Indeed, definition was no easy matter, for medieval towns differed

infinitely in size, in government, and in the ingredients of their

population. In one respect they are all alike; the most energetic and

influential, though not necessarily the greater number, of the

inhabitants are artisans or traders. But side by side with the

industrial colony stand older interests, which often struggle hard

against the ascendancy of commerce. In the town or near it there may be

an abbey or a castle or a cathedral or a royal palace, to which the very

existence of the burgess community is due. The townsmen, profiting by

the custom and the protection of the great, have grown rich and

independent; they have bought privileges or have usurped them. But they

have still to reckon with the servants, the retainers, and the other

partisans of a superior always on the watch to recover his lost rights

of property and jurisdiction; the forces of the common enemy are

permanently encamped within the walls. Again, if the town lies on a

frontier or in newly-conquered country, it will be as much a fortress as

a mart; a number of the residents will be knights or men-at-arms who

hold their lands by the tenure of defending the town; and these

burgesses will be naturally indifferent to the interests of the traders.

Finally, in the Mediterranean lands, with their long tradition of urban

society, we find the nobles of the neighbourhood resorting to the town,

building town-houses, and frequently caballing among themselves to

obtain control of the town's government. Often a long time elapses

before the class which conceived the idea of municipal liberty is able

to get the better of these hostile forces; and still more often the

hardly-won privileges are wrested from those for whom they were

intended, are cancelled, or are made the monopoly of an oligarchic ring.

Still, the aims of the medieval burgess are more uniform, from one place

to another and from one generation to another, than we might anticipate

in ages when information travelled slowly, and when the relations of

every town to its lord were settled by a separate treaty. In modern

Europe the town is an administrative district of the state, and is

organised upon a standard pattern. In medieval Europe the town-charter

was frequently a compromise with the caprices and the interests of a

petty seignor; and even kings were inclined to deal with the towns which

stood upon the royal demesne in a spirit of the frankest opportunism.

Moreover, the inclination of all lords was to meddle with their

burgesses no further than seemed necessary to ensure the full and

punctual discharge of all services and pecuniary dues. So long as these

were guaranteed, the internal affairs of the town might be left for the

residents to settle as seemed good to them. But, as to the main

conditions of the compact, each of the contracting parties holds

clear-cut and unwavering views. The lords are agreed that privileges of

trade and tenure may safely be granted if the chief magistrates are

nominated by, and accountable to themselves. The townsfolk, on the other

hand, assume that promises of free tenure and free trade will be worth

nothing unless accompanied by the permission to elect all magistrates

and councils.

Sometimes the victory rests with the lord, and sometimes with the

burgesses. Accordingly, there are two kinds of chartered town. The

larger class includes communities enjoying certain privileges under the

rule of seignorial functionaries. A smaller class consists of those

which are not only privileged but "free," that is, self-governing bodies

corporate. The distinction between the two classes is not precise enough

to satisfy a modern lawyer. Often a "free" town is obliged to allow the

lord some voice in the appointment of magistrates; while the humblest

body of traders may enjoy the right of doing justice in a market-court

without the interference of a bailiff. The one class shades off into the

other, if only for the reason that "freedom" is usually won by a gradual

process of bargaining or encroachment on the part of towns which are

already privileged. The higher type is simply a later stage in the

natural course of municipal development.

If we analyse the privileges of those towns which remain in

leading-strings, the first in order of time and of importance is the

town-peace, which only the king or his delegate can grant. Invested with

this peace the town becomes, like a royal palace or the shrine of a

saint, a sanctuary protected by special pains and penalties; the burgess

stands to the king in the same relation as the widow and the orphan; to

do him wrong is an outrage against the royal majesty. Next comes the

right of trade. The burgesses are allowed to commute their servile dues

and obligations for a fixed money-rent, that they may be at liberty for

pursuits more lucrative than agriculture. They also receive a licence to

hold a weekly market, and possibly a yearly fair as well; it is agreed

that all disputes of traders, which arise in fair or market, shall be

decided according to the law of merchants, the general usage of the

commercial world; and a safe-conduct is granted to all strangers who

resort to either gathering for lawful purposes. At first the tolls of

the fair and market are collected by the lord, and the law-merchant is

administered in the court of his bailiff. Often, however, he ends by

leasing both the tolls and the commercial jurisdiction to the townsmen.

When they are permitted (as in Flanders and in England) to form a

merchant-gild, it is with this body that such bargains are concluded;

and the gild usually purchases from the lord a quantity of other

privileges--the monopoly of certain staple industries in the town and

neighbourhood; rights of pre-emption over all imported wares; and the

power of making by-laws to regulate wages, prices, the hours of labour,

and the quality of manufactured goods. Where the lord is a sovereign

prince, he is often induced to make concessions of a wider scope:

freedom from inland tolls and from customs at the seaports; the right of

making reprisals upon native and foreign enemies who rob the merchants

or infringe the privileges of the town; immunity, in civil suits, from

every jurisdiction but that of the town-court.

