7
Who wrote Le Jouvencel, and why?1 These questions have divided historical opinion. In the prologue to the text the word ‘I’ [je] occurs several times, referring to him who, ‘having taken up arms in the wars of the most Christian king of France, my sovereign lord’,2 now intends to compile ‘a short narrative’ to inspire those who go to war. But this initial ‘I’ soon introduces (in the fifth chapter, indeed) a third character, that of the jouvencel (young man) who is taken up in the narrative.3 Most of the work now centres upon the story which has as its principal character this ‘young man’ whose career, at least at first reading, dominates the story.
1 Le Jouvencel par Jean de Bueil, suivi de commentaire de Guillaume Tringant, ed. C. Favre and L. Lecestre (2 vols, Paris, SHF, 1887–89).2 Jouvencel, I, p. 15.3 Ibid, I, p. 41.
Who was the author, and how autobiographical is the story which supports the hero’s career? On the first question, the text tells us nothing. ‘The setting forth of the book of the Jouvencel’, a commentary written probably after the death of Jean de Bueil by Guillaume Tringant, his former squire, has led men to think that the hero of the work and Bueil were one and the same. This setting out of the facts does indeed teach us that the events recorded in the narrative are based on the reports of several captains and fellow soldiers who fought in the wars and witnessed most of the scenes described in Le Jouvencel, most notably by Jean Tibergeau, lord of La Motte and a feudatory of Bueil; Nicolas Riolay, and master Martin Morin, his servants as well as by other ‘valiant men with experience of war’.4 But is Bueil really the author of this work, as its nineteenth-century editors believed?5 There is no explicit evidence to support the idea. Indeed, Tringant informs us that Bueil was the one ‘for whom the work was compiled and for whom my masters made it’.6 One should not see this text, mostly written in the third person, as a work of autobiography, but as a romance based on events more or less historical. Tringant himself recognised this fact when he wrote, ‘I do not wish to assert that the jouvencel actually did all the things described in his book, only that such things were done in his time, most of which he witnessed’.7
4 Ibid, II, p. 266.5 Ibid, II, p. 462: table, sub Bueil.6 Ibid, II, p. 270.7 Ibid, II, p. 272.
From then on, like a faithful servant, Tringant claims to make public ‘some of the deeds of my master, Jouvencel’.8 In so doing he feels that the work requires commentary and explanation while observing a discreet silence regarding the secondary personages (the same pseudonym may apply to one, or indeed several, people)9 and even the central character, Jean de Bueil. “Why this reticence?” he asks. He sees in it the reflection of the modesty of his master who wanted the facts and their locations to be mixed up: matters should not be described too accurately; such was his master’s will, which explains why the facts were mixed up together.10 Tringant considers that his duty is now to lay the story bare.11 Recognising that the work contains some purely fictional passages, such as the marriage of Jouvencel to the daughter of king Amydas is as much as admitting that the rest was based upon events which may not have taken place.12
8 Ibid, II, p. 273.9 So, according to the passage, Crathor can recall Orléans, Lagny-sur-Marne, or Sablé; while John, duke of Bedford, appears under the guise of both the duke of Baudouin and the duke of Ath; as for the count of Orbec, he is inspired by both Bedford and the earl of Arundel, even by John Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury (Ibid, I, p. xviii, n. 3).10 Jouvencel, II, pp. 283, 293–294.11 Ibid, II, p. 273.12 Ibid, II, p. 266.
At first, Tringant intends to reveal who was Jean de Bueil, the model for the jouvencel; he plans to set out the main steps in his master’s career, as they were lived in reality, by placing them as closely as possible with the original story, thus giving it a new sense of reality. In thus building up a second career for his hero, he is creating, in Le Jouvencel, a novel which introduces real characters.13 We can agree with Joel Blanchard when he writes that the text of Le Jouvencel has been ‘manipulated’.14 Further, it seems that parts of the work are less complementary than opposed in their approach, one being largely didactic in outlook, the other offering a dramatic interpretation of a career, the chronicle of a particular life.
13 S. Lefevre, ‘Jean de Bueil’, Dictionnaire des Lettres françaises. Le Moyen Age (Paris, 1992), p. 756.14 J. Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre au XVe siècle’, Le moyen français, 24–25 (1989), 9.
