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Dedicated to the Memory of My Parents Hermann Elias, cl. Breslau 1940 Sophie Elias, cl. Auschwitz 1941(?

Norbert Elias

THE CIVILIZING PROCESS


Sociogenetic and Psychogenetic Investigations

Translated by Edmund ]ephcott with some notes and corrections by the a11thor

Revised Edition
edited by Eric Dunning, Johan Go11dsblom and Stephen Menne!!

Blackwell Publishing

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Preface Acknowledgements co the English Translation Edicors' NQ[e co the Revised Translation

IX X\'l XVII

VOLUME I: CHANGES IN THE BEHAVIOUR OF THE SECULAR UPPER CLASSES IN THE \VEST
PART ONE ON THE SOCIOGENESIS OF THE CONCEPTS OF "CIVILIZATION" AND "CUI:rURE" Sociogenesis of the Antithesis benveen Kultur and Zfrili.wtio11 m German Usage Introduction II The Development of the Antithesis between K11lt!!r and Zil'ilisatio11 III Examples of Courtly Attitudes in Germany IV The Middle Class and the Court l\obility in Germany V Literary Examples of the Relationship of the German Middle-Class Intelligentsia co the Court VI The Recession of the Social Element and the Advance of the National Element in the Antithesis between Ku!t111' and Ziz'ili.wtio11

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5 5 9 11 15 20

26

VI

The Ciz i/i:i11g Prneess


Sociogenesis of the Concept of Ciz.iliwtion in France I Introduction II Sociogenesis of Physiocrarism and the French Reform Movement 31 31 35

Co11tt11ts IX
Changes in Attitudes rowards the Relations between Men and \XIomen On Changes in Aggressiveness Scenes from rhe Life of a Knight

Vll

x
XI

1-1.:2 161
!72

PART TWO CIVILIZATION AS A SPECIFIC TRANSFORMATION OF HUMAN BEHAVIOUR The Hisrory of the Concept of Ciz,i!ite On Medieval Manners The Problem of the Change in Behaviour during the Renaissance On Behaviour at Table Examples (a) Representing upper-class behaviour in fairly pure form (b) From books addressed ro wider bourgeois srrarn Comments on the Quotations on Table Manners Group l: An Overview of the Societies ro which the Texts were Addressed Excursus on the Rise and Decline of the Concepts of Co!!rtoisie and Cfri!ite A Review of the Curve Marking the "Civilizing" of Earing Habits Excursus on rhe Modelling of Speech at Court Reasons Given by People for Distinguishing between ''Good" and "Bad" Behaviour Group 2: On the Earing of Meat Use of the Knife at Table On the Use of the Fork at Table Changes in Attitudes rowards the Natural Functions Examples Some Remarks on the Examples and on these Changes in General On Blowing One's Nose Examples Comments on the Quorations on Nose-Blowing On Spitting Examples Comments on the Quotations on Spitting On Behaviour in the Bedroom Examples Comments on the Examples

45
47

VOLUME Il: STATE FORMATION AND CIVILIZATION


PART THREE FEUDALIZATION AND STATE FORMATION Introduction Survey of Courtly Society II A Prospective Glance ar the Sociogenesis of Absolmism Dynamics of Feudalization Imroduction II Centralizing and Decentralizing Forces in the Medieval Power Figuration III The Increase in Population after rhe Great Migration IV Some Observations on the Sociogenesis of the Crusades V The Internal Expansion of Society: The Formation of New Social Organs and Instruments VI Some New Elements in the Structure of Medieval Society as Compared with Antiquity VII On the Sociogenesis of Feudalism VIII On the Sociogenesis of i\Ii111ma11g and Courtly Forms of Conduct 2 On the Sociogenesis of the State I The First Stage of the Rising Monarchy: Competition and Monopolization within a Terrirorial Framework II Excursus on Some Differences in rhe Paths of Development of England, France and Germany III On rhe Monopoly Mechanism IV Early Struggles within the Framework of the Kingdom V The Resurgence of Cenrrifugal Tendencies: The Figuration of the Competing Princes VI The Last Stages of the Free Competitive Struggle and Esrablishmem of the Final Monopoly of the Vicror

183

II III IV

52 60
72 72 72 80

185 187 187 191 195 195 197


208 21-i
220

85 85 87 89 92 97 99 103 l07 109 109


114

257 257 261


268
277

VI

VII

121 121 126 129 129


132

VIII

136
136

289
303

138

Vil!

The Cizi/i::;ing Pr11c.:ss


VII The Power Balance wichin che Unic of Rule: Its Significance for che Cencral Auchoricy-che Formation of the .. Royal MechaDism .. On che Sociogc:nesis of che Monopoly of Taxacion

VIII

PART FOUR SYNOPSIS: TO\VARDS A THEORY OF CIVILIZING PROCESSES


The Social Conscrainc cowards Self-Conscrainc Spread of the Pressure for Foresight and Self-Conscrainc Diminishing Comrascs, Increasing Variecies The Courcizacion of che \X!arriors The .l\fming of Drives: Psychologizacion and Rationalization Shame and Repugnance Increasing Conscraincs on che Upper Class: Increasing Pressure from Btlow Conclusion .165 3 79 382 387 397
c[ 14

Preface

II III IV V VI VII VIII

421
436

POSTSCRIPT ( 1968) APPENDICES


Foreign Language Originals of the Exemplary Extracts and Verses Places from Das i\Iicct!alcerliche Hausbuch

485 487 511


517 555

II

NOTES INDEX

Cencral co chis study are modes of behaviour considered typical of people who are civilized in a \X!escern way. The problem chey pose is simple enough . \X!esrern people have not always behaved in the manner we are accuscomed co regard as typical or as che hallmark of '"civilized .. people. If members of present-day \X!escern civilized society were co find themselves suddenly transported into a past epoch of their own society, such as the medieval-feudal period, they would find there much chat they esteem .. uncivilized .. in ocher societies roday.. Their reaccion would scarcely differ from chat produced in chem at presem by the behaviour of people in fr:udal societies oucside che \\lescern world . They would. depending on their situation and inclinations, be either accracred by rhe wilder, more unrestrained and advencurous life of the upper classes in chis society, or repulsed by rhe '"barbaric .. cuscoms, che squalor and coarseness chat he encountered there . And whatever they understand by their own '"civilization ... they would at any race feel quite unequivocally that society in chis past period of \\!escern hiscory was not .. civilized .. in the same sense and co che same degree as \X!escern society coday. This scare of affairs may seem obvious co many people, and ic might appear unnecessary co refer co it here. But ic necessarily gives rise co questions which cannot with equal justice be said co be clearly presem in che consciousness of living generations, although these questions are nor wichom importance for an understanding of ourselves. How did chis change, chis '"civilizing .. of the \'Vest, actually happeni Of what did it consist' And what were its "causes .. or "motive

The Cil'ilizi11g Pmcw

XI

forcts"; Ir is ro che solucion of thest main questions chac this srndy anempcs ro comribme. To facilirnce understanding of this book, and elms as ao imroduccion ro che questions chemselves, it seems necessary ro examine the differem meanings and ernluations assigned ro the concepc of "civilization" in Germany and France. This enquiry makes up Pare One. Ir may help che reader ro see the concepts of K11!t11r and (irili.wtir!/I as somewhat less rigidly and self-eviclemly opposed. And ic may also make a small comribmion rowards improving che German hisrorical undtrsrnncling of the beha,iour of Frenchmen and Englishmen, and che French and English underscanding of che behaviour of Germans. Bue in che encl ic will also serve ro clarify cercain cypical fearnres of che civilizing process To gain access ro che main quescions, ic is necessary first ro obtain a clearer picrnre of how che behaviour and affeccive life of \i(!escern peoples slowly changed afrer che Middle Ages. To show chis is che cask of the second chapter. Ir anempcs as simply and clearly as possible ro open che way ro an underswnding of che psychical process of civilizacion It may bt chac the idea of a psychical process excending over many generncions appears hazardous and dubious ro present-day hisrorical chinking. Bm ic is noc possible ro decide in a purely cheorecical, speculative way whecher che changes in psychical habirns chac are observable in the course of \i(!estem hisrory rook place in a parcicular order and direccion. Only a scrminy of documents of hisrorical experience can show whac is correcc <rnd whac is incorrecc in such theories. That is why ic is noc possible here, \vhen knowledge of chis documemary macerial cannot be presupposed, ro give a brief preliminary skecch of che scrucmre and cemral ideas of che whole book. They chemselves cake on a firmer form only gradually, in a continuous observacion of hisrorical faces and a consram checking and revision of whac has betn seen previously chrough whac emered later inro che field of observacion. And elms che individual pans of chis smdy, ics scrucrure and mechod, will probably be complecely intelligible only when chey are perceived in cheir emirecy. Ic muse suffice here ro facilirnce the reader's underscanding by picking om a few problems. Pare Two comains a number of stries of txamples. They strve ro show developmem in an acceleraced fashion . In a few pages we see how in che course of centuries the scandard of human behaviour on che same occasion very gradually shifrs in a specific direccion. \i(!e see people ac cable, we see chem going ro bed or in hoscile clashes . In chese and ocher elememary accivicies che manner in which individuals behave and feel slowly changes. This change is in che direccion of a gradual "civilizacion", bm only hisrorical experience makes clearer whac chis word acmally means. Ic shows, for example, che decisive role played in chis civilizing process by a very specific change in che feelings of shame and delicacy. The srnndarcl of what is socially demanded and prohibited changes; in conjunccion wich chis, che chreshold of socially inscilled displeasure and fear

moves; and che question of sociogenic fears d1L!s emerges as one of che cemral problems of che civilizing process . Very closely relaced ro chis is a furcher range of questions. The distance in ditir and whole psychical scruccure becween children and adults increases in che course of che civilizing process. Here, for example, lies che key ro che question of why some peoples or groups of peoples appear ro us as "vounger" or "more childlike", ochers as "older" or "more grown-up" \i(!hac we ro express in chis way are differences in che kind and srnge of a civilizing process chac chese sociecies have anained; bm chac is a separate quescion which cannot be included wichin che framework of chis smdy.. The series of examples and che imerprecacions of chem in Pare Two show one thing very clearly: che specific psychological process of "growing up" in \i(!estern sociecies, which frequently occupies the minds of psychologists and pedagogues coday, is noching ocher chan che individual civilizing process ro which each young person, as a resulc of che social civilizing process over many cemuries, is auromacicallv subjected from earliesc childhood, to a greacer or lesser degree and wich greace; or lesser success The psychogenesis of che adulc make-up in civilized sociecv cannoc, therefore, be undersrood if considered independently of che sociogenesi,s of our "civilizacion". By a kind of "sociogenetic ground rule"* individuals, in cheir shore hisrory, pass once more chrough some of che processes chac their sociecy has craversecl in ics long history Ic is che purpose of Part Three ro make certain processes in this long hisrory of sociecy more accessible ro understanding. Ic anempcs, wichin a number of precisely defined areas, ro clarify how and why in che course of ics hiscory the scrucrnre of \i(!escern sociecy cominuously changes, and poims ac che same cime ro an answer ro che quescion of why, in che same areas, che scandard of behaviour and che psychical habims of \i(!escern peoples change \\it see, for example, che social landscape of che early Middle Ages. There is a multimde of greater and smaller castles; even che rown secclemems of earlier
'''This expression should nor bt undtrsrood ro mean that all rht indiviJual phases of a society s history art reproduced in rht history of the civilized individual. Nothing would be more absurd than rn look for an ";.u.::n1rian feudal age or a .. Renaissance or a "courdy-absolurisr period individuals. All of this kind refer w rht structure of whole social groups in die lift of

\\/hat must be pointed out here is rht simple fact that even in civilized socitty no human beings come into rhe world civilized, and chat the individual civilizing process char they compulsor!ly un<lergo is a function of rhe social civilizing process Therefore. the srrucrure of a child's affecrs and consciousness no <loubr bears a certain resemblance rn that of "uncivilized' peoples, anJ rhe same applies rn rhe psychological stratum in grown-ups which. with the advance of civilization is subjecrtd rn more or less heavy censorship and consequendy finds an oudet in dreams, for example. But since in our society every human being is exposed from the first moment of life to rhe influence and rhe moulding inrervenrion of civilized grown-ups. rhey muse indeed pass through a civilizing process in order reach the swndard arrninecl by rheir socitty in the course of irs history. bur not through the individual phases of rhe social civilizing process

xii rimes have become feudalizecL Their ctntres roo are formed by rhe castles and ts rares of lords from rhe \\ arrior class. The quesrion is: \Vhar art tbt secs of social relationships char press roward rhe development of whar we call the "feudal sysrem";, The anempr is made ro demonsuart some of rhese "mechanisms of feudalizarion" \Ve set further how, from rhe casrle landscape, rogerhtr wirh a number of free urban crafr and commercial serdements, a number of larger and richer feudal esrares slowly emerge . \Virhin rhe warrior class irself a kind of upper suamm forms more and more disrincdy; rheir dwelling-places are rhe real cemres of minnesong and rhe lyrics of the rroubadours, on the one hand, and of c11i!rrois forms of beha\iour on rhe ocher If earlier in rhe book the CO!!rtois standard of conduce is placed ar rhe scarring-point of a number of sequences of examples giving a picrnre of rhe subsequent change of psychical make-up, here we gain access ro rhe sociogenesis of rhese 1w1rtois forms of behaviour themselves. Or we see, for example, how rhe early form of whar we call a 'scare" develops. In rhe age of absolurism, under rhe warchword of cil'i!iti, behaviour moves very ptrcepribly rowards rht srnndard char we denote rodar by a derivative of rbe word t"iri!itt as "civilized" behaviour. Ir therefore seems necessary, in elucidating this civilizing process. to obrnin a clearer picture of whar gave rise co rhe absolmisr regimes and therefore co rhe absolurisr srnre. Ir is nor only rhe observarion of rhe pasr rbar poims in chis direcrion: a wealrh of contemporary observations suggesrs srrongly char rhe suucrure of civilized behaviour is closely interrelated wirh rht organizarion of \Vesrern socieries in rhe form of scares. The quesrion. in ocher words, is: How did rhe exrremely decenrralized society of rhe early Middle Ages, in which numerous grearer and smaller warriors were rhe real rulers of \Vesrern rerricory, become one of the internally more or less pacified bm ourwardly embarded societies rhar we call scares:. \Vhich dynamics of human interdependencies push rowards rhe inregrarion of ever larger areas under a relarivel y srnble and centralized gcm:rnmenr appararns'

xi11 Thar is whar is arrempred here The sociogeneric and psychogeneric invesrigation sers om co reveal rhe order under! ying hiscorical rheir mechanics and rheir concrete mechanisms: and ir seems thar in rhis way a large number of quesrions char appear complicared or even beyond undersrnnding today can be given fairly simple and precise answers. For this reason, chis smdy also enquires inco rhe sociogenesis of rhe srnre. There is. co rake one aspecr of rhe hiscory of rhe srnre's formarion and srrucrnre, the problem of the "monopoly of force". Max \Veber poinred om. mainly for rhe sake of definirion, char one of rhe consrimrive insrirnrions required by rhe social organization we call a scare is a monopoly in the exercise of physical force. Here an arcempr is made w reveal somerhing of rhe concrere hisrnrical processes which-from rhe rime when rhe exercise of force was rhe privilege of a host of rival warriors-gradually impelled society coward rhis cenrralizacion and monopolizarion of rhe use of physical violence and its insrruments. It can be shown char rhe rendencv co form such monopolies in chis pasr epoch of our hiscory is neirher easier more difficulr w understand rhan, for example, rhe srrnng rendencv cowards monopolization in our own epoch And ir is rhen nor difficulr ro rhar, wirh chis monopolizarion of physical violence as rhe poinr of intersection of a mulrirnde of social inrerconnecrions, rhe whole appararns which shapes individuals, rhe mode of operarion of rhe social demands and prohibirions which mould rheir social habirns, and above all rhe kinds of fear rhar play a pare in rheir lives art decisively changed. Finallv, Parr Four, "Towards a Theory of Civilizing Processes", underlines once connecrions berween changes in rhe srrucrnre of sociery and changes in more rhe srrucrnre of people's behaviour and psychical habirns. Much of whar could onlv be hinred ar earlier, in depicring concrere hisrnrical prncesses, is now scared ex;licidy \\le find here. for example, as a kind of rheorerical summing-up of whar previously became evidem from rhe srudy of hiscorical documents, a short sketch of rhe srrucrnre of rhe fears experienced as shame and delicacy: we find an explanarion of precisely why fears of chis kind play an especially imporrnnt role in rhe adYance of rhe ci\ilizing process; and at rhe same rime, some lighr is shed on rhe formarion of rhe "super-ego" and on rhe relation of rhe conscious and unconscious impulses in rhe psyche of civilized people. Here an answer is giYen co rhe quesrion of hiscorical processes; rhe question of how all these processes, consisring of norhing but the actions of individual people, neverrheless give nse co insri(Llrions and formarions which were neirher inrended nor planned by any single individual in the form rhey acrnally rake. And finally, in a broad survey. rhese insighrs from rhe pasr are combined inco a single picrnre wirh experiences from rhe present. This srndy rherefore poses and develops a very wide-ranging problem; ir does nor prerend ro solve ir.

Ir may perhaps seem ar first sighr an unnecessary complicarion co invesrigare rhe genesis of each hisrorical formarion. Bm since every hisrnrical phenomenon, human arcirncles as much as social insri(Lltions, did ac(Llally once "develop", how can modes of rhoughr prnve eirher simple or adequare in explaining chest phenomena if. by a kind of arrificial absrracrion, rhey isolare rhe phenomena from their na(Llral, hiscorical flow, deprive chem of their character as movement and process, and try w understand rhem as srnric formations wirhout regard ro rhe way in which they have come inco being and change:. Ir is nor theorerical prejudice bm experience irself which urges us to seek inrellecrual ways and means of steering a course berween rhe Scylla of chis "sraricism", which rends co express all hiscorical movement as something morionless and withom evolution, and rhe Charybdis of rhe "hiscorical relativism" which sees in hisrnry only consrnnr rransformarion. wirhom penerraring co the order underlying chis rransformarion and co rhe laws governing rhe formation of hiscorical srrucrnres.

XIV

Tht: Cfrilizing Process

xv hisrorical processes, of what might be called the "developmental mechanics of hisrory", has become clearer to me, as has their relation ro psychical processes. Terms such as socio- and psychogenesis, affective life and drive-moulding, c:xrernal and internal constraints, embarrassment threshold, social power, monopoly mechanism, and a number of others give expression ro this. Bm the least possible concession has been made to rhe necessirr of expressing ne\V things rhar have become visible through new words. So much for the subject of this book For rhe prc:sc:nt srudy and for a number of necessary preliminary investigations, I have received advice and support from many sides. Ir is my wish here ro rhank expressly all rhe people and insrirmions that have helped me. The enlargement of my Hahilitt1ti1111ssch1iji and an extended study of nobility, royalty, and courtly society in France which is rhe basis of this book, was made possible by rhe support of the Sreun-Fonds of Amsterdam. My thanks are due ro rhis foundation, and ro Professor Frijda of Amsterdam and Professor Bougie of Paris for the great kindness and interest they showed mt during my work 111 Paris For the period of my work in London I received rhe generous support of \'Voburn House, London . To ir and above all ro Professor Ginsberg of London, Professor A Loewe of Cambridge, and A. Makower, MA, of London I owe very great thanks. \'Virhom their help my work would not have come to fruition. Professor K. J\fannheim of London I thank for rhe help and advice he gave me. And I am nor least indebted to my friends Gisele Freund, D Phil., Paris; M.. Braun, D.Phil., Ph.D, Cambridge; A. Gli.icksmann, DMecl , Cambridge; H. Rosenhaupr, D.PhiL, Chicago; and R. Bonwir, London, for their help and for the discussions in which many things were made clear to me, and I thank them September 19 _:;6 Norbert Elias

Ic marks om a field of observation that has hitherto received relatively little attention, and undertakes the first steps toward an explanation. Others must follow.

Many guestions and aspects which presented themselves in the course of rhis study I deliberately did not pursue. It was not so much my purpose to build a general theory of civilization in rhe air, and then afterwards ro find om whether it agreed with experience; rather, it seemed the primary rask ro begin by regaining within a limited area rhe lost perception of rhe process in question, rhe peculiar transformation of human behaviour, then ro seek a certain undersrancling of its causes and, finally, ro garher rogether such rheorerical insights as have been encountered on the way If I have succeeded in providing a rolerably secure foundation for further reflection and research in this direction, rhis study has achieved everything it set our w achieve. Ir will need the thought of many people and the co-operation of different branches of scholarship, which are often divided by artificial barriers roday, gradually ro answer the questions that have arisen in the course of this study.. They concern psychology, philology, ethnology and anthropology no less than sociology or the different special branches of hisrorical research However, rhe issues raised by the book have their origin less in scholarly tradition, in the narrower sense of the word, than in the experiences in whose shadow we all live, experiences of the crisis and transformation of \'Vesrern civilization as it had existed hirherro, and the simple need ro understand what this civilization .. really amounts m Bur I have nor been guided in this srudr br the idea that our civilized mode of behaviour is rhe advanced of ail humanly possible modes of behaviour, nor by the opinion rhar "civilization" is rhe worst form of life and one that is doomed. All rhar can be seen roclay is that with gradual civilization, a number of specific civilizational difficulties ;rise Bu; it cannot be said rhar we alrtadv understand whv we acruallv rormtnt ourselves in such ways . \'Ve feel rhar have got ourse,lves, rhtoug.h civilization, into certain entanglements unknown ro less civilized peoples; bur we also know rhar these less civilized peoples are for their part often plagued by difficulties and fears from which we no longer suffer, or at least nor ro rhe same degree Perhaps all this can be seen somewhat more clearly if it is unclersroocl how such civilizinu processes actually rake place . Ar any rare: that was one of rhe wishes with I set to work on this book. Ir may be that, through clearer unclersrancling, we shall one clay succeed in making accessible ro more conscious control these processes which roday rake place in and around us nor verv differendr from forces natural events, and which we confront as medieval people of nature. I myself was obliged in the course of this srudv ro revise mv rhinkin" on a ' , b large number of points, and I cannot spare rhe reader from becoming acquainted with a number of unfamiliar aspects and expressions. Above all, the nature of

Acknowledgements to the English Translation*

Editors' Note on the Revised Translation

This rranslarion could nor hano been produced wirhom rhe aid of mv friends. In parricular. Professor Johan Goudsblom has spenr a grear deal of and efforr in comparing rhe English and German rexrs w ensure rhar rhe exacr meaning has been imerprereJ. Eric Dunning has also rhroughom made a number of very useful suggesrions . The exercise of checking rhe rranslarion was in irself a mosr useful one for me as ir enabled mt ro revise rhe rexr in minor. bm imporrnm, ways and ro add nores which ser rhe work in rhe comexr of mv larer rhinking . None of chis should be rnken as any reflecrion on rhe rran,slaror. Edmund Jephcon. ro \1hom I 0\1e rhe greatesr debt. My rhanks are also clue w Johan and Maria Gouclsblom for reading the proofs and compiling rhe index. Italics in the quotarions indicate the amhor's emphasis

'i' This note of acknowledgt:mt:nt appeared in tht tirsr English translation of rht St,w1J

Yolumt: of Tht

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publisht:d in l under thL rirlt Suh fr1m.'.!!ir1n ,mJ Ciz i!i::.1tilill (or. in the Amt:rican edition . . as Pr1u .m) Ciz iii:_; J
1.1,

Reprinting rhe 199-i one-volume edirion of The Ci1i!isi11g Pm,"tSS afforded an opporruniry w make some revisions rn the rext, and they prnved ro be rarher more exrensive rhan we originally intended. Translarion is an imperfect arr, and rranslarini..; Norberr Elias's German imo English poses peculiar problems. They arise mai;ly from his arrempr always w write in a j>ron:SSfla! way, minimising rhe use of srntic conceprs, and also ro avoid referring ro 'rhe individual' in rhe sini..;ular and as somerhing separate from orher people-whar Elias was later w call rhe homo c!1111s11s image, prevalent in \Vestern rhoughr. Edmund Jephcort's fine translation of T /;, Ciri!izing Pn1ccss, publishtd in 19-8 and 1982. was one of rhe earliesr of Elias's German writings ro appear in English, and since then there have been manr discussions among Elias scholars about the best ways of rendering his id.eas \Ve have also had rhe advantage of being able ro consulr Heike Hammer's definitive scholarly edirion of Ohu d.:11 P1ozeji der Zil'ilis{!fio11, published by Suhrkamp in 1997. Apart from correcring some major errors that had crept in, nornbly unscrambling the rexts of the excerprs from medieval manners books on behaviour ar table. we have made a number of changes which we hope will clarify rhe text. For instance, wririni..; in German in the 1930s, Elias frequently used rhe term Hahiws, which tn rhe l 970s and early l 980s was quire unfamiliar in English, and was therefore generally translared by expressions such as "personaliry makeup ... Since rhen, particularly rhrough the \Hirings of Pierre Bourdieu, rhe more precise term "habirns .. has re-entered rhe vocabulary of anglophone social scienrists, and rherefore we have resrnred ir in the present rexr. Anorher example is the word rittuifrh. which we render literally as "knightly .. rather rhan

XV Ill

Th, Cil'i/i:;ing Pmass

"chirnlrous". since H most fundamenrally connotes a rather violenr way of life. And we have in places reswrecl Elias's use of Freudian terminology, ro bring our more clearly rhe influence of Freud which Elias always acknowledgc;cl ro have been strong. In rhis revised translation. rhe word Trieu is rranslared as "drive". not as "instinct"; Elias was one of rhe most important contriburors ro what are now called "rhe sociology of emotions" and "the sociology of the body". and nothing could be more misleading than ro convey rhe impression that his theory rests on essentialist assumptions of rhe kind usually associated wirh rhe concept of insrincrs. \\le have also wken rhe opportunity to make corrections ro rhe rexr of Parts One and Two corresponding ro those which rhe aurhor, in consulrarion wirh Johan Goudsblom, made in the English translation of Parts Three and Four Towards rhe encl of his life, Elias also came to feel strongly that exclusively masrnline expressions should be avoided where females as well as males are being referred ro; we have made appropriate amendments. On rhe other hand, Elias in rhe 19_'\0s used a number of concepts such as "mechanism'', "cause" and "law" of which he became critical in the 1960s In these cases, we have generally left the original text unchanged, largely because Elias did not concern himself at length with this issue in the 1968 Postscripr. \\le have made extensi\e changes ro the tenses used in the text. In Uber dw Pru::Lji d1:r Ziri!isatir1n, Elias wrote mL;ch of the time in the historic present which is (or was) more acceptable in German than in English. where good style requires rhat ir be used only sparingly for rhetorical effect For ex<1mple, Elias's historical narrative of French hisrory in Parr Three has now been changed mostly into rhe past tense; this should m<1ke ir easier for the reader to distinguish between when Elias is providing narrative as empirical evidence (pasr rense) and when he is drawing general theoretical conclusions from the evidence (present tense). Hitherto, ir has been common for the two original volumes of the English rranslarion to be misperceived as rwo separate or only loosely-connected books. The sequence of contents in this revised one-volume edition has now been amended to make clear rhar rhis is a single book, and ro bring ir inro line wirh the German edition. The long introduction which Elias wrote in 1968, when Ubc1 de11 Pm:;ej! i!t:r was first reprinted, appears here however as a Posrscri pr-for rhar is what it is, the author's thoughts thirty years after he wrote rhe book For most readers ir will perhaps make better sense ct/tff they have read rhe book itself; bm readers who are looking for a general srarement of Elias's intellectual position (subsequently developed in the many other books he wrote in rhe 1970s and 1980s) should mm first to rhe Postscript.

VOLUME I
CHANGES IN THE BEHAVIOUR OF THE SECULAR UPPER CLASSES IN THE WEST

Eric D1111ning Johan Go11dsb!om Stephen Mw11e!! Amsterdam, Leicester and Dublin, July 1999

PART ONE
On the Sociogenesis of the Concepts of "Civilization" and "Culture"

1
Sociogenesis of the Antithesis Betiueen Kultur and Zivilisation zn Gerrnan Usage
I

Introduction
l. The concepr of "civilizarion" refers ro a wide variery of faces: ro rhe leYel of rechnology, ro rhe rype of manners, ro rhe developmem of sciemific knowledge, ro religious ideas and cusroms . Ir can refer to rhe rype of dwelling or the manner in which men and women live rogether, to rhe form of judicial punishmem, or to rhe way in which food is prepared. Stricdy speaking, rhere is almosr norhing which cannot be done in a "civilized" or an "uncivilized" way; hence, ir always seems somewhar difficulr to summarize in a few words everything char can he described as civilizarion. Bm when one examines whar the general funcrion of rhe concepr of civilizarion really is, and whar common quality leads all rhese various human arritudes and acrivities ro be described as civilized, one scares wirh a very simple discovery: this concepr expresses the self-consciousness of the \'Vest . One could even say: the national consciousness. It sums up everything in which \'Vesrem society of the last two or three centuries believes itself superior ro earlier societies or "more primitive comemporary ones. By this term \'Vestem society seeks ro describe what constitutes its special character and whar ir is proud of: rhe level of its rechnology, rhe nature of its manners, rhe developmem of its sciemific knowledge or view of rhe world. and much more.

Tht Ciz'ili:illg

prr;(t;JS

' Bur "ci\ilizarion" doc:s nor mean rht same rhing ro different \Vesrtrn narions. Above alL rhere is a grtar difference berween tht English and French use of rhe word. on rht one hand, and rhe German use of ir. on rhe orher. For rhe former, rhe concepr sums up in a single rerm rheir pride in rhe significance of rheir own narions for rhe progress of the \Vesr and of humankind. Bllt in German usage. Zirilis<1tio11 means somerhing which is indeed useful, bllt neverrheless only a value of rhe second rank, comprising only rhe ollter appearance of human beings, the surface of human exisrence. The word rhrough which Germans interpret rhemselves. which more rhan any orher expresses rheir pride in their own achievemems and rheir own being, is K!!ltm 3 A peculiar phenomenon: \vords like the English and French "civilization" or the German K!ilt!ir appear completely clear in rhe inrernal usage of the society ro which they belong. Bllt rhe way in which a piece of the world is bound up in them, the manner in which they include certain areas and exclude orhers as a matter of course, rhe hidden evaluations which they implicitly bring with them, all rhis makes them difficult ro define for any outsider The French and English concept of civilization can refer ro political or economic, religious or technical. moral or social facts. The German concept of K!!lt11r refers essemially ro intellectual. arrisric and religious facrs. and has a rendency ro draw a sharp dividing line berween facrs of this sort, on the one side, and political. economic and social facrs. on the other. The French and English concept of civilization can refer to accomplishments, but it refers equally to the atritudes or "behaviour" of people, irrespeeti\e of whether or nor they have accomplished anything In rhe German concept of K11!1Jir, by comrasr, rhe reference ro "behaviour", to the value which a person has by virtue of his or her mere existence and conduct, without any accomplishment at all. is very minor. The specifically German sense of rhe concept of K!!lt11r finds its clearest expression in its deri\arive, the adjective l?l!!tur,/I. which dtscribesthe value and character of particular human products rather than rht imrinsic value of a person. But chis word, the concept embodied rn lwlt!!rell, cannot be exactly rranslared inro French and English The word k!!ltiric1l (culrivartd) is very dost to rhe \Vesrern concept of civilization. To some exttm, ir reprtstms rhe highest form of being civilized. Even people and families who have accomplished nothing k1tltmell can be lat!til'iert. Like rht term "civilized", k!!ltil'iert refers primarily to rhe form of people's conduce or be:haviour. Ir describes a social quality of people:, rheir housing, thtir manners, rheir speech, rheir clothing, unlike kitlt!!rell, which does nor refer dire:ctly ro people themselves, but exclusively to particular human accomplishments. -4 Another difference between rhe rwo concepts is very closely bound up with chis . "Civilization" describes a proce:ss or ar lease rhe result of a process. Ir refers ro something which is constantly in morion. consranrly moving "forward". The

German concept of K!!lt11r, in current usage. has a differem rtlarion to morion . Ir refers to human produces which are rhtre like "flowers of rhe field", i ro works of arr, books, religious or philosophical systems. in which rhe individuality of a people expresses itself. The concept of K!!lt!!r delimits. To a ce:rrnin exrem, rhe concept of civilization plays down the national difforencts berwten peoples; ir emphasizes what is common to all human beings or-in rhe view of irs bearers-should be:. Ir expresses rhe self-assurance of peoples whose national boundaries and national idemiry have for centuries been so fully established char thty have ceased to be rhe subject of any parricular discussion, peoples which have long expanded omside rheir borders and colonized beyond rhem. In comrasr, rhe German concept of K!!lt11r places special suess on narional differences and rhe particular identity of groups; primarily by virtue of chis, ir has acquired in such fields as ethnological and amhropological research a significance far beyond rhe German linguistic area and rhe situation in which rhe concept originated. But char situation is rhe situation of a people which, by \X/esrern standards. arrived ar political unification and consolidation only very !art. and from whose boundaries, for cemuries and even down ro rhe presem, rerrirories have again and again crumbled away or rhrearened to crumble away. \Vhereas rht concept of civilization has rhe function of giving expression ro rhe cominuously expansionist tendency of colonizing groups, rhe concept of K11!t11r mirrors rhe self-consciousness of a nation which had consrnntly ro seek out and consriture irs boundaries anew, in a political as well as a spiritual sense, and again and again had ro ask irself: "\Vhar really is our identiryY The orienrarion of rhe German concept of culture, wirh its tendency rowards demarcation and rhe emphasis on and derailing of differences between groups, corresponds ro chis hisrorical process Tht questions "\Vhar is really French, \Vhar is really English, .. han'. long since ceased ro be a marrtr of much discussion for rhe French and English. But for cemuries rhe question "\X!liar is really German)" has nor been laid to resc One answer ro chis question--one among ochers-lies in a parricular aspect of rhe concept of K11!t1!I' 5 Thus rhe national self-images represemed by concepts such as K!!lmr and "civilization" rakt wry different forms. Bur however cliffe:renr rhe self-image of rhe Germans, who speak wirh pride of their K11lt!!r, and char of rhe French and English, who chink wirh pride of rheir "civilization", rhey all regard ir as completely self-evidem char theirs is rhe way in which rhe world of humans in general wants to be viewed and judged. The Germans can perhaps try ro explain rn rhe French and English what rhey mean by rhe concept of Ku!t11r. But rhey can communicate hardly anything of rhe specific national background and rhe selfevidenr emotional values which e:nvelop rhe word for chem. The French or English person can perhaps cell rhe German what elemems make rhe concept of civilization rhe sum of rheir national self-image. But

T/Je Cil'ilizi11g Pmass

Changes in the Beh,tl'io11r of the Secular Uj>j1er Classt.r in the \\lest

however reasonable and rarional chis concepr may appear ro chem, ir roo grows OL!( of a specific sec of hisrorical simarions, ir too is surrounded by an emorional and rradirional aura which is hard to define bl!( which neverrheless represents an integral pan of irs meaning. And rhe discussion really becomes fl!(ile when a German rries to show rhe French and English person why rhe concepr of Zil'ilisatio11 does indeed represem a value for him, bl!( onlv one of rhe second rank. 6. Conceprs like rhese rwo have somerhing of rhe characrer of chose words which from rime to rime make rheir appearance in some narrower group, such as a family or a seer, a school class or an associarion, and which say much ro rhe rnke shape on rhe basis of common iniriare and lirde to rhe OL!(sider. experiences . They grow and change wirh rhe group whose expression rhey are. The simarion and hisrory of the group are mirrored in them. And they remain colourless, they never become fully alive for chose who do not share these experiences, who do nor speak from the same tradition and the same simation. The conceprs of J\.1t!t11r and "civilizarion", to be sure, bear rhe srnmp not of seers or families bl!( of whole peoples, or perhaps only of cerrnin classes of these peoples. BL!( in many respecrs whar is rrue of rhe specific words of smaller groups is also rrue of rhem: they are primarily used by and for people who share a parricular rradirion and a parricular sirnarion. Mathematical conceprs can be separared from the group which uses rhem. Triangles may be explicable withol!( reference ro hisrorical situations. Concepts such as "ci\ilization" and Kl!ft11r are not. It may be rhat parricular individuals formed them from rhe exisring linguisric material of their group, or at least gave rhem new meaning. BL!( rhey took roor. They became esrablished. Others picked rhem up in rheir new meaning and form, developing and polishing them in speech or wriring. They were tossed back and forrh until rhey became efficient instrumems for expressing whar people had joindy experienced and wanted ro communicare. They became fashionable words, concepts current in rhe everyday speech of a parricular society. This shows thar rhey met nor merely individual bl!( shared needs for expression. The shared hisrory has crystallized in them and resonares in rhem. Individuals find rhis crysrallizarion already in rheir possibiliries of use. They do nor know very precisely why rhis meaning and rhis delimitarion are bound up wirh rhe words, why exacdy rhis nuance and rhar new possibiliry can be drawn from rhem. They make use of rhem because ir seems to him a marter of course, because from childhood rhey learn to see rhe world rhrough rhe lens of these conceprs. The social process of rheir genesis mav be being long forgorren. One generarion hands them on ro another of rhe process as a whole, and the concepts live as long as rhis crystallizarion of pasr experiences and simarions retains an exisrential value, a function in the acrnal being of society-that is, as long as succeeding, generarions can hear their own experiences in rhe meaning of the words . The terms gradually die when rhe

funcrions and experiences in rhe acrnal life of society cease ro be bound up wiEh chem. Ar rimes, roo, rhey only sleep, or sleep in certain respecrs, and acquire a new exisrenrial value from a new social sirnarion. They are recalled rhen because somerhing in the presem stare of society finds expression in rhe crysrnllization of rhe past embodied in rhe words.

II

The Development of the Antithesis of Kultur and Zivilisation 2


7. Ir is clear char rhe function of rhe German concepr of K1t!t11r took on new life in rhe year 1919, and in the preceding years, partly because a war was waged against Germany in rhe name of "civilization" and because rhe self-image of the Germans had to be defined anew in rhe sitllation creared by the peace rreaty Bm ir is jusr as clear, and can be proved, char ro a cerrain extent rhe historical sitllarion of Germany after rhe war only gave a new impulse ro an antirhesis which had long found expression through these rwo concepts, even as far back as the eighreenth cenrnry. Ir seems to have been Kam who first expressed a specific experience and anrirhesis of his sociery in relared concepts. In 1784 he wrore in his Ideas 011 a Unfrma! History ji"0111 the Point of V/1:11 of a Citizen of the \Vor!d: "Culrivared to a high degree by arr and science, we are civilized to rhe poim where we are overburdened wirh all sores of social propriery and decency "The idea of moraliry," he added, "is a parr of culrnre. Bm the application of chis idea, which resulrs only in the similirnde of moraliry in the love of honour and in ourward decency, amoums only ro civilizing." Relared as this formularion of the amirhesis already seems, in rhe momem of its genesis, ro our formularion, irs concrere poim of deparrnre in the experiences and situarion in rhe lace eighteemh century, rhough nor wirhour an hisrorical connecrion to rhe experiences on which i rs presem-day use rests, is neverrheless significantly different. The comraposirion here, where rhe spokesmen of the developing German bourgeoisie, rhe middle-class German intelligemsia, 5 srill spoke in large parr "from rhe point of view of a cirizen of the world", relared only vaguely and at besr secondarily ro a narional comrasr. Irs primary aspect was an imernal contrast wirhin the sociery, a social comrasr which nevertheless bore wirhin irself in a significam way the germ of rhe narional conrraposirion: rhe comrasr between the courtly nobiliry, predominantly French-speaking and "civilized" on the French model, and a German-speaking, middle-class srrarnm of intelligentsia recruired chiefly from the bourgeois "servers of princes" or officials in rhe broadest sense, and occasionally also from rhe landed nobility.

10

The Cirili:::ing Pmcess

Chd11ges ill the Beh,ll'io1ir of the Semlar Upper Classer ill the

l l

This latter was a stratum far remon:d from political acriviry, scarcely thinking in political terms and only tentatively in national ones, whose legitimation consisted primarily in its imellectuaL scientific or artistic {mw11j1/ishmmts. Coumerposed w it is an upper class which "accomplished" norhing in rhe sense in which the ochers do, but for which rhe shaping of its distinguished and disrincrive beharioi!r was central w irs self-image and self-justification . And this is the class which Kam has in mind when he spoke of being "civilized w rhe point where we are overburdened", of mere "social propriety and decency", of "the similitude of morality in the love of honour". It is in the polemic of the stratum of the German middle-class intelligentsia against the etiquette of rhe ruling courtly upper class that the conceptual comraposition of Kllit11r and Zirilisatio11 originated in Germany. But this polemic is older and broader than its crystallization in these rwo concepts 8. It can be traced long before the middle of the eighteenth century, even if only as an undertone in thought much more muted than after the middle of the century. A good idea of this can be obrainecl from the articles on Hof Hoflichkeit, and Hofman!! (Court. Courtesy, Courtier), too long to be reproduced here in foll, in the Zecl/1:r Unin:nal L1:xico11 of 1736.'

in passing, with a sigh of resignation After the middle of the century the rnne gradually changes . The self-legitimation of the middle classes by virtue and accomplishment becomes more precise and emphatic, and the polemic against the external and superficial manners to be found in the courts becomes more explicic.

III
Examples of Courtly Attitudes rn Germany
9 Ir is not easy w speak of Germany in general, since at this time there were special characteristics in each of the many stares . But only a fow were eventually decisive for the development of the country as a whole; the rest followed. And certain general characteristics were more or less clearly apparent everywhere. To begin with, there is the depopulation and the dreadful economic devastation of the country after the Thirty Years \\Yar. In the seventeenth cemury, and even still in the eighteenth, Germany and in particular the German bourgeoisie were poor by French and English standards. Trade, and especially rhe foreign trade which was highly developed in parts of Germany in the sixteenth cenwry, was in ruins. The huge wealth of the great mercantile houses had been destroyed, partly by the shift in trade romes due ro the overseas cliscowries, and partly as a direct consequence of the long chaos of the war. \\/hat w<lS left was a small-town bourgeoisie with narrow horizons, living essentially by supplying
local needs There was not much money available for luxuries such as literature and arc In rhe courts, wherever there was enough money to do so, people inadequately imitated the conduct of the court of Louis XIV and spoke French. German, the language of the lower and middle classes, was unwieldy and awkward. Leibniz, Germany's only courtly philosopher, the only great German of this rime whose name won acclaim in wider courtly circles, wrote and spoke French or Larin, seldom German . And the language problem, the problem of what could be clone with chis awkward German language, occupied him as it occupied many or hers. French spread from the courts to the upper layer of the bourgeoisie. All ho1metes gew (decent people), all people of "consequence" spoke ir. To speak French was the status symbol of all the upper classes. In 1730, Gottschecl's bride wrore ro her betrothed: "Nothing is more plebeian than to write lerrers in German."j If one spoke German, it was considered good form w introduce as many French words as possible. In 17.:\0, E de Mauvillon wrore in his Let/ri:s Fnmruises d G1:r111a11iq11es: "It is only a few years since one did nor say four words of German without two of French." That was ft be! 11.f{Jge (good usage). 1' And he had more ro say abour the barbaric quality of the German language. Its nature, he said, was

Courtesy undoubtedly gets its name from the court and court lift . The courts of great lords are a theatre where e\eryone wants to make his fortune This can only be done by ,,inning the favour of the prince and the most important people of his court One therefore rakes all concei,able pains to make oneself agreeable w them . Nothing does this better than making the other believe that we are ready to serve him to the utmost of our capacity under all conditions. Nevertheless, we are not always in a position to do this, and may not want rn, often for good reasons. Courtesy serves as a substirnte for all this By it \\'t gin: rhe other so much reassurance, through our outward show, that he has a favourable anticipation of our readiness to serve him. This wins us the other's rrusr, from which an affecrion for us develops imperceptibly, as a result of which he becomes eager to do good to us. This is so common with courtesy that it gives a special advanrnge w him who it. To be sure, it should really be ability and virtue which earn us people's esteem But ho,, tf=w are the correct judges of these two! And how many fewer hold them ,,orthy of honour' People. all too concerned with exrernals, are for more moved by what reaches their senses externally, especially \\hen the accompanying circumstances are such as particularly affect their will. This works out exactly in the case of a courtier.

Simply, without philosophical interprerarion and in clear relarion w specific social configurations, rhe same antithesis was here expressed which eventuated in Kam, refined and deepened, in the antithesis of culture and civilization: deceptive external "courtesy" and true "virtue" But the author only spoke of chis

12
"d'em: rude er barbare" (robe rude and barbarous). There were rhe Saxons, who asserted "qu'on parle mieux L>\llemand en Saxe, qu'en aucun aurre endroir de !'Empire" (German is spoken bener in Saxony rhan in any ocher. parr of rhe Empire). The Austrians made rhe same assertion in regard ro themselves, as did rhe Bavarians. rhe Brandenburgers and rhe Swiss. A few scholars, Mauvillon continued. wanted to esrnblish rules of grammar, bur "ii est difficile, qu'une Narion. qui contient clans son sein rant de Peuples independans Jes uns des aurres. se soumerre aux decisions d'un perit nombre des Savans" (it is difficult for a nation that embraces so many peoples independent of one anod1er to submit ro rhe decisions of a small number of sal'ai/fs) Here as in many other fields, a small, powerless, middle-class intelligentsia fell heir to rasks which in France and England were undertaken largely by rhe court and rhe aristocratic upper class. Ir was learned middle-class "servers of princes" who first arrempred to create, in a particular intellectual class, models of what German was, and thus ro esrablish at least in this intellecrual sphere a German unity which did nor yer seem realizable in rhe political sphere. The concept of Ku!t111 had rhe same function. Bur ar first most of what he saw in Germany appeared crude and backward ro Mauvillon, an observer grounded in French civilization He spoke of rhe literature as well as rhe language in rhese rerms: "Milron, Boileau, Pope, Racine, Tasso. Moliere, and practically all poets of consequence have been rranslared inro mosr European languages; your poets, for rhe most part, are themselves only translators." He went on: "Name me a creative spirit on your Parnassus, name me a German poer who has drawn from his own resources a work of some repurarion; I you m "8 l 0. One might say that this was the unauthoriratin: opinion of a badly informed Frenchman. But in 1780, forry years after Mauvillon and nine years before the French Revolution, when France and England had already passed through decisive phases of their cultural and national development, when rhe languages of the rwo \\Jesrern countries had long since found their classic and permanent form, Frederick the Great published a work called De la !ittimture 1 a!l1:11Ja11de.' in which he lamented the meagre and inadequate development of German writing, made approximately rhe same assertions about the German language as Mauvillon, and explained how in his opinion this lamentable situation might be remedied. Of the German language he said: "I find a half-barbarous language, which breaks down into as many different dialects as Germany has provinces . Each local group is convinced that its parois is the best." He described the low estate of German literature and lamented the pedantry of German scholars and rhe meagre development of German science. Bur he also saw the reasons for ir: he spoke of Germany's impoverishment as a result of continuous wars, and of the inadequate development of trade and the bourgeoisie "Ir is", he said, "not ro rhe spirit or the genius of rhe nation rhat one must attribute rhe slight progress we haw made, but we should lay rhe blame only on a succession of sad events, a srring of wars which have ruined us and left us poor in men as well as money... He spoke of the slowly beginning recovery of prosperity: "The Third Estate no longer languishes in shameful degradation. Fathers educate their children wirhom going into debt.. Behold, a beginning has been made in the happy rernlution which we await." And he prophesied that with growing prosperity there would also come a blossoming of German art and science, a civilizing of rhe Germans which would give them an equal place among the other nations: this was the happy revolution of which he spoke. And he compares himself ro Moses, who saw rhe new blossoming of his people approaching without experiencing ir. 11 . \Vas Frederick right; A year after the appearance of his work, in 178 l, Schiller's Die Rd!!bcr and Kant's Cririql!t (jf Pmc RcllJ()// appeared, ro be followed in 1787 by Schiller's Don Carlos and Goethe's lj1higt11it. There followed the whole blossoming of German literature and philosophy which we know. All of this seems to confirm his prediction. But this new blooming had been long in preparation. The German language did nor achieve its new expressive power in two or rllfee years. In 1780, when De !t1 !ittiwt11rt al!u11t1mk appeared, this language had long ceased to be the halfbarbaric "parois" of which Frederick spoke. A whole collection of works ro which rodav, in rerrospecr, we assign considerable importance had already appeared. Giit;:; l'Oll Ber!ichi11gt11 had been produced seven years earlier, \Vtrthe1 was in circulation, Lessing had already published rhe major part of his dramatic and theoretical works, including L@k()OI/ in 1766 and Die Ht1ll!bl!rgische Dm111at11rgie in l 76 7 Frederick died in 1781, a year after rhe appearance of his book. Klopstock's writings had been published much earlier; his 1\lwim appeared in l 748. This is without counting Herder, many of the St1m111111d Drang (Srorm and Suess) plays. and a whole collection of widely read novels such as Sophie de la Roche's Dc1s F1d11!ci11 rn11 Sten1hcim . There had long since developed in Germany a class of buyers. a bourgeois public-even if still a relatively small one-which was interested in such works . \\Javes of great inrellectual excitement had flowed over Germany and found expression in articles, books, plays, and other works 'I he German language had become rich and flexible Of all this Frederick gave no hint in his work. He either did not see it or assigned it no significance. He mentioned only a single work of the young generation, the greatest work of the period of St!!rm i!lld Drang and enthusiasm for Shakespeare, Giitz rn11 Berlichi11ge11. He mentioned it. characteristically, in connection with the education and forms of enterrainmenr of the basses dmses, the lower strata of the population:

1-1
To cominu: yourself of the Lick of rnsre ,,-hich has reigned in Germany until our day,

Changes in the Bcha1io111" of tht Sem!ar UPJ1er Classes in the \Vest

15

nm onh need go rn rht public spccracles There you will see presented the abominable
works of Shakespeare. translated into our language: the whole audic:nce goes into rapmrts when it listens rn these ridiculous farces \\"Orthy of rhe savages of Canada. I describe them in chest terms because rhey sin against all rhe rules of rht theatre, rules which are nor at all arbitrary,

Louk ar the porters and gravediggers who come on sragt and make speeches worthy of them: after them come the kings and queens How can such a jumble of lowliness and grandeur, of buffoonery and tragedy. be rnuching and pleasing' One can pardon Shakespeare for these bizarre errors: rhe beginning of rhe arts is never their point of maturity But then look at Gi11: z 011 making its appearance on stage, a detestable imitation of these bad English pieces, while the public applauds and enthusiastically demands the repetition of these disgusting stupidities

And he continued: "Afrer having spoken of the lower classes, it is necessary for me to go on wirh rhe same frankness in regard ro rht universities." 12 The man who spoke rhus was rhe man who did more than any of his contemporaries for the poli rical and economic development of Prussia and perhaps indirectly for the political dewlopment of Germany, Bm rhe intellectual tradition in which he grew up and which found expression through him was the common tradition of Europe's "good society", rhe aristocratic tradition of prenarional court society, He spoke its language, French. By the standard of its taste he measured rht intellectual life of Germany Irs prescribed models determine his judgement_ Others of this society had long spoken of Shakespeare in a way altogether similar to his. Thus, in 17 30, Volrnire gave expression to very similar thoughts in the Dijmms Jiii' la which introduced rhe tragedy Bmt11s: "I cerrainly do nor pretend to approve rhe barbarous irregularities with which it [Shakespeare's tragedy J!!li!!s Cesc1r] is filled. It is only surprising that there are nor more in a work composed in an age of ignorance by a man who did nor even know Larin and had no reacher except his own genius.-\Vhar Frederick the Grtat said about Shakespeare was, in fact, the standard opinion of the French-speaking upptr class of Europe. He did nor "copy" or ''plagiarize" Volrnire; what he wrore was his sincere personal opinion. He rook no pleasure in the rude and uncivilized jests of gravediggers and similar folk, the more so if they were mixed in with the great tragic sentiments of princes and kings. He felt that all of this had no clear and concise form; these were the "pleasures of the lower classes", This is the way in which his comments are w be understood; they are no more and no less individual than rhe French language he used Like it, they bore wirness to his membership in a particular society.. And the paradox that while his politics were Prussian his aesrheric tradition was French (or, more precisely, absolurisr-courtly) is less great than rhe nationally uni tied concepts of the present day may suggest. It is bound up with rhe special

suucmre of chis court society, whose policical insritutions and interests were multifariously fissured, bur whose social stratification was into esrares whose wsre, sryle and language were by and large the same rhroughour Europe. The peculiarities of this situation occasionally produced inner conflicts in the voung Frederick, as he slowly became aware rhar the interests of the ruler of Prussia could nor always be brought into accord with reverence for France and adherence ro courtly cusroms. 10 Throughout his life they produced a certain disharmony between what he did as a ruler and what he wrote and published as a human being and philosopheL The feelings of the German bourgeois intelligentsia towards him were also somerimes correspondingly paradoxical. His military and political successes gave rheir self-identity as Germans a tonic it had long lacked, and for many he became a national hero. Bur his attitude in matters of language and taste, which found expression in his work on German lirerarnre though by no means there alone, was exactly what the German intelligentsia, precisely as a German intelligentsia, had to tight against. Their situation had its analogue in almost all rhe greater German scares and in manv of the smaller ones as well. At the rop almost everywhere in Germany were indi;,iduals or groups who spoke French and decided policy. On the other side, rhere was a German-speaking intelligentsia, who by and large had no influence on political developments. From their ranks, essentially, came the people on whose account Germany has been called the land of poets and thinkers. And from them concepts such as Bdd1111g and K!!ltm received their specifically German imprint and tenor.

IV

The Middle Class and the Court Nobility in Germany


13 It would be a special project (and a very fascinating one) to show how much rhe specific mental orientation and ideals of a courtly-absolutist society found expression in classical French tragedy, which Frederick rhe Great counterposes to rhe Shakespearean tragedies and GO!z" The importance of good form, the specific mark of every genuine ''sociery"; rhe control of individual feelings by reason, a viral necessity for every courtier; rhe reserved behaviour and elimination of every plebeian expression, rhe specific mark of a particular srage on rhe road to "civilization"-all chis finds its purest expression in classical tragedy. What must be hidden in court life, all vulgar feelings and attitudes, everything of which "one" does nor speak, does not appear in tragedy either" People of low rank, which for chis class also means of base character, have no place in ic Its form is clear, transparent, precisely regulated, like etiquerre and court life in generaL 11 Ir shows rhe courtly people as rhey would like to be and, at rhe same rime, as rhe

16

Th1: Cizi/i;:;il!g Proo:ss

Changer in the Behmio11r

o/ the Semlar U/1/1er Classes in the \Fe.rt

17

absolme prince wams ro set them And all who lived under the impress of this social simation, be they English or Prussian or French, had their taste forced imo the same panern. Even Dryden. next co Pope the best-known courdy poet of England, wrote about earlier English drama in the epilogue ro the Collqmst of Gm11,tdt1 very much in the vein of Frederick the Great and Voltaire:
\\1irs now arri,eJ to <l n1ore high degree; Our nari\'e language more refined and free, Our ladies and our men now speak more wir In conversarion. rhan rhose poers wrir

out the qualities of che heart withom any preference for the nobles and the rich." The whole literary movement of the second half of the eighteenth century was the product of a social class-and, accordingly, of aesthetic ideals-which was in opposition ro Frederick's social and aeschetic inclinations. Thus, they had nothing ro say w him, and he therefore overlooks the vital forces already ac[!ve around him and condemned what he could not overlook, like Gi1tz. This German lirerarv movement, whose exponents included Klopsrock, Herder, Lessing, the poets St11rm 1md Dmng, the poets of "sensibility", and the circle known as die Gifttinger Hain, the young Goethe, the young Schiller, many others, was certainly no political movement. \'Vith isolated excepcions, one finds in Germany before 1789 no idea of concrete political action, nothing reminiscent of the formation of a political party or a political party programme. One does find, particularly in Prussian officialdom, proposals and also che practical beginning of reforms from the standpoint of enlightened absolutism. In the work of philosophers such as Kant one finds the development of general basic principles which were. in part, in direct opposicion ro the prevailing conditions In the writings of che young generacion of the G&tti11gtl' Hain one finds expressions of wild hatred directed against princes, courts, arisrocrats, "Frenchifiers", courtly immoralicv and intellecrual frigidity. And everywhere among middle-class yomh one finds dreams of a new united Germany, of a "natural" life-'' natural" as opposed ro the "unnatural" life of court society-and again and again an owrwhelming delight in their own exuberance of feeling . Thou<'hts feelin<>s-nothing which was able in any sense to lead to concrere politicai" structure this absolutist of petty states offered no opening for ir. Elements within the bourgeoisie gained self-assurance, bm the framework of the absolute states was completely unshaken. The bourgeois tlemenrs were excluded from any political activity. At most, they could "think and write" independently; they could not act independently. In this situation, writing became the most important outlet Here the new self-confidence and the \"<1gue discoment with what existed find a more or less covert expression. Here, in a sphere which the apparatus of the absolme srntes had surrendered to a certain extent, the young middle-class generation counterposed its new dreams and oppositional ideas, and with them the German language, to the courtly ideals. As has been said, the literary movement of the second half of the eighteemh century was not a political one, bm in the fullest sense of the word it was the expression of a social movement, a transformation of society. The bourgeoisie as a whole did not yet find expression in it. IL was at first the expression of a sort of bourgeois vanguard, what is here described as the middle-class intelligentsia: many individuals in the same posirion and of similar social origin scattered throughout che country, individuals who understood one another because they
12

The connection with social stratification is p<1rticularly clear in this aesthetic judgement. Frederick, roo, defends himself against the tastelessness of juxtaposing on the stage the "tragic grandeur" of princes and queens and the "baseness" of porters and gravediggers. How could he have undersrood and approved a dramatic and literary work which had cemral ro it precisely the struggle against class differences, a work which was intended w show that not merely the sorrows of princes and kings and the courdy arisrocracy but those of people lower on the social scale have their greatness and their tragedy' In Germany, too, the bourgeoisie slowly became more prosperous. The King of Prussia saw this and promised himself that it would lead to an awakening of an and science. a "happy revolution... Bur this bourgeoisie spoke a different language from the king. The ideals and taste of the bourgeois youth, the models for its behaviour. were almost the opposite of his . In Dichtm1g ifl}{i \Vi1hrh1:it (Poetry c111d Tr!!fh), Book 9. Goethe wrote: "In Strasbourg, on the French border, we were at once freed from the spirit of the French. \'Ve found their way of lift much roo ordered and roo aristocratic. d1eir poetry cold. their criticism destructive, their philosophy abstruse and unsatisfy1ng

He wrote GiJt;:; from this mood. How could Frederick the Great, the man of enlightened, rational absolmism and arisrocratic-courdy rnste, have undersrood it' How could the Kinghave approved the dramas and theories of Lessing. who praised in Shakespeare precisely what Frederick condemned: that his works fitted the taste of the people far more than do the French classics' "If someone had translated the masterpieces of Shakespeare . for our Germ<rns, I know well that it would have a better result than thus making them acquaimed with Corneille or Racine. ln the first place, the people would take far more delight in him than in them ... Lessing wrote this in his Letttrs Co11c1:mi11g the Most Recwt Literat11n (part I, letter 17). and he demanded and wrote bourgeois dramas, appropriace w the newly awakening self-consciousness of the bourgeois classes, because courtly people did not have che exclusive privilege ro be great. "This hateful distinction which men have made between themselves", ht says. "is not known to nature. She parcels

18

Tht Cirilizi11g Procw

Changts in the Bthc11iour of the Semfm Upptr Classes i11 tht \Fest

19

were in the same position Only occasionally did individual members of this vanguard find themselves rogether in some place as a group, for a shorrer or longer time; often they lived in isolation or solirnde, an elite in relation ro the people. persons of the second rank in the eyes of the courtly arisrocracy. Again and again one can see in these works the connecrion between this social sirnation and the ideals of which they spoke: the love of narnre and freedom, the solirary exalration. the surrender ro the excitement of one's own hearr, unhindered by "cold reason" In \Ftrthtr, whose success shows how typical these sentiments were of a parricular generation, it was occasionally said quite unequivocally. In the lerter of 24 December 1771, one reads: 'The resplendent misery, the boredom among the detesrable people gathered rogerher here, the competition for rank among them, the way they are consrantly looking for a chance ro get a step ahead of one another... And under 8 January 1772: "\Xlhat son of people are rhese whose whole soul is rooted in ceremonial, and whose thoughts and desires the year round are centred on how they can move up a chair at rable . " Under 15 March 177 2: "I gnash my reerh I ear at the Count's house and afrer dinner we walk back and forth in the greaE park. The social hour approaches. I think, Goel knows, about norhing.'' He remains, the nobles arrive. The women whisper, something circulates among the men. Finally the Count, somewhat embarrassed, asks him ro leave. The nobility feel insulted at seeing a bourgeois among them. "'You know' ", says the Count, " 'I notice that the company is displeased at seeing you here.' . . I srole away from the distinguished company, and drove ro M., ro watch the sunset from the hill there while reading in my Homer the noble song of how Ulysses was hospitably received by the excellent swineherds.'' On the one hand, suptrficialiry, ceremony, formal conversation; on the orhtr, inwardness, depth of feeling, immersion in books, development of the individual personality. Ir is the same contrast which was expressed by Kam in rhe antithesis between Kllit11r and Zin!isation, relating ro a very specific social situation. In \Ferthtr, Goethe also shows particularly clearly the two fronts between which the bourgeoisie lives. "\'Vhar irritates me most of all" we read in the emrv of 24 December 1771, "is our odious bourgeois situation. be sure, I know ;s well as any other how necessary class differences are, how many advantages I owe ro them myself, only they should nor stand directly in my way." Nothing better characterizes middle-class consciousness than this sratement. The doors below must remain shut. Those above must open. And like any other middle class, this one was imprisoned in a peculiarly middle-class way: it could nor think of breaking clown the walls that blocked rhe way up, for fear that those separating it from the lower strara might also give way in the assault. The whole movement was one of upward mobility: Goethe's great-grandfather

was a blacksmith. 1 ; his grandfather a tailor, then an innkeeper with a courtly clientele and courtly-bourgeois manners. Already well-ro-do, his father became an imperial counsellor. a rich bourgeois of independent means, with a title. His mother was the daughter of a Frankfurt patrician family. Schiller's father was a surgeon. later a badly paid major; his grandfather, greatgranclfather, and great-great-grandfather were bakers. From similar social origins, now closer, now farther off, from the crafts and the middle administration, came Schubart, Bi.irger, Winckelmann, Herder, Friedrich August \Xlolff, Fichte and many orher members of this movement. 14. There was an analogous movement in France. There, roo, in conjunction with a similar social change, a profusion of oursranding people emerged from middle-class circles. They included Volraire and Diderot. Bur in France these ml ems were received and assimilared with om great difficulty by the large court society of Paris. In Germany, on the other hand, sons of the rising middle class who were distinguished by ralent and intelligence were debarred, for the most part, from courrly-arisrocratic life . A few, like Goethe, achieved a kind of elevation ro these circles. Bm aside from rhe fact that the court at \Xleimar was small and relatively poor. Goethe was an exception. By and large, rhe walls between the middle-class intelligentsia and rhe arisrocratic upper class in Germany remained, by \Vesrern standards, very high. In 1740 the Frenchman J\fauvillon noted that "one observes in the German gentleman an air that is haughty ro the point of arrogance. Sviollen with a lineage the length of which they are always ready ro prove, they despise anyone nor similarly endowed. Seldom", he continues, "do they contract 111esallia11m. Bm no less seldom are they seen behaving simply and amiably rowards middle-class people. And if they spurn connubiality with them, how much less do they seek om their company, whatever their merit may be." 1 ' In this particularly sharp social division between nobility and middle class, ro which countless documents bear witness. a decisive facror was no doubt the relative indigence of both. This impelled the nobles ro cut themselves off, using proof of ancestry as the most important instrument for presening their privileged social existence. On the other hand. ir blocked ro the German middle cL1ss the main roure by which in the \Xlesrern countries bourgeois elements rose, intermarried with, and were received by rhe arisrocracy: through money. Bm whatever rhe causes-they were doubtless highly complex--of this very pronounced separation, the resulting lo\V' degree of fusion of the courtlyarisrocraric models with their "ascriptive", "quality-based" values on the one hand with bourgeois values based on achievement on rhe other, had a decisive influence for long periods on rhe emergent national character of the Germans. This division explains why a main linguistic stream, the language of educated Germans, and almost the entire recent intellectual tradition expressed in literature received their decisive impulses and their sramp from a middle-class

20

The Cil'ilhing Process

Clxll!gts i11 th1: Behario11r o/ tht Stmlar U/Jjitr C!t1sses in the \Fest

21

intellectllal stra(Llm which was far more purely and specifically middle-class than the corresponding French imelligemsia and even than the English, the latter seeming ro occupy an intermediate position between those of France and Germany The gesture of self-isolation, rhe accentuation of the specific and distinctive, which was seen earlier in the comparison of the German concept of KH!t11r with \Xlesrern .. civilization", reappears here as a characrerisric of German historical development. Ir was nor only externally rhar France expanded and colonized early in comparison with Germany. Internally, roo, similar movements are frequently seen throughout her more recent history. Particularly important in rhis connection is rhe diffusion of courdy-arisrocraric manners, rhe tendency of the courtly arisrocracy to assimilate and, so ro speak, colonize elements from other classes. The social pride of rhe French aristocracy was always considerable, and rhe stress on class differences never lost its importance for them. Bur rhe walls surrounding rhtm had more openings; access ro rhe aristocracy (and thus rhe assimilation of other groups) played a far greater role here than in Germany. The most vigorous expansion of the German empire occurred, by contrast, in rhe .!\fiddle Ages. From that rime on, rhe German Reich diminished slowly bur steadily. Even before rhe Thirty Years \Xlar and more so after it, German rerrirories were hemmed in on all sides, and strong pressure was exerrecl on almost all rhe external frontiers . Correspondingly, the struggles within Germany between the various social groups competing for limited opporrnniries and auronomy, and therefore rhe tendencies rowards disrincrion and mumal exclusiveness. were generally more intense rhan in the expanding \Xlestern countries. As much as rhe fragmentation of the German territory into a multiplicity of sovereign stares, ir was this extreme isolation of large pans of the nobility from the German middle class rhar srnod in rhe way of rhe formation of a unified, model-setting central society, which in other countries attained decisive importance at least as a stage on rhe way ro nationhood, setting irs stamp in cerrain phases on language, on the ans. on manners and on the srrucrure of emotions.

v
Literary Examples of the Relationship of the German Middle-Class Intelligentsia to the Court
15. The books of the middle classes which had great public success after the mid-eighteenth century-that is, in rhe period when these classes were gaining in prosperity and self-assurance-show very clearly how strongly this dissimilarity was felt They also demonstrate rhar the differences between the

slfuc(Llre and life of rhe middle class, on rhe one hand, and rhe courtly upper class, on rhe other. were marched by differences in the structure of behaviour. emotional life, aspirations and morality: they show-necessarily one-sidedlyhow rhese differences were perceived in rhe middle-class camp. An example of this is rhe well-known now! by Sophie de la Roche. Das frdl!iei11 ro11 Sttmheim, 10 which made the authoress one of the most celebrated women of her rime. 11y whole ideal of a young woman, wrote Caroline Flachsland ro Herder after reading Stt111hcim, .. gentle, delicate, charitable, proud, virtuous, and deceived I have spent precious, wondcrfol hours reading the book.. Alas, how far I still am from my ideal, from myself... !<> The curious paradox rhar Caroline Flachsland, likt many others of similar make-up, loved her own suffering-that she included being deceived, along with charity, pride and vir(Lle, among rhe feamres of rhe ideal heroine whom she wished ro resemble-is highly characteristic of rhe emotional condition of rhe middle-class intelligentsia, and particularly of rhe women among them, in the age of sensibility.. The middle-class heroine was deceived by the aristocratic courtier The warning. rhe fear of rhe socially superior "seducer .. who could nor marry rhe girl because of rhe social discrepancy between rhem, and rhe secret wish for his approach, the fascination rhar lay in rhe idea of penetrating rhe closed and dangerous circle, finally rhe identifying empathy with rhe deceived girl: all this is an example of rhe specific ambivalence which beset rhe emotional life of middle-class people-and nor only women-with regard ro the aristocracy. Dc1.1 Fr,i'l!ici11 mn Sta11heim is, in this respect, a feminine counterpart of \Vuthtr Both works point to specific entanglements of their class, which found expression in sentimentality, sensibility and related shades of emotion The problem presented in the novel: A high-minded country girl, from a family of landed gentry with bourgeois origins, arrives at court. The Prince, related ro her on her mother's side, desires her as his mistress. Having no other escape. she seeks refuge with rhe .. scoundrel" of rhe novel, an English lord living ar rhe court, who speaks just as many middle-class circles would have imagined an .. ,1ristocraric seducer" to speak. and who produces a comic effect because he urrers middle-class reproaches ro his type as his own thoughts . Bur from him. roo. rhe heroine preserves her virtlle, her moral superiority, the compensation for her class inferiority, and dies. This is how the heroine, Friiulein von Srernheim, rhe daughter of an ennobled colonel, speaks: 1To see how rhe wne. rhe modish spirit of rhe court suppresses rhe noblest movemems of a hearr of admirable narure. w see how moiding rhe sneers of rhe ladies and gemlemen of fashion means laughing and agreeing wirh chem. fills me wirh comempr and piry. The rhirsr for amusemem. for new finery, for admiration of a dress. a piece of furnirure. a new noxious dish-oh. my Emilie. how anxious and sick my soul grows I will nor speak of rhe false ambition thar harches so many base imrigues. grovels

Changes in the Beh:1riom of the Swt!ar Uj1per Classes in the \Vi:st


before vice ensconced in prosperiry. regards virrue and merir wirh. conrempr. and unfeelingly makes orhers wrerched. I am almosr rhankful for rhe prudence rhar compels me ro keep you far from rhe circle in which I became unhappy A serious. sound formarion of rhe mind is rare in high sociery. You might have become a lirrle doll rhar danced ro and fro ar rhe side of opinion

"I am convinced. Aunt ... she says after a few days of court life. 'rhar life ar court does nor suir my characrer l\fy rasre, my inclinarions. diverge from ir in every way. And I confess to my gracious aunt rhar I would leave more happily than I came." "Dearest Sophie", her aunt rells her, "you are really a most charming girl, bm rhe old vicar has filled your head wirh pedantic ideas. Ler go of rhem a lictle." 1s In another place Sophie wrices: 'My love of Germany has just involved me in a conversarion in which I soughc to defend rhe merics of my Facherland. I ralked so zealously thac my aunt told me afterwards chac I had given a pretty demonscracion of being che granddaughcer of a professor This reproach vexed me. The ashes of my facher and grandfather had been offended." The clergyman and rhe professor-chese are indeed rwo of rhe mosc imporrant representatives of rhe middle-class adminisrrarive intelligentsia. cwo social figures who played che mosc decisive part in che formacion and diffusion of rhe new language of educaced Germans . This example shows quire clearly how che vague narional feeling of rhese circles, wirh ics spirirual, non-polirical leanings, appears as bourgeois to rhe aristocracy at rhe peccy courts Ac rhe same cime, both che clergyman and rhe professor point ro the social centre mosc important in fashioning and disseminating che German middle-class culture: che universicy. From ic generacion afrer generacion of srudents carried inro che country. as ceachers. clergymen, and middle-rank adminiscrators, a complex of ideas and ideals scamped in a particular way. The German university was, in a sense, rhe middle-class coumerweighc ro rhe courr. Thus ir is in words wirh which che pasror mighr thunder against him from rhe pulpit rhar the court scoundrel expressed himself in rhe middle-class
imagination: 1lJ
You know rhar I have never granred love any orher power rhan o\er my senses. whose All classes of beaury have pandered ro mosr delicare and lively pleasures it affords me I grew sared wirh rhem The moralises may have their say on rhe fine ners and snares in which I have captured rhe virrue and pride. rhe wisdom and the frigidiry. rhe coquetry and enn rhe piery of rhe "hole feminine world Amour indulged my varnry He broughr forrh from rhe mosr wrerched corner of rhe countryside a colonel's daughrer whose form, mind, and characrer are so charming thar

And rhe heroine says of herself: 21


J knew bur little of conventional life and rhe language of worldly people. J\fy simple
principles found many things paradoxical to which a mind made pliable by habit is reconciled wirhour efforr. To me it was as natural as thar night follows day to lament rhe deceived girl and hare the deceiver. to prefer virrue ro honour and honour to one's own advanta;e In rhe judgement of rhis sociery I saw all these norions merrurne<l.

She rhen sketches rhe prince. a product of French civilization: 22


The prince was berween sixry and sewnty, and oppressive ro himself and orhers with rhe sriff, old French eriquerre which rhe sons of German princes had learned ar rhe courr of the French king and rransplanted ro rheir own soil, admirredly in somewhar reduced dimensions. The prince had learned rhrough age and habir ro move almosr narurally under rhis hea'T armour of ceremony. Towards women he observed the elegant. exaggerared courresy of rhe bygone age of chivalry. so that his person was nor unpleasing ro rhem. bur he could nor leave rhe sphere of fine manners for an insrant "irhour becoming insuffr:rable. His children S<lW in rheir father only rhe despor The caricarures among rhe courrly people seemed ro me now ridiculous. now pitiable. The reverence thar rhey were able, on rhe appearance of rheir lord. ro summon insranrly from rheir hearrs ro rheir hands and feet. rhe gracious or angry glance rhar passed rhrough rbeir bodies like an elecrric shock rhe immediate compliance of rheir opinions ro rhe mosr recent urrerance from the princely lips. all rhis I found incomprehensible. I seemed ro be W<Hching a pupper rhearre.

Twenty-five years lacer, similar antitheses and related ideals and problems could still earn a book success . In 17 96, Ag11t.r rn11 Ldiw, 20 by Caroline von \'Volzogen, appeared in Schiller's Horen. In rhis novel rhe mother, of the high aristocracy. who must for mysterious reasons have her daughcer educated outside rhe court circle. says:

Courtesy, compliance, fine manners, on che one hand, sound education and preference of virme ro honour, on the orher: German lireracure in the second half of the eighreenth century is full of such amirheses. As !are as 23 October 1828, Eckermann said ro Goethe: "An education as thorough as rhe Grand-Duke appears ro have had is doubtless rare among princely personages." "Very rare", Goethe replies. "There are many, to be sure, who are able to converse cleverly on any subject, bm they do nor possess their learning inwardly, and merely cickle rhe surface. And it is no wonder, if one thinks of che appalling diversions and truncations rhac courr life brings with ic." On occasion he uses the concept of K11!t11r quire expressly in rhis context.. "The people around me", he says, "had no idea of scholarship. They were German courtiers, and this class had nor rhe slighresc K11!t11r... > And Knigge once observed explicitly: "\'Vhere more chan here [in Germany} did the courriers form a separace species

,_-j

Thc Ci6/j::;i11g Prr1cts_1

25
bourgeois self-image, specifically middle-class ideas, and an arsenal of trenchant concepts directed against the courtly upper class Also in keeping with their situarion was what this intelligentsia saw as mosr worrh fighting against in the upper class, as the opposite of Bi/dung and Kidtm'. The arrack was directed only infrequently, hesirantly and usually resignedly against the political or social privileges of the courtly arisrocracy. Instead, it was directed predominantly against their human conduct. A. \'try illuminating description of the difference between this German intellectual class and its French counterpart is likewise ro be found in Goethe's conversations with Eckermann: Ampere has come ro \\?eimar. (Goethe did not know him personally but had often praised him ro Eckermann ) To everyone's asronishment the celebrated Monsieur Ampere turns out ro be a "cheerful youth of some twenty years Eckermann expressed surprise, and Goethe replied (Thursday. 3 May 1827 ):
Ir has nor been easy for you on your hearh, and wt in middle Germany have had co bu\' de,1rly enough such little wisdom as we possess. For ar bonom we lead an isolated, miserable life' Very little culrnre comes rn us from che people itself. and all our men of ralenc are srnrrered across the counuy. One is in Vienna, anocher in Berlin. another in Konigsberg, another in Bonn or Dlisseldorf. all separated from each orhtr by fifty or a hundred miles. so rhat personal conrncr or a personal exchange of ideas is a rarity. I feel what rhis means when men like Alexander von Humboldc pctss through, and ad,ance my srudies furrher in a single day chan I would ocherwise have uawlled in a year on my solirnry parh. BU[ now imagine a city like Paris. where the Oll[Standing minds of rhe whole realm are gathered in a single place, and in their daily incercourse, comperirion, and rivalry reach and spur each orher on, where rhe besr from every sphere of narnre and arr, from rhe whole surface of che earth, can be viewed at all rimes. Imagine this metropolis where every walk over a bridge or across a square summons up'' great pasc. And in all rhis do nor chink of rhe Paris of a dull, mindless epoch. bl![ the Paris ot the ninereenrh cenrury, where for chree generarions. through men like Moliere, Volrnire, and Dideroc, such a wealth of ideas has been pl![ inro circularion as is nor found anywhere else nn rhe emire globe, and you will understand rhar a good mind like Ampere, having grown up in such plenitude, can ,ery well amounr rn someching in his nvency-fourch year

16. In all these scaremenrs a quite definite social situation is reflected. It is the same situation that is discernible behind Kant's antithesis of K!ilt11r and Ziz'ilis11ti1;n Bur e\'en independently of these concepts, this phase and the experiences deri\'ing from it became deeply imprinted in tht German tradition \\?hat was expressed in this conctpt of Ku!t11r, in the antithesis between depth and superficiality and in many related concepts, was primarily rht self-image of a middle-class intellectual stratum. This was a relatively thin layer scattered over the whole territory, and therefore indi\'idualized to a high degree and in a particular form. It did nor consrirure, as did the court, a closed circle, a "socierv". Ir was composed predominantly of officials, of civil servants in the broadest of the word-that is, of people who directly or indirectly deri\'e their income from the court, bur who, with few exceptions, did not themselves belong ro courtly "good society", ro the arisrocrntic upper class. It was a class of intellectuals without a broad middle-class background The commercialproftssional middle class, who might have served as a public for the writers, was relatively undeveloped in most German stares in the eighteenth century. The rise ro prosperity was only beginning in this period. The German writers and intellectuals were therefore floating in the air ro some extent. 1find and books were their refuge and their domain, achievements in scholarship and arr their pride Scope for political activity, political goals, scarcely existed for this class. Commerce and the economic order were, for them, in keeping with the structure of their life and society, marginal concerns. Trade, communications and indusrrv were comparatively undeveloped and still needed, for the most part, and promotion by mercantilisr policy rather than liberation from its constraints. \\?hat legitimized this eighteenth-century middle-class intelligentsia ro itself, what supplitd the foundation of its self-imagt and pride, was situated berond economics and politics. It existed in what was called for precisely this das l'i:iil Guistigc (the purely spiritual), in books, scholarship, religion, arr, philosophy, in the inner enrichment, the intellectual formation !Bilcl1!11g) of rht individual, primarily through the q1edium of books, in the personalir;-. Accordingly, rhe warchvmrds expressing this self-image of the German intellectual class, terms such as Bi!dm1g and K!!lt11r. tended ro draw a sharp distinction between accomplishments in rhe areas just mentioned, between this purely spiritual sphere as the only one of genuine value, and the political, economic and social sphere, in complete contrast ro die watchwords of the rising bourgeoisie in France and England. The peculiar fate of the German bourgeoisie, its Jong political impotence, and the late unification of the nation acted continuously in one direction, reinforcing concepts and ideals of this kind. Thus the development of the concept of K1i!t111 and the ideals it embodied reflected the social situation of the German intelligentsia, a class which lacked a significant social hinterland, and which, being the first bourgeois formation in Germany, develop an expressly

Further on, Goethe says with reference to Merimee: "In Germany we cannot hope ro produce such mature work when still so young" This is nor the fault of the individual, but of the cultural state of the nation, and the great difficulty that we all experience in making our way in isolation ..'' From such statements, which in chis introducrory context must suffice as documentation, it is very clear how the political fragmentation of Germany was connected ro a quite specific structure, both of the German intellectual class and of its social behaviour and way of thinking In France the members of the intelligentsia were collecred in one place, held rogether within a more or less

26

The Cizi!izing Process

Cha11gr:s in tht Br:hctl'iom of thr: Si:L!!lctr Uj1pr:r Classes in thr: \Fest

27

unified and central "good sociery"; in Germany, with its numerous, relatively small capitals, there: was no central and unified "good society" Here the intelligentsia w<ts dispersed over rhe entire country, In France conversarion was one of the mosr imporrant means of communicarion and, in addirion, had been for centuries an arr; in Germany rhe mosr imporrant means of communication was rhe book, and it was a unified wrirren language, rarher than a unified spoken one. rhar this German imellecrual class deYeloped, In France even young people lived in a milieu of rich and stimularing imellecrualiry; the young member of rhe German middle class had ro work his way up in relarive solitude and isolation, The mechanisms of social advancemem were differem in borh counrries . And finally, rhis sraremem of Goerhe's also shows wry clearly whar a middle-class imelligentsia wirhour a social himerland really meant. Earlier a passage was quored in which he arrribured litde culrure ro the courriers. Here he said rhe same of rhe common people, K1!lt11r and Bild1111g are the warchwords and characrerisrics of a rhin intermediare srrarum rhat had risen our of rhe people. Nor only the small courdy class abo\e it, bur even the broader strara below still showed relatiYely lirde undersranding for the endeavours of their own dire. However, precisely this underdevelopment of the broader, professional middle srrara was one of the reasons why the struggle of the middle-class vanguard, the bourgeois imtlligemsia, <tgainsr rhe courd y upper class \vas waged almost emirely ourside rhe polirical sphere, and why rhe arrack was direcred predominantly againsr the conducr of rhe upper class, againsr general human characrerisrics like "superficialiry", "omward politeness", "insinceriry" and so on Even the few quorarions rhar have been used here show rhese connections exrremely clearly, Admirredly, ir is only rarely and wirhour great emphasis rhat the arrack focused on specific conceprs amirherical ro those which served as self-legitimizarion for the German imellecrnal class, concepts such as Bild1mg and K!!ltm One of the few specific coumer-concepts was "civilized-ness" in the Kamian sense.

orher rhings, rhe amirhesis berween Zirilisatio11 and K!!lt!!r grew up, we find ar a parricular phase of German developmem rhe rension berween rhe middle-class inrelligentsia and rhe courrly arisrocracy.. Cerrainly, rhere was never a complere lack of awareness rhar courrliness and French were relared emiries G. C H, Lichrenberg expressed this very clearly in one of his aphorisms, in which he s oke of rhe difference between rhe French jJromessr: and rhe German Verspnchm1g 3. l 775-l 779c'). "The larrer is kepr", he said, "and nor rhe former. The usefulness of French words in German. I am surprised that ir has nor been noticed The French word gives rhe German idea wirh an admixture of humbug, or in irs courr meanmg. A discovery (Erfi11d1111g) is somerhing new and a decomertr: somerhing old with a new name. Columbus discovered (wtclcckte) America and ir was Americus Vespmius's dicrwnrte . Indeed, go1?t and rasre (Geschmack) are almosr antirherical, and people of go1?t seldom have much rasre, Bur ir was only after rhe French Revolurion rhar rhe idea of the German courtly arisrocrncy unmisrakably receded, and rhar rhe idea of France and the \Vesrern powers in general moved towards rhe foreground in rhe concepr of "civilizarion" and relared ideas, One rypical example: in 1797 rhere appeared a small book by rhe French emigre Menurer, Essai S/tr la l'ille d'Ha111bo11rg. A cirizen of Hamburg, Canon Meyer. wrore rhe following commenrary on ir:
Hamburg is srill backward Afrer a famous epoch (famous enough, when swarms of emigranrs are serding here), ir has made progress (really)); bm ro increase, ro complete I do nor say irs happiness (rhar would be addressing his God) bur irs ciYilizarion. irs advance in rhe career of science and arr (in which, as you know, we are srill in rhe Norrh), in rhar of luxury, comforr, frivoliry (his special field!) ir srill needs a number of years. or evenrs which draw ro ir new throngs of foreigners (pro\ided rhey arc nor more swarms of his ci\"ilized comparriors) and an increase of opulence

VI
The Recession of the Social Element and the Advance of the National Element in the Antithesis between Kultur and Zivilisation
17 \Vhether the amithesis is expressed by these or other concepts, one thing is always clear: the comraposition of particular human charaneristics which later came ro serve primarily ro express a national amithesis appears here primarily as the expression of a social amithesis, As rhe decisive experience underlying the formulation of pairs of opposites such as "depth" and "superficiality", "honesty" and "falsiry". "ourward polireness" and "rrue virtue", and from which, among

Here, rherefore, rhe conceprs "civilized" and "civilization" are already linked quite unequivocally wirh rhe image of rhe Frenchman, \Virh rhe slow rise of the German bourgeoisie from being a second-rank class ro being rhe bearer of German narional consciousness, and finally-very !are and condirionally-ro being rhe ruling class, from having been a class which was first obliged ro perceive or legirimize irself primarily by contrasting itself ro the courdy-arisrocratic upper class, and then by defining itself againsr compering narions, rhe antirhesis between K11lt11r and Zil'ilisatio11, wirh all irs accompanying meanings, changed in significance and foncrion: from being c1 j11"imarily socicd a11tithesis it becomes a primarily national 011e, And a parallel development was undergone by whar was rhoughr of as specifically German: l1ere, likewise, many originally middle-class social charncterisrics, imprinted in people by rheir social siruarion, became national characrer-

28

Tix Cil'ilizi11g Pmccss

29
aspect of his moderation of individual affects. His comment was one of rhe few German urrerances of rhis rime ro acknowledge something of the social value of "courresy" and rn say something positive about social adroirness. In France and England, where "society" played a far greater role in the overall development of the nation, rhe behavioural tendencies he speaks of also played-rhough less consciously than in his case-a far more important part. And ideas of a similar kind, including rhe notion that people should seek ro harmonize wirh and show consideration for each other, rhar individuals may not always give W<lY to their emorions, recur quite frequently, with rhe same specifically social meaning as in Goethe, in rhe court literature of France, for example As a reAecrion, these thoughts were rhe individual property of Goethe. But related social situations. life in the 111omle, led everywhere in Europe to related precepts and modes of behaviour. Similarly, the behaviour which Eckermann described as his own is-as compared ro the outward serenity and amiability concealing opposed feelings rbar was first developed in this phase in rhe courtly-arisrocraric world--clearly recognizable as originating from rhe small-rown. middle-class sphere of the rime. And ir was cerrainly nor only in Germany rhar it was found in this sphere. Bur in Germany. owing to the particularly pure representation of the middle-class outlook by the intelligentsia. these and related attitudes became visible in lirerawre to an exceptional degree. And they recurred in rhis relatively pure form produced by the sharper, more rigorous division between courtly and middleclass circles, above all in the national behaviour of the Germans. The social units rhar we call nations differ widely in rhe affect-economies of their members, in the schemata through which the emotional life of individuals is moulded under the pressure of institutionalized rradirion and of rhe present siruarion. \Vhar was typical in the behaviour described by Eckermann was a specific form of "affect-modelling", rhar open submission of individual inclinarion which Goerhe considers unsociable and contrary ro the affect formation necessary for "Society" For Nietzsche, many decades later. rhis arritude had long been rhe typical national attitude of the Germans . Certainly. it had undergone modifications in the course of hisrnry, and no longer had the same social meaning as at Eckermann's time. Nietzsche ridiculed ir: "The German", he says in Buyo11d Good mid Eril (Aphorism 2-i-i), "loves 'sincerity' and uprighrness' How comfortiDg it is to be sincere and upright. Ir is roday perhaps the most dangerous and deceptive of all rhe disguises iD which rhe German is expert, this confidential, obliging, German honesty rhar always shows its cards. The German lets himself go, looking the while with trustful blue empty German eyes-and foreigners immediately mistake him for his nighrshirt ... Leaving aside the one-sided value judgement, this is one of rhe many illusrrarions of how, wirh the slow rise of the

isrics. Honesry and sinceriry, for example, were now conrrasred as German characrerisrics wirh dissimularing counesy. Bm sincerity, as used here, originally emerged as a specific trait of the middle-class person, in contrasr ro the man of rhe world or courrieL This, roo, can be clearly seen in a conversarion berween Eckermann and Goerhe. "I usually carry into sociery", says Eckermann on 2 May 1824, "my personal likes and dislikes and a certain need to love and be loved . I seek a personaliry conforming to my nature; ro that person I should like ro gi,e myself entirely and have nothing to do with rhe ochers." "This natural tendency of yours, Goerhe answers, "is indeed nor of a sociable kind; yer what would all our education be if we were nor willing to overcome our natural rendencies. It is a great folly ro demand rhar people should harmonize wirh us, I have never done so I have thereby attained rhe ability to converse with all people, and only rhus is knowledge of human character gained, as well as rhe necessary adroirness in life. For with opposed natures one must rake a grip on oneself if one is to get on wirh rhem. You oughr ro do likewise . There's no help for ir. you musr go inro sociery. No matter whar you say" The sociogenesis and psychogenesis of forms of human behaviour are srill not well undersrood. Ewn ro raise rhe questions may seem odd. It is nevertheless observable rhar people from different social units behave differendy in quire specific ways. \'<le are accustomed ro rake rhis for granted. \'Ve speak of the peasant or the courtier, of the Englishman or the German, of rhe medieval man or rhe man of the twentieth century, and we mean that rhe people of rhe social units indicated by such concepts behave uniformly in a specific manner which transcends all individual differences when measured against rbe individuals of a contrasring group: for example, rbe peasant behaves in many respects differently from the courtier, rbe Englishman or Frenchman from rbe German. and rhe medieval man from rbt man of rhe rwentierh century, no matter how much else rhey may have in common as human beings. Different modes of behaviour in rbis sense are apparent in rbe conversarion jusr quored between EC'kermann and Goerhe. Goethe was certainly a man who was individualized to a particularly high degree. As a result of his social desriny, modes of beh,niom with different social origins merged in him into a specific unity He, his opinions, and his behaviour were cerrainly never entirely typical of any of the social groups and situations rhrough which be had passed. Bur in this quotation he spoke quire explicitly as a man of the world, as a courtier, from experiences which were necessarily foreign ro Eckermann. He perceived the compulsion ro hold back one's own feelings, to suppress antipathies and sympathies, which was inherent in court life, and which was ofren interpreted by people of a different social situation, and rherefore with a different affect structure, as dishonesty or insincerity And with the consciousness that distinguished him as a relative oursider from all social groups. he emphasized rhe beneficial, human

30

Th1: Cil'i/j:;i11g Proa.rs

middle classes, rheir sptcific social characttristics gradually becomt national characteristics And the same becomes clear from the following judgement of Fontane on England, robe found in Ei11 So111i111:r in L<111do11 (Dessau, 1852):
England and Germany are related in rhe same way as form and conrenr. appearance and reality Unlike rhings. which in no ocher counrry in rhe world exhibit rhe same solidity as in England, people are distinguished by form, their mosr ourward packing. You need nor be a genrleman. you muse only ban rhe means ro appear one, and you are one You need nor be righr. you muse only find yourself wirhin rhe forms of rightness, and you are right Everywhere appearance Nowhere is one more inclined ro abandon oneself blindly ro rhe mere lustre of a name. The German lives in order ro live, rhe Englishman ro represent The German lives for his own sake. rhe Englishman for rhe sake of ochers

Sociogenesis of the Concept of Civilisation zn France

It is perhaps necessary to point om how exactly this lasr idea coincides with rhe antithesis benveen Eckermann and Goethe: "I give open expression to my personal likes and dislikes", said Eckermann . "One must seek, even if unwillingly, to harmonize with others", argued Goethe. "The Englishman .. , Fontane observes, "has a thousand comforts, bur no comfort. The place of comfort is taken by ambition. He is always ready to receive, to give audiences. He changes his suir rhree rimes a day; he observes ar rable-in rhe sining room and drawing room--certain prescribed laws of propriery. He is a disringuished man, a phenomenon rhar impresses us, a reacher from whom we rake lessons. Bur in the midst of our wonderment is mixed an infinire nosrnlgia for our petty-bourgeois Germany, where people have not the faintest idea how to represent, but are able so splendidly, so comforrnbly and cozily, to live." The concepr of "civilizarion" was not mentioned here. And rhe idea of German Kuft11r appears in this account only from afar. Bur we see from it, as from all rhese reflecrions, rhat rhe German anrirhesis berween Ziz'ilisatio11 and K11!t11r did nor srnnd alone; ir was part of a larger context. Ir was an expression of rhe German self-image. And ir pointed back ro differences of st!f-legirimization, of characrer and overall behaviour, rhat first exisred preponderantly, even if nor exclusively. between parricular German classes, and then berween the German nation and other nations.

I
Introduction
1 Ir would be incomprehensible that, in the German antithesis of genuine Bild11ng and K1dt111 on the one hand and mere outward Zizilisatio11 on the ocher, rhe internal. social antithesis should haw receded and the national one become dominant, had nor the de\elopment of the French bourgeoisie followed, in certain respects, exactly rhe opposite course from the German In France rhe bourgeois intelligentsia and the leading groups of the middle class were drawn relatively early into the circle of rhe court society The German nobiliry's old means of distinction, the proof of ancesuy-which lacer, in a bourgeois transformation, rook on new life in German racial legislation-was certainly not entirely absent in the French tradition, bur particularly after the esrablishment and consolidation of the "absolute monarchy", it no longer played a very decisive role as a barrier between the classes. The permeation of bourgeois circles by specifically arisrocratic traditions (which in Germany, wirh the srricter separation of classes, had a deep effecr only in certain spheres such as the military, being elsewhere very limired) had quire different proportions in France. Here, as early as the eighteenth century, there was no longer any considerable difference of manners between the leading bourgeois groups and the courtly arisrocracy And e\en if, with rhe srronger upsurge of the middle class from the mid-

- 7 -"-

The Cil'ili:ing Pmccss

Ch,!llges i11 the Behariom of tht Scmlar Upper C!t1sses in the \Vest

33

eighreemh cemury onward-or, srnred differently, wirh rhe enlargement of rhe courr sociery through rhe increased assimilarion of leading middle-class groups-beha,iour and manners slowly changed, this happened rupture as a direcr cominuation of rhe courtly-arisrocraric rradirion of rhe sevemeenth cemury Borh the courtly bourgeoisie and rhe courtly aristocracy spoke rhe same language, read the same books and had, with particular gradarions, rhe same manners. And when rhe social and economic disproportionaliries bursr rhe when the bourgeoisie became rhe insrirurional framework of rhe a11ciw narion, much of what had originally been rhe specific and clisrincrive social character of rhe courtly aristocracy and then also of rhe courtly-bourgeois groups, became, in an ever-widenini:: movemem and doubtless with some modification, the national character. Stylistic comentions, rhe forms of social intercourse, affect-moulding, the high regard for courtesy, the importance of good speech and conversation, articulateness of language and much else-all this was first formed in France within court society, then slowly changed, in a continuous diffi.1sion, from a social into a nItional character. Here, too, Nietzsche saw the difference nory clearly. "\\/herever there was a court"", he says in Be) r!llt! Gr1r1J t1nd Ez-i! (Aphorism l () l ), "there was a law of rig hr speaking, and therefore also a law of style for all who wrote. Courtly language, however, is the language of rhe courrier who has no special subject, and who even in comersarion on scholarly matters prohibits all technical expressions because they smack of specialization; this is why, in countries with a courtlv culture. rhe technical term and everything char betrays rhe specialist is a snlisric blemish . Now that all courts have become caricamres one is to find even :olraire very particular on this point . The fact is that we are all emancipated from court taste, while Voltaire was irs consummation'" In Germany rhe aspiring middle-class intelligentsia of rhe eighteenth centurv, trained at universities specializing in particular subjects, developtd its selt-:_ expression, its own specific culture, in rhe arts and sciences. In France the bourgeoisie was already developed and prosperous to an entirelv different degree The rising intelligentsia had, besides rhe arisrocracy, a broad. bourgeois too. The inrelligenrsia itself, like certain other middle-class formations. was assimilated by rhe courtly circle. And so ir came abour that rhe German middle classes, with their very gradual rise to nationhood, increasingly perceived as rhe national character of their neighbour chose modes of behaviour which they had first observed predominantly at their own courts. And, having either judged chis behaviour second-rare or rejected ir as incompatible with rheir own affect srrucrure, so they also disapproved of ir to a greater or lesser degree in their neighbours

2 . Ir may seem paradoxical char in Germany, where rhe social walls between the middle class and rhe arisrocracy were h.igher, social contacts fewer and differences in manners more considerable, rhe discrepancies and tensions between

rhe classes for a long rime found no political expression; \vhereas in France, where rhe class barriers were lower and social contact between the classes incomparably more intimate, rhe political acriviry of rhe bourgeoisie developed earlier and rhe ,ension between the classes reached an early political resolution. Bm the paradox is only apparent. The long denial of political functions ro the French nobility by royal policy, rhe early involvement of bourgeois elements in government and administration, their access ro even rhe highest governmental functions, their influence and advancement ar the court-all chis had rwo consequences: on rhe one hand, enduring close social conrnct between elements of differing social origin; on rhe other, rhe opportuni ry for bourgeois elements ro engage in political acriviry when rhe social sirnarion was ripe and, prior ro chis, a strongly political training, a tendency to chink in political caregories. In rhe German scares, by and large, almost exactly rhe reverse was the case . The highest government poses were generally reserved for rhe nobility. Ar the least, unlike rheir French counterparts, rhe German nobility played a decisive role in higher state administration Its strength as an auronomous class had never been so radically broken as had char of irs counterpart in France. In contrast, rhe class strength of rhe bourgeoisie, in keeping with its economic power, was relatively low in Germany until well into rhe nineteenth century. The sharper social severance of German middle-class elements from rhe courtly aristocracy reflected rheir relative economic weakness and their exclusion from most key positions in rhe scare. _:; The social structure of France made ir possible for rhe moderate opposition, which had been slowly growing from about rhe mid-eighteenth century, ro be represented with a certain success in the innermost court circles Irs representatives did not yer form a party. Ocher forms of political struggle fitted rhe instimrional structure of the crnciw They formed a clique ar rhe court without a definite organization, bur were supported by people and groups within the broader court society and in rhe country at large. The variety of social interests found expression at court in the conflicts between such cliques, admittedly in a somewhat vague form and with a srrong admixrure of the most diwrse personal interests; nevertheless, these conflicts were expressed and resolved. The French concept of ciri!isatio11, exactly like the corresponding German concept of KN!t!lr, was formed within chis opposition movement in rhe second half of the eighteenth century. Its process of formation, its function and its meaning were as different from those of the German concept as were the circumstances and manners of the middle classes in rhe two countries" Ir is nor uninteresting to observe how similar was the French concept of ciri!isation, as first encountered in lirerarure, to the concept to which many years lacer Kant opposed his concept of Ku!t!lr. The first literary evidence of the development of rhe verb cfrilisu into the concept cfri!isation is to be found,

The

Process
in dit work of die elder Mirabeau in rht

_',5

according ro prtsem-day 1-:6os.