It would be easy to multiply examples of this type of town, but we can

only mention here a few whose history and customs are particularly

instructive. One of the oldest is St. Riquier in Ponthieu, a notable

instance of an industrial community dating from Carolingian times and

fostered by the policy of a great religious house. The second half of

the eleventh century is remarkable for the speculative acumen displayed

by lay and secular lords in fostering the development of new commercial

centres; the Norman _bourg_ of Breteuil, founded in 1060 by a

seneschal of William the Conqueror, deserves special consideration as a

model extensively imitated in England, Wales, and Ireland; the Suabian

towns of Allensbach and Radolfszell, chartered by the great Abbey of

Reichenau a few years later, are monuments of German seignorial

enterprise. Lorris en Gatinais, a town on the demesne of the French

monarchy, received from Louis VI a set of privileges which became the

standard for the numerous _villes de bourgeoisie_ founded under the

immediate sway of the Capetian dynasty.

But the charters thankfully accepted by new colonies or embryonic

market-centres were insufficient to satisfy the aspirations of older and

greater cities. At the very time when far-sighted seigneurs are

scattering commercial privileges broadcast, there begins among the urban

classes of North France, of Flanders, and of some Italian provinces, an

agitation for more extensive rights, for "free" municipal constitutions

of our second type. In these regions the popular cry is "Commune,"

_novum ac pessimum nomen;_ and it is blended with complaints of

feudal tyranny, which often develop, since the seigneur of the town is

commonly a bishop or an abbot, into complaints against the Church. The

commune is a sworn confederacy (_conjuratio_), which bears some

resemblance both to the fraternities established for the enforcement of

the Truce of God (_supra_, p. 103) and to the merchant-gilds. But

it has also new and striking features. It is formed in defiance of

authority, and for the purpose of seizing rights which are legally

vested in the seigneur or the Crown. It is hostile to the ruling classes

of society; and the object of the members is to establish a republican

form of government within their city. They are largely merchants or

artisans; but they concern themselves with wider interests than those of

trade, and often insist that no man, of whatever avocation, shall remain

in the city unless he joins the commune.

We should be glad to know more of the bold spirits who directed the

communal movement in this early stage. They startled contemporaries by

their radicalism, and their conduct gives the lie to our preconceived

idea that a townsman is a man of peace. These medieval burgesses were

accustomed to defend their rights by force; there is nothing abnormal in

the rule of the merchant-gild of Valenciennes that the gild-brethren

should always bring their weapons with them to the market, and should

ride in armed companies to distant fairs. The Milanese and the men of

Ghent are typical in their greed for empire, in their readiness to

strike a blow for their own profit whenever war is in the land. If the

seigneurs of such cities gave cause for dissatisfaction, they found that

they had brought a hornet's nest about their ears. In the struggle for

liberties the popular party displayed a high courage which rose superior

to defeat, though in the hour of triumph it was too often sullied by

ferocious acts of vengeance. They threw themselves with intelligence and

energy into the feuds of other interests and classes, backing the Church

against the State, the State against the baronage, or the weaker against

the stronger of two rival lords. The policy of the towns was often

double-faced, material and separatist; but it also embodied ideals of

justice and of citizenship which were destined to prevail in the

struggle for existence, and to produce a wholesome reformation in the

structure of society.

The communal programme was not realised in a day; the struggle for free

governments, which began in the eleventh century, was continued into the

thirteenth and fourteenth; and the forces of the movement were already

exhausted in North France and Italy before it reached a head in South

France or in Germany. Naturally, in a conflict waged over so wide an

area for several hundred years, the watchwords were often modified, and

many different patterns of town government were devised. In its later

stages the movement was more peaceful, and the purse was often found a

better argument than the sword; the communal parties ceased to be

democratic, though they never ceased to be republican; and power was

practically if not formally monopolised by a municipal patriciate. The

mass-meeting of the burgesses, all-powerful in the days when the commune

was an organised rebellion, gradually became insignificant in the older

communes, and in many of the late foundations was never recognised at

all, its powers being distributed among the craft-gilds meeting in their

separate assemblies. Concurrent with this diminution in the importance

of the ordinary burgess, there is a tendency to restrict the franchise

by demanding higher and higher qualifications from the candidates. The

commune, in fact, sinks almost to the level of a trades union or a

benefit society, and membership is valued chiefly as a title to

exclusive rights of trade and poor-relief. The political aspect of the

institution is almost forgotten in countries where the power of the

state gains ground upon the centrifugal forces of society; and, in those

communes which preserve the dignity of states, an internecine conflict

between the rich and poor, the rulers and the ruled, usually becomes the

main feature of domestic politics.