Le Jouvencel is no ordinary work; it resembles more closely a piece of music, a structure whose unity stems from the bringing together of various elements. In spite of what may appear to be the forward movement which we call a career,15 we should not speak of an author and a book but, rather, of a compiler and a compilation, drawing upon sources which may be philosophical or moral, legal or military, ancient or contemporary (G. W. Coopland showed how the compiler drew on the Livre des faits d’armes of Christine de Pisan);16 the extent and diversity of the sources thus called upon merits serious study. They are concerned with change and development, mainly in two well-defined fields: one concerns the social advance of the man-at-arms, the possibility for him to rise from modest beginnings to the regency of a kingdom; the other considers the advance from local conflict in which the individual still plays an essential part to the war in which the hero finds himself put in charge of royal armies whose movements determine the destinies of whole kingdoms. War and its consequences is the theme running through the work, where every success is, for the hero, only a step which prepares him for the next success.
15 Ibid, pp. 20 and 17.16 G. W. Coopland, ‘Le Jouvencel (Revisited)’, Symposium, 5(2) (1951), 137–186.
The text is also concerned with other themes, notably the conduct of men at war. If victory over the enemy, a necessary step in protecting the common good, can be achieved only by contravening the traditional conventions of war, should these then be ignored? Should one not use to advantage information provided by a spy? Should consideration of the public good not triumph over the sense of honour felt by a man forced to act in a dishonourable way? It is clear from a reading of this text that it reflects several contradictory views of war. This ‘upsetting’ of ideas17 becomes evident with the evolution of the man-at-arm’s role in society. By the fifteenth century, his role as a royal servant was increasingly well recognised. But if he was well regarded as the servant or hand of the ruler, would he one day become the master, the head, the principal defender of the common good?18 He could only lay claim to this role if he enjoyed a certain power which he could exercise only for as long as he remained a military man. War, therefore, was not only the means of defending the common good, but the way which allowed the soldier to define his role in society.
17 Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre’, p. 16.18 Ibid, pp. 15–16, 19.
This point of view was the very opposite of the one set out in Guillaume Tringant’s ‘commentary’, probably written after 1477, a number of manuscripts of which survive.19 It is Tringant who informs us in a legend which, according to Blanchard,20 he created, that the text of Le Jouvencel is based on the memories and ideas of Jean de Bueil, which was written jointly by Riolay, Mori and Tibergeau.21 It is difficult to either confirm or refute this suggestion. However, it is clear that the person whom Blanchard calls ‘the compiler’ (in the singular)22 had a good knowledge of a wide variety of sources. Notably, and without it causing any surprise, in a text concerned with war and military matters, the work of Vegetius is not only cited explicitly, but clearly penetrates the entire work.23 The breadth of knowledge of literary sources which support it would deserve serious study in its own right.
19 See Le Jouvencel, pp. CCCXI–CCCXXX.20 Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre’, p. 18.21 Jouvencel, II, p. 266.22 Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre’, p. 19.23 Jouvencel, II, pp. 45, 51–53, 59–60.
What a gratifying activity war is, for many are the splendid things heard and seen in the course of it, and many are the good lessons to be learnt from it. When war is fought in a good cause, then it is fought for justice and for the defence of right. And I believe that God favours those who risk their bodies through their willingness to go to war to bring the wicked, the oppressors, the conquerors, the proud and all who act against true equity, to justice. … When war is pursued for this purpose, it is a good and worthwhile occupation for young men. … A warm feeling of loyalty and pity come into the heart to see one’s friend expose his body with such courage to carry out and accomplish the will of our Creator; and one decides to go and die or live with him, and, out of love, not to abandon him.24
24 Ibid, II, pp. 20–21.
This well-known passage praises war which, however, is described on the work’s first page as the ‘real enemy of nature’.25 The author regards war waged in the service of right and justice as good not only in itself but also for the moral satisfaction it gives to whomever undertakes it in this frame of mind; henceforth beloved of God, he need have no fear of sacrificing his life in it. In addition, war also promises to create a sense of fellowship among those seeking to achieve the victory of Good over Evil, and who find here a feeling shared with friends, companions and brothers. Let us note, too, the satisfaction, both moral and physical, born out of war, exposure to physical danger, and to the openness to danger and confrontation. Waging war is regarded as a profession, but as a morally honourable one, because the soldier defends his party, country or even his society against an enemy, for which he deserves the highest respect of his people.