.. I maf\'el ro see ... ht says ... how uur learned vit\\s. false on all poims, are \Hong on whar we rakt rn be civilizarion. If rhey were asked whar civilizarion is. mosr people would answer: sofrening of manners. urbaniry. polireness, and a disseminarion of knowledge such char propriery is esrnblished in place of laws of derail: all rhar only presems me wirh rhe mask of virrnt and nor irs face, and ci\ilizarion dots norhing for sociery if ir does nor give ir both rhe form and rhe subs ran ct of virwe . .. 21' This sounds vtry similar rn whar was also being said in Germany againsr courrly manners. Mirabeau. roo. comrasred whar mosr people, according ro him. considered ro bt civilizarion (i e. polirtness and good manntrs) wirh rhe idtal in whose name everpvhtre in Europe rhe middle classes were aligning rhemselves againsr rhe courrly-arisrocraric upper class, and rhrough which rhty ltgirimized rhemselves-die ideal of virrue. He. roo, exacrly likt Kam. linked rhe concepr of civilizarion ro rhe specific characrerisrics of rhe courrly arisrocracy. wirh reason: for rhe ho111111t cirilisil was norhing orhtr rhan a somewhar exrended version of char human rype which represemed rhe rrut ideal of courr socitry. die ho1mt!tt h1J111111c

Cirili.r( was. like mltiz-t'. poli, or /10/id. one of rhe many rerms, ofren used almosr as synonyms. by which rhe courrly people wished ro designart. in a broad or narrow sense. rhe specific qualiry of rheir own behaviour. and by which rhey comrasrecl rhe refinemtm of rheir O\\n social manners. rheir "srnndard ... ro rht manners of simpler and socially inferior ptople.
Conceprs such as or cizilitc' had. befort die concepr cizilisati//11 was formtd and esrablishtd. practically rht same function as rhe new concepr: ro express the self-image of rhe European upper class in relarion ro ochers whom irs members considered simpler or more prirnirin:, and ar tht same rimt ro characterize the specific kind of behaviour rhrough which this upper class felr irself differtm from all simpler and more primirive people. Mirabeau's sratemem makes ir quire clear ro txtem rhe conctpt of civilizarion was ar firsr a direcr conrinuarion of ocher incarnarions of courdy self-consciousness: "If rhey were asked what civilizarion is. people would answer: sofrening of manners, politeness. and suchlike ... And Mirabeau, like Rousseau, if more moderarely, inverted the existing rnluarions. You and your civilizarion, he said, all rhat you are so proud of, btlieving char it raises you above rhe simple people, is of very lirrle value: "In all rhe languages of all ages, rhe depicrion of rhe love of shepherds for rheir flocks and rheir clogs finds irs way imo our soul, deadened as ir is by rhe pursuit of luxury and a false civilizarion ... 2 A person s arrirude cowards rhe "simple people .. -above all, rowarcls rhe "simple people .. in rheir mosr exrreme form. rhe "savage ..-was everywhere in rhe second half of rhe eighreemh cemury a symbol of his or her posirion in rhe

inrernal, social debate. Rousseau launched rhe mosr radical arrack on rht domim1nr order of rnluts of his rime. and for rhis vtry reason his direct imporrance for rhe rnurrlyimiddle-class reform mon:mem of rhe Frtnch imelligenrsia was less rhan mighr be suggesred by his resonance among rhe unpolirical inrellecrually more radical middle-class imtlligemsia of Gtrmany. Bur Rousseau. for all rhe radicalism of his social criricism, had nor yer fashiontcl an inclusive. unified counrerconcepr against which ro hurl rhe accumulated reproaches. Mirabeau created ir, or was ar lease rhe firsr ro use ir in his wrirings: perhaps ir had prtviously exisrtd in conversarion. From rht ho111111t cizi!ise he derived a general characreristic of sociery: cirilisatio11. Bur his social criticism. like char of rhe othtr Physiocrars. was moclerare. Ir remained emirely wirhin the framework of rhe existing social system. It is. incited, the criricism of reformers \Xlhile members of the German middle-class inrelligentsia, at lease in rhe mind, in rhe daydreams of their books. forged concepts divtrging absolurely from rhe models of rhe upper class. and rims fought on politically neurral ground all rhe bardes which they were unable ro fighr on rhe polirical and social plane btcause rhe existing instirurions and power relarionships denied chem insrrumenrs and even targets: while they. in rheir books. opposed to the human characrerisrics of rhe upper class rheir own new ideals and behavioural models: the courtlyreformisr intelligentsia in France remained for a long rime within the framework of courrly tradirion. These Frenchmen desirtcl to improvt. modify, aclapr. Aparr from a few oursiders like Rousseau. rhey did nor oppose radically different ideals and models ro rhe dominam order, bm reformed ideals and models of thar order In rht words "false civilization .. rhe whole difference from rhe German movemem was contained. The French wrirers implied thar rhe false civilization oughr ro bt replaced by a genuine one. They did nor oppose ro rht ho111111e cirilise a radically differem human model. as did dit German bourgeois inrelligenrsia with the term gebi!ddu Mwsch (eclucarecl person) and with the idea of tht personaliry .. : insreacl, they picked up courtly models in order to develop and rransform them. They addressed rhemselves ro a critical imelligenrsia which, directly or indirectly. was irself wriring and srruggling wirhin rht extensive nerwork of courr sociery

II

Sociogenesis of Physiocratism and the French Reform Movement


-t Ler us recall rhe siruarion of France afrer the middle of rhe eighteemh ctnrnry

36

The Cfrili::i11g Process

i11 th, Bdh11io11r o/ tht Swtfcn Uj1pu Classes i11 the \Vt.rt
)risoners of social processes and dependent on court cliques and factions, some of extended far into the country <llld deep inro middle-class circles Plwsiocrarism was one of rhe theoretical expressions of these interfacrional le was by no means confined ro economics, being a large-scale system of political and social reform. Ir contained, in a pointed, abstract and dogmaticallv hardened form, ideas which-expressed less theoretically, dogmatically and i . e., as pracrical demands for reform-characterized the whole movement of which Turgor, who was for a rime in charge of finance, was an exponent If rhis tendency (which had neither a name nor a unified organization) is ro be "iven a name, ir might be called rhe reformist bureaucracy. But these reformist :dministrarors doubtless also had sections of the intelligentsia and of the commercial bourgeoisie behind rhem Among those desiring and demanding reform, moreover, there were considerable differences of opinion concerning the kind of reform that was needed. Some were wholly in favour of a reform of rhe raxarion system and rhe srare machinery, rec were, for example, far more prorecrionisr than rhe Physiocrars. Forbonnais one of rhe leading representatives of this tendency. and it is ro misundersrand him and like-minded people ro include them, on account of their more strongly protectionist attitude, indiscriminarely among the "'mercantilisrs" The debate between Forbonnais and rhe Physiocrars was an early expression of a divergence within modern industrial society which was ro lead ro ever-recurring conflicts between the exponents of free trade and proreccionism. Both sides were parr of rhe middle-class reform movement. - On rhe other hand, it was by no means the case rhar rhe uiw!e bourgeoisie desired reform while rhe arisrocracy exclusively opposed ir. There were a number of cle<1rly definable middle-class groups which resisted to rhe utmost any serious ,1rrempr at reform, and whose existence was indeed bound up with the conservation of the c111ci1:11 in irs unrc:formtd St<ltt These groups included rhe majority of the higher administrators, the 110Mwc de robe, whose offices were family possessions in rhe same sense that a facrory or business roday is herediranproperry They also included the craft guilds and a good proporrion of rhe financiers And if reform failed in Frnnce, if the disproportions of society finally burst the institutional structure of the c111cit11 violently asunder, rhe opposition of these middle-class groups ro reform bore a large measure of responsibility. This whole survey shows very clearly one thing which is important in rhis context: whereas the middle classes already played a political role in France at this rime, in Germany they did nor. In Germany rhe intellectual stratum was confined to rhe sphere of the mind and ideas: in France, along with all the other human questions, social, economic, administrative and political issues came within rhe range of interests of rhe courtly/middle-class intelligentsia The German systems of rhoughr, by contrast, were to <l far greater extent purely

The principles by which France was governed and on which, in particular, raxarion and customs legislation was based were broadly the same as at Colberr's rime. But the internal relationships of power and interest. the so.cial srrucrure of France itself, had shifted in crucial ways. Strict protectionism, the shielding of national manufacturing and commercial activity against foreign competition, had actually contributed decisively to the development of French economic life, and so ro furthering what marcered more than anything else to the king and his representatives-the taxable capacity of the country. The barriers in the grain trade, monopolies, the granary system and the cuswms walls between provinces had partly protected local interests but, above all, had from rime ro rime preserved the district most imporrant to the king's peace and perhaps to that of all France, Paris, from rhe extreme consequences of bad harvests and rising prices-srarvarion and revolt But in rhe meantime, rhe capiral and the population of the country had increased. Compared ro Colbert's rime, the trade network had become denser and more extensive, industrial activity more vigorous, communications better, and rhe economic integration and interdependence of French rerrirory closer. Sections of rhe bourgeoisie began to find the traditional taxation and customs systems, under whose protection rhey had grown up, irksome and absurd . Progressive country gentry and landowners like Mirabeau saw in the mercantilist restraints on the grain economy an impediment rather than an inducement ro agricultural production: in this rhey profited nor a little from rhe lessons of rhe freer English trading sys rem . And most important of all, a section of the higher administrators rhemselws recognized the ill effects of rhe existing system; at their head \Vas their most progressive type, the provincial intendants, rhe representatives of the single modern form of bureaucracy which rhe a11cie11 had produced, the only administrati\e funccion which was not, like rhe others, purchasable and therefore heredirary These progressive elements in the administration formed one of the most important bridges between the demand for reform that was making itself felt in d1e country and rhe comr. Directly or indirectly they played, in rhe struggle of court cliques for key political positions (primarily the ministries), a nor inconsiderable part Thar these struggles were nor yet rhe more impersonal, polirical conflicts they lacer became, when the various interests would be represented by parries within a parliamentary framework, has already been pointed our. Bm rhe courtly groups which, for rhe most diverse reasons, competed for influence and posts at the court were, at the same rime, social nuclei through which the interests of broader groups and classes could find expression at the controlling centre of the country In this way reformist tendencies, roo, were represented at court. By the second half of the eighteenth century, the kings had long ceased ro rule arbitrarily. Far more perceptibly than Louis XIV, for example, they were rhe

59
acaJemic Their social bast was cht universicy, The social base from which Physiocracism emerged was che courr and court sociecy, where imellecrnal effon had specific concrece aims. such as influencing che king or his misuess. 5 The basic ideas of Quesnay and che Physiocracs are well known In his L1h!C:111 ( l '58), Quesnay depicted cht economic lift of society as a more or less autonomous process, a closed cycle of the produccion, circulation and reproduction of commodities . He spoke of the natural laws of a social lift in harmony wich reason. Basing his argumtm on chis idea, Quesnay opposed arbirrary imenemion by rulers imo die economic cycle. He wished them ro be aware of its laws in order ro guide its processes, instead of issuing uninformed decrees at whim. He demanded freedom of trade, particularly the grain trade, because self-regulation, che free pla\ of forces, creates in his view a more beneficial order for consumers and proJucers chan the rradicional regulations from above and the coundess trade barriers benveen proYince and province, country and country.. But he tully concecleJ that the self-regulating processes oughc ro be unJersrood, and guided, by a wise and tnlighcened bureaucracv. Here, above all, lav che difference becween rhe wa\ in \\hich che French and che Enlisi1 . b reformers reacced w the discovery of seif-regulacion in economic life. Quesnay and his follows remained wholly wichin che framework of cht exiscing monarchical syscem. He lefr dit basic elemtnts of die cmciw and ics inscimcional scrunure umouchtd. And chis applied all d1t more w che seccions of che adminisuacion and imtlligtmsia \\host posicion was close rn his, and who, in a ltss absuace, ltss exueme and more prnnically minded form, arrived ac resulcs similar w chose of die cemral group of Physiocracs. Fundamentally, die posicion common w all of them was excremtly simple: roughly, chey htld thac ic is not uut char rulers are almighcy and can regulace all human affairs as chev chink tic Socien and the: economy havt cheir 0\\'!1 laws, ,,hich resisr die. irracion<d interference of rulers anJ force. Therefore an enlighteneJ, racional adminiscracion must be creartd which gon:rns in accordance wich die "narnral laws" of social processes, and chus inaccordance wich reason. 6 . The cerm <'i1ili.1mi"11 was, ac che momem of ics formacion, a clear refltnion uf chtse reformisc iJtas. If in chis rtrm che idea of che h11111111c cif.i/is( led w a concepc designacing che manners and condicions of exiscing sociecy as a whole, ic was firsc and foremosc an expression of insights derived from opposicion, from social cricicism. To this was added the realizacion chac governmems cannot issue decrees ac will, bl!( are al!(omacically resisted by anonymous social forces if cheir ordinances are nm guided by an exact knowledge of d1est forces ,me! laws: che realizacion chac t\en che most absolute governmem is helpless in che face of the dynamisms of social clevtlopment, and thac disascer and chaos, miserr and disuess, are unleashed by arbi uary, "unnatural", ' irracional" As already scared, this realizacion found expression in che Physiocracic idea char social evems, like narnral phenomena, form part of an ordered process . This samt experience manifosctd icstlf in che uansformacion of che earlitr <'fri/i.re imo che noun <'izi!ist1tiu11, helping ro giw ic a meaning chac cranscended inJi\idual
usage,

The binh pangs of the indusuial revolmion, which could no longer be underswod as che resulc of governmem direnion, rnughc people, briefly and for che firsc cime, w think of chemselvts and cheir social exiscence as a process. If wt firsc pursue the use of che cerm 'iz'ilisatio11 in che work of .Mirabeau, we set clearly how chis discovery caused him w view che enrire moral icy of his cime in a new lid1t He came rn regard chis moralicy, this "ci\ilization" wo as a cyclical :mifesrncion, and wanted rulers to perceive ics laws in order w use chem . Thac was che meaning of che cerm cil'i!isc1tio11 ac this early srnge of ics use. In his Ami des ho1111110, .Mirabeau argues in one place chac ,1 superfluicy of money reduces populmion, so thac consumpcion by each individual is increased. He considers rhac this excess of money, should ic grow wo large, "banishes industry and the arcs, so casting srnces inrn povtrry and depopulation.. And he continues: "From chis we perceive how che cycle from barbarism ro decadence chrough civilizacion and wealch might be reversed by an alert and skilful miniscer, and che machine wound up again before ic has run down." 2 " This semence really sums up all chat was w become characceriscic, in very general ccrms. of che fundamenrnl srnndpoint of rhe Physiocracs: che concepcion of economy, populacion, and finally manners as an imerrelactd whole, developing cyclically; and the reformisc policical cendency which intended chis knowledge: finally for che rulers, w enable chem, from an undersrnnding of chese laws. w guide social processes in a more enlighcened and racional way than hi cherw In Mirabeau's dedicacion of his The(Jrie de /'ill!jJ&t w rhe king in l 760, in which he recommended to che monarch che Physiocracic plan for rnx reform, exactly che same idea was scill present: "The examplt of all che empires rhac hano preceded yours, and which have run che circle of civilizacion, would be derniled e\idence of whac I have jusc advanced." The cricical anirnde of Mirabeau, che landed nobleman, rnwards \Walch, luxury, and che whole of prerniling manners gave his ideas a special cinge. Gtnuine civilizacion, he chouglu, srnnds in a cycle becween barbarism and a falst, "decadem" civilizacion engendered by a superabundance of money. The rnsk of enlighcened governmem is w sceer chis automacism so thm sociecy can flourish on a middle course becween barbarism and decadence. Here, the whole range of problems la cent in "civilization .. is already discernible m che moment of die concept's formacion. Even ac chis srnge it was connected rn the idea of decadence or "decline", which has re-emerged again and again, in an open or veiled form. ro che rhychm of cyclical crises . Bm we can also see quiet clearly thac this desire for reform remained wholly wichin rhe framework of che exiscing social syscem \vhich was manipulated from above, and chac ic did nm oppose w whac ic

40

Tht Ci1'i!i::,i11g Process

-il
example. "There is nothing that phices mo:e obsracles .in .the. way_ of public s of rhe nrogress of human reason, ot rhe enure Civilizanon ot men than happines . rL . ,. _; i rhe continual wars into which thoughtless pnnces are drawn at every momem . Or, in another place: 'Human reason is nor yet sufficiently exercised: the cizi/iz:itio 11 of peop!ts i.1 1111! yet co111p!tt1:; obsracles without number have hirherro "ress of useful knowledue. the advance of which can alone oppose cl [11e Pro o c . . . b re ro perfecrinn our o uovernmem ' our laws,, our educanon, our msnruconrn u b rions. and our morals . .. _; The concept underlying this enlightened, socially critical reform movemenr was always che same: rhar the improvement of insrimrions, education and law will be brought about by the advance of knowledge. This did nor mean \VisMJschafr in rhe eighreenrh-century German sense, for the speakers were nor university: people bur independenr writers, officials, intellectuals, courtly of the most diverse kind uni red through rhe medium of "good society , . the sa!om Progress would be achieved, therefore. first by rhe enlightenment of kmgs and rulers in conformity with .. reason .. or "nature .. , which comes ro the same thing, and rhen by placing in leading positions enlightened (i e _. reform-minded) men A certain aspect of this whole progressive process of reform, came to be desiunared bv a fixed concept: cil'ihwtio11. \'Vhar was visible in j\firabeau's of the concept, which had nor yet been polished by society. and what is characteristic of any reform movemenr was ro be found here also: a half-<iflirmarion and half-negation of rhe existing order. Society, from this poinr of view, had reached a particular stage on rhe road to civilization. But it was insufficient Societv could nor stand still there The process was continuing and OLwhr ro be pushe.d further: "rhe civilization of peoples is nor yet complete". ideas were fused in rhe concept of civilization. On the one hand. it constituted a general counrerconcept to another stage of socierv. barbarism This feel;ng had pervaded court society. Ir had found its courtly-aristocratic
2

criticized in presenr manners an absolurely new image or concept, but instead rook irs departure from rhe existing order, desiring to improve it: through skilful and enlightened measures by rhe governmenr, "false civilization" shall ,1gain become a good and true ci,ilization In this conception of civilization there may ar first have been many individual shades of meaning. Bur it contained elements which corresponded to rhe general needs ,rnd experience of the reformist and progressive circles of Parisian society And the concept became all the more widely used in these circles the more the reform movement was accelerated by growing commercialization and ind usrrializarion. The last period of Louis xvs reign was a rime of visible debility and disorder in rhe old sys rem. The internal and external tensions grew. The signs of social transformation multiplied. In 177 3 tea chests were thrown into Boston harbour In 1776 came the Declaration of Independence by Englands American colony: the governmenr, ir proclaimecl, is appointed to ensure rht happiness of the people. Should it nor succeed in this purpose, a majority of rhe people has the right to dismiss iL The French middle-class circles symparheric to reform observed what was happening across rhe sea with rhe urmosr attention, ancl with a sympathy in which their reformist social tendencies mingled with growing national hostility row,1rds England, even though their leading minds were thinking of anything but an overthrow of the monarchy. Ar the same rime, from l 77-i onwards, there was a growing feeling rhar a confrontation with England was inevirable and rhar preparations must be made for war In rhe same year, 1 Louis XV died. Under the new king rhe struggle for the reform of the administrative and raxarion systems was immediately renewed with intensified force in both rhe narrower and the wider court circles. As a result of these conflicts. Turgor was welcomed in the s<1me year as cu11trrJ/c11r dtS ji11t111ccs by all rhe reformist and progressive elements in the country.. "Ar last rhe belated hour of justice has come", wrote rhe Physiocrar Baucleau on Turgors 1ppointmenL oAlembert wrote on rhe same occasion: "If good does nor prevail now. ir is because good is impossible: And Voltaire regretted being at the gates of death at the moment when he could observe "virtue and reason in their place" c" In the same years, ciri!isc//io11 appeared for the first rime as a widely used and more or less fixed concepL In the first edition of Raynal's Histoin jihi!osophiqm et pr1/itiq!!e des [tah!iss1:111wts tt d!! rnm111ene des E11ropeem dam !es dwx Indes (1770) the word does nor occur once: in rhe second ( 1774) it was "used frequently and wirhour any variation of meaning as an indispensable term rhar is obviously generally undersrood ... ;o Holbachs Sy.rtl:i11e de f,7 lhltitre of 1770 did nor yet contain the word cil'i!isc1tio11 . In his S_Jsti:111t sociale of 1774. citi!isdtio11 was used frequently. He says. for

_ expression in terms such as politesse or ciriliti. Bur rhe masses were nor yet civilized enough, said rhe men of the courtly/ middle-class reform movemenr. Civilization is nor only a stare, it is a process which must be raken further. Thar was the new element expressed in the term ciri!iwtion. It absorbed much of what had always made court society believe itself ro be, as compared with those living in a simpler, more uncivilized or more barbaric way, a higher kind of society: the idea of a level of morals and manners, including social racr, consideration for others and many related complexes. Bur in rhe h:nds of rhe rising middle class, in the mouth of rhe reform movement, rhe idea of what was needed to make a society civilized was extended. The civilizing of rhe state, rhe consriwrion and education, and therefore the JiberatioLn of broader sections of rhe population from all that was still barbaric or irrational in existing conditions. whether ir were the legal penalties or the class restrictions on rhe bourgeoisie or the barriers impeding a freer development of

-L

The Ciri/i:;ing PmCo:ss


sure. entirely lacking in aristocratic elements assimilated by the bourgeoisie Nevertheless, for large areas of the German culrural tradition and German behaviour, the specifically middle-class characteristics were predominanr. particularly as rhe sharper social division bourgeois and aristocratic circles, and with ir a relative heterogeneity ot German manners, survived long after the eighteenth century. The French concept of ciz-ili.wtion reflects the specific social fortunes of the French bourgeoisie to exactly the same degree char the concept of K!!ltur reflects che German. The concepc of dz i!i.rt1tion was firsr. like Ki!ltm-. an instrument of middle-class circles-above all. rhe middle-class intelligentsia-in the internal social conflict. \vich the rise of the bourgeoisie, it too came rn epitomize the rnirion. rn express rhe national self-image. In the Revolution itself ciri!isc1ti1il! (which. of course, referred essentially ro a gradual process, an evolurion. and had not yer discarded its original meaning as a watchword of reform) did not play anv considerable part among the revolutionary slogans. As che Revolution grew moderate, shortly before tht turn of rhe century', it scarred on its journey as a rallying cry throughout the world. Even as early as chis. it had a level of meaning justifying French aspirations co national expansion and colonization. In 1798. as Napoleon sec off for Egypt. he shouted ro his troops: "Soldiers, you are undertaking a conquesc with incalculable consequences for civilizacion ... Unlike che situation when the concept was formed. from now on nations came to consider the J1111(cJS of civilization as completed within rheir own societies: they came to set themselves as bearers of an existing or finished civilization to ochers. as standard-bearers of expanding civilization . Of the whole preceding process of civilization nothing remained in their consciousness except a rngue residue. !rs outcome was taken simply as an expression of their own higher gifts: the fact char. and the question of how. in the course of many cenruries. civilized beh,niour has been arcaintd is of no interest And the consciousness of their own superiority, the consciousness of this "ci\ilizacion". from now on serves ar least chose nations which have become colonial conquerors. <lnd therefore a kind of upper class rn large sections of che non-Eurnpean world. as a justification of their rule, to the same degree char earlier rhe ancestors of the concepc of civilization. politusc and "iz'i!it(. had served the courtly-aristocratic upper class as a justification of cheirs Indeed, an essential phase of the civilizing process was concluded at exactly rhe time when the cr111.rcio11.r11ess of civilization. the consciousness of the superiority of their own behmiour and its embodimenrs in science, technology or arr began rn spread over whole nacions of the \vtst This earlier phase of rhe civilizing process. the phase in which the consciousness of the process scarcely existed and the concept of civilizacion did nor exisr at all. \\ill be discussed in Part Two

trade. this civilizing muse follow rhe refinement of manners and the internal pacification of the country by the kings 'The king succeecled". Voltaire once said of the age of Louis XIV "in making of a hi the no turbulent nation a peaceful people dangerous on! y to i cs enemies. i'vfanners were softened .. ;, It will be seen in more detail lacer how important chis internal pacification was for the civilizing process Conclorcec, however. who was by comparison with Voltaire a reformist of the younger generation and alreacly far more inclined ro opposition. commentecl as follows on chis reflection of Volrnire's: "Despite the barbarity of some of the laws. clespite rhe faulrs of the administracin: principles, the increase in cluties, their burdensome form. the harshness of fiscal laws, despite the pernicious maxims which direct the government's legislation on commerce ancl manufacture. and finally despite rhe persecution of the Protestants. one may observe that the within the realm lived in peace under the protection of law... This enumeration, itself not entirely without affirmation of the existing order, gives a picture of the many rhings felt to be in need of reform . \vhether or not the term cirilisati1Jl1 was here used explicitly, it related to all chis, to everything which was still "barbaric" This discussion makes wry clear the divergence from the course of development in Germany and, with it, from German concepts: it shows how members of the rising middle-class intelligentsia in France stood partly wirhin rhe court circle. and so wirhin rhe courtly-aristocratic tradition. They spoke che language of chis circle and developed it further. Their behaviour and affecrs were. with certain modifications. modelled on the patcern of chis tradition Their concepts and ideas were by no means mere antitheses of chose of the courtly aristocracy. Around courtly-arisrocraric concepts such as rhe idea of "being civilized", they crystallized. in conformity with their social position within rhe courc circle. further ideas from d1t area of rheir political and economic demands, idtas which, owing to the different social sirnacion and range of experience of the German intelligentsia. were largely alien ro it and at any race far less relevant The French bourgeoisie-politicalh active, ar least partly eager for reform. and even. for a shore period, revolurionary-remained strongly bound to rhe courtly tradition in its beha\iour and its affect-moulding even afrer the edifice of the old regime had been demolished. For through the close contacr between aristocratic and middle-class circles, a great part of courdy manners had long before the revolurion become middle-class manners. So it can be understood chat the bourgeois revolution in France. though it destroyed the old political scrucrnre. did not disrupt the uniry of traditional manners The German middle-class inrelligenrsia. politically entirely impotent but inrellecrually radical. forged a purely bourgeois tradition of its own, di\erging widely from the courtly-aristocraric tradition and its models. The German national character which slowly emerged in rhe nineceenrh century was not, to be

PART TWO Civilization as a Specific Transformation of Human Behaviour

The History of the Concept of Civilite


l. The decisin: antithesis expressing the self-image of che \Vest during rhe Middle Ages was chat becween Christianiry and paganism or. more exacdy, berween de\'OUL Roman-Larin Christianiry. on che one hand. and paganism and heresy, including Greek and Eascern Christianicy, on che orher 1 Jn the name of che Cross. and lacer in char of ci,ilization. \\7escern society waged. during che Middle Ages. ics wars of colonizacion and expansion. And for all ics secularizacion. rhe wacchworcl "ci\'ilizarion" always rerained an echo of Larin Chriscendom and rhe knighdy-feudal crusade The memory rhac chivalry and che Roman-Larin faich bear wirness w a particular srage of \Vesrern sociery. a srnge which all rhe major \Vescern peoples have passed chrough, has cerrainly nor disappeared. The concepr of ciz'iliti acquired irs meaning for \Vesrern sociery ar a time when knighdy sociery and rhe unicy of rhe Carbolic church were disinregraring. Ir was rhe incarnarion of a sociery which, as a specific srage in rhe formarion of \Vestern manners or "civilization". was no less important rhan the feudal society before ir The concept of cil'ilite. coo. was an expression and a symbol of a social formation embracing rhe most diverse narionaliries, in which. as in rhe Church, a common language was spoken. first Italian and rhen increasingly French. These languages rook over the function earlier performed by Larin. They manifested che unity of Europe. and at the same rime the new social formarion which formed its backbone, court society. The sirnacion, che self-image, and the characceristics of this sociery found expression in che concept of cizilitt! 2. The concept of cirilite received the specific stamp and funccion under discussion here in the second quarter of che sixteenth century. Irs individual starting-point can be exacdy determined Ir owes the specific meaning which btcamt socially accepted ro a short rreatise by Erasmus of Ronerdam, De cil'i!itate 11111m111 /i!!eri!iml! (On ci,ility in boys). which appeared in 1530 This work clearly treated a rhemt that was ripe for discussion It immediately achieved an enormous circulacion. going through edition after edition. Ewn wichin Erasmus's lifetimerhat is, in che first six years after its publication-it was reprinted more chan rhircy rimes.' In all, more drnn 1.70 edicions may be counted. l .o of them as late as ri1e c:ighteemh century The mulcimde of uanslacions, imitations and sequels is almosc without limit. Two years after the publication of the treatise the first English rranslacion appeared In 15 3-i it was published in catechism form. and at this rime it was already being introduced as a schoolbook for the education of boyso German and Czech translacions followed. In 15.0,7, 1559. 1569 and 1613 it appeared in French. newly translated each ume.

-18

Thi: Cizi/i:;i11g P/'IJ<HJ

Change.I in th, Blh11io1tr of the Sumlm Uppi:r Clc1ssts in th, \Fest iin"s chat have in [ht meantime become unspeakable, and of many others [hat [l 0 are now raken for granted.' Erasmus speaks. for example, of rhe way people look. Though his comments are meam as instruction. [hty also bear witness to the direc[ and lively observa[ion of people of which he was capable . "Sine oculi placidi, verecundi, composici", he says, "non torvi, quocl es[ truculenciae nun vagi ac volubiles, quod es[ insaniae. non limi quod est suspiciosorum et insidias molemium. : This can onlv with difficulty be cransla[ed withou[ an appreciable a!rtra[ion ot tone: a look is a sign of stupidi[y, srnring a sign of inenia; rhe looks of chose prone w anger are wo sharp; wo lively and eloquent [hose of the immodes[; if vour look shows a calm mind and a respectful amiabili[y, thar is best. Nor by do [he ancients say: the sear of [ht soul is in [he eyes . "Animi seclem esse in oculis ... Bodily carriage, gestures, dress, facial expressions-this "omward" behaviour wi[h which the treatise concerns irself is [he expression of die inner, rhe whole person. Erasmus knows [his and on occasion srn[es i[ explicidy: "Ai[hough chis omward bodily propriety proceeds from a well-composed mind. nevenheless we somerimes find [hat, for want of instruction, such grace is lacking in excellent and learned men ... There should be no snot on [ht nostrils, he says somewhat la[tr. A ptasam wipes his nose on his cap and cmu, a sausage maker on his arm and elbow. Ir does nor show much more propriety to use one's hand and dien wipe it on one's clothing. It is more decent w rake up [he snot in a clodi. preferably while rnrning away. If when blowing the nose wi[h [WO fingers some[hings falls w rhe ground. it muse be immedia[ely trodden away wi[h [ht foor. The same applies w spinle. \\/i[h [he same infinite care and maner-of-facrness with which chese things are said-[he mere mention of which shocks the "civilized" person of a later stage wi[h a different afftc[in: moulding-we art mid how one oughc rn si[ or greer. Gesrnres are described that have become strange w us. e . g., standing on one leg. And we migh[ reflect that many of the bizarre movements of walkers and dancers [ha[ we see in medieval paintings or srarnes do nor only represent the "manner" of die painter or sculpwr but also preserve acrnal gestures and movements cha[ have grown strange to us, embodiments of a different menrnl and emotional structure. The more one immerses oneself in the litde treatise, [he clearer becomes [his picture of a socie[y wi [h modes of behaviour in some respec[s rel aced to ours, and in many ways remo[t. \'Ve see people sta[td ar table: "A dextris si[ poculum, t [ culrellus escarius ri[e purgatus, ad laevam panis", says Erasmus. The goblt[ and [he well-cleaned knife on the right, on the lefr rhe bread. Tha[ is how [he rnble is laid. Most people carry a knife. hence the precept co keep it clean. Forks scarcely exist. or a[ mos[ for raking mea[ from the dish. Knives and spoons are very ofren used communally. There is no[ always a special implement for

As early as rhe six[eenrli century a panicular French [ypeface was giw:n rhe name cil'i!it,. afo:r a French work bv Marhurin Cordier which combined doctrines from Erasmus's trearist with [host of anodier humanise, Johannes Sulpicius. And a whole gtnrt of books. directly or indirectly influenced by Erasmus's [rta[ise, appeared under the title Cil'i!iti! or Ciriliti! p11t!1i/,; these were primed up w the encl of the eigh[eemh century in [his ciziliti! [ype.' _:; Here, as so ofren in the history of words, and as was w happen lacer in the de\elopmem of the concept of ciz'ilitu into cil'i!isation, an individual was the instigawr. By his rrearise. Erasmus ,gave new sharpness and impetus to the longesrablishecl and commonplace word cizi!it.rs \\fittingly or noc, he obviously expressed in i[ some[hing [hat me[ a social need of the [ime . The concept of "il'ilitas was hencefonh fixed in the consciousness of people with the special sense i[ received from his creacise . And corresponding words were developed in the various popular languages: the French ,-Jri!itu, the English "civility", the Iralian ciz'i/t,/, and [ht German Zizi!itdt, which. admittedly, was never so widely adopted as the corresponding \\ords in rhe ocher grta[ cul[ures. The more or less sudden emergence of words within languages nearly always points w changes in the lives of people themselves, panicularly when the new concep[s are dts[ined w become as central and long-lived as [hese Erasmus himself may nor have arcribmed any parcicular imponance w his shore creacise D, cil'ilit11h 11tff/t1111 p11i:1ili11111 wi[hin his coral fff:ttzrf:. He says in die imroclucrion [ha[ the an of forming young people involvc:s various disciplines, bm [ha[ [ht cirilir.rs 1i1om;11 is only one of [hem. and he does noc deny [ha[ ir is m;.rsns111!?! Jurs ld1t grosses[ pan of philosophy). This trta[ise has i[S special imporrnnce less as an individual phenomenon or work [han as a sympwm of change, an embodimtm of social processes. Abo\e all, i[ is [ht resonance, the c:levacion of dit [ide \\ore! tu a cemral expression of [ht st!f-imerprernriun of European socit[y. \vhich draws our acrencion w [his [rtatise. -!. \'Vhar is [ht trta[ise abom' Its [heme muse explain ro us for whar purpose and in wha[ sense die conctp[ was needed Ir mus[ conrnin indica[ions of [ht social changes and processes which made die word fashionable . Erasmus's book is abou[ somt[hing very simple: die behaviour of people in socit[y-above alL bm no[ solely. "outward bodily proprit[y .. It is dedicated w a noble boy, a prince's son, and written for the instruction of boys. It contains simple rhough[s delivered with grear seriousness, yer ar [he same rime wi[h much mockery and irony. in clear. polished language and wi[h enviable precision . It can be said [ha[ none of i[S successors ever equalled [his treatise in force, clarity and personal character. Looking more closely, one perceives beyond i[ a world and a pattern of life which in many respects are close w our own, yet in others still quire remo[e; [ht treatise points co acritudes that we have los[, [ha[ some among us would perhaps call "barbaric" or "uncivilized". It speaks of many

50
everyone: if you are offered some[hing liquid, says Erasmus, rns[t i[ and return [ht spoon afrer you han: wiped i[ \\'hen dishes of mea[ are broughc in, usually everyone ems himself a piece, takes i[ in his hand, and pms i[ on his pla[t: if [htrt are pla[eS, otherwise on a [hick slice of bread The expression Cji!t1dra used by Erasmus can clearly mean ei[her a mernl pla[t or a slice of bread "Quidam ubi ,ix bent considerim mox manus in epulas conjicium Some pm rlieir hands into the dishes when [hey are scarcely sta[tcl. says Erasmus . \Valves or glutwns du rliac. Do nor be [ht firsr w rnke from a dish [ha[ is brough[ in. Leave clipping your fingers imo rhe brorh w die peasants. Do no[ poke around in [ht dish bm rnke rhe firs[ piece [ha[ presents irself. And jus[ as i[ shows a want of forbearance w search [ht whole dish wi[h one's hand-" in omnes parinae plagas manum mi[[tre"-neirher is i[ very poli[t w turn [ht dish round so rhar a be[[er piece comes w you. \Vha[ you canno[ rnke wi[h your hands, rnke on your q1111d1t1. If someone passes you a piece of cake or pasuy wirli a spoon, ei[her rnke i[ wirli your or cake rhe spoon offered ro you, pm [ht food on rhe 'fl!t11!m and rernrn [ht spoon. As has been memioned. plares roo are uncommon . Paimings of table scenes from [his or earlier rimes always offer the same spectacle, unfamiliar to us, [hat is indica[ed by Erasmuss uea[ist . The rnblt is some[imes covered wirli rich clorlis, sometimes nor, bm always [here is little on ic: drinking vessels, sal[-cellar. knives. spoons, [ha[ is alL Somt[imes we see rhe slices of bread, die qN11drm, rha[ in French 'ire called tra11chr1ir or frti!!fJir. E,eryone, from [ht king and queen w die peasant and his wife, ta[s wi[h [ht hands. In [ht upper class [here are more refined forms of [his. One ough[ ro wash one's hands before a meal, says Erasmus. Bm there is as yer no soap for [his purpose. Usually [ht gues[S hold om rheir hands and a page pours wa[er over [hem. The warer is some[imes slighdy scented wirh chamomile or rosemary.' In good socit[y ont does no[ pm bmh hands inw rhe dish. fr is mos[ refined rn use only [hret fingers. This is one of rhe marks of disrinc[ion be[Wttn [ht upper and lower classes. The fingers become greasy.. "Digiws uncrns vel ore praelingere vel ad tunicam tx[ergere incivile es[ .. , says Erasmus. Ir is nm poli[t rn lick [hem or wipe rhem on ones coac Ofren you offer others your glass. or all drink from a communal rankard. Erasmus admonishes: "\Yipe your momh beforehand. You may want w offer someone you like some of rhe meat you are earing. "Refrain from [bar .. , says Erasmus. "i[ is nm very decorous w offer somerliing half-earen rn anmher." And he says further: .. To dip bread you have bi[[en into [he sauce is ro behave like a peasant. and i[ shows lirde elegance ro remove chewed food from die mou[h and put ir back on die q!!adri!. If you cannor swallow a piece of food, rnrn round discreedy and rl1row ir somewhere ... Then he says again: "Ir is good if conversation imerrup[s rhe meal from rime to rime. Some people ea[ and drink widiom stopping, nor because rhey are

in th1: B,hm'io!!r of th1: 51:mlc1r U/'/'1:1 C!t1ss1:s in the

\Vert

51

hungrv or diirs[y. bur because rhty can control rheir movemems in no other way. lia,e to scrn[ch rheir heads. poke dieir ree[h. gesricuhue wi[h rlieir hands, or play with a knife, or [hty canr help coughing, snoning, and spi[[ing. All rhis reallv comes from a rus[iC tmbarrassmtl1[ and looks likt a form of madness . B;t[ ir is also necessary, and possible, for Erasmus to say: Do nor expose widiom necessiry "die pans rn which Narnre has amiched modesty". Some prescribe, he says, rha[ boys should "rernin [he wind by compressing [he belly .. Bur vou can conrracr an illness [har way. And in anmher place: "Reprimere quern natura fen, ineprnrum es[, qui plus uibuunt civilirati, quam salmi" <Fools who value civiliry more rhan healrh repress narnral sounds) Do nm be afraid of vomi[ing if you musr; .. for ir is no[ vomiting bm holding the vomit in vour rhroa[ rha[ is fou1 S. \Virh grea[ care Erasmus marks our in his [rea[ise [ht whole range of human conduc[, rhe chief sirnarions of social and convivial life. He speaks wirh rhe same ma[[er-of-facrness of [he mosr elemel1[ary as of [he subdesr ques[ions of human imercourse In die firs[ chap[er he uta[S .. rhe seemly and unseemly condirion of rhe whole body .. , in rhe second "bodily culrure .. , in rhe rhird "manners a[ holy places". in die founh banquers, in die fifrh meerings, in rhe sixrh amusement and in the sevemh rhe bedchamber. This is die range of questions in die discussion of which Erasmus gave new impetus to the concepr of ciz'ilitas. Our consciousness is nor always able rn recall [his orlier srnge of our own hisrnry wirhou[ hesirnrion The unconcerned frankness wi[h which Erasmus and his rime could discuss all areas of human conduc[ is los[ rn us . Much of whar he says overS[tps our rhreshold of repugnance. Bm precisely this is one of rhe problems to be considered here . In rracing the mmsformarion of [he conctp[S by which differem socieries have [ried rn express [htmselves, in following back rhe concepr of civilizarion w ics ancesrnr ciz'i!itt!. one finds oneself suddenly on die [rack of die civilizing process i[stlf, of rhe acwal changes in behaviour [ha[ rnok place in rhe \Vesc Thar ir is embarrassing for us w speak or even hear of much rhar Erasmus discusses is one of rhe symptoms of [his process. The grea[er or lesser discomforr we feel rnwards people who discuss or mention their bodily funcrions more openly, who conceal and resuain [hese funcrions less dian we do, is one of rht dominant feelings expressed in die judgemem .. barbaric .. or "uncivilized" Such, dien, is [he nature of 'barbarism and i[S discoments .. or, in more precise and less evaluarive rerms, [he discomem wirh [he different suucture of affecrs, the clifferem srnndard of repugnance which is srill ro be found roday in many socie[ies which we rerm 'uncivilized", [he srnndard of repugnance which preceded our own and is i[s precondition. The question arises as rn how and why \\ies[ern socie[y actually moved from one srandard to die orlier, how ir became "civilized". In considering this process of civilizarion, we cannm avoid arousing feelings of discomfon and embarrassment . Ir is valuable w be aware of rhem fr is necessary. a[ leas[ while considering [his

5.:2

Thi Ci1'i/i::;i11g Pmn:ss

53
The Middle Ages have left us an abundance of information on what was considered socially acceptable behaviour at the rime. Here, too, precepts on conduct while earing had a special importance . Earing and drinking then occupied a far more central position in social life than roclay, when rhey provicle-freguently, nor always-rather the framework and introduction for conversation and conviviali ry. Learned ecclesiastics sometimes set clown. in Larin, precepts for behaviour rhar tescir}' to rhe sranclarcl of their society. Hugh of Sr Victor (cl. 11-i 1), in his De imtit11tionc n1t1itiam111, is concerned wich rhese guesrions among ochers. The baptized Spanish Jew Petrus Alphonsi deals with them in his Discij1!inc1 clericalis of rhe early twelfth cemury; Johannes von Garland devotes ro manners, and particularly ro rable manners, a number of rhe 66.:2 Larin verses bearing the ride 1\Iora!c scol11ri11111 of 1.:24 l. Besides these precepts on behaviour from rhe Larin-speaking clerical society, rhere are, from abour rhe thirteenth cenrnry on, corresponding documents in the various lay languages-above all, at tirsr, from rhe courts of the warrior nobility. The earliest records of the manners prevalent in the secular upper class are doubtless those from Provence and neighbouring, culmrally related Italy. The earliest German work on m111loisie is also by an Italian, Thomasin von Zirklaria, and is called The ltalic111 Guest (Der ll'iilsdx Gt1st, pm inro modern German by Ruckerr) Another "courroisie-rexr" by Thomasin, in Italian, rransmirs to us in irs German ride an early form of rhe concept of "courcesy" (Hiijfic/;kuit) He refers rn this book. which has been lost. as a "buoch von der htifscheir" Originating from the same knighdy-courdy circle are the fifty Cr;11r!dics by Bonvicino da Riva and rhe Hof;:.11cht (Courdy manners) attribured to Tannh;iuser. Such precepts are also occasionally found in the great epic poems of knightly society, e . g .. rhe Roman ck !t1 r11se" of rhe fourteenth century. John Russell's Book of N11rt11r,, written in English verse probably in the fifteenth century, already gives a complete compendium of behaviour for rhe young nobleman in rhe service of a great lord, as does more briefly The Bah11s Bor,k. In addition there is, primarily in fourcetnth- or fifreemh-cenrury wrsions bur probably, in pare, older in subsrnnce, a whole series of poems designed as mnemonics to inculcate table manners, Tisch:;11d1tw of varying length and in rhe most diverse languages. Learning by heart as a means of educating or conditioning played a far greater part in medieval society, where books were comparatively rare and expensive, than it does roday, and these rhymed precepts were one of rhe means used ro rry ro impress on people's memories what rhey should and should nor do in society, above all at table . .:2. These Tisch:;11ch1c11, or rable disciplines, like medieval writings on manners of known amhorship, are nor individual products in rhe modern sense, records of the personal ideas of particular people within an extensively individualized society. \Vhar has come down to us in writing are fragments of a great oral

process. ro arrempr ro suspend all the feelings of embarrassment and superiority, all the value judgements and criticisms associated with the concepts "civilization" or "uncivilized" Our kind of beha\iour has grown our of rhar which \ve call uncivilized Bur rhese concepts grasp the actual chan!2;e roo srarirnllv and coarsely, In reality, our terms "civilized" and "uncivilized" nor constiCL;te an anti thesis of rhe kind rhar exists between "good .. and "bad", bur represent stages in a development which. moreover, is srill continuing. Ir might well happen rhar our stage of civilization, our behaviour, will arouse in our descendants feelings of embarrassment similar ro those we somenmes feel concerning rhe behaviour of our ancesrors. Social behaviour and rhe expression of emotions passed from a form and a standard which was nor a beginning, which could nor in am absolure ro our own, we and undifferentiated sense be designar;d denote by rhe word "civilized". And ro uncle rs rand the latter we musr go back in rime ro rhar from \vhich ir emerged. The 'civilization .. which we are accusromed ro regard as a possession rhar comes ro us apparendy ready-made, wirhour our asking how we actually came ro possess it, is a process or part of a process in which we are ourselves involved Every particular characteristic char we arrribure ro it-machinery, scientific discmery. forms of rhe scare or whatever else-bears witness ro a particular srrucrure of human relations, ro a particular social srrucrure, and to the corresponding forms of behaviour The guesrion remains whether rhe change in behaviour, in the social process of rhe "civilization" of people, can be understood, ar least in isolated phases and in its elementary features. with any degree of precision.

:10

II

On Medieval Manners
In Erasmus of Rotterdam's De cizilitate 111om111 ji11trilim11 a particular kind of social behaviour is discernible Even here, the simple antithesis of "ci\ilized" and "uncivilized" hardly a1:lplies. \Vhar came before Erasmus' \Vas he the first to concern himself with such matters' By no means Similar guesrions occupied the people of rhe i\ficldle Ages, of Greco-Roman antiguiry, and cloubdess also of the related, preceding "civilizations" This process has no beginning, and here we cannot trace ir back inclefinirelv. \X'herever we start, there is movement, something that went before. Limits necessarily be set to a retrospective inguiry. preferably corresponding ro the phases of the process itself. Here the medieval srandarcl must suffice as a startin"point, withour itself being closely examined, so that the movement, rhe curve development joining ir ro rhe modern age may be pursued

54
uadirion. reflections of what acwally was customary in that society: these fragments are significant precisely because they transmit not the great or the exuaordinary but the typical aspens of sociecy.. Enon poems handed down under a specific name, like Tannhiiusers or John Russell's Br;r1k o/ Siirt!lr,, are nothing ocher than individual versions of one of rhe many strands of uadition corresponding to the strucrnre of this society. Those who wrote them down wtre noc tht legislators or creators of these precepts but collectors. arrangers of the commands and taboos customary in their society; for this reason, whether or not there is a literary connection. similar precepts recur in almost all these writings. They are reflections of rhe same customs. testimonies to a particular standard of beha\iour and emotions in rhe life of society itself Ir is perhaps possible on closer examination to discover certain differences of customs berwten individual national traditions, and variations in the social standards. Ptrhaps the material may also reveal certain changts within rhe same tradition. It appears, for example, that rht tenor and perhaps also the cusroms of society underwent certain changes in the fourteemh or fifteenth century with the rise of guild and burgher elements. much as more recently behavioural models originating in the court aristocracy were adopted in bourgeois circles. A closer srndy of these modifications within medieval behaviour remains to be carried our Ir must suffice here to note them, bearing in mind that this medieval standard was noc wirhom inner movemem and certainly was not a beginning or ""bottom rung .. of rhe process of civilization: nor does it represent, as has sometimes been asserted, the "stage of barbarism .. or that of "primitiveness'" It was a different standard from our own-whether better or worse is not here at issue. And if, in our 1"ch1:1th1: d11 tt111/1s f'trc!H, we ha\'e been led back step by step from the eighteenth to the sixteenth and from the sixteenth ro rhe thirteenth and twelfth cenrnries. this does not imply that we are. as already stared. in anticipation of finding the "beginning'" of the process of civilization It is a sufficient task for present purposes, ro rake the short journey from the mediernl to the early modern stage in an attempt ro understand what acrnally happened to human beings in rhis transition _;. The standard of "'good behaviour'" in the Middle Ages was, like all later standards. represented by a quire definite concept. Through it the secular upper cL1ss of the Middle Ages, or at least some of its leading groups, ga\'e expression to their self-image, to what, in their own estimation, made them exceptional. The concept epitomizing aristocratic self-consciousness and socially acceptable behaviour appeared in French as co11rtoisie, in English as "courtesy .. , in Inilian as corfr:;ia, along with other related terms, ofren in divergent forms. In Germ<rn it was, likewise in different versions. hiinschcit or hiibr:scheit and also :;11ht. All these concepts referred quire directly (and far more oYertly than later ones with rhe same function) ro a particular place in society They say: That is how people behave at court. By these terms certain leading groups in the secular upper
SEf'1 [Lln1 '

55
which does not mean the knightlv class as a whole, but primarilv the ' ., courdv circles around the great feudal lords, designated what distinguished them in the.ir own eyes, m1mely the specific code of behaviour that first formed at the l!rtat feudal courts. then spread to rather broader strata: this process of :liffertntiarion may, however, be disregarded here . Measured against later periods. rht great uniformity in rhe good and bad m<rnners referred ro--what is called here a particular "srnndard'"-is especially impressive \vhat was this standard like' \Vhat emerges as typical behaviour, as the pervasive character of its precepts' Something, in the first place. rhar in comparison to later times might be Gllled irs simplicity. its 11ai"rtte There are, as in all societies where the emotions are expressed more violently and directly. fewer psychological nuances and complexities in the general stock of ideas. There are friend and foe, desire and aversion, good and bad people
'{ou should i"ollo\\" honourable men and Yem your \\r,1ch on die wicked.

\Ve read this in a German transbtion of the Disticht1 Ct1tl)11is,s the code of beh<ffiour encountered throughout rhe Middle Ages under the name of Caro. Or in another place:
\\ihen your companions angtc you. my son, set char niu art nor so hoc-rtmptred char
you regret ir afterwards.q

In eating, roo. everything is simpler, impulses and inclinations are less restrained:
,-\ man of rttintmenr should not slurp from cht same spoon wich somebody else: chis
is rht: \vay to behan: for at court 'sho oftt:n confronrt:cl with unrefined

conduce

This is from Tannhiiusers Hof:11cht. 1" Hiihsch1: Lu11h (fine people) were rhe nobles. were meant expressly for the the courtly people. The precepts of rhe upper class, the knights who liwd at court Noble. courteous behaviour was constantly contrasted to "coarse manners". the conduct of peasants
Some people bite a slice and then clunk it in the dish in a coarse way: refined people re jeer such bad manners
11

If you have taken a bite from rhe bread, do not clip it in the common dish again
Peasants may do that, not '"fine people'"
A number o( people gnaw a bone and then put ic back in che dish-chis is a serious offence

56

Th, Ciz'ilizing Pm1us

Ch,111g.:s i11 the Bclh1611111 11/ ihc S,mfar Uj1/1t1 Classes i11 the \Vi:st

57

Do not throw gnawed bones back into the communal dish. From other accounts we know rhar it was customary to drop them on the floor. Another precept reads:
A man who dears his rhroat when he ears and om: who blows his nose in the rableclorh are both ill-bred. I assure ,ou. 1

Here is another:
If a man wipes his nose on his hand at table because ht knows no better. then he is a fool. believe me. 1 '

To use the hand to wipe one's nose was a matter of course. Handkerchiefs did not yet exisc. But at rnble a cerrnin care should be exercised; and one should on no account blow one's nose into the tablecloth. Avoid li1;-smackinu and snortinu b b' eaters are fi.ircher instructed:
If a man snorts like a seal when he ears. as some people do. and smacks his chops like a Bavarian yokel. he has ;rinn up all good breeding.''

If you have to scratch yourself. do not do so wi rh your bare hand but use your coat:
Do not SCC<lpt your throat "irh your bare hand while earing: bur it you have ro. do ir polirtly with your coat. 1''

Everyone used his hands to take food from the common dish. For this reason one was nor to touch one's ears. nose, or eyes:
Ir is nor decent ro poke your fingers inro your ears or eyes. as some people do. or ro pick your nose while earing These three habits are bad. 1-

Hands must be washed before meals:


I hear that some ear unwashed (it ir is true. it is a bad sign). May their fingers be palsied! 1'

And in Ei11 .1j1mch dll :::i: tischi: ki:rt (A word to those at table) 19 , another Tischz11d1t which Tannhauser's HfJ/:wcht has many affinities with and echoes of. it is demanded that one eat wirh only one hand, and if one is earing from rhe same plate or slice of bread as another, as often happened, with the outside hand:
You should always ear wirh the omside hand: if your companion sirs on your right, ear with your left hand Refrain from earing \\irh both hands?'

If you have no rowel, we read in rhe same work, do not wipe your hands on your coat but let rhe air dry rhem. 21 Or:
Take care rhar. whatever your need. you do not flush with embarrassment."

Nor is it good manners co loosen one's belt at rable. 2 i

All rhis was said co adults, nor only to children. From rhe sranclpoint of our feelings today, these are very elementary precepts tO be giYen tO upper-class people, more elemenrnry in many respects dmn what, ar the present stage of behaviour, is generally acceprecl as rhe norm in rural-peasant srrara. And rhe sanw standard emerges wirh certain variations from rhe c1111rtois writings of orher linguistic areas. cL In che case of one of these different strands of rradirion, which leads from certain Larin forms primarily ro French, but perhaps also co Italian and co a Proven<;al code of cable manners, a compilarion has been made of the rules recurring in most or all of rhe variants. 2 ' They are by and large the same as in rhe German Tischwchten. First there is the instruction tO say grace, which is also found in Tannhiiuser. Again and again we find the injunctions to rake one's allotted place and nor ro couch one's nose and ears ar cable . Do nor put your elbow on the table, they often say. Show a cheerful countenance. Do not talk too much. There are very frequent reminders not ro scratch oneself or fall greedily on rhe food. Nor should one put a piece char one has had in one's mouth back into the communal dish; rhis, coo, is often repeated. Not less frequent is rhe instruction ro wash one's hands before earing, or nor to clip food into rhe saltcellar. Then it is repeated over and over again: do nor clean your ceeth wich your knife. Do not spit on or over rhe table. Do not ask for more from a dish that has already been taken away. Do nor let yourself go ar table is a frequent command. \'Vipe your lips before you drink. Say nothing disparaging about rhe meal nor anything that might irritate others. If you have clipped bread inco rhe wine, drink it up or pour the resr away. Do not dean your teeth with the tablecloth. Do not offer others rhe remainder of your soup or the bread you have already bicten into. Do not blow your nose too noisily. Do not fall asleep at cable. And so on. Indications of the same code of good and bad manners are also found in other collections of related mnemonic verses on etiquette, in traditions not directly relarecl co rhe French one just mentioned. All bear witness to a certain standard of relationships between people, to the structure of medieval society and of ti1e medieval psyche . The similarities between these collections are sociogenetic and psychogeneric: rhere may but need not be a literary relationship between all rhese French, English, Italian, German and Latin precepts. The differences between them are less significant than rhe common fearures, which correspond ro the unity of actual behaviour in rhe mediernl upper class, measured against rhe modern period. For example, the Co11rtesies of Bonvicino cla Riva, one of rhe most personal and-in keeping with Italian development-most "advanced" of table guides, contains, apart from rhe precepts mentioned from the French collection, the instructions to turn round when coughing and sneezing, and nor to lick one's fingers. One should, he says, refrain from searching out rhe best pieces in rhe

58

The Ciz'i!i:::i11g Prr1ct.rs

i11 th, Bcl.urifllll' rr/ the Stm!ar Upper C!t1ssts i11 the \Vi:st

59

dish, and cm rhe bread decendy. One should nor touch rht rim of rhe communal glass with one's fingers. and one should hold the glass with borh hands. Bm here. mo, the tenor of co111"toisie, rhe standard. the customs are by and large the same. And it is nor uninreresring rhar when Bonvicino cla Riva's Co!!rttsiu were re\ised rhrte centuries afrer him. of all rhe rules given by Da Riva only two nor \'try imporrant ones were al rt red: the edi mr advises nor w much rhe edge of the communal glass and ro hold it with both hands. and if seYeral art drinking from rhe same glass. ont should refrain altogether from dipping bread inw ir (Da Riva only required rhar rht \\ine rhus used should be ripped away or drunkJ."' A similar picrurt could be drawn from rht German uadirion. German Tisch:::11d>ten, of which we ha Ye copies from rht fifteenth century, are perhaps somewhar coarser in tont rhan rhe ltC1!ic111 Guest of Thomasin von Zirklaria or Tannhaustr's Hrf:;!!cht from rht rhirreenth cenrury. Bur rhe standard of good and bad manners seems scarcely ro have alrerecl to any considerable exrent. Ic has been pointed om thar in one of the later codes which has much in common with the earlier ones already rnenrioned. rhe new injuncrion appears char ont should spic nor on rhe cable bur only under it or against rhe wall. And rhis has been interprerecl as a sympwm of a coarsening of manners. Bm ir is more rhan questionable whether things were clone very differently in rhe preceding cenruries, particularly as similar precepts from earlier periods are rransmirctd by rhe French tradition, for example. And what is to be derived from lirerarure in rhe broadest sense is confirmed by paintings. Here, roo, more derailed sruclies are needed: bm compared w rhe lacer age, picrures of people ar cable show. until well into the fifreenrh century, very sparse cable mensils, even if, in some derails, ctrrain changes are uncloubredly present, In rht houses of rhe more wealthy, the plarrers are usually raken from the sideboard, frequendy in no particular order. EYeryont rakes--or sends for-what he fancies ac rhe momenr. People help themselves from communal dishes. Solids (above all. meat) are taken by hand. liquids with ladles or spoons. Bm soups and sauces are still very frequendy drunk. Plates and dishes art lifred ro rhe momh. For a long period, coo, rhere are no special implementsJor clifferenr foods. The same knife or spoon is used. The same glasses are drunk from. Frequendy rwo diners ear from rhe same board . This was, if ir may so be called. rhe standard earing technique during rhe Middle Ages, Ir corresponded co a \ery particular sranclarcl of human rtlarionshi ps and structure of feelings. \Vi chin rhis standard there was, as has been said, an abundance of rnodificarions and nuances . If people of different rank were taring at rhe same rime, rhe person of higher rank was given precedence when washing hands, for example, or when raking from rhe dish. The forms of utensils varied considerably in rhe course of centuries . There were fashions, bm also a very definite rrend char persisred through the flucruacions of fashion. The secular upper class, for example. indulged in extraordinary luxury at table Ir was nor a poverry of utensils char maintained rhe standard, ir was quire simply char

.n" else was needed . To ear in chis fashion was raken for granred. Ir suired 11 b nor1 these people, Bm ir also suited chem co make visible rheir wealth and rank by the opulence of their mensils and cable decoration. Ar rhe rich tables of rhe diirreenth century the spoons were of gold. crystal. coral. ophite. Ir was occasionally menrioned rhar during Lent knives wirh ebony handles are used. at faisrer knives with ivory handles, and inlaid knives ar \Vhirsun. The soup-spoons were round and rather flat co begin with, so char one was forced when using rhem ro open one's momh wide . From rhe fourteenth cenrury onwards, soupspoons rook on 1!1 oval form. Ar rhe encl of rhe Middle Ages rhe fork appeared as an instrument for raking food from rhe common dish . A whole dozen forks are w be found among rhe valuables of Charles V The inventory of Charles of Savoy, which is \'try rich in opulent cable mensils. counts only a single fork. 2'' 5. Ir is sometimes said, "How far we have progressed beyond rhis sranclarcl", although ir is not usually quite clear who is rht "we" with whom rhe speaker idenrities on such occasions, as if he or she dtstrwd pan of rhe credit. The opposite judgement is also possible: "\Vhar has really changedi A few customs, no more ... And some observers seem inclined co judge these customs in much rhe same way as one would today judge children: "If a man of sense had come and told rhese people char rheir practices were unappetizing and unhygienic, if rhty had been caught ro ear with knives and forks. these bad manners would rapidly have disappeared ... Bur fCJrms of conduce while earing cannor be isolated . They are a segment-a ycry characteristic one-of rht roraliry of socially instilled forms of conduce Their standard corresponds ro a quire definite social structure. Ir remains to be ascertained what chis srrucrure is, The forms of behaviour of medieval people were: no less rightly bound to their total way of life. co rhe whole structure of their existence. than our own behaviour and social code are bound ro ours At rimes, some minor srnremtnt shows how firmly mored chest customs were, and makes ir apparent rhar rhey musr be understood nor merely as something "negative", as a "lack of civilization" or of "knowledge" (as iris easy to suppose from our sranclpointl, bm as something char fitted rhe needs of rhese people and rhar seemed meaningful and necessary ro chem in exactly this form In rhe eleventh century a Venetian doge married a Greek princess. In her Bvzantine circle the fork was clearlv in use, At anv rare, we hear rime she lifted fo.od to her momh "by means of golden with rwo prongs".'This gave rise in Venice w a dreaclfi.11 scandal: "This novelty was regarded as so excessive a sign of refinement char rhe dogaressa was severely rebuked by rhe ecclesiasrics who called clown divine wrarh upon her. Shortly afterward she was afflicted by a repulsiYe illness and Sr Bonaventure did not hesitare co declare that chis was a punishment of Goel ... Five more cenrurits were to pass before rhe srrucrure of human relarions had

60

Th, Ciz"i!izing Pmt'<Ss

ii! the Bd1,11i1Ji!r of the Semlar Uj>/1tr C!c1sses in the West

61

so changed char che use of chis inscrumem mer a more general need. From che sixceemh cemury on. ac lease among che upper classes, cht fork came imo use as an earing inscrumem. arriving by way of Irnly firsc in France and chen in England and Germany. after having served for a time only for caking solid foods from che dish. Henri III broughc ic to France. probably from Venice. His courciers were nor a licde derided for chis "affecced" manner of earing. and ac firsc chey were nor very adepc in che use of cht inscrumem: ac least it was said chat half the food fell off che fork as it travelled from plate ro momh As late as che sevtmtenth cemury rhe fork was scill essemially a luxury article of the upper class. usually made of gold or silver. \\!hac we rake emirely for gramed, because we have been adaprtd and condicioned ro chis social srnndard from earliesc childhood. had firsc ro be slowly and laboriously acquired and developed by sociecy as a whole This applies to such a small and seemingly insignificam ching as a fork no less than ro forms of behaviour that appear ro us larger and more imporrnnr. 2H However, the attitude that has just been described cowards che "innovation" of che fork shows one ching wich special claricy. People who are rogechtr in che way cusromary in rhe Middle Ages, caking mear with their fingers from che same dish. wine from che same gabler, soup from rhe same pot or rhe same place, with all the other peculiarities of which examples have been and will furchtr be given-such people srood in a differem relationship ro one another than wt do . And chis involves not only rhe level of clear, rational consciousness; their emotional life also had a different suucrnre and characrer. Their affecrs were conditioned ro forms of relationship and conduct which, by roday's standard of conditioning, are embarrassing or at lease unattractive. \\!hat was lacking in this coiirtois world, or ac lease had nor been developed ro che same degree, was che invisible wall of affecrs which seems now ro rise becween one human body and anocher. repelling and separating, che wall which is ofren percepcible roday at che mere approach of someching that has been in comacr with rhe momh or hands of someone else. and which manifescs itself as embarrassmem at the mere sight of many bodily functions of others, and ofren at cheir mere mention, or as a feeling of shame when one's own functions are exposed ro the gaze of ochers, and by no means only chen.

between chose of cht Middle Ages and modern rimes. Erasmus's treatise,_ the high . i n rhe succession of humanist writings on manners, also has chis double point . . . . . . . face. In many respects it stands ennrely w1chm medieval cradmon . A good part of the rules and precepcs from rhe L'Oi!l'toi.r writings recur in his treatise. Bm at che 1t clear!\ contains the beginnings of something new. In it a concept was 1 '"'' sarne tjm., ._,
L-,_

gradually developing which was to force the knightly-feudal concepc of courtesy inro the background. In che course of the sixreemh century the use of the conctpt pf ((!/!l'toisie slowly receded in the upper class, while ciz'i!iti grew more common and finally gained the upper hand, <lt lease in France, in the sevemetmh cenrun. This is a sign of a behavioural change of considerable proportions. Ir did not rake place, of course, in such a way that one ideal of good behaviour W<lS suddenly_ opposed by anocher radically differem from ir.. The De cil'i!itafr 111o;i1111 /Jiitri!i111il ot Erasmus-ro confine che discussion ro chis work for che time being-stood in roam rtspecrs. as we have said, entirely within medieval tradicion. Almost all the of coi!rtois sociecy reappeared in ir. Mtac was still eaten wich the hand, even if Erasmus scressed that ir should be picked up \vi ch d1fte fingers, nor the whole hand. The precept nor ro fall upon the meal like a glutton was also repeated. as were the direcrion to wash one's hands before dining and cht strictures on spitting. blowing che nose, the use of the knife, and many ochers . Ir may be char Erasmus knew one or another of the rhymed Ti.rch:::i!chtw or the clerical wricings in which such questions were treated. Many of these writings were no doubt in circulation: it is unlikely that chey escaped Erasmus. More precisely demonstrable is his relation to the herirage of antiquity. In rht case of this ueacise, it was pardy shown by che commentaries of his contemporaries. Its place in rhe rich humanist discussion of these problems of education and propriety remains ro be examined in more derail co' Bm whatever rht licerary interconnections may be. of primary inrtresc in chis context art rht sociogenetic ones . Erasmus certainly did nor merely compile this treatise from other books; like anyone who reflects on such quescions, he had a particular social code, a particular standard of manners direcdv before his eves. This ueatise on manners is a collection of observations from r,he life of hi; society. Ir is, as someone said later, "a little the work of evervone". And if noching else. its success. its rapid dissemination. and ics use as an educational manual for boys show how much ir mer a social need. and how it recorded rhe models of behaviour for which the time was ripe, which society-or, more exactly, the upper class first of all-demanded. 2 Sociecy was 'in cransirion". So, roo, were works on manners. Even in the tone. the m;mner of seeing, we feel char despite all their atrachment ro the 1fiddle Ages someching new was on the way "Simplicity" as we experience ir, the simple opposition of 'good" and "bad", "pious" and "wicked", had been lose. People saw chings with more differemiarion. i.e., with a scronger restraint of their emocions.

rule;

III
The Problem of the Change in Behaviour during the Renaissance
1 Diel che thresholds of embarrassment and shame advance at the time of Erasmus' Does his treatise conrnin indications char the frontiers of sensibility and the reserve which people expected of each other were increasing' There are good reasons for supposing so. The humanists works on manners form a kind of bridge

62

Th, Ci1iii::i11g Pmce_r_r


,111 cl r lle

It is not so much. or at least nor exclusively. the rules themselves or the manners to which they refer that distinguish a pan of the humanistic \Hitingsabovt all. rhe treatise of Erasmus-from the cr1i1rt11i_c codes. It is first of all their tone. their way of seeing . The same social rules which in rhe .Middle Ages \HTe passed impersonally from mouth to momh were now spoken in the manner and with the emphasis of someone who was nor merely passing on tradition. no matter how many medieval and. above all. ancient \Vfitings he may have absorbed. bur who had obser.-ecl all this personally. who was recording experienci:. Even if chis were nor seen in Dr cfrilih1!t JIJ(Ji!f/JJ /'!ltri!i1m1 irstlf. wt should know it from Erasmus's earlier writings. in which the permeation of medieval and ancient tradition with his own experience was expressed perhaps more clearly and directly. In his Cu!!uq11ir:s, which in pan cerrainly draw on ancient models (above all, Lucian). and particularly in the dialogue Diz ersori::1 (Basel, 15 ), Erasmus described directly experiences elaborated in the later crearist. The Din:;_rr1ric1 is concerned with the difference between manners at German and French inns. Ht describes. for example. the interior of a German inn some eighty or ninety people are sirring together. and ir is stressed that they are nor only common people bur also rich men and nobles. men. women and children, all mixed rogtrher. And each is doing what he or she considers necessary. One W<lShts his clothes and hangs the soaking articles on rhe srove. Another washes his hands. Bur the bowl is so clean. says the speaker. rhar one needs a second one ro cleanse oneself of the \\arer. Gari ic smells and other bad odours rise. Peoplt spit everywhere. Someone is cleaning his boots on the table. Then the meal is brought in. Everyone clips their bread inro the general dish. bites the bread and dips it in again . The place is dirty, the wine bad And if one asks for a better wine the innkeeper replies: I have put up enough nobles and counts. If it does nor suit you. look for other quarters The stranger ro the country has a particularly difficult rime. The ochers stare at him fixedly as if he were a fabulous animal from /1.frica . .i\foremer. these people acknowledge as human beings only the nobles of their own country The room is overheated; everyone is swearing and steaming and wiping rhemsehes. There are doubtless many among them who bane some hidden disease: "Probably'. says the speaker. "most of them have the Spanish disease. and are thus no less ro be feared than lepers .... "Brave people". says the other. "they jest and care nothing for ir. .. "But this bravery has already cost many lives ... "\Vhat are they to do' They are used to ir. and a srout-heanecl man does not break with his habits ... 3. It can be seen char Erasmus, like others who wrote before or after him about conduct. was in the first place a collector of good and bad manners that he found present in social life itself Ir is primarily this that explains both the agreement

. differences between such \Hirers Thar their writings do not contain as . much as others to which we habitually give more atttnt!On. the exuaorclm'.1n 'd t- in oursrnnclinu incli\idual., that the\are forced b\ their subject irsdt to. o . .

. . cl(Jsch uiws them rheir special siu:nihcance as a source of ao'l1ere - . to social realit\". . u . . ._ iuformarion on social processes But che observations of Erasmus on this subject are nevertheless to be od 1lon" with a few b\- other authors from the same phase. among che num ber c ' ' o . ons in rhe tradition of wririnu: exctp tl ._ on manners For in them the presentation

of partly very anciem precepts and commands was permeated by a very

individual cemperamenc And precisely that was. in irs turn. a "sign of rhe es of <l transformation of societ\". of what is n ex1)rtssion (!!11 '1 . a s\mptom somewhat misleadingly called "individualiz,uion" It also points to something else: rhe problem of behaviour in society had obviously taken on such importance in this period that even people of extraordinary talent and renown did nor disdain to concern rhemsehes with it. Later chis task fell back in ,u:eneral to minds of rhe second and rhird rank. who imitated. cominued. extended. thus gi\inu: rise once more. ewn if nor so strong!\ as in the .i\{iddle Ages, to a more impe;sonal tradition of books on manners The social rninsirions connected with the changes in conduct. manners and feelin(.(s of embarrassment will be dealt with more specifirnlly later. Howtncr. an of them is needed here for an understanding of Erasmus's own position, and therefore of his way of speaking ,1bour manners. Eni;muss ue<1tise came <lt a rime of social restructuring. Ir is rhe expression of rhe fruitful transitional period after the loosening of the medieval social hierarchy and before the stabilizing of the modern one. Ir belonged ro the phase in which rhe old nobility of feudal knights \\as still in decline, while che new aristocracy of d1e absolutist courcs was still in rhe process of formariC1n This situation gave, among or hers. the representatives of a small. secular-bourgeois intellectual class. rhe humanists. and thus Erasmus. not only <in opportunity to rise in social station. to gain renown and authority. but also a possibility of candour anJ detachment that was not present to the same degree ei rher before or afterwards . This chance of distancing themselves, which permitted individual representatives of rhe intellectual class ro totally and unconditionally \\irh none of the social groups of their world-though. of course. they ahn1ys stood closer w one of them. that of rhe princes and the courts, rhan ro rhe ochers-also finds Erasmus in no way overlooked or expression in De ciri!itaff JiM"ilill conceiled social differences. He saw very exactly that che real nurseries of what was regarded as good manners in his rime were the princely courts He says. for example, to the young prince ro whom he dedicated his treatise: "I shall address your youth on rhe manners firring ro a boy nor because you are so greatly in need of these precepts: from childhood you have been educated among courtly people

64

Th, Ciz'i!i::ing Process


re lariv\,.. .

Changer in tlx Bchm'io!!r of tht Stmlc1r Upj1tr C!m-se.r i11 the YVtst

65

and you early had an excellent instructor or because all chat is said in this treatise applies to you; for you are of princely blood and are born to rule ... But Erasmus also manifested. in a particularly pronounced form, the characteristic self-confidence of rhe intelltcrnal who has ascended through knowledge and writing. who is legitimized by books, rhe self-assurance of a member of the humanistic intellectual class who was able ro keep his distance even from ruling strata and their opinions, however bound to chem he may have been . "Modesty, abon' all, befits a boy", he says ar rht close of the dedication ro the young prince, "and particularly a noble boy' And he also says: Tet others paint lions, eagles, and ocher creatures on their coats of arms. More true nobili ry is possessed by chose who can inscribe on their shields all chat they have achieved through rhe cultivation of rhe arts and sciences . This W<lS the language. rhe typical self-image of the intellectual in chis phase of social development. The sociogtnetic and psychogeneric kinship of such ideas with chose of the German intellectual class of rhe eighteenth century, who legitimized themselws by means of concepts such as Kdt11r and Bi/Jiiiig. is immediately visible. But in the period immediately afrer Erasmuss rime, few people would have had the assurance or even the social opportunity ro express such rhoughrs openly in a dedication ro a noble . \'Vith the increasing srnbilizarion of rhe social hierarchy, such an utterance would have been increasingly seen as an error of tact. perhaps even as an arrack . The most exact observance of differences of rank in behaviour became from now on rhe essence of courtesy. the basic requirement of cici!iti, at least in France. The arisrocracy and rhe bourgeois intelligemsia mixed socially, but ir was an imperative of tact ro observe social differences and ro give them unambiguous expression in soci<1l conduct. In Germany, by contrast, there was always, from rhe rime of rhe humanises onwards, a bourgeois intelligentsia whose members, with few exceptions. li\ed more or less in isolation from arisrocraric court socien-. an intellectual class of specificalhmiddle-class characrer. 4. The development of German writings on manners and the way these writings differed from rhe French give numerous clear illusrrations of this . Ir \\ould lead wo far ro pursue this here in derail. bm one need only think of a work like Dedekinds G1obim!!!s;" and its widely disseminated ,ind influential German translation by Kaspar Scheidt to be aware of rhe difference. The whole German g1ohia11isch (boorish) literature in which, spiced with mockery and scorn. a very serious need for a "softening of manners" finds expression, shows unambiguously and more purely than any of the corresponding traditions of other nationalities the specifically miclclle-class character of its writers. who included Protestant clergymen and teachers. And the case is similar wirh most of what was written in the ensuing period about manners and etiquette in Germany.. Certainly. manners here wo were scamped primarily at rhe courts: but since the social walls between the bourgeoisie and the court nobility are

hi "h the later bourgeois am hors of books on manners usually spoke of o ' .__ . .1s something alien chat had ro be learned because chat was the way dungs nem , l were done at court. However familiar wirh the subject these authors may h<1ve , _ tl1ev s1Joke of it as omsiclers, wry often with noticeable clumsiness fr was Dt:tll, . . a rdarively constriettd, regional and penurious intellectual srratum which wrote in Germany in rhe following period, and particularly after rhe Thirty Years \'Var. And only in the second half of rhe eighteenth century, when the German bourgeois intelligentsia, as a kind of vanguard of the commercial bourgeoisie._ atwined new oppormnities for social advancement and rather more freedom or movement, do we again hear the language and expression of a self-image related tO that of rhe humanists, especially Erasmus. Even now, however, rhe nobles were hardlr ever wld so openly that all their coats of arms were worth less rhan the of rhe artcs !ibtrales, even if this was ofren enough what was really meanL \'Vhat has been shown in the introductory chapter on the movement of the late eighteenth century goes back ro a far older tradition, ro a pervasive structural cl;aracteristic of German society following the particularly vigorous development of the German cities and burgher class cowards rhe encl of the i\Iiclclle Ages. In France, and periodically in England and Italy also, a proportion of the bourgeois writers felt rhemselvts ro belong ro the circles of the court arisrocracies: in Germany this was far less rhe case. In the other countries, bourgeois writers did not write largely for the court-arisrocratic circles bm also identified with their manners, cusroms and views. In Germany this identification of memb;rs of the intelligentsia with the courdy upper class was much weaker, less taken for granted and far more rare. Their dubious position (along with a certain mistrust of those who legitimized themselves primarily by their manners, courtesy and ease of behaviour) was part of a long tradition, particularly as the values of the German court arisrncracy-which was split up into numerous greater or lesser circles. not unified in a large, central "Society', and moreover bureaucratized at an early stage-could not be as fully cultivated as in the \"lesrern countries. Instead, there emerged here more sharply than in the Western countries a split between rhe university-based culrural-bureaucraric tradition of Kult!!r of the middle class, on the one hand, and the no less bureaucratic military tradition of the nobility. on the ocher 5 Erasmus's treatise on manners had an influence both on Germany and on England, France and Italy. \"!hat linked his attitude with that of the later German intelligentsia was the lack of identification with the courtly upper class: and his observation that the treatment of "civility" was without doubt crassissima phi!osophiae pars points t0 a scale of values which was not without a certain kinship t0 the later evaluation of Ziz.i!isation and K11/t111 in the German tradition. Accordingly. Erasmus did not see his precepts as intended for a particular class . He placed no particular emphasis on social distinctions, if we disregard

66

Th, Cii'ifi:;i11g Prr1c<.1J


the gre'

i11 the Behm io111 of th1: Swdar UjJJ11:r Classes in th1: \\'est

67

occasional criticism of peasants and small tradesmen Ir was precisely chis lack of a specific social oritnrncion in the precepts, their prtstnrncion as general human rules, chat distinguishes his rrearist from irs successors rn the Indian and esptcialh rhe French traditions Erasmus simply says. for example. rncessus nee fracrns sir, ntc pratceps . " (One's srtp should be neichtr coo slow nor coo quick) . Shordv afterwards. in his Gt1!:1teo. rht Italian Giovanni della Casa says rht same thing (ch VL 5. pr III). Bur for him the same precept had a direct and obvious function as a means of social distinction: "Non dee l'huomo nobile correre per via, ne rroppo affrecrarsi, cht cio comiene a palafreniert t non a gentilhuomo. Ne percio si dee andare si lemo. ne si contegnoso come femmina o come sposa." !The noblemen ought not rn run like a lackey, or walk as slowly as \\omen or brides,) It is characrerisric, and in agreement with all our ocher observations. that a German translation of Gal{/fUJ-in a five-language edition of 1609 (Geneva)-rtgularly sought. like the Latin translation and unlike all rhe ochers, ro efface rhe social differentiations in the originaL The passage quoted. for example. was rranslactd as follows: '"Therefore a noble, or any other hiJm1mt1b!t illcll!, should not run in the srretc or hurry coo much, since this befits a lackey and nor a gentleman. Nor should one walk unduly slowly like a stately macron or a young bride'" (p. 562). The words '"honourable man are instrctd here. possibly referring co burgher councillors. and similar changes art found in many ocher places; when the Italian says simply genti!h1ff111111 and cht French gentilhiJ1111111:, rht German speaks of rht virrnous. honoun1ble man and rht Larin of "homo honesrns er bene morarns These examples could be multiplied Erasmus proceeded similarly. As a result, rhe precepts chat ht gave without any social characrerizacion appeared again and again in the Iralian and rhtn in rhe French traditions wirh a sharper limiracion co rhe upper class. while in Germany tht tendency co obliterate the social characteristics remained. twn if for a long period hardly a single wrirtr achieved rht degree of social detachment possessed by Erasmus. In this respect he occupied a unique position among all those who wrote on d1e subjecL It stemmed from his personal character. But at the same rime. ir points beyond his personal character co chis rt!arivt!y brief phase of relaxation between two great epochs char wtrt characrerizecl by more inflexible social hierarchies. The ftrtiliry of this loosening transitional situation is perceptible again and again in Erasmus's way of observing people. Ir enabled him ro criticize rustic"', "vulgar"", or '"coarse qualities without accepting unconditionally (as did most who came lacer) tht behaviour of che grtar courdy lords. whose circle was finally, as he himself put it. the nursery of refined conduct. Ht saw very exacdy the exaggerated, forced nature of many courdy practices. and was nor afraid co say so. Speaking of how co hold the lips. for example. he says: "Ir is still less becoming co purse rhe lips from rime co rime as if whisding ro oneself This can be left co

. it ]orcis when rhev stroll among rhe crowd" Or he savs: "You should leave _ ,_ . . . co a few courtiers rhe pleasure of squtezrng_ bread ll1 tht band and_ d:en breakrng it off with the fingertips. You should cut 1r dtctndy with a knife. 6. Bur here again we see \ery clearly the difference between this and the medieval manner of giving directions on behaviour. Earlier, people were simply 1 "ive one example, "The bread cut fayre and do nor brtake"'.' Such rules [0 Id ' ( 0 b are embedded by Erasmus direcdy in his experience <rnd observation of people. The rradiriom1l precepts. mirrors of ever-recurring customs. awaken in his observations from a kind of pttrifaccion. 1\n old rule ran: "Do nor fall greedily upon the food."
Do nor ear bread before rhe meat is served. for rhis would appear greedy Remember ro empry and wipe your momh ber-ore drinking.'

Erasmus gives the same advice, but in so doing he sees people direcdy before him: some, he says, devour rather than ear. as if thty were about robe carried off ro prison, or were thieves wolfing down rheir boory. Others push so much inro rheir mourhs chat their cheeks bulge like bellows. Ochers pull their lips aparr while eating, so that rhey make a noise like pigs. And then follows cht general rule char was, and obviously had ro be, repeated over and again: "Ort pleno vel bibtre vel loqui, nee honescum, nee rucum (To tar or drink with a full momh is neither becoming nor safe ) In all this. besides rhe medien1l cradirion. rhere is cerrainly much from anriquiry. Bur reading has sharpened seeing, and seeing has enriched reading and
\Vriting

Clothing, ht says now and again. is in a sense the body of rhe body. From it .ve can deduce rhe attitude of mind. And then Erasmus gives examples of what manner of dress corresponds to this or that mental condition. This is the beginning of the mode of observation char will ar a lacer stage be termed "'psychological"". The new sragt of courtesy and its representation, summed up in che concept of ciz'i!it&, was very closely bound up wirh this manner of seeing, and gradually became more so. In order to be really courteous" by rhe standards of cil'i!it(, one was co some extent obliged co observe, to look about oneself and pay attention ro people and rheir motives. In this, roo, a new relationship of person to person, a new form of integration is announced. Not quite 150 years lacer, when ciz'i!ite had become a firm and srable form of behaviour in the courtly upper class of France, in rhe 111011de, one of irs members began his exposition of the sciwce d11111rmdu with these words: "Ir seems ro me rhac co Kquire what is called the science of the world one muse first apply oneself co knowing men as they are in general, and then gain particular knowledge of chose with whom we have to live, thar is co say, knowledge of rheir inclinations ;rnd their b "Ood and bad Oj)inions ' of their virtues and their faults .. ;;

68

The Cizilizing Process


0t

Cha11glS in the Bthario11r of the Swt!e1r UPJM C/{/SStS i11 the \Pest

69

\Vhat is said hert with great precision and lucidity was anticipated by Erasmus But chis increased tendency of society and therefore of writers to observe, to connect tht particular with the gtneral, seeing with reading, is found not only in Erasmus but also in the other Renaissance books on manners, and certainly not only in these 1. If one asks, therefore, about the new tendencies'' that made their appearance in Erasmus's way of observing the behaviour of people-chis is one of them. In the process of transformation and innovation chat we designate by the term "Renaissance", what was regarded as ''firring" and 'unfitting" in human intercourse no doubt changed to a certain degree. But the rupture was not marked by a sudden demand for new modes of behmiour opposed w the old . The rradirion of cu1trtuisie was continued in many respects by the society which adopted the concept of ciz.Z!itas, as in Cil'i!itm 111om111 j/l!erili11111, to designate socially "good behaviour". The increased tendency of people t0 observe themselves and ochers is one sign of how rhe whole guestion of behaviour was now raking on a different character: people moulded themselves and others more deliberately than in the Middle Ages. Then rhey were wld, do this and nor that; bur by and large a great deal was lee pass. For centuries roughly the same rules, elementary by our srandards, were repeated, obviously withour producing firmly established habits. This now changed. The constraint exerted by people on one another increased, the demand for "good behaviour" was raised more emphatically. All problems concerned with behaviour rook on new importance. The face that Erasmus brought wgerher in a prose work rules of conduce that had previously been uttered chiefly in mnemonic verses or scattered in treatises on ocher subjects, and for che first time devoted a separate book to the whole question of behaviour in society, not only at rable, is a clear sign of the growing importance of the guesrion, as is the book's success. And the emergence of related writings, like the Co!!rtir:r of Castiglione or the Ga/,iteo of Della Casa, to name only the most well known, points in the same direction. The underlying social processes have already been indicated and will be discussed in. more derail lacer: the old social ties were, if not broken, extensively loosened and were in a process of transformation. Individuals of different social origins were thrown wgether. The social circulation of ascending and descending groups and individuals speeded up. Then, slowly, in the course of the sixteenth century, earlier here and later there and almost everywhere with numerous reverses until well into the seventeenth century, a more rigid social hierarchy began to establish itself once more, and from elements of diverse social origins a new upper class, a new aristacracy formed. For this very reason the guestion of uniform good behaviour became increasingly acure, particularly as the changed structure of rhe new upper class exposed each individual member tO an unprecedented extent w the pressure of others and of social control. Ir was in this context char the writings on manners

. Eras n1 us , Casri o "lione ' Della Casa, and others were produced. People, forced t0_ live with one another in a new way, became more sensitive t0 the impulses ot - Nlor 1brupdv bur verv 0uraduallv the code of behaviour became stricter ot lier,. ' and rhe degree of considerarion expected of ochers became grearer The sense of when w do and what not t0 do in order not to offend or shock others became subtler, and in conjunction with rhe new power relationships the social erHive nor to offend ochers became more binding, as compared to the imp ' preceding phase. . . The rules of co11rtoisic also prescribed, say norhmg chat can arouse conflict, or anger ochers'':
Non dims verbum cuiqw1m quod ei sir acerbum .,,

'Be a good table companion":


Awayre my chylde, ye be have you manerly. \V"hen ar your mere ye si rte at the cable Jn euery prees and in euery company Dispose you ro be so compenable Tl1'lt men may of you reporre for commendable For thrusteth we! upon your berynge l\fen wil you blame or gyue preysynge

So we read in an English Book of C11rtcsJe. ;- In purely factual terms, much of what Erasmus said had a similar tendency.. But the change of tone, the increased sensitiviry, che heightened human observation, and the sharper understanding of what is going on in orhers are unmistakable. They are particularly clear in a remark at che end of his treatise. There he breaks through the fixed pattern of "good behaviour", together with rhe arrogance that usm1lly accompanies it, and relates conduct back w a more comprehensive humanity: Be lenient towards the offences of others. This is the chief virtue of cizi!itas, of courtesy. A com1xmion ought not to be less dear to you because he has worse manners. There are people who make up for che awkwardness of their behaviour by other gifts ... And further on he says: "If one of your comrades unknowingly gives offence cell him so alone and say it kindly. That is civility." But chis accirnde only expresses again how little Erasmus, for all his closeness to rhe courtly upper class of his rime, identified with it, keeping his distance from its code, tao. Gtilt1tu1 rakes its name from an account in which Erasmus's precept "Tell him alone and say it kindly'' applied in reality; an offence is corrected in char very way. But here the courtly character of such customs is emphasized as far more self-evident than in Erasmus

The Bishop of Verona. the Irnlian work rtlatts .. , one day received a visit from a Duke Richard. Ht appeared rn rht Bishop and his court as "gemilissime carnliere e di bellissime maniere The host noted in his guest a single fault. Bur ht said norbing. On the Duke"s departure the Bishop stm a man of his court, Galareo. ro accompany him. Gahueo had particularly good manners. acquired at the courts of the great: molro havea de" suoi di usato alle corti de' gran Signori". This is explicitly emphasized. This Galateo rhtrefore accompanies Duke Richard part of rhe way, and says tht following to him before raking his leave: His master, rhe Bishop, would like
to

?\knnvs acres can in no plyre abnle The\" .be changeable andt ofre meuide Thi;1gis somryme alo,,ecl is now repn:uid :\.nd :tfrer this shal rhingts up aryst Thar men sec now bm ar lyryl pr\"Se.

This sounds, indeed, like a motto for rhe whole movemem char is now coming: "T'Iin"is somrvme alowed is now repreuid ... The sixreemh cemury was still l' transirion Ernsmus and his contt:mporaries were still permim:cl . k iboLlt rl11.n"S fLmcrions ' and wavs of behaving that one or rwo cenrunes w spe.1 , a , . " . later were overlaid wirh feelings of shame and embarrassment. <me! whose_ public . re or mention were IJroscribecl in socitff \Vith rhe same s1mplic1rv and cxposu . _ clarit\" with which he and Della Casa discussed quest10ns ot the greartsr tact and prop;iery. Erasmus also says: Do nor move back and forth on _your chaic \Vhoever does char "speciem haber subinde venrris flatum em1rrenr1s anr em1rrere coninris ( uives rhe impression of consrantly breaking or crying ro break wind). Tll!S :rill sh;\.S rhe old unconcern in referring to bodily functions char was characrer;sric of medieval people. bur enriched by observation, by consideration of "what others 111ighr think" Comments of chis kind occur frequenrly. . . Consideration of rhe behaviour of people in rhe sixreenrh century. ,rncl ot their code of behaviour, casts rhe observer back and forth berwetn rhe impressions Thar's srill utterly mediernl" and "Thar's exactly rhe way we feel wclay" And nreciselv chis apparent contradicrion clearly corresponds to reality. The people of ;his b,1d a double face . They sroocl on a bridge. Behaviour and rhe code of behaYiour were in morion, bur rhe movement was quire slow. And above all. in observing a single srage, we lack a sure measure. \Vhar is accidental fluctuation; \Vhen where is something advancing; \Vhen is something falling behincP Are we realh concerned with a change in a definite direction? \Vas European soc:iet\" realh:, under the watchword of cirilitJ, slowly moving wwards that kind of char srnndard of conclucr, habits and affect formation, which s ch<1racrerisric in our minds of "civilized" society, of \Vesrtrn "civilization"; 1 S. Ir is not vef\" eas1 to make chis movement clearly visible precisely because it rakes place so .slow.ly-in very small seeps. as it were-and because it also shows manifold fluctuarions, following sm<1ller and larger curves Ir clearly does nor suffice ro consider in isolation each single sragt to which this or that sratemenr on customs and manners bears witness \Ve must <Htempr to see rhe movement itself, or ar least a large segment of it, as a whole, as if speeded up. Images must be placed rogerher in a series to give an overnll view, from one particular aspect, of the process: rhe gradual transformation of behaYiour and the emotions, rhe expanding threshold of repugnance. Tht books on manners offer an opportunity for chis. On particular aspects of human behaviour. panicularly earing habits, rhey give us derailed information.

make rhe Duke a parting gifr

The Bishop has never in his life seen a

w 10 '

nobleman with berrer manners than rhe Duke. He has discovered in him only a single fault-ht smacks his lips too loudly while earing. so making a noise that is unpleasant for others to hear. To inform him of chis is rhe Bishop's parring gifr, which ht begs will nor be ill received Tht precept nor to smack rhe lips while earing is also found frequently in mecliernl insuucrions. Bur irs occurrt:nce at the beginning of Ga!t1tuJ shows clearly what had changed Ir nor only clemonsrrarts how much importance was now arrachecl to "good behaviour" Ir shows, abow all, how the pressure people now exerred on one another in this direction had increased Ir is immediarely apparent that this polite, extremely gentle and comparariYely considerate way of correcting was. panicularly when exercised by a social superior, much more compelling as a means of social conrroL much more effective in inculrnring lasting habirs. than insulrs, mockery or any threat of omwarcl physical violence. Internally more pacified societies were in rhe process of forming. The old code of behaviour was being transformed only step by step. Bur social control was becoming more binding. And above all. rht narure and mechanism of affecrmoulding by socitry were slowly changed. In rhe course of rhe Middle Ages rhe standard of good and bad manners. for all rhe regional and social differences. clearly did nor undergo any decisive change. Over and again, clown the centuries, rhe same good and bad manners were mentioned The social code hardened imo lasring habits only to a limited extent in people rhemselves . Now, with rhe srrucrural rransformarion of society. with the new pattern of human relationships. a change slowly came about: the compulsion to check one's own behaviour 111creasts In conjunction with chis rhe standard of behaviour was set 111 morion Caxrons Br1oh of probably of rhe !are tifctenth century. already gives unambiguous expression ro chis feeling char habits, customs, and rules of conduct are in flux:'"
Thingis whilom used ben now leycl a syde And newe feeris. day!\ ben cornreuide

72

Tix Ciri!i::.ing Procw


25

ch,mges in the Behrffio11r of the Swtfar Upj>er C!mses in the \Vest


\\/hen you ear do noc forger rhe poor. G o d w1 kindly.* 33

73

always on the same ftamre of social life-which extends relatively unbroken, even if at rather forruirous interv1ls, from at least the thirteenth to the nineteenth and rwentierh centuries. Here images can be seen in a series, and segments of the toral process can be made visible. A.nd it is perhaps an advantage, rather than a disadvantage. that modes of behaviour of a relatively simplt and elementary kind are observed. in which scope for individual variation within the social srandard 1s relatively small. These Tisch::.!!cht1:11 and books on manners are a lirerary genre in rheir own right. If the written herirnge of rhe past is examined primarily from the point of view of what we are accusromed to call "literary significance". then most of chem have no great value . Bur if we examine the modes of behaviour which in every age a particular society has expected of its members, attempting to condition individuals to them, if we wish to observe changes in habits, social rules and taboos. then these insrrucrions on correct behaviour, though perhaps worthless as literature, rake on <.1 special significance . They throw some light on elements in the social process of which we possess, ar least from the past, very little direct information. They show precisely what we are seeking-namely. the standard of habits and behaviour to which society <.1t a given rime sought to accusrom individuals. These poems and rrearises were themselves direct instruments of "conditioning or "fashioning",'(! of rhe adaptation of individuals ro those modes of behaviour which the scructure and simarion of their society made necessary. A.nd rhey show at the same rime. through what they censure and what they praise, the divergence between what was regarded at different rimes as good and bad manners.

u reward

,_ou if you rrear chem

A man o t- re 1 111emem should nor slurp from rht same spoon wich someone else: ., ,e '<>r !JtOj)le ar courr who are often confromed wirh char is r l1e way co bel1 1 " unrefined conduce

., Jr is nor police co drink from rhe dish, alchough some who approve of chis rude habit insolemly pick up rhe dish and pour ir down as if they \Vere mad Those who fall upon rhe dishes like swint while earing, snorting disgustingly and smacking rheir lips

41
-!

Some people bite a slice and rhen dunk ir in rhe dish in a coarse way: refined people reject such bad manners.

49 A number of people gnaw a bone and rhen put ir back in rhe dish-chis is a serious offence
:r-

On \" 25, cf rhe first rule in rht Co11rhshs of Bonvicino d,1 Riva:
The first is this: when at cable, think first of the poor and needy

On

\'V,

3?i.

-! 1. cf Ein spr11ch dr:r :,

k2r1 (A word rn rhost at table): '

.) l) You should nor Jrink from rht dish. bur with a spoon as is proper

315 Those who srand fitrmyard beasts


319

ur

and snorr disgustingly

C)\'tf

rht dishes like swine belong with orhtr

To snort like a salmon. gobble like a badger. and complain while earing-these three things
art quire improper

IV
On Behaviour at Table
Examples
(a) Examples represermng upper-class behaviour in a fairly pure form:

fjf

In rht

of Bon' icino da Riva:

c Do not slurp with your mourh whtn eat1nt! 1rom a spoon. This is a bestial ha bi c
ffr

201 And suppt nor low<le of thy Potta,gt no ryme in all thy lyfe

Thirteenth century
This is Tannhiiuser's poem of courtly good manners: n
I consider a well-bred man co be ont who always recognizes good manners and is never ill-mannered
I l rheic bones and !'Lit them back in the J\.foy refined ptople bt prtst-rYe d from t 1ose w 10 gnaw dish

from Quhq11is

in !!NllSd (For those at table):+;


to

2 There are many forms of good manners. and rhey servt many good purposes The man who adopts chem will ne,er err

A morstl that has been casted should not be rtturntcl

the dish.

Th, Cirili:::i11g Pmccss


5 3 Those who iih musrnrJ anJ salt shoulJ rake care to avoid rht filthy habit of putting their fingers into tbt:m

Ch1111ge.r in the Bthal'irwr of the Sem!ar UJ1f7u- Cla.rsc.r in tin \\'est


109 Do nor scrape your rhrnar wirh your bare hand while earing: but if you ban: to,
do it politely with your coar

5-: A man who clears his throat when he eats anJ ont who blows his nose in the
tablecloth art both ill-bred. I assure you
65 A man "ho wanes co talk and eat ar the same time. and talks in his sleep. will ne,er rest peacefulh-.'

J l.3 And it is more firring to scratch wirh rhar than to soil your hand: onlookers notice people who behave like rhis l l""' You should nor poke your teeth with your knife. as some do: it is a bad babi r. ;;:
l :

69 Do nor bt noiS\' at rable. as some ptoplt are Remember. my friends. rhar nothing
is so ill-mannen:J 81 I find it very bad manners whenever I see somtone with food in his mouth and drinking ar the same time, like an animal **

125 Jf anyone is accustomed


not a true courtier

to loosening his belt at table. rake it from me rhat he is

129 If a man wipes his nose on his hand at table because he knows no better. then he is a fool. believe me
l-ll J hear rhar some eat unwashed (if it is true. it is a bad sign) :\fay their fingers be palsied!'''

85 You should not blcm imo your drink. as some are fond of doing: this is an illmannered habit rhar should be avoided.

95 Before drinking. wipe your mouth so that mu do not dirrv rhe drink: this act of
courresy should be observed ar all rimes . , l 05 lr is bad manntrs to lean against tht table while earing, as it is co kttp your helmet on \1hen sen-ing rhe ladies."

15 7 Jr is not decent to poke your fingers into your ears or eyes, as some people do. or
ro pick your nose while earing. These three habits are bad _

Fifteenth century?
From seilSJ!il'ei!t le.r
Never laut!h ur talk wirh a foll mourh
Learn these mies
[O/J/uitll!CtS

de la tahle (These are good table manners): ;CJ

l) If you wish ro drink tlrsr em pry your mourh

II
Take care to cur and clean your nails: dirt under the nails is dangerous when

scratching
1-t\J .r\nd wirht: fulk mourht: drynke
in

no

\\'/Se

Ill
\\!ash your hands when you get up and before every meal

! 11 i\r: blow rrnr on r-b;. drynke nt: mere.

