A Distant Mirror_ The Calamitous 14th Century - Barbara W. Tuchman [298]
Before the advent of the printing press, literature was enjoyed like chamber music in groups. The audience for the Cent Ballades heard the case for fidelity made in the name of an elderly knight representing Hutin de Vermeilles, a real individual known for loyalty in love and respect for women. Hutin’s argument is the traditional one that faithful love surpasses mere “delectation of the body” because it improves the lover, generates courtesy to all women for love of one, and enhances the warrior’s prowess in his desire to rejoice the heart of his beloved. Love makes him more valiant in siege, raids, ambush, in vanguard or defense, pilgrimage to Jerusalem or crusade against the Turks. The case for Falsity, in turn, was made in the name of a woman called La Guignarde, who stresses the joys of promiscuity and the dangers of a serious liaison. “All lovers” are then called upon to judge the dispute.
Although a majority of the noble versifiers declare for Hutin and Loyalty, some are ambiguous. The Duc de Berry, who had just married his twelve-year-old bride, felicitates himself on having “escaped love” and recommends talking Fidelity and practicing Falsity. The same tone is taken by the Bastard of Coucy, who breathes passionate devotion and eternal love in each of his stanzas, and ends each with the refrain,
Aussi dist on, mais il n’en sera riens.
(So they say, but it comes to nothing.)
His is the most cynical of the ballads. Of the others, some are candid, some satirical, some ambivalent, a few serious but none expresses anything deeply felt, as they would have had the subject been knighthood. Courtly love was an accustomed game, not a motivating ideal to which men desperately clung and for which, like the knights who held the lists of St. Ingelbert, they staked their lives.
Moving on to Languedoc, Charles VI and his court made ceremonial progress through Nîmes, Montpellier, Narbonne to Toulouse, feted so grandly through richly decorated streets “that it was a marvel to see.” Processions of all groups and classes, each in appropriate robes, welcomed him, and tables were set out at which the people could eat and drink. The King’s larder was supplied by his subjects: at one town he was presented with a troop of sheep and twelve fat oxen as well as twelve hunting horses hung with silver bells. Meanwhile, his ministers inquired into conditions, ordered reforms, and lifted the heaviest taxes.
Royal intervention staged its greatest gesture at Béziers in the punishment of Berry’s chief officer, the hated Bétizac. Secret inquiries of the King’s ministers had disclosed many “atrocious acts and such great extortions as made the whole country cry out against him.” Upon arrest and interrogation, Bétizac insisted that all the moneys, amounting to three million francs, had been duly paid over to the Duc de Berry and accounted for. His papers when seized appeared to confirm him. His conduct did not appear to warrant the death penalty, for, as certain of the investigators said, “How can he help it if the sums have been extravagantly spent … for this Duc de Berry is the most covetous man alive.” Others disagreed, saying Bétizac had so impoverished the people “that the blood of these poor creatures cries out against him.” He should have remonstrated with the Duke or, failing to restrain him, have informed the King and Council.
News of Bétizac’s arrest brought a flood of public complaints showing how much he was hated by the people, and, at the same time, haughty letters from Berry acknowledging that all Bétizac had done had been