25 Ibid, I, p. 13: ‘comme un etat du monde’ (Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre’, p. 7).
To succeed in this, however, the soldier needs to prepare himself for war. In this respect, Jouvencel joins a long tradition of didactic works showing how to act during conflict. In the very first lines of the narrative, the author tells us that his work has been ‘recently written by a modest and honourable knight to give courage and boldness to all young men who have the ambition and desire to follow the noble profession of arms’.26 Later he takes up the theme again: ‘I intended, with God’s help, to compile a short narrative treatise to encourage all men, especially those who wish to experience the wonderful adventures of war, always to do well and thus to increase the honour and respect in which they are held’.27 Some, he wrote, might accuse him of writing yet another book on war. His answer to this objection would be that the means of fighting are constantly changing with the times, and from these spring innovation; from such the introduction of new weapons of war has profoundly changed what he calls ‘the way of doing things’ (‘les manieres de faire’). Today, one can come across a number of weapons and machines of which earlier people had no knowledge or use, which makes him think that his work may be useful.28 He wants the ‘young’, to whom the work is addressed, to appreciate that the methods of waging war are modified and can change, an important point if one reflects upon the alleged influence of the ancient authors and of their books of advice, of which it is not forbidden to think that, with the passing of time, they might have lost the essentials of their practical value.
26 Ibid, I, p. 5.27 Ibid, I, p. 15 (Se also Ibid, II, p. 261).28 Ibid, I, p. 17.
Vowed since a young age to the profession of arms, the author feels that it could be useful to pass on his experience to his successors. Two remarks are worthy of note. First, he insists on the value of experience acquired by the soldier who, over a period of years, has taken part in numerous campaigns. The theme reoccurs regularly throughout the text, personifying itself in particular in the old soldier who, unable to fight any longer, has none the less seen a great deal, and is willing to make his views known, just like the captain of Crathor to whom Jouvencel speaks the following: ‘You are the eldest, and have seen the most, so it is reasonable that you should speak first. What does it seem to you that we should do?’29 Elsewhere, a man-at-arms, named Peruche, is brought before him; Jouvencel knew him well and regarded him as a wise and courageous man. He was already of a certain age, and had seen a great deal.30 This leitmotif reminds us that if the army benefited from the energy of youth, we should not forget the value of experience which the young have not yet enjoyed.31 Secondly, let us underline the importance of the years 1420–1460 in the military history of France, and the variety of experience acquired by those who fought: in particular the development of artillery, with important consequences notably for siege warfare; the vital part played by the ruse both in open war and in local conflicts, often on the frontiers, when all those taking part must have known one another. The first adventures involving Jouvencel, and the admiration which his leadership qualities attract (notably his attention to the smallest details which makes all the difference between success and failure in a local war)32 reflect well how this competence is, in large measure, acquired from experience gained from the exercise of arms.
29 Ibid, II, p. 2.30 Ibid, II, p. 18.31 Ibid, II, p. 15.32 Ibid, I, pp. 33–35.
How is one to convey the best advice to him who has chosen the profession of arms? The best that the Jouvencel can achieve is to describe the way war is fought, that is to say to instruct anyone who wishes it by recalling his various experiences, and by laying bare the military principles which can be drawn from them. The work, therefore, contains a multiplicity of practical precepts regarding the best manner of waging war. The first of these, which is hardly new, insists on the necessity for an army wishing for success to be well prepared. This ‘preparation’ has several meanings, to which we shall return. Yet, even at this early stage, let us note one of these meanings: the need to know in advance what the enemy’s intentions are, what his plans are and, above all, what number of men he has at his disposal: ‘one of the most important things in war is to know the size of the enemy army’.33 The general must be well informed. In the author’s view, he should spend a third of the moneys available to him in finding out indispensable information regarding the enemy’s army: ‘so you will never be surprised, for you will always know the enemy’s numbers, and thus be able to act accordingly while avoiding many drawbacks’.34 The recourse to spies is thus made necessary in order to be able to learn as much as possible regarding the danger which the enemy represents, and to avoid ever being surprised by him. For the author, the need to be well informed is a principle of the greatest importance.35
33 Ibid, I, p. 92.34 Ibid, II, pp. 34–35.35 Although the vocabulary is varied, the sense of the word ‘spying’ is always easily understood (Jouvencel, II, pp. 35, 192;); ‘courreurs’ (Ibid, I, p. 160; II, pp. 35, 192); ‘espies’ (Ibid, I, p. 67); ‘escoutes’, Ibid, I, pp. 69, 195, 203); ‘guettes’ (Ibid, I, p. 151); ‘messaige’ (Ibid, II, pp. 196–197). See C. Allmand, ‘Intelligence in the Hundred Years War’, Go Spy the Land. Military Intelligence in History, ed. K. Neilson and B. McKercher (Westport, CT, 1992), pp. 31–47.