:-<ether for co!Jc.

fl(thtr

for hen:

_10 Avoid clt:aning your ret:th wirh a knife at rnblt:

155 \\"hanne ye simile drynke. rnur rnouthe clence wirhe a cloche


11;'

l l Never pick up food with unwashed hands ::: On v. 15-:, cf QuiJ"t.jlliJ


tJ

From L1

Con!tnir ,;

(Guide co behaYiour ar r.iblt) '

h1

11hn.,..i:

Do nor :->lobber whi!t: you drink. for rhis

a sfrnmeful habit

9 Touch neirher your ears nor your nostrils wirh your ban: fingers This small stlecrion of passages was compiled from a brief perusal of VJ.rious guides ro behaviour at rable and court. Ir is verv far from exhaustive. Ir is intended only
to

p:ive an impression of how different cenruries of rhe

l'.:or on rht.: borde lenynpt: be yet nar sent:

similar in tone and conte.nr wen: the rules in different traditions an<l ;\fiJdlc A!!ts Ori!'inals may be founJ in ,-\ppendix I

76

The Ciz'ilizing Proass


Xll
Do nor be rhe tirsr rn rake from rhe dish

Changes in the BelMrio11r

u/ the Semlar Uj1jJt1 Classes i11 the \Fest

77

XIII
Do nor pur back on your plare whar has been in your mourh

XIV
Do nor offer anyone a piece of food you han: birren inro

To dip rhe lingers in rhe sauce is rusric. You should rake whar you wanr wirh your knife and fork: you should nor search through rhe whole dish as epicures are wom ro do, bur rake whar happens ro be in from of you \\'bat you cannor rake wirh your lingers should be raken with rhe (ji!adra If you are offered a piece of cake or pie on a spoon, hold our yom plate or rake the rhar is held our to you, pur rhe food on your plare. and rerurn rht spoon If you are offtrtd something liquid. rasre ir and rerurn rhe spoon, bur first wipt ir on your servitrre To lick greasy lingers or ro wipt rhtm on your coar is impolire. Ir is berrer ro use rhe rableclorh or rhe servierre.

xv
Do nor chew anyrhing you have ro spir our again

XVll
Jr is bad manners ro clip food inro rhe salr-cellar

1558
From G'rt!c1teo, by Giovanni della Casa, Archbishop of Benevenrn, quoted from the five-language edition (Geneva, 1609), p 68:
\\Thar do vou rhink this Bishop and his noble company (if hscort " !" .wa 11,,f;jf, would have said ro rhose whom we sometimes see lying like swine wirh their snours in rhe soup, nor once lifting their heads and rurning rheir eyes. still less rheir hands. from rhe food, puffing our both cheeks as if rhey were blowing a rrumper or trying to fan a fire. nor earing bur gorging themselves. dirtying their arms almost ro the elbows and rhen reducing their servitrres ro a srare rhar would make a kirchtn rag look cltan Nonetheless. rhese hogs are nor ashamed ro use rhe senierres rhus sullied ro wipe away their swear (which, owing to their hasty and excessi,e feeding. often runs down rheir foreheads and faces to their necks), and t\en ro blow rheir noses inro rhem as often as rhey please

XXIV
Be peaceable, quier. and courreous ar rable

XXVJ If you have crumbled bread inro your wineglass, drink up rhe wine or rhrow ir away.

XXXI
Do nor sruff roo much inro yourself. or vou will be obliged ro commir a breach of good manners .

XXXIV
Do nor scrarch ar rable. wirh your hands or wirh rhe rableclorh

1530
From De cirilitc1tt mr1r11111 p11u-11,.1,1 (On dam, ch. 4:

c
c1\i1 1 r\ . in

E
boys ), br Erasmus of Rocter-

1560
From a Ciz'i!ite by C Calviac ' 0 (based heavily on Erasmus. bm with some independent comments):
\\'hen rhe child is seared. if there is a senierre on rhe plate in from of him, he shall rake it and place it on his left arm or shoulder: rhen he shall place his brtad on rhe left and rhe knife on rhe right, like the glass. if he wishes to leave ir on rhe rable, and if it can be conveniently left there wirhour annoying anyone. For ir might happen rhar rhe glass could nor be left on rhe rnble or on his righr wirhour being in someone's
way

If a servierre is given. lay ir on your lefr shoulder or arm If you are seared wirh people of rank. cake off your har and see rhar vour hair is wt!!
combed. Your gobler and knife, duly cleansed, should be on rhe right. your bread on rhe lefr Some people pur their hands in rhe dishPs rhe momenr rhe\ h:ne sar down \Volvcs do rhar, Do nor be rhe tirsr ro rouch rhe dish rhar has been brought in. nor onh because rhis shows you .greedy. bur also because ir is dangerous. for someone who something hor 1nro his mourh unawares musr either spir ir our or, if he swallows ir. burn his rhroar.. In either case he is as ridiculous as he is pi riable. Ir is a good rhing ro wair a shorr while before acrnsromed ro tempering his afrecrs so thar rlie boy grows

The child musr haw rhe discretion ro undersrand rhe needs of rhe simarion he is in \Vhen earing he should rake rhe firsr piece rhar comes to his hand on his curring board

If rhere are sauces, the child may dip inro rhem decently. wirhour rurning his food over after having dipped one side

PJIJ(tJ.\

ClassfS i11 the \Vest

Ir is Yery n0cessi1ry tC)r a child to learn at an early age ho\\" to c1ryr: a ltg of nlutton, a partridge. a rabbit. ar:d such things Ic is a far ruo dirry ching for a child co offer ochers somechini: he has i:nawed. or son1ething he disdains to tat hin1stlf 1111/c\J it /;l tr; hiJ rAuchor"s e;;,r-ihasis] Nor is ic decenc co cake from che mouch somerhing he has already cht:wecL and puc icon che curring board. unless ir be a small boot from which he has sucked rhe marrow rn pass rime while awaicing rhe desserc: for afrer sucking ic ht should pm ic on his plate. where he should also place che srnnes of cherries. plums. and suchlike. as ic is nor good eirher rn swallow chem or co drop chtm on che floor The child should noc gnaw bones indecenrll. as dogs do \\'hen che child would like salr. he shall rake ir wich che poinr of his knife and nor with rhree The child muse cue his mear inrn n:ry small pitces on his cuccing board and he muse nor life che mear rn his mouch now wirh one hand and now wich che ocher. like lirclt: chi!dn::n who are learning ro ear: he should always do so wirh his righr hand. caking cht bread or meac decenrly wirh chree lingers only.
/b for cht manmr of

G 1672
from Anwine de Counin. Sr1ill'ct1i1 trditJ de (iz'ilitJ, pp if evernmt is earing from rhe same dish. you should rake care nor rn pur \our hand in(O it rh11.1c. r.1nh h:1n c/011:.. Jt1, and to cakt food only fron1 thr: part ot the
dish opposire you Srill le;s should you rake che btsr pieces. tvtn rhough you mighc be rht Jase co help yourself _ le muse also be poinred our rhar you should always wipt ) our spoon when. after using it. you want to rake somechinf! fron1 another dish. thr:J:: jJtojJIL' so d:lic.1!t th;.11
l(Oltfd
J](J/

idi

ff;

t.I! SO/I/I infr; [{

hi.L

)f/f!

l.ud .!ippr;,d it

/111ttii!p,

it

itJ!fJ )f1l!r l!JO!tth

[:\uchor s trnphasis} . And even. if you art at cht cable of ,-ery refined ptople. ic is not enough rn w1pt your spoon: you should nm ust ir bur ask for anocher Also. in many places. spoons are brought in with rhe dishes. t1nd Stffr rm/) takjng Jtwf! and .1.d!!Cr: [Author's trnphasisJ You should nor ear soup from the dish. bur pl![ ic nearly on your place: it ic is roo hor. it is impolire ro blow on each spoonful: you should wair unril ir has cooled

it \arits

co rhe counrn The Germans chew

wich che momh closed. and find ir ugly ro do orherwist. The French. on rhe ocher hand. half open che momh. and find che procedure of rhe Germans rarher din\. The Iralians proceed in a \'ery slack manntr <rnd rht: French mort roundlv. findi 1;g che Indian way coo dtlicact and precious . And so each narion has somtrhing of its own. differtnr from rhe ochers So char cht child "ill proceed in accordance wirh tht cusroms of rht place: where he is Furrher. rhe Germans ust spoons when soup and t\erything liquid. <md che Italians lircle forks. The french use eirhtr. as rhey chink fir and as is mosc conn:nienr The Iralians generally prefer to have a knife for each person. Bm rhe Germans place special importance on chis. to rhe excenr rhac chey are greacly displeased if ont asks for or rakes rhe knit(: in from of chem. The French way is quiet differtnr: a whole cable full of people will use nvo or rhree knives. wirhour makini: difficulries in for or raking a knifi:. <>r passing ic if rhe) have ir Su rhac if s;1nicunc asks rht: child for his knife. he should pass ir afcer \viping ir wich his stn-ierce, holding ir by cht poinr and offoring rhe handle rn rhc: person requesring ir: for ir would nor bt polirt ro do orherwist

If vou have che misforrune rn burn your mouth. you should tndurt it patienrly if you can ..wirhol![ showini:: ir; bur if rhe burn is unbtar,1b!t. as sometimes happens. you
should. btfore cht orhtrs have nociced. cake your place promprly in one hand and life ir rn vour rnol![h and. while coverini:: your mol![h wich rhe other hand. rewrn to rhe plact .whar you have in your mol![h. and quickly pass ic ro a foorman behind you Civiliry requires you ro be police. buc ir does not txptcr you ro be homicidal rnward rourstlf Ir is very impolire rn much anyching grtasy. a sauct or syrup. ere. wirh your fingers. aparc from rhe face chac ir obliges you rn commie two or rluee more imiroper aces. One is co wipe your hand frtquenrly on your strvierce and co soil ic likt a kicchc:n cloch. so char thost who see you wipe your rnol![h wirh ic fttl nauseactd. Anothtr is ro wipe rnur fingers on rnur bread. which again is wn- improper Tht rhird is rn lick them, which is rhe heighr of improprien As rhere art many [cusrnms) which have already changtcl. I do nor doubt that several of chest will likewise change in rhe fuwrt formt:rh- one \\as permirrtd ro dip one's bread inrn rht sauce. provided only char ont had n:ir alrtach birctn ir. Nowada\s char would bt a kind of rusriciry formtrh one w:1s allowed w cake irom one's mol![h whac one could noc ear and drnp ir cht Aoor. ])fO\idtd ic was done skilfully Now thar would bt n:r)

F
Between 1640 and 1680
From a song by rhe J\Iarguis de Coulanges: s 1

0;1

disgusting

In rimts pasr. ptoplt art from rhe common dish and clipped their brtad and fingers in rhe sauce

1717
From Fran<;ois de Callieres, De c1!/lcl11ite dt !ti ziu. pp. 97, 101:
!ti

S(ience d11 11101/{lt

i!f

des con11oissa11ces itti!ts Ci la

Today tvtryone tars with spoon and fork from his own plat<:. and a valtr washes rht cuclery from rime w cime ac che butter.

In Gtrmany and rhe Norchern Kingdoms ic is civil and cltcem for a princt rn drink

80

Tht Cirilizi11g Pmcm


tirsr ro rhe healrh of rhose he is enrerraining, and rhtn ro offer chem tht same glass or t:obler usually tilled wirh rhe same wine: nor is ir a lack of politeness in rhem ro drink from rhe same glass, bm a mark of candour and friendship. The women also drink tirsr and rhen give rheir glass, or have ir raken, ro rhe person rhev are addressing, wirh rhe: same wine from which rhey have drunk his healrh, 11 hhfll!! this t:1kc11 as tJ Jjh:cia!
,1s

Changes

j 11

the Belx1rio11r of the Sem/111 Upj1ei Classes in the \\/est

81

the snndard of "civilizacion' which in realicy had been attained fl0 rgotten, t l1at ' cl - b . ' . cendv W'lS nken for vranred, what precede it emg seen as only qwte re , ' ' "' "barbaric"

it

I
ari anonymous Cizilite frm1caise (liege, 17 14'), p. 48: ' , From
l) olirt ro drink \_our soup from rht bowl unless you <lrt in your own family. Ir is nor . cl onlv rhen if you have drunk rht most parr with your spoon. .
,in

is :1111t;11g 11s

[Amhor's emphasis]

1714

"I cannot approYt .. , a lady answers "-wirhour offence ro rhe genrlemen from rhe norrh-rhis manner of drinking from rhe same glass, and srill less of drinking whar rhe ladies have lefr: ir has an air of impropritry rhar makes mt wish rhey mighr show orher marks of rheir candour,"

It we soup

- , ,

s 1 n ., con1munil dish rake some wirh 1our spoon 111 your wrn, w!(hour " ' '

(b) From books addressed ro wider bourgeois scrara


The following examples are from books which either, like La Salle's Les Rl:gles de la hiemer111cr: ct de /11 cfrilit{ chn!tie1111e, represent the spreading of courtly manners and models to broader bourgeois srrarn, or, like Example I, retlecr fairly purely the bourgeois and probably the provincial standard of their rime In Example I, from about 171-i, people still ear from a communal dish, Nothing is s<1id <lgainst rouching tht meat on one's own plate with the hands . And rhe "bad manners" tliar are mentioned have largely disappeared from rhe upper class. The Ci6/ite of 1 (Example lJ is a little book of forry-eight pagts in bad ciz'ilite type, primed in Caen bm undattd. The British Museum carnlogut has a qutstion mark after the date. In any cast, chis book is an example of the multirude of cheap books or pamphltts on ciz'i!iti that were disseminated throughout France in rhe eightetmh century. This one, ro judge from ics general attitude, was cltarly intended for provincial rown-dwelltrs, In no other eighteenrh-cenrury work on ciri!ite quoted here are bodily functions discussed so openly The standard the book poinrs to recalls in many respects d1t one that Erasmus's De cirilitc1/i: had marked for rht upper class. Ir is still a matter of course to rake food in the hands. This example seemed useful htre ro compltmenr tht ocher quoracions, and particularly ro remind the reader chat tht movement ought ro be seen in its full multilayered polyphony, not as a line bur as a kind of fugut wich a succession of related movemem-motifs on different levels. Example M from 1786 shows the dissemination from above to below vtry direcdy Ir is particularly revtaling because it contains a largt number of cusroms that have substquendy been adopctd by "civilized society" as a wholt, bur are here clearly visible as specific cusroms of the courtly upper class which still stem relatively alitn to rhe bourgtoisie. Many customs have bten arrested, as "civilized cusroms", in txactly che form rhey havt htrt as courtly manntrs The quotation from 1859 (Example N) is meant to rtmind rhe rtader that in the ninetetnrh century, as roday, the whole movtmem had alrtady been tntirt!y

precipirarion. l k 1 Do nor keep your knife always in your hand, as village people do, }Lit ra e !( on Y when vou need iL . . cl \V'l;en vou art being strYed meat, ir is nor seemly w rake 1r_ 111 your han. . ou

should hold our your place in your left hand while holding your tork or k01te 111 your rid1r cl I ld l "Ir is againsr propriery ro give people meat ro smell, an you s 1ou um er" no_ _ msrincts pm me-u back imo rhe common dish if you have smelled 1r yourselr If orcu ' . ' . . . 1 k ." vou rake meat from a common dish, do nor choose rhe besr pieces Cm w1rh r 1e one. liolding srill rhe piece of mear in rhe dish wirh rhe _fork. which you will use w pm on 'ie pi'ece iou have cm off do nor, rheretore, rake rht meat WJ(h 1our hand vour p 1 a re ( 1 , ' l . cl] (norhing is said here againsr rouching rhe mtar on ones place wnh rhe un You should nor rhrow bones or eggshells or rhe sk111 ot any frun omo rhe floor The same is rrue of fruit srones Ir is more police ro remow chem from the momh wirh rwo fingers rhan ro spic chem imo one's hand

J
From La Salle, Les Reg/es de /11 hiwse1111cc et de /11 ciz'i/iti dm!tiem1e (Rauen, 1729), p. 87:
Oil Thing.< trt B, U.<ul at T:1b/,
Ar wblt vou should use a servierre, a place, a knife, a spoon and a fork. Ir would be emirelv ro propriery ro be wirhom any of chest rhings while Ir is- for the person of highest rank in rhe company to unfold his serv1erre firsr. and rhe ochers should wair umil he has done so before unfolding theirs \vhe_n rhe_ people are approximately equal, all should unfold ir rngerher wirhom [N.B \V'irh rhe "democrarizarion" of sociery and rhe family, chis becomes rhe rule The socwl srrucwre, cl l - most elemenrarv human here srill of rhe hierarch1Cal-ansrncrm1c type, is m1rrore 111 r le , relarionships.] _ Ir is improper w use rhe servierre ro wipe your t:ace; ir is f.ar more so ro your reerh with ir, and ir would be one of rhe grossest ottences aga111sr CJnliry ro use ir ro

1729

82

TIJt

P1r1cess

CAmges i11 the Behal'iom rj" the Sem/,1r UPJ!tl' Classes i11 thr: \Vt.rt

83

The use you may and must make of the serviette when at rnble is blow your nose fi:ir wiping your mumh. lips. dnd iingers ,,hen they cire greasy, wiping tht knife before cmting bread. and cleaning the spoon and fork after using them. [N B This is one of many examples of the extraordinarih exact regulation of behaviour which is embedded in our eating habits. The use of each mensil is limited and defined by a multiplicity of very precise rules. None of them is simply sdf-evidem. as they appear to later t:enerations Their use is formed ,ery gradually in conjunction with the strucrnre and changes of human relationships.] \Vhen the lingers are very greasy. wipe them tirst on a piece of bread. which should then be left on the plate, before cleaning them on rht sen-iette, in order not to soil it roo much \Vhen the spoon, fork and knife are dirty or greasy, it is very improper to lick them, and iris not at all decent ro wipe them. or anything else. on the tablecloth. On these and similar occasions you should use the serviette. and regarding the tablecloth you should rake care to keep it always very clean, and not to drop on it water, wine. or anything that might soil it. \Vhen the plate is dirty. you should be sure not to scrape it with the spoon or fork rn clean it, or rn clean your plate or the bottom of any dish with your lingers: that is nry impolite Either they should not be rouchecl or. if you have the opporrnnity of exchanging them, you should ask for another \Vhen at cable you should not keep the knife ahrnys in your hand: it is sufficient to pick it up when you wish to use it It is also n:ry impolite to pur a piece of bread into your mouth while holding the knife in your hand: it is eYen more so to do this wirh the point of the knife, The same thing must be observed in eating apples. pears or some other fruits. [N.B Examples of taboos relating ro kniws J It is against propriety rn hold the fork or spoon with the whole hand, like a stick: you should al ways hold them between your fingers You should not use ) fork tu lift liquids to the mouth it is rhe Sl'UOn that is intended for such uses, Ir is polite always to use the fork to pur meat into your momh, for Jm1j>rid1 d11<J 11M /h:rmi: the 1{ grulS) 11 irh th, [Amhor's emphasis]. neither sauces nor syrups: and if ari)-one did so. he could not escape subsequently commiting seYeral further incivilities. such as frequently wiping his lingers on his serviette, which ,,ould make it Yery dirty. or on his bread. which would be ,ery impolite. or licking his lingers. which is not permitted to well-born. relined people

_. nt with what be savs in another place: "If your fingers are greasy ere com1sre , . . . . _ . 1 robibirion is nor yer remotely so selt-ev1dent as it is roday. \Ve see how T 11e I l" . , ll\' it was made into an internalized habit, a piece ot se1t-contro n-rad ua . . "' In the critical period at the end of the reign of Louis XV-during which, as
r

1zati.on" caught on-La Salle's Ciz'i!iti!, which had previously "nv1 1, passed through several editions largely unchanged, was revised . The changes in the standard are verv instructive (Example K, below). They were in some respects very cons1derThe difference is partly discernible in what no longer needed ro be said. Many chapters are shorter. Many "bad manners" earlier discussed in derail are mentioned only briefly and in passing" The same applies ro many bodily tlmcrions originally dealt with at length and in great derail. The rone is "enerally less mild, and ofren incomparably harsher than in the first version.
b -

ror re o

"n of social changes that were occurring the pressure l \\n as an ounvard si b . . t- rn1 urew stronuer and in which among other thrngs, the idea of
o
b ' ' ._

K
From La Salle, Les Ri:g!es tie la hieJ1si1111ce et tie lei ,-iz:i!ite chritien11e (177 4 edn),

1774

pp. 45ff:
The serviette which is placed on the plate. being intended to preserYe clothing from spots and other soiling inseparable from meals. should be spread over you so far that it covers rhe front of your body to the knees, going under the collar and not berng passed inside it.. The spoon, fork and knife should always be placed on the right - The spoon is intended for liquids, and the fork for solid meats. \Vhen one or the mher is dirty. they can be cleaned with the serviette. if another sef\ice cannot be procured. You should avoid wiping them with the tablecloth. which is an unpardonable impropriety, \Vhen the plate is dirty you should ask for another; it would be revoltingly gross
to

clean spoon. fork or knife with the fingers At good tables. attenrive servants change plates withom being called upon No;hing is more improper than rn lick your lingers. to much the meats and pm them into your mourh with your hand, to stir sauce with your lingers. or ro clip bread inro it with vour fork and then suck it You should never rake salt with your lingers I[ is very common for children to !'ile pieces one on top of the other, and even to rake our of their mourhs something they have chewed, and flick pieces with their fingers. [All these were mentioned earlier as general misclemeanours. but are here mentioned only as the "bad" manners of children Grown-ups no longer do such things.] Nothing is more impolite [than] ro lift meat rn rour nose to smell it; rn let others smell it is a further impoliteness towards the master the rnble: if you should happen rn find dirt in the food. you should get rid of the food wirhour showing it

This whole passage, like several others, 1s taken over from A de Counin's Not11'r:1111 traitr! of 1672: cf Example G, p. 75 Ir also reappears in other eighteenth-cenrnry works on cirilitr!. The reason given for the prohibition on eating with the fingers is particularly instructive . In Courtin, roo, it applies in the first place only ro greasy foods, especially those in sauces, since this gives rise ro actions that are "'distasteful" ro behold. In La Salle this is nor entirelr

84

The Cfrili:::ing Pmeess

Ch,mge.r in the Beht1riu1/I' of the Sem!m Uj1j1er Clmses in the West

85

"\Yell, you cerrninly did nor drink it like anyone else Ereryone drinks coffee from rhe cup. never from rhe saucer

1780?
From an anonymous work, La Cizilifl; ho11ete j1011r lu wfc111ts (Caen, n.d.), p . 35:
Afrerwards. he shall place his servierre on him. his bread on rhe lefr and his knife on rhe righr. ro cur rhe mear wirhour breaking ir. [The sequence described here is found in many orher documents. The mosr elemenrnry procedure. earlier usual among rhe upper class as well, is ro break up rhe mear wirh rhe hands. Here rhe nexr srage is descnbecl, when rhe meat is cur with rhe knife. The use of rhe fork is nor mentioned. To break off pieces of mear is regarded here as a mark of the peasanr, curring ir as clearly rhe manners of the rown] He will also rake care nor ro pur his knife inro his mourh. He should nor leave his hands on his plare nor rest his elbow on ir, for rhis is done only by rhe aged and infirm The well-behaved child will be the lasr ro help himself if he is wirh his superiors. next, if ir is mear, he will cur ir polirely wirh his knife and ear ir wirh his bread. Ir is a rusric. dirty habir ro rake chewed meat from rnur mouth and pur ir on rnur plare. Nor should you ever put back inro rhe dish somerhing you have raken from it.

N
From The Habits of Good S11eiety (London, 1859; 2d edn, verbarim, 1889), p. 257:
Forks were undoubredly a larer invenrion rhan lingers. bur as we are nor c1111nih11/s I am inclined ro rhink rhey were a good one

1859

Comments on the Quotations on Table Manners


Grol!/J L
An Overview of the Societies to which the Texts were Addressed
1. The quorarions have been assembled co illusrrare a real process. a change in rhe behaviour of people. In general, rhe examples have been so selecred char rhey may srand as typical of ar lease certain social groups or srrara. No single person, nor even someone with such pronounced individualiry as Erasmus, invented rhe sal'uir-l'izn of his rime. \'Ve hear people from different periods speaking on roughly rhe same subjecr. In rhis way, rhe changes become more disrincr than if we had described chem in our own words. From ar least rhe sixreenth century onwards, rhe commands and prohibirions by which individuals were shaped (in conformiry with the srandard of sociery) were in continuous movemenc This movement, co be sure, was nor perfecdy unilinear, bur through all irs flucruarions and individual curves a detinire overall rrend is nevertheless perceptible if one lisrens ro these voices over rhe centuries rogerher. Sixteenth-cenrnry wrirings on manners were embodiments of the new court ariscocracy rhar was slowly coalescing from elements of diverse social origin. Wirh ir grew rhe distinguishing code of behaviour De Courtin, in rhe second half of the seventeenth century, spoke from a court society which was consolidared to rhe highesr degree-the court sociery of Louis XIV And he spoke primarily to people of rank, people who did nor live direcdy ar courr bur who wished to familiarize rhemselves wich the manners and customs of rhe court. He says in his foreword: "This treatise is not intended for priming bur only ro sarisf-y a provincial gendeman who had requesred the author, as a particular friend, ro give some preceprs on civility to his son, whom he intended to send to rhe court on completing his studies. He [the author} undertook this work only for well-bred people; it is 011/y to them that it is addressed; and parricularly to youths, who mighr derive some uriliry from rhese small pieces of advice, as not

1786
From a conversarion berween the poer Delille and Abbe Casson: ic
A shorr while ago Abbt Cusson. Professor of Belles Lerrres ar rhe Collet.:e Mazarin. role! me abour a dinner he had arrended a few days previously wirh some /1,o/1/e at Versailles . ''I'll wager". l role! him. "rhar you perperrared a hundred incongruities " "\\ihar do you mean)" Abbe Cosson asked quickly. greatly perrurbed "] believe ] did e,eryrhing in rhe same way as everyone else .... "\\!hat presumprion' J'll ber you did nothing in the same wav as anvone else. Bur l'll limir myself ro rhe dinner. Firsr. whar did you do wirh your when vou sat down)" "\\iirh my servierre; l did rhe same as e\tryone tlse. I unfolded ir, spread ir our, and fixed ir by a corner ro my burronhole . "
"\\fell. my dear fellow, you are rhe only one who did rhar. One does nor spread our one's servierre. one ketps it on one's kntes. And how did you ear your soup;"

"Likt evtryone else. l rhink. I rook my spoon in one hand and mv fork in rhe or her "Your fork; Good heavens! No one uses his fork ro ear soup you are your bread." "Cerrainly. likt everyone else: I cur ir nearly wirh mv knife " "Oh clear. you break bread, you do nor cur i,r you drink irY Ler.'s go on. The coffee-how did Bur rel! me how

"Like everyone. ro be sure Ir was boiling hot. sol poured ir lirrle by lirrle from my cup inro my saucer.

86
t!l't!J!1l!t

Th, Cfri!i::i11g P111c.:ss


ht!S tht

f'oints

pr1!ite11ess

People who lived in rhe example-serring circle did nm need books in order to know how "one" behaved. This was obvious: ir was rhtrtfore imporranr to ascerrain wirh whar intentions and for which publics chest preceprs, originally rhe disringuishing secrer of rhe narrow circles of rhe courr aristocracv, wrirrtn and primed . The intended public is quire clear. Ir was srressed char rhe advice was onlv for gws, i.e . , by and large for upper-class people. Primarih rhe book rhe nted of rht provincial nobiliry w know abour behaviour ar and in addirion char of disringuishtd foreigners Bur ir may be assumed char rhe nor inconsiderable success of chis book resulred, among ocher rhings, from rhe imeresr of leading bourgeois srrara. There is ample evidence w show char in chis period customs, behaviour and fashions from rhe courr were continuously penerraring rhe upper middle classes, where rhey were imirared and more or less alrered in accordance wirh rhe differenr social sirnarion. Thev rhereb,- lose to some exrenr rheir characrer as means of disringuishing rhe upr;er class. The\'. were somewha; devalued. This compelled chose above ro furrher refinement elaborarion of behaviour And from chis mechanism-rhe development of courr cusrnms, rheir disseminarion downwards. rheir slighr social deformarion, rheir dernluarion as marks of disrinction-rhe perpetual movement in behaviour parrerns the upper class received part of its momentum. \Vhat is important was that 'in this change. in the inventions and fashions of courtlv behaviour, which are at first sight perhaps irregular and accidental, over extended rime spans certain direcrions or lines of development emerge. These include. for example, whar mav be described as an adrnnce in the rhreshold of repugnance and rhe frontier of or as a process of "refinement" or "civilizarion" A parricular social dvnamism rriggered a parricular psychological one, which had irs own regulariri;s. . L In rhe eighreenth century wealrh increased, and with ir pressure ot rhe bourgeois classes. The courr circle now included, directlv alongside arisrncraric elements; a larger number of bourgeois elements rl1an in' rhe preceding cenrury, wirhour rhe differences in social rank e\er being lose Shordy before rhe French Revolmion rhe self-isolaring tendencies of rhe socially weakening aristocracy were intensified once more.

h1J/lnttcr

uo .er class as a purely secular and social phenomenon. a consequence of cerrain of social life, have affiniries wirh parricular rendencies in uadirional ecclesiasrical behaviour. Cfri!it( was given " new Chrisrian religious foundarion The Church prowd, as so often, one of rhe mosr important organs of rhe downwards diffusion of behavioural models. "Ir is a surprising rhing", says rhe venerable Farber La Salle ar rhe beginning of rhe preface w his rules of Chrisrian ciz'i!itf, "char rhe majori ry of Chrisrians regard decency and civiliry only as a /1mdr h1111i.111 ,111d ur;r/c/!r (ji!cdity and, nor chinking to elevare their minds more highly, do nor consider it a virtue related to God, our neighbour and ourselves. This well shows how lirtle Chrisrianiry there is in rhe world " And as a good deal of rhe educarion in France lay in the hands of ecclesiasrical bodies. ir was above all. if nor exclusively, rhrough rheir mediarion tbar a growing flood of ciz'i!itf rracrs now inundared the counrry. They were used as manuals in rhe elementary educarion of children, and were often printed and disrribured togerher wirh rhe firsr instructions on reading and wriring. Particularly rhrough rhis rhe concepr of ciz'i!ire was increasingly devalued for rhe social elire. Ir began to undergo a process similar ro thar which earlier overrook rhe concepr of co11rtoisic.

Excursus on the Rise and Decline of the Concepts of Co1!ltoisie and Cil'iliti!
_) Co111"!11isi, originally referred to rhe forms of behaviour char developed ar rhe courrs of rhe grear feudal lords. Even during rhe ivfiddle Ages rhe meaning of rhe word clearly lose much of irs original social resrricrion ro rhe "courr'', coming imo use in bourgeois circles as well. \Virh rhe slow exrincrion of the knighdyfeudal warrior nobiliry and rhe formarion of a new absolure courr aristocracy in rhe course of rhe sixreemh and seventeenth centuries, the concepr of cil'i!itf was slowly elevarecl as rhe expression of socially acceprnble behaviour . Co!!i'toisie and cizi!ite exisrecl side by side during rhe French rransirional sociery of rhe sixteenth century, wirh irs half knightly-feudal, half absolure courr characrer. In rhe course ot rhe sevenreenrh century. however, the conctpr of courtoisi, gradually wenr our of fashion in France 'The words comtois and 1w1rtoisic", says a French \vrirer in 1675,'' "are beginning ro age and are no longer good usage. \Ve say cil'i!, bu1111estc; ciz'i!itf,
hoilllt.:Std{.,

Neverrheless, chis extended courr sociery, in which arisrncraric and bourgeois elements intermingled, and which had no disrinct boundaries barring entry from below musr be envisaged as a whole. Ir comprised rhe hierarchicallv strucmred elire of rhe country. The compulsion to penerrare or ar lease w ir became srronger and srronger wirh rht growing interdependence and prosperiry of broader srrata. Clerical circles, above all, became popularizers of rhe courrh customs . The moderared resrraint of rhe emorions and rhe disciplined shaping ;f behaviour as a whole. which under rhe name of ciz'i!itf had been developed in rhe

Indeed, rhe word co11rtuisie now acrnally came w appear a bourgeois concept "My neighbour, rhe Bourgeois, says, following rhe language of rhe bourgeoisie of Paris affable' and 'courteous' (m11rtois) he does nor express himself polirely because rhe words 'courreous' and affable' are scarcely in use among people of rhe world, and rhe words 'civil' and 'decent' (ho1111ete) have taken rheir place. jusr as 'civiliry and 'decency' haw raken rht place of 'courresy and

88

The Cizili::i11g Process

Changes in thr: Beht11-io111 of the Semlar Uj1jJ1:r Classes in the \Vest

89

'affabilicy' " So we read in a conversacion with che title 011 Goud {ll/d Bad Usaae i11 L\jmssi11g 011uelj.: 011 Bof!l;t;.:uis Mmmers of Sp<aki11g, bv F. de Callieres ( 1694 pp. l lOffJ . , In a very similar way in che course of rhe eighreenrh century, che concept of ciz'iliti slowly lost irs hold among rhe upper class of rhe absolutist court. This class was now for ics part undergoing a fairly slow process of cransformacion, of bourgeoisificacion, which, ac lease up co 1750, went hand in hand with a simultaneous courcizacion of bourgeois elements. Something of che resulrant problem is percepcible, for example, when in 17-[5 Abbe Gedoyn, in an essay "De l'urbauice romaine" Wu1zr1:s dinnes, p . 17 ."\), discusses che quescion of whr, in his own sociecy, che expression 11rht111iti, chough ic referred co someching fine, had never come into use as much as cil'i!it{, h11111a11iti, politesse or gt1la11terie, and he replies: "Urha11itas signified chac politesse of language, mind, and manners acrached singularly to che city of Rome, which was called par excellence Urhs, rhe city, whereas among us, where this policeness is nor che privilege of any city in particular, not even of che capical. buc solely of che court, che rerm urbanicy becomes a cerm . wirh which we may dispense."

sociecy, civilizacion appeared as a firm possession, They wished above all co disseminate ir, and ac mosc co develop ic within che framework of che standard already reached. The examples guoced clearly express the movement cowards chis srandard in rhe preceding scage of the absolute courts,

A Review of the Curve Marking the "Civilizing" of Earing Habits


.t Ac che end of che eighceenth cencury, shortly before che Revolution, che
French upper class attained approximately che standard of earing manners, and cercainly noc only of eacing manners, char was gradually ro be taken for granted in rhe whole of civilized society.. Example M from che year 1786 is inscrucrive enough: ic shows as still a decidedly courtly cusrom exactly the same use of che serviecce which in che meantime has become cuscomary in che whole of civilized bourgeois sociecy.. Ir sho\YS che exclusion of the fork from the eacing of soup, che need for which, cercainly, is only undersrandable if we recall rhac soup often used ro contain-and in France scill contains-more solid content than it does now. Ir furcher shows as a courcly demand che requirement nor co cue but co break one's bread ar table, a requirement char has in che meantime been clemocracized. And che same applies ro che way in which one drinks coftee. These are a few examples of how our everyday ricual was formed . If chis series were continued up co the present day. further changes of derail would be seen: new imperacives have been added, old ones are relaxed; a wealch of nacional and social variations on table manners has emerged; che penerracion of rhe middle classes, rhe working class, the peasantry by che uniform ritual of civilization, and by che regulation of drives chac ics acquisition requires, is of varying screngch Bur che essential basis of what is required and whac is forbidden in civilized sociecy-che standard technique of earing, the manner of using knife, fork, spoon, place, serviette and other earing urensils-rhese remain in their essential feacures unchanged. Even che development of technology in all areas--even char of cooking-chrough che introduccion of new sources of energy has left the techniques of earing and ocher forms of behaviour essentially unchanged. Only on very close inspeccion does one observe craces of a trend chat is continuing co occur. \Vhac is scill changing now is, above all, che cechnology of production. The technology of consumption was developed and kepc in morion by social formacions which were, to a degree never since equalled, consumption classes \\!ich their social decline, che rapid and intensive elaboration of consumption techniques ceased and has been relegated into what have now become the private (in contrasc ro che occupational) sphere of life. Correspondingly, che tempo of

If one realizes chat "city" ac this rime referred more or less ro "bourgeois good
society" as against che narrower court society, one readily perceives rhe copical importance of rhe quescion raised here

In most of the scacemems from chis period, rhe use of ciziliti had receded, as here, in rhe face of politesse, and che idemificacion of chis whole complex of ideas wich h11111cmfri had emerged more sharply.
As early as 17 ."\.),Voltaire, in che dedicacion of his Zc1ii'e co a bourgeois, A . .l\L Faulkner, an English merchant, expressed these tendencies very clearlr: "Since and che che regency of Anne of Austria che French have been che mosc . and this J10/ite11w is 11ot in the letut rll! arhitrarr mosc police people in che world 111atte1: like that uhich is frdled civilice, !J!!t is r1 l:rn rf ;uti!r, which rhev happily culcivaced more than ocher peoples.... . Like che concept of l'IJ!tr!oisie earlier, cil'iliti was now slowlv be<,inninu ro sink " b b Shorcly afterwards, the content of chis and related cerms was raken up and extended in a new concepc, che expression of a new form of self-consciousness che concept of cil'ilisation. Co1trtoisit, r'il'ilit{ and r'iz'ilisatio11 mark chree srar;es social development . They indicace which sociecy is speaking and being addressed ac a given rime, However, the actual change in che behaviour of che upper classes, rhe development of che models of behaviour which would henceforth be called "civilized", rook place-ac lease so far as iris visible in che areas discussed herein che middle phase. The concepc of cil'ilisatio11 indicates quire clearly in ics nineteenth-century usage rhac che Jnucess of civilization-or, more scricclv speaking, a phase of chis process-had been completed and forgorcen. People on!;, wanted co accomplish chis process for ocher nacions, and also, for a period, for che lower classes of cheir own sociecy. To che upper and middle classes of their own

90

Tht Cil'ilizi11g Pmass


\\' l1ar

i11 zLn Bth111'io!!r of the S,mfar UjJ/>tr C!as.w:s i11 th, Wi:st

91

movement and ch<mge in [htse spheres which was relarivt!y fas[ during rhe srage of rhe absolure cour[s. has slowed down once again. Even rhe shape of ta[ing mtnsils-plmes, dishes, kni,es. forks and spoonshas from now on become no more [ban varia[ions on [hemes of [ht dix-hiliti:me and preceding cenwries. Cerrainly rhere are srill very many changes of derniL Ont example is rhe differentiarion of mensils. On many occasions. nor only are rhe places changed afrer each course bm rhe earing mensils. mo. Ir is nor enough rn ear simply wirh knife. fork and spoon ins[ead of wirh one's hands . In rhe upper class more and more, a special implement is used for each kind of food . Soupspoons, fish kni,es, and mear knives are on one side of rhe place. Forks for rhe hors d'oeuvre, fish and meat on che O[her. Above the plare are fork, spoon or knife-according rn the cusrnm of [he country-for sweer foods. And for rhe desserr and fruir yer another implement is brought in. All rhese mensils are differently shaped and equipped . They are now larger, now smaller, now more round. now more pointed. Bur on closer consideration they do nor represent anything acwally new. They. too, are variations on rhe same theme, differentiations within rhe same standard. And only on a few poinrs-abon: all, in rhe use of rhe knife--clo slow movemems begin to show rhemselws rhat lead beyond rhe srnndard already arrained. Later rhere will be more rn say on this 5. In a sense. somerhing similar was rrue of rhe period up to rhe fifreemh cemury. Up to rhen-for very different reasons-rhe standard earing technique, rhe basic srnck of whar was socially prohibited and permirred. like rhe behaviour of people towards one another and cowards rhemselvts (of which these prohibirions and commands are expressions), remained fairly consranr in irs essemial fearnres, even if here roo fashions, flucwarions, regional and social variations and a slow movement in a parricular direcrion were by no means entirely absem. Nor can rhe cransicions from one phase ro anorher be ascerrained wirh complere precision . The more rapid movemem begins lacer here. earlier there. and everywhere one finds slighr preparatory shifrs. Neverrheless, rhe overall shape of rhe cuf\"e v,ras everywhere broadly rhe same: firsr rhe medieval phase, wirh a cerrain climax in rhe flowering of knighrly-courrly sociery, marked by earing with rhe hands. Then l phase of relariwly rapid movemenr and change. embracing roughly rhe six[eenrh, seventeenth and eiglHeenrh centuries, in which rhe compulsions ro elabornre earing behaviour pressed consrantly in one direcrion, towards a new standard of cable manners. From rhen on, one again observes a phase which remained wi[hin rhe framework of rhe standud already reached, rhough wirh a \'try slow movement in a parricular direcrion. The elaboration of everyday condu([ ne\'tr emirely lost. in this period eirher, irs imporrance as an insrrumem of social dis[incrion Bur from now on, ir no longer played the same role as in the preceding phase More exclusively rhan before. money has become rhe basis of social differences. And

eoiJle acrnalh achie,e and !Jroduce has become more imporranr rhan rheir . P manners. 6. Taken togerher. [ht examples show very clearly how chis movemem adV<inced. The prohibitions of mediernl society, even ar rhe feudal couns did nor . nipose anr verr grear resrraint on rhe plav of emorions. Compared wirh lacer \'t"L 1 . s. soci1l larer ones, were relaxed era. ' comrol was mild. Manners. measured ai::ains[ ._ in all senses of rhe word. One oughr nor ro snore or smack one's lips while ea[ing One oughr nor ro spic across rhe cable or blow one's nose on rhe rablecloth (for this was used for wiping greasy fingers) or into th<: fingers (wirh which one held [he common dish) Earing from rhe same dish or plare as ochers \V<lS taken for "ranted. One had only ro refrain from falling on rhe dish like a pig. and from dipping binen friod inro rhe communal sauce. j\fony of rhese cusroms are still memioned in Erasmus's rrearise and in its adapration by Calviac. More clearly rhan by inspecting panicular accounts of conremporary manners, by sur\'eying rhe whole movement one sees how i[ advanced Tablt mensils were srill limired; on rhe lefr the bread. on rhe righr rhe glass and knife. Thar was all. The fork was already memioned, alrhough with a limi[ed funcrion as an insrrumem for lifting food from [ht common dish . And. like che handkerchief. rhe napkin had also appeared already. borh S[ill-a symbol of [ransicion-as oprional rarher rhan necessary implements: if you have a handkerchief. the preceprs say. use it rarher rhan your fingers If a napkin is pro\'ided. lay ir over your lefr shoulder One hundred and fifry years lacer borh napkin and handkerchief had. like rbe fork. become more or less indispensable mensils in the courdy class. The curve followed by O[ber habirs and cusroms was similar. Firsr [ht soup was ofren drunk. whether from rhe common dish or from ladles used by several people In rhe cr111rtois writings rhe use of rhe spoon was prescribed. Ir, roo, would firsr of all have sern:d several rogerher. A fur[her seep is shown by rhe quorarion from Calviac of 1560 He memions that i[ was cusromary among Germans ro allow each guesr his own spoon. The next step is shown by Courrin's rex[ from [ht vear 167..2. Now one no longer are the soup direcdy from rhe common dish, bur .poured some imo one's own plate. first of all using one's own spoon; bm [here were even people. we read here. who were so dtficate diar [hey did nor wish w ear from a dish inro which others had dipped an already used spoon. Ir was [herefore necessary ro wipe one's spoon wirh rhe servierre before: dipping ir into [he dish. And some people were no[ sarisfied even with this. For chem, one was no[ allowed ro dip a used spoon back into rhe common dish ar all; insread, one had to ask for a clean one for chis purpose. Srnrements like rhese show nor only how rhe whole rinial of living toged1er was in flux, bur also how people [hemselves were aware of chis change. Here. seep by srep. rhe now <lccepred way of raking soup was being established: evervone had rheir own pla[e and own spoon. and rhe soup was
L

Thr: Cirilizinr, Proc<:Ss

Chmgc.r in the Bthtnio11r of tl.n Swdar

Upper

Clmsts in the \Vest

93

disrribured wirh a specialized implemenr. Earing had acquired a new sryle corresponding ro rhe new necessiries of social lift Norhing in rable manners is self-evidem or rhe produce, as ir were, of a "narural" feeling of delicacy. The spoon, fork and napkin were nor invenred one clay by a single individual as rechnical implemenrs wirh obvious purposes and clear clirecrions for use. Over cenruries, in clirecr social inrercourse and use, rheir funcrions became gradually defined, rheir forms soughr and consolidared. Each cusrom in rhe changing rirnal, however minure, was esrablishecl infinirelv slowly e,en forms of behaviour rhar ro us seem quire elemcnrary or simply such as rhe cusrom of raking liquid only wirh rhe spoon. bery movemem of rbe hand-for example, rhe way in which one holds and moves knife, spoon or fork-was srandardized only srep by srep. And rhe social mechanism of srnndardizarion can irself be seen in outline if rbe series of images is surveytd as a whole. There was a more or less limirecl courtly circle which firsr scamped the models only for the needs of its own social siwarion and in conformity wirh the psychological condition corresponding ro ir.. Bur clearly rhe srn;crure and development of French sociery as a whole gradually made ever broader strata willing and anxious ro aclopr the models developed above rhem: rhey spread, likewise very gradually, rhroughour rhe whole of socierv, cerrainlv nor wirhom undergoing some modification in rhe process. . . The rakeover, rhe passage of models from one social unir ro anorher, now from the cenrres of a society ro its ourposrs (e.g., from rhe Parisian courr ro orher courrs), now wirbin rhe same socio-polirical unit (e.g . , wirhin France or Saxony, from above ro below or from below ro above), is to be coumed, in rhe civilizin.g process as a whole, as among the mosr imporranr individual movemems. rhe examples show is only a limired segmenr of rhese . Nor only rhe earing manners bur also forms of chinking or speaking, in sborr, of beha,iour in general. were moulded in a similar way rhroughour France, even if rhere were significanr differences in rhe riming and srrucrure of rheir parrerns of developmenr The elaborarion of a parricular rimal of human relarions in rhe course of a change in social and psychological srrucrures is nor somerhing rhar can be rreared in isolation, even if here, as a firsr arrempr, ir has only been possible ro follow a single srrand. A shorr example from rhe process of rhe "civilizing" of speech may serve as a reminder rhar rhe observarion of manners and rheir rransformarion exposes ro view only a very simple and easily accessible segmenr of a much more far-reaching process of social change.

"You know", we read in a lirde work which in irs rime was much read, 1\lots rc1t br ,;1 Callieres, in the edirion of 1693 (p. -i6J, "rhar rhe bourgeois speak ! Tl,,,, l verv differendy from us . " we examine more closely whar is rermecl "bourgeois" speech, and whar is referred ro as the expression of rhe courdy upper class, we encounrer the same phenomenon rhar can be observed in eating-cusroms and manners in general: much of whar rn the sevemeenrh and ro some exrenr rhe e1ghreenrh cemury was disringuishing form of expression and language of court sociery gradually became rhc French narional language. The voung son of bourgeois parenrs, .M. Thibaulr, is presenred ro us visiring -mall.arisrocraric .!!arherin,!!. r' ._, '-- The laclv of rhe house asks after his farheL "He is vour very humble servanr, Madame", Thibault answers, "and he is srill poorly, as well know, since you have graciously senr ofrenrimes ro inquire abour rhe ;rare of his healrh." The siruarion is clear. A cerrain social conracr exisrs berween rhe arisrocraric circle and tht bourgeois family. The lady of the house has menriontd it previously. She also says rhar the elder Thibaulr is a very nice man, nor wirhour adding rhar such acquainrances are somerimes quire useful ro rhe arisrocracy because rhese people, after all, have money.'' And ar rhis poinr one is reminded of rht very differenr srrucrure of German sociery. Bur social conracrs ar rhis rime were clearly nor close enough, leaving aside the bourgeois inrelligenrsia, ro have effaced rhe linguistic differences berween rhe classes Every orher word rhe young Thibaulr urrered was, by rhe sranclards of court sociery, awkward and gross, smelling-as the courtiers pur ir-"bourgeois from rhe mourh". In courr society one did not say as you well know" or "ofrenrimes" or "poorly" (co111il/e hi1:11 S{dl'tZ. Jo111wtes fois. mcdadij). One did nor say, like M. Thibaulr in rhe ensuing conversation, "Je vous demancle excuse" II beg ro be excused). In rhe courr sociery one said, as rnday in bourgeois sociery, "Je vous clemancle pardon" iI beg your pardon) 11. Thibault said: "Un mien ami, un mien parenr, un mien cousin" (A friend of mine, ere.), insread of rhe courtly "un de mes amis. un de mes parenrs" (p. 20) He said .. deffuncr mon pere, le paune deffuncr" (deceased) And he was insrrucred rhar rhar roo was nor one of the expressions "which civiliry has introduced among well-spoken people. People of the world do nor say char a man is deceased when rhey mean rhar he is dead" (p. 22). The word can be used ar mosr when saying "we musr pray ro Goel for rhe soul of the deceased . bur rhose who speak well say rarher: my !are farher, the !are Mr such and such, the lare Duke, ere." (!t11 111011 jli:rt, ere.). And ir was poinred our thar "for rhe poor deceased" was "a very bourgeois rum of phrase .. 8 . Here, roo, as wirh manners, rhere was a kind of double movemem: a courrizarion of bourgeois people and a bourgeoisification of courdy people. Or, ro put ir more precisely bourgeois people were influenced by the behaviour of

If

Excursus on the .Modelling of Speech at Court


7. For speech, mo, a limirecl circle firsr developed cerrnin srandards. As in Germany, though ro a far lesser exrenr, rhe language spoken rn court sociery was differem from rhe language spoken by the bourgeoisie

P;-r;(r:SS

95
from rht Ch,1mber at Spever" r\ "because ir is modelled on , , . 't ,,_,- 1s rhe uni,ersities chat atramed almost rhe samt imporrnnce tor T1en i ' , , l rnd lan<'LI<l"e as rhe court 111 France. Bue these rwo socialh Gern11111 Clil(Llre ''=' <:: , [ r ,lte'l tntiries Chancellery and universitv. influenced sptech less dian 1 c!OS<'. ] c , . . , , - rht\' not through conversar10n bm wnnng, . formed tht German wrintn language ... uments lercers and books And if Nietzsche obserYts th<H tYtn the Cloc 1 1 t l1roug ' , . . . clrinkin" song is erudite. or if he contrasted che elimination or specialise c , Germ,1 11 . ..,. . Lw tht courtly Voltaire rn the pracrice of rhe Germans, ht saw very clearly tef,JIS . rhe reoults of these different bistonc,1l developments to. If m France the g"i' cf, /.1 u1111' s,ud This is spoktn \\ell and rh1s b,1dly,

courdy ptople. and Yict Ytrsa. Tht influence from below on those abon: was certainly ,-ery much we<tktr in the St\"tnteenth century in France than in the eighteenth. But it was not tntirel> absent: tht ch[1teau Vaux-le Vicomte of the bourgeois intendant of finances. Nicolas Fouquet. antedates the royal Versailles, and was in many ways its model That is a clear example. The wealth of leading bourgeois strata compelled those above to compete. And the incessant influx of bourgeois people to the circle of the court also produced a specific mmement in speech: \Yith the new human material it brought new linguistic material. the "slang" of rhe bourgeoisie. into the circle of the court. Elements of it were: constantly being processed into courtly language. polished. relined. transformed; they were made. in a word. "courtly". i.e .. adapted to the srnnd,1rd of sensibility or affect of the court circles. They were thereby rnrnecl into means of distinguishing the gws ck !t1 cW!I from the bourgeoisie. and then perhaps-thus refined and modified-after some rime penetrated the bourgeoisie once more and became "specifically bourgeois" There is. says tht Duke in one of tht conYtrsations c1uoted from CalliC:rts (Du hoi! d dit 11h!11rais 11sagc, p. 98). a manner of speaking "most common among the bourgeois of Paris and even among some courtiers raised among the bourgeoisie. Ir is to sc1y 'Lee us look and ste' (m)!lllS z-r1ir), insread of saying 'Let us see (rfJyrl/Js), and aniiding rhe word 'look. which is perfectly useless and diS<1greeable in this place. But chere has rtcemly come into use. rhe Duke cominues. "another bad mm of phrase:. which began among the lowesr people and made irs fortune ar the courr, like those fayouri res without meri c who gor thernsel ves elevated there in the old clays . It is 'il en sc,;ait bien long', meaning that someone is subtle and cleYer.. The ladies of the courr are beginning to use it, rno ... So ir wem on. The bourgeois and even some court people said "il faut que nous foisions cela" instead of "il faur que nous fassions cela". Some said "l on za" and "lon zesr" insread of rhe courtly "l'on ,1 .. and 'Ton tsc" They said "Je le L1i" instead of 'Jt L1i" In almosr all these casts the linguisric form which here appears as courtly has in fact become the narional usage. Bur there were also examples of courdy linguistic formations bting gradually discarded as "rno refintd". "too afftcred". 9 All chis elucidates at rhe same rime whar was said earlier abour rhe sociogenetic differences between the German and French national characrers. Language is one of the rnosr accessible manifestations of what we experience as national character" Hert one can see from a single concrete example how this peculiar and rypical characrer has been elaborated in conjunction with specific social formations Tht French language was decisively scamped by the court and courr sociery. For rhe German hrnguage the Imperial Chamber and Ch<rnctllery for a time played a similar role. eYen if they did not have remotely the same influence as the French court. As late as 16-L'i. someone claimed his language rn

bt exe n11)l '1 .

.._

;i

question is raised that opens up a wide fit!cl for reflection ,rnd which must be at !t<1 sr touched on here in passing: "By what srnndards were rhty acmally d"in" was b "oocl and bad in \\/hat were their criteria tor JU c- t:- wlnt ''c...selecring. polishing and modifying expressions'" Sometimes rhey reflected on chis themselves. \\ihat they said on the subject is at firsr sighr rarher surprising, and ar any rate significanr beyond rht area of. Phrases. words and nuances were good hc(dl!Sc rhey, the members of rhe used chem; and rhey were bad hccdi!Sr social inferiors spoke in chis social

war
Thibault sometimes defends himself when he is role! thar this or thar rum

.;:;f phrase was bad. "I am much obliged w you. i\fadame. ht says (Du ho11 er
il!:lil!',tis 11sagc.

l' 2)). "for the trouble you are caking w instruct me, yet ir seems w me that the term 'dtceased' is a well-esrnblishecl word used by a great manv

well-bred people (ho1111i:tc gws)." "Ir is \'try possible". the Ltdy answers, "that there are many well-bred people who are insufficiently famib1r with the delicacy of our language a delicacy which is known rn only a small number of well-spoktn people and causes them nm w sa\ chat a man is dectased in order tO say that ht is dead ... A smail circle of people were versed in this delicacy of language: rn speak .is the1 did was w speak correctly. \\/hat the ochers said did nor count. The were apoclictic A reason ocher than that "\\le. the elire. speak rhus. and onh wt haYe sensirivitl' rn languagt" was ntithtr netded nor known. "\Vich errors committtd. againsr good usage". it is exprtssly srartcl in another regard pl:Kt. as rhere are no definite rules it depends only on the consent of a certain number of elite people whose ears are accustomed to cerrain ways of speaking and rn preferring chem to or hers" (p 98) And rhen the words were listed char should be avoided Amiqumed words were unsuired rn ordinary. serious speech. Very new words must arouse the suspicion of afftcrntion or posing-we might perhaps say, of snobben- Learned words that smack of Latin and Greek must be suspecr to all gt11.r d11, 11111//ck. They surrounded anyone using chem wirh an atmosphere of pedantry. if other words were known chat expressed the same thing simply.

96

The Cirili:ing PmceJs

Chm1gu in tht Bt!Jt!l'iom of the Stml{/r Uf'l1tr Classes in the West

97

Low words used by the common people must be carefully avoided. for those who used chem showed char the\ had had <l "low education .... And it is of these words. rhar is. low words", said d1t courtly speaker, .. that we are speaking in this connecrion-he meant in the contraposirion of courtly and bourgeois language. The reason given for the expurgation of "bad .. words from language w<1s the refinement of feeling that has played no small role in the whole civilizing process. Bur this refinement was the possession of a relatively small group Either one had this sensitivity or one had nor-that. roughly. was the speaker's atrirnde. The people who possessed this delicacy. a small circle. determined by their consensus what was held ro be good or bad. In ocher words. of all rhe rational grounds char might be put forward for the selection of expressions, the social argument. char something was better because it was the usage of the upper class, or even of only an elite within the upper class, was by far the most prominent. "Antiquated words". words rhar had gone our of fashion, were used by rhe older generation or by those \vho were not permanently involved direcdy in court lift, rhe declasse ... Too new words" were used by the clique of young people who had yet ro be accepted. who spoke their special .. slang'', a part of which would perhaps be romorrows fashion 'Learned words" were used. as in Germany, by those educated ar rhe universities, especially lawyers and rhe higher admir::.;rrarors, i . e., in France, the nr1hhsSt de roht .. Low expressions .. were all chose words used by tbt bourgeoisie clown ro rht common people. Tht linguistic polemic corresponded ro a quire specific, very characrerisric social formation. Ir showed and delimited rht group which ar <l given moment exerted control over language: in a broader sense they were the gws de la CUl!I', bur in a narrower sense they were a smaller, especially arisrocraric circle of people who at the rime had influence at court, and who carefully distinguished themselves from the social climbtrs, tht courtitrs with a bourgeois upbringing, the "antiquated .. and the "young people .. , and from the .. snobbish" competitors of the rising genernrion, and last but nor )east, from the specialized officials who came from the university. This circle was the primary model-making centre for rht language at this time. How the members of these narrower and broader court circles spoke was "how one must speak ... ro speak c1J11m1t ii Here rhe models of speech were formed chat subsequently spread our in longer or shorter waves . The manner in which the language developed and was stamped corresponded to a specific social srrucrnre . Accordingly. from the mid-eighteenth cenmry onwards, bourgeois influences on the French language slowly gained in strength. Bur chis long passage through a stage dominated by the court aristocracy remains perceptible in the French language roclay, as does the passage of German through a stage of dominance by a learned miclclle-class intelligentsia . And wherever elites or pseudo-elites have formed within French bourgeois society, they have

attached rhemseln:s to these older. distinguishing tendencies in their Ian-

guage,

Reasons Given by People for Distinguishing Between .. Good" and 'Bad" Behaviour
l l. Language is one of rhe embodiments of social or mental life. Much rhar can be observed in rhe way language is moulded also becomes evident through the j 11 ,c:srigacion of other embodiments of society. For example, the grounds on which people argue chat this behaviour or chat custom at rable is better than scarcelv from rhe wa, rhev establish such claims ano [ller, 1re ' . disrin"uishable b ; . with regard w linguistic expressions. This does nor entirely correspond w the expecrarion that twentieth-century observers may have For example, they expect ro find the elimination of .. earing with rhe hands", the introduction of rhe fork, individual cutlery and crockery, an<l all rhe other ri rnals of their own standard explained on "hygienic grounds" For chat is the way in which rhey themselves in general explain these customs. Bur as late as rhe second half of the eighteenth century, hardly anything of this kind is found as a motivation for rhe greater restraint that people impose upon themselves. Ar any rare, the so-called "rational explanations" are very far in the background compared to ochers. In rhe earliest srages the need for restraint was usually explained by saying: Do rhis and not char, for it is nor co11rtois, not "courtly"; a 'noble" man does nor do such things. Ar most, rhe reason given is consideration for the embarrassment of ochers, as in Tannhausers Hofzmht, where it says, in effect, .. Do nor scratch vourself with your hand, with which you also hold rhe common dish; your rnble might notice ir, so use your coat to scratch yourself (Example A, v. 109ff). And clearly here the threshold of repugnance differed from that of rhe following period. Later on, a similar rationale was used above all: Do nor do char, for it is not 'ciz'i/" or "hiwsea11t". Or such an argument was used to esrnblish the respect due ro those of higher social rank As in rhe moulding of speech, so roo in the moulding of other aspects of behaviour in society, social motivations, adaprarions of behaviour to the models of influential circles, were by far the most important. Even the expressions used in motivating "good behaviour" at cable were very frequently exactly d1e same as those used in motivating 'good speech". In Callieres's D11 hon et d11 111m1mis 11se1ge daw !es 111a11ieres de s'e.\j1rimer, reference is made, for example, ro chis or char expression "which civility bas introduced among people who speak well" (p . 22). Exactly rhe same concept of cii'i!itrf is also used again and again by Courrin or La Salle to express what was good and bad in manners. And just as Callieres here

98
spoke simply of rht people
jiarlulf /;ju/', so Courrin (ar rhe end of Example
G) said, in efftcc "Formerly ont was allowed

in th, B1:hdzjo11r of the Sem!ar UJ>jier Classes i11 the \Vi:st

99

rn do rhis or rhar, bm wday one is

no longer allowed w Callii::res says in 1694 [hat [htre art a grtat many people who art not sufficitnr!I' conversam with tht tf,:/icatc.r."' of our language: "('est Ct[[t cltlica[tsse qui n'est connu qut d'unt petitt nombrt cit gens ... Courrin used the same expression in 1672 when he said [hat i[ was necessary always to wipe one's spoon before clipping it into [ht common dish if one had already used i[, .. [here being people so dc/i(({ft [hat [hey would not wish w ea[ soup in which you had clipped ir afrc:r pm[ing i[ inro your momh" (Example G). This clilict1tts.r<. [his sensibili[y and a highly de\tloped feeling for what was "embarrassing". was ar firs[ a dis[inguishing fearnre of small courdy circles, then of court socit[)' as a whole. This applies w language in exacdy tht same way as

,, cl Lw clear undtrsranding But "r,uional understanding" is not the mowr of nrlTlt _ -b l " .1 1 1nu" ot eating or of other wavs of e iavlllg he en 12 "' . . r The close parallel berween tht "civilizing" of taring and char .of speech is ll1 . _ "[ hi<hlv insrructivt. Jr makes it clear char the chani.;e in beha\'lour at this reoptL "' . _ . _ _ .' . , , .. c ,ur of a much laruer transtormat10n of human feelings and a[[Jtuclts. rir"'re \\(1-' 11 - o 'u '11Lin11 ' natts the cleuret w which the motors of chis developmtnr came Ir a1so i ' c lie soci1l srructure.. from the wav in which people' \Vtre related w or , ' e! wirh t'lch other \\it see mort clearlv how relatlvelv small Circles a[ te integra ' first formed rht cenrrc of the movemenr and how_ rhe process then y assed rn broader srrarn. Bur this diffusion irselt presupposed very specific
and rherefort a quirt definite structure of society. .l\.foreo\'er, ir _could cerrninly nor ha\'e raktn place had there not been established: not only tor the model-forming circles but also for broader strata, conditions of life-or, in ocher words, a social situation-chat made bo[h possible and necessary a gradual_ [ransformation of the emotions and behaviour, an advance in the threshold of repugnance. The process [har emerges resembles in form-though nor in subsrance-rhose chemical processes in which a liquid. the whole of which is subjected w conditions of chemical change (t . g .. crysrallizarion). first rakes on crysralline form at a small nucleus. while the rest then gradually crystallizes around this core. Nothing would be more erroneous than w rake the core of tht crysrallizarion for [he cause of tht transformation. The fact char a particular social stratum in one or another pluse of social developmenr formed the cemrt of a process and thus elaborated models for ochers. and chat these models were diffused w other strata and received by them, itself presupposed a social sicuation and a parricular structure of society as a whole, b\ virtut of which rhe function of creating models fell ro one circle and that of and assimihning them fell w ano[htr. The kinds of changes in of socitt\' in morion will be b rh,1t set these behavioural changes ._, t 't1e intt"rarion discussed in greater derail later.

w ta[ing habirs . On wh<H chis delicacy was based. and why it demanded chat rhis
bt done and nor chat, was no[ said and nor ,1skecL \Vhar can be observed is simply char "delicacy"-or, rather, rhe threshold of repugnance-was advancing. Jn conjunction with a quite specific social situation, the structure of feelings and affects was firsr transformed in the upper class, and the structure of society as a whole permi[[tcl this changed afftct-srandard w spread slowly There is norhing which suggesrs char rhe srructure of affects. the degree of sensitivity. changed for reasons chat wt would describe as "clearly rarional". i . t. from a demonstrable undtrsranding of specific causal connections . Courtin did not say, as would bt said lacer. thar some people felr it to bt "unhygienic" or "derrimenral rn healrh"

w rnkt soup from [ht s<'mt dish as ochers. Ir is, of course, the case char delicacy
of fteling was heightened under rht pressure of rht courdy situarion in ways which were later jusrifitd pardy by scientific invesrigarions, even though a major part of [ht raboos that people gradually imposed on themselves in their dealings wirh each ocher, a far larger 1x1rt rhan is usually rhoughr, has nor rhe slightest conntcrion wi[h "hygiene .. but is concerned even wclay mtrtly wirh "delicacy of feeling" Ar any rate. rhe process has moved in some rtspecrs in a way chat is exactly opposirt rn, whar is commonly assumed today. Firsr, over a long period and in conjunction with a specific c!Mngt in human relationships. chat is in sociery, [ht threshold of repugnance was raised The affecr-srrucrure. the sensirivity, and [ht behaviour of people change, dtspi[t all sorts of fluctuations, in a qui[e specific direction. Then, at a ctrrain poinr, this behaviour came w be recognized as "hygienically correct", i.e" ir was jusrifitd by a clearer insight into causal conntcrions and raktn further in tht same direction or consolidated. The advance of the threshold of repugnance may have been connected ar specific poinrs wi[h more or less inclttermimut and. at first, in no way rationally explicable experiences of the way in which certain diseases are passed on or, expressed more precisely. with indeterminate and therefore rationally unlimired fears and anxieties which pointed vaguely in rhe direction subsequtndy con-

Gro11ji 2.
On the Eating of Meat
l Alrhough human phenomena-wherher attitudes. wishes or structuresma\' be looked at on their own, independently of their connections with rhe social life of people, they art by nature norhing but subsranrializarions of human relations and of hum<m beha\'iour, emboclimenrs of social and mtnral life. This is true of speech, which is nothing other than human relations mrned inro sound; it is [rut of art. science, economics and politics; it is true both of phenomena which rank high on our scale of values and of others which seem trivial or

100

The Cil'ilizing PmctJJ

101
ces pl1ved ' 5p 1 a ma1or.. ve"erables a relarivelv minor role . Orher informa,. h. ' b ' ns nrs fairlv unanimoush in rhe same direction. The derails remain to be non poi reseed furrber. . . . ? Another change can bt documented more precisely.. The manner rn which - is srved has changed considerabh from rhe Middle Ages co modern rimes. meat e ' . . e of chis change is verv instructive. In rhe upper class of medieval T1t . _ I cu f\ . che de1d animal or large pares or ir were often brought ro the cable soc1er}, ' ' . . . . l N'or onlv whole fish and whole birds (someumes w1rh their feathers) bur '"hoe. . whole rabbits, lambs, and quarters of veal appeared 01 .rhe table, nor ro mention che larger venison or rhe spic-roasted pigs and oxen.'s The animal was carved on rhe cable. This is why rhe books on manners repeat, up co rhe seventeenth and sometimes even the eighteenth how imporc s for a well-bred man to be buood at carnng meat. D1scenda a pnm1s rant 1 1 ' srarim annis secandi ratio " (The correct way to carve should be caught from rhe first years) says Erasmus in 15 30 "When serving," says Courrin in 16 I 2,
one mus! always givt away !he btsl ponion and keep !he smallest. and wuch nmhing excepl with !he fork; rhis is why, if a person of rank asks you for somerhing du! is in from of vou. il is imponam rn know how ro cm meal wirh propriery and merhoJ, and rn kno\\.' !he best ponions. in order rn be able rn serve !htm with civility The wav rn CLI! !hem is no! prescribed here. because i! is a subjec! on which special books been wrinen. in which all die pieces are illusrra!ed ro show where the meal mus! firs! be held wirh a fork rn cm il. for as we have jus! said. th, 11!11 mm! ih'!'<:i /;, 1oud1,J hi h:111d 111Jt dd! zchj/, nJting: !hen where !he knife must be plaet:d w cm ic whal mus! be lifted tirsl whac is the bes! piece. and the piece of honour dial must be served ro the person of highesl rank. I! is easy w learn how rn carve when one has ea!tn !hree or four limes ac a good cable. and for !he same reason il is no dis,t;race rn excuse oneself and leave rn another what one cannot do oneself.

worthless. Bur iris ofttn precisely these latter, apparently trivial phenomena that giw us clear and simple insighrs inro the structure and development of the psyche and irs relations which are at first denied us by rhe former. People's attitudes co meat-earing. for example. are highly illuminating with regard ro the dynamics of human relationships and personality structures. In rhe Middle Ages, people moved between at least three different secs of behaviour cowards rhe consumption of mear.. Here, as with a hundred other phenomena, we see rhe extreme diversity of behav10ur characteristic of medieval society as compared with its modern counterpart.. The medieval social structure was far less conducive ro rhe slow permeation of models developed in a specific social cemre through rhe society as a whole. Certain modes of behaviour often predominated in a particular social stratum rhroughour rhe \X'esrern world, while in a different srramm or estate behaviour was very different. For this reason, rhe behavioural differences between different estates in the same region were often greater than those between regionally separate representatives of the same social stratum . And if modes of behaviour passed from one stratum co another, as happened again and again, they changed their face more radically in correspondence with the greater self-comainment of rhe estates. The relation ro meat-earing moved in the medieval world between the following poles In rhe secular upper class rhe consumption of meat was extraordinarily high, compared ro rhe standard of our own rimes. A tendency prevailed rhen ro devour quantities of meat char ro us seem fantastic. In the monasteries an ascetic abstention from all meat-earing in part prevailed, an absemion resulting more or less from self-denial, not from shortage, and often accompanied by a radical disdain for or restriction of earing. From these circles came expressions of strong aversion ro rhe "glurrony" among rhe secular upperclasses. The mear consumption of the lower class, rhe peasams, was also often extremely limited-nor from a spiritual need, a more or less freely chosen renunciation with regard co God and rhe next world, bur from shortage. Cattle were expensive and therefore destined, for a long period, essentially for rhe rulers' rabies. "If the peasant reared cattle'', it has been said,'< "it was largely for rhe privileged, the nobility, and rhe burghers'', nor forgening rhe clerics, who ranged in varying degrees from asceticism ro approximately rhe behaviour of the secular upper class . Exact data on rhe meat consumption of rhe upper classes in the Middle Ages and at the beginning of the modem age are sparse. There were, no doubt, considerable differences between rhe lesser, poorer knights and the great feudal lords.. The standards of the poor knights must frequently have been scarcely removed from chose of the peasants A calculation of the meat consumption of a north German court from relatively recent rimes, the seventeenth century, indicates a consumption of rwo pounds per head per day, in addition co large quantities of venison, birds and

And rhe German parallel, rhe i\tzc n:n11ehrtts Trincier-Biich!ti11 (New, enlarged carving manual), primed in Rinrelen in 1650. says:
Because !he office of carver al princely courls is no! reckoned as !he lowesl bm among rhe mos! honourable, !he same mus! d1erefore be eilher of !he nobilily or mher good descem. of straighl and well-proponioned body. good sm1ight arms and nimble hands In all public cmting he should absrnin from large mlwemems and useless and foolish ceremonies and make quilt sure dial he is no! nervous, so th.11 h, d'd not hring dishm1011 r throNgh 1,.,.111h/i11g of th< and hrmds and because in any case !his does nm befit !hose ac princely rnbles

Boch carving and distributing rhe meat were parricular honours. Ir usually fell co rhe master of rhe house or ro distinguished guests whom he requested to perform rhe office. "The young and chose of lower rank should nor interfere in

l ()',
l 02
C,)dlf,(,C.\ Ill ii. 1r; I

.1 _

5,J; , 1iol!r rf tht 5,mf,11


'"' - -

serving.

DU[

only rake for d1emsclves in their turn." says the anonymous Ci1iliti

ofl 7 l5. In the sevtmeemh cemurv [ht G1n-ing of mta[ at t<ible gradually ceased, in the French upper class. w be an indispensable accomplishmem of [ht man of the world. such <ls hunting, fencing. and dancing. The passage quo[ed from Courtin poims rn [his .'.\. That the serving of large parts of the animal rn be carved a[ rnblt gradually wem out of use was connected with many fr,crors. Ont of [ht most important may be the gradual reduction in the size of the household'" as pan of the mmemem from larger to smaller family uni[s; then comes d1t removal of produetion and processing activities like weaving, spinning and slaugh[tring from the household. and [heir gradual transference to specialis[S, craftsmen, merchams and manufacturers, who practice them professionally while the household becomes essentially a consumption uniL Hert, rno, the psychological tendency marches rhe overall social process: today
J[

would arouse rather uneasy feelings in many people if [hey or ochers had ro

carve half a rnlf or pig ar rnble or cut me<lt from a pht<lsam still adorned with its

fear hers
Thtrt art e\en du
gti/J

..-i dJ/i,t1ts-w repeat the phrase of Counin. which

referred w a rtl<1recl process-w whom rht sight of burchers shops \\irh rhe bodies of dead animals is disrasreful, and ochers who from more or less rationally disguised feelings of disgust refuse to tar meat alwgerher. Bm chest are forward rhrusrs in rht threshold of repugnance char go beyond rhe standard of civilized society in rhe rwenrierh cenrnry. and <ire therefore considered "abnormal". Nt\errhtless. it cannot be ignored char it was advances of chis kind (if rhey coincided with rhe direction of social devtlopmem in general) char led in rhe past w changes of srnnclards, and chat chis particular advance in rht threshold of repugnance is proceeding in the same direction rha[ has been followed drns
fi1r.

This direction is quire clear. From a srnndard of feeling by which the sight and carving of a dead animal on rhe rnble are acrnally experriencecl as pleasurable. or ar lt<lS[ as nor at all unpltasam. die devtlopmtm !tads w anod1tr srandarcl by which reminders char the meat dish has something to do \\irh rhe killing of an animal art anJidcd
to

rht utmost. In many of our meat dishes rht animal form

is so concealed <lflcl changed by the an of irs preparation and carving char, while earing. one is scarcely reminded of irs origin. 1r remains rn be shown how ptople, in rhe course of rhe ci\ilizing process, have sought rn suppress in rhemsehes everyrhing char rhey feel w be of an "animalic character" They hme likewise suppressed such ck1racrerisrics in rheir food In chis area. mo, rht development has cerrninly nor been uniform everywhere. In England. for tx<1mple. where in many aspects of life older forms are more

. on rhe continent, rht serving of large_ portions of ryrominendy. presened. vhich falls w rbe master of rhe house. ot u1rvll1g and ' - r (and with ir rht ras , \ . l .. - - r" w 1 ure1rer extent rhan in rht rne:i - irvives in rhe lorm ot r lt JOll1 ' " ' c. - dnr .i1srribur1ng it) SL l F i -- '-Ici\vtver , c1uire apan twm rhe ,acr ' u _ .-G m anc wrct:. r . _ ban sooery or erma . I . l form of rhe sernng ot large pieces ur' cl _ - - r i irselt a verr recucec l . I, he 11reser1L- - a) JOifl , l c. rn it dnr mark rbe ac nrnct ll1 r it r ben he..: ot reacnons ' c l 110 r n1e1r chert 1 l<lS e ' -. , I' ri!i<t at rhe cables o1 gooc or ' Tl . cl 1 non ot rurrm c ' -. rbreshold of repugn,rnct l1\ a acted in chis direction. "Our. cb1et about rhe m1clcllt ..o r ie ' E 1 l .book on manners. The Hahit.1 r1 Goud _,v . . . , n1 sa vs an _, n g is 1 . . d1<1nks w die new s1src: - . - . . __ c_ ,, bar unwielch barbarism-the JOll1t _9) .. due tor 1rs osrr,1c1s!l10 r 1 1 Socit!) (l8) ... . . . look tlegam. while it hides rbe mas_rer ot ne iouse .. Nothing can m<1ke d 101m . ' f .. ,- " The rrurh is. 1bc1t m1lc.u r1111 ' I" him imo rhe misery o can lflo tu id cone emns ' it.1 'itli) ir JI . I - It 11 '///!(h !iltclf JI ,, rll't l'ti) kw1. t )t s1:,) ' ' . - l l -cl ro disgust rhe epicure H . l. l " "oinr tS!JeClally is c,1 cu are , .-11 ! ,_ -11t1rdJ. anc ,1 1Llot I - l r1ble ll'hn th11 u' it tue111 ' l _ l l l be \)\aced on rl1e sic e- , , -' . are eaten at rill. t lt) s iou c 101nrs _ ni!I of <p _'> 1-JJ l . ro remove rbe disr<1sreful from rht sight ot - . - \\- suong renc encv l The wcreas1ng . ' . , . in" of cbe who 1t arnm<l \' with few tXCtpt!OflS. tO ( 1 l t can b 1-t- societY clearly app ies. c erlv a direct part ol sooal l t rn _ \ .. les show was ,orm . . This c<1rvmg, as r ie exam 1 J , . \r- nd mort rn be cl1srasrdu 1. r1 I t S\Jecocle was te c mor- a 1 rhe upper class ien n ' - - l . m1l must. of course. be cur w ien . - d'd cl s- 1 ne1r since r le arn ' . . .C1rYin" irsell l nor I 'p,.. ' 11( t6 rcel!tS of sr1ocd 1 !ft. " <::1 fu\ W'lS rt:Jl/Ol'U ( I-' idJ/1. .1 l beinl'. earen. Bur rhe c israsre ' I k' tchen Ir will be seen <1gain and ' k f r in rht shop or r it 1 - l Specialists ra e cart o i . l .. . dnt we call civilizrH10n is t 11s - . ot rhe who e process ' al'.ain how cbaracrensnc . . "b I . cl he scenes of what has become ' w . n dus h1dmg e llfl r - l movemem of segrec-'HJO . \ _of 1 hrue IJ<lrt ot rbt an1ma or <r from t 1e caf\'1ng o _ disrasrefuL The curve runnrn" l I 1- adnnct in [ht threshold ol . . I at cable. c1roug1 c1e ' -1--ct even rht who le ,1n1ma l -- l of can-im; ro speu izc i "hr of dead animals. to r ie rem CJ\ a ' -, . l repugnance at r lt s b . I . --1 .. - n-curn:. - l I . nts is a np1ca cn l izcitlO - 1 enclaves bthrnc r ie see . . - 1 r nrocesses underlie s1m1 ar _ b - ,. i ued bow tar s1m1 a r Ir remarns ro e lfl\estg, -_- -.. ofChina above all.die _ - I rhe older cl\ i1iz.irwn ' phenomena Jl1 ocher soCJetltS. n -- . T red much earlier ,mcl more . . ,. ' behind rhe scenes \\as er ec l concealmem ol can mg . .. , b- raken so lar rh<lt r ie . :<1 Tl rhe process came w e _ radicalh- rhan rn rhe \ c:sr. 1ere 1 rnd rhe knife is banished - . ir\'td -rnd cur up emirely bel11nd r 1e scenes. ' n1eat is G ' alrngerher from use at cable.
L

Use of rhe Knife ar Table


. I use, . re . tlecrs cli-rn "ts in rhe human soCia , b cl .- I Ir is an embodimem of -I . I n"in" dnves an \vis ies personality win its c i.i "' . "' rnnl reuulariries of society hisrnrical sirnaoons and the srruc _' - "' - . s m e1tin'' implemem in . b , . ll s charricrensr1c ot its use a ' ' o One dung a O\ t '1 1
l narure o_ -! The knife, too, by tit
I

t- .rs

104

The Ci1,i/i;:,i11g ProtcsJ

Chtmgf.i in the Behe1rir111r r;( the Swtft1r Upper C!t1sses i11 the \\'!ist

105

presenr-day \i(/esrern sociery: rhe innumerable prohibirions and raboos surround1ng H

Cerrainly rhe knife is a dangerous insuumenr in what may be called a rational sense. Ir is a weapon of arrack. Ir in fliers wounds and ems up animals rhar have been killed Bur this obviously dangerous quality is beset with affects. The knife becomes a symbol of rhe mosr diverse feelings, \Vhich are connecrecl w irs funnion and shape but are nor deduced "logically" from irs purpose. The fear ir awakens goes beyond whar is rarional and is gremer rhan rhe "calculable", probable danger. And die same is rrue of the pleasure irs use and appearance arouse, even if rhis aspecr is less evident roclay In keeping wirh rhe srrucrure of our sociery, the everyday rirual of irs use is wday determined more by the displeasure and fear rhan by the pleasure surrounding ir.. Therefore its use even while eating is restricted by a mulrirucle of prohibitions . These, we have said, extend far beyond rhe "purely insrrumenral"; bur for every one of them a rational explanation, usually \ague and nor easily proved, is in everyone's mourh. Only when rhese raboos are considered rogerher does the supposition arise rhar rhe social arrirucle rowarcls the knife and rhe rules governing irs use while eating-and, above all, rhe raboos surrounding ir-are primarily emorional in narure. fe,1r, clisrasre, guilr, associarions and emotions of the mosr disparate kinds exaggerare rhe probable danger. Ir is precisely this which anchors such prohibitions so firmly <llld deeply in rhe personaliry and which gives rhem their raboo character 5 In rhe Middle Ages. wirh their upper class of warriors and rhe consranr readiness of people ro fight, and in keeping wirh rhe stage of affecr conrrol and the relariwly low degree of binding or regularion imposed on drives, die prohibitions concerning knives were correspondingly few. "Do nor clean your reerh with your knife" was a frequenr demand. This was rhe chief prohibirion, bur ir does indicare rhe direction of furure resrricrions on rhe implement. Moreover. rhe knife was by far rhe most imporranr earing urensil. Thar ir would be lifted ro rhe mouth was raken for granrecl. Bur there are indirnrions in rhe late Middle Ages, even more clirecr ones rhan in any larer period, thar rhe camion required in using a knife resulrs nor only from rhe rarional consideration rhar one mighr cur or harm oneself, bur above all from rhe emorion aroused by rhe sighr or rhe idea of a knife poinrecl ar one's own face. Bere nor your knyf ro warde your ,isage for rherein is parelle and mykyl drede we read in Caxron's Bod? of C11rteJ)e (v .28) Here, as e\erywhere larer, an element of rationally calculable danger \vas indeed presenr, and rhe warning refers ro this. Bur ir is rhe general memory of and association wirh clearh and danger, ir is rhe s;111b()/ic meaning of rhe insrrumenr rhar leads, with rhe advancing inrernal

.h of socierv ro rhe preponderance of feelings of displeasure <lt the sight paCI canon ., . . . . . . . cl ro rhe limirarion and hnal exclusion of irs use rn soC!ery. The mere at 1c. ,rn . .

. f knife poinred ar rhe face arouses fear: "Bear nor your knife roward your sighr o a .. . . . . . . c c ce for therein is peril and much dread. Il11s is rhe emor10nal basis 01 rhe ;O\\:erful raboo of a larer phase. which forbids the lifring of the knife ro the mourh. . . . . The case is similar with rhe prohibition which rn our senes of exa:nples was eel first bv Calviac in 1560 (at the encl of Example EJ: If you pass rnenr10n .. . .. . . 'nife rake rhe point in vour hand and ofter him the handle. lor ir someone a "' ' . oulcl nor be polite ro do otherwise \\' Here. as so ofren unril rhe larer stage when the child is given a "rarional" explanarion for every prohibition, no reason w.'.1s given for the social rirual except t!Hir "ir would nor be polite ro do otherwise Bur ir is nor cl1fficulr see th_e nal n erninu of rhis command one should not move the poinr of rhe knife 1 emorID ' o rowarcls someone as in an atracL The mere symbolic meaning of this act, the memorv of rhe warlike threat, is unpleasanr Here, roo, rhe knife rirual con rained elemenr Someone mighr use the passing of rhe knife in order suddenly a ro srab someone Bur a social rirual was formed from rhis danger because rhe_ dangerous gesrure esrablished itself on an emotional level as a gen.era! source of displeasure. a symbol of death and clanger. Sociery, which was begmnrng ar rhis rime more and more ro limir the real dangers rhrearening people, and conseuenrlv ro remodel the affecrive life of individuals, increasingly placed a barrier rhe svmbols as well, the gesrures and insrrumenrs of clanger. Thus rhe resrricrions a.nd prohibitions on the use of the knife increased. along wirh the resrrainrs imposed on individuals. 6. If we leave aside rhe derails of rhis developmenr and only consider rhe result, of rhe prtsenr form of rhe knife riruaL we find an <lsronishing abundance of varying severity. The imperarivt never ro pur a knife ro one's mourh is one of rhe gravest and besr known. Thar ir gready exaggerares rht <KrnaL probable danger ;carcelv needs robe said; for social groups accusromed to using knives and earing with t.hem hardlv ever injure their mourhs wirh chem The prohibition has social distincrion In rhe uneasy feeling rhar comes over us ar become a means cbe mere sighr of someone purring a knife inro rhe mourh, all this is presenr once: the general fear rhar the dangerous symbol arouses, and the more specihc fear of social degradation which parenrs and eclucarors have from early on awakened in us in relation ro rhis practice with their admonirions rhar "it is nor done" Bur rhere are orher prohibitions surrounding rhe knife that have little or norhing ro do with a direct clanger to rhe body, and which seem ro poinr .ro svmbolic values of rhe knife other than the associacion with war. The fairly srr1ct on earing fish wirh a knife-circumvenrecl and modified roclay by rhe inrroducrion of a special fish knife-seems ar firsr sighr rather obscure in irs

106
emo[ional [hough psychoanaly[ical dieory poims a[ leas[ in [he direction ot an explana[ion There is a well-known prohibi[ion on holdiw, cudtry. parcicularly kni\'es, widi die whole hand. "like a S[ick", as Li Salle J[, diough ht was a[ dia[ [ime referring only w fork and spoon (Example j). Then diere is_ ob\'10usly a general [tndency rn elimina[e or a[ leas[ res[rin the comact of the knife_ with round or egg-shaped ob jeers. The best-known and one of the grl\est ot such prohibicions is on cutting porarnes with a knife. Bur the rather less srricr prohib_itio_n on cutting dumplings with a knife or opening boiled eggs with one also pornr 111 the same direction, and occasionally, in especiallv sensiti\'e a knife. circles. one finds a nondency rn aYoid cuning apples or even oranges "I may him diar no epicure eYer yet put knife rn apple. and that an orange should be peeled with a spoon". says The Hahits u/ Good Sucittr of 1859 and 1890. 7 But these more or less scrict panicular the list of which could cerwinly be extended, are in a sense only examples of a general line of developmem in the use of the knife chat is fairly distinct. There is a tendency that has slowly permeated ciYilized society. with pressure from the top to the bottom. rn resrricr the use of rhe knife (within the framework of prernilin" techniques of earing) and where\'er possible not ro use rhe instrumem at ;ill. b This tendency made i[s first appearance in a precept as apparemlv triYial and obvious ;is that quoted in Example I: "Do nor keep your knife in rour hand. as village people do. bur rake ir only when you need ir." Ir was c,learh ,verv strong in the middle of rhe last century. when rht English book on ju;t quoted, Th2 1-fohit.r o/ Goi,c/ 51id). said: "Let me give you a rule-everything char can be cur wid10ur a knife, should be cur with fork alone." And one need onlv observe present-clay usage ro find chis tendency confirmed This is one of rhe distinct cases of a de\'elopmenr which is beginning ro go beyond rhe standard of earing technique and rirual attained by court society. Bur chis is not. of course. in tht le,1sr. rn S<ty that the "civilization" of die \Vest will acrualh continue in this direction. Ir is a beginning, a possibility like many others char .exist in eYerv society All the same. it is nor inconceivable that rhe preparation of food in kitchen will dtYelop_ in a direction char restricts rhe use of the knife at cable still further. displacing it eYen more than hitherto to specialized enclaYtS behind rhe scenes. Strong regressiYe moYemenrs are certainly nor inconceivable either. Ir is sufficiently well known rhm. for example, rhe conditions of life in \Vorlcl \Var I auromarically enforced a breakdown of some of the taboos of peacetime civilization In the trenches, officers and soldiers again art when necessan- with knives and hands. The threshold of repugnance shrank rather rapidly und;r the pressure of the mescapable si rnarion. Apart from such breaches. which are al ways possible and can also lead to new consolidations. rhe line of development in rhe use of the knife is quire clear.w The regulation and binding of the emotional economy haYe been sharpened. The

Ch:f//gcs ii! rht Bch.!i io111

o/ the Seci!lar Upper

Clas.rts iii dn ff[st

instrument became incl nrohibirions which surround the menacing ornn1ancIs ' ,. . . of rhe threatening c - numerous and difterenriated. Finally. the use ever rnore . . . . _ bc,l ha> been limJtecl as tar <lS possible _ . . . . . . s:rn or a\ciiJ comiYirin" rhe direction of rb1s cJ\1lizmg-cune with rhe ' "' . .. . One cann II'' practised in China There. as has been said, rhe kmte disappeared I cusrorn _ . ies auo from use at cable. Accordmg ro rhe teelmgs ot many Cl1111ese. rnany centur b . .. . . . .. .. . The Europeans ,ire which EuroiJeans ear 1s unonlized . .. . rhe manner 111 . . fJtOfJle sa\" rhere now and again. "they t<lt w1rh swords One ma} , . .'_ . . . . .. b,.lfl,lDS . I . r chis custom is connected with the fact that for a long ume m Chma surrn1se t 1'l . . _ . i1- ,, Ll!'l'er class was nor <l warnor class bur a class ot scholad} rbe mo cl e l - n1' "111 b officials pacified to a particularly high degree.

"'

On the Use of the Fork at Table


S. \\/hat is rhe real use of the fork; Ir ser\'eS ro lift food char has been _cut up 'v'h\ do we need i fork for chis; \\/hv do we nor use our hngers'. ro r Iie mou tll . w ' Beoiuse it is "cannibal'". as rbe "Man in the Club-\\/indow". rhe .. anonymous y/_J HJir o/-G11ocl Socii:!J said in 1859. \Vhv is it "cannibal ro ear with 1- _ aut l1or o t t ' . one's fingers;, Thar is nor a question; it is self-evidently rnnnibal. barbanc,
j

unciYilized or whate\'er else it is called . _ . Bur char is precisely rhe question. \\/hy is it more ci,ilized to ear wJth a _tork! "Because it is unhygienic to ear with one's fingers." Thar sounds conv111c1ng. To our sensibility it is unhygienic if different people put their fingers into the same dish. because rhere is ,1 danger of conmicring disease through contact w1rh others. Each of us seems ro fear char the ochers are diseased _ Bur chis explanation is nor entirely satisfactory. Nowadays we do not ear from common dishes Enryone puts fC1od into their mouth from their own place. To pick it up from one's own pla[t with one's fingers cannot be:. more unhygienic... than w put cake, bread. chocolate or anything else mro ones mouth w1tli ones own fingers So whv does one really need a forki \\/by is it "barbaric' and "unciYilized" to pm food-into one's mouth by hand from one's own plarei BeG1use it clisrasr:ful w direr one's fingers. or at lease ro be seen in society with dirty hngers. The of earing by hand from one's own plate has very little to do w_irb the danuer of illness. rhe so-called ''rational" explanation. In observmg our feelmgs row:rcls rhe fork ritual. we can see with particular clarity rhar the first authority in our decision between whether behaviour <lt cable is "ciYilizecl" or "uncivilized" is our feeling of disrasre The fork is nothing ocher than the embodiment of a specific standard of emotions and a specific leYel of reYulsion. Behind the change in earing techniques between the .Middle Ages and modern appears the same process char emerged in rhe analysis of ocher incarnations ot this kind: a change in rhe economy of dri,es and emotions

108

T!!l Cil'ilizing Pro(l:SJ


w1r 1

109
l rliese feelirn;s and chis standard, ro control rhemselnos more or less rigorouslr in ,1ccordance wirh ir, and to resrrain rheir drives and inclinations. It children tried w (Oucl1 somerhinl': srickv, wer or !.(reasv with their finuers rhev were role!, "You
L L' , L L ,

Modes of behaviour which in the Middle Ages were nor felt ro be in rhe least disrnsreful haw increasingly become surrounded by feelings of disrasce. The srnndard of delicacy finds expression in corresponding social prohibitions These taboos, so far as can be ascerrained, are nothing ocher rhan ricualizeJ or insricurionalized fedings of displeasure, disrasre, disgusc, fear or shame, feelings \vh1ch have been socially nurrnred under quire specific condicions and which are consrnnrly reproduced, nor solely but mainly because rhey have become institutionally firmly embedded in a particular ritual, in parcicular forms of conduct. The examples show-cerrainly only in a narrow cross-section and in the relacively randomly selected sraremenrs of individuals-how, in a phase of de\elopmenr in which che use of rhe fork was nor .vet caken for o "ranted , tl1e feeling of distaste that first formed within a narrow circle was slowly extended. .. Ir is very impolite .. , says Court in in 167 2 (Example G), "ro couch anything greasy, a sauce or syrup, etc., wirh your fingers, apart from the fact char it obliges ro commit two or three more improper acts. One is ro wipe your hand rrequenrly on your serviette and ro soil ir like a kitchen cloth, so rhar those who see you wipe your mouth with it feel nauseated . Another is ro wipe your fingers on your bread, which again is very improper. [N B. The French terms pmjm: and 111a!proj1 r, used by Courrin and explained in one of his chapters coincide less with the German terms for clean and unclean (s:whur and 1111sc111htr) than with rhe word frequently used earlier, "proper".} The third is ro lick rhem, which is rhe hei 2 hr of impropriety
0

The Ciz-i!it{ of 1 7 29 b1 La Salle (Example j), which transmitted rhe beha\iour of the upper class ro broader circles, says on one page: "\'\(!hen rhe fingers are very greasy, wipe them firsc on a piece of bread ... This shows how far from ''enen;l acceptance, even ar this rime, was the standard of delicacv rhac had already represented decades earlier. On the other hand, La s:1lle rook mer fairlv literally Courrin's precept rhar "Bie11s6u11Cc does nor permir anything greasy, sauce or a syrup, to be touched wirh rhe fingers . And, exacrlr like Courrin, he mentioned among the ensuing i11,frilitis wiping the hands on .bread and licking the fingers, as well as soiling rhe napkin.

musr nor do rhar, people do nor do things like rhar" And the displeasure rowards -'i conducr which is rhus aroused bv the adult finallv arises through habir. sud . , without being induced by another person. To a large extent, however, the conduct and drives of the child are forced even wirhour words inro rhe same mould and in the same direcrion by the facc rhar a P'1nicular use of knife and fork, for example, is completely esmblishecl in adulr sociery-rhar is, by rhe example of rhe surrounding world. Since rhe pressure or coercion of individual adults is allied ro the pressure and example of rhe whole surrounding world, mosc children, as chey grow up, forger or repress relatively earlr rhe fr!Ct rhar their feelings of shame and embarrassment, of pleasure and were moulded into conformity with a certain standard by external pressure and compulsion . All this appears ro them as highly personal, something "inside .. , implanted in rhem by narnre. \Vhile ir is scill directly visiblt in rhe wrirings of Courrin and La Salle rhar adulrs, roo, were ar first dissuaded from earing with their fingers by consideration for each other, by .. politeness", ro spare orhers a distasteful spectacle and rhemselves rhe shame of being seen with soiled hands, later ir became more and more an inner amomarism, rhe imprint of sociery on rhe inner self. the superego, that forbade rhe individual ro ear in any other way than with a fork. The social srandard to which the individual was firsr made rn conform from outside by exrernal restraint is finally reproduced more or less smoorhly within him or her, rhrough a self-restraint which operates ro a cerrnin degree even against his or her conscious wishes. Thus rhe socio-hisrorical process of cemuries, in rhe course of which the sranclard of what is felt to be shameful and offensive has been slowly raised, is reenacred in abbrt\iared form in rhe life of the individual human being If one wished to express recurrent processes of chis kind in rhe form of laws, one could speak, as a parallel ro rhe laws of biogenesis, of a funclamenral law of sociogenesis and psychogenesis.
L

Ir can be seen rhac manners were here srill in the process of formation The new standard did nor appear suddenly. Certain forms of behaviour were placed under prohibition, nor because rher were unhealrhr bur because they led roan offensive sighc and associations; shame offering such a originally absent, and tear of arousing such associations were gradually spread from rhe srandard serring circles to larger circles by numerous aurhoriries and insrirurions . However, once such feelings had been aroused and firmly established in socien- br means of certain rirnals like that involving rhe fork, they were constantly re;}roduced so long as the srrucrnre of human relations was nor fundamenrall r altered . older generation, for whom such a standard of conduct is accepted a matter of course, urges rhe children, who do nor come inro rhe world already equipped

v
Changes in Attitudes Towards the Natural Functions
Examples
Fifteenth century?
A
From S w.wizu1t !e.r 1011te11m1c1:s de /,; table:

110

Cirili::ing

l ll
Pr(Jo.:s.1

VIII Btfore ,-ou sir down. make sure 1our star has nor been fouled

d : "There art some \"erses in Yolume rl1e unhealrhiness ot rern1nrng r lie . win Reuarcll.n" c c . . . . l c, , , . harchos e11 iurams where he descnbts rhe dlncss-beanng ['O\\t:r Of t lt: rwo or L"-1c ,. ., . . . l t., bur since rhese lines are quoted by e\"erybody I \\ill nor commcm on recan1ec. ,1rr. ,
rhcn1 here.
L:; , l: Tl 1e rl10 . . l uesrions are {JLtbliclv discussed here that have subsequently -iecome 1 w1th\\1!Clq . . l.b .. - hi uh de"ree and owrlain in soC1al lite Wl(h strong pro 11 1(10115 . .cl rrv:1t1ze c0 '1 c o cl
i

B
From [ii/
_:;2l) De, nor much yourself unckr your clorhts wirh your bare hands

-oLwhness the exuaordinan seriousness, and rhe complete freedom

c
1530
From D, ,-jz-i/itat, 11;r1m111 by Erasmus . The glosses are rnken from a Cologne edirion of 15 W which was probably already imendtd for edurnrional purposes Under the ride is the following nore: ""Recognized by rhe aurhor, and elucidared with new scholia by Gisberrus Longolil!S Ulrrarraiectinus, Cologne, in tht year XXX. .. The fact that these questions were discussed in such ,1 way 1n schoolbooks makes rhe difference from later attitudes particularly clear:
Ir is in1polite co greet son1eone \Yho is urinating or ddtcaring A \\ell-bred person should always a\"oid exposin!' wirhour necessir1 rhe pans to which narnre has arrached modesn If nect:ssity compels rhis. ir should be done with decency and even if no wirntss is present. for angtls art always present. and norhing is more 11elcome rn rhem in a boy rhan modesry. rht companion and guardian of decency It it arouses sh,1mt rn show rhem ro rhe eyes of mhers. srill less should rhey be exposeJ ro rheir much T(, hold back urine is harmful to healrh. to pass ir in secrer bernkens modesry There are those \\ho reach rhar the should rernin wind by compressing rhe belly Yer it is nor pleasing. while srri,ing ro appear urbane. rn conrracr an illness. If ir is possible rn wirhdraw. ir should be done alone. Bur if nor. in accordance wirh rhe ancienr pronrb. !tr a cou!'h hide rhc sound ;..[oremer. why do nor rhe same \\orks reach that should nor dei"tcare. since it is mun: dangerous rn hold back wind rhan rn constricr rhe bowel> [This is glossed as follows in rhe scholia. p _:\_):] To conrrncr an illness: Listen rn rhe old maxim abour rhe sound of wind If ir can be purged \\irhour a noise rhar is besr Bur iris berrer rhar ir be emirred wirh a noise rhan rlrnr ir be held back r\r rhis poim. however. ir would have been useful rn suppress rhe fteling of embarrassmenr so as w eirher calm your body or. follo\\ing rhe ach-ice of all donors. rn press your burrncks rngtrher and rn acr according ro rhe suggesrioos in Aethon"s epigrams: Ewn rhough he had ro be careful not rn farr explosi,ely in rhe hoh place. he nel"errheless prayed rn Zeus. rhough wirh compressed burrncks. The sound of farring. especially of those \\ho srancl on elernred ground. is horrible. One should make sacrifices \\"ith rhe burrncks lirmly pressed rngtrher To !tr a cough hide the explosil"e sound: Those who. because rhey are embarrassed. wanr the explosi\"t ,,ind ro be heard. simulare a cough. Follow rht law of Chiliades: Replace farrs wirh cout:hs

shows pc1rr1cu ar >

. l l cleirlv che shift of rhe frontier of embarrassmem an 1rs ' . . . . l ific direction. Thar feelings of shame are frequently menr1onec advance in a Spec discussion underlines the difference in rhe shame standard explicitly in '

D
. Dell-,1 C,1sa, quoted from the five-language edition (Geneva, From Ga !i!!U1, b> 1609). p )2:
l . nor btlir -1 modesr honourable m,1n ro prepare rn rtlien: narure in rht I( ( ots ' - , _ . . , . . .. . 1 rlier l'tl>j'le nor rn Jo u11 his clorhts alrenrnrd ll1 rhe1r presence. S1mda1 h. presence o o . . . . .. .. . . . . . . he will nor wash his hands on rtrnrning rn decent soC1ery trom pn\ ,Ht pl.ices. ,1s rht in people. .For .rhe same reason . li ,,-isliin,, \\"ill -1rouse dis,wreeable rL".1son tor l:) c c ._ it is nor a refined habit. when con1ing ,1cross son1erhing 111 rht sl_1eet. as somtrimes happens. ro rum ar once rn ones companion and po1nr ir om to him le is for less proper to hold our rhe srinking rhing for rhe ocher to :mtll. as_ some: are wonr. who even urse rhe orher rn do so. lifring rhe foul-smelling rhing to his nosmls and saying. ""I should like ro know how much rhar srinks"". 11hen ir would be berrer ro s.iy. ""Because ir srinks do not smtll ir"

1558

1570
From rhe \Vernigerocle Court Regulations of 15 !O:"c
One should nor. like rusrics who ha\"e nor been rn courr or li\"ed among refined and honourable people. reliel"t: oneself wirhour shamt or reser\"t in fronr ot ladies. or before rhe doors or \\"indows of courr chambers or orher rooms Rarher. e\"eryone oughr ar all rimes and in all places to sho\\" himself reasonablt. courreous and rtspecrful in word and gesmrt

1589
From rhe Brunswick Court Regulations of 1589:";
\ be. l1cfc>r". , ,1r. c>r afrer meals. tarh. or !are. foul rhe Ler no one. whotvtr lie n1 .,1.