In spite of these changes in principles and spirit, the organs of

communal government are almost everywhere the same. The executive power

is vested in a board or committee, called in Italy the _consules_, in

France the _echevins, jurati_, or _syndics_, in Germany the _Rath_

(council). Commonly this board has a president, known in France and

England as the mayor, in Germany as the burgomaster, who represents the

body-corporate in all negotiations with the seigneur or the Crown or

other communes. One or more councils (_sapientes, pares_, etc.) are

often found assisting the executive with their advice; and in the older

type of commune the mass-meeting plays a conspicuous part, not only

electing magistrates and councils, but also voting taxes, auditing the

accounts of expenditure, and deciding on all questions of exceptional

importance. Where the general assembly is non-existent or moribund,

offices are filled either by co-optation or by elections in the

assemblies of the craft-gilds, or are even allowed to descend by

hereditary right. As the popular control over the executive declines,

jealousy of the executive leads to some disastrous changes: to the

multiplication of offices, to the shortening of terms of office, to

the creation of innumerable checks and balances, to the organisation of

this or that powerful interest or party as a state within the state. But

the morbid pathology of the communes in their last stage of decline is a

subject with which we need not here concern ourselves. These intricate

expedients, which are best exemplified in the constitution of

fourteenth-century Florence, weakened the government but could not make

it more impartial or more tolerant. By the end of the Middle Ages, the

ordinary burgess was prepared to hail the advent of a royal bailiff or a

self-constituted despot, as the only cure for the inveterate disorders

incident to freedom.

It is refreshing to turn back from the period of disillusionment to that

of sanguine expectations, and to study the commune in the period of

infancy and growth, when no other refuge from anarchy and oppression was

open to the industrial classes, and when emancipated serfs were still

intoxicated with the dream of liberty.

Curiously enough, the communal revolution began most quietly in the land

where it was ultimately responsible for the fiercest conflicts. The

cities of North Italy gained their first instalments of freedom, at

different periods in the eleventh century, by bargains or by usurpations

of which few records have come down to us. At Pisa we hear of an

agreement between the bishop and the citizens (1080-1085) under which

the latter are permitted to form a peace-association, to hold

mass-meetings, and to elect _consules_ who shall co-operate with

the bishop in the government. At Genoa, on the other hand, the commune

appears (in 1122) after several earlier _conjurationes_ have been

successfully resisted and dispersed. Probably the case of Pisa is more

typical than that of Genoa, since we usually hear of a commune for the

first time when it is already a fully developed institution. In most of

the North Italian cities it was at the expense of a bishop that the

commune was established. Legally the change meant the transference, from

the bishop or another seigneur to the town, of powers derived by

delegation from the Emperor; and it took place in the course of the

Investitures contest, when the bishops, conscious of simony and other

offences which made their position insecure, were more concerned to

dissuade their citizens from siding with the party of ecclesiastical

reform than to fulfil their duties as officials of the Empire. The

Emperors themselves, hard-pressed in the struggle with the Papacy and

eager to purchase support at any price, contributed to the success of

the communal movement by the charters which they bestowed on some

important cities.

In Northern France the situation was less favourable to the towns. Often

indeed it suited the policy of the Capets to weaken an over-mighty

subject by protecting his rebellious serfs. But the bishops and the lay

seigneurs offered a pertinacious opposition to all demands for

enfranchisement; the King was a timid and vacillating ally, always

inclined to desert the cause of the townsfolk for a bribe, always in

fear that the movement might spread to his demesne. Whatever his

sympathies, he could do little, when it came to blows, but stand aside

and watch the conflict. Two examples will serve to illustrate the

general features of these feuds between municipalities and lords.

(1) In 1070 the men of Le Mans were driven to rebellion by the

lawlessness of the local baronage, and by the oppressions of the

governor whom an absentee count had put over them. They formed a

commune, and compelled the more timid of their enemies to swear that

they would recognise it. Others they caught and hanged or blinded; and

they made systematic war against the castles of the neighbourhood, which

they took one by one and burned to the ground--and this, says the

outraged chronicler, in Lent and even on Good Friday! The citizens

themselves thought no season too sacred for such a crusade against

anarchy; once, when their militia went out to attack a castle, the

bishop and his clergy were induced to lead the vanguard, bearing crosses

and consecrated banners. But after a time the fortune of war turned

against the commune; the militia were routed and the count's lieutenant

recovered the castle which dominated Le Mans. The citizens offered their

allegiance to the Count of Anjou, if he would deliver them. He came to

the rescue, the governor fled, the castle was surrendered by the

garrison and at once demolished. But, before the citizens had settled

their future relations with Anjou, an English army appeared, led by

William the Conqueror, their lawful suzerain. The Angevins effaced

themselves; the citizens, making a virtue of necessity, opened their

gates to the King; and since he would only confirm their ancient

liberties, the existence of the commune was abruptly terminated (1073).

(2) At Laon in the next generation there was a wilder and more

calamitous rising against the misrule of the bishop. His name was

Waldric; he had been Chancellor to Henry I of England, and was elected

by the chapter of Laon (1106) because of the great wealth which he had

accumulated, none too honestly, in the course of his short official

career. Much of his private fortune was expended in procuring the Pope's

approval of his very irregular election. The remainder was soon

squandered in extravagant and riotous living; and the bishop then began

to exploit his seignorial rights in Laon. His extortions were the more

resented since he kept no order; the environs of the city swarmed with

brigands and footpads, and kidnappers were allowed to work their will

inside the city. At length the burgesses seized an opportunity, when the

bishop was away in England, to set up a commune. On his return he was

obliged to accept the situation and to recognise the commune in return

for a substantial payment. But he further recouped himself by debasing

the local currency, till it was practically worthless; and he gratified

his spite against the citizens by an atrocious crime. Professing to have

discovered a conspiracy against his life, he arrested the Mayor and

caused the unhappy man to be blinded by a black slave, whom he employed

as his bodyguard and executioner. The friends of the Mayor complained to

the Pope; but the bishop got before them with his own version of the

story, and by the help of bribery secured an honourable acquittal. By

the same arguments he induced the King to quash the charter of the

commune, and then seemed master of the situation. But the men of Laon

conspired to kill him as he was going in state to the cathedral; he was

with difficulty rescued by his knights, and found it necessary to

garrison the episcopal palace with villeins from his country estates.

Arrogant as ever, he boasted of his power and the satisfaction that he

would exact; the time was coming, he said, when his black slave should

pull the noses of the most respected citizens, and the fellows would not

dare to grunt. He was soon undeceived. The mob of Laon stormed the

palace and massacred the defenders; they found the bishop in the

cellars, disguised as a peasant and hiding in an empty cask; they

dragged him forth by the hair of his head, and hacked him to pieces in

the street (1112). When a calmer mood returned, the citizens were

appalled at the prospect of the King's indignation. Those who were

conscious of guilt fled from the city, which was left half-deserted. The

barons and the serfs of the surrounding country swooped like vultures

upon Laon, pillaged the empty houses and fought with one another for the

spoil. For the next sixteen years the remnant of the citizens lived a

miserable existence as the mere serfs of Waldric's successors. In 1128

the King permitted them to associate under a Mayor, for the better

maintenance of the public peace; but they were denied the title of a

commune, and continued to be subject to the jurisdiction of the bishop.

These dramas of oppression and retaliation, though characteristic in the

sense that they reveal the worst faults and the best excuses of the

communal movement, were happily exceptional in Northern France; not

because oppression was rare, but because rebellions defeated their own

object. No seignorial concessions were worth the parchment on which they

were inscribed, without a confirmation from the King; and it was not the

King's interest to condone sacrilege or overt treason against a feudal

lord. Hence the founders of a North French commune preferred to keep

their agitation within the bounds of law. They invoked the King's help,

and he, for an adequate consideration, destroyed seignorial rights by a

few strokes of the pen; which he did the more readily since his lawyers

had formulated the doctrine that communes were tenants of the Crown,

liable to military service and to taxation at the royal pleasure. From

the close of the twelfth century there was a firm alliance between the

Third Estate and the French monarchy. On the whole it was more

advantageous to the King than to the communes. Under St. Louis and his

successors, when the power of the feudatories was broken, the commune

presented itself as an obstacle in the path of central government. On

one pretext or another, here because of faction-fights and there for

mismanagement of the communal finances, the cities lost their charters

and passed under the rule of royal commissioners. It was a poor

compensation that the Third Estate obtained the right of sending

delegates to the States General of the Kingdom. Representation brought

new liabilities without corresponding rights. The Third Estate, holding

jealously aloof from the estates of the nobles and the clergy, was

powerless against a determined sovereign.

The French commune, in fact, was a special expedient for the cure of a

transitory evil. Republican institutions were in France an exotic

growth, inconsistent with national traditions, and only welcome to

classes which had neither the political intelligence nor the material

resources to maintain their own ideals in the face of persistent

opposition. It is significant that the charters of the French communes

were frequently cancelled with the approval of the citizen assemblies.

The situation was different in Flanders and North Italy, where the city

was the natural unit of society, and the burgher class, enriched by

foreign trade, were strong enough to negotiate on equal terms with their

nominal superiors. Cities such as Ghent and Milan were shielded from

contact with the great monarchies until the habit of self-government was

firmly rooted in the citizens. When at last they were confronted with

the absolutist claims of the Capets or the Hohenstauffen, these cities

did not shrink from a direct appeal to arms; and the wars which they

waged for independence are not the least interesting chapter of medieval

history.

Medieval Europe · 第 11 / 13 段