But victory depends, too, on good preparation for the battle. The successful war leader is the one who seeks advice from those around him. For a surprise attack, such as that organised at Crathor, to succeed requires careful planning.36 And the more difficult the enterprise appears, the more important it is to discuss the smallest detail in advance. ‘Whether all difficulties should be considered in detail, I leave to you. But I insist that in time of war every plan should be discussed calmly and without haste, and quickly put into effect on the field. All reservations should remain in the camp; none should remain at the moment that men mount their horses’.37 To know in advance what is planned is, therefore, fundamental. But to know what may happen to you is equally important. And since no one lacking experience can know this, each company must include men of experience who have been there before (‘ceulx qui avoient veu’).38
36 Jouvencel, I, p. 82; II, p. 139.37 Ibid, II, p. 217; see also II, pp. 124–126.38 Ibid, II, p. 168.
However, knowing how to avoid being surprised by the enemy is perhaps not the most important thing included in the term ‘preparation’. Militarily speaking, the training to which the soldier must submit to prepare for victory is even more indispensable. On several occasions the reader sees the re-appearance of this theme, so important for the author. At the very beginning of the work he refers to
those chosen to learn the profession of arms and to harden them to the practice of work; for one cannot learn more about what a particular profession involves than by practising it often, and by avoiding luxuries which hinder or prevent proper understanding of how to retain what one is concerned with, whether it be a practical or a speculative exercise.39 Once he is trained, the man-at-arms must put into practice what he has learned. As the author asks, what would be the worth of all this, gained at great peril, if we did not put it into practice? ‘Surely’, replying to his own question, ‘we would forget it all’.40 Later he repeats the same advice: if the man-at arms must practise what he has learned, it is because practice brings mastery, and makes the soldier ready and able to act or, as he puts it elsewhere, custom bestows mastery, and becomes [second] nature.41
39 Ibid, I, p. 26. See also II, p. 71.40 Ibid, I, p. 150.41 Ibid, II, pp. 71 and 32.
The jouvencel is particularly conscious of the need to harden the soldier through work. We have already seen how he exalts the physical aspect of fighting and combat; the idea is taken up again later. The picture of the soldier’s life which he creates on several occasions is one of a certain harshness; he refers to the hard life, the burdens and the travails, as well as the afflictions and great dangers brought about by war, which must be faced with the sweat of our bodies.42 Such is the life awaiting the soldier! But he who manages to accustom himself to such a life, and to harden himself in the process, makes himself not only capable, but worthy, too, of leading others. All those who wish to acquire honour and glory through participation in war must endure great hurt and hardship experienced at the beginning.43
42 Ibid, I, pp. 59, 150.43 Ibid, I, p. 21.
What were the sources of such advice? Daily experience was certainly one of them. Another was a very much older tradition going back at least to the De re militari of Vegetius, probably written towards the end of the fourth century of the present era. This work was well known in fifteenth-century France, both in the Latin text and by the translations made into French since the thirteenth century. The work emphasised the absolute necessity of being well prepared in order to achieve victory. It is therefore likely, if not certain, that the author of Le Jouvencel should have derived this essential principle either from Vegetius himself, or from the Mirrors for Princes which restated much of the content, notably the need to recruit men capable of putting up with a training both hard and painful. In this way, Le Jouvencel was to be the echo of many of Vegetius’s ideas.