112

Thu Ciz'ilizing PmC1:ss

11.1
exact opposite of what is prescribed in Examples C and G]: and it is shamefol and indecent to do it in a way that can be heard by orhers. Jr is never proper rn speak of the parts of rhe body rhar should be hidden. nor of cenain bodily necessiries ro which Nawre has subjecred us. nor even ro memion them

srnircases. corridors or closers wirh urine or other tilth bur "O to suinble .. t d 1 places for such relief c ' ' JXe>cn "

c.

1619

G
11

1 Richard The Bljoke 01 Dw1em11Jr m1c.I tm C,rtt1i11e i\Iisd1:1mt1ll!11s i11 C1J111jJt111ie: 6'

'ii11zcanc, d11c; Di.wllouc111ct' of

J
From Johann Chrisrian Banh, The Gal/am Ethic. i11 ll'hich it is shr1u'l1 h1Jll' "yo1111g !/it/II sho;dd co1m11e11cl hi111se!f !iJ polite sr1(idy thrrJ!!gh refined ?lctS and C()J11j>lt1isant zrnrdr. Pri:jJ:trul the spccii!l c1d1w1tilgt and p!w.wrc of cd! 11/llilftl!rs 1Jf good 11111e1:1, 4rh edn (Dresden and Leipzig, 17 31 ), p. 288: 1111 German developments were somewhat slower rhan French. As rhe following excerpt shows, as late as rhe firsr half of rhe eighreenrh century a courresy precepr is given which represents rhe same srnndard of manners as rhar found in rhe passage by Erasmus quoreJ abon:: "It is impolire w greer someone who is urinaring or deftcaring
If you pass a person who is relieving himself you should act as if you had nor seen him. and so ir is impolite ro greet him

1731

I-i3 Ler nor thy privy members be


!aye! open to be view'cl. ir is mosr shameful and abhorcl. deresrnble and rude Reraine nor urine nor rhe wincle which dorh rhy body vex so ir be done wirh secresie !er rhar nor rhee perplex

1694

From rhe correspondence of rhe Duchess of Orleans (October 9, 169-:J: dare also gnen as Augusr 25. 1718):
fhe smell of rhe mire is horrible Paris is a dreadful place. The srreers smell so badlv rhar .1ou cannor c "0 our The exrr"me hnr [arge quanttt1es of n1eat and rish . c -, is causing ro rnr In rhem. and rhis, coupled to rhe mulrirucle of people who in rhe sm:er. produces a smell so cleresrable rhar ir cannor be endured. ,

1774
Fron1 La Salle, Les Ri6les dt: ft1 biensit!lllf: ti cir: la cizilitc! chrffjel!Jh' ( 1774 edn). p"

1729

I
,,t
1 c ;1tr! nn!tiw11e J. ,,t !a on (Rauen, l 729),

From La Salle. Les Ri:,,),s d, !" bit11.r,:c111,,. , pp. -15ff:

The chaprer "On rhe Parts of rhe Body Thar Should Be Hidden, and on Narnral Necessities" covers a good rwo and one-half pages in rhe earlier edirion and scarcely one and one-half in rhar of 177-1 . The passage "You should rake care nor ro rouch. ere. .. is missing. Much rhar could be and had ro be expressed earlier 1s no longer spoken of:
Ir is a part of decency and modesty to col'er all parrs of the body except the head and hands As far as nawrnl needs are concerned. ir is proper (e1en for children) ro sarisfy rhem only 11here one cannor be seen Ir is never proper ro speak of the parrs of rhe body rhar should always be hidden. or of cerrain bodily necessiries to which nature has subjecred us. or el'tn to mention them

Ir is a P<:rr of decency and modesty to co1er all parts of rhe body except the head and hands. 101 I Id t ,. . . I. s iou. care. so ar as you can. nor to touch with your bare hand any part 01 rhe bod) rhar Is nor normally uncovered. And if rnu are ob!i"ed to dos ] II b d c O, It S lOU c e one wnh great precaution. You should get used to suffering small discomforrs wnhom rwisrrng. rubbing or scratching.

fr is far more contrary to decency and propriety to touch or see in another person. pamcularly of rhe other sex. that which Heaven forbids 1ou to look ir In 10 --It. \\?I . ' urse . ien you. need to pass wa:er. you should always withdraw ro some place And It IS proper (even ior children) ro perform other nawral foncrions where iou cannor be seen
/,

1768
Letter from Madame du Deffand ro Madame de Choiseul, 9 May l 7 68; 1'' q uored as an example of rhe presrige value of rhe utensil
I should like to tell you. dear Grandmother. as I told rhe Grand-Abbe. how great was

It is re;y i111J;ofitr.., /r1


d'cJJ

r:ll!it

wi11d /rum

}f1l!r
*

hr1dr u l.h::ll in mm/Jt.JJJ_).

hlou-,

i.1

dr11h ll'i!ho/!l JHli.ff

[This rule. Ill 1 I me wn l more recent custom, is rhe

I){1!'1..-'

in the Bchazi//!!r
my surprise when a large ba/! from ,-ou was broughr to me ar my btd ytsrerdav mornin/! I hasrentd ro open ir. J'm in my hand. and found somt /!retn peas and rhtn a Yase - rhar I quickly pulled om: ir was a chamber por. Bm of such beamy anc] n1agnificcnct that n1y ptople say in unison rh.1t it r1l1ght fr, Ii:. 1ts:..d :1s .r hrut The d 1:n!ll::.:r /)(J/ ll dJ (Jjj the zcho!t r{ t'ldJji!p,, tllld u d,1 c!(/111i1c:t! /;) (jj}c The peas wtre earen rill nor one was ldi:
L -

o/ th<: Swtlar Uf'f't1

C!m.rts

i11

tlx \Fest

115

- o nlv ,vhat is . seeming\', rational, i.e., founded primarily on the disgust and shame feelings of adults _ _ _ . _ . 7 As already mennoned, Erasmus m his uear1se acted as che forerunner of a ne; srandard of shame and repugnance which firsr ro form slowly in che secular upper class. Yer he also spoke as a marrer ot course abom which it has since become embarrassing ro mention. He, whose delicacy_ of teelmg _is demonsm1ted again and again by chis very ueacise, round norhmg amiss m 1int:'> " b,ca1 } rheir names bodih functions \vhich, bv our presenr srnndards, may noc be even menriontd in company, and still less in books on eriquene. Dur between . delicacv t h IS and chis lack of inhibicion rhere was no contradiction. He spoke from another srngt of conuol and restraint of emotions. The different standard of sociery in Erasmus's rime becomes clear if one reads how commonplace it was ro meet someone "qui urinam reddit am alvum exonerar" (urinating or defecaring). And the greater freedom with which people were able ar chis rime to perform and speak about their bodily functions before ochers recalls the behaviour char can still be encountered, for example, throughout rhe Orient roday. Bur delicacy forbids rhat one greer anyone encountered in chis posirion. The different srnndard is also visible when Erasmus says ir is not civil ro require that rhe young man '\tntris thmm rerinear" (hold back his wind), for in doing so he might. under the appearance of urbaniry. comracr an illness; and Erasmus comments similarly on sneezing and relared acts Healrh consiclerarions art nor found very frequently in rhis treatise. \Vhen rhev do occur ir is almost alwavs. as here. ro oppose demands for the resrraint of funcrions; whereas above all in rhe ninereenrh century, rhey nearly alwavs serve as insrrnmtnts ro compel rescraint and renunciarion of rhe gratificarion. of drives. Ir is only in rhe rwenrierh century rhar a slight relaxarion appears 3. The examples from La Salle muse suffice ro indicate how rhe feeling of delicacy was adrnncing. Again rhe difference berween rhe edirions of 1729 and 177-:\ very insrrucrive. Certainly, even rhe earlier edirion already embodied a quite different standard of delicacy rhan Erasmus's rrearise. The demand rhat all namral funcrions should be remowd from rhe view of other people was raised quire unequivocally. even if rhe urtering of rhis demand indicates char the acrual beh,wiour of people-borh adulrs and children-did nor yer conform ro ir Although La Salle said char ir is nor very polite even ro speak of such functions or rhe parts of rhe body concerned. he himself srill spoke of rhem with a minmeness of derail asronishing ro us; he called things by rheir names, whereas rhe corresponding rerms are missing in Courtin's Cil'ilite of 1672, which was inrended for rhe upper classes . In the lacer edition of La Salle. coo. all derailed refertnces were avoided . More and more these necessiries were "passed over in silence" The mere reminder of

Some Remarks on the Examples and on these Changes in General


The c//111l1iis ,-erses Sa} lirtle on chis subjecr. The social commands and prohibirions surrounding rhis area of life were relarively few . In chis respecr. coo, ar lease in secular society, everyrhing was far more lax. Neirher rhe funcrions rhemselYes, nor speaking abour rhem or associarions with rhem, were so intimare and privare, so invested wirh feelings of shame and embarrassment, as rhev later became. Erasmus's treatise marks, for rhese areas roo, a point on rhe curve of civilizarion which represents. on rhe one hand. a notable rise of rhe shame threshold, compared ro rhe preceding epoch; and on rhe ocher, compared ro more recent rimes, a freedom in speaking of namral functions. a "lack of shame". which ro most people adhering ro rhe present-day standard may ar firsr appear incomprehensible and often "embarrassing" _ Bur ar rhe same rime, ir is quire clear char chis rrearise had precisely rhe tuncrion of culrivaring feelings of shame. Reference ro rhe omnipresence of angels, used ro jusrify rhe restraint on impulses ro which rhe child was ro be accusromed, is very characteristic. The foundations for rhe anxierr which was display of aroused in young people, in order ro compel rhem ro suppress pleasure in accordance wirh rhe standard of social condun, cham:ed in rhe course of cenruries. Here, rhe anxiety aroused in connection wich th; renunciacion of drive gracificarion was explained and given substance ro oneself and others m rerms of external spirits. Somewhat later, rhe resrraint which people had ro impose upon rhtmselves. along wirh rhe fear, shame and distasre rowards an\ infringement. ofren appeared very clearly, ar least in rhe upper class. in court! y-arisrocraric circle i cself, as social pressure, as shame and fear of ocher people. In rhe wider sociecy, though. reference ro rhe guardian angel clearly remained ,-ery long in use as an inscrument for condicioning children. Ir receded somewhat when damage ro healrh and "hygienic .. were given more emphasis in bringing abom a certain degree of rescrainr of impulses and a specific modelling of emotions. These hygienic reasons rhen played an important role in adult thinking abom civilization, usually wirhour cheir relacion ro rhe arsenal of childhood condicioning being realized Ir 1s onlv from such a realizarion. however. rhac what is rational in them can be from

116

The Cirilizi11g Pl'f!c2ss

i11 rhe Bi:IJt1l'io111 o/ tht Semlm Uj>/m Classc.,- i11 th1: \Vi:st

117

chem had become embarrassing w people in rhe presence of ochers who were nor close acquaintances. and in society everything that mighr even remorelv or . associarively recall such necessiries was avoided. A.r rhe same rimt, rhe txamples make ir apparent how slowly rhe real process of suppressing these functions from social life wok place. Sufficient marerial"r, has been passed down w us precisely because rhe silence on rhese subjects did not exisr earlier. or was less strictly observed. \\!bar is usually lacking is the idea char informarion of chis kind has more rhan curiosiry value, so char ir is seldom symhesized into a picmre of rhe overall line of development. However. if one rakes an overall view, a typical civilizing curve is again revealed. -4. A.r firsr rhese functions and rhe sighr of chem were invested onlr slighrlv with feelings of shame and repugnance, and were rherefore subjected o;ly ro isolar10n and restraint. They were raken as much for granted as combing one's hair or purring on one's shoes. Children were conditioned accordingly. "Tell me in exact sequence". says the reacher to a pupil in a schoolbook of 1568, Mathurin Corclier's dialogues for schoolbovs,"- "what vou did between getting up and having your breakfast. listen caref:1lk bovs. so. char \'OLI learn ro imitate your fellow pupil. .. "I woke up," says the ..got our of .bed, pur on my shirr, srockings and shoes, buckled my belt, urinated against rhe courtyard wall, rook fresh water from the bucker. washed my hands and face and dried chem on the cloth, ere" In later rimes the action in the courryard. ar least in a book written like this one expressly as a manual of instruction and example, would haw been simply passed over as "unimportant" Here it is neither particularly "unimportant" nor particularly ''important". It is taken for granted as much as annhing else. A. pupil who wished ro report on this necessin todar would ,do either as a kind of joke. raking the invitation of the reacher. "too literally". or would speak of it in circumlocmions. Bur most probably he would conceal his embarrassment with a smile, and a "complicit" smile from the others. rhe expression of a more or less minor infringement of a taboo, would be the response. The conclucr of :idulrs corresponded ro these different kinds of condirionin" For a long period the street. and almosr any place one happened ro be, served same and related purposes as rhe courtyard wall abo\e. Ir was nor even unusual ro rum ro rhe staircase, rhe corners of rooms, or rhe hangings on rhe walls of a castle if one were overtaken by such a need. Examples E and F make rhis clear, Bm rhey also show how, given rhe specific and permanent interdependence of many people living together at the courts, rhe pressure exerted from above towards a stricter regulation of impulses, and therefore rowards greater restraint, grew in strength .

ti:;

Stricter control of impulses and emotions was first imposed by chose of high social rank on their social inferiors or, at most, their social equals It was onlr comparatively late, when bourgeois srrara with relatively large numbers of soci,;I

equa Is Incl ' become rhe upper., ruling . . _, class, that rhe familv "' became rhe _ only-or, _ xacrlv rhe primarv and dominant-institution with rhe tuncrion of e e mor . . 11 n'' drive conrroL Only then did rhe social dependence of children on their 1nsc1 1 parents become . important as a leverage for rhe socially required rc"ulacion and mouldrng ot impulses and emonons. rhe srnge of rhe feudal courts, and still more in rhar of the absolme courts, rhe courts themselves largely fulfilled this function for the upper class. In the btcer srage, much of what has been made "second nature" in us had nor yet been inculGlted in rhis form, as an auromatically functioning self-restraint, a habit rhat, within cerrnin limits, also functions when a person is alone . Rather. restraint on the drives was at first imposed only in rhe company of others, i.e, more consciously on social grounds. A.nd both the kind and the degree of restraint corresponded to rhe social position of the person imposing rhem, relative ro the position of those in whose company he or she was. This slowly changes as rhe social distance between people is reduced and as the gradations of dependency relations, the hierarchical character of society lose their sharpness of outline A.s rhe interdependence of people increases with the increasing division of labour, everyone becomes increasingly dependent on everyone else, even those of high social rank on those people who are socially inferior and weaker. The hmer become so much the equals of the former that they, the socially superior people. can experience shame-feelings even in rhe presence of their social inferiors Ir is only in this connection rhar the armour of restraints is fastened ro rhe degree which is gradually raken for granted by ptople in democratic indusrrial societies To rake from rhe wealth of examples one instance which shows the contrnsr particularly clearly and which, correctly unclersrood, throws light on the whole development, Della Casa gives in his Gc1h1teo a list of malpractices ro be avoided. One should nor fall asleep in company, he says; one should nor rake om lerrers and read them; one should nor pare or clean one's fingernails . "Furthermore", he continues (p. 92), "one should nor sir wirh one's back or posterior rurned towards another, nor raise a thigh so high rhar rhe members of rhe human body, which should properly be covered wirh clorhing at all rimes, might be exposed ro view. For this c111d similar thi11:;s are 11r1! done. e.\etpr tlli!rillg J11:r1/>ft 1chom om is 110! t1shc1111ul (st non rra quelle persone, che l'huom non riverisce) It is trm that cl grMt lord might do so om of his serzmi/J" or i11 the /m;swce of a Ji'iwd of loli'i:I' ra11k: far in this he 1coiild 11ot sho1c him arrogance !Jiit /'{/ther a partimlar C111d fi'iwdship," There were people before whom one was ashamed, and others before whom one was nor. The feeling of shame was clearly a social function moulded according ro rhe social structure. This was perhaps not often e.\j>ressed so clearly. Bur rhe corresponding bthm'io11r is amply documented . In France, 68 as late as the seventeenth century, kings and great lords received specially favoured inferiors on occasions on which, a German saying was later ro run, even the emperor should

118

Pn;tlSs

119 Jiscoveries. On rhe contrary, fr would nm be very difficult demonstrate rhe . . ,sis 111cl 1)s\cho!!enes1s ot these 1mennons and d1scovenes .;ooouent ' ._, . . c ". in con unction with a gtneral rrnnstormar1on of human relations. a 1 Bor once. ' _ . ,- hunnn needs v\"lS set in motion, rhe de\elopment of a technical . res11ap1ng o1 , . . . corrcsi)ondinu ro rbe chanued standard consolidarecl the changed habHs appar,1rus o . ei . crwrdin-1f\' This appararns senecl both the constant reproduc(lon wan ex ' ' . de,ree. c of the standard and irs dissemination. lt is nor uninteresting ro observe rhar today [in che 19.">0s, the rranslaror}. of conduct has been so heavih consolicbted that it is taken 11.s snnd1rd wl1en r 1 ' ' . red 1 cert11 is strring tor (rnu1 , ' n relaxation . .__, in. l'arricularlv . in companson to the "' tll cenrur\ 1r le1sr wich reuard ro wlk about the natllral functions. The n1ntretn .' ' ' b . .I c! hck of inhibition with which people sav 111 rreec orn ' ' what has ro be said without embarrassment. wi[hom rhe forced smile and laughter of a wboo t- 11 uemtnt has clearly increased in [he posr-war period Bm this, like modern !11flo , . . ba[hing anJ dancing practices, is only possible because the level of hab1tllal. and insrirnrionally consolidated self-control, the individual ca1x1ciry to restrain one's urges and behaviour in correspondence with the more advanced feelings for what is offonsi\'e, has bttn on the wholt secured. Ir is a relaxation within rht framework of an already established standard 6. The sr<mdard which is emerging in our phase of rht civilizing process is characrerized by a profound disrance berwten rhe behaviour of so-called "adults .. and children The children have in rhe space of a few years w attain rhe advanced level of shame and revulsion rhar has de\'eloped over many cenmries. Their dri\es musr be rapidly subjected to the strict conrrol and specific moulding that gives our socitries their srnmp, and which developed very slowly owr centuries. In this the parents ,ue only rhe (ofren inadequate) instruments, the primary agents of the conclirionins: through rhtm and thousands of orhtr instruments it is always socien as a whole, rht entire figuration of human beings. rhar exerts irs pressure on new generation, forming rhem more or less perfectly In rhe J\Iiddle Ages, roo. ir was the society as a whole which exerted this formative pressure, t\'en if-ir remains ro show this more exactly-the mechanisms and organs of conditioning. particularly in rhe upper class, wert in large part different from rhose of rnday.. Bur above all, rhe control and restraint to which the drive life of adults was subjected was considerably less than in the following phase of civilization, as consequently was tht difftrence in behaviour between adults and children. The individual inclinations and tendencies which medieval writings on eriquerre were concerned to control were ofren the samt as can be frequently obser,.ed in chilJrtn today However, they are now dealt with so early rhar certain kinds of "bad habit" which were quire commonplace in rhe medieval world scarcelv manifest themsehes in present-day social life Children r.oday ,1re admonished nor ro snatch whatever they want from the

bt alont. To rtctivt inftriors whtn gt[[ing up and being drtssed, or on going to bed, was for a \\bolt period a maner of course. A.nd it shows exactly tht same srngt of the shame-teelings when Voltaire's mistress, the !\larquist de Chatelet, shows herself naked to her servam while bathing in a way diat casts him inro confusion. and rben wirh rornl unconcern scolds him btcause ht is nm pouring in rht hot water properly..<"! Behaviour which in more democratized industrial socitries has become surrounded on all sidts wirh rnboos. with learned feelings of shame or embarrassment of varying degrees. was at this earlier period only partially so surrounded. Ir was omirrtd in tht company of those of higher or equal rank. In this area. roo, coercion and restraint were self-imposed on rhe same pattern as was \isible earlier in cable manners. "Nor do I believe", wt read in Galateo (p. 580), "that ir is fi[[ing ro serve from rhe common dish intended for all guests, unless rhe server is of higher rank so rhar rhe other, who is served, is thereby especially honoured. For when this is clone among equals. it appears as if rhe sener is parth placing himself above the others." In this hierarchically structllred society, ewry act performed in rhe presence of many people rook on prestige rnlue. For rhis reason the restraint of rhe emotions, that we call "politeness'', also had a different form from what it became later, when outward differences of rank had been parrly len:lled. \\!hat is mentioned here as a special case in intercourse between equals. that ont should nor strvt anothtr, later btcamt a gtntral practice . In company e\eryont helps themselves, and everyone begins earing ar rhe samt time. The sitllation was similar with rhe exposure of rhe body. First ir became a distasteful offence ro show oneself exposed in any way before those of higher or equal rank; with inferiors ir could even be a sign of good will. Then. as all become socially more equal, it slowly became a general offence. The social determination of shame anJ embarrassment-feelings receded more and more from consciousness. Prtcisth because rht social command nor w expose oneself or be seen ptrformi,ng natllral funccions now operates with regard to e\eryone and is imprinted in this form in children, ir seems w adults robe a command of their own inner selves and rakes on che form of a more or less rornl and aurnmaric st 1f-res r rai nr 5. Bur this weeding out of rhe namral functions from public life, and che corresponding regulation or moulding of drives, was only possible because, together with growing sensitivity, a rtchnical <lppararns was developed which solved fairly satisfactorily rhe problem of eliminating chese funccions from social lift and displacing rhem behind che scenes. The sirnarion was nor unlike rhat regarding cable manners. The process of social change, rhe advance in rhe frontiers of shame and rhe threshold of repugnance, cannot be explained by any ont thing. and certainly nor by che development of technology or by scientific

120

The Ciz'i!izing Pmass

Chm1gcj i11 ihe Buh,11io111 of the Scm!t1r Upper C!mses in the \Vest

121

ca_ble, and nor ro scratch rhemstlves or rouch their noses, ears, eyes or other parts or their bodies at table. The child is instructed nor ro speak or drink \virh a full moll[h, or ro sprawl on the cable. and so on ..Many of these precepts art also to be found in Tannhiiuser's Hr;fz!!cht. for example, bll[ there rhey are addressed nor ro children bll[ unequivocally ro adults. This becomes still more apparent if one considers the way in which adults earlier satisfied their natural needs. This verv often happened-as the examples show-in a manner that would be jus't rolerared in children roday. Often enough, needs were satisfied where and when they happened to be felt. The degree of resrraint and control over drives expected by adults of each other was not much greater rhan that imposed on children. The disrance between adults and children, measured by that of roday, was slight. Today the ring of precepts and regulations is drawn so rightly about people, the censorship and pressure of social life which forms rheir habits are so strong, that young people have only two alternatives: ro submit ro the pattern of behaviour demanded by society. or to be excluded from life in "decent societv". A child that does nor attain rhe level of affect-moulding demanded by socier; is regarded in varying gradations from rhe standpoint of a particular caste or class, "ill", "abnormal", "criminal", or just "impossible", and is accordingly excluded from the life of that class. Indeed, from a psychological point of view, rhe terms "sick", "abnormal", "criminal'', and "impossible" have, up ro a certain point, no other meaning; how they are undersrood varies with rhe hisroricallv mutable models of affect formation . Very instructive in this regard is the conclusion of Example D: "Ir is far less proper ro hold out the stinking thing for the orher ro smell, ere." A driveformarion and behaviour of this kind would, by today's standard of shame and revulsion, simply exclude a person as "sick", "pathological". or "perverse" from mixing wirh others. If the inclination ro such behaviour were manifested publicly, the person would. depending on his or her social position. be confined indoors or in a mental institution. At best, if this rendencv were only manifested behind the scenes, a specialist in nervous disorders would -be assigned rhe cask of correcting this person's unsuccessful conditioning. In general, impulses of rhis kind have disappeared from the waking consciousness of adults under rhe pressure of conditioning. Only psychoanalysis uncovers them in rhe form of unsatisfied and unsatisfiable desires which can be described as rhe unconscious or the dream level of the mind. And these desires have indeed in our society the character of an "infantile" residue, because the social standard of adults ma-kes a complete suppression and transformation of such tendencies necessarv, so that rhey appear, when they occur in adults, as a "remnant" from childho;d The standard of delicacy represented by Gtt!atuo also demanded a detachment from these instinctual tendencies Bur the pressure to transform such inclinations exerted on individuals bv socierv was minimal compared to rhar of roda\. The feeling of revulsion. disgust aroused by such behaviour \\:as. in

nu with rhe earlier standard. incomparablv weaker than ours. Consequently, . . keep1 o he social prohibition on rhe express10n of such feelings was much less grave. behaviour was nor regarded as a "pathological anomaly'' or a "perversion", bur rather as an offence against mer, courresy or good form Della Casa spoke of this "bad habit" with scarcely more emphasis than we might roday speak of someone biting his or her nails in public. The very fact rhar he of 'such things" at all shows how harmless this practice rhen still appeared. . . . . Nevenheless, m one way this example marks a rurnmg-pomr It may be supposed char affect-expressions of this sort were nor lacking in the preceding period. Bur only now did they _begin ro attract attention . Society_ was _gradually beginning ro suppress the pos1tne pleasure component 1n certain funcnons more and more strongly by the arousal of anxiety. Or more exactly, it was beginning to "privatize" them, ro force them imo the "inside" of individuals, into "secrecy", and to allow rhe negatively-charged affects--displeasure, revulsion and repugnance-co be the only socially allowed feelings rhar art dtveloptd through socializarion. Bm precisely by this increased social proscription of many impulses, by their 'repression" from the surface both of social life and of consciousness, the distance between rhe personality srrucmre and behaviour of adults and children was necessarily increased.

VI

On Blowing One's Nose


Examples
A
Thirteenth century
From Bonvesin de la Riva (Bonvicino da Riva), De !t1 zi11q11t111ta cortexit dt1 tctl'ola (Fifty table courtesies): (a) Precept for gentlemen:
\'\!hen you blow your nose or cough. mm round so that nothing falls on the cable.

(b) Precept for pages or servants:


Pox la tremena e quesrn: zaschun correse donzello Che se vore mondil lo naxo, con Ii drapi se faza bello; Chi mangia, over chi menesua,

122
no Je'sofi11 con le clie: Con Ii Jrapi da pey se monda vosrra correxia ;:

The Ciri/i::;i11g Pr1J<cSS

in rhc Beh:11io11r of thl Sw!lar U/1/nr Classes iii the \'Vi:sr


[From dH: scholia on this passage:] Berween snot and spit there is litrle difference. except that the former fluid is inrerpn:red
<lS

12.'\

w be

coarser and the Lurer more unclean The Latin writers consrandy confuse

a bre,istband. a napkin or any piece: of linen with a handkerchief

B
Fifteenth century?
From Ei11 spmch du :::c tische kl:rt.:
le is unseemly w blow your nose inrn rhe rableclorh

F
Frnm GtdC1teo. by Della Cas,1, quoted from the five-language edition <Geneva,

1558

1609), pp. 72, 44, 618:


You should not offer your handkerchief w anyone unless it has been freshly washed Nor is ir seemly. ,1fo:r wiping your nose.
to

c
From sw.wizwt
!es (f;l/fci/{l//!H

de

!Cl

tc1hle:
XXXIIl

spread om your handkerchief and peer

Do not blow your nose wirh rhe same han<l that you use rn hol<l the me<n.''"''

into it as if pearls and rubies might have fallen our of your head \\!hat. then. shall I say of those who carry their handkerchiefs abom in their mourhs?

D
From A. Cabanes. 1\foe111J intimes di! tm1ps pass!! (Paris, 1910), lsc series, p . 101:
In the fifreenrh cenrury people blew rheir noses into their fingers, and rhe scul pm rs of
the age were nor afraid to reproduce the gesrnre, in a passably realisric form, in their monuments Among the knights. the plourans. at the grave of Philip rhe Bold at Dijon. one is seen blowing his nose into his coat, another inro his fingers.

G
from Cabanes, 1\foum inti111ts, pp" 103, l68, 102:
[From J\farrial cl Aun:rgne. "Lon: decrees'] in order that she might remember him.

he decided to have one of rhe mosr beauriful and sumptuous handkerchiefs made for her. in which his name was in leners enrwinecl in the prettiest fashion, for it was joined

co a fine golden hearr bordered with tiny hearr's eases,,..,...


[From Lesroil.}li1m1al d'Henri !\'] In 159-l. Henri IV asked his valet how many shim he [the King] had. and rhe larrer replied: "A dozen, sire, and some mm ones ... "And how many handkerchiefs;" asked the king "Have I nor eight?" "For the momenr rhere are only fi,e. he said

E
Sixteenth century
From De civi!itate iil1Jri1111 /J11erili11111, by Erasmus, ch . l:
To blo\\ your nose on your hat or clothing is rustic, and tu do so with the arm or elbow befirs a tradesman: nor is ir much more polire w use the hand, if \'OU immediatelv smear the snor on your garment. Ir is proper to wipe the noscrils \\'iti1 a handkerchief. and rn do rhis whi)t mming aw,1y, immecliarely be rroclclen awa\'
meaning of passage (b) is not entirely clear \\1har is apparent is that it
to
\Vas

In 1599. afrer her death, the imemory of Henri !V's mistress is found rn contain "five handkerchiefs worked in gold. silver and silk. worrh 100 crmrns" In the sixteenth century. Monreil tells us, in France as everywhere else. 1h, 01111mo11 /1,opf,

i/ Ji/or, hono111'ahfc /v1plc ar,

pr<Swt

If anyrhing foils rn rhe ground when blowing the nose ,,ith rwo fingers. ir should

hku thr:ir
//_Ii: J/u..Fc'

n11sr::s

As
r1ih

ad<lrtssed especially

h;1s tcudth,

u itholt! d h:nulkc..,rchir:/ h111 illlJrmg thr.. hourgr:oisic.. it i.1 tlh ri(h. C:irJ) d in thr::ir Sd)S tlut hr:: dou not /;/ou his nose: (JIJ his sherc

t/((tj1hcf jn'd(fi(c.. ft1 !!St

to

.Lt)

that

people who strYtd at cable. A commenrnror, Ugucciont Pisano, savs: "Those are called who art handsomt. young. and tht sen;:mts of grtat lords Thtst. doni::1-l!i were not allowed ro sit at the s;:1me table as the kni_shts; or, if this was ptrmitttd, thty had
,i,urfois
to

sit on a lower chair The\,

Late seventeenth century


The Peak of Refinement First Highpoint of Consolidation and Rescrictions
This cloth was intended
to

pages of a kind and at any rate social inferiors. were told: The thirty-first counts\ is 'Jonzel who wishes to blow his nose should beautify himself with a cloth. \\;hen he is

or string ht should not blow (his nose?) through his fingers. Ir is ,:1110'/ois ro use rhe fm;t bandage .. According to an editors nott
([J.;L

Br,,,J:. Yo! 2. p. 1-!L courtesy consisted in blowin<> the


dish with the

be hung from the lady's girdle. with her keys Like the fork. night-

nose with tht fingers of the left hand if one are and rook meat from rht

commode. etc, tht handktrchitf is first an expensiYt luxury arriclt

"'

12-i

The Cil'ilizi11g Process

Ch1111gc.r i11 the B2hario11r of t!Jt S1:wlar Upper Clmse_r in the \\'!i:st

125

1672
From Courrin,
1'\r111rcd11

how improper ic is rn see such uncleanliness on clothes. which should always be very

traite de (i1i!ite:

{Ac cable] to blow your nose openly inrn your handkerchief, withom concealing yourself with your serviette, and to wipe away your sweat with it are filthy habits
fir co n1akt everyone's gorge rise,

clean. no matter how poor they may be There art some who put a finger on one nostril and by blowing through their nose nist onw the ground the filrh inside; those who act thus are people who Jo nor know what decency is You should always use your handkerchief to blow your nose. and rn:ver anything else. and in doing so usually hide your face with your hat. {A particularly clear example of the dissemination of courtly customs through this work] You should avoid making a noise when blowing your nose is impolire rn spend a long time raking out your handkerchief Ir u,mlr the />,of'/, )'111 ttrc: 11 ith rn unfold it in different places to see 111 it. You should rake your handkerchief from your pocket and use Before blowing it. it

You should amid yawning, blowing your nose and spitting If you are obliged to do so in places that are kept clean, do it in your handkerchief, while turning your face away and shielding yourself with your left hand, and do nor look into yom handkerchief afterwards

shl/11 s 11 /,u'k (Jf rc.1;1ccr


where vou are ro use it quickly in such a

1694
From Menage, Dictio1111airc etymologiq11e cit la lcmg11e
Handkerchief for blowing the nose. As this expression '"blowing the nose "ives a vet\' impression ladies ou"ht to call this a pocket htrndk;rchief, as says neckerchief, rather than a blowing the nose. [NB 1\fo11choir dc poch,, T(1Schent11ch, handkerchief as mote polite expressions; the word for functions that have become disrastefol is suppressed ]

wav chat you are scarcely noticed by mhers After blowing your nose you should take care nor to look into your handkerchief It is correcr to fold it immediately and replace it in your pocket

L
From La Salle, Les Regkr de la himsiance et de!{/ cirilite dm:tie1111e (177-i ed). pp 1-if. The chapter is now called only "On the Nose" and is shortened:
E,ery nilunrnry movement of rhe nose. whether mused by the hand or otherwise. is impolite and childish To put your fingers imo your nose is a rernlting impropriety. and fron1 touching it roo often ?Jld) .nik u hid1 ,;rt :.1 fr!llg rillh ;;Children are sufficiemh in the habit of committing this lapse; p:1r,111J .h"J!id c"1;r;"t :hc:m

1774

Eighteenth century
Nore che increasing distance between adulcs and children Onlv children were scill allowed, ac lease in che middle classes, to behave as adults did in che Middle

Ages.

'{ou should obserw, in blowing your nose. all the rules of propriety and cleanliness

1714
From an anonymous Ciri!ite jim1fc1ise <Liege, 171-i), p. 141:
Take good care not to blow your nose with your fingers or on your sleeve lik, childr,n; use your handkerchief and do not look Into it afterwards.

All derails are avoided. The "conspiracy of silence" is spreading. Ir is based on rhe presupposition-which evidently could not be made at the rime of the earlier
eclicion-char all the derails are known co adults and can be comrolled wirhin cht family

1729
From La Salle, Les Reg/es de la biemec111ce et de la cil'ilite dm!tie1111e (Rouen, 1729), in a chapter called "On the Nose, and the Manner of Blowing che Nose and Sneezing", p. 23:
It is very impolite to keep poking your finger into your nostrils, and still more insupportable to pm what you have pulled from your nose into your momh It is vile to wipe your nose with your bare hand, or to blow it on vour sleeve or vour clothes It is very contrary to decency to blow your nose with two fingers and the,n to throw the filth onto the ground and wipe your fingers on your cloches. It is well known

1797
From La Mesangere, Lt zoyt1ge11r de Pcll'is (1797), vol. 2, p 95. This is probably Sten, to a greater excenr chan the preceding eightetmb-cenrury examples, from
the point of view of the younger members of "good sociecy"; Somt years ago people made an art of blowing the nose Ont imitated tht sound of the
*This argument. in the earlier edition. shows clearly how rht was p:raJuall: bt:ginning to tmergt: as an insrrumtnt of conditioning. ofrtn in place of tht remin<ltr about tht resptct Jue rn social superiors

126

Thr.

IT
P111(cJY

rrun1peL anorhcr tht: scn:ech of a cat Perfecrion la;, in n1aking: neither too n1uch noise
nor rno

litde

Comments on the Quotations on Nose-Blowing


In meditrnl sociecy people generally blew rheir noses inco rheir hands, just as rhey art wirh rheir hands . Thar nectssitartd special preceprs for nose-cleaning ar cable. PolHeness, (o;nf//isic, required char one blow one's nose wirh rhe left hand if ont rook meat with the righr. Bur this prc:cc:pr was in fact resrricred to rhe cable. Ir arose solely out of consideration for ochers. The disrnsreful feeling frequendy aroused today by rhe mere rhoughr of soiling rhe fingers in chis way was ar first entirtly absent . Again rhe examples show very clearly how slowly rhe seemingly simpltst instruments of civilizarion have developed. They also illustrate to a certain degree rhe particular social and psychological precondirions that were required ro make the need for and use of so simple an insuumem general The use of the handkerchief--like that of rhe fork-first established itself in Irak and was diffused on account of its prestige rnlue. The ladies hung the precious, richly embroidered clorh from their girdles. The young "snobs" of the Renaissance offer it co ochers or carried it about in their mouths. And since it was precious and rtlati\ely expensiw, at first there were nor many of chem even among rhe upper class. Henri IV, at rhe end of rhe sixreemh cenwry, possessed (as we hear in Example Gl five handkerchiefs. And it was generally raken as a sign of wealth nor ro blow one's nose imo one's hand or sleeve bm into a handkerchief Louis XIV was rhe first rn hme an abundam supply of handkerchiefs, and under him rhe use of them became general, ac lease in comely circles 2 . Here, as so ofrtn, rhe transitional siwarion is clearly visible in Ewsmus. Ir is proper rn ust a handkerchief he says, and if people of a higher social are present, wrn away when blowing your nose. Bm he also says: If you blow your nose with rwo fingers and something falls rn rhe ground, cre,1d on ir. The use of rhe handkerchief was known but nor yet widely disseminated, t\tn in rhe upper class for which Erasmus primarily \\rote Two cenrnries later, rhe sirnacion was almosr reversed. The use of rhe handkerchief had become general, ar lease among people who lay claim w "good behmiour.. Bm rhe use of rhe hands had by no means disappeared Sten from abme, ir had become a "bad habit", or at any rare common and vulgar. Ont reads with amusemem La Salle's gradations berween cilc1i11, for certain ven' cm1rse wavs of blowing rhe nose with rhe hand, and tres (011trairi: ti Ill for rhe manner of doing so with two fingers <Examples H, J, K, L). Once the handkerchief began to come into use, there consrnmh recurred a prohibition on a new form of "bad habit" thar emerged ar the sam; rime as rht ne\\' pracrice-d1t prohibirion on looking into one's handkerchief when one had

it (Examples E H, L K, L) Ir almost seems as if inclmations which had _ b . . eel w a certain control and resrraim by rhe llltroducrion or tht bten ,u 1ecr . . .. .. ] . t' seekinu a new ouder Ill chis way Ar am rare, a dnve which h;!lld kere 1ie c c . c . . . . . . . , . . . . ,. rs r most Ill rht unconscious. Ill dreams, Ill the sphere or secrtc\, or roday ap1x'1 '1 . .. . . . . . . . . ... ush onlv "behind rht scenes , rhe rmeresr Ill bodily secreuons, heie more consLl 0 . . . . . . . , -If u rn earlier srnr.;e ot rhe historical process more cltMly and optnl], shows l rse ' ' c .. . . . . _ . form in which coda\ ir is only "normally ns1ble m children an d ,o lll '1 . . . .. . , l lir-r edition ot La Salle, as 111 orher cases, rhe major part ot rhe \et} in tie ' c . . , 1 ! . recei1rs from die e<ulier one were omirred The use ot the hanclkerch1d aenu l ec 11 had become more general and self-evident It was no longer necessary to be so 1 . llforeover chert was less ,rnd less inclination rn speak abom these derails exp11c1L 1 , . . . . . . , L S lle ori "inalh discussed \\'Hhout rnh1bmon and at length \\ irl10ut rnar ,1 '1 "' , . -mb, rrassmenr More srress, on rht ocher hand, \\'<lS laid on children s bad habit 1 ".'n" rbe finuers in rht nose. And, as with other childish habits, the health ot putci c c _ . . . " 110 w 11)1)t"ued alongside or in jJlace ot rhe social one as <lll lllStrumenr ot svarn1nt:" ' - ' ,__ conditioning, in rhe rettrence w the harm char could be done by doing "such a_ thine:" roo often This was an expression of ,1 change in rhe manner ot conditioning that has already been considered from ocher aspects. Up rn d1is rime, habits were almost always judged expressly in rhtir relation w orher people, and chey ,1re forbidden, ar lease in rht secular upper class, because ..they might be troublesome or embarrassing ro ochers. or because they betrayed a lack of respect". Now habits were condemned more and more as such. nor 111 reg<ud ro ochers. In chis way, socially undesirable impulses or inclinations become more radicalh- suppressed. Thev become associated with embarrassmem. fear, shame or guilr. when one is alone 11uch of what we call "morality" or "monil" ;easons has rht same function <lS "hygiene" or "hygienic" reasons: ro condition children rn a certain social standard ;\foulding by such means aims ar making socialh desirable bth,1viour aurnm<1tic a matter of self-conrroL causing it to appea; in rht consciousness of indi\iduals as the result of their own frte will, rnd in rhe inreresrs of rheir own health or human dignity. And it was only with rht advem of rhis wa\ of consolidating habits, or conditioning. which gained predominance wid; rhe rise of the middle classes, char conflict berwttn rhe socially inadmissible impulses ,rnd rendtncies, on the one hand, and the pattern of social demands anchored in individuals, on rhe od1er, wok on rht sharply defined form cemral ro rhe psychological theories of modern rimes-above alL ro psychoanalysis. Ir may be "char rllere have always been .. "neuroses" But the "neuroses" we see about us today art a specific hisrorical form of psychic conflict which needs psychogenetic and sociogeneric illumination. _:;. An indication of rhe mechanisms of suppression may already be comained in rht rwo verses qumecl from Bonvicino da Rirn (Example Al. The difference between wh<H was expected of knights and lords. on rhe one hand, and of the

c/11/!i:el/i, pages, or servants, on rhe ocher, calls

to

mind a much clocumemed social

128

Th, Cfrili::i11g Prr1(t.>s


0

Ch:lilges

i11

tbe Behal'irwr of thu Sew!m UjJf7er Classes in the \Vist

129

phenomenon. The masters found the sight of the bodilv functions of theu servants disrasrefol: they compelled them, the social inforiors in their immediatf surroundings, ro control and restrain rhese functions in a wav rhar they did at first impose on themselves. The verse addressed ro the masters says simply: If you blow your nose, rurn round so that nothing falls on rhe rable. There is no mention of using a cloth. Should we believe that rhe use of cloths for cleaning the nose was already taken so much for granted in rhis society rhar ir was no longer thought necessary ro mention it in a book on mannersi That is highlv improbable The servants, on the other hand, were: expressly insrruned w use n;t their fingers bur their foor bandages if they had to blow their noses. To be sure this interpreration of the two \erses cannot be considered absolutely cerrain. Bu; the fact can be freguently demonstrated that functions were found distasteful and disrespectful in inferiors which superiors were not ashamed of in themselves. This fact rakes on special significance when, with rhe emergence of absolutism that is at the absolute courts, rhe aristocracy as a whole had become hierarchically graded and simulraneousl> a serving and socially dependent stratum. This at first sight highly paradoxical phenomenon of an upper class rhar was socially extremely dependent will be discussed larer in another context. Hert wt can only point out that this social dependence and its structure had decisive importance for the srrucmrt and pattern of affect restrictions. The examples con rain numerous indications of how these resrricrions were intensified wirh rhe growing dependence of rhe upper class. Ir is no accident rhar the first peak of rehnement'" or '"delicacr .. in the manner of blowing the nose-and nor onlv here--came in the phase when the dependence and subservience of rhe arisr;craric upper class was at irs heighr, rhe period of Louis XIV (Examples H and
I)

b' sed JJrimarilv on consideration and respect due to others and above all to a . ' l superiors. In rhe subsequent stage, renunciation and restraint of impulses 50(1<1 . '-.. were compelled far less by parncular persons: expressed provisionally and .nnrelr it was now, more clirecrlv than before, the less visible and more appro Xl ' , ' . . . ... . -rsonal compulsions of sooal 1nterclependence, the cl1v1s10n of labour, the J!1ljA ' ' . . . . . arker and compet1t1on rhar imposed resrramt and control on rhe impulses and :motions. Ir is these pressures, and rhe manner of conditioning and instilling t ols mentioned above which correspond to them, rhar make ir appear rhar con' ,ill\ desirable behaviour is voluntarily produced bv rhe individual him or SOC! , ' herself, on his or her own initiative. This applies ro rhe regulation and restraint of drives necessary for .. work .. : it also applies ro the whole pattern according to which drives are modelled in bourgeois industrial societies. The pattern of affect control, of what must and what must nor be restrained, regulated and transformed, is ctrrninly nor the same in this srage as in the preceding one of the court aristocracy. In keeping wirh its different interdependencies, bourgeois society applies srronger rtsrricrions rn certain impulses, while in the case of others aristocratic restrictions are simply continued and transformed ro suit rhe changed situation. In addition, more clearly distinct narional patterns of affect conr;ol are formed from the various elements. In both cases, in arisrocratic court societr as well as in rht bourgeois societies of the nineteenth and twentieth the upper classes are socially constrained to a particularly high degree The central role played by rhis increasing dependency of the upper classes as a motor of civilization will be shown later

VII
On Spitting
Examples
Middle Ages
A
27 Do nor spit over or on the rable 37 Do nor spir into rhe bowl when washing your hands

The dependencv of the upper class also explains rht dual aspect which behaviour patterns and instruments of civilization had at least in their formatin: phase: they expressed a certain measure of compulsion and renunciation, bur rhey always also sene as a weapon against social inforiors, a means of distinction. Handkerchief, fork. plates and all related implements \Vere at first luxurr articles with a particular social prestige nlut (Exam pit G) . The social dependence in which the succeeding upper class, rhe bourgeoisie, lives, is of a different kind, certainly, from that of rhe court aristocracr, but rends . to be rather greater and more compelling

In general, we scarcely realize today what a unigue and asronishing phenomenon a "working .. upper class is. \\iln does ir work; \\/hr submit itself ro this compulsion even though it is the rul.ing"' class and is nor commanded by a superior ro do soi The question demands a more derailed answer rhan is possible in this context. \\/hat is clear, however, is the parallel to what has been said on the change in rhe instruments and forms of conditioning During rhe sragt of the court aristocracy, the restraint imposed on inclinations' and

B
29 Do not spit on rhe rnble
51 Do not spir into rhe basin when you wash your hands, bur beside ir

uo

Th, Ciz'ili:::i11g PrlJlHS

i11 th, Bch:11iom

rf tht

Sul!!dr Upper Clc1ssc.r i11 tht \Fest

Ul

c
, 1

In rht old days you could yawn. provided you did nor speak while doing so: today. person of rnnk would be shocked by this

HS If thou spite on:r the borde. or elles opon, thou schalle be holden an uncurrayse mon

H
from an anonymous Ciriliti! jitlllfdist (Litgt. 171-i), pp. 6 7 -i 1:
Frcquenr spitting is disagreeable. \\?hen it is necessary you should conceal it as much ;is possible. and avoid soiling either persons or rheir clothes. no matter who they ate. nor 6 cn rhe embers beside the fire. And wherever you spir. \'OU should put your foot on rhe saliva .At tlx hl!!!St:S rl tht. Olh spits i11fr1 Ir ill becomes you to spit out of the window or onro the tire. Do not spir so far that you have to look for the saliva to put your foot on it

U.' Afrcr mtte when chou shall w;bshe.


spin nor in basyn, ne wacer thou dasshe.

1714

D
From Zarncke, D,r dr11tscht Ct1to. p. 137:
>-()

Do not spit across the table in the manner of hunters

1530
From Dt cil'ilitatc
ll/fJl'l!i11

f'11crilim11. by Erasmus:

Turn away when spitting. lest your saliva fall on someone. If anything purulent falls to tht be trodden u1oon som-one . ground. it should . - , ltst - it n1useue ' ' e . JI- you arc nor at liberty tu do rlm. catch the sputum in a small cloth. It is unmannerly ro suck back saliva, as equalh are those "horn we see spirrini; 1r e\en- third word not f but from habit. . ' . rom necessity

1729
from La Salle, Les Rig/es cit la bic11si:111cr
p. 55:
You should not abstain from spitting. and it is very ill-mannered to swallow what should be spat. This can nauseate others Nevertheless. you should nor become accustomed to spitting too often. and without need. This is not onh unmannerly. but disgusts and annoys everyone \\"hm )"II di 11 jfh uc!/-/;1,rn /1,0/1/c, and when you ate in places that are kept clean, it is polite to spit imo your handkerchief while turning slightly aside It is ewn good manners for everyone to get used to spitting inro a handkerchief when in the houses of the great and in all places with waxed or parquet Hours. Bur it is far mote necessary to acquire the habit of doing so when in church, as far as is possible Ir often happens. howewr. that no kitchen or even srablt floor is dirtier than that of the church. Afrer spitting into your handkerchief. you should fold it at once, without looking <H it. and put it into your pocktr. You should rake grear care ntwr ro spit on your clothes. If you notice saliva on the ground. you should immediately put or those of others your foot adroitly on it. If you notice any on someones coat. it is not polite to make it known: you should insttuct a senam ro remO\e it. If no sern1nt is present. you should remove it yourself without being noticed. For good breeding consists m nor bringing to people's anention anything that might offend or confuse them.
d

cit lc1 cil'iliti chri!tic1111c (Routn, 17 29).

F
1558
From Gdc1tt 11. bv Della Casa . C]Lloced t-ron1 clle c uve- j anguage ecl icion (Geneva, 1609), p. 570:
lt is also unseemly tor someone sittin at table ro scratch himself At such a rime and place you should also abstain as far as possible from spitting. and if it cannot be completely arnided it should be done politely and unnoricecL I have ofter. heard that "hole peoples have sometimes lived so moclerarelv and conducted themseln:s so honourably that they found spitting quite unnecessan .\Xrlw. therdon::. should not Wt too be able to refrain from it just fr>r a short rime' frhat during meals: the resmcnon on the habit applied only to mealtimes]

G
1672
From Courcin, 1\'0111-ec111 trniti! ,fL, cizi!iti!, p. 273:
The custom we h,ffe just mentioned does not mean that most laws of this kind are immutable. And just as chere are many that have already changtd. I have no doubt that many ot these will likewise change in the fuwre
Fr1nt!lr!).
to
c..'Xtlll!f'lc

J
1774
From La Salle, Les Ri:gles de la hiwsec111ce et de la cirilite chrdtiwm (1774 edn), p 20. In chis edition the chapter "On Yawning, Spitting. and Coughing," which covers four pages in rhe earlier edicions, has shrunk ro one page:

it u dS flr:n:itfrd !o

s/1it Ml

the: gro!!nd
is :n1

/JJ1! 1J11t" s .r)IJ/ r111 tl.h .1J1lftlm1

Tod;1) 1h:11

' ) 1 _,_

Tht Ciz'ilizing Process


. n" mourh or hands, bur beside ic These prohibirions were repeated shen clean1 "' - . . . . . . . . '. , . . reorrped a tash10n m rhe co11rtu1s codes of manners rhar one c,1n 1magme in so ste . -, ,, , . d. . l . . c encr of this insrance ot bad manners . The pressure ot me 1eva socieq rhe rreq u . . . . . l. racrice never became so srrong. nor rhe condmonmg so compellmg. t Mt on r liis p . .. . b . . l . . r d from soC!al lite Here agam we see rhe difference er\\'een soCla ir d1s<1ppea e . ' ls in rhe medieval and rhe subsequent srages. conrro Ir was demanded rlur In rhe sixreenth century. social pressure grew srronger. . be rrodden upon-ar leasr if ir contained purulence, said Erasmus. who sputum . . . . _ . f . . ihvws marked rhe rransit10nal siruar10n. And here agarn the use o <1 here <IS ' ' . . . doth was mentioned as a possible, nor a necessary, way of controllmg d11s habit. which was slowly becoming more disrasreful The next srep is shown clearly by Courtin's comment of 1672: it was permirred to spir on rhe ground before_ people of rank, ..md was sufhcient ne's foor on rhe spurum . Todav [ O . rhar 1s an mdecency. . . Similarly, we find in the Cizi!iti of 1714, intended for a wider audience: ''Conceal ir as much ,1s possible. and avoid soiling eirher persons _or .. rhelf . Ar rhe houses of rhe grear, one s1)its into one's handkerchief cIor l1es. . ' .. In 17 29, La Salle exrended rhe same precept ro all places "rhar are kept clean And he added rhar in church, too. people oughr ro ger used to using rheir handkerchiefs and nor rhe floor. Bv 1774 rhe whole pracrice. and even speaking abour it. had become cons.iderably more disrasrefuL By 1859 "spirring is ar all rimes a disgusring habir" All rhe same, ar least wirhin rhe house. rhe spittoon, as a technical implement for controlling this habir in keeping with rhe advancing of delicacv, srill had considerable imporrnnce in rhe ninereenth century. Cabanes, m 1910. reminds us rhar, like orher implements (cf. Example L), ir had slowly
0

In church. 111 tht: houses of rhe great. and in all places where cleanliness reigns, you should spir into your handkerchief Ir is an unpardonably gross habit of children to spit in the faces of their playmares. Such bad manners cannot be punished too severely; nor are those who spit out of windows. on walls and on furoirure ro be excused

K
1859
From The Hc1bits of G()l)c/ Sr;ciety, p . 256:
Spiering is at all rimes a disgusring habit l need say nothing more than-never indulge in it Besides being coarse and atrocious, it is l"<IJ bml fir the hMlth

L
1910
From Cabanes, 1\Iowrs i11times, p. 264:
Have vou noticed d1,u today we relegate to some discreet corner what our farhers did nor hesirnre to display quire openly' Thus a certain intimate article of furnirure had a place of honour no one rhoughr of concealing ir from view The same is rrue of anorher piece of furniture no longer found in modern households. whose disappearance some will perhaps regret in rhis age of "bacillophobia": I am referring to rhe spittoon

Comments on the Quotations on Spitting


1. Like the orher groups of examples, the series of guotarions abour spirring shows very clearly rhar, since rhe ,fiddle Ages, behaviour has changed in a parricular direcrion. In rhe case of spirring, the movement is unmistakably of rhe kind rhar we call "progress". Frequent spirring is even roday one of rhe experiences thar many Europeans find particularly unpleasant when travelling in rhe Easr or in Africa, rogerher wirh rhe lack of "cleanliness". If rhey starred out with idealized preconceptions, rhey call rhe experience disappointing, and find their feelings on the "progress" of \Vesrern civilizarion confirmed. No more rhan four centuries ago, rhis cusrom was no less widespread and commonplace in the \Vesr, as rhe examples show. Taken rogerher, rhey give a particularly clear demonsrrmion of rhe way in which rhe civilizing process rook place. 2 . The examples show a movement with the following stages: The Larin as well as rhe English, French and German guides ro table manners bear wimess to rhe facr rhar in rhe Middle Ages ir was not only a cusrom bur also clearly a generally felr need to spit frequently. Ir was also emirely commonplace in rhe courrs of the feudal lords. The only major restraint imposed was rhat one should nor spir on or over rhe table bur under ir. Nor should one spir into rhe washbasin

evolved from a prestige object ro a private urensil Graduallv rhis urensil too became <lispensable In largt secrions of \Vesrern socierv eve.n the need to spir from rime to rime seems to have disappeared A srandard of delicacy and restraint similar to rhar which Della Casa knew onlv from his reading of ancient writers, where "whole peoples . lived so moderarely and so honorably rhar rhey found spirring guHe unnecessary (Example FJ. had been attained once more _ 3. Taboos and resrrictions of various kinds surrounded rhe ejection ot saliva, other namral functions, in very many societies, borh ''primirive'" ;md "civilized" \Vhar disringuishes such prohibitions is rhe facr rbar in rhe former rhev were alwavs maintained bv fear of orher beings, even if only imaginary onesis, bv exre.rnal in the larrer rhey were rransformed more into internal consrrainrs. The prohibired rendencies (e.g., the or less rendency ro spir) partly dis<1ppeared from consciousness under rbe pressure of this internal resrrainr or. as ir may also be called. rhe pressure from rhe "superego" and rhe '"habir of foresight" And whar remained in the consciousness as

13-i
mmi\arion was anxic:r1 in rc:larion ro some long-rerm consideration . So in our rime rht fear of spini1:g. and rhe feelings of shame and repugnance in which it is expressed. rake rhe form nor uf magical influencts. of gods. spirits or demons bur of rhe more exactly circumscribed. more clear!) rransparem and lmv-like picrnre of specific clistases and their "pathogens" Bur rhe series of examples also shows H:ry clearly that rational undersrnncling of rhe origins of ctrrain diseases of the clanger of sputum as a carrier of illness. was neither the primary cause of fear and repugnance nor rht motor of civilization. die clrivin!!; force: of tllF c changes in behaYiour \Vith regarJ to spitting. Ar first. and for a long period. rhe retention of spirrlt was expressly discouraged To suck back salirn is "unmannerly". says Erasmus (Example E). 7 A.nd as late as I 29. La Salle says: "You should nor abstain from spitting" !Example IJ For centuries rhere was not rhe faintest indication of "hygienic reasons" for rhe prohibitions and resrricrions with which the expression of the drive to spit was surrounded. Rational uoclersrnncling of rht clanger of saliva was attained only at a very lace srage of the change in behaviour, and rhus in a stnse rerrospecrively, in the nineteenth century. And even then. rhe reference ro what is indelicate and disgusting in such behaviour still appeared separarelv, alon!!;side the reference ro its ill effects on health: "Besides being coarse and is n:ry bad for rhe health". says Example K of spitting

. .. co a scientific rhtory. to an argument that applies to all people equally. non ' ss of their rank and srarns. The pnmary lse tor - t I11s - s low rtpress10n 1mpu rei:.:ardl e. _ . . :- clr-n1rion rhat was formerly suong and w1des1)reacl dnes not come trom ot an tr1 ' . . - . '-. . . I undersrandll1'' of rhe causes of illness. but-as \\tll be. d1scusseo 111 morerauon.i c . chants in rhe war II1 rhe srrucrnre of den111 1-t"r-from d. L c . ]JeO]Jle l!\e together. ._
1

,L The modification of the manner of spitting. and hnally the more or less -n1ination of the netd for it, is a '-good exam1Jlt of rhe malleabilin cornp let ,, . _ el 1 of econom1 of humc1ns. le may be: rhar rhis need has been compensated h r e " . . bv others (e.g , the need to smoke) or \\-eakened by certain changes of diet. But it. is certain that rhe degree of suppression which has been possible in this case is not possible with regard to many other drives. The inclination to spit. like that of looking ar rhe sputum. mentioned in rhe examples, is replaceable: it now 111 ,111 ifests itself clearly only in children or in dream analyses, and its suppression is seen in the specific form of laughter rhat overcomes us when "such things .. are spoken of openlr _ Orhtr needs are nor replaceable or malleable to rhe same extent. And this raises tht question of rhe limit of the rransformabiliry of rhe psychic economy. \Vithour doubt. it possesses specific regularities that may be called "narnral" The historical process modifies it within rhese limits. The degree to which human life and behaviour can be moulded by historical processes remains ro be dererminecl in derail. Ar any rate. all this shows once again how natural and hisrorical processes interacr almost inseparably The formation of feelings of shame and revulsion and advances in rhe threshold of repugnance art both at once oarnral and historical processes. These forms of feeling are maoifesrarions of human nature under specific social conditions, and they react in their rnrn on rhe socio-historical process as one of its elements Ir is difliculr ro see \1-hether rhe radirnl conrraposirion of "civilization" and "nature" is more than an expression of rht tensions of rhe "civilized" psyche itself, of a specific imbalance wirhin psychic life produced in the recent stage of \Vestern civilization . At any rare, rhe psychic life of "primiriw" peoples is no less historically (i.e. socially) stamped than that of "civilized" peoples. ewn if the former are scarcely aware of their own history. There is no zero point in the historicity of human development, just as there is none in the sociality, the social imerdependence among people. In both "primitiw" and "civilized" peoples, there are socially induced prohibitions and resrricrions, rogerher with rheir psychological counterparts. socially induced anxieties. pleasure and displeasure, distaste and delight. It is, therefore, at least nor entirely clear what is meant when rhe former standard, that of so-called "primiti\es". is contrasted simply as "natural" ro rhe hisrorical-social standard of "civilised" people . So far as rhe psychological functions of humans are concerned, natural and hisrorical processes work indissolubly rogerher.

It is well to establish once and for all rhar something which we know to be harmful to health by no means necessarih arouses fetlin!!;s of distaste or shame And connrsely. somerhing that these feeling's need nor be at ali detrimental to health. People who eat noisily or with their hands nowadavs arouses feelings of extreme distaste wirhour there being the slightest fear their heald1 But neither rhe thought of someone reading by bad light nor the idea of poison gas. for example, arouses remorelv similar feelings of distaste or shame. alrhough rht harmful consequencts for health are obvious. Thus. disgusr and nausea ar the ejection of sali,-a intensified. and the taboos SL1rroundio'g it increased. long before people had a clear idea of rht transmission of certain ge;ms by saliva. \Vhar first aroused and increased the distasteful feelings ,. and r;stricrions was a transformation of human relationships and dependencies. "Earlier it was permitted w yawn or spit openly: today. a person of rank would be shocked it". Example: G says. in effect. That is the kind of reason rhar people first gave lor increased restraint. Motivation from social consideration existed long before motivation from scientific insight. The king required rhis restraint as a "mark of respect .. from his courtiers. Io court circles this sign of rheir dependence, the growing compulsion to be restrained and self-controlled. became also a "mark of distinction" that was immediately imitated below and disseminated wirh the rise of broader strata.. And here, as io rhe preceding civilization-curves. rhe admonition "Thar is not clone". wirh which restraint. fear. shame and repugnance were inculcated. was connected only very late. as a result of a certain "democrariza-

Thl Cizili:::illg Pmo.:_i-.r

Ch(/i!gt.r in thr Buhariom of the Swt!crr UjJjJer Clt1sses in the \Fest

137

VIII
On Behaviour in the Bedroom
Examples

Ifrou share a bed wirh a comrade, lie quiecly: do nor toss wirh your body. for chis can l;iy bare or inconvenience your companion by pulling away rhe blankets

c
From Des honnes 1i1ot1trs tt hon nest es contenm1c<J. by Pierre Broe (Lyons, 15 5 5 ):

1555

A Fifteenth centurv
Stam />!!er i11 m:mam, an English book of table

l-!63-83 (A Boole ol - PrccudwC<.. London , 1869. p. 63):


215 And if chac ic forren so bv nyghc or Any cyme Thar you scha!l lye wirh Anv man char is beuer than vou . Spyre hym whar syde .of rhe bedd char most besc will ples hvm. :\nd lye you on chi rnrher si:de, for rhar is rhi prow;

manners from rhe period

If you share a bed wirh anocher man. keep srill


1cike care nor rn annoy him or expose yourself by abrupt movemencs And if he is asleep. see char you do nor wake him

1729
From La Salle, Lu Rl:gkr de la hiemliance et de la ciri!ite dm!tie1111e (Rauen, 1729),

p. 55:
You ought neicher ro undress nor go ro bed in rhe presence of any ocher person Above all. unless you ace married. you should nor go to bed in che presence of <Hwone of che ocher sex le is srill less permissible for people of opposite sexes rn sleep in rhe same bed, unless chey are very young children If you are forced by unavoidable necessirr co share a bed wirh another person of che same sex on a journey, ir is nor proper rn lie so near him char you disrurb or ewn couch him: and ir is srill less decenc rn pm your legs berween chose of che ocher. Ir is also wry improper and impolite co amuse yourself wirh ralk and chacrer. \\?hen you gee up you should nor leave rhe bed uncovered. nor pm 1our nightcap on a chair or anywhere else where ir can be seen

Ne go you nor rn bede before boc rhi becrer cause rhe, For rhac is no currasy, rhus seys docrour paler

223 A.nc1 when you arte in rhi bed.


chis is curcasy, Srryghr downe rhar vou he wirh fore and bond. , . \vhen ze hme calkyd whar ze wyll, b:.d h} m gode nyghc in bye For char is grer curras 1 so schall thou understand ,,. -

If vou share rnur bed 1 l1 . t- l l _ 'tr a man o 11g 1er rank, ask him which side he prefers. Do nor go co bed before your superior imires you: char is nor courteous, savs Dr Paler. Then lie down srra1 ghr and bid him goodnight.

177-4
From La Salle, L:s Rl:gles de lt1 hit:i!SldilCe et de la ciri!itt! clm!tiu111e ( l 77-:i edn) p. 31:

1530

Jr is a srrange abuse w make rwo people of differenc sex sleep in rhe same room. And
if necessicy demands ic, you should make sme rhac rhe beds are aparr. and char modesty
dues not suffer in any way from this commingling" Only exrren1e indigence can exct;se

From De . Ft t ! w1 ta i: i11om111 /111tri im11, by Erasmus, ch . 12, "On rhe Bedchamber .. :


W'hen you undress. when you !(tr up. be mindful of m cl. . cl k _ _ . o tSt}. an ta e care nor co expose rn che eyes ot orhecs anything char morality and nature require co be concealed
:;: To focilirnr_e comprthtnsion. the o!J spelling is nor rer..,roJuced '' text can b e tuun J B/j,,L rf p. 63

. The philolo,trica!ly accurare

chis pracrice If you are forced to share a bed with a person of rhe same sex. which seldom happens. you should maintain a srricr and 1igilanc modesty. \\ihen you have awakened and had sufticienc cime rn rest, you should gee our of bed wirh firring modesty and never stay in bed holding conversations or concerning yourself with ocher marrers norhing more clearly indicates indolence and frivolity: rhe bed is imended foe bodily resr and for nothing else

138

Th:: Cfri!i:i11g Prr;c.:.iS

Classt.i i11 the \\'i-.11

139

Comments on the Examples


l The bedroom has btcomt ont of rht mosr "private' and "inrimart" areas of human lift . Like mosr orhtr bodily funcrions, sleeping has been increasingly shifred behind the scents of social lift. The nuclear family remains as rlit legirimare. socially sanctioned enclave for rhis and many orhtr human function;. Irs \i_siblt and imisible walls wirhdraw rhe mosr "privare". "inrimare". unsuppress1bly "animal .. as peers of human txisrtnct from rhe sight of ochers In medieval society this funcrion. roo. had nor betn rlms privariztd and stparared from rhe resr of social life. Ir was quire normal ro recei\e visirnrs in rooms wirh beds, and rhe beds themselves had a presrige value rtlared ro rheir opultnct. Ir was \'try common for many people ro spend rhe nighr in rhe same room: in rhe upper class, rhe master wirh his strvanr. rhe misrress wirh her maid or maids; in orher classes, even men and women in rhe same room.-_; and ofren guesrs who were sraying ovtrnighr.-'

.2. Those who did nm sleep in their clorhes undressed complerelr. In general people in lay sociery slepr naked. and in rhe monasric orders ei rher, fullr Ldressed or fully undressed according ro rht srricrness of rhe rules. The n;le of Sr Benedicr-daring back ar ltasr ro rhe sixrh cenrury-required members of rhe order ro sleep in dieir clorhes and even ro keep rheir btlrs on.' In rhe rwelfrh ctnrury, when rheir order became more prosperous and powerful and rhe asceric consrrainrs less severe, rhe Cluniac monks were permirred ro sleep wirhout clorhes. The Cisrtrcians, when srriving for reform, rerurned ro die old Benedictine rule. Special nighrclorhes are never menrioned in rhe monastic rules of rhis period, srill less in die dornmenrs. epics or illusrrarions lefr behind bv secular sociery. This is also rrue for women. If anyrhing, ir was unusual ro clorhing on in bed. Ir aroused suspicion rhar one might have some bodilv defter-for what orher reason should rht body bt hiddtn'-and in facr rhi,s usually was rhe case. In rhe RrJ111:m d, la for example, we hear rhe serrnnr ask her misrress in surprise why she is going robed in her chemise, and rhe Lurer explains it is because of a mark on her body.-"
This greartr lack of inhibirion in showing the naked body, and rhe posirion of rht shame fronrier represenrecl by ir. are seen parricularh clear!\- in barhin" manners. Ir has been noted with surprise in larer ages rhar .knighr; were waired on in rheir barhs by women: likewise, rheir nighr drink was ofren broughr ro rheir beds by women. Ir seems ro han: been common pracrice, ar leasr in rhe rowns. ro undress ar home before going ro rhe barhhouse. "How ofren", savs an observer, "rhe fiuher, wearing nothing bur his breeches, wirh his naked and children, runs rhrough rhe srreers from his house ro rhe barbs How manv rimes have I seen girls of ren, twelve, fourreen, sixreen and eighreen yea;s enrirely naked exctpr for a shorr smock, ofren rorn. and a ragged barhing gown ar from and back' \Virh rhis open at rht feer and held

ound rhelf behmds. runnmg from rheir houses through the long decorous 1Y 'll t midd<l\' ro rhe barbs How many compltrely naked boys of ren. rwelve. .. -srre e(s 'l - on 'lfld sixreen run beside rhem.. . tourteL ' . . I This lack of inhibition disappt:cutd slowlv 1n the s1xreenrl: and more rapic ly . l evenreenrh c:ighrtenrh and ninereenrh cenruries, hrsr m rhe higher J[1 [ it ' ' . nd much more slowlv in rht lower. Up ro rhen, the whole mode of lite. classes ,1 . . l "reuer closeness of individuals. made rhe sight of rhe naked body, at Wl( 1 IL5 u '. n rlie 1)ro11er IJlace incom1xuablv more commonplace rhan m rhe hrsr lpasr i " f. rlie n1odern 1"e "\Ve reach the sur1Jrising conclusion", it has been said stages o '- c . '- _ wirh reference ro Germany. "char rhe sight of roral nakedness was rhe everyday rule up ro rhe sixreemh cenrury.. Everyone und_ressecl complerely each bet.ore u "01.n" ro bed and likewise no clorhmg was \vorn m rhe evening u ,_ irlis .. -, And rhis cerninlv a1J11lied nor onlv ro Germanv. People had a less sream b ' ' inhibited-one mighr say a more childish-arrirude rowards rhe body, and ro manv of irs funcrions. Sleeping cusroms show rhis no less rhan barbing habirs. . _',_'A special nighrdress slowly came inro use at roughly rht same rime as rht fork and rhe handkerchief Like rhe or her "rools of civilizarion". it made irs way rhrough Europe quire gradually And like rhem ir is a symbol of rhe decisive chang"e raking place at rhis rime in human beings. Sensiriviry rowards everyrhing rhar came imo comacr wirh rhe body increased . Shame became arrachc:d ro behaviour rhar had previously been free of such feelings. Thar psychological rhar rhey were process which is already described in rhe Bible: "and rhey naked and were ashamed"-rhar is. an advance of rhe shame trom1er. a rhrusr wwards grearer resrrainr-was repeared here. as so often in rhe course of hisron The lack of inhibirion in showing oneself naked disappeared. as did rhar in performing bodily funcrions before orhtrs. And as this sight became less commonplace in social life, rhe depiction of rhe naked body in arr rook on a new significance. J\Iort than hirherro ir became a dream image. an emblem of wishfL;llilmenr. To use Schiller's terms. it became "semimenral". as againsr the
L

"m1ive" form of earlier phases. [n rhe courr socierv of France-where gerring up and going ro bed, ar leasr in the case of grear lords and ladies. was incorporated direcdy inro social lifenighrdress, like e\erv orher form of clothing appearing in rhe communal life of rook on rep;esenrarional funcrions as ir developed This changed when. wirh rhe rise of broader classes, gerring up and going ro bed became more imimare and were displaced from life in rhe wider sociery inro rhe inrerior of rhe nuclear familv. The gener,;rions following \\/oriel \'Var I, in rheir books on eriquerre, looked back with a cerrain ironr-and nor wirhour a fainr shudder-ar rhis period. funcrions as sleeping. undressing and dressing was when rhe exclusion of enforced wirh special se\eriry. rhe mere menrion of chem being blocked by relatively heavy prohibirions An English book on manners of 19.'>6 says. perhaps

140

Tht Cit'i!i:::ing Prrietss

i11 the Beh11l'ii!i!!' iJf the Sem!ar Uj1f!er C!mses in th1: \Y'i::st

1-i l

with exaggeration,_ but certainly not entirely without justification: 'Durmg the Genteel Era before the \Var, camping was the only way by which respectable wrirers might approach the subject of sleep. In those days ladies and gentlemen did not go to bed at night-tlky retired. How rhey did it was nobody s busmess. An author who thought differently ,,oulc! have found himself excluded from the circulating library... - 9 Here, too, there had been a certain reacnon relaxation since the war._ Ir was clearly connected with the growing mob1l1ty ot society, w1rl1 the spread ot sport, hiking and travel. and also with the relanvely separation of young people from the family community. The from the nightshirt to pyjamas-that is, to a more "socially presentable sleepmg cosmme-was a symptom of this. This change was not. as is supposed, simply a retrogressi\'t movement, a recession of the feelings ot sham_e delicacy, a release and decontrolling of drives, bur the development .of a torm that fits both our advanced standard of shame and the specific s1nwt1on m which present-day social lite places individuak Sleep is no longer so 1nr1mare and segregated as in the preceding stage. There are more simarions in which people are exposed to the sight of strangers sleeping, undressing or As a result. nightclothes Oike underwear) have been developed and transformed in such a way that the wearer need not be "ashamed .. when seen in such sima:ions by others. The nightclothes of the preceding phase aroused f_edmgs ot shame and embarrassment precisely because they were relativelv formless . They were nor intended to be seen by people ourside rhe famih On_ the one hand, the nightshirt of the nineteemh cencury marked an in which shame and embarrassment with regard to the exposure of one's own bodv were so advanced and internalized chac bodily forms had ro be entirelv covered even when alone or in rhe closesc family circle; on che other hand, characterized an epoch in which the "intimate" and "private" sphere. because it was so sharply severed from che resc of social life, had nor w any great exrt:nc been socially articulated and patterned. This peculiar combination of strondv internalized, compulsive feelings of repugnance, or moral in-, with a far-reachin.l!: lack of social patterning w-ith respect to che "spheres of intimacy" was characr;risric of nineceemh-cenmry society and not a little of our own . "'

ro hear a moral demand, which required cerrain behaviour not out of nsiderarion for orhers but for its own sake: "\\'lhen you undress, when you get co be mindful of modesty." Bm the idea of social custom, of consideration for up, . was still [Jreclommanc l l cl l l,. or htrs, - The comrasr to t 1e ater _ per10 1s parncu ar . 't. '"e remember that these prece1JtS, even those ot Dr Paler (Example A), cl ea1 ' " were dearly directed to people who wem to bed undressed. Thar scrangers should sleep in the same bed appeared, to judge by the manner in which che question_ w;is discussed, neicher unusual nor in any way improper even at che time of Erasmus. In rhe guorntions from che eighteenth century this tendency was not continued in a straight line, partly because it was no longer confined predominantly to rhe upper stratum. But in the meantime, even in other srrarn, it had clearly become less commonplace for a young person to share his bed with another: "If you are forced by unavoidable necessiry ro share a bed with another person . on a journey, it is not proper ro lie so near him rhat you disrnrb or even much him, wrices La Salle (Examplt DJ And: "You oughc neither to undress nor go ro bed in rhe presence of any ocher person .... In rhe 177-i edition, details were again avoided wherever possible. And the tone is appreciably stronger "If you are forced to share a bed wich a person of the same sex, which seldom happens, you should maintain a strict and vigilant modtscr" (Example E). This was the rone of moral injunction. EYen tO give a reason .had become distasteful to the adult. The child was made by the threatening rone to associate this situation wich danger. The more "natural" che standard of delicacy and shame appeared to adults and che more che civilized resrraim of bodily urges was taken for granted, the more incomprehensible ic became to adulcs that children do nor have this delicacy and shame by "nature". The children necessarily encroach again and again on the adult chresholcl of repugnance. and-since chey are noc yet adapted-they infringe the taboos of society, cross the adult shame fromier, and penetrate emotional clanger zones which rhe adults themse!Yes can only control with difficulty. In this situation che adulrs do not explain che demands they make on behaviour They are unable to do so adeguarely. They are so conclirioned rhar the\ conform to the social standard more or less auromatically Any other behaYiour, any breach of the prohibitions or restraints prevailing in their society means clanger, and a devaluation of the restraints imposed upon chemselves. And the peculiarly emotional undertone so often associated with moral demands, the aggressive and threatening severity with which chey are frequently upheld, reflects the danger in which any breach of the prohibitions places che unstable balance of all those for whom the standard behaviour of sociecy has become more or less "second nature" These attitudes are symptoms of the anxiety aroused in adults whenever the structure of their own drives, and wich it their own social existence and the social order in \vhich it is anchored. is even remotely threatened

ir

-i The examples give a rough idea of how sleep, becoming slowh- more intimate and private, was separated from most ocher social and !;ow rhe precepts given to young people rook on a specificallv moralistic underrone with the advance of feelings of shame . In the medieval .quotation (Example A! the restraint demanded of young people was explained by consideration clue to others, respect for social superiors. Ir says, in effect, "If vou share vour bed with a becrer man, ask him which side he prefers, and do nor to bed he invites vou, for that is not courteous." And in che French imitacion ofJohannes Sulpicius Pierre Broe (Example Cl, the same attitude prevailed: "Do nor annov \our nei,"hbour when he has fallen asleep: see rhat you do noc wake him up, .. : In we

l-i..?

1-i)
iris an exuemel1 dtlicact and difficulc rask to tnligh'.e_n growing girls and boys Cll emsehes and whar gots on around chem. Ihe exrem w which chis ,. cin ( F from beinu self-e\idenr is a furrher resulr of rhe civilizing process s1wan ' " "' .. . . .. . . ]-- x:rcti\'td if rl1e behaviour or people: 111 a d1Herenr srage IS observed 1 he 1s on.' 1 .-_ good exarn11le. race 0 ic Er1sn1us's rc:nowned Colloc111ir:s is a .__,
boITT
L L .. L

A whole series of specific contliccs berwetn adulrs-above all parems who art
for rhe mosr parr licrle prtpartd for rhe rnsks of condirioning-and children. contlicrs which appear wirh rht adrnnce of rhe sha111e-fronritr and rhe disrnnce berween adulrs and children. and \\hich art rherefort largely founded rhe srrucrure of civiliztd socitn- irself. are explained by rhis siruarion. The siruarion irself has been undersrood only relarivtly recenrly. firsr of all wirhin small circles. esptcialh among professional educarors And only now. in rhe age char has been called rht cenrury of rht child'. is rht realizarion rhar. in vic:w of rhe increased disrnnce ber\veen rhem. children cannor behave like adulrs slowly penerraring rhe family circle wirh appropriart educarional advice and cions. In rht long precc:ding period. rhe more severe arrirude prnailed char moraliry and respecr for raboos should be presenr in children from rht firsr. This arrirucle cerrainlr cannor be: said ro han: disappeared roday The examples on behaviour in rht bedroom gin:, for a limirtd segmenr, a cerrain imprtssion of how !are ir really was rhar rhe rendency ro adopr such arcirudts reached irs full developmcm in secular tducacion. The lint of rhis deye]opmtnr scarcely nec:ds furrl1er tlucidarion. Hert. wo. in much rht same way as wirh taring. rhe wall berween people. rhe rtstrvt. rhe tmorional barrier ertcrtd by cundirioning berwttn one body and anorher. has grown conrinuously. To share a bed wirh ptople ourside che family circle. wich srrangers. is made more and more tmbarrassing Unless necessiry dicraces orherwise. ir becomes usual tYen wichin che family for every person w han, rheir own bed and tirrnlly-in rht middle and upper classes-rheir own btdroom. Children are rrained early in chis disrancing, rhis isolacion from orhc:rs. wich all rht habirs and experitnces rhar rhis brings wirh ic.. Only if we set how narural ir seemed in che .i\fidcllt Ages frir srrangers and for children and aclulrs w share a bed can we appreciare \\hat a fundamenral change in inrerptrsonal relarionships and bthaYiour is expressed in our manner of li\ing ..And we n.:cognize how far from self-evidenr ic is rhac bed and body should form such psychological dangtr zones as chey do in che mosr recenr phase of ci\ilizarion.

Erasmus discovered chac one of rhe works of his yomh had been published wichour his permission in a corrupr form. wirh acldicions by orhtrs and parrly in d sc\le. Ht revised ir and 1x1blishtd ic himself under a nc:w ride: in 1522. a 1. DJ . . llrr1 u ic fdwi!icnillll co//oq11ir1u1111 ff,rmul:.u l!f1ll !1.n1t11111 dd
"'
l'r.,)'i!lll

. ttic1111 de! l iti:!IJJ instil11ei!dc1111

He worked on chis rtxc. augmeming and improving ir. umil shorrly before his <leach Ir became whac ht had desired. nor only a book from which boys could learn a good Larin sryle, bur ont which could serve, as ht says in rht ride. w inrroduce chem ro lift. The Co!loqi!ils became one of rhe most famous and widely read works of cheir rime:. As his crearise Du (il'i/itatr: 111om111 pmri/i;1111 did lacer. diev wenr rhrough numerous edirions and rranslacions. And like ir. chc:y became a s:l10olbook. a srandard work from which boys were c:ducared. Hardly anyrhing
b

"ives a more immediare impression of rhe change: in \Vesrc:rn sociery in rhe

process of civilizarion rhan rhe cricicism ro which chis work was subjecred bv chose who scill found rhemselvts obliged w concern themselves wirh ir in rhe ninereemh ctnrury. An influenrial German pedagogue, Von Raumer, commenrs on ir as follows in his Gc.1chicht1: du- Piidt1gogik (Hisrory of pedagogy):-'c
How could such a book be imroduced in coundess schools' \Vhar had boys rn do with these satyrs' Reform is a marrer for marnre men. \\?har sense were boys supposed ro make of dialogues on so many subjects of which they undersrand nothing: conversations in which teachers are ridiculed. or between rwo women about rheir husbands. berween a suitor and a girl he is wooing. or the LullOlJUY '"AJolesccntis et Scurti" (Young men and prosrinm:sL This last dialogue recalls Schiller's disrich enrided '"Kunsrgriff' <The knackl: "It you would pltase both rhe worldly and godly alike. painr chem the joys of rhe flesh. but painr rhtm che devil as \\ell. .. Erasmus here paints t!eshh lust in the basest wa\ and then adds something which is supposed ro edify Such a bm;k is n:commended the Doctor Theologiae to an eighr-year-olcl bm-. rhar he might be imprmed by readini; it

IX
Changes in Attitude towards the Relations between Men and Women
1. The: feeling of shame surrounding human sexual relarions has changed and bc:come noriceably srronger in rht civilizing process. 0 ; This manifts;s irself panicularly clearly in the difficulry experienced by adulrs in rhe more: recenr srages of civilizarion in miking abour these relarions ro children. Bur rod:n chis difficulty appears almosr narural Ir seems rn be explained almosr b\ reasons alone rhar a child knows noching of rhe relations of rht and Lehar

b;-

The work was indeed dedicared w the young son of Erasmus's publisher. and rhe farhtr clc:arly felr no qualms ar priming ir.

2 . The book mer with harsh cricicism as soon as ir appeared . Bur rhis was nor direcced chiefly ac its moral qualiries . The primary rarger was the "imelltcrnal",
rbe man who was neither an orrhodox Proresram nor an orrhodox Cacholic. The Cacholic Church, above all, foughr against rhe Colloq11iu, which cerrninly conrain occasional \irulenr acrncks on Church insrirntions and orders. and soon placed ir on rhe Index.

144

Thi: Cil'ilizi11g Proas.r


. of rhe humanises writings, and parricularlv of chose of Erasmus, is aove l t} _ . . l, chat chev do not contorm to the standard of clerical society but are preose 1 . _ . . n from che srandpornr ot, and for. secular society. wntte . The humanises were represenrativts of a movtmenr wh!Ch sought co release . L n lirl"Li'1''e from its confinement within the ecclesiastical rradirion and rne au , o c. . nuke ic a languaue of secular societv. at least ot the secular upper spI1ere, and ' . o . _ . . _ _ _ chiss. Not rhe lease imporrnnr sign of the change lI1 the srrucrnre_ of \vesrern . which has alreadv soc1et}, . been seen from so many other aspens lI1 chis _ study, was the fact rhar its secular consrirnencs now felt an increasing _need tor a secular. scholarly literature. The humanises were the executors of this change. the functionaries of chis need of rhe secular upper class. In their works the word once again drew close co worldly social life. Experiences from chis lite found direct access to scholarly lireramre This. coo. was a line in rhe great movement of "civilization" And it is here that one of the keys to the "revival" of antiquity will have ro be sought. Erasmus on ct gavt Yery trenchant expression co this process prtcisel y in defending che Coll{Jq11ies: ''As Socrates brought philosophy from heaven ro earth. I have led philosophy ro games and banguers," he says in rht notes De !!ti!ita!l 50

But against chis muse bt stt tht txtrnordinary success of rht Colloq!!its and, abovt all. their introduction as a schoolbook.. "From 1526 on", says Huizinga in his Eras11111s (London. 192-f. p. 199). "chert was for two (tntunes an almost uninterrur,ced scream oi editions and translations ... In this period. therefore. Erasmus's treatise muse have remained a kind of standard work for a very considerable number of people. How is the difference berwetn its viewpoint and that of the nineteenth-century critic co be understood? In chis work Erasmus does indeed speak oi many things which with the <ldvance of civilizacion have been increasingly concealed from the eyes of children, <rnd which in the nineteenth century would under no circumstances ha\e been used as reading matter for children in the way Erasmus desired and expressly affirmed in the dedication co his six- or eight-year-old godson. As the nineceenthcentury critic stressed, Erasmus presents in the dialogues a young man wooing a girl. He shows a woman complaining about the bad behaviour of her husband. And there is even a conversation between a young man and a prostitme. Nevertheless. these dialogues bear witness. in exactly the same way as De

c"iz'ilitaft 111or11111 p11c;i/i11111, ro Erasmus's delicacy in all questions relating co the


regulation of the life of drives. even ii they do not entirely correspond to our own standard. Measured by the srnndard oi medieval secular society. and even by that of the secular society of his own rime, they even embody a very considerable shift in the direction of the kind of restraint of drive impulses which the nineteenth century was to justify above all in the form oi morality. Certainly. the young man who woos the girl in rhe colloquy "Proci et puellae" (Courtship) expresses very openly what he wants of her He speaks of his lo\e for htr \vhen she resists, he cells her char she has drawn his soul half out of his body. He cells her char ir is permissible and right to conceive children . He asks her
to

co!!oq 11ium111 char he appended to the Co!l{Jt/lties (165 5 tdn, p. 668) For this reason_
these writings may be correcdy regarded as representing the standard ot behaviour of secular society. no matter how much their particular demands for a restraint of drives and moderation of behaviour may have transcended this srandard and. reprtsenced in anciciparion of the furnre. an ideal. In De 11ti!itate m!loq!!iomm, Erasmus says with regard to the dialogue "Proci er puellae" mentioned above: "I wish chat all suitors were like the one I depict and conversed in no ocher way when entering marriage." \Vhat appears to rht ninereench-ctncury obsen-er as che "basest depiction of lusr". what even by rht prtsenr swndard of shame must be veiled in silence particularly before children, appeared co Erasmus and his contemporaries who helped co disseminate chis work as a model conversation. ideally suited to sec an example for the young. and still largely an ideal when compared with what W<IS accrn1lly going on around them.'' -i The ocher dialogues mentioned bv Von Raumer in his polemic present similar cases. The who about her husband is instructed that she will have to change her own behaviour, then her husband's will change. And the conversation of young man with tht prostitute ends with his rejection of her disreputable mode of life.. One muse hear chis conversation oneself ro understand what Erasmus wishes to set up as an example for boys. The girl. Lucrecia, has not seen rhe youth. Sophronius, for a long rime. And she clearly invirts him to do what he has come to rhe house to do. But he asks whether she is sure char they cannot bt seen. whether she has nor a darker room. And when she leads him co a darker room he again has scruples. Is she really sure rhat no

imagine how fine it will be when he as king and she as gueen rule o\er their children and sen-ams. !This idea shows n:ry clearly how rhe lesstr psychological distance betwetn adults and children very often wenr hand in hand with a greater social distance ) Finally rhe girl gives way to his suiL She agrees to become his wife. Bur she preserves. as she says, rhe honour oi her maidenhood. She keeps it for him. she says. She en:n refuses him a kiss. Bur when he does nor desist from asking for one. she laughingh cells him chat as she has. in his own words, drawn his soul half our of his body. so that he is almost dead. she is afraid char with a kiss she might draw his soul completely our of his body and kill him 5 As has been mentioned, Erasmus was occasionally reproached by the Church. even in his own lifetime. with the "indecent character" of the Co/loq11ies. Bur. one should not be misled by chis inro drawing false conclusions about the acrnal srandard. particularly oi secular society. A rrearise directed against Erasmus's Colloq!!i.:s from a consciously Catholic position, about which more will be said lacer. does not differ in the least from the Colloq11ies so far as unveiled rtiertnces tO sexual matters are concerned. Its author, coo. \Vas ,1 humanist. The

146

147

one can see chem' "No one can see or hear us, noc even a fly." she says. "\X!hy do you hesitate'" But rht young man asks: "Nor even God' Nor even the angels'"* And then he begins to convert her with all rhe ans or dialectics. He asks whether she has many enemies, whether it would nor please her to annoy her enemies. \X!ould she nor annoy her enemies by giving up her life in this house and becoming an honourable woman' And finally he convinces her. Ht will secretly rake a room for her in rhe house of a respectable woman. he will find a pretext for her to leave the house unseen. And at first he will look after her However "immoral" the presentation of such a situation (in a "children's book", of all places) must appear to an observer from a later period. it is not difficult to understand rhar. from rhe standpoint of a different social srnndard and a different srrucrnre of feelings. 1r could appear highly "moral .. and exemplary. The same line of development, the same difference in srnndards. could be demonstrated by any number of examples. The observer of the nineteenth and, ro some extent. even of rhe rnentierh century confronts the models and conditioning precepts of the pasr with a certain helplessness. And until we come to see char our own threshold of repugnance. our own structure of feelings. have developed-in a quite specific order-and are continuing to develop. it remains indeed almost incomprehensible from the present standpoim how such dialogues could be included in a schoolbook or deliberately produced as reading marcer for children. But chis is precisely why our own standard. including our attitude to children, should be understood as something which has developed. More orthodox men than Erasmus did the same as he. To replace the Co//r;q11ics, which were suspected of heresy. other dialogues were written, as already mentioned. by a strict Catholic. They bear the ride Joht!i111iJ 1\fo1 isori 111edici lihri q11c1t11111-. t1d Constantim1111 jilimll <Bast!. 1549) They art !iktwise wrinen as a schoolbook for boys, sinct. as the author Morisorns says, one is often
Tht:
tt:Xt

uncertain. in Erasmus's Colloqilid. "whether one is listening ro a Christian or a heathen" And in later evaluations of this opposing work from a strictly Catholic carnp rhe same phenomenon appears." Ir will suffice ro introduce the work as ir was reflected in a judgement from 1911 '"
In Morisorns girls. maidens, and women play a srill greater rolt rhan in Erasmus. In a lari.;t number of dialogues rhey are rht sole speakers. and rheir convtrsarions. which ev;n in rhe firsr and second books are by no means always quire harmless, ofren revohe in rhe last r\\o:'around such risky marrers rhar we can only shake our heads and ask: Diel rht stern Morisorns wrire chis for his son' Could he be so sure char rhe boy would really only read and srnch rhe lacer books when ht had reached rhe age for which rhe, were intended? Admirredly. we should nor forger char rhe sixreenrh century knew lirrit of prudery. and frequently enough presented irs scholars wirh material in rheir exercise books char our pedagogues would gladly do wirhom. Bur another question! How did i\Iorisows imagine rhe use of such dialogues in practice' Boys. yomhs and men could never use as a model for speaking Larin such a conversation in which rhere arc only fcmalt: speakers Therefore has nor i\Iorisows. no berrer rhan rhe despised Erasmus. lose sighr of rht didacric purpose of rhe book'

of this cxctrpt from the dialuc;ue is as follows:


?\ondum hie locus ml hi \'idetur saris
tl

:-.t iP111u 1:--.;ti :--:

secretus

uuzrTL\: l"ndl' isre no\"us pudor? Est mihi museion."' 1 ubi n:puno mundum meum. locus adto

obscurus, ur vix l',L;"o tc visura sim. aur


:-.tiP11.:

mt

Circumspice rimas omnts.

uT

?\e musca quidem. me<.1 lux, Quid cuncraris? fallt:mus htic oculos Dci?

u c: Nt:quaquam: ilk perspicir omnia

.:-OP!J: Er
'-< lPH:

Thi.s pL!ce doe:m

t StT:11

secrt:t tnough to mt

Ll"( :

H(m come} ou
Sl'l"

fl

so b.1shful all
ntar

Jt

oncL"?
:-0P1r.:

\Vt!L comt w my privart dressing room Ir s so dark wt shall scarctl}

each orher there

Examint tn:ry chink uc : Then. . s nor a single chink 0;or su much as a fl;.. m;. dt;iresr. \\'"h;. u< : Of course not: lw Sl'.t:.:i cYc.:r;.thing

Is rhert nobody

rn

us:

UT.:

you hesirnring? Can we escape thl e;.c ofGud here? :--c1Pil.: And the anp:ds:

The question is nor difficult to answec 5. Erasmus himself nevtr "lost sight of his didactic purpose" His commentary De 11ti!i!dte col!oq11irmm1 shows this quire unequivocally. In it he makes explicit what kind of didactic purpose was attached to his "conversations" or, more exactly. what he wanted to convey to the young man" On the conversarion of rhe young man with the prosrirure, for example, ht says: "\'Vhar could I have said rhar would have been more effective in bringing home to rhe young man rhe need for modesty, and in bringing girls our of such dangerous and infamous houses'" No, he never lost sight of his pedagogical purpose; he merely had a clifrerent standard of shame. He wanted ro show the young man rhe world as in a mirror; ht wanted to teach him what muse be avoided and whar was conducino w a tranquil life: "In senili colloquia quam mulra velm in speculo exhibentur. guae, vel fugienda sunt in vira. ve! viram reddunt rranquillam!" The same intention undoubtedly also underlay rhe conversations of J\forisotus, and a similar attitude appeared in many other educational writings of the rime. Thty all set om ro "introduce rhe boy to life". as Erasmus pm ir. 8 ' Bur by this they meant the life of adults. In later periods there was an increasing tendency ro tell and show children how rhey ought and ought nor to behave. Here they were shown, by introducing chem ro life. how adults ought and ought nor ro behave. This was rhe difference, And one did nor behave here in rhis way, there in rhar, as a result of theoretical reflection. For Erasmus and his contemporaries ic was a matter of course to speak ro children in this way" Even though subservient and socially dependent, boys lived from an early age in the same social sphere as adults. And adults did nor impose upon themselves either in anion or in words rhe same degrte of restraint with regard ro the sexual life as

148

The Cil'ilizi11g Proc.:s.r

Chc111gcs i11 the Bdh1l'io11r of the Semlar Uj1pu Clc1ssc.r in the \Vest

1-!9

later In keeping wirh rhe different srnre of restraint of feelings produced in rhe individual by rhe structure of human relations, rhe icb1 of srricdy concealing these drives in secrecy and intimacy was largely alien ro adults themselves. Ail chis made rhe disrnnce between rhe beha\ioural and emotiom1l standards of adults and children smaller from rhe ourser. \x/e see again and again how important it is for an undersranding of the earlier psychic constitution and our own to observe the increase of chis distance, rhe gradual formation of rhe peculiar segregated area in which people gradually came to spend rhe first twelve, fifteen, and now almosr twenty years of their lives. The biological development of humans in earlier rimes will nor have taken a very different course from today. Only in relation ro chis social change can we berrer understand the \vhole problem of "growing up" as it appears roday, and with ir such special problems as char of rhe "infantile residues .. in the personality structure of grown-ups. The more pronounced difference between rhe dress of children and adults in our rime is only a particularly visible expression of chis development. Ir, roo, was minimal at Erasmus's rime and for a long period thereafter. 6. To an observer from more recent rimes, ir seems surprising char Erasmus in his Cd/oq11ie.r should speak ar all ro a child of prostitutes and rhe houses in which they lived. In our phase of a civilizing process it seems immoral even ro <lCknowledge rht existence of such institutions in a schoolbook. They certainly exist as enclaves even in rhe society of rhe nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Bur the fear and shame wirh which rhe sexual area of rhe life of drives, like many ochers, is surrounded from the earliest years, rhe .. conspiracy of silence .. observed on such matters in social relations, are as good as complete . The mere mention of such opinions and insrimtions in social life is forbidden, and references to them in rhe presence of children are a crime, a soiling of the childish mind, or at least a conditioning error of the gra\est kind. In Erasmus's time it was rnken equally for granted chat children knew of rhe existence of these instimrions. No one concealed them. Ar most thev were warned about them. Erasmus did just thaL If we read only the pedagogicai books of rhe rime, rhe mt>ntion of such social institutions can easily appear as an idea emanating from an individual If we see how rhe children actually lived with adults, and how small was the wall of secrecy benveen adults and therefore also between adults and children, we comprehend that conversations like those of Erasmus and Morisorus relate di recd y to the standard of their times. They could reckon wirh the fact that children knew abour all this: it was taken for granted. They saw it as their task as educators to show children how they ought to conduce themselves in the face of such institutions . Ir may nor seem ro amounr ro very much ro say char such houses were spoken about quire openly at the universities. All the same, people generally went to university a good deal younger than today And ir illustrates rhe theme of this whole chapter ro point our that rhe prostitute was a topic even of comic public

c eeches at unin:rsities In 1500 a Master of Arts at Heidelberg spoke "De fide !ererricum in suos amarores .. (On rhe fidelity of courtesans ro their paramours). another De fide concubim1rum" (On rhe fidelity of concubines), a third "On the monopoly of the guild of swine ... or "De generibus ebriosorum er ebriemre

viranda ,;\ncl exactly the same phenomenon is apparent in many sermons of the time; rhere is no indication chat children were excluded from chem . This form of cxrramariral reh1tionship was certainly disapproved of in ecclesiastical and many secular circles. But the social prohibition was not yer imprinted as a self restraint in individuals to the extent that it was embarrassing even to speak about ir in public. Society had not yet outlawed every utterance that showed rlwt one knew anything abour such things. This difference becomes even clearer if one considers the position of prostitutes in medieval rowns. As is the case roday in many societies outside Europe, they had rheir own very definite place in the public life of the medieval town. There were rowns in which they ran races on festival clays. They were frequently sent to welcome distinguished visitors. In 1438. for example, rhe prorocols of the ciry accounts of Vienna read: "For the wine for the common women 96 Kreurzers. 1 Item, for the women who went ro meet the king, 96 Kreurzers for wine ... " Or the mayor and council gave distinguished visitors free access to the brothel. In 143-i the Emperor Sigismund publicly thanked the city magisuate of Bern for purring the brothel free! y at the disposal of himself and his attendants for three This, like a banquet, formed part of the hospiraliry offered to highranking guests.

..

sq

The venal women formed within ciry life a corporation with certain rights and obligations, like any other professional body. And like any other professiomtl group. rhey occasionally defended themselves against unfair competition. In 1500, for example, a number of chem went ro rhe mayor of a Germ<tn town and complained abour another house in which the profession ro which their house had the sole public rights was practised. The mayor gave them permission ro enter chis house; they smashed everything and bear the landlady. On another occasion rhey dragged a competitor from her house and forced her to live in theirs In a word, their social position was similar ro that of the execurioner, lowly and despised, bur entirely public and nor surrounded with secrecy. This form of extramarital relationship between man and woman had nor yet been removed "behind the scenes" . 7 To a cerrnin extent, this also applied ro sexual relations in general, even marital ones. \'Vedding customs alone give us an idea of this. The procession inro the bridal chamber was led by the best men. The bride was undressed by the bridesmaids; she had ro rake off all finery. The bridal bed had ro be mounted in rhe presence of witnesses if rhe marriage w<ls ro be rnlid They were "laid

150

The. Cizi!i2ing Prf;(crs

151 elf came rn console her and rn offer herself as i!odmorher ro the baby Queen l1ers . . . . "ime wenr tunher: rht lirde c\.':Irl was 1)ressecl w sav who was rhe tarher i\.11 d [ le 1 /:'' . .. the child Finally. afrer a period of srrenuous rttlecnon. she reached rhe 1- 1 0 n rhar ir could onlv be rht Kin\.': or rhe Counr de Guiche. since rhej onel L, , . ti o c) 11 Jv two men who had l!iven htr a kiss."' Nobodv rook chis joke amiss ,vere 1c '- Ir fell enrirely wirhin rhe exisring standard No one saw in ir a danger ro rht ad<1p [.,r ,, 1 0 n of rhe child rn this srnnclard. or rn her spiriwal purirv, . and it was rl\ nor seen as in anv wav contradicrin\.': her rtlil!ious tducarion . _ c1ea .' . . .__ ._ . 8. Only very gradually. subsequently. did a srrongtr associarion of sexualiry wirh shame and embarrassment. and a corresponding resrraint of beha,iour. . -icl n1ort or less evenh sprt< over rhe wholt of socierv. And onlv whtn rhe disrnnct berween adulrs and children grew did "sex educarion.. become an "acutt problem" Above. rht criricism ofErasmuss CfJ!!oq11iu by rht well-known pedagogue Von Rcmmer was quored. Tht picwre of chis whole curve of development becomes even cltartr if we see how rhe problem of sexual educarion. rl1t adaprnrion of rhe child rn rhe srnndarcl of his own [Raumtr's] society. posed irself rn chis tducaror Jn 1857. Von Raumer published a shore work called The Ecl11ct1tion rf Girl.r. \Vhar he prescribed in ir (p . 7 2) as a behavioural model for adulrs in answtring rht sexual quesrions of rheir children was ctrrninly nor rhe only possible form of behaviour ar his rime: nevenheltss. ir was highly characrerisric of d1t standard of the ninereemh ctmury, in rhe insrrucrion of both girls and boys:
Some morhers are of rhe opinion. fun<lamenrnlly perverse in my \itw, thar daughters should be given insight inro all family circumstances. tvtn inro rhe rtlarions of rhe sexes. and iniriartd into things thar will fall to their lor in rhe en:nt rhar rhey should marry. following rhe example of Rousseau. rhis view degenerated ro rhe coarsest and n1osc repulsiYt caricacure in che philanrhropi:;r uf Ochl'.r n1ucht:rs exaggerate in rhe opposite direction by telling girls things which. as soon as rhe\ grow older. musr reveal themselves as totally false. As in all other cases, this is reprehensible Thc.r, .rhol!!d 11r1r /;:, !ffi!(htd !!/Jon a! :di in thr: J1rts,nc, 1f d1ildrtll. kast of all in a secretive -:vay which is liable tu arouse curiosiry Children should be lefr for as long as is ar all possible in rhe belief rhar an angel brings rhe morher her lirrle children. This legend. cusron1ary in son1e regions. is for btrcer rhan tht srory of the stork con-1n1on elsewhere Children. if rhey realh grow up under their mothers eyes. will seldom ask forward questions on chis poinr nor even if rhe mother is pre,enrtd by a childbirth from hming them about her If i:irls should larer ask how lirrlc: childn:n really come inro the world. rhey should be rolcl rhar rhe good Lord gives the mother her child, who h<Ls a guardian angel in heaven who cerrninly played an invisible pan in bringing us this great jo\ "You do nor need ro know nor could you understand how God gives children .. Girls musr be satisfied with such answers in a hundred rnses, and ir is rhe morhers rask rn occupy her daughters' rhoughts so incessantly with the good and beautiful rhat rhe1 are lefr no rime rn brood on such marrers A mother ought only once ro say s;riously: "Jr would nor be good for you rn know such a thing, and you

cogerher" u' "Once in bed .vou are riduh wed" the Sa\in" went In rht lacer . . c Middle Ages rhis cusrnm i:'radual!y changed w rhe extent rhar rhe couple was allowed ro lie on rhe bed in rheir clmhes . No doubr rhest cusrnms varied somtwhar btrween classes and coumries. All rhe same. rhe old form was rerained in Li.ibeck. for example. up ro rhe firsr decade of rhe se\emeemh cenwry "' Even in the absolmisr sociery of France, bride and bridegroom were rnken rn bed bv rht guesrs. undressed. ,1nd given their nighrdress All rhis is symptomaric different srandard of shame concerning rhe relarions of rhe sexes. And rhrough rhese examples one gains a clearer perceprion of the specific srandard of shame which slowly became preclominam in the ninereenrh and rwentierh centuries. In chis period, even among adulrs. everything perrnining to sexual lift was concealed to a high degree and dismissed behind rhe scenes. This is why it is possible, and also necessary. w conceal this side of lift for a long period from children . In the preceding phases rhe relations berween the sexes. together with the insriwtions embracing rhem. were far more direcrly incorporated into public lite. Hence ir was more narural for children to be familiar \virh chis side of lite from an early age From rhe poim of view of condirioning. there was no need ro burden chis sphere wirh rnboos and secrecy to rhe exrenr char became ntctssary in rhe lartr stage of civilizarion. wirh irs difterem standard of bthaviour . In coun-arisrocraric sociery. sexual life was certainly a good deal more concealtd rhan in medieval sociery \Vhar rht observer from a bourgeoisindusrrial sociery ofrtn interprers as rhe "frivolin" of courr socitrv was nmhing orher dnn chis shifr roward concealmem. Nevenheless. bv srnndarcl of control of rhe impulses in bourgtois sociery irself. rhe conceaimem and segregarion of stxualiry in social life, as in consciousness, was rtlarively slighr in chis phase. Htrt roo, the judgemtnt of people in a lacer phase ofren goes astray. because rhev stt rheir own srnndards againsr courrly-arisrncraric ones, seeing borh as somtching absolure. rad1er rhan as imerlinking phases in a movemem, and rhty nuke rhtir own srandarcls rht mtasure of all orhers. In courr socitry. roo, rhe relarive openness wirh which rhe narnral funcrions were discussed an'iong adults, corresponded to a grtarer lack of inhibirion in speech and acrion in rhe prtstnce of children There art numerous txamples of chis. To rake a panicularly illusrrarive one. rhere lived ar rhe coun in rhe seventeenth century a lirde .Mlle de Bouillon who was six ytars old. The ladits of rhe courr were wont ro converse wirh her, and one day rhey played a jokt on her: they rried ro persuadt rhe young lady she was prtgnanr. The linle girl denitd ir. She defended htrself. Ir was absolmely impossible. she said. and rhey argued back and fonh . Bm rhen ont day on waking up she found a newborn child in her bed She was amazed; and she said in htr innocenct, "So chis has happened only to rhe Holy Virgin and me; for I did nm feel any pain" Her words were passed round, and rhen rht linle affair became a di\ersion for d1t whole courr. The child recei\ed ,isirs. as was cusromary on such occasions. The

152

Th, Cil'i!i:.i11g Procc.;s

Ch1mg,;s i11 the Bul.Jcn'in!!r of thu Swtlar Uf'f'tr Classes i11 the \Vist
'It would nor be good for you ro know such a thing, . " Neither motives nor practical reasons primarily derermined this attirucle. bm shame of adulrs rhemselves, which had become compulsive Ir was prohibitions and resistances within themselves, rheir own "superego",

153

should rake care not rn listen w anything said about it, A truly well-brought-up girl will rrom then on fetl shame at htaring things of this kind spoken of

Berwttn the manner of speaking abom sexual relations represenred by Erasmus and that represenred here by Von Raumer. a civilization-curve is visible which is similar to chat shown in more derail in rhe expression of ocher impulses. In the ci,ilizing process, sexualiry. coo, has been increasingly removed behind the scenes of social life and enclosed in a particular enclave. rhe nuclear family. Likewise. rhe relarions berween rhe sexes have been hemmed in, placed behind walls in consciousness. An aura of embarrassmem, rhe expression of a sociogeneric fear, came ro surround chis sphere of life. Even among adulrs it was referred co officially only wirh camion and circumlocurions, And wirh children parricularly girls, such rhings were, as far as possible. nor referred to ar all. Raumer gave no reason why one oughr nor to speak of chem with children. He could have said it was desirable to preserve the spirimal purity of girls for as long as possible Bm even chis reason was only anorher expression of how far rhe gradual submergence of these impulses in shame and embarrassmem had advanced br chis rime, Ir was now as namral nor to speak of rhese matters as ir was to speak of.them in Erasmus's rime,. And the fact that borh rhe wirnesses invoked here, Erasmus and Von Raumer, were serious Chrisrians who rook rheir aurhorirr from Goel further underlines the difference. .

"rarional" rather rhe rhe social char made

them keep silenr, For Erasmus and his comemporaries, as we have seen, rhe problem was nor rh,ir of enlighrening rhe child on the relations of men and women, Children found our abom chis of their own accord through the kind of social insrirurions and social life in which they grew up. As rhe reserve of adulrs was less, so roo was the discrepancy between what was permirred openly and whar rook place behind the scenes Here rhe chief rnsk of the educaror was ro guide rhe child, within whar it already knew, in rhe correcr direction-or, more precisely, rhe direction desired by the eclucaror. This was what Erasmus sought co do rhrough conversations like char of the girl with her suiror or the youth wirh rhe prosrirure, And rhe success of rhe book shows rhar Erasmus struck the righr note for many of his com em poraries. As in rhe course of the civilizing process the sexual drive, like many ochers, has been subjected ro ever srricrer comrol and re-modelling, the problem ir poses changes, The pressure placed on adults ro privatize all their impulses (parricularly sexual ones), the "conspiracy of silence", the socially generated resrricrions on speech, the emotionally charged character of most words relating ro sexual urges-all this builds a thick wall of secrecy around the growing child. \Vhar makes sexual enlighrenment-rhe breaching of chis wall, which will one clay be necessary-so clifficulr is not only rhe need to make the growing child conform w rhe same sranclarcl of resrraim and comrol over drives as rhe adulr. Ir is, above all, rhe mental srrucrure of the aclulrs rhemselves char makes speaking abom these secret rhings difficult, Very often adults have neirher the rone nor the words. The "dirty" words they know are om of rhe question. The medical words are unfamiliar to many. Theorerical considerations in rhemselves do not help. Ir is the sociogeneric repressions in them chat lead ro resistance to speaking. Hence the advice given by Von Raumer to speak on these matters as little as possible, And chis siruation is further exacerbated by rhe fact that rhe tasks of condirioning and "enlightenment" fall more and more exclusively ro parems. The manysicled love relarionships between mother, father and child rend ro increase resistance to speaking abom these questions, not only on the pan of the child bm also on that of the father or morher. Ir is clear from this how the question of childhood is ro be posed,, The psychological problems of the growing person cannot be unclersrood if individuals are regarded as developing uniformly in all hisrorical epochs. The problems relating to rhe child's consciousness and drive-economy vary with the namre of the relations of children to adulrs. These relations have in each sociery a specific form corresponding ro the peculiarities of irs structure They are clifferem in

Ir is clear! y not "rational .. motives char underlay rhe model pm forward by Von Raumer,. Considered rarionally. rhe problem confroming him seems unsolved, and what he said appears comraclicrory.. He did nor explain how and when rhe young girl should be made co unclersrancl whar was happening and would happen to her. The primary concern was rhe necessirv of insrillina b "moclesry" (i e . feelings of shame. fear, embarrassment and (.Wilt) or, more precist!y, behaviour conforming co rhe social srnnclard,, And Lone feels how infinitely difficult ir was for rhe educaror himself to overcome rhe resistance of die shame and embarrassment which surrounded this sphere for him. One clerecrs somerhing -of- rht deep confusion in which this social developmenr had placed people; the only advice char rht educaror was able ro give mothers was to avoid contact wirh these things wherever possible. \Vhar is involved here is nor rhe lack of insighr or rhe inhibition of a parricular person: ir is a social. nor an individual problem. Only gradually, as if through insighr gained rerrospecrively, were better methods evolved for adapring rhe child ro the high degree of sexual resrraim, ro the comrol, rransformarion and inhibition of these drives char were totally indispensable for life in this sociery,
Von Raumer himself in a sense saw char chis area of life ou<hr nor ro be b surrounded wirh an aura of secrecy '\vhich is liable to arouse curiosirv". Bur as this had become a "secret" area in his socierv, he could nor escape necessity of secrecy in his own preceprs: "A morher . oughr only once ro say seriously:

The Cizi!i:i11g P1r1c1:s.1


knightly society from rhose in urban bourgeois socien: . chev . are different in the whole secular society of che Middle Ages from chose of modern times. Therefore che problems arising from che adaptation and moulding of growing children che standard of adults-for example, che specific problems of pubtrt\" in our civilized society-can only be underscood in relation co rhe hisrorical phase, the structure of society as a whole. which demands and maintains chis standard of adult behaviour and rhis special form of relationship between adults and children. 9 A civilizing curve analogous to rhac which appears through che question of "sex education .. could also be shown in re lac ion ro marriage and ics development in \Xiescern society. Thar monogamous marriage is che predominant inscicution regulating sexual relations in che \Vest is undoubtedly correct in general cerms. Nevertheless, the actual control and moulding of sexual relations has changed considerably in che course of \Xiescern history. The Church certainly fought ear!v for monogamous marriage. Bur marriage rook on this strict form as a soci;I inscicucion binding on boch sexes only ac a lace stage, when drives and impulses came under firmer and stricter control For only chen were excramariral relationships for men really ostracized socially, or ac lease subjected co absolute secreC\. In earlier phases, depending on che balance of social power between che excramarical relationships for men and sometimes also for women were caken more or less for granted by secular society. Up ro che sixteenth cenrurv we bear ofren enough chat in che families of the mosc honourable citizens che l.egicimate and illegicimace children of che husband were brought up rogecher; nor was anv secret made of cht difference before che children themselves. The man was no.t yec forced socially ro feel ashamed of his excramarical relationships. Despite all the countervailing tendencies chat undoubtedly alreadv existed, ic was verv often taken for gramecl char die bascarcl children were a p;1rc of cbe familv. che father should provide for their future and, in che case of daughters, ;1rrange an honourable wedding. Bm no doubt chis led more than once co serious "misunclerscanding .. % b.ecween che married couples. The sirnacion of che illegicimace child was noc alwars and even-where cht same throughom the Middle Ages . For a long cime, nev.erchtless, was no trace of the tendency cowards secrecy which corresponds lacer, in proftssionalbourgeois society, ro the tendency cowards a scriccer confinement of sexualit\' ro the relationship of one man co one woman, ro che stricter control of impulses, and ro che stronger pressure of social prohibitions Here, coo, the demands of che Church cannot be taken as a measure of che real scanclarcl of secular society.. In reality, if noc alwavs in law, che situation of che illegicimace children in a family differed from of che legicimace children onlv in che or at former did noc inherit che srarns of che father nor in general his

155
class ot.ctn called themselves "bascarcl .. ex1Jressh_ and 1;rouclh. is well enough known. in che absolucisc court societies of che seventeenth and eighteenth the scruccure of ceow rlc:s derived its special character from che face chac. through . . rhese societies. che dominance of che husband over che wife was for che - cime . The social !}OWer of che wife was almost equal to chat ot the husband. nrst al opinion was determined ro a high degree bv women. And whereas societ\ v v . S0 c1, h:id hirherco acknowledged only che extramarital relationships of men. regarding rhose of the socially "weaker sex" as more or less reprehensible. the extramarital relarionships of women now appeared, in keeping wich che transformation of the balance of social power becween che sexes, as legicimact within cenain limits.

le remains co be shown in greater clecail how decisive chis first power-gain or,
if one likes, chis first wave of emancipation of women in absolmisc court society was for che civilizing process, for the advance of cht frontier of shame and embarrassment and for the strengthening of social control over individuals . Along wich chis power-gain. che social ascent of ocher social groups necessiraced new forms of drive control for all ac a lewl midway between chose previously imposed on che rulers and che ruled respectively, so chis strengthening of che social position of women signified (ro express che point schematically) a decrease in the restrictions on their drives for women and an increase in che rescriccions on cheir drives for men. Ac che same cime, ic forced both men and women to adopt a new and a stricter self-discipline in their relations with one another. In che famous novel La P1i11ecss1: dt Cli:zu, by Madame de la Fayecce. che Princess's husband, who knew his wife ro be in love wich che Due cit Nemours, savs: "I shall cruse only in you; ic is che path my heart counsels me ro cake. and my reason. \Vich a temperament like yours. hy lmzi11g y1J11 )1Ji!r !ilmty I sd
111n-rr;zct:r
)IJ!t

!iwirs than I could enforce .... "'

This is an example of che characceriscic pressure coward self-di sci pl int imposed on cht sexes by chis situation. The husband knows chat he cannot hold his wife by force. He does noc ram or expostula(e because his wife loves anochtr, nor dots he appeal ro his rig hes as a husband . Public opinion would support none of chis . He restrains himself Bm in doing so ht expects from her che same selfdiscipline as he imposes on himself This is a very characceriscic example of che new cons(ellacion chat comes inco being wich che lessening of social inequality between che sexes. Fundarnemally, iris not rhe individual husband who gives his wift chis freedom. Ir is founded in che structure of society itself Bur ic also demands a new kind of behaviour. Ir produces very specific conflicts. And chere are ctrcainly enough women in chis society who make use of chis freedom" There is plentiful evidence chat in chis cour( aristocracy che rescriccion of sexual relationships ro marriage was very often regarded as bourgeois and as noc in keeping with cheir escace. Never(heless, all chis gives an idea of how directly a

lease noc che same pare of ic as che legitimate children Thac people in the upper

156

The C il'i!i:i11g Proo:_;_;

Cht111g.:s in tin: Bth,nio11r of tin Sw1!t1r

Upper Classes in tht \Fest

15 7

specific kind of freedom corresponds to particular forms and stages of social interdependence among human beings. The non-dynamic linguiscic forms to which we are scill bound today oppose freedom and conscraim like heaven and htll From a short-term point of view, this chinking in absolme opposites is ofren reasonably adequate. For someone in prison the world outside che prison walls is a world of fretdom. But considered mort precisely, chere is, contrary ro what antitheses such as chis one suggest, no such ching as "absolute" freedom, if this means a rota! independence and absence of social constraint. There is a liberncion from one form of consrraim that is oppressive or inrolernble ro another which is less burdensome. Thus the civilizing process, despite the rransformacion and increased constraint that it imposes on the emotions, goes hand in hand wich liberacions of the most diverse kinds. The form of marriage at the absolutist courts, symbolized by the same arrangement of living rooms and bedrooms for men and women in the mansions of che court aristocracy, is one of many examples of this. The woman was more free from external consrraims than in feuclal society But the inner constraint, the self-control which she had rn impose on herself in accordance with the form of integration and the code of behaviour of court society, and which stemmed from the same structural features of this society as her "liberation", had increased for \vomen as for men in comparison to knightly sociecy The case is similar if rhe bourgeois form of marriage of the nineteenth century is comparecl wich that of rhe court aristocracy of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In this later period, the bourgeoisie as a whole became freed from the pressures of the absolurisr-estates social structure. Both bourgeois men and bourgeois women were now relieved of the external constraints to which they were subjected as second-rare people in the hierarchy of estates. Bur the interweaving of trade and money, the growth of which had given them che social power to liberate themselves, had increased In chis respecc, the social constraints on individuals were also scronger chan before. The pa((ern of self-restraim imposed on che people of bourgeois sociecy chrough cheir occupacional work was in many respeccs different from che pauern imposed on the emocional life by rhe funccions of courc society. For many aspeccs of rhe "emocional economy", bourgeois funccions-above all, business life-demand and produce greacer selfrescraint chan courdy funccions. \'Vhy che level of development, why-to express it more precisely-che occupacional work char became a general way of life wich the rise of che bourgeoisie should necessirnte a particularly scrict disciplining of sexuality is a quescion in its own right.. The lines of connection becween the modelling of che drive-economy and the social scrucrure of che nineceenth cenmry cannoc be considered here. However, by the srandard of bourgeois society, che control of sexuality and the form of marriage prevalem in court society appear extremely lax Social opinion now severely condemned all excramarical relations becween the sexes, chough here, unlike che siruacion in

. cierv, che social power of che husband was again greacer than chat of che coun so , . . . . so thac violac10n of the rnboo on excramanral relanonsh1ps by che husband . usually judged more leniendy chan che same offence by women Bm boch \\a5 1es now had w be emireh excluded from official social life. Unlike chose in breac 1 . . . -ierv rhev had ro be removed scricd v behrnd che scenes. barn shed to che courr ,uL . ' . . . . . . . . f secrecv. This is onlv one of manv examples of the rncrease rn rnh1bltlon I O ream , nd self-resrrainc which individuals now had ro impose on chemselves. ,! lO. The civilizing process does nor follow a scraighr line. The general trend of ,e can be decermined ' as has been done here . On a smaller scale lhere are the cI1ang diverse criss-cross movements, shifts and spurcs in this or that direction Bm if we consider che movement over large rime spans, we set clearly how cht compulsions arising directly from che chreat of weapons and physical force have araduallv diminished, and how chose forms of dependency which lead w che of che affeccs in che form of self-comm!, gradually increased . This appears ac ics most unilinear if we observe che men of che upper class of ,my cime-d1ac is, che class composed first of wamors or knighcs, chen of and chen of professional bourgeois. If che whole many-layered fabric of hisrorical development is considered. however. che movemem is seen to be intinicely more complex. In each phase chere are numerous flucmations. frequem advances or recessions of rhe internal and excernal conscraims An observacion of such flucrnacions. parcicubrly chose close to us in rime, can easily obscure che general crend. One such flucmacion is present today in che memories of all: in the_ period following \Vorld \Var I, as compared w che pre-war period. a "relaxation of morals" appears w have occurred. A number of conscraints imposed on behaviour before che war have weakened or disappeared emirt!y.. 1fany chings forbidden earlier are now permicced. And. seen at close quarcers. che movemem seems rn be proceeding in che direction opposice to that shown here: ic seems to lead to a relaxation of che constraints imposecl on individuals by social lift . Bm on closer examinacion ic is nor difficulr w perceive char chis is merely a very slighc recession. one of che fluctuacions char constantly arise from the complexicy of che hisrnrical movement wichin each phase of the roral process. One example is baching manners. Ir would have meam social ostracism in che nineceenth cemury for a woman rn wear in public one of rhe barbing cosrumes commonplace roday. Bm chis change. and wirh it the whole spread of sports for men and \vomen. presupposes a very high standard of drive control. Only in a society in which a high degree of rescraim is raken fi:ir granted. and in which women are. like men. absolmely sure char each individual is curbed by selfconrrol and a scricc code of eciquene. can bathing and sponing cusrnms having chis relacivt degree of freedom develop. Ir is a relaxarion which remains wichin rhe framework of a panicular "civilized" srnndard of behaviour involving a very high degree of automacic conscraim and affecc cransformarion. conditioned to become a habic

158

The

l59
., cl virh sexualitl" was less. This is what makes Erasmus's educational issoo,lte \ ". . . . . -" . so dithculr tor I'tcla;..'.o"ues ot a larer phase ro unclusrand. ,ork quorecI 1bC)\e ' c. ;nd 50 conditioning. rhe reproduction of social habits in d1t child.did nor rake 50 exclusively bt:hincl closed doors. as 1r were. bur tar more directly lll the . u f or her IJtOjJle A bv no means unrvpical picrnre of this kind ot resence . .. . . p 1 ninu in rhe UJJ[Jer class can be tound. tor example, lll the diary of rhe cone iuo c donor ..Tein ' He' ro'1rd ' which records dav bv dav and almost hour b\ hour the
, 1c!l1ood of Louis XIII what ht did and said as he grew up cni , . Ir is nor withom a wuch of paradox that the greater the transrormarrnn. rncl conceilment of drives and impulses that is . demanded conrro l . r"stnint c ._ ' ' . . c1 iclLi'ils Lw socierv rnd therefore rhe more dithculr rhe conclmon111g or ot 111 l\ ' ' . . .
young becomes. the more rhe rnsk of first socially re:uired habits 1s within rhe nuclear family. on rhe tarher and mother. _I he mecha111sm onin< ot. cone1r 1 1 b' howewr , is still srnrcelv . different than in earlier nmes . For ir does not involve a closer supervision of rhe task. or more exacr planning that rakes account of rhe special circumstances of rhe child. bur is effecrecl primarily by automatic means and t0 some extent through reflexes . The socially patterned_ consrellarion of habits and impulses of rhe parents gives rise t0 a consrellarion of habits and impulses in rhe child; these may operate either in rhe same direction or in one entirely different from rhar desired or expected by the parents on the basis of their own conditioning. The interweaving of the habits of parents and children, rbrough which the drive economy of rhe child is slowly moulded and viven irs character is, in other words, only t0 a slight extent determined by Behaviour and words associated by the parenr with shame and repugnance are very soon associated in the same way by the children, through the parents' expressions of displeasure. their more or less gentle pressure; in this way rbe social standard of shame and repugnance is gradually reproduced 111 the children. But such a standard forms at rhe same rime rhe basis and framework of the most diverse individual drive formations. How the growing personality is fashioned in particular cases by rhis incessant social inreracrion between die parenrs and children's feelings. habits and reactions is at present largely unforeseeable and incalculable ro parents. 1..2. The trend of the ciYilizing moYemenr rowards tht stronger and stronger and more complete "inrimizarion of all bodily funcrions. wwards their enclosure in particular enclaves, ro put them "behind closed doors". has din:rsc: consequences . One of the most important. which has already been obsen . ed lll connection with various other forms of drives. is seen particularly clearly lll the case of rhe developmenr of civilizing restraints on sexuality Ir is the peculiar division in human beings which becomes more pronounced rhe more sharply rhose as peers of human life rhat may be publicly displayed are divided from those rhar may nor. and which must remain "intimate" or "secret" Sexuality. like all

Ac che same cime. howen:r. we also find in our own cime che precursors of a shifr wwards che culrivarion of new and srricrer consrrainrs. In a number of societies there art arremprs ro establish a social regulation and management of d1t emorions far srronger and more: conscious rhan rht standard prevalent hirhtrro. a pattern of moulding rhar imposes renunciations and rransfrirmarion of drives on individuals with vast consequences for human life which are scarcely fortseeable as yer

11 Regardless. rherefore. of how much rhe tendencies may criss-cross. advance and recede. relax or righten in matters of derail and from a short-term perspecrin:. rhe direction of the main mowment-as far as ir is visible up ro now-has been the same for the expression of all kinds of driw. The process of ci\ilization of rhe sex driw. seen on a large scale. has run parallel ro those oforher drives. no matter what sociogenetic differences of derail may always be present. Here, t00. measured in terms of the srandards of the men of successive upper classes. control has grown ever srricrer . The drive has been slowly but progressively suppressed from the public life of society The reserve that must be exercised in speaking of it has also increased.'"' And this restraint. likt all others. is enforced !tss and less by direcr physical force. Ir is culrirnrtd in inc!i\ic!uals from an tar!y age as habirnal self-restraint by rhe srrucrure of social life. by the pressure of social instirnrions in general. and by certain executive organs of society (above all. the family) in particular. Correspondingly, the social commands and prohibitions become increasingly a part of rhe self_ a strictly rtgulared superego Like many other dri\es. sexuality is confined more and more exclusi\ely. nor only for women bm for men as well, ro a particular enclave, socially legitimized marriage. Social wlerance of other relationships, for both husband and wife, which was by no means lacking earlier. is suppressed increasing!)". if with flucrnarions Every violation of rhc:se restrictions. and e\ernhing concluciw to one. is rhertfort rdtgated to cht realm of secrtcy. of what mav nor Ik menrioned wirhom loss of prestige or social position
And just as the nuclear family only very gradually became. so txclusin:l), the sole legitimate enclave of sexuality and of all intimate funcrions for men and women. so it was only ar a recent stage that it became so decisi\ely rhe primary organ for culrirnring the socially required control over impulses and bdiaviour in young people. Before this degree of restraint and intimacy was reached. and until the separation of the life of drives from public view was strictly enforced. rhe cask of early conditioning did nor fall so heavily on father and morher. All the people wirh whom the child came into contact-and when intimizarion \ms less advanced and the interior of the house less isolated. they were often quire numerous-played a part. In addition. rhe family itself was usually larger andin rhe upper classes-the servants more numerous in earlier rimes. People in general spoke more openly about rhe \arious aspecrs of the life of drives. and gave way more freely in speech and <lCtion rn their own impulses. The shame

160

Tlk Cfrilizi11g PrrJCeS.l

Changes

Jil

1 toe

B,.'1, 1110111 1.1J t'v 1 1. . ,

5,.,ufar

Upt1tr
/

Clc1ssr:s in the \\!i:st

16l

rhe ocher narural human funcrions, is a phenomenon known ro everyone and a parr of each human lift. \\le have seen how all rhese funcrions have graduallir become charged wirh sociogeneric shame and embarrassmem, so rhar rhe me;e memion of rhem in public is increasingly resrricred by a mulriwde of conrrols and prohibirions. More and more, people keep rhe funcrions rhemselves, and all reminders of rhem, concealed from one anorhec \\!here rhis is nor possible-as in weddings, for example-shame. embarrassmem, fear and all rhe orher emorions associared wirh rhese driving forces of human lift are masrered by a precisely regulared social rimal and by cerrain concealing formulas rhar preserve rhe standard of shame. In orher words, wirh rhe advance of civilizarion rhe lives of human beings are increasingly splir berween an imimare and a public sphere, berween prirnre <rnd public behaviour. And rhis splir is raken so much for gramed, becomes so compulsive a habir, rhar ir is hardly perceived in consciousness. In conjuncrion wirh rhis growing division of behaviour inro whar is and what is nor publicly permirred, rhe psychic srrucrure of people is also rransformed. The prohibirions supporred by social sancrions are reproduced in individuals as self-comrols. The pressure ro resrrain impulses and rhe sociogeneric shame surrounding rhem-rhese are rurned so complerely imo habirs rhar we cannot resist rhem even when alone. in rhe intimare sphere. Pleasure-promising drives and pleasure-denying taboos and prohibirions, socially generated feelings of shame and repugnance, come ro barrle wirhin rhe self. This, as has been memioned, is clearly rhe srare of affairs which Freud rried ro express by concepts such as rhe "superego" and rhe "unconscious" or, as ir is nor unfruitfully called in everyday speech, rhe "subconscious". Bur however ir is expressed, rhe social code of conduct so imprims irself in one form or anorher on human beings rhat ir becomes a consriruenc elemenr of rheir individual selves . And this element. rhe superego, like rhe personaliry srrucrure as a whole of individual people, necessarily changes constandy with rhe social code of behaviour and rhe srrucrure of sociery. The pronounced division in rhe "ego" or consciousness characrerisric of people in our phase of civilizarion, which finds expression in such rerms as "superego" and "unconscious", corresponds ro rhe specific splir in rhe behaviour which civilized sociery demands of its members. Ir marches rhe degree of regularion and restraint imposed on rhe expression of drives and impulses. Tendencies in this direction may develop in any form of human sociery, even in rhose which we call "primirive". Bur rhe srrengrh attained in socieries such as ours by rhis differentiarion and rhe form in which ir appears are reflecrions of a particular hisrorical developmem, rhe results of a civilizing process . This is whar is meant when we refor here ro rhe conrinuous correspondence between rhe social srrucrure and rhe srrucrure of rhe personaliry, of rhe individual self

x
On Changes m Aggressiveness
. ffecr-srrucrure of human beings is a whole. \\le may call parricular_ drives -The .1.. d'1recr10ns ames 1ccording ro rhe1r d1Herenr an cl f uncr10ns. \\le mav , b - d1Herenr n, ' . . Ji ,_ t' hun"er and rhe need to spir, of rhe sexual dnve and ot aggressive 0 0 soeaK ' b l' ce rbese different dnves are no more separa bl e r Irnn r l1e I1eart rn ulses, u r 1I1 Jr . . . , 1 p l . micb or rhe blood in rhe brain from rhe blood 1l1 rhe gernralw. Tht} trorn t ie sto ' . '. . and in parr supersede each other, rransform rhemsehes \\ 1rl11n comp lemenr If 1 and compensate for each orher; a d1srurbance here man1tesrs 1rse cerra!I1 im1 rs ' . . . shon rhev form a kind of circuir in rht human bemg, a partial urnr rhere. I n ' , . , . . . . , . l I e roral unirv of rhe oraan1sm. fhe1r srrucrure is soil opaque m man} ' , o . . . . fi h wit 11n r 1 ur rheir sociallv imprinted form 1s of dec1s1ve 1mporrance or r e . . . . . . respecrs, b funcrioning of a sociery as of rhe rnd1v1duals w1rh111 1L The manner in which impulses or emotional express10ns are spoken of today l . els one ro surmise rhar we have wirhin us a whole bundle of sorner1mes ea . . ,, r cl . A "dearl insrincr'" or 1 "need for recogrnnon are referred to as dirterenr nves. ' 1 ' . 'f l , were differem chemical subsrances. This is nor to deny rhar observanons t ne} cl 1 cl.f-cerenr drives in individuals mav be exrremtlv fnurful an rnsrrucove. orr r11ese 1 11 1 . _ . Bur the caregories by which rhese observarions are class1hed musr _remam powerless in rhe face of rheir living objecrs if rhey_ fail ro express rhe .urnry and toralirv of rhe life of drives, and rhe connecr10n ot each dnve ro rh1s .. Accordi'ngl" aggressiveness which will be rhe subject of rh1s chaprer,. is tora I1ry. 1, nor a .separable species of drive. Ar most, one may speak of rhe _"aggressive impulse" only if one remains aware rhar it refers ro a boddy funcr10n wirhin rhe toraliry of an organism, and rhar changes ll1 rh1s tuncr10n mdicare changes in rhe personality srrucrure as a whole. LLThe standard of aggressiveness, irs rone and intensity, is nor at _presem exactly uniform among rhe differem nations of rhe \\!esr. Bur rhese differences, whicl; from close up ofren appear quire considerable, disappear if rhe aggressiveness of rhe "civilized" narions is compared to rhar of socieries at a different stage of affect control. Compared ro rhe barde fury of rhe Abyssinian warriorsadmirredlv powerless against rhe technical appararus of rhe civilized army--or ro rhe of rhe different rribes ar the rime of the Grear Migrarions, rhe of even rhe mosr warlike nations of rhe civilized world .appears subdued. Like all other insrincrs, it is bound, even in direcdy \Yarl1ke acr10ns, by rhe advanced stare of rhe division of funcrions, and by rhe resulting greater dependence of individuals on each orher and on rhe technical apparatus. Ir is confined and rnmed bv innumerable rules and prohibitions rhar have become much rransformed, "refined", "civilized", as all rhe orher self-constraints. Ir is

162
forms of pleasure. and it is only in dreams or in isolated ourbursrs that We accounr for as pathological char something of its immediate and unregulated force appears In rhis area of the affecrs. the rheaue of hostile collisions between people, the same historical transformation has taken place as in all others. No matter at what poinr the Middle Ages stand in this transformation. it will again suffice here to rake rhe standard of their secular ruling class, rhe warriors, as a srarting-poinr, to illustrate the overall panern of this developmenr. The release of the affects in battle in rhe Middle Ages was no longer, perhaps, quire so uninhibited as in the early period of the Grear Migrations . Bur it was open and uninhibited enough compared to the srandard of modern rimes. In the laner, cruelty and joy in the destruction and tormenr of od1ers. like die proof of physical superiority, are placed under an increasingly strong social control anchored in the stare organization . All these forms of pleasure, hemmed in by threats of displeasure, have gradually come ro express themselves only inclirecrly, in a "refined" form. And only at rimes of social upheaval or where social conrrol is looser (e g., in colonial regions) do they break our more direcdy. uninhibitedly, less impeded by shame and repugnance . 2. Life in medieval society tended in rhe opposite direction Rapine. battle, hunting of people and animals-all these were viral necessities which, in accordance with the structure of society, were visible to all. And thus. for the mighty and strong, they formed part of the pleasures of life. r tell you ... says a \\ar hymn aruiburecl to rhe minstrel Bertran de Born, ""that neither earing, drinking, nor sleep has as much savour for me as when I hear the cry 'Forwards 1' from both sides, and horses without riders shying and whinnying, and the err 'Help 1 Help!', and ro see the small and rhe great fall to the grass at rhe di re hes and the dead pierced by rhe wood of rhe lances decked with banners . " Ewn the literary formulation gi\"es an impression of rhe original saYagery of feeling. In another place Bertran de Born sings: '"The pleasant season is drawing nigh when our ships shall land. when King Richard shall come. merry and proud as he never was before. Now we shall see gold and sil\"er spent: che newly built stonework will crack to the heart's desire, walls crumble. rowers topple and collapse. our enemies taste prison and chains. I love the melee of blue and vermilion shields, the many-coloured ensigns and rhe banners, the rents and rich pavilions spread out on the plain, the breaking lances, rhe pierced shields, the gleaming helmets char are split, rhe blows given and received." \Var. one of the chc111so11s cit gcrtr: declared, was to descend as the stronger on the enemy, ro hack clown his vines. uproot his trees. lay waste his Janel. rake his castles by storm, fill in his wells, and kill his people. A panicular pleasure was taken in mutilating prisoners: "By my rrorh."" said the king in the same chcn1so11. r laugh at what you say I care nor a fig for your I shall shame e\ery knight I have raken. cut off his nose or his ears. If he rhrears. . _ .. 101 . _ "eant or a merchant he will lose a toot or an arm. is a . . . . . fwere not onl\" said ll1 song. These epics were an rnregral part o 1inus Suel1 r1 c _ _ . _ life. And rhey expressed the ftelings ot the listeners tor whom they were . cl -d f:1 r more direcrlv than manv 1 )arts of our literature They may have ' 1nten t r-ired rhe derails. Even in the age of knights money already had, on e:s:agge" ._ . . ,. ns some power to subdue and transform rhe affects. Usually only the poor occasio , . , - ,l, for whom no considerable ransom could be expected, were mut1lared. ;:tOO 1 Q\\ JJ . . knid1ts who commanded ransoms were: spared. The chronicles which and rlie . . cl.. rn.:c ti\ _ document social life bear ample wirness to these an1rndes Thev were mosdy written by clerics The \alue judgements they conrarn are often those of the weaker group threatened by rhe warrior class Nevertheless, the picture rhey transmit ro us is quire genuine. He spends his life", we read of a knight, "in plundering, destroying churches, falling upon pilgrims. oppressing widows and orphans. He 1xirricular plea:ure ll1 rhe innocenr In a sinu[e monasrerv. that ol the black monks ot Sarlar, larin" OlU t 1 b ' b there are 150 men and women whose hands he has cm off or whose eyes he has put our And his wife is just as cruel. She helps him with his executions. Ir gives her pleasure to torture the poor women. She had their breasts hacked orf or ;heir nails torn off so that they were incapable of work. "! Such affective outbursts may still occur as exceptional phenomena, as a "pathological .. degeneration, in later phases of social development. But here no punitive social power existed The only threat, rhe only clanger that could rnst1l fear was that of being overpowered in battle by a stronger opponent Leanng aside a small dire, rapine, pillage and murder were srandarcl practice in the warrior society of this rime, as is noted by Luchaire, the historian of rhirreenthcenrurv French societ\". There is little e\iclence char things were clifferenr in ocher counrr.ies or in rhe ce,nrnries rhar followed Outbursts of cruelty did nor exclude one from social life. They were nor outlawed. The pleasure in killing and torturing others was great, and it was a socially permitted pleasure. To a certain extent, rhe social structure even pushed its members in this direction. making ir seem necessary and practically advantageous to behave in this way \Xihar, for example. ought to be clone with prisoners;, There was little money in chis society. \Xiirh regard to prisoners who could pay and who, moreover, were members of one's own class. one exercised some degree of restraint Bm the others;, To keep chem meant to feed chem. To return them meant to enhance the wealth and fighting power of the enemy.. For subjects (i e., working. serving and fighting hands) were a part of rhe wealth of che ruling class of char rime . So prisoners were killed or sent back so mutilated char they were unfitted for war service and work. The same applied to destroying fields, filling in wells and curring clown rrees In a preclominanrly agrarian society. in which immobile possessions represented rhe major part of property. this too served to weaken rhe
02

164

Th, Cil'i!i:i11g Process

Chilnges in the B1:htll'iol!r of the Swdt1r Uf'i'er C!t1sses in the \Vest

165

enemy. The stronger affectivity of behaviour was ro a certain degree social!v necessary. People behaved in a socially useful way and rook pleasure in And it was entirely in keeping with the lesser degree of social control and constraint of the life of drives that this joy in destrucrion could sometimes way. through a sudden identification with the victim, and doubtless also as an expression of rhe fear and guilt produced by the permanent precariousness of this life. ro excremes of pity The vicror of roday was defeated tomorrow by some accident, caprured and imperilled. In the midst of these perperual ups and downs, this alternation of the human hunts of wartime wirh the animal hums or tournaments that were rhe diversions of "peacetime", little could be predicted. The furure was relatively uncertain even for chose who had fled rhe "world"; only God and the loyalty of a few people who held together had any permanence. Fe;r reigned everywhere; one had to be on one's guard all the time. And just as people's fate could change abruptly, so their joy could rum into fear and chis fear, in its rurn, could give way, equally abruptly, ro submission ro some new pleasure. The majority of the secular ruling class of rhe Middle Ages led the life of leaders of armed bands. This formed the taste and habits of individuals . Reports left to us by that society yield, by and large, a picture similar ro those of feudal societies in our own times; and they show a comparable standard of behaviour. Only a sm<1ll elire, of which more will be said later, stood om ro some extent from this norm The warrior of the Middle Ages not only loved battle, he lived for ic. He spent his yomh preparing for battle. \Xihen he came of age he was knighted, and waged war as long as his strength permitted, into old age. His life had no other function. His dwelling-place was a watchtower, a fortress, at once a weapon of attack and defence . If by accident, by exception, he lived in peace, he needed at least the illusion of war. He fought in rournaments, and these tournaments often differed little from real battles. 105 "For the society of that time war was the normal state," says Luchaire of the thirteenth century. And Huizinga says of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries: "The chronic form which war was wont to rake, the continuous disruption of rown and country by every kind of dangerous rabble, the permanent threat of harsh and unreliable law enforcement . . . nourished a feeling of universal uncerrainty." 10 ' In the fifteenth century, as in the ninth or thirteenth, the knight still gave expression ro his joy in war, even if it were no longer so uninhibited and intact as earlier. "War is a joyous thing . " 105 It was Jean de Bueil who said this. He had fallen inro disfavour with the king. And now he dictated his life srory ro his servant. This was in the year 1465 It was no longer the completely free, independem knight who spoke, the little king in his domain. It was someone who was

enice: "\Var is a 1ovous thing \Ve love each other so much in war. . . himsel f in s _ . l, t our cause is JUSt and our krnsmen fight boldly, tears come to our It we see t M . . . r . . . . eves. A sweet joy nses _m our hearts. m the red mg. ot our honest loyafr: to each ' cl seein" our friend so brawh exposmg his bodv to danger 111 order ro orher; an b . . v . d Creator, we resolve ro go forward an cl f lfil the commandment of our . . . d"- or live with him and never leave him on account of love. This brmgs such 1 ". h 1 ,,t rnyone who has not felt it cannot say how wonderful it is. Do you del1g ( t 1c. ' . . , . 'k l t someone who feels this is afraid of death, Not ll1 the least! He IS so wrn t 1a . _. _ . ed so deliuhted, that he does not know where be 1s. lruly be tears srrengt l1en , o nothing in the world'" . This was the joy of battle, certainly. bm ir was no longer the direct pleasure in rhe human hunt, in the flashing of swords, in rhe neighing of steeds, in the c . cl death of the enemv-how fine it is ro hear them cry "Help, help'" or see 1ear an with their bodies rorn open' 10 < Now the pleasure lav in the closeness rhem ly1nu b " . _ ro one's friends. the enthusiasm for a just cause. and more than earlier we find the joy of battle serving as an inroxicant ro overcome fear. . VerY simple and powerful feelings speak here. One killed, gave oneself up ro the fight. saw one's friend fight. One fought at his side. One forgot where. one was. One forgot death itself It was splendid . \Xihat more' There is abundant evidence that the attitude rowards life and death in the sec.u.lar upper class of the j\fiddle Ages by no means always accords with rhe attitude prevalent in rhe books of the ecclesiastical upper class, which we usually consider "typical" of the 1Iiddle Ages For the clerical upper class, or at least for its spokesmen, the conduct of life was determined by the thought of death and of what comes after, the next world. In the secular upper class this was by no means so exclusively the case. However frequent moods and phases of this kind may have been in the life of everv knight, there is recurrent evidence of a quite different attitude. Again and hear an admonition that does nor quite accord with the srandard picmre of the Middle Ages roday: do not let your life be governed by the thought of death. Love the joys of this life. "Nul courtois ne doit blamer joie, mais roujours joie aimer." (No co111luis man should revile joy, he should love joy.) 1o- This was a command of col!rtoisie from a romance of the early thirteenth century. Or from a rather later period: .. A young man should be gay and lead a joyous life. It does not befit a young man ro be mournful and pensive " 108 In these srntements the knightly people, who certainly did not need robe "pensive", clearly contrasted themselves ro the clerics, who no doubt were frequently "mournful and pensive" This far from life-denying attitude was expressed particularly earnestly and explicitly with regard ro death in some verses in the Distiche Cdto11is, which were passed from generation ro generation throughom the Middle Ages. Thar life is

l66
uncerra1n
StS:
f(H

was

Ol1t

of the funclamenrnl themes which recurred in these ver.

. ro nke d'Escouchy He was There 1,' ont example-the fate . of .Mathieu ._ _a and one of the numerous men ot the hfteenth century who wrote a l ii 1 From rhis .. Chronicle .. we would suppose him to haw been a . k B "Chrome e man of letters who devoted his nme to meticulous hisrnncal \I or.. Lit

To us all a hard uncertain lift. is !'in:n Bm this did nm lead to the conclusion that one should chink of death and comes afrerward, bur rather:

il we tr; to I ' en1erges

. r nc'

our something
I Li
c

of his life from the documents. a totally ditterent

If you fear clearh mu will live in misery


Or in anmher plact, expressed \1ich panicular clarity and beamy 11" \\/e well know rhar dearh shall come and our fornre is unknown: srealrhy as a rhief he comes. and body and soul he does parr Su be o( rrusr and confidence: be nor mo much afraid of clt:arh. for if you fear him owrnrnch joy you nevermore shall rouch

, c1Escouc!11 as a councillor. juror and mayor \farrntu . . be"ins "' .. his . carter <LS mac;isrrart . c . . ,. I of rhe rn\1n of Pernnne benvten l+iO and \ ..150. From the bt!'innmg we nnc.
him 111 ,1 , . ,c d El. )- fou"hr out in lawsuirs. Firsr ir is dk l'rocur<Hor who accuses cl Escouct1y or reu 1,n 1 c . .

. kine! of fr.ucl with the famil1 of rht procurarnr of the ro,1n. Jean Fromenr. a

. . ' n1Lird e r. or of .. txcts et Hrem11raz .. The manir tor his pan rhreau:ns rhe "urrycn ' . ,. l -with inYesriwnion for n1anical The won1an obrains a W! O\\ or lb c e _ <:-' c: _ . . . . ccli1111 -llin" in rht hands ot rhe mJli date -c :::- cl Escoucl11 . to 11lact rhe invesric;ation '. iud1oar1. _ The affair comes before the parliamenr in Paris. and dTscouchy goes co prison tor the first rime. \Ve find him under arresr six rimts subsequently. pardy as ddendanr and ,iisc,i Each rin1e there is a st:rious crin1irul case. and n1orc chan once 1 er 0 ( W'li' once a:-... <.1 1 he sirs in heavy chains. The conresr of reciprocal accusarions between rht Froment and d'Escouchy families is intt:rrupred by a violent clash in which Fromenrs son wounds dTscoucln Both engage curthroats rn rake each orhers lives \\'hen rhis len!'rhy feud ... our view ' ir is re11lacecl Lw is wounded p;1:'15L'S ntw arracks. This time the manir _. bra monk Ne\1 accusarions. then in 1-ihl cl'Escouchy s removal rn J\esle. apparemly suspicion of criminal acrs. Yet rhis does nor pre,em him from having a successful rnreer. He becomes a bailiff. mayor of Ribemonr. procurnror rn the king at 5,1im Quinrin. and is raised w the nobilir) /1.frer ntw woundings. incarcerarions and expiarion we find him in war sen-ict. Ht is madt a prisoner of war: from ,1 lacer campaign he rerurns home c-rippled. Then he marries. but rhis does nor mc:an rhc be!'innin!' of a quiet life \Ve find him rrnnspom:d <\S a prisoner rn Pans .. like. a criminal and n1urdertr . accused of forging seals, again in feud wnh a n1ag1suare in Compiegne. broughr to <tn admission ot his !'Llilt by rnrrure and deni_ed prumuri1111. condemntcl. rthabilirarecl. condemned once again. until the rract or his existeno: vanishes from the documenrs This is one of innumerable examples. The well-known miniatures from the -'book of hours .. of rhe Due de Berry! i.' are another. .. People long belie\ecl. .. says its editor... and some are still convinced today. that the miniatures of the fifteenth cenrun- are the work of earnest monks or pious nuns working in the peace of their .monasteries. Thar is possible in certain cases. Bur. generally speaking, the situation was quire differe-nr Ir was worldly people, master craftsmen. who executed rhese- beautiful works. and the life of these secular artists was very far from being edifying. \Xie hear repeatedly of actions which by the present standards of society would be branded as criminal and made socially_ .. impossible .. For example-, rhe painters accused each other of theft; then one of chem, with his kinsmen. srabbe-d the other to death in rhe srreec. And rhe Due

of tht ntxt life. He who allowed his life to be determined by thoughts of death no longer had joy in life. Cenainly. the knights felc themselves strongly to be Christians. and their lives were permeated by the traditional ideas and rituals of the Christian faith; but Christianity was linked in their minds. in accordance with thtir differtnt social and psychological simation, with an tntirely difterem scalt of values from that existing in die minds of the clerics who wrote and read books Their faith had a markedh different tenor and tone. It did not pn:c\ent them from savouring to the fiJ!l ch.t jon of the world: it did not hinder chem from killing and plundering. This function. an attribme of their class, a source of pride. Not pan of their social
to

tear death was a

viral ne-cessicy foF.the knight. He had to light. The struccure and tensions of this society made this an inescapablt condition for individuals

I Bur in meclit\al society this permanent readiness ro fight, weapon in hand,


was a viral necessity not only for the warriors, the knightly upper class. The life ot the burghers in rhe cowns was characte-rized by greater and lesser feuds ro a far higher degree- than in later rimes; here-, too, belligerence, hatred and JOY m rormenting others were more- uninhibited than in the subsequent phase. \'Virh rhe slow rise of a Third Estate, the tensions in medieval socien were increased. And ir was nor only rhe weapon of money that carried the b.urgher upward Robbe-ry, lighting, pillage. family feuds-all this played a hardly less important role in the life of the rown population than in that of rhe warrior class

i rstlf

dt Berry. who needed rhe murderer, had to request an amnesty. a lettrc cle 1{111issirlil

168

The Ciz'ilizi11g P1ocess

Ch(lllges in the Beh:ll"iOill of the Swt!ar Upper (/,mes i11 the W'tst

169

for him Yee. anod1er abducted 'in eight-year-old girl in order ro marry her. naturally_ agamsc rht will of her parems. These /dtres de r.:missiol! show us such bloody feuds raking place everywhere, ofren lascing for many years, and somec1me.s leading .ro wild b,ur!es in public places or in che countryside. And chis applied ro knighcs <lS much ro merchams or crafrsmen. As in all other counmes wirh relared social forms-for example, Ethiopia or Afghanistan roday-che noble had bands of followers who were ready for anyching. ".. During che day he is consramly accompanied by serrnms and arms bearers pursuic of his feuds' . The rr1t1trien, rhe cicizens, cannoc afford chis luxury, but chey have cheir relacives and friends' who come ro cheir help, ofren in great numbers, equipped wich every kind of awesome weapon rhac rhe local che civic ordinances, prohibit in vain . And chese burghers, roo, when chey have ro avenge themselves, are cit g1mn, in a srace of feud . 11 1 The civic aurhoriries sought in vain ro pacify rhese family feuds. The magistrates call people before rhem, order a cessacion of strife, issue commands and decrees. For a time, ,i[l is well; then a new feud breaks our, an old one is rekindled. Two c1ssocii.1 fall our over business; they quarrel, the conflicc grows ,iolem; one day they meet in a public place and one of them strikes the other dead. 11 ' An innkeeper accuses another of stealing his clients; they become mortal enemies . Someone says a frw malicious words about another: a family war develops . Nor only among rhe nobility were there family vengeance, private feuds, vendecras The fifreenth-cemury rowns were no less rife with wars between families and cliques The little people, roo-rhe hatters. rhe cailors, rhe shepherds-were <lll quick ro draw their knives. 'Ir is well known how violenr manners were in rhe fifteenth cenrury, with what brutality passions were assuaged, despite die fear of hell, despite the restraints of class distinctions and rhe chirnlrous semirnenr of honour. tht bo11ho111i, ,mJ 1/ soda!
n:/dfjrJlJS .. 11r1

_ . v belligerence or cruelty appears ro be contradictory. Religion, the , chis pier,' v . , . . . or . , pLinishin" or rewardin" omnipotence of God, never has m irselt a in r1 1e o o .... "" or affect-subduing effect On rhe contrary, religion is always exactly ''CJVl(!Zino . . , . d"' .1s rhe socierv or class which upholds ir And because emor10ns \\ere "c1v1!Jze ' . . . as . cl in a manner that in our own world is generally observed only m

.d we call these express10ns and forms of behav10ur childish d11l ren, . . . . n \>Vherever one opens rhe documents of this nme, one hnds the same:. a I e . l structure of affects was different from our own, an existence w1rhour wnere r 1e . . . .th onlv minimal rhou"l1t for the future. \'Vhoever did nor love or hare secunt}, \\ 1 . "' . . h most in rhis societv. whoever could nor stand their ground m the play coreut . .. . s could "0 into a monasrerv; m worldlv lite they were JUSt as lost as of passion , "' . . . ersel' in hrer sooery ,rnd parncularlv at court, persons who could nor con \ 1' ' . ' . curb. their passions, could nor conceal and 'ci_vilize" their aHecrs. ). In both cases it was the structure of society that required and generated a
specific standard of emotional comrol. '\'Ve," .says Luchaire, with our peaceful . . nd habits with rhe care and protecnon rhar rhe modern state Ln ishes manners '1 , . _ . che property and person of each individual', can scarcely form an idea of rh1s
00

.......

orher society.
Ar rhar rime rhe counrry had disinregrarecl inro pro,inces. and rhe inhabi ranrs of each province formed a kind of lirde nation rhar abhorred all rhe ochers T:1e provinces were in rum divided inro a mulrirnde of ieudal esrares whose owners toughr each incessandv Nor only rhe grelf lords, rhe barons. bur also rht smaller lords or rhe manor in desolare isolation and were uninrerrupredly occupied in \rn,t:ing v:ar against rheir "sovereigns', rheir equals or rheir subjecrs. In addirion, there was consrnnr rivaln berween rown and rown, village and ,illage, rnlley and \alley. and consranr wars neighbours d1ar seemed ro arise from rhe very mulripliciry of rhese rerrirorial
units.
' 11-

Not rhar people were always going around with fierce looks, drawn brows and martial counrenarn:es as rhe clearly visible symbols of their warlike prowess, On the contrary, <l moment ago chey were joking, now they mock each other, one word leads ro another. and suddenly from rhe midst of laughter rhev find themselves in rhe fiercest feud. Much of what appears ro intensity of their piety, the violence of their fear of hell, their guilt rheir penitence, che immense outbursts of joy and gaiety, the sudden flaring and rhe uncontrollable force of their barred and belligerence-all rhese, like rhe rapid changes of mood, are in reality symptoms of one and rhe same structuring of the emotional life. The drives, the emotions were vented more freely, more directly, more openly than later. Ir is only to us, in whom everything is more subdued, moderate <rnd calculated, and in whom social raboos are built much more deeply inro the fabric of our drive-economy as self-resrraims, that rhe unveiled intensity

This description helps us ro see more precisely something which so far has been srared mainly in general rerms, namely, rhe connection between che social structure and the structure of affecrs In this society there was no cenrral power strong enough ro compel people ro exercise rescrainr. Bur if in this or rhar region the power of a central authority grows, if over a larger or smaller area the people are forced to live in peace with each other, the moulding of affects and rhe scandards of rhe drive-econom\ are very gradually changed as well. As will be discussed in more derail larer, .the reserve and 'murnal consideration" of people increase, first in normal everyday social life. And rhe disclmrge of affects in physical arrack is limited ro cerrain temporal and spatial enclaves Once rhe monopoly of physical power has passed to central authorities, nor every srro_ng man can afford the pleasure of physical arrack. This is now reserved ro those few legitimized bv the central authority (e g , rhe police against rhe criminal), and ro
.

The Ciz'i/i::,i11g PmctSs


larger numbers only in exceprional rimes of war or revolll(ion, in rhe social!\' leg1r1m1zed srrugglt agarnsr internal or excernal enemies. BL!( even rhe_se remporal _or spacial enclaves wirhin civilized sociery in which aggressneness. is allowed freer play-abovt all, wars berween narions-have _become mor_e impersonal. and lead and less rn affecrive discharges _as srrong ar:d IIHense ,1s rn rhe medieval phase. The necessary rescra1nt and rranstormation of aggression culrrrnred in rhe everyday life of civilized sociery cannot be simplv reversed. even in rhese enclaves. All rhe same, this could happen more rhan \H: rn1ghr suppose. had nor rhe direcr physical combar berween a man and hrs hared given way rn a mechanized srruggle which required a srrict control ot rhe artecrs. In rhe civilized world. even in war individuals can no longer give free rein rn rheir pleasure, s1mrred on bv rhe si b uJu of rhe enem" . y, but muse hghr, no mauer how rhey may fetl, according to rhe commands of invisible or only indirecdy visible leaders, againsr a frequendy invisible or only indirectlv enemy. And immense social upheaval and urgency, heightened rnrdulh _concerted propaganda, are needed co reawaken and legirimize in large m<1sses ot people rhe socially omlawed drives. die joy in killing and desrruction rhar h,1,e been repressed from everyday civilized life. elsewhere how rhe use of the sense of smell. rhe tendency ro sniff ar food n"s lns come rn be restricred as somerhing animal-like. Here we see Cother [ llJ C ' L 0 ' , f rhe interconnections through which a clitftrent sense organ, the eye. has one 0 on a very specific significance in ciYilized society. In a_ similar way co the erh,1ps even more so. it has become a mediarnr ot pleasure. precisely ear, pl e direcr satisfanion of rhe desire for pleasure has been hemmed in by
. . . because t 1 a mu ltitude of b,1rriers and proh1b1t1ons.

eri within chis transfer of emotions from drrect act10n w speetanng, But ev . . ,. . . been a distinn curve of moderation and 'human1zanon Ill rhe there lMS . -tormarion of affects The boxing march. to mennon only one example. tr,an , . . . cl , stronlv rem1Jered torm ot rhe impulses of aggressiveness an represents '1 c- __ _ . cruelty, compared with rhe visual pleasures ot e<1rl1er stages.. . . An example from the sixteenth century may serve as an illusmmon. Ir has been chosen from a mulEitude of others because it shows an institution in whrch .. il sirr.sfacrion of the ur<'e to cruelrv. rhe jov in watching parn mfl1cred, r he V lSLh ' ' b in a panicularly pure form. without any rational jusrificarion or disguise as a punishment or means of discipline. _ _ . _ In Paris during the sixEeenrh cenrnry ir was one ot the fesnve pleasures of .Midsummer Day w burn alive one or EWO dozen cats. This ceremony was very famous. The populace assembled. Solemn music was played. Under a kind ot scaffold an enormous pyre was erecred. Then a s,1ck or basker conrnining die cars was hung from rhe scaffold The sack or basker beg1rn w smoulder. The cats tell imo the fire and were burned w dearh. while rhe crowd re,elled in their caEerwauling. Usually the king and queen were presem. Sometimes the king or the dauphin was given the honour of lighti_ng Ehe pyre. And we hear thaE once; the si)ecial requesr of King Charles IX. a fox \V<JS caught and burned as we_,ll This was nor lw anv means re<1lly a worse spectacle rhan the burnrng of heretics. or rht ,rnd public extcurions of ewry kind. Ir only appears worse because rhe joy in torturing living crearnres is rnealed so nakedly and purposelessly. wirhout <lllY excuse before re,1son . The revulsion aroused in us b1: Eht mere repon of rhe institution. a reaction which musE be taken as "normal for the present-day standard of aHecr control, demonstrates once again rhe longterm chan<'t of rhe affecr-economv Ar rhe same time. ir enables us
to

G. Admirredly. these affecrs do have, in a "refined" and more rationalized form


rheir legirimare and exactly defined place in Ehe eH:ryday life of civilized societ; And rhis is \ery characteristic of Ehe kind of uansformarion Ehrough which d;e civiliz,1rion of rhe affecrs rakes place For example, belligerence and aggression find socially permirred expression in sponing comesrs. And rhey are expressed especi,11ly in specrnting" (e.g .. at boxing marches). in the imaginarv iclemification wirh a small number of combarams to whom moderaLte preciselv regulared scope is gramed for Ehe release of such affecrs. And this living-om affects in specraring or e\en in merely listening (e.g., to a radio is

;f

a panicu!arly characrerisEic feature of ci,ilized society Ir partly determines- rhe de,elopmem of books and rhe d1eaue, and decisiveh- influences rhe role of rhe cinema in our world . This rransformarion of what m;rnifested irself originallv as an accive. often aggressive expression of pleasure. into the passive. mor: pleasure of specrnring (i e .. a mere pleasure of rhe en:) is alreadv iniriared in education. in rhe condicioning preceprs for young In che 177-i edition of La Salle's Cit'iliti, for example. we read (p 23): children like to touch clothes and other things rh<u please them wirh their hands. This urge muse be correcred, and they musE be raughr see only with their eyes."
to

see one

much all rhey

aspecr of change panicularly much of what earlier pleasure arouses displeasure rnd<1y Now, as rhen. ir is nor merely individual feelmgs rhaE are ill\olvedc The caE-burning on Midsummer Day was a social institurion. like boxing or horse-racing in presem-day society. And in both cases rhe creared bv socieEV for iEself. <lre embodimems of a social sEandard of <lttecrs wirhin of which all incliYidual panerns of affect regulation. however varied rhe\ rnav be, are contained; anyone who steps outside the bounds

_By now this precept is taken almost for gramed. Ir is highly cluracceristic ot ci\ilized people tlut rhey are denied by socially insrillecl self-comrols from spomaneously rnuching what rhey desire. love or hare . The whole moulding of their gesrnres-no m<1rrer how irs parrern may difter among \\!estern naEions wirh regard rn paniculars-is decisi,tly influenced by this necessiEy Ir has been

oC this social sranciarcl i.s considered "abnormal" Thus. someone who wished

to

grnEify his or her pleasure in the manner of the sixteemh century by burning cars

17, -

Tht Cirilizi11g Pmcess


. To com1)lemenr chis, and at the same rime to provide a link with the clas::,, of [ht causes of rht change these standards underwent, we shall now acid pression of che wav in which knights lived, and drns of the "social 5hoF 1111 -11 societv "W lUC . Oj)tned to individuals of noble birth, and wirhin which it .- .. 1 rhem The [Jicture of this "social space". the image of the knight in also conm1cu . . . . . . became clouded 111 obscuncy qu1[e soon after what 1s called their . .. \'vhe[her che medieval warrior came to be seen as rhe "noble knight" "dee Irne ' _ . . . .. . [he grand, beamiful, adventurous and movrng aspeccs of his life berng membered) or as rhe "feudal lord", the oppressor of peasants (only rhe re b<1rbaric aspects of his life being emphasized), rhe simple picrnre ot rhe l acnia l If-,, of chis class is usually disrorred by values and nosrnlgia from rht eriod of rhe observer A few drawings, or at lease clescripr1ons ot may help p [ore rhis f'icrnre. Apart from a few writings, rhe works of sculptors and . . -. of. the period convey 1)articularlv srronglv the special quality ot 1rs paimer 5 .. . : . ... atmosphere or. as we may call 1r. rts emononal character, and the way rt cl1Heres .OLir ciw11 ' chouuh in its real rron1 :::. onlv . a few works reflect che life of a kniglu 'context One of rhe few picrnre-books of chis kind, admirtedly from a relatively late period, between 1-i/5 and l-i80, is rhe sequence of drawings that became known under che nor very appropriate ride 1\Ialicmf Hol!Je-Book (see Appendix ID. The name of the anise who drew chtm is unknown. but he muse have been verr familiar with che knightly life of his rime; moreover, unlike many of his craftsmen. he must have seen rhe world with the eyes of a knight and hir<'eh identified with cheir social values. A. nor insignificant indication of chis is hi;'"' on one sheer of a man of his own craft as the only craftsmen in courtly dress, as is rhe girl behind him. who places her arm on his shoulder and for he clearly his feelings. Perhaps it is a self-poruair. 11 '' These drawings (see Appendix II) are from che lace knightly period. rhe rime of Charles che BolJ and Maximilian, the hm knight.. \Xie may conclude from the coats of arms char these cwo, or knights close to them, are themselves represented in one or another of che picrures . "There is no doubt, .. ir has been said, "rhar we have Charles rhe Bold himself or a Burgundian knight from his entourage before us " 12 " Perhaps a number of the pictures of tournaments directly depict the jousting following che Feud of Neuss ( l-i 7 5 ), at the betrothal of Maximilian co Charles rhe Bald's daughrer. Marie of Burgundy" Ar any race, chose we see before us are already people of the transitional age in which the knightly arisrocracv was being gradually replaced by a courtly one. And a good deal char is remini;cent of the courtier is also present in these pinures. Nevertheless, they give, on che whole, a very good idea of rhe social space of a knight, of how he filled his days, of what he saw around him and how he saw it. \Vhat do .we see; Nearly always open country. hardly anything recalling the rown. Small villages, fields, trees. meadows. hills. shore stretches of river and. frequently, the castle . Bm there is nothing in these pictures of the nostalgic
L

would be seen toda\_ as "abnorm l" j b l . a . simp y ecause norma condirioninu f . 1 b 10 0Ur stage o cn-1 1zacion restrains the expression of pleasure in such ice ions ti . . . ' 1rough anxiety insnlled as self-control. Here, obvioush. rhe simnle jJsuc! j ' 10 l . ' : ogicaJ mec 1anisrn is at work on the basis of which rhe loni.::-rerm clnnne of jJ4rs .. 1 I . ona.11:tr 1 scrucrure 1as taken place: socially undesirable expressions of drives and )j are ch e cl cl l d I easure r arene an punis 1e w1cl1 measures char generate displeasure and anxi . or allow chem ro becom cl . I l . tty e omrn,mr. n c 1e constant recurrence of disj)l 1rouse I b l cl easure ' c j t 1rears, an rn the habituation ro this rhvchm rhe do dis ,j . . . . minant I easurt is compulsorily associated even with behaviour which ac root mav b pleasurable In chis manner. socially aroused displeasure and anxietv-no . d, e cl l \va ays represente _. r 1ough by no means always and by no means solely. by the parenrs-hghr with hidden desires. \'Vhar has been shown here from differ angles as an advance in the frontiers of shame, in rhe threshold of repui.::nance the standards of affect. has probably been set in morion by mechanis; s such in 1 rhese. as
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.Ir remains to be considered in greater derail what changes in rhe social structure actually mggered these psychological mechanisms. what changes in the on eacl1 or! l " 1 .. constrarnrs j)eople 1er set t 11s c1n 1zanon of 1ttecrs d behaviour in morion. ' an
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XI
Scenes from the Life of a Knight
The question why people's behaviour and emotions change is reallv rhe same as the _quesrwn why their forms of living change. In medieval socien .certain forms ot bte had b_een developed. and indi\icluals were bound to live them as kn_i:1'hrs, m bondsmen. In more recent society different opporrunir;es, forms_ of livrng came to be pre-given. ro which individuals had to adapt. Ir they were ot the nobility they could lead the life of a courtier. But [hev could longer. even if they so desired (and many did), lead rhe less lite of a kniglu From a parcicular time on. this funcrion, this wav of life was no longer pre_sent in the srrucmre of society Orher functions. as rhose of the guild craftsman and the priest, which played an extraordinary pan in the med'.eval largely lost their significance in rhe total structure of social relanons. \'Vhy do these functions and forms of life, to which individuals must adap[ themselves as to more or less fixed moulds. change in the course ofhistorv? As lns bee l l '. n menr1onec, t 11s is really the same quescion as whv fet!ini.::s and emotions, the strucmre of drives and impulses, and everything with them change. A good deal has been said here abom the emotional standards of rhe medieval

Tht
mood. rhe sentimenrnl' auiwde rn "narnrt that slowly bernmt ptrceptib!e nor very long atterwards. as rht leading nobles had ro foruo more tnc'1 _ ,'c ' 01 ore trtqutndy the_ rtlatiwly unbridled lift ar their ancesrral stars, and were bound 1ncreasrngly nghrly rn rhe semi-urban courr and rn dqx:ndtnct on kin"s 0r 6 . Tl . . pnncts: 11s ts one ot rhe mosr imponant ditforences in tmorional wne that rhtse ptcrnres conn:y. In lacer periods rht anises consciousness sifrs rhe material arndable w him in a n:ry srricr and specific way which direcdy txprtssts his rnsrt or_. more precisely, his affecrin: srrucrnre. i\arure- rhe open country, shown hrsr of all as merely a background ro human figures, wok on a nosralgic glow, as rhe confintmtnt of rhe upper class rn rhe rowns and courrs incrtased rhe rifr berween rown and country lift grew more perctprible. Or narnre wok on like rht human figures it surrounded in rhe piccure_ a sublime. n:prtsemariv; characrer. Ar any rare. rhtrt was a change in rht .reki"tir111 /;_i icli11g, in what appealed w feeling in rhe rtprtsentarion of narnrt, and in whar was ftlr as unpleasant or painful And rhe same is rrut of rht people depicrecl For the public in rht: absolure cuurr. much char realh txisred in rht countn-, in narure" was no longer ponrayed. The hill was bur nor rhe gallows -on ir. nor corpse hanging from rhe gallows. The field was shown, bur no longer rht ragged ptasant laboriously driving his horses. Jusr as ewryrhing common or "vulgar" disappeared from courdy languagt, so ir rnnishtd also from rht picrures and drawings inttndtd for rht courdy upptr class. In rht drawings of rht Ho11.rt-Br,r1h. which gi\t an idta of rhe fttling-srructure of rht lart mediernl upptr class. rhis is nor so Hert, all chest rhings-i.:allows ragged servants, labouring peasants-are w bt seen in drawings a; in ;ea) life'. Thty art nor emphasized in a spirir of proresr. in rhe manner of lacer rimes, but shown as somerhing n:ry marrtr-of-fi1cr, pan of ont"s dailv surroundings, like rhe swrks nesr or rht church rower. One is no more painfui in life rhan' rht ocher. and so is nor more painfi.d in rht picrnrt. On rhe conuan-. as t\en-whtrc: in the Middle Ages. ir was an inseparable pan of rht txisrtnce. of rhe rich and noble rhar rhere also exisrtd peasams and crafrsmen working for chem, and bei.:i.:ars and cripples wirh optn hands. There was no rhrtar w rht noble in chis. n:i; did he identify in any way wirh rhtm: tht sptcracle evoked no painful fetling. And ofrtn enough rht yokel and peasant wert rhe objecrs of pleasantries ' The picrures reveal rht same arrirnde. Firsr rhere is a sequence of drawings showing people undtr panicular consrellations. They are not grouptd directly around rht knighr, bm rhey make clear how and \vhar he saw around him. Then comes a series of pages showing how a knighr spends his life, his ocrnparions and his pleasures Measured by lacer rimes. rhey all bear wirntss w rhe same srnndard of repugnance and the same social arrirndes Ar rhe beginning, for example, we see people born uncltr Sarurn . In rhe foreground a poor fellow is disembowelling a dead horse or perhaps curring off rhe usable mear His rrousers have slipped down somewhar as ht bends: pare of ,. ' rerior is visible, and a pig behind him is sniffing ar ir A frail old woman, b .I l cl . in rags, limps by suppontd on a crmch. In a small caw esrc t r 1e roa sns wirh his hands and feer in rhe srocks, and beside him a woman wrrh one

11'5 pOS

" rnroudlr btside him: ar his ocher stdt a monk ll1 his_ cowl holds out a mare I11n,,. . . th-x w him Behind him ridt rhe kmghr and rwo ot his men. On rhe l( forge crt . , . '. ,. . . , 11 1 11 snnds rht "" nallows wnh a boclv hanL:rng rrom 1r, and rht \vhetl rop o1c 1 j1c , , . , - , , ' . cori1 st on ir. Dark brrds fh around; one of chem pecks ar rhe corpse. wrrn '1
The gallows is nor in rhe lease emphasized. Ir is rhere like rhe scream or a rree: and it is seen in jusr rhe same way when rhe knighr goes hunting. A whole

( l1t , 'rticks II1 . - rhe ocher in feErers ,-\ farm workc:r is roiling ar a waEercourse .. hes berween rrees and hills . In rhe disrnnce we see rhe farmer and his rhar hmrs . . . . " held wtrh a horse. Snll rurrher back $0 11 l.-L LLL1 oriouslv . 11louuhrnu b b rhe h1llv . ri"s is beinu ltd rn rhe ...._, L:allows. an armtd man wirh a teacher in his cap a rrn1n in tei . . .

company rides pasr, rhe lord and lady ofren on rhe same horse. The deer vanish lnro a )irrle wood: a srng setms w be wounded. Furrher rn rhe background one sees a lirde village or perhaps rht yard of a household-:-well, mill wheel, "ll ' Jn 1 ttw builclinns wine .11 c- , Tht farmer is seen 11loughinL: ._ '- a held: he looks round ar die deer. which are jusr running across his field . High up ro ont side is rht casde: on rhe ocher, smaller hill opposire. wheel and gallows wirh a body. and birds circling The gallows. rhe symbol of rht knighr's judicial power. is pan of rhe background of his lift Ir may nm be \ery imporranr, but ar any rare, ir is nor a parricularly painful sighr. Sentence. txecurion, dearh-all chest art immediarely present in chis lift. They. rno. have nor yer been remo\ed behind rhe scenes And rhe samt is uue of rhe poor and rhe labourers. "\\!ho would plough our fields for us if vou were all lords-_ asks Berrhold von Regensburg in one of his sermons in rhe -d1irreenth centun-. 121 And elsewhere he dividini.: even more clearly: I shall cell vou Chrisrian folk how Almighry God has ordered Chrisrc:ndom. inw rtn kinds of people. "and whar kinds of services Ehe lower owe the hiL:l1er as rheir rulers. The firsr d1fet are rhe highesr and mosE exalred whom Almi,:hrv God himself chose and ordained, so char rht ocher seven should all be r-o rhtm and strve chem" ice The same arrirude rn lift is srill found in these picrurts from rhe fifreenrh century. Ir is nor disrnsrefuL ir is pan of rhe namral and unquesrioned order of rhe world char warriors and nobles have leisure rn amuse rhemselves. while rhe ochers work for chem There is no identificarion of person wirh person. Nor even on rhe horizon of chis life is chert an idea char all ptoplt are equal. Bur perhaps for char very reason rhe sighr of rhe labourers has abom ir nmhing shameful or embarrassing. A picrnre of rhe shows rht pleasures of rhe lords. A young lady of rhe nobiliry crowns her young friend with a wrearh; he draws her w him. Another pair go walking in a close embrace. The old senant woman pulls an angry face w1mes of rhe vounu jJeOjJle Nearb\ at rhe lo\e o'. . rhe servants are \\orking. One of

The Ciz'ili::;i11g Process


them sweeps the rnrcL anocher grooms che horse, a chird scaners food for the ducks, but the maid waves to him from the window; he turns round, soon he wi]J disappear into the house . Noble ladies at play. Peasam amics behind them. On che roof che stork claccers. Then chere is a small courcyard by a lake On che bridge srands a young nobleman wich his wife . Leaning on che baluscrade chey wacch the sen-ams in the water cacching fish and ducks. Three young ladies are in a boar. Rushes. bushes in the disrance the walls of a small town ' Or we see workmen building a house in from of a wooded hill. The lord and lady of the castle look on. Tunnels have been driven imo che litde hill t0 quarry stones. \\!orkmen are seen hewing che stones; others care them away. Nearer us, men are working on che half-finished building. In the foreground workmen are quarrelling; they are about co stab and strike each other down. The lord of the casde srancls nor far from them . He shows his wife che angry scene; the com piece calm of the lord and his wife is placed in sharp comrast to the excited gtswrts of the disputants. The rabble fighc, the lord has nothing to do wich it. He lives in <ll1ocher sphere. Ir is nor the events themselves, which in part are no clifferem coclay. but above all rhe fact and the manner of their portrayal that underline the changed tmorional strucwre. The upper classes of later phases did nor have such chings drawn . Such drawings did noc appeal co cheir feelings. They were noc .. beautiful .. They did noc form pare of "'art"' In later periods it is at mosc among the Durch (who depicc middle-class. specifically uncourtly strata) tliac we find. for example, in che work of Breughel a standard of repugnance char permics him to bring cripples. peasams, gallows or people relieving chemselves inco his picrnres. Bm che standard chere is linked with very differem social feelings chan in these pictures of the late medieval upper class. Here. it is a marcer of course thac the labouring classes exisc. Thty art even indispensable figures in che landscape of knightly exiscence. The lord Ji\es in their midsc. Ic does nm shock him to see che serYant working beside him Nor does ic shock him-if the latter amuses himself in his own way. On the contrary, it is an imegrnl part of his self-esceem ro have chese other people moving about him who are noc like him. whose master he is, This feeling is expressed ;1gain and again in che drawings. There is scarcely one of them in which c1111rtfJis occupacions and gestures are noc contrasted co the vulgar ones of che lower classes . \\!hecher he rides, hums, loves or dances, whatever the lord does is noble and Clil!rtois, whatever che servants and peasants do coarse and uncouch. The feelings of the medieval upper class did nm yec demand chat everyching vulgar should be suppressed from life and therefore from pictures . Ic was gratifying for the nobles co know chemselves different from ochers. The sight of contmsts heightt11ed jliJ in lfri11g: and we should remember thac. in a milder form, something of che pJe,1sure taken in such conm1scs is sci!! co be found, for example. in Shakespeare.

ii! the Bdv1io11r rl the Semlar Uf'f'tr Classes in the \\lest

177

ne looks at che hericage of che medieval upper class, one finds chis Wherever o . .. . l de in rn unrescra111ed form. Ihe further 111terclependence and c le arntu ._ .. of Jabour in society advance. the more dependenc die upper classes che other classes, ;rnd the greater, therefore, becomes che social become on . . f these classes, ac least potennally. Even when che upper class was still strengt I1 o . .. . fl ' . 1, , \\.. irrior class. when it kepc the ocher classes dependent ch1e ) nrtn1an ) 1 ' r l he sword and che monopolv of weapons. some degree ot dependence on throug i c . . r chsses w'lS cerra111lr not ent1relr absent Bm it was 111comparabl) these oc l1 e ' ' , . .. coo--as will be seen in greater derail later-was rhe pressure tram less: an cl less ' _ ' _ . . below. Accordingly. che sense ot mastery of the upper class. itS contempt tor other classes, was far more open, and che press1'.re on upper-class people co exercise resrraint and co control their drives, was tar scrong. . _ Seldom has the matter-of-fact sense of mastery ot chis class, and 1cs seltconfidenr, pacriarchal comempt of ochers, been so vividly conveyed as in chese , s This is expressed not onh in the gesture with which the nobleman (_, dra\-vtn.! shows liis wife che quarrelling craftsmen and che workers in a kind of foundry who are holding cheir noses ro ward off the foul vapours; not only where the lord watches his servants catching fish. or in che repeated depiction of rhe gallows with a corpse hanging from ic: buc also in che matter-of-fact and casual way in which the nobler gestures of che knight are juxtaposed co the coarse ones of the
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people. There is a picture of a cournamenc. Musicians play Fools cut clumsy capers. The noble specrarors on cheir horses, often the lord and lady on the same horse. are conversing, The peasants, the cicizens, the doctor, all recognizable by cheir dress, look on. The cwo knights, somewhat helpless in cheir heavy armour, waic at the centre Friends advise chem. One of chem is just being handed the long lance Then the herald blows his crumpec. The knights charge ac each other with rheir lances levtlledo And in the background. concrascing co che c11111rnis activities of rhe mascers. we see the vulgar pascimes of the people. a horse race accompanied by all kinds of nonsense. A man hangs on co che rail of one of the horses. The rider is furious. The ochers whip cheir horses and make off at a somewhat groresqut gallop. \\le see a military camp. A circular barricade has been made wich che gun carriages, \\ii chin it srancl resplendent rents wich their different coats of <lrms and banne,rs. among them che imperial banner. At the centre. surrounded by his knights we see the kin" or even the emjJeror himself. A messenger on horseback (_, ' b is just brinc,in" him a messa<'e Bue at che gate of che camp, beggar women sit with their their hands. a man in armour on horseback brings in a fettered. Furcher back we see a peasant ploughing his field Omsicle the rampart, bones lie abom, animal skelecons. a dead horse with a crow and a wild clog earing ic. Close ro a wagon a crouching serrnnt relieves himself Or we se; knighcs actacking a village under che sign of Mars. In the

178

in the Bchdl'ifJ!ll"

o/ the
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Sw1!ar Uf'Jicr C!cJS.res i11 the Wi:st

179

foreground, one of die soldiers is scabbing a prostrate peasant: on rhe ri''ht apparently in a chapel, a second man is scabbed and his possessions are . 0 l a sir peacefullv . war . n t 1e root the srorks _ in rheir nest FL1rrher back 1 ' jJeasant is trymg ro escape over the fence. bur a knight on his horse holds him by th protruding of his A peasant woman cries our. wringing her peasant m terrers, doleful and wretched. is being beaten over the head by a knight on horsebacL Further back horsemen are setting tire ro a house: one of them drives off the car de and strikes at the farmers wife who is rn-in ,, ro st . . . . , . "' op him: abow. Jn the little rower ot the village church, the peasants huddle rogerher, and frightened faces look out of the window. In the far distance, on a sma_ll hill, srands a forrified monastery: behind the high walls one sees rhe church roof with a cross on it. Somewhat higher up, on a hill. a castle or another part of the monastery. These are rhe ideas suggested ro rhe artist by the sign of the god of waL The picture is wonderfi.dly full of life . As in a number of rhe ocher drawings. one feels that something that has been really- experienced is before one's eyes. One has this feeling because these pictures are nor yet "sentimental'', because they do nor express the greater of the emotions which from now on. for a long per10d, caused rhe arr ot rhe upper class ro express more and more exclusivelv its wishful fanrnsies, and compelled it ro suppress everything that conflicted ;virh this advancing standard of repugnance. These pictures simply narrate how the knight sees and feels the world . The sifring of fet!ing, the grid placed on the affects which admits to the picture what is pleasurable and excludes what is painful or embarrassing. allows many facts ro pass unimpeded which later attain expression only when a conscious or unconscious protest against rhe upper class censoring of drives is being expressed, and are then somewhat overemphasized. Here the peasant is neither pitiable nor a represenrati\e of virtut. Nor is he a represemative of ugly vict . He is simply miserable and somewhat ridiculous, exactly as the knight sets him . The world revolves around the knid1r. Hun"f\' 0 , clogs, begging women. rotting horses. servams crouching against rhe ramparts, villages in Hames, peasams being plundered and killed-all this is as much a part of the landscape of rhese people as are tournaments and hums . So God made tht world: some are rulers. rht ochers bondsmen. There is nothing embarrassing about all this.
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And the same difference in standards of feeling between even this late knightly society and the subseguem society of the absolute courrs is also shown in the representation of love. There is a picture of people under rhe sign of Venus. Again we look far imo rhe open coumrv. There are little hills, a meandering rin:r, bushes and a small wood . In the three or four pairs of young nobles. always a young lord and a young lady together; they walk in a circle ro the sound of music. ceremonioush-. elevamh-. all with the lonn-roed . b . ' c ' tashionable shoes. Their movements are measured and rounded: one noble has a

. l ot slow dance . Behrnd stand three bovs makrng music; there is a table k !11C l]{" . c . . . l . fruits and dnnk and a young iellow leamng agamst it, w 10 JS t0 serve. Ar rhe opposite side. enclosed by a fence and gate, is a lirtlt garden. Trees ki nd of bower. beneath which is an oval bathtub. In it sits a voung man, . . ..... , . urabs eaerlv mto the bath \nth mtke<l.. \"ho o o .. at a naked girl who JS JUSt cl1mbmg <.... .,: As ibove an old female servant who is bringing fruits and drinks surYeys Ium. w1me of rhe . voung tl1e lo\'e c' '-' jJeo1Jle with an angrv ._, - face. And as the masters arouse _ diernselves in the foreground, so do the servants in the background . One of them falls upon a maid who lies on the ground with her skirts already pulled up He looks round once more ro see whether there is anyone nearby. On the other side, around, flinging their arms rw 0 \ oLH1" o fellows of the common !Jeople are dancing <and legs like .Morisco dancers; a third plays for them.. Or we set, likewise in the open country, a small srone bathhouse with a small yard in front of it surrounded by a stone wall. \Ve can see a little beyond it. A is indicated, bushes, a row of trees leading inro the distance. In r'.1e yard young couples are sirring and walking about; one of them admires the tashionfountains, others converse, one of the young men with a falcon on his hand Dogs, a little monkey. Potted plants \Vt can see inro the bathhouse through a large, open, arched window. Two young men and a girl sit naked in the water, side by side, and talk. A second girl, undressed, is just opening the door ro climb inro the water with them. In large open rnulr of the bathhouse a boy sirs playing something t0 the bathers on his guitar.. Under the arch is a tap from which tht water runs . In front of che little house, drinks are placed ro cool in a small tub of water. On a table next rn it are fruits and a gobler; at the table is a young man, a wreach in his hair and his head supported elegantly on his hands. Above, from the second floor of the bathhouse. a maid and a servant watch the masters enjoying themselves In this picture, as one can see, the erotic relation between men and women is much mort open than in the later phase, where it is hinted at in social life, as in pictures, in a way rhac is comprehensible to all bur nevertheless half-concealed. Nakedness is noc yet associated with shame ro the extent that, ro circumvent internal and external social controls, it can only appear in picrurts sentimentally, as rht costume, so to speak, of the Greeks and Romans. Bm neither is rhe naked body depicted here in the way it sometimes appeared in lacer rimes, in "private drawings" passed secretly from hand ro hand. These love scenes are anything but "obscene" Love is presented here like anything else in the life of the knight, rournamenrs, hums, campaigns or plunderings. The scenes are nor particularly stressed: one does nor feel in their representation anything of the violence, the tendency ro excite or gratify a wish-fulfilment denied in life that is characteristic of everything "obscene" This picture does nor come from a repressed mind: it does nor reveal something "secret" by violating
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. irher in his har others have garlands in their hair. Perhaps we are looking large ttC< '

,y

1 :1.

'

(._,

<....

180

The Cil'i!izing Proccrs

i11 the Beha1io11r of the Semien- UP/Jf:r Classes i11 the \Vut

181

taboos. It seems quire carefree. Here, too, the arrisr drew what he must have S" l:imself often enough in life. And on account of this unconcern, this tacrness with which, compared to our standard of shame and embarrassment h . ,t e relat10ns between the sexes are presented, we call this attiwde naive Even in the Hwm-Book we occasionally a joke which is (to our taste) thoroughly coarse, as also m other artists of this phase-for example, Master E. F. and copied from him, in the p?pularizing "Master with the oles And the adopt10n of such motifs b\ a pojJU!arizinu CO)Jvist who . b .. ' Was possibly even a monk, indicates how different was the social standard of shame. These things are depicted with the same matter of facrness as some detail of cloching. Ir is a joke, certainly a coarse one, _if we like to call it that, but really coarser than the 1oke the art1st permits himself when he makes the shirt-tail of the plundered and fleeing peasant stick out so that the knight can catch hole! of it, or when he gives the old servant surveying the love games of the people an angry express10n, as if mocking her for being too old for such dalliance. _ All these were expressions of a society in which people gave way to driws and feelings incomparably more easily, quickly, spontaneously and openly than today, m which the emotions were less restrained and, as a consequence, less evenlv regulated and more liable to oscillate more violently between extremes this srandard of regulation of the emotions, which was characteristic of the \Vhole secular society of the Middle Ages, of peasants as of knights, there were certainly considerable variations And the people conforming ro this standard were subjected ro a large number of drive controls Bur these were in a different direction: they were nor of the same degree as in later periods, and rhev did not rake the form of a constant, even, and almost automatic self-conrrol. Th.e kind of integration and interdependence in which these people lived did nor compel them to resuain their bodily funcrions before each orher or ro curb rheir aggressive impulses ro the same extent as in rhe following phase. This applied to everyone. Bur of course, for the peasants rhe scope for aggression was more restricted than frw the knighrs-resrricred, that is, ro their own kind . For the knights, by contrast. aggression was less restricted outside their own class rhan wirhin it. for here ir came to be regulated by the code of chivalrv. A sociallv rhat generated restraint was ar rimes imposed on peasants by rhe simple did not have enough ro ear. This certainly represents a restriction of drives of rhe highest degree, which expressed itself in the whole behaviour of a human being. Bur no one paid attention ro this, and their social siwarion scarcelr made it necessary for them to impose constraint on themselves when blowin" ;heir noses b or spitting or snatching food at rable. In this direction, coercion in the knightly class was stronger. However uniform, therefore, the medieval standard of control of emotions appears in comparison to later developments, it contained considerable ditttrences corresponding to the srrarificarion of secular socien itself nor ro

n clerical society; these differences remain to be examined in derail They menr10 . . . __ . ble in these pictures, 1f rhe measured and somet1mes even attecred are vis1 of rhe nobles are compared ro rhe clumsy movements of rhe servants and pe;!Sancs. The expressions of feeling of medieval people were, on the whole, more us and unrestrained than in rhe following period. Bm rher were nor . sponta neo . . . . or without soC1al mouldmg m anv iined tr unres , ahsol!!t1: sense. In this respect rhere is no zero point. The person without restrictions is a phantom Admittedly, the narure, suengrh, and elaboration of rhe prohibitions, controls and depend-_ enc1e- cliin<'e ' o in a hundred wavs . ' and with them the tension and equilibrium of che emocions, and likewise rhe degree and kind of gratification rhar individuals and find. Taken rogerher, these pictures give a certain impression of where rhe knights sou.ghr and found gratification. Ar rhis rime they may already have lived more at court than earlier. Bur castle and manor, hill, stream, fields and villages, uees and woods still formed the background of rheir lives; they were taken for granted and regarded quire wirhom sentimenraliry. Here they were at home, and here they \Vere rhe masters. Their lives \Vere characteristically divided between war, rournaments, hunts and love. But in rhe fifteenth century itself, and more so in rhe sixteenth, this changed. At rhe semi-urban courts of princes and kings, partly from elements of the old nobility and partly from new rising elements, a new arisrocracy formed with a new social space, new functions, and accordingly a different emotional strLICrure. People felt this difference themselves and expressed ir. In 1562 a man named Jean du Peyrar translated Della Casa's book on manners into French. He gave it tht tide Gt1!atc!e Oil !t1 mt1nir:n: d COillllle ft gcntilhr1111111f se doit go111r.1?Jtr 01 !Oith: (Galarto, or rht manner in which the gentleman should conduct himself in all company). And even in this title rhe increased compulsion now imposed on rhe nobles was clearly expressed. Bur Peyrar himself, in his introducrion, explicitly stressed rhe difference between the demands rhar life used to make on the knight and rhose which were now made on rhe noblemen by life in court:
The entire virrue and perfection of rhe gentleman. your lordship. does nor consist in
correctly spurring a horse. handling a lance, siEring straight in one's armour. using every kind of weapon. behaving modestly among ladies. or in rhe pursuit of love: for this is another of rhe exercises attributed to the gentleman. There is, in addition.

service ar table before kings and princes. the manner of adjusting ones language towards people according to their rank and quality. their glances, gesrures and even the smallest signs or winks they might give.

Here, exactly rhe same things were enumerated as constituting the customary virtue, perfection, and acriv-iries of the noble as in the pictures of the H(Jlt.r,-Booh:

182

Proer:ss

fears of arms and love, Comrasrt:d rn rhtm wtrt rht addirional perfecrions and rhe new sphere of life of rhe nobleman in rhe service of a prince. A new consrraim, a new, more exrensivt comrol and regulation of behaviour than the old knightly lift made eithtr nectssarl' or possible, was now demanded of rhe nobleman . These were consequences of rht new, increased dependence in \vhich the noble was now placecL He is no longer rhe rtlarively fret man, rhe masrer in his own casde, whose casdt is his homeland . He now lives ar courr He serves the prince . He wairs on him ar table. And at court he lives surrounded by people, He musr behave rnwarc!s each of rhem in exact accordance with rheir rank and his own. He must learn to acljusr his gestures exacdy w rhe different ranks and standing of rhe people ar courr, ro measure his language exacdy, and even to control his eyes exacdy-, Ir is a new self-discipline, an incomparably srronger reserl'e rhar is imposed on people by rhis new social space and the new ries of i merdependence. The arriwde whose ideal form was expressed by rhe concepr of a111rtoisie was giving way rn anorher expressed more and mort by the concepr of ciz'ilite, The translarion of G,datt11 by Jean du Peyrar represems rhis rransirional period linguisrically as welL Up rn 1530 or 1535 rhe concepr of co111tr1isie predominated more or less exclusi\'ely in France. Towards rhe end of rhe cenrury rhe concept of cizilih: slowly gained precedence, wirhour rhe orher being losr Here, about the year 1562, rhe rwo were used rngether withom any noriceable precedence of one or rhe ()[her, In his dedicarion Peyrar says: "Ler rhis book, which ueats the insrruction of a young courrier and gemleman, be prorecred by him \\'ho is as the paragon and mirror of orhers in crJi1r!tSJ ciz'ility, good manners and praiseworrhy customs, The man w whom these words were addressed was that \'try Henri de Bourbon, Prince of Navarre, whose life most visibly symbolizes rhis uansition from the chivalrous w che courdy man and who, as Henri IV, was w be rht direct execurnr of rhis change in France, being obliged, ofren againsr his will, to compel or even condemn rn clearh rhose who resisted, rhose who did not understand rhar from being free lords and knighrs che\ were w become depend em servants of the king. i 2 '

VOLUME II STATE FORMATION AND CIVILIZATION

PART THREE
Feudalization and State Formation

Introduction

Survey of Courtly Society


1. The S[ruggles benveen [he nobili[y, [ht Church and [he princes for [heir shares in [he comrol and [he produce of the land ran through the entire 1fiddle Ages. In [he course of the twelfrh and thirteemh cemuries a further group emerged as a partner in this play of forces: rhe privileged town-dwellers. the ''bourgeoisie". The actual course of this consram struggle, and the power relations among the concr:srnms. varied widely between coumries. But rhe outcome of rhe conflicts was, in irs suucture, nearly always rhe same: in all the larger cominemal countries, and at rimes in England too, rhe princes or their represenrnrives finally accumulated a concemration of power to which rhe estates were not equal. The aurnrky of the majority, and the estates share of power, were curtailed step by step, while the dicrntorial or "absolute" power of a single supreme figure was slowly established, for a greater or lesser period. In France, England and rhe Habsburg coumries this figure was rhe king, in [he German and Italian regions it was the territorial ruler. 2. Numerous studies describe, for example, how the French kings from Philip Augustus to Francis I and Henry IV increased their power, or how [he Elector Frederick \\/illiam pushed aside [he regional estates in Brandenburg, and the

188

Tbt Cil'ili::;ing Proc,.rs

Sta!t Forl/latio11 m1cl Cil'ilizr1tio11

189

Medici rhe patricians and senate in Florence, or how rhe Tudors did rhe same to rhe nobilinir is the individual a"en and parliamenr in Em;land. Evernvhere ,.,,, ts and rheir various actions that we set, rheir personal weaknesses and gifts that are described. And ir is no doubt fruirful and even indispensable ro see history in this way, as a mosaic of individual actions of individual people Nevertheless, something else is obviously ar work here besides rhe fortuitous emergence of a series of great princes and rhe fortuitous vicrories of numerous individual territorial rulers or kings over numerous individual estates at approximately rhe same rime Ir is nor without reason that we speak of an age of absolutism.. \'\!bar found expression in this change in the form of political rule was a structural change in \'Vesrern society as a whole. Not only did individual kings increase rheir power but, clearly, rhe social institution of rhe monarchy or princedom took on new weight in rhe course of a gradual transformation the whole of society, a new weight which ar rhe same rime gave new power chances to rhe central rulers On the one hand we might enquire how chis or chat man gained power and how he or his heirs increased or lost this power in rhe conrexr of "absolutism". On rhe other, we may ask on rhe basis of whar social changes rhe medieval institution of the king or prince rook on, in certain centuries, rhe character and power referred ro by concepts such as "absolutism .. or "desporism", and which social structure, which development in human relations, made ir possible for rhe institution ro sustain itself in chis form for a greater or lesser period of rime. Boch approaches work with more or less the same material Bur onlv rhe second attains to the plane of historical reality on which rhe civilizing rakes place. Ir is by more than a coincidence char in the same centuries in which rhe king or prince acquired absolutist status, the restraint and moderation of the discussed in Parr Two. rhe "civilizing" of behaviour, was noticeably increased. In the quotations assembled earlier ro demonstrate this change in beh<iviour, it emerged quire clearly how closely this change was linked to the formation of rhe hierarchical social .order with the absolute ruler and, more broadly, his court at its head. 3 For the court, roo, rhe residence of the ruler, rook on a new aspect and a new significance in \'Vestern society, in a movement rhar flowed slowly across Europe, ro ebb away again, earlier here and later there, at about the rime we call rhe 'Renaissance" In the movements of chis period the courts gradually became the acmal model and style-setting centres . In the preceding phase they had had ro share or even wholly relinquish this function ro other centres, according to the prevailing balance of power, now ro the Church, now ro the towns, now to the courts of the great vassals and knights scattered across the country. From this time on, in German and particularly in Protestant regions, the courts of the central

. elv bureaucracy, whereas in Roman1c and perhaps 1l1 all Catholic countnespnnc . cl- r l1e 1mporrance . . . point remains ro be esrablishe of rl1e courts as a rhis 1 arrer _ . _
._1

s still shared their function with the universities turning out the ,,urhon tl e . . . . .

500

of

. rhorirv. a source of models of behanour. far exceeded that ot the au . . _ . _ . . _._. __ 'll1d all the other social tormanons of the epoch. fhe early Renaisuniver.::i1L1c,:, , . . ,. ., , . . . Florence. characterized by men like i\fasacc10, Ghibem. Brunelleschi sance 1l1 . . and Donatello, is not yet an unequivocally courtly sryle; bur rhe Italian_ High ' nee ind more clearlv still rhe Baroque and Rococo, the srvle of Louis Renaissa , ' . ,, . .. . XV and XVI, are courtly, as finally is the . EmpHe , though a more n, l \\''l\. bein" alread\ permeated wirh !l1dusrnal-bourgeois features. 1 rninsio 0 , , _, "' . _ . .. Ar rhe courts a form of society was evolving tor which no very specihc and unequivocal term exists in German, for rhe obvious reason that in Germany this - l uman bonding never attained central and decisive importance, except at rype of 1 . . . . , . , . in rhe final uansmonal form it had at \'Veimar fhe German concept most On!\ : ' . of ''good society", or more simply, of "society" in the_ sense of_ll!onde, like the social formation corresponding to it, lacks rhe sharp dehnmon ot rhe French and En<lish rerms The French speak of la sociiti polie. And rhe French terms ho11ne 0 or gens de la Co11r and the English "Society" have similar connotations 4. The most influential courtly society was formed, as we know, in France. From Paris rhe same codes of conduce, manners, taste and language spread, for varying periods, to all the other European courts. This happened nor only because France was rhe most powerful country ar rhe time. Ir was only now made possible because, in a pervasive transformation of European society, similar social formations, characterized by analogous forms of human relations came into being evervwhere. The absolurisr-courrly aristocracy of other lands adopted from rhe most powerful and mosr centralized country of the time the things which fined their own social needs: relined manners and a language which distinuuished rhem from those of inferior rank. In France they saw, most fruitfully "' . developed, something born of a similar social situation and which marchecI their own ideals: people who could parade their srarus, while also observing the subtleties of social intercourse, marking their exact relation to everyone above and below them by their manner of greeting and their choice of words-people of "disrincrion" and "civilitv". In raking over French etiquette and Parisian ceremony, rhe nirious rulers. obtained the desired instruments to express their dignirv, ro make visible rhe hierarchy of society, and to make all others, first and fo;em<;st rhe courdv nobilitv themselves, aware of their dependence. 5. Here, mo, it .is nor to see and describe the particular events in different countries in isolation. A new picture emerges, and a new understanding is made possible, if rhe many individual courts of the \'Vest, with their relatively uniform manners, are seen together as communicating organs in European societv at large \'Vhar slowlv began ro form at the end of the Middle Ages was not one society .here and another there It was a courtly aristocracy
ai

190

191

embracing \Vesn:rn Europe with its cemre in Paris, its dependencies in all the other courts, and offshoots in all the other circles which claimed w belong to great world of "Socieff .. , norabh- the UJ)]X:r stratum of the bourgeoisie and to some extent even broader of the middle class The members of this multifarious socierr S]Joke the same language throu<'llot . '-'-b lt the whole of Europe, first Italian, then French: they read the same books, they had rhe same taste, the same manners and-with differences of deree-thF '=' ... sam.e style of living. Notwithstanding their many political differences and even the many wars they waged against c:ach other, rhey orienrared themselves fairly unanimously, over greater or lesser periods. towards the centre at Paris. And social communication between court and court, that is within courtly-arisrocratic society, remained for a long rime closer than between courtly society and other strata in the same coumry: one expression of this was their common langu<1ge. Then, from about the middle of the eighteenth cemury, earlier in one coumrv and somewhar later in another, bur alw<1ys in conjunction with the rise of middle classes and the gradual displacement of the social and political centre of gravity from the court to the various national bourgeois societies, the ties between the courtly-arisrocratic societies of different nations wtre slowly loosened even if they art ntvtr entirely broken. The French language gave way, nor without violent struggles, to the bourgeois, national languages even in the upper class. And courtly socitty itself became incrtasingly differentiated in rht same way as bourgeois societies, particular! y when the old aristocratic society lost its centre once and for all in the French Revolution The national form of integration displaced that based on social estate. 6. In seeking rhe social traditions which provide rht common basis and deeper unity of rhe various national traditions in rhe \Vesc, we should think not only of the Christian Church. rhe common Roman-Latin heritage, bur also of this last great pre-national social formation which, already partly in rhe shadow of the national divergences within \Vestern society, rose <1bove the lowtr and middle strata in different linguistic areas Here were created the models of more pacified social inttrcourse \\hi ch more or less all classes needed, following rhe transformation of European society ar tht end of rhe Middle Ages: here rhe coarser habits, the wilder, more uninhibited cusroms of mediernl society with its warrior upper class, the corollaries of an uncertain, constantly threatened life, were "softened'', "polished" and "civilized". The pressure of court life, the vying for rhe farnur of the prince or the "great": then, more generally, rhe necessity to distinguish oneself from others and ro fight for opporruniries with relatively peaceful means, through intrigue and diplomacy, enforced a constraint on the affecrs. a selfdiscipline and self-control, a peculiarly courtly rationality, which at first made rhe courtier appear to the opposing bourgeoisie of rhe eighteenth century, above all in Germany but also in England, as rhe epitome of the man of reason. And here, in this pre-national, courtly-aristocratic society, a part of those
<.. '-

is ;incl prohibitions were fashioned or at least prepared that are cornmaoc . . .. . . . 'bit even rodav, nat10nal d1tterencc:s notw1thsrnndmg, as somethmg percepn . .. . . 1 tO the \Vest. Pardy from rhem the \\ estern peoples. despite all their have taken the common stamp of a specific ci,ilizarion .. tle "r1clual formation of this absolmist-counh- socien was accom1xrnied 111at 1 "' ' .111 st.ormation of rhe drive-econonw and conduct of rhe upper class in the bra tr , . . : of "ci,ilizarion .. has been shown bv a senes ot examples. Ir has also d1rcctJO 11 ' . _ ndic ted how closelv this increased restraint and regulation ot elemental'\' heen 1 '1 " . 1 . bound Uj) wid1 increased social conscrnint, the \.;rowing dependence: or urge:> ::i
1

<...-

....._,

nobilirv tie on rhe cemral lord, rht king or prince. l How did this increased constraint and dependence come abour' How was an or knights supplanted by a more or upper class of relatively independent Jess pacified upper class ot courtiers: \Vhy was che mfluence ot tht estates ,rnd earl): modern progressively reduced in rhe comse of the Middle neriod, and why, sooner or later, was the d1ctaronal absolure rule ot a smgle figure, and with it the compulsion of courtly etiquette, che pacification of larger ; smaller territories from a single centre, esrnblishecl for a greater or lesser 0 eriod of time in all rhe countries of Europe' The sociogenesis of absolutism fndeed occupies a key position in rhe overall process of civilization. The civilizing of conduct and the corrtsponding rranstCJrmation of the structure of mental and emotional life cannor be understood without tracing the process of state-formation, and within it rht aclrnncing centralization of society which first found particularlv visible expression in rhe absolutist form of rule

II
A Prospective Glance at the Sociogenesis of Absolutism
1 A few of the most imporrnnr mechanisms which, towards rhe encl of rhe Middle Ages, gradually gave increasing power chances rn the central authority of a rerritory, can be quite briefly described ar this preliminary srage. They are broadly similar in all the larger countries of the \Vest and are particularly clearly seen in the development of the French monarchy. The gradual increase of rhe money sector of rhe economy at rhe expense of rhe barter sector in a given region in the Middle Ages had very different consequences for the majority of rhe warrior nobility on rhe one hand. and for rhe king or prince on rhe other. The more money that came inrn circulation in <l region, rhe greater rhe increase in prices. All classes whose revenue did not increase at the same rate, all those on a fixed income, were rhus placed ar a disadrnnrage, above all the feudal lords \\ho received fixed rems from their estates

192

Tht C il'i!i:ing

Prf/Ct.i.'

Stall For111atio11 t111d Cil'i/i::;,/fion

19.'i

The social functions w l1ose rncome increased with these new 0 ) Jor . were placed at an advantage. They included certain seccions of the LUnu bur above all che kinu l1e cencra . l ru ler. For the raxarion 1jJJ'ar1rL1s ourgeo "'' c l' r < < gave h s 1Me o. the rncreasrng weal ch: a part of all che earnings in his area 1 l to hrm rnd rncomt ru e ' . I115 consequentlv . . d.rnan- degr . increased to . an ' exrraor cl1t growrng circulacion of monev ' ee As is always the case, this mechanism was onlv verv " id ll so to s e k l br' Ud y p "a., rerrospecnve y exploited consciously by che parries at a rdanvely lace scage by rulers as a principle of domescic poli;i rst result was < cs: 1 more or less automatic and constant increase in the ir1c ctnr I J cl Tl ome ot .. rn or . 1rs rs one of the preconditions on the basis of which the instit . ot gained its absolute or uncircumscribed charactn m1on

ti

talents of individuals, and ofren chance. The growrh of rhe financial and power chances dmt gradually arrached rhemselves to rhe monarchy was
..IonPn<Jn'
. l

of the will or talents of individuals: ir followed a srricr regularity

encounrertd wherever social processes are observed. ar , . . . 0I And rhis increase 1n che power ch<rnces of the central funcrwn was therefore the for che pacification of a given cerritory, greater or smaller as rhe " be from a smgle centre case ma .r ' .__ . _ ::;, The tWO series of developments which acted to the advantage of a strong aurhoriry were in all ways detrimental to the old medieval warrior estate. frs members bad no direcr connection with rhe growing money secror of the They could scarcely derive any direcr profir from rhe new opporrunicies thar offered rhemselves They felr only rhe devaluation, the rise in

. - As the hnanc1al open to the cenrral function grew. so too d'd 1 its military potennal. Ihe man who had at his disposal the taxes of a coun trv w s . ' n entire. . '1 rn a posmon ro hire more warriors than am other b . l . j,. cl cl ! t 1e same roken ht " bre\\ ess epen em on the war services which the feudal v1sal . o b lr"ed cl ' '' was . b. tO ren er rn exchange for the land wich which he was invesced. Ibis too rs a process which, like all the ochers. began verv earlv b t l graduallvledrotl . of more perm<rnenr . . '. . u ony . ie formanon rnsnnmons Even \Villiam ' . onqueror wenr to En<'! cl . l . . C . "'an \vrr l an army cons1strng onlv parrh of v1ss1l tne l rest bemu piid k l B . ' ' ' s, tie . . ' mg 1ts. etween char rime and rhe esrablishment of srandin rhe central lords. centuries intervened. A prerequisite for such armie: aparr rom rhe b urowmu rt\.. ' . "' enue from raxes. was surplus manpower-rhe c ! 1screpancv the b t. b . . ' num er o peop1e and rhe number and profirabilitv of JO s Iar sociery . available . . rn a parr1cu which we know roday as AGre,is sufterrng. from surpluses of this kind. e.g. Switzerland and I.Jares f ermanv to anyone who could afford them . Much later. o Fre . . . : SUj)jJ1ie cl

It fo s been calculmed chat a fortune of 22,000 francs in rhe year 1200 was
worrh 16,000 francs in 1)00, 7 .500 francs in 1400, and 6,500 in 1500 In rhe sixteenth century this movement accelerared: the value of che sum fell ro 2,500 francs, and the case was similar in rhe whole of Europe. A movement origim1ring far back in rhe tfiddle Ages underwent an extraordinary acceleration in rhe sixreenth century From the reign of Francis I up to rhe year 1610 alone, rhe French pound was devalued in approximarely the racio 5 ro l The imporrance of chis developmemal curve for rbe rransformation of sociery was greater rhan can be stared in a few words \Vhile money circularion grew and commercial activiry developed, while bourgeois classes and the revenue of rhe central authority rose, rhe income of rhe entire remaining nobility fell. Some of rhe knighrs were reduced ro a wretched exisrence, others rook by robbery and violence whac was no longer available by peaceful means, others again kepr themselves above water for as long as possible by slowly selling off rheir esraces; wd finally a good pare of rhe nobiliry, forced by these circumstances and amacred by the new opporrnniries, entered the service of the kings or princes who could pay, These were the economic opcions open to a warrior class chat was not connecred ro rhe growrh in money circulation and the trade network 4. How rhe development of war rechnology operared ro rhe nobility's disadvanrage has already been mentioned: rhe infantry, rhe despised foot-soldiers, became more imporrant in banle rhan rhe cavalry. Not only the military superioriry of the medieval warrior esrare was thereby broken, bm also its monopoly over weapons. A siruarion where the nobles alone were warriors or, in other words, all warriors were nobles, began ro rum into one where the noble was ar besr an officer of plebeian troops who had ro be paid. The monopoly control of weapons and milirary power passed from rhe whole noble estate into the hands of a single member, rhe prince or king who, supported by the tax income of the whole region, could afford rhe largesr army. The majority of rhe nobility were
1
1

! dtnck rhe Greats recrurnng racrics showed rhe solurions open co a prince \\ ien rhe manpower anulable in his rerriron- was nor sufficienr for 11 1 p Tl is mi 1rarv urposes. le military supremacy char went hand in hand with super10ntv ' ' f. w ,as. t I1ere fore, t l1e second decisive prerequisire enabling rhe central , PO\\ er o a region ro rake on .. absolure" characrer. A rransformarion of miliwry techniques followed and reinforced chis developmenr. Through rhe. slow development of firearms rhe mass of common footsold1ebrs became miliranly suj.Jerior ro the numericallv limired nobles fi<,htin" on 5 t 00 was to l l 1e a cl vantage of rhe central o o l1orse T ack . Th 1 aurhorirv. 1 1e krng, who rn rhe France of the early Caperian period, for ex.ample. was nor muc1 1 .more than 'a b-iro 1 !orcl among ochers of equal power and ' n. one rernrona somenm.es. even '.ess powerful rhan ochers, gained from his increasin" rev:nL1e< tie c \Xfhich ' " 1 poss1b . 1Iicy o f miT][ary supremacy over all the forces in his counrrv
to

no blle lamdv . . Iar cases ro wrn . the crown and elms gain access managed m pMcJCu t 1ese power chances depended on a wide range of facrors including rhe

19-i

thereby changed from relatively free warriors or knights into paid officers in the senice of the cenrral lord. 5 These are a ft\\. of the most imporcam lines of this srrucrural rrcon---tion . There was another as well. The nobility lost social power with the in the money sector of the economy. while bourgeois classes gained ir_ general neither of rhe rwo esrares prO\ed strong enough to gain rhe upper over rhe other for a prolonged period. Constant tensions everywhere erupted in periodic struggles. The battle froms were complicared and varied widely from case to case. There were occasional alliances between specific noble strata and specific bourgeois srrnra; there were transitional forms and even fusions between sub-groups from the rwo esrares . But however char may be. both rhe rise and the ,1bsolure power of rhe cenrral insrirurion ahwys depended on rhe continued exisrence of this tension btrwten rhe nobility and rbe bourgeoisie. One of the srrucrural precondirions for rhe ,1bsolure monarchy or princedom was that neid1er of rhe esrares nor any group wirhin chem should gain rhe upper band. The representarin:s of the absolute central aurboriry therefore had ro be constantly on rhe alerr to ensure rhar this unsrable equilibrium was maintained wirhin their territory \\/here the balance was lose. where one group or stratum beGrn1e roo strong. or where aristocratic and upper bourgeois groups even temporarily allied. the supremacy of the central power was seriously threatened or-as in England-doomed Thus we ofren observe among rulers that while one prorects and promotes rhe bourgeoisie because the nobiliry seems roo powerfol and therefore dangerous. rhe next inclines rowarcls the nobility. this having grown roo weak or rht bourgeoisie wo refractory. withour the other side being ever quite neglected, The absolure rulers were obliged, whether rhey were entirely conscious of it or not, ro manipulare chis social mechanism rhar rhey had nor created . Their social existence depended on its sunival <me! functioning. They roo were bound ro rhe social regularity with which rhey had to live. This regularity and the social strucrure corresponding ro it emerged soontr or later with numerous modifications in almost ewry- country of the \\'lest Bm it rakes on clear delineation only if observed in rhe process of emergence rhrough a concrete example . The development in France. rhe country in which this process, from a panicular moment on. rook place in rhe mosr direct form. will serve here as an example.

Dynamics of Feudalization

Introduction
. n rerms of rhe j)OWtr of theH cenrral aurhont1es, the rhe seventeent l1 cenrury i . l l b l l En"lish king and even more king of Fmnce appe<HS parncu ar y srrong es1c e r 1e "'_ . so beside the German emperor. This consrellarwn \V<lS the: ourcomc or ,1 \try lone
L" _, __ "

If we compare France, England and rhe German. Empire at rhe middle of

development, . . . l I Ar the end of the Carolingian and rhe begmnmg or the Capenan penoc r 1e siruation was almost the reverse Ar rhar rime the central power of the German k"n"S And England had yet to emperors was srrong as comparecl ro rl1e F renc l1 i o _ undergo its decisive unification and reorganization by the Normans In the German empire the power of the cen_rral aurhority crumbled l l prons-rrom rh1s nme on. persistently-though wH 1 occaswna interru i . In England, from Norman rimes on, periods of strong royal power alrern,lted
L L

with rhe preponderance of the es rares or parliament . . I F from abom the beninnin" of rhe twelfth century, the krng s power 0 0 , , . n ranee, . . - . - ntinuous line led from the grew-again with mterrupt1ons-fairl; sread1l; A co Caperians rhrough the Valois ro the Bourbons, Nothin" entitles us to assume rhar rhese differences were prederermined by am kind necessiry. Very slowly the different regions of the rhree countries

196

Tho: Cil'ili:i11g

P111c"cr.r

State F1,m1c1ti1;11 and Cil'ilizt1tio11

197

merged int0 national units. At first, as long as the integration of those areas which were later tO become "France", ''Germam". . ''Iralv" . and "Emdand" '"" .. as relativelv slight, thev did not wei!!h verv heavilv as social on:anisms in . . . . " the balance of hiswrical forces. And the main developmental curws in the history of these nations in this phase were incomparably more strongly influenced by the formnes and misformnes of individuals, by personal qualities, by sympathies and antipathies or "accidents". than later when "England", "Germany" or "France" had become social formations with a quite specific strucrure and a momemurn and regularity of their own. At first the hiswrical lines of development were co. determined very strongly by facwrs which, from the viewpoint of the later unit. had no inherent necessity. 2 Then. gradually, with the increasing of larger areas and populations, a pattern slowly emerged which, according ro circumstance, either limited or opened opportunities tO the whims and interests of powerful individuals or even of particular groups . Then, but only then, did the inherent developmental dynamics of these social units override chance or at least mark it with their stamp. 2 . Norhing entitles us t0 presuppose any compelling necessity determining that it was the duchy of Francia, the "Isle de France", abour which a nation would crystallize. Culmrally, and also politically, the southern regions of France had much stronger ties with those of northern Spain and the bordering Italian regions than with the area around Paris . There was always a very considerable difference between the old, more Celw-Romanic regions of Provence, the langt1e cl'oc", and the !m1g11e c/'oil parts, that is, regions with <l stronger Frankish influence, above all those t0 the north of the Loire, wgether with Poiwu, Berry, Burgundy, Sainwnge and Franche-Comte.; Moreover, the eastern frontiers esrablished by the Treaty of Verdun (843) and then by the Treaty of J\feerssen (870) for the western Frankish empire. \vere very different from the borders between what gradually emerged as "France" and "Germany" or "Iraly". The Treaty of Verdun fixed as the frontier of the western Frankish empire a line leading from the present Gulf of Lions in the south, and approaching the western side of the Rhone, in an approximately northerly direction as far as Flanders. Lorraine and Burgundy--except for the duchy west of the Saone-and therefore also Aries, Lyons, Trier and Metz thus lay outside the borders of the western Frankish empire, while t0 rhe south the county of Barcelona was still within its frontiers.' The Treaty or Meerssen made the Rhone the direct frontier in the south between the western and the eastern Frankish empires; then the frontier followed the Isere and, further north, the Moselle. Trier and Metz thus became frontier wwns, as, t0 the north, did Meerssen, the place from which the treaty rook its name. And the frontier finally ended north of the Rhine estuary in the region of southern Friesland.

:o;t they were states,_ peoples, nations in the making. The most

-l . r such frontiers serJarated were neither states. nor peoples or nations, . But w 1,1 . _ 1. t \\'e mean social formations that are in anv sense umfied and srable. At bvc1a
feature

of all the larger terrirones m this phase is rhelf low level ot cohesion, rhe
f the centnfu"al forces tendmg t0 dismtegrate them. 0 1 O screngt 1 . . . . \Xfhat is the nature of these centnfugal forces' \Vhat peculianty or the e of these terriwries gave such forces their particular strength; And what srructu r -. . , i n the structure of societv, trom the hfteenth. sixteenth or seventeenth ""nange ' " . onwards finallv gave the central authorities preponderance over all rhe . . .. . cenrur; ' . centrifugal forces, and thus conferred on the ternrones a greater srabilHy'

II

Centralizing and Decentralizing Forces m the Medieval Power Figuration


::;_ The immense empire of Charlemagne had been brought rngether by Certainly the basic, though not the only function of his immediate predecessors, and more so of Charlemagne himself, was that_ of army leader, victorious in conquest and defence. This was the foundation or his royal power, his renown, bis social strength. As arnw leader Charlemagne had control of the land he conquered and defended. As vicwrious prince he rewarded the warriors who followed him with land. And by virtue of this authority be held them rogether even though their estates were scattered across the country The emperor and king could not supervise the whole empire alone. He sent trusted friends and servants into the country ro uphold the law in his stead, ro ensure the payment of tributes and the performance of services, and ro punish resisrnnce He did not pay for their services in money; this was cerrainly not entirely lacking in rhis phase, but was available t0 only a very limited extent. Needs were supplied for the most part directly from the land. the fields, the forests and the stables. produce being worked up within the household The earls or dukes, or whatever the representatives of the central authority were called, also fed themselves and their retinue from the land with which the central authority had invested them. In keeping with the economic structure, the apparatus for ruling in this phase of society was unlike that of "states in a later stage. Most of the "officials", it has been said of this phase, "were farmers who bad 'official" dmies only for certain set periods or in the case of unforeseen events, and so most directly comparable t0 landowners having police and judicial powers".) With this legal and law-enforcing role they combined military functions; they were warriors, commanders of a warlike following and of all the other landowners

198
in die arta the king had given rhtm, should it bt threarened by an tnemy In a word. all ruling functions were drawn wgether in d1eir hands Bm chis peculiar power figuration-a measure of the division of labour. an diffortntiarion in chis phase-again and again ltd rn characrtriscic d arising from rht narure of irs strucrure. Ir generartd certain typical sequences tVtnts which-with certain modificarions-were repeartd ovtr and again. -i \Vhoever was once entrusted by rhe central lord with the funcrions of in a particular area and was thus in effecr rhe lord of chis area. no longer depende: on rhe cemral lord rn susrnin and protecr himself and his dtptndants, ar least as long as ht \\'<!S thrtattntd by no stronger external fot. At rbe first opportunity therefore. as soon as the cemral power showed the slid1rest sign of weakness th_, e local ruler or bis descendants soughr to demonstrate their righr and abiliry ro rule the disrricr entrusred ro chem. and rhtir independence of rht central aurhorirv. Over many cenrurits rht samt parrtrns and rrends show rhemseln:s over again in chis appararus for ruling. The rulers over parts of che central lord's ttrriwry. rhe local dukts or chieftains, are at all rimes a dangtr ro d1t cemral powtr. Conquering princts and kings. being strong as army leaders and procecrors against external fots. srrive. successfully ar first. ro confront this danger within the arta rhty conrrol. \Vhtre possible: they rtplace rhe existing local rulers \\"ith rhtir own friends. relations or servants. \Vichin a short rime ofren within a gtneracion. rht samt thing happens again The erscwhil; rtprtsenrariws of che cenrral ruler do their best ro cake over rht arta encrusted ro chtm. as if ic were rht hertdicary properey of rhtir family J\iow ic is the (1;111e.r }'t1!C!!ii. once the ovtrseers of che royal palace. who want to btcome the indtpendent rulers of a rtgion: now it is che margraves, dukes, counts. barons or oHicials of cht king. In repeated waves che kings. screngchened b\ conquesrs. send their crusted friends. relations and servants inro che councrv as their tnvoys. while the pre\iuus envoys or dJt:ir descendants iighc just rtgularh ro esrablish rht heredirary narure and rht facrual independence of cheir region. which was originally a kind of fief. On rhe ont hand rhe kings wtrt forced to delegate power over part of their rerrirnry co ocher individuals. Tht scare of milirary. economic and transporc arrangements ar char rime lefr rhtm no choice. Socien- offered chtm no sources of monty rnxts sufficienr for chem co keep a paid army or paid official delegates in remote regions. To pay or reward chtm chey could only allocate chem land-in amounts largt enough ro ensure char rhty were actually stronger than all che ocher warriors or landowners in che area. On the ocher hand che vassals represtnting the central po1wr were restrained by no oach of alltgianct or loyalty from asserting rht independence of cheir area as soon as che relative power positions of che ctnrral ruler and his dtltgates shifrtd in favour of che lacctr. These terrirorial lords or local princes in tfftct own che land once comrolled by che king Exctpt when chreartned from omsidt, chey
L '-"

l99
longer
, rieecl che king Thtv withdww themselves from his power \Vhen chey . . . . the king as militan- leader. rht mon:mtnr is reverstcl and che game scares

lord _is \"tcwrious in che war. Then. through iricl dlfnr emanacinv trom his sword. ht rtgams actual conrrol met he power ' ' c . . . t ] i cerriron- and can disrribure ic antw This is one of che recurnng d1e w io e . - . . . l in che clevelopmem ot \Vesttrn soCiety in che early 1f1ddlt Ages anc es in somewhar moclifitd form. in lacer periods mo somec1m , . . . . , Examples of such processts are snll ro be found wclay outside Europe 10 ). with a similar social srrucrure The den:lopment of ,-\bvssinia shows such rr in 1bundmce cbounh che\ hmt lanerh been somtwhac modified conhgurac1 0 ' ' o . _ . . _ .' tJow of mone\ and othtr inscirucions trom Europe. But che f!se ot Ras bv rtie 111 _ che l'osicion of cenrral rultr or emperor ot rhe \\hole counrry was made Ta1 an rn . _ . . "bl <inh b\" tht milirnrv subi"ugation ot che most powerful cernconal lords: poss1 e , . . - . and the unexpectedly quick collapse: of opposition ro Irnly [in 19_;_6] is txplamecl nor ]east by che face that in chis feudal and predominand y agraf!an region. che tll"" ] cencltncies of che incli\idual cerrirnries were multipl1td as soon as rhc: cenrn c'1 central ruler failed ro fulfil his mosc important cask. char of resisting che external enenw. chus showing himself weak" In .European history uacts of chis mechanism art ro be found as early as rht Merovin12:ian epoch. Here. already. art prtstnr ct1t beginnings of a dt\elopmtnt which che higher imptrial offices into htredirary forms of rule'' E\en ro this period che principle applies char: "The grtacer tht actual economic and social power of chese officials became. the less could che monarchy conremp_lace transferring the offict outside the family on cht death of its incumbtnr In other words. large pares of cht cerrirory passed from the conrrol of the cenrral lord co char of the local rultrs Sequences of chis kind emerge: more clearly in cht Carolingian period. Charlemagne. much like rht tmpc:ror of Abyssinia. replaced che old local dukes wherever he could bv his own .. officials. cht counts. \Vhen. within Ch,1rlema12:ne's Iifecime. counrs showed their self-will and their effecrive control the terriroff encrusted ro chem. he dtspatchecl a new wavt of people from his enrouragt as" row! emo\s. missi cl1Ji11i11ici. ro supervise chem lincler Louis che Pious che of was already beginning ro becomt hereditary. Charlemagne's successors were no longer able 'ro a\"oid facrual recognition of the claim co hertdicariness_s And che royal envoys themselves lose cheir funccion. Louis che Pious was forced co withdraw che missi tl11mi11ici, Under this king who lacked the milirnrv renown of Charlemagne, che cemrifugal tendencies within the imperial and org<mizacion emtrged very clearly.. They reachtd a first peak under Charles III, who in 88'7 could no longer protect Paris from his external enemies. che Danish Normans, by che power of che sword, and scarcely by che powtr of money le is characcerisric of chis tendency char with che end of the dirtcr lint of che Carolingians. che crown went first ro Arnulf of Carimhia.

over <i,gain, assuming che

200

Tht Ciz'i/i::;i11g Pmccu

State For111atio11 and Cil'ifi::;ation

20 l

rhe bastard son of Karlmann, nephew of Charles rhe Fae Arnulf had proved wonh as a mrlrrary leader in rhe border conflicrs wirh rhe invadinu f( b 'X.l . . o ore1gn rn es. ' 1 1en he led rhe Barnnans agamsr rhe weak cemral ruler, he gained rhe recognirion of orher uibes, rhe easrern Fnnks rhe rliLir 11 . . . . . . , , i g1.ins, the Saxons and . rht Swab rans. As armv leader m rhe ori o "il1'1l sense , he \\''lS ra _. . .. . _ , , 1sed to rhe kmgship by rht warnor nobrliff ot rhe German rribes 9 Oner- 'l"ai .
_ '- 'o' n
It

were esrablished with rheir fromier roughly in rhe region of Pressburg sli\i] slowlv [.,ran ' ' To the easr, in rhe central Danube area, the Hunuarians o . be.1;an to serde permanendy Ortos milirary successes were marched by his power inside rhe empire.
n

shown very clearly from where rhe funcrion of kingship in rhis society derived po\ver and legmmar10n In 891 Arnulf succeeded in repellin" the Normans L . . "' near ouvam. Bm when, contromed by a new rhreat, he hesitated only slighrly to lead his army mrn battle, rhe reaction was immediate. Ar once centrifuu-11 c . o' 1orces gamed. rhe upper hand in his weakly unified domain: .. Illo diu morante, multi reguli 1l1 Europa vel regno Karoli sui parruelis excrevere, savs a writer of h J(I . . ( e Everywhere m Europe little kings grew up when he hesitated for a time ro tight.. This illustrates in o_ne semence the social regularities which set their stamp on rhe development of European society in this phase. _ The movement was once again reversed under the firsr Saxon emperors. The tacr rhar rule o\er emire empire fell to the Saxon dukes again shows what was rhe mosr 1mportam funcrion of the central ruler in rhis sociery. The Saxons were parricu!arly exposed ro pressure from rhe non-German tribes jJushing across fro l Tl . m r 1e easr 1e tirsr rask of rheir dukes was to prorecr rheir own rribal terrirn , Bur in so doing rhey also defended rhe land of rhe orher German rribes. In Henry I managed to conclude ar leasr a rruce with rhe Hungarians: in 91g h l l. d _, e 1m1se t a vanced as far as Brandenburg: in 929 he founded rhe fronrier fortress ar Meissen; in 933 he defoared the Hungarians ar Riade, bm wirhom desrroying rhem .or really avemng rhe danger: and in 93-:l in Schleswig he succeeded in resrormg the northern fromiers againsr rhe Danes. 11 All rhis he did primarilv as Saxon duke. These were vicrories of rhe Saxons over peoples rhrearening rl1eir tromiers and rcrntory. Bm in fighring and conquering on their own fromiers, rhe Saxon dukes gained rhe milirary power and repmarion rhar were needed w oppose rhe cemrifugal rendencies wirhin rhe empire . Through external vicrorv rhty laid rhe foundarion of a srrengrhened imernal central Henry I had by and large maintained and consolidared rhe frontiers, ar Ieasr to rhe .north. As soon as he died rhe \Vends revoked rheir peace wirh rhe Saxons. Henry s son Ono drove them back. In rhe following years 9.:P and 938 rhe Hungarians advanced again and were likewise repelled. Then began a new and more powerful expansion. In 9-iO rhe German rerritorv was to rhe Oder region. And, as always, as in rhe presem day, rhe of new lands was followed by the ecclesiasrical organization which-rhen much more stronglv dun now-sen-eel to secure military dominarion. . The same thing happened in rhe somh-easr. In 95 5-srill on German rerrir_ory-rhe Hungarians were defeared ar Augsburg and so driven om more or less hnally As a barrier againsr rhem rhe Easrern Marches, embryo of rhe larer

it:
r

Wherever he could he rried ro replace rhe descendants of lords installed by earlier emperors, who now opposed him as heredirnry local leaders, with his O\Vn rehirions and friends Swabia went to his son Ludolph, Bavaria to his brorher Henry. Lorraine ro his son-in-law Conrad, whose son Otro was given Swabia when Ludolph rebelled At the same time he sought-more consciously, it seems, rhan his

ke

;redecessors-ro counteracr rhe mechanisms which consramly weaken centralism did rhis on the one hand by limiring the powers of rhe local rulers he insralled.

On rhe orher hand he and, more resolurely still, his successors, opposed rhese mechanisms by installing clerics as rulers over regions. Bishops were given rhe secular office of coum This appointmem of high ecclesiasrics wirhour heirs was intended ro put a srop ro rhe tendency of funcrionaries of rhe central aurhoriry to rnrn into a .. heredirnry, landowning arisrocracy .. wirh srrong desires for independence. In rhe long run. however, rhese measures imended ro coumer decenrralizing forces only reinforced rhern They led finally to the conversion of clerical rulers into princes, \Vorldly powers. The preponderance of cemrifugal rendencies over cenrripernl ones that was roored in the srrucrure of rhis sociery emerged yet again. In rhe course of rime rhe spirirual authorities showed rhemselves no less concerned for rhe preservarion of rheir independent hegemony over rhe rerrirory entrusted to rhem rhan rhe secular.. Ir was now in rheir interests roo rhar rhe central aurhoriry should nor grow too srrong. And rhis convergence of rhe interesrs of high ecclesiastical and secular digniraries was a main comributory facror in keeping rhe acwal power of rht cemral amhority of rhe German Empire low for many cenruries, while rhe power and independence of rhe rerritorial rulers increased-die inverse of whar happened in France. There rhe leading eccltsiasrics hardly ever became grear worldly rulers. The bishops, parr of whose possessions were scanered among rhe lands of the various rerritorial lords, remained imeresred in preserving a strong cemral amhoriry for rheir own security. These parallel interests of church and monarchy, exrending over a considerable period, were nor rhe leasr of rhe facwrs which, in France, gave rhe cenrral power preponderance over cemrifogal tendencies ar a relatively early srage. Ar firsr, however, by rhe same process, rhe wesrern Frankish empire disimegrarecl even more rapidly and radically rhan the easrern one. 6. The lasr, wesrern Frankish, Carolingians were by all accounts 12 courageous and clear-thinking men, some of them gifred wirh outstanding qualities . Bm they were contending wirh a sirnarion rhat gave the central ruler lirtle chance,

202

Tlk Cirilizing Pmcu.1


L

20.'i

and one .which. shows parricularlv I . clearlv - how easih ' in this social srructLire , tie cemre of granry could shirr to the disadvanwge of rhe ctntrnl ruleL Lta\ing aside his role as army leader. conqueror and discribuwr of new land the basis of the social power of rhe central lord consisted of his possess10m, rhe land ht controlled directly and from \\hich he had to support servants. _his court and his armed retainers. In this respect rhe central lord was no better oH than any other territorial ruler. Bur rhe personal rtrrirory of the frankish Carolingians had in the course of lonu strul'."lts been lar l western '-_ <:::> .._,o , ge y g1n:n away 10 exchange tor sernces rendered. To obtain and reward support, rhe1r foretarhers had had to disrribure land. Each rime this happtntd-wirhout new conquesrs-d1eir own possessions were reduced. This lefr the sons in a still more precarious position . All new help meant new losses of land. In rhe end the heirs had very little left w distribute. The retainers they were able w feed and pay became fewer and fewec \Ve find the last of rhe western Frankish Carolingians in a sometimes desperate position. To be sme, their vassals were obliged to follow them to war: bm if they had no personal interest in doing so. only the open or concealed pressure of a militarily powerful liege lord could induce rhem to meet this obligation. Tht vassals followed the king. rhe less threatening his power became and so even tewer vassals joined him. \Virh military power as with land, therefore. these social mechanisms. once set in morion. prol'.ressivelv weakened rht position of rht Carolingian kings. ' , Louis IV. a braYe man fighring desperately for survival. is somerimts called "le roi de i\Ionloon. rhe king of Laon. Of all rhe family possessions of the Carolingians. little was left w him except rhe fortress at Laon. Ar rimes rhe last sons of the house had hardly any troops to fighr their wars, jusr as rhe\ had hardly any land to support and pay their followers: "'The rime arriYed rhe descendant of Charlemagne. surrounded by landowners who were rhe m;1srers of their domains, found no other mt<ll1S of kttping mtn in his senice rhan bv handing om territory to rhem with concessions of immunity, rhar is. them to him by making chem more and more independent. and continuing w reign by abdicating more and more." 1 ; Thus the funcrion of rhe monarchv irremediably downhill. and whateYer its occupants did to impron: their in the end wrnecl against them 7 The former rerrirory of the western Frankish Carolingians. rhe embrro of what was to become France, had at rhar rime disintegrar;d into a number of separately ruled areas. After a prolonged struggle between various territorial rulers of roughly equal strength. a kind of equilibrium had been established. \'Vhen rhe dirtcr line of the Carolingians became extinct. rhe chieftains and territorial lords elecrtd rhe one of their number whose houst had outdone rhe others in rhe ficd1t b against rhe hostile Normans, and had rhus long been rhe strongest rim! of rhe weakening monarchy In a similar way in rhe easrem Frankish regions. \\irh rhe end of the Carolingians. rhe local princes who had successful!;- defended rhe

. , ,,. insr rhe invadinl'. peoples from the east and north, Slavs, Hungarians country ,1.0:-'1 . Danes, char is, rhe dukes ot Saxony. were made kmgs __ . l cl been !'receded bv 1 1rorracred strU"gle between rhe house ot Franc1<1 Th1S lll . ' be ., d rhe last. western Frankish Carolingians _ \'\/hen rhe crown wem ro rhe former in rhe person of Hugh Caper. rhey were . i!rt1d\ somewlnr weakened bv a 1>rocess similar to the one char had rhernse lv es ' ' . . ' . . own rhe Catolinl'.ians. The dukes of Francia too had had to form broug lir c! , . . , . . alliances, and obtain strvices in exchangt tor land and nghrs. Ihe rernrory or rhe dukes who had sercled and become Chnsria111zed m Lhe meantime, rhe . _ . Norman - "' AqL11r1in,, md Bur<Lmdv. rhe counties of Aniou and Fhinders. due l11b 01 ' ' ' b . . . Verniandois and Champagne. was scarcely smaller, and !11 son:ie respects more . r nr rlnn rhe familv rerriron- of rhe new roral house ot Francia. And it impor'1 . ' , . . . . : ni.l\' J>O\\'er and rerrirorv rhar counred The power available to rhe kmg was r,1 i . ,, . . rhrough bis family possessions was rhe real basis of his royal power If lus family ssions were no <rearer rhan rhose of ocher rerriwnal rulers. then !us power posse b . . . . . . "re1rer either Ir was onh from rhe tam1h possess10ns and rernror1 rh<tr was n0 c ( he drew regular income From orher territories he drew. ar rhe most. ecclesiastical dues. \VhaL he received beyond char in his rnpaciry as king"' was minimal. Moreover, rhe factor which in rhe German rerriwries constantly restored rhe preponclcrance of rhe cenrralizing royal funcrion over rhe. ctntrifug,11 rendtncies of rhe rerrirorial rulers, their funcrion as military leaders m rhe struggle agamsr external enemies and in rhe conquest of new land. ceased at a relatively early smut w be of importance in rhe western Frankish area. And this is one of rhe reasons why rhe disintegrnrion of rhe royal domain into inclependenr territories occurred earlier here and, ar firsr, in a more radical form. The eastern Frankish region was exposed for far longer ro arrack and rhrear by foreign tribes Hence rhe 'kings nor only consrnnrh rt-emerged as leaders in WMS foughr in common b\ a number of tribes w protect their lands. bur rhey also had the opporrunir;. of invading ;md conquering new lands. which they then clisrribured. So rhey were ar first able to keep a relatively large number of retainers and \'assals dependent on chem. In contrast, rhe western Frankish area, since rhe Normans had serried. had scarceh been rhrearened b\ outside tribes. In addition. there was no possibiliry new lands clirecrly outside iLs borders. unlike rhe siwarion in rhe of eastern Frankish region. This accelerared its disinregrarion. The prime factors giving rhe king preponderance over the centrifugal forces. defence and conquest, were lacking . Since rhere was virrually nothing else in rhe social srrucrure rhar made rhe various regions dependent on a central ruler. rhe larrer's domain was in fact reduced ro lirrle more rhan his own rerrirory
This so-called sovereiun is a mere baron who owns a number of counties on rhe banks of rh: Seine and rhe i:oire rhaL amuunr w scarcely four or five prtstnr-clay c/(/"irt.:m.:nts

204

The Cfrili::ing Process

5111te

Fr1m1atio11 and Ci1i!i:atio11

205

The royal domain jusr manages w susrain his rheorerical majesry. Ir is neither th largtsr nor rhe richesr of rhe rerrirnries making up rhe France of roua\ The kin" 1 e , . . . ' b IS .ts powerrul rhan some or his ma1or rnssals. AncJ like chem he liu:s on rhe . , f rorn his esrnres. dmies from his peasams. rhe work of his bondsmen and rhe gifrs" from rhe abbeys and bishoprics in his rerricory 1 "

. Soon after the crowning of Hugh Caper the weakening nor of the individual kings bur ot the royal function itself, and with ir rhe disintegrarion of rhe roval rerrirories, began slowly and steadily to increase The first Caperians travelled rhroughour the whole country with their courts. The places where the royal decrees were signed give us an idea of rhe way in which rhey journeved in back and forth. They still sat in judgement at rhe sears of major vassals. southern France rhey had a certain traditional influence Ar the beginning of the twelfth century rhe wholly hereditary and independent of rhe various territories previous! y sub jeer to the king was an accomplished face The fifrh of rhe Caperians, Louis rhe Far (1108-_17), a brave and belligerent lord and no weakling, had lirrle say outside his own territory. The royal decrees show that he hardly ever rravelled outside rhe borders of his own ducln. 1' He lived within his own domain. He no longer held court in rhe lands of his grear rnssals . They hardly ever appeared at the royal court. The exchange of friendly visits grew more infrequent, correspondence with other parts of rhe particularly in rhe south. more sparse. France at the beginning of rhe r:elfth century was at best a union of independent territories, a loose federation of greater and lesser domains between which a kind of balance had provisionally been established. 8. \Vithin the German Empire. after a century filled wirh wars between rhe wearers of the royal and imperial crown and rhe families of powerful dukes, one of rhe larrer. the house of Swabia, succeeded in rhe rwtlfrh cemury m again subjugating rhe others and. for a rime. bringing together rhe necessan- means of power in tire central aurhoriry. . Bur from rhe encl of the twelfth century onwards the social centre of gravity moved ever more clearly and inevitably towards the rerritorial rulers in Germany too. However. while in the immense area of the German "Imperium Romanum" or "Sacrum Imperium", as ir was later called. rhe territorial estates were consolidating themselves to the point that they could now for centuries prevent the formation of a strong central power and so the integration of the whole area, in the smaller area of France the extreme disintegration of the end of rhe rwelfrh cenrury now began gradually and-some setbacks norwirhstanding-fairly steadily to give way to a resrorarion of the central aurhorirv and reintegration of larger and larger regions around one centre . The scene of this radical disintegration must be envisaged as in a wa\ the Starting point if we are to understand how the smaller areas joined ro

forn1 a srrong er unit ' and bv _ which social processes were formed the central . rhe laruer units of rule that we designate bv the concept of crans ot b .... l ti.sm"-rhe rulinu appararus which forms rhe skeleton of modern srares. aoso u ei . . . . -! cnbilirv of rhe central aurhorirr and the central msr1rur10ns 111 the The re ,1 ' " ' . . .. . . . . . e l1ll rhe "A"e of Absolunsm contrasts shar1Jlv with rhe msrabd1n ot phase " ' . 0 . .. _ , .. ' the central aurhonry m the feudal_ phase . . . \Vh<it was ir in rhe structure ot soc1ery rhar favoured centralizar10n m the later , . bLir srren"thened the forces opposing centralization in rhe earlier one' o _ 1 This question rakes us ro the centre of rhe dynamics ot social processes. of rhc han"es in human interweaving and interdependence in conjunction wirh which and drive srrucrure were al re reel in rhe direction of "civilization". 9. \Xlhar constantly gave the decentralizing forces in medieval, particularly early medieval. society their preponderance over rhe centraliz'.ng tendencies is not difficult ro see. and has been emphasized by hisrorians ot rhar epoch m a variety of ways Hampe, for example, in his account of rhe European High

Middle Ages, writes:


The (eudalizarion of scares eYerywhere forced rulers rn proYicle rheir army leaders and oflicds wirh land. If rhey were rn arnid being impoverished in rhe process. and co make use of rhe milirary serYices of rheir vassals, they were virnwlly driven rn arremprs ar milirar\ expansion. generally ar the expense of rhe power vacuums around chem. Ar th,1r rime ir was nm economically possible rn avoid this necessity by consrrucring a bureaucracy on the modern parrern.
11

This quotation implicitly shows rhe basic dyamics of both the centrifugal forces and rhe mechanisms in which rhe monarchy was embroiled in rhar society. provided rhar feudalizarion" is nor undersrood as an external "cause" of all these changes. The rnrious elements in this dilemma: rhe necessity of providing warriors and officials wirh land. the unavoidable diminution of the royal possessions unless new campaigns of conquest rook place, the tendency of the central amhorirv to weaken in rimes of peace-all these are pares of rhe great process of feudalizarion.. The quotation also indicares how indissolubly chis specific form of rule and its appararns of government were bound to a parricular economic structure To make rhis explicit: as long as barter relationships predominated in society, rhe formation of a rightly centralized bureaucracy and a stable apparatus of government working primarily with peaceful means and clirecrecl constantly from rhe centre, was scarcely possible The imminent tendencies we have described-conqueror-king. envoys sent by the central authority to administer the country, independence of these envoys or d1eir descendenrs as territorial rulers auainst the central power-correspond to certain forms of and their srruuule bb b economic relationship If in a society rhe production from a small or large piece of land was sufficient ro satisfy all the essential everyday needs of its inhabirnnrs

_?()()

Prr;ccss

20"' r refers w a society in which rht rrnnsfor of goods from rhe person who c;rher. I . k l .. chem from rhe soil or nature to tht person who uses rhem ra es p ace 1. tine is wirhour or almost wirhour i!1[trmediaries. and where rhey are . drrccr')' ' . . . . worked up ar rhe house of one or rhe mhtr'. ,,h1ch may well be rhe samt This t" verv uraduallv btcomes more d1tterenm1red. J\fore and more people er . b . " . . ,. . . . . . rer11ost themsehes as f'uncnonanes or j)rocessmg and d1srnbunon m the 1 1. 5,()\1') l 11 " .. . 0 ( rhe uoods from rhe 1)fimar\' ixoducer to the hnal consumer. How and, passage 1 o . . . . . . , . , .., ill ' whv rh1s ha1J11ens. what is the motI\'t power behmd rh1s prolong.H1on the chains. is a question in irself. At an: nm: mone; is nothing o_rher rhan an irselt when these rnsuu , which is needed and wirh which socierr provides .... . <T(lW lonuer when work and disrriburion art ditteremiarccl. and which cl .. ii c ' , _ rrtin circumsrances rends ro reinforce rhis differenriarion. If rht rerms l!i1(lt r Ct ' "barter economy" and "money tconomy' art used. it can easily appear as if an absolute antithesis exists between these rwo economic forms, and such an has unleashed man\' "tned 1ntirhtsis ' a dis11ure In rhe actual social process rhe 'chains between production and consumprion change and differenriart \try ,,raduallr. nor ro mention rhe facr char in some secrors of \Vesrern sociery 0 .. economic communication o\er long distances and rims rhe use ot money ne\'er enrirelv ctased Thus, ,ery gradually. rhe money secror of rhe economy increases again ... as do the differentiation of social funcrions, rht inrerdepc:ndence of different regions. and the dependence of large popularions on one another: all rhese are differtnr aspecrs of rhe same social process. And so too rht change in the form and appararus fCir ruling rhar has been discussed is nothing other than a further aspecr of rhis process. The structure of the cenrral organs corresponds to rhe srructure of rhe division and interweaving of functions. The suengrh of rhe wirhin societies based centrifugal rendencic:s cowards local f'olitical predominant!\' on a barter economy corresponds to rht degree of local <c11no11;1c
L L

from clorhing w food and household implements, if rhe diYision of labour and rht exchange of producrs O\'tr longer disrnnces were poorly de,tloped. and if ,1ccordingly-all chest are difrertnr aspecrs of rhe same form of incegrarionroads were bad and rht means of uansportarion rudimtnran. rht:n dlt: inrerdependence of differem regions \ms also slighc Only when chis inrerdependence grows considerably can relariYely srnblt cemral insriwriuns for a number of larger areas be formed. Before chis rhe social srrucrnre simply offers no basis for chem.
A hiswrian of rhe period \Hires: "\Ve can scarcely imagine how difficulr it was. giYen medie,al rransporrarion conclirions, w rult and adminisrer an . . .. 1exrenSI\'e empire

Charlemagne. too, supported himself and his courr essenrially from rhe produce of his old family esrare scarrered berween rhe Rhine, rhe .Maas and rhe Moselle. Each "Palarium .. or manor-in Dopsch 's convincing accoum 1'-was associated with a number of households and Yillages in rhe vicinity. The emperor and king moved from manor co manor in rhis relatively small area. supporting himself and his followers on rhe re,enut from rht surrounding households and villages. Trade over long distances was never enrirely lacking e\en ar chis rime: bur ir was essenrially a uade in luxury goods, ar rare nor in articles of dailv use. En:n wine was nor, in general. transported O\'tr long distances. AnHme wanted to drink wine had w product ic in his own disuicr. and onh h.is nearest neighbours could obr,1in am surplus through exchange. This is rhere were in rhe i\ficlclle Ages vineyards in regions \\here wine is no longer rnlrirnred today, rhe grapes being roo sour or rhtir planrarions "uneconomic". for example in Flanders or Normandy. Conversely, regions like Burgundy which art for us synonymous wirh viniculture. were nor near!: as specialized in winemaking as rhey lartr became. Thtrt. rno. ever\' farmer and esrnre had to be. up w a certain point. "aurarkic" As lace as rht seve!1[ee!1[h century rhere were only eleven parishes in Burgundy where everyone was a wine-grower Thus slowh do rhe various disrricrs become imerconnecrtd. are communications dt\'tloped: are rhe division of labour and rhe inregrarion of larger areas and popularions increased; and increased correspondingly is rhe need for a means of exchange and unirs of calculation ha\'ing rhe same \'alue o\er large areas: mone\ To understand rht ci,ilizing process iris particularly important ro ha\'t a clear and vivid conception of chest social processes. of what is meam b, barter or domesric economy ..... money economy", "imerdependtnce of large "change in rhe social dependence of the individual". "increasing division of functions". and so on. Such concepts too easily become verbal ftrish;s which have lose all pictorial qualit\' and rhus, really, all clariry.. The purpose of this necessarily brief account is ro give a concrete perception of rhe social relationships referred ro here b\ rhe concept of the "barter economy" \\fhar it indicares is a quire specific way in which people are bound rogerher and dependent on each

l O. Two phases can generally be distinguished in rht developmem of such prtclominanrly agrarian warrior socieries. phases which may occur once only or alrernate frequently [he phase of rht belligerent expansionist central lords and char of rhe consening rulers who win no new land . In rht first phase the central aurhoriry is strong. The primary social funcrion of rhe central lord in rhis society manifests irself direcrly. rhar of the army ltadeL \Vhen over a long period the roval house does nor manifest itself in this belligerent role, when rht king is nor needed as army leader or has no success as such, rhe secondary functions lapse as well. for example rhat of rhe highest arbitrator or judge of rht whole region. and rht ruler has ar borrom no more than his ride ro distinguish him from orher rerrirorial lords. In the second phase, when the frontiers are nor threatened and the conquest of new land is impossible for one reason or another. centrifugal forces necessarily gain rhe upper hand. \Vhile earlier the conquering king has actually controlled

208

The Cil'i/i::;ing Process

Std!t For111atio11 c111cl Ciz'i/i::;ation

209

che emire coumrv. in rimes of relacive peace it increasingly slips away from auchority. Anyone wich a piec<: of land regards himself as ics firsc ruler. reflects his actual dependence on the cemral lord which in more peaceful is minimal Ac chis srnge, when che economic imerdependence and imegracion of J . . . . . _ _ arge areas is lackll1g or only beg!l1n!l1g, a noneconomic torm ot incegration appears all the m_ore scrongly: milirary imegracion, alliance t0 repel a common foe . Beside sense ot community wich ics scrongesc supporc in che common faith a and its mosc 1mporranr promorers in the clergy-but which never prevents disimegration, nor of itself brings about an alliance, merely strengthening and guiding it in cerrain directions-the urge co conquer and the necessity of resisting conquest is che most fondamemal faccor binding cogether in regions lying relatively far apart. For this very reason every such alliance in this society is, compared wich lacer periods, highly unstable, and the preponderance of decemralizing forces very great The two ph,1ses of chis agrarian society, the phases of conquering and of conserving rulers. or merely spurcs in one direction or the ocher, ma\ alcernate as has been noted. And this is what actually happened in che hiswry ,of countries. But the examples of German and French development also show thar despice all che countervailing movements in che periods of conquering rulers, rhe tendency for che larger dominions t0 disincegrnte and for land t0 pass from the control of che cemral lord t0 char of his erstwhile vassals proceeded, up ro a cercain rime. continuously \Vhy Had che external rhreac tO che former Carolingian Empire, which really conscirnced che \Vesc at rhat rime, abated) \Vere chere yec other causes for rhi.s progressive clecentralizacion of the Carolingian Empire' The question of the mocive forces of this process mav rake on nt\\. sil!nificance if seen in relation to a familiar concepc This gr:1Jual dtcentraltzarion of governmem and cerrit0ry, this rransicion of che land from rhe concrol of che conquering central ruler ro rhac of rhe warrior caste as a whole is nothing ocher chan che process known as feudalizarion"
1

. n in che \Vesc The cendenC\ t0 chink in terms of isolated causes, t0 . . . . . . for individual creators ot sooal uansformar10ns, or ac mosc to see onl} che ,1specr of social insrirncions and ro seek che examples on which chey were rhis has made chtse processes and 111sr1turnodefl ed bv , chis or chat auenc-all o . . rions as inaccessible w our rhoughc as namral processes were earlier ro scholasnc

feuda Iiz<1t1 0

.
1

More recendy hiscorians have begun tO break chrough tO a new way of posll1g . hist0rians concerned with che origins of feudalism are rhe ques rion . Incre1singh 'zin" char this is neither a deliberace crear10n ot 1!1d1v1duals, nor dots _ic . ernp lMSI c. . . . of inscirncions char can be s1111ph explarned br earlier ones. Dopsch, tor cons 1st . . . . . sws of feuclalizacion: "\Ve are concerned here w1rh ll1St1nmons char examp le, ' into beinu were nOr cilled ' o deliberarelr . and inremionallv . bv . sraces or che bearers of state power in order ro realize cerrnin policical ends." 2 (1 And Calmecce formulates still more clearly this approach tO the social
L , , _ L.

processes of hisrory:
However diffr:rtm the feudal system is from the preceding it. No revolution, no individual will has produced it le feudalicy belongs rn the caregory of what might be called "narnral fans of hisrnry. Its formarion was determined by proceeded seep by seep
21

one, it results direcrly from is part of a long ernlution the 'nawral occurrences" or quasi-mechanical forces and

Elsewhere in his study La .rociJt( ffr1r!C1!e be says:


To be sure. knowledge of antecedents, char is, of similar phenomena preceding a given phenomenon, is interesting and instrucrive rn historians, and we shall nm ignore it Bur these "amecedems' are not the only factors involved and I'erhaps not rhe most important The main thing is not rn know where the "feudal tlemem comes from, whether its origins are rn be sought in Rome or among the Germans. bm why rhis element has rnken on its "feudal .. character If these foundations became what they were. d1e 1 owe chis rn an en1lmion whose secret neither Rome nor the Germans can cell us . irs formarion is the- n:sL1lt of forces char can only be compared with geological ones:-:.2

III
The Increase in Population after the Great Migration
11 For some rime, undersrnnding of che problem of feudalizacion has been undergoing a pronounced change which perhaps merits more explicit emphasis than ic has received hicherrn . As with social processes in general, che older mode of hiswrical research has failed ro come properly ro grips with rhe process of

The use of images from rhe realm of nacure or technology is unavoidable as Jon!! as our language has nor de,eloped a clear, special vocabulary for sociohis;orical \Vhy images are provisionally sought in these realms is readih explained: for che rime being they express adequately rhe compelling strengch of social processes in hist0ry And however much one may thereby expose oneself ro misundersrnnding, as if social processes and their compulsions, ori"inac1n" b ' b in rhe inrerrelacionships of men., were really of rhe same nature as, for example, the course of rhe earth about che sun or che acrion of a lever in a machine. the endeavour w find a new, scructural manner of posing hiscorical questions reveals itself ,ery clearly in such formulacions . The relacion of later

21 () inscicmions to similar inscirncions in an earlier phase is alwavs of siunifi . . . . . b Bm here the h1sronca! question is why insricmions. and also people's conduct and attecnw make-up and whr cher chanue in chis inn I . . .. . "" ' rcu ar way \Ve are concerned \\"Ith the strict order ot socio-historical And perhaps it is .not easy even today to understand chat chest transformations are not to be explamed by something chat itself remains unchanged. and scill easy to r_ealiz_e char in history no isolated fact ever brings abom any transformation by itself. bm only in combination wirh others . F.inally. these transformations remain inexplicable as long as explanation is limited to the ideas of individuals written clown in books. \\!hen enquiring into soc'.al processes one must look at the web of human relationships. at society irsel( find rht compulsions rhar keep them in morion. and give chem their particular form and their particular direction. This applies to rht process of ftuclalizarion as to the process of increasing division of labour; it applies w countless other processes represented in our conceptual apparams by words wirhom processwhich stress particular institutions formed by rhe process in question, tor example. rht concepts of "absolmism... 'capitalism". "barter economv" money economy" and so on. All these point beyond themselves ro changes in structure of human relationships which clearly were nor planned by individuals and to which individuals were subjected whether willindr or nor And ti lls applies finally ro changes in the human habitus itself. to rhe ci\"ilizing process
L

211 rhe Grman tribes overran a large part of the Celts' rerriron-, which in . II. f!na ! ' , rime had likewise ui,en rise to an "older culture", The Germans 111 their b . . land they had conquered agamsr new waves of I f nded .rhis . "cultured" curn lee . Jes ,1drnncrng from all sides . 2 after rhe death of Mohammed in 632 the Arabs were set in -,1' chev had conquered the whole of Spain with rhe exception ot the l3v f J , . . . ' n moL1nrains century rh1s wave came Astuna ' Towards .the middle . of the eighth . , nclsrill 1r ro a sr.1 ' the souchern frontier of che Frankish empne, as Celtic waves had earlier done before rht gates of Rome t tilt Fr,1nk1'sl1 en11)ire. B\.' the rn'b es acl vance cl agams From rhe east Sl avon1c . . rhe ei"hrh centurv the\ had reached the Elbe . Of encl
L , L _

If in rhe year 800 a political propher ha<l possessed a map of Europe as we can now reconscrucr ic. ht might well have been misled imo pre<licring char rhe whole eastern half of rhe Cominem from the Danish peninsula rn che Peloponnese was destined rn become a Sla,onic Empire nr ar lease a po,verful group of Sla\'Cinic coumries. From rhe Elbe esrnary co rhe Ionian sea ran an unbroken line of Slarnnic peoples chis seems ro mark rhe fromier of Germanic cerrirnry. c;
Their movement came to a srandsrill somewhat later chan that of the Arabs. Then rhe struggle long remained undecided. The frontier between Germanic and Slarnnic tribes now moved somewhat forward, now back again. By and large the Slavonic wave was held at the Elbe from about 800 onwards \Vhar may be called the "originally seeded territory" of the west had thus. under rhe rule and leadership of Germanic tribes, preserved its frontier against the migrating tribes. Representatives of earlier waves defended it against chose following, rhe last waves of migration that passed across Europe. These, prevented from advancing forrhtr. slowly settled outside the borders of the Frankish empire. And so a fringe of populated regions formed about rhe latter in large areas in rhe interior of Europe. Previously nomadic tribes rook possession of rhe land. The great migrations slowly came to rest, and the renewed intrusions of migrating peoples char occurred from rime to rime, by the Hungarians and tinaily rhe Turks, foundered sooner or later on the superior defensive techniques and the strength of chose already in possession 13.. A new situation had been created. There were no longer any empty spaces in Europe. There was virtually no usable land-usable in terms of the agricultural techniques then available-that had noc been pre-empted. By and large Europe, and above all its large interior regions, was now more completely populated than ever before, even if incomparably less densely than in the centuries thac followed. And there is every indication char population increased to the same extent as the upheavals accompanying the great migrations abated. This changed the whole svsrem of tensions between and within the various peoples . . In late antiquity rhe popular ion of the "old cultural regions .. declined more or

1' One of the mosr important motors of change in rht structure of human relationships. and of tht insricutions corresponding ro them. is rhe increase or decrease of population Ic too cannoc be isolated from the whole drnamic web of human relationships. Ir is nor, as prevalent habits of thought. incline us to assume. in itself the "firsc cause" of socio-historical movement But amidst rhe intertwining factors of change chis is an imporrnm clement char should ne\tr be neglected. It also shows particularly clearly the compelling narure of these social forces. Ir remains to bt established what role factors of chis kind playtd in the phase under discussion It may help unclersrancling of chem ro recall brietly rhe last movements in rht migration of peoples
Up ro the eighth and nimh centuries tribes migrating from the ease. north and south pushed in recurrent spurts inrn the already populated areas of Eurnpe. This was the lase and biggest wave in a movement that had gone on owr a long period. \'Vhat we set of it art small episodes: the irruption of Htllenic "barbarians., into the populared areas of Asia Minor and the Balkan peninsula. the penetration by the Italian "barbarians" of the neighbouring western peninsula, rhe aclrnnce of che Celtic "barbarians into rht cerrirory of che former who had now in their turn become to some txttnt "civilized" and whose land had becomt a centre of "ancient culture". and the definitive settling of these Celtic tribes ro rhe west and parch to che north of them

2l2

Thr: Cizi/i::;ing Prncess

State Formc1tio11 and Cfri/i::;c1tio11

213

less rapidly In consc:quence rhe social insrirutions corresponding to relatively large and dense populations disappeared also. The use of money within a societ, for example, is bound up with a certain level of populariun densiry. It is essential prerequisire for rhe differentimion of work and the formation of markets. If the popularion falls below a certain level-for whatever reasons-the markets automatically empty. The chains berween the person producing a commodity from nature and ics consumer grew shorter . .Money lost its instrumental funcrion . This was the direction of development at the end of antiquity. The urban senor of society grew smaller.. The agrarian characrer of society increased. This development took place the more easily as the division of labour in antiquiry was never remotely as great as, for example, in our own societv. A proportion of urban households were always to a degree direcdy suppiied. independemly of commercial or manufacturing intermediaries. by the grear slave estates. And as the overland transportation of goods over long distances was always extremely difficult, given the state of technology in antiquity, longdisrnnce trade was essentially confined to waterborne transport. Large markets and towns and \igorous monetary activiry developed in proximity to water. Inland areas always preserved a predominantly domestic rype of economy. Even for the urban population, the autarkic household and economic self-sufficiency never declined to rhe exrent chat they have in modern \Vestern society. \Vith the fall in population this aspect of che social structure of antiquity regained prominence. \\?irh the end of the migration of peoples, chis movement was once again reversed. The influx and subsequent seeding of so many new rribes provided the basis for a new and more comprehensive popularion of che whole European area. In rhe Carolingian period chis population srill had an almost completely domestic economy, perhaps even more so than in che Merovingian period. 2 ' One indication of this may bt chat the political cemre moved still further inland, where hitherto-owing to the difficulties of overland transport-the political centres preceding those of rhe medieval \Vesr had never been situated, with few exceptions such as rhe Hittite Empire. \Ve may assume char the population was beginning co increase very slowly in chis period \Ve already hear of forest clearance, and that is always a sign thar land is growing scarce, the density of population rising . But these were cerrninly only the initial stages. The great migrations had not yet entirely abared . Only from the ninth cemury onwards did the signs of a more rapidly increasing population multiply. And not very long afterwards there are already indications of overpopulation here and there in the former Carolingian regions Fall in population at the end of amiquicy, slow rise once more under different circumstances in che aftermath of the migrations of peoples: a brief recrospecrive summary must be enough to recall to mind the curve of chis movement. l-i Phases of perceptible on:rpopulacion alternate in European history with

flower internal pressure. But rhe term "overpopularion" needs explaining. those o . b r l . l b. . . I Ir is not a product of the absolute num. er or peop e m 1a a certain area n heavily industrialized society wlth intensive unlizatton of the land, highly a eve loped Jon"-discance trade and a government favouring che industrial againsr "' d . . "rafrm sector through imr)ort and export duties, a number. of people can rne ,1.:::i ' . ore or less tolerablv which in a barter tcononw with extensive agncultural ' ._ Ivem and little long-disrance trade, would co_nstic_me with all irs typical symptoms. "Overpopulation" is rheretore hrsc of all a term tor growth of population in a parcicular area to a point where, in the given soCial scructurt, sacisfacrion of basic needs is possible for fewer and fewer people. \Ve rims encounter "overpopulation" only relative to certain social forms and a certain sec of needs, a social overpopulation. _ _ Irs svmproms in societies which have attained a certain degree of difterentiaci;n are, broadly speaking, always the same: increased tension within sociecy; greater self-encapsulation by those who "have", i.e., in a predominantly barter economy, chose who "have land", over against chose who have nor", or ac anv race not enough to supporc themselves in a manner conforming with their st;ndards; and often, increased self-encapsulation, among che "haves", of chose who have more than che rest; a more pronounced cohesion of people in tht same social situation co resist pressure from chose omside it or, inversely, co seize opporrnnicies monopolized by ochers. In addition, increased pressure on neighbouring areas with lower population or weaker defences, and finally, an increase in emigration and in the tendency to conquer or at lease setde in new lands. It is difficult co say whether available sources can give an exact picture of population growth in Europe in rhe centuries following the migrarions, and particularly of differences in population density berween different regions. But one chin<' is certain: as rhe miurntions slowlv came co a srandscill, once the major stfll"''le: amona had to an end, one after another all the bb b the different symptoms of such "social overpopulation., showed themselves-a rapid growth of population accompanied by che transformation of social institutions, 15. The symptoms of increasing population pressure first appeared clearly in rhe wescern Frankish empire. Here. about the ninth century. the threat from foreign rribes slowly receded, unlike rhe situation in the eastern Frankish empire In che part of che empire named after them rhe Normans had grown peaceable. With the help of the western Frankish Church, they rapidly absorbed the language and che whole tradition about chem. in which Gallo-Romanic and elements were mingled. They added new elements of their own In particular. they brought about important advances in the administrati\'t strLlCture within che territorial framework. From no\v on rhey played a decisive part as one of che leading rribes in rhe federation of western Frankish territories . The Arabs and Saracens caused occasional unrest on the Mediterranean coast,
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5tdfr Fom1t1ti11n and Cizi!i::atio;1


but by and large rhe\ coo. from die ninth centunchrear ro rhe survival of rhis empire To rhe east of France lay rhe German "Imperium" which under che ,,- be emperors had again 1o;rown 11owtrfuL \virh minor exce1)[ions rhe fronr 1 quarter of rhe rhirteenrh cenrury .

215

ncer ,. . . . '11<' ot rhe elevend1 ctntunNorman kn11o;hrs were 1o;o111g ro southern 111 n 1 r}1e bCi! t;
L
L.

n"l colonizarion wenr rhe exrernal conquesr of new rerrirory elsewhere. By


L-

<

r;J hire rhemselves our as warriors to individual princes,

In 1029 one of

. . . . u rween 1r and rhe wescern Frankish emp1rt scarcely moved trom rhe renth ro the

r hem

In 925 Lorharingia was won back from the

boundary of rhc duchy of Naples. Ochers followed. among rhem orher sons ot a inor Norman lord. Tancrede de Hameville. Ht had rwelve sons m all; how

\yis ' enfeoffed for his services wirh a small piece of land on rhe norrhern .

empire. and 111 l 0.'>-1 Burgundy. Apart from chis. rension along this line was nor high until 12.26 The empire s expansionisr rendencies were direcred essenrialJ,, 1 rn rhe east. . The external rhrear ro che wesrern Frankish empire was rherefore relatively sl1ghr Equally sl1ghr. however, were the possibiliries of expanding beyond ex1snng frontiers. The easr in parricular was blocked bv borh rhe 1101)Liht' . . "ion cIens1ty and the military srrengrh of rhe empire Bur within rhis area, now rhar rhe exrernal rhrear had diminished. population began to mcrease markedly. Ir grew so strongly after the ninrh centun- rhat b che beginnmg of rhe foLuTeen;_h century ir was probably almosr as large. as ar begmnmg of rhe eighteenth This movement cerrainlv did nm proceed in a scraighr line. bur rhere is an abundance of evidence ro show rhar, by and large. popularion increased sreadilv; rh1s evidence has w be seen as a whole if rhe srrengrh of rhe overall movemen.t. and rhe meaning of each individual piece of e\iclence wirhin ir. are ro be unclersrood From rhe end of rhe tenth onwards. and more so in rht elevtmh, rhe pressure on land. rhe desire for new land and grearer producti\iry from rhe old, art more and more visible in rhe wesrern Frankish region. As menrioned. forests were already cleared in rhe Carolingian period and no doubt earlier roo. Bur in che eleventh cemury rhe rempo and exrenr of the clearance accelerare:d. \X'oods wert ftlled and marshlands made arable as far as rhe rechnology of rhe rime permirrecL The period from abom 1050 w abour 1300 was rhe gre:ar age of cleforesrarion. of rhe inrernal conquesr of ntw land, in 2 France. ' Abour 1300 rhis movemem slowed clown again

:ere rhey ro be sustained ro a firring srnndard on rheir farhers land' Eighr of 1 rherefore went to southern Irn!v. . and rhere obrained in rime whar was denied ro rhem ar home: control of a piece of land. One of them, Robcrr Guiscard, gradually became rht acknowledged leader of rhe Norman \Varriors. He unired rhe scarrered esrares or rerriwries rhar indi,iduals had won for themselves. From 1060 onwards rhey began under his leadership rn advance inro Sicily By Roberr Guiscards dearh in 1085 rhe Saracens had been pushed back into rhe sourh-\vtsr corner of rht island. All rhe resr was in Norman hands and formed a new Norman feudal empire. None of rhis had acrually bten planned. Ar rht ourser we haw rhe population pressure and rhe blocked opportuniries ar home. rhe emigration of individuals whose success arrracrs orhers; ar rhe end we bt\'e an empire Something similar happened in Spain . In rhe renth century French knighrs wenr w the aid of rhe Spanish princes in rheir srruggles againsr rhe Arabs. As memioned, rhe wesrern Frankish area, unlike rhe easrern, did nor border on an extensive area open ro colonization and peopled by largely disunirecl rribes. To rhe tasr rhe empire prewntec! furrher expansion. The Iberian peninsula was rhe only direcr way our. Up ro rhe middle of rhe eleventh century only individuals or small bands crossed rhe mounrains: rhen, rhey gradually became armies, The Arabs, splir internally, offered slighr. sporadic resisrance . In l 085 Toledo was taken. and in 109-i Valencia under rhe leadership of El Cid, onh ro be losr shordy afrerwards. The struggle was waged back and forth. In 1095 a French mum was invesred wirh rhe reconquered rerrirory of Portugal. Bm ir was only in 11-i'. wirh rhe aid of members of rhe Second Crusade, thar his son finally succeeded in gaining control of Lisbon and rhere ro some degree srabilizing his rule as a feudal king Aparr from Spain. rhe only possibiliry of gaining new land near France lay across rhe Channel. Even in rhe firsr half of rhe eleventh century individual Norman knighrs had srruck our in rhis direcrion Then in l 066 rhe Norman Duke wirh an army of Norman and French knighrs crossed ro rhe island, seized power and redisrribmed rhe land The possibiliries of expansion, rhe prospecrs of new land in rhe vicinity of France, grew more and more restricted. Eyes were casr furrher afield. In 1095. before rhe grear feudal lords began ro move. a band led by rhe knight \\?airer Habenichrs. or Gamier Senzavoir. ser our for Jerusalem; it perished in Asia J\Iinor. In 109' a mighry army under rhe leadership of Norman and French

IV
Some Observations on the Sociogenesis of the Crusades
16 The grear onslaughr from ourside had subsided. The earth was fruitful. Popularion was growing, Land, rhe mosr important means of producrion. rhe epitome of property and wealrh in rhis sociery. was becoming scarce. Deforesranon. rhe opening up of new land wirhin. was not nearlv sufficienr ro offset rhis scarciry New land had ro be soughr omsicle rhe Hand in hand with

216

The Cil'ili:::ing Pmcess


of population, necessarily shrank for each _indi_vidual; rhe .incessant feuds nsions unleashed rhe hi ,,h rare ot rnrant morralnv, illness and thllt these re ' b . . d . . all chat may have eliminated a part ot the human surplus . An it IS chat rhe relariw:ly unprotected peasantry were harder hie than the . Moreover, the freedom of movement of the former group was so Ii mired warnobrs.. . 11 communicHions between different regions were so difficult, that a O\'e ,1 ' ' . . hbour power could not be guicklv and evenly discnbured Thus 1n l he surJ us ' . . 1 r r shorrnue of labour might result from feuds and pillage, plagues, the one a.ea b . . . . l . ot new land or the flight ot serfs while a surplus was accumu atrng opening up . _ .c ' . .. in ochers. And rn tact we have, for the same penod, clear e\ 1dence _of an excess attract free tenants, d m en in one area and of efforts . rn ochers ro .. boos W cl1at i's rulers ortecinu labourers 1m1xoved cond1t10ns. JJosp1tes ' b . . . Be char as it may, what is above all characrerisnc of the operarmg t liir nor only was a "reserve army" of bondsmen or serfs .formrng m rh1s here 1s ' ' . . but also a "reserve arnw" sooety, of rhe 11pptl' c/,1ss, of .k111ghcs . w1rhour property, l10 Lit enouuh ro maintain their standards . Only or w1c b . lil this way can the narnre of chis first \'\/estern expansionist phase be undersrood. Peasants. the sons of bondsmen, were certainly involved in one way or another in rhe for colonization. bur rhe main impulse came from the knights' shortage of land. New land could only be conquered by rhe sword. The knights opened a way by torce o 1 'arms, the\' . rook rhe lead and formed rhe bulk of the armies. The surplus population in the upper class gave this first period of expansion and colonization . its special scamp.. The rift between those who had land and chose who had none or too linle, ran right d1rough chis society. On rhe one hand were the land-monopolises-warrior families, noble houses and landowners in the first place, bur also peasants, bondsmen. serfs. hosj1ites, who ocrnpied a piece of land that supported them, however meagrely. On che other hand were chose from both classes who had been_ deprived of land . Those from the lower classes--displaced by the shortage of opporrnniries or rhe oppression of their masters-played a pare in the emigration or colonization, bur above all they provided the population of rhe growing towns. Those from the warrior class, in short rhe "younger sons", whose inheritance was roo small either for their demands or for their mere sustenance, rhe "have-nots" among rhe knights, appear down rhe centuries wearing the most disparate social masks: as Crusaders, as robber-leaders, as mercenaries in the of great lords; finally they form the basis of the first srancling armies. 18 . The often-quoted dictum: "No land wirhour a lord", is nor only a basic legal principle. It is also a social watchword of rhe warrior class . Ir expresses the knights' need ro rake possession of every scrap of L1Sable land. Sooner or later this had come about in all the regions of Larin Christendom. Every available piece of land was in firm ownership . Bur rhe demand for land continued and even increased. The chances of satisfying ir diminished. The pressure for expansion

rerri torial lords adrnnced into the Holy Land . The Crusaders first had rhemse!v . rnvesred b? the Eastern Roman Emperor with the lands ro be conquered, e;, advanced further, conquered .Jerusalem and founded new feudal dominions There is no reason co assume char wirhouc rhe guidance of rhe Church. d. l"' . . re 1g1ous lrnk with the Holy Land, this expansion would have been directed p'reci.stly char place. Buc nor is it. probable rhar wichouc rhe social pressure \\_1cl11n the \\esrern Frankish reg10n and then rn all the other reuions of L . . d . b attn Cl1nscen om, the Crusades would have taken place The tensi.ons within this society were not only manifested in desire for land and bread. Ibey exerced pressure upon the whole person . The social pressure the monve force. as a generator supplies currenr Ic ser people rn monon. fhe Church steered this pre-existing force. Ic embraced the general distress and gave It a hope and a goal omside France. Ic nave rhe struggle fior l d . . b new an an overarchrng meanmg and justification Ic mrned rhis into a stru<n'le r, the Christian faith. bb or
Le

l-; The Crusades are a specific form of the first urear movement ot . . b ' c., ans1on colonizanon by the Christian \'\Iese. Dming the great migrations, in which tor cenrnries tribes from the ease and north-ease had been driven in a western and souch-wescern d!reccion, _rhe urilizable areas of Europe had been filled up with people to the furthest frontiers. rhe British Isles. Now rhe migrations had sropped. The r:1ild climate, fertile soil and unfettered drives favoured rapid mulnpl1canon Ihe land grew too small The human wave had trapped itself in a cul-de-sac, and from this confinement it strained back towards rhe easr. both in the Crusades and within Europe itself, where the German-populated area slowly spread, through heavy conflicts, further and further ease beyond che Elbe to rhe

C?der. then to the Vistula esrnary, and finally Prussia and rhe Baltic lands, even it it were only German knights, nor German farmers. who succeeded in
n1igraring so fi1r.

. Bur precisely this lase face shows \'ery clearly one of the peculiarities d1srrngu1shing this first phase of social overpopulation and expansion from later ones. In general, wjrJ1 the advance of the civilizing process, and rhe concomitant constraint and regulation of human dri\'es-and their advance is alwavs scronuer fi . b , or reasons to be discussed later, in the upper than in che lower classes-the birrhra:e slowly_ declines, usually less rapidly in rhe lower rhan in che upper srrara. fh1s. difference between the average birch race of rhe upper and lower classes is often highly significant for the maintenance of rhe standard of rhe former. This first phase of rapid population growrh in the Christian \'\Iese is distinguished from the later ones, howe\er, by rhe face rhac in ir che ruling stratum, the warrior class or nobility, increased hardly less rapidly rhan rhe stratum of bondsmen, tenants and peasants, in shore, of chose who directly worked the land. The struggle for rhe available opportunities which. wirh

218

The Cil'iIi:;i11g Pmc,.c_r

Std!, F11m1t1!i1Jn

,//Id Ciz'i!i::c1tio11

219

rose, as did rhe rension wirhin sociery. Bur rhe specific dynamic which was imparted ro sociery as a whole did nor emanare solely from rht malcontents:; was nectssaf!ly communicared also to chose rich in land. In rhe poor d .t . !! ! l. . k . l . , ebtfl cc en.' c ec i_nrng n1g irs the social pressure maniftsred itself as a simple for a piece of land and labourers ro support rhtm in keeping with their standards. In tht f!cher warf!ors, the grtater landowners and territorial lords - - - . . - . ' It Was expressed 11kew1se as an urge for new land. But what lowtr down was a I 51mpe . _ . _ . . d es1re for .i means of subs1srence appropnate to one's class was hi"her llj} a l . . ' 'c( c rive tor enlarged domrn1011, fur "more" land and so more social !}0\Vtr as well Th' ll1g tor enlarged property among the richer landowners, above all those of the hrst rank, tht counts, dukes and kings, sprang nor onh from rhe j}er- al b. >On am mon of individuals. \Ve have already setn by the example of the western Frankish Carolll1g1ans. also the first Capetians. how unremittingly, unless there was_ a poss1bi11ty of conquering new land, even royal houses were forced 1nro. dtclll1e by a compelling social process cenrred on the ownership and d1srnbu[]on ot land. And if, rhroughout this whole phase of ounvarc! and inward expansion, we see nor only 1:oor knighrs but also many rich ones striving afi:er new land to ll1crease their family power. this is no more than a sign of how strongly rhe structure and situation of this society imposed rhe same srrivinrr on whether simply ro mvn land in rhe cast of the dispossessed. or to more land 111 the case of the rich . Ir has thought that craving for "more" property, rht acquisitive urge, is a spec1hc charactensr1c of "capitalism .. and thus of modern rimts . In this view medie:al society was distinguished by conrenrmenr with rhe income appropriate ro ones social sranding. \Virhin certain limics this is no doubt correcr. if the striving for "more" is undersrood as applying _ro money alone. Bm for a long period of rhe Middlt Ages 1 r_ was nor ownership or money but of land which consrirurecl rht essential form of ownership. The acquisitive urge thus necessarily had a differenr form and a differenr direction. It demanded differenr modes of conduct ro those of a socierv with a money anclmarket economy. It may be rrut that only in modern rimes did there develop a class specializing in trade, with a desire ro earn ever-increasing amounrs of 111011c) through uninrerrupted roil. The social structures which. in rhe predominantly barter economy of rhe Middle Agts. led to a desire for everincreasing means of production-and it is structural fearures that are important 111 both cases-are less easy ro perceive, because land not monev was desired. In addition, political and military functions had nor yet been differenriartd from economic ones as they have gradually become in modern socierv. Milirnn- action and political and economic striving were largely idenrical, ;111d rhe .urge to increase wealth in the form of land came ro the same thinu as territorial sovereignty and increasing military power. The man in particular area, i.e. the one with most land. was as a direct result the most
_ IS

!J1Jwert-ul n11r 1 1 a ril\ . . w1.th the lar.!!eSt retinue: he was at once armv . leadtr and
l

. because tstate owners were in a certain sense opposed ro one another, Pre ciselv

as states are roday, the acquisition of new land by one neighbour represenred

1!JW'

---c or indirect threat ro the orhers. Ir meanr, as todav, a shift of equilibrium ' '.' Inc was usuallv a very labile svsrem of power balances in which rulers were
_, (1J[CC

mechanism which, in chis j)hase of inrernal and external expansion. h - -mjJle Lit kept cht richer and mort powerful knighrs in morion no less than the poortr - e1c]1 beinu <uard agarnst ex1x1ns1on bv others. and consramlv 0 constanth. on e> 0 ne=>1 h k n" to enlarue seeic c his own jJossessions. \\!hen a societv . has once betn . put in such
<..--

allies and j}Otenrial entm1es ot one another. fh1s. therefore. 1s l . .5 jJOtential .

'

scare of flux by rhe blockage of territorial expansion and populat10n pressure. anvone who declines ro compete, merely conserving his property while others 'strn ':,,e tor increase ' necessarilv ends UjJ "smaller" and weaker than the others, and is in ever-increasing danger of succumbing ro them at the first opportunity The rich knights and terrirorial lords of cha[ tirnt did not view the matter quite so theoretically and generally as we hano put it here; but they did see quite concretely how powerless rhey wtre when their neighbours were richer in land than they, or when others around them won new Lind and sovereignry This could be shown in more derail in relation ro the Crusade leadtrs, for example Godefroi de Bouillon. who sold and mortgaged his domestic possessions ro seek larger ones far away. and in fact found a kingdom. In a later period this could be shown by the example of rht Habsburgs. who even as emperors were possesstd by the idea of extending their "family power .. , and were in fact, even as emperors, compltrely imporenr without the support of their own family power. Indeed. it was precisely because of bis poverty and powerlessness that the first emperor from the family was selected for this position by mighty lords jealous of their power. It could be illustrated particularly clearly by rht importance which the conquest of England br the Norman Duke had for the developmenr of the western Frankish empire. fact. this growth in the power of one rerrirorial ruler meant a total displacemenr of equilibrium wirhin the alliance of territorial rulers comprising this empire. The Norman Duke who, in his own rerrirory, Normandy, was himself no less affecrtd by cenrrifugal forces than any other rerrirorial ruler, did not conquer England for the Normans as a \vhole but solely ro increase his own family power. And the redistribution of English soil ro the warriors who came with him was expressly designed ro counter centrifugal forces in his new domain by prevenrin<' the formation of lar<'e rerrirorial dominions on English soil. Thar had to land ro his knight: was dictated by the necessit; of ruling and administering it; but he avoided allocaring a large self-contained area to any individual. Even co the great lords who could demand the produce of large areas for their mainrenance. he assigned lands dispersed throughout the counrry.; 1 At the same rime he had automatically risen. with this conquest, ro be the

220

The Cirilizi11g P/'()cc.rs

5t.1h FormC1ti1111

<111cl

Cil'ilizc1tirJ11

221

most powerful rerriwria! ruler in rhe western Frankish empire. Sooner or late there had rn be a confromarion between his house and rhar of rhe dukes rf. . . 0 Francia, who ht! d. rhe k ingsh1p-a confrontation in which the crown itself Was ar stake. And 1r 1s kno\vn how grearlv clevelo1)mems in subsequent cent ' uriedetermined_ by struggle between the dukes of francia Normand;, ho\\ die_ ot the Isl_e cle France slowly resrorecl rhe balance of pO\ver by the: ot new rernrones, and _how these struggles on both sides of the Channel hnally gave nse ro rwo different dominions and rwo different natio But this is certainly one of many examples of the compelling rlm dynamic phase ot rhe .!\fiddle Ages, which impelled both rich and poor knights ro seek new land

chem a modicum of freedom; bur mostly rhey expecred and demanded the services and rribures as from rheir own bondsmen and tenants. Bur the <ame lirion of such )eO!Jle cham;ed the power re lar10ns . li1p . b erween rlie lorcl an d ' nained srrennrh through numbers and gradually le low.er cliss r1y' newcomers co n cl new rinhrs in blooclv and often protracted struggles. These struggles obra1ne b . . .., . . , ke our earliest in Italy, somewhat later 111 Flanders: 111 HbO 111 Cremona, 111 in Milan, in 1069 ar Le Mans, in 1077 ar Cambrai. in 1080 ar Saintin 1099 in Beamais, in 1108-9 in in 1112 i_n Laon,_in 11.27 Saint-Omer These dares, togerher wirh those ot the knights_ expans10n, give il immession of rhe internal tensions which kept soc1err 111 mor10n 111 rh1s a rrener, t . These were rhe first srrugg'.es for liberation by working rown-dwellers. That rhey were able, afrer some detears, 111 rhe1r struggles wJth rhe_ warnor class in rhe most diverse areas of Europe, to secure rights of their own, hrsr a limned and rhen a substantial degree of freedom, shows how great was opporm111ry that social development placed in their hands . And this fact, slow tlo\ver workinn urban srrara ro ]JOlirical auronomv and hnallv-hrsr m nse o ' b' the form of rhe professional middle classes-ro political leadership, provides the ker ro almost all rhe srrucrural peculiarities distinguishing \Vesrern societies rhose of rhe Orient, and giving rhem their specific stamp. Ar rhe beginning of rhe eleventh century there were, essentially, only rwo dasses of free people, rhe warriors or nobles and rhe clergy; below them existed only bondsmen and serfs . There were "those who pray, those who fight, those who work".' 0 Bv about 1200. rhar is to say, in rhe course of rwo centuries or even only om: and .a half-for like forest clearance and colonial expansion rhis movement roo accelerated after l 050-a large number of artisan settlements or communes had secured rights and jurisdiction, privileges and auronomy. A third class of free men joined rhe orher rwo. Society expanded, under che pressure of land shortage and population increase. nor only extensively bur intensively as well; ir became differentiated, generated new cells, formed new organs, rhe rowns. 20 . Bur with rhe increasing differentiation of work, with the new, larger markers rhar now formed. with rhe slow process of exchange over longer distances, grew rhe need for mobile and unified means of exchange \\!hen rhe bondsman or small tenant brought his rribure direct ro his lord, when rhe chain between producer and consumer was short and without intermediaries, society needed no unit of calculation, no means of exchange to which all orher exchanged objects could be related as ro a common measure. Bur now with rhe 0 vradual severance of craftsmen from rhe economic unit of rhe wirh rhe formation of an economically independent arrisanry and rhe exchange of products through several hands and down longer rhe network of exchange-acrs became more complicated. A unified object of exchange was needed. \\!hen rhe differenriarion of labour and exchange grows more complex

v
The Internal Expansion of Society: The Formation of New Social Organs and Instruments
19 The driving force of this social expansion, rhe disproportion between rising population and lan_d in fixed ownership, drove a large part of rhe ruling class ro conquer new remrory. This outlet was largely blocked ro people of the lower, labouring strata. The pressures arising from rhe land shortage here Jed mainly in a different direction, ro rhe differentiation of work.. The bondsmen driven from the Janel comprised, as we have mentioned, material for rhe growing settlements ot artisans which slowly crysrallizecl around favourablv situated feudal sears, rhe evolving rowns. Somewhat larger agglomerations of people-the word "rown" perhaps gives the wrong impression-are already ro be found in rhe socierv of rhe ninth century which operated a barter economy. But these were nor d;e communities which "livec! by crafts and trade instead of labour on rhe land, or had anv special 2 rights and insrirutjons". _; They were fortresses and ar rhe same rime of the agricultural administration of great lords. The rowns of earlier periods had lost their unity. They were juxtaposed pieces, groups often belonging ro different knights and different dominions, some secular, others ecclesiastical, each leading its own independent economic life. The sole framework for economic acriviry was the estate, the domain of the terrirorial lord. Production and consumption rook place ar essentially rhe same place. 3_; Bur in the eleventh century these formations began ro grow. Here roo, as usually hap_pened wirh knightly expansion bur was now happening among bondsmen, 1r was ar first unorganized individuals, surplus labourers, who were driven to such centres. And rhe attitude of rulers ro rhe newcomers, who in each case had just left a different esrare. was nor always rhe same.;., Sometimes rhey

fr;m

The
and mo_re acti\e. more money is needed Money is indeed an incarnation of social fabric. a symbol of rhe nerwork of exchange-acrs and human through which a commocliry passes on irs \vay from irs narura] state consumption. Ir is only needed when exrenc!ed chains of exchange form wi'rn . I . m r iar is ro say. ar a cerrain level of popularion density and a higher of social inrerclepenclence and difterenriarion. Ir would rake us too far afield to explore here rhe quesrion of rhe gradual of the money economy in many areas in !are anriquiry and irs resurgence rrom abom the elevenrh century onwards; but one observation on the quesrion necessary in connecrion wirh rhe foregoing.

Ir muse be poinred our rhar money ne\er wenr completely ollt of use in the older 111habned area of Europe. O\er rhis whole period there were enclaves of mone: economy wirhin rhe barrer economy. and in adclirion. Olltside lhe area rhere were large regions of rhe old Roman Empire where money rrafhc never receded to rhe same exrenr as ir did here. One can, rherefore, alwa;s and n:ry righrly ask abour rhe .. anrecedtnts of rht money economy in tl;e Chrisrian \Vesr. rhe enclan:s in which ir never disappeared. Ont can ask: where did rhe money econom\ originate;, From whom was rhe use of monev relearned) This kind of enquiry is nor wirhour value; for ir is difficult ro imagi.ne char msrrumenr should have rerurned to use so relarively quickly had it nor been so far developed in orher. preceding or neighbouring civilizarions. or if ir had never been known
Bur rhe essenrial as peer of the question concerning rhe re\ival of mone\ rraffic in rhe \Vest is nor answered in rhis way. The question remains whv Western society needed relatively little money owr a long stretch of irs develq;menr, and why rhe need and use of money, wirh all rhe consequent transformations of sociery. gradually incrtased once more. Here again rhe enquiry musr be direcred toward the rhe facrors And rhis qucsrion is nor answt:rtd by examining the origins of money and the anrecedenrs of rhe moner econornr. It is answered only by examining rhe acrual social processes which. arier rhe ebb of money traffic in dtclining anriquity. once again broughr forrh rhe new human relationships. the new forms of inregrarion and inrerdependence. which caused rhe need frir money to increase again: rhe cellular srrucrure of socien became more clifforenriared. On, expression of rhis was rhe revirnl in rhe use moner. Thar ir was nor only inrernal expansion but also migrarion and colonizario,n which-d1rough rhe mobilizarion of properry, rhe awakening of new needs. rhe esrablishmenr of trade relations over longer disrances-played an imporranr pare 111 rhis revirnl is immediarely evidenr. Each individual movemenr in rhe whole inrerplay of processes reacrs on the ochers. eirher obsrrucring or reinforcing rhem, and rhe web of movemenrs and rensions is from now on considerably complicared by rhe social diHerenriarion. Single facrors cannor be absoluteh isolared. Bur wirhom rhe clifforenriarion wirhin sociery irself. wirhour rhe pas;ing of the

intO fixed ownership. wirhour the sharp increase in population. wirhour the of indept:ndenr communirits of artisans and tradesmen. the need for wrm.io . . . . nev within soc1ery would never have nsen so sharply. nor the money sector ur haw grown so rapidly. Monty. the decrease or increase of its use-_ r 1-c understood bv itself. bm univ from rhe srandpoinr or . rht: srrucmre or _ _ . cannot u human relationships. Ir is here. in rhe changed rorm of human 1nttgrar10n. rhar rhe prime movers of chis transformation are robe soughc; or course. when rhe use of money had onct begun ro grow-__1t helped 1n 1rs rnrn _rn propel thIS_ wholt rnovemtnr-population increase. ditterenriarion. growrh ot towns-snll rurrher. up w a certain point of sarurnrion. .. The beginning of the eleventh cenmry is still charncrerized by the absence of !Hrge-scale money transactions. \Vealrh is to a large exrenr immobilized in the hands of the Church and the secular territorial lords. Then che need for mobile means of exchange gradually increased. The existing coinage was no longer sufficient. Firsr of all people made do with plart and ornamenrs in precious meral char were weighc:d ro provide a unit or calculation: horses roo could serve as measures of value; new money was minted to meer d1t growing demand-rhar is to say. pieces of precious mera] of a certain weight ;auged b\ aurhoriries. And probably. wich the growing need for mobile means ;Jf e:chan.gt. rhe process was repeated on various levels; perhaps exchange by barter, \\hen rhe supply of coinage no longer met rhe incrtased demand. repeatedly gained new ground. Slm\ly rhe increasing differenriarion and interweaving of human actions. rhe growing volume of rrade and exchange:. pushed up rhe \olume of coinage and then rhe reverst took place. In berwtt:n. disproportions conrinually arose. Bv che second half of rhe chirreenrh ctntury. at lease in Flanders. and earlier or Luer in orher regions. mobile wealth was very considerablt Ir circulartd fairly rapidly .. thanks ro a series of insrrumtnrs rhar had bttn crtared in rhe meanrime:;- gold coinage minted within tht country rhirhtrro evtn in France, as in Abyssinia ro rhe present day [ 19 56}. no gold coinage had been mimed: what was in use, and srored in rhe rreasurits. was Byzanrine gold coin) rogerher with small money. rhe letter of exclrnnge and measurement-all these are symbols of how rhe irwisible network of chains of exchange was growing more and more dense. 21 Bur how could exchange relations berween differenr areas. and clifforenriarion of work extending beyond rhe local region bt established. if transport was inadequare. if sociery was incapable of moving heavy loads over long Jisrnnces;,
, 0 n

Examples from che Carolingian period han: already shown how the king had travelled with his courr from one imperial palace ro another in order to consume the products of his es rares on rhe spor. No marrer how small rhis courr may have been in comparison ro chose of che early absolmisr phase. ir was so difticulc ro

Tht

PmLess

225
cities and England, again played a decisive part in the rise of the \Vest. -pecific character of \Vestern de\elopment is no less determined by che fact pe . . k c l > the necwork of sea routes was arrached an 111creas111gly dense necwor 01 . . . . . J connecnons and that ma1or rnland centres of trade were also gradual!; ver1an ' . . . . 0 . c[ The develo1)ment of land transporc bevond the level it had arra111ed 111 devewpe . . . . . . . .em world is a 1x1rcicularlv clear dlustrat10n of this growrng d1fferenrnmon rhe an Cl . . 1 imerweavin'' throughout che inland areas of Europe. and sOcl ,1 "' . . . ie use of rhe horse tor haulage was, as has been mennoned, not very highly T1 . . y developed in the Roman world. The harness ran across the d1roac.' This was s useful to rhe rider in <'uiding his horse. The thrown-back head, rhe l P _ o . . . . . . c1 postL1re of rhe horse trequentlv seen m anoent reliefs 1s connected with prou . . this mode of harnessing. Bur 1r made the horse or mule fairly unusable for i".e parricularlv of heavv loads which necessarilv constrict its throat. The ' " llJU l '- ' case similar with the shoeing of the animals. The ancients lacked the nailed iron horseshoe without which the full power of the horse cannot be exploited. Both states of affairs slowly changed from the centh century onwards. In che same phase when che tempo of forest clearance was gradually increasing. when socierv was becoming differentiated and urban markers were being formed, when was coming increasingly into use as a symbol of this interdependence, land too, in rhe form of devices for the exploitation of animal labour power, made decisive progress. And this improvement, insignificant as it may appear ro us today, had scarcely less importance at that time than the development of machine technology in a lacer age 111 "'In a mighty constructive effort", it has been said, the scope of use of animal labour was slowly extended in the course of rhe eleventh and twelfth centuries The main load in haulage was transferred from the throat to rhe shoulders. The horseshoe appeared. And in the thirteenth century the modern h;mlage technique for both horses and oxen was creaced in principle. The foundacion for the overland rransport of heavy loads over long distances had been laid. In the same period the wheeled cart appeared and the beginnings of metalled roads. \Virh the development of rransporc technology, the water-mill rook on an importance it had lacked in antiquity. It was now profirable rn transport grain ro it over quite long disrances, ll That mo was a step on rhe way rn differentiation and interdependence, w the severance of functions from rhe closed sphere of the estate.

move che quamicies of goods char were needed for ics sustenance char che had ro move ro che goods instead . Bm in che same period when populacion, che towns, interdependence and ics instrumems. were growing more and more percepcibly, transporr too was developing In amiquity che harness of horses, as of all other beascs of burden. was little suited to the cransporcacion of heavy loads over long distances. It is open to quescion what distances and loads it could cope wich, bm clearly this mode of conveyance was sufficiem for che suucrure and needs of chc: inland economv of antiquity. Throughout the whole of that period land transport remained e;tra. ordinarily expensive. slow and difficult, in comparison ro waterborne transport. Virrually all major cemres of trade were situated on the coast or on navigable rivers. And this cemraliwtion of transport about the waterways is very characteristic of the structure of the society of antiquity. Here, on the waterways and above all on the seacoasts, arose rich and sometimes very densely populated urban centres whose need for food and luxury articles was often met from very remote parts, and which formed central links in the highly differentiated chains of an extensive exchange traffic In the enormous hinterlands, which by and large were open only to overland transport, that is, in by far the largest part of che Roman Empire. the population mer cheir primary needs direcdy from the produce of their immediate environmenc. Here, short exchange chains predominated, in other words. what can be roughly called a '"barter economy": very little money circulated. and the purchasing power of this barcer sector of the ancient economy was too low for che acquisition of luxury arcicles. The comrasc between the small urban sector and the vast inland areas was thus very greaL Like thin nerve strands the larger urban settlements along the waterways were embedded in the rural districts, drawing off their strength and the products of cheir labour until, with the decline of the cemralized government. and partly through the active struggle of rural elements against the urban rulers, the agrarian secror freed icself from the domination of che towns. Then chis mirrow, more differtntiared urban seccor, with its ex.tensive interdependencies, fell into decay, to be obliterated by a somewhac alrered form of shorr, regionally limited exchange chains and barrtreconomy institutions . In rhis dominant urban secror of ancient society, however, there was clearly no need to develop overland rransporr further. Everyching that ics own country could not supply or only at a high transportation cosc, could be more easily obrninecl from overseas. But now. in the Carolingian period, the chief waterway of rhe <mcient world, the Mediterranean, was closed, primarily through Arab expansion, to a large number of peoples. Overland transport and internal conneccions rook on an entirely new significance. This generated a pressure for land rransporr to be developed to promote interdependence and exchange. And if subsequently. as in antiquity. sea connections such as those between Venice and Byzantium. che

VI

Some New Elements in the Structure of Medieval Society as Compared with Antiquity
22. The change in conduct and drive-control that we call civilization" is very closely related to the growing interweaving and interdependence of people. In

rhe ftw examples rhar ir has bttn possible ro givt here. rhis interweaving can be seen as ir were in rhe process of btcorning. And even here. ar rhis relarively ear)y phase. rhe naturt of tht social fabric in rhe \Vesr is in cerrnin rtspecrs from rhar of antiquiry. As rhe cellular srructurt of sociery began once again to becomt more differentiared. wharever institurions rhe preceding srage of high differtnriarion had lefr behind were used in many ways. Bur rhe condirions under which rhis renewed clifferentiarion rook place, and rims rhe nature and direction of rhe difftrentiarion itself. diverged in certain respects from those of rhe earlier periocL People have spoken of a "renaissance of trade"' in rhe eleventh or twelfth centuries . If this means rhar institutions of anriquiff were now to a certain extent revived, it is certainly correct. \Vithout the herirage of antiquiry, the problems confronting sociery in the course of rhis development could certainly not have been successfully overcome in rhis \vay. In this respen it was a consrruction on earlier foundations. But the driving force of the movement did nor reside in "learning from antiquity Ir lay wirhin rhe sociery irself. in irs own inherent dn1amics, in rhe conditions under which people had ro accommoclare rhemselves ro one anorher. These conditions were no longer rht same as in antiquiry. There is a very widespread conceprion thar the \Vest only really regained and then surpassed rhe le\tl attained by antiquity in rht Renaissance. Bur whether or not we art here concerned wirh a surpassing". wirh progress. srrucrural features and cltwlopmenrnl rendencits departing from those of amiquiry are visible not only in the Rtnaissanct bur already-at least to a cerrnin exrtnt-in rhe early phase of expansion and growrh rhar has been discussed here. Two such structural differences will be memioned . \Vesrern sociery lacked the cheap labour of prisoners-of-war. slaves. Or when thty were available-and they were nor in fact tntirtly lacking-rhey no longer played anv \"try significant part in rhe o\c:rall srructurt of socitty.. This gave social developmtm a new direcrion from tht outser. No less imporrnnt was another circumsrnnce rhat has already been mentioned. Restrdemem did nor rnke place as previously about a sea, or as exclusively along warerways. but very largely in inland areas by land rransport routes. Borh rhese circumstances, often in close interacrion. confronted \Vesrtrn socitry from the start wirh problems rhar ancient sociery had not needed to solve and which guided social development into new parhs. The fact thar slaves played only a minor role in rhe working of esrnrts may be explained by rhe absenct of large slave resef\oirs or by rht sufficiency of rht indigenous popularion of bondsmen for tht needs of rhe warrior class. However rhat may be, the insignificance of slave labour is marched by the absence of rhe typical social patterns of a slave economy. And it is only againsr the background of rhese different parterns rhar the special nature of the \Vesrern structure can be fully apprtciared. Not only do rhe division of labour. d1e interweaving of people, the mutual dependence of upper and lower

classes, and concomitantly, the clrin: economy of borh classes, develop difftrenrly . , shve socief\" rhan in one with more or less free labour, but also rhe social Ill a ' _ _ . _ rens1-0 ns - '-me! en:n rhe tunctions ot monev . are nor rhe same. to sav . norhmg of the rnnorwnce of free labour for rhe developmtm of work-techniques . 1 fr must be enough here ro comrasr to rhe sptcific processts of \\!esrern 1 1 -.,.1r 1 "on a brief summan- of rhe different j)rocesses Oj)trnting in a societv wirh c1v1 highly developed slave mark_ers These are no less compelling i_n the l'.1rrer rhan in rhe former. In a n!s11111u of present-day research, rhe mecharnsms of a soc1ery based on slave labour have been summarized as follows:
' , ....

slave-labour inrerfercs with the work of production by free-labour Ir inrerferes three ways: it causes the wirhdrawal of a number of men from production

in to

supervision and national defence: it diffuses a general sentiment against manual labour and <ll1\" form of concentrared acriviry: and more especially it drives free bbourtrs out of rhe in which the slaves are engaged Just as, by Gresham"s law. bad coins drive om good. so it has been found by experience that. in any given occuparion or range of occupations. slave-labour drives out free: so rhm it is even diitirnlr ro find recruits for the higher branches of an occupation if it is necessary for them w acquire skili by sening an apprenticeship side-by-side wirh slaws in the lower This leads rn grave consequences: for the men driven our of these occupations are nor themselves rich enough rn Jin: on the labour of slan:s They then:fore rend to form an intermediate class of idlers "-ho pick up a living as best they can-the class known to modern economists as '"poor whites or '"white trash" and ro students of Roman history as "clienres- or faex Romuli - Such a class rends to emphasize both the social unresr cind the military and aggressive character of a slave-srnre A slave society is rherefore a society di,ided sharplv into rhree classes: masters. porn whires and slmes: and rhe middle class is an idle class, liYing on the communir) or on warfare. or on the upper Bm there is srill another result. The general sentiment againsr producrin: \\ork leads to a stare of affairs in which rhe slaYtS rend rn be rhe only producers and the occupations in \\"hich they engage the only industries of the country In other words. the communiry "ill rely for irs wealth upon occupations which rhemsehes admit of no change or adaprnrion ro circumsrnnces, and which. unless they supply deficiencies ot labour by breeding. are in perpernal need of capital. But this capital cannot be found elsewhere in the community Jr musr rherefore be sought abroad: and a slave community will rend. either w engage in c1ggressive warfare, or to become indebted for rnpirnl rn neighbours with a free-labour system -:c

The use of slaves rends to disincline free men from work as an unworthy occuparion. Alongside rhe non-working upper class of slave-owners a 11011-uorking middle class forms. By rhe use of slaves sociery is bound ro a relatively simple work srructure, embodying techniques that can be operated by slaves and which for this reason is relarively inaccessible ro change. improvement or adaptation ro new siruarions . The reproclucrion of rnpiral is rite! ro the reproduction of slaves, and rhus directly or indirectly ro rhe success of military campaigns, ro rhe ourput

228 of rhe slave reservoirs. and is never calculable ro rhe same degree as in a so . . . . .. cietv In which H 1s whole people who are bought for rheir liferime bm work services ot people who are socially more or less free Ir is onlr againsr rhis ba_ckground rhar we can undersrand die importance for rht whole devtlopmem ot \'Vesrern socierv of rhe facr rhar. durinv rhe slOV; . b growd1 of population in rhe Middle Ages, slaves were absent or played only a minor part From rhe scan society was rherefore set on a different course than in Roman antiquiry.'' Ir was subjecred ro differem regulariries. The urban revoJu. rions of che eleventh and rwtlfrh centuries, rhe gradual liberation of rhe workers a displaced from rhe lancl-d1e burghers-from rhe j}OWtr of rhe feucl1l ' lord , IS first expression of this. From this a line of descent leads ro rhe gradual rransformarion of rhe \'Vest inro a sociery where more and more people earn 11 living rhrough occupational worL The very small pan played by slave imports and slave labour gives the workers, even as rhe lower srrarnm, considerable social weight. The funher rhe interdependence of people proceeds and the more, therefore, land and irs produce are drawn wirhin rhe circularion of rrade and money, rhe more dependent rhe non-working upper srrara, warriors or nobility, become on rhe working lower <Incl middle srrata and the more rhe larrer g<1in in social power. The rise of bourgeois scrata ro rhe upper strata is an expression of chis parrern. fo exacdy rhe opposite way ro rhar in which, in the ancient slave sociery, urban freemen were driven away from labour, in \'Vesrern sociery, as a result of the work of freemen, rhe growing interdependence of all finally drew even members of the previously non-working upper strata more and more within rhe division of labour. And even the technical development of rhe \'Vesr, rhe evolucion of money ro rhar specific form of "capital" which is characcerisric of rhe \'Vest, presupposes the absence of slave labour and rhe development of free work 23. The above is a brief skerch of one example of che specifically \'Vestern developments rhar run chrough rhe Middle Ages ro modern rimes Hardly less significant was che fact rhat serclemenr in the Middle Ages did not rake place around a sea . The earlier waves of migrating peoples had, as already mentioned, given rise ro concentrated trade networks and ro rhe integration of large areas in Europe, only along riverbanks and above all in coastal regions of the i\Ieclirerranean. This applies ro Greece and above all ro Rome. The Roman dominion slowly spread out around rhe Mediterranean basin and finally enclosed iron all sides. "Its ourermosr fromiers on rhe Rhine, che Danube, rhe Euphrates, and the Sahara formed an enormous defensive circle securing rhe coastal perimeter. Undoubreclly che sea was for the Roman Empire the basis both of its polirical and its economic unity" 1 ' The German cribes roo first drove from all sides rowarcls rhe Mediterranean, and founded their first empires chroughour rhe areas of che Roman Empire surrounding che sea, which rhe Romans had called "mare noscrum" .,; The Franks did nor get so far; rhey found all the coastal regions already occupied. They cried

5utc Formation dlld Ciii!i::.t1tiu11

229

ro break rhrough by force All these changes and struggles may well have begun_
osen rhe commurncanons encircling rhe Medirerrane<rn Bur ol ro upset an cl lo course rhe oid importance of die Mediterranean as a means of cransporr and nicition as rhe b,1sis and centre of all higher culrural development on comm u ' ' . . . n so11 was more rl1oroughlv desrroved bv the Invasion of rhe Arabs. Ir Eurouea ' ' I. chis char finallv ruprnrecl rhe weakened connecring threads The Roman was on y . . , . e in voocl pan an Arab one. "The bond urnting eastern ana western b . . . b 1111 rhe Bvzantine Empire and rhe German Empires in rhe \'Vest, is Europe, . _ . . . The consequence of rhe IslamlC Invasion was co place these suncIered . _ Empires in circumstances which had never previously existed since rhe beginning_ of hisrory" 1 To puc it somewhar differently: ar least In the Inland pans ot Europe, away from rhe major river valleys and rhe few military roads, no highly differenriared sociery and therefore no differentiated proclucnon system had so far developed. Ir is still difficult ro decide whether che Arab invasion alone created the conditions for a development concencrared inland The filling up of rbe European lands by cribes during rhe great migrarion may also have played its pare. Bur at am rate this temporary conscricrion of che hirherro main cransporr <tneries bad a decisive effect on rhe direction taken by rhe development of western and cenrral European society. In rhe Carolingian period a powerful rerrirory was grouped for rhe first rime around a centre siruared far inland. Society was confronted by rhe cask of developing inland communications more fully \'Vhen, in rhe course of cencuries. it succeeded in doing so, rhe herirage of antiquiry was in chis respect also ser under new conditions The foundation was [aid for formations unknown in antiquity. Ir is from this aspecr rhar certain differences between rhe units of integration in anriquiry and those which slowly formed in rhe \'Vest are ro be undersrood. Scares, nations, or wharever we rnll these entities, were now ro a large extent collections of people grouped around inland centres or capitals and connected bv inland arteries If, rhese \Xlesrern centres nor only colonized rhe coast or riverbanks, bur also large inland regions. if indeed large screeches of rhe eanh were occupied md serried by \'Vescern nations, che preconditions for rhis lay in the ernlurion of inland forms of communication, which were nor tied ro slave labour, within rhe mother countries themselves The beginnings of this course of development, roo, are ro be found in che Middle Ages. And if, finally, e,en the inland agrarian secror of society is roday imegrarecl into rhe complex division of labour and rhe extensive exchange networks as never before rhe oriuins of chis development are likewise ro be sough[ chere. No one can roclay \'Vesrern society, once St[ on chis course, had ro continue on ir.. A whole consrellacion of levers rhar can nor yer be clearly disentangled. contributed ro mainrnining and srabilizing it on chis course. Bur ir

2)1
is imponanr to reco"nize d1ac chis sociecy encered ac chis venearhsn"e c 'o 0 n a pach on which ic has remained up w modern rimes. One can reaclih. ima<>; {D4ne char. \iewing che developmem of chis whole period of human sociecy, the mec'.iernl and modern periods wgecher. lacer ages will see chem as a single unihecl epoch. a greac --Middle Age" And ir is scarcely less imporrnnr w observe char die Middle Agts in the narrowtr sense of che word were noc cht scaric period. che "petrified foresc". which chey are ofren rnken w be, bm chat thev __ oncli-n" ro cht clitfrring magnicude of land ownership emerged more and
L -

corre> p cc arlv And che v1rious rides char earlier bad des1gm1rtd posmons w1d1rn more cle:- . . , - - L -

to che ruler. much as CI\"ll sernce grades do wday. wok on a ne\\ and

contained highly dynamic phases and senors moving in precisely rhe direction which rhe modern age cominued. srnges o( expansion. of adrnncing division of labour, of social rransformarion and revolmion, of rhe improvemem of the insrrumems of labour . Alongside chese. admicceclly, were sectors and phases in which inscimcions and ideas became more rigid and w a degree "perrified". But even rhis alrernacion of expanding phases and secwrs with others where conservation is more imporcant rhan growth and development, is by no means alien to modern rimes, even if the pace of social development and of this alcernacion has increased sharply since rhe Middle: Ages.

j;

dukedoms were descended from rht royal servants once sem rn _represent che mg wn- rhev ndu-ilhbecame more or less rnclependent liege lords over chis jn a rtrn ., . b ' ' . _ . ,_ _ __ _ . , le c-rritor\" 1)osstssors ot a more or less expensive unenteofted familv ,--no e . incl ' '' rn within ic The case is similar wich coums The viscoums were prope . _ of a man whom a coum had placed as his clelegact cm:r l parc1c.ular smaller region and who now controlled rhis land as his herecl1rnry possess1,on The seigneurs- or "sires" \\ere descendants of a man whom a counc hact earlkr insra!led as guardian of one of his casdes or mansions, or who may have bu1lc himself a casde in che small area he had been appointed w superintend." Now rhe e<isrle and land around ic had become che heredirary possession of his family in wrn. Everyone held on w whaE rhey had . They relinquished nmhing rn those above them And chert was no room for amont from below The land was allocated A sociecy expanding imernally :ind excerm1lly. in which social benermenr. rht acquisicion of land or more land \\as nor wo difficulc for a warrior. rhac .1 socien with reLuivelv Oj)tn posicions or opporruniries. had become within
JS, ' -

"l ression of che size or its esrncts and chus or ics m1lirnn- power The an e 1 k.
A

increa:,1

--n,,lv fixed mt1ninu: d1ev were linked rn che name of a panicular house :is
c . ' c _ . _ . . .

VII
On the Sociogenesis of Feudalism
2-i
Processes of social expansion have cheir limics Sooner or lacer they come co a hale. So. mo. rht movement of expansion char btg<in abom che eleventh cemurv gradually reached a sranclsrilL Ir became increasingly difficult for rhe F rnnkish knights w open up ne\v land by forest clearance. Land omside cheir frontiers was obrainablt, if at all. only by heavy fighting. The colonization of rhe tasctrn I\fedicerranean coastal regions ptrertd om after these first successes . But che warrior population continuc:d rn increase. The dri\es and impulses of chis ruling cbss were less restrained by social dependencies and civilizing processes chan in subsequent upper classes. The dominance of women by men was still unimpaired. "On -every page in che chronicles of rhis rime knights, barons and grtac lords are memioned who have eighc. ren. rwelw or even more male children ... ,- The so-called "feudal svsrem" char emer<ed more clearh- in the twelfth century and was more or le;s established in chirreenth. is. nothing other drnn the concluding form of chis movement of expansion in the agrarian senor of sociecy. In rhe urban secwr chis movement persisted somtwhac longer in a different form. umil ic finally found ics definitive form in the closed guild system . Ir became increasingly difficulc for all those warriors within society who did noc :1lready ha\e a piece of land and possessions to obrnin chem, and for families wirh small possessions co enlarge them. Property relations were ossified. Ir grew more and more difficult w rise in societ\'. And accorclinul\" class 0 differences becween warriors were hardened. A within che r;obiliry

a few generations a socieEy in which mosc positions were more or less closed 25. Transitions from phases wiEh large possibilicies of social improvement and expansion ro chose offering diminished sacisfacrion ro these needs, in which che relariveh- depri\ed are sealed off and rims more suongly uni red wich those in che same pr.edicament-processes of chis sort recur frequently in histon-. \Ve are ourselves now in rhe midst of such a cransformaEion, modified by the peculiar elascicic\" of indusuial sociery which is able w open up new senors when old ones art and b\- che differtm levels of development of imerdependem regions. Bm. rnken as a che siruacion is noc only char each crisis marks a shifr in one direction and each boom a shifr in another: rhe overall trend of society points increasinulv clearlv rnwarcls a svscem wich closed opporwnicies Such be from afar bv :1 cerrain despondency of mind. <lC lease among che deprived, by a hardening of social forms. by anempcs w break chem from below and. as already memioned, by rhe stronger cohesion of those occupying che same position in rhe hierarchy The particular paccern of rhis process. however, is differem in a barter economy from rliac in a money society, though no less scricr \Vhar above all stems incomprehensible w rhe lacer observer in che process of feuclalizacion. is the fact char neicher kinus nor dukes nor <111\' of the ranks below them were able w prevem cheir becoming owners of che fief BU( precisely rhe uniYersalirY of rhis face shows rhe screngch of che social regubricy at work. \Vt have alreaciy skecched che pressures which broughr aboll( the slow decline of che

The Ciri!izing P10cess


royal house in a warrior societv . with a barter economv . ' once the crown no lo noer succeeded in expanding. that is. in conquering new lands. Analogous were at work, once the possibility of expansion and the externai threat had d1mm1shed. throughout the warrior society. This is the typical panern of a society built up on land ownership. in which trade did not play a major pan, in wh_ich each estate was more or less aurarkic, and in which military alliance for defence or arrack was che primary form of integration of large regions. Here the warriors lived relatively close together in relatively small tribal units Then they slowly spread throughout the whole country Their number grew. with increase and dispersal across a large region the individual lost the protecrion once offered by the tribe. Single families ensconced in their estates and castles :nd often separated by long distances, the individual warriors ruling these tamilies and a retinue of bondsmen and serfs, were now more isolated than before. Gradually new relationships were esrablished between the warriors, as a function of the increased numbers and distance, the greater isolation of tbe individual and the intrinsic tendencies of land ovmersbip. \Virh the gradual dissolution of the tribal units and the merging of Germanic warriors with members of the Gallo-Romanic upper class. with rhe dispersion of warriors over large areas, the individual had no other way of defending himself against those socially more powerful. than by placing himself under the protection of one of them. They in their mm had no way of protecting themselves against ochers with similarly large estates and military power, other than with the aid of warriors to whom they gave land or whose land they protected in exchange for military services. Individual dependencies were established. One warrior entered an alliance with another under oath. The higher-ranking parmer with the greater area of land-the two go hand in hand-was the "liege lord", the weaker partner the "\assal" The larcer in turn could. if circumstances so required. rake still weaker warriors under his protection in exchange for services. The contracting of such individual i1lliances was at first the only form in which people could protecr themsel\'es from one another. The "feudal system" stands in strange contrast ro the tribal constitution . \Vith the latter's dissolution new .i;roupings and new forms of integration were necessarily set up . There was a strong tendency towards individualization. reinforced by the mobility and expansion of society. This was an i11clirid11c1!i:::atir111 rclatin: tu tl;e tribal 1111it, and in part relative to the family unit roo, just as there would lacer be movements of individualization relative to the feudal unit, the guild unit, the Status unit, and, again and again, to the family unit. And the feudal oath was nothing ocher than the sealing of a protective alliance between individual warriors, the sacral confirmation of the individual relationship between rhe warrior giving land and protection and the other giYing services. In the first stage of rhe movement the king stood on one side. As the conqueror he controlled whole

Statt Formatio11 mu! Cil'i/i::;atiriil

-eaa nd Pe rformed no services; he merelv allocated land The bondsman was at the ail extreme of the pvramid: he controlled no land and merely performed 0 ner ces or-what comes ro the same rhing-1Jaid dues All the degrees between servt . . . . had land and prorecnon w distribute. below it first had a double face. Tht\' t I1en1' . _ rhem and services w perform above chem. But this network ot _dependenoes, the need of chose higher up for services. particularly military, and ot those lower down for land or protection. harboured tensions that led ro quire specific shifts . The ,.,rocess of feudalization was none ocher than one such compulsive shift in this of dependencies. At a particular phase everywhere in the \Vest the de endence of chose above on services was greater than that of their vassals on This reinforced the centrifugal forces in chis society in which each piece of land supported its owner. This is the simple structure of those processes fn the course of which, throughout rhe whole hierarchy of warrior society, the former servants over and again became the independent owners of the land entrusted to them, and titles deriving from service became simple designations of rank according to size of property and military power. 26. These shifts and their mechanisms would nor in themselves be difficult ro understand if the later observer did not constantly project his own idea of "law" and "justice" upon the relations between the warriors of feudal society. So compulsive are the habits of chinking of our own society chat the obser\'er inrnluntarily asks why the kings, dukes and counts tolerated this usurpation of sovereignty over the land which they had originally controlled . \Vhy did they not assert their "legal rights"; But we are nor concerned here with what are called "legal questions" in a more complex society. It is a prerequisite for understanding feudal society nor ro regard one's own "legal forms" as law in an absolme sense. Legal forms correspond at all rimes w the srrucwre of society. The crysrnllizarion of general legal norms set down in \Hiring. an integral pare of propercy relations in industrial society. presupposes a very high degree of social integration and the formation of central instirmions able to give one and the same law universal validity throughout the area they control and strong enough to enforce respect for written agreements. The power which backs up legal tides and property claims in modern times is no longer directly visible . In proportion ro the individual it is so great. its existence and the threat emanating from it are so selfeYidem, that it is very seldom put w the rest . This is why there is such a strong tendency to regard this law as something self-explanatory, as if it had come down from heaven, an absolme "right" that would exist even without the support of this power structure, or if the power structure were different The chains mediating between the legal system and the power structure ha\'t today grown longer, in keeping with the greater complexity of society. And as the legal system often opm1fi:.r independently of the power structure, though never completely so, it ts easy w oYerlook the frict that the law here. as in any

Tl_h_' Ci1ili::i11g Pro(cs.1


sociery, was a funcrion and symbol of rhe social strucwre or-whar com_ same thm!;!-rhe balance of social power..,,, es to

235
. _ rurn hO\\ever. much as in feudal societ\. largehdetermined Lw the size and . ' '- . . producriviry of a rerrirory and the number and work porential of rhe people ir otn supporr. There is no law governing rht relations between srntes of the kind that is valid wirhin rhem. There is no all-embracing power apparatus that could back up such an inrernarional law . The exisrence of an international law wirhour a corresponclini:: power srrucrnre cannot conceal the fact rhar in rhe long run rhe relarionships narions art governed soltly by their relarive social power, and rhar any shift in rhe latter. any increase in the power of a counrry wid1in rht various figunirions of states in different pans of rht world and now-with growing i;terdepenclence-wirhin world society as a \Vhole, means an auromaric reduction of rhe social power of other countries And here roo the tension between the 'haves and have-nors, between those ,vho do and those who do not have enough land or means of production to meet rheir needs and their sranclarcls, auromarically increases rhe more world-wide bourgeois society approaches the srare of a system wirh closed opporruniries The analogy that exists between rhe relationships among individual lords in feudal society and among srnres in the industrial world. is more rhan forruirous. It has its basis in the clevtlopmental curve of \Vesrern sociery itself In the course of rhis development, with its growing interdependence, relationships of an analogous kind are established. among them legal forms. at first between rebriwly small territorial units and rhen ar higher and higher levels of magnirude and integration, even if the transition ro groups of a difftrent order of size does represent a certain qualirative change . le will be shown later what importance rht process which we have begun to delineate here. i.e. the esrablishment of increasingly large. internally pacified bur externally belligerent units of integration, had for the change the social standard of conduct and the parrtrn of drin: comrol-for che ciYilizing process The relarions of rhe indi,idual feudal lords ro one another did incited resemble those of present-day scares. Economic interdependence, exchange. rhe division of labour between individual estates was, robe sure. incomparably less developed in the tenth and eleventh cenruries rhan between modern stares, and so the economic cleptnclence between warriors was correspondini;!ly less. All the more clecisiYt in their relationships. therefore, was their military potential, the size of rheir following and the land they controlled Ir can be observed over and over again that in this society no oath of allegiance or contracr-as is the case between srares roclaycould in the long run withstand changes in social powec The fealty of vassals was in the encl regulated \'try exactly by the acrual degree of dependence between the parries, by the interplay of supply and demand berween those giving land and protecrion in exchange for services on the one hand and those needing them on the mher. \\/hen expansion. when the conquest or opening up of new land grew more difficulr, the grearer opportunities were firsr of all on the side of those who

In feudal societv this was less conceded The d - I . . . .: ' inter epenc ence ot people reg10ns was less. There was no stable power srrucrure srrerchin" Yrciss -] hand ". p . . . b ' ' L le W 0 l re"' ion. roperr: relar1ons were regulated direct!v iccordn l I t l I '-. ' 1 g to r i t c enre murua c ependence and acrual social power.* b e ot
There is in indusrrial society a kind of relarionshij) which c1n in . . sen - b cl ' a cerra1 . se e compare ro rhe relationship between rhe warriors or !it"e l , _n feudal soc1ery.. and rhrough which rhc parrern of chis relationship can be in Ir is the relar10n between scares . Here roo l cl . . t. . . ed . . . . 1 . . .. , t 1e ec1s1\e actor is quire naked!. soc1d j)O\\er, m which military power plays a rt!arivt!y major pan alon"sid h} mrerclependenc1es ansing from rhe economic strucrure. This military
::: :\1:it i,11 :h:. .o.r_.11,:i.;/ /Viu Tht: "social powtr of a person or r.:roup is a com )ltx .,ht:n - As ret:ard:; EhL- md1\'1dual it is ne\"t:r exactk idt:nricd with his 1 I I . II - f ornenon. 1 r ., t l l l . ' I\ 1L ua P lVSJCa stren"th m<l .. t.lt:1r sum ot indi\idual strength. But and skilt' .,, , i ' :-iomt: Londiuuns lk an important ck-ment in social >m\ I l I and tht: plan: uf the indi\iduals in ir. tu whar s ,0;1 r.hL tc'.rlal strucrurt.ot society Tht: larri:r \'1 .. i.. . . . . . . . .'l . i.:n,t.t 1 conrn )lites to soual pmver t::-. m i_r:-. srrucrun: much as dot:s it.'lt:lf In industrial societ\ for .... 1 rn an can ro,tthcr wirh low bt: ph,bt'S Ill lb dt:Yt:lopnit:nt when bodih strcnuEh Hn . k- . . .-thtr,_ CdJI i '!1 . 1 ,. . . ,. . ",:--'-rn t.1 cs on rncrc..ast:d imporranct: fur cVLT\o !!1LL:rt:c 1c:nr or social powt:r .. ne
+ "\ +

. ._ i

In the tt:udal w<:rrior :->uciet_\ l ' j I Lon:->iccran e pl) sica! .'ltrenL.'th was :m ., [I +I. f"'O\\'t:r. bur no means its sole dtu:rn11.11111r 5,111 1, . !Sf ... ns,1) t: .. '. t:ment in socrn! ' Pin Jnu som l .f'O\\i.:r ;1 m.:n in it:udal :->ociet_\ was txacrly .tnd the Ltbour rurce he cuncroll 1. H .. I . ! . . c land t;. ,.l T . . ' tt is p l).'l!(, .'ltrcngrh was undoubted!} an important t:lt:mtnt . 1 11 . 's. it: to it. .f"lI1}(l!lc who w,:s u1ublc to fi..,u:hr like a warrior and commit l J. in Huck and dctence had lf1 rht lung run lin!e chance of owninu anvchinn in th' . . 1!:-. btHJ} to who once controlled a pitct of hn l . I . . . . c ::::b souet} ur anyone . , . ' t 111 t i1s soutry possessed, as monopolisE of rh. imporr.rnr ITii:ans ot production. a <.k,!!ret of social 'OWtr l 1 . ., " ,'. L most rr.i.nsci.:nd111g hi:-; indi\'idual personal srrenJ.Zrh To .. l 1::t JIS to ::i.l} . ._1lquanr1ty O.I opportunities, j . ' ::ittp._ntt:1ltO!l1r ll:COull1-,\ .. rk t klr scr\'Jci:s in lxclunt:c: That hi .. -',1] . . w <::- ... ,Hit, d mg acrualh conrrnlkd ,dso.., !lkinr thi; . equalled tht: SIL:t: and producti\'it; o( the: land lw 1 , . . ,. ::i soua power wa:-; ;JS p:rL-dt as his hi-., ,1rn1). h1".o m 1 1tary power
L

But t:qu:illy. it is olwious from rhi ti_ ' l J I l Tl. j ..... I . ." l.U.llL- was lt:pt.-nlent on servict:S to maintain and defr.nU his ant. ii:-. c tfdll t:llcc.. on rollowers 01 \',irnn{' (ri l . ., 1 . . 1 . 10\\ tr \\?h -n I .. l .. I I : !::" ,:-- ,.c. t:S \\ ,.s .. n imporcrnr dtmc:nt lf1 rhc brrt:rs social ! c t 11s. 11s t cptnt tncc on Sl'f\'!Ct:S ur - .. ! . . . I dtnnn ! t( r ! l . , . ,. . . t:\ lb :-ioua pmvLr was rnluced: when rht nte<l and ' <.. ) .ml amon" the pr()p"rtd s tl I incri -d Tl . l !::" .__ c. :-.. 1t: SOCI<t. power ut those lanJ was . . le SOl!;.l. power ot an indi\ idua! or group can be com1'l"tl1 1ro1"\ort Tl l ... '" txprc:s.sed onl.v in ! . lOil.'l it a )O\'e 1s a simple i.:xamp!t. L ,

To l!l\'tsrig..irt what constitutes "social powtr in mort det1il j .. , l- . . .. . . understanding social proctssts in rhc past and prtsenr sur. l'. .in imronance for is norhing bur a cc-rrain form of social . , ) . . . .. - . ! ntt( s surmg. Pol1tJCal f'O\\'tr . mo, I (\\tr. One c.i.n rhtrcrort understand ntither tht bel11\'iour nor ti - I. . . . " ll c. ot1n1e:-. or p::upk "fOU(Y sc c 1! J ' ret;,1rdlec1s of what tl _;:::. ! . :i . Ji. or s.rnces onL flnds our thtir actu;_d power

'i

!t.s

ha,wrdousne;; and nn '.',;. 1t:cal life. i tstlf would lose some of its w . "\ 11 I. I l t rt:!.1rmnsh1ps rn and httWtt-n all counrrits trL I u ) 1c \ an<l \ sed T() t\o!v1: mor - .. , j I . I .. I . r. :. .. t: t:X,tlt met Wt s ur domg so fLmains ont of the man\. .souo opica t;isr.::s or rfk tuturt:

:,,,:';l

236

Tht Cil'i/izi11g P/'!Jass

Stair Formatiu11 and Ci1ifi::;atio11

/' 7 _ ) ,

re!ldered services and received Lrnd. This is the backgroulld of rhe first of the which Dow rook place ill this society, the self-eDfornchisemem of the sernms. LmcL in this society. was always the .. property .. of the person actually controlling it. really exercising rights ofpossessio!l and strong enough to defend what he possessed. For this reason those with land to invest in exch<rnge for services alwavs starred off at a disadvantage ro those who received it. The .. liege lord" had tlie .. right .. w the invested land. to be sure. but the rnssal acmallv controlled it Tl1e only thing making the vassal dependent on the liege lord. once he had the land was the larrers prorecrion in the widest sense of rhe word . But protection was no; always needed . Just as rhe kings of feudal societv srron" t!1e1r were alwavs 1o rnssals needed their protection and leadership when threatened by external foes. and above all when rhey had freshly conquered lands to disrribLite. bLit were weak when their vassals were nor threatened and no new terrirory was expected, so roo the liege lords of lesser magnimde were weak when rhose ro whom rhey had entrusted hmd did not happen to need their protecrion The liege lord at any given levtl could compel one or other of his \assals to fulfil his obligations, and drive him by force from his hmd. But he could not do this to all. or even ro many For. as there could be no thought of arming bondsmen. he Deeded the services of one warrior ro expel another. or he needed new land ro reward new services. BLit for his conquests he needed new services. In this way the western Frankish terrirory disimegrnted in the tenth and tle\enth centuries imo a multitude of smaller and smaller dominions. Every baron. every viscount. every seigneur controlled his estate or estates from his castle or castles, like a ruler over his state. The power of the nominal liene lords the more cemral auchorities. was slight. The compelling mechanisms of supp!; and demand, which m<1de the vassal acmally comrolling rhe land generallv less dependent on rhe protecrion of his liege lord than the Lurer on his service;. had done rheir work. The disimegrarion of properry. rhe passing of land from the control of the king ro rhe various gradations of the warrior societv as a wholeand rhis and nothing else is .. feudalization ..-had reached irs limir. Bur the system of socia-l rensions rhar was established with rhis mighty disimegration. contained at the same time the driving forces of a coumerrhrusr. a new centralization

lar"er scale emerued Thus bena!l, if we rake rhis state of exrreme 0 as rhe poim, a hisrnricd process in rhe course of . . r larf.(er areas and numbers of people became interdependent and finally wl11ch e' e ' . l1t l\ or"anized in imegrared unlts. ng . o ._
In che cemh and elewmh cencuries chis fragmemarion cominues. le seems char no .one tl l Id on rn a porcion of rule big enough w enable him w exen any dfecuve acuon fiefs. che chances of ruling. and righcs are splic up mo.re and more trom rnp w hcoud ouc che whole hierarchv. all auchonn 1s h1adrng cowards dis1 o . , borcoo1 . (
inregrarion
\\'l 10 ''-

Then. in che ele\emh and especially che cweltch cemury. a secs m A phenomenon occurs char has been repeaced in hisrnry several rimes in different torms The liege lords who are beccer placed and ha,e che gremesr chances. sequescrace rhe feudal movement They gi,e feudal law. char bas begun w become hxed, a new rum Tbev fo: ic rn che disad\,rnwge of their vassals. Their effons are favoured by cemun hisrnrical conneccions and chis reaccion senes in che firsc place rn consolidace ch; sicuacion just reached.

After rhe gradual transition of the w<1rrior sociery from a more mobile_ phase with rebrively large opportunities for expansion and social benerment tor rhe individual, rn a phase wirh increasingly closed posirions, in which everyone tried to retain and consolidare what he had. power once again shifted among the warriors scattered across the land and tnsconced like n:g!!li (like linle kings) in their rnstles The few richer and larger lords gained in social power relative to the mam smaller ones. Ti1e monopoly mechanism which thus slowly began rn operate will be discussed in more derail later. Here we shall refer rn only one of the factors that from now on acrecl more and more decisively in favour of the few grearer warriors at the expense of the many lesser ones: die imporrnnce of slm:ly ptocteding commercialization, The nerwork of dependencies, the interplay ot supply of and demand for land, protection and services in the less differenriated sociery of rhe tenth and even the elevemh cemury, was simple in its strucmre, Slowly in the eleventh, and more quickly in the rwelfrh cenrnry. the network grew more complex. At the present srage of research it is difficult ro determine accurately the urowrh of trade and monev circularing ar this rime. This alone would prov:de a possibility of really the changes in social power relations, Suffice it to sav char the differentiation of work. and the market and money secror of were growing, even though the barter form of economy as ir would for <l long rime; and this growth in trade conrinued to and money circularion benefited the few rich lords very much more than the many smail ones. These cominued by and large rn live on rheir estates as rhey had .done up rn now. They co!lsumed directly what their estates produced, and rheir involvement in the network of trade and exchange-relationships was

VIII
On the Sociogenesis of Jilfinnesang and Courtly Forms of Conduct
27 Two phases can be disringuished in the process of feudalization: the one of extreme disintegrarion just discussed, and then a phase in which rhis movement began ro be reversed and the firsr, srill loose. forms of reimegrarion on a

Th:

Pr1JCr.:SS

minimal Tht former, by concrasr, noc only enctred che necwork of trade relations chrough che surplus produce of cheir esrares: che growing seccltmtncs of artisans and cradtrs, rhe W\\ns, generally acrachtd rhemsehes to rhe fortresses and adminisrrarin: cenrres of rht grtar dominions, and hlJ\n.:ver uncerrain relations becwten rhe grtac lords and cht communes wichin rheir ccrricory mav scill have betn, howe\tr much rhty wan:red benn:en misrrusc, hosrilicy, open srruggk and peaceful agreemtnr, in the encl chey coo, and rhe clucies flowing from chem srrengrhenecl rhe great lords as compared co che small ones . They offered upporrunicies of escaping che perpecual cycle of land invescicure in exchange for senicts, and subsequem appropriacion of rhe land by che rnssal-opporcuniries chac coumeracced che cencrifugal forces Ar rhe courcs of rhe greac lords, by \irrue of cheir direcc or indirecr imohemtnc in rht rracle network, whether chrough raw macerials or in coined or uncoined precious meraL a wealth accumulaced char rht majority of lesser lords lacked. And rhtse opporruniries were supplemtnrtcl by a growing demand for opporruniries from below, a growing supply of services by rhe less favoured warriors and ochers clri\en from rht land . The smaller societ\''s possibiliries of expansion btcamt, rht larger grew rhe rtserw arm\ from all srrara, including rht upper stratum . Vtry many from this srrarum were well conrenc if rhey could simply find lodging, clothing and food ar rhe courts of rht great lords through performing some function And if e\er, by rhe grace of a great lord, rhe:> received a piece of land, a fie:f, chis was a special stroke of fortune. The scory of \Valrher von cler Vogtlweide, well known in Germany, is rvpical in chis rtspecr of rhe lives of many men in France as we!L A,ncL realizing rht underlying social necessities, we can gutss whar humiliations, vain supplications and disappoinrrnencs may have lain behind \\/alrher's exclamation: "I have my fief! ..
28. The courts of rhe c:rearer ftudal lords, rhe kings, dukes, counts and higher barons or, w use a mun:: general rtrm, rht rerriwrial lords, rhus arrracred, by virrue of rhe growing opporruniries in rhtir chambers, a growing numbtr of people Quire analogous processes would rake place again somt ctnruries lacer ar a higher level of incegrarion, at rhe courrs of rht absolute princes and kings. Bur by char rime rhe interweaving of social functions, rhe cltwlopment of trade and monev cirnt!arion were so great, char a regular income rhrough raxarion from rhe whole dominion and a standing army of peasants and burghers sons wirh noble officers financed by rhe absolute ruler from chest raxes, could corally paralyst rhe centrifugal forces, rhe landed arisrocracy's desire for independence, rhrough rht whole count!'\'.. Here, in the twelfth century, integration, rhe network of trade and communications, was nor remotely so far dewlopecL In areas rhe size of a kingdom ir was srill quirt impossible co oppose rht centrifugal t()[cts continuously Even in rerricorits the size of a duchy or a county ir was still very cliffirnlr, usually only afrer hard fighting, to restrain vassals who wished to wichdraw their land from rht control of a liege lord. The increase in social power

foll firstly ro rht richer feudal lords on account of rhe size of rheir family
-oi)ert\, P' . . their Lmenfioffecl land . In chis rtspecr rhe bearers of rhe crown were no different from rhe orher major feudal lords. The opporruniries rhar rhty all deri\ed, rhrough rhtir large holding of land, from rrade and finance, gaw chem a superiority, including milirary superiority, over rhe smaller self-sufficitm knights, firsr of all wirhin rhe limits of one rtrricory. Here, even wirh rhe poor uavelling conclirions of rhe rime, access by the central aurhoriry was no longer ,:err clifficulr All rhis convtrgecl ar chis stage of devtlopmenc ro give rht rultrs of ;nedium-sizecl rerricories, smaller than kingdoms or "starts in the lacer sense of chis word, and largtr rhan rhe bulk of rhe knighrly estates, a special social

significance" Bur chis is by no means ro say char at char sragt a really srablt governmtncal and adminisrrarive appararus could be established tven within a territory of chis size. The interdependence of regions and rhe permeation of rht councry by money had nor yer advanced remmely far enough ro permit rhe highest and richest feudal lord of a region to tsrablish a bureaucracy paid exclusi\ely or even primarily in money, and thus a more srricr ctnrralizarion . A whole series of struggles was net:decL srruggles char were constantly rtkincllecl, before rhe dukes, kings and coums could assert their social power even wirhin their own rerrirory And wharen,r rht outcome of rhese battles, rhe vassals, rhe smaller and medium kmghrs, srill retained rhe rights and functions of rule within their esrares; here they continued co hold sway like lircle kings. Bur while rhe courts of rht grear feudal lords became more popularecL while rhtir chambers filled and goods began co pass in and our, the bulk of rht small knights continued ro lead rheir stlf-sufficienr and ofren very resrricrecl lives. They rook from rhe ptasanrs wharewr was co be gor our of chem: they fed as besr rhey could a few servams and their numerous sons and daughters: rhe1 feuded incessantly wirh each ocher: and rhe only way in which chest small knights could gee hold of more than the produce of their own fields was by plundering rhe fields of orhtrs, abo\t all rht domains of abbeys and monasteries, and rhen gradually, as monty circulation and so rhe need for money grew, by pillaging towns and convoys of goods, and ran so ming prisoners of war. \var. rapine, armed arrack and plunder consri rured a regular form of income for the warriors in rht barrtr economy, and moreon:r, rhe only one open ro chem . And rhe more wrerchedly rhey lived, rhe more deptnclenc rhey were on chis form or income. The slowly increasing commercialization and monetarizarion therefore favoured rhe few large landowners and feudal lords rarher rhan rhe mass of rhe small. Bm rht superiority of rhe kings, dukes or counts was nor remotely as great as lacer, in rht age of absolutism 29 Analogous shifts, as already mentioned, have often raktn place in rhe course of history. The increasing clifferenriarion benn:en the upper middle srrarum and rhe perry-bourgeois strata is probably most familiar to rhe

The Cizilizi11g Proctss


twentieth-century obsener, Here roo. after a period of free competition with relatively good possibilities of social improvement and enrichment even for small and medium property owners. the preponderance within the bourgeoisie is gradually shifring to the disa<l\anrnge of the economically weaker and in favour of the economically stronger group. Anyone with small or medium-sized property. leaving aside a few growth areas. finds it increasingly difficult ro attain major wealth . The direct or indirect dependence of the small and middlt-sized on the great is growing, and while the opportunities of the former diminish. . those of the latter almost automatically increase.. Something similar rook place in the western Frankish knightly society of rhe late eleventh and twelfth centuries . The possibilities for expansion of the agrarian sector of society. predominantly a barter economy. were as good as exhausted. The division of labour, the commercial sector of society, was-despite manv reverses-still spreading, in the grip of growrlL The bulk of the landowners profited but little from this expansion. The few great landlords had a part in it and profited. In this way a ditterentiation rook place within feudai knightly society itself that was nor without consequences for acrirndes and styles of life.
Feudal society as a whole: [says Luchaire in his incomparable srnd) of society in the age 1 of Philip Augusrus ' ] has. with the exception of an t!ite scarctly altered its habits and manners since the t!e,enrh cenrun- t\.lmosr everywhere the lord of the manor rtn1ains a brutal anJ currhroar: he gots tu war, fights at rournan1tnt.s, spends his peacetime hunting. ruins himstlf with extravagance. oppresses the pe,1sanrs, practises exrnrrion on his neighbours and plunders rhe properry of che church

Sta!t Fomh1tion 11ncl Ciri/i:;11tion

241

The suara influenced by the slowly increasing division of labour and monerarization were in flux: the others remained srationan- and were drawn onlv resistingly and, as it were, passively into the current of: forces of cham;e. It is doubt never quite correct to say that this or that stratum is history. But what can be said is this: the living conditions of the lesser landlords or knights changed otily very slowly. They played no direct or active part in the exchange network, the money tlow. the quicker movement that passed with it through society. And when they felt the shocks and convulsions of these social movements. it was practically always in a form detrimental to them. All these things were disruptions which the landlords like the peasants usually failed ro understand and often detested, until they were actually driven by them more or less violently from their autarkic base into the suara with a faster currenL They are what their land, their stables and the work of their bondsmen yielded. In this nothing had changed. If supplies were short or more was wanted, thev were rnken by force, through pillage and plunder. This was a simple. clearly .visible and independent existence: here the knights. and very much later the peasants mo. were and remained in a certain sense always the lords of their land . Taxes,

mide, money. the rise and fall of marker prices. all these were alien and often hostile phenomena from a different world. The barter sector of society which, in the .Middle Ages and for long after. comprised the great majority of people, was certainly not entirely untouched even at chis early stage by rhe social and historical movement. But despite all rhe upheavals. the pace of real changes in it was. compared w that in ocher srrara,_ verv small Ir is nor "without history": bur in it, for a very large number of ne;ple in the Middle Ages and for a smaller number even in recent rimes, the r . same living conditions were constantly reproduced Here, urnmerrupredly. production and consumption were carried on predominantly in the same place within the framework of rhe same economic unit: the supra-local integration in other regions of society was traceable only late and indirectly. The division of labour and work techniques which, in the commercialized sector. advanced more quickly, here changed only slowly. It was only much later. therefore, that peoples personalities were here subjected to the peculiar compulsions. the stricter controls and restraints which arise from rhe money network and the greater division of functions. with its increasing number of visible and invisible dependencies. Feeling and conduct undergo far more hesitantly a civilizing process As already scared. in the Middle Ages and long after, the agrarian barter sector of the economy with its low division of labour, its low integration beyond the local level and its high capacity to resist change, contained by far the largest portion of the population. If we are really w unclerscand the civilizing process \Vt must remain aware of this polyphony of history, the pace of change slow in one class, more rapid in anorher, and the proportion between them. The knights. the rulers of this large, ponderous, agrarian sector of rhe medieval world, were for the most part scarcely bound in their conduct and passions by money chains . 1v1ost of them knew only one means of livelihood-thus only orlt direct dependenctrhe sword. Ir was at most the danger of being physically overpowered, a military threat from a visibly superior enemy, that is w say direct. physical, external compulsion. that could induce them to restraint. Otherwise their affecrs had rather free and unfettered play in all the terrors and joys of life . Their time-and rime, like money. is a function of social interdependence-was only very slightly subject ro the continuous division and regulation imposed by dependence on others. The same applies to their drives. These were wild, cruel. prone to violent outbreaks and abandoned to the joy of the moment . People could be like this. There was little in the situations in which people found themselves ro compel them ro impose restraint upon themselves . Lierle in their conditioning forced them to develop what might be called a strict and stable super-ego, as a function of dependence and compulsions stemming from ochers transformed into selfrestraints To\vards the end of the Middle Ages. w be sure. a rather larger number of

--L

) 7

Th, Cin"li::i11g

PmCl:i.r

Stc1h Forwatio11 ,md Ciri!i:t1!io11

243

knights had been drawn within the sphere of influence of the grtar foudal courrs. The examples from the lift of a knid1r gi\en earlier in connection with <1 -,er !CS of pictures (cf pagt l '.2ff.J come from this circle. But rhe bulk of rhe knights still liYed at this stage in much the same way as they had in the ninth or tenth century. Indeed. a gradually dwindling number of lords of the manor continued ta lead a similar life long after the Middle Ages. And if we can believe a poetess George Sand-and she expressly confirms the hisrnrical authenticity of \\hat sh; says-there were still a ftw people leading these untamed feudal lives in pr0\inci'.1l corners of France right up ro the French ReYolurion. by now doubly savage, teartul and cruel as a result of their outsider situation. She describes life in one of these last castles. that had by now taken on the characrer of robbers' caves less because they had changed than because society around them had done so. in her short story "Mauprat"
L L '

.\fy grandfather (says tht hero of rhe srnry] was from then on. with his eighe sons, rhe last debris our prmince had consern:d of that race of peen feudal tyrants h) which France had been covered and infested for so mam centuries Civilizacion. "hich was striding rapidly rnwards ehe grear renilmionary uphec1rnls. was increasingly scamping our these exactions <li1d this organized brigandage. The lighe of education. a kind of good caste which was the distant reflection of a gallant coure. and perhaps a prestmimem of a close and terrible awakening of rhe ptople. penttrarecl rhe castles and eYen the semi-rustic manors of rhe clown-at-heel gentry

\Vt would nttc! to quote whole secrions of this description ro show how modes of conduct thac in the ttnth. eleventh and twelfth centuries wert characteristic of the major part of tht upptr stratum, were scill to be found among isolated outsiders thanks rn their similar conditions of life. Still present among thtm was the lO\\" degree of regular drive-control Still lacking was the transformation of elementary urges into the many kinds of refined pleasure known w societv around thtm There was mistrusc cowards womtn-who were essentially objec;s of sensual sar,isfaction--c!elight in plundering and rapt. desire rn acknowledge no master. senility among the ptasants on whom they lived, and behind all this the impalpable that could not be met with weapons or physical \ iolence: debt. the cramped. impoverished mode of lift contrasting sharply \vith their large aspirations. and mistrust of money \\hether in the hands of the masters or the peasants:
J\Iauprar did nor ask for money. J\Iom:cary values art what rhe peasant uf these lands obcains with greatest difficulty and pares wirh most reluccantl\" ",\lo1Jn i.i d"'r . is one of his proverbs. because money represems ti:ir him something ft i.f :! (()!/llJhFCc ll ith ,nu/ jJr.J1jJ/i 0111.rid.' c!ll of
111

physical \\ork. :r

11ur.ku d .<lir! 1,( i111c!!unul which jolts him om of his apathetic babies. in a ,,ore! of menral efforc: and w him this is rhe most painful and clisrnrbing rhing of all

Here we still find enclaws of a predominantly barter economy within a large

, bflc woven of trade relations and the division of labour. En:n here, no one ra Id qL11.te resist beinl! drawn into the current of circulating money. Primarilv (Oll C -es. bur also the nted ro buv rax certain things ,__ one could not produce oneself, forced people in this direction, But the pernliarly opaque nature of the control ''ht ' the restraint of inclination bevond what is rec1uired bv necessary 1.111 d. r'-oi""sr '- b . . . physical work, that any involvement in money chains on people, in these enclaves remained a detesced and uncomprehended kmd of compulsion. This quotation refers ro masters and peasants at the end of the eighteenth cenmry. It serYes rn illustrate once more the slow pace of change in rhis secrnr of society. and something of the attitudes of people within it _)(L From the broad landscape of the barter economy with its innumerable castles and its many greater and smaller dominions, therefore, there slowly emerged in France during the eleventh, and more clearly during the twelfth century, two new kinds of social organ, two new forms of settlement or inregration, that marked an increase in the division of labour and in the interdependence of people: the courts of the greater ftudal lords, and rhe rowns, These rwo institmions are very closely connected in their sociogenesis, however mistrustful and hostile their members may often have been rowards one anorher. This should not be misundersrnod. It is nor as if the undifferentiated secrnr of the barter economy were confronted at one stroke with more differentiated forms of settlement in which rather larger numbers of people could be supported directly or indirectly on rhe basis of exchange and the division of labour. Infinitdy slowly new. economically autonomous Stations \Vere built into the path of goods from the natural start to consumption. And so. step by step, rnwns and larger feudal courts grew om of the form of economic acrivity that survived on the small estates. In rhe rwelfrh century and long afrer it neither rhe urban setdements nor the great feudal courrs were remotely as divided from rhe barter economy as rhe cities of cht nineteenth century were from the so-called open country. On the contrary, urban and rural production were still intimately connected . The few great feudal courts were, to be sure, attached rn the trade network and the market through their surplus produce, through the duties flowing inrn them, and also through an increased demand for luxury goods; but the major part of their everyday needs was still met directly by the produce of their own domains . In this sense they rno still operared a predominantly barter economy. Admittedly. the very size of their domains brought abom a differemiation of operations within them. Much as in antiquity the great slave estates worked in part for the market and in part for the direct needs of the ruling household and in this sense still represented a more differentiated kind of nonmarket economy, so rno did these grtat feudal estates, This may apply rn some extent rn rhe simpler work carried our within them, but it applied above all to the organization of the estate. The domain of the great feudal lord hardly ever formed a single. powerful complex on a self-contained piece of land . The esrares
L , '_

The Cil'ilizi11g Process


had often been acquired very gradually by very different means, conquests inherirance, l.':ifr or marriage. Thn were usuallv scarrered in different re"ions , b or a rerrirory and were rherefore nor as easy ro supervise as a small propeny. A cemral apparatus was needed, people ro suptrimend incoming and omgoing goods. rn keep accoums. however primirive they might at firsr be. people who both checked the income from duties and adminisrered rhe rerrirnries. "The small feudal estate was from an imellecrual point of view a rudimentary organ, parricularly when rhe master could neither write nor read." 5c The courrs of rhe great and rich feudal lords firsr artracred a staff of educated clerics for adminisrrarive purposes. Bur rhrough rhe opporruniries opening rn rhem at this rime rhe grear feudal lords were, as we have mentioned, rhe richesr and most powerful men in rheir region, and wirh rhe possibiliry grew rhe desire ro express rhis posirion by rhe splendour of rheir courrs. They were nor only richer rhan rhe ()[her knighrs bur also, ar firsr, richer than any burgher For rhis reason rhe great feudal courrs had far more culmral significance rhan rhe towns at rhis rime. In rhe com per it ion berween rhe rerrirorial rulers, rhey became rhe places ro show off rhe power and \vealrh of rheir lords. The larrer therefore gathered scribes around them nor only for adminisuati\e purposes bm also to chronicle their deeds and desrinies. They were bountiful towards minstrels who sang rhe praises of rhemselves and their ladies . The great courts became "potential cemres of lirerary 1 patronage" and "poremial cemres of hisroriography" 1 As yet rhere was no book marker. And within the framework of secular society, for anyone who had specialized in writing and composing and had ro live by ir, whether or nor he were a cleric, courr patronage was rhe only means of livelihood.'' Here, as always in hismry, higher and more refined forms of poetry developed from simpler ones in conjunction with a differemiarion of socierv, with rhe work as a formation of richer and more refined social circles. The poet does wholly self-sufficiem individual writing for an anonymous public of which he knows at rhe most a few represenrarives. He creares and \vrires for people he knows chrough daily conracr. And rhe convivial icy, rhe forms of relarionship and behaviour, che armclsphere of his social circle as well as his place wirhin ir, find expression in his words, Players rravellecl from castle w castle. Some were singers, many were merely clowns and fools in rhe simplesr sense of rhe word. And as such rhey were ro be found rno in the casdes of che simpler and smaller knighrs . Bur rhey visiced rhem only in passing; rhere was no room here, no interesr and ofren no means to feed and pay a player for any lengrh of rime. These were only available ar rhe few larger courrs And by "players" we musr understand a whole range of funcrions from rhe simple jesrer and fool w rhe J1Ii1111esti11gtr and rroubadour The funcrion was clifferemiared wirh rhe public. The grearesr, richesr-which is m sav rhe highesr-ranking-lorcls were able rn arcracr rhe besr performers to rheir More people were garhered rhere; rhere was a possibiliry of more refined
1

245
. ,itin and enrerrainmem so rhar rbe rnne of poeuv was also refined. The 1' . 'd J1ar "rhe hi<,her rbe lord and !adv, rhe higher and berrer the bard" was i ea r "' __ , entl\' urcered ar rhe rime.)) Ir \Vas taken for gramed. Frequemlv, nm one , trequ , ,,en! sin"ers lived ar rhe grt<lr feudd courrs "The higher rhe personal b bU( SC, ' qualicies and rank of a rbe more brilliant her courr, rhe more poers she d in her strv!Ce '<' Marchmv rbe power srruggle berween rbe great feudal ['JC l1e re c lords was a consrnnt srruggle for presrige. The poer, like rbe l:isrorian, was one of irs insrrumems Thus a 1\Ii1111esd11gtrs change of service from one lord ro anorher could ofren mean a complere change in rhe polirical conviccions he expressed 1- Ir has been rightly said of rhe i\Ii1111cS:111g: "In meaning and purpose ir w<lS a polirical panegyric in rhe form of a personal :q Rerrospecrively, i\Ii1111w111g can easily appear an expression of knighdy so;iery in general. This imerprernrion bas been reinforced by rbe facr rhar, wirb rhe decline of knightly funcrions and the growing subservience of rbe noble upper class with rbe rise of absolutism, rbe image of free, unfercerecl knightly socien rnok on a nosralgic aura. Bur ir is difficulr rn conceive rbar 1\Ii111mcmg, especi.ally in irs more delicate mnes-and ir was nm always delicate-sprang from rhe same life as rhe coarse and unbridled behaviour rbar \V<lS proper ro rhe buik of knighrs. Ir has already been srressecl rhar /lli11msm1g was actually "very conrradicrnry w rhe knigbdy memaliry".;" The whole landscape, wirh irs incipient differemiarion, musr be kept in view if rhis conuaclicrion is ro be resolved and rhe human arcirucle expressed in rroubadour poeuy unclerL. L

swod. There are rhree forms of knightly exisrence which, with many inrermediare srages, begin ro be disringuishable in rhe eleventh and rwelfrh centuries. There were rhe smaller knighrs, rulers over one or more nor very large esrares; there were rhe grear, rich knights. rhe rerriwrial rulers, few in number compared m rhe former. and finally the knighrs wirhom land or wirh very lirde, who placed rhemselves in rhe service of grearer ones . Ir w<ts mainly, rhough nor exclusively, from rhis last group rhar rhe knightly, noble 1'Ii1111esl:i11ger came. Singing and composing in rhe service of a grear lord and a noble lady was one of rhe ways open w those driven from rhe land, wherher from rhe upper class or from rhe urban-rural lower class. Former members of borh groups were ro be found as rroubadours ar rhe grear feudal courts And even though a grear feudal lord may occasionally have involved himself in singing and composing, neverrheless poetry and service were scamped by rhe dependem srnms of their pracririoners within a rich social life rhar was slowly raking on more definire forms. The human relarionships and compulsions esrablished here were nor as srricr and continuous, nor as inescapable, as rhey later became ar rhe larger absolmisr courrs which were far more thoroughly formed by money relarionships. Bur rhey already <!creel in rhe clirecrion of stricrer drive-comroL \'V'irhin rhe resrricred courr circle, and encouraged above all by rhe presence of rhe lady,

246

The
!lf0 Ul1d

more peaceful forms of conducr became obligarnry.. Cerrainly, chis should nor be exaggeracecl; pacificacion WlS noc nearly so far adYanced as Luer when absolure monarch could even prohibit duelling The sword scill hull'' loose!" andC h
L

her.'>i Bm often enough \\e hear of che ocher side. of a warrior, whether a
c

war and teud were close ac hand. Buc che moderation of pc1ssions. sublimacion, is unmistakable and ine\irnble in feudal courc sociec\'. . Boch che knighth , and ti1t bourgeois singers were socially dependent; and cheir subordinate scams forms the basis of chtir song, their accirudes and their affeccive and emocional mould.
If the court singer wished to secure respect and ret;ard for his arc ,1nd his person, he could only raise himself ptrmanenrly abovt rht mntlling pla)tr by bting raktn into rht stnice of a prince or prinu:ss. i\linnesongs ctddressed w a disrant misrress ,,horn he hcts nor yer visired. had no other purpose rhan ro express rt:adiness and desirt ro serve ar_ rht courr of rht addn:ssee. Thar was and remctins by rhe narnre of rhings rhe real goal ot all who had ro gain rhtir livelihood from rheir arr. for mtn of low ori!:'in a:, for younger, non-inheriring sons of noblt l10usts In \'Valrher von cler Vogeh,eide's conditions of service \n: rnn, as has been clearhdemonsrrared by Konr,td Burdach, observe a typical example of rhe lift of ;1 ,\[i1111c.r:i11gcr King Philip had raken \\?alrher w himseW: chis was rhe usual expression for entry ro minisrerial service. Ir was a service wirhour payment or securin or renure lasring from four monrhs rn a year \Vhen chis rime tlapsed he could seek a new masrer wirh rhe permission of rhe old. \Vctlrher recein:d no iitf from Philip, nor from Dierrich of i\feisstn, nor from Ono IV or Hermann of Thuringia. rn whose household he once belonged . Likewise his servict ro Bishop \Vol(tutr of Ellenbrechrskirchen was brief. Then. tinallv. Fritdrich IL a connoisst:ur of arr and a poer himself. granrc:d him a salary char secured him a li,ing A lief of land or office lonh lacer of moner) was, in rhe b,mt.r and rhe ultimate economy of rhe feudal age. rhe highesr honour for s.errices goal. Seldom was ir granted rn court singers eirher in France or Germany The\ usually had ro be content rn serve as court pot:rs enterrainine socien and receivinLC board and
lodging in exchange-. service, <-ti as
<.l

king or a simple seigneur, bearing his wife. Ir seems w have been almost an cs ["bit.shed habit for the kni!!ht, th-inc: into a rage:, to 1)unch his wife on rhe nose rill blood flowed: "The king hears chis and anger rises imo his face: raising his fisr he strikes her
_._ '--' '-L

on rhe nose so hard char he draws four drops of blood. And rhe lady says: 'l\fosr humble d1<mks \Vhtn it shall please you, you may do ic again . .. 12 one could quote ocher scenes of the same kind", says Luchaire . ' "Always che blow on rht nose with che fisL .. l\Ioreuvc:r a knighr
W!S

often censured for raking

advice from his wife. "Lady, go into rhe shade." che knighr says for example, '"<me! ear and drink wirh your retinue in your paimed and guilded chambers, busy yourself hanging silk: that is your job. Mine is to scrike with cht sword of sreeL" The conclusion mighr be drawn [w quore Luchain: again] char e\en in rht epoch of Philip i\u.::usrus tht courd:, courttous attitude- towards \\'Of11en was only exceptionally found in feudal circles. In the great majoriry of domains rhe okL less respecrfuL brurnl re!ldenq sril! prevailed. rransmirred ctnd. perhaps. exagt:trared in rhe majority of rhe 'chansons de gesre" One should nor bt misled b\ rhe low rhtories of rhe Troubadours and a ft,,. Troud:res .. from Flanders and rhe Champagne: rhe fed in gs rhey tXl'ressed were. we believe, chose of an el ire. a Ytry small minority The differenti<Hion between che bulk of smaller and medium knighdy courts and the few large ones more closely attached ro rhe slowly developing network of crade and money, brought with it, as can be seen, a differentiation of behaviour wo. No doubt chis behaviour was nor in such stark contrast as ic may firsc appear from these reconsrruccions. Here, roo, chert nuy baYe been cransirional forms and murual influences. Bm by and large it can be said char a more peaceable social lift formed about che lady of rhe court only in chest ftw large courts Only here did che singers have a chance of finding senice of any length, and only he:re was established char peculiar attitude of che sening man cowards rhe lady of rhe coun rhar finds irs expression in 1\Ii1111ts{n1g . The difference becween rhe attitude and feelings expressed in i\Ii1111tst111g and rhe more brutal ones prernlenr in che chcm1011s c/, gtsi<:, for which hisrory provides ample documenracion, derives, in ocher words, from cwo different kinds of relation benveen man and woman, corresponding ro rwo different classes in ftudal society.. These rwo modes of conduct cherefore <lfOSt wich che shift in the crnrre of gravity of society already discussed. In a society of landed nobility dispersed fairly loosely across the counuy in their castles and esraces, the likelihood of a preponderance of che man over rhe woman and rhus of a more or less unconcealed male dominance, is very great.. And wherever a warrior class or a class of landed gentry has scrongly influenced rhe overall behaviour of sociecy, rraces of male dominance, forms of purely male social life with its specific

srecial honour ._

rht:. Jrc:ss ntcdc-J t()r court

32

The jJarricular srrucruring of attects expressed in che

is

inseparable from rhe social position of rhe i\Um1csd11g1:r The knights of che nimh and tenth centuries, and the majority of knights eYen lacer, did nor behave particularly delicately rnwards their own wi\es, or with women of lower rank in general. The women in che castles were always directly exposed co rhe cough ,1dvances of che stronger man. They could defend rhemstlves bv ruse, bm here the m<lll ruled. And relations between the sexes were as 111 every warrior society with more or less pronounced male rule. b; force. and often open or veiled struggles, due e,1ch waged \vich his own

\Ve hear from rime ro rime of women who by cemperamenr and inclination differed little from men. The lady of the castle is in chis case a "virago" with a violent cemper, lively passions, subjected from her \ouch ro all manner of physical exercise. and caking part in all the pleasures clangers of cht knights

2-48

The Cirilizi11g Process


.

Sta!/: For111atio11 mu/

2-49

erocicism_ and a cerrain eclipse of women, are ro be found more or less clearly in ics crad1c1on. Relacionships of chis kind predominaced in medieval warrior sociecv. Ch . acacceriscic chem is a kind of mis cruse between the sexes, reflecring the greac d1fterence m the torm and scope of che lives they each lead, and the spmtual escrangemen_c which _arises as a result. As in lacer rimes-as long as women are excluded from professional life-che men of che .Middle Ages, when women were generall_y exduded from che central sphere of male lifr, military acr10n, spent most of rhe1r nme among themselves. And their superiority was marched by a more or less explicic contempc of man for woman: '"Go to your ornamented chambers, lady, our business is war.. That is entirely cypicaL The woman belonged in her own special room. And chis accitude, like che social basis which produced ir, persisted for a very long rime. Irs craces are ro be found in French literature as late as the sixteenth century, for precisely as long as the upper class was primarily a military and landed aristocracy.I'' Then this attitude disappeared from literature-which by now in France was almost exclusively controlled and modelied by courtly people-but certainly nor from che life of the landed nobility itself. The great absolutist courts were the places in European history in which the most complece equality between che spheres of life of men and women, and also of their behaviour, had so far been achieved. It would rake us too far afield here ro show why e\en the great feudal courts of rhe twelfth century. and incomparably more so the absolutist courts, offered women special opportunities to overcome male dominance and anain equal status with men. It has been pointed our, for example, that in southern France women could at an early stage become liege ladies, own property and play a political role; and it has been surmised rhar this fact favoured the development of Mi1111es(/11g 1 '0 Burro qualif} this it has also been emphasized that ""rhe succession to che throne by daughters was only possible if the male relations, che liege lord and rhe neighbours did nor prevent rhe !adv from raking up her inheritance"''" In fact even in the narrow stratum of gre;r feudal lords, the superiority of man over woman resulting from his warrior function is always perceptible. \Virhin the great feudal courts, however. the military function of the men receded ro some extent. Here, for rhe first rime in secular society, a large number of people, including men, lived together in constant close contact in a hierarchical structure, under the eyes of rhe central person, the territorial lord. This fact alone enforced a certain restraint on all dependents An abundance of unwarlike administrative and clerical work had to be done. All this created a somewhat more peaceful atmosphere. As happens wherever men are forced ro renounce physical violence, rhe social importance of women increased. \Virhin the great feudal courts a common sphere of lite and a common social life for men and women were established . To be sure. male dominance was by no means broken as it sometimes was later

I absolutist courts For the master of the courc, his function as knight and

. . . ie1der was snll rhe pnman- one: l11s educar10n too was that of a warnor f!Jl 1 tt:ll} ' . . . . . . upon the w1eldm" of arms. For JUSt this reason the women surpassed him cenrre d . b . . . . . , . in the sphere of peacdul society As so m the ot_ the \Vest it was nor
r women of high class \vho were first liberated tor mrellecrual develop' 1 m ... went, for reading. The wealth of the great courts gave the woman the poss1bil!ty of filling her leisure rime and pursuing such luxury interests. She could singers and learned clerics . And so it was about women rhar tht first poets, . . . . .. . . . . Ies of pe-iceful mrellecrnal acr1v1rv c1rc ' - were established. In anstocranc. CJrcles m the rwelfrh century the education of women was on average more refined than chat of men." 6- This certainly refers only to the man of the same srarns, the husband The wife's relationship to him was not yet very different from _that customary in warrior society. Ir was more moderate and somewhat more refined th'm in rhe case of che small knights; bur the compulsion the man placed on himself, as compared with that he placed on his own wife, was in general not "rear. Here too the man was quire unmistakably the ruler. " 33. It is nor this relationship of husband to wite that underlies troubadour poetry and 1\li11nesm1g, but the relationship of a socially inferior man to a high;anking woman . And it was only in these courts rich and powerful enough to generate such relacionships that 1\Ii111ma11g was to be found. Bur compared to the knighthood as a whole they represented a narrow stratum, an "elite". The connection between che srrucrure of relationships in society at large and the personality structure of people emerges very clearly here . In the greater pan of feudal socierv, where the man ruled and the dependence of women was unconcealed and almost unrestricted, nothing compelled the man to constrain his drives and to impose control on them . There was little talk of "love" in this warrior society. And one has the impression that a man in love would have appeared ridiculous among these warriors . \Vomen were generally regarded by these men as inferior beings. There were enough of them available. They served to gratify drives in their simplest form.. \Vomen are given to man "for his necessirv and delectation". So it was once expressed at a later rime; bur this is exacdy .in keeping with the behaviour of warriors earlier. \Vhat they sought of women was physical pleasure; apart from this. there is scarcely a man with the patience ro endure his wife"f. 8 The pressures on rhe libidinal life of women throughout \Vesrern history, with rhe exception of the great absolutist courts, have been considerably heavier than on men of equal birth. The fact that women in high positions in this warrior society, and thus with a certain degree of freedom, always found it easier to control, refine and fruitfully transform their affects than did the men of equal status, may reflect habituation and early conditioning in this direction. Even in relation to the man of ourwardly equal social starus, she was a dependent, socially inferior being

250

The Cil'ili:i11g Prr1ass

5t:1fr For//!atio11 ,md Ciz-ili::.atio11

251

Accordingly ir was only rhe relarion of a socialh inttrior and dependenr a woman of higher rank rhar led w rht restraint. ;enunciarion and rhe con man to . D . . . . . sequenr rr,rns ormar10n ot dnYes. Ir 1s no accident rhar in rhis human siruarion wh poetry" evohed as a social and nor mertlv . We call "lyric . . . as an individLnl , evenr-* as _a soci<il e\em-:-rhar of pleasure. char shade teelrng, rhar subl1mar10n and refinement ot rhe affects rhar we Gll! "love ca . b" rnro . insrirurionalized form , con . emg. Nor as exceptions bur in . a sociallv man and woman arose which made ir impossible even for rhe srrong berneen . . man s_irnp 1 : ro rake the woman when he ple<1ses: which made rhe woman unarramable or only wirh difficulry: and perhaps. because she was higher placed and d1tficulr ro arrain, particularly desirable. This was rhe siruarion rh1s rhe emorional _setting of i\Ii11mst111g, in which henceforrh down rhe lovers have recogrnzed something of rheir own feelings. No. doubr a large n_u_mber of songs by troubadours and 111immtinger are essenr1ally ot feudal courdy conventions, ornaments of social life and a mere parr ot rhe social_ game . There may have been many rroubadours whose rnner relat1onsh1p ro rhe1r lady was nor quirt so consuming. and who indemnify rhemselves w1d1 ocher, more attainable women. Bur neirher rhis convenrion 1rs expression could have arisen had genuine experiences and feelings of rhis kind been absent. They have a core of authentic feeling and real experience Such rones cannot be simply rhoughr our or invented. Some loved. and some had the strength and greatness ro express their love in words; ir is nor even difficult to say in which poems feelini; and experience are genuine and in which rhev are more or less conventional. Some must firsr have found words and rones for .their in order rhar orhers might play wirh chem and give rise co a convenrion. The good poets. undoubtedly, haw mixed their own truth into even rhese poems of infaruarion From the fullness of rheir lives flowed rhe substance of thtir songs.

The lirerary sources and precursors of ,\!i111mc111g ha\'e often been . . ,-ti'''irecl. Irs relationship with religious poetry addressed ro rhe Virgin and 10'"' Litin lyric of rhe \Vandering Scholars has, probably correctly, been
-(l

oinrecl our . . . p t'ic en1tr"ence and essence ot [jUt t o , Glnnor be understood onh" .... Il1 f literary anrecedenrs These earlier forms conrained many cl1Herenr . . . b1 ries of devtlo1)mtnr \Vl1\" did rht manner rn wh1Ch people sought ro pOSSI I 1 . . . . . rhemselves chanue' To pur rhe quesr1on quirt srn1plv: wlw did nor rhe express o _ . . , : _ _ - r"orms of rtli"ious and secular lync remam soc1tr\" s predommant forms ot 0 ear l1cr . . s'ion' \'li/h\' were formal and emotional elements raken from rhem and ex pres . . _ r 1 onec! into somerhin" new' \Vlw did chis new genre cake on 1usr char form tilS 11 e> 'which we know as i\Iim1e.w11g' Hisrory has irs conrinuiry: winingly or not. chose n,, hrer srarr wirh what already exists and develop it further. Bur what are com1,"' ' . che dynamics of rhis movement, the shaping forces of historical change' Thar is rhe q.uesrion here. The invesrigacion of sources and antecedents is doubtless of impomince for underscanding 1\Iin11tSdllg, but wirhour sociogentEic and psychoo-enecic srudy irs origins. irs feudal connections, remain obscure 1\l1m1esc111g as a ;upra-individual event, as a social function in relation co feudal society as a whole, cannot be undersrood, any more rhan irs specific form <md rypical conrtnr. unless one is aware of rhe actual situation and relationship of rhe people who expressed rhemstlves in ir, and the genesis of rhis situarion. This special question demands more space than is avaih1blt here. where rht main inreresr concerns movements and connecrions on a larger srnlt If <l more precise line of enquiry for analysing a specific insrirurion such as !\Ii1111dc!ilg within chis conrexr h<1s now been indicated, and some of rht main outlines of irs socio- and psychogeneric conclirions sketched, rhat is all char is necessary for rhe purposes of rhis scudy. 35. Great historical changes have a srricr regularity of their own It often appears from present-clay srndies as if particular social form<Hions whose hisrory consriruces hiscory as such, follow each ocher at random like the cloud-shapes in rhe mind of Peer Gynr: now they look like a horse. now like a bear, now society
0

=:=

the German ttxt I am speaking here of social and indi\iJu,d unJerrnrn:s.


it

:\c rht cimt: of writing

dl!S book nw awartness 1,f the ambiguities inherent in the term "'phenomenon , tspeci,dl) of its nor yet sufticiendy sharpt:ntd ro avoid its use. In rht: Ent.dish rr.rnslarion,

rn replace it by expn:ssions such as e\ents . darn . ere. Ir is. or course.


tor rht intlutnct which phenomtnalisric rypts of philosophy have had nor univ on has become. rhe

hibhly

academic bur also on non-academic linguistic us.i..g.ts char rhe term phenomenon

:nost common unspecific expression for darn or events of <-di sorts. Ont ma\ nor bt aware of it that It is by the solipsistic <loubt as to \\"htther such darn rt.:dly exist. events occur. One
easily overlook that tht ttrm "phenomenon refers may or_ only

looks Romanesque or Gochie, and now Baroque. \Vhat has been shown here ,1rt a few basic inrerdependtnt rrends rhar led ro the shaping of society in the form of the "feudal sysrem". and finally co the kind of relationship expressed in 1\li11111:s1111g. One of these rrends is the more rapid growth of population after the migration of peoples, closely connected with rhe consolidation of property relationships, the formation of a human surplus, among rhe nobility as in rhe class of bondsmen or serfs, and the pressure on these superfluous persons from both groups ro find new services Connecred wirh chis coo was rhe slow insertion of discrete stations in the passage of goods from production ro consumption, rhe growth of demand for unified. mobile means of exchange. the shift of rht centre of gravity within feudal society in favour of rhe few great lords ar rhe expense of rht many small,

carries with it the notion thm rht Jm,: to which it

conjured up by tht constitution of the human subject Bur whether

one ts conscious ot the philosophical heriragt rtprtstntt<l by rhis concept. its continutd use

reinforces again an<l at,..:a'.:1 rhe app;.1ritionist tendencies of our ;.1ge It is betttr ro look for exprtssions less woolly and less aftecred by this philosophical tradition. I felt that I owe m\ readers an explanation for the innocent use of this ttrm in rht German and irs omission En,t.dish edition [A!!!hfJrs n11h
/I/

from rhe

rh!

/r;1;u/dtifJ1;]

252

Tht Ciz'ili2i11g Proass

Stafr f!Jmhltion and Cil'i!i:atio11


upper classes-great in comparison with the later secular upper classes in \Xfesr-corresponded exactly to rhe form of integration, rhe degree and k111d rhe01uCLh .1[ dopendence in which IJeOj}le lived together here. The division of ._ . ,..1s less develo1Jed than in the phases when the srncter absolutist svsrem jabOLlf ' " . - I ""lS develOjJed' rhe trade network was smaller and so the _ number ot people -. . . ild be sustained in one place was less . And whatever the torm ot 111d1ndual woro . . .. h l ies mav have been rhe social web of dependencies char 111rersecr w1rl1111 !e[lc dcpenc . _ . . . . . . . dividual was here much less 111tf!cate and less extensive than 111 soCieties \nth rte h 1n ter di.vision of labour' where more 1ieOjJle live continuouslv in close proximirv <r[CJ . '." more denselr structured s\stem. And. consequently, rhe control and restraint 1n a the individual's drives and affects here was less srricr, continuous and on I f0 rn1. N',,verrheless ' it was alreadv t!Lll . considerablv . b"reater at the lar(.'.er teuc al courts rhan at the smaller or in rhe warrior society at large, where the interdependence of people was much less extensive and complex, rhe network of individuals much more loosely woven, and where rhe strongest functional dependence between ptoplt was still that of war and violence. Compared with die behaviour and affective life to be found here, co111l!Jisic already represented a refinement, a mark of distincrion. And the polemics contained in fairly unchangn" form in the manv medieval nrecepts on manners-"avoid this" and "refrain I " . . from thar"-refer more or less directly ro rhe behaviour practised by the bulk ot the knights, which changed as slowly and slightly between the ninth or tenth cenrnries and rhe sixteenth as did their conditions of life. 31 At rhe present stage of development we still lack linguistic instruments which do justice to the narure and direction of all these intertwining processes. It is an imprecise and provisional aid to understanding to say that rhe restraints imposed upon men and rheir drives became 'greater", integration "closer", or interdependence stronger", just as it does nor quire do justice to socio-historical realit\" ro sav rhar one thing belongs to a "barter economy"". and another ro a "mo;ev or, ro repeat the form of expression chosen here, that "rhe of. the economy grew". By how much did it "'grow"". degree by In what way did rhe restraints become greater", integration ""closer", inrtrclependence more pronounced'"' Our concepts are roo coarse; they adhere roo much ro rhe image of material substances . In all this we are not concerned mereh with ''radarions with more" or '"less" Each "increase" in restraints and is an' expression of rhe fact rhar the ties between people, rhe way they depend on one another, are changing, and changing qualirntively. This is what is meant br differences in social structure. And with rhe dynamic network of into which a human life is woven, rhe drives and behaviour of people take on a di/F1,11t form. This is what is meant by differences in personality structure and in social standards of conduct The fact that such qualitative changes are sometimes. despite all rhe fluctuations within rhe movement. changes in one and the same direction over long periods. rhat is.
L

the formation of large frudal courts at the centre of re"ionc the size of 1 t- . _ "" . o -' erntorv where krnghtly-teudal traits combined with courtlv ones in a j}eculiar u " . . . . . . . nity, as . b arter and money relatwns <lid 111 this society as a whole. Again. there was the great feudal lords n.eed of prestige and <lisplav in -h l . ' e more or I ess _v10 ent struggles between them; there was their desire ro distinguish themselves from lesser krnl'.hts. And as an eXj)ression of 1ll rhis j)Oets 1n<l s1ngers \\ho the lords and ladies, pumng into words the interests and political ot the lord and d1e. raste and beauty of rhe lady, became a more or less hrmly established social rnsnrur10n.
{_) 4 ' '

can .observe. this small upper stratum of knightly society, a . Likewise first form ot emanc1pat10n, ot greater freedom of movement, for women-very slight, .to be sur: when compared ro rhe freedom of women ar rhe courts. flus 1s 1'.1arked by more continuous contacts between rhe lady ot the court, the woman ot !ugh rank, and rhe troubadour, rhe man of lower rank dependent, whether or nor he be a knight; by rhe impossibility or difficulty ot arra111111g the desired woman, rhe self-restraint imposed on rhe dependent man, _rhe need for circumspection and a certain. still very muted. regulation and rr:rnsformarion of his elementary drives and needs; and finally by the expression ot such scarcely realizable wishes in rhe language of dreams, in poerrv. The bea1:ry of one poem and the empty conventionality of the grearness ot this i\li11msii11gtr and the triviality of rhar, are facts in rheir own right. Mi11msa11g as a social institution, however. the framework in which the individual develops-and this alone concerns us here-evolved directlv from th"IS interplay of social processes 36. In this very situation, that is, ar the great feudal courts, rhere emerged ar the same rime a more rigid convention in behaviour, a certain moderation of the affects, and a regulation of manners. It was that standard of manners, that convention of behaviour. that polishing of conduct to which rhis society itself gave the name of 011/i"toisit, and we get a fully rounded picture of it if we incorporate what was said in Part Two about w11rtois conduct into the of feudal courts given here. Precepts of courtois society were given in Part Two, at rhe beginnings of various sef!es of examples illustrating rhe civilizing of conduct and sentiment. The sociogenesis of rhe great feudal courts was at the same time rhe socionenesis of co1ntois conduct. C!J11rtoisit, too, was a form of conduct that first die more socially dependent members of this knightly-courtly developed upper class.. However that may be, one thrng re-emerges here very clearh-: rhis co11rtois srandard of conduct is in no sense a beginning. It is not ;n exan;ple of how people behave when their affects have free, "natural" play unfettered by society, that is to say, by rhe relations between people. Such a condition of rorallv uncontrolled drives, of an absolute "beginning" simply does nor exist. The rel;rively great licence for acting out affective impulses characteristic of men in the

_)!

,-

The Ciz

255
rmlt rhe crt<ltion of an apparatus for ruling sufficiently swblt ro rec Pe . . '. . . , . rnd hold togerher rhe empire by relatively peaceful means mer long , 11111111 ,rrace , c . . .l ;ia, of peacetimt, Ir remains rn be shown what social processes made poss1 Jlt . or' Sltcli 1 more snb!t: overnmtnt and \nth It a quirt cl1tterenr he torm<1t1on , ' '=' r of individuals, nrh rnd renrh cenruries when at least in rhe wesrern Frankish regions. In r l1e 111 ' ' . . . . . . l rl1re1r w1s small-and when economic 111regrar10n was slight-tlk rhe exrcrn,1 ' ' . . . ' .. .. , . . , ... regrarion of rhe rultr-tuncuon reached txrraord111ary heights. Each snull dJS!D ' . lf ll kn Ic ht ltS ., under irs own rule. a sratt " 111 irse . e\tr} snu "stare \\ ,1s . . . :ndepenclenr lord and masreLThe social achaoc1c . nnl rnd economic urnrs Each ot chem \\,lS essenr1,1lh .iurark1c \\_ch of goYernme ' ' , . . . . . ' ' d ndenct on ochers. wirh rhe exception ot a few enclaves-tore1gn Im 1 e epe . . 1. traders. for example. or monasrenes and abbtys-wh1ch somenmts had l111"s bevond rhe local le\el. In rht secular ruling sua..rum inrtgrarion through ' . ss ,,e or cltftnsive conflict was rht fundamental torm There was not much Hr-are. 1 ""'"' b c I l. crr,1rum rn control cheir afrecrs in any w consuain mem ers 01 r 11s ru 111g o . . s ww This w1s 1 "societv .. in rht broader senst ot rhe word wbICh connnuou '. ' ' . .. . ... refers to even- possiblt form of human inregrnrion It was nm a .soc1tty . lll er sense of 1 more continuous rel<lriveh dost and u111torm mregwr10n tI 1e narr ()\\ ' - . of people with a greater consrraint on violence, at lease within ics conhnts The earlr form of such a .. socierr .. in rhe narrower sense slO\dy _emerged ar. the grear feucial courts Hert, where rhtrt was a larger confluence ot goods. owing tO rht amounts produced and rhe arrnchment of chest courts to rhe rrndt ntrwork. and where more people congregated in search of service, a sizeable number oi pcople was obliged to m<1inrain a consrandy peaceful intercourse This demanded. particularly towards \vomen of higher rank. a cerrain control and restraint or behaviour. a more precise moulding of affects and manners . :HL This rtsrrnint may nut always bane bten <lS great as it was in the relation ot sin<,er rn lach in rht 1'\Ji11110,n1g convtnrion. Tht (111trtrtis precepts on manners give a accu;art picture of rht standard of belMviour demanded in everyday lift. Ther also occasionallv rhrow light on rhe conduct of knights towards women that. is nor confined ;o rht reLirion of the minstrel to che lady oi the courc \\le read in a "motto for men", for example: .. Abono all. rake cart ro behave well wwards women, . If a lady asks you to sir beside her. do nor sir on her dress. or too near her. and if you wish to speak sofrly to her, ne\tr clurch her with rnur arms, whatever you ha\e to say .. -c . Judging by rhe habitual sran cl arcs l o t. r l1t ltsser 1rn1g '- lHS, rl1is amount of d ble efforr. Bur the l l consideration for women may l1a\"t cl emanc ec cons1 era restraint was slight, like rhar in orhtr (Uitrhis precepts, in con_11xuison ro became cusromary among courtiers at rht court of Louis XIV, tor example, fh1s gives an idea of the different levels of inttrdependtnce and imtgrauon rhar shaped rht individual's habirs in rhe rwo phases Bur it also shows rhar courtoisi1:

conrinuous. din:cted processes rather than a nmdom sequence, permits indeed leads us rn speak in comp<irarivt terms when discussing difftrtnr That is not to say rllilt tbt direction in which these processes mme is impro\emenr. "progress". or to\\arcls the opposite, "retrogression" Nor is it t0 sav. is sci ore. however. that rher inYolve mtreh - c1uanrirarivt cl1an<'tS c 1-:!rc .__ ( Ltn in history. wt art concerned with structural changes that art mosr easily, visibly, perhaps most superficially grasped in rhtir quanrirnrive asptet \Vt stt rht fiillowing movement: first one castle stands against another, then rernrnry agarnsr terr1ron-. rhe:n scare against srate. and appearing on the historical horizon today art the first signs of struggles for an inrtgration of regions and masses ot people on a still larger scale . \Vt may surmise that with continuing 111regrar10n tvtn larger u111rs will gradually be assembled under a srable government and internally pacified, <md that rhty in their rnrn will rnrn cheir ourwards against human aggregates of rhe same size until. with a turrher integwrion, a still gre<Her reduction of distances, rhey too gradually grow tot-:tther and world sociecy is pacified This ma\" rake cemuries or millennia howe\tr rhar may be, the growrh of uni rs of inreg.rarion and rule is always at th; same rime an expression of srrucmral changes in sociery. that is ro say. in human relationships, \\lhentnor rht ctmrt of graviry of society moves towards units of i.ntegration ofa nt\\. order of magnituclt-and in rhe shifr that first favoured large feudal lords ar the txptnst of small and middle-sized ones, then kings againsr the great feudal or rerrirorial lords. a mo\emtm in chis dirtcrion is expressed\\henewr such cli<rnges occur rhtv do so in conjunction with social funcrions chat haw grown more difftrtmiared, and with chains of organized social action. wherhtr military or economic, char have lengrhentcl, Each rime. che network dependencies imerseccing in rhe individual has grown larger and changed in structure; and each rime. in exacr correspondence to this scructure, the moulding of behaviour and of the whole emotional lift. cht ptrsonaliry scrucrnrt. is changed The "ci\ilizing process. seen from rhe aspecrs of sranchircls of conduce and drive control. is rhe same trend which, \\hen seen from rht point of view of human relationships. appears as rht process of advancing integration. increased differentiation of social functions and imerdtpendenct. and the formation of ever-L1rger units of integnirion on whose fortunes and movements the individual depends, whether ht knows ir or nor. I hfft attempted here to complement rhe general account of rhe earliest and lease cornplicarecl phase of chis moYtmtnt with some illusrrarive facru,il t\idence; next, rhe further conrinuation of chis movemtnt and the mechanisms clrivin" ir will bt examined, It has been shown how and why. in rht early phase of history which had a predominantly barter economy. rht imegracion and rhe formarion of srnble go\ernments for Luge empires had lirrle chance. Conquering kings could, it is rrut, subjugate huge art<lS through battle and hold rhem roged1er for a rime by respecr for their sword Bm tht srrucrure of sociery did

of

.:256

Tht Cil'ih:::ing Process

was indeed a seep on rhe parh leading ro our own affecrive and emorional a seep m rhe direcrion of "civilization... mould, On the one hand. a loosely imegrated secular upper class of warriors wit! . symbol. the casrle on rhe aurarkic esrare on rhe ocher rl1e n10 : . 1 its . ' ' re ti<>ht], imeg.rared secular upper class of courtiers assembled ar rhe absolurisr cour;, thy cemr,11 organ of rhe krngdom: rhese are in a sense rhe rwo poles of rhe r ld e b . l. ne of , o servanon w 11ch has been isolared from rhe far longer and broader . d . . . . . , mo\emenr m or er ro gam mmal access ro rhe soc10genesis of civilizinn change Tl l f o . . 1e sow emergence rom rhe casde landscape of the grearer feudal courrs rhe .. ' counoisie, has been shown from a number of asrJecrs. Ir remains ro cl l b . - cl . emonstrare r 1e asic ynamics ot the processes b\ which ont of the grear feudil or rerr _ l cl l " - . ' ' l(orial or s, t 1e kmg, g,11ned preponderance over rhe ochers and rhe opjJOrru . ' ' rnty to :1 more stable governmem over a region embracing many rerrirories, a scare r_his is also rhe path chat leads from rhe srnndard of conduct of COlf t . ro rhar ot civi!itt. 1 ome

On the Sociogenesis of the State

The First Stage of the Rising Monarchy: Competition and Monopolization within a Territorial Framework
l. The crown signified very differem d1ings in differem phases of social dcvelopmem, even though all its wearers had in common cerrain acmal or nominal central funcrions, above all char of milirary leader againsr external enemies. At the beginning of the twelfth century rhe former western Frankish empire, hardly rhrearened any more by srrong exrernal foes, had finally decayed imo a collecrion of discrere dominions:

The bond char formerly united rhe "provinces" crnd rhe feudal dynasties wirh rhe monarchy, was as good as completely ruprured. The last traces of real dominance char permitted Hugh Caper and his son, if nor ro act in rhe large regions controlled by his vassals, rhen ar least ro appear in rhem, had disappeared. The feudal groups of rhe first rank conducted themselves like independent stares impervious ro rhe king's influence and more so ro his acrions. The relarions between rhe great feudal lords and rhe monarchs were reduced ro a minimum. This change was reflected eYen in rhe

258

The Cil'ili::ing

Prr1Ci.:J"J

Std!t' Fom1t1tioil

i1;1d

Ci1'i!i::<1tion

259

official EiE!t:s. Tht feudal princes of che Ewtlfrh cemury ceased calling "comEes du Roi' or "con1Cts du fO) au mt"

In chis siruarion rhe "kin1( did whac other great foudal lords did: he concentrated on consolidating his own increasing his power in the only reg10n sci!! open ro him. the duchy ot Francia. Louis VL king from l l 08 ro l 13"7. was preoccupied throughom his Jife two casks: to increase his own direcc Janel ownership wichin rhe duch. .. l Y ot ranc1a-r 1e esrares and . casdes nor .\TL or onlv nanh. enfeoffed , i .e , h-IS 0\Vf! F . _ . r , family w1d11n rhe same area. ro subdue all possible rivals, everv warnor who mighc equal him in power. One rask assisted rhe orher: fron1 t h.e . feudal lords_ he_ had subdued or conquered he rook all or pan of their property wid10m enteofhng ir to anyone else; rhus by small steps he increased bis possessions, rhe economic and milirnry basis of his power. ' 2 . In rhis rhe monarch was, to begin wirh. no different from a great feudal lord . T_he means of JXi\Ver ar his dispos,i! were so small char medium and even lesser feudal lords-in alliance-could successfully oppose him. Nor only had rhe preponderance of the ro111 house in the whole kingdom \anishtd with the decline of his function as cht common army leader, and wirh advancing foudaliza.. cion: even his monopoly power wichin his own heredirnry cerriwry had become excremely precarious. Ir was dispmed by riYal lords or warrior families. In che person of Louis VI, rhe Caperian house struggled againsr rhe houses of Mommorency. Beaumom. Rocheforr. 1\fondhery, Fent-Alais. Puisec and manv ochers. ' jusc as centuries lacer rhe Hohenzollerns in the person of rhe Gre;t Elenor had rn contend wirh the Quitzows and che Rochows. Only the Capetians had much less chance of success. The difference becween rhe milirarr and financial means of rhe Caperians and rheir opponents was sm,1ller. t::i\en less developed Stace of money, taxarion and milicary cechnique . The Grear Elenor. already had a kind of monopoly control of power wirhin his rerricon-. Louis VI was, leaving aside his support from rhe ecclesiastical inscirncions, a grear landowner ,who had w contend wirh lords with somewhac smaller possessions and military power; and only rhe vicrnr of rhese baules could anain a kind of monopoly posirion within che rerrirnry. beyond rhe compecicion of ocher houses. Only from reading contemporary reporcs can we judge by how linle rhe milirary and economic means of rhe Capenans in chis period surpassed chose of orher feudal houses in rhe duchy of Frnncia; and how difficulc. giYen rhe low degree of economic integration, undeveloped rransportarion and communications, and rhe limiracions of feudal military organizacion, was rhe "so\ereign's" struggle for monopoly power even wichin this small area. For example, rhere was the forrress of rhe Mondhery family commanding che rome becween che cwo mosr imporrnnr pans of rhe Capecian domain, che areas

Paris and Orleans. In l O15 the Capecian king Roberr had given chis land of his senHHS or officials, rhe "grand forescier", wirh permission w build ro one on ic. From chis casde rhe "grand foresrier's" grandson already controlled d'nu '1fe1 ts 'lll independem lord . This is a cvpical example ot the the surroun I o ' ' ' ' . ". . . - "i , - wtl movements rhac were wkrng place everywhere in this per10d. Atrer cenrnfllc' . VI .s wther r . . l scrugules LoLlls hnally managed rn re.ic 1 . ,1 k'111 cl o t' . lei dint:: wirh che 1\fondher\'s; he mamed a bastard son abouc ren years o underscan l ndherv heiress and dms broughr rhe casdt under rhe control or 11s
L ' "

,0

' Shordr before his deach he said house.


J._

rhe

i\{ o l

to

his eldesc son, Lo111s VI:


._

. 11 tl 1,1t tO\\e-r t)f :-.1011rlherv which lw causint.; me so mam rnrments has aged GuJJ.rc! '' e ' -" -- n \- Eim'- incl on iccounc of \Yhich I have ne\er en1mtd last1ng peace or trut nr brrorc 1 . L.' ' c " it was a centre for perfidious people from far and near and disorder 01me it or wiEh its help for J\Ionrlhtry being sirnmtd between Cmbeil I - n j and Chatt<lllfort on the other. each time a conflict arose Paris was cm ott. on one 1a <.. _ _ (, and communicaEion ben,een Paris cmd Orleans was impossible excepc by armed torce
Problems of communicarions nor unlike chose which cominue ro play a role between srnces roday. were ar rh,1c earlier srnge of social develop:11ent no less troublesome on a differenr scale: in rhe relacions between one feudal lorclwhtrher he wore a crown or nor-and ochers. and in regard w che microscopic distance benveen Paris and Orleans: Mondhery is cwenry-four kilomecres from Paris. . . A good p:1rr of Louis Vfs reign was rnken up by fighcing for chis forrress. unnl he fi;ally succeeded in adding Mondhery to the Caperian possessions As all such cases, chis meant a military srrengthening and economic enrichment ot rhe vicrorious house. The Mondhery esrnce broughc in an income of rwo hundred pounds-a handsome sum for those rimes-and belongin_/f ro ir were chirteen direcc fiefs and rwenry indirecc ones depending on rhese. whose cenants now swelled rhe milirnry power of che Capetians. No less protracred and difficulr were rhe ocher bardes Louis VI had ro figl:r He needed d1fee expeditions in 111 l. 1112 and 1118. to break the power ot a sincde kniuhdv familv in rhe Orleans disrricc;-' and ic cosr him rwenry years w b b . . . deal wirh che houses of Rocheforc Ferre-Alais and Puiser, and add rhe1r possessions to chose of his family. By rhis rime, however, the Caperian domain was so large and \veil-consolidated rhat, rhanks w rhe economic and military advantages conferred by such large properry, its owners h:1d omsrrippecl all ocher rirnls in Francia, where they now rook up a kind of monopoly position, Four or five cenruries lacer, the mom1rch had emerged as rhe monopoly comroller of enormous milirnrr and financial means flowing from che whole area as rhar of Louis VI against other feudal lords of che kingdom Campaigns wichin rhe framework of one territory represenred rhe first step on the way w chis lacer monopoly posicion of rhe monarchy. Ar firsr rhe house of the nominal

260

Thu Cil'ili::i11g Procuss

Sttih For///C1tio11 C111cl Ci1ilizatio11

261

kings was scarcely superior to the feudal houses around it in terms of ownership and military and economic power.. The difference in properrv warriors was relarivelv slight. as therefore was the social difference no. matter with what titles rhev j)l!rcLas . adorned themselves. Then ' rhroLJ<d1 o marriage -.. . u e or conquests, one ot these houses accumulated more and more land and drns gained preponderance over 1rs neighbours . The fact rhar ir was rhe old royal house tha succeeded in doing so in Francia may have been bound up-apart from the neve: possessions that made its new start possible-with rhe personal qualities ot its reptesenratives, the support of the church, and a certain traditional prestige. But rhe same differenriarion of property among warriors was taking place at the same rime, as has been mentioned, in other rerrirories too. It was rhe same shifr in the centre of gravity of warrior society, favouring the few large knightly families at the expense of the many small and medium ones, that \WS discussed earlier.. In each terrirory sooner or later one family succeeded, bv accumulating land, in attaining a kind of hegemony. That rhe crown, that Louis the Far, should undertake the same thing looks like an abrogation of the roval function. Bur given this distribution of social power he had no choice. In rhis social srrucrnre, family property and control of rhe narrower hereditary area consrirnred the most important military and financial basis of even the king's power. By concentrating his forces on the small area of Francia. by creating a hegemony in the resrricred space of rerrirory, Louis VI laid the foundation for the subsequent expansion of his house He created a potential centre for the crystallization of rhe greater area of France, even though we may cerrainly not assume that he had any prophetic vision of this future. He acted under rhe direct compulsions of his actual situation. He had to win Montlhery if he were nor to forfeit communication between parts of his own rerrirory. He had to subdue the most powerful family in the Orleans region if his power there were not to dwindle. Had the Capetians nor succeeded in gaining preponderance in Francia, ir would sooner or lacer-like rhe other provinces of France-have fallen to another house. The mechanism leading ro hegemony is always rhe same. In a similar wayrhrough the accumulation of property-a small number of economic enterprises in more recent rimes have slowly oursrripped their rivals and competed with each other, until finally one or rwo of them control and dominate a particular branch of the economy as a monopoly. In a similar way-by accumulating land and thus enlarging their military and financial potential-stares in recent times have struggled for preponderance in a particular part of the world. But whereas in modern society, with its higher division of functions, rhis process rakes place in a relatively complex way, with a differentiation of the economic and rhe military and political aspects of hegemony, in the society of Louis VI, with its predominantly barter economy, these aspects remained undivided. The house that ruled a rerrirory politically was at the same rime by far the richest house in
L ' l .

rerrirory, with the largest area of land: and . its political power would . l r its milirarv j)Ower stemming from the size of 1rs domanrnl revenues JifrI!n1s 1 1 . , " the number of its bondsmen and rerarners, did nor exceed that of all the
L

warrior families within its rerrirory. orher l ll l Once cht preponderance of one house was ta1rly secure 111 r 11s sma reg10n. t 1e for he<'emom in a hirger area moved into rhe foreground-the struggle strugg le b . . . . . bet;een the few larger territorial lords for predomrnance w1th111 the krngdom. . ., s rl1e rask confront in" the descendants of Louis VI, the next generations

Tlns

,v,1

'

of Capetians

II
Excursus on some Differences in the Paths of Development of England, France and Germany
l. The rask implied in the struggle for dominance, i.e. for both centralization and rule, was for a very simple reason different in England and France from that in the German-Roman Empire. The latter formation was very different in size to the other rwo; geographical and social divergences within it were also much greater. This gave rhe local, cenrrifug<1l forces a very different strength, and made ;he rask of attaining hegemony and thus centralization incomparably more difficulc The ruling house would have needed a far greater rerrirorial area and power than in France or England ro masrer rhe centrifugal forces of rhe GermanRoman Empire and forge ir into a durable whole. There 1s good reason ro suppose rhar, given rhe level of division of labour and inregrarion, and the_ milirarv. rransporrarional and administrative techniques of rhe rime, the rask ot holdin;, centrifuual tendencies in so vast an area permanently in check was nearly
b b

insoluble 2. The scale on which social processes rake place is a not unimportant element of their structure In enquiring why rhe centralization and integration of France and England was achieved so much earlier and more completely rhan in the German regions, we should nor neglect this point. In rhis respect the trends of development in rhe three regions vary very widely. \Vhen rhe crown of the western Frankish region fell to the Caperians, the area in which the house had real power extended from Paris ro Senlis in rhe north and to Orleans in rhe south. Twenrv-five years previously Otto I had been crowned Roman emperor in Rome. R.esisrance by other German chiefrains he had ruthlessly put down, primarily supported, at first, by the experienced warriors of his own tribal area. At that rime Orro"s empire stretched roughly from Anrwerp and Cambrai in the west, at least (i.e. withour the margravares east of rhe Elbe) as far as rhe Elbe, and beyond Brno and Olomouc to rhe sourh-easr: it stretched

263 262

The Ci1i!i:i11g Pmcu.'


It

co Schleswig in rht north and rn Verona and Iscria in rbe south: in addition. included a good pan of Italy and for a time Burgundy \Vhat we have

therefore. is a formacion on an entirely diff'forenr scale, and conseguently one fraught with far grtattr tensions and confliccs of inreresc. than the western Frankish area. e\en if we include in the latter the Norman-English colonv acquired lacer. The cask confronting the dukes of Francia and Normandy or che Angevin cerricory. as kings in che struggle for hegemony in chis region,

was

entirely ditforenc co char wich which every ruler of che German-Roman Empire had co conrencl. In rhe former area cenrralizacion or integration, despite numerous swerves to one side or the other. proceeded on the whole continuously In the larcer incomparably larger <lrta. one family of territorial rulers after anorher tried in vain ro attain, with the imperial crown. a really scable hegemony over the whole empire. One house after ;1norher used up in rhis fruidess struggle whac despite all else continued ro be che central source of its income and power-rheir hereditary or domanial possessions. And after each unsuccessful bid by a new house, decentralization and the consolidation of centrifugal tendencies went a step further. Shordy before the French monarchy gradually began ro regain its strength in the person of Louis VJ, the German-Roman Emperor Henry IV collapsed under che combined assaulcs of che great German cerrirorial lords. the Church, the upper Italian cities and his elder son, char is ro S<ly. in face of the most diverse cc:nrrifugal forces" This proYides a point of comparison with the early period of the French monarchy Later. when the French King Francis I had his whole kingdom so complecely in hand that he no longer needed to call assemblies of che estates and could raise rnxes without asking the taxpayers, the Emperor Charles V and his <tdminisrracion had ro negotiate e\"en wichin his own hereditary lands with a whole mulcirude of local assemblies. befrJre he could muster the duties needed to pay for the court, the army and the adminiscration of the empire. And all rhis. includin::: income from rhe on:rseas colonies, was not nearly enough to meet the cosc of running the empire \Vhen Charles V abdicated, the imperial adminiscrncion was on the \erge of bankruptcy He too had exhausced and ruined himst!f in trying to rule such an enormous empire torn by such massive centrifugal forces . And it is an indicacion of che rransformacion of sociecy in genernl. and of che royal function in particular. that the Habsburgs were nevertheless able ro maintain themselves in power. :1. The mechanism of srnce-formacion-in the modern sense of rhe word stare-has been shown ro be, in the European area at the time when sociecy was moving from a barter economy ro a money economy. in its main outlines always the same. Ir will be illustrated in more decail in relation ro France. \Ve always find, at least in the history of the great European staces. an early phase in which units of the size of a cerrirory play the decisive role within the area later to become a srace. These are small. loosely scrucrured dominions such as ha Ye arisen in many

" !' l r cheir size ' ld where division of Ltbour and integrat10n are s ig 1 . . l of r the limits placed on the organization of rule by the prevalence correspon ::: . l ". - " l , economv One example is rht feudal rernronal barter rehmons 1q lI1 t 1e ." . l l l e of the .. ns within rhe German-Roman Empire which, wit 1 t 1e '.1c \'clllV . . dorf1ll110 . l' l , l ro form small kinudoms. duchies or counties, . " _ nom\'. were conso ic atec '=' " , 111one) eco l . " "ts lile rhe 1)[inci1x1licv of \vales or che klilgdom or '"tmp es arc are, ' . B other ex, , meruecl with England in tht United Kingdom or Great ntall1 o l f l , "" m1Jle is rhe duclw ot Francia. whose scod:rnd, no\\ "T rbern Ireland: anc a urt 1er ex,1 . . .. and Nor . , . uhtl \' knit feudal dominion has 1usc been d1sdevclopment mto a more tlz:: .
0 "

cussed.

io:iring territorial dominions rook a very similar course rn cbe" one ne1i:..hb l . 1cithi11 a firmly esrnblisbed territory between the l!1dl\ previous !k " l nri'l one of them actained predominance and a rather more l l- or mg HS, u . oro " '-: l lominion w1s formed Just as. in one phase. a number ot esrnres -olid tern ton a c '. . .f l o be , o. ,d in competition experienced the need ro expand i c 1ey were nor t pL;_c"e cl b\ e'.['l"llldinu neil!hbours, so in rhe next a group of unHs one degree 'UL1JL' ''ace "., c c 1 ::: or counties. found rhemsehes in the same prec ic1menr . l argerl. : lre1ch" been shown in some derail how. in chis sociery. rhe "inttrna 1 ' Ir M> . ' . " l " . fie l \\'i th che urowc l1 o1c popu lar10 n . che oetition tor lam was intensi c 1:' ." '" rnmj. l. larion of hod-ownership and difficulties ot exrernal expansion" Ir \\dS conso ic ' k " l mi'lt desire I . cl " e for hnd W"lS exerted in cbe poor mg HS as a si , . ' ' . l " l l uhest and richesc as shown liow r 1lS fl\ . " cl of living a1111ropriare to their srnrus, anc lI1 c 1e 1i::: .. tor '1 mo e l r surL's . demand "more" land For in a sociecy with sue 1 competitl\'t p e:,. .. a spur ro " b . "! .. Here t""llfl we see I l es not uain "more" auromancally ecomes ess , o' . l1e \\ 10 co o . . . ." . f op co bottom: i c sec the effect of che pressure runnlilg chrough t 1 1is souer: rom t " l " l . rulers c11Lainsr ont anocher: and chereby set rhe monopo y rnec Mche territorial ' " "ned even in rh1s " . " n Ar first the diYergences of power were contai , - . msm w mono tl b. ot teudal phase, within a framework that allowed <l ccmsidern_) e num e_r. ." " d . , l dominions ro remain in contention Then, atter m<lllY \ icrones ,m temrona . l f \'tr while I t" ats some grew scronger through accumulat!ng c 1e o jlO\ l l c.e e ' ' l f . touuht on anc r 1e f . cl of rhe scru'"'lt" T 1e ncconous t\\ ::: others were orce our "'"' " " . l _ cl" . n lar between onl\' c'on \\'as rtj'Jeated until hnalh t 1e eC!S!O . , . l' " " 1 proce's o f e imm, i f l - . " l l m. nions swollen through che defeat and ass1milat10n o or 1e1s. two cernrona co i . . . . '"de or remained neurralAll rhe rest-whecher they were imolved in che scruoo " cl , k Ii es of ,econd or chir ran , I " cl b-en reduced by the growth of these rwo ro gur .1,1 e re.ra'ined a cert",1in social imj)orcance . The other rwo, howe_ ver, rhou uh they scill o . l 11osirion: the\. had outscripped rhe others: the issue were approaching a monopo Y .
L L "

. l l'rocess raking pt.ice hctuu:ll cl1e different . "1 _ schematic out 1lilt. r 1e .
L

lar between them. . l I . In these "elimination conresrs". chis process of social selecr10n, t 1e persona . . . t. ndiYidtnls l!ld other "accidenrnl" facrors such as the late deach ot qua l i tles o i ' '

264
one man or a ruling house's hick of male heirs, undoubtedly played a crucial P<lrt from rime ro time in deciding ll'hid1 terrirory rriumphs, rises and grows. The social process itself, however. the fact that a society with numerous power and property units of relativtly equal size, ttnds under strong competitive pressures rowards an enlargement of a few units <111d finally rowards monopoly, is largely independent of such accidents. They can have an accelerating or retarding effect on rhe process. Bur no matter who the monopolist is, thar a monopoly will sooner or later be formed has a high degree of probability. at least in the social structures rhar have c:xisced so far. In rhe language of exact science observation would perhaps be called a "law" Strictly speaking, wh,1r we have is a relatively precise formulation of a quire simple social mechanism which, once set in morion, proceeds like clockwork A human figuration in which a relarivelv large number of units, by virtue of rhe power at their disposal, are competition, rends ro deviate from this srare of equilibrium (many balanced bv many; relatively free competition) and to approach a different srnre in which fewer and fewer units are able ro compete; in other words ir <lpproaches a situation in which 011c social unit attains through accumulation a monopoly of the contended power chances. -i Tht gtntral characrer of the monopoly mechanism will be discussed in more derail later Ir seems necessary to point our at this stage, however, chat a mechanism of chis kind is ar work in the formation of stares roo, just as it was earlier involved in the formation of the smaller units. the territories, or will be bter in rhe formation of yet larger ones. Only if wt have this mechanism in mind can we understand which factors in the hisrory of different countries modify or even impede it. Only in this way can we see with some clarity why the rask facing a potential central ruler of rhe Germano-Roman Empire was incomparably more difficult rhan char which faced a potential ruler of rhe western Frankish region In chis empire too, through elimination struggles and rhe constant accumulation of territory in rhe hands of rhe victors. one territorial dominion would ha\'e had to emerge strong enough to absorb or eliminate all orhers. Only in chis way could this disparate empire have been centralized. And there was no Lick of srruggles rending in chis direction. nor only chose between rhe Guelfs and rhe Hohensraufens bur also berween Emperor and Pope, wirh their special complications. Bur rhey all missed rheir mark. In an area as large and varied as chis, rhe probability of a clearly dominant power emerging was very much less [ban in smaller areas, especially as ar chis stage economic inregrarion was lower and effective distances were many rimes greater rhan later. In any Gtse, elimination struggles wirhin so large an area would need far longer rhan in the smaller neighbouring ones How, nevertheless, stares finally managed to be formed in rht GermanoRoman Empire is well known. Among rhe German rerrirorial dominions-to disregard rhe analogous process in Irnly-a house emerged which. above all

Stc1tc Formation d11tl Cirdi::dtio11

265

l tiifotlg . . . l1 r l1e , older H1bsburs: the Hohenzo erns. . 1 . mi)eritton wit ' o

. . I German or semi-German colonial region, slowly expans10n mto r 1e ' ll A rru'"'le s "'"' . inro co . . .f I Hohenzollerns. to the tormar10n . , . ensued. lead mg ro vicrory or t 1t for suprem,1q . . ... n1on<' German territorial rulers and eventual!}. bl L!OUS supremacy ,1 b l {' of an um1m "' I . h- . . . f rl1e German rerri rories under a smg e ru mg e ro r 1e urn car10n o . f l ;rep by sr this struggle for supremacy between rhe rwo most power u iippararus .. of the empire, while leading ro greater tbt cornponenrs . l. I n1eanr 1 furrher step rowarcls the cl1smtegrar10n o ' _ . Tl . f Hes wlt 1111 t 1em- ' tion o sr, . ire \'Vith their defeat the Habsburg lands !eh rhe un10n .11s was m rhe old emp l f rhe slow 111d continuous decav of rhe empire In tht of rhe ast stages o ' d cl nr facr one . nd more p1rrs crumbled away ro become in epen e r cenrunes more a ' I l course or . . l rue and diverse ro be or 1er t rnn a . . s As a whole. the empire was roo a "' dorn11110n . . c ro srnre-form<1t1on. . f . . n rhe Germano-Roman Empire was so hin d ran e "' fleer on whv scare- ormar10n t . . l.l l io re . . cl b l d I an in irs western neighbours cerram y 1e ps re hbor10us an e are t 1 l'f' rnuc l1 mo ' . l . Modern experience ot rhe c I terenct d'n" ot rhe rwenr1er 1 century. 1 undersn111 o . b l d . d more full\' expanded western l .1b!ishec! better a ance ,111 . scares descended from the old empire, srares, m lace, gives this question topical imporrance. From whICh exp,111decl co _P. . ,cl . d'fficulr ro answer. at any rare nor c l oint of vtew 1t oes nor seem 1 a strucrura p . :vhich is sclfceh less important wr an le complementar\' quesnon \ ' , 1 I . chis colossus. despite more so rl1an r understanding of historical structures-the quesnon \\ 1) f . fu al forces . - unfavourable srrucrure and rhe unavo1ch1ble strength H> . . ' thtr so !on, whv the Empire did nor foun er ear ier w1th111. lt. held ro. ge db ll . l . b r for cenrurie<: border areas ot rhe - A , r y it did incite co apse are, LI ) . s a rota tt ' d l Ind been crumbling away and em ire-particularly to the west an som .' . ' f p while incessant colo111wr1on and expansion o . going their O\vn \Vay. cl I l the west come extent compensate r 1e osses 111 ' serdemenrs in rhe ease ro Up to the hire Middle Ages, and roan though only ro some extent l 'f d rl1e Rl1one It \\e l .1 hr 1s t 1e n aas an lacer, the empire spread to r 1e west.' s ' 'l I l trend of chis move. . d Jer on \' r ie 0uenera disreuard rhe irregularmes an consi . . d diminution 0 . f he emj)tre s constant arrnr10n an ' menr. we have rhe impress10n o r . . . . . I . drift of the , 'eel b\' a slow shift in rhe d1recr10n of expans10n. anc a . cl accomp,1111 . Tl . k rem,1ins to demonstrate chis rren 1e ras . rrend is still cenrre of grnvity trom west to ease more exacdv rhan is possible here. Bur purely 111 terms of area,. the . 'bl e 111 . r1'1e most recent changes in German ttrnrory proper. v1s1
0

The German Confederation before 1866 Germany after 1870 Germany after 1918

630,098 sq. km

540,-484 sq. km.


471,000 sq. km.

I The rradirional In England. and in France coo. the rrend is almost r 1e reverse

266

T /;, Cil'i/i::,ing Proc's-' p01nt E\en wirh . . soon as rerrirorv had been unired b eyon cl a cerrarn t"lln ,\S ' j l acr a"'' d .. 1rer1r1'on rncl communications rhis empire is provrng c angerous } c n11 ' 1 verycexperiencecl and flexible government is h_olding ir .rogerher.\\'IE 1 c1 .h. Ir\ Des1Jire verv different precondmons trom rhose or rht old 1[ cu ' ' l b ir still illustrates how a very large empire, broughr roget 1er \' E orman mp ' ' b f G c _ . cl coloniZ'ltion finalh rends to disintegrare into a num er o more or ue> r ,rn ' , . . .... cl l . ,.. ! nclent uni rs. or at least robe rransformecl into a krnd ot te era sr<1te I SS inaepc If "cl e l .. t close ouirrers rhe mecharnsm seems almosr se -ev 1 em. t 1us a 1 ' ' l l. ::,een . . f the C11Jefr1ns !'. The nanve reg10n o ' ' the duchv ot Francia. was smal er run rhe same . l1 rer rror\' l ,v.Eng 1 1s 1 . controlled b\ . rhe Norman dukes.. Ir was roughly 8 ut r.1c, <1s,rhe Elecrorare of Brandenburg at rhe rime ot rhe
s1ztre wirhin rhe framework of rhe empire, ir rook five or six centunes tor rhe ro become a power capable of confronting the ol:l-esrnblished f I .. \Virhin rhe more limited framework of rhe western rernwnes o r lt empire. . . . . - " . I . l . . .. , rernron to"tther with the nuren,1l ,rnc F . nk1sh area. r le pO\\ er 01c siich . '1 .. , "' ra. . l hel[J niven bv the Church ro rhe Caperians, was enough ro enable .the spin ru,1 "' 1 F . .. . . .. b,nin rhe stru""lt for supremacy over larger areas o r,rnce ,1r ,1 \er) house to cc"'"' rhe

insriturions firsr developed in relarivt!y small and resrricred areas and exrended rheir scope. The fare of rhe central insriturion. rhe srrucrure denolopment of rhe whole gmernment apparatus in rhese countries, cannot Ii;: understood. nor the difference between rhem and rhc: corresponding formations in the stares descended from the old empire explained, unless this simple factor rhis slow growrh from small to larger, is raken inro account. ' Compared ro the German-Roman Empire. rhe island rerrirory that the Norman Duke \Villiam conquered in 1066 was quire smaJL Ir reminds us roughly of Prussia under rhe first kings Ir comprised. apart from small areas on rhe northern border wirh Scotland. present-day England. an area of about 1_'l1.76-l square kilometres. \Vales was completely uni red with England only at rhe end ofrhe rhirreenth cenrury !England wirh \Vales 151.150 sq km ) Union wirh Scotland has existed only since 160} Such figures are visible bur very crude remind us rhar rhe formation of the indicarions of structural differences. English nation. and rhen the Brirish, rook place within a framework which, compared wirh rhar of rhe grear Continental nations, scarcely extended, in its decisiw phase, beyond rhar of a rerriroriaJ dominion \Vhar \Xfilliam the Conqueror and his immediare successors built up was in fact norhing other than a large rerrirory of rhe wesrern Frankish empire. and nm very different from those which exisred ar rhe same rime in Francia. Aquitaine or Anjou The task with which rhe struggle for supremacy confronted rhe rerrirorial rulers of this arearhrough rhe sheer necessity of expanding ro avoid domination bv orhers-rhis task could nm in any way be compared wirh rhar facing a potential cenrral mler of the: Conrinemal empire . This is rrue even of the first phase in which rhe island rerrirory formed a kind of western Frankish colony, when irs Norman or Angevin rulers also conrrolled considerable rerrirories on rhe Continent and when they \verc:: dJerdore srill srruggling for supremacy in the wesrern Frankish area. Bm it is rrut above all of rhe phase when they were thrown back on rhe island from the Continem, !ll1d had ro unire ir under one government on rhe basis of England alone. And if the. royal funcrion, like rhe relarion of king ro tsrnres, rook a difftrtm form here than in the Continental empire. one of rhe facrors ar work, though certainly nor rhe only one, was rhe relarive smallness and also, of course, rhe isolated position of rhe area ro be uni reel. The likelihood of major regional differemiarion was nry much less, and the srruggle for supremacy between two rivals simpler, rhan berween rhe many factions in the empire. The English parliament. as far as its manner of formarion and therefore irs srrucwre is concerned, was in no way comparable ro the German Imperial Dier. bur rarher wirh rhe regional estares Much the same is rrue of all rhe mher insrimrions. They grew. like England itself, from smaller to larger; rhe institutions of a feudal territory evolved continuously into those of a stare and an empire. In the British Empire too. however. centrifugal forces immediately began to

u' colonial area


.

sm,1.

earlr stage. rhe basis of rhe lartr .l l f behind by rhe western Frankish empire, [ lt area e r . . . . .. ncerned France. occupied a roughly midway posmon. as far as its size \\as. co_ ,, . ' berween rhe Germano-Roman Empire and what was to become En 0 L1ncl Regional divergences. and thus centrifugal forces, were less here rhan ll1 i,"hbouring empire and rhe rask of rhe porential cenm:l ruler accordmgl\ los ne"' ureuer and arren cl am centntuga l t orce s \,ere "' ' .tlnn ' l fh cu lr . Bur rhe clivernences ( l b . cl f the 1 l I d -, In Ennhnd however rhe \'try re,rncre ness o on rhe B nr1s 1 is an . "' ' , _ . __ r r. facilirarecL under cerrain circumstances. an alliance of rhe d1tterenr te.mo ) . . . l . l l . . rhe cenrral trom r le \v 10 e ! esrnres anc, a bo\t ill , ' of wHnors ' . . . cl ruler. Furthermore, \Villiam rhe Conqueror's disrribu[lon of land fa\ou1e rhe lancl-o\vning class rhroughom rhe conracr a nd Con1n1 on interests among v whole of England. ar Jeasr as far as relationships ro the_ ruler were concerned Ir remains ro be shown how a cercain degree of trngmenta[lon and disparateness in a clomm1on, not enoug l1 ro permir clisimenra[lon "' ... bur enough rn make a direcr alliance of the estates rhroughour rhe country d1fhculr, srrengrhened rhe posirion of rhe cemral ruler. . . . . . _ Thus rhe chances offered by rhe former western Frankish region, ll1 terms of bl e ro t I1c -- emerg.ence of 1 its size, were nor unfavourn .. ' central ruler and the formarion of monopoly power. Ir remains ro be seen in derail how rhe Caperians rook advanrage of these opporrnnities and. in genera l . b\ . . what mechanisms monopoly rule was established in rhis territory

268

5rdlt:

fr;rmc1tio11 cmd Ciz'ili:ati1J11

269

III
On the Monopoly Mechanism
1. The sociery of what we call rhe modern age is characrerized, above all in the \vesr, by a cerrain level of monopolizarion. Free use of milirary weapons is denied rhe individual and reserved to a cemral amhority of wharever kind, 80 and likewise the taxation of the properry or income of individuals is concemrated ia. the hands of a central social amhority. The financial resources thus flowing into this cemral authority maintain its monopoly of military force, while this in turn maimains the monopoly of taxation. Neither has in any sense precedence over the other; they are two sides of the same monopoly. If one disappears the orher automatically follows, rhough rhe monopoly rule may sometimes be shaken more strongly on one side rhan on the other. Forerunners of such monopoly control of rnxes and the arm\ mer relarively large rerrirories have previously exisred in societies with a less advanced division of functions, mainly as a result of milirary conquest. It rakes a far adrnnced social division of functions before an enduring, specialized apparatus for administering the monopoly can emerge And only when this complex apparatus has evolved does rhe comrol mer army and raxarion take on its full monopoly character. Only then is the military and fiscal monopoly firmly esrnblished . From then on, social conflicts are not concemecl with removing monopoly rule bm only with the question of who are to control it, from whom they ue to be recruited and how the burdens and benefits of rhe monopoly are to be disrribured . Ir is only wirh rhe emergence of rhis continuing monopoly of rhe cenmd amhoriry and rhis specialized apparatus for ruling rhar dominions rake on rhe character of "stares". \virhin rhtm a number of orhtr monopolies crystallize around rhose alreacly mentioned. Bur rhese rwo are and remain rhe key monopolies If rhey decay, so do all rhe q:sr. and wirh rhem rhe "srnre 2. The quesrion. ar issue is how and why rhis monopoly srrucrure arose . In rhe sociery of [ht nimh. renth and elevemh cenmries ir clefinirely did nor yer ex1sr. From rbe eleventh century-in rhe rerrirory of rhe former wesrern Frankish emplft-we see H slowly crystallizing. Ar firsr each warrior who controlled a piece of land exerred all the funcrions of rule; rhese were rhen gradually monopolized by a cemral ruler whose power was adminisrered by specialisrs. \vhenever he pleased, he waged wars ro gain new land or defend his own. Lancl-acquisirion and rhe governmemal foncrions going wirh irs possession were. like irs milirnry defence, lefr to "pri,are iniriarive", ro use rhe language of a larer age. And since, with rhe increasing popularion of rhe area, hunger for land was exrremely keen, comperirion for ir rhroughour rhe coumry was rife. In rhis comperirion borh milirary and economic means were used, in conrrasr ro rhar of

cemurv for ex<imple. which, given rhe srnte monopoly of physical ' oineteem 1 1 . . . tiie _ e was waged solely by economic means . . . . . v1of.t:OC '. cl f rhe comperirive srrugdes and rhe monopolizanon rakmg place_ 0 ' !\ rem1n er I c1 ot ' I . ''\es is nor wirhour value for . an unc ersran mg unc er our O\\ n ' . . . . mechanisms in earlier srages of sociery. In acldmon, cons1cleninon ot 1 JJJonopo.} . cr1'on w1'rh rhe new hel1Js us ro set rhis social clevelopmem as a Id m coniun . . f rhe o . The larer pan of rhe movemem presupposes the and cenrre rhe accumularion of rhe mosr imporrant means or proclucoon of rhe ome,_ vorh is I . . . . t. , r me! fewer hands--earlier rhe accumulanon ot e1sr conrro over H, 111 t\\ e , or ar l ' . d larer rhar of money. . . cl s1 Ir ]anT;ie mechanism of monopoly '.ormarion has already been bnefly d1scusse .
th, ,111cil!t1 \OCwl m11t1 uhll'h. th11Jlfgh of rnl!ghl) cq11al Joua! /1011,r and art ''Cf/' . f' j- the ll/il/1S fO l /I t ' ' 1 /,/ t1J coiii/it!e j;Ii:ly-!ll1hc1111jmwl by Jm-cxisti1.1g 1110111Jj!o 1es-.. or : !JJ!!S d.1 t.. I - J. is h,:gh r i.e. primarilr rhc 111wm 11 i11bs1stti!t't am/ pmc i/t:!!Oll. r .le . I1011 ' / fl It jw"r ,1.,, , ll'ill /;u l'ictMiom a11d others l'clliCfi!ishul. and that grm !!Cl Y as cl resfl . ' 111a1 S!Jil.c . . I .. . / .... tr zed! Ir 11 ,. , rrol mort mu/ more oj!ji1Jrtill//t1us, anc 11101u <111c. 1111 1c 11111.. ' 1 11 11 1 I 1 cfi .. ctly 111 indirc:ct!y depenc1mt 011 a11 c1crtm comptt1t11111. " will 1111111 /;e;. The human figurarion caughr up in rhis movemenr rherefore' unless coumervailing measures are taken, approach a stare in which all s ire controlled bv ,1 sinde amhoriry: a sysrem \Vlrh open opporrunopporcumne ' : ,11 become a svsrem w1d1 closed opporrunmes. . 1 mes '' . I . . l rea The ueneral patrem followed by rhis sequence 1s very s1mp e. 111 a .soo,1. a. rhere a cerrnin number of people and a cerrnin number of opporrunmes w h1ch are scarce or insufficienr in relarion ro rhe of rhe people. I'. we assun1e ro begin wirh all rhe people in rhis area fighr one orher for rbe avmla le Ir l)robibilirv rbar rhev will maintain rh1s srnre of equ1libnum oppo1mnH1t>, c c ' . . I. definireh and char no parmer will rriumph in any of rhese pairs 1s exrreme ! 10 . . . a ced b\ mv monopolv power; small, if rhis is indeed a free compermon unmuuen . ' , . ., and rhe probabiliry rhar sooner or larer contesrnnts will .o' ercome l . I i "h Bm if some of rhe contenders ;ire '1cronous. . rheir opponenrs 1s exrreme } 1 "' . -. . _ rheir opporruniries mulriply; rhose of rhe vanqu'.shed decrease. Grearer oppor ! e n the hands of one group ot rhe ongmal nvals, rhe others rnrur1es accumu ar 1 . f l b- 11 " eliminared from clirecr comperirion wirh rhem. Assum111g rhar eacho ne ei "' , d once 1,,an1 one vicrors now srruggles wirh rhe orhers, rhe process 1s repeare . '"'. . crori.OL!S incl u-iins control of rhe power chlmces of rhe vanquished. a
IJj
tllc
1
L
.L _

b roughly summarized as follows: ii social 1!11it," lcll'ge 1111111htr J 1r 1111'r11dcnce (iJl!Jtitl!fc tht /cll'ger IJl/t. 1

''fOUp IS \I ' o' l ;rill smaller number of people controls a srill grearer ot power c 1ances, a srill grearer number of people are eliminared from rhe free compermon; anld fi 11 I . , e case one 1nd1v1dual contro s ' . rhe process is repearecl unnl na y, 111 t 1e exrrem all power chances and all rhe orhers are dependent on. him. In hisrorical realiry ir is certainly nor always individual people who become
L

TO

Tih

embroiled in chis mechanism: frequendy it is largt associations of ptoplt:, examplt ttrnrones or srnrts. Tht course of evtnts in rtalin- is uscnlh f 1 . ' 'r mnr"' complicartd dian in chis schtmacic parrtrn. and full of Ir v" happtns. for txamplt. thar a number of weaker ]'arties combint rn brin' de . . . . c rndff1dual who has accumulared roo man\ l)Ossibiliries and urown rcJci s _ . .. : . . . . . c rrong. rhe},. succeed and rnkt over tht poss1bilmts ot chis parry, or some of rhern thty rhen nght among rhemselves for predominance The effocc. tht shift power balances, is always the same. In this way. rno, an ever-increasing number ot power d1ances rends rn accumulate in rhe hands of an ever-diminishing number of people rhrough a senes ot el1mrnanon contests. Tht course and pact of chis shifr in favour of rhe few at rhe expense of the depend tO a large txttnt on dit relation bttwttn tht supply of and demand for opportunities If wt assumt that the ltvel of demand and tht number of opporrun!ties remain unchanged overall in the course of the movement, the dtmand opportunities will increase with the shifr in the power relations; the number of the dependents and the dtgret of thtir dtptndenct will increase and change in kind. If rtlarively independent social functions are increasingly replaced by dependent ones in socitt}-for txample. free knights bv knighrs and finally courtiers, or relati\ely independent merchants by d.eptude;r merchants and tmployees-rhe moulding of affecrs. rht srrucrurt of drives and consciousness. in shorr rhe wholt social personality structure and the social attitudes of people art necessarily changed at the same rime. And chis applies no less to those who are approaching a monopoly posirion than ro those \\ho have losr rht possibility to compete and fallen into direct or indirect dependence. _ .'i For this process should in no way be understood merely as one whereby ftwtr and fowtr people become "frtt .. and more and more "unfree ... although some phases ir appears rn answtr this description. If the movement is as a whole. we .can recognize wirhour difficulty rhar-ac least in highly difftrtnriared socittits-dtpendence undergoes a ptculiar qualitative change at a ctrrain Staf!e of the proci:ss. The more people are made dtptndent by die monopolv mtchanism. the gr.eater becomes the power of rht dependent, nor on]\- individually bm also collecci\tly. in relation to the one or more monopolis;s This happens nor only because of rht small numbtr of chose approaching rhe monopoly position. bm because of their own dependence on evtr more dependents in preserving and exploiting the power potential rhey have monopolized. \vherhtr it is a question of land. soldiers or monev in anv form. rht more that is accumulated by an individual. the less easily it bt supervised b\ this individual. and the more surely he becomes by his very monopoly on increasing numbers of orhers. the mort he becomes dependent on his dependents. Such changes in power and dependence relationships often rakt centuries ro become perceptible. and cemurits more to find expression in lasting insrirucions. Particular structural proptrries of society may place endless obstacles in rhe way

\tr its mechanism and trend are unmistakable Tht che p roeess . . . - more . .. h nsivt cht monopoliztd power poctnrial, rhe larger che web of funcr10ncornPre e . . . . . _ .,Jminisrerinu it and the ,_ greartr rhe d1v1s10n of labour among chem. Ill ,. c . . h more 11to11lt on whose work che monopoly is m any way . or funcrion . . 5[lorr. t c . controlled by the monopolist depenc cht more srroni.dv , . does this whole held . . . . 1 rs own wei<ht and irs own inner_ regularmes. Iht monopoly ruler can .issert /:> , . . _ this md im11ose on himself rhe resmunts that l11s tuncr10n as rhe ac kno\vl ed"e <=:: ( . l ruler of so mi o "hff cenrr,1 . a tormarion demands: or he can mdulge h1mselt and _ his own inclinations precedence over all ochers. In che laner case rhc complex social apparaws which has developtd along_ wirh chis prirnrt accumula. 1ower clnnces will sooner or later lapse into disorder and make its o1 1 ' . non resiscance. irs auronomous srrucwre. all rhe more strongly felc In other words, che more comprehensive a monopoly posirion becomes and_ rhe more_ highly developed its division of labour, the more clearly and ctrrnmly dots 1r move rowards a point at \vhich its one or more monopoly rulers become the central funcrionaries of an apparaws composed of differentiated functions, more powerful than ochers. ptrhaps. but scarcely less dependent and fttrertd. This change mar come about almost imperceptibly by small steps and struggles, or through wh;Jle groups of dependents asserting their social power over the monopoly rulers_ by force: in one way or another the powtr tirsr won rhrough rhe accumulation ot_ in private struggles. tends, from a poim marked by an oprimal size ot possessions. ro slip away from the monopoly rulers_ into the hands of dit dependents as a whole. or. ro begin with, ro groups of dependents, such as r_ht monopoly administration. The privately owned monopoly in che hands of a single individual or family comes under rhe control of broader social strara. and transforms itself as the central organ of a start into a public monopoly. The clewlopmenr of what \\e roday call a "national economy .. is an illustracive example of chis proctss. The national economy dewlops from the .. private tcononw .. of feudal ruling houses. i\Iort precisely. thtre is ar firsr no distinction whar art later opposed as .. public .. and "private .. income and expenditure. The income of the central rulers derives primarily from rheir personal family or domanial possessions: expenses for rhe ruler's courr, hunts, clothes or presents art mer from this income in exactly rht same way as the cost of the rtlativtly small administration. paid soldiers if any, or the building of castles . Then, as more and more land comes rouether in rhe hands of one ruling house the management of income and the administration and defence of his property become increasing!\ difficult for the individual ro supervise. Bur even when the direct of rhe ruling house, irs domanial esrnre, are no longer by any means d1t most important source of tlie rultrs income: even when, wich che increasing commercialization of sociecv, duries from the whole country flow into the .. chambers' of rhe central ;uler: and when. with rhe monopoly of force. the monopoly of land has become at the same rimt one of duties or raxes-e,en then

27.2

Tin Cirilizi11g Pn1cess

Sutt For111ati1111 and Ci1ili::t1tion


"ht of these manv intertwined actions and interests so great Iv l1e re ls rhe wei b .

the central ruler at first contrnuts to control this revenue as if it \\ere the personal income of his household I-fr can std! decide how much of it should b,, spent on castles, presents, his kitchen and the court, and how much on ' the troops and paying the administration. The distribution of the income frorn t_he monopolized resources is his prerogative. On closer examination, however, We find that the monopolist's freedom of decision is restricted more and more bv 1 . . t1e immense human web that his property has gradually become. His dependence 00 his adm'.nistrative staff increases and, with it, the influence of the latter; the fixed costs ot the monopoly apparatus constantly rise; and at the encl of this development the absolme ruler with his apparent! y unttstricred power is, to an extraordinary degree, governed by and functionally dependent on, the society he rules. His absolute smereignty is not simply a consequence of his control of opportunities, but the function of a particular structural peculiarity society in this phase, of which more will be said later. Bur however that mav even the budget of French absolutism still made no distinction the "prirnte" and "public .. expenditure of the king. How the transformation into a public monopoly finally finds expression in the budget is well enough known. The \\ielder of central power, whatever ride he may bear, is allocated a sum in the budget like any other functionary; from it the central ruler, king or president, meets rhe expenses of his household or courr; expenditure necessary for the governmental organization of rhe country is strictly separated from rhar used by inchiduals for personal ends. Prirnre monopoly rule has become public monopoly rule. even when in the hands of an individual as the functionary of society. The same picture emerges if we trace the formation of rhe governmental apparatus as a whole. Ir grows om of what might be called rhe "private" court and clomanial administration of the kings or princes. Practically all rhe organs of scare gowrnrnent rtsulc from the differemiation of the functions of rhe roval housthold, sometimes with the assimilation of organs of autonomous administration. \Vhen this governmental apparatus has finally become the public affair of the state, rhe household of rhe central ruler is at most one organ among others and finally hardlr even that This is one of the most pronounced examples of rhe way in which private property becomes a public function, and the monopoly of an individual-won in contests of elimination and accumulation over several generations-is finally socialized.

en rhe few with monopolv control over immense possibilities cannot rhar t\ escape irs pressure . , . Social processes involving the monopoly mecharnsm are to bt round m many . s even those \virh relativelv - low division of functions . and integration. . 500 ene , roo everv monopolv rends, from a certain degree of accumular10n .. TI1ere, , . _ on_ . ro escape the control of anv single individual and to pass into that of entire war ds. . ,_, . . -lo .,r0 uns frequentlv starting wirh the former government funcr10nanes, the -ocia r- ' ". ser\anrs of rhe mono1)olisrs of feudalizarion is one example ot nrsr ' The process _ . Ir was shown earlier how, in the courst ot this process, control over r I11>.
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on-,

Ir would rake us roo far afield to show here what is actually meant by saying that the "pri\are" power of individuals over monopolized resources becomes "public", or "stare", or "collective" power. As was said earlier, all these expressions have their full meaning only when applied ro societies with extensive division of functions: only in such societies are the activities and functions of each individual directly or indirectly dependent on those of many ochers, and

relatively large territorial possessions and military slips_ away from rhe rnonopoly ruler in successive waves, first to his former tunctionanes or their heirs, rhen ro rhe warrior class as a whole wirh its own internal hierarchy In societies with a lower degree of interdependence between social functions, this shift away from private monopoly control leads either to a kind of "anarchy", a more or less complete decay of rhe monopoly, or ro its appropriation by an oligarchy instead of an individual dynasty. Later, such shifts in favour of the many do nor lead ro a disimegration of the monopoly, but only to a different form of control o\er it OnlY in rhe course of a growing social interdependence of all functions dots it possible to wrest monopolies from arbitrary exploitation by a few without causing rhem ro disintegrate, \Vherever rhe division of functions is both high and increasing, the few who, in successive waves, claim monopoly power, sooner or later find themselves in difficulry, at a disadvantage in face of the many, through their need of their services and thus their functional dependence on them. The human web as a whole, wirh its increasing division of functions, has an inherent tendency that opposes increasingly strongly every private monopolization of resources Tht tendency of monopolies, e . g. the monopoly of force or raxarion, to rurn from "privare" into "public" or "stare" monopolies, is nothing other rhan a function of social interdependence. A human web with high and increasing division of functions is impelled by its own collective weight rowarcls a state of equilibrium where the disrribmion of the advantages and revenues from monopolized opportunities in favour of a few becomes impossible. If ir seems self-evident ro us today that cerrnin monopolies, above all the key monopoly of government, are "public", held by the srare, although this was by no means the case earlier, this marks a step in the same direction. Ir is entirely possible that obstructions may again and again be placed in the path of such a process by rhe particular conditions of a society: a particular example of such obsrrucrions was shown earlier in rhe development of the old Germano-Roman Empire. And wherever a social web exceeds a certain size optimal for that particular monopoly formation, similar breakdowns will occur. Bur the impulsion of such a human web rowards a quire definite structure, in which monopolies are administered to rhe advantage of rhe whole figuration, remains

St.1!1:

fiJmutio11 a11d Ciri!i:::atiiJ11

ns

perceptible, no marrtr whar factors may repeatedly intrude as mechanisms to arrest die process in recurrent siruarions of contlicc Considered in general terms, therefore, rhe process of monopoly formation a \ery srrucrure. In ir. free comptririon ha: a precisely definable place and a posttffe tuncr10n- it 1s a srrugde among manv tor resources nor ver mono!)0 1 ized '.rny md1v1dual or small group. Each social monopoly is preceded by this kind ot tree el1mrnar1on conresr: each such comest rends towards monopoly.. As this phase of frte competition, monopoly formation means on one hand rnt closure of d1recr access to cerrnin resources for incre1sin<' numb f ' o ers o people. and on rhe ocher a progressive cenrralizarion of rhe conrrol of resources. rhis cenrralizarion. such resourcts are !Jlaced omside rhe d'irecr . . B, _ comptrmon ot the manv: in rhe exrreme case rhe\ are controlled b' a s I . . . . : ' ing e ennry. fhe Lurer, rhe monopolist, is never in a position ro use the profit from hrs monopoly for himself alone, parricularly in a society wirh a hi h division of functions. If he has enough social power, he may ar lirsr claim merwhelming pan of rhe monopoly prolir for himself, and reward services with rhe minimum needed for life. Bur he is obliged. jusr because he deptnds on the services and funcrions of ochers. co allocate ro others a large pan of the resources he controls-and an increasingly largt part, rhe larger his accumulated possessions become. and rhe greater his dependenct on others, A new srruggle over the :1llocarion of these resources therefore arises among those who depend on them. Bm whertas in the preceding phase rhe comperirion was "free"-rhar is, its omcomt clependtcl solely on who proved stronger or wtaker ar a gi\en rime-it now depends on rhe funcrion or purpost for which rhe monopolise needs the individual co supervise his dominion. Free comperirion has been replaced bv one thar is conrrolled, or at any rare conrrollable. from a central position by agenrs: and the qualities rhac promise succtss in chis restricted comperirion, the selection ir operates. the human types it produces, differ in rhe exrreme from those in the prectding phase of free comperition.
. . LL L

of rheir de1Jendence and unfreedom, nosralgia ecre cl . ll ,1trecl ' '- for free knighrlv suo) on rhe one hand, and pride in rht self-conrrol rhey have acquirtcl, or in rhe new possibiliries of pleasure char ir opens, on rhe other. In brief is a new spurt in rhe civilizing process rhrs l. c l .. l tcl . The next seep is the seizurt of rhe monopo res 01 p 1ys1rn orct an raxar10.n, all rhe other governmtnral monopolies based on them. by rht bourgtorsre. The Iac rer was ar rhis srage a stratum which, in irs .rnralirv, , conrrollecl cerrain economic opportunities in rhe manner of an orgarnzed monopoly..Bur chest among rts _ . mtmbers char relanvely . large . opporn1111.ties were srill so evenlv . Sj)[tad of them could com1)ete treek \\!'hat d11s srrarum was srrugglmg with num b ers . ' rrnces for and what it finallv arrained, was not rhe desrrucnon of monopoly me p ' . . did nor aspire co re-allocate these monopolies . of raxar10n I T he bourueoisie roe b i1nd military and police powtr to cheir own individual members; their members did nor want to becomt landowners, each controlling his own milirnry means and his own income from rnxes. The existence of a monopoly for raising raxes and , ., rin" nlwsical violence was the basis of their own social existence; ir was the cxer b r . _ precondition for the restriction to economic, non-violent means. of rhe free cornpetirion in which they were engaged with each orher for certain economic
J

The diffe-rence berween che situation of rhe free feudal nobilin and char of the courtly nobiliry is an example of this. In rhe former. rhe social power of the individual house. a function of borh irs economic and military capacity and of rhe physical srrtngrh and skill of rhe individual. determines rhe allocarion of rtsources: and in this free comperirion rhe dirtct use of force is indispensable. In rhe larrtr. rht allocation of resources is linallv determined b, rhe man whose !must or whose predecessors have emerged viccoriously the struggle by violence, so char he now possesses rhe monopoly of force. Owing co this monopoly, rhe direct use of force is now largely txclucltd from rht competition among rhe nobility for the opporruniries rhe prince has co allocate. The means of struggle have been refined or sublimated. The rtsrrainr of rhe affects imposed on rhe individual by his dependence on the monopoly ruler has incrtased. And individuals now waver between resisranct to rhe compulsion ro which rhey are

opporruniries. . \Vhar rhey were striving for in rhe srruggle tor monopoly rult, and what they finallr attained was nor, as nored before, a division of rhe existing monopolies but ,; different disrribmion of their burdens and benefits. Thar conrrol of rhest monopolies now depended on a whole class instead of an absolme prince was a srep in rhe clirecrion jusr described; it was a srtp on that road which led the opportunities given by this monopoly to be allocartcl less and less according co rhe personal favour and inreresrs of individuals, bm increasingly according co a more impersonal and prtcist plan in the inreresrs of many inrerdependenr assocrares, and linalh- in the interests of an entire interdepencltnt human figuration. fo orhe,r words. through centralization and monopolizacion. opportunities char previously had co be won by individuals through milirary or economic force, could now become amenable co planning. From a certain point of development on, rhe struggle for monopolies no longer aims ar rhtir destruction; it is a struggle for control of rheir yields, for che plan according to which rheir burdens and benefits are co be cliviclecl up, in a word, for the keys ro distribution. Distribution itself, rhe rask of rhe monopoly ruler and adminisrrarion, changes in this stfll"''le from a relatively j)fivare co a 1x1blic function Irs dependence on all bb the other functions of rht imerdepenclenr human network emerges more and mort clearly in organizational form In rhis enrire srrucrure rhe central functionaries are, like everyone else, dependent. Permanent institutions co control rhem are formed by a greater or lesser portion of rhe people dependent on this monopoly appararus: and conrrnl of rhe monopoly, che tilling of its key posirions, is itself no longer cleciclecl by rhe \icissirudes of "free" competition. but by rtgularly

276

Th1: Ciz'ilizing Process

Sut1: Fom1c1tio11 and Ciri!i:atio11

277

recurring elimination contests wirhom force of arms, which are regulated bv monopoli; apparatus, and thus bv "unfree" competition. In other words ' ,.,,1 a' , , 1, t We are accusromed ro call a "democratic regime" is formed. This kind of regime is nor-as simply looking ar certain economic monopoly processes of our tirne might make it appear-incompatible with monopolies as such and dependent fo . r its existence on the freest possible competition. On rhe contrary ir presupposes highly organized monopolies, and it can only come inro being or Sur\'i\'e under certain conditions, in a very specific social structure at a \'try advanced stage of formation. Two main phases can thus be distinguished in rhe dynamics of a monopoly mechanism, as far as we are at present able ro judge . First, rhe phase of competition or elimination contests, with a tendency for resources rn be accumulated in fewer and fewer and finally in one pair of hands, rhe phase of monopoly formation; secondly, rhe phase in which control over the centralized and monopolized resources rends to pass from the hands of an individual ro those of ever greater numbers, and finally to become a function of rhe interdependent human web as a whole, rhe phase in which a relatively "pnvare monopolv becomes a public one. ' Signs of this second phase are nor lacking even 111 societies with a relatively low division of funcrions. Bur, clearly, it can only attain its full development in societies with a very high and rising division of functions The orerall movement can be reduced ro a very simple formula. Its srarting point is a simarion where a whole class controls unorganized monopoly oppormniries and where, accordingly, rhe disrriburion of these opportunities among rhe members of this class is decided by free competition and open force; iris then driven towards a situation where the control of monopoly opportunities and those dependent on rhem by one class, is cenually organized and secured bv insrimrions; and where rhe disuibmion of rhe yields of monopoly follows a that is nor -exclusin:ly governed by rhe interests of single individuals or single groups, bur is oriented on rhe overall network of interdependencies binding all participating groups and individuals ro each other and on irs optimal function111g For in rhe long run rhe subordination of the quest for the optimal functioning of the overall network of interdependencies ro the oprimarion of sectional interests invariably defeats irs own end. So much for the general mechanism of competition and monopoly formation. This schematic generalization rakes on its full significance only in conjuncrion with concrete facts; by them ir must prove its worth. \Vhen we rnlk of "free competition" and "monopoly formation" we usually have present-day facts in mind; we think first of all of a "'free competition" for '"economic" advantages waged by people or groups within a given framework of rules through the exertion of economic power, and in rhe course of which some

_duallv increase their control of economic advantages while destroying, . . . . . b"ecrin" or resrnctmg the economic existence ot others. SLl .J "' . But rhese economic struggles of our day do not only lead betore our eyes ro a constant restriction the scope for really "monopoly-free .. competition and ro the slow formation ot monopolistic srrucrures. As has already been 111d1cared, rhey actually presuppose the secure existence of_ certain very advanced monopolies \Virhour the monopoly organization ot physical violence_ and ati"on ' limited at 1)[esent ro national boundaries, the resrricrion ot this HLX "de for "economic" advantaiJ;es ro the exertion of "economic" power, and the st ruco <_ maimenance of irs basic rules, would be impossible over any length ot time even within individual srnres. In other words, rhe economic struggles and monopolies of modern rimes occupy a particular position within a larger hisrorical context J\nd only in relation ro this wider context do our general remarks on rhe mechanism of competition and monopoly rake on their full meaning. Only if we bear in mind the sociogenesis of these firmly established "state" monopoly institutions-which during a phase of large-scale expansion and differentiation, no doubt open rhe "economic sphere" ro unrestricted individual competition, and thus ro new private monopoly formations-only then can we distinguish more clearly amidst the multitude of particular hisrorical facts the interplay of social mechanisms, rhe ordered structure of such monopoly formations How did these "stare" monopoly organizations come robe formed; \Vhar kind of struggles gave rise to them; Ir must be enough here ro follow these processes in rhe hisrory of rhe country where rhey rook their course most undeviatingly, and which, partly as a result of this, was for long periods rhe foremost power in Europe, setting rhe example for others: France . In so doing we must not shy away from derails: otherwise our general model will never rake on rhe wealth of experience without which ir remains empty-just as wealth of experience remains chaotic to those unable ro perceive order and structures within it
Qfi:l
v"

IV
Early Struggles within the Framework of the Kingdom
\Virhin the former western Frankish terrirory there was a very high probability, in accordance with rhe inherent tendency of rhe monopoly mechanism, that sooner or later one of the rival warrior houses would gain predominance and finally a monopoly position; and that in this way rhe many smaller feudal territories would be welded into a larger uniL That ir would be this particular house, the Caperians, who emerged as vicrors from the elimination struggles, so becoming rhe executors of the monopoly

St . rfl mechanism, was ac first far less likek even rhmwh a number of hcrors 1:1,, . . . . . c . ' , ouring this house can be readtlv discerned. It can be said chat 1r was only the course rhe Hundred Years' \Var chat conclusivtlv decided wlierhet rhe dtscrndi . . 'nts of the Capeuans or of anorhtr house were to become rht mono1xilisrs or . . rulers of rht emerging state.
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Ir _is not unimporram to bear in mind rhe difference berwten rhese two qutsr10ns, berwe_en rhe general_ problem of monopoly and state frirmarion, and rhe more specdic quesuon . of why this particular house won and rerained hegemony. Ir 1s with rhe former rarher rhan rhe Janer char we have bee concerned and are still concerned here. n
The first shift wwards monoi)oh. afrtr the ueneral Jevellinu of jJrop . . . . c c . etty relat10nsh1ps that earned on mro rhe remh and even the eleventh cemurv h b n as . een sketched above. Ir in\'olved rhe formation of a monopoly within rhe frame:vork of a rerriwry. \'</irhin this small area the firsr elimination conrests were fought. and in chem the balance firsr moved in favour of a few and finallv of a single comesrnm . One house-for a house or family is always the social char asserts itself. not an individual-won so much land char rhe mhers could no longer march its military and economic srrength. As long as there was a possibiliry of competing wirh it. rhe relarionship of liege lord w vassal was more or less nominal. \\/irh chis shifr in social power it wok on a new realin-.. A new dependence of many houses on one was esrablished, even rhough, in absence of a highly developed ctmral apparaws, it lacked both the cominuirv and strength that it later had in the framework of the absolutist regime. . It is characteristic of the rigom with which this monopoly mechanism operated that analogous processes were taking place at approximately the same rime in practically all the terrirories of the western Frankish region. Louis VI. Duke of Francia and in name the King of rhe whole region. was. as we have pointed out. only one rtprtsentarin: of this stage of monopoly formation. 2 . If we look at a map of France in the period about 10_).2. we have a clear impression of the political fragmentation of the region into a multitude of greater and lesser ttrriwries"' \Vhar we have in from of us is certain!\" not \"tt the we know This emerging France. the former western region, was bordered w the south-east by the Rhone; Aries and l\ons la\" outsid; ir in the kingdom of Bmgundy; also outside it ro the north lay. the of present-day Toul, Bar le Due and Verdun, which belonged, like the areas around Aachen, Antwerp and, further north, Holland. w the kingdom of Lorraine. The traditional eastern and northern frontier of rhe former western Frankish region runs deep within present-day France . But neither this frontier of the nominal Capetian empire nor the borders of the smaller political units within it had at that rime quire the same function or fixity as present-day scare frontiers. Geographical divisions. river rnllevs and mountain ranues t0"tther with lin"uis.. b ' b b tic differences and local traditions. gave rhe frontiers a certain stability. Bur as

region, large or smalL was rht possession of a warrior family, what primarily decided the composition of a ttrrirorial unit was the vicwries and defears, rhe and the shifrs in hegemonv over a .a''ts J)LlfChases and sales of this famih; n1arrl c ' ._, art<! were: considerable:. Going from south w north we first see. north of the county of Barcelona, chat is, north of the Pyrenees, rhe duchy of Gascony extending ro the region of Bordeaux and rhe county of Toulouse. Then. to mention only the larger units. come che duchy of Guyenne. i.e. Aquitaine, the county of Anjou, the seat of the second Franco-English royal house, rhe counties of Maine and Blois, rhe duchy of Normandy. sear of the first Franco-English royal house. the counties of Troyes. Vermandois and Flanders, and finally, between rhe Norman dominions-the coumies of Blois, Troyes and ochers-the small domain of the Capetians. the duchy of Francia Ir has already been emphasized char this small Caperian dominion did nor constitute, any more than other terriwries, a complete unity in the geopolitical or military sense of rhe word . It was made up of two or three fairlr large adjoining regions. the Isle de France, Berry and rhe Orleans regions. as well as scattered smaller possessions in Poitou. in rhe south, and in rhe most diverse pares of France, rhar had come inw the possession of rhe Caperians in one way or anorhers' _) In most of rhtse terriwries at rhe rime of Louis VI. rherefort, a particular house had gained predominance over the ochers by accumulating land. Conflicts berween these princely houses and rhe smaller nobility within rhe dominion were consrnndy flaring up. and tensions between chem long remained perceptible Bm rhe chances of successful resistance by the smaller feudal houses were no longer great. Their dependence on the liege lord or territorial ruler of the rime slowly became more evident in the course of the eleventh century. The monopoly position of the princeh- houses within their terriwrits was now only seldom shaken. And what from then on characterized society more crnd more was the struggle berween these princely houses for predominance in a larger area. People were driven into these conflicts by rhe same compulsions as in rhe previous srnge: when one neighbour grew larger and thus stronger, the other was threatened with being overpowered by him and made dtptndenc; he had w conquer in order nor to be subjugated. And though w begin with crusades and wars of expansion to some exrem reduced tht internal pressure. this grew all rhe more intense once the chances of outward expansion had diminished. The mechanism of free competition operated from now on within a more confined circle, namely between those warrior families which had become the central houses of rerrirories. -i The Norman Duke's conquest of England was, as wt have memioned, one of the expansionist campaigns characteristic of this time, one among many. Ir too bore witness to the general hunger for land char afflicted the growing population. particular!\' rhe warriors, whether rich or poor.

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Bm this enrichment of the Norman Duke, this enlargement of his mili't . . ary an d fi nanc1al resources, was a grave disturbance ro the jJrevious equil b 1 nurn between the ternronal rulers ot France. The full extent of the shift did !. . d. l - l nor oecome 1mme iate y apparent; for t 1e Conqueror needed time ro orwm 1 h' . . . . . b' ze power w1th1n his new domrn10n, and even when this had been done the th . . . . . emammng from this aggrandizement of the Norman dukes ro other terr . . . . rulers, given the low 1ntegrat10n of the western Frankish territories, first d itself felt only in the direct vicinitv of Normandv i.e. in norrhern France mah e -' , rat er than further south. Felr ir was, however, and most directlv br the house wi'th . . . tne rradmonal claim _ro predominance in rhe area neighbouring Nornnnd\ .__ , .. t o rhe ease, the house of the dukes of Francia, rhe Caperians. Ir is nor unlikely chat the threat from his stronger neighbour was a powerful factor impelling Louis VI in rhe direcnon that he adhered to tenaciously and energetically throughout his life his urge to consolidate his power and defeat any possible rival within his rernrory.
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That he. rhe nominal king and liege lord of rhe western Frankish region was in fact, in keeping with rhe size of his possessions, far weaker than his vassal and neighbour, who now as ruler of England likewise wore a crown, was apparent in every conflict between chem. \\!illiam the Conqueror, because he had recently conquered chis island territory, had had the chance to create what was for his time a fairly centralized governmental organization He distributed the land in a manner intended as far as possible to prevem the formation of houses and families as rich and miulwr as . b J I1is own, chat might become rivals. The administration of the English central ruler was the most advanced of its rime; even for money revenues rhere was already a special office. _The army wirh which \'Villiam had conquered the island consisted only in part of his feudal rerainers, the resr being mercenary knights driven bv the same desire treasury large for new lands. Only now. after the conquest, was rhe Norman enough to engage paid soldiers; and quire apart from rhe size of their feudal following, chis mo gave the island rnlers military superiority over rheir continental neighbours. Louis rhe Far of Francia could nor afford this any more than his predecessors. He had been accused of being covetous, seekinu bv every at this means at his disposal to rake possession of money.. In face ir was rime, as in many periods when money is relatively scarce and the disproportion between what is available and what is needed particularly keenly felt, char an urge or "greed" for money was particularly prominent. But Louis VI did indeed find himself in particularly difficult srrairs in face of his richer neighbour. In chis respect, as in rhe question of organization, centralization and rhe elimination of possible internal rivals, the island terrirory set an example char continental rulers had to follow if they were nor to succumb in the struggle for supremacy. Ar rhe beginning of the twelfth century, therefore, rhe Capetian house was

, blv weaker than its rival, which controlled land and people across the sea. rioricea , . . . . I , VI was deteared in practically every battle with l11s English nva , even loUIS . . . . . . If ah rhe latter did nor succeed rn penemm ng rhe tern rory ot F ranua 1rse . dioub . . . . . fi' cl I . lf l, . , '"S rhe s1tuat10n rn wl11ch the ruler of Francia con ne 1imse ro en .ugrng 'f]J1s w.. . _ . . . . the basis of l11s power, his family property, and ro breakrng rhe res1srance of the _ lier feudal lords within or between his rernrones. In so dorng he was ,rna. r'in" his house for rhac great struggle, for chose centuries of conflict for prep,1b _. '1C\' in rhe former western Frankish reg10n, rn the course ot which more supre n1, , . . . . d more territories grew rogether rnro a srngle bloc 111 the hands of a srngle an . . l. l in which from then on all the ocher warn 0 r [1ouse , a srruugle a._ _ tens10ns wit 1rn t 1e bec, n1e more or less entanuled-rhe srrub<>gle for rhe French crown rec-ion ,1 o ._ b:Cween rhe rulers of the Isle de France and the rulers of rhe English island. 5. The house char rook up rhe struggle with the Capetians when \\!illiam the Conqueror's family extinct was that of the Plantageners. Their famdy dominion was Anjou, 8 ' likewise a region neighbouring Francia. They made rhe1r wav upwards at about rhe same rime as the Caperians, and in almost the same rn;nner. As in Francia under Philip I, so in neighbouring Anjou under Fulk, the Counts' acwal power in relation ro their vassals has become very slight. Like Philip's son, Louis VI, the Fat, Fulb son, Fulk the Young, and his son, Geoffrey Plantagenet, slowly subdued the smaller and medium-sized feudal lords in their domain; and they. coo, thus laid the foundation for further expansion. In England itself, at first, the reverse process rook place, showing the mechanisms of chis warrior society from the ocher side . \\!hen Henry I, \\!illiam the Conqueror's youngest son, died without male heirs, Stephen of Blois, the son of one of William's daughters, laid claim ro the English throne. He gained the recognition of rhe secular feudal lords and the Church; but he was himself no more rhan a medium-sized, Norman feudal lord. His personal property, rhe family power on which he had ro depend, was limited. And thus he was fairly impotent in rhe face of rhe other warriors, and also the clergy, of his region. \\!irh his accession ro the throne. a disintegration of governmemal power on the island immediately set in. The feudal lords built castle upon castle, mimed their own money, levied raxes from their own regions; in short, they rook over all the powers char hitherto, in keeping with their superior strength, had been a monopolv of rhe Norman central rulers . Furthermore Stephen of Blois committed a of blunders, alienating the Church in particular, rhar a stronger man might perhaps have been able ro afford, but not one needing the help of ochers. This helped his rivals. These rivals were the counts of Anjou . Geoffrey Plantagenet had married the daughter of the last Norman-English king. And he had the power ro back the claim he based on this marriage. He slowly gained a foothold in Normandy. His son, Henry Plantagenet, united Maine, Anjou, Touraine and Normandy under his rule. And with chis power base he could undertake to reconquer rhe English

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dominions of his grandfather as the Norman Duke had done before him. In 1 he crossed the Channel, In 11 ):i, at the age of rwenty-two, he became kin,, a king who, by virtue both of his military and financial power, and personal energy and talent, became a strong centralizing force Two Year prev1ouslv, moreover, he had become rhrou(ih his m1rriane with the he s . . . ' a 1ress of AquHarne, the ruler ot this region in southern France. He thus combin cl . . . . e With his English lands a temrorY on the mainland beside which the C11)etian l . . , ' . aoma1n appeared small indeed. The question whether the western Fnnkish ter . . ' \\'ere_ robe 1ntegrmed around the Isle de France or Anjou was wide open England itself was conquered temrory and to begin with an object of politics rather a subjecr "' Ir was-if one will-a semi-colonial part of the loose federation of western Frankish territories. The distribution of power at that time bore a distant resemblance rn tl . . . currently ex1strng rn the Far East . A small island territory and a dominion ma . . . . nme_s its size on the Contrnent were under one rule. The whole southern part of rhe former Capetian realm belonged to it. The chief southern area not belongin" ro the Plantagenet dominions was the county of Barcelona. Its rulers were up 1l1 a similar expansionist movement and had become kings of Aragon likewise on the basis of marriage. Slowly, and at first almost unnoriced, rhe; disengaged themselves from rhe union of wesrern Frankish territories. Also outside the Angevin-English dominion in the south-apart from a smaller clerical territory-was the county of Toulouse. Its rulers, like smaller lords north . of the Aquirainian region, began, in face of the threatening supremacy ot the Angevin realm. ro incline towards the rival power centre, the Capetians. The characteristic power balances found in figurations such as these tend always ro determine the conduct of people in the same way; in the smaller was little sphere of the western Frankish terrirorial federmion. their different from that determining the politics of srntes in modern Europe for example, and even. incipiently, across the whole globe. As long as no absolmelv dominant power has emerged. no power that has unequivocally outgrown ah competition and taken up a monopoly position, units of the second rank seek ro form a bloc against the one which, by uniting numerous regions, has come closest to the position of supremacy. The formation of one bloc provokes another; and however long this process may oscillate back and forth. the system as a whole tends ro consolidate larger and larger regions about a centre, to. concentrate real power of decision in ever fewer units and finally at a single centre The expansion of the Norman Duke creared a bloc which displaced the balance in his favour at first in northern France. The expansion of the house of Anjou built on this and rook a step further; the bloc of the Ani..:evin realm called into question the equilibrium of the whole western FrankishL region. However loosely connected this bloc may have been, however rudimenrnn- the centralizing government within it, nevertheless the movement by which, the

,,eneml hunger for land, one house constantly drove another to unire with enough in these formations. or to seek "more land ' manifests itself clearly it from the south. a broad band comprising the whole of western France now ro the Plantagenets dominion. Formally the king of England was to rhe Capetian kings in respect of this mainland area. But "law" counts . l. rle when ir is nor backed b\ corresponding social power. for it . . When in 11 "'i Louis VI's successor, Lorns VII of Francia, now an old and 1n held a meetin<' with the represenrntive of the rival house, Henry II, tveary. n1"" _ o . ,. u 1" he rolcl him: 1 0 r1e f o King .__, ot England, ._, !
0

Oh Sire. sinct: tht: beginning of your reign and earlier you htl\"t heaped nutragts upon me. mimpling underfoot the loyti!ty you owed mt and the homage you havt done me: and of all these outrages the gravest and mosr flagrant is your unjust usurpation of Auwrgne which you hold to the detriment of the French Crmvn. To be sure, old '.1ge is on my heels and robs me of the strength to recover this and other lands: bur before God. before these Barons of the Realm and our loyal subjects. I publiclv protest and uphold the rights of my Crown. most notably to Auvergne. Berry. and Chateauroux. Gisors and the l\:orman Vexin, beseeching the King of Kings who has gi,en me an heir. to accord to him whac he has denied ro me . '

Vexin-a kind of Norman Alsace-Lorraine-was a contested borderland becween the domain of the Capetians and che Norman dominion of the Planrngenets. Further south the frontier between the Capetian and Angevin dominions ran through the Berry region. The Plantagenets were clearly strong enough already ro seize parts of the Capetian domain. The struggle for supremacy berween Capetians and Plantagenets was in full spate; and the Angevin ruler was still far stronger than the ruler of Francia. Accordingly. the demands the Capetian made of his opponent were really very mocksc; he wanted w be given back a few pieces of land that he counted among his own dominions . For rhe rime being he could comemplace norhing more . The glory of the Angevin rule and rhe pauciry of his own he fully realized ... \Ve French," he once said, comparing himself with his rival, "have nothing bur bread, wine and comentment. 6. Bur this manner of ruling did not yet possess great stability. It was in fact a "private enterprise .. ; as such it was subject to the inherent social dynamics of a scruggle berween freely competing units, which in any given case was much more srrongly influenced by the personal capacities of the competirors-their age, rheir succession and similar personal factors-than were polirical formations of a later phase, when not only the person of the owner of the monopoly bm a certain division of functions, a mulriplicity of organized interests and a more srable governmental appararus, held together larger units. In 1189 a Capetian again confronted the Plantagenet. Almost all the conrested areas had in the meantime been won back ro Capetian rule . And now the

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Plantagene[ was an old man, [he Caperian younger; he was Louis VHs Philip II, surnamed Augustus. Age, as noted above. meam much in a where the incumbem of power is nor yet able ro delega[e milirarv where very much depends on his personal initiative and where he m.usr cl e fen cl 111 person Hemv II, personallv a S[ronu ruler who srill J 1s [Ile canackor 1' . . . . . . o ontro] of his large doma111s securely 111 his hands, was now plagued-along wi[h [ht rebellions and even rhe haued of his eldest son Richard, surnamed C . . oeur-delion. who somenmes even made common cause against his father wirh the Capen ans Exploiting [he weakness of his adversan-. PhilijJ Au"usrus rook bick A .. o ' uvergn and the parts of Berry memioned by his One momh after rhey faced other at Tours, Hemy II died at rhe age of tifry-six. In 1193-Richard the Lion Heare lying in prison-Philip seized the long. comesred Vex111. His ally was John, the younger brother of rhe prisoner.. In 1199 Richard died. Both he and his brother and successor John, who was soon to be John Lackland, had squandered much of the basis of rheir powe h f 1 . r, r e am1 y possess10ns and treasure of their father.. Facing John as his rival, however : was a man who had felt to rhe quick rhe whole humiliation and consrricti . oom Capenan power by rhe growth of rhe Angevin-English, and whose whole energy, snrred by this expenence, was channelled in a sin"le direction more land o , more power. More and ye[ more. He-like the first Plantagenet before him-was obsessed by [his \Vhen John Lackland enquired whe[her he might not have back some ot the land lost to Philip for payment, Philip ans\vered bv askin if he did nor know anyone else willing to sell land; he himself would bu; mo:e. And a[ this nme Philip was already a man rich in land and power, _Clearly. this_ is nor_ yet a S[ruggle between scares or nations . The whole hiswry ot the tormar10n ot later monopoly organizations, of nation stares, remains incomprehensible umil rhe special character of rhis preceding social phase of "prirn[e initiative"_ has understood. This was a struggle between competing or nva[ houses whICh, following a general movemem of this socierv, drove each O[her, first as small and then as larger and larger units, ro expand ,;nd strive for more possessions. The Bartle of Bouvines in 1214 provisionally decided rhe issue John of and his allies were defeated by Philip Augustus And as so often in teudal warrior society, defeat in an external battle meant an internal weakening as well Rerurning home, John found [he barons and clergy in revolt, and their demand was the Magna Carra Conversely, for Philip Augusrus tl1e victorv in the . foreign war strengthened his power within his dominion. As his father's heir, Philip Augusrus rook over essentiallv rhe small inland district of Paris and Orleans, together with parts of Be;ry. He added-to mention only his major acquisitions-Normandy, then one of the larges[ and nchesr territories in the whole realm; [he regions of Anjou, Maine and Touraine;

. ran[ parts of Poitou and Saimonge; Arrois. Valois, Vermandois; region !lllpor d a lar"e part of rhe region around Beauvais "The lord ot Pans and an o ,.ss has become the greatest lord _in He had "rhe Caperian house the richest family 111 France His domarn had outlets to rhe sea. In other territories of northern France, in Flanders. . Bur"undv and Brirrany, his influence was increasing in propornon Champagne, "" . . . . . . . And even in rhe south he alreadv to his po\\ er. . controlled a nor rnconsiderable Caperian dominion was still anything but imegrated _territory .ou and rhe Orleans reuion lay [ht doma111 ot the Count of Blois. In Berween AnJ ' . . o . . _ . . " rhe coastal districts around Sarnres and, turrher eas[, All\ er0 ne, \\ere as rhe sour l1 1 yer scarce l ), connected to rhe northern regions. Bur rhe la([er, the .old tami y 'domain tog ether with Normandv and new!; conquered areas srrerch111g beyond . . . .. . constituted a fairlv u111fied bloc 111 a purely Arras to rhe north ' alreadv ' geographical sense . .. .. . . .. , . . Even Philip Augustus did not yet have France rn our sense rn \ ie\\, and his on \\"lS the tern reaI cl om111i ' nor rhis France ' \\/hat he aimed at above all was . . tonal, .. roilirary and economic expansion of his family power and [he sub1ugar10n ot its most dangerous competitors, the Plantagenets. In both aims he succeeded. On Philip's death rhe Caperian dominions were roughly tour nmes as large as at his accession The Plantagenets, by contras[, who had lived hitherto more the cominem rhan on rhe island-and whose administration in England 1rselt was made up as much of continental Normans and people from their other mainland possessions as of natives of the island-now co_ntrolled on rhe ma111land merely a part of rhe former Aquitaine, the area north ot the central and Pyrenees_ along [he coast as far as the Gironde esruary under r_he name ot rhe. duchy ot Guvenne; apart from rhat there were a few islands off rhe coast of Normandy. balance had shifted against them. Their power had decreased. But thanks ro [heir island dominion it was nor broken. After a rime the balance on mainland shifted back in their favour. The ourcome of this struggle tor he,emonv in the former western Frankish area long remained undecided. Ir ap;ears ri1ar Philip Augustus regarded as his chief rivals after the Planrngeners the counts of Flanders; and cha[ a new power centre had rndeed come 111ro exis[ence there is shown by the whole subsequent history of France. Philip is reputed to have once said [hat either Francia would become Flemish or Flanders French . He cerrainlv did nor lack awareness that in all these conflicts among the lesser territorial what was at issue was supremacy or the loss of independence. Bm he could still imagine Flanders equally well as Francia as dominating die whole area. 7 Phili; Augustus' successors at first held firm to rhe course that he had set: [hey sounhr to consolidate and further extend the enlarged dominion. No sooner wa; Phifip Augustus dead rhan rhe barons of Poirou turned back to the

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'[he

Plamageners. Louis VIII. Philip A.ugusrns son. stcurtd rhis region afresh for own dominio_n. as ht did Sainrnnge._ Aunis_ and Langutdoc, pan of Picardy and rhe coumy of Ptrcht. Pardy rn rhe torm of a religious war. rhe srruggle rht hererics. rhe Caperian houst began rn adrnnce somh inro thP sphere of rhe only grtar rerrirorial lord in rlmr parr who could. beside th. . l r l1e powtr of- rhe Captrians. rhe domain of rhe counrs f Pl amageners, nva Toulouse Tht nexr Caperian, Louis IX. rhe Saine had once again rn prorecr his conglomerared possessions against every kind of inrerna] and exrernal arrack. At rhe same rime he wtnr on building. uni ring parrs of Lmguedoc norrh-east Pyrtnees. rhe counries of M<,lcon, Clermonr and Morrain. and some smaller areas with his family possessions Philip III. the Bold. seized rhe coumy of Guine; between Calais and Saim-Omer, only ro Jost ir rwehe years larer rn rhe heirs of rhe Coum. He acquired through purchase or promise of protection every minor possession in his vicinity that offered itself; and he prepared rhe assimilation of Champagne and rhe great rerrirory of Toulouse inro the dominions of his house. There was by now scarcely a single terrirorial rultr in the whole western Frankish area who could. wirhom allies. srnnd up ro the Caperians. with the exception _of the Planragenets. The latter. rn be sure. were no less preoccupied rhan rhe Capetians with enlarging their sphere of power . On the conrinenr their rule had once again extended beyond the duchy of Guyenne. Across rhe sea thev had subdued \Vales and were in the process of conquering Scotland. They still had possibilities of expansion that did not lead ro a direct collision wirh the Caperians. The latter. roo. srill had scope for expansion in other directions. At the rime. under Philip the Fair. their dominion was expanding to rhe frontiers or the Germano-Roman Empire. on one side as far as the Maas. which ar that was usually considered as the natural and-in remembrance of the partition or the Carolingian Empire in 8ci_)-the traditional fronrier of rhe wesrern Frankish area: on the other side-further somh-it exrended as far as rhe Rhone and rhe Saone. rhar is. as far as the regions of Provence. Dauphine and rhe counry of Burgundy. which likewise did not belong ro the traditional contederation \\esrern Frankish terriwries . Through marriage Philip acquired Champagne and Brie wirh nuny annexed areas. some of them in the terrirnn of rht GermanRoman Empire itself From rhe Coum of Flanders he obtained. the dominions of Lille, Douai and Bethune; the counry of Chartres and the esrnre of Beaugenc\' he rook from the counrs of Blois. In addirion he acquired the coumies of and Angou!eme. the ecclesiastical properties of Cahors. Mende and Pur, and further south the counry of Bigorre and the viscounrcv of Soult . His three sons. Louis X, Philip V and Charles IV.. died ont after rhe other withom leaving a male heir; the family possessions and crown of the Capetians passed rn a descendam of a younger son of the house who owned the counn of Valois as an apanage. ,

ro this poim a cominuous efforr had been made in more or less the same . throughour generarions: ro accumulare land Ir must bt enough here ro direcnon ' ' - . -, . . "rize rhe results or this ettorr . Nonetheless. even this summar)- t\en the -un1rn,. . .. - " . min" of rhe manv lands which step by step were brought together, !:'1\ to niere n,i "' . . . . _ . n idt:<l of the perpetual. open or concealt:cl S[[uggle 111 wh1d1 the rnnous pr111cel: a enuiued md in which one of these houses atrer another. conquered houses \\,,,re c c .. c . ' . bv one more powerful. disappeared . \Vherher or_ nor one rully _ real1.zes rhe of rhese names. they g1\'t an 1mpress10n ot rhe S[[engrh or the impulse 1!1' /::' . . l l . l . n,, from the social sirnarion or the Capet1a11 house. an 1mpu se w 11c 1 ernanan "' . . -- . . . . in the same direction rhrough such w1deh cl1Henng 111d1\'1duals At rht death of Charles IV. che lasr Capetian who came rn the throne in direcr .- .10 n rht "rtat French Ca1x:tian dominions-i e the complex grouped success . v _ _ _ direcdy around rhe duchy of Francia-exrended trom Normandy 111 the wesc ro \!1t in rhe east and rn the river Canche in the north; the Arro1s reg10n. _ Cl1an11)'t:adjoining chis to the north. had been given away as an apanage ro a member the family. Somewhar furrher somh-separated by rhe apanaged region or Anjou-rhe counry of Poiriers was pan of rhe area direcrh- comrolled by the Paris princes: still funher somh che coumy of Toulouse belonged to them. as did parts of the former duchy of Aquiraint All this already consrirmed a mighty of lands: bm it was nm ytr a cohesi\'e region. Ir srill had rht typical held appearance of a territorial family domain. rhe individual parts to<editr less by their reciprocal dependence. or through any d1v1s10n or tuncuon, b\ rht person of rhe owner. through "personal union". and the common aclmini.s[[ative cenrre. The separate iclenrity of each region, the special inrerescs and character of e1ch terrirory. were still very srrongly felr.. Howe\er. their union under one and the same house and partly under the same administration, did remo\'t a whole series of obstacles in rhe wa\' of fuller inregration. Ir corresnoncltd w the tendencv towards an extension of rradt relations. the intensificclocal lewl. which was already discernible in small parts rion of links bevond of rhe urban even though rhis tendtnc\ did not play remotely rhe same role as a clri\'ing force in rhe union or expansion of princely houses as it Dla,ed later, in rhe nineteemh cenrury. for example. at an enrirely differenr sragt in dtvelopmtnr of urban bourgeois S[[ara Here. in the tltvemh, twtlfrh and rhirceemh centuries. rhe srrugglt for land. the rivalry between an ever-smaller number of warrior families. was the primary impulse behind the formarion of territories. The initiative lay with the few rising warrior families, the prtncely houses; under their protecrion the rowns and rracle f-lourished. Both profited from rhe concentration of power: no doubt they also comribmed to it, as will be discussed larer. And quire certainly urban strata, once larger regions were uni red under one rule. played an imporranr part in tht consolidation of a rerrirorial union even ar this rime. \Virhom the help of the human and financial resources flowing rn the princes from urban strata and growing commercializa-

28H

The Cil'i/i;:;ing Pron:JJ

Stato: For111atin11 and Ci1ili::.c1tio11

289

non. neither rhe expansion nor rhe governmental organization of these \\oulcl be conceivable . Bur the significance of to\vns and comm r .. I . . . . . e c1a izauon t le Integranon of larger areas was snll mamh indirect in so f: r . I . '1 t iey instruments or organs of the princeh houses. This inceuracion fi f . o ,ant rsr oremosc the conguesr of one warrior house b\ another cine is cl e ab . . . ' , 1 ' sorpt1on b . one y anorher or ar leasr its subjection, irs dependence on che vice . l k. m. mg ac rhe area from chis point of view as ir appeared at rhe beginnin the fourteenth century ac rhe extinction of che direct Captcirn line cl d. c l. . d 1 . . , . , ' le irection 01 c Mnge is rea J \ percc1vecl fhe suuuule of lesser ind med . . . . oo ' n11n \v arnor hous for land _or more land had cerramly nor stopped; bur these feuds no longer es remorel; the pare they played ar the rime of Louis VI, nor to speak predecessors. Ac char tlme the lands were discribured relarivelv evenlv , 1 many; to be sme, there were differences between j)Ossessions ._mong cl . may seeme very to contemporaries. Bm even the possessions, and thus the power, of the nominal princely houses were so small char a Iarue nu b J'u!J' T l. o merof ,1110 lt } rnm1,ies 111 r 1e1r nt1ghbourhood could tr\ their . l l . _ . . arm w 1r 1 r lem as rivals . for land or power It was left to rhe '"pnvare iniriarive"' of all these 1 1ouses to cl l l . . . _ec1c e low far they parnc1paced in chis general struggle. Now. in the fourteenth century, these many warnor houses were no longer inclividuallv a force b recko l l l to e nee w1c 1; at most r ley carried a certain social weight colleccivelv. as estate . the real_ initiative now lay with the very few warrior houses c.hat emerged tor the nme being as victors from the precedinu conflicts and h d l cl o , 'a accumu ace, so much land char all the ocher houses could no longer challenge but ace only _111 dependence on chem. To these ochers, rhe majority of \\Mnors, rhe poss1bd1cv of wmninu new hnd on their O\"n fj . . o ' ., m1c1anve m ree compecmon was by and large foreclosed, and with it che chance of risin in sociery. Every warrior house muse at most remain on rhe run! ot the s_oual _ladder it had reached, unless one or mher of ics members succeeded m moving higher through the finour of one of the great lords, and rhus cbrough dependence on him.

r- .

che Capecians and their succession, che kings of France, and the The confroncarion between chem muse decide 1nra(Tene ts ' kin"S o of Encrland. o Pa !cl ulrirnacelv control monopolv power in the western Frankish region, ,vho wou . . _ . . wher e rhe ctntre and the boundanes ot the monopoly would lie.

v
'fhe Resurgence of Centrifugal Tendencies: 'fhe Figuration of the Competing Princes
S. However, che formation of che monopoly of rule was nor by ans ' L S srraiuhcforwardlv as appears merelv from consideration of the e 1 0 anv n ' ' . Lil1cion of land The laruer accurn ' o the area became char was gracluallv . . . umced and rbe Caperians the more strongly did a countervailing movement cenrra ll.zed bv 1 make irself felt; and rbe stronger, once again, grew the tendency wwards decenrralizacion This tendency was still represented first and foremost by cbe closest relations and vassals of the monopoly ruler, as in the preceding phase where the barter economy was more intact, and as in rbe Carolingian period. Bue the mode of action of the decentralizing social forces bad changed considerably. :Monev, crafts and trade now played an appreciably greater role in society chan at dmt rime; groups \vbo concerned themselves specially with all chis, the burghers, had rnken on a social importance of their own. Transport had developed. All chis offered cbe ruling organization of a large territory opportunities chac were lacking earlier. The servants a central ruler sent into the country to administer and his possessions no longer found it so easy to make themselves independent. Moreover, a growing proportion of these helpers of the central ruler now came from urban strata . The danger of such burghers developing into rivals of che ruler was incomparably less than before, when be had to cake some of his aides from the warrior class, and when even bondsmen char he parronized could very rapidly acquire, thanks to the land with which he rewarded their services, rhe power and social rank of a warrior or noble. However, a particular social category of people still posed a real rhreac to the cohesion of very large dominions under single rule, even though their power might have diminished and their mode of action changed. Even under the_ changed social circumsrances, they became over and over again the chid of decentralization. These were che closest family members of the ruler, char is, his uncles, his brothers, his sons or even, though far less so, bis sisters or daughters. A dominion and the monopoly of rule within it were nor really, at chis time, the possession of a single individual; they were very much a family possession, the property of a warrior house . All che closest relations of chis house had and

h:

The num_ber of chose who were still able co compete independently for land and power m the wescern Frankish region had steadily diminished. No independent duke or house of Normand\ now existed and none of A 1 . g u1 ta111e, ass1m1 anon or suppress10n had overtaken-co mention onh- rhe verv largesrrhe counties of Champagne, Anjou and Toulouse. There existed. beside che of Francia, only four ocher houses char mattered in chis region: duchies ot and Brittany, rhe county of Flanders and-mosr ;owerful of allrhe kings of England, dukes of Guyenne and lords of several smaller areas. A warr10r sociecv with relacivelv free competition !1ad become l . a soc1et\' w lere . . compecmon was restricted in the manner of a monopolv. And even om of the five great houses char sci II possessed some degree of compecicive power. and preserved a certain corresponding independence. cwo houses again rose as che most

.290

Ih, Ciri/i:;i11g Pmcu.1

291 as irs properry. No doubt rhere were quarrels, fighrs wirhin the household everywhere else. Bm a_r tht same rime. all-or ar ltasr pan-of the family constantly ro ddtncl or expand the family possessions. The relarively es[aces of rhe royal family. like rhose of all warrior houses, were essemially they lacked any larger social importance and had indeed very much the of a small family emerprise. The brothers and sons. even the morhers wives. of htads of families had a say in [he running of rhe esratt which varied with their personal qualities and circumstances . Bm ir hardly occurred ro anyone -Pver anr significant part from rhe famih possessions and hand ir over w a ro '' -rnber of the familr. rounger sons miLdu receive a small esrare here and roe . The . <-<--re or rher mighr marninro a small proptrrv; bur we also hear of one or other rht' ' . .... . the younger sons of a royal family leading a fairly penurious existence. This changed complerely as rhe royal house grew rich. Once rhe Caperians had hecorne the richest family in the whole rerrirnry or indeed the entire coumry, ir w,15 impossible w !er rhe younger sons of the house live like perry knights. The reputation of [he royal house demanded rhar all its members. even dit younger sons and daughters of the king. receive a firring endowmem. rhar is w say a sizeable area over which w rule, and from which [hey could live. In aclclirion. now char rhe Caperians far surpassed most mher families in rhe country in propeny and wealth. [he clanger from severing a porrion from rheir possessions was no longer so keenly felt. And so the enlargemem of rhe Caperian dominion was accompanied by [ht steadily increasing size of [ht areas passing as apanages to rhe younger children of rht kings. Disintegration ser in on a new basis. Louis VI, the I=ar. gave his son Robert the nor very exrensive county of Dreux. Philip Augustus. who brough[ about rhe family's firs[ grear rise from srrairentcl
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as_strrtd a claim [Om leas[ parrs of [his proptny. This was a claim w . ot the house was. tor a long period. less will" " .ll hrch the : 1 . rn"' or d J t w rduse d ramr _r possessions grew. Ir was ctnainh- nm a .. ltual cJ11m .. . l' l1e l j I l c' ' [ 1t \\ore. n [ 115 SOC!t[y die rt were harclh more r11'ln I r111 t 1e are - r sense all-embracin ''!- . . .. . ' r ic rue rmenrs ot a"'"'"P'' "' d\\ rn \\ hKh even rhe grea[ warrior rulers were SL' . r Iiere was rs \er no rll b IDJect l. . ' : . ' -em rac111g power [bar could enforce such a l,. on} rn con1unn1on wirh [ht frirnn[ion of 1 . a.\. It . . _ - ' monopo res ot rule: .,.cenrra 1rzanon of [ht ruling funcrions l . . . , 'It1 1 th0 r iar d common leual cod \ _ . tor large areas To provide for children was a sociil obl. . lt \as ts[ablrshed stt d l ' igatJon t 1at \ve oft O\\ n 111 [it 1"f//1t;1111t-r . U ndoub[e 11 . . l en . c ) I[ \\as on y [ht be[[er-tndm .. l l. - l r ia[ .cou d adhere_ rn [his cusrom I=or jus[ [his reason ir carried Jrt\_ec' H1l\\ could [ht rrchts[ house of [h - l l l I- s[rge . . . t anc [ 1t roral house h-tve - . presrrgrous oblrgarion; ' escaped
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The rerrirnrial possessions of a house conrinued rn b- .f . . . . resrrrcred sense, whm we \vould call privare proi)trrr aln tr_nclreasing!y conrroll--cl . t kac o r ie e I[ 111 )LIS[ as unrtsrrrcred a fashion. and ptrha )S tvtn m a gren landowner comrols his propeny wday, or [ht of 1 . ort than irs caprrnl. 111comt and branches. Jusr as rhe landow . , amrly firm ot his esrn[es for die btnefir of a roun"t l rl1er can splrr ott one or other k. . . o r son or r ie c owrr ot -1 chu"lHtr . I as 111g irs renanrs whtrher their new lord is t" - - bl - I ' '. "' ' WH iour f l . 'c-rtt,1 e ro riem Jusr .. ! h [ 1t hrm can \vrrhdraw capital fi:lr his claughrers down- or 1e ead c rrec[or of a subs1d1ary. wi[hom owing his em Jlorees [he -. s son as rn rht same W<l\" die l . . . ,. l l . slrghresr explanation. .. Jr111ces or r rnr earlier phase disposed of vll .,_ tsrnres and [ernwries of [heir re1lm A l l . l . J ,1c-ts, towns, . ' nc r ie rmpu se caus111" [ht . fI propenres w provide for his sons 111d d I . "' 0\\ ner o arge I Q . ' aug Hers rs more or less [ht s-ime II r iese cases. LIHt aparr from a ruler's possible preference fo - fl 111 a children, w endow diem 111 . , h- . r one o 11s younger <I [[Ing manner was n . . f l . and public disphr of [h. l . or [ 1t prtservanon - . ,. t socra srnrns of a house: and-ar leasr 1) . -. I .. leasr 111 a shon-[trm riew-ir . - . , I l - I . - - 'I p.ircnt}. ,1, 111u tdsec t 1e 1ouse s clnn . . permanence Tl1'lr [hrs s Jl. ' ces or ga111111g power and ' I r[[111 u LI!' ot fJOSsess I t b - -fi f I . "' . rons anc uncnons of rule fo t' ene r o re arIOf]S very ot[tn precise!; endan "tr -d I , r ne [ht house is 1 her \\l11c-I1 fI . l "' t r ie PO\\ er and permanence of ' ' requenr \- on r e cl l _ . . afrer long and painful txperience ot 1:rinces draw [ht full and ulrimare conclLrsron tI " . \V.lS rea y [ht frrst to rom sue 1 ex1 e \V. I severin he kep[ ill faml. . ) rrence.. I[ 1 implacable 1 . ' ' r ) re anons-even [ht heir [O th 1 f . was possible a[ all-far from ill . _ . t [ 1rone, as ar as this 1 power. , ru 111g tu11cr10ns and indepenclenr positions of
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9. Ar [ht beginning of rhis line of cl . l . famih- possessions of di - C. . t\e opmenr, 111 rhar early phase when the c apenans were scarcelv hruer d. I warrior families in [!1 1 d. l d . ' "' Mn [ 10se ot many other e an . t 1e anger rm l" f properry is immediarelr obvi . . p rcrt rn ragmenra[ion of this families seldom ab1red. Tl . ous . _[hreat from neighbouring feudal ' . 11s curse each tamrly rn hold i[s people wgedier as

circumsrances, held his hard-won possessions together wirh a firm hand; the only thing ht gave up was a small esratt. S[ Riquier, as his sis[er's dowry Louis VIII, however. laid down in his will rha[ rhe counries of Artois. Poiriers. Anjou and Maine-char is to say. considerable portions of [he family possessions. though never i[S heardand-should pass as apanages w his sons. Louis IX gave his sons Alern;on. Perche and Clermom as apanages; Philip III endowed a younger son with rhe coumy of Valois. Bm Poiriers. Alern;on and Perche rerurned ro rhe Caperian possession when rheir princely owners died wirhom male heirs. In 1285 five counries-Dreu.x, Artois, Anjou. Clermom and Valois-were split off as apanages, and on rhe death of Charles the Fair in 1328 rhe number rose w nine. \Vhen Philip of Valois inherited dte esra[es and crown of the Cape[ians, rhe apanages of his house, Valois, Anjou and Maine, were reunired wi[h the larger possessions of rhe ruling family. The county of Chanres returned to rhe crown esrnres with rhe dearh of ano[htr Valois . Philip himself gained a few new smaller dominions as well, among [hem .l\1onrpellitr. which he boughr from the King of

292

Th1: Ci1'ili::i11g Pmn:.cs


raV we

State Formation c111d Ciri!i:atio11

293

J\fajorca Under him, howewr, ir was above all Dauphint rhar came Caperian hands. Thereby Capetian expansion took a major srep eastwards rhe rraditional fronriers of rhe wesrern Frankish empire, into rhe Lorharin12:ian region-an exi)ansion rhar Philij) the E:1ir had be.,un b" "cqu. 0 .__ ..r a. ltllV" 6 rhe archbishopnc of Lyons and rhrough a closer associarion wirh rhe bishoprics Toul and Verdun. The manner in which Dauphint came into rhe possession of rhe Par . . . lS!ll!l rulers. however. was less charactensnc of rhe relanon between the central' !Z!Qrr 6 and decentralizing forces of this period than of the importance of apana .'bl d ro rhe Arlesian or Burgundian realm char ,1rose callow ges. D aup !1rne e onge <- _ n rhe Lorharrngian rnrerregnum, ease of rhe Rhone and rhe Saone. Irs last Huberr II, bequearhed or, more exacdy, sold his possessions to rhe Caperian heir following rhe dearh of his only son, on a number of condirions. They included payment of his considerable debrs, and also rhe sripularion rhar Philip's second son, not his eldesr, should receive Dauphint. Clearly the Dauphine's owner wished co give his land to someone rich enough to pay the sums he needs; b bequearhing ir to rhe ruler of Francia he prorecred it from becoming a bone contention for other neighbours afrer his de<1rh, for rhe Paris kings were strong to defend rheir acquisitions. And rhis is certainly nor rhe only example of the artrncrion which rhe immense power of rhe Capetians held for weaker neighbours; the need for prorecrion of rhose less strong was one of rhe factors rhar furrhered rhe process of centralizarion and monopolizarion once it had reached a certain level. Bur ar rhe same rime rhe old ruler whose heir had died clearly wished to prevent his land, Dauphint, from losing its independence enrirely on passing inro French ownership. This is why he demanded that his domain should be given ro the king's second son as apanage. Thar demand obviously implied an expectation that this region should become a ruling house in irs own right and so preserve an independenr existence. At rhar rime apanaged regions were indeed beginning ro develop more and more clearly in rhar direcrion Philip of Valois, however, did nor abide by rhis agreemem. He gave Dauphine nor ro his younger but ro his eldesr son, John, rhe heir ro rhe rhrone, "in recognition", so his nominarion declares, "rhar Dauphint lies on che frontier, that a good and srrong rule in Dauphine is necessary for the defence and securiry of rhe Kingdom, and thar if we acred otherwise, grear danger to rhe future of the Kingdom might arise". 90 The danger artending rhe separation of disrricts for younger sons was rims fairly clearly perceived ar rhis rime; rhis is arresred by a large number of pronouncements. Bur the need for rhe king to provide firringly for his younger sons persisred. He wirhheld Dauphine from his younger son for securiry reasons; bur in its place he gave him the Orleans region as a duchy and a number of counties as welL And his eldesr son, John rhe Good, rhe very man who received Dauphine in
l._, ,

. nr .1 "ood dnl furrher once be was king of rbe entire region on his ' :::: ' r.... he spread bounry unsrintingly Firsr he. gave away r\\'O counnes, . unrcies He endowed his second son LolllS wirl1 An1ou and Mame, . . . . ' n tour v1sco rIJ: - n received rhe counrv or Pomers. rhen Macon. Snll larger 1o1trs bis younger ,o .
A 0 '

th;

:r

fo!lowejc!.I rbe Good cime to power in l 150. Under his predecessor, rhe long 10.. o 1n ' . . .. . l . b"r\"een rhe two hr"esr !Jowers and mighriesr \varnor muses 111 nt rens1on c ,, ' b ._ . . . !are. n Frankish region bad eruixed; in 1)37 began rhe ch,11n of m1lm1ry cl 1e wester n . known as rhe "Hundred Ye<us' \Var" To the Planwgenets, rhe islan con 11 ICrs . l " . ll furrher expansion on rhe mamland was blocked; even r 1e1r existmg rulers, ,1 . cl . cl . l 1 possessions were under consranr threar unnl rhey had esrro1 e . . l rLile md prevented rhe formarion ot anorher leadmg power on r 1e Capenan , . . .. d E mllv furrher expansion bv rhe Pansian rulers was very restncre Connnenr. g ' . ' . . . b posirion permanenrlv rhreatened unnl rhe island-dwellers were su and nelf l . . . f clued or ,u leasr expelled from rhe mainland. It was .rhe srr1ct compu.ls10n o comperirion which drove rhese houses and rheir dependenrs agamsr one genume . . . . and which-since for a long rime ne1rher of rbe amagornsrs can anot 1 1er, decisively defear rhe other-made rhe srruggle so r To begin wirh, however, rhe Paris kings were for a vanery or reasons ar a - d . ca<'e Jolin che Good was capmred bv rhe English heir. rhe Prmce of van ' 0 , . d Wales. in the Barde of Poiriers in 1356 and senr ro England Immediately rhe s larenr in his rerrirorv now ruled as regem b\ rhe Dauphrn Charles, who (ens1on .' ._. was nor ver rwenry years old, broke our: revolurion in Paris, peasanr revolrs, and knivhts ;Jlundering rhe counrryside. The English rroops, in alliance w1rh anorher of the Capetian house, rhe owner of previously apanaged reg10ns, rhe King of Navarre, occupied large areas of wesrern France; they even reached rhe vicinirr of Paris John che Good, to free himself. concluded a rreaty with rhe and their allies handing over to rhem the m<1inland .irea rhar Richard the Lion Hearr had lasr conrrolled at rht end ot rhe rwelfrh cenrury. But the Srares General of rhe French dominions, summoned in 1356 by rhe Dauphrn, declared rhar this rreary should be neither approved nor carried om and thar rhe onlv firring answer was a well-foughr war. And rhis was wirhout doubt a clear exi;ression of how strong interdependence had becorr:e. wirhin the grear dommion of rhe Caperian heirs, of the amonomy and selt-mteresr of rhe ruled rhat would slowly deprive rhe monarchy of its privare monopoly characrer. At rhis stage, however, rhe developmenr was only beginning. The war was anew and the Trearv of Bretigny, by which ir was provisionally concluded m l J )9, was favourable ro rhe Valois than the firsr concluded by John himself somewhar in England. Nevertheless roughly a quarrer of what Philip rhe Fair had possessed had ro be relinquished ro rhe Planrageners, above all Poirou, Samronge, Aurns, Limousin, Perigord. Quercy, and Bigorre south of the Loire, rogether w1rh a few other disrricts making up, wirh rhe older English possession Guyenne, the
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295 29-!
kingdom of Aquiraine: and furrher norch Calais. rbe counties of Ponrhieu. and .i\fontreuil-sur-I\fer: in addition. three million golden 111sre,1d ot the tour million demanded by rbe London rrean-. as ransom for krng. Bur the latter. a worthy c111d chivalrous m<1n. rernrned from prison oblinous ot the extent of bis defe,1c. His conduct in this sirnarion shows to what extent he was srill the sole authority in control of rhe territory ro_him. which was one day to become "France", a state and a nation ..He felt h1,. !10.use musr_ now all rbe more osrenrmiously demonstrate its glory. The sen., At any rare. under John a specific tendency of large family possessions w1s reinforced. a tendency which. once their possessions had reached a cerrnrn . of rhe 1)rtcedin<' re1)resenrarives of the Caperian house had been able none b Its conStljUences are clear. \'Vhen John rhe Good died. rhe existence <111cl occupancy of rhe cenrral despite the clebilirarion and rhe defeat. were in no way lf1 doubt. This dcirion of how firmlv rhe power of the cenrral ruler was already founded an in i ' . . . . .1 "unctions ocher rhan rhar ot armv leader. The Dauphrn. a physically soo,1 ' . . m<H1. bur shrewd and experienced from rhe trials ot his yourh. ,1ssumed under rhe name of Ch,1rles V. He was head of all the possessions left to the , 1:) rhe Trearv of Breri<>n\'. including che apanaged ones Bur looking c,.,pet1c1 , 1 . . . "' . . . . ar rhe clisrribmion ot po\Yer we can see clearly how. bene<1th rhe veil ot . gs soYerei ,,nn the centrifugal tendencies had gained renewed strength re in "' . . h k . . .,. in a number of territorial formations were emerg111g wlth1n the nee 1 1 ' 0 Caperian dominion rhar aspired more or les_s obYiouslyro amonomy. and benYeen which chert was rivalry Bm what gan this nYalry w1th1n the western Frankish re"ion irs special character w<1s rhe fact rhar almost all chose involved were d:Scendanrs of the Caperian house irself \Virh few exceptions. ir was apanaged men or rheir offspring who now faced each orher as potential comperirors. There
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of 111krrorHy resulung trom dett:al led him to overemphasize his own


And he. considered that the dignity and glory of his house could find no

se

ex:1ress1on. than by :ill his son: figuring as dukes at rhe ratification of rhe Peace rre,1ry One of his hrsr acts after his rernrn trom prison was therefore r0 . cl uc I. 11es from parts of his dominion as a1Janaues for his sons 'Iