Kaeuper R.W. - Chivalry and violence in medieval europe (1999)(en)

enforcing laws, by protecting property; in the process, they were beginning to try to secure a working monopoly (or at least a controlling oversight) of licit violence as well as the signiÞcant revenues that such powers inevitably entail. They claimed as well that they protected and enabled the practice of true religion as conducted by clerics, whom they cheerfully recognized as legitimate special functionaries. Beyond the borders of the realm their just war would repress wrong as surely as their regular hanging of thieves did at home, one species of violence connected to the other in kind and differing only in scale. These men always successfully claimed divine approval for their role and won enthusiastic clerical approbation for the practical functioning of lay political sovereignty, whatever the current status of the contest between papacy and kingship. In fact, in so far as the Þrst two points of our triangle are grounded in institutions of governance, their shared, even borrowed, features are obvious and need no further comment.

The third point of our triangle must be chevalerie, however, and it involves a cluster of a rather different sort. Similarities to the other two clusters exist, of course. Again, we Þnd a collectivity of ideas, a set of special functions, a particular body of practitioners, even a sense of divine approval, in time cautiously recognized by ecclesiastics. Yet chevalerie was rooted in different soil, growing not out of the restrained and restraining traditions characteristic of institutions of governance but rather from the ancient social practices and heroic ideals of generations of warriors, Þercely proud of their independence, exulting in their right to violence and in their skill at exercising it.

The chronicler Matthew Paris provides a striking illustration of this independent and martial outlook in an entry for the year 1247. He tells us that the French nobility asserted that their kingdom had been won Ônot by the learned written law (jus scriptum), nor by the arrogance of clerks, but by the sweat of warÕ.23 A British chronicler of the following generation provides an equally vivid vignette. As the English cavalry manouevred at the opening of the battle of Falkirk in 1298, Ralph Bassett, lord of Drayton, told Bishop Bek, who was leading the English right wing: ÔItÕs not for you, bishop, to teach us knights how to Þght when you ought to be busy saying mass. Go back to celebrate mass; we shall do all that needs to be done in the way of Þghting.Õ24

Of course lawmakers and clerks busily building the institutions of Church and State were neither strangers nor uncompromising opponents of war, even if they did not all personally take the Þeld. Major governing institutions in the

23Paris, Chronica Majora, IV, 593: Ôregnum non per jus scriptum, nec per clericorum arrogantiam, sed per sudores bellicos fuerit adquisitumÕ.

24Quoted by Barrow, Robert Bruce, 144, from J. de Fordun, Chronica Gentis Scotorum, ed. W. F. Skene (Edinburgh, 1871Ð2), i, 330.

history of Western Europe have always been deeply if ambiguously involved with violence, some forms of which they have legitimized or vigorously practised themselves. But both clergie and royautŽ also felt the power of that signiÞcant strain in their ideology which stressed peace; it was obviously desirable in the eyes of God; it was no less obviously a congenial compulsion for strong-willed men, whether they were tonsured or carried royal wands of ofÞce, to exercise control of the most basic sort, in other words to prohibit illicit violence and to regulate or even practise licit violence themselves. A practice of power rooted in jurisdiction and nourished by revenue was, of course, the very essence of governance. The process would lead vigorous Þgures from the worlds of both clergie and royautŽ to strive, in effect, for the needed reforms which would bring chevalerie into consonance with their particular view of right order in the world.

The pattern of interaction is far from simple, however; having established our threefold clusters of men and ideas, we need to remember how porous were the spaces separating them. Churchmen were in theory not only committed to ideas of peace and forgiveness, they were prohibited (again, in theory) from shedding human blood; any coercion requiring this Þnal commitment to force would necessitate cooperation from laymen outside the sphere of clergie. Similarly, the upper ranks of royal administrations ran on the skills of not a few clerics willingly serving their kings. These kings, moreover, were knights as well as monarchs, and thus lived, we might almost say, in two worlds. If knights aggressively claimed their own sphere, they were also loyal practitioners of the accepted forms of Christianity, presided over by clerics. They were landlords, busy in the royal courts, as well as warlords. Their service as agents of government and their support of royal governmental efforts for order and the protection of property was real and, in fact, essential for the indisputable growth of the State.

Yet our several focal points with their distinct powers and ways of looking at the world remain. The body of men, practices, and ideals in chivalry was a far from perfect Þt with those of the growing institutions. If a vast corpus of literature reßected a fascinating mass of contradictions, attractions, and repulsions where chivalry was concerned, similar ambivalence characterized the relationship of chevalerie with clergie and royautŽ. In both instances, inßuential Þgures struggled to reform chivalry in accordance with their views on right order in the world, secured by the right people.

PART II

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THE LINK WITH CLERGIE

AFTER he has observed life in Camelot for a time, Mark TwainÕs Connecticut Yankee delivers an unforgettable judgement, etched in an acidic cynicism that seems to scorch the page: ÔI will say this much for the nobility; that, tyrannical, murderous, rapacious and morally rotten as they were, they were deeply and enthusiastically religious.Õ1 Although Twain has once again dipped his pen in vitriol to write these lines, his comment (with the sting neutralized to the taste of the individual reader) still has point. We need not, of course, accept his moral condemnation to be intrigued by the ambiguities and potential conßicts in the meaning of religion for the practitioners of

prowess.

At Þrst glance the complexity of the bond between religion and the chivalric layers of society may surprise some modern observers. Then or now, it would be comforting to believe that the chivalrous were all truly motivated by religious ideas and that they felt, in a way akin to modern conscience, deeply spiritual impulses. It would be at least clarifyingly simple to believe, to the contrary, that their religion was only a form, that it was no structural component of their lives, that there could have been absolutely no connection between their religion and their life of arms.

What Twain suggests, however sharp and malicious his juxtapositions, is a close connection that requires further thought. A way of life devoted in no small measure to showy acts of bloody violence was combined with an obvious, even ostentatious practice of religion. The modern, hopeful, supposition might be that the latter impulse would cancel the former, but here they are, side by side.

Moreover, the tension doubles when we shift our focus from the knights to the clerics. The view of knightly ideals and practices from the vantage point of clergie could only be ambivalent. Clerics knew without doubt that they had to deal with knights as a fact of social life; they relied on knightly benefactions no less than they needed knightly sword blows against the constant menace of pagans; in general, they blessed the legitimate use of force by the knights

1 A Connecticut Yankee, 82. Modern historians can also write fairly biting comments along these lines. Emma Mason says: ÔIn crude terms, they tried to buy off the consequences of their aggression by offering a share of the loot to those whose prayers would hopefully resolve their dilemma. Such a naive attitude cannot, however, be contrasted with any superior spirituality of the cloister, for religious houses were all too ready to cooperate in this cycleÕ: ÔTimeo BaronesÕ, 67.

acting to preserve order and property. The problem, of course, was that the knights often acted and sometimes thought in ways that made them a part of the problem of order, rather than its solution.

These are the issues explored in Part Two. Chapter 3 examines the tension between an undoubted knightly piety and the considerable force of knightly independence. Chapter 4 looks at chivalry through clerical eyes, documenting both the high praise for ideals of behaviour and the sour condemnation of much that knights said and did in the world.

3

KNIGHTS AND PIETY

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Lay Piety, Lay Independence

In so many ways the chivalric layers of society thought and acted as conventionally pious Christians; they followed the set course for life, from baptism at the church font to the Þnal rites and prayers as their bodies were lowered into sanctiÞed ground. Along the way, cellular acts of piety structured the religious component of their daily lives: they heard mass, they made confession, they said prayers, they gave alms. Many reinforced this lifelong cycle by some major act, going on crusade or founding a religious house. Many, likewise, sought the surety of a religious order as intimations of mortality came forcibly into their consciousness.1

Chivalric literature portrayed and reinforced this orthodoxy. It reminded the knights of the undeniable function of priests in the sacramental system of which they were willing, prudent participants. A layman, even a knight, needed priests as conduits for divine grace, especially at critical, liminal points in life. Knights in this literature regularly state their fear of dying without confession.2

In ChrŽtienÕs Perceval one key injunction the hero hears from his mother as he starts out into the world is to go to church or chapel to hear mass regularly.3 Galahad, as readers of The Quest of the Holy Grail learned, Ôalways chafed if a day passed without his hearing the holy ofÞceÕ.4 Lancelot in the Mort Artu regularly hears mass and says the proper prayers Ôas a Christian knight shouldÕ; he confesses to an archbishop before his single combat with Gawain.5 Balain and

1 Chibnall, ed., tr., Ecclesiastical History, provides abundant examples. Cf. the excellent article by Harper-Bill, ÔPiety of the Anglo-Norman Knightly ClassÕ.

2 E.g., Carroll, tr., Lancelot Part II, 219; Sommer, ed.,Vulgate Version, III, 396; one of many examples in this text. In the Lancelot, Arthur himself, thinking that he is about to die, cries out, ÔOh, God! Confession! The time has come!Õ: Rosenberg, tr., Lancelot Part III, 276; Sommer, ed.,

Vulgate Version, IV, 76.

3 Bryant, tr., Perceval, 7; Roach, ed., Roman de Perceval, ll. 568Ð94. 4 Matarasso, tr., Quest, 72; Sommer, ed., Vulgate Version, VI, 34.

5 Cable, tr., Death of King Arthur, 32, 178; Frappier, ed., La Mort, 12.

his brother, dying tragically from their mutually inßicted wounds, take the sacrament and beg Christ for forgiveness of their sins Ôthey received their rites, such as Christian knights should have, and . . . asked forgiveness of their Saviour for their sins and misdeedsÕ.6 Gautier similarly visits a church to pray before his single combat in Raoul de Cambrai, though in this case the author tarnishes the bright ideal image with a realistic comment: on this occasion there was no joking, nothing omitted.7 In their battleÞeld prayers, knights themselves (William and Vivian, for example, in the cycle of William of Orange) present mini-sermons complete with summations of basic Christian dogma, or they listen to similar sermons preached to them by clerics, as do the knights of the Chanson dÕAspremont.8

In fact, in our literary evidence knights seem to swim in a sea of piety, using religious language even in situations that strike modern sensibilities as purely secular. ÔIn GodÕs name, I am called the marquis WilliamÕ, announces William of Orange to his opponent in The Crowning of Louis.9 ÔIn GodÕs name, I think you will Þnd him the most comely and well-made youth you have ever seenÕ, Sir Yvain says to the queen, speaking of Lancelot in the Lancelot do Lac.10 King Louis solemnizes over relics his obligations to give Raoul a Þef;11 William of Orange swears over relics to protect King Louis;12 all knights swear constantly by some favourite saint, or by the relics in some church near at hand; Roland and Ganelon carry weapons bearing sacred relics within their hilts; Gawain, in The Marvels of Rigomer has the names of the Trinity inscribed on his sword blade.13

The great waves which well up from this sea of piety are not lacking in chivalric literature. Girart founds a monastery for three hundred monks in the Chanson dÕAspremont.14 Of course, crusade features so largely in chivalric literature, especially in works traditionally classed as epic, as almost to defy illustration.

6 Asher, tr., ÔMerlin ContinuationÕ, 221; Paris and Ulrich, eds, Merlin, II, 56. 7 Kay, ed., tr., Raoul de Cambrai, laisse 201.

8 Muir, tr., Song of William; McMillan, ed., La Chanson de Guillaume, laisses 67Ð8; Hoggan, tr., Crowning of Louis; Langlois, ed., Couronnement de Louis, laisse 22. For basic doctrine in both prayers and sermons, see Newth, ed., tr., Song of Aspremont and Brandin, ed., Chanson dÕAspremont, laisses 28Ð9, 118, 235, 385. The hermits in The Quest of the Holy Grail sermonize the knights at regular intervals.

9 Hoggan, Crowning of Louis; Langlois, Couronnement de Louis, I, laisse 22.

10Corley, tr., Lancelot of the Lake, 70; Elspeth Kennedy, ed., Lancelot do Lac, I, 156.

11Kay, Raoul de Cambrai, laisse 35.

12Hoggan, Crowning, Langlois, Couronnement de Louis, II, laisse 13.

13Brault, ed., tr., Chanson de Roland, laisses 46, 173; Vesce, ed., tr., Marvels of Rigomer, 275; Foerster, ed., Mervelles de Rigomer, ll. 12910Ð14. The use of relics is not merely a literary conceit. As late as the Tudor period, kings and knights kept pieces of the skull, joints, and bones of St George in their armour and their chapels. See Gunn, ÔChivalryÕ, 110.

14Laisse 508, in Brandin, Chanson dÕAspremont, and Newth, Song of Aspremont.