On more than one occasion the author expresses the confidence he has in soldiers with practical experience of war. One could introduce here, while recognising its anachronistic character, the word (or at least the notion of) ‘professional’. Having spent so many years fighting, Jouvencel is himself too experienced not to realise that war has greatly changed during that period. These changes require the man-at-arms, or at least his leaders, to approach military science in a new way. What better way to learn about the new skills than by practising ‘the ways of doing things’ of this evolution whose development has been accelerated by the wars against the English. ‘Day by day’, he says, ‘the weapons available to man increase’, a reference to recent developments in ordnance and in cannon in particular.44 In the long speech which he makes before Jouvencel among others, the lord of Chamblay emphasises a certain number of pieces of advice for the most effective use of heavy bombards to be employed in an attack on a castle or fortified town. In his view, these should be followed up by smaller cannon which can be fired more frequently, and which effectively prevent the defenders filling in breaches in the wall. ‘When your bombards start to fire, be certain that all your small pieces of artillery fire in succession after the bombard, so that those within are unable to repair the damage caused by the bombard, advice both practical and up to date’.45
44 Ibid, I, p. 17; Blanchard, ‘Ecrire la guerre’, p. 19, n. 14.45 Ibid, II, p. 41.
The jouvencel is also fully aware of the distinct but complementary functions of cavalry and infantry, a theme which recurs in the work. The role of cavalry is to attack: ‘as for the cavalry, however they find the enemy’s cavalry, they should attack them furiously’.46 Elsewhere, he reiterates the importance of attacking the enemy as quickly as possible, using the cavalry for this purpose.47 On other occasions, and under other conditions, archers should begin the attack, care being taken never to allow the cavalry to be placed in front of the archers, contrary to what the French had done at Verneuil in August 1424.48 It is true that recent events were rich in lessons to be learned. The author stresses, too, the importance of the defensive role played by the foot soldier and, particularly, by the archer, who should not be allowed to get too tired. ‘King Henry was successful (at Agincourt) by preserving his soldiers’ staying power and by giving them refreshment during the night. The French did the opposite. … and, soon out of breath, they were defeated’,49 all of which shows Jouvencel’s wish to draw lessons, even from a consideration of the past still very immediate and painful. ‘As for war fought on foot’, he goes on, ‘it is the very opposite of that fought by cavalry, for foot soldiers should never seek out the enemy, but should remain still, preserving their energy and thinking about all the ways by which they can defeat the enemy. And if the enemy will not advance, then it is better not to move than to go forward, for in this way many battles have been lost’.50 One sees how the author of Le Jouvencel has understood and assimilated the most important lessons of defensive tactics developed in the fourteenth century.
46 Ibid, I, p. 158.47 Ibid, II, p. 203.48 Ibid, II, pp. 63–64.49 Ibid, II, pp 62–63.50 Ibid, II, p. 37.
The text returns several times to the importance and nature of the leadership of armies, a subject which had been increasingly debated for the past century.51 Was it only the nobleman who could aspire to high command in time of war? Or should all those whose feats of arms proved that they possessed the highest qualities be given responsibilities, both military and social? Acceptance of the command of an army had, in effect, become an acceptance of responsibility for public order. How, in these circumstances, should appointments be made to commands in the French army in the second half of the fifteenth century? In a certain sense the Jouvencel as a whole can serve as a guide to action in this matter. For the different steps in the hero’s life, underlined in Tringant’s commentary, the way we observe him pondering the best way to bring the war to an end and, finally the popularity and respect with which he is surrounded, all these contribute to our being able to trace the itinerary of a ‘poor gentleman’ whose merits have taken him to the top of the ladder.52 But the author has been able to recognise another characteristic of command; the need to avoid diluting it too much, ‘for everywhere there should be one man in charge, otherwise the enterprise will not go well’.53 Indeed, it was ‘the need to leave on this frontier a man in charge of you’54 that obliged the count of Parvanchières to appoint the jouvencel as his deputy in Crathor. Later, the king appointed him lieutenant-general of the army due to bring help to king Amydas. Addressing his officers, he said to them: ‘You know that you need a leader whom you obey; otherwise your enterprise will not succeed. I am not giving you two or three, just one. For if an army has no supreme commander, things cannot go well’.55
51 On this subject see C. Allmand, The Hundred Years’ War (rev. edn, Cambridge, 2001), pp. 67–73.52 Jouvencel, II, p. 4.53 Loc. cit.54 Ibid, II, p. 3.55 Ibid, II, p. 170.
The work also reflects what chivalry and its preoccupations were in the 1560s. The knight should bring peace where there was nothing but discord and dissension, the fruits of envy and ambition. Here lies his chief obligation, a social one it might be called, since ‘the creation of the most noble order of chivalry is to preserve, defend and maintain in peace the people who are most frequently harmed by the adversities of war’. This obligation includes a certain number of corollary constraints: ‘Good and valiant knights, captains and soldiers should face not only the hard encounters (which are battles) with the force of their arms and a multitude of people, but also with subtlety and prudence’. This is why, the author reveals, he has decided to write this work, based on the experiences of him who has participated in war to maintain his lord, the king, with all his inadequate ability, and in so doing has learned at first hand what he wishes to teach others in future.56
56 Ibid, I, pp. 14–15.
This double role of defender of the prince and of the Church is taken up later in the work where it is presented as the fulfilment of the apprenticeship to which the knight has submitted himself. The function of chivalry reveals itself as the arms and hands which hold the highest position after the ‘chief’, and are in the middle of the body to defend and protect the head and the other members against all threats.57 ‘I wish’, says the captain of Crathor, ‘to be of service to the king, the kingdom, and to all you others’.58 In this way he is lending support to the notion of a chivalry of public service. At a time of war and occupation, in a country which places emphasis above all on public service which identifies itself with support for the king, it is hardly surprising that chivalry arises from an ethic strongly associated with service to France. After all, the ‘chivalric’ service which Jouvencel had himself given to his king had been active participation in the war against the public enemy, the English, in whose defeat he had taken part. In such circumstances the main reward of chivalric action would not be the glorification of the knight himself, but above all the satisfaction of having contributed to the common good by helping to expel the old enemy from the kingdom. Consequently, if the knight or man-at-arms has learned certain skills which have enabled them to achieve victory in war, it should be the common good, not they, which benefits, since the fighter is always at the service of that good. Another passage in the text explains the situation more fully.59 Two gentlemen approach Jouvencel for permission to take on two Englishmen in single combat. He allows himself to grant their request, while being severely critical of their attitude and of the legitimacy of their quarrel; in his view they are hoping to gain fame through this feat of arms which they will have to share with no one, and on which they are spending much money while (and this is the essential point) exposing their bodies and lives for something which is but vain glory and of little value, and which helps nobody. For, while they are taken up by this personal combat, they forget the service which they owe to the king and to the public good. The passage ends with the words which brooks no appeal: ‘None should risk his body except in meritorious action’.60 From then on, he who conforms to this order, even if he always remains poor, is immediately distinguishable. ‘Ha, the good man who has given loyal service to both the king and kingdom … at least he dies with great honour for him and his family … For it is a great thing to risk death for the good of others’.61 We are not far from the notion of Pro patria mori.
57 Ibid, II, p. 68.58 Ibid, I, p. 191.59 Ibid, II, pp. 68–71.60 Ibid, II, p. 100.61 Ibid, I, p. 56.
Towards the end of the work we find the description of an important event which illustrates a further aspect of the definition and new role of honour at war. The text describes how the marshal of Crathor, described as a very thoughtful wager of war, is planning to seize control of the town of Sap with the help of enemy prisoners. According to his plan the town, once captured, will be handed over to Jouvencel, with whom the marshal discusses the matter. On hearing this, king Amydas is clearly deeply shocked. ‘My son’, he says to Jouvencel, ‘it is not an honest thing for a king to do. It is in battle that the enemy must be defeated’. He refuses to be associated with an act of treachery displeasing to God and to the whole world. In any event, he adds, there would always be the risk of being betrayed and of experiencing heavy losses. Above all, he adds, a good and noble king must not plan acts to be committed under cover of darkness. Is this the end of the affair? True, Jouvencel agrees and promises not to raise the matter again. ‘You speak nobly’, he replies, ‘for you are a noble king’. But there are always those who will seek to carry out exploits to their advantage, as adventurers do. In spite of his reservations, could the king not allow them to try to capture the town by surprise? At this point the text introduces a revelatory opinion: ‘war should be waged in various ways’. There are to be other ways of approaching war than through the traditional one which conforms to the demands of honour and chivalry.
Caught unawares, the king finally replies to Jouvencel: ‘I leave it to you’, he says. He has ceded the argument. Jouvencel immediately rejoins the marshal, and they discuss the matter at length. Jouvencel, whom the king has just recognised as being ‘good and wise’, recognises that the plot ‘is quite feasible’. He lets the marshal persuade him that the plot involves few risks, reduced to the cost of the ransoms which they may have to pay. ‘Any losses will be small’, he says. But Jouvencel reminds them that the king rightly regards this action with displeasure, since it involves treachery; he himself finds it distasteful to have had to talk to the traitors. We see here Jouvencel torn between the principles of honour and his desire to hasten the end of the war which he is waging against the enemies of his king. He replies to the marshal in these words: ‘You are good and wise. I give you neither advice nor orders, and leave matters to you’. It is a new Pontius Pilate who is here washing his hands.
Of course, the episode, carefully planned and boldly executed by the marshal, is crowned with success. But it has lost nothing of the taint of treason attached to it. All are embarrassed by it. ‘Treason is not worthy of being remembered or written about’, the author says, ‘I’ll not describe it, if you will forgive me. None the less, the marshal has acted with courage and loyalty; on this occasion, he served his side well’. It is even said that the act of treason was good for king Amydas, who had opposed it, as it was for Jouvencel and the marshal. But, the text goes on, ‘the traitors involved were men of no value’ (‘ne valoient riens’).
Jouvencel is delighted at the announcement of the success achieved; but the king has still to be informed. He does this by admitting that the capture of the town was carried out without a specific order from either of them, for which the marshal begs forgiveness since he knew well that nothing should be undertaken without the permission of his superior. The king, who is trying to evade all the implications of the affair, emphasises that the offence compromises only the authority of Jouvencel as the leader of the army, and not his as king; he is careful to add that it seems unlikely to him that this undertaking could have been undertaken without the knowledge and approval of the captain. At these words Jouvencel says nothing. We shall have understood why.62
62 Ibid, II, pp. 216–221.
These pages are of considerable interest. At first, the dilemma is presented in the form of a dialogue which gives a certain life and immediacy to the text. Above all this episode should be seen as linked to a number of references to the many plots which, throughout Le Jouvencel, witness towns being taken less by direct assault than by surprise, in keeping with the point of view set out through the text itself. So, when king Amydas proposes the opposite by ‘taking to the field and displaying his banner … for battle’, the reader immediately realises that Jouvencel, for whom real war is the war of ‘subtillitez’ of which the text is the clearest evidence, is opposed to the plan.
This episode springs equally from another theme central to the work: the relationship between war and the public good. Part of Amydas’s kingdom is, in fact, partly under the control of rebels; the public good demanding that it be brought back under the king’s jurisdiction. If the task of defeating them, and of achieving the peace which would follow, implies recourse to treason and trickery, should the use of these be excluded? We find here a question which, we are told, the protagonists preferred not to discuss. But it is implicitly admitted that, when the public good is at risk, the ends justify the means. Why, then, take part in an open battle (in conformity with the ideals of chivalry) when Vegetius himself advises that victory should be sought through the expending of the minimum effort and the least number of risks? So, the badly concealed approval of the plot which regained Sap from the rebels.
The expedition led by Jouvencel in the service of king Amydas raised a further problem which troubled contemporaries very considerably. King Charles VII set it out laconically when he asked: ‘What shall we do with our soldiers?’ The implications of social peace following long periods of war caused the authorities recurrent problems after 1360 and the treaty of Brétigny. The matter assumes a new dimension if one thinks about one of the main lessons of the work: the ability to defend the public good depends on being able to avoid, at all costs, the soldier becoming fat and apathetic, losing, for lack of practice, effective use of his weapons, which can only be maintained by constant practice. What, then, should be done with an army in peace time? The answer comes quickly. ‘Sire, they should be sent to some foreign land to seek a good cause for which to fight’.63 So, in the past century, the longest periods of truce have witnessed soldiers leaving for other fields of conflict, in Greece, in Castile, or in Prussia. Nearer our time, in 1444, an army was sent to Switzerland, Bueil himself taking part in that expedition. The matter is taken up in Le Jouvencel. In time of peace, soldiers can be sent to serve abroad,
to restore a good ruler to the territory from which he has been expelled without reason. In so doing, you unburden the kingdom (of France), and you do works of mercy and justice, which are pleasing to God. You serve God in this way. And, on your return, you will find the land of your birth, ready to feed you, while your friends … will treat you with great honour; while I, who am your king, will honour you … even more, since the good that you have done me will not be forgotten.64
64 Ibid, II, p. 167.
Here the author shows respect for the soldier who serves his country and his king. But how can his country control him, once he has returned from foreign parts? May an army which has a constant need to train to maintain its military skills not risk appearing like a weight, or a danger to the public good which it is supposed to defend, as certain contemporaries thought?65 Do they not regard themselves as confronting the paradox of the protector who has become the threat, the Leviathan before Hobbes?66
63 Ibid, II, pp. 152–153.65 P. D. Solon, ‘Popular Response to Standing Military Forces in Fifteenth-Century France’, Studies in the Renaissance, 19 (1972), 78–111.66 In 1471, Jean de Bueil was to say that since the time of Charles VII ‘war has become something quite different’. Above all he had been struck by the number of soldiers involved and the problems created by the need to keep them in order (Jouvencel, I, pp. CCLXXX–CCLXXXI).
In his enthusiasm for the role played by the soldier in the affairs of the public domain, had the author fully foreseen what might happen? However we reply, this problem is evidence of the fact that he succeeded in raising questions of the greatest importance for the kingdom of France in the late Middle Ages. Did he properly estimate the apparent contradiction contained in the significance of the need to provide on-going training for the army, the body which, needed to bring victory in time of war, was regarded by many as a source of danger in time of peace? This same subversive force returns when he asks, in a way which leaves no doubt what his answer will be, if it is right, for the sake of the public good, to have recourse to the ruse to achieve victory with less risk, an argument which effectively undermines the traditional justification of chivalry. The historical interest of such a text lies in the evidence which it provides regarding the overturning of ideas and attitudes found in the middle years of the fifteenth century. In this way support is found for the author’s opening assertion that, to defend himself against criticism that he was writing yet another book on the art of war, reminded readers that military practice was constantly changing. Finally, the work has much to teach us regarding a number of changes, whether these had already happened or were in the process of happening. In so far as it made its own contribution to the debate of the time regarding war and the ‘profound changes’, technical and social, economic and political matters associated with them. So Le Jouvencel became, in more than one sense, a commentary on French society in the fifteenth century.
At first sight, two issues stand out. The first sends us back to the social ascent of the hero, which Tringant tries to associate with that of his master, Jean de Bueil. But what does it amount to? Superficially, we assist in the moral and physical development of a young man which ends with him becoming a king’s son-in-law: a success story! Yet, the social and political implications of this advance are less evident. As the story begins, we note the young man’s friends advising him not to seek to become a courtier; this would take him into a very uncertain world, that of flattery and even of mortal dangers, a position of great fragility, particularly in these troubled times. It is better to choose the way of honour which, through a military career, is immediately presented as a way of social and political advancement, with many advantages attached to it. A courtesan is associated with a patron with whom all hope of promotion is linked; the soldier, on the other hand, remains free, both morally and physically. If the courtier seeks to further only his own interest, the soldier works for the interest of all. Yet his devotion to the general good creates a new dependence. If his growing reputation reaches the court, the king may call him to join his courtiers and others so that he can put his military experience at the service of the public good. Being in no position to refuse to serve the king and, through him, all society, he surrenders his freedom to a good cause by placing himself under the orders of the king. From being an independent soldier Jouvencel thus becomes a servant of the king and people. Soon he joins a group of courtiers made up of soldiers whose role, in time of war and troubles, is needed to maintain the public good against enemies, both internal and external. However noble such service, was the author aware of the risks associated with service to a king upon whom he would depend for both his wages and his advancement? The accession of Louis XI must have sown doubts in many minds.
One suspects that the author had a certain sympathy for the old traditions which, in his time, still ruled the conduct of war. What did he think, therefore, of the military reforms of Charles VII? Although faithful to the king, he does not appear convinced by those which he presents in his text. So he does not succeed in hiding the support he feels for the individual ‘fellow’ (‘petit compagnon’) who does not fit easily into the new structures. Yet, it is precisely his admiration for the ‘exploit’ which accounts for his dissatisfaction with ‘open’ battle. Finally, one finds throughout his work an anxiety which he was not alone in experiencing when confronted with the new royal army: could the military values of old, in particular honour, survive such great changes? While recognising the merit of those which replaced them, of the progress made in military organisation, and of the new position in society given to the soldier, the author of Le Jouvencel is not their unconditional promoter. His work reflects above all the doubts of French society as it emerges from civil troubles and the wars against England. The text, with its many and varied voices, was not written to persuade; rather, the multiplicity of opinions and points of view was intended to record, and sometimes to comment on, the great changes which military life had experienced in the author’s time.