nondescript mass of
laborers, including apprentices and journeymen; second, small
business men, principally masters in the gilds ; and third, big busi-
ness men, engaged in capitalistic undertakings on a large scale.
A detailed account of this last subject is out of the question in the
present connection, but a few hints may serve to illustrate its com-
plexity. Men in the Middle Ages seem to have acquired capital
as they do at present — ^through savings or earnings of various
sorts. Having acquired it, the more venturesome might then, as
now, gain relatively enormous wealth by judicious investment.
One opportunity was already urban real estate, for, as noted
above, the physical expansion of the mediaeval towns rapidly con-
verted arable and waste into building lots which could be leased
to individual bourgeois at a handsome profit. We know from
excellent sources that many a ville neiwe was made possible by
shrewd merchants who supplied the necessary capital for the
foundation, and who recouped themselves by securing advanta-
geous locations about the new market place.

With the growth of the textile industry in Flanders, many
men came to put their money into contracts for English wool.
The wool was made into doth by local weavers, hired at so much
the piece; and the cloth, finally, was sold by the contractor for
export to all the regions of Europe. Others, similarly, were
wholesalers of oriental and Italian products — ^a trade which in-
volved the entire shipping business of the Mediterranean. We
have ample proof that, even before 1200, capitalists of Genoa,
Pisa, and Venice were accustomed to finance commercial voyages
across the sea. Shares in boats and cargoes would often be dis-

THE CHURCH: SOCIETY AND CULTURE 503

tributed among a group of speculators, so that all would bear an
equal risk. And there were already underwriters engaged in the
selling of marine insurance. From such enterprises were built
up the fortunes not merely of the merchants proper, but likewise
of the great nobles whose palaces adorned the streets of the Italian
cities. Although the gentleman might look with disdain upon the
shopkeeper, he by no means scorned the wealth that only trade
could bring him.

These instances should make it evident that thirteenth-century
business rested upon a well-developed use of both money and Monetary
credit. It has already been remarked that no coin was minted pe could
take advantage of the fresh opportunity, he also died in 1254.
The man who profited by the sudden turn of events was Manfred.
Handsome, talented, and Italian-born, he was naturally preferred
by the Sicilians to the infant son of Conrad in far-off Germany.
Besides, the new pope, Alexander IV, was too easy-going to be
formidable. The consequence was that Manfred, already the
actual ruler of the southern kingdom, ignored papal excommuni-
cation and had himself formally crowned in 125k Nor was he
content with this success. Inside a few y^rs he rapidly pushed

THE HEIGHT OF THE CHURCH: POLITICS 539

his authority into Lombardy, Tuscany, and much of the papal
territory, including Rome itself.

This was the situation when, in 1261, the papal office passed
to a Frenchman, Urban IV. He at once revived a project of In-
nocent IV to transfer the crown of Sicily to Charles of Anjou,
brother of Louis IX^^ and already count of Provence by virtue
of a lucky marriage. The negotiations were so long drawn out
that Urban died before they were completed. But his successor,

Clement IV, was also French, and the latter saw the plan
actually carried out. Charles, with the consent of his royal
brother, accepted the Sicilian kingdom as a papal fief, agreeing to
stated conditions of service and promising to claim no sovereignty
elsewhere in Italy. To raise an army, the pope proclaimed a
crusade against Manfred and, to provide the necessary cash, au-
thorized a special tax on the clergy of France. By the end of
1265 the allies assembled another host such as had been employed
to crush the Albigensians, and with it Charles won a decisive vic-
tory at Benevento. Manfred, refusing to survive his defeat, died
charging the enemy. So the hope of retrieving the Hohenstaufen
fortunes fell to Conradin, the sixteen-year-old son of Conrad IV.

It proved illusory. Victory remained with the Angevin, who
followed it up by ruthless massacre and proscription. The last
of the imperial breed was hunted down, given a mock trial, and
executed as a traitor. The pope saw fit not to enter a plea of
mercy.

Thus Italy was introduced to a new master, a French adven-
turer who quickly proved himself not only a good general, but Charles
also a remarkable statesman, crafty and relentless under the urge Anjou,
of a devouring ambition. Clement IV, in the face of the German
invasion, had recognized Charles as Pacifier of Tuscany — a vague (1266-85)
commission which in one way or another he now extended into
a sort of dictatorship over northern Italy. The office of emperor
had long been vacant, and on Clementes death in 1268 the cardi-
nals failed to elect a pope for three years — a respite which Charles
used to consolidate his position in Italy and to revive an aggres-
sive Sicilian diplomacy throughout the Mediterranean world. He
championed the neglected cause of the Latin Empire in the
Balkans and made preparations for regaining Constantinople,
from Michael Palaeologus. This was to be preliminary to recon-

** See bdbw, p. 5^*

The inter-
regnum in
Germany
(1256-73)

Rudolf of
Habsburg
(1273-91)

540 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

stituting the kingdom of Jerusalem which, since the Moslem occu-
pation of the Holy City in 1244, had become little more than a
title claimed by the king of Cyprus.” During these same years
Charles was resuming the policy of Frederick II in northern
Africa, compelling the city of Marseilles to submit to his au-
thority, asserting control of Sardinia, and seeking to establish his
supremacy over the adjacent waters.

Meanwhile Germany had become accustomed to having no royal
government at all. Frederick II, as we have seen, paid very little
attention to his northern kingdom, allowing the princes and the
free cities unrestricted authority in their respective territories.
His son, Conrad IV, exercised slight power outside his own
duchy of Suabia, and William of Holland, the anti-king set up by
Innocent IV, held nothing but a disputed title. Even that came
to an end with William’s death in 1256, and the double election
of the following year turned into a complete farce. Two princes
were proclaimed by rival parties : Alfonso of Castile, and Richard
of Cornwall, brother of the English king, Henry III.^® Of these
two the former never came to Germany, and the latter, after
his formal coronation, paid only three fleeting visits to the
Rhineland. As a consequence, the period after 1256, commonly
known as the Interregnum, marks the final dissolution of the
Holy Roman Empire and the acquisition of virtual independence
by the imperial vassals.

Perhaps Richard’s death in 1272 would not have inspired the
princes to install a successor, had not the new pope brought pres-
sure to bear upon them. Gregory X, finally chosen in 1271, was
heart and soul devoted to one cause, the revival of the crusade,
and so was led to believe that Europe needed an emperor. Under
his urging, the electors — ^now reduced to a narrow group**— ^met
in 1273. Deliberately passing over the Bohemian king, who had
been suggested by the pope, they offered the crown to a man whom
they thought too obscure to become dangerous. This was Rudolf
of Habsburg, landgrave of Alsace. Although acceptable to Greg-
ory, Rudolf’s election brought the crusade no step nearer. Hav-
ing taken the cross and set the date for his imperial coronation,
the new king went neither to Rome nor to Palestine, Instead, he
gave his attention solely to German affairs — conduct which gave

For the crusade of Louis IX, see below, pp. 551 f.

See below, p. ,557.

See bdow, p. 592.

THE HEIGHT OF THE CHURCH: POLITICS 541

him no title of sainthood, but which eloquently testified to his
good sense.

The reason why Ottokar, king of Bohemia, had not been con-
sidered for the German throne was that he was already too pow-
erful. In addition to his hereditary dominions, he had recently
obtained, largely through forcible seizure, the territories of Aus-
tria, Styria, Carinthia, and Carniola. Having refused Rudolf
all recognition, he was now summoned before an imperial diet to
answer for his conduct. When he replied only with insults, a sen-
tence of outlawry was passed against him and his fiefs were
declared forfeit to the crown. All this was simply a matter of
legal procedure. The surprising fact was that Rudolf, thanks to
his own determination and to an alliance with Hungary, was able
to enforce his decrees. Ottokar was defeated and, after he had
again rebelled, slain in battle. Accordingly, while Bohemia passed
to Ottokar ’s heir, Austria and the adjacent fiefs were taken by
Rudolf and bestowed on members of his own family. From that
moment until 1918 the house of Habsburg was solidly ensconced
on the Danube (see Map XVIII).

Rudolf’s preoccupation with German politics was naturally
welcome to Charles of Anjou, who had no desire for a rival in The
Italy. It was rather the papal opposition that now began to Sicilian
cause him trouble. Gregory X spoiled, his plan for a Byzantine
crusade by listening to the Greek emperor’s promise to reestablish
ecclesiastical unity. The Italian Nicholas III (1277-80) was even
more antagonistic, forcing Charles, very much against his will, to
relinquish all offices in Lombardy and central Italy. Finally, on
the death of Nicholas, Charles was able to secure the election of
another French pope, IMartin IV, who proved in every way a
complaisant supporter of the Angevin policies. Restoring Charles
to much of his lost authority, the pope in 1281 broke with the
Byzantine government and so prepared the way for a. new Latin
conquest of Constantinople. Charles, in alliance with the Vene-
tians, had already launched an offensive in Albania. Everything
seemed, propitious, for the success of his magnificent ^terprise,
when all his dreams were shattered by an unforeseen catastrophe
in the west — ^the famous Sicilian Vespers of 1282. On March
30, Easter Monday, a minor incident led to an anti-French riot at
Palermo and this, fed by years of bitter hatred for the Angevin
tyranny, quickly grew into a general massacre of Charles’s sup-
porters throughout the entire island. The disaster proved irrep-

542 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

arable, for it coincided with armed intervention from Aragon,
a power which Charles had foolishly underestimated.

At this point it becomes necessary to turn once more to the
The rise of history of Spain. In the face of the Moorish counter-offensive,
Aragon only two of the half-dozen Christian principalities had been able
to make much headway in the early twelfth century. These were
Portugal and Catalonia.®® The count of the former territory, to

assure his independence of Leon, acknowledged himself a vassal
of the papacy, and in 1179 he was promoted to the rank of king.
The honor was deserved, for his dynasty had not only recaptured
Lisbon but made considerable progress to the south of the River
Tagus. On the opposite side of the peninsula the count of Bar-
celona was even more successful. Ra3miond Berengar III inher-
ited Catalonia and by marriage secured Provence. His connec-
tions beyond the Pyrenees brought him the aid of many French
barons, while the commercial importance of Barcelona attracted
the assistance of the Genoese and the Pisans. With the active
support of the papacy, he was thus able to assume the offensive
against the Moors on both land and sea — ^a campaign that resulted
in a noteworthy advance.

See above, p. 395.

THE HEIGHT OF THE CHURCH: POLITICS 543

Raymond Berengar III was succeeded in 1131 by his son, Ray-
mond Berengar IV. The latter, having married a princess of
Aragon, had the good fortune to acquire the crown of that coun-
try in 1150. Earlier the Aragonese had pushed down the Ebro to
Saragossa; under the new dynasty they now liberated the entire
valley by taking the city of Tarragona. Henceforth Aragon,
thanks to the union with Catalonia, ranked as a great Mediter-
ranean power. The successors of Raymond Berengar IV con-
tinued an aggressive policy in two directions : southwest against
the Moorish kingdom of Valencia and northeast into Languedoc
and Provence. It was the latter connection that inspired Peter
IPs ill-fated attempt to check the Albigensian Crusade.®^ Slain
at Muret in 1213, he was succeeded by his son, known to history
as James the Conqueror. This illustrious king, in cooperation
with Ferdinand III of Castile and Leon,^^ revived the holy war
against the Moslem with conspicuous success. While Ferdinand
reduced Andalusia and Murcia, James took the Balearic Islands
and finally the great port of Valencia. By the middle of the
century his share of the conquest was complete, and he found
himself free to concentrate attention on the affairs of France
and Italy.

Inevitably the Ar^lgonese king was drawn into conflict with
Charles of Anjou. The two princes first became rivals for the Peter III,
hand of Beatrice, heiress of Provence, and it was Charles who Sicily,
won. Later, while the pope was arranging for the Angevin Sue- ^ ^
cession in Sicily, James announced his hostility to the plan by crusade
marrying his eldest son to the daughter of Manfred (see Table (1276-85)
VI). By itself, this Hohenstaufen alliance might never have had
serious consequences; but as lord of Montpellier, Barcelona,

Valencia, and the Balearic Islands, James would necessarily op-
pose the extension of Sicilian imperialism over the western Medi-
terranean. When Peter III acceded to the throne in 1276, this
policy was actively continued. He became the avowed champion
of the Hohenstaufen traditions in Italy, allying with all the
enemies of Charles — ^particularly with Genoa, the Lombard cities,
and the Greek emperor. At the very moment when the explosion
occurred in Sicily, Peter had his fleet prepared, ostensibly, for a
crusade against the Turks. Now, as the pope refused all com-
promise with the Sicilian rebels, they naturally turned to Aragon

** See bdow, p. 548.

“ The two kingdoms were permanently united in 1230.

Guelf and
Ghibelline

544 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

for support. Quickly diverting his forces from Africa. Peter
drove the Angevins from Messina and before the end of the year
was master of the island.

The immediate result of this affair was the proclamation by
Martin IV of a crusade against Aragon. The prime mover in the
enterprise was, of course, Charles of Anjou, but Philip III of
France^® was enlisted as commander of the expedition by the
attractive offer of the Aragonese crown to his younger brother.
Whatever the grandiose dreams entertained by the papal coalition,
they quickly faded. The year 1285 brought death to all the major
participants : first to Charles of Anjou, then to Pope Martin, next
to Philip of France, and finally to Peter of Aragon. Of the
four, the most picturesque figure was assuredly the great Angevin
adventurer. His passing marked the end of the last serious at-
tempt in the Middle Ages to bring Italy tmder one secular ad-
ministration. Henceforth the peiinsula was left to unceasing
conflict among a horde of petty states. One of them was styled
the kingdom of Sicily, but it no longer included that island,
which continued to form a separate kingdom under a branch of
the Aragonese house. These were the Two Sicilies, which con-
tinued to be marked on the political map of Europe until the
nineteenth century.

For a long time the names of Guelf and Ghibelline®^ had re-
verberated throughout all Italy. The latter, an Italian substitute
for Hohenstaufen, came to designate the party of imperialists;
the former, to designate their opponents, the papalists. So the
Angevins were Guelfs and the Aragonese were Ghibellines. Tra-
ditionally, Florence and Milan were Guelf, while Pisa and Pavia
were Ghibelline. But the alignment was at most a matter of
vague loyalty. Florence, for example, had no desire for a papal
government and might be quite willing to fight either Milan or
the Angevin king. Indeed, after the disappearance of the Hohen-
staufen dynasty, the old party names often came to have only a
local significance — ^as epithets tossed back and forth in feuds of
city against city and of faction against faction. Largely on ac-
count of such turmoil, it was now becoming the general practice
throughout Lombardy for a commune to be governed by a dic-
tator. Sometimes the office was legally bestowed by the citiz ens ;

“ See below, p. 565.

“ Said to be a corruption of Waiblingen, the name of an estate associated
with the family of Hohenstaufen.

THE HEIGHT OF THE CHURCH: POLITICS 545

sometimes it was usurped by force. In one way or another Ital-
ians were already used to the tyrants who were to play so promi-
nent a part in their subsequent history.

To this fashion one northern city was never to submit; in-
stead, Venice became synonymous with political stability through
the unbroken rule of a closed oligarchy. The final step in that
direction was taken in 1298, when membership in the great coun-
cil, and with it eligibility to governmental ofifiice, was made into
a strictly hereditary privilege. Thenceforward political power at
Venice remained the monopoly of certain great families, whose
marriages and births were all listed in an official register, the
famous Golden Book. How the Fourth Crusade brought the am-
bitious republic a splendid maritime empire has already been seen.
Most of it was retained throughout the mediaeval period, but
the restoration of Greek rule at Constantinople deprived the Vene-
tions of their dominance in the capital and readmitted their ancient
enemies, the Genoese. Then ensued a bitter duel between the two
commercial powers, eventually won by Venice.

At the close of the thirteenth century, however, the advantage
lay rather with Genoa, which had also, in alliance with Florence,
been successful against Pisa in the west. The ruin of the latter
city, practically accomplished by the destruction of its fleet in 1284,
left Florence the greatest center of wealth and culture in all
Tuscany. Theoretically subject to the pope, it was actually a
republic, and a very turbulent one. In 1260 a coalition of Ghibel-
line nobles, aided by Manfred, took the city. Then, six years
later, the power of the Guelfs, under a new and more democratic
constitution, was restored by Charles of Anjou. His death
brought further changes in the government, accompanied by
fierce contests between nobles and gildsmen, between the greater
and the lesser gilds, and between rival factions of nobles. This
was the environment that was to produce the foremost writers
and artists of fourteenth-century Italy.

Superficially the poj^es seemed now to have gained the inde-
pendence for which they had so long striven. The Hohenstaufen
dynasty had been extirpated ; the Holy Roman Empire had virtu-
ally ceased to exist ; Italy had relapsed into chaos ; even the proud
kingdom of Sicily had been divided and ruined. This series of
disasters to the imperial cause might indeed be taken to mark a
signal triumph for the papacy, but its cost was heavy. Gregory
VIPs political defeat proved to be a great moral victory for the

Venice

Flo

The
waning
prestige
of the
papacy

546 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

church; the political victories of his thirteenth-century successors
were accompanied by a shocking decline in ecclesiastical prestige.
It was not that the later popes were bad men; their average in
personal integrity was extraordinarily high. The source of trou-
ble lay rather in the traditions of their office — ^traditions which
forced them to devote their best energies to the non-religious
tasks of diplomacy, warfare, and finance. In a more primitive
age the pope could play an active part in world politics and yet
remain primarily a spiritual leader. That was now impossible.

The test of a good politician is success. In their effort to be
successful, the popes of the thirteenth century forgot that there
are nobler ambitions — ^and they could not always succeed. The
Roman church, by identifying itself with the Angevin cause in
Italy, suffered defeat along with it. The Sicilian Vespers were a
disaster from which the papacy, as a secular power, never recov-
ered. And the ensuing war of revenge against Aragon was even
more calamitous, for it proclaimed the utter degradation of the
crusading ideal. While papal threats and curses were being
ignored by the disillusioned peoples of the west,' the Moslems
completed the reconquest of the Holy Land, taking Antioch in
1268 and Acre in 1291. Meanwhile the growing subservience
of the church to French ambitions served as a preliminary to the
tragic pontificate of Boniface VIII.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE EMERGENCE OF CONSTITUTIONAL
MONARCHY

I. FRANCE UNDER LOUIS VIII AND LOUIS IX

The year 1223 saw the passing of Philip Augustus, who had
brought the French monarchy to a new height of power. So un-
questioned was now the Capetian authority that the king found it
unnecessary to crown his son during his own lifetime/ and
Louis VIII inherited the throne as a matter of course. Otherwise
his brief reign is memorable only in one respect — ^his participa-
tion in the Albigensian Crusade, proclaimed in 1208 by Pope
Innocent IIL^ Philip Augustus, being preoccupied with a great
project for the conquest of England, and being extremely cau-
tious about fighting wars for another's advantage, abstained from
all personal activity in the affair. He did, however, give his vas-
sals permission to enlist in the sacred cause, merely stipulating
that no final disposition of the conquered territory could be made
without his consent. Accordingly, in 1209, a host of northern
volunteers proceeded, under ecclesiastical leadership, to invade the
county of Toulouse.

Since by that time Count Raymond VI had made formal sub-
mission to the pope, the crusaders turned their attention to his
recalcitrant vassals. The viscount of Beziers was the first to
suffer. Amid shocking scenes of rapine and massacre, his cities
were taken and his lands devastated. The conquered fief was
then awarded to Simon de Montfort, a rather obscure baron of
the tie de France. Earlier he had joined the Fourth Crusade,
but had left the main host before Zara and gone to Syria, where
he had gained nothing. Now, by virtue of a ruthless determina-
tion and a remarkable genius for military command, he was
quickly to become the master of Languedoc. Raymond, under
pressure of constant aggression, again broke with the church
and was once more excommunicated. By 1211 a fresh army was
advancing to complete the conquest of the county, when its de-

^ See above, p. 274.

» See above, p, 510.

547

The Albi-
gensian
Crusade

Simon de
Montfort

548 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

fense was undertaken by Peter II of Aragon.® Although he was
a staunch Catholic, his orthodoxy did not prevent him. as lord
of Barcelona and Montpellier, from objecting to northern inter-
vention in local affairs. As his offer of mediation had been
refused, he joined the count of Toulouse and formed a coalition
of southern princes to drive out the invader.

The result was merely to assure the triumph of Simon de Mont-
fort, who overwhelmed the combined forces of the allies at Muret
in 1213. Peter was killed, his coalition was scattered, and Ray-
mond was forced to make unconditional surrender to the pope.
For some time Innocent had been trying to check the political
ambitions of his crusaders. He had again appealed to the French
king to take charge of the expedition, but Philip Augustus still
held aloof, agreeing only to send Prince Louis into the south for
a brief visit. Now, after Muret, the only solution was to make
Simon the count of Toulouse; and as Raymond abdicated in
favor of his son, the latter obtained the merest fragment of the
old principality, hardly more than one small imperial fief to the
east of the Rhone. This remained the situation until Simon’s
death in 1218, when Raymond VII easily regained his patri-
mony. Simon’s heir, finding himsdf powerless, resigned all
claims into the hands of the king. Accordingly, just before Philip
died, he had the satisfaction of seeing the whole Albigensian ad-
venture turned to the enormous advantage of the monarchy.

Immediately on securing the crown, Louis assumed command
Louis VIII of a new crusade proclaimed by Honorius III to oust the restored
(1223-26) count of Toulouse. The king drove an excellent bargain: at the
expense of the church he could now conquer a ver>' desirable
province and keep it for himself. Besides, he had ecclesiastical
authorization for encroaching on imperial territory beyond the
Rhone. Proceeding down that river in 1226, Louis took Avignon
by storm and made a triumphal procession through southern
Languedoc, receiving the submission of Beziers, Narbonne, Car-
cassonne, and other famous cities. Then, just as Toulouse itself
was about to fall, he was stricken by disease and died before he
could regain his own country. Momentarily it seemed as if that
unexpected calamity might not only undo the work of the cru-
sade, but wreck the fortunes of the monarchy altogether. The
new king, Louis IX, was a child of twelve, and the establishment

* See above, p. 543.

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 549

of a regency in the hands of the queen mother was the signal for
a widespread feudal insurrection.

Blanche of Castile, however, proved herself more than a match
for the opposition. The leagues of discontented nobles were
broken up and Henry III of England, who had thought to re-
cover the entire Angevin inheritance, gained only humiliation.
Meanwhile the regent had also settled the question of Toulouse
by a very advantageous treaty. That portion of Languedoc al-
ready taken by Louis VIII was to remain incorporated in the
royal domain ; the rest was to be held by Raymond VII until his
death, when it should go with the hand of his daughter to one of
the king’s brothers. Thus was effected a political union between
the north and south of France that was to have momentous re-
sults. For the first time the direct rule of the Capetians was ex-
tended to the shores of the Mediterranean, where it introduced
entirely new standards of governmental efficiency. But Lan-
guedoc was a ruined country. The brilliant civilization that had
been reflected in the songs of the troubadours was destroyed by
armed conquest in the guise of a crusade and by the increasing
terror of the Inquisition that followed.

When Louis IX assumed personal control of the government,
the decadence of the feudal nobility was evident. The great
Angevin dominion on the continent had been reduced to a portion
of Aquitaine, popularly known as Guienne; and it was in the
hands of Henry III, whose incompetence was already notorious.
Although Burgundy and Brittany were virtually independent
principalities, neither was’ at all formidable. Flanders, since
Baldwin IX had secured the crown of the Latin Empire,^ had
rapidly come under the dominance of the French court and was
now on the verge of a paralyzing civil war. Blois and Cham-
pagne were again separated and both remained comparatively
peaceful. The count of Champagne, it is true, rose to greater
eminence through the inheritance of Navarre, but he showed
himself a loyal friend to Blanche of Castile and her son. In the
south, with the ruin of Toulouse, first rank among the feudal
nobles passed to the lesser princes of Foix, Comminges, and
B&rn, Catalonia now ceased to be a fief of the French crown
and became part of the kingdom of Aragon.

Under these circumstances^ the Capetian house came to enjoy

The

regency of
Blanche of
Castile
(1226-34)

The great
fiefs

< See above, p. 528.

550 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The

Capetian

appanages

Joinville,
biog-
rapher of
St. Loms

a prominence such as had seemed impossible only a century earlier.
The enhanced glory, however, was not without its own perils. To
establish the king’s younger sons in the world, it was thought
necessary to provide them with appanages, impressive fiefs carved
out of the royal domain. By their father’s will, the brothers of
Louis IX were each handsomely endowed: Robert with Artois,
Alfonse with Poitou and Auvergne, and Charles w’ith Anjou.
Of these three the eldest was killed on the crusade in 1250, but
his county, passing to a long line of heirs, remained a separate
principality for several hundred years. Alfonse of Poitiers,
though he eventually died without heirs, became the greatest
seigneur of France next to the king, for it was he who, through
marriage to Raymond’s daughter, acquired the county of Tou-
louse. Charles of Anjou had an even more splendid fortune,
obtaining first the county of Provence and then the kingdom of
Sicily (see Table II).®

Louis IX was fortunate even in his relatives. Being delivered
from the necessity of constant war against jealous princes, he
could devote his energies to whatever projects lay near his heart.
It was thus possible for him to be a successful king of France and
at the same time to lead a saintly life, for he was canonized by
the church in 1297. As between these two phases of his career,
it was of course the latter that most deeply impressed his con-
temporaries, and it was that which inspired the justly famed
memoirs of Jean, sire de Joinville. Like Villehardouin a noble
of Champagne, he was the head of a distinguished family in
which the office of seneschal was hereditary. Joinville tells us —
not without pride — ^that he was never the king’s man ; that he was
only the king’s friend and companion, having first appeared at
court for the knighting of Alfonse in 1241. Subsequently he
took the cross and accompanied the ill-fated expedition to Egypt.
Happily he survived it ; likewise the king, the king’s son, Philip
III, and the king’s grandson, Philip IV. This last-named prince
was married to Jeanne, countess of Champagne, and it was at her
request that Joinville undertook to dictate his memoirs of St.
Louis. The task was not completed till 1309 — ^and the author
still lived another ten years, to die at the grand old age of
ninety-five.

The book which Joinville "'caused to be written” must remain

s See above, pp. 539 f.

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 551

one of the world’s classics as long as human character and moving
incident continue to hold their charm for readers. The central
figure, of course, is the saintly king, on whose Christian faith
and conduct the author lovingly dwells. But the account that
he gives us is no sanctimonious eulogy ; it is what he has remem-
bered himself — no saint, but a plain knight and man of the world,
who liked his wine straight, who refused to wash the feet of dirty
beggars, and who avowed he would rather have committed thirty
mortal sins than be a leper. Every anecdote is colored by his
personal reactions, by emotions that he makes us share. He is so
engagingly honest, so enthusiastic and yet so sensible, that he
immediately wins our respect and affection. We at once decide
that St. Louis must indeed have been a wonderful man to have
inspired such a devoted follower as Jean de Joinville.

The king was beyond a doubt deeply and sincerely religious.
All the acts of his reign testify to the fact that he was funda-
mentally a mystic whose first thought was for heaven. While
governing his kingdom as a matter of duty, he always found time
for prayer, meditation, and ascetic practices. He seems to have
married and reared a family principally for reasons of state; at
any rate, Joinville says that for five years on end he never heard
the king refer either to wife or children. Even among his inti-
mates, though always kind and gentle, Louis remained strangely
detached — sl man of striking charm, to be revered rather than
loved. In all matters of belief he was exceedingly conventional.
He warmly supported the activities of the Inquisition and helped
to extend its authority throughout the kingdom. For unbelievers
he had no more sympathy than for heretics. He once told Join-
ville that, while a learned doctor might profitably argue with
Jews, the layman’s refutation must be to run them through with
the sword. Louis’s crusade was launched as much the same
sort of unreasoning gesture. The enterprise seems strangely out
of place in the thirteenth century; a grandson of Philip Augustus
might well have realized that the reconquest of the Holy Land
was a task beyond the resources of any European prince, no
matter how brave or pious.

Louis, however, had learned nothing from the experiences of
his predecessors. Against the advice of his mother and all his
ministers, he took the cross in 1244, when Jerusalem was recov-
ered by the Moslems, and spent the following years in preparing
for the expedition. In 1248, with an ignorance of the Saracens

The king’s
character

His first
crusade
(1248-54)

His

second

crusade

(1270)

Peace with
Henry III
of England

(1259)

552 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

and their world that was truly pathetic, he took his splendid
army across the sea to Cyprus. The plan was that which had
been talked about in 1202 and vainly tried in 1218 — ^to regain
Palestine by first securing Egypt. In the spring of 1249 the host
took Damietta without opposition and then, after considerable
delay, struck north across the delta toward Cairo. This was
itself a foolhardy effort and its failure was assured by the king’s
blunders, which Joinville takes no pains to conceal. Vanquished
in battle and decimated by pestilence, the army turned back in
1250, only to be surrounded and captured by the resourceful
enemy. So the crusade ended with the surrender of Damietta and
the payment of an enormous ransom for the survivors.

Even after a four-year sojourn in Syria, the king’s passion for
holy pilgrimage remained unappeased. While attending to the
needs of his kingdom and acting as general arbiter of European
affairs, he still dreamed of another crusade. Finally, in a royal
council of 1267, the expedition was formally announced, but it
was not destined to go to the Holy Land. By this time Louis had
been persuaded by the pope to support Charles of Anjou for the
Sicilian crown, and that ambitious brother, it may be supposed,
had something to do with the diversion of Louis’s crusade to
Tunis; otherwise the undertaking is even less creditable to the
king’s intelligence- At any rate, in 1270 the fleet sailed for
Africa, anchoring before the ancient city of Carthage in July,
the worst season of the year. During most of his life the king
had been a chronic invalid and before embarking he was already
too weak to sit on a horse. Now, as the inevitable pestilence
seized the army, he was among the first of its victims. Joinville,
who lived to thank God that he had refused to join this campaign,
stated his opinion thus frankly :

To my mind they committed mortal sin who encouraged him to go,
for France had reached a condition when all the kingdom was at j^eacc
within itself and with its neighbors — ^and never again has it been so
since he left it.. .. Weak as he was, if he had stayed in France, he
might have lived long enough to do a great deal of good.

A king whose heart was thus set on visionary crusades would
naturally tend to follow a pacific policy in other directions.
Thanks to the circumstances of his accession, Louis IX had no
dangerous enemies to fear at home, and by deliberate choice he
took no aggressive steps against any of his neighbors, A less

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 553

conscientious prince would probably have attempted to profit by
the troubles of the later Hohenstaufen ; Louis left such worldly
ambitions to his unscrupulous brother Charles. Nor did he take
advantage of Henry Ill’s feeble administration to complete the
conquest of the Angevin inheritance. Had he done so, he might
have saved his country the horrors of the Hundred Years’ War;
instead, he agreed to the Treaty of Paris in 1259 which by its very
generosity served to aggravate the situation for his successors.

The actual holdings of the English king had previously been
reduced to little more than the old duchy of Gascony. To that
was now added a virtually equivalent territory comprising Limou-
sin and Perigord, together with the expectation of other lands
should Alfonse of Poitiers die without heirs. Besides, Louis
agreed to pay a sum necessary to keep five hundred knights in the
field for two years — ^money which he thought Henry would use
for the crusade, but which was really spent in the Barons’ War.®

The French king got little beyond moral satisfaction — Henry’s
homage for Guienne and his abandonment of all claim to Nor-
mandy, Anjou, and Poitou.

In the sphere of domestic government Louis was as conservative.
as in that of religion. Whatever rights he believed inherent in Constitu-
his kingship he rigorously enforced; beyond them he never sought tional
to go. His reign was accordingly less noteworthy for the estab-
lishment of new institutions than for the development of old ^nder
ones — ^and just what the king’s personal influence was in such Louis IX
matters is somewhat conjectural. For both France and England
it was an age of rapid legal and constitutional progress which
was carried on by an army of trained civil servants, with or
without effective royal supervision. In both countries the great
central organ of administration was the curia rcgis^ the king’s
feudal court. It normally consisted of a few permanent minis-
ters, but to grant aids, proclaim campaigns, or transact other
extraordinary business, it might be expanded by a general sum-
mons to all royal vassals. Under Philip Augustus the smaller
curia already included many professional judges and adminis-
trators, and as this group was constantly enlarged in the thir-
teenth century, what had been a single body tended to split into
separate units, each with peculiar functions. So, by the time of
Louis IX, two offshoots of the curia had taken definite form and

« See below, p. 558.

* See above, p. 379.

554 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

come to have separate sets of records: the chambre dcs comptes,
which had charge of the king’s financial accounts, and the parle-
ment,^ his court of justice at Paris.

In all such matters the French kings learned much from Nor-
man-Angevin example after the conquest of John’s northern fiefs,
for the government of Henry II had far surpassed in efficiency
that of the Capetians in the twelfth century. From this source
came also many lessons in local administration, which were first
applied to the royal domain by Philip Augustus. Under him and
his successors territorial districts were placed under officials called
bailiffs (bailHs) in the north and seneschals (senechmc-v) in the
south. No matter which name was used, these royal agents
exercised very much the same powers as the English sheriffs —
collecting the king’s revenue, holding his lower courts, carrying
out his instructions, and rendering accounts to his central gov-
ernment. Like the sheriffs, too, they constantly tended to abuse
their authority — a. situation that led Louis IX to send enqtcetenrs
on reg^ar missions to hold investigations {enquetes) and hear the
complaints of the people.

One of the most characteristic features of the saintly king’s
administration was provided by his deep conviction that any one
who appealed to him should obtain equal justice. Joinville tells
how Louis would frequently seat himself in the forest of Vin-
cennes or in the gardens of Paris and there dispatch in person all
suits that might be brought before him by rich or poor. Improve-
ment of justice is the keynote in his many ordinances — a. sacred
tradition running back to Charlemagne and the patriarchs of the
Old Testament. Yet his solicitude for the public welfare did not
lessen the burden of taxation on his subjects. Despite the ascetic
habits to which he clung in private, his court was maintained in
truly regal magnificence, and what he saved by abstaining from
European wars was more than offset by his crusades and the
ambitious projects of his brothers. Especially bitter complaints
were raised by the towns, which asserted, not without justification,
that the king’s taxes were forcing them into bankruptcy. The
aids levied for the English peace of 1259 and the papal exactions
for Charles of Anjou were denounced on all sides. It was only
later, when conditions had become infinitely worse, that men
looked back on the reign of Louis IX as an age of perfect bliss.

8 Note the different character of the English parliament, below, p, 558.

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 555

In many respects his regime served as a precedent for that of his
very unsaintly grandson, Philip IV.

2. ENGLAND UNDER HENRY III AND EDWARD I

The political situation in England was reversed by the sudden
death of King John.^ In 1215 the baronage and the city of Lon- The
don had compelled the king to grant their demands in the famous
Magna Carta. Thereupon he had appealed to his ally and feudal ^eruy
lord, Pope Innocent III, who had promptly annulled the charter
and commanded the rebels to submit. Refusing to obey, they had
gone so far as to recognize Prince Louis of France as their sover-
eign, when the news arrived that John was dead. Since his son
was an inoffensive boy of nine whose cause was actively espoused
by the new pope, Honorius III, the opposition quickly broke
down. Within a year Louis was back in France and the English
kingdom was again at peace under an administration jointly con-
trolled by a papal legate and a group of experienced ministers.

The reign of Henry III, thus beginning with a minority, lasted
for well over half a century; yet, as far as the king’s own activity
was concerned, it was singularly uneventful. The history of Eng-
land during that time is chiefly remarkable for the growth of in-
stitutions and the advance of culture.

The outstanding cultural developments of the age have been
noted in previous chapters. The universities, scholastic education,
the mendicant orders, commerce, chivalry, romantic literature.

Gothic architecture — ^all these the island kingdom shared with
France. Despite the emergence of certain insular j^eculiarities,
there was as yet no distinctively English civilization. Nevertheless,
within the sphere of law and government the work of the earlier
kings, being steadily continued under Henry III by a host of able
subordinates, began to assume the form that we recognize as the
English constitution. The process was, of course, one to which no
exact dates can be assigned. We may only say that the thirteenth
century, following the reign of the great innovator, Henry II,
was in general a formative period — ^ time when England, now
separated from the Norman- Angevin patrimony, became clearly
differentiated as a self-sufficient state. The culminating stage
was introduced by the accession of another constructive statesman,

Edward L

* See above, p. 4x2.

556 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The first important act of Henry Ill’s government was to re-
Magna issue Magna Carta with a number of changes; and since the re-
Carta vised charter was subsequently confirmed on various other occa-
sions, it came to be regarded as a[fundamental law of the kingdom
and remains today one of ttie v^rld’s most famous documents.
To distinguish its true meaning is therefore an important matter
of historical criticism. Magna Carta was not, as all patriotic
Englishmen used to believe, a great monument of national liberty.
Being a grant of privileges on the part of the king to the freemen
of England, it could not apply to the mass of the people, which
was still thoroughly servile. Indeed, if the charter is analyzed
by any one familiar with contemporary institutions, ^it is found to
include little besides provisions dictated by baronial interests.
A guarantee which the Londoners hoped would exempt them from
arbitrary taxation proved illusory. The promises inserted for
the benefit of the barons’ tenants were too vague to be of much
use. The church received a separate charter of its own.

As would be expected, of a grant extorted from a despotic
king by a feudal rising, {Magna Carta was in the main a reac-
tionary document. The first few articles supplemented Henry Ts
Coronation Charter^® by more strictly defining the king’s rights
in connection with reliefs and other feudal incidents. The fol-
lowing articles limited the royal power of levying aids and scu-
tages, of fining men convicted of crime, of requiring more service
than was owed, of appropriating materials and labor without pay-
ment, and of making various other unwarranted exactions. The
barons even sought to undo much of Henry II’s judicial reform
by restoring to their own courts the justice that had been diverted
to those of the king.^^ The famous clause assuring to every free-
man “trial by his peers” had no reference to the jury, but merely
reasserted the ancient feudal custom that a baron was entitled
to trial by his social equals — ^by his fellow barons, and not the
king’s professional judges. On the other hand, a few articles
were of a truly progressive character, notably the one to secure
the more frequent holding in the counties of the king’s possessory
assizes, according to which certain cases of land tenure were
determined by jury.

Magna Carta, of course, enunciated no revolutionary principle
by placing the king below the law. There were many things

See above, p. 373.

^ See above, pp. 381 f.

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 557

which a feudal prince was not supposed to do ; the trouble was to
prevent his doing them if he were powerful enough to defy
restraint. Henry I, in his Coronation Charter, had solemnly
sworn to remove various evil custcmis which, as a matter of
fact, he carefully retained and extended. The authors of Magna
Carta recognized the difficulty and sought to answ'er it by their
famous Article 61. The barons were to elect a standing commit-
tee of twenty-five, to whom all complaints of royal transgression
should be reported. And if, within forty days after a formal
remonstrance, the king had failed to give redress, the Twenty-
Five were empowered to lead the country in making war upon him
until such time as he should submit How far the men of 1215
were from any concept of constitutional monarchy may be seen
from this crude and impracticable proposal. That is the only
reason why it need be mentioned, for it was left out of the reissue
and formed no part of the recognized law.

As Henry gained maturity, his administration became increas-
ingly unpopular. One complaint against him was that he was
too devoted to foreigners — Poitevins, Gascons, and relatives of
his Provencal wife. This feeling of nationality on the part of the
baronage was a new factor in the political situation. It was
occasioned by John’s loss of his northern French fiefs, which
had compelled the Anglo-Norman gentleman to choose between
continental and insular possessions.^ Another chronic source
of discontent was Henry’s subservience to the papacy. A pious,
mild-tempered man, he always remembered with deep gratitude
that Honorious III had helped to preserve his kingdom in the
dark days of 1216-17. So he showed himself a model vassal of
the Apostolic See, meekly permitting the popes, through resident
legates at court, greatly to increase their authority over the Eng-
lish church. In particular, they now extended the practice of
making nominations to local sees and parishes, often naming Ital-
ians who regarded their appointments as mere sources of revenue
and hired cheap substitutes to do all the work. Furthermore,
the popes, for the sake of their Sicilian crusades and other ambi-
tious projects, were allowed by Henry to levy frequent taxes on
the clergy.

Such grievances, together with the king’s mounting demands
for subsidies, eventually aroused bitter opposition at the meetings

The prob-
lem of
enforce-
ment

Com-
plaints
against
Henry
IIPs gov-
emment

« See above, p, 391,

Parlia-
ment and
taxation

The

Provisions
of Oxford
(1258)

558 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

of the great central court which was now becoming know’ii as the
parliament.^® Articles 12 and 14 of Magna Carta had provided
that, except for the three aids allowed by feudal custom, no aid or
scutage should be levied without the “common counsel of the
kingdom” — ^that is to say, without the consent of the barons.
To obtain it, the king should issue to each of his ‘‘greater barons”
— including archbishops, bishops, and abbots — ^individual sum-
mons by personal letter; tlie rest of the barons were to be noti-
fied by a general announcement read in the county courts. These
articles, though dropped from the reissue of the charter, defined
a customary procedure that was regularly followed throughout
the thirteenth century. Scutages and otlier taxes on the feudal
class were secured by grant of parliament, which, for that reason
and for a variety of administrative business, came to be called
more frequently. The tallage, on the other hand, remained a
more or less arbitrary impost, the bulk of which was got through
negotiation with the individual towns.

By the time of Henry III, the increased cost of government
and military defense, as well as the king’s luxurious tastes, kept
him in chronic financial straits. And as he continued to make
costly blunders in war and diplomacy, parliament began to refuse
all aid, or to stipulate conditions that the king would not accept.
In spite of remonstrance, he would neither reform his admin-
istration nor allow a baronial commission to supervise the ex-
penditure of .public moneys. Finally, on, the threat of a general
insurrection, he yielded to the demands of a parliament at Oxford
in 1258 and swore to an ordinance which was there drawn up.
It gave control of his ministers and of all his official acts to the
parliament or to a standing commission of fifteen barons. For
a time the reforming party, with the solid backing of the mer-
chants and the lesser landholders, carried all before it. In 1261,
however, the king was emboldened by dissensions among the
barons to cancel his enactment of 1258. The result, after two
years of futile negotiations, was a baronial uprising headed,
strangely enough, by a Frendiman who only a few years earlier
had been considered one of the king’s foreign favorites.

Simon de Montfort, youngest son of the famous crusader,
first appeared in England to assert a claim to the earldom of

" From the French parler, to t^k; originally a vague word that could be applied
to any council.

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 559

Leicester. Having obtained it, he rose so high in the royal favor
as to marry the king’s sister. Then ensued a series of quarrels,
and Simon became a prominent member of the parliamentary
opposition. In 1264 he assumed command of the insurrectionary
forces, depending for support on the bourgeoisie and the lesser
nobility rather than on the great barons, most of whom were
with the king. And though badly outmatched in point of num-
bers, he was able, through generalship worthy of his father, to
win a brilliant victory. At Lewes, in 1264, Simon routed the
royal army and captured the king. So, for a little over a year,
he was master of England — ^an opportunity which he used to
establish a government modeled on that of 1258, but with a more
liberal base. Simon enjoys the honor of having assembled the
first parliament to include representatives both of the counties
and of the boroughs. Then, in 1265, the remarkable statesman-
adventurer was slain at Evesham in battle with Edward, Henry’s
eldest son, who thenceforth took over the task of restoring the
monarchy. His success in reconciling all parties may be judged
from the fact that, having taken the cross, he remained in the
Holy Land until 1274, two years after the death of his father.

Edward I, already an experienced man of thirty-five when he
was crowned, proved to be an admirable king, famous not only
for his conquests and his legal enactments but also for his un-
stained private life. An ardent knight and a loyal son of the
church, he allowed neither romantic chivalry nor exaggerated
piety to outweigh the practical demands of his office. He made
good use of his excellent education, especially in the field of law
and administration. His reputation for justice rivaled that of
St. Louis, Throughout his life, despite a proud and ambitious
temper, he strove to deserve the motto that was eventually carved
on his tomb — Pactum Serva, Keep Troth. His enemies, and
occasionally his subjects, found him a hard man; yet even his
hardness, after the feeble rule of Henry III^ might be accounted.
a political virtue. In many ways the reign of Edward I was to
influence the whole future of England.

In an earlier connection we saw how the judicial reforms of
Henry II inaugurated the English common law.^^ During the
succeeding reigns, without regard to the ’fluctuations of foreign
war, the system maintained a vigorous growth. Its basis was

The dic-
tatorship
of Simon
de Mont-
fort

(1264-65)

Edward I
(1272-

1307)

** See above, p. 383.

56 o medieval history

the series of writs^® granted by the royal justices to persons who
wished 'to have their suits tried in the king's court. And since
new writs were devised at pleasure until the practice was stopped
by an act of parliament under Edward I, the thirteenth century
was a decisive period for the growth of the common law. In this
respect the prohibitions of Magna Carta were of no avail ; what
the judges could not do under one form they did under another.
As a consequence, the royal courts; rapidly secured a monopoly
of justice, with certain notable exceptions. Ecclesiastical courts
still enjoyed extensive powers, especially in cases of marriage,
wills, perjury, and, to a limited degree, criminous clerks.^® Ma-
norial courts continued to deal with matters of villeinage, for
servile tenures were not protected by the king’s law. The bor-
oughs and certain other localities remained under their own pe-
culiar customs for many centuries to come. Furthermore, a
large number of barons asserted the right to exercise criminal
jurisdiction of an inferior sort; but such claims were rigidly
investigated under Edward I and allowed to stand only as a dele-
gation from the monarchy.

The thirteenth century was also the age when the jury system
was extended in many ways not contemplated by Henry II. In
cases regarding the tenure of land, the question put to the jury
was gradually changed, by interposing various preliminary mo-
tions, from a matter of possession to one of legal title. And
as juries came to be employed for settling these and other dis-
putes over civil rights, the men who were impaneled, instead of
rendering a verdict on the basis of their own knowledge, had to
learn the facts from the testimony of witnesses in open court.
Under the original plan, criminals presented by a grand jury
were sent to the ordeal. Then, in 1215, that method of trial
was forbidden by Innocent III in his great Lateral! Council. The
English government, being thoroughly obedient to the papacy,
thus had to devise a substitute, and eventually the practice was
adopted of leaving the accused man’s guilt or innocence to a
special jury of twelve. It was a long time, however, before jury
trials came to be governed by such elaborate rules as are enforced
today.

^ A writ is a brief order in writing issued by a cotirt. Originally the writs
were in Latin, and so many of them are still known by their first words in that
language: for example, certiorari, mandamus, scire facias, subpoena, habeas corpus,

“ See above, p. 384.

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 561

By the time of Edward I there had also been a significant
evolution of the English court system: as in France, the curia
regis had tended to produce a series of distinct organizations,
each endowed with peculiar functions. The first to take form was
the exchequer, which not only kept the financial accounts of the
kingdom, but also sat as a court of law to render judgment in
fiscal cases. Earlier including, all the great ministers of the
crown headed by the diancellor, it came in the thirteenth century
to liave its own personnel under a chancellor of the exchequer —
an official who is today an important member of the British cabi-
net. The second offshoot from the large curia was the court of
common pleas, a separate body for the trial of cases between
private citizens. Many suits to which the king was a party, how-
ever, followed him about until Edward I set up a permanent court
to handle them, that of the king’s bench. Thus were fixed at
Westminster the three central courts of common law, which re-
mained essentially unchanged until the nineteenth century. Some
suits they heard by original jurisdiction; others came before them
on appeal from the circuit courts, now definitely organized under
justices on mission. And exceptional matters of all kinds could
still be taken to the king, for decision before his curia.

Even in the time of Edward I, this was still a term of vague
implication. On the one hand, it might refer to a small body of
permanent advisers; on the other, it might be applied to the
large assembly known as parliament. Between the two extremes
there were a variety of gradations, depending on what persons
happened to be summoned. In the absence of any definite
law, much depended on the king’s policy, and this, at any rate,
is reasonably clear. Edward was interested in maintaining an
efficient government under his personal control and in securing
an ample revenue to support it. In particular, he was eager to
establish his complete independence of the feudal class; so he
would naturally adopt measures to broaden the political structure.
For a long time the kings had made increasing use of the coun-
ties and boroughs in connection with the levying of taxes and all
sorts of administrative business. Through the itinerant justices
and other commissioners, constant negotiations had been kept up
with both sets of communities. Such prartices led by easy tran-
sition to the calling of deputies to meet with the king and his
ministers. Although occasional assemblies of county representa-
tives can be traced back to the early thirteenth century, Simon de

Edward I
and the
common
law courts

Edward I
and parli-
ament.

Edward's

taxes

562 MEDIyEVAL HISTORY

Montfort was the first, as far as we know, to issue a summons
also to the boroughs. Edward probably had no need of a precedent
set by a rebel earl, for arrangements of this soit were being
adopted all over Europe. Nevertheless, he followed it.

To his more important parliaments Edward called ( i ) the
barons, greater and lesser, according to the method consecrated
by Magna Carta; (2) knights of the shire, elected in the county
courts; (3) burgesses, chosen in any way agreeable to the par-
ticular communities; (4) representatives of the lower clergy,
both secular and regular. It should, however, be noted that
these groups constituted four assemblies rather than one ; that any
of them could meet without the others; and that their respective
powers remained vag;ue. Edward’s parliament of 1295 fis-s been
called the Model Parliament by historians because he then chanced
to summon two knights from each shire and two burgesses from
each borough— the scheme that became r^ular in the following
century. Yet in his time this parliament was considered of no
especial significance, and it was not, of course, organized into
Lords and Commons. How the famous two-house legislature
took form will be explained in a subsequent chapter; Edward
knew nothing of it. He, in fact, had no concept of legislation as
distinct from the issuing of executive ordinances or the render-
ing of judicial decisions. Although it has been customary to
label certain enactments of his reign as statutes — and some of
them are of great importance in the history of English law — that
term as yet was not restricted to formal acts of parliament.

In the sphere of taxation Edward’s practice "was equally hap-
hazard. Being a practical man in need of money, he sought to
get it by any feasible plan, without regard for what future gen-
erations might turn into constitutional principles. While main-
taining his right to the old tallage, scutage, and feudal aids, he
frequently obtained from parliament special subsidies of a tenth,
fifteenth, or other fraction of movable property throughout the
kingdom. And in spite of papal protests, he was usually able to
induce the clergy to contribute. At the same time he arbitrarily
increased the customary duties on imports and exports by the
so-called mdtote (evil exaction). In 1297 parliamentary agita-
tion compelled the king to grant a formal Confirmation of the
Charters. Thereby he not only promised to observe Magna Carta
as reissued under his father, but also abandoned the mcdtote and
pledged himself to take no aids or other taxes without the bxm-

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 563

mon consent of the kingdom, ‘'saving to the crown those aids and
taxes anciently accustomed.” Although the moral victory lay with
parliament, it is hard to see just what the king gave up by this
magnanimous article. Before long he had even regained some
of his increased duties by separate negotiation with the foreign
merchants. The really important consideration was that, by as-
suring the good will of the greatly amplified parliament, he could
afford to drop old exactions that caused more trouble than they
were worth. By the opening of the fourteenth century, the scu-
tage and the tallage had been virtually superseded by more general
subsidies. What was to be the basis of later constitutional gov-
ernment — ^parliamentary control of royal taxation — w^as already
becoming an established fact.

In the meantime the king had been led to carry out the con-
quest of Wales. Earlier the mountainous peninsula between The
Bristol Channel and the Irish Sea had come to be divided poHti-
cally into two main portions : the southeast under the Norman- (^276-84)
English Lords Marchers, and the northwest, under a Welsh
prince who acknowledged himself the vassal of Henry III. In
1272 the prince of Wales was the ambitious but rather foolish Lle-
welyn. Having previously been the ally of Simon de Montfort,
he absented himself from Edward's coronation and refused the
accustomed homage. The king was thus given a good excuse for
marching against him. A first campaign compelled Llewelyn to
submit; a second one, after the prince had rebelled, ended in his
death and the complete reduction of his principality. Since the
time of Edward I, Wales has consequently formed part of Eng-
land, divided into shires and subjected, with certain exceptions,
to the English law. Only a memory of the country's separate
existence was perpetuated by the title. Prince of Wales, hence-
forth borne by the king's eldest son.

A more important result of the Welsh war was Edward’s
reform of the army* His conquest had been effected because he Military
had made intelligent use of the navy furnished by the Cinque reform
Ports,’® and because he had been willing to abandon the feudal
tradition of warfare. From actual experience in the field, Ed-
ward learned how to supplement an army of knights with light-
armed troops, especially infantry. Above all, he discovered the

See above, p. 377.

** See above, p. 366.

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

564

efficiency of archers equipped with the long bow.^® These mili-
tary lessons, coinciding witli the political motives already de-
scribed, led him eventually to supersede the old feudal tenures by
a system of voluntary enlistment and pay. How superior a
fighting force the English army thus became was soon demon-
strated in Scotland.

Although the English kings had long claimed a vague over-
The lordship in the north of Britain, Edward was the first of them to

conquest exercise any real authority there. His opportunity arose from a
disputed succession to the throne in 1290. Being invited to arbi-
trate the affair by the chief contestants, Edward agreed to act
on condition that each of them should recognize Scotland a fief
of the English crown. This was formally done, and after a pro-
tracted investigation by a court representing all parties, Edward
gave the kingdom to John Balliol in, preference to a dozen other
candidates. The new king, having duly, per formed his homage,
was then shocked to find that his lord treated him as an actual
vassal, even summoning him for military service in France, where
war had broken out between Edward I and Philip IV.®^ With the
enthusiastic backing of the Scots, Balliol refused .to send a man
and instead allied himself with the French king. Thereupon Ed-
ward marched north in 1296, forced Balliol to abdicate, and set up
a government of his own. The victory was too easy. Rallying
under the leadership of William Wallace, the Scots immediately
overturned the English regime and challenged the foreigner to
reconquer their country.

It was at this point, in 1298, that Edward and Philip agreed to
a truce, dropping their unprofitable hostilities with each other and
abandoning their respective allies. The result was another Eng-
lish conquest of Scotland. Before the end of the year 1298 Ed-
ward had again invaded the northern kingdom, and by using his
long bows to prepare for a cavalry charge, had annihilated Wal-
lace’s ?irmy at Falkirk. The heroic outlaw was finally hunted
down, but the English attempt to extend one system of govern-
ment over all Britain proved a failure. In spite of defeat, the
Scots refused to submit. Leading a new insurrection, Robert

To use a short bow, the archer faces the target, holds the bow horizontally,
and pulls the cord back to his chin. The long bow, on the other hand, is held ver-
tically as the archer stands with his side to the target. It has an effective range
of about three hundred yards.

See the following section.

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 565

Bruce, grandson of an earlier claimant to the throne, had himself
crowned king just before the death of Edward in 1307. That
event assured his triumph, for Edward II was neither a general
nor a statesman. Throwing away the military lessons of his
father, he led an army across the border, only to suffer disaster
at Bannockburn in 1314 — a. battle which established the com-
plete independence of Scotland for the next three centuries.

3. PHILIP IV AND BONIFACE VIII

Louis IX, the saintly king, was succeeded in 1270 by his son,
Philip III, whose reign of fifteen years witnessed few happen-
ings of any significance. The death without heirs of the king’s
uncle, Alfonse of Poitiers, finally brought all Languedoc into the
royal domain, and a fortunate marriage was arranged between the
king’s eldest son and Jeanne, heiress of Champagne and Navarre.
Otherwise Philip’s attention was chiefly given to the papal cru-
sade against Aragon, the tragic conclusion of which has already
been noted.^^ So in 1285 the crown passed to the king whom con-
temporaries called Philip the Fair. Aside from the fact that he
was handsome, little is known of his personality, for he inspired
no biographer and left no writings of his own except official docu-
ments couched in formal language. Whether he was a figurehead
controlled by subordinates or a strong man who deliberately chose
to efface himself is a question that is still being debated. In any
case, the king was legally identified with an efficient and unscrupu-
lous government which carried out a policy of great consequence
both for France and for Europe as a whole.

With the accession of Philip IV, Champagne was absorbed
into the royal domain. Of the other great fiefs two in particular
were now destined to be the object of royal encroachment. To all
practical intents, Flanders was a union of great self-governing
cities. Their prosperity depended on the cloth industry, and that
lived only by virtue of raw wool imported from England. As a
consequence, the mass of the urban population, consisting largely
of weavers and their apprentices,^® favored a close alliance with
the English king, while the landed aristocracy of town and coun-
try, fearing mob rule, tended to be strongly pro-French. The
count was thus faced by an unhappy dilemma ; if he antagonized
the king of France, he would invite forfeiture and armed con-

® See above, p. S44.

•• See above, p. 502.

The acces-
sion of
PhiUpIV
(128s)

'The

Flemish

question

566 MEDI/EVAL HISTORY

quest ; if he antagonized the cities, he would lose the source of his
wealth and political independence.

The other territory to engage the constant attention of Philip
JVar with IV was Guienne, the boundaries of which liad been theoretically
3dward I fixed by the peace of 1259. Actually, the English king had failed
to obtain possession of many lands which he claimed as part of
his duchy. Besides, there was continual friction over the French
king’s enforcement of appeals from Edward’s discontented vas-
sals. As long, in fact, as one proud and aggressive prince held
a fief of another such prince, ill feeling between the two was
bound to be chronic. It was not surprising, therefore, that an
informal battle between the rival merchants of England and Nor-
mandy became the occasion for an open breach between the two
governments. The war was short and indecisive; it is worth
mentioning only because its complications helped to bring on a
greater struggle in the following century. Edward naturally used
political and economic pressure to secure an alliance with the
count of Flanders ; Philip retaliated by subsidizing Wallace’s revolt
in Scotland.

After 1298, when a truce was declared between the two kings,
Flanders was left to bear the full brunt of Philip’s hostility, and
before long the entire county was occupied by the French. Never-
theless, if the king thought that he had thus easily brought an-
other of the great fiefs into his domain, he was mistaken. In
1302 a riot begun by the weavers of Bruges suddenly attained
the proportions of a revolution, breaking the power of the French
governors and their aristocratic allies in most of the larger cities.
Philip, of course, dispatched an army to punish the rebels, but it
was overwhelmed and mercilessly slaughtered at Courtrai by the
burgher militia — ^the first great victory of infantry over cavalrj'
since the advent of the feudal age in Europe. The battle, to l)e
sure, was merely tlie preliminary to other campaigns, in which the
king fared somewhat better. Yet in 1305 he saw fit to restore the
countship, and the old situation quickly reappeared, to lead before
long to the outbreak of the so-called Hundred Years’ War.

’ To a considerable degree, tlie reigns of Philip IV and Edward I
had similar constitutional importance for their respective coun-
tries. In both we find much the same differentiation of gov-
ernmental organs : the chambre des comply corresponding to the
exchequer, the parlemenf at Paris to the courts of king’s bench
and common pleas at Westminster, the Estates of France to the

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 567

parliament of England, with a royal council still holding an ex- Compari-
tensive residuary authority. In local administration the French son of the
baillis and scncchaux resembled the English sheriffs; and the
cnquctciirs, especially after Philip had come to use them for English
routine business, were somewhat like the itinerant justices. Be- govem-
tween the two systems there were, however, many differences, ments
On the whole, French institutions at the close of the thirteenth
century appear less sharply defined, and this effect is not entirely
due to the lack of such great sets of records as have been preserved
in England. Under the Capetians constitutional development had
been slower than under the Norman- Angevin dynasty; functions
of government therefore remained more fluctuating, and kings
like Philip IV found it to their advantage to retain a greater
latitude for personal intervention.

The most striking contrast between the two states arose from
the fact that, whereas England had been conquered as a whole by
its ruling house, France was built up piece by piece, as first one
fief and then another was absorbed into the royal domain. Thus
it came about that France had no common law and that, down to
the great revolution of 1789, each province retained its own
peculiar institutions. For example, in the time of Philip IV,
Normandy still preserved the exchequer and other administrative
bodies that had been created by the Norman dukes ; in Champagne
the central courts of the old counts continued to be held; and
special commissions of royal judges were dispatched into Lan-
guedoc to administer the droit ecrit, the written (i.e., Roman) law
of that region. In England the king’s military, judicial, and
fiscal preeminence had been recognized for over two centuries;
in France such powers had to be gradually revived. Philip’s taxes
and decrees had no validity in the great fiefs without the consent
of the respective princes. Even within the territory that now
constituted his domain there were scores of nobles and privileged
communities that had to be separately dealt with, often at the
cost of a stiff consideration.

Despite these difficulties, Philip IV was able, in one way or
another, to reassert all the rights of monarchy tliat had been in
abeyance since the collapse of the Carolingian Empire. The basis
of this restored authority was his actual power as ruler over a
wide and prosperous country, not belief in a theory. Yet his
reign was given a certain characteristic tinge by the fact that he
was surrounded by professional lawyers; laymen like Nogaret

The

mercenary
character
of the
royal
adminis-
tration

568 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

and Pierre Dubois®® now took the place of the ecclesiastical ad-
visers who had served his grandfather. Such men, inspired b}
their juristic studies to regard as paramount the needs of the
state, made the king appear an impersonal force rather than a
feudal chieftain. They likewise provided the elaborate show of
legalism that covered all Philip’s acts. To us, at any rate, the dis-
guise seems rather thin. Too many of the judicial processes that
marked his reign tended to precisely the same result — spoliation
for the benefit of the crown. It is no mere coincidence that the
notorious trial of the Templars®^ was accompanied by similar pro-
ceedings against the Jews and the Lombards.®" Merely to engage
in banking under Philip IV was to invite prosecution for treason
or heresy.

The more closely we examine the royal administration at this
time, the more mercenary* it appears. Louis IX had caused an
outcry from the holders of minting privileges by declaring his
money valid throughout the whole kingdom and the sole legal
tender in the royal domain ; but his coinage had been honest and
his rates of exchange for gold and silver pieces had been reason-
able. Philip not only debased his coins but at the same time
raised their legal value in terms of denier s and sous.^ No state —
even in the twentieth century — can become wealthy by multiplying
theoretical pennies, and eventually Philip had to fall back on taxa-
tion. At one time or another the king tried almost every known
expedient for raising money: he levied feudal aids, tallaged the
towns, obtained special grants from the movables of clergy and
nobility, extorted loans and gifts, exacted increased tolls, laid an
impost on sales (the French maltote), and, in order to substitute
cash equivalents, revived the Carolingian principle that every able-
bodied subject owed him military service. But the collection of
these taxes caused him endless trouble, sometimes leading to
sanguinary riots. It was only toward the end of the reign that
Philip learned the advantage of securing subsidies by grant of
representative assemblies called for that purpose.

Throughout western Europe it had long been the established

** See bdow, p. 659.

“ See below, p. 573.

See above, p, 504.

2® See above, p. 355. It would have been an equivalent action if our govern-
ment had declared the gold half-eagle to be worth six silver dollars or six hundred
copper cents. The same result, of course, is obtained by giving less gold for five
hundred cents.

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 569

custom that, except perhaps in certain cases, a prince could tax Thesys-
his noble tenants only by their consent, and this was normally tern of
sought from them as a body when assembled in a great court.

The same treatment, as a matter of legal necessity, was accorded
the clergy when they came to be asked for occasional subsidies.

For taxation, as well as for general consultation, two orders or
estates had thus definitely appeared by the later thirteenth cen-
tury. Meanwhile the towns, as privileged communities, had been
dealt with individually, being visited by princely agents whenever
they were required to pay an aid or otherwise to cooperate with
the administration. Eventually, however, it was found more
convenient to consult them through deputies whom they sent
to a central meeting. And since there is every reason to suppose
that such procedure had often been informally adopted before it
became a regular and official usage, it is rather idle to speculate
just when and how a Third Estate first arose.

Frederick II, we know, provided that representatives of the
bourgeoisie should attend the council held for his Sicilian king-
dom or for one of its component provinces. Within another
generation the cortes of Catalonia and of the Spanish states
had regularly come to have as one of their elements deputies
from the towns. By the close of the century very similar prac-
tices had been developed in many other regions, including the
kingdoms of England, France, and Germany, and various princi-
palities in the latter two countries. The first well-authenticated
meeting of Estates for all France was in 1302, when Philip
summoned representatives of the towns, as well as the barons
and the clergy, to one great central meeting. But consultations
with smaller groups had been held earlier, and the more normal
procedure in fourteenth-century France was to call Estates for
separate provinces, such as Normandy and Languedoc. How
the constitutional importance of all these assemblies grew in di-
rect proportion to the fiscal needs of the princes will be seen in
the following chapter. Here another phase of the subject de-
mands attention: how the powerful monarchies of western Eu-
rope became embroiled with the papacy.

Philip IV’s accession to the throne had come just after the
death of Martin Since that pope had in every way shown

himself an ardent friend of the Capetians, the failure of his policy

»» See above, p. 541*

Boniface

VIII

(1294-

1303)

The first

qixarrd

with

PhihpIV

(1296-97)

570 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

naturally produced an anti-French reaction, which was seized
upon by certain Italian families to advance their own selfish in-
terests. So, under various short-lived successors, the cardinals
came to be rather sharply divided into two factions devoted to
the rival houses of Coloima and Orsini. Some of them, how-
ever, still remained openly attached to the French cause, and as
long as the Roman church continued to be involved in the Sicilian
project, it had to preserve its alliance with the Angevins of Naples.
This was the situation when, in 1294, the papal office was abdi-
cated by Celestine V, a saintly hermit who for five months had
vainly tried to enforce a semblance of authority. He was suc-
ceeded by the energetic but equally unfortunate Boniface VIII.

The new pope, before his election, had long been outstand-
ing as Cardinal Benedict Gaetani. He was unquestionably a man
of considerable ability, especially in law and in business adminis-
tration. As papal legate in France, he had gained the ill will of
many influential persons and his election was consequently op-
posed by the French cardinals, but he received the votes of both
the Orsini and Colonna factions. Subsequently all sorts of scan-
dalous cliarges were leveled against him, ranging from atheism
to moral turpitude. There is no reason to take such accusations
for more than the usual invective of fierce partisanship. Judged
by his owm words and acts, Boniface appears rather a misguided
enthusiast than a monster of corruption. The ideals to whidi he
gave his passionate devotion were those of his office, consecrated
by centuries of tradition. The means he took to serve his ends
differed in no essential from those of his predecessors. To a large
degree he was the victim of circumstances, being made to suffer
merely for the upholding of long-established principles. On the
other hand, it must be admitted that Boniface was no statesman.
He was utterly lacking in the tact demanded by his position.
Having no real understanding of men, he failed to grasp the
realities of any situation. With him, violence of affirmation
seemed always to take the place of intelligent thought.

The first two years of Boniface’s pontificate passed quietly.
Then, by the bull Clericis Lakes, ^ he suddenly forbade all secu-
lar princes to levy any taxes on the clergy without papa! authori-
zation. This act, directed primarily against the subsidies which
the kings of France and England were then raising for their

“The formal decrees of the pope are called bulls and are commonly kimwn
by the first few words of the Latin text.

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 571

war, was based on good ecclesiastical theory. Yet the event
proved that the pope was in no position to enforce his prohibition.
While Edward outlawed all who disobeyed him, Philip stopped
the exportation of gold and silver from his dominions and so,
indirectly, cut off a considerable portion of the papal revenue.
Within a year Boniface had first modified and then rescinded his
decree. Nor was this all. Reversing his previous attitude, he pro-
ceeded to treat the French government with the utmost consid-
eration. The reason, obviously, lay in the “crusades” which he
was then pressing on two sides. One he inherited from his prede-
cessors — ^the vain effort to reestablish the Angevin authority
throughout the kingdom of Sicily and to punish the house of
Aragon for its presumptuous opposition. The other was a war
of Boniface’s own making — z feud with the Colonna family,
which resented the pope’s aggressive acts for the benefit of his
relatives.

Having forced the Colonna chiefs to submit, Boniface in 1300
celebrated the opening of the new century with a great jubilee at
Rome. Enormous throngs of pilgrims poured into his capital
from all regions of Christendom, and this apparent evidence of
universal ascendancy seems to have heightened his already exalted
concept of the papal office. At least, he now acted as if he were
in truth the dictator of Europe. Even while calling upon Charles
of Valois, younger brother of Philip IV, to overturn a hostile
government at Florence^ and reconquer Sicily, Boniface saw fit
to bring on a second quarrel with the French king. Again the
pope took his stand on solid legal ground — ^the defense of a bishop
against arbitrary judgment in a lay court. But he wrecked all
hope of a peaceable settlement by gratuitously issuing a bull that
revived the claims of Clericis Laicos and by following that with
another, Ausculta Fili (Listen, My Son!), which the French
could not fail to regard as an insult

Philip’s reply was to summon, in 1302, the great assembly of
clergy, nobility, and bourgeoisie that is known in the history of
France as the first meeting of the Estates General. Although the
king got from it the support that he asked, the effect was over-
balanced, in the eyes of the pope, by the Flemish victory at
Courtrai. So Boniface did not hesitate to continue his offensive
with the bull Unam Sanctam. All must believe, it is there pro-

The

second

quarrel

with

Philip IV
(1301-03)

See below, p. 685.

The
incident
of Anagni

(1303)

Clement V
(1305-14)

572 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

claimed, in one Holy Catholic Apostolic Church, outside whicli
there is no salvation. This one true church has only one head,
namely - (Christ, who is represented on earth by the Bishop of
Rome, the successor of St. Peter. The two swords spoken of in
the Gospel are the spiritual power and the temporal power. Both
belong to the church. “The former is to be used by the church,
the latter for the church ; the one by the hand of the priest, the
other by the hand of kings and knights, but at the command and
permission of the priest.” “If the temporal power errs, it will
be judged by the spiritual power, and if the lower spiritual power
errs, it will be judged by its superior. But if the highest spiritual
power errs, it cannot be judged by men, but by God alone.”
Whoever resists God’s vicar resists God. “We therefore declare,
say, and affirm that submission on the part of every man to the
bishop of Rome is altogether necessary for his salvation.”

The sequel to this pontifical utterance would have been ludicrous
had it not been so tragic. While the French government was
formally accusing the pope of the most shocking crimes and
demanding his trial before a general council of the church, No-
garet, one of the king’s ablest and most unscrupulous ministers,
went to Italy and joined hands with certain vindictive members
of the Colonna faction. Gathering a small army of Boniface’s
personal enemies, they broke into Anagni, where the pope ha})-
pened to be, and arrested him. Then, in the face of growing
hostility, they abandoned whatever project had at first been con-
templated, and Boniface was left to be escorted back to Rome by
a group of his friends. The blow to the aged man’s pride, how-
ever, was more than he could survive. Completely broken in mind
and spirit, he died one month after his release, in October, 1303.
Such a disgraceful affair was in itself no moral victory for the
French king. That Philip was able to turn it to his advantage
is sufficient proof of the discredit into which the papacy had
already fallen.

To succeed Boniface, an Italian of high character was at once
installed, but his efforts at compromise were ended by his death
in the following year. Then, after a protracted vacancy, the papal
office was conferred on the archbishop of Bordeaux, who assumed
the name of Qement V. If some had expected him. as a vassal
of the English king, to be tmfriendly to Philip, they were quickly
disillusioned, for he quashed the offending decrees of Boniface

CONSTITUTIONAL MONARCHY 573

VIII, and gave full absolution to those who had attacked the
pope at Anagni. Meanwhile, Clement, for one reason or another,
had continually postponed his expected journey to Rome. He had
first celebrated his coronation at Lyons and then summoned a
council at Vienne in Dauphine. Temporarily the papal residence
was established at Avignon, a city belonging to the Angevin
count of Provence, but practically surrounded by the papal terri-
tory of the Venaissin.^^ And although Clement may have been
honest enough in his declared intention of going to Rome, that
project was negatived by his appointment of fourteen new car-
dinals, all but one of them Frenchmen. Whether partisans of
Philip IV or not, they were agreed in disliking Italy. The
momentary halt at Avignon lapsed into a continuous residence.

One cause for the papal delay on or near French soil was the
trial of the Templars, which dragged its scandalous course The affair
through the years between 1307 and the pope’s death in 1314. <^fthe
That order, since the fall of Acre in 1291, had of necessity lost
its crusading functions ; yet through extensive banking operations
it continued to accumulate wealth. It was a secret organization,
surrounded by much mystery. Its members lived in luxury and
many of them were devoted to worldly interests. Earlier popes
had suggested combination with the Hospitallers, who were still
engaged in charitable work, but the Templars objected and so gave
a certain color to the charges made against them. In 1307
Clement was prevailed on to authorize an investigation, and when
Philip ordered the arrest of all Templars in France and placed
Xogaret in charge of securing adequate confessions by the use of
torture, the case w^as virtually decided in advance. A tale of
horrid deeds was gradually drawn up by the royal commissioners,
acting in collaboration with the Inquisition, and some scores of
unfortunate victims were sent to the stake as relapsed heretics.

Finally, after much hesitation, the pope removed the case from
his council at Vienne and abolished the order.

By the terms of the papal decree, the property of the Templars,
except in the Spanish peninsula, was to go to the Flospitallers,
but they found it difficult to enforce their rights. In France the
cash wealth of the condemned order had already been appropriated
by the king, whose grasp on such assets never relaxed. Even
the Templars' lands had been brought under royal occupation,

“It had earlier belonged to the count of Toulouse and had fallen to the pope
in connection with the final disposition of Languedoc; see above, p. 549.

574 MEDIEVAL HISTORY \

and before they could be obtained by the beneficiaries the latter
had to pay under the head of expenses what amounted to a good
price. As a whole, the affair served, even in the eyes of con-
temporaries, to advertise the decadence of the papacy and the
ruthless greed of the French monarchy.

CHAPTER XXIV

CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE IN THE LATER
MIDDLE AGES

I. THE RUSSIANS AND THE TARTAR CONQUEST

What we, from our western point of view, think of as an
eastern country is a central country to its natives, for geographi- Russia in
cally they can find little significance in such a fictitious line as the twelfth
that separating Europe from Asia. And historically the Slavic
lands have lain between two great offensive movements : from one
direction that of the Germans, from the other that of the nomads.

Within this central area the people known as Russians emerged
from obscurity along the valley of the Dnieper. The name, at
first applied to a band of viking adventurers, gradually came to
denote the Slavs whom they conquered and by whom they were
eventually assimilated. In the eleventh century Russia had al-
ready become a wide territory subordinated to the dynasty of
Madimir at Kiev.^ Northward it extended to the gulf of Finland,
eastward it included the upper Volga, and westward it reached the
Carpathians, where it adjoined the states of Hungary and Poland.

Along the Baltic its neighbors were the Prussians, Lithuanians,

Letts, and other heathen tribes. Between it and the Black Sea
was spread the great steppe, the home of many nomadic hordes, of
which the latest to arrive were the Cumans (see map, page 635).

The coming of this barbarous nation had important conse-
quences, for to a large extent it broke the intimate trade relations
between Kiev and Constantinople. Although Russian civilization
remained fundamentally Byzantine, the northern country was
henceforth left to develop its institutions in greater isolation.

The blocking of the old trade route down the Dnieper also brought
inevitable decline to the capital, which coincided with the weak-
ening of the sovereign house. During the twelfth century what
had been a well-centralized state broke up into a series of warring
principalities under the descendants of Vladimir. Kiev remained
the religious and cultural center, but in commercial prosperity
and political strength leadership now passed to outlying terri-

» See above, p. 322,

The

^ilongols

under

Jenghis

Khan

(1206-27)

576 MEDI/EVAL HISTORY

tories : Galicia in the southwest, Novgorod in the extreme north,
and the adjacent valley of the Volga to the east. This was the
situation when a new storm of destructive fury gathered on the
Asiatic plateau.

Time and again in the previous centuries nomadic hordes, strik-
ing outward from their barren homelands, had threatened with
ruin all the countries in their path. The Huns, Avars, Bulgars,
and AIag}*ars had in turn emerged from the same source, to gain a
horrid renown for pillage and massacre. The Turks also, before
they became famous as the soldiers of Islam, had for countless
generations driven herds across the plains of Turkestan. In fact,
many Turkish tribes, untouched by civilization, still inhabited that
region in the time of Saladin. Adjoining them on the east were
two kindred peoples, whose very names remain the subject of
controversy: the Tartars (properly Tatars) and the Mongols. A
certain chief among the latter, about 1160, called his new-born
son Temujin — ^an event unheralded in either Christian or Mo-
hammedan countries. Yet they were to know the boy's name
only too w’ell. Inheriting from his father a contest with many
rivals, Temujin proved himself an able commander by defeating
them all. In 1206 he was proclaimed as Jenghis Khan (Universal
King), and within twenty years his armies had brought massacre
and destruction to an incredible expanse of territory.

Earlier the Chinese had regarded Mongolia as a tributary
province. Jenghis Khan now reversed the situation by invading
the great oriental empire, ravaging its northern provinces, and
overturning the royal dynasty at Pekin. On the west, mean-
w^hile, his rapid subjection of Turkestan brought him into collision
Avith a prince named Mohammed, who ruled as shah over a vast
region lying between the Tigris and the Indus. Inside two years
Mohammed was a fugitive in India and his dominions lay help-
less before the Mongol hordes. Their advance was like that of
the Huns or the Magyars, but on an infinitely greater scale.
Jenghis Khan's resources of men seemed limitless, for as his
forces swept across the Asiatic plateau their ranks were constantly
swelled by the accession of new recruits — of other desert war-
riors who needed no equipment except a horse and a saber, and
who fought without pay, seeking merely the loot of conquered
lands. Raiding parties first scoured the country far in advance
of the main host, to feel out the enemy and to prepare the resident
population, by a foretaste of terror, for abject surrender. When

CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE 577

the actual occupation began, communities that immediately sub-
mitted and agreed to pay regular tribute were spared ; those which
put up even the slightest resistance were pitilessly slaughtered.
Thus, as the Mongols overran Persia, their trail was marked by
piles of corpses and the ruins of what had been flourishing cities.

Jenghis Khan died in 1227, leaving to one of his sons, Ogdai,
an empire that extended from the Pacific to the Caspian. Some
years earlier a preliminary expedition to the Russian steppe had
announced a future offensive in Europe. This was launched in
1237, when the Mongols overpowered the feeble resistance of the
princes along the upper Volga and conquered the whole region,
with the exception of Novgorod. In 1240, after Kiev had been
taken and its inhabitants butchered, southern Russia suffered the
same fate. Next the invaders fell upon the helpless monarchies
of Poland and Hungary, but relief came with a disputed suc-
cession to the khanate in 1242. As Batu, the general who had
commanded the western drive, was then recalled, central Europe
was saved from further depredations. Finally, in 1251, undis-
puted authority was secured by Mangu, a grandson of Jenghis
Khan, and under him the Mongol advance was vigorously re-
sumed. While one brother, Kublai, pushed into southern China,
a second brother, Hulagu, struck westward into Mesopotamia.

There, to the horror of the Islamic world, he took Bagdad in
1258 and, amid scenes of unparalleled carnage, slew the last of its
famous caliphs. The Mongols had already subjugated the Ar-
menians and the Seljuks of Asia Minor; now it seemed as if
nothing could prevent their occupation of Syria. While the
Christians were making puny efforts to hold a bit of the Mediter-
ranean coast, the great khan was completing the subjection of
one continent and threatening two others. At the critical mo-
ment, however, Hulagu^s forces were surprised by a sudden
counter-offensive from Egypt. In that country the last of the
sultans descended from Saladin had been overthrown by a revolu-
tion during the crusade of St. Louis — ^an event which brought
to supreme power the commander of the Mamelukes, the slaves
who constituted the palace guard. It was a Mameluke leader
who was fortunate enough in 1260 to defeat the Mongols, and his
successor by murder, one Bibars, made good use of his victory.
While driving the nomads out of S3rria and carrying on a suc-
cessful war against the crusaders, he set up an Abbasid refugee as

The suc-
cessors of
Jenghis
Khan

The end
of the
Bagdad
caliphate
and the
rise of
the Mam-
dukes

Kublai

Khan

(1259-94)

The
Tartar
dominion
in Russia

578 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

caliph in his own capital of Cairo and so established a regime
that lasted into the sixteenth century.

Meanwhile, in 1259, Mangu had been succeeded by Kublai,
during whose reign of thirty-five years the Mongol power reached
its height. Having extended his sovereignty over all China,
Kublai fixed his principal residence in that country and adopted
for himself and his court the standards of its ancient culture. He
was thus far removed from the barbarism of his ancestors; by
virtue of his wise and tolerant rule, as well as by the vastness of
his empire, he occupies a prominent place in Asiatic history. Yet
to Europeans he has always been chiefly famous for his patronage
of the great Venetian traveler, Marco Polo.^ It was indeed
marvelous that, through the protection of one man, an Italian
trader could journey unmolested from the Black Sea to Pekin
and back again — a situation which had never existed before and
which disappeared with the passing of Kublai Khan. Even in
his day the Mongol dominions had no true political unity, and in
the fourteenth century, as the great khan ceased to be formidable,
they naturally broke apart under rival dynasties. For example,
the descendents of Kublai governed China until they were ousted
by a native uprising; those of Hulagu, turned Moslem, long held
the sovereignty of Persia; those of Batu headed the western
tribes whom the Russians called the Golden Horde.

The chief of these Tartars, as they were always known in
Europe, had his headquarters on the Volga. Thither went the
tribute which the khan’s agents demanded from the subject
population. Otherwise all matters of administration were left to
the local princes, but they had to obtain formal investment from
the Horde and pay roundly for the privilege. It was only when
these conditions were not met that the Tartars reasserted their
sovereignty with fire and sword. Consequently, although the Rus-
sians were despoiled and humiliated, neither their religion nor

2 Nicolo and Maffeo Polo, Venetian merchants at Constantinople, were drawn
by trade to the Crimea and thence eventually to the court of Kublai. Having
been sent by the khan with a request for Christian missionaries, they started
back in 1271 with two Dominican friars. Marco, the young son of Nicolo, ac-
companied them. The missionaries soon quit the expedition, but Marco made
the trip to China, where he lived for over ten years, enjoying great favor with
the khan. It was not until 1295 that the Polos again saw Venice. Three years
later Marco was taken by the Genoese in the course of a naval engagement, and
to while away his captivity he dictated to a fellow prisoner the famous account
of his travels in the orient — the first description of eastern Asia to be written
by a European. The original edition was in French.

CENTRz\L AND EASTERN EUROPE 579

their other national traditions were interfered with. The Tartars
even helped to create the central organization that was eventually
to usurp their authority altogether. This was the Grand Prin-
cipality of Moscow. Hitherto obscure, Moscow in the fourteenth
century became the virtual center of all the Tartar dominions in
Russia when its prince obtained from the khan the right to col-
lect his taxes. Then, in the fifteenth century, the Horde finally
dissolved, and Muscovy emerged as an independent state, the
nucleus of a revived Russian Empire. As had often happened
in the past, it was the Slavs, rather than their conquerors, who
throve and multiplied.

Great Russia, which thus came to be subordinated to Moscow,
did not, however, include all the territory that had earlier been
ruled from Kiev. To the north Novgorod continued to be inde-
pendent of the Tartars, and then 01 the Muscovites until the close
of the Middle Ages. Originally a territorial principality, it was
gradually changed, through the rise of a wealthy aristocracy, into
a city-state somewhat resembling Venice, for it became virtually
a republic with a prince who was little more than an honorary
magistrate. The basis of Novgorod’s prosperity was commerce,
principally in furs. Situated on the easternmost tributary of the
Baltic, where great marshes made it almost immune from attack,
the town was the natural meeting-point of traders coming from
the west by sea, from the south by the Dnieper, from the east by
the Volga, and from the north — a great hunting region — ^by the
Neva. But the men of Novgorod did not themselves engage in
foreign enterprise by ship and caravan; they served almost ex-
clusively as middlemen between the Russians, Finns, and Tartars
on the one side and the Germans of the Hansa® on the other.
For a long time the city remained the leading financial center of
eastern Europe. Its decline came only toward the end of the fif-
teenth century, when it was finally subjected by the princes of
Moscow.

In Russian history the period of Tartar domination is likewise
noteworthy for the encroachment of western states on the terri-
tory once ruled by Vladimir. In the twelfth century one of the
principalities to grow at the expense of Kiev was Galicia. Even
under the tyranny of the Golden Horde the region for a time
retained its prominence ; then, being widely separated from Great

The

republic of
Novgorod

Polish and
Lithuanian
conquests
in Russia

» See below, pp. 585 f.

58o medieval history

Russia, it gradually came under the influence of Poland and was
annexed by that kingdom in 1347. Meanwhile another power
had appeared on the scene to profit by the weakening of its
eastern neighbor. This was Lithuania w^hich, from obscure be-
ginnings on the Baltic, started a rapid expansion to the southward
in the thirteenth centuiy. First the Lithuanian kings overran
what is known as White Russia, essentially the valleys of the
Niemen and the Pripet. Subsequently, on the collapse of the Tar-
tar dominion, they extended their conquests down the Dnieper
to include the whole of Little Russia and the Ukraine — a circum-
stance that helped to identify Moscow with the national cause.
The further significance of Lithuanian development can be better
appreciated in connection with the history of Poland and the
Baltic peoples.

2. GERMAN EXPANSION ON THE BALTIC

With the near-extinction of the Holy Roman Empire in the
The thirteenth century, German influence in Italy disappeared, and to

strategic the westward, throughout the entire strip of borderlands, it

steadily yielded before French aggression. To the eastward,
the Baltic contrary, the Germans continued to advance, winning even

coast more brilliant victories in the fields of economic and cultural
enterprise than in those of military conflict. The chief agency in
this connection was not the kingship, which ceased to have more
than local authority ; rather it was individual barons and
cities, or associations of them, that carried forward the proj-
ects launched by Charlemagne. On the Danube front a strong
barrier against German penetration existed in the Hungarian state
which, by the incorporation of Croatia, had come to extend from
the Adriatic to the Carpathians. And although Bohemia had
been definitely brought under imperial influence, the anti-German
barrier was extended from the Carpathians to the valley of the
Vistula by the Poles, whose kings had renounced the homage
exacted by Frederick Barbarossa.*^ The critical region for the
Slavic defense was therefore Pomerania and the heathen lands
beyond it.

By 1200, through the colonizing activity of Henry the Lion
and his associates,® western Pomerania had already been German-
ized and the Polish hold on the rest of the district had been greatly

* See below, pp. 589 f.
® See above, pp. 404 f.

[Dominions of Teutonic Knights
Centres of Hansa Trade

The

Brothers
of the
Sword in
Livonia

The

Teutonic
Knights in
Prussia

582 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

weakened. Across the Vistula and reaching to the Dwina lay the
country of the Prussians, Lithuanians, and Letts — three related
peoples whose languages, though Indo-European, were neither
Slavic nor Germanic. Their neighbors to the east were the
Finnish® tribes of Livs, Kurs, and Esths. Upon the territories
which thus became known as Prussia, Lithuania, Latvia,
Livonia, Kurland, and Esthonia were directed missionary efforts
from many directions; for Scandinavians, Russians, Poles, and
Germans all perceived the strategic importance of a region that
included the mouths of three great rivers. Yet, at the opening
of the thirteenth century, little progress had been made in over-
coming the stubborn resistance of the heathen population. Then
a series of German advances revolutioned the situation.

In 1201 Albert, missionary bishop in Livonia, organized a
pioneering expedition from Liibeck, and by its aid founded the
town of Riga. Next, finding his military resources inadequate
for the task aliead, he established a new crusading order, the
Brothers of the Sword, which was sanctioned by Innocent III.
Through it Albert was able to carry out a remarkable work. With
the support of the Christianized Livs and Letts, his knights con-
quered Esthonia in the face of bitter opposition from the Danes
of the adjacent islands and from the Russians of Novgorod. On
the other side, however, the Lithuanians resisted every effort at
conversion and before long, as we have seen, were engaged in
successful offensives of their own. Meanwhile the Prussians, too,
were making themselves very objectionable to their Christian
neighbors, and to remedy this situation, the operations of the
Livonian Brothers now came to be seconded by the Teutonic
Knights.

This famous order, modeled after the Templars and Hospital-
lers, had originally been created in the course of Frederick Bar-
barossa’s crusade. For a time it fought only in the Holy Land.
Then its energies were in part diverted to sacred projects in
Hungary, and finally by the authorization of the papacy in
1230, it was allowed to take charge of the war against the
heathen in Prussia. There the Teutonic Knights won a tremen-
dous success, subduing. Christianizing, and to a large extent
colonizing the whole strip of coast as far as the Niemen. And
before this process had been completed, the Livonian order asked

® The Finns constitute one division of the peoples classified by their languages
as Ural-Altaic; see above, p. 48.

CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE 583

to join the older and greater organization. The union, confirmed
by the pope, was effected in 1237 and shortly afterwards, through
the occupation of Kurland, the territories of the two orders were
brought together geographically as well as politically. A cam-
paign launched against the Russians, it is true, utterly failed, and
the Lithuanians still remained formidable; but the triumph of
the Teutonic Knights assured German supremacy along the south-
ern shore of the Baltic.

The next hundred years were spent by the victors in consoli-
dating their position. In cooperation with the Hansa, self-gov-
erning towns were founded for the benefit of German merchants
all through the conquered territory. Devastated lands and the
wilderness of the interior were settled by German peasants. On
all sides fiefs were erected to be held by German barons and
German clergy. The failure of the crusading movement else-
where served only to enhance the prestige of an order that could
still offer enthusiasts and adventurers a chance to fight for the
Cross J In 1309, while the Templars were being brought to ruin
in France, the Teutonic Knights transferred their entire organi-
zation to the north. There, in the absence of effective control by
the weakening papacy, the order acted very much as it pleased,
enjoying sovereign authority over the new state which it had
created. This work has never been undone. As the native popu-
lation was killed off or assimilated, Prussia became a German
country, and so it remains today.

Such an eventuality, of course, was not contemplated by the
Poles who had originally appealed for aid against the heathen.
If their own monarchy had then possessed any vitality, the Teu-
tonic Knights might never have secured their foothold on the
Vistula. Poland, however, had fallen into a condition of such
paralysis that over a hundred years passed before either king or
princes took any effective action to impede the German expansion
along the coast. It was not until the fourteenth century that a
royal revival once more brought Poland to the rank of a power
in central Europe. The reigns of Ladislas I and Casimir the
Great (1306-70) restored the unity of the kingdom, gave it a
new constitution, and pushed its frontiers southward to include
Galicia; but they failed to change the situation on the Baltic.
The event that led to the undoing of the Teutonic Knights came

The

Polish-

Lithuanian

Union

(1386)

^ E.g., the knight in Chaucer’s prologue, below, p. 702.

The fall
of the
Teutonic
Knights
(1410-66)

584 ]MEi3L5£VAL HISTORY

sixteen years later, when the heiress of the Polish crown® was
married to Jagiello, grand duke of Lithuania.

From the Slavic point of view, this alliance was a diplomatic
victory of the first magnitude. Jagiello, who was renamed Ladis-
las II, now accepted Christianity, and as his people followed suit,
they rapidly came under the influence of Polish civilization.
Furthermore, with the Lithuanian d3masty, which had successfully
withstood the Teutonic Knights for a century and a half, the
Poles obtained the leadership and resources for a decisive anti-
German offensive. From the first the new king’s policy was
dictated by hostility to the Prussian order. Jagiello’s father
had not only defended his northern frontier, but had driven the
Tartars from the valley of the Dnieper and so brought his do-
minion to the shore of tlie Black Sea. Jealousies among the
Lithuanian princes had then permitted the Knights to take Samo-
gitia, to regain which was Jagiello’s primary objective. By a
wise family settlement he assured the hearty cooperation of his
relatives in the common cause, and by accepting Christianity he
destroyed the remaining justification for a crusading order on the
Baltic. On their side, the Knights were now handicapped by
political dissension and a declining morale — ^the evil consequences
of their material prosperity. It was not surprising, therefore,
that they suffered irretrievable defeat on the field of Tannenberg
in 1410.

Although the intervention of Hungary and other jealous neigh-
bors limited the victors’ claims to the restoration of Samogitia,
the Prussian order never regained its power. Losing the moral
support of Europe, it was reduced to the inadequate defense of
mercenary troops and was soon helpless against its own rebellious
subjects. Under these circumstances, Jagiello’s grandson® was
able to complete the Polish-Lithuanian triumph by dictating the
Peace of Thorn in 1466. According to its terms, Po lan d an-
nexed all West Prussia, together with additions beyond the Vis-
tula. East Prussia remained in the possession of the Knights,
but as a Polish fief for which the Grand Master was to perform
homage. Thereupon the Brothers of the Sword declared their
independence and resumed sovereign control over Livonia and
Esthonia. The closing years of the fifteenth century thus found
the German power in full retreat on the Baltic, while Poland, ex-

* See below, p. 593.

8 Casimir IV, son of Ladislas III, who was slain at Varna; see below, p. 602.

CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE 585

tending its influence to Bohemia and Hungary, had assumed the
leadership of Europe in opposing the advance of the Ottoman
Turks.

To a large degree, obviously, the rise of the Teutonic Knights
was due to the absence of powerful states along the southern shore The origin
of the Baltic. The same factor was principally responsible for of the
the contemporary development of another great German institu-
tion, the league of towns known as the Hansa. The name had no
peculiar significance, being often applied in northern countries to
any gild or association of merchants. At London, for example,
the men of Cologne^^ had enjoyed special privileges since long
before the Norman Conquest, and when their hansa was con-
firmed by Henry II in the twelfth century,, it had already been
joined by traders from other cities on the Rhine. Similarly, with
the extension of German commerce throughout the Baltic, Lii-
beck^^ became the center of a growing confederation which came
to include the neighboring towns of Hamburg, Stralsund, and
Rostock, as well as the German colony of Wisby on the Swedish
island of Gothland. By the later thirteenth century this group,
or some of its members, had secured valuable concessions in many
quarters, notably in connection with the fur trade of 'Russia, the
cloth trade of Flanders, and the fish trade of Norway and Sweden.

When, by mutual agreement, the western and eastern groups of
German towns pooled their interests and perfected an organization
to administer their common affairs, the combination became par
excellence the Hansa.

As the league finally emerged in the fourteenth century, it in-
cluded all the larger imperial towns situated on rivers flowing Extent
into the Baltic or the North Sea, together with Danzig, Konigs- or-
berg, Riga, Reval, Dorpat, and other new foundations in Prussia,

Livonia, and Esthonia. It maintained factories — ^permanent trad-
ing establishments, with warehouses and docks — at Novgorod,

Bruges, Bergen, and London, in each of which places it enjoyed
a virtually exclusive trade in Baltic products. Such a league was
the more necessary for the merchants of Germany because the
collapse of the monarchy had left them without an official pro-
tector, and, except by cooperative enterprise among the older
centers, the maintenance of isolated settlements in the wilds be-

See above, pp. 348, 352,

See above, p. 405.

586 ]^IEDI^VAL HISTORY

yond the Vistula would have been quite impossible. The Hansa,
however, was not a political, much less a national, organization.
Held together solely by mercantile interest, it had no formal
constitution, no common seal, no official head, and no capital.
Its only organ of government was a congress which met at a con-
venient place whenever the need arose for extraordinary measures.
On such occasions Liibeck, by virtue of commercial preeminence,
was normally deputed to speak for the confederation and so came
to be generally regarded as its chief. Cologne ranked second and
was followed, in no fixed order, by Hamburg, Bremen, and
Wisbj^ We sometimes hear of a Hanseatic congress represent-
ing well over fifty towns, but the lesser communities rarely
bothered to send deputies and no list of members was ever
published.

The Hansa, therefore, was merely what it pretended to be —
a trading association for mutual benefit. The only penalty which
it could inflict on a rebellious member was exclusion from the
monopolies controlled by the league : the herring fisheries of the
Danish Sound, the export of fur from Russia, the import of
northern products into Flanders, and the like. Conversely, its
power to maintain such privileges abroad lay in its ability to
withhold shipping from a recalcitrant port. It was by an embargo
on all trade with the Baltic that Bruges in 1307 and Novgorod in
1392 were forced to submit to its terms. Normally the same
weapons sufficed to maintain favorable relations with foreign
princes. If, for example, the king of Norw'ay broke with the
Hansa, the local trade in codfish would be ruined and he would
at once lose a large fraction of his cash income. So Edward I
of England was willing, in return for increased tolls from the
Hanseatic merchants, to grant them enhanced liberties in the
Steelyard, their factory at London. The Hansa encountered for-
midable opposition in only one direction — from the reinvigorated
kingdom of Denmark.

After the days of Canute the Great,^® the Scandinavian coun-
The Scan- tries ceased to play a leading part in European affairs for over
dinavian two hundred years. As if exhausted by the outpouring of their
kingdoms ablest men in the viking age, they fell back into the relative
obscurity of a peaceful existence, broken only by minor wars over
the succession to their respective thrones. To the historian of

“ See above, pp. 2S2 L

CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE 587

Scandinavia the twelfth and thirteenth centuries are chiefly inter-
esting because they finally established throughout the north the
more familiar institutions of France and Germany: the church
with its Latin education; feudalism with all its military, social,
and legal implications; town life with its gilds and other bour-
geois customs ; new standards in royal administration, new styles
in architecture, new modes of literary expression, and other inno-
vations. Meanwhile the three kingdoms of Norway, Sweden,
and Denmark kept without noteworthy change the frontiers that
had been established in the earlier period. Norvray occupied the
Atlantic side of the Scandinavian peninsula; Sweden the Baltic
side, except that the southernmost tip, Scania (or Skaania), be-
longed to Denmark.

This was a position of great economic and political importance,
for it contained the headquarters of the herring trade that the Waldemar
Hansa sought to monopolize, and it, together with the adjacent ^

islands, gave the holder control of the straits. From time to
time in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the more energetic
kings of Denmark had asserted their sovereignty not only over
Scania, but also over Holstein, the shores of Mecklenburg, and-
parts of Esthonia. As the Hansa took form, however, the Dan-
ish claims on the southern Baltic were lost to German princes and
to the Teutonic Knights, Scania was taken by the Swedes, and
Denmark itself was threatened with dissolution. Then, in 1340,
the crown was inherited by the statesmanlike Waldemar IV,
who at once set out to restore the monarchy. After twenty years
of painstaking effort, he had so far succeeded that he found it
possible to attempt the recovery of Scania. Defying the incom-
petent Magnus, king of both Sweden and Norway, he seized
the coveted province and followed this triumph by sending an
expedition to Gothland, where the town of Wisby was captured
and sacked.

Although Waldemar’s act was ostensibly directed against the
Swedes, Liibeck and its associates could not fail to perceive that War with
he was reviving the old Danish ambition to dominate the Baltic, ’^he Hansa
So the Hansa took the unprecedented step of going to war as the ^
ally of Magnus. But Waldemar drove the confederate fleet out
of the Sound and bought off his other enemies by arranging a
marriage between his daughter Margaret and the son of Magnus.

588 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Temporarily powerless, the Hansa signed humiliating peace, only,
in the face of absolute ruin, to decide on more heroic measures.
In 1367 a great congress at Cologne, -said to represent no less
than seventy-seven towns, voted to build up a new anti-Danish
coalition and to prepare for immediate war. The result was
that, in the following 3'ear, the Hanseatic forces took Copenhagen
b}r surprise, occupied Scania, and forced Waldeniar to accept
terms of peace which were eventually made final at Stralsund in
1370. Thereby the league regained uncontested control of the
sea, with free passage of the Sound and free trade throughout
Danish territory. Its commissioners were to have charge of the
herring market in Scania, where they were also to hold four
ro3"al castles until the cost of the war had been defrayed. Finally,
no successor to the kingdom was to be installed without its
consent.

The Peace of Stralsund marked the height of Hanseatic power.
The Hansa which, however, remained principally commercial and naval, for
at its the league soon dropped its pretension to interfere in royal elec-

height tions. Waldemar died in 1375 and was succeeded by his daugh-

ter Margaret, who devoted her long reign of thirty-seven years
to the project of a united Scandinavia. Outliving her husband
and her son, she ultimately succeeded. At Calmar in 1397 the
councils of the three kingdoms agreed to union under IMargaret
and her designated heir — ^an arrangement that was to have last-
ing consequences. Sweden, it is true, soon broke aw-ay from the
combination, but Norway remained under what amounted to
Danish subjection until the nineteenth century. Meanwhile, al-
though the Hansa stubbornly defended its established liberties,
its strength steadily declined. Inevitably the revived monarchies
of Denmark, Poland, and Russia sought to break its economic
tyranny on their coasts, and to the west the decay of Flanders
was accompanied by the development of aggressive trade policies
in Holland, France, Spain and England. The prosperity of the
Hanseatic towns, like that of the Italian republics, had grown
up when the Baltic and the Mediterranean w^ere two isolated
regions of maritime trade. As they came to be joined through
the formation of new Atlantic routes, commercial ascendancy
was shifted to ports along those routes. By the end of the fif-
teenth century the Hansa, like the order of Teutonic Knights,
was an outworn institution, doomed to perish in the changing
environment of the subsequent age.

CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE 589

3. THE GERMAN KINGDOM AND THE RISE OF THE HABSBURGS

After the Interregnum^® the political history of Germany comes
to be mainly that of its component states. Although the early
fourteenth century witnessed several attempts at imperial revival,
none of them had the slightest success, and thenceforth the mon-
archy was frankly taken for what it was w^orth. The kingship
brought honor and distinction, but was valuable chiefly because
it provided the means for dynastic advancement. In this respect
Rudolf of Habsburg set a noteworthy example. Ignoring Italy,
and even coronation as emperor, he devoted his reign to the
establishment of his family in Austria and the adjoining fiefs.
Rudolf, it will be remembered, had originally secured election
through his relative obscurity. On his death in 1291 the electors,
swayed by similar considerations, passed over his son Albert in
favor of Adolf, count of Nassau. The latter, however, was
given only a short time in which to develop an anti-Habsburg
policy, for in 1298 he was slain in battle by Albert of Austria,
who himself secured the crown and reigned for ten years. Then
once more the electors asserted their independence and named
another poor baron of the west. This was Henry, count of Lux-
emburg, a French-speaking country just across the Meuse from
Champagne (see Table VIII).

Henry VIPs first thought, after obtaining general recognition,
was to- better his family fortunes, and the opportunity to do so
now arose in Bohemia. That kingdom occupied an anomalous
position. By origin it was entirely separate from Germany — a
state built up by the Slavic people who call themselves Czechs.^^
Then, like Poland and Hungary, it had been brought within the
sphere of German influence by the great emperors of the eleventh
and twelfth centuries. And while the Polish and Hungarian
kings had subsequently regained their entire sovereignty, the
king of Bohemia had remained an Imperial vassal, holding the
office of cupbearer at the German court and securing recognition
as one of the seven electors.^® Yet, in spite of this feudal rela-
tionship, and in spite of all economic and cultural penetration
from the west, Bohemia was not part of Germany. Rather it

See above, p. 540.

See above, pp. 187, 324.

See below, p. 592.

The

Habsburgs
and their
rivals

Bohemia
and the
house of
Luxem-
burg

590

Louis of
Bavaria

(1314-47)

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

was a kingdom of the Czechs, ruled by a prince whom they elected,
and who, until the opening of the fourteenth century, was also
a Czech.

Ottokar, the king whom Rudolf had deprived of Austria and
other fiefs, was succeeded by a remarkable son, Wenceslas 11.
Inspired by the desire for revenge against the Habsburgs, he not
only secured election as king of Poland in 1300,, but in the fol-
lowing year obtained the throne of Hungary for his son and
namesake. Such aggrandizement on the part of an ancient
enemy could not, of course, be tolerated by Albert of Austria,
and to his joy the premature death of Wenceslas II was imme-
diately folio, wed by the murder of Wenceslas III In 1306. Since
the old royal line by direct male succession had thus come to
an end, Albert seized Bohemia as an escheated honor and gave
it to one of his sons. The consequence of this high-handed
action was a rebellion of the Czechs, in the course of which Albert
was assassinated. So, w'hen Henry Vll came to the throne, he
found conditions in Bohania that naturally suggested interven-
tion for his own benefit. Summarily disposing of a rival who
had earlier been proclaimed by one of the local factions, he sub-
stituted his son, John, whom he married to a granddaughter
of Ottokar. Having thus established the dynasty of Luxemburg
at Prague, Henry wasted the remaining years of his reign in a
vain excursion to Italy. Like so many of his predecessors, he
there secured the imperial crown, quarreled with the papacy,
became involved in a maze of wars, and fell a victim to malaria.
Aside from an immortal tribute by the poet Dante, he had gained
nothing.

Henry’s death in 1313 was the signal for a civil war over the
succession. The electors, it is true, agreed on rejecting the
Luxemburg candidate, John of Bohemia, but their votes were
divided between the heads of two other d3masties : Frederick of
Habsburg, duke of Austria, and Louis of Wittelsbach, duke of
Bavaria. Of these two it was Louis who gained the upper hand,
for Frederick, having been taken prisoner, signed peace and ulti-
mately died in 1330. Louis made use of his victory to engage
in a violent dispute with the papacy — a. war of words that was
rendered memorable by his patronage of the great anti-clerical
writers, William of Ockham and Marsiglio of Padua,“ Other-

V See bdow, pp. 661 f.

CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE 591

wise, despite a Roman expedition, the contest was without result.

As a matter of fact, the cause that lay nearest the king’s heart
was the material improvement of the Wittelsbach house. Fol-
lowing the example of his predecessors, Louis used the imperial
authority to seize, for the benefit of his family, no less than three
great inheritances: first, the margravate of Brandenburg; next,
the county of Tyrol and the attached duchy of Carinthia; and
finally, the county of Holland with its appendant territories. Tem-
porarily the Habsburgs were in no position to protest so arrogant
a display of royal greed, but the Luxemburg party was now
spurred to action. John of Bohemia, preferring wars in France
to the uncongenial society of Prague, was killed at Crecy in
1346.^’^ Accordingly, it was his son Charles who, in that same
year, raised the standard of revolt, and who, on the opportune
death of Louis in 1347, gained universal recognition as king.

Charles IV proved himself to be what Germany most needed
— a moderate, sensible ruler, with a lively appreciation of reali- Charles IV
ties. Having obtained the crown with the support of the pope, (^347-78)
he faithfully carried out the agreement which he had signed in
that connection. To the disgust of the Ghibelline factions, he
steadfastly refused to wage any wars in their interest, merely
paying a brief visit to Rome for the sake of his imperial corona-
tion. By this action, more eloquent than speech, he proclaimed
his renunciation of the Italian ambitions that had brought ruin
and death to the reigning dynasties of his country for the past
four hundred years. With the same clear vision, he took up
the question of the German constitution. To make the kingdom
into a unified state was beyond his power, or that of any re-
former, no matter how patriotic. The fact might as well be
faced, that Germany had disintegrated into a large number of
political fragments and that, unless the process was checked,
conditions would become infinitely worse. Although no conceiv-
able measure could bring the princes into entire harmony, all
would admit that a certain degree of union was desirable. Fur-
thermore, as the head of an ambitious house pitted against for-
midable rivals, Charles felt a personal need of securing from
the wreck of the empire all that could be profitably salvaged.

The result of the emperor’s determination was a series of
enactments adopted by two great diets and finally combined in
an official decree known, from the seal which was attached to it,

See below, p. 606.

592

MEDI/EVAL HISTORY

The

Golden

Bull

(1356)

Bohemian

affairs

as the Golden Bull. This famous document in large part con-
firmed and regulated the method of electing German kings which
had already emerged in practice. Thus it recognized the sacred
number of seven electors: the archbishops of Mainz, Cologne,
and Trier, who acted respectively as the archchancellors of Ger-
many, Italy, and Arles; together with the king of Bohemia, the
count palatine of the Rhine, the duke of Saxony, and the mar-
grave of Brandenburg, who held the offices respectively of chief
cupbearer, grand seneschal, grand marshal, and grand chamber-
lain. Within one month after the death of a king the electors
were to assemble at Frankfort-on-Main and there choose a suc-
cessor by majority vote. And if at the end of thirty days they
had failed to do so, they were to be put on a diet of bread and
water until they had come to a decision. Other articles were in-
serted to prevent all appeals to force either before or after the
election, with the intention of ending the civil wars over the suc-
cession that had been such a curse throughout the previous cen-
turies.

Besides, the Golden Bull contained elaborate provisions to
define and guarantee the regalian privileges held by each of the
seven great princes. The territory of an electorate was declared
an indivisible unit, passing, in the case of the four laymen, by
the rule of primogeniture on the male side of the house only. If
any of these four fiefs became vacant, it should be regranted by
the emperor, saving to the Bohemians their established right of
choosing their own kings. Thus Charles sought to perpetuate
the monarchy by identifying it with the vested interests of a per-
manent electoral college. In this effort he succeeded, for although
the kingship came to lack all estates, revenues, military forces,
legislative powers, and judicial authority, it still persisted. And
with the enforcement of the new official system, the pope lost
all opportunity of reviewing or confirming the action of the elec-
tors. Indeed, by ignoring the papacy altogether, the Golden Bull
encouraged future kings to follow the procedure ordered by a
diet under Louis of Bavaria and assume the imperial title with-
out coronation at Rome. The pope, of course, protested; but
since the emperors no longer asserted any control over Italy, he
had no real cause of complaint.

While trying to solve the fundamental problems of the empire,
Charles of necessity had also to consider the family fortunes. In
this respect, too, his skillful diplomacy achieved a noteworthy

CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE 593

success. Taking advantage of every opportunity that arose,

Charles was able to detach two major principalities from Wittels-
bach control; Brandenburg he kept for his own house; Carinthia
and the Tyrol he wisely awarded to the Habsburgs, thereby in-
ducing them to forget Bohemia. That country John had left to be
governed by the Czech nobles while he sought knightly adventure
abroad. Charles, although he shared his father’s admiration for
French culture, wasted neither time nor money on romantic
excursions in foreign lands. Instead, he devoted his best energies
to the improvement of his Bohemian state, enlarging its fron-
tiers by the incorporation of Silesia and guaranteeing its complete
autonomy under its own laws. Charles, in fact, ruled Bohemia
as a strictly constitutional monarch, for all his reforms, which
touched every phase of the royal administration, were submitted
to the national Estates. And to crown his work, he founded, after
the models of Paris and Bologna, the great University of Prague.

Before he died in 1378, Charles was even able to obtain the
advance election of his eldest' son Wenceslas (Wenzel) to the Sigismund
German throne. Sigismund, his second son, was invested with
Brandenburg and married to a daughter of Louis the Great, king
of Hungary and Poland. This remarkable prince was an Ange-
vin, being the great-great-grandson of the famous Charles of dynasty
Anjou, brother of St. Louis.^® His house, having virtually lost
the kingdom- of Sicily, secured that of Hungary, another fief
of the papacy, when the old line of Magyar kings ended in 1301.

And the new dynasty proved so successful on the Danube that,
in 1370, the Poles chose Louis of Hungary to be their king also.

Dying in 1382, he left his dominions to two daughters. By mar-
rying one of them, Sigismund eventually acquired the Hungarian
throne; the other heiress, accepted as queen by the Poles, was
forced to marry the Lithuanian Jagiello.^® Consequently, as we
have seen, Poland was removed from its western entanglements
and launched on a glorious career to the eastward.

On such relatively insignificant details of family history many
other epoch-making events were to depend. Sigismund, after a
rebellion against him had collapsed, secured possession of Hun-
gary in 1387 and there reigned with notable success for fifty
years. Wenceslas, however, soon proved himself an ignoble
son, gaining fame principally as a drunkard. Before long a

See above, p. 550, and Table II.

See above, p. 584.

594 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

rebellion of the Germans prepared the way for the acquisition
of the imperial throne by Sigismund, who, on his brother’s death,
became king of Bohemia also. How, in the meantime, he had
been led to call the Council of Constance, and how the acts of
that assembly gra\"ely disturbed the peace of his realm, will be
explained in a subsequent chapter. For the moment we are con-
cerned only wdth the fate of the Luxemburg inheritance. Long
before the emperor’s death, Brandenburg had been given, as a
reward for faithful service, to Frederick of Hohenzollern, the
first of the princely line that reigned at Berlin till 1918. There
remained, then, three important territories for Sigismund to
bequeath to his heirs. The county of Luxemburg, through the
marriage of a niece, eventually came into the possession of the
Burgundian dukes.^® But Hungary and Bohemia both passed
to the husband of Sigismund’s only daughter, Albert of Austria,
elected as Albert II of Germany in 1438 (see Table VIII). Thus,
as if by accident, the house of Habsburg attained the dominant
position in central Europe which it was to hold, almost without
interruption, for over three hundred years.

Closely associated with the fortunes of this illustrious family
The origin were those of the people whom we know as the Swiss. Origi-
of the nally the name Schwyz was borne only by a small district adjoin-
Lake Lucerne on the east. On the other side was a similar
district called Unterwalden, and to the south lay that of Uri.
These were the three Forest Cantons, the men of which in 1291
swore a solemn oath to resist all aggression and to provide for
the administration of justice by the natives of the locality. To
explain the origin of their confederation, we do not have to
imagine the persistence in isolated valleys of a primitive liberty.
As a matter of fact, the Swiss mountaineers were not isolated,
for their homes were situated on the great highroad connecting
the St. Gothard pass with the Rhine. From the Italian side they
had long heard tales of victorious communes. To the northward
Freiburg-im-Breisgau^^ had been founded over a century and a
half earlier, and since then its institutions had been extended to
Bern, Fribourg, and other nearby towns. By that time, indeed,
emancipation had become general among the peasantry of all
advanced regions, and many rural communities, "either through

See below, p. 636.

“ See above, p. 355.

596 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

seignorial grant or through forcible usurpation, had acquired
rights of self-government.

In Germany, especially, the increasing disorder that accom-
panied the Interregnum encouraged the growth on all sides of
defensive leagues among the townsmen and the lesser nobility.
The Hansa was only the most successful of various associations
which then took form. An extensive confederation of Rhine
cities grew up during the later thirteenth century, and subse-
quently a similar union acquired great power in Suabia. The
action of the Forest Cantons was therefore not unprecedented;
only the amazing results that ensued made it an event of extraor-
dinary significance. The mountaineers were inspired to take their
famous oath in 1291, not because their condition had become
worse, but because it had improved. For many years they had
objected to the authority exercised throughout their territories
by the house of Habsburg and had appealed to various imperial
grants as justifying their tenure of special privilege. Recently,
with the election of Rudolf, they had come to stand directly under
the monarchy; now that the king was dead, they sought to main-
tain that position — ^like the free cities, to hold their liberties im-
mediately of the empire. Such a claim was naturally resisted by
their Habsburg lords ; when Henry VII acquired the throne, how-
ever, he was quite willing to gain useful allies by granting what
the three cantons desired.

Thus emboldened, the confederates actively supported Louis
Morgarten of Bavaria in^his war with Frederick of Austria and went so far
(1315) 35 |.Q offensive against their own local enemies. The

(1386^ result was that in 1315 the Habsburg prince, vowing to chastise

his rebellious peasants, brought up a formidable army of horse
and foot. But while advancing through the pass at Morgarten,
it was charged from the flank by a force of Swiss pikemen and
driven back with heavy loss. Frederick himself barely escaped
with his life. In celebration of their victory, the mountaineers
at once renewed and strengthened their pact of 1291. And within
the next fifty years they, in one way or another, brought into their
alliance the Habsburg towns of Lucerne and Zurich, the free city
of Bern, and the cantons of Zug and Glarus. The Habsburg
lands, meanwhile, were divided between two branches of the
family (see Table VIII). The territories in south Germany fell
to Leopold of Styria, the head of the younger branch, and when

CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE 597

he tried to enforce his rights, he encountered the hostility of the
Swiss at every turn. Consequently he decided on the reconquest
of their country. It was a fatal step, for in 1386 his invading
army was crushed and he himself was slain at Sempach.

This second victory ended for all time the Habsburg preten-
sions to rule the Swiss. Henceforth the confederacy was as-
sured of virtual independence by its immediate tenure of imperial
liberties. Yet it still remained a loose union devoid of any real
central government. Each associate acted as an autonomous
state, administering its own local affairs according to its own
established custom and acting in concert with the rest only under
pressure of common danger. Now that the Habsburg enemy
was disposed of, the league was soon paralyzed by internal rival-
ries — disputes between the urban centers and the rural districts,
between democratic and aristocratic factions, and between the
fully privileged members and their dependent communities. Hap-
pily for the cause of Swiss nationalism, these explosive tendencies
were eventually overcome, and by the second half of the fifteenth
century the league was again rapidly extending its authority over
surrounding regions. This was the situation when it became
involved in bitter conflict with the powerful dukes of Burgundy,
whose relations with France and Austria will receive detailed
treatment below,

4. THE BALKAN STATES AND THE OTTOMAN TURKS

By the thirteenth century the Balkan peninsula was already
the scene of perpetual strife among a dozen conflicting peoples.
In 1261, when Michael Palaeologus, the ruler of Nicsea, took Con-
stantinople from the Latins, his restoration of the Byzantine
Empire was only nominal.^^ The control of the JEgeaxi, with its
islands and the coasts of the Peloponnesus, was kept by Venice;
the duchy of Athens and the principality of Achaia remained in
the hands of their French conquerors ; and the emperor’s posses-
sion of his other European provinces was disputed by the re-
vived kingdoms of Serbia and Bulgaria.^® The latter had again
become a great power under tsars who dreamed of seizing Con-
stantinople and imposing their authority over the entire Greek
world. But these ambitions never came near fulfillment. The

The Swiss
in the
fifteenth
century

Bulgaria,
Serbia,
and their
neighbors

22 See above, p. 529.
2* See above, p. 526.

598 MEDL^EVAL HISTORY

Bulgars were unable to reach the ^gean by completing the con-
quest of the Maritza Valley. Beyond the Danube they were held
back by the Tartars ; and when the Golden Horde weakened, it
was the Rumanians who preempted the territory and there set
up the principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia. To the west,
meanwhile, stubborn resistance to Bulgarian encroachment was
offered by the Serbs.

This people, the nucleus of the modern Jugo-Slav nation, had
another inveterate enemy in the Hungarian kingdom, which held

the bank of the Danube across* from Belgrade and also, through
the acquisition of Croatia, a strong position on the Adriatic. In
addition, Hungary was seeking to extend its control over the
princes of Bosnia — a project warmly supported by the pope,
whose authority had again been renounced by the Greek and
Slavic churches of the Balkans* On the other hand, Serbia, in
helping the Bosnians and in otherwise opposing the Hungarians,
could always count on an alliance with Venice, which wanted no
powerful rival on the Dalmatian coast. Accordingly, as Bul-
garia and Hungary both declined toward the end of the thir-

CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE 599

teenth century, the Serbs were advantageously placed for the
launching of a major oifensive, and in Stephen Dushan (1331-
55) they found a king of outstanding genius. Equally success-
ful in war and diplomacy, he rapidly pushed his dominion over
the whole of Epirus, Thessaly, and Macedonia, leaving to the
emperor nothing but a fragment of Thrace. For a time it seemed
as if Dushan, who had now assumed the title of tsar, might
even take Constantinople. That project, however, proved to be
beyond his resources, and after his death the Serbiai? Empire
rapidly fell to pieces. Two centuries of political turmoil had
served merely to prepare the peninsula for Turkish occupation.

One result of the great Mongol drive under the successors
of Jenghis Khan had been to destroy the Seljuk sultanate in Asia
Minor. This, however, did not mean that an end had been made
of Turkish domination. On the contrary, the region now came
to include more Turks than ever, for the collapse of the old
political barriers brought to the western lands another wave of
nomadic immigration such as that of the eleventh century.^
And quite naturally the more vigorous elements of the invading
population tended to be drawn to the frontiers of Christendom,
where opportunities for booty and conquest were most promising.
Among the various Turkish tribes which thus appeared along the
imperial border in Anatolia one in particular was to found a
state of tremendous importance for both the Christian and the
Mohammedan worlds. Of its early history virtually nothing is
known; but by the second half of the thirteenth century it had
somehow established itself in the region about Dorylseum, where
the first army of crusaders had won a famous victory. From
that strategic position it carried on systematic raiding into the
adjacent Byzantine territory and finally, under Osman (1299-
1326), it secured the permanent conquest of Brusa. Thus
emerged the remarkable dynasty of the Osmanli or Ottomans,
who were eventually to give their name to the strongest of all
Moslern empires.

Osman’s son, Orkhan, was equally victorious. By the capture
of Nicaea and Nicomedia his Turks came to dominate the south-
ern shore of the Propontus, and before long the utter feebleness
of the Byzantine state resulted in the loss of its entire Asiatic
province. Orkhan now assumed the title of sultan and, as be-

The

emergence
of the
Ottoman
Turks

Orkhan

(1326-59)

*4 See above, p. 327.

6oo MEDIEVAL HISTORY

fitted his enhanced dignity, proceeded to convert what had been
a mere tribal union into a territorial monarchy. Through lack
of contemporary sources, the details of his administration remain
doubtful, but the excellence of his work is amply attested by
its results. To him in particular would seem to be due the or-
ganization of the perfectly disciplined Ottoman army, with its
famous corps of Janissaries, entirely recruited from the subject
Christian population. Meanwhile the Turks had long been intro-
duced to Europe through employment as mercenaries in the
Greek wars ; and finding conditions favorable, they were not slow
to launch projects of their own in that direction. So, in 1356,
the sultan was led to send a raiding expedition across the strait
at Gallipoli. Others followed, and their easy progress deter-
mined Murad, Orkhan’s successor, to undertake the systematic
conquest of the peninsula.

Taking Adrianople in 1361, Murad made it his capital and
Murad I thence directed a series of offensives which the Christians, suf-
(1359-89) fering from chronic disunion, were totally unable to check. First
one and then another of the Slavic principalities was either de-
stroyed or turned into an Ottoman dependency. The subjection
of the Bulgarians brought the sultan’s power to the Danube and
the Black Sea. The overwhelming defeat of the southern Serbs
on the Maritza in 1371 resulted in his conquest of all Mace-
donia. Then, at last, the Christians of the northern Balkans
renounced their local jealousies for the sake of common resistance
to the Moslem, but in 1 389 their cause met irretrievable disaster
on the field of Kossovo. Henceforth tlie northern Serbian king-
dom, reduced to narrow limits, existed only as a vassal state
of the Turks. In the meantime the emperor at Constantinople, to
assure his victory over a Greek rival, had also acknowledged the
sultan’s overlordship and promised to pay him annual tribute.
Thus the Byzantine Empire, contained within the walls of the
capital city, entered upon the period of its final agony. Wholly
isolated by the Turkish conquests on land and by the unceasing
conflict of the Venetians and Genoese on the sea, Constantinople
was clearly doomed. Yet, owing to a series of unforeseen events,
the fatal day was long postponed.

The assassination of Murad by a Serbian patriot at Kossovo
brought to the throne Bayazid I, who was soon faced by a cru-
sading army under the command of Sigismund, the Hungarian

CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE 6oi

king.^® Crushing the invaders at Nicopolis in 1396, Bayazid BayazidJ
reasserted his dominance in the Balkans, obliterated the rem-
nants of the Bulgarian kingdom, subjected Wallachia to his au-
thority, and forced Bosnia to accept Hungarian sovereignty as its
only means of escaping a similar fate. Then the sultan diverted
his principal attention to subjugating the Turkish emirs of Asia
Minor. While he was thus engaged, the Byzantine government,
encouraged by Sigismund’s crusade, turned against him and
sought a Latin alliance. Thereupon Bayazid ordered the sur-
render of Constantinople on pain of its total destruction. And
very likely he would have carried out his threat if at that junc-
ture he had not been compelled to meet a more formidable enemy.

This was Timur, also a Turk and a Mohammedan, but a con-
queror who resembled the Mongol despoilers of the thirteenth
century rather than the more statesmanlike Ottoman sultans.

Rising to power in Turkestan, Timur, in the years following
1380, built up a vast tributary empire that reached from the fron-
tiers of India to those of Syria. By 1402 nomadic hordes were
again menacing Anatolia, and when Bayazid advanced to drive
them out, his army was routed at Angora and he himself was
taken prisoner.

Momentarily it seemed as if the Ottoman power, which was
now further weakened by a war over the succession, would inevi- The
tably succumb, and on all sides the Christians, rather naively, Ottoman
burst into hymns of thanksgiving. Timur, however, chose not recovery
to follow up his western victory, and died in 1405 while preparing
for an expedition to China. Then/ as his empire disintegrated,
the Ottomans, with amazing vigor, restored their state and ad-
vanced to a fresh series of triumphs. This recovery, begun under
JMohamrhed I, was completed under his son, Murad II, who found
many thousands of useful recruits in the fragments of Timur's
invading horde. Thanks to these resources and to the efficiency
of the administrative system which he had inherited, Murad was
able not only to extend his dominion throughout most of Asia
Minor, but also to repel a new western crusade in die Balkans.

It, like its predecessors, was commanded by the Hungarians.

Albert II, the Habsburg heir of Sigismund,®® died after a reign
of less than two years and was theoretically succeeded in Ger-
many, Bohemia, and Hungary by his cousin Frederick. Actually,

25 See above, p. 593.

28 See above, p. 594*

The

defeat of
Haingary

The fall of
Constan-
tinople

(1453)

60:2 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

the latter had little power in any of his kingdoms, being opposed
by strong national parties among the Czechs and the Magyars.
Under these circumstances, Polish influence quickly reasserted
itself in both countries; and although Bohemia proved loyal to
the Habsburg dynasty, in 1440 the Hungarian crown was for-
mally bestowed on Ladislas III, son of the illustrious Jagiello.
The chief mover in this affair was John Hunyadi, governor of a
southern Hungarian province, and he was now given command
of the Turkish war, which was being actively supported by the
papacy. In the years 1441-43 Hunyadi made himself a great
crusading hero by liberating Serbia, restoring Hungarian sov-
ereignty in Wallachia, and driving the Ottoman forces out of
Bulgaria. In 1444 the sultan even agreed to sign a humiliating
peace, but no sooner had Ladislas sworn to the treaty than he
was persuaded by a papal legate to disregard its terms. The re-
sult was that, instead of expelling the Turks from Europe, the
Christians were overwhelmed in the decisive battle of Varna.
Ladislas, in the eyes of all Moslems, suffered for his bad faith
by being* numbered among the slain.

In the ensuing campaigns the Turks quickly regained all that
they had lost. Before Murad’s death in 1451 they were engaged
in reducing Bosnia and in extending their raids into soufliern
Greece, where no one of a dozen local princes could effectively
withstand them. Then Constantinople’s long reprieve was
brought to an end by the new sultan, Mohammed II. In 1453,
after a terrific siege of nearly eight weeks’ duration, the great
city fell to the nation which has since held it. The capture was
of obvious importance to the Ottomans, who thereby completed
their conquest of the Byzantine Empire. Otherwise it can hardly
be said to have had great significance in the history of Europe.
The Turks had already been the masters of the Balkans for the
better part of a hundred years. By taking Constantinople they
destroyed little that had not been moribund for much longer than
that. And as will be seen in a later chapter, the time-honored.
assertion that the fall of the capital introduced a new epoch in
western culture has nothing to recommend it. However the
Modern Age may be defined, it did not begin in 1453.

CHAPTER XXV

THE HUNDRED YEARS' WAR

I. THE OPENING OF THE WAR

In 1316, for the first time in three centuries, a French king
died with no son to take his place. Two ^^ears earlier Louis X
had succeeded his father Philip IV, but was now dead, leaving
only an infant daughter, Jeanne. A great council, summoned to
consider the problem, decided that France should have no queen
regnant and that, consequently, the crown should be worn by
Louis's brother Philip. And when the same situation recurred
in 1322, Philip's brother was crowned as Charles IV. Six years
later, however, another question had to be settled: Could a
woman, though incapable of occupying the throne herself, give
a valid title to her son? If so, Edward III of England was the
lawful king of France, being, through his mother Isabelle, the
grandson of Philip IV (see Table VII). Since this solution was
highly undesirable in French eyes, the further rule was now laid
down, that the throne could be inherited only through males — by
virtue of which the. count of Valois, son of Philip IV's brother,
was recognized as Philip VI. The famous principle of succes-
sion, as thus defined, really had nothing to do w’ith the Salic Law ;
that tag was subsequently attached to it by lawyers who falsely
invoked ancient custom to justify an action already taken.

Temporarily, at least, the new settlement encountered no seri-
ous opposition. Jeanne, daughter of Louis X, was in a way
compensated for the loss of the French crown by installation
as queen of Navarre.^ The youthful Edward of England, after
some little hesitation, performed the accustomed homage for his
French fiefs. So Philip VI was left in a position of command-
ing influence. As king of France, he was master of virtually
the entire country, with the exception of four outlying princi-
palities : Guienne, Brittany, Flanders, and Burgundy. These were
important lands, but no one of them appeared strong enough
to resist for long the encroachment of the royal authority. And
outside his realm the king's prestige had never been so great.

The Valois
succession
in France
(1328)

Philip VI
(1328-50)

1 Philip IV had secured Navarre by marriage to the heiress of Champagne;
see above, p. 565.

603

Edward

III

I1327-77)

604 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The pope was now a Frenchman, residing at Avignon, where he
was actually, if not legally, under Capetian protection.^ The
house of Anjou, still enjoying the special favor of the papacy,
ruled over Provence, Naples, and Hungary. That of Luxem-
burg, which was closely attached to the French court, had recently
held the German throne and was now established in Bohemia.^
The whole strip of imperial borderlands lying to the west of the
Alps and the Rhine was under the cultural domination of France,
as were also northern Spain and the British Isles.

Philip of Valois, however, was not the man to make good use
of any opportunity, no matter how favorable. Incurably frivo-
lous, he cared for nothing but display and entertainment, making
his reign a constant series of tournaments and other chivalrous
festivals. His sole concern with the royal government was to
secure funds whereby to satisfy his extravagant tastes. So, with-
out adequate supervision, the kingdom was turned over to the
management, often cruel and rapacious, of the official bureau-
cracy. Yet such maladministration could be readily pardoned
as long as the country in general remained prosperous and at
peace — as had been the case for a century or so. It was only
when war brought an enormous increase of taxes, together with
defeat, invasion, and widespread misery, that the monarchy fell
into disrepute. That he recklessly incurred this series of calami-
ties is sufficient cause for listing Philip VI among the worst of
French kings. His reign, in fact, was fortunate in but one
respect : he was able to purchase the rights of the childless count
of Vienne, popularly known, because of the dolphin in his coat
of arms, as the Dauphin. Dauphine was the first of the great
imperial fiefs to be secured by the Capetians, and thenceforth the
title of its ruler was borne by the king's eldest son.

Meanwhile in England Edward I had been succeeded by the
incompetent Edward II, whose reign of twenty years was chiefly
notable for the decisive victory of the Scots at Bannockburn.'^
Shortly afterwards the king became embroiled in civil war with
his barons, and in 1327 he was finally deposed and replaced by
his young son, Edward III. The latter, taking personal charge
of the government in 1330, soon revealed himself a king super-
ficially like Philip VI — showy, sport-loving, dissolute, and lazy.

2 See below, pp. 657 f.

® See above, p. 590.

^ See above, p. 565,

the hundred YEARS’ WAR 605

Nevertheless, the English king had considerable native ability.

A better diplomat than Philip, Edward was infinitely his superior
as a general. This fact was demonstrated by the brilliant open-
ing of what was to prove a very long and dreary war in France.
Continuing intermittently until the second half of the fifteenth
century, it became known as the Hundred Years’ War. Actually
it was merely the revival, with certain new features, of the an-
cient struggle between the kings of France and their vassals, the
kings of England.®

Guienne remained, as before, the source of chronic disputes
over boundaries and the respective rights of the duke and his Edward's
lord. In Scotland the English sought to overturn Bruce, who, interyen-
of course, continued his alliance with the French. But the pri-
mary cause of trouble was Flanders, where the count was again ^
faced by a rebellion of his cities. No sooner had Philip VI
secured his crown, than he led an army northward. Having de-
feated the communal forces, Philip established in Flanders what
amounted to a royal administration, for the count had little author-
ity except through the king’s support. Such an arrangement
was naturally distasteful to Edward, who proceeded by lavish
expenditure to build up an anti-French coalition throughout the
Low Countries and the Rhinelands. Then in 1336 he directed a
mortal blow at Flemish industry by laying an embargo on the
export of wool. The immediate result was that the weavers of
Ghent forgot their feud with the cloth merchants and set up one
of the latter, Jacob van Artevelde, as dictator of the city. And
as the insurrection spread to the other centers of population,

Artevelde soon became virtual ruler of the county. A commer-
cial peace between England and Flanders was followed by a politi-
cal alliance, according to which the Flemings recognized Edward
III as their lawful sovereign.

Thus the English king momentarily secured from his rival a
valuable territory, together with a fleet which would enable him
to control the sea. It was in this same connection that he revived
his claim to the French throne and quartered his arms with the
lilies of France. In 1328 the title which he asserted had been
worth at least an argument. Ten years later it was valueless,
for in the meantime Jeanne of Navarre had been married to the
count of Evreux and had given birth to a son, later known as

* See above, pp. 374 f., 386 f., 410 f., 549 f., 566 f.

6 o6 MEDL 5 lVAL HISTORY

Charles the Bad (see Table VH). If succession could validly
be held through a woman, it was he who should wear the French
crowm. Edw'ard’s action w^as merely a political gesture in
connection with a war which had already begun. On his side,
Philip retaliated by declaring Guienne forfeit and sending a
fleet to hold the Channel. But in 1340 it was destroyed at Sluys
by the ships of Edward and his Flemish allies, and thenceforth
the English were free to invade France whenever they pleased.
Half a dozen years then passed without any very significant
events. The most that Edward could do was to raid the exposed
countryside witli a few thousand troops. In Brittany, where a
civil war over the succession had recently broken out, he failed
to establish his candidate. And in 1345 he lost control of Flan-
ders when Artevelde was deposed and slain in the course of a
popular insurrection at Ghent.

With the intention of improving his position in the north,
The battle Edw^ard in the following year landed in Normandy with an army
of Crecy of about 10,000 men.® Taking Caen, he crossed the Seine and

(1346) advanced through the defenseless province, plundering and burn-

ing. There he was caught by Philip,, who, after long delay,
finally arrived wdth about twice the English force. Just in time
Edward discovered a ford across the Somme and so was enabled
to prepare an advantageous position at Crecy. Adopting the
tactics perfected by his grandfather, Edward dismounted his cav-
alry and placed them, grouped in three battalions, on the crest of
a hill protected by hedges. On the flank of each battalion he
stationed his archers, equipped with the English long bows, and
along the front the ground was dotted with pits and sharpened
stakes. On the French side nothing was done to counteract these
preparations. Philip's knights charged bravely time and again,
but in the face of the deadly storm of arrows could never reach
the enemy position. And when at last the English men-at-arms
swept down the hill, they carried all before them. Some 1500
nobles were killed, including the king's brother, the count of
Flanders, and John, the famous king-errant of Bohemia.

The immediate result was Edward's capture of Calais, which,
recolonized by his own men, he turned into a useful base for

® Many books, in dealing with the battles of the Hundred Years’ War, con-
tinue to repeat the figures given by contemporary chroniclers. They are always
gross exaggerations. The exact size of the English armies during this period is
known from the official records of the royal government.

THE HUNDRED YEARS’ WAR 607

further operations and a commercial center to rival the Flemish
towns. Otherwise the war reverted to its previous course of
pillaging expeditions and local skirmishes. The command of the
English forces soon passed to the king’s eldest son, Edward, (1356)
called the Black Prince, while Philip VI, in I 350 > succeeded
by his son John. The latter, unhappily for his country, was an-
other gallant gentleman, devoid of all ability either as a statesman
or as a general. After wasting five years in chivalrous gather-
ings and futile negotiations, John finally assembled an army with
which to drive the Black Prince out of Languedoc. The Eng-
lish force of 6500, outnumbered more than two to one, was forced
to fight near Poitiers and the result was another battle of Crecy.

John, thinking that he had mastered the enemy’s tactics, dis-
mounted his knights and sent them in full armor on a series of
frontal charges, uphill and over ground soaked by the rain ! The
ensuing slaughter was terrific. Some 2000 French knights fell
on the field and an equal number were taken prisoner, including
the king himself and his youngest son, Philip.

This catastrophe brought France untold distress. While John
passed a pleasant captivity in England, continuing his round of The free
pleasures in chivalrous company, the royal authority virtually companies
disappeared throughout his kingdom. Pending negotiations for
the ransom of the king, hostilities were suspended by a series of
truces, but to thei country at large they proved as destructive as
war. By this time both combatants had come to rely on bands
of soldiers recruited, equipped, and paid by professional cap-
tains. These free companies, as they were called, contained men
from all over Europe, who served no cause except their own,
hiring themselves out to the most generous employer and chang-
ing sides as best suited their interests. Now that their princi-
pals were at peace, such troops were thrown out of employment,
and since there was no force to prevent them, they naturally
turned to banditry. Capturing a fortified town or castle, they
would make it headquarters for widespread devastation. When
one region was laid waste, they would move into another. Before
long there was hardly a province in France that had not suffered
from their depredations or paid blackmail to escape them.

Meanwhile, too, the country had been visited by the great pesti-
lence known as the Black Death. This, it is now generally agreed. The Black
was an epidemic of bubonic plague — one of many winch in past Death
ages have swept Europe with appalling loss of life. Today plague

The

dauphin
and his
enemies

608 AIEDLEVAL HISTORY

is recognized as a germ disease frequently carried by the fleas
that infest small animals, especially rats. It is very significant
that the course of the Black Death can be traced primarily along
the routes visited by ships and, of course, by their rats. Accord-
ing to contemporary accounts, the pestilence came into Europe
from the orient, being brought from the Crimea to Italy in 1347.
Thence, in the course of the next two years, it spread into Ger-
many, France, Spain, and England; and eventually it ravaged
every part of the continent, as well as the Mediterranean shores
of Asia and Africa. Parts of western Europe were still suffering
from it as late as the battle of Poitiers.

In the absence of reliable statistics, all estimates of mortality
during these years are largely guesswork. Throughout the
crowded quarters of the towns, where sanitation was worst, often
more than half of the inhabitants died, and some villages were
practically wdped out. But within a whole country, such as France
or England, no more than a third of the total population could
have been killed — ^that would be quite sufficient to constitute a
major calamity. The effect on agrarian conditions lias been much
disputed, and something more will be said on this subject in a
later chapter. In the present connection the epidemic is men-
tioned chiefly because, by immeasurably adding to the misery of
the French people, it helped to produce the great political crisis of

1357-58.

2. CHARLES V AND THE RISE OF BURGUNDY

When John went into captivity, he named as his lieutenant in
France the dauphin Charles. The latter, a youth of eighteen,
now found himself placed in a truly desperate situation. With
the monarchy w'holly discredited, he was surrounded by ambitious
enemies against whom he could hope to accomplish very little.
First of all, there were the English, who had extended their oc-
cupation toward Paris and who naturally considered themselves
the masters of the kingdom. Secondly, there was Charles the
Bad of Navarre, who had already earned his nickname by his
intrigues against the Valois house. Having been treacherously
seized and imprisoned by King John, Charles, as soon as he was
again at liberty, posed as a victim of royal t3n-anny. A clever
and unprincipled politician, he sought, by ingratiating himself
with the people and allying with the dauphin’s foes, to advance
his claim to the throne as the grandson of Louis X. In the third

THE HUNDRED YEARS’ WAR 609

place, there was Etienne Marcel, the Parisian prevot des mar-
chandSf i.e., chief of the local gild merchant. Since Paris had
never been allowed a communal organization, the citizens found
in Marcel a sort of unofficial mayor. A wealthy cloth merchant
like Artevelde, he was apparently inspired by the Flemish example.

At any rate, he now made himself dictator of the French capital.

Marcel’s cause was aided by the fact that in 1357 the Estates
were again meeting in Paris. Since* the time of Philip IV, the The
kings had come more and more to rely on subsidies granted by Estates of
large assemblies of clergy, nobility, and bourgeois, called either
for a single province or for a group of them. Under pressure
of the war, this practice had recently tended to be recognized
as a constitutional principle; yet no definite law had ever been
formulated on the subject. Usually, when the king needed money
or troops, he had come to hold his Estates in two divisions, one
for the north and one for the south; and these bodies, through
their control of the revenue, had become increasingly outspoken
in their demands for reform. So in 1356 the Estates of Lan-
guedoc met at Toulouse and those of the north at Paris. The
former agreed to an aid, but it was to be levied by southerners
and spent solely for the defense of their own country. Charles,
being powerless to object, gave his -consent and turned to the
much more difficult problem of handling the Estates at Paris.

This assembly,- meeting in one body, quickly came under the
influence of Etienne Marcel, who had the backing of the Parisian The
populace. No taxes, said the Estates, would be granted until the Grcinde
royal government had been thoroughly purified and reconstituted
at their dictation. Charles was able merely to postpone the ses- (1357)
sion for a year; then in desperation he agreed to the Grande
Ordonnance, which, if it had been permanently enforced, would
have established a strictly limited monarchy. According to its
provisions, the royal council was to be filled with ministers nomi-
nated by the Estates. The latter should meet regularly, whether
called by the king or not; and when they were not in session,
they were to be represented by a standing committee. No tax
could be levied, no military force could be raised, no truce could
be signed, except by authorization of the Estates. They were
to appoint deputies (elm) to collect all subsidies that might be
granted, and generals {genermx) to receive the money, pay the

7 See above, p. 569.

Marcel
and the
Jacquerie

(1358)

610 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

troops, and submit accounts for audit. Other articles set up
agencies to look after the relief of the poor and in other ways to
alleviate the general distress.

From England the king at once declared null and void all acts
of the Estates ; but the latter defied his authority and eventually
that of the dauphin also, when he sought to evade his commit-
ments. Early in 1358 the growing antagonism between Charles
and Marcel led to an open breach. Leaving Paris, the dauphin
appealed to the provinces for aid and collected an army with
which to lay siege to his rebellious capital. On his side, Marcel
formed a close alliance with the king of Navarre and organized
a communal militia with which he dominated the city and under-
took offensive campaigns in the neighborhood. This was the
signal for the outbreak of the famous Jacquerie. The peasants,
popularly known as Jacques, had from the first been the chief
sufferers from the ravages of war and the unrestrained brigandage
that followed the collapse of the royal government. Recently the
countryside of the He de France had been the scene of constant
turmoil in which the .troops of the dauphin, of Navarre, and of
the English had vied with the free companies in making the life
of the people intolerable. The last straw was the appearance of
bailiffs to collect the ransoms of various nobles captured at Poi-
tiers. The peasants, already accustomed to organizing for the
sake of local defense, followed the example of Paris by defying
all superior authority and rising against the discredited aristocracy.

Actually, the insurrection did not prove to be very formidable.
It hardly extended beyond the valley of the Oise and there —
despite the horrid tales of the chroniclers — ^resulted in little. more
than the pillaging of a few chateaux. But temporarily the threat
of a general peasant war induced all factions of the nobility to
make common cause against the rebels. Before a month had
passed, an army commanded by Charles of Navarre had cut to
pieces the main force of the Jacques and mercilessly crushed all
resistance in their villages. Meanwhile Marcel had been impru-
dently led to form a sort of alliance with the insurgents and so to
stimulate a sharp reaction against’ his regime in Paris. It was
said that he was planning to deliver the capital to the English; if
he had any such intention, it was set at naught by a royalist up-
rising in which the dictator lost his life. By the end of the sum-
mer the dauphin had reentered Paris in triumph and was engaged
in the work of political reconstruction.

THE HUNDRED YEARS’ WAR 6ii

^359 John was foolish enough to sign a treaty by which
Edward III, besides securing a huge ransom, was to have in full
sovereignty all the old Angevin territory plus Brittany. This mad
settlement was at once rejected by the dauphin and by a fresh
meeting of the Estates which he summoned for that purpose.
And when Edward invaded France to enforce his rights, Charles
adopted the tactics of stripping the country before the English ad-
vance and retiring behind strong fortifications. Thus the invad-
ing army spent itself in fruitless campaigns, and in 1360 Edward
agreed to the Peace of Calais. Thereby he was to secure little
besides the ancient duchy of Aquitaine, which he was to have
as an independent possession only when, on the receipt of John’s
entire ransom, he renounced his title to the French throne. Mean-
while the royal captive regained his liberty on payment of a first
installment. Unfortunately for the English, John celebrated his
homecoming by resuming his old spendthrift habits. As soon as
money was collected for his ransom, it was squandered in other
ways. So, being unable to keep his plighted word, the chivalrous
king went back to captivity in England, where he died in 1364.

At last Charles could wear the crown of which he had so long
exercised the powers ; and no prince ever deserved the honor more
than he. At the age of twenty-six he already merited the name by
which he was to become knowm — Charles the Wise. In physique
he was not impressive, having neither a handsome face nor a
well-proportioned body. He was not a chivalrous warrior — for
which his subjects should have been very grateful — ^but a states-
man, patient, cautious, and hard-working. By these qualities, in
combination with his virtue, piety, and general refinement, Charles
V set a new standard for the French kingship. Under him it
became apparent to even the humblest peasant that the well-being
of the country depended on the monarchy, rather than the Estates.
And with the support that now rallied to his cause, Charles
achieved a brilliant success in all departments of his activity.

One outstanding feature of the king’s statesmanship was his
ability to pick talented assistants. Among them the most famous
was his constable, Bertrand Du Guesclin, who had begun life as a
poor Breton noble. Chiefly remarkable at first for his extreme
ugliness, Du Guesclin won a European reputation by his exploits
in the local wars. Shortly after the battle of Poitiers he entered
the service of the dauphin, who quickly recognized his military
genius and eventually placed him in charge of a campaign

The Peace
of Calais
(1360)

The char-
acter of
Charles V
(1364-80)

Du Gues-
clia, con-
stable of
France

The

military
reforms of
Charles V

Successful

war

against the
English

612 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

against Charles of Navarre. By a victory won just at the time
of Charles V’s coronation, Du Guesclin forced that troublesome
prince to sue for peace and so removed him as an important
factor from French politics. There remained only the free com-
panies to be got rid of, and with that end in view Du Guesclin
was commissioned by the king to lead them to Spain, where a
civil war had broken out over the throne of Castile. This affair,
which also served to divert the attention of the Black Prince, ruler
of Guienne, dragged on for half a dozen years. Then, in 1370,
Du Guesclin was recalled to be constable of France — ^an honor
which hitherto had been reserved for members of great houses.

Such prejudice Charles brushed aside. Being now ready to
renew the English war, he needed a good commander, and in Du
Guesclin he had one after his own heart. Although the con-
stable had become a legendary hero by feats of knightly prowess,
his military genius lay rather in a sound generalship, quite indif-
ferent to chivalrous traditions. The Peace of Calais had proved
hard to enforce. While scrupulously observing its letter, Charles
took advantage of its many complicated provisions to impose
delay after delay. He had, in fact, no intention of allowing the
treaty to stand a moment longer than was necessary; the object of
his diplomacy w'as merely to gain time for military preparations.
Everywhere throughout the kingdom fortifications were improved
and extended. Paris was encircled by a new wall. In return for
subsidies, seignorial castles were brought under royal control.
The army was thoroughly reformed, being now organized in per-
manent companies of cavalry, infantry, and artillery® — ^all paid
by the king and subject to his discipline. A regular navy was
constituted, to cooperate, whenever that was possible, with the
forces on land.

As soon as conditions seemed favorable, a pretext for war was
not hard to find. First of all, the king’s lordship over Guienne
was reasserted on the ground that the stipulations in the Peace
of Calais had never been fulfilled; then the Black Prince was
ordered to defend various actions before the parlement of Paris,
and when he refused, hostilities began. This time the French
army risked no such battles as Crecy and Poitiers. Adopting the
tactics already used by Charles in 1359, Du Guesclin fought a
purely defensive war. The natural odds had always been against

* See below, p. 629.

THE HUNDRED YEARS’ WAR 613

the English — a relatively small force operating in a foreign coun-
try, where the population was either unreliable or frankly hostile.
Edward III was now in his dotage, maintaining with difficulty an
administration that had lost all credit with his subjects. The
Black Prince, incapacitated by disease, had to abandon to subordi-
nates all command in the field. Under these circumstances, the
war soon became a triumphal procession for the French. By
1380, when Charles V and his great constable both died, the
English remained in possession of only three small territories on
the coast : one about Bordeaux, one about Bayonne, and one in
the north about Calais.

While engaged in reversing the military situation in France,
Charles V was also able to reorganize the government in a way
entirely favorable to his own interests. In order to pay the ran-
som still owing for John’s release, the Estates of the north had
granted the king a considerable revenue for an indefinite period.
This included excise taxes on salt, wines, liquors, and other mer-
chandise, together with a direct tax on certain kinds of property.
Subsequently, when the Estates objected to new imposts which
Charles sought to levy, he agreed to drop them on condition that
the old ones should be made permanent. And with the taxes
the king took over the machinery which had earlier been set up
by the Estates for collecting them. Henceforth the clus and
generaiix were royal officials, and representative assemblies ceased
to be called, except for particular regions, such as Normandy and
Languedoc, which had somehow obtained recognition of their
separate liberties. So emerged, as will be more fully explained
in a later chapter, the fiscal system that was to characterize the
French monarchy until the Revolution of 1789.

Quite unwittingly, in his desire to circumvent the English,
Charles helped to build up a power that was soon to overshadow
the Valois kingdom itself. Since the eleventh century the duchy
of Burgundy had continued its obscure existence under a col-
lateral branch of the Capetian house, ^ which had also secured as
an imperial fief the adjoining county of Burgundy^ or Franche-
Comte. Then, in 1361, the last of the old line died without
heirs, leaving a young widow, Margaret of Flanders, grand-
daughter of the count slain at Crecy. Just at this time John of
France had regained his freedom, and he at once took steps to

Despotic
adminis-
tration
of the
taxes

The new
Burgun-
dian
dynasty

® See above, p. 276.

‘The
union of
Burgundy
and

Flanders

(1384)

614 MEDL-^iVAL HISTORY

provide for the succession to the two Burgundies. The duchy,
as an escheat to the crown, he gave to Philip, the son who had
shared his captivity abroad ; and he prevailed upon the friendly
emperor, Charles IV, to invest the prince wnth Franche-Comte
also. The third prize to be disposed of was the widow Margaret,
for she was heiress of Flanders. Momentarily the contest seemed
won by Edward III, who succeeded in betrothing the lady to one
of his sons. Nevertheless, Charles V, thanks to his influence at
the papal court, was finally able to break off the match and to
substitute his brother Philip. He could not know that what he
considered a handsome diplomatic victory over the English would
result in deadly peril for his own descendants.

On his death in 1380, Charles V left two sons : the elder, a boy
of twelve, succeeded to the throne as Charles VI; the younger,
Louis, was soon to become famous as the duke of Orleans. The
old king had made careful provision for stabilizing the govern-
ment during the minority of his heir, but his plans were upset
by the group known as the Princes of the Lilies. They were the
young king's four uncles, among whom the dominant figure was
Philip of Burgundy. This ambitious duke was now able to devote
the resources of the kingdom to assuring himself possession of
Flanders. There the cities, fearful as always of French sub-
jection, were again in revolt against the aged count. Philip,
commanding a royal army, crushed their forces in 1382, and
on the death of his father-in-law two years later, he formally took
over the county. To overcome the last elements of resistance, he
then solemnly confirmed the established liberties of the inhabitants.

Philipps statesmanlike action was of the utmost significance
for the future of his house. By uniting Flanders with Burgundy,
Charles V had hoped, to the detriment of the English, to bring
the former under French influence. By 1385, it is true, the Eng-
lish cause in Flanders was dead; but the Flemings remained en-
tirely loyal to their ancient traditions of independence, and with
them they now triumphantly carried their new dynasty. Eco-
nomically and politically the Burgundies w’-ere of second-rate im-
portance; it w^as through Flanders that the duke attained front
rank among the rulers of Europe. He was not merely a French
baron; as the holder of Franche-Comte and certain territory on
the Scheldt, he was also a prince of the Holy Roman Empire.
And by arranging a double marriage with the house of Wittels-

THE HUNDRED YEARS’ WAR

615

bach in 1385, Philip made possible an enormous extension of the
family possessions to the north and east.^®

In harmony with his other diplomatic schemes, Philip in 1385
also arranged the marriage of Charles VI to the Wittelsbach
princess, Isabelle of Bavaria, under whose frivolous leadership
life at court became an unbroken round of riotous entertainment.
Charles, however, could not be expected to content himself with
such diversions indefinitely. In 1388 he suddenly dismissed his
uncle of Burgundy and assumed personal control of the govern-
ment, placing in power a group of his father’s ministers whom
the princes contemptuously dubbed the Marmousets (that is to
say, the Monkeys). This change of administration likewise
brought into prominence the king’s younger brother. Talented
and refined, a patron of art and literature, Louis of Orleans was
also a prodigal, luxurious, dissolute, and callously selfish. Now,
as honors and wealth were lavished upon him by his doting
brother, he became, in the eyes of the dissatisfied, an embodiment
of all that w^as evil in the state — the object of especially bitter at-
tacks from the citizens of Paris and the doctors of the University.
So the duke of Burgundy, capitalizing on his rival’s unpopularity,
posed as a champion of liberalism and constitutional reform.

As long as Charles VI was merely a pleasure-loving incompe-
tent, the situation was bad enough; it became infinitely worse
when, in 1392, he suddenly went insane. This first attack, it is
true, was short-lived; but thenceforth the malady constantly re-
curred, and each time it lasted longer. In 1404 Philip of Bur-
gundy was succeeded by his son, John the Fearless — 3. small, ugly
man who, beneath his mean exterior, concealed political ability of
a high order. The appearance on the scene of this ambitious
prince quickly brought what had been a sullen rivalry to a state
of violent feud. While the growing insanity of the king tended
to favor the duke of Burgundy, the duke of Orleans offset that
advantage by ingratiating himself with the queen. It was after
a visit to the apartments of this none too scrupulous lady that,
on a certain evening in 1407, tlie king’s brother was set upon by
a band of armed men and assassinated. John of Burgundy, im-
plicated by the ensuing investigation, eventually confessed that,
under the prompting of Satan, he had instigated the murder.
Fearing reprisals, he left Paris, only to return a little later when

Louis,
Duke of
Orleans

The king’s
insanity
and the
outbreak
of civil
war

See above, p, 591 ; below, p. 636.

6i6 MEDL-EVAL HISTORY

it appeared that his deed had made him a hero in the capital.
And as the Orleanist faction, in default of legal remedy, took up
arms against the Burgundians, the kingdom was soon torn apart
by civil war. To aggravate the French misfortune, the English
now renewed their offensive.

3. PARLIAMENTARY GOVERNMENT IN ENGLAND

Although Edward III was not himself a constructive states-
Edward man, his long reign was one of extreme importance for the devel-

III and opment of parliamentary institutions. In the first place, the

parliament ease-loving disposition led him always to avoid trouble-

some conflicts over privilege; in the second place, his constant
need of money for the war in France compelled him to establish
many precedents of great constitutional significance. Under his
grandfather the parliament had been a variable assembly which
might contain, in addition to the baronage, representatives of the
counties, of the boroughs, and of the lower clergy.^^ Under
Edward III, although royal influence had little to do with it, the
parliament took on the form which it was to keep for the next
four centuries. In order to assert tlieir proper independence of
lay control, the clergy as such ceased to attend, preferring instead
to vote the necessary subsidies in their own peculiar assembly,
styled convocation. Indirectly, however, the church was repre-
sented by its prelates, the bishops and abbots who had been ranked
as barons since the Norman Conquest.

According to Magna Carta, when the king called^ a full meet-
The origin ing of his council, the greater barons were to be summoned by
of the individual letters, the lesser barons by a general announcement
county courts.^® Even then it is probable that only the
more important suitors were required to attend ; the rest, many of
whom were too poor to afford the trip, would be excused from
what was yet an obligation rather than a high honor. At any rate,
by the time of Edward III, the lesser barons had entirely dropped
out — ^with the result that the original parliament had become
what we know as the House of Lords, die members of which
constitute the English peerage. At first the peer owed his rank
to the fact that his direct ancestor had received a personal sum-
mons to parliament. Subsequently dukes, marquises, earls, vis-
counts, and barons all came to be created by royal patent ; but the '

See above, p. 562.
^ See above, p. 558.

THE HUNDRED YEARS’ WAR 617

English law, as contrasted with continental custom, has always
defined nobility as the equivalent of membership in the House of
Lords. The wife, daughters, and younger sons of a peer bear
only courtesy titles. Even the eldest son is not a peer until his
father dies.

To this ancient half of the fourteenth-century parliament was
now added the House of Commons. It came into existence as
the knights of the shire and the burgesses were drawn by their
nearly identical interests to hold joint deliberations. They were
the Commons, not because they were ordinary people, but because
they were deputies of the organized communities, or communes,
of England. As yet no one cared how the members were elected ;
they legally represented the counties and boroughs in that the
latter were bound by their vote. As the Lords spoke for the
nobility, the Commons spoke for the landed gentry and the bour-
geoisie. Politically the older house remained much the more in-
fluential for a long time to come. Nevertheless, as the Commons
came to perfect their own peculiar organization under their
Speaker, they gained increasing power, especially in all matters of
financial administration. And the fact that they represented the
great majority of taxpayers eventually found legal recognition in
the principle that all money bills must originate in the lower house.

Indeed,, from Edward's point of view, the chief function of
parliament was to give him subsidies. Under pressure of the
war, his demands became more and more frequent — ^ situation
which parliament used to good advantage. By holding up all
grant of taxes until the king had redressed their grievances, the
houses secured a series of valuable concessions. Thus it was
definitely established by formal enactment that no direct tax
could be levied without the consent of parliament. The question
of indirect taxes remained somewhat vaguer, but in practice the
king's right was restricted to tunnage and poundage, certain fixed
customs on exports and imports which were voted to him for life.
Furthermore, parliament adopted the plan of making all grants
for specific purposes (that is to say, by appropriation) and of
then exacting a statement of the royal accounts for audit by its
appointees. Beyond that, the parliament as yet failed to make any
very decided progress. Although Lords and Commons frequently
united in petitioning for additional reforms, to which Edward
graciously acceded, his promises were found to be of little prac-
tical worth. It was not until the following century that, by

The origin
of the
House of
Commons

Parlia-
mentaiy
control of
taxation

Contrast

between

England

and

Prance

The

system of
equity

6i8 MEDLWAL HISTORY

compelling the kings to sign bills provided with penalties and
means of enforcement, parliament was able to sharpen the edge
of its authority.

Even in the fourteenth century, however, the advance made in
England toward a regular system of constitutional government
was very remarkable, as contrasted with the failure of the Estates
in France. Beginning with common elements, one state continued
in the direction of limited monarchy; the other became a royal
absolutism. This result was partly accounted for by the fact
tha t England had been a compact and efficiently administered
kingdom when France was only a collection of princely fiefs. In
the latter country representative institutions were still inchoate
when armed invasion produced a crisis that demanded desperate
remedies. The English, to be sure, found the war no unmixed
blessing, but they were spared the worst of the horrors experi-
enced by the French. To such differences of circumstance, rather
than to imaginary factors of racial inheritance, must be attributed
the political divergence of the two peoples. In this same con-
nection it is worth remarking that the famous bicameral system of
England, which has gained so great a following throughout the
world, was the consequence of sheer accident. Its advantages
came to be appreciated long after it had actually emerged.

The reign of Edward III also witnessed the elaboration of
much judicial and administrative machinery, to explain which
would entail a long and technical discussion. Here only one new
development of this sort may be mentioned — ^the equitable juris-
diction of the chancellor. At common law two kinds of remedies
can be secured, damages or restitution of goods. Often, however,
a situation arises when no amount of money can possibly com-
pensate for a threatened injury. What is then needed is an
order commanding some one to do or not to do something, i.e., an
injunction. In cases of this sort, during tlie early period, the
aggrieved party sent a petition to the king, appealing for relief
on the ground that justice could not be obtained in the ordinary
courts. Such petitions came to be turned over to the chancellor,
the chief judicial officer of the crown, and in course of time he
developed a special court known as chancery, where one might
seek remedial measures of an extraordinary character. The
law which he enforced was known as equity. Eventually it too
came to follow certain fixed precedents, but it is still sharply dis-
tinguished from the older system in that it provides injunctions

THE HUNDRED YEARS’ WAR 619

and otherwise protects rights that the common law failed to
recognize.

EflForts have been made to prove that Edward III was inspired
by a wise foresight in economic matters, and it is true that his The
government showed sporadic interest in the development of a na- growth of
tive woolen industry and of an English mercantile marine. For
example, Edward established colonies of Flemish weavers in some
of the boroughs and, at one time or another, he tried to bring the
exporters of wool into a single organization, with their dealings
concentrated in a particular town called the staple. If, however,
he had any definite economic policy, it was constantly interfered
with for the sake of additional taxes or of some temporary diplo-
matic advantage in Flanders, and the gains that he effected were
more than offset by the prolongation of the war in France. Its
net result, in spite of a few glorious battles, was a loss of terri-
tory. The cost was terrific, and although the English escaped
invasion and brigandage, they were not spared by the Black
Death. Toward the end of the reign there was increasing agita-
tion against the corruption of the court and the evil counselors
who systematically looted the treasury. As long as the crown
prince lived, there was prospect of an improved administration;
but he died prematurely in 1376, leaving as heir to the throne a
nine-year-old boy.

Richard II, who became king in the following year, was thus
too young to effect any change in the situation. The same min- Richard II
isters remained in powder, largely .controlled, as before, by the
most prominent of the royal uncles, John of Gaunt, duke of Revolt of
Lancaster. Although, as a^ matter of fact, he was no worse than - 1381
most contemporary politicians, Ije assuredly was not the man to
carry out the reforms demanded by public opinion. The result
was a mounting discontent with the government, which, as always
happens, was blamed for everything that people disliked. The
peasantry had long-standing grievances against the landed aris-
tocracy.^^ The decay of the gild system in the towns and the
growth of capitalistic organizations in the major industries led to
bitter complaints on the part of the artisan population.^^ The
prevalent anarchy in the church stimulated fierce attacks upon
many of the greater ecclesiastics, and a number of clergymen even

« See below, p. 631.

See below, pp. 649 f.

The revo-
lution of

1399

620 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

turned to preaching subversive doctrines throughout the country-
side.^^ Under such unfortunate circumstances, the men who acted
in the name of Richard II now adopted a peculiarly stupid method
of raising money for the miserable French war. This was a poll
tax, supposed to be assessed on a sliding scale, but so administered
that in the poorest districts the average inhabitant had to pay more
than many of the rich in other districts.

After widespread opposition, an attempt to enforce collection
of the tax in the spring of 1381 led to the outbreak of rioting, and
within a short time the government was faced by a serious insur-
rection. Although there were risings in various parts of the
country, the two main centers of disturbance were Essex and
Kent. In the former the insurgents were chiefly peasants, in the
latter artisans and other discontented townsmen. After local
depredations had proved that they had little to fear, organized
forces from the two regions advanced toward London. On June
13, through the aid of sympathizers inside the walls, they were
admitted to the city, which for over twenty-four hours was the
scene of unrestrained pillage and burning. On the following day,
while the young king was holding a conference with the Essexmen
and granting them charters of emancipation, the more violent of
the rioters broke into the Tower. Two hated ministers — one of
them the archbishop of Canterbury — ^were slain, and throughout
the capital many other persons, for one reason or another, fell
victims to the popular fury. Then, on June 15, Richard bravely
met the Kentishmen and, after their leader had been killed, per-
suaded them to disperse.

Thus, except for isolated disturbances in the counties, the revolt
of 1381 came to an end. Its significance in connection with lit-
erature and the decay of serfdom will be considered in the fol-
lowing chapters. As far as the political situation was concerned,
it had few visible results. A general reaction against popular
violence permitted the ‘royal government to reassert its authority
more effectively than ever. The charters that had been issued
to the insurgent peasants were quashed and all disorders through-
out the country were cruelly suppressed. The king, who had
proved himself both brave and intelligent during the crisis, did
not assume personal control of the administration until 1389, and
by that time he had already gained the ill will of a powerful group

See below, p. 669.

621

THE HUNDRED YEARS’ WAR

in parliament by his arrogant ways and his exaltation of the royal
office. Though in many ways a very remarkable man, Richard II
was unable to accomplish much as a practical ruler. For a while
he acted cautiously; then, having built up a strong party at court,
he threw off all restraint. The leaders of the baronial opposition
were imprisoned, executed for treason, or banished from the
kingdom. In 1398 an intimidated parliament voted the king what
amounted to dictatorial powers and for a time it seemed as if
Richard, like Charles V, might succeed in establishing an abso-
lute monarchy.

Such a project was ruined by the king’s senseless tyranny,
which quickly destroyed whatever popularity he had thus far re-
tained. By seizing the Lancastrian estates when John of Gaunt
died in 1399, Richard gave all malcontents a natural leader in
the duke’s son, Henry. Through a combination of force and
trickery the latter gained possession of the king and forced him
to sign an abdication. This was accepted by the newly summoned
parliament which, passing over the claims of the six-year-old
earl of March, gave the crown to Lancaster. Richard, not long
afterwards, was murdered in prison. This political revolution
had important consequences. Henry IV, lacking a good heredi-
tary title to the throne, naturally sought in every way to assure
the enthusiastic support of parliament. Its privileges, its control
of taxation, its legislative authority, even its right to dictate ap-
pointments to the royal council, were all confirmed and extended
during the Lancastrian regime. By such means, as well as by
effectively suppressing a series of insurrections, Henry IV was
able to leave to his son in 1413 a kingdom well satisfied with the
new dynasty.

The young man of twenty-five who thus succeeded as Henry V,
aside from the continuance of his father’s successful policy, had Henry V
only one ambition— that of military glory. The war which had (1413-22)
languished for so many years should be revived ; the just claims
of the English to their ancient holdings on the continent should be
enforced, and thereby an added splendor given to the house of
Lancaster. In France, assuredly, there was little prospect of
effective resistance to such an aggressive move. So in 1415
Henry took an army across the Channel and landed in Normandy,
to repeat his grandfather’s exploits of 1346-

le Grandson of John of Gaunt’s elder brother; see Table III, and below, p. 646^.

622

medi;eVx\l history

Armagnaxs
VS, Bur-
gundians

The

battle of
Agincourt

(141s)

4. JEANNE d'aEC AND THE CLOSE OF THE WAR

By the time of Henry V’s accession, all France had taken sides
in the civil war. As the son of the murdered duke was still young
and inexperienced, the leadership of the Orleanists fell to his
father-in-law, the count of Armagnac, whose name was thence-
forth attached to the faction. With him were arrayed in general
the nobility of the south. The north, on the other hand, was
strongly Burgundian, as were also the city of Paris and the Uni-
versity. John the Fearless, by his possession of the insane king,
was the actual head of the royal administration. Yielding to
popular clamor for reform, he called a meeting of the Estates in
1413. No one came, however, except Burgundian sympathizers,
and while they were engaged in prolonged deliberation, the im-
patient populace of the capital burst into open revolt. For over
three months Paris was terrorized by organized gangs of rioters,
called Cabochiens after one Simon Caboche, a skinner. While
the Estates drew up a lengthy ordinance, the duke of Burgundy
did nothing to restore order — ^with the result that, before the end
of the year, the city was swept by reaction. The Cabochiens were
crushed, the Burgundians were driven out, the Estates were dis-
solved, and the Armagnacs were placed in control of the gov-
ernment.

This was still the situation when, in 1415, Henry V invaded
Normandy. The duke of Burgundy, protesting his loyalty to the
king, refused all support to an administration that had just pro-
claimed him a public enemy. The Armagnacs, he said, would
have to fight their own battles. Thus it came about that the
campaign against the English was undertaken by a group of
feudal princes to whom all the reforms of Charles V, all the vic-
tories of Du Guesclin, all the bitter experience of the previous
century were as nothing. With incredible folly, a glittering army
of knights proceeded to attack Henry V at Agincourt precisely
as the Black Prince had been attacked at Poitiers. The result was
the same. An English force of about 10,000 repulsed and
slaughtered a host that outnumbered it three to one. In conse-
quence, while Henry advanced to the leisurely occupation of
Normandy, the Armagnac government fell into complete dis-
credit. As the months passed without visible signs of improve-
ment in any direction, the capital became more and more restless.
Finally, in 1418, Parisian once more admitted the

THE HUNDRED YEARS’ WAR 623

Burgundians, who celebrated their restoration to power by a
ruthless massacre of their opponents, including the count of
Armagnac himself. The remnants of the party, with the fifteen-
year-old dauphin, fled to the south.

In 1419 Rouen fell after a brave defense, and Henry V pre-
pared for the reconquest of the other Angevin territories. Actu- The
ally, however, his position was far from secure. As long as the murder of
duke of Burgundy had been in opposition to the French govern-
nient, he had found it advantageous to foster an understanding
with the English. Now that he was again master of Paris, he
had little use for a rival king in Normandy and could well afford
to grant reasonable terms to the defeated Armagnacs. So, while
continuing the tlireat of an English alliance, he opened negotiations
with the dauphin, who had become the nominal chief of the hostile
faction. By September, 1419, preliminaries of peace had been
agreed on, and to provide a final confirmation, it was arranged
that the two principals, accompanied by their retainers, should
meet on the bridge at Montereau. The conference took place at
the stipulated time, but it brought no healing of the feud. In-
stead, mutual distrust led to the exchange of violent words, in the
midst of which the duke was cut dovrn by the Armagnac friends
of the dauphin.

No deed could have been better calculated to bring complete
ruin to France, for the Burgundians immediately threw them- ThePe^
selves into the arras of the English. In May, 1420, the Peace of of Troyes
Troyes was signed between Henry V and Charles VI. Actually,
of course, the treaty was the work of Philip, the new duke of
Burgundy, aided by the shameless queen who, as usual, thought
only of preserving her position at court. The dauphin Charles
was repudiated as^eing no lawful heir; on the death of Charles
VI his throne should go to his “only true son,” Heniy of England,
now married to the princess Catherine. Ratified by a meeting of
Estates and sworn to by the University of Paris, the new settle-
ment was at once put into effect. For a brief interval Henry" V
could regard himself as the ruler of both kingdoms. But at the
age of only thirty-five, he suddenly fell a victim to disease, just
before death also claimed the unfortunate Charles VI. Accord-
ingly, in 1422, the new-born child of Henry and Catherine was
proclaimed as Henry VI of England and Henry II of France.

Momentarily the change of sovereigns hardly affected the po-
litical sittation. The two royal uncles, the dtdces of Gloucester

Charles,
^‘King of
Bourges’^
(1422-29)

624 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

and Bedford were installed as regents, one in England and
the other in France. Bedford proved himself an able soldier.
Under him the English armies, acting in cooperation with
the Burgundians, swept forward, occupying the country north of
the Loire and laying siege to Orleans in 1428. Meanwhile the
dauphin Charles, though a man in years, gave no evidence that
he would ever play a man’s part in the world. From his parents
he had a wretched physical inheritance. Two elder brothers had
died in infancy, and he himself had barely survived a series of
illnesses that left him with a weak, shambling body and a mind
that also seemed likely to give way at any time. As a matter of
fact, Charles VII was later to demonstrate that he was by no
means unintelligent ; his trouble was rather the burden of doubt
and despair that bore him down. From earliest childhood his life
had been spent under a shadow of chronic fear and suspicion,
and more recently the legitimacy of his birth had been denied by
his own mother. It was no wonder that he now remained sunk in
apathy, utterly hopeless and quite indifferent to affairs of state.

Superficially, the fortunes of the dauphin seemed in truth des-
perate. Throughout the north and west of France Henry VI
was recognized as king. Charles remained uncrowned, leading
a miserable existence in the gloomy castle of Chinon and hardly
earning the title. King of Bourges, that was ironically allowed
him by his foes. Yet the balance in his favor was really consid-
erable. In the southeast and center of the country his authority
was unquestioned, for the kingship was a matter of hereditary
right, independent of the coronation ceremony. The i*eace of
Troyes rested not on the military strength of the English, but on
tlie Burgundian hatred of the Armagnacs. Tlie cause of Charles
had been wrecked by the fact that he had identified him.self with
one party to a feud. If he would shake off the tutelage of his
Armagnac ministers and assert the powers inherent in liis office,
he could not fail to gain widespread sympathy. Many important
lords, notably the duke of Brittany, were at most neutral in the
war. The English hold on Paris and the north could not survive
the loss of the Burgundian support. In the face of a national
awakening, Duke Philip might well prefer the desertion of his
allies to the loss of his French fiefs. Yet Charles continued to do
nothing until his proper role had been shown him by an illiterate
peasant girl.

THE HUNDRED YEARS’ WAR 625

In all history there is no more amazing episode than the career
of Jeanne d’Arc. Since she became not only a glorious heroine,
but likewise a martyr and saint of the church, it is necessary in
studying her career to give careful scrutiny to the sources of our
information. For the life of Jeanne down to the time when she
suddenly acquired fame we have, with one exception, no docu-
mentary evidence of any great value. The exception is the testi-
mony given by tl^e Maid herself when she was brought to trial in
1431. Although anti-clerical writers have sought to impugn what
she then told her judges, there is, as will be explained below, no
good reason to doubt her honesty. She was, she said, bom in the
village of Domremy, the daughter of one Jacques Darc^^ and his
wife Isabelle. She was not sure of her age; she thought that she
was about nineteen — ^which would make the date of her birth
about 1411. She had no book-learning, knowing “neitlier A nor
B,” but her mother had taught her to say her prayers, and also
to spin and to sew. In that respect she was very proud of her
skill. She resented being described as a shepherdess ; she had not,
she insisted, tended animals while she was at home.

To these simple facts concerning her early life a few others
of more general significance may be added. She had grown up
since infancy under the direct influence of the civil war. Dom-
remy, on the border of Lorraine, was included within a small cor-
ner of Champagne that remained continuously loyal to the Valois
house. In 1429 it was still being held for-€harles by a detachment
of royal troops stationed at Vaucouleurs under a captain named
Robert de Baudricourt. The villagers, however, had lived in con-
stant dread of Burgundian conquest. On one occasion Jeanne
liad been sent into Lorraine, where she stayed for two weeks
with a friend of the family. Under such circumstances, neither
she nor other peasant girls of her age needed instruction as to
the evils from which the country was suffering. Jeanne knew
how the English, in alliance with the Burgundians, had occupied
royal territory. She had heard the pathetic story of the dauphin
and she longed to see him delivered from his enemies and awarded
lawful coronation. Furthermore, as she grew to adolescence, she,
became increasingly devout, spending hours in prayer and in
mystic contemplation. She thought and dreamed of the blessed

This was the original spelling of the name; it was later changed to d’Arc
when the family was declared noble.

Jeanne
d’Arc at
Domremy

Her
mission
and the
relief of
Orleans

(1429)

626 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

saints — of famous heroines in sacred history and of St. Michael,
the heavenly warrior and patron of the Valois kings.

I was thirteen when I had a voice from God for my help and guid-
ance. The first time that I heard this voice I was very much fright-
ened; it was mid-day, in the sunmier, in my father’s garden.. ..
When I heard it for the third time, I recognized it as the voice of an
angel. It said to me two or three times a week, “You must go into
France. ... Go, raise the siege which is being made before the city
of Orleans. Go to Robert de Baudricourt, captain of Vaucouleurs ; he
will furnish you with an escort.” ... It was St. Michael. I saw him
before my eyes ; he was not alone, but quite surrounded by the angels
of heaven.

So she testified in 1431.^® Did she really hear the voices and see
the angels, or was she suffering from hallucinations ? The histo-
rian has no way of deciding tliis question. He may deduce that
presumably her experiences were purely subjective, for in later
years, as she constantly reported having talked with angels, people
beside her failed to see or hear anything extraordinary. And he
may be certain that the messages were very real to her. Other-
wise, why should she have acted as she did?

Early in 1429 Jeanne went to Baudricourt, who, being per-
suaded of her sacred mission, provided her with a suit of armor
and an escort of six soldiers. With them she made the ten-day
journey through hostile country to Chinon. There, after careful
examination, she finally convinced the suspicious king that she
was divinely sent to aid him. So she obtained from him a force
of troops and in May set out for Orleans, announcing to the Eng-
lish by a most remarkable proclamation that she liad been com-
missioned by Almighty God “to drive them out of the whole
kingdom of France.” In relieving the city, she displayed good
sense by attacking the besiegers from the north, where they had
as yet failed to erect fortifications. Otherwise she needed little
generalship, for the French fervently believed that they were
being led by an angel from heaven, while the English feared her
as a devil from hell. Having driven the enemy in panic from the
intervening territory, the Maid in July brought Charles to Reims,
where he was crowned.

This, in itself, was a marvelous reversal of fortune ; and if the

“ The preceding extxacte are from the documents trandated by T. Douglas
Murray (see below, p, 766).

THE HUNDRED YEARS’ WAR 627

king had shown any nobility of character, his success would have
been much more brilliant. Half a dozen northern French towns
at once opened their gates to the royal forces ; even Paris seemed
on the point of once more changing sides. But Charles listened
to the counsels of his jealous ministers and gave scant support
to the heroic girl who had gained him his crown. While he re-
lapsed into his old mode of life, she made a vain attack on Paris,
in the course of which she was wounded. Charles then signed
a truce with Burgundy and ordered the cessation of hostilities,
but Jeanne with a few devoted foUowers went ahead with the
war anyhow. Finally, in May, 1430, she was captured while
bravely leading a„sortie from the beleaguered city of Compiegne.
Chai'les, to his everlasting discredit, made no offer of ransom;
so the Burgundian captor handed her over to the English, wdio
were only too glad to pay the sum demanded.

The tragic sequel was inevitable. By that time the witchcraft
delusion had taken firm hold on the minds even of the educated.^®
In English eyes Jeanne was unquestionably a witch ; the matter of
her condemnation was merely a detail. At Rouen, in the spring
of 1431, she was placed before a special court of French clergy
headed by the bishop of Beauvais, who had been driven from his
diocese by the royal advance. He and his associates, of course,
gave her no chance of acquittal. In spite of her courageous and
witty defense, the court declared her guilty of heresy. At tlie
reading of the accusation, Jeanne broke down and confessed her
guilt; but later, after being sent back to jail, she reasserted her
unflinching faith in her mission and denounced her confession
as sheer cowardice. As a result, the court had the pleasure of
sentencing her as a relapsed heretic. She was then given over to
the secular government and burned in the public square of Rouen,
May 30, 1431.

The death of Jeanne d’Arc was hailed with delight by the
English and their partisans ; yet by making their pitiful captive a
martyr they did not better their cause. The Maid had announced
to the world that her mission was to drive the invaders out of
the whole kingdom. She had not done so; instead, she .had been
repulsed, wounded, and taken prisoner. Alive, she had not proved
invincible; dead, she became the spiritual embodiment of a pa-
triotic cause. Its progress was slow, but eventually the demand

Her

capture,
trial, and
execution
(1430-31)

The final
victory of
Charles
VII

» See below, pp. 68i f-

628

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

for a national monarchy grew so strong as to overcome even the
inertia of Charles VII. By 1433 the last of his old Armagnac
advisers had disappeared and he was brought under 'the influence
of ministers with a forward-looking policy. Thenceforth his
reign became a series of triumphs. In 1435 Philip of Burgundy,
foreseeing the inevitable failure of the English, sigfned a separate
peace at Arras. Bedford died soon after, and under his incom-
petent successors the English hold on northern France rapidly
weakened. Paris surrendered to Charles in 1436. A truce per-
mitted him to reestablish the military system of his grandfather.
Then, with the renewal of hostilities in 1449, English resistance
collapsed. Despite the lethargy of the king and the exhaustion
of his country, his armies steadily advanced. The reconquest of
Normandy was followed by the invasion of Guienne. The Gas-
cons put up a stubborn fight, but the last of the English strong-
holds, Bordeaux, fell in 1453, and the war was over. Of the
entire kingdom which Henry V had thought to assure to his son,
there remained only Calais.

At last Charles decided that something ought to be done for
Jeanne d’Arc ; it should not be allowed to stand on the record that
so glorious a king had been saved by a witch. Accordingly, by
papal authorization, the case was reopened at Rouen in 1456.
The lengthy process turned into a eulogy for the martyred girl.
All the errors in the previous trial were blamed on the bishop of
Beauvais, now dead, and the judgment was reversed— belated
thanks for the winning of a crown and the reinvigofation of a
kingdom.

CHAPTER XXVI

WESTERN EUROPE IN THE LATER FIFTEENTH

CENTURY

I. THE DECAY OF FEUDALISM

The mediaeval period witnessed the perfection in Europe of
three great mechanical inventions. The mariner's compass has
already been mentioned in the preceding pages ; the printing press
will be discussed below in connection with humanism ; here we are
concerned with the gun and its effect upon warfare in the later
Middle Ages. In spite of all that has been written on the sub-
ject, the origin of gunpowder remains obscure. The explosive
properties of saltpeter mixed with sulphur and charcoal were
known to Roger Bacon, who got at least some of his informa-
tion from Arabic sources.^ Indeed, the oriental world had long
been familiar with various kinds of fireworks, and certain incen-
diary mixtures, notably Greek fire, had often been used in battles
on both land and sea. These latter substances, however, did not
propel themselves; they were hurled by catapults or other siege
engines. There is no evidence that either Bacon or any of his
contemporaries ever saw a cannon. How or when the first one
came to be made we do not know. All that can be affirmed is that
by 1350 the invention had already appeared in several regions of
Europe.

The earliest cannon were constructed by welding iron bars
to form a cylinder, with rings fitted on the outside to give added
strength. Since balls of stone were employed for projectiles, the
tube had to be very large and heavy. It was not provided with
wheels ; so all that could be done with it was to wedge it into place
and leave it there. The usefulness of such a gun, obviously, was
extremely limited. It could not be easily transported, and, aside
from frightening the horses of the enemy, could do little damage
in the field. When placed on fortifications, its recoil tended to
knock them over. By constantly threatening to burst, it might be
more of a danger to its possessors than to any one else. Neverthe-
less, the primitive cannon proved their worth in sieges. If fired

^ See above, pp. 209, 519.

629

The inven-
tion of
cannon

Changes in

itiilitary

tactics

The polit-
ical decay
of the
feudal
aristocracy

630 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

from a distance of a hundred yards or so, they could be counted
on to hit a wall with considerable regularity. And as attackers
gained skill in the use of the clumsy weapons, all the militar}’ ar-
chitecture of the previous age was rendered obsolete." By the end
of the fifteenth century the feudal castle was a vestige of the past ;
its moats had been filled in and it had been turned into a mere
dwelling house. The French word chateau came to designate a
mansion rather than a fortress.

This change naturally enhanced the importance of operations
in the field ; otherwise it was a long time before gunpowder had
any effect upon military tactics. Neither field artillery nor fire-
arms became prominent in battles before the si.xteenth century.
Until then the knight’s armor kept its defensive value, attaining,
indeed, its greatest elaboration just before it went out of use.
First one part of the old link mail and then another had given
way to plates of steel. Now, finally, these plates were cleverly
joined in the complete suit of armor which covered the warrior
from head to toe and made him relatively immune from injury
as long as he was on his horse. Dismounted, he was of little
worth except when he stood on the defensive, and in that position
the wars of the fourteenth century proved that ordinary footmen
armed with long pikes or halberds were just as effective, esi)ecially
when their flanks were protected by archers. The peculiar value
of the latter lay in the fact that their missiles could serve either
to stop an enemy’s charge (as at Crecy) or to prepare for a
charge from one’s own side (as at Falkirk). By the end of the
Hundred Years’ War it had therefore become evident that a first-
class army should include three distinct forces: cavalry for of-
fense, infantry for defense, and bowmen to serve in either ca-
pacity. Besides, a unit of artillery should be available for the
reduction of fortresses. Feudal combat liad yielded to a very
complicated art of war.

Meanwhile, too, the political power of the feudal class had
been seriously undermined. In both France and England the
ancient system of tenures had now become virtually obsolete, for
they had ceased to be of vital importance to the state.* The kings
no longer had to depend on their vassals for revenue, armies,
courts of justice, or other organs of government. The monarchy
was now solidly established on a broader suj^rt than that of

• See above, p. 499.

• See above, p. 563.

WESTERN EUROPE 631

feudal services — could, in fact, afford to dispense with the latter
altogether. This had been true of England since the reign of
Edward I ; of France it was temporarily true under Charles V,
and his regime was restored by Charles VIL In each case the
reform was made possible by tlie improved financial resources of
the crown. A large mercenary army and a permanent royal ad-
ministration in tire hands of expert assistants could not be main-
tained without a relatively large expenditure of cash, and, directly
or indirectly, the bulk of this cash was drawn from trade. The
constitutional developments of the later Middle Ages were pri-
marily due to the economic revolution that had earlier produced
a striking revival of urban life.

While the feudal aristocracy of western Europe was thus yield-
ing preeminence in the state to the encroaching power of the The final
monarchy, it was also losing control over the rural population, l^e^dowa
Even before the Hundred Years’ War the peasantry had made ^janorial
considerable progress,^ which was one cause of the unrest that q^stem
characterized the fourteenth century. As long as the masses had
no prospect of bettering their status, they would submit to an
apparently inevitable fate; but when on all sides they could ob-
serve individuals and communities who had risen out of the old
inferiority, they came to chafe under their own bondage. The
popular discontent was aggravated by certain consequences of the
Black Death. That pestilence, although at the time it seemed
an overwhelming calamity, left the surviving peasants in a very
advantageous situation, for the unprecedented shortage of labor
brought a steep rise both in wages and in the price of agricultural
produce. And when the landlords tried to enforce the old mano-
rial services, their efforts were often met by open resistance.

Besides, there were political grievances which, as we have seen,
helped to produce the Jacquerie in France and the English revolt
of 1381. In a way, perhaps, the ultimate effect of such out-
breaks was to stimulate the movement toward emancipation. The
landed aristocracy might well decide, by wise concessions, to avoid
similar disturbances in the future. The immediate result, how-
ever, was rather a sharp reaction that left the insurgents worse off
than before. If the masses eventually secured freedom, it was

* See above, p. 496. It should be reoiembered that the discus^on in the fol-
lomng pages dmls only with the western kingdoms of Europe, To the eastward
aecfdom continued for many wnturies to ooroe.

The

decadent
chivalry
of the
fourteenth
century

632 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

largely due not to insurrection, but to the operation of economic
forces.

Throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the manorial
system continued to weaken. More and more the landlords found
it to their advantage to commute the obligations of their servile
tenants and to use the proceeds for hiring the necessary labor.
The lands which had earlier been cultivated by villeins they now
leased to farmers.® Under tlais regime the typical peasant, aside
from various extraordinary services, became responsible only for
the fixed rent or cens that remained as a burden on the land.
Whenever he pleased, he could sell his holding and go elsewhere.
As his personal dependence on the lord thus came to an end, he
became economically free ; his legal servitude ceased to have any
meaning and was either formally abolished or allowed to be for-
gotten, Both in England and in France the great mass of the
people had secured full liberty by the end of the mediseval period,
and their tenures soon came to enjoy tlie protection of the royal
courts — in the one country as copyhold, in the other as censizv, -
Only a few serfs, in the more backward of the French provinces,
remained to be freed by the Revolution of 1789.

How profoundly the position of the feudal aristocracy in state
and society had been changed since the age of. the crusades is evi-
dent without further comment'. Yet the lower the* noble sank
in actual importance, the more extravagantly he flaunted his pride
of birth and his drivalrous traditions. Although men were prob-
ably no less brutal in the more primitive period, they lived a life
which better comported with their character. They were quite
frank in their coarseness, not having as yet learned to affect a
courtly refinement which they did not possess. Their chivalry
was not a matter of luxurious ostentation, as it was in the four-
teenth century. Kings like Philip VI and Edward III surrounded
themselves with a raffish splendor which ill concealed the general
worthlessness of their character. The reign of Charles V pro-
vided a brief example of wisdom and sobriety in high office, but
it was followed by the frightful relapse under Charles VI, when
all standards of sense and decency seaned to have been destroyed.
And unfortunately for England, the Lancastrian regime was to
end in a similar period of disorder.

• The farm origiaally was the sum of money (firma) paid aa rent for ^ heading
of any soume of income; see above, p. 380. Eventnalty, aa land came to be
farmed out to a farmer, it became known as a farm.

WESTERN EUROPE 633

One of our best sources for the decadent feudalism of the later
Middle Ages is the famous chronicle of Jean Froissart. He Froissart
was bom about 1338 at Valenciennes, a prosperous town belong- and his
ing to the count of Hainaut. Disliking trade, young Jean de- ‘dironide
serted that calling for the church — ^not So much through the im-
pulse of religion as in order to follow a literary career. First
he devoted himself to poeti'y, producing conventional lyrics that
were at least good enough to attract the attention of wealthy
patrons. He thus gained letters of introduction to the English
queen, Philippa of Hainaut, and it was to her that he presented
a rhymed chronicle about some of the recent wars. Thanks to
her appreciation, Froissart received funds for the continuation
of the project. The years following the Peace of Calais he spent
in constant travels, talking to veterans of the previous campaigns
and accumulating a mass of notes on their adventures. After the
death of the queen, the duke of Brabant gave him the parish of
Destines, and there he composed die first 471 chapters of his
prose chronicle. By 1386 he had run out of materials, and so he
undertook a fresh series of journeys, in the course of which he
saw most of the southern French provinces and revisited England.

His account closes with tlie year 1400, about which time he pre-
sumably died.

Otice Froissart was considered a great authority on the Hun-
dred Years’ War; now his gossip is taken more for what it is
worth. In describing the earlier wars, he relied on existing chron-
icles, together with the yarns that he picked up through interviews
with leading participants. Obviously, therefore, Froissart’s nar-
rative down to the Peace of Calais is not in a class with Ville-
hardouin’s memoirs of the Fourth Crusade or Joinville’s biog-
raphy of St. Louis. He gives us nothing beyond the uncritical
repetition of hearsay. The best part of his chronicle is that
written toward the end of the century, in which he reported what
he himself had seen and heard. But even here we must distin-
guish between the author’s opinion and the actuality. Since the
elder Froissart dealt in armorial decorations and other trappings
of the nobility, we may imagine that Jean grew up under the
spell of great names and elegant manners. As a man, he con-
tinued to be dazzled by brilliant exteriors. Of real human char-
acter he seems never to have gained the slightest understanding.

To him a title and a fine suit of dothes made a splendid gentleman.

For the doings of his own bourgeois dass he had nothing but con-

634 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

tempt; for the miseries of the peasantry he had no sympathy.
Pillage and massacre he calmly refers to as the necessary accom-
paniment of some “honorable enterprise” or “noble adventure.”
Men whom we know from other sources to have been debauchees
and cold-blooded murderers parade through his chapters as gallant
heroes. And as far as national feeling was concerned, Froissart
evidently had no suspicion that such a thing could exist. Al-
though he wrote in French, he was rather a Fleming than a
Frenchman. He represents to perfection the feudal tradition,
that war was a matter of personal rivalry — ^a sort of major sport
for princes.

We should not, however, blame Froissart too severely for not
being what he never pretended to be. In his invocation to the
Creator he asks merely for inspiration to persevere in his under-
taking, “that all readers of my work may derive from it pleasure
and instruction, and that I may fall into their good graces.”
Froissart sought to be only a good story-teller, and that he was.
His meandering tales of chivalrous deeds have endeared them-
selves to countless generations; and aside from the su{)erficial
charm of what he tells, his narrative is of great interest to the
student of social conditions in that it so vividly reflects the aristo-
cratic prejudices of the age. Froissart, indeed, would deserve
maition, if for no other reason, because he affords such a strik-
ing contrast with Commines, whose work will be considered im-
mediately below.

2. LOUIS XI AND THE FALL OF BURGUNDY

The illustrious son of Charles VII was born in 1423, at the
Louis as opening of the melancholy period when his father was styled

dauphin King of Bourges. By the time that the royal authority was being

reasserted throughout France, Louis had entered his teens and
was already on bad terms with the king. As dauphin, he allowed
himself to be associated with a feudal rising of the great nobles
in 1440. It was easily put down and Louis was pardoned his
youthful indiscretion ; but seven years later, finding the parental
authority intolerable, he left the court and retired to his own
territory of Dauphine, where for some time he ruled as an inde-
pendent prince. Thus occupied, he was happy and successful,
proving himself an able administrator, especially interested in the
economic development of the country. Charles, glad to be rid of
the restless dauphin, left him to his own devices until he fiatfy

636 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

disobeyed a royal command by allying with Savoy and marrying
the count’s daughter. Then the king sent an army across the
Rhone, and Louis hastily sought refuge with the duke of
Burgundy.

Philip the Good, who succeeded John the Fearless in 1419. was
Philip the the most resplendent prince of western Europe. From his father
Goo'^> he inherited Burgundy, Franche-Comte, Flanders, and Artois,
duke of cousin he secured Brabant and Luxemburg; from an-

the result of his grandfather’s Wittelsbach alliance.®
Holland, Zeeland, Friesland, and Hainaut. In addition, he bought
the county of Namur and installed various relatives in the bish-
oprics of Liege, Utrecht, and Cambrai. Under him, for the first
time since the collapse of Charlemagne’s empire, the region of the
Netherlands was brought into political union. In 1435, as we
have seen, Philip signed the Peace of Arras with Charles VII.
By its terms the king promised to punish the murderers of the late
duke and to found in his honor a monastery at Montereau. Be-
sides — and these were the more practical articles — Charles ceded
to Philip various territories already in Burgundian occupation,
together with the cities and castles of the Somme Valley, which
could be redeemed only by the payment of 400,000 gold crowns.
Philip was freed of all feudal service and his lands were exempted
from all royal taxes.

As the virtually independent ruler of an extensive and pros-
Tfae perous territory, the Burgundian duke lacked but two steps of

accession attaining ultimate success. In the first place, he needed Alsace
and Lorraine to combine in one well-rounded unit the Burgundies
and tlie Low Countries ; in the second place, he coveted the royal
title. Haunted by these ambitions, Philip the Good lived in mag-
nificent state, holding his court normally in one of his northern
cities, which rivaled those of Italy as centers of luxury and artistic
production.'^ Accordingly, when the dauphin fled the parental
wrath, the duke welcomed him as a hostage for the future, think-
ing through him to restore Burgundian predominance in France.
Louis, too, was anxious to have Charles VII’s reign come to an
end, but for a different reason. Finally, in 1461, the news arrived
that the old king was dead. Philip, at the head of a splendid
cavalcade, escorted his protege to Reims, where he presided over
the coronation. Thence he advanced to Paris, expecting to be-

• See above, p. 614.

^ See below, pp. 716 f.

WESTERN EUROPE

637

come actual master of the kingdom. That prospect soon faded,
for Louis XI, having allowed the duke to pay for all the gorgeous
ceremonial of his accession, showed no inclination to share au-
thority with any one. Before the year was out, the disillusioned
Philip was back in his own country.

The new king, meanwhile, Wcis already hard at work on the
task of rebuilding his kingdom — one which he dropped only at The king’s
the moment of his death. When he came to power, he was a character
mature man of thirty-eight. Long ago he had outgrown his
youthful recklessness ; had learned the patience, craft, and perse-
verance which were to characterize his reign and make it a signal
triumph. Physically, Louis XI inherited the feebleness of his
Valois ancestors. He was small and weak. His legs were hardly
strong enough to hold him up. His face was singularly unattrac-
tive — ^pale, almost cadaverous with its sunken eyes, long thin
nose, and prominent bones. To make up for these deficiencies,
his mental equipment was unsurpassed and, in spite of his un-
happy youth, he had received a good education. Clear-sighted,
indefatigable, and relentless, the king knew precisely what he
wanted and, to attain his ends, he willingly sacrificed every other
consideration. Disliking war, he used his army only as a last
resort. Customarily he relied rather on diplomacy, in which he
proved himself a master of consummate skill. All who opposed
his will were to find him a hateful tyrant; even his loyal subjects
might complain of his harsh and grasping administration. Yet
Louis XI was not senselessly cruel. Men who served him faith-
fully received just treatment. And although he was extremely
parsimonious in little ways, he spared no expense when vital issues
were at stake.

Such a king, obviously, was not a paragon of chivalry. He
seemed, in fact, deliberately to make himself as little the gallant
gentleman as possible. Immediately after the funeral of Charles
VII had been concluded with fitting pomp, Louis put aside all
the trappings of royalty and thenceforth appeared in a cheap
traveling costume — a long coat of fustian and a wide-brimmed
pilgrim’s hat, decorated with small pewter figures of the Virgin
and the saints. On appropriate occasions one of these would be
removed for the sake of a short prayer ; then it would be clapped
back into place. For the king was superficially very pious, attend-
ing mass every day and by other conventional acts always seeking
the aid of heaven in his entei^rises, both honest and dishonest.

Charles
the Rash,
duke of
Burgundy
(1467-77)

Commines
and his
memoirs

638 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Normally liis days were spent in constant journeys about his king-
dom, in every corner of which he took a proprietary interest. He
detested all ostentation, moving about with a few mean-looking
servants, refusing all entertainment, and stopping at a public inn
or with some local merchant His bourgeois tastes and sympa-
thies were shown in many other ways. The towns, in return for
heavy taxes, received his especial protection and encouragement.
The feudal class he jealously kept from all power in the state.
As ministers he chose only men who owed ever3’thing to his
patronage. For confidential agents he often preferred low-born
rascals, like his notorious barber, Olivier le Daim — sometimes
even convicts let out of jail for that particular purpose.

As Philip the Good was now too old to engage in active re-
prisals against the faithless king, tliat task devolved upon his son
Charles, known as the count of Charolais until his inheritance of
the ducal crown in 1467. The young prince was a dashing figure.
Strong, athletic, handsome, and likable, he was not only a brave
knight but an able and intelligent ruler. Though living in great
magnificence, he was sober, chaste, and sincerely religious. The
one fatal flaw in his character was indicated by his nickname,
Charles the Rash {le TSmeraire). Goaded by ambition, he was
never satisfied with a moderate program of achievement. Instead,
he recklessly threw himself into a series of grandiose projects,
refusing in his pride ever to retreat before superior strength or
ever to heed the advice of the cautious. The contrast between the
two great antagonists, Charles of Burgundy and Louis of France,
was therefore a striking one, which gave to their struggle a cer-
tain q)ic character — ^made it an apt theme for the political philoso-
pher. Fortunately one was at hand to do it justice.

Philippe de Commines was born in 1447 at the castle from
which he took his name. His father was a Flemish nobleman
of high standing in the Burgundian service. Philip the Good, in
fact, had stood godfather to the boy, and as the latter was early
left an orphan, the duke brought him up at court and eventually
named him as squire to the young count of Charolais. Under
Charles the Rash, Commines rose to be councilor and chamber-
lain, fighting in tlie early campaigns against Louis XI and acting
as one of the duke’s most trusted advisers. In 1468 he met the
king,® who four years later prevailed on him to abandon his posi-
tion with Charles and to accept one of equal rank in France.

• This was dttring Louis XFs visit at Pdroime; see bdow, p. 640,

WESTERN EUROPE ‘ ^639

Perhaps Commines had already sensed the fact that sooner or
later the Burgundian cause was doomed to fail ; at any rate, he
served Louis faithfully and in return enjoyed the king’s unbroken
confidence. In the following reign Commines lost his honors at
court and so came to devote his last years to the writing of his
memoirs, the finest historical composition in Europe since the
decay of ancient culture.

In sharp contrast to Froissart, Commines was never satisfied
with the superficial. The comings and goings of men, their pub-
lic acts and declarations, were in themselves, he felt, of subordi-
nate interest; what fascinated him was the interplay of motives
behind the scenes. He saw in war and politics a game played by
statesmen. Which were the best moves ? Why were certain ones
decisive? How did they come to be taken? Specifically, what
were the qualities of Louis XI which allowed him to win the
victory over an apparently superior adversary? The preoccupa-
tion of Commines with statecraft was typical of an age when
feudalism had given way to what we know as international rela-
tions. By recogTiiizing the truth that in such matters the precepts
of religion and ethics were without force, Commines revealed an
attitude similar to that which was to be more frankly expressed
by Machiavelli. But the earlier writer owed nothing to the hu-
manism of Italy. His mental horizon was that of a fifteenth-
century Frenchman who carried on the traditions of Villehardouin
by reporting what he himself had observed. His book is a model
of scrupulous honesty and penetrating thought — ^not an amusing
string of anecdotes, but an objective study of human character
and accomplishment.

Louis inaugurated his reign by redeeming the Somme Valley ♦
for the amount stipulated in the Peace of Arras ; then, almost at The
once, he had to give it back. In 1465 the great nobles, ,tliinking League of
the occasion favorable for checking the king’s autocratic ambi-
tions, joined the duke of Burgundy in a coalition which they gran- (146^)
diloquently styled the League of Public .Weal. And they per-
suaded the king’s brother Charles, duke of Berry, to accept the
nominal leadership. Louis, forced to retire behind the walls of
Paris, found it necessary to submit. So he granted all that was
asked. Burgundy retained the Somme Valley without repaying
the money, the king’s brother secured Normandy in place of
Berry, and the rest of the leaguers also received suitable awards.

Very conva^iently for the king, and not without his <^courage-

640 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

ment, the bourgeois of Liege now rebelled against their bishop,
and while this affair was diverting the attention of the Bur-
gundians, Louis by a combination of bribes and threats broke up
the League of Public Weal. The king’s brother was embroiled in
a war with his one-time ally, the duke of Brittany, and, to save
him, Normandy was restored to royal control. A meeting of
Estates justified the action by declaring the duchy inalienable from
the crown.

Meanwhile, in 1467, Charles the Rash formally succeeded his
The father in Burgundy and by the next year was again directing his

interview efforts against France. Threatened by another feudal coalition,
atP^roime Lgyjg decided on a personal interview with the netv duke and
so, relying on a safe-conduct, went to Peronne with only a small
escort in October, 1468, Two days were spent in futile negotia-
tion; then fugitives suddenly arrived from Liege, reporting that
the bishop had been murdered in the course of a fresh insurrec-
tion under the auspices of French agents. Charles, raging with
anger, imprisoned the king and for many hours debated whether
or not to put him to death. Commines tells us how he used his
influence to prevent an irreparable tragedy and how Charles finally
dictated a treaty, to which Louis swore on the holiest relics that
could be found. He would in person lead an army to punish the
rebels ; he would compensate his brother with the county of Cham-
pagne; and he guaranteed that in future the Burgundian lands
should enjoy complete independence of the royal courts.

Part of this agreement Louis at once had to carry out. He
accompanied Charles to Liege, which was taken and burned — an
event of which Commines gives us an eyewitness account. Hu-
miliated, but well content with his bargain, the king then returned
to Paris, where he at once resumed his old tactics. His brother —
who, it may readily be seen, was no intellectual giant — was per-
suaded to take Guienne in place of Champagne, and so was re-
moved from the Burgundian neighborhood. Various conspirators
were bought off; others were jailed. A meeting of nobles, clergy,
and royal officials declared the Peace of Peronne, as well as the
previous treaty, null and void. Following the.se preliminaries,
Louis in 1471 suddenly took an army into Picardy and seized
the principal positions on the Somme ; and although Charles swore
vengeance, he was able to accomplish little against the devious
royal diplomacy. The duke of Brittany was defeated and forced

WESTERN EUROPE 641

to sign peace. The count of Armagnac was killed in battle. The
count of Alen^on was condemned for treason and saved from the
scaffold only by abject submission. The king’s brother conven-
iently died.

Meanwhile, toward the end of 1472, Charles had signed a truce
with Louis which was now allowed to run on indefinitely. The
reason was that the duke had become involved in far-reaching
projects that led him in the other direction. Having completed
his control of the low Countries by securing Gelderland, he ad-
vanced upon Alsace, where the rights of the local princes were
either purchased or usurped. In 1473 fhe climax came with a
treaty forced on the duke of Lorraine, by which the latter country
was also brought under Burgundian occupation. With the virtual
restoration of the ancient Lotharingia, Charles lacked only a
suitable title ; so he made what seemed a very handsome offer to
the emperor, Frederick III.® Maximilian, the son of the latter,
was to be married to Mary, the daughter and heiress of Charles,
who was to be elected king of the Romans. The Habsburg, how-
ever, was suspicious, and his reluctance was naturally encouraged
by Louis XI, who finally had the satisfaction of seeing the scheme
fail. By this time, too, French diplomacy was steadily gaining the
advantage in a dozen other quarters — ^in England, in Italy, in the
Rhinelands, and wherever else there was smoldering opposition to
the Burgundian aggrandizement.

The king’s foremost success was among the Swiss. Having
gained their independence through the paralysis of the royal
authority in Germany, they had no liking for the new and power-
ful monarchy that was taking form on their western border. In
1474, on the assurance of a Frendi subsidy, they declared war on
Burgundy in alliance with the duke of Lorraine and various
Alsatian rebels. By 1476 Charles had crushed the revolts, con-
quered Lorraine, and prepared an offensive into Switzerland.
But in March his army was sharply repulsed at Granson, and when,
in June of the same year, he dispatched a greater force, it was
totally defeated by the mountaineers at Morat. The result of
these astonishing battles was a fresh rising in Lorraine. Charles,
furious, laid siege to Nancy, and the Swiss, heading a German
coalition, came to its relief. The rash duke, though twice beaten
and now outnumbered two to one, insisted on attacking. Again

• See above, p. 6oi ; also Tables VII, VIII.

The Bur-
gundian
occupation
of Alsace
and

Lorraine

(1473)

The Swiss
victories:
Death of
Charles
the Rash
(1477)

642 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

his cavalry broke and scattered before the unshaken masses of the
confederate pikemen, and this time Charles himself remained on
the stricken field (January 5, 1477)-

The delight of Louis XI and the dismay of certain French
Thetri- grandees when they heard tlie tragic news are graphically de-
umph of scribed by Commines. The emotions were justified, for hence-
^ forth the king was to be undisputed master of his realm. Despite
the fact that Charles left an heiress, Louis proceeded to confiscate
his fiefs as forfeit to the crown. Without difficulty the royal
troops occupied all Picardy, Artois, Burgundy, and Franche-
Comte, although the last was imperial territory. He likewise
sought to take Flanders, but there he overreached himself. The
Flemings rallied to the support of the girl who was herself a
native of their country, and she, in revenge for the royal perfidy,
accepted marriage with -Maximilian of Austria, Thus a Habs-
burg prince was installed as ruler of the Netherlands and claim-
ant to the whole Burgundian heritage — ^an event of prime im-
portance for the future of Europe. Yet Louis was able to arrange
what seemed a very advantageous settlement, for Mary’s sudden
death in 1482 left Maximilian’s position rather precarious and he
was glad to sign peace. While retaining Flanders, he abandoned
the duchy of Burgundy and ceded Franche-Comte and Artois
as dowry with his daughter, now betrothed to the dauphin Charles.
Lorraine and Alsace were restored to their previous status.

Before this affair had been settled, Louis had another windfall.
The extinction of the Angevin house, also descended from a
brother of Charles gave him tlie duchy of Anjou and the
counties of Maine, Bar, and Provence, the two latter of which
lay outside the old French kingdom. By territorial encroachment
and by alliance with the Swiss, now reputed the finest soldiers in
Europe, the king’s influence w'as thus brought to dominate the
imperial borderlands as far north as the Habsburg holdings in
the Low Countries. Aside from Flanders, only one of the great
mediaeval fiefs was still independent of royal control — ^the duchy
of Brittany, which was to be secured for the crown by Anne de
Beaujeu, named by the will of Louis XI. as regent for her young
brother, Charles VIII.

w Louis, second son of King John, had secured not only the duchy of Anjou,
but the other possessions of the earlier Angevin house descended from Louis
VIII: see Tables II, VII.

WESTERN EUROPE

643

3. THE GROWTH OF ABSOLUTISM

At the death of Charles V in 1380 France seemed assured of
a powerful monarchy; it was the unhappy accident of Charles Absolute
Vi’s insanity that was responsible for the civil war and the monarchy
ensuing chaos. Inevitably, as order came to be restored under

Charles VII, he fell back on the precedents of his grandfather’s
reign. And his system, perfected by Louis XI, remained the
basis of the French government until the Revolution of 1789.
The crucial point in this constitutional development was the king’s
acquisition of authority to lay taxes without a formal grant by
central Estates. Thatiks to his fiscal independence, he was able
to maintain a standing army, to legislate by means of decree, and
to change the details of his administration very much as he

644 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

pleased. The royal absolutism gave frequent cause for complaint,
but it had been evolved as a cure for desperate evils in the state
and it continued to have the ardent support of the people as a
whole. There was. in fact, no substitute ; a parliamentary govern-
ment like that of England had no place in a kingdom devoid of
institutional unity. Louis XI called only one general meeting of
Estates, that to support his action in taking Normandy from his
brother ; otherwise he preferred assemblies of selected notables,
which could be counted on to register assent as a mere formality.
The provincial Estates that still existed hardly dared to oppose
his will.

By the latter half of the fifteenth century the king’s right to
Fiscal and certain arbitrary taxes had thus been definitely recognized. They
judicial ^vvere ( i ) the taille, a direct tax paid in general by the non-noble
organiza- classes; (2) the aides, indirect taxes on the sales of various ar-
tides; and (3) the gabelle, a tax on salt. The second and third
were usually farmed out to syndicates which advanced the king
definite sums for the privilege of making the collections. The
first was normally apportioned among fiscal districts called
gencralitcs and elections after the generaitx and ehts who admin-
istered them.^^ There was, however, no uniformity. In some
regions, notably Languedoc and Normandy, the ro5’al tax had
to be voted and assessed by local Estates. So the kingdom was
said to consist of two kinds of provinces : the pays d'etats and the
pays d' election. This distinction, together with a Hundred others
that affected separate persons, classes, communities, and places,
remained to the very end characteristic of the Old Regime in
France.

In the administration of justice there was similar diversity of
practice. The parlement at Paris noraially acted as a supreme
court for all France, but the variation of the law from region to
region made complete centralization impossible. Charles VII had
established a local parlenunt for Languedoc at Toulouse, and
one for Dauphine at Grenoble; Louis XI added one for Guienne
at Bordeaux and one for Burgundy at Dijon. Much the same
functions had already come to be exercised by ancient courts in
Normand)’ and Champagne.^" These tribunals all administered
ordinary law, following established precedents and observing a
regular procedure. Cases of treason and other trials in which

“ See above, pp. 609, 613.

^ See above, p. 567.

WESTERN EUROPE

645

the king took a particular interest he removed for arbitrary judg-
ment before his council. As may be seen from such examples,
the one institution that was common to all France was the
monarchy.

Despite his oppressive taxation and tyrannical ways, Louis XI
deserved well of his country, for he made its interests his own* The re-
The flood of money that he brought into the treasury he spent covery of
not for sumptuous entertainment and vainglorious wars, but for
the defense and consolidation of the state. The standing army Lo^is XI
of his father — organized in regular companies of cavalry, infan-
try, and artillery — ^he increased and improved at heavy expense.

Yet he used it only when he had to, regarding it as a valuable
tool rather than a plaything. Goodly sums were also devoted to
the needs of diplomacy: the subsidies, bribes, and pensions lav-
ished by the king on all Useful allies, and the salaries paid to the
host of agents whom he dispatched all over Europe* That such
expenditure was amply justified by its results has already been
seen. And the growing burden of taxation was more than off-
set by the revived prosperity of the countryside. Thanks to the
king's despotic government, France at large remained at peace*

The destruction of the Burgundian power removed a constant in-
centive to feudal disorders within the kingdom. The subjection
of the nobility, though cruel, proved a blessing to the other classes.

The brigandage of discharged troops, which had once more grown
to alarming proportions under Charles VII, was finally ended.

Wise economic measures stimulated the repopulation of devas-
tated regions and a noteworthy advance in commerce. The re-
stored brilliance of French civilization in the following century
was largely due to the tireless energy of the mean-looking but
masterful Louis XI.

Meanwhile events in England had pursued an opposite course.

The Lancastrian dynasty, which had attained so glorious a height The de-
with the Peace of Troyes, ended amid the horrors of civil war
and massacre. Henry VI grew up to be a virtuous, simple-minded
man, utterly devoid of political ability. Under more favorable Henry VI
circumstances, ruinous consequences of the king's incompetence (1422-61)
might have been avoided through the employment of wise min-
isters* But he was surrounded by ambitious courtiers who
thought only of their own private interests. Among them the
most prominent figures were the king's relatives — a prolific tribe
claiming descent, either legitimate or illegitimate, from the chil-

The out-
break of
civil war
and the
Yorkist
triumph

646 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

dren of Edward III, and intermarried with practically every
baronial house of England. Their quarrels over honors at court,
their rivalries for office in church and state, their local feuds of
one sort or another, came under the feeble administration of
Henry VI to disturb the entire country. The turmoil was en-
hanced by the evil known as livery and maintenance — ^the em-
ployment by great nobles of armed retainers marked by some
distinctive garb. Originating in the hiring of troops to serve in
France, the practice was developed as a means of advancing
family prestige at home, and it rapidly led to general lawlessness.
Thereby the titled chief, like the present-day gangster, could
terrorize a wide region, despoiling his rivals, intimidating courts
and officials, and extorting blackmail to pay his expenses.

The middle of the century brought England an accumulation of
troubles. The French conquered first Normandy and then
Guienne. Political discontent fomented another uprising in Kent,
Jack Cade’s Rebellion, which was not put down until the capital
had once more been subjected to pillage. The king, tainted by
his descent from Charles VI, became intermittently insane and,
as in France, this misfortune helped to precipitate a civil war.
The leader of the anti-Lancastrian party was Richard, duke of
York and, through his mother, heir of the earl of March whose
rights had been passed over in 1399.^® Should the principle of
primogeniture be applied to the succession, he was legally king —
and parliament, which had established the new dynasty, was now
itself paralyzed by factional strife. At first York thought to se-
cure power by the death or incapacity of Henry VI, but the birth
of a son to the latter in 1453 precluded such a possibility. He
thereupon raised the standard of revolt.

Although the war which thus began never involved more than
small bands of noblemen with their retainers, it w'as a very san-
guinarj- affair. Being fought in a violently feudist spirit, it
produced a relatively enormous number of victims, either killed
in battle or murdered in cold blood. Before it was over, the Eng-
lish aristocracy was very nearly exterminated. From the military
point of view, its battles were insignificant, and their political
results may be very briefly summarized. After winning several
engagements, York was killed in 1460. But the cause of his son
Edward was ably championed by the earl of Warwick, who in

“ See above, p. 621, and Table III.

WESTERN EUROPE 647

the next year drove Henry VI into exile and had the Yorkist
prince crowned as Edward IV. Then, when the new king proved
ungrateful, Warwick changed sides, forced Edward to seek
refuge with the duke of Burgundy, and in 1470 reinstated Henry
VI — ^an action that won him the name of the King-Maker.

Again his triumph was short-lived, for in 1471 the Yorkists,
with Burgundian aid, gained two decisive battles, during or after
which Warwick, Henry VI, his son, and the other prominent Lan-
castrians were all slain. For the remainder of his life Edward
IV reigned unmolested.

In this dreary conflict the Yorkists were supported by Bur-
gundy, the Lancastrians — a strange reversal of policy — ^by France. The estab-
Obviously, therefore*, Louis XI was disappointed by the triumph Hshment
of Edward IV. Nevertheless, the failure of his diplomacy in
England had no disastrous consequences. Although Edward, dynasty
on the urging of Charles the Rash, invaded France in 1475,
quickly accepted a cash annuity and signed peace without having
fought a battle. Meanwhile a Lancastrian fugitive named Henry
Tudor had escaped to Brittany. His father was only a Welsh
nobleman; his mother was descended from John of Gaunt, but
through a son whose legitimacy had depended on an act of par-
liament. The fact that an adventurer of such dubious ancestry
could be thought worthy of support shows the state of weakness
to which the English kingdom had fallen. Shortly after the death
of Edward IV in 1483, his two sons were murdered by their uncle
and ‘'protector,’’ who seized the crown asi Richard III. This act
of violence encouraged Tudor to advance his own claim to the
throne. Leaving Brittany, he secured the aid of the French
regent, Anne de Beaujeu, and with a small force landed in Wales
(August, 1485). There he gained other recruits, and before
the month had passed he was fortunate enough to win the battle
of Bosworth Field, in which Richard III was slain.

Parliament, as a matter of course, ratified the judgment ob-
tained by force of arms, but Henry VII assured his title by other
means. First he married Elizabeth of York, daughter of Ed-
ward IV; next he carefully removed from the scene all other
claimants. The result was the unchallenged supremacy of his
dynasty. The fortunes of the illustrious Tudor house lie beyond
the scope of the present study. Only one important fact in this
connection may be briefly stated : under Henry VII the English
monarchy became virtually absolute. A preliminary step toward

The foun-
dation
of the
Spanish
monarchy

648 MEDLEVAL HISTORY

such a conclusion had already been taken. Since the Yorkists
claimed the throne by strict hereditary right, their success in the
civil war brought a sharp reaction away from the parliamentary
system of the Lancastrians. Besides, for the same reasons as had
proved effective in France, public opinion demanded a kingship
powerful enough to restore and maintain order. The Tudors gave
the country what it wanted. Parliament, it is true, did not dis-
appear, but that -was because for over a hundred years it served
merely to register the royal will. Finding it a useful tool, the
king preserved it. And through a process like that adopted by
Louis XI, Henry .VII subordinated the courts of common law
to his own arbitrary justice administered through a branch of
the royal council. As far as actual government was concerned,
England thus became as thoroughgoing a despotism as France.

The third of the great western monarchies at the cloSe of the
fifteenth century was Spain, a much more recent creation. In
previous chapters we have seen how Aragon became an impor-
tant state through union with Catalonia and the conquest of
Moorish territory to the south. At the same time the kingdom
of Castile, finally combined with Leon, had pushed its dominion
to the Mediterranean at Murcia and to the Atlantic at Cadiz.
The Mohammedan authority thus came to be restricted to the little
territory of Granada. On the west coast Portugal maintained
itself as an independent kingdom, and to the north Navarre came
to be ruled by a series of French princes. This was the political
situation at the end *of the thirteenth century, and in general it
continued unchanged for the better part of two hundred years.
Throughout that period Castile was almost continuously disturbed
by wars over the succession to the .throne and played no part in
European affairs. Aragon, on the other hand, remained the domi-
nant power in the western Mediterranean, controlling, either
directly or through branches .of the royal family, the Balearic
Islands, Sardinia, and Sicily. And in the early fifteenth century
the Aragonese added to these possessions the kingdom of Naples, *
successfully wrested from its Angevin claimant.

In the time of Louis XI both Castile and Aragon were once
more torn by civil wars — condition of affairs that was not at
all displeasing to the French king. Thanks to it, he extorted the
cession of two Catalonian provinces, Roussillon and Cerdagne,
bringing his frontier to the crest of the Pyrenees. But he was
taken by surprise in one respect. In 1468 a group of Castilian

WESTERN EUROPE 649

rebels submitted on condition that Isabella, the sister of their
unpopular king, be recognized as heiress to the crown, and in the
following year she married Ferdinand, the prince apparent in
Aragon. Accordingly, the two countries were brought into per-
sonal union in 1479, thenceforth to be inherited as the kingdom
of Spain. Ferdinand, aided by his capable wife, quickly made
himself the most powerful prince of the west. By conquering
Granada and the southern half of Navarre, he extended his rule
over the entire peninsula with the exception of Portugal. And
eventually, by a series of measures similar to those of Charles
VII, Louis XI, and Henry VII, he too was able to lay the founda-
tions of an absolute monarchy. Such in bald outline were the
events that ushered in an age of despots for Europe.

4. THE CITIES AND THE NEW TRADE ROUTES

The fifteenth century brought a number of important political
changes, the total effect of which was to give Europe a certain
new aspect. • Economically, however, there was no such conspicu-
ous transformation. Although the opening of the New World
was destined to have many revolutionary consequences, it was
not itself the result of an economic revolution. Indeed, careful
scrutiny of commercial, industrial, and agrarian conditions during
the hundred years preceding the discovery of America fails to
detect any prominent factors tliat had not been influential for a
long time. The emancipation of the peasantry, for example, was
a continuous process which had begun centuries before and which
reached its culmination at different times in different countries.
As far as the towns were concerned, the social unrest that char-
acterized so many of them in the later Middle Ages was due
to the persistence of old evils, rather tlian to the creation of
new ones.

One chronic source of trouble was the conflict in the greater
industrial centers between the capitalist class of bankers, whole-
salers, and other great merchants on the one side, and the artisan
population on the other. The typical gild system of the medi-
aeval town was really suited only to a small business depending
for its existence on the local market. In such an enterprise the
employee had an opportunity of working his way to the top,
whereas in one organized for export trade he had none. This

Economic
conditions
in the
fifteenth
century

Capital-
istic devel-
opments

w See above, pp. 501 f., 565 f., 605 f.

650 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The
decline
of the
Flemish
communes

The

English,

French,

and

Spanish

towns

situation, as we have seen, was the principal cause of many violent
disturbances in the cities of Flanders and Italy ; and as capitalistic
undertakings on a large scale came to affect other regions, they
also became the scene of a growing turbulence. So the applica-
tion of Flemish methods to cloth-making in England tended to
stimulate an irreconcilable antagonism between the clothiers, who
invested their capital in raw wool, and the wage earners, who
turned it into the finished product. In fact, from the four-
teenth century on, a similar cleavage appeared in many of the
greater crafts, splitting them horizontally into gilds of masters
and gilds of journeymen. The labor problem was to find no solu-
tion in the mediaeval period — or in that to come.

It is, of course, impossible to make absolute statements about
hundreds of cities when each of them normally had a separate
economic and political organization. It may be useful, however,
to mention one or two outstanding facts with regard to particular
regions. The northern Hansa, as has already been explained,
reached its height of prosperity in the early fifteenth century.
Its more important members enjoyed complete autonomy and,
like other free cities of the Holy Roman Empire, had oligarchic
constitutions, being governed by narrow groups of wealthy mer-
chants. So they remained long after the Hansa had been dis-
solved. The Flemish communes, which for over three hundred
years had been the economic leaders of western Europe, rapidly
weakened in the fifteenth century, eventually to yield supremacy
to newer centers, notably Antwerp and Brussels. This decline
was due not so much to the Hundred Years’ War, as to the grad-
ual shifting of trade routes and the introduction of new industrial
methods. In the making of cloth, especially, capitalists learned to
place their looms with men who lived in the country and so to
escape the tyrannical regulations of the gilds. The loss of that
all-important business spelled ruin to Ghent, Bruges, and Ypres.

Another factor that adversely affected the Flemish towns was
the development of woolen manufacture in England, which came
under the Tudors to absorb all local supplies of the raw material.
Even before that, however, increasing quantities of wool had been
diverted from Flanders by the Italian merchants. In the four-
teenth century Venetian fleets had come to make annual voyages
to London by way of Gibraltar and so to open direct trade with
the British Isles, independent of the ancient market at Bruges.
And gradually, under the influence of their example, F.tigljsh

WESTERN EUROPE 651

merchants began to undertake greater expeditions on their own
account. The French towns, meanwhile, had suffered tremen-
dously from the prolonged evils of war and brigandage. But
with the restoration of order under Louis XI, though deprived
of their remaining self-government, they entered upon a new era
of prosperity — especially the Atlantic ports and Lyons, which
became the center of a flourishing silk industry. Except for
Barcelona, none of the Spanish cities attained any great promi-
nence in world trade until the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella
opened before them a glorious prospect of wealth from the New
World. Nor was the epoch-making character of the Portuguese
voyages appreciated before the closing decades of the fifteenth
century.

With the failure of the Holy Roman Empire, the disruption
of the Sicilian kingdom, and the removal of the papacy to Avi- The cities
gnon,^® the history of Italy more than ever became that of the of Italy
cities. The most striking phase of their development was the
brilliant culture which will be sketched in the concluding chapter.
Economically, they merely continued the vigorous life begun in
the earlier age. Politically, they remained true to their ancient
tradition of recognizing no authority except the sovereign will
of each community. Aside from brief visits on the part of a few
German kings and other misguided adventurers, northern Italy
was free of foreign intervention during the fourteenth and fif-
teenth centuries. The Papal States had never had any real unity
and they now ceased to be much more than a collection of au-
tonomous city states and petty seignories. Naples and Sicily to
some degree preserved the appearance of territorial kingdoms, but
both were decadent. The leadership of Italy lay rather with
the republics of Tuscany and the Po Valley.

To present even in brief outline the political history of the
dozen greater states of Italy is here out of the question. With
one or two notable exceptions, each of them was the scene of
continuous strife, which resulted in a bewildering succession of
factional overturns, popular insurrections, tyrannical usurpations,
and the like. Most of this kaleidoscopic change affected only a
few families. Wars were no longer carried on by the mass of
the people, but by condottieri, mercenaries under professional
captains like those who organized free companies for the cam-

“ See the following chapter.

The

Visconti
at Milan
and the
Medici at
Florence

Venice
and Genoa

652 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

paigns in France. Under such circumstances, the average citizen
continued his normal life undisturbed by the feuds of the aristoc-
racy. Besides, in many a city all effective power had been se-
cured by some sort of despot, who ruled until he was overturned
by a revolution or fell before the dagger of a conspirator. Such a
ruler was sometimes a dictator set up by a form of election,
sometimes the descendant of an imperial official, sometimes an
adventurer who obtained power by sheer violence. Many of the
tyrants, in spite of their cruelty and viciousness, gained fame as
patrons of art and letters. Almost invariably they were thor-
oughly unscrupulous, resorting whenever necessary to chicanery
and murder.

For over a hundred years Milan was governed by the Vis-
conti, who rose from comparative obscurity to be imperial vicars
and then dukes, related by marriage to the royal houses of Ger-
many, France, and England. Under their aggressive rule, Milan
became the head of a considerable state, extending north to
Switzerland and the T)n'ol and soutli across the Po to Parma.
On the east, however, Milan was checked by the republic of
Venice and in Tuscany by that of Florence. The latter, during
the first part of tlie fourteenth century, remained under a con-
stitution that encouraged almost constant disorder. The culmina-
tion was the seizure of power by the artisan population in 1378,
but the excesses of the mob led to violent reaction and before
long the city was turned over to the arbitrary control of a few
wealthy families. For a time Florence enjoyed an administration
both stable and successful. The Milanese were driven back and
the republic itself secured undisputed sovereignty over the entire
vallq^ of tire Amo. Then discontent was revived by the high-
handed methods of the oligarchy and there was another outburst
■ of rioting. The revolt, strangely enough, established the unoffi-
cial dictatorship of the richest man in town — ^the banker, Cosimo
de’ Medici (d. 1464). He held no office himself, merely con-
trolling by extra-legal means the government under the old con-
stitution. Yet his ascendancy was unquestioned and it passed,
as if it had been an actual principality, to his son, Piero, and to
his grandson, Lorenzo the Magnificent (d. 1492), rmder whom
Florentine culture reached its height of splendor.

While Florence became the greatest industrial center of Italy,
commercial supremacy was disputed between Venice and Genoa.
The former, as we have seen, won a great maritime empire as the

WESTERN EUROPE 653

result of the Fourth Crusade. This success the Genoese sought
to undo by helping to reinstate Greek rule at Constantinople ; and
for a time, by controlling the straits, they were able to assert a
monopoly of trade on the Black Sea. But the restored govern-
ment was unstable and the Venetians took advantage of recurrent
civil wars to contest the position won by their rivals. On the
other hand, the Genoese constantly tried to break the Venetian
hold on the markets of Syria and Egypt. Until the second half
of the fourteenth century the two republics remained fairly well
balanced in strength. Then, in the last of their furious wars,
Venice, faced by, desperate odds, captured a besieging fleet by
a heroic counter-attack and so obtained an advantageous peace
in 1381. Although both cities were utterly exhausted by the
conflict, it was only Venice that recovered. Genoa, abandoning
the race for commercial supremacy in the Levant, became a vassal
state first of France and then of Milan.

Venice, too, was threatened by the imperialistic designs of the
Visconti. During the recent war Genoese allies had endangered
the republic by cutting its communications across' the Alps. To
prevent a recurrence of this danger, the Venetians themselves
adopted a policy of territorial expansion. Employing mercenary
troops, they drove the Milanese out of the Adige Valley and
eventually pushed their conquests as far west as Brescia and
Bergamo. By the middle of the fifteenth century, the Adriatic
republic had not only assured its dominance on the eastern Medi-
terranean, but also established itself as a continental power strong
enough to rival the duchy of Milan. Even more surprising was
the fact that through all the crises of the previous hundred years
the Venetian government had continued to function smoothly
and efficiently. The Venetians never invoked aid from a foreign
prince; they never permitted a despot to assume charge of their
city; after the closing of the great council,^® they made no radical
changes in their constitution. It was this political stability that
gave Venice its greatest advantage over Genoa, which was almost
as turbulent as Florence. To the student of political science the
Venetian republic affords a classic example of oligarchy in its
purest and most effective form.

The arrival of the Turks in Europe did not cause the Venetians
to forsake their ancient policy, that of fighting the Moslem only

The

height of
Venetian
power

“ See above, p. 545.

654 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

when it suited their commercial interests to do so. Even the
Turkish capture of Constantinople failed to inspire them with
crusading ardor, for by treaty with the sultan they still kept their
position in the Levant. Nevertheless, the advance of the Otto-
man forces on the Adriatic coast, in continental Greece, and into
the adjacent islands inevitably led to war. The Venetians fared
badly. Sixteen years of hostilities ( 1463 " 79 ) resulted in the loss
of their ^Egean possessions, and although they retained their
trading rights at Constantinople, the days of their maritime su-
premacy were past. The decay which now set in was not, of
course, due solely or even primarily to the new Mohammedan
conquests. By the end of the fifteenth century all Italy came to
be affected by the opening of Atlantic routes, which took away
from the Mediterranean its status as a necessary link between the
eastern and the western worlds. To explain how this change
came about entails a brief review of various facts already indi-
cated in previous chapters.

Since the establishment of the Arab Empire, somewhat over
The (x>m- seven centuries had elapsed. This period may be said, from the
merdal commercial viewpoint, to fall into twO' clearly marked divisions,
sphere of During the first half of it the Moslems enjoyed a virtual monopoly
the Arabs throughout central and western Asia, northern Africa,

and the adjoining waters. Then, in the eleventh century, the
Italian cities launched a successful offensive on the sea. In
cooperation with Christian hosts in Spain, Sicily, and Syria, they
drove the Saracens back and gained undisputed control of the
Mediterranean. Thenceforth the products of the orient were
normally carried from the cities of Egypt, Syria, and the Black
Sea by Italian merchants, to the enormous profit of their home
towns. To the eastward, however, the Arabs still maintained
their ancient supremacy. It was they who led the great caravans
across the Asiatic plateau to supply the markets of the Levant. It
was their fleets which linked by trade the coasts of India, Persia,
Arabia, east Africa, and Egypt. Their mariners constantly
sailed as far to the northeast as China and Japan, and as far to
the southwest as Zanzibar. So, about the middle of the twelfth
century, Roger IPs Arabic geographer, Idrisi,^*^ marked these
regions on his map, together with the land of Ghana f Guinea)
on the western shore of Africa.

See above, p. 394,

WESTERN EUROPE 655

Such, in general, remained the extent of geographic knowledge
down to the opening of the fifteenth century. Various Christians The geo-
had crossed Asia — a journey made famous by the writings of
the Venetian traveler, Marco Polo^® — ^and its outline was fairly
well known. On the other hand, all Africa, except the extreme Africa
north, was only a matter of hearsay to Europeans. Idrisi’s map
had given a distorted idea of the southern continent, offering no
possibility of circumnavigation; but he had shown a westward-
flowing river, presumably the Senegal, which had a common
source with the Nile. This tradition, backed by various legends
about a Christian country in the interior, really Abyssinia, might
lead speculative westerners to believe that a way could be found
to open direct contact with the Indies. But which of the sea-
faring nations would undertake the hazardous project? The
Italians had every reason to leave conditions as they were. The
Germans were mainly concerned with expansion in the Baltic.

The Scandinavians, despite their discovery of Vineland,^® had
long since abandoned exploring activity. The French and the
English were engaged in paralyzing warfare. Aragon was a
Mediterranean power, devoted to ambitions which had been in-
herited along with Sicily. Castile was suffering from chronic
anarchy. Portugal alone had the westward outlook and the
freedom from other preoccupations to encourage an interest in
African voyages.

This little state, however, could not be expected to undertake
any very grandiose enterprises. In the early fifteenth century Portu-
the Portuguese dreamed neither of a New World nor of a direct ex-
route to India. These were accidental discoveries led to by plans
of very modest scope. Prince Henry, third son of the king,
held two important offices: the headship of the Order of Jesus, Henry
which had fallen heir to the local possessions of the Templars, (d. 1460)
and the governorship of Ceuta, a small Portuguese conquest across
the strait from Gibraltar. In the former capacity he hoped that.
his crusaders, like the Teutonic Knights, might win new lands
and peoples for Christianity. In the latter he sought to break
into the remunerative slave trade carried on by the Moorish
chieftains. These two motives combined to induce Prince Henry
to send a series of expeditions down* the African coast in search
of the fabled Ghana and its marvelous river. After occupying

18 See above, p. 578.

18 See above, p. 282.

MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

The cir-
cumnavi-
gation of
Africa
and the
discovery
of America

6^6

the Azores, the Canaries, and Madeira — most of which had been
discovered earlier — his mariners gradually crept past the inhos-
pitable shore of the Saraha and actually reached the Promised
Land to the south. Thence came shiploads of Negro captives to
be Christianized — ^and sold at a huge profit. Thence too came
precious cargoes of gold dust, ivory, and other tropical products.
Even before Prince Henry’s death in 1460, the Portuguese had
forgotten the sacred crusade for the sake of commercial enter-
prise on a grand scale.

The familiar story of the ensuing adventures forms no part of
the present narrative. Once started on the road to discovery, the
Portuguese made astounding progress. In 1482 Diego Cam
found the mouth of the Congo. A few years later Bartolomeo
Diaz rounded the Cape and proved that the opening of a direct sea
route to the Indies was quite within the realm of possibility.
Finally, in 1498, Vasco da Gama brought his country midying
fame by completing a voyage to Calicut and back again. But
this success had already been anticipated by Ferdinand of Aragon,
who — ^without such great hesitation as legend has attributed to
him— -financed the undertaking of one Christopher Columbus.
Daring as he was in sailing straight west into the unknown, Co-
lumbus launched no revolutionary theory by doing so. The
sphericity of the earth had been taught in all western schools at
least since the intellectual revival of the twelfth century and had,
of course, been believed by educated Moslems for centuries earlier.
Even more than the circumnavigation of Africa, the discovery of
America was due to the application of mediaeval science.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH

I. THE AVIGNON PAPACY

Clement V was the first of six French popes who maintained
their residence at Avignon.^ Good reasons could no doubt be The
advanced to justify their continued absence from Italy, such as ‘‘Babylo-
the necessity of ending the Hundred Years’ War for the sake of
a new crusade against the Turks. More compelling, however, was q£
a less idealistic consideration ; life was pleasanter on the banks papacy
of the Rhone than on those of the Tiber. Rome and the ad- {^. 30 ^ 76 )
jacent countryside had long been in a state of disorder, which
was now aggravated through intervention first by Emperor Henry
VII and then by Louis of Bavaria.^ Despite all the efforts of
Boniface VIII, the Angevins had never recovered Sicily, and the
kingdom of Naples rapidly weakened as the abler members of
the house transferred their energies to Hungary.^ Avignon, on
the other hand, was a relatively tranquil spot, immune from for-
eign invasion; and after its purchase in 1348, it became papal
territory. Meanwhile an older episcopal residence had been con-
verted into the great fortified palace that remains one of the
most impressive monuments in southern France. There the
popes lived in magnificent state, surrounded by. their cardinals,
each of whom maintained a princely establishment of his own.

Unfortunately for the papal cause, the convenience and security
of Avignon as the capital of western Christendom was more than
counterbalanced by the fact that, to remain there, the popes had to
absent themselves from their proper see. The very essence of
their authority was the Roman episcopate; separation from the
Petrine city, except in case of absolute necessity, could be no less
than a grave scandal in the eyes of the devout. It was not merely
that the pope’s absence brought chaos to his temporal possessions
and injured his prestige among the congregations under hjs direct
authority. To Europe at large the papacy tended to lose its
international character as it sank to the position of a French

^ See above, p. 573.

* See above, p. 590.

* See above, p. 593.

657

The.
character
of the
French
popes

658 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

dependency. Avignon, to be sure, was not in France, but it was
encircled by Capetian lands. And although the popes were never
entirely subservient to the king, it was only too apparent that,
beginning with Clement V, they were careful not to incur his dis-
pleasure. The age was one of widespread disorder and unrest,
which the rulers of the church did little to abate. Indeed, some
of their acts were well calculated to increase the general discon-
tent. The period of residence at Avignon has been called, not
without justification, the “Babylonian Captivity” of the papacy.

Personally, the Avignon popes were by no means inferior to
the average of their predecessors. They remained devoted to
such traditional ideals as the promotion of peace among Chris-
tians, the organization of united resistance to the Moslems, mis-
sionary work among the heathen, and the suppression of heresy.
They were, however, more successful as administrators, estab-
lishing many reforms to increase the efficiency of the central
government and to improve its financial resources. Some of them
were really distinguished jurists. Important sections of the Cor-
pus luris Canonici* were contributed by Clement V and his im-
mediate successors. These labors, admirable as they were, could
not make up for the failure of spiritual leadership bewailed by a
growing multitude of the faithful. It was no new complaint that
the papal court was mercenary and corrupt. The charge was now
given enhanced force by the unprecedented luxury of the pope’s
establishment at Avignon, the mounting cost of his government,
and the multiplication of his demands for money. In these
respects, of course, the papal monarchy was merely developing
ambitions common to all the great states of the age. That was
the trouble. If the papacy were not to be different from its secular
rivals, it could hardly be immune from attack.

With the passage of years, evidence of increasing opposition
to the organized church rapidly accumulated. It became more
and more difficult for the popes to enforce their discipline and
to collect the revenues to which they laid claim. In RnglanH,
where the French sympathies of the papacy were especially re-
sented, parliament showed its hostility by a series of formal en-
actments. The Statute of Provisors® forbade the filling of Eng-
lish benefices by the pope; the Statute of Praemunire restricted
the carr ying of appeals to the papal curia. In practice these acts

* See above, p. 431.

® For the nature of papal provisions, see above, p. 557,

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 659

did not prove to be very formidable, since the king, who con-
tinued to seek favors at Avignon, found it to his advantage not
to enforce them. A third measure was perhaps more significant.

From the time of Edward I the annual tribute owed the pope by
virtue of John’s homage® had remained unpaid. When, in 1365,
parliament was given a papal reminder to this effect, it denied
all responsibility on the ground that, without the consent of the
Lords and Commons, such an obligation could not lawfully be
established. No event better illustrates the decline both of feudal-
ism and of the papacy since the da5’s of Innocent III.

Under such conditions, it was natural that Europe should be
swept by a flood of anti-clerical writings which continued and Anti-
amplified the attacks of satirists and reformers In the preceding clerical
period.*^ During the thirteenth century there had been many
causes of discontent. Some had been revealed in academic argu-
ments, some in the compositions of bourgeois poets, some in re-
ligious propaganda which occasionally developed into downright
heresy. The latter tendency had been checked by reforming move-
ments within the church and by a campaign of judicial process
and terrorism against the avowed enemies' of the faith. By the
opening of the fourteenth century, Catharism had been stamped
out in western Europe, but many Waldensian congregations still
persisted in the more isolated regions of Italy, eastern France,
and Germany. They were now joined in their agitation against
the official church by other obscure groups, remnants of earlier
sects or freshly organized societies. How Dante carried on the
traditions of vernacular literature by voicing an eloquent protest
against contemporary evils in church and state will be seen in the
following chapter. In the present connection briefer notice may
be given to a much less distinguished writer of the same age.

Pierre Dubois was famous neither in his own day nor in those
to come, until in the nineteenth century his work was rediscovered Pierre
and published as a mediaeval curiosity. He was a lawyer at the Dubois
court of Philip IV, belonging to the ministerial circle of which
Nogaret was the most prominent member, and sharing its attitude
toward questions of public interest. Dubois addressed various
Latin pamphlets to the king, among them one entitled On the
Recovery of the Holy Land, Nominally it deals with the cru-
sade, but that theme merely serves to introduce the author’s ideas

« See above, p. 411.

7 See above, pp. 507 f.

66 o AIEDI^VAL HISTORY

as to how the world should be generally reformed. Crusading
enterprise, he says, is prevented by chronic dissensions among the
princes of Europe, both lay and ecclesiastical. Nothing can be
expected of the clergy, for they, as a consequence of their wealth,
are sunk in avarice, sloth, and general corruption. European wars
can be ended only by force and there is only one prince strong
enough to apply it, the king of France. Without waiting for
further justification, he should undertake the sacred project of
uniting Christendom and, to finance it, he must confiscate all
ecclesiastical property. Dubois then proceeds to show how such
funds should be used for the reconstitution of almost everything.
Education, for example, should be taken over by the state and
extended to both sexes. It should be made more practical by
including the study of other languages besides Latin and of such
teclinical subjects as agriculture, engineering, and pharmacy.
Only under such conditions can the Holy Land be recovered !

The surprising feature of this little book is its realistic point
John of view. Dubois cared nothing for traditions of universal mon-
XXII archy. He wrote in terms of contemporary Europe, justifying
^andscan assigned to the French king by the actual authority which

the latter already exercised. Fantastic as his suggestions were,
Dubois shows that his world of practical politics was far re-
moved from the world of theory that fascinated Boniface VIII.
The ancient controversy between papacy and empire flared up
again in the fourteenth century, but it remained largely a war of
invective. Clement V exchanged violent words with the emperor
Henry VII, who invaded Italy and died there in 1313. One was
succeeded by John XXII, the other by Louis of Bavaria; and
these two likewise became embroiled over more or less imaginary
rights in the Holy Roman Empire. Louis was succeeded by
Charles IV, who dropped all pretensions to sovereignty in Italy
and so ended what had become a thoroughly tiresome affair.®
The part played in it by Louis of Bavaria is worth mentioning
only because it led him to champion another cause which had come
into papal displeasure — ^that of the Franciscans.

In a previous chapter we saw how the Friars Minor came to
live in convents, enjoy the use of extensive property, devote them-
selves to learning, and do much else that hardly squared with the
ideals of their founder. The change of discipline was frankly

8 See above, pp. 591 f.

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 66i

recognized as necessary by the majority of Franciscans, upon
whom the government of the order devolved. But a zealous
minority, who became known as the Spiritual Franciscans, fiercely
denounced all lax interpretation of the rule and insisted upon a
life such as had been led by the primitive group of the saint’s
disciples. And among them were a number who preached and
wrote against the wealth of the clergy in general, thus allying
with the heretical or semi-heretical sects that had been engaged
in the same campaign for many generations. With the decline
of papal prestige, the Franciscan quarrel grew more violent and
so came before the Council of Vienne called by Clement V. Al-
though the majority party, or Conventuals, failed to secure the
condemnation of the Spirituals as heretics, the latter were ordered
to obey their superiors. This many of them refused to do, form-
ing instead a separate organization styled the Fraticelli, whose
extremist views were merely intensified by the ensuing persecution.

John XXII was not the sort of man to show any sympathy
for such fanatics, but in his zeal against the Spirituals he adopted
a measure that embroiled him with the whole order — his formal
condemnation of the doctrine that neither Christ nor the disci-
ples had owned anything. Belief in apostolic poverty was the
cornerstone of the Franciscan tradition; to defend it, the general
chapter of the order was for a time willing to defy the pope
himself. Although the majority of the Franciscans eventually
submitted, the head of the order and a number of his ablest asso-
ciates were driven to take refuge with Louis of Bavaria. Among
them was William of Ockham, the most distinguished scholastic
of the day.^ This English Franciscan, a famous master of the-
ology at Paris, was already suspect because of his bold attack
on the teachings of Aquinas. Now, at the imperial court, he
devoted his dialectical skill to the writing of weighty volumes
against John XXII in particular and against the papal claims in
general. The pope, said Ockham, has no authority at all in tem-
poral affairs; even in matters of faith his decision is not absolute,
for against him there must always be an appeal to Scripture
as interpreted by wise and honest men. Thus the Franciscans fell
back upon the defense which had been raised by Peter Waldo a
hundred and fifty years earlier, and which in the future was to
provide a refuge for Lollards, Hussites, and Protestants.

William of
Ockham

(d. 1349)

* See below, p. 711.

John of
Jandun
and

Marsiglio
of Padua
(d. 1342)

■Hie

conciliar
theory
of the
Defensor
Pacts

662 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Meanwhile Ockham had been joined by two other Parisian
masters, John of Jandtin and Marsiglio of Padua. The former
w^as a Frenchman, especially devoted to the study of Aristotle and
Averroes; the latter was an Italian, of whose early life little is
known except that at Paris he had risen to be rector by 1313.
There both became noted as anti-papalists, and so were eventu-
ally employed by Louis of Bavaria. They owed their reputation
to a very remarkable book, called Defensor Pads (Defender of
Peace). Unlike the writings of Ockham, this work is not a
typically scholastic composition. Its theme is not disguised under
a series of "^sentences,” each elaborately argued pro and con. In-
stead, its discussion is clear and straightforward, easily followed
by the modern student, once it is translated from the original
Latin of the text. The Defensor Pads is divided into three books,
of which the first considers the nature of the state, the second
deals with the church, and the third presents a brief conclusion.
Book I, perhaps contributed by John of Jandun, is drawn mainly
from Aristotle^s Politics and develops the thesis that monarchy
is essentially a delegation of power from the people, or that better
part of them which is the source of supreme law. Although this
introductory section marks a noteworthy advance in political
thought, it is rather by virtue of the second book that Marsiglio
ranks as one of Europe’s great original thinkers.

Here the author states that the church is really the body of
believing Christians. Within the congregation of the faithful
the clergy act as experts for the determination of purely ecclesi-
astical questions, but they have no coercive authority — ^no power
to assess temporal penalties. God alone may punish violations
of divine law. Nor can the clergy have any just title to worldly
goods; tlieir single function is to save souls by preaching the
Gospel and administering the sacraments. As far as the pope is
concerned, he is merely the head of the clergy, installed by them
fbr their own convenience. His alleged plenitude of power is
sheer usurpation and must be undone before there can be any
peace in Europe. Sovereign authority within the church right-
fully lies with the community of Christian citizens ; as their rep-
resentative, a general council of Christendom not only can but
must carry through a sweeping ecclesiastical reform. There will
be no lasting relief for a troubled world until the church has been
purified of abuses and its practice made to accord with the prin-
ciples of its divine constitution.

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 663

This, obviously, was a revolutionary doctrine. Whatever its
logical or historical justification, it could not be applied in the
fourteenth century without a radical change of ecclesiastical or-
ganization. For the papal absolutism of the preceding centuries
Alarsiglio proposed the substitution of a limited monarchy, in
which ultimate power would rest with the congregation of Chris-
tians, or with whatever assembly might act as their collective
spokesman. Thus formulated as a matter of academic discussion,
the conciliar theory of church government was soon to be made
a practical issue of supreme interest to all of Europe.

2. THE GREAT SCHISM AND THE NEW HERESIES

Bad as the condition of the church seemed in the earlier half
of the fourteenth century, it became infinitely worse in the latter The papaJ
half. Since the establishment of the papal residence at Avignon, to

there had been constant talk of a return to Rome. Yet none of
the French popes actually crossed the Alps until 1367, and then
Urban V, disillusioned by the turbulence of Italy, made only a
short visit, returning to die at Avignon in 1370. It was thus
left for his successor, Gregory XI, to resume the project in 1377.

He alsOi as a Frenchman in a foreign land, found a very troubled
situation at Rome, and died in the next year oppressed by grave
fears for the future. Immediately the Roman populace began a
violent agitation to secure an Italian pope. The cardinals, fool-
ishly neglecting to assure their independence of action, held an
election while indirectly menaced by a crowd assembled outside
the Vatican. Of the sixteen men on whom the choice devolved,
twelve were French. Had they been voting in Avignon, they
would hardly have named an Italian. In Rome, just before an
angry mob broke in upon them, they proclaimed the archbishop of
Bari, and he was solemnly enthroned as Urban VI (April 9,

1378).

Almost at once the cardinals repented their action. Antago-
nized by the treatment which tliey received from the new pope. The
thirteen of them deserted Rome on August 9 and went to Anagni, double
where they were eventually joined by the other three. Meanwhile
Charles V of France had been notified of their doubts with regard °
to the earlier proceedings and he, despite his previous recognition
of Urban, encouraged them to go ahead with their plan. Accord-
ingly, they declared the election void on account of intimidation
and elevated the bishop of Geneva as Pope Clement VU. To this

664 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Urban replied by excommunicating all the old cardinals and ap-
pointing nineteen new ones. Clement likewise placed his oppo-
nents under anathema and the Great Schism had begun. A dis-
puted papal election was no novelty; on many occasions Italy
had witnessed the spectacle of rival popes exchanging curses and
even engaging in open warfare. But such quarrels had soon
worn themselves out, ending with the abdication or death of one
or the other contestant. Now, on the other hand, the forces were
so evenly balanced that their conflict threatened to persist in-
definitely.

It has been argued that the schism was based on sincere dis-
agreement with regard to the merits of a difficult case. Weighty
arguments were indeed advanced on both sides of the dispute;
yet the dominance of political factors seems too obvious to be
denied. The fundamental cause of trouble was unquestionably
the antagonism between the French cardinals and the Roman pop-
ulace — neither party conspicuous for its altruism. Italian opinion
quite naturally favored the latter, and it was no mere coinci-
dence that the French king sympathized with the former. Clem-
ent inevitably failed to obtain general recognition in Italy, and
so he established his court at Avignon. An assembly of the
French clergy gave him their allegiance, and the University of
Paris, under royal pressure, grudgingly did so too. The English,
of course, declared for Urban, as did the continental states within
their sphere of influence, such as Portugal and Flanders. For
the same reason, Scotland supported Clement, and so eventually
did Navarre, Castile, and Aragon. Most of eastern, central, and
northern Europe followed the emperor Charles IV in pronounc-
ing for the Roman pope. A number of German princes, however,
asserted their independence by taking the opposite side.

To make matters worse, neither of the popes was a man of
Chaotic such outstanding character that he could end the deadlock by
positions personal influence. Urban VI, apart from the cause that he em-
m urope would have had few friends, and Clement VII was from

the outset helpless except as the prot^e of Charles V. After the
death of that great king in 1380, the Avignon papacy found itself
in a very dubious situation, but the Roman papacy utterly lacked
the capacity to profit by it. Indeed, by the closing decades of the
century, all Europe seemed to be suffering from political paralysis.
In France the weak rule of Charles VI was encouraging the out-
break of civil war. England, recovering from the Great Revolt

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 665

of 1381, was plunged into fresh disorder by the misgovernment
of Richard IL Germany, since the accession of Wenceslas, had
reverted to a state of chaos. In Italy there was war between the
Visconti and their neighbors, between factions at Florence, be-
tween rival dynasties for the thrones of Naples and Sicily, and
— ^bitterest of all — ^between Venice and Genoa. The whole east-
ern frontier was disturbed by the conflicts of Germans, Poles,
Lithuanians, Czechs, and Hungarians, while the Ottoman Turks,
taking advantage of the prevalent anarchy among the Christians,
were steadily completing their conquest of the Balkans.

Under such conditions, it was natural that the leadership of
the distracted church should be assumed by the University of Proposals
Paris, an international organization which for three centuries healing
had wielded a sort of intellectual dictatorship in western Europe. schism
Such a move became the more urgent because the death of Urban
VI in 1389 had led merely to the installation of Boniface IX at
Rome, and because Clement VII was too old to live much longer.

The university had never been more than half-hearted in his sup-
port and the French people had long since found the maintenance
of a separate papacy a very expensive luxury. The passing of the
original contestants should offer an excellent opportunity for tlie
healing of the schism. So in 1395 the doctors of Paris presented
the royal government and the world at large with a definite pro-
gram of action. The efforts of Christians should be directed,
first, toward securing the abdication of both popes in favor of a
single candidate to be agreed on by their respective followers;
secondly, toward a settlement to be arranged by arbitration be-
tween the two rivals ; and as a final resort, toward the calling of a
general council.

At last Clement VII died in 1394. His cardinals were unwill-
ing to tolerate a prolonged vacancy, but they did elect a man The
pledged to abdicate whenever the occasion should arise — a Spanish French
prelate who took the name of Benedict XIII. Then ensued sev-
eral years of diplomatic effort, in the course of which the tmi- obechence
versity, the king of France, and various other princes vainly (1398)
sought to obtain a joint abdication on the part of the popes.

Benedict, in particular, refused all cooperation. Ignoring his sol-
emn pledge, he displayed such obstinacy in the face of all argu-
ment that he soon antagonized the majority of his own partisans.

It was in this connection that the archbishop of Reims was led to
remark that Spain had always been famous for its mules ! Shar-

666 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

The papal
comedy of
1407-08

The
Council
of Pisa
(1409)

ing the same conviction, the French government decided, instead
of moral suasion, to apply force. Accordingly, in 139^1 ^
sembly of clergy vvas induced to vote “subtraction of obedience”
from the pope. This was a revolutionary act, for it was based
on the principle that the clergy of one state constituted an autono-
mous unit— a national church, which could grant or withhold
allegiance at pleasure. It marked the emergence in France of a
new concept that was to gain increasing prominence in the subse-
quent age, that of the Gallican Liberties.

The practical effect of the measure in 1398 was of course to
take from Benedict the bulk of his revenue. Temporarily his
cause seemed lost and he was deserted by most of his cardinals.
Then, unfortunately, the matter was drawn into the feud between
Orl&ns and Burgundy, the former opposing and the latter favor-
ing the subtraction. Thus, as the civil war broke out in France,
the situation in the church became worse than ever. Benedict,
encouraged by the paralysis of the monarchy and by the return
of his cardinals, maintained his stubborn attitude without the
slightest change. In 1406, however, fresh hope arose. A re-
newed vacancy at Rome permitted the election of Gregory XII
on condition that he would take steps to end the schism by holding
a personal conference with his rival. Indeed, both popes agreed
to an interview, and in the autumn of 1407 both actually started
toward a common destination. But as they drew together, their
pace became slower and slower. Under enormous pressure, Greg-
ory progressed to Lucca while Benedict, on board ship, finally
sailed as far as the southern boundary of the Genoese territory.
There, within a few miles of each other, they stayed, one refusing
to go on water and the other refusing to go on land, until in
April, 1408, the farce was ended by their return to their respec-
tive homes.

This was the last straw. A majority of the cardinals from the
two camps now made common cause and, in defiance of the papal
authority, summoned a general council to meet at Pisa in the
following year. Although it lacked hearty support in various
countries and although both popes called opposition assemblies,
the Council of Pisa boldly proceeded to carry out drastic meas-
ures. Benedict and Gregory were cited to appear before it, and
when they refused, both were declared guilty of heresy and de-
posed from office. To fill the vacancy thus created, the united
college of cardinals elected a new pope, first the short-lived Alex-

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 667

ander V, and then John XXIII. The latter was a Neapolitan,
better known as a commander of condottieri than as a healer of
souls. He proved unable to dispose of either Gregory or Benedict.

The net result of the council’s activity was consequently the ad-
dition of a third pope. Such an intolerable situation, however,
had one beneficent effect: it united all western Christendom in
support of a new council summoned to Constance by John XXIII
in cooperation with the emperor Sigismund.^®

Meanwhile, the church was threatened by the alarming growth
of a heresy which had arisen in England and developed in Bohe- John
mia. Of John Wycliffe’s early life almost nothing positive is Wycliffe
known. He seems to have been of a Yorkshire family. He as- ^ 3 ^ 4 )

suredly was educated at Oxford and by the second half of the
fourteenth century he had there become a distinguished master.

At some time previously he had been ordained priest and, like
many of his colleagues, he maintained himself at the university
by holding a parish in the country. He even secured, by papal
provision, two canonries in cathedral chapters, which increased
his income without entailing any w’ork in either place. In other
words, Wycliffe first appears as a well-to-do Oxford professor,
whose scruples excluded neither the acceptance of favors from
the pope nor the holding of several ecclesiastical jobs at the same
time. As to the dominant influences upon his mental develop-
ment, we are reduced to surmises. For over a century Oxford
had been a center of Franciscan scholarship. Within the last
fifty years William of Ockham had been a master there. It is
incredible that Wycliffe was not influenced by his works and by
those of his associates.

At any rate, when Wycliffe himself came to publish books, they
for a time merely repeated arguments that had already become Early
familiar through the writings of Franciscan controversialists. So works
his Latin essays on lordship {dominium') defended the thesis
that civil and ecclesiastical authority are both from God; that
each depends for its validity on reciprocal service; and that, ac-
cordingly, no unworthy official, lay or clerical, can rightfully
assert a divine title. In particular, he held that the state would
be justified in confiscating whatever property of the church was
not conducive to religious ends. These were purely academic
compositions, couched in the involved language of the schools

“ See above, pp. 593 f.

668 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

and therefore incomprehensible except to the highly educated.
They undoubtedly reflected the teachings which had already
gained Wycliffe fame at the university, and which had already
appeared dangerous to certain authorities. In 1377 Pope Gregory
XI condemned as erroneous eighteen of Wycliffe’s published
opinions, affirming that they were reminiscent of those earlier
expressed by Marsiglio “of damned memory.”

In the meantime, just at the accession of Richard II, Wycliffe
Later had attracted the attention of the royal government. As a pro-
works fessorial expert who favored the raising of money at the expense
of the church, his political career was brief and indecisive; yet
it sufficed to win him friends at court, including John of Gaunt.
T his alliance, coinciding with the establishment of the Great
Schism, explains why Wycliffe escaped all prosecution before
the ecclesiastical authorities and for a while even retained his
position in the university. But the growing disrepute of the
papacy, together with the S3nnpathy which Wycliflfe encountered
on every side, led him to become more and more of an avowed
rebel. He developed radical opinions concerning the sacrament
of the eucharist, the Petrine supremacy, and other Catholic
doctrines. Soon he had lost the support of the more conserva-
tive doctors at Oxford and of the Franciscans generally. In
1382 an assembly of English clergy, summoned by a new and
vigorous archbishop of Canterbury, declared heretical ten of his
more recent conclusions. Expelled from the university, he re-
tired to his parish at Lutterworth and there died in 1384. Al-
though his books had been condemned, he had been immune from
all personal molestation.

Until his later years Wycliflfe remained essentially a scholar.
The All his important works were in Latin and few of them presented
Lollards ideas in any but the conventional language of the schoolmen.

Accordingly, they are filled with such fine-drawn distinctions that
it is often hard to determine the author’s exact position. Some
points, however, are certain. He repudiated the papal headship
as a corruption of the primitive church. Without excluding all
miraculous quality from the celebration of the mass, he denied
transubstantiation as it had beai defined since the days of Inno-
cent III. And after his writings had been formally condemned as
heretical, he naturally tended to press his arguments to increas-
ingly radical conclusions. He came, like the Waldensians, to
emphasize the saving power of Christ quite independent of priestly

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 669

mediation, and the authority of Holy Scripture in preference to
that of the organized church. Through force of circumstances,
he at the same time shifted his appeal from men in power to the
ordinary folk of town and country, preaching in the vernacular,
supervising an English translation of the Bible, and inspiring
disciples to adopt a life of poverty among the people for the sake
of reform agitation.

Wycliffe’s followers, who came to be known as Lollards, in-
creased rapidly during the troubled years that closed the four-
teenth century. That their attack upon various evils in the
existing church was justified is proved by many contemporary
writers, including the illustrious Chaucer and Langland. Wy-
cliffe was by no means alone in his denunciation of luxurious
prelates, degenerate monks, hj-pocritical friars, dishonest peddlars
of indulgences,^^ and the like. Personally he never turned his
doctrines to justify political or social uprising, but some of his
popular preachers may have done so. There were, we know,
rebellious clergymen who encouraged the insurrection of 1381.

The Lollards, in any case, remained virtually unmolested until the
close of the fourteenth century. Then Henry IV, anxious to
obtain ecclesiastical recognition of his title to the throne, gave
warm support to tlie orthodox cause. An act of parliament estab-
lished, for the first time in England, the penalty of burning for
heresy. And after a rising of the Lollard gentry had been sup-
pressed, tlie law was rigorously enforced against the remnants
of the sect: By the second quarter of' the fifteenth century, at
least the public avowal of Wj'cliffite doctrines had disappeared.

Meanwhile, by a strange turn of events, these doctrines had
become widely prevalent in Bohemia. There, even more than in Reli^ous
England, men had been prepared for the reception of heterodox po*iditions
views by the preaching of Waldensians and other radicals during ^ u ■
the previous two hundred years. Besides, in so far as the Roman
church in Bohemia was identified with German domination, it
was liable to resistance on the part of the Czechs. Charles IV
had somewhat allayed the hostility of the national party to his
dynasty by a wise and liberal administration,^ under the boorish
Wenceslas, however, trouble flared up again. One center of dis-

“ The indulgence was supposed to be, not a forgiveness of sin, but a remis-sion
of penance, canceling, in whole or in part, a repentant sinn er’s term in purgatory.

See above, pp. 170, 333; below, pp. 670, 699, 703.

“ See above, p. 593.

670 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

turbance was the University of Prague, where the Czechs com-
plained that the Germans enjoyed authority out of all proportion
to their numbers. Finally, having lost the German crown by a
revolution, the king sought to ingratiate himself with the Czechs
by turning the university over to their control. Most of the
German masters and students eventually deserted Prague for other
centers of learning, but the academic quarrel remained acute for a
number of years at the opening of the fifteenth century.

Among the Czech leaders at Prague during this crucial time
The rise of was John Hus, a preacher in the native tongue at one of the local
John Hus chapels. Although he had displayed ability as a student of theol-
ogy, his chief interest lay in practical religion. Already convinced
that the church stood in great need of reform, he was now to be-
come acquainted with the writings of Wycliife. Since the mar-
riage of Richard II to a sister of Wenceslas, various young Bo-
hemians had studied at Oxford, and among them was Jerome of
Prague, who in 1401 brought back with him certain of the famous
Englishman’s later works. Hus, while hesitating over Wycliffe’s
extreme conclusions on points of doctrine, accepted the Lollard
reform in general and ardently devoted his energies to its further-
ance. His success was tremendous, for he was a man of great
force and personal charm. Besides, he was the more enthusiasti-
cally received by the Czechs because he was at once opposed by the
Germans. Nor was the movement restricted to the educated class.
Preached among the common people by a host of volunteers, the
Hussite beliefs made rapid headway throughout the countryside,
and there the agitation soon developed heretical tendencies.

Hus, like Wycliffe, inevitably became embroiled with the higher
clergy; it was only a matter of time until he should come into
conflict with the royal government. King Wenceslas, after trying
to remain neutral in the schism, gave his support to the Council
of Pisa and its pope, John XXIII, The latter, to raise money for
a “crusade” against his enemies, followed the usual practice of
issuing special indulgences to any who would contribute to the
sacred cause. The king naturally gave the enterprise his blessing,
but Hus, true to his Wycliffite principles, and in defiance of all
commands to the contrary, boldly denounced it. And when he
was threatened by the pope with excommunication, he appealed
to Scripture as the basis of all Christian judgment. Meanwhile
the impetuous Jerome of Prague led a tumultuous crowd to burn
the offending bulls in the public square of the capital. Within a

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 671

year the Bohemian situation was completely out of hand ; even if
the king had been able to formulate a consistent program, he
would have been powerless to carry it out. So the Hussite ques-
tion became one of the major difficulties to be faced by the Council
of Constance.

3. ISHE COUNCIL OF CONSTANCE AND THE FAILURE OF REFORM

The Council of Pisa had of course acted upon the principle that
it held authority superior to that of a pope, but the rightfulness of Pierre
its claim had remained somewhat dubious. Now, in 1414, such d’Ailly
doubts were swept aside and western Christendom united in recog-
nizing the sovereignty of its representative assembly. Although
the triumph of the conciliar theory was primarily due to the actual
course of events, the intellectual leadership of the University of
Paris was also a potent factor, and in this respect its great spokes-
men were two famous theologians, Pierre d’Ailly and Jean Ger-
son. The former was the abler politician; the latter the more
profound scholar. Thus, while d’Ailly deserted the Parisian party
to accept high honor under Benedict XIII, Gerson continued to
produce a stream of writings to justify the calling of a general
council, with or without the papal consent. In 1408 d’Ailly aban-
doned the cause of Benedict and came to take an active part along
with Gerson in the Council of Pisa. At Constance, too, they were
to stand shoulder to shoulder.

Having met in the autumn of 1414, the new council did not
formally organize until January of the next year. Normally, in The end
such assemblies, only the prelates had been permitted to vote, of the
Now, on the proposal of the Parisian spokesmen, it was agreed ®chism
to extend the privilege to all doctors of theology or law, and
furthermore to divide the council into four nations:^* Italian,

Frendi, German, and English. The former measure assured the
dominance of the reforming party; the latter prevented the exer-
cise of undue influence by the Italian clergy, for they could be
outvoted by the other three nations. Qiief among the persons
displeased by this action was John XXIII, who had summoned
the council in the expectation that it would support him against
Gregory XII and Benedict XIII. On the contrary, since neither
Sigismund nor the French leaders cared to take so unpopular a
stand, he was treated as merely one of three rivals. So, in March,

“ On their accesaon to the council, the Spanish were subsequently conslatuted
as a fifth nation.

672 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

the pope denounced the whole proceeding and left the city. His
flight, instead of paralyzing the council, actually facilitated its
program. Declaring its supreme authority under the direct in-
spiration of God, it annulled all decrees that the pope might issue
and menaced him with deposition if he did not at once submit.
In May the threat was carried out and John, by that time a pris-
oner in the hands of the emperor, formally accepted the judg-
ment. Next Gregory XII, to avoid a less dignified fate, wisely
decided to resign. There remained only the obstinate Benedict
XIII. Up to this point he had enjoyed the support of Castile and
Aragon, but before the end of the year they had been detached

The trial
and death
of John
Hus (1415)

from his alliance. Although the aged Spaniard still refused to
abdicate and continued until his death to launch anathemas against
a hostile world, he was condemned afresh and thenceforth ignored.

Meanwhile the council had taken up the case of John Hus,
who had come to Constance under a safe-conduct signed by the
emperor. There the disciple of Wycliffe found few sympathizers.
Even the extreme champions of conciliar supremacy had no de-
sire to break the traditions of the mediaeval church ; indeed, the
very fact that they opposed the papal absolutism made them the
more anxious to prove their orthodoxy in matters of faith. While
a preliminary investigation was being held, Hus was seized and
imprisoned. Sigismund protested, but was assured that a promise
made to a heretic had no validity. In May, 1415, the council
affirmed the earlier condemnation of Wycliffe by the English
clergy, commanding his books to be burned and his bones to be

cast out of consecrated soil. Finally, in June, Hus was arraigned
for trial. Although he insisted that he did not deny transubstan-
tiation, he freely admitted that in many points he believed Wy-
cliffe to have been right. For saying that a king living in mortal
sin was no king in God’s sight, Sigismund abandoned him to his
fate. The council thereupon drew up a list of thirty-nine articles
taken from his writings and demanded that he abjure them. With
absolute bravery, he refused until they could be shown contrary
to Holy Scripture. Accordingly, he was adjudged an incorrigible
heretic and burned just outside the city wall (July 6, 1415).
Jerome of Prague followed him to the stake in the next year.

While demonstrating thorough conservatism as to Christian
doctrine, the majority of the council continued to demand exten-
sive reform in the sphere of ecclesiastical government. As to
precisely what should be done, however, there was no unanimity.

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 673

The bishops, of course, wanted no revision of the episcopal sys-
tem in general, and as soon as they proposed changes in the papal
administration they encountered the bitter hostility of the cardi-
nals. Even the question of future assemblies quickly became con-
troversial. Should a general council be given permanent func-
tions in connection with routine matters, or should the exercise
of its powers be restricted to emergencies? And in such emer-
gencies just wEat might it do? The year 1416 saw very little
accomplished at Constance, for the ecclesiastical disputes were
aggravated by the political conflicts of the nations — especially the
civil war in France and Henry V’s invasion of Normandy. In the
meantime the church remained without a recognized head.

By the autumn of 1417 a crisis had been reached. One party
had demanded the immediate election of a pope; another had
insisted on the adoption of reforms as a necessary preliminary
to such action. But everybody was tiring of the long delay and
in October a compromise was effected : the articles already agreed
on among the nations should be enacted as a basis for subsequent
legislation and the election should be held at once. Six decrees
were accordingly promulgated, the more important of wdiich
concerned the holding of general councils in the future. The
first should be called in five years, the second in seven years, and
after that one every ten years, except in case of schism; then
a council should meet even without being summoned. The sixth
decree enumerated eighteen points concerning which the new
pope should establish reforms in consultation with the council.
All of them had to do with the rights and practices of the pope —
such as his taxes and other revenues, his powers of appointment,
appeals to his court, papal dispensations and indulgences, the cardi-
nal college, and the offenses for which a pope might be brought to
trial before a general council.

In the following month, after considerable dispute over pro-
cedure, twenty-three cardinals met with thirty deputies of the five
nations and by unanimous vote elected a pope. Their choice fell
on one of Gregory XIFs cardinals, a member of the great Colonna
family, who took the name of Martin V. In personal character
he was above reproach, and his political skill was attested by the
fact that he had made no violent enemies during the troubled
years preceding. Being now the head of a reunited church, he
inevitably took advantage of the counciFs growing fatigue to
reassert the papal authority. One or two measures of no far-

The prob-
lem of
reform

The elec-
tion of
Martin V
(14^7)

The out-
break of
the Hus-
site war

Calixtines

and

Taborites

674 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

reaching consequence were proposed by him to the entire assembly
and there adopted. At the same time, however, he began dis-
cussion with the separate nations, which eventually agreed to a
series of minor concessions as in part satisfying their demands.
Accordingly, in April, 1418, the pope was able to pronounce the
dissolution of the council on the ground that there was no longer
any need of it. Whether, if the assembly had continued to sit
for another year, anything further would have been accomplished
may well be doubted. At any rate, the program of thorough re-
form that had occasioned so much talk seemed now to be for-
gotten, and people as of old turned for leadership to the all-
powerful papacy.

Meanwhile the council’s Bohemian policy had also proved an
utter failure. John Hus had never formulated a dogmatic system.
He had refused to enter into theological discussion with Gerson
and the other Catholic doctors. He had merely stated his belief
that on many points of faith and discipline current practice was in
obvious disagreement with the New Testament, to which he
professed unswerving allegiance. The council, justifying its very
existence by sacred tradition, could never admit the validity of
an appeal to any other authority and quite logically condemned
Hus as a heretic. But that was no way to pacify the Czechs. In
their eyes Hus, a model of sincere piety and courageous devotion
to the national interests, had been grossly betrayed to a martyr’s
death. Thus glorified, his cause became one for which thousands
of his compatriots would readily die. As the hesitant Wenceslas
finally succumbed to disease in 1419 and Sigismund claimed his
crown, the whole country burst into violent insurrection. For
seventeen years the Hussite war threatened to produce such a
general conflagration as actually occurred in the following
century.

At the outset the Czechs were by no means united. Aside from
the few who remained wholly loyal to the existing system, there
were two main parties. The moderate Hussites, or Calixtines,
demanded four reforms: full liberty of preaching the Gospel,
communion in two kinds, restoration of the apostolic life by
abolishing the temporal power of the church, and strict enforce-
ment of the canons against mortal sin. This group included most

In the Roman mass the communicant received only the consecrated bread;
not the wine as well. Those who demanded communion in both kinds were
called Calixtines because they wanted to receive the cup {calix).

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 675

of the landed aristocracy and the upper bourgeoisie ; the center of
its strength lay in the University of Prague. Among the lower
classes of town and country, however, it was the more radical
doctrines of Wycliffe that had secured a firm hold through the
missionary efforts of popular preachers. Merging imperceptibly
into older congregations of Waldensians, they rejected all beliefs
and practices which were not directly justified by Scripture. For
example, they denounced the adoration of the Virgin and the
saints, monasticism, all gorgeous ceremonial, and all sacraments
except baptism and the eucharist. They denied the doctrine of
transubstantiation and that of purgatory, together with the ac-
companying faith in indulgences. Under such a regime, the neces-
sity of an ordained clergy tended to disappear ; the priest became
primarily a minister of the Gospel, leading a very simple life in
the midst of his flock and setting them an example of the strict
morality that we know as Puritanical.

As was soon to be demonstrated, there was wide disagreement
among the more radical Hussites, but the strongest of their asso-
ciations became known as Taborites, after a central village which
they had renamed from the Bible. Between them and the Calix-
tines feeling was very bitter, but temporarily the two factions
were given no chance to fight each other. In 1420 Martin V
proclaimed a crusade against the Bohemian heretics, and the con-
sequence was the enthusiastic union of the Czechs in national
defense. The Catholic army was a nondescript aggregation of
feudal levies and volunteers, directed by papal legates wdiile Sigis-
mund was occupied with a Turkish war. On their side, the
Czechs had solid popular support and a thorough knowledge of
the country. Besides, in John Zizka, a lesser noble associated with
the Taborite organization, they found a general of outstanding
military genius. He perfected a tactical system that ranks among
the most effective of the age. In battle his infantry were placed
behind movable bulwarks formed of heavy baggage wagons, some
of which were defended by cannon. Thanks to his skillful use of
such primitive field artillery and to the spirit of his troops, he
was able to defeat three successive crusades (1420-22). Then
ensued four years of devastating civil war, in the course of which
Zizka died of the plague. Yet the Czechs were able to repulse a
fourth invading host in 1427; and despite the return of the em-
peror and an attempted reform of the German army, a fifth ex-
pedition in 1431 met with the same disastrous fate.

The fail-
tire of the
Hussite
Crusades
(1420-31)

676 MEDI/EVAL HISTORY

Eugenius
IV and the
Coimcil of
Basel

(1431)

The paci-
fication of
Bohemia *
(1436)

It was this series of events, a discredit to empire and papacy
alike, that produced a fresh crisis in the church and momentarily
revived the old conciliar program. Following the decision made
at Constance, Martin V had reluctantly summoned a general
council at Pavia in 1423, but it was attended only by a few
Italian prelates, who did nothing except to provide that the next
assembly should be at Basel in 1431. When that time arrived,
conditions were such that tlie pope was afraid to attempt evasion.
Accordingly, the meeting was authorized and the statesmanlike
Cardinal Cesarini was named as its presiding officer. Then sud-
denly Martin V died, and before the council had assembled, all
Europe was thrown into excitement by the crushing defeat of the
last Bohemian expedition. The consequence was a great influx
of clergy into Basel while the administration of the church was
being taken over by an imtried man. The new pope, Eugenius
IV, was a Venetian, who at once devoted his official authority to
checking the aggressions of tire Visconti at Milan^® and to re-
ducing the influence which the Colonna family had gained under
his predecessor. While thus embroiling himself in Italian poli-
tics, he proceeded to invite revolution by antagonizing the council
at Basel.

There a great body of clergy, including an unusually large
proportion from the lower ranks, had organized for business,
adopting, instead of division into nations, a sort of committee
system for preliminary discussion of measures. On the recom-
mendation of Cesarini, himself just returned from the Bohemian
war, the council invited the Hussites to send a deputation to talk
over an amicable settlement. It was this scandalous application
of common sense that led Eugenius, in December, 1431, to declare
the assembly dissolved. Such precipitate action quite naturally
brought the reply that no general council could be dissolved ex-

cept by its own consent — ^and negotiations with the moderate Bo-
hemian party were continued without interruption. By the end
of 1433 the pope, driven from Rome by a coalition of his enemies,
had decided to recognize the council, which then signed a com-
pact with the Calixtines on the basis of their four articles. Al-
though on three points the compromise was either vague or mean-
ingless, communion in both kinds was specifically allowed and
the moral victory clearly lay with the Czechs. The Taborites, of

^ See above, p. 652.

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 677

course, refused to accept the agreement, but in 1434 their forces
were annihilated by the strengthened party of the moderates.

Two years later the Bohemian peace was made definitive by for-
mal ratification and at last Sigismund, having sworn to support
the new settlement, was admitted to Prague.

During this affair Pope Eugenius had played an inglorious
part. He had been compelled to reverse his stand with regard to The papal
the Hussites and to recognize the acts of an assembly which he
had thought to dissolve. Whatever the saving theories that might
be presented by the legal-minded, the actual sovereign of the (1437-49)
church had proved to be not the pope, but the council. It was logi-
cal, therefore, that the latter should now take up the project of
general reform which had occasioned so much talk and so little
action at Constance. In rapid succession decrees were promul-
gated to abolish annates,^® to restrict papal appointments, to recon-
stitute the cardinal college, and to define the pledges that should
be demanded of future popes. Yet, in proportion as the more
radical element gained control of the assembly, the moderates,
headed by Cesarini, tended to swing round to the support of the
pope. The final pacification of Bohemia, by removing the menace
of a general uprising in central Europe, brought to many a natural
revulsion of feeling. Eugenius, once more the master of Rome,
merely awaited a favorable opportunity to renew his defiance of
the opposition. By 1438 matters had drifted to an open breach :
the pope refused a summons to defend his conduct at Basel and
called a rival council at Florence, where negotiations with the
Byzantine emperor led in the next year to a momentary reunion
of the Greek and Latin churches.

This triumph of papal diplomacy was short-lived, for the treaty
failed of ratification at Constantinople. Nevertheless, the trend
of events continued to favor the papal cause. In 1439 fathers
at Basel made the fatal mistake of setting up an anti-pope. A
fresh schism was the last thing that Europe desired and thence-
forth the credit of the council steadily declined. The moderates
had already deserted, and though a dwindling shadow of the
original body lasted on for another ten years, the conciliar move-
ment had come to a miserable end. None of the temporal princes
took any interest in the anti-pope, Eugenius, by giving his bless-

A papal tax developed in the fourteenth century. The newly elected prelate
had to pay to Rome the first year’s income of his office.

678 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

ing to the Aragonese conquest of Naples, broke down the re-
maining barrier to the acknowledgment of his authority through-
out Italy. The Habsburg succession in Germany, Bohemia, and
Hungary^® led to the abandonment of the Basel decrees by the
emperor. And at last, in 1449, the council formally dissolved,
while its protege resigned all claim to the papal dignity. Nicholas
V, the successor of Eugenius, chose the year 1450 to celebrate the
restoration of Qiristian peace by a great jubilee at Rome.

Almost at once, however, the Turkish conquest of Constan-
The re- tinople proved that the pope’s dream of a Europe reunited against
lapse of the infidel could not come true. Nor did his efforts in the cause
the papacy ^ spiritual revival within the churclr bring lasting improvement.

Even the project of reforming the ecclesiastical administration
soon lapsed The decrees of Basel became a dead letter, except
as they were enforced by the great princes of Europe. In this
respect, as in other political matters, an example was set by the
king of France," who in 1438 induced a council of French clergy
to formulate the famous Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges. It
declared the authority of a general council superior to that of the
pope, ordered that no papal bull should take effect in France until
it had been promulgated by the king, forbade the collection of
annates from French prelates, and prohibited the filling of
ecclesiastical offices in the kingdom by papal appointment. Al-
though the Pragmatic Sanction was not continuously enforced,
it remained the cornerstone of the Gallican Liberties for tlie next
three hundred years.

Effective action of the same sort was prevented in Germany
by the paralysis of the central government, and in England by
the outbreak of civil war. The issue of reform in the church,
however, was not forgotten; it was to reappear in the following
century as part of a violent revolution. The papacy, to the dis-
tress of many loyal supporters, not only failed to extirpate the
ancient abuses, but actually allowed them to become aggravated.
Apparently secure in their enjoyment of absolute authority, the
popes in the closing decades of the fifteenth century once more
became submerged in Italian politics. Distinguished as tem-
poral rulers and as devotees of the new Renaissance culture, they
forfeited all respect as leaders of Christendom and even as ex-

See above, p. 648.

See above, p. 6oj.

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 679

ponents of common decency. The result was the explosion known
as the Protestant Revolution.

4. THE BEGINNING OF THE WITCHCRAFT DELUSION

In SO far as the church was the dominating institution of the
earlier Middle Ages, its decline was the crucial fact in the history
of the subsequent period. There was, indeed, no phase of Euro-
pean civilization in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries that
was not vitally affected by the fading of the old ecclesiastical
ideals. The thirteenth century was no golden age when everybody
did as he should and all men lived in Christian concord. Yet,
to judge from contemporary arts and letters, it was a time of
general contentment. Then followed one of mounting trouble
and unrest. The political degeneration of the papacy culminated
in the Babylonian Captivity, and on that ensued the disgraceful
scandal of the schism. Meanwhile the western world was devas-
tated by pestilence, war, and insurrection. The greatest states
fell prey to anarchy, while the Turks, after undoing the work of
the crusades, resumed the offensive and conquered a large section
of Europe. Under such circumstances it is not surprising that
literature came to be marked by a tone of pessimism and disillu-
sionment. The theme of death became especially prominent in
poetry. The calm restraint of the early Gothic art was superseded
by an emotional outburst stressing the tragic and the pathetic. All
traditional standards seemed to be threatened with destruction.

Although many of the calamities suffered by Europe in the later
Middle Ages could not, of course, be justly blamed on the church,
it must be admitted that the latter, as an official organizatigii,
miserably failed in spiritual leadership. That the clergy, both
secular and regular, had generally discredited itself in the eyes of
the people is proved by a wealth of sources, and as time went on
the situation became steadily worse. These conditions natui'ally
led many to seek religious satisfaction in unoi'thodox ways-; agita-
tion for reform, as we have seen, tended to encourage the growth
of heresies. Many, on the other hand, remained loyal to the
established order and found consolation in various forms of
ecstatic faith. The fourteenth century witnessed the rise of nu-
merous mystics, some of the scholarly type and some not. Within
the former group the German Dominican, Eckehart (d. 1327),
was prominent. His disciple, Tauler, had much to do with
the founding in Germany of a religious association of laymen,

Results of
ecclesi-
astical
decline

Four-

teenth-

century

mystics

Chris-

tianity

and

diabolism

Magic and
sorcery

680 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

who called themselves the Friends of God. Somewhat similar
were the Brothers of the Common Life, established in the Nether-
lands by Gerard Groote (d. 1384). The New Devotion to which
they pledged themselves is eloquently revealed by the well-known
Imitation of Christy traditionally ascribed to Thomas a Kempis.
The most famous mystic of the age, however, was St. Catherine
of Siena (d. 1380), a simple Italian girl who was led by glorious
visions to attempt a general reform of the church, and who had
a share in bringing the pope back to Rome in 1376. Her letters,
of which several hundred have been preserved, are most remark-
able not only as expressions of religious fervor, but as examples
of early Italian literature.

Another feature of the unhappy centuries now under discussion
was an expanding belief in witchcraft. To understand the be-
ginnings of this strange delusion, it is necessary to keep in mind
the distinction between the official doctrine of the early church
and the unofficial folklore that accompanied it. One who accepts
the authority of the New Testament must, of course, accept a
variety of ideas connected with diabolism. From the outset
Christians believed in Satan, chief of the fallen angels and Prince
of Evil, who had tempted Christ and who continuously sought to
Jure all men to their destruction* He was supported in his ne*
farious schemes by a host of lesser devils, who included among
their number the pagan deities of the ancient world. Such a
demon could enter into possession of one’s body, to cause various
forms of madness, but could be cast out by divine intervention.
So from an early time one rank of the lower clergy had been that
O'i-^exorcist. Satan’s power, obviously, was supernatural, and,
though subordinate to the omnipotence of God, might produce all
sorts of noxious events, ranging from petty mischief to major
calamities like storms and pestilences. Especially since the time of
Gregory the Great, Christian literature had been filled with
stories of diabolic malice and its counteraction by saintly
characters.^^

The Middle Ages also inherited a mass of ideas with regard
to magic. The Hebrews, like other ancient peoples, had believed
in clairvoyants and mediums — ^particularly women who, through
incantation, could call up the spirits of the dead. Such was the
witch of Endor consulted by Saul, and such, presumably, were

“ See above, p. 168.

• THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 68i

the witches on whom the later law visited the death penalty.’^
The Romans, on the other hand, made no effort to prohibit magi-
cal practices as long as they did not result in crimes otherwise
punishable by the state. Murder, for example, led to prosecution
before the courts, whether it was alleged to have been committed
by natural or supernatural means. Even the educated classes
were generally superstitious in matters of this kind, fearing the
witch {matefica) or the wizard {male ficus) who could produce
death or disease by applying evil charms to wax images, locks of
hair, nail-parings, and the like. The Latin classics, furthermore,
contain marvelous stories of men who could change themselves
into animals, such as werewolves, and of night-hags who could
assume the form of owls, mice, or cats; who rode on the storm
wind along with the sinister goddess Hecate, and who prowled
about after dark, stealing bits of corpses for use in their infernal
rites.

Similar beliefs are heard of from time to time in the Christian
sources, where black magic, as distinguished from the holy mira-
cles of the church, is attributed to Satanic influence. By a compact
with the devil, one might become a malefka or a malefictiSy and so
be able to make love-charms or to injure one’s enemies in super-
natural ways. But the best authorities were inclined to deprecate
such notions as that people could change themselves into animals,
that they could ride through the air on broomsticks, have children
by demons, or perform many of the marvels attributed to them.
As late as the eleventh century the canons of ecclesiastical coun-
cils generally assessed penance on any one who was foolish enough
to hold that such things were possible. The great schoolmen of
the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, however, took an opposite
stand. By a characteristic bit of reasoning, they built odds and
ends of popular superstition into a logical system that could be
theoretically reconciled with the Christian doctrine. To them
the ancient yarns of witches and werewolves seemed no more
incredible than the stories of Satanic influence enshrined in the
pages of the New Testament or of Gregory the Great.

With Thomas Aquinas the process was completed; the most
learned doctors had given their blessing to virtually the entire
folklore of witchcraft. And in the meantime the principle had
been formulated that one who, for the sake of proficiency in the

I Samuel^ xxviii; Exodiis^ xxii, i8. “Witch, of cotirse, is merely the English
translation of a Hebrew word.

Scholastic
formula-
tion of
witchcraft

The witch
bull of
1484

682 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

black art, had entered into a compact with Satan was ipso facto a
heretic and punishable as such under tlie secular law. The In-
ciuisition provided the machinery for hunting down suspects, and
thenceforth cases of witchcraft became more and more frequent
in the ecclesiastical courts. Already associated in the popular
mind with the unbelief of the Albigensians, sorcery appeared
prominently in the charges made against the Templars and in
many other famous trials of the fourteenth century. In 1431
Jeanne d’Arc was convicted and burned as a witch at Rouen.®^
By such ofiScial acts, state and church combined to justify a fear
that had already secured firm hold on the popular imagination.
For their contributions to the witchcraft mania of the subsequent
age the scholastics have been bitterly denounced by a number of
eloquent writers, but it is hard to see how their academic learning
could to any great extent have affected public opinion throughout
the countryside. Was it not rather the experts who followed the
masses? Psychologically, at any rate, the growth of belief in
witchcraft during the later Middle Ages seems to have been
merely another phase of the increased misery and discontent.
Such a procession of calamities as those suffered by the people
demanded explanation, and the simplest one tliat could be made
was in terms of the supernatural. Universal dread and suspicion,
fostered by the evil times, found expression in the denunciation of
witches. And once started, the delusion of a vast Satanic con-
spiracy for the ruin' of the world gained crushing headway.

How far belief in witchcraft had advanced by the latter half
of the fifteenth century is shown by the famous witcli bull of
Innocent VIII in 1484. Therein the pope declares that he has
heard that in certain districts of Germany®^

many persons of both sexes, heedless of their own salvation and for-
saking the catholic faith, give themselves over to devils male and
female, and by their incantations, charms, and conjurings, and by
other abominable superstitions and sortileges, offenses, crimes, and
misdeeds, ruin and cause to perish the offspring of women, the foal
of animals, the products of the earth, the grapes of vines, and the
fruits of trees, as well as men and women, cattle and flocks and herds
and animals of every kind, vineyards also and orchards, meadows, pas-

See above, p. 627.

22 The following translation is taken from the University of Pennsylvania
(Department of History), Translations and Reprints from the Original Sources
of European History, III, no. 4..

THE DECLINE OF THE CHURCH 683

tures, harvests, grains, and other fruits of the earth; that they afflict
and torture with dire pains and anguish, both internal and external,
these men, women, cattle, flocks, herds, and animals, and hinder men
from begetting and women from conceiving, and prevent all consum-
mation of marriage; that, moreover, they deny with sacrilegious lips
the faith they received in holy baptism ; and that, at the instigation of
the enemy of mankind, they do not fear to commit and perpetrate
many other abominable offenses and crimes, at the risk of their own
souls, to the insult of the divine majesty, and to the pernicious ex-
ample and scandal of multitudes.

And since it appears that the two inquisitors deputed to punish
heresy in these districts have been hindered in their activity by
misguided persons, the pope explicitly confirms their authority
with regard to the extirpation of witchcraft. All clergy and laity,
under threat of severe penalty, are prohibited from in any way
interfering with their holy work.

This bull, of course, did not enjoin belief in witchcraft as an
article of Christian faith. By enumerating the acts of sorcery
committed in Germany, it merely stated the current views shared
even by the educated of that time. The pope issued the document
as a routine matter to confirm the principle that witchcraft was a
form of heresy. Thus encouraged, the two Dominicans, Kramer
and Sprenger, proceeded to write on that subject a manual for
inquisitors, called Malleus Maleficarmn (The Hammer of
Witches). In it all the details taken for granted by the papal bull
are fully set forth under three main headings. The first part
expounds the doctrinal basis, showing by scholastic argument
under eighteen questions why it is necessary for Christians to
believe in the numerous manifestations of witchcraft. The sec-
ond describes the wicked acts that are performed by sorcerers
and prescribes remedies by which the Satanic guile may be suc-
cessfully met. The third then explains the procedure followed
in the detection and trial of suspects. On the whole, the book
contained little that was absolutely new, but as a convenient
summary of established belief and practice, it was widely used
during the intensive witch-hunt of the ensuing period, and by its
clarity and precision it undoubtedly helped to crystallize scholarly
opinion.

Unfortunately, there was no one then who thought of denying
the assumptions of the Malleus or of condemning the heartless
procedure which it so coolly advocated. Today Catholic and

The

Mellctis

Malcji-

carum

(i486)

684 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Protestant agree that at least four-fifths of the witch persecution
was sheer hysteria. This attitude was unknown even among the
intellectual leaders of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. It is a
sad commentary on the age that what we consider a matter of
elementary enlightenment was totally absent from the contempo-
rary reforms in both religion and education.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE

I. VERNACULAR LITERATURE! ITALIAN

In 1301 Boniface VIII, thinking to drive the Aragonese from
Sicily, called to Rome Charles of Valois, younger brother of
Philip IV. The southern project came to nothing, but while he
was in Italy Charles successfully carried out a lesser commission
in the papal interest. On the pretext of establishing peace be-
tween two warring factions at Florence, Boniface actually helped
one to destroy the other and so, indirectly, secured control of the
city. The final scene occurred in 1302, when the Blacks drove
into exile some hundreds of unfortunate Whites, and among the
latter was Dante Alighieri. The son of a prominent lawyer, he
was then approaching the age of thirty-seven. For the past
twenty years he had taken an active part in the troubled politics
of the republic, being enrolled, as a non-noble eligible for office,
in one of the greater gilds. When Charles of Valois entered
Florence, Dante was one of the six priors, the highest magistrates
of the city. And since he had become known as an antagonist
of the pope, his condemnation on a trumped-up charge of em-
bezzling public funds was quite to be expected. Thus Florence
lost a politician and the world gained an illustrious poet, for
thenceforth the exile had but one career, that of literature.

Before this, Dante had long been associated with a group of
talented Florentines — scholars, writers, musicians, and artists,
among whom was the famous painter, Giotto.^ Dante himself
took a keen interest in all intellectual and aesthetic pursuits. Al-
though the details of his education remain unknown, we may be
sure that it was of the scholastic type then prevalent throughout
the universities of the west, for his familiarity with the great
texts of the schools is proved by his works. But from boyhood
Dante had also come under the powerful influence of the vernacu-
lar poets. Some Italians, loyal to an ancient tradition, still wrote
in Provencal ; others, adopting a fashion set under Frederick II,®
preferred one of the native dialects. Dante, for reasons that he

^ See below, p. 719.

® See above, p. 538.

685

Dante

Alighieri

(i2<5s-

1321)

686 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

was subsequently to expound at length, followed the example of
the latter. In producing lyrics he engaged in an occupation long
popular with his fellow bourgeois, and it was not unusual that his
verse should celebrate a beautiful lady whom he was compelled
to adore from a distance. His treatment of the familiar theme,
however, was strikingly original.

The story of a loye that was destined to be immortakis charm-
The Vita ingly told in Dante’s first book, the Vita Nuova — the New Life
Ntiova to which he was introduced by Beatrice. It was at the age of nine,
a number (three times three) wherein he found great mystic sig-
nificance, that he first saw his lady, then a girl of eight. Exactly
nine years later, at the ninth hour of the day, he chanced to en-
counter her on the street, and she not only looked at him but
spoke to him. Having thus for the first time heard her voice, he
was given a tragic vision in a dream, to describe which he wrote
a sonnet, the beginning of a long series. Actually he never came
nearer to his love than on that day. Beatrice married another
man, and Dante, while composing ecstatic songs, only saw her on
rare occasions. In 1290 the lady prematurely died, and two years
later the poet himself took a wife, with whom, though she re-
mained unsung in his verse, he seems to have lived happily. The
Vita Nuova was obviously written to introduce the lyrics which
Dante had from time to time composed earlier, but the book is
more than a literary artifice. It serves to explain how the au-
thor’s love for Beatrice, further idealized after her death, became
a mystic guide leading him toward ultimate truth.

At the close of the Vita Nuova we are told how, in a vision,
The Beatrice liad inspired Dante to proceed with certain labors so that
Convimo might speak of her more worthily. Within half a dozen years
after his exile, these labors led him to begin the Convwio (Ban-
quet) — 2. curious mixture of verse and prose, of personal remi-
niscence and scholastic reasoning. Through the elaborate alle-
gory of a spiritual feast, the reader was to be introduced to
universal knowledge, but the work was left unfinished. It is inter-
esting, first, because it reveals the author devoting himself to
study in order to forget his bereavement. By reading Boethius
and Cicero, he had discovered that the Lady Philosophy might
govern his mature life even as the Lady Beatrice had governed
his youth. A second remarkable feature of the book is its use
of the vernacular, which shows that Dante, a bourgeois and a

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 687

layman like Jean de Meun,® was interested in popularizing the
learning of the schools. The Florentine poet, however, was con-
templating a literary project infinitely grander than the Romance
of the Rose, and to justify his preference for Italian he presented
a lengthy argument.

This subject, broached in the Convivio, was developed in a
separate essay called De Vidgari Eloquentia — a defense of the De Vulgari
vulgar tongue, put into Latin so that it would be read by the Dloqumtia
learned. At the outset Dante briefly considers the origin of
human speech, accepting the orthodox view that men spoke He-
brew from the Creation until they incurred God’s anger by at-
tempting to build the tower of Babel. He passes rapidly over the
ensuing confusion of tongues and so comes to the three related
languages of oil (French), oc (Provencal), and si (Italian).

Of these the first two, he says, have both proved their fitness for
literary composition. The last, on the other hand, has suffered
from the fact that it is a jumble of fourteen dialects, each of
which has grave defects. Having given examples to prove his
point, Dante decides that literary Italian must be the speech that
w'ould prevail at the imperial court if only there were one in Italy.

Such a courtly language, combining the best features of all the
dialects and being common to the peninsula, is what he proposes
to adopt for his own poetry. The invention of a fine-drawn
theory to justify a wholly practical conclusion is very character-
istic of. the author.

A similar disquisition is found in the De Monarchia, another
Latin essay, dealing with the nature of the state. Dante, exiled De Mo-
from his beloved Florence through the political machinations of narchia
Boniface VIII, had no love for the papal pretension to sovereignty
in both spiritual and temporal affairs. But his Ghibellinism was
more than spite. He dreamed of Italy united and happy under a
strong kingship, and to him the king could only be the emperor.

So he applauded the vain attempt of Henry VII to restore the
monarchy and wrote a pamphlet in defense of what had long
been a lost cause. The book repeats and amplifies a very old con-
tention — ^that the empire, being itself a divine establishment, is
quite independent of the papacy."* And Dante's thesis is thor-
oughly scholastic in that it accepts the conventional symbolism
and seeks merely to pick flaws in the papalists' logic. They, he

* See above, p. 508.

* See above, p- 318-

The

Divine

Comedy

HeU

688 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

says, have insisted that, since the moon shines by reflected light,
the state is inferior to the church. He does not think of denying
that the sun and the moon respectively typify the church and the
state ; he alleges that the moon really has a light of her own and
does not borrow everything from the sun. He reinterprets such
famous texts as Boniface VIII cited in his bull UnaM Sanctam.^
And to clinch his argument, he states that Christ would never have
chosen to be born under the Roman Empire if it had not been
the perfect form of government !

Interesting as they are, these minor works are utterly dwarfed
by the magnificent Cammed ia^ which came to occupy Dante’s
later years. The Divine Comedy, as it is generally known, is
unlike anything else that has ever been written. Though epic
in its scope and solemnity, it is by no means an impersonal narra-
tive. In a way it is a tale of adventure, but the adventure is such as
no man could ever really have, and the hero is Dante himself, who
relates in the first person what he has seen and heard. This fea-
ture permits the author to display his own emotions whenever he
pleases, thus giving to many passages an intensely lyric quality.
The subject matter of the poem is equally remarkable, for under
its three headings of Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise Dante deals
•with the entire universe — God and the world and all the creatures
who have inhabited it. Nor is he restricted to the thought and
actions of dead men; his literary device gives unlimited oppor-
tunity for criticism of contemporary society. In substance, there-
fore, the Divine Comedy is essentially a Summa, like that of
Aquinas;^ yet in form it is a vernacular poem, combining and
developing elements drawn from the epic, romantic, and lyric
compositions of the preceding two centuries. The man who could
conceive of such an enterprise, perfect a language in which to
express himself, and then complete the work with sustained artis-
try must always be recognized as a towering genius.

To give any idea of the Divine Comedy as poetry is here out
of the question. The meter and triple rh)mie of the original
have never been satisfactorily reproduced in English, and the
theme is such that a few haphazard quotations are quite useless.
Nor can any but a brief indication be made of the contents. The
scene is laid in the year 1300. Dante, lost in a forest, is being
attacked by certain symbolic beasts when he is rescued by Vergil,

® See above, p. 517.

® See above, p. 518.

THEEMFntElir

FictniE i8.— Dante's Scheme of the Univehse (adapted from the plan of
K. Caetani in La Materia della Dmna Commedia dt Dante Alighieri).

690 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

who explains that he has come at the request of Beatrice in
paradise. He himself, as a virtuous pagan, has been condemned
to limbo, a sort of neutral zone just inside hell, through which
he offers to escort his fellow poet. The two descend thither by
an underground passage. Hell is a hollow cone with its point
reaching to the center of the spherical earth (see Figure i8). It is
divided into a series of nine circles, of which the topmost is
limbo. There Dante sees Vergil’s companions in exclusion from
heaven, including Hector, .®neas, Caesar, Lucretia, Aristotle,
Plato, Orpheus, Cicero, Seneca, Euclid, Ptolemy, Avicenna, Aver-
roes, and Saladin. The souls of the good Hebrews, he is told,
liave been removed to heaven. In the second circle are the lust-
ful — ^among them Cleopatra, Helen of Troy, Achilles, and Tris-
tan. And below it Dante passes through the circles of the glut-
tonous, the slothful, the avaricious, the violent, the false, auid
the traitorous, each group suffering direr punishment than the
one above it. He encounters many Italian acquaintances and
from them hears various prophecies. Among the simoniacs in
the eighth circle he finds Pope Nicholas III, who momentarily
mistakes him for Boniface VIII and who predicts that the latter
will soon arrive and then be joined by Clement V.

Finally, after discovering Brutus, Cassius, and Judas Iscariot
Purgatory among the traitors at the bottom of tlie pit, Dante and his guide
emerge by another passage to the hemisphere opposite that of
^ the inhabited earth. Here is situated the mountain of purgatory,

to which those who have died absolved by the church are ferried
by angels. The mountain is the converse of hell, with nine ledges
where the souls of the repentant are compelled to perform labors
in proportion to the evil which they did while alive. In this
region, too, Dante sees many famous characters and speaks to a
number of recently arrived Italians. On the top of the moun-
tain he enters the earthly paradise — ^the original garden of Eden
— ^where he has a series of ecstatic visions and where Beatrice
assumes charge of his further progress. She, looking into the
sun like an eagle, draws him up through the air to the encircling
spheres of the seven planets : the moon, Mercury, Venus, the sun.
Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Each is visited in turn and Dante
finds out many new facts, both astronomical and theological.
Beatrice herself explains to him the cause of the spots on the

’’ On the crystal spheres, see above, p. 210; on the eagle, above, p. 490.

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 691

moon, the nature of the angels, and the distribution of the blessed
in paradise according to the principles of symbolic justice.

In the course of his tour Dante is also able to converse with
many of the departed great. In the sphere of Mercury, among
the souls of the active, he finds Justinian, who expounds the his-
tory of the Roman Empire. In that of the sun the spirits of
the wise are identified for him by St. Thomas Aquinas — among
them Albert the Great, Peter Lombard, Gratian, Orosius, Boe-
thius, Isidore of Seville, and Solomon. The great schoolman
also sketches the history of the mendicant orders, bitterly com-
menting on their present decadence. In Mars, along with Char-
lemagne, Roland, and other soldiers of the Cross, Dante en-
counters his own crusading ancestor, who describes Florence
in the good old days, foretells Dante’s unjust exile, and assures
him fame on account of the work which he shall publish. In
Saturn, St. Benedict discusses the foundation of his order and
laments the fact that his rule has fallen into complete neglect.

In the heaven of the fixed stars Dante is examined by St. Peter,
who approves his faith and encourages him to speak boldly con-
cerning the present degeneration of the papacy. Finally, in the
Empyrean, the topmost heaven, Dante is accorded a brief glimpse
of God, and the tale of his mystic adventure comes to an end.

Such a poem as the Divine Comedy utterly defies an attempt
at brief appreciation. As is proved by the library of criticism Thequal-
which it has inspired, there is not a canto in any of its three ity of
parts that does not demand profound study, both as a literal nar-
rative and as an allegory. The sheer weight of erudition im- ^ ^

plied in its composition is, to say the least, formidable. Yet
Dante was anything but a pedant. Being a very great poet, he
gave to his work a beauty of expression and a depth of feeling
that remain unsurpassed in literature. Although we may dislike
his crude descriptions of torments in hell, and smile at his naive
catalogue of the saved and the damned, we cannot doubt his pas-
sionate sincerity. It is that which gives to his writing the force
of an Old Testament prophecy. Dante was intensely religious,
and his religion, despite his attack on individual priests, was thor-
oughly orthodox. It was, in fact, the mediaeval church that,
through the teacliings of the schoolmen, provided him with the
materials for his book. And he was keenly interested in the con-
temporary world. This truth is shown by his popularization of
science — ^the best that the age afforded — and by his devotion to

692 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

his native tongue. From that day to this, literary Italian has re-
mained essentially the language that he perfected.

The very qualities that made the Divine Comedy a great and
original work made Dante’s lyrics somewhat less than models
of their kind. The vein of mystic allegory that runs through
them is interesting to the student of his character, but detracts
from their charm as love songs. Dante’s earliest sonnet — if we
are to believe the Vita Nuova — ^was a strange production for a
youth of eighteen, who had just heard his lady’s voice for the
first time.*

To each enamored soul and gentle heart
To sight of whom these presents shall be brought.

That unto me they may remit their thought.

May Love, their lord, felicity impart !

Two thirds were wanting still, ere should depart
The time when stars with light are chiefly fraught,

When Love came sudden to my view unsought.

In guise that but to image is to start.

Bearing my heart within his hand he came ;

Blithe, as meseemed ; within his arms was laid
My lady in a coverlet asleep.

Then woke he her, and with that heart aflame
Obsequious fed ; she ate as one afraid ;

And as he went, I saw that he did weep.

Fine as it is, the poem lacks the grace of simplicity ; to be under-
stood, it needs a commentary.

For the reason that Dante’s verse is generally of the same sort
Petrarch — little abstruse for popular taste — ^the title of Italy’s foremost
(1304-74) lyric poet has been awarded rather to a man of the next genera-
tion, Francesco Petrarca.® He also was of a Florentine family,
the son of a notary exiled along with Dante in 1302. In 1313,
when Petrarch was nine, his father moved to the papal territory
near Avignon and it was there that the boy received instruction
in grammar. Later he studied law at Montpellier and Bologna,
but gained only a dislike for the subject. So, on his father’s
death in 1326, Petrarch took holy orders, hoping thereby to se-
cure the necessary leisure for a literary career. How he eventu-
ally came to devote himself wholly to classical study will be seen

* R. Garnett, CXXIV Sonnets (John Lane: London, 1896), p. 5. This and the
sonnet below on p. 694 are reprinted here by permission of the publisher

® Originally Petracco.

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 693

in the following pages. Here we are concerned merely with his
writing in the vernacular. If Petrarch foimd inspiration in the
poets of the Augustan Age, he was assuredly not the first who
had done so since the revival of Latin letters in the twelfth cen-
tury.^® And if the glance of an adored lady brought him a fresh
rapture in the beauties of nature, his experience was that of a
thousand troubadours who had sung before he was born.

Happily for the poet, his art does not demand the constant in-
vention of new themes. To be accorded the highest honor, he
need only appeal to the emotions common to mankind. Petrarch’s
lyrics have proved immortal not because of his scholarship, but
in spite of it. There is no explaining genius, which can produce
marvels of beauty from the most ordinary materials. Thus Pe-
trarch glorified a love which most men would have found alto-
gether trivial. Laura, he tells us, he first saw on April 6, 1327,
in a church at Avignon. Who the lady was we do not know.
She was apparently the wife of another, and she paid no atten-
tion to Petrarch, who was left to pine at a romantic distance.
This ideal attachment, it may be noted, remained unaffected by
his priesthood, and neither the one nor the other prevented his
living with a woman who w^as not his wife. Petrarch, after al-
ternately cursing and glorying in his foolish passion, thought that
the old wound had been healed, when in 1348 it was reopened
by the news of Laura’s death. The result was another series of
poems, superior to most of those that had preceded. Altogether,
he composed over three hundred sonnets, and although many of
them are spoiled by overindulgence in tricks of rhetoric, some
have always been countM among the world’s masterpieces of lyric
verse.

Petrarch is at his best in such unpretentious songs as those
wherein he praises his lady’s golden hair, blesses the grass and
flowers that bear the impress of his lady’s foot, or celebrates the
glove that has covered his lady’s hand.^^

O lovely hand that lightly holds my heart.

That needs but close to press my life away.. ,.

He wrote at least one unforgettable sonnet praying God to de-
liver him from his^hameful bondage. But with Petrarch the

See above, pp. 447 f.

“ The two following quotations are from Morris Bishop, Lwe Rimes of Petrarch
(Ithaca, N. Y., 1932), and are used by permission.

Sonnets
m the
Life and
Death of
Laura

The devel-
opment of
secular
literature

694 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

mood of repentance is exceptional. Even when he has realized
that his love is hopeless, his resignation is not that of a devout
believer.

Once I besought her mercy with my sighs.

Striving in love-rime to communicate
My pain, to see in that immaculate
Unmelting heart the fires of pity rise.

I longed the freezing cloud that round her lies
In the eloquent winds of love to dissipate —

Or else I'd rouse against her all men's hate
Because she hid from me her lovely eyes.

But now I wish no longer hate for her.

Nor for me pity; for I know at last
In vain against my fate I spend my breath.

Only ril sing how she is lovelier
Than the divine, that, when my flesh is cast.

The world may know how happy was my death.

And at Laura’s death he finds little consolation in the orthodox
faith.^^

The eyes whose praise I penned with glowing thought,

And countenance and limbs and all fair worth
That sundered me from men of mortal birth —

From them dissevered, in myself distraught —

The clustering locks, with golden glory fraught ;

The sudden-shining smile, as angels' mirth.

Wonted to make a paradise on earth ;

Are now a little dust that feels not aught.

Still I have life, who rail and rage at it,

Lorn of love's light that solely life endears.

Mastless before the hurricane I flit.

Be this my last of lays to mortal ears ;

Dried is the ancient fountain of my wit,

And all my music melted into tears.

It is in truth a strange commentary on the age that of the
two great Florentine poets the fervent Christian was a layman,
the pagan at heart was a priest. Throughout his entire career,
as will be more clearly seen below, Petrarch's true passion was for
secular literature. This attitude was not without precedent. The
foregoing two centuries had produced a mass of writing — ^much
of it from the pens of clergymen — ^which was almost entirely

^ The following quotation is from R, Garnett, CXXIV Sonnets, p. 78,

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 695

free of ecclesiastical influence. Such works were not so much
anti-Christian as non-Christian, being composed in the vernacular
for a lay audience that delighted in love songs, tales of adven-
ture, and amusing stories of all sorts. Petrarch’s aesthetic heri-
tage was that of the troubadours, whose art — ^whatever its
precise origin — ^was essentially pagan in spirit. Nor was the bour-
geois poetry of the Middle Ages any less worldly. The fabliaux,
when not positively immoral, were quite careless of devout opin-
ion. Even such an innocent romance as Aitcassin and Nicolette
was distinctly irreverent in tone. The Romance of the Rose
was not only anti-clerical, but very nearly anti-religious in its
rationalism. Although much of this literature had no meaning
for Petrarch, it was of great significance for the most talented
of his literary associates.

Giovanni Boccaccio was born in 1313, the son of a Florentine
merchant and a Parisian woman. As a boy, he was apprenticed Boccaccio
to a trader for six years and it was presumably during this period (i 3 i 3 ~ 75 )
that he lived for a time in France and acquired an intimate
knowledge of the French language. But Giovanni had only
distaste for the profession of his father, who finally agreed that
he might study canon law at Naples. This subject the youth
came to detest even more than commerce; so, at about twenty
years of age, he returned to his father’s calling, living first at
Naples and then at Florence. That he ever became much of a
business man may well be doubted, for his only real interest
was in literature. Since an early age he had composed verses,
and as he attained manhood he more and more devoted himself
to writing. By this time, too, he had become the ardent lover of
a Neopolitan lady whom he celebrated as Fiametta. Whether
or not she was the illegitimate daughter of the king is a matter
of slight importance; through her inspiration Boccaccio com-
posed not only lyrics, but also a series of tales, allegories, and
romances after French models, some in vei-se and some in prose.

It was not until after 1350 that, on coming to reside at Florence,
he became acquainted with Petrarch, who thenceforth exerted an
increasing influence over him.

Although Boccaccio expressed a great admiration for Dante
and tried to get Petrarch to share his enthusiasm, it seems highly The
doubtful that he ever had any real appreciation of the Divine Decameron
Comedy] he certainly had no liking for religious mysticism. As
far as Petrarch was concerned, his sonnets proved the despair

696 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

of Boccaccio, who wisely decided to concentrate on a literary
project better suited to his own genius. The result was the
justly famed Decameron, which was completed shortly after the
middle of the century. The book is too familiar — even to Amer-
ican undergraduates — ^to need an elaborate description here. It
is, of course, a collection of prose stories presumed to be told
by a company of Florentines, cultured ladies and gentlemen, who
have shut themselves up to escape the plague. The Black Death
was a very real visitation in Italy during the 1340’s and Boccac-
cio’s graphic description is one of the classics on the subject.
But in the Decameron it serves merely to introduce a string of
tales which in large part he had already written. Few if any
of them were original with him. Many he took bodily from the
French fabliaux; some he copied from ancient authors like Apu-
leius, who long before had cribbed them out of earlier compila-
tions ; others he picked up in the streets of Florence or wherever
else a spicy anecdote was relished. They have only one element
in common, that they are in some way entertaining. They vary
from the extremely delicate to the grossly licentious. They are
told without the slightest pretense of a didactic aim; their only
object is to gain a laugh or a sigh. They reveal the author as a
man of the world writing for a worldly audience, neither of them
caring in the least for the conventional idealism of the church.

As a whole, the Decameron is as little a reforming pamphlet
as it is a sermon. Its attitude is precisely that of the fabliaux.
People are accepted as they are and given whatever amuses them.
In the tales priests and monks appear prominently, and rarely to
their credit, because a clergyman in a risque situation never fails
of a laugh. The humor, though not always clean, is quite irre-
sistible. And as far as the smut is concerned, it must be admitted
that Boccaccio added nothing that was not richly provided by his
originals. As yet no one dreamed of expurgating that sort of
literature; many generations were to pass before delicate language
became fashionable in polite circles. In any case, whatever may
be thought of the author’s taste in such matters, the Decameron
is a masterpiece of art. It is brilliantly written in a graceful
smooth-flowing style that admirably reflects the changing moods
of the narrative. The first great work in Italian prose, it has
exerted a povrerful influence on the literary development of that
nation. In spite of its disreputable features, it yet stands as a
model of composition alongside the works of Dante and Petrarch.

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 697

2. VERNACULAR LITERATURE: ENGLISH AND FRENCH

While Italian was blossoming as a literary language, what we
know as English was gradually taking form. At the opening The
of the fourteenth century French was still spoken at the royal English
court, and elsewhere in England it was known as a matter of ^
course by educated persons generally. But in both town and
country, in the homes of all classes, the ancient vernacular had
steadily gained at the expense of that imported by the Normans.

There were several dialects. That of the north we know as Scot-
tish ; that of the south lingers on in rural communities and occa-
sionally appears as a quaint or comic touch in modern novels.

Our English is based rather on the speech of the Midlands, the
ancient Anglo-Saxon of Mercia modified by and largely mixed
with the spoken French of the Normans. Except for this in-
fluence, we today should probably be using a language somewhat
resembling modern Flemish. By the thirteenth century the French
of England had become a joke to the authors of the fabliaux^
and as time went on, except as it was learned from foreign
teachers, it became worse and worse. Long after it had disap-
peared from other official documents, it persisted in law reports
as a strange and ludicrous jargon — ^to produce such classics as
the account of the trial where the prisoner ‘^ject un brickbat a le
dit justice que narrowly mist."’^^

Meanwhile the English vernacular, after obscure progress in a
series of minor writings, had suddenly attained glory in the WycH€e's
\yprks of Chaucer, Langland, and Wycliffe. The last of these Efighsh
eminent contemporaries has been dealt with in the preceding
chapter. From the viewpoint of literature, his great contribution
was the translation of the Bible which is associated with his
name. What part, if any, he had in the work remains doubtful;
but the Wycliffite Bible was the first complete English version
to be made of the Scriptures. Of the two texts to come down to
us the earlier is stiff and crude — ^too obviously a literal rendering
of the Latin. The later, on the other hand, testifies to a skillful
revision by some one — said to have been John Purvey — ^with a
good ear for idiomatic expression. Here we find emerging the
majestic prose which was to reach perfection in the authorized
version of King James two hundred years later. And although

“ Cited by F. W. Maitland, English Law and the Renaissancet p. i S.

698 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

at first sight this fourteenth-century English looks hard on ac-
count of the obsolete spelling, most of it can be read by the mod-
ern student without great difficulty.

As far as Langland is concerned, scholars are still disputing
Langland's whether a person by that name wrote all or any of the poems
Vision of have traditionally borne his name. The Vision of Piers

^Flimman exists in three forms, each marked by peculiarities of

thought and diction. For this reason, though all three date from
the later fourteenth century, it seems unlikely that they were the
product of a single author. More probably we have to do with
a series of revisions and amplifications by various persons. But
such problems must be left to the decision of specialists. Here
it will be sufficient to note the outstanding features of the orig-
inal work, the author of which may just as well be called Lang-
land as anything else. The poem is remarkable in many ways.
It is written in the old alliterative verse that had come down
from the Anglo-Saxon period, and its language, compared with
that of Chaucer, is archaic. This is the beginning, in the mod-
ernized English of Skeat.^^

In a summer season, when soft was the sun,

I enshrouded me well in a shepherd^s garb.

And robed as a hermit, unholy of works,

Went wide through the world, all wonders to hear.

And on a May morning, on Malvern hills,

Strange fancies befel me, and fairy-like dreams.

I was weary of wand’ring, and went to repose
On a broad green bank, by a burn-side ;

As I lay there and leaned and looked on the waters,

I slumbered and slept, they sounded so merry.

Came moving before me a marvellous vision;

I was lost in a wild waste ; but where, I discerned not.

I beheld in the east, on high, near the sun,

A tower on a hill-top, with turrets well wrought ;

A deep dale beneath, and a dungeon therein,

With deep ditches and dark, and dreadful to see.

A fair field,. full of folk, I found there between, *

Of all manner of men, the mean and the rich,

' All working or wandering, as the world requires.

“In The King's Classics (Alexander Moring, Ltd.: London, 1905), used by
permission of the publisher.

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 699

Here, as explained later, was the earth, situated between the
Tower of Truth, which was heaven, and the Castle of Care, which
was hell. The earth was filled with all manner of persons, but
the rascals seemed to be more prominent. The dreamer perceived
sturdy plowmen, earning “the gain which the great ones in glut-
tony waste’’ ; prosperous merchants, honest gleemen, devout
monks, faithful priests, and other sincere Christians. They were
too rare among the hordes of “jugglers and jesters, all Judas’s
children”; the beggars and beadsmen, intent only on cramming
their bags and their bellies; pilgrims and palmers, whose jour-
neys to holy shrines had merely served to make them profes-
sional liars ; false hermits, “great lubbers and long, that to labor
were loath” ; friars of all sorts.

Who preached to the people for personal profit;

As it seemed to them good, put a gloss on the gospel,

And explained it at pleasure ; they coveted copes.

There was also a pardoner, cheating the poor folk with in-
dulgences under a bull which no prelate worth his two ears would
ever have sealed. There appeared bishops and bachelors, mas-
ters and doctors, who, though holding parishes, spent their time
in London to serve the king or to sing masses for silver. They
were almost as mercenary as the lawyers.

I saw then a hundred, in hoods all of silk,

All Serjeants, it seemed, thiKi served at the bar,

Pleading their causes for pence or for pounds,

But for love of our Lord their lips moved never !

Sooner measure the mist upon Malvern hills
Than see a mouth mumble ere money be shown !

Nor were the laborers all worthy of their hire. Many were loaf-
ers who did nothing all day but sing, while the hawkers shouted
their wares : “Hot pies, hot !” — “Good geese and good bacon !” —
“White wine of Alsace!” — “Red Gascony wine!”

This vivid prologue is followed by the lively allegory of Lady
Meed, the personification of unjust reward — or what is popu-
larly known as graft. Her proposed marriage to False led to a
lawsuit, and all parties proceeded to London to have the case
tried before the king. Although Meed had in her train an army
of devotees, including all the lawyers, the king was eventually
brought to listen to Reason and to put Meed out of hia court.
So ends the first vision, but the dreamer soon has a second. Con-

Allegory
of the
earth

Lady
Meed and
Piers
Plowman

700 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

science appeared in the field full of folk and preached repentance.
First one and then another of his listeners was moved to seek
forgiveness. The seven deadly sins, each personified by an indi-
vidual man, made confession of their evil lives. That of Glutton,
in particular, remains one of the most graphic passages in Eng-
lish literature, for it includes a realistic picture of the contem-
porary alehouse and its ribald company. Finally a multitude of
repentant sinners set out on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St.
Truth, but none knew the way thither. Before long they met a
palmer, tricked out with all the symbols of the profession and
covered with holy relics. He had been to Sinai, Jerusalem, Beth-
lehem, Babylon, Armenia, and Alexandria. Could he tell where
to find St. Truth?

''Nay,” said the good man, "so God be my guide,

I saw never a palmer with pikestaff or scrip

That asked for him ever, ere now in this place.”

Then the plowman Piers said that he knew the answer; he had
faithfully served Truth for the past fifty years. So the pilgrims
asked Piers to lead them, and he promised to do so if they would
help him with his plowing. They agreed, and after much trouble
with the lazy and quarrelsome, the work was done. The only
result, however, was that Piers became embroiled in an argument
with a priest, during which the dreamer awoke, "meatless and
moneyless on Malvern hills.”

The author of this astonishing work was not only a great lit-
erary artist ; he was likewise a penetrating critic of existing con-
ditions in church and state. As may be seen even from the
foregoing excerpts, his allegorical satire was such as could be
grasped by any intelligent hearer, whether educated or not, for
it was based on the everyday experience of the people. Although
the book contains no doctrine of revolution, it breathes the dis-
content that produced the insurrection of 1381. To the student
of social problems it holds a peculiar interest as an early and elo-
quent defense of the common man, typified by Piers the Plow-
man. The poem had an enormous success and so inspired vari-
ous writers to attempt amendments and continuations. Some of
the supplementary material is very remarkable, but in general its
insertion tended to spoil the coherence and dramatic force of the
original. Langland, if that was the author’s name, obviously had
much in common with Wycliffe, the preacher and reformer.

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 701

In spite of the fact that both were poets, Langland and Chaucer
were radically different. One, in the intensity of his religious
fervor, resembled Dante ; the other, with his good-humored world-
liness, was more like Boccaccio. No doubt the contrast was in
part due to the fact that Chaucer was very far from being meat-
less and moneyless. He was the son of a prosperous London
vintner employed in the king’s financial administration. The boy,
born somewhere between 1340 and 134S, was given a good edu-
cation, becoming familiar with Latin, French, and Italian. Later
he is said to have studied law, and, though not a scholar, he
gained a knowledge of many learned subjects by wide reading.
As a youth, he was attached to the household of John of Gaunt
and saw service in the French wars. After 1370 he was em-
ployed on various diplomatic missions to Italy and France, and
was appointed to several responsible posts in the royal govern-
ment. He and his wife continued to enjoy high favor at court.
He owned a house in London and estates in the country. At
least on one occasion he sat in parliament. Meanwhile he had
gained international renown as an author. Dying in 1400, he was
buried in Westminster Abbey — ^an event that subsequently led
to the formation of the famous Poets’ Corner.

Among Chaucer’s works, which include many translations
and adaptations from the French and the Italian, only the Can-
terbury Tales need be mentioned here, and that book is too fa-
miliar to require more than brief comment. In the history of
the English language it is much more important than Piers
Plozxman, Chaucer adopted the colloquial English of the capital
with its rich intermixture of French, and the fact that we can.
read it with such ease shows how our speech is descended from
his rather than from Langland’s. To the old alliterative ‘ verse
Chaucer preferred the meters and rhyme systems that had been
perfected on the continent. Even his materials were largely
drawn from Boccaccio or from such sources as the latter had
used. Writing in this way, an inferior poet would have produced
little more than poor imitations. That Chaucer, despite all his
borrowings, could create an artistic masterpiece is sufficient evi-
dence of his genius. Like the Decameron, Chaucer’s book is a
collection of stories, for the most part old. The way in which
they were skillfully retold for an English audience and presented,
each in its most appropriate style of verse or prose, must always

Geoffrey
Chaucer
(d. 1400)

The Can*

terhury

Tales

702 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

fascinate the special student of literature. But to the historian
the part that is of prime significance is the prologue.

There the poet describes the company assembled in the Tabard
The Inn at Southwark — ^the group of persons who are to amuse one
prologue: another by telling stories while they journey to the shrine of St.
aymen Thomas Becket at Canterbury. It is a magnificent series of por-
traits, deserving all the praise that has been lavished on it for
the past five centuries. And it is simple enough to be read by
every one in the original ; to attempt a paraphrase would be use-
less. One or two special points in connection with its vivid por-
trayal of contemporary society may, however, be indicated. As
would be expected in the work of a prosperous bourgeois courtier,
no satire is directed against the upper or middle classes. The
pictures of the knight and of the squire, his son, are highly
idealized; even their servant, the forester-yeoman, is a fine fel-
low. Nothing unkind is said of the country gentry. The frank-
lin is merely a substantial landowner, fond of good eating. The
reeve, to be sure, is hard and avaricious; but so an efficient
manager of estates has to be. The merchant, the manciple, and
the Shipman are worthy people. The various artisans are hardly
more than mentioned, unless we include in their number the
miller and the inimitable wife of Bath. Both seem like charac-
1 ters drawn from life. The former — red-whiskered and loud-
mouthed, with a hairy wart on his nose — ^is unpleasant merely
as an individual. And Chaucer, of course, does not imply tliat
cloth-makers were usually mannish women who had buried five
husbands. The plowman is given hearty praise as a God-fearing
laborer who at any time is willing to help out an unfortunate
comrade. The serjeant of law is not as he is described by
England ; he is a wise and highly respected man, with merely the
foible of liking to appear busier than he really is. Only a little
fim is poked at the doctor of physic, who knows his Galen and
Avicenna somewhat better than the Bible, and who values gold
as a cordial of especial worth.

^ It is not until he comes to tlie clergy that Chaucer’s gentle

'lergy irony develops into a rich vein of satire. There is the utterly
charming prioress, so tender-hearted that she would weep over a
mouse in a trap, delicate and lovely, with manners to grace the
royal court. The motto on her brooch is Amor vincit omnia,, and
we are left to wonder whether the reference is to the love of
God. The monk fit to be an abbot is a great hunter and a

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 703

thorough man of the world, not at all like a fish out of water
when away from his cloister. ^‘A lord ful fat and in good
poynt,’’ he has nothing monastic about him except his clothes.
The friar is more the professional ecclesiastic, with his power of
hearing confessions and solemnizing marriages — ^but what an
ecclesiastic! He is a strong, handsome devil, light-spoken and
clever. He has a good stock of presents for young wives. He
can sing and play. He knows hosts and tapsters much better
than beggars and lepers. He enjoys the entree into all the more
substantial homes of the country. He hears confession full
sweetly and grants pleasant absolution with easy penance, for he
can judge of repentance through the sinner’s generosity.

For many a man so harde is of his herte
He may nat wepe althogh hym soore smerte.

Therefore, instede of wepynge and preyeres.

Men moote yeve silver to the poure freres.

Chaucer presents two other clerical rascals, the summoner and
the pardoner. The one was a sort of bailiff who served notices
on people to appear before the ecclesiastical court — an occupa-
tion that gave unlimited opportunities for scandal-mongering and
blackmail. The loathsome representative in the prologue is the
profession at its worst. The pardoner has already been encoun-
tered in Piers Plowman. Chaucer’s example is an effeminate with
a voice ^‘as smal as hath a goot.” Yet he is good at his job of
selling indulgences, and he also deals in relics : a pillowcase made
from Our Lady’s veil, a piece of sail from St. Peter’s fishing
boat — "'and in a glas he hadde pigges bones.” With this stuff
he makes more in a day than an honest priest can get in a year.

And thus with feyned flaterye and japes
He made the person and the peple his apes.

To balance these uncomplimentary pictures, we are shown two
very worthy men of the church. The famous clerk of Oxford
is the poverty-stricken scholar who has obtained no benefice, but
who does not care, as long as he possesses a score of books on
Aristotelian philosophy. And the poor parson is all that he
should be. He has not hired out his parish and gone to London
to find easy money. Instead, he preaches the Gospel to the peo-
ple, visits the sick and needy in rain and storm, and shares his
meager income with the poor.

Con-
tinental
literature
in the
fifteenth
century

Francois

Villon

704 MEDI/EVAL HISTORY

He waited after no pompe and reverence,

Ne maked him a spiced conscience ;

But Christes loore and his apostles twelve
He taughte, but first he folwed it hymselve.

It is quite obvious why Chaucer’s popularity has never waned
from his day to our own. While lacking the rugged strength
of Piers Plowman, the Canterbury Tales have never been sur-
passed for graceful, witty narrative. More could not be ex-
pected from a poet who sought merely to entertain. And Chau-
cer was infinitely superior to the contemporary writers of the
other western countries. Those of France, led by Froissart and
Eustace Deschamps, slavishly followed the traditions of the thir-
teenth century, composing endless verses after the old models
and never approaching their excellence. Germany could offer
even less. Somewhat more remarkable work was being produced
by Spanish authors, but in generd they were satisfied with imi-
tations of Italian, French, and Provencal originals, and among
them no single literary genius emerged to rank with those men-
tioned in the preceding pages. In the fifteenth century conditions
became even more unfavorable throughout most of western Eu-
rope. France, which had earlier been the cultural center of the
Latin world, fell into appalling disorder, and before long England
shared the same unhappy fate. Although the island kingdom had
to wait for the Tudors to enjoy a noteworthy revival, France
under Louis XI once more adiieved glory in the field of letters as
well as in that of politics.

Of the two illustrious French writers who flourished in the
later fifteenth century, Philippe de Commines has already been
considered.^ The other was Frangois Villon, one of the great
lyric poets of all time and one of the world’s most famous char-
acters. Originally his name seems to have been Fran9ois de
Montcorbier. Bom in Paris in 1431, he was, by the death of
his father, early left to the care of his mother, a worthy woman
but illiterate. What saved Francois from living and dying in
obscurity was the fact that he was adopted by a well-to-do rela-
tive, Guillaume de Villon, who was a chaplain attached to the
church of Saint-Benoit near the Sorbonne. Henceforth the boy
lived with Villon and was known by his name. Thanks to his
gmerosity, furthermore, Francois received a good education, first

“ See above, pp. 638 f.

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 705

in a grammar school of the ordinary type and then in the uni-
versity, where he became a bachelor in 1449 and a master in

1452.

He was destined never to obtain ecclesiastical preferment. The
young master, in fact, had already developed the roistering habits
which were to prevent his ever holding an honored position in
either church or state. The discipline of the university, never
very strict, had suffered from the general confusion of the king-
dom. Paris, like the countryside, was filled with bands of thieves
and cut-throats, and the students were often no better. Villon
found in the taverns a more congenial society than in the cloister
of Saint-Benoit ; and the spiders, he tells us, spun their webs
over the bed where he was supposed to be sleeping. To this
early period belonged his brief love affair with Catherine de
Vaucelles, which ended in his being soundly thrashed by a suc-
cessful rival. Otherwise the girls whom he celebrated were
chance acquaintances of the streets. In 1455, while in the com-
pany of one such person, he was stabbed by a priest named Ser-
maise. In defense, Villon struck him with a stone and killed
him. Then at the barber’s,^® where he went for first aid, he
was foolish enough to give a false name. There was a police
investigation and Villon hurriedly left Paris. Within a year his
friends had cleared his name before the authorities and he re-
turned to his old lodgings. But in the meantime he had appar-
ently joined the Coquillards, a gang of professional robbers, in
whose jargon he wrote a number of ballads-

A series of housebreakings now occurred, ending in the theft
of a considerable sum from the College of Navarre. Villon was The Petit
implicated through the blabbing of a drunken comrade and was T estament
ordered under arrest. So once more he left the city in haste.

He had only time to finish a last will, in verse, the poem known
as the Petit Testament. Posing as a victim of love, he makes
a number of humorous bequests : his fame to Guillaume de Vil-
lon, his heart to the girl who had spurned him, his right of prefer-
ment to certain canons of Notre-Dame, his sword to a friend
who is to pay the sum for which it is now in pawn. But while
he is writing, he hears the bells of the Sorbonne, and the sound
brings to mind all the scholastic mummery in which he has been
so long engaged. The thought paralyzes his brain and he goes

“ At this time barbers also acted as surgeons.

The

Grand

Testament

706 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

to bed. Already famous in student circles as a writer of clever
ballads, Villon gained wide renown through the Petit Testament,
and while exiled from the capital he enjoyed the hospitality of
various princes. Yet he seems to have continued thieving as
an avocation, and the summer of 1460 found him in a dungeon
of the bishop of Orleans. Just then, according to the usual cus-
tom, Louis XI celebrated his accession by releasing prisoners on
his triumphal procession throughout the kingdom. And as the
king chanced to come in the right direction, Villon again found
himself at liberty. Returning to Paris, he wrote the Grand Tes-
tament, the work that constitutes his title to immortality.

He begins with a bitter song against the bishop who threw
him into jail; then he turns to bless Louis XL May he live to
be as old as Methuselah and have twelve children, all sons ! This
theme brings him to the story of King Alexander and the thief
— ^and so to himself. He is now thirty and has little to show for
the years but disillusionment.^’’^

My time of youth I do bewail,

That more than most lived merrily,

Until old age 'gan me assail,

For youth had passed unconsciously.

It wended not afoot from me.

Nor yet on horseback. Ah, how then ?

It fled away all suddenly
And never will return again.

He is left with no money and little learning. Even love has lost
its savor. If he had applied himself to study, he might have a
chance to sleep warm in his old age. Instead he wasted his
time with boon companions — ^and what has become of them?

Where are the gracious gallants now
That of old time I did frequent.

So fair of fashion and of show.

In song and speech so excellent?

Stark dead are some, their lives are spent ;

There rests of them nor mark nor trace;

May they in heaven have content;

God keep the others of His grace !

Of the rest some are beggars; some, on the other hand, are great

i^The following quotations are from John Payne’s translation; there are
various editions.

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 707

lords, who drink noble wines and eat grand meats every day.
Himself, he has had no such luck. He is descended from poor
folk, whose tombs bear no crowns or scepters. There is only
one consolation.

When I of poverty complain,

Ofttimes my heart to me hath said,

‘*Man, wherefore murmur thus in vain?

If thou hast no such plentihead
As had Jacques Coeur,^^ be comforted :

Better to live and rags to wear

Than to have been a lord, and dead.

Rot in a splendid sepulchre.”

Yet want follows on his track and death comes after. His
father has long been gone; his mother, as she well knows, must
soon go. His turn will come. There is no escape. Even the
fairest of the fair go the way of all flesh. So he writes on that
hackneyed theme his Ballad of Dead Ladies — surpassingly beau-
tiful, though little more than a list of names and the refrain,
Mais oil sont les neiges d’antan?^^ After similar poems to the
lords of old time, Villon inserts in the testament his very famous
Complaint of the Fair Armoress. Then the Double Ballad of
Good Counsel strikes a livelier note, giving to young men the
vain advice of keeping away from the girls — ‘‘Good luck has he
that deals with none.^"^^ And he adds the jingling verses that
celebrate the speech of the Parisian women.

Prince, give praise to our French ladies
For the sweet sound their speaking carries;

Twixt Rome and Cadiz many a maid is.

But no good girFs lip out of Paris.

Eventually, w-itli a solemn invocation and a legal preamble, he
comes to the testament proper — ^an appealing combination of
humor and tender seriousness — ^as in the lovely prayer to the
Virgin which he bequeathes to his mother, herself unable to
write. At the end he provides a mock epitaph for himself, ask-
ing that he be buried in a nunnery and that the great bells of
Notre-Dame be rung for his funeral ! Like the life of the poet,

A merchant of Bourges, famous for his wealth.

See Rossetti's translation, '*But where arc the snows of yesteryear?”

2® This and the following quotations are from the incomparable translations of
Swinburne.

Last years

The Ren-
aissance
in Italy

708 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

the Grand Testament is a continuous alternation of the grim and
the gay.

None of Villon’s good resolutions were kept. In 1462 he was
again in prison. Let out on bail, he became involved in another
stabbing alfray and was sentenced to be hanged. It was on this
occasion that he characteristically wrote two poems, one a coarse
jest and the other a touching appeal on behalf of himself and his
fellow convicts.

Men, brother men, that after us yet live.

Let not your hearts too hard against us be ;

For if some pity of us poor men ye give.

The sooner God shall take of you pity.

Here are we five or six strung up, you see.

And here the flesh that all too well we fed
Bit by bit eaten and rotten, rent and shred.

And we the bones grow dust and ash withal ;

Let no man laugh at us discomforted.

But pray to God that he forgive us all.

Yet his fame saved him from the gallows. Banished from Paris,
he disappeared and no one knows when or where he died. He was
the last and greatest singer of the Middle Ages. Subsequent
generations invented new refinements of language; they could
invent no greater art.

3. THE BEGINNINGS OP HUMANISM

It was once fashionable among historians to say that the
Renaissance began the Modern Age, and to attribute the begin-
ning of the change to the revival of classic study in Italy. Few
today would try to defend such a thesis. Chronologically, it
cannot be applied to Europe as a whole, for in the fourteenth
and fifteenth centuries the new learning was virtually restricted
to Italy. From the standpoint of economic, social, and political
history, the generalization is of little if any value. As already
noted, the development of the important states and their respec-
tive institutions can be explained without reference to it at all ;
and the opening of the New World was the result of commercial
expansion rather than of new styles in education. Even when
limited to the field of arts and letters, the concept of a Renais-
sance cannot be taken too absolutely. If that term is given
its literal meaning of “rebirth,” it is hardly applicable to the

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 709

emergence of Italian literature. The same truth applies with
equal force to English literature in the fourteenth century. There
was a very real French Renaissance under Louis XI, but it had
no connection with a revival of classic study. That in the later
Middle Ages Italy produced a brilliant civilization with many
original features none can deny, and it has become so familiar
as Renaissance civilization that a change of name would be fool-
ish. Nevertheless, before any rebirth is taken for granted, it
will be well to see precisely what the cultural innovations of the
Italians were. Aside from vernacular literature, which has al-
ready been examined, these innovations were principally in two
fields, education and the fine arts. Eventually they were carried
into all western Europe and thence into the New World. The
present sketch cannot follow the process to its culminating stage.

All that is presented here is an introduction to the subject, em-
phasizing the relationship between the older and the newer devel-
opments and leaving the details for treatment in other books.

As far as education was concerned, the effect of the Italian
Renaissance may be best explained not as the creation of a new Scholastic
system, but as the concentration of interest upon a neglected phase education
of the old system. During the entire Middle Ages there had, of
course, never been a moment when the Latin writers of antiquity
were not admired and studied. There had been periods when
scholarship sank to a very low ebb, but each time decline was
followed by recovery. The revival Under Charlemagne, narrow
as it was in scope, had permanent results in the organization of
schools, the improvement of handwriting, and the preservation
of the classics.^^ That of the twelfth century was more of a
general Renaissance, for it involved not only an enhanced interest
in Latin letters, but also the recovery of many Greek authors,
the introduction of wholly new sciences from the Arabic and
many original developments, both intellectual and aesthetic.^®

The achievements of that age were never lost ; they remained of
fundamental importance for the later culture of Europe. In par-
ticular, they constituted the structure in which fourteenth-cen-
tury Italians made certain alterations. As the universities grew
up under the dominance of the church, which was chiefly a>n-
cerned with practical religion, they came to devote their principal
attention to theology, seeking by dialectical argumentation to

See above, pp. 221 f.

See above, pp. 415 f.

Dims
Scotus
(d. 1308)
and

William
of Ockham

1349)

710 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

combine and reconcile an incongruous mass of Latin, Greek,
Arabic, and Hebrew writings. This was an essentially idealistic
program, quite in line with ecclesiastical tradition, and it culmi-
nated in the monumental work of St. Thomas Aquinas, who in
one grand logical system subordinated all human knowledge to
the dictates of the Christian faith.

There were, however, a number of scholars who, without deny-
ing the authority of the church, decried the overemphasis of dia-
lectic in the schools. The group of humanists,^® loyal to the prin-
ciples of the ancient grammarians, advocated a more thorough
study of classical literature. The group of scientists, mainly in-
spired by Arabic authors, urged a greater concentration of effort
on mathematics and experimentation. The group of mystics,
citing a host of venerable authorities, deplored the extension of
rationalism throughout the whole domain of Christian truth and
denounced the tendency to make theology a matter of argument
rather than of faith. Of tlie first group, once eloquently rep-
resented by John of Salisbury, little was heard in the thirteenth
century. The second group, on the other hand, gained consid-
erable strength under the ardent leadership of the Oxford Fran-
ciscans, Grosseteste and Bacon. And the third group was always
prominent, especially outside the universities.^^ Inevitably, as
the organized church of the thirteenth century weakened and
broke in the fourteenth, those who objected to the official regime
of education gained in prestige. The dissenters, of course, never
fell into three mutually exclusive camps ; but in general it may be
said that the cause of mysticism became identified with religious
reform, that of science was disputed in the leading universities,
and that of humanism was triumphantly advocated by Petrarch
and his disciples.

We have seen how apostolic poverty became the subject of
violent controversy between the Franciscan order and the papacy.
Meanwhile the Friars Minor also continued their feud with the
Dominicans by directing an offensive against the teachings of
Aquinas and his followers, known as the Thomists. In the early
fourteenth century the leaders of this campaign were Duns Scotus
and William of Ockham, both of them Franciscans educated at
Oxford and Paris. The former was more a mystic than a sci-

^ See above, p. 429. The humanist was one who studied literiB hurmniores^
that is to say, the ‘‘more humane” or secular literature of Greece and Rome.

^ See above, pp. 519, 679 f.

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 71 1

elitist and more a critic than a systematic theologian. For his
skill in dialectic he was called the Doctor Siibtilis, and he achieved
great fame by developing the thesis that such doctrines as the
existence of God and the immortality of the soul cannot be proved
by reason. Logically carried out, this argument tended to deny
the possibility of reconciling the Christian religion and the Aris-
totelian metaphysic. The Scot, however, died prematurely in
1308 and within a few years his work was largely superseded by
that of Ockham.

That illustrious scholar revived the discussion over universals
and particulars by reexamining the whole subject of human
knowledge.^® Accepting the dogmas of the church as matters
of divine revelation, Ockham discarded the rationalized theology
of the schools as resting on false presuppositions. General ideas,
he declared, have in themselves no absolute truth. One idea wt
accept because it follows from another already held. But what
is the origin of the latter ? Its validity must depend on the extent
to which it faithfully represents the objects of experience. This
was to challenge not only the teachings of Aquinas, but all ra-
tionalism that preferred logic to observation. It was an approach
to the very threshold of what we call scientific thought, and mo-
mentarily it encouraged some very* promising developments in
the schools. Although many were profoundly shocked by Ock-
ham’s revolutionary doctrine and antagonized by his later quarrel
with the pope, his influence dominated the foremost Parisian mas-
ters of the later fourteenth century. Turning their attention to
mathematics and the physical constitution of the universe, they
vaguely anticipated many of the views that were later to be
demonstrated by Galileo and other great physicists of his age.

Then, with the growing anarchy in church and state, the uni-
versities fell into decay. Academic discussion lost all originality
and degenerated into a meaningless war of words among rival
scholastic factions.

In Italy, meanwhile, the intellectual leaders were being drawn
into the field of humanistic study. The example was set by Pe- Petrarch
trarch, a man of strange contradictions. We have seen how, in and
his younger days, he won merited fame by his sonnets in the ver-* humanism
nacular. Subsequently he affected great disdain for the vulgar
tongue and wrote only what he intended for classical Latin.

** See above, pp. 66i f.

MEDIEVAL HlbTUKY

71:2

Although many of his poems reveal a fine appreciation of the
contemporary world and an ardent love for Italy, in his Letter
to Posterity he expressed the wish that he might have been born
in an3^ age other than his own* He was a clergyman, spent a
number of j’^ears as a hermit, and wrote books on religion. Yet
he showed no understanding of Dante’s Christianity, devoting
himself by preference to secular literature and the pursuit of
glory. By way of extenuation, it may be said that Petrarch was
a poet, swayed rather by variable emotions than by a keen intelli-
gence. Like Jean Jacques Rousseau of the eighteenth century,
he was a man of illogical enthusiasms possessed of an uncanny
ability to inspire disciples with a sort of religious fervor.

Despite Petrarch’s profession of Christianity, his fundamental
attitude toward life seems to have been that of a pagan. The
essence of his humanism, at any rate, was to break with ecclesi-
astical tradition and to study the works of antiquity for their
own sake. Unlike the orthodox scholar of the earlier period,
the humanist gloried in the aesthetic delight that came to him
through the reading of the classics. It may be gravely doubted
that all the men and women who had studied these writings dur-
ing the centuries since the triumph of Christian education had
failed to have such emotional reactions. Many of them — even
the most eminent doctors — ^must have enjoyed their Ovid and
Vergil, but it was not conventional for them to advertise the
fact. Once the inhibition was lifted, humanism gained rapid
headway. The cities of Italy, with their wealthy, pleasure-loving
aristocracy and their state-endowed schools, were natural centers
for the encouragement of secular arts and letters. Under the
patronage of rival despots and merchant princes, the collecting^
interpreting, and imitating of ancient authors became a veritable
craze.

Petrarch’s own accomplishments were relatively mediocre. He
had a very imperfect knowledge of the Latin classics and no
knowledge of Greek at all. Scorning the barbarism of the school-
men, he sought to model his style on Cicero and Seneca, pro-
ducing a mass of affected discourses and epistles which today
nobody cares to read except as a matter of historical research.
Although the learning of his time contained much that was stupid
or inadequate, much of it deserved more than a disdainful ges-
ture. Along with the scholastic theology, Petrarch condemned
all original advance in law, mathematics, and the natural sciences.

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 713

By rejecting both the vernacular and the contemporary Latin as
a medium of literary composition, he made it impossible for his
disciples to be other than antiquarians.^® And his admiration
for past ages was a matter of emotional reaction rather than of
historical appreciation. His denunciation of Aristotle rested on a
real understanding neither of Platonism nor of philosophy in
general. In the eyes of his contemporaries, however, Petrarch’s
shortcomings were more than made up for by his enthusiasm.

His love for ancient literature was sincere and made a host of
converts, among whom was Boccaccio. That sprightly author,
having come to repent the cynicism of the Decameron, for a time
thought to enter a monastery, but was persuaded by Petrarch to ‘
take up humanistic study instead — z strange parody on the con-
version of St. Jerome.^*^ Like his friend, Boccaccio thenceforth
devoted himself to the classical languages. His last years were
spent in an effort to learn Greek.

In the course of the hundred years following the death of
Petrarch the humanists rapidly gained control of various Italian Humanism
universities. In the last decade of the fourteenth century pupils
of Petrarch were made professors of rhetoric at Padua and
Florence, and in the latter place a new chair of Greek was estab-
lished. Thus emerged the classical education which was destined
eventually to oust scholasticism from the schools of Europe in
general. That was the work of many centuries. Long before
the new system spread beyond the Alps, its standards had been
set by Italian masters. With the passage of time, scholarship
became more critical and students of Greek and Latin were pro-
vided with adequate grammars, dictionaries, and manuals of all
sorts. At the same time the rage for the new learning led to
the building of great classical libraries, to fill which eager col-
lectors searched far and wide for the precious remains of an-
tiquity. The result was the rediscovery of many forgotten books.

Petrarch was delighted to find various works of Cicero which
had previously been unknown to him. Boccaccio was thrown into
transports by a neglected manuscript of Tacitus at Monte Cassino,

But the most successful of all the humanist explorers was the
Florentine, Poggio Bracciolini (1380-1459). In St. Gall, Fulda,

Cluny, and other monasteries he unearthed QuintilHan, Lucretius,

^ See above, pp. 443 f,

See above, p. 99.

Humanism
and the
printing
press

714 MEDIAEVAL HISTORY

Columella, and various other authors. Practically all the ancient
Latin writings that are known to us were soon brought before
the eyes of eager Italians, who often failed to remember that for
every treasure which they had brought to light they had to thank
some obscure “barbarian” of the previous age.

As far as the Greek classics were concerned, the humanists
merely had to import them from Constantinople and other nearby
cities where they had been readily available for many centuries.
The followers of Petrarch were not, of course, the first westerners
to study the language. It had never entirely disappeared in south-
ern Italy and since the twelfth century it had been learned by a
number of famous schoolmen, such as Grosseteste and Bacon. It
had not, however, been regularly taught in the schools, where the
ordinary master was content to read in translation his New Testa-
ment, Aristotle, Euclid, Galen, or Ptolemy. Now, as Greek
literature came to be valued for its own sake, the great master-
pieces of Hellenic prose and verse were brought within tire scope
of a liberal education. This was in truth the opening of a new
world of thought, but many generations were to pass before such
works could be appreciated. At first the average humanist was
quite as uncritical as the scholastic ; he merely shifted his adora-
tion from one set of authorities to another and tended indis-
criminately to admire everything antique, either Greek or Latin.
Like every fad, humanism was by some carried to an absurd
extreme. Despising all that was modern, they pretended to be
Romans and even went through the motions of reviving pagan
worship. How such affectation gradually gave way to a more
sensible attitude toward the contemporary world; how many
writers, instead of discarding the vernacular, sought merely to
bring it under a classical influence ; and how an improved schol-
arship eventually produced a better understanding of ancient his-
tory must be left for discussion elsewhere.

From the facts already examined, it may be seen that humanism
was an aesthetic revival. That is to say, its essence lay in the
appreciation of literature as a form of artistic expression. The
typical humanist of the earlier period was primarily interested
neither in philosophy nor in science. When these subjects again
came to absorb the attention of scholars, it was not so much
through the influence of humanism as through a return to the
attitude of men like Roger Bacon and William of Ockham. Nor

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 715

could the movement launched by Petrarch be expected to encour-
age mechanical invention. There was only one new process
which has ever been attributed to its influence — ^that of printing.
Since the close of the fifteenth century it has been hotly disputed
whether the honor should go to Gutenberg of Mainz or to Coster
of Haarlem. What is perhaps of greater importance in the pres-
ent connection is to make clear just what the invention was.
Paper, introduced into western Europe by the Arabs in the twelfth
century, gradually came into general use for book-making, and
with the new material the practice known as xylography was like-
wise developed.^® This was the printing of designs by transfer
of ink from carved wooden blocks. Very commonly the woodcuts
were inserted in spaces left by the scribe in the manuscript, but
occasionally lettering was added to explain the picture, and by an
easy extension an entire book might be printed from blocks, one
carved to represent each page. What came in the fifteenth cen-
tury was therefore the invention not of printing, but of metal
type cast from molds — ^too obvious an improvement to require
lengthy comment. Perfected about the middle of the century, the
new art spread very rapidly, so that presses were working in prac-
tically every country of Europe long before 1500.

It has often been stated that the demand for books created by
the humanists led directly to die invention. Yet the first books
to be printed were Bibles, psalters, and scholastic texts, rather
than editions of the classics. Furthermore, the earliest type to
be used was that called Gothic, a reproduction of the decorated
hand popular in the later Middle Ages. This the humanists dis-
liked, and it was largely due to their influence that printers came
to perfect what we know as Roman type, which was actually
copied from the Carolingian minuscule.^® That the appearance
of the printing press revolutionized the intellectual history of
mankind is another familiar statement. If taken very generally
to apply to a long, slow process, it is true enough. It does not,
however, hold for the fifteenth century alone. Although the
invention was welcomed as a useful method of producing books at
a low cost, it hardly induced anybody to read what he would not
otherwise have read and it left the ideas of the masses quite
unchanged.

See above, p. 209.

See above, p. 227.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

Later

Gothic

architec-

ture

"Gothic

sculpture

and

painting

716

4. THE NEW STYLES IN THE FINE ARTS

To a considerable degree the history of the arts in the later
Middle Ages parallels that of letters. In the one field as in
the other the fading influence of the church permitted the rapid
encroachment of a secular spirit. This change can be readily
perceived on both sides of the Alps. To the north, although
Gothic remained the dominant style of architecture, its great age
was past. Simpler forms of construction were superseded by
the style known in England as Decorated and in France as Flam-
boyant, from the flame-shaped traceries that characterized it (see
Figure 12). Striking effects were occasionally obtained by the
use of such ornamentation, but on the whole it tended rather to
obscure than to enhance the structural beauty of the framework.
In France, especially, the decay of ecclesiastical architecture was
only too evident. On the other hand, the communes of Flanders
and Brabant then began to raise the splendid civic buildings that
yet give them such charm and distinction. Particularly note-
worthy are the cloth halls of Bruges and Ypres,®® the belfry of
Ghent, the hotels de ville of Louvain and Oudenarde, and the
clustering gild houses of the Grand' Place in Brussels — one of
the loveliest spots in Europe (see Plates XII, XIII).

The statuary of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries tells the
same story. The radiant beauty of the earlier French sculpture
yielded to a naturalism that was better suited to portraits than
to expressions of the ideal. So it was characteristic of the later
age that some of the best artists were employed in designing
memorial statues to the departed great. Even the characters of
sacred history came to be represented as persons subject to vio-
lent emotion. The pathos of life and the tragedy of death, so
prominent in the literature of the fifteenth century, became
favorite themes for the sculptor and for the designer of pictures.
Painting had been used to enrich ecclesiastical buildings in three
principal ways : stained glass, decorated wooden panels for altar-
pieces, and fresco — ^the application of color to plaster while it is
still fresh. This method hardly found a place in the Gothic church,
for the simple reason that the latter normally had no plastered
walls. And little remains of such work as was applied to other
structures north of the Alps. Stained glass, as we have seen,
was a highly specialized art which declined with Gothic archi-

“ The latter was burned during the war of 1914--18.

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 717

tecture after 1300. The painting of pictures on wooden panels,
however, proved more congenial to the artists of the fourteenth
century, and in that pursuit they naturally followed the traditions
of the illuminators. From a very early time it had been cus-
tomary to adorn the finest manuscripts not only with colored let-
ters, but also with marginal illustrations. Such miniatures might
deal with almost anything. When drawn by a devout monk,
they would normally be symbolic, like most of the carvings on
the facade of a cathedral. But when a psalter or other book of
devotion was made for a wealthy prince, it might be decorated
with realistic scenes from everyday life. This art flourished
especially at the courts of Charles V and his brothers, reaching
its height of excellence in the Book of Hours illuminated for the
duke of Berry (see Plate XIV).

Shortly afterwards the famous altar-piece at Ghent was painted
by the brothers van Eyck, Flemings in the service of the Bur- The
gundian duke. Begun by Hubert, the panels were finished by hrot^rs
John, who produced many other great pictures and finally died in
1441, Earlier paintings of this sort, like those on parchment, had
normally been in tempera, i.e., color mixed with egg or gum. The
van Eycks, on the contrary, used oils; and although they did
not invent the process, they were the first to perfect it. John’s
work, in particular, was remarkable for its realism. Less suc-
cessful than his brother in presenting the ideals of religion, he
was a consummate portrait-painter. In that respect, indeed, he
has never been surpassed — ^as may be realized by any one who
examines his Man with the Pinky or the figures of the donors
in his larger compositions (see Plate XIV). He also excelled in
the painting of domestic interiors, reproducing with amazing
skill the textures of rich fabrics, the sheen of polished wood and
metal, the brilliance of a sunny window, or the depth of reflection
in a mirror. Effects like this had never before — at least in Chris-
tian Europe — ^been achieved by smearing paint on a flat surface.

And the art was essentially a native product of northern France,
untouched by classic influence,

Italy, meanwhile, had witnessed ranarkable developments not
only in painting, but also in sculpture and architecture; and to Italian
some degree they were inspired by antique models. Inevitably, architec-
as the educated classes were swept by a craze for Roman writings,
they also became mad over the remains of Roman art. Coins,
statuettes, vases, and other works of antiquity were enthusiastic

Brunel-

leschi

{1377-

1466)

Italian

sculpture

718 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

cally sought by collectors. On all sides great men built classical
museums to rival their classical libraries. To the eyes of the
humanist everything mediaeval was barbarous, “Gothic’’ — ^and
thus the northern architecture obtained its name as a term of
reproach. Reacting against the exuberant and generally mean-
ingless decoration of the imported style, Italians sought to re-
store their buildings to classical purity. Actually, they knew
nothing of Greek architecture and they had little familiarity with
the Roman except through such monuments as triumphal arches
and the Colosseum, which had never been examples of perfect
taste.^^ So the Italian ambition was often satisfied by the addi-
tion of superficial details, such as columns, pilasters, entablatures,
and carved decorations copied from sarcophagi.

The first great church to be affected by the new movement was
the cathedral of Florence — a semi-Gothic building on which
Brunelleschi placed a dome some three hundred feet high. Con-
structed like a cupola on an octagonal base, it was a fine and
original work, though hardly Roman in spirit.®^ Even more char-
acteristic of the Italian Renaissance were magnificent civic build-
ings and private residences, and the best of them — ^like the Medici
palace at Florence or the Cancelleria at Rome — owe their beauty
rather to graceful proportions than to superficial decoration (see
Plate XIII). As yet the Venetians still remained loyal to their
ancient traditions, but in the Lombard cities the classic forms
were rather dreadfully mixed with the Gothic — ^as, for example,
in the Certosa at Pavia. What is called Renaissance architecture
thus began as a very haphazard style, resting on no logical de-
velopment of structural principles. It was not until later that
Italian architects sought to formulate a complete system, and
then they adopted the mathematical theory of the Roman Vitru-
vius, whose work had been rediscovered by Poggio. The results
were not altogether happy, but the continuation of the story down
to the present must be left to others.

On the whole, the Italian contributions in sculpture and paint-
ing were infinitely superior to those in architecture, and as late
as the fifteenth century the former owed little to classic art.
Perhaps it was fortunate that there were no antique pictures and
at first very few antique statues to be copied. The first of the

See above, p. 485.

® See above, p. 124.

See above, p. 125.

THE ADVANCE OF SECULAR CULTURE 719

Renaissance sculptors was the Florentine Ghiberti, whose master- Ghiberti
piece was the set of bronze doors for the baptistery of the local (^* 1455 )
cathedral (see Plate XVI). These magnificent reliefs, to be sure,
reveal touches of Roman ornamentation. Yet the total effect is
anything but classical; the scenes from the Old and New Testa-
ments are infused with religious feeling, while much of the deco-
ration is naturalistic. In the work of the slightly younger Dona-
tello this latter characteristic is even more prominent. His statues
of saints, instead of being attempts to represent ideal Christian
virtues, are individual men and women, modeled from life with
all their peculiarities and imperfections. His angels are smiling,
robust children. His David, the first nude of the Italian Renais-
sance, is a graceful Florentine boy who — it must be admitted —
looks more like a dancer than the slayer of Goliath (see Plate
XVI ). Such an artist was of course a master of portraiture. His
equestrian statue of the mercenary captain Gattamelata — another
first of its kind — set a new standard for the representation in
bronze of a horse as well as a rider. This was the admirable
beginning of an art that was to attain fresh glories under the
hands of Michelangelo.

The history of Italian painting is a much more complicated
subject, and one that can here be no more than touched. In this Italian
connection the man whose art laid the foundations for the splen- P^ting:
did advance of the following centuries was Giotto, the compa-
triot and friend of Dante. Breaking with Byzantine tradition, he gnk
covered walls with frescoes that sought to tell a story by direct Masaccio
expression in pictures. Such, for example, are his famous deco- (1401-28)
rations at Assisi, which deal with the life of St. Francis.®^ Each
scene is in itself a dramatic episode, portrayed with what was
intended for realism. Giotto's skill in drawing was limited, but
the pictorial value of his compositions made him the founder of
a new school (see Plate XV). The rest of the century saw little
more than imitations of Giotto; then appeared at Florence the
astonishing Masaccio. Although he died at the age of only
twenty-seven, he gave a fresh impetus to the languishing art of
fresco. The vivid realism of his pictures became the inspiration
of all the great Florentine masters that followed (see Plate XV).

The subsequent development of Italian painting lies beyond the
scope of the present sketch; but it should be mention^ that a
disciple of Masaccio's and a pupil of Donatello's was Verrocchio

^ They are in the great church of St. Francis; see above, p. 485.

The char-
acter of
Renais-
sance art

720 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

(1435-88), who in turn helped to develop the surpassing genius
of Leonardo da Vinci.

These few facts should at least indicate that the rich vein of
naturalism in Renaissance art was independent of all classic influ-
ence and had its source rather in the later Gothic art of the thir-
teenth and fourteenth centuries. The assertion by Italian writers
that everything fine in their civilization was derived from the
antique must be explained as a mere outburst of uncritical enthu-
siasm. No one who compares the works produced in France,
Flanders, and Italy during the later Middle Ages can fail to
perceive the truth. It was not that the Italians borrowed from the
Flemings, or vice versa ; both groups started with a common in-
spiration and up to a certain point progressed together. It is more
than coincidence that the van Eycks were of the same genera-
tion as Masaccio, Ghiberti, and Donatello. Whatever may be
decided concerning mutual influence between the two schools, it
must be admitted that the Flemings led the way in realistic por-
traiture and in landscape painting. Furthermore, it was they
who perfected the technique of mixing colors with oil. The Ital-
ians, on their side, excelled in fresco and in pictorial composition,
no matter what medium was used. From them all Europe came
to learn the art of making a picture as distinguished from that of
making a portrait. And in this respect, of course, there is much
to be considered besides the representation of nature.

Ecclesiastical influence remained strong, in that it provided
themes for the artists ; but tlie old religious feeling that had re-
mained a dominating force with Dante, and even with Giotto, all
but died under their successors. The art of fifteenth-century
Italy, although much of it was produced for ecclesiastical patrons,
was secular in spirit. The madonnas and saints of the great
masters were hardly less fleshly — ^though more fully clothed —
than their Roman gods and goddesses. The Italian theorists were
right in at least one particular : Renaissance art was like the an-
tique in its paganism. And eventually, as the artists became more
expert, they were better able to appreciate the finer qualities of
classic work and to draw from it lessons of value for their own
age. Nevertheless, there was no rebirth of art, no sharp contrast
between that said to be of the Middle Ages and that said to be of
the Renaissance. The latter term, on careful analysis, becomes
quite meaningless, except as it may be taken to designate the
artistic developments peculiar to Italy in the fifteenth century.

CONCLUDING NOTE

To BREAK the study of European history at the close of the
fifteenth century is in some respects undesirable. There was at
that time no revolutionary change in economic conditions, either
for the better or for the worse. The division arbitrarily cuts
across a steady development of institutions and culture that had
been under way for several hundred years. It awkwardly sepa-
rates many a noteworthy advance in commerce, politics, arts, and
letters from its logical culmination. Restricting our attention to
the western kingdoms, we may say that, with the decay of feudal-
ism and the emancipation of the peasantry, the state was now
tending to become a national organization. But no such trans-
formation is discernible in eastern Europe. Even the new depar-
ture marked by the emergence of absolute monarchy in France,
England, and Spain can easily be exaggerated. To evaluate the
despotism of Francis I, Henry VIII, and Ferdinand the Catholic
is impossible without taking into account the long constitutional
evolution that preceded. Similar objection, however, may be
offered to closing a sketch of European history in any century,
and the end of the fifteenth has its advantages as a terminal
point. The Protestant Reformation was actually a great revo-
lution that came to have permanent effects on both church and
state. A matter of such far-reaching importance should hardly be
taken up at all unless the discussion can be carried into the later
seventeenth century. And the opening of the New World intro*
duces a complicated story that is equally hard to interrupt.

Accordingly, when practical considerations demand a separa-
tion of European history into a more recent and a less recent
period, one might as well accept the time-honored differentia-
tion of mediaeval and modern. These terms are quite arbitrary.
Taken to imply more than a chronological division, they become
utterly confusing. If, for example, it is stated that, to be
truly mediaeval, a country must be dominated by manorial society,
Flanders and Italy ceased to be mediaeval as early as the thir-
teenth century. If devotion to the ideals of the Roman church
is held to be the essence of mediaevalism, a large section of
humanity is still mediaeval. If mediaeval men were perpetually
fascinated by abstract theories, there were very few mediaeval men

721

722 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

among the feudal aristocracy. As a matter of fact, ideas and
habits and institutions varied enormously in the Middle Ages,
as they have in other periods of history. To call one of them
mediaeval is not to describe it. Why, indeed, should a single
word be expected to give positive information concerning people
and customs throughout a thousand years ? A volume that treats
of the ensuing age can at most cover a little over four centuries.
Yet who will attempt to define modernity or to expound the con-
tent of the “modern mind”? The search for the first modern
man is as vain as that for the last man of antiquity. The deluded
enthusiast who undertakes such a quest will inevitably lose him-
self in the Middle Ages.

As historical students, we cannot hope to isolate the typically
mediaeval or the typically modem ; we can only try to explain what
happened in a given period. This book covers a dozen centuries.
Any one that works through them and advances into the subse-
quent centuries will find all the great developments continuing
after 1500. Without serious distortion of the truth, the Prot-
estant revolt might be described as another chapter in the history
of mediaeval religion; the opening of the New World as another
chapter in the history of mediaeval commerce. There was similar
continuity in political history. The dominant issue in the Euro-
pean diplomacy of the sixteenth century was the struggle between
the d3masties of Valois and Habsburg. But this struggle began as
the perpetuation of an old feud inherited by the Habsburgs along
with the Burgundian dominions. When, later, they secured the
crown of Spain by marriage alliance, they were merely following
a policy that had been used by the dukes of Burgundy to secure
the Netherlands and by the Habsburgs themselves to secure Bo-
hemia. It was, in fact, the ancient policy of every feudal house
in Europe.

Time and again it will be found that the great questions over
which the powers of Europe have fought long and bloody wars
had their roots deep in the Middle Ages. The World War of
1914-18 was no exception. The rival claims of the Serbs, Bul-
gars, Rumanians, and Gredcs in the Balkan peninsula; their
common antagonism to the Turks; the three-cornered dispute of
Austrian, Czech, and Magyar; the policy of Russia in all such
matters — ^these are only a few of the international problems that
carry one back to the days of John Hus or earlier. The Polish
question of today, involving the isolation of East Prussia by a

CONCLUDING NOTE 7^3

Slavic corridor running down the Vistula, is fundamentally as it
was when the Teutonic Knights ruled at Konigsberg. The recent
establishment on the Baltic of Esthonia, Latvia, and Lithuania
marks a return to precedents of the thirteenth century. Virtually
all national traditions that yet divide Europe into hostile camps
were by origin mediaeval.

The importance of the mediaeval period is even clearer in the
field of constitutional history. The oldest of the modern Euro-
pean states, France and England, both appeared in the time of the
Hundred Years^ War with perfected institutions that were re-
tained in essentials for the next four hundred years. Other prac-
tical developments of the Middle Ages were equally significant,
such as the organization of towns with free tenure of land and
rights of self-government. The economist notes as matters of
outstanding interest the mediaeval contributions in business ad-
ministration, capitalistic enterprise, and banking. The mariner’s
compass, gunpowder, and printing — ^whoever may have been re-
sponsible for their invention — ^liad come into use throughout
Europe long before 1500.

Of all the centuries in European history since the fall of Rome,
the twelfth seems to be the one in which civilization made the
greatest relative advance. Its three glories were the revival of
learning that gave birth to our first universities, the perfection
of a splendid native art, and the development of a rich vernacular
literature. Since the twelfth century three systems of law have
been continuously studied in Europe : the Roman law as a subject
derived from antiquity, the canon law and the English common
law as entirely new creations. Aside from law, the twelfth-
century revival of learning embraced the study of Latin litera-
ture and, more indirectly,' of Greek and Arabic works also. It
involved a striking advance in science. Much of the contempo-
rary medicine and astronomy, to be sure, was later discredited
by the revolutionary discoveries of the seventeenth century; but
we still use, alongside Greek geometry and trigonometry, mediae-
val arithmetic and algebra. For beauty and originality the monu-
ments of the Romanesque and Gothic styles, the feudal epics, the
songs of the troubadours, and the cycles of romances rank among
the world’s masterpieces. Many of these works, like the memoirs
of Joinville and Commines, the stories of Boccaccio, and the im-
mortal verse of Dante, Chaucer, and Villon, have held an unfail-
ing charm for countless generations of readers.

722 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

among the feudal aristocracy. As a matter of fact, ideas and
habits and institutions varied enormously in the Middle Ages,
as they have in other periods of history. To call one of them
mediaeval is not to describe it. Why, indeed, should a single
word be expected to give j>ositive information concerning people
and customs throughout a thousamd years ? A volume that treats
of the ensuing age cam at most cover a little over four centuries.
Yet who will attempt to define modernity or to expound the con-
tent of the “modern mind”? The search for the first modem
man is as vain as that for the last man of antiquity. The deluded
enthusiast who undertakes such a quest will inevitably lose him-
self in the Middle Ages.

As historical students, we cannot hope to isolate the t3q>ically
mediaeval or the t3q>ically modern ; we can only try to explain what
happened in a given period. This book covers a dozen centuries.
Any one that works through them and advances into the subse-
quent centuries will find all the great developments continuing
after 1500. Without serious distortion of the truth, the Prot-
estant revolt might be described as another chapter in the history
of mediaeval religion; the opening of the New World as another
chapter in the history of mediaeval commerce. There was similar
continuity in political history. The dominant issue in the Euro-
pean diplomacy of the sixteenth century was the struggle between
the dynasties of Valois and Habsburg. But this struggle began as
the perpetuation of an old feud inherited by the Habsburgs along
with the Burgundian dominions. When, later, they secured the
crown of Spain by marriage alliance, they were merely following
a policy that had been used by the dukes of Burgundy to secure
the Netherlands and by the Habsburgs themselves to secure Bo-
hemia. It was, in fact, the ancient policy of every feudal house
in Europe.

Time and again it will be found that the great questions over
which the powers of Europe have fought long and bloody wars
had their roots deep in the Middle Ages. The World War of
1914-18 was no exception. The rival claims of the Serbs, Bul-
gars, Rumanians, and Greeks in the Balkan peninsula; their
common antagonism to the Turks; the three-cornered dispute of
Austrian, Czech, and Magyar; the policy of Russia in all such
matters — ^these are only a few of the international problems that
carry one back to the days of John Hus or earlier. The Polish
question of today, involving the isolation of East Prussia by a

^ CONCLUDING NOTE 723

The importance of the mediaeval period is even clearer in the
field of constitutional history. The oldest of the modern Euro-
pean states, France and England, botli appeared in the time of the
Hundred Years’ War with perfected institutions that were re-
tained in essentials for the next four hundred years. Other prac-
tical developments of the Middle Ages were equally significant,
such as the organization of towns with free tenure of land and
rights of self-government. The economist notes as matters of
outstanding interest the mediaeval contributions in business ad-
ministration, capitalistic enterprise, and banking. The mariner’s
compass, gunpowder, and printing — ^whoever may have been re-
sponsible for their invention — ^liad come into use throughout
Europe long before 1500.

724 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

The traditional separation between the modern and the medi-
aeval is not a distinction between the vital and the defunct. Many
an institution that flourished after 1500 is today as dead as
chivalry, while much from the Middle Ages remains a living
heritage of the present.

Table I. The Caeotjingiahs.

Robert the Strong, Marquis of Neustria

Odo (888-99) Robert (922-23)

(Burgundy) j —

Rudolf = Emma Hugh the Great, Marquis of Neuscria

(923-36) I 959)

Hugh Capet (987-996)
__J

Robert the Pious (996-1031)

Henry I (1031-60)
Philip 1 (1060-1108)
Louis VI (1108-37)

Robert, Duke of Burgundy

First Capetian House
in Burgundy until J 361

VU = Eleanor of Aquitaine
(1137-80)

Philip II, Augustus (1180-1223)

Louis VIII Blanche of Castile
(1223-26)

Louis IX (1226-70) Robert Alfonse of Poitiers

I (d. 1271)

House of Coheiress of Toulouse

Artois

Charles, Count of Anjou
(ds 1285)

= heiress of
Provence

I 1

PhiHp m (1270-85) Robert

I I

I House of Bourbon

First Angevin Houses
in Sicily cmd Haples

Philip IV heiress of Champagne

and Navarre

Louis X
(1314-16)

Jeanpe, Queen of
Navarre

Charles the Bad

Philip V
(1316-22)

Charles IV
(1322-28)

Charles, Count of

1 Valois

^ (England)

Isabelle =|= Edward U

Edward III
(See Table IH)

PhiHp VI (1328-50)

(See Table VU)

Table II. The Capetian House until 1328,

(Norman House)
William I (1066-87)

Robert, Duke of William 11 Henry I (1100-35) Adela= Stephen, Count

Normandy (1087-1100) I I of Blois

I (Angevin House) I

Matilda Sjp Geoffrey Plantagenet Stephen (1135-54)
I Count of Anjou

Henry II (1154-89) ^ Eleanor of Aquitaine

Henry
(d. 1183)

(1189-99)

Geoffrey (d. 1186)
Arthur (d. 1203)

John (1199-1216)
Henlyni (1216-72)
Edward I (1272-1307)
Edward 11 (1307-27)
Edwjrd m (1327-77)

Edward, Black Prince
I (d. 1376)

Richard 11
(1377-99)

Edmund
(d. 1424)

Roger Mortimer,

I Earl of March
(d. 1398)

(House of Lancaster)
John, Duke of Lancaster

HenVy IV (1399-1413)
Heiry V (1413-22)
HeJy VI (1422-61)

(House of York)
jss Richard
Duke of York
(d. 1460)

Edward IV (1461-83) Richard HI
I (1483-85)

J (House of York)

Edmund, Duke of York

I (Tudor House)

Margaret =p£ Edmund Tudor
(great- I
granddaughter) I

Edward V
(1483)

Elizabeth

Henry VU(1485-1509)

Tudor House

Tabi-b hi. Kincs or Engianb (106(5-1485).

Henry 1, the Fowler (91W6)

Itff,

Ddteof

. *OttoI,theGteat
(936.73)

*Otto II ^ Theophano

mi)

*OttolU

Henry^ Duke of Bavaria

Conrad the Red,
Duke of
Lorraine

Otto

Henry

(Franconian House)
'Coniadn (»39)

Henry ni(»56)

Henry IV (105W106)

HcnryV

(110^25)

Cologne

Henry the Wrangler,
Duke of Bavaria

Henry 11 (1002*24)

Agnes s Frederick, Duke of Suabia
(See Talk VI)

Welf, Duke of Bavaria
(itlOl)

Lothair II(Sd»my)
I (1125.37)

Hraty the Black, Duke of Bavaria
(ill26)

Henry D of England

Dettrude

(iU»)

Matilda ^ Henry the Lion
((1.1195)

♦otto IV Wiiliam

(1197.1212)

Dukao/firuttflwi

Clowned Emperor

Table V. The House of Guelp.

TancreJ of Hauteville

Humphrey Robert Guiscard, Roger I, Count of
Duke of Sicily

Apulia (d.llOi)

(il085)

Frederick of Hobenstaufen sp Agnes rp Leopold, Margrave
DakofSmbia Austria

(d.ll05)

Roger, Duke Roger II, Count and

Henry Jasomirgott,
Duke of Austria

Prince of Antioch

Roger, Duke.of Williatn I (1IM^6)

Apulia

Tancfcd ' William H (1166-89)

Frederick, Duke of • ^Conrad III
Suabia (1138-52)

Frederick I, Barbaiossa
■,|(115W

Constance' cp: Henry VI (IM) Philip of Suabia (rhulofOnoIV,

(il9W208) SeeWleV)

Frederick II, King of Sicily (IMofl)

I King of Germany (IZll'SO)

Henry (d. 1242)

’Conrad IV
(1250.54)

Man^ King of Sicily

I (d.l265)

.Constance ^

Tabus VI. The Houses of Hauieviue akd Hohejjstaujin.

(&Wlelf)

PtuIipVI(132M0)

John [Um

(Second CapetianHouie
in Buijundy)

CharlesV (1364*80) Loi,Dukeof
Anjou

|ohn,Dukeof

Berry

Second Angenn
Houre in Naples
and Provence

Charles VI (1380*1422) Lop. Duke of Orleans

(A 1407)

'■ " j (England)

Charles VII (1422*61) Catherine = Henry V ’f

(SecTaHelll)

Louis XI (1461*63) Charles, Duke of Berry

(A 1472)

Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy
(136H4fl4)

heiress of Handers

John the Fearless (1404*19)

= heiress of Holland, etc.

Philip the Good (M19'67)

Charles the Rash (1467*77)

Maximilian
of Austria
(See TaHe VIII)

AnnedeBeaujeu

Charles VIII = Anne of Brittany
(1483*98)

Tabie VIL The Valois House (1328-1498).

Hfli^vn (1»13|

Rudolf of Hal»!)urg(1173'9l)

■

JohiitKingofBoheniii

Alberti (1298'11)

(A 1316)

(DiiteofAiuw)

(tatolVIMI

‘ ofHungaty

Frederick (opposed Louis
of Bavaria)

WQKeshs(l378>1100) Sigisnniui C M 17

KinjofBoktu (AIDJ) L— —

AllKttDl

Leopold, slam at

Seinpach(1386)

until 1119 King of Hungary (1387)

Albeit IV

King of Geimany ( 1110 )

King of Bohemia (1119)

Ebheth :

p Albert V(n)

ckkicM MjanidW

(IW)

Maty of Burgundy MaititDiliaa(1193.1S19)

Ladislas

ISeeTdHeVlI)

HomiofHabkrg

inAifitmiiBoliemii,

Netyundr, 3 |Min,{tc;

Abbreviations for
CHRONOLCX51CAL CHARTS

IC„King

D.-.Duke

C._Count

P,..Pope

Archbishop
B.,. Bishop

d«..died

m*.. married
t ..murdered
X.. Battle of

HFTH CENTURY

SIXTH CENTURY

HHIII

—

ITALY

liWBW

THEAEBS

ARTS AND
lETIERS

Gteat>Gtandsons

GrcfocytlieGniit

Phocas ^

Mohammed (d.632)

thedoniinant

Anglo-Saxon

kingtloin

of Clovis

(ASH)

Papacy remain)

(M) 3°

!! 5

Preaching
of Islam

Byzantine loss

Strong

Heraclius ^ j* ?

of Spanish coast

St.Colu(nban (d.615)

Lombards split

into many
small prim

Successful
offensive against

The Hegira (622)

cipalides

Persia (622'29)

Calijiliate

Dacobeitldil

Byzantine
control rapidly
weakens

XTlieYarmulP)

Abu-Bakr (6)^Ml

Omaf(63fW)
Conquest of Syria,

ThefCoran

Arab conquest

Successors of

Persia, Egypt.

Rois Faineants

Heraclius

Othman (61f55)

Civil Tvar

Mayors of the

Collapse of the

Learning of

Palace

Bpntine Power

Ali(6M)

the Irish

Losses;

monks

-Syria

Kluminated

Council of Whidiy

Esvpt

Ommiad Caliphs

manuscripts

{6M1

North Africa

at Damascus

Spanish coast

until 150

Theodore of Tarsus
of Canterbury
(66M ;

' ■

Arab campaigns
in Tripoli and
Tunis

Islands of the
Mediterranean
Most of Italy
Interior of the

Further conquests
in Asia and

North Africa

Balkan penin-

Control of the

sula

Arab conquest

fillibrord’s

Defense of Asia

■

of North Africa

mission in

Minor and

Frisia

Constantinople

600

650

700

SEVENTH CENTURY

Emperor

The Frankish Kingdom at its height

Louis the Pious (SH'IO)
Emperor

Weakening of the monarchy

Civil war among sons

(Emperor)

Charles the Bald lothalr (840*55) Louis the German
(810*77) Peace of Verdun (813) (810*76)

CE CENTRAL KODM.

Great duchies

Emperor (875)
Various Carolina

Extension of
papal power

laly I
Provence ^
Urraine.

/Charles the Fat

Increasing power
of dukes

XharlestheFat

Charles the^at^

04.ofW(86!.58) ^ touM( 88 W)

ofUames;also Depend (887)

W.Meiria Emperor (896)

Political disintegration. Ch'il wars, Invasions of
vikings, Hunganans, and Saracens.

Bulgarians under

accept Greek
Chrbtianity

Romance Lan*
guages; lingua

Slavic alphabet
invented by
Cyril, missionary 9 Q
to Bohemia

Adopted by
Bulgarians

NINTH CENTURY

FRANCE (SPAIN) GE

Lduis the Child

THE ARABS

ARTS AND

Rise of Venice

3$ an indc'
pdant

under Tsar
Simeon (d.92?)j
then decline

Rise of Russia
under Princes
of Kiev

Attack Constan*
tinopleaod

Assumes crown |

of:

X The Lechj final P. )ohn XII (955'63) Byzantine offcn'
Hungarian defeat sive in Cilicia \

Imperial coronation (962)
The Holy Roman Empire

Byzantine alliance

OttoII(9?3«K

in.Theophano

Ottoin(98W(»2),

Nicephorus Phocas Byzantine conquest
(963'69) of Antioch and

Fails to conquer
South Italy

(969^76)

Defeats Russians
Basil II (976^1025)

Russians under
Vladimir (d. 1015)
accept Creek
Christianity

Translations

Revival of learning
under Otto I

German schools
and scholars

Scientific works
ofGerbert
(Silvester II)

Study of the

EllVENTH CENTURY

ITALY

HeniTlV((Lll06)

Roger a (1101.54),

THE TURKS

MuilllMlfl

Sicilian alliance

[HlHentyVlWDP.CelesdnellKW

Acquisition of Sicilian Kingdom ** 1 MCnisade AKhitectuie

Contestwitliimpe Wpture,

overJiwm HH)PI>ilipMSMl>ia| umifl | | TentonicKnfa | Sainej^iB

TWEirm CENTURY

CE GE

THE TURKS

Fourth Crusade

Caoture of

onstantuiople [m

Leon and Casdle
under Ferdinand m

Franciscan order

Latin Empire

lateran Council (1215)

(IWl)

P.HonorlusIII(12lH?l

Maritime supremacy

Dominican order
Renewal of Lombard

! of Venice

Louis 1X(122M01
Blanche of Castile
Regent to 12M ‘

Secures halt of

XCortenuova (123?

Teutonic Knights

Livonian order (12371

Constitutional

advance.

Germany left
to princes

Interregnum

P,UrbanlV(126W)i

until 12il3

P, Clemently (1265'b8)

Clutles o( Anjou
XofSidlyllZ»85)

Rudolf of Habsbuig

Ruin of Fisa

(12IW1)

' Rise of Florence

Takes Austria
from Ottokar

P.MartinlV(l281'85)

of Bohemia

Sicilian Vespers (1282)

Or^n of Swiss
Confederation

Island acquired
by K. of Aragon

(1291).

F. Boniface Vm

Albert of Austria

(12944303)

CleridsIicos(1296)

THIRTBENTH CENTURY

SUGGESTED READINGS

In the following pages it will be convenient first to make a list
of books that may be of use in connection with a number of chap-
ters ; then, under each chapter, to add other titles by way of supple-
ment. Only a few of many valuable books on any one phase of
mediaeval history will be mentioned and, as a rule, readings will be
suggested to illustrate specific points of interest. Students who
desire more detailed information, especially with regard to books in
foreign languages, are referred to the bibliographies aind general
histories noted immediately below.

Bibliographies

Paetow, L. J. Guide to the Study of Medicevcd History. New Edi-
tion. New York, 1931.

Thompson, J. W. Reference Studies in Mediceval History. 3 pts.
Chicago, 1925-30.

Encyclopedias

The Encyclopaedia Britannica. As far as mediaeval history is con-
cerned, the eleventh edition is superior to the fourteenth.

Hastings, J. Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics. Like the follow-
ing two works, this is listed because it contains articles on
many phases of mediaeval thought.

The CaihoUc Encyclopedia. Clearly presents the Catholic views.

The New Schaff-Hersog Encyclopedia of Religious Kticru.'ledgc.
Written from the standpoint of Protestant scholarship.

The Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences. Includes mamy good ar-
ticles on the social and economic phases of mediaeval civiliza-
tion. Reaches ais yet only the letter T.

General Mediaeval Histories

The Ccnnbridge Medieval History. Vols. I-VII. Cambridge, 1911-
32. The best comprehensive survey of the mediaeval period in
English (one more volume is yet to appear, on the fifteenth cen-
tury). The history is by a large number of writers, each of
whom contributes a chapter or two in his own particular field.
The work of course varies in excellence, but in general it gives a
scholarly and up-to-date narrative of politicail events, together
with a wide variety of essays on special! subjects. Each chapter
is provided with an exhaustive bibliography, placed at the end
of the volume.

746

SUGGESTED READINGS

749

The Christian Church and the Papacy

Duchesne, L. Early History of the Christian Church, Translated
from the French. 3 vols. New York, 1909-24. By a liberal
Catholic scholar.

Harnack, A. Outlines of the History of Dogma. Translated from
the German. New York, 1909. By a famous Protestant
scholar.

Flick, A. C. The Rise of the Mediaeval Church. New York, 1909.
More in the nature of a college text; provided with a useful
bibliography.

Mann, H. K. The Lives of the Popes in the Early Middle Ages.
18 vols. London, 1902-32. A very detailed account.

Barry, W. F. The Papal Monarchy from St. Gregory the Great to
Boniface VIII. London, 1902. Very brief.

Baldwin, S. The Organisation of Mediaeval Christianity. New
York, 1929. A brief survey in the Berkshire Studies in Euro-
pean History. For many other titles see the attached bibliog-
raphy.

The Byzantine Empire

Bury, J. B. History of the Later Roman Empire. 2 vols. London,
1923. A splendid book by a great scholar. Does not deal with
the period after Justinian.

Diehl, C. History of the Byzantine Empire. Translated from the
French. Princeton, 1925. Very brief.

Baynes, N. H. The Byzantine Empire. London, 1925. Very brief.

Vasiliev, A. History of the Byzantine Empire. 2 vols. Madison,
Wis., 1928-29. A translation and new edition of the author’s
work in Russian,

Germany and the Holy Roman Empire

Henderson, E. F. A Short History of Gerfnany. 2 vols. New Edi-
tion. New York, 1931.

Bryce, J. The Holy Roman Empire. New York, 1919- A classic,

Fisher, H. A. L. The Medieval Empire. 2 vols. London, 1898.

A History of All Nations. Vols. VI-X, Philadelphia, 1905. This
portion is a translation from a famous general history by Ger-
man scholars. The chapters on Germany naturally present the
history of the country from the standpoint of the Germans them-
selves-

France

Lavisse, E. Histoire de France. Vols. I-IV. Paris, 1900 f. The

750

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

best history of France, to which many excellent scholars have
contributed. Not translated.

Macdonald, J. R. M. A History of France. 3 vols. New York,

1915-

Guignebert, C. A Short History of the French People. Translated
from the French. 2 vols. New York, 1930.

Tilley, A. Medieval France. Cambridge, 1922. A series of brief
chapters on all phases of French civilization in the Middle Ages,
written by a number of good historians.

Funck-Brentano, F. The Middle Ages. Translated from the French.
New York, 1926. A volume from the National History of
France. Readable, but highly imaginative in spots. Good chap-
ters on phases of French culture.

Belgium

Pirenne, H. Histoire de Belgique. Vols. I-II. Brussels, 1922-29.
Especially fine on the medi£eval period. Not translated.

Belgian Democracy, Its Early History. Translated from

the French. Manchester, 1915. A series of lectures that briefly
review some parts of the author's greater work.

England

Oman, C.‘ W. C. England before the Norman Conquest. London,
1910.

Davis, H. W, C. England under the Normans and Angevins. Lon-
don, 1905.

Vickers, K. H. England in the Eater Middle Ages. London, 1913.
These three works are the first three volumes of a general his-
tory of England, edited by C. W. C. Oman.

Lipson, E. An Htroduction to the Economic History of England.
Vol. I. London, 1920. The best book on the subject.

Bateson, Mary. Medicevcd England. London, 1904. An admirable
sketch, emphasizing social conditions.

Trevelyan, G. M. History of England. London, 1926. A brief
text by a famous English scholar.

Lunt, W. E. History of England. New York, 1928. Contains an
excellent critical bibliography, to which the student is referred
for additional titles.

Spain

Chapman, C. E. A History of Spain. New York, 1927. An abridg-
ment of the standard Spanish work by Altamira.

Burke, U. R. A History of Spain. Second Edition. 2 vols. Lon-
don, 1900.

751

SUGGESTED READINGS

Hume, M. A. S. The Spanish People, New York, 1901.

Merriman, R. B. The Rise of the Spanish Empire. Vol. I. New
York, 1918.

Scandinavia

Bain, R. N. Scandinavia: A Political History of Denmark, Nor-
voay, and Svoeden. Cambridge, 1905.

Stefansson, J. Denmark and Sweden. London, 1916.

Stomberg, A. A. History of Sweden. New York, 1931.

Gjerset, K. History of the Norwegian People. New York, 1915.

Switzerland

McCrackan, W. D. The Rise of the Szviss Republic. Second Edi-
tion. Boston, 1901,

Martin, W. History of Switzerland. London, 1931.

Eastern Europe

Nowak, F. Medieval Slavdom and the Rise of Russia. New York,
i93fo. A comprehensive sketch in the Berkshire Studies in Eu-
ropean History.

Maurice, C. E. Bohemia from the Earliest Times to the Foundations
of the Czechoslovak Republic. Second Edition. London,
1922.

Liitzow, F., Graf von. Bohemia. New York, 1909.

Dyboski, R. Outlines of Polish History. London, 1925.

Harrison, E. J. Lithuania Past and Present. New York, 1922.
Vambery, A. The Story of Hungary. New York, 1886.

Eckhart, F. Short History of the Hungarian People. London,

1931.

Kluchevsky, V. O. History of Russia. Translated from the Rus-
sian. 5 vols. New York, 1911-13.

Platonov, S. F. History of Russia. Translated from the Russian.
New York, 1925.

Pokrovsky, M. N. History of Russia. Translated from the Russian.
New York, 1931.

Pares, Bernard- A History of Russia. New York, 1926.

The Balkans

Miller, W. The Balkans. New York, 1907.

Forbes, N., and Others. The Balkcens. Oxford, 1915.

Temperley, H. W. V. History of Serbia. London, 1917.
Runciman, S- History of the First Bulgarian Empire. London,
1930.

MEDIEVAL HISTORY

75 ^

Chapter I. — The Decjline of the Ancient World

Of the innumerable volumes dealing with Rome, only one calls
for special mention here, M. I. Rostovtzeff’s Social and Economic
History of the Roman Empire (Oxford, 1926) — s. detailed treat-
ment by a distinguished scholar of the fundamental problems that
are lightly touched in the present chapter. An excellent introduc-
tion to the subject of the so-called fall of Rome is to be found in
the American Historical Review, XX, 723 ff. : '‘The Economic Basis
of the Decline of Ancient Culture,” by W. L. Westermann. The
most stimulating of briefer works on the history of the later em-
pire and its barbarization is Ferdinand Lot’s The End of the Ancient
World and the Beginnings of the Middle Ages, translated from the
French (New York, 1931). It graphically treats all phases of the
subject — ^politics, institutions, religion, literature, and the arts.

Much interesting detail concerning social conditions is presented
in Samuel Dill’s two volumes : Roman Society from Nero to Marcus
Aurelius (Second Edition; London, 1905) and Ro'inan Society in
the Last Century of the Western Empire (London, 1899). There
are a number of fascinating books on the subject of religions;
among them may be mentioned T. R. Glover’s Conflict of Religiofis
in the Roman Empire (London, 1909) and Franz Cumont’s Orient-
fed Religions in Roman Paganism, translated from the French (Chi-
cago, 1911). The best source on early Christianity is the New
Testament, which should be read — ^if for no other reason — ^as part
of a historical education. The ideas of the later Stoics may be readily
learned from Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, available in many
translations ; and any one who desires a taste of Neo-Platonism can
best secure it by dipping into the works of Plotinus, conveniently
translated in the Bohn Library. On Galen and Ptolemy see the his-
tories of science by Sarton and Thorndike ; also the interesting chap-
ters in C. J. Singer’s From Magic to Science (New York, 1928).

Chapter II. — ^The Old and the New in MEDiiEVAL Europe

Bury’s History of the Later Roman Empire contains a masterly
sketch of late Roman institutions, as well as a clear narrative of
political events. See also Lot’s End of the Ancient World and the
appropriate chapters in the Cambridge Medieval History, vol. I.
J. B. Firths Constantine the Great (New York, 1905) is a standard
biography; but the best review of the emperor’s religious policy is
the brief study by N. H. Baynes, Constantine the Great and the
Christian Church, published by the British Academy (London,
193:0).

Aside from the general works on church history listed above, see

SUGGESTED READINGS

755

who wants a brief summary. The History of the Wars by Procopius
is translated by H. B. Dewing in the Loeh Classical Library, 5 vols.
(London, On Persia see P. M. Sykes, History of Persia,

2 vols. (London, 1915) ; on the Avars and Slavs, T. Peisker’s chap-
ter in the Cambridge Medieval History, vol. II. H. J. Roby’s chap-
ter in the same volume gives a good introduction to the Roman law.
For more detail see F. P. Walton’s Historical Introduction to the
Roman Law (Second Edition; Edinburgh, 1912). A famous classic
on the subject is H. S. Maine’s Ancient Law, edited by F. Pollock
(London, 1930).

Any one of a dozen histories of architecture will provide a sketch
of the Byzantine style with adequate illustrations. But the student
is referred in particular to T. G. Jackson’s Bysantine and Roman-
esque Architecture (Cambridge, 1913), vol. I, which contains splen-
did descriptions of all the important buildings and a wealth of draw-
ings by the author. Here, too, may be seen reproductions of mosaic
in color — ^the only way, short of actual observation, in which any
idea of the original can be obtained.

Chapter VI. — The Arab Empire

The chapters in the Cambridge Medieval History, vol. Ill, by
A. A. Bevan and C. H. Becker provide as good a review of this
subject as may be found anywhere ; see also the latter author’s Chris-
tianity and Islam (London, 1909). There are two good books by
D. S. Margoliouth: Mohammed and the Rise of Islam (New York,
1905) and The Early Development of Mohammedanisjn (London,
1914), C. I. Huart’s History of Arabic Literature (New York,
1903) may be referred to as giving the literary background for
Mohammed’s career. The best translation of the Koran is that of
Marmaduke Pickthall, The Meaning of the Glorious Koran (New
York, 1930) ; but S. Lane-Poole’s The Speeches and Table-Talk of
the Prophet Mohammed (London, 1882) remains useful as a little
volume of selections. On the civilization of the Arab Empire, see
below under Chapter IX.

Chapter VII. — The West after Justinian

On Merovingian Gaul see Lot, The End of the Ancient World,
pt. iii; C. Pfister’s chapters in the Cambridge Medieval History, vol.
II ; and S. Dill, Rcnnan Society in Gaul in the Merovingian Age
(London, 1926). The best source for the period is Gregory of
Tours, whose History of the Franks has been translated and given
a splendid introduction by O. M. Dalton (Oxford, 1927). Selections
from the same work have been translated for the Columbia Univer-
sity Records of Civilisation by E. Brehaut (1916).

756 MEDIEVAL HISTORY

On the Lombards the standard work, now somewhat out-of-date,
is Hodgkin’s Italy and Her Invaders, vols. V, VI. A translation of
Paul the Deacon by W. D. Foulke has been published by the Depart-
ment of History, U. of Pa. (1907).

F. H. Dudden’s Gregory the Great, 2, vols. (New York, 1905),
is a splendid biography. Gregory’s Pastoral Care and Letters will
be found translated in the collection of Nicene and Post-Nicene
Fathers, Second Series, vol. XII. His Dialogues are separately
translated in a new edition by E. G. Gardner (London, 1911).

Aside from the chapters and articles in more general works, the
following books may be noted in connection with the spread of
Christianity: T. S. Holmes, The Origin and Development of the
Church in Gaul (London, 1911) ; A. Plummer, The Churches in
Britain before 1000 (London, 1911) ; H. Zimmer, The Celtic Church
in Britain and Ireland, translated from the German (London, 1902).
On St. Boniface see G. F. Browne, Boniface of Credit on (London,
igio) ; also Willibald’s Life of St Boniface, translated by G. W.
Robinson (Cambridge, Mass., 1916). The very interesting Life of
St, Columhan, by the monk Jonas, is translated in the U. of Pa.
Transitions and Reprints, II, no. 7.

Chapter VIII. — The Carolingian Empire

The best review in English of the Carolingian Empire and its
institutions is that of G. Seeliger in the Cambridge Medieval His-
tory, II, chs. xix, xxi. There are two standard biographies of
Charlemagne, by T. Hodgkin (London, 1897) and H,' W. C. Davis
(New York, 1900). The great classic, however, is Einhard’s Life,
which has been translated a number of times. Some of the em-
peror’s capitularies are in the U. of Pa. Translations and Reprints,
III, no. 2, and VI, no. 5. On the imperial coronation of 800 see
Duncalf and Krey, Parallel Source Problems,

Chapter IX. — ^Light in the Dark Age

The Legacy of Islam, edited by T. W. Arnold and A. Guillaume
(Oxford, 1931), gives a splendid survey of Moslem civilization and
indicates further readings in connection with its various chapters.
See also the histories of science noted above, particularly Sarton’s
introductory chapters. Among more special works may be men-
tioned: J. L. E. Dreyer, History of the Planetary Systems fram
Thales to Kepler (Cambridge, 1906) ; M. Neuburger, History of
Medicine, translated from the German, vol. I (London, 1910) ; F,
Cajori, History of Mathernatics (New York, 1919) ; D, E. Smith,
History of Mathematics (Boston, 1923). The Moslem culture of

Full text of “Mediaeval History Europe From The Fourth To The Sixteenth Century”

Full text of “Mediaeval History Europe From The Fourth To The Sixteenth Century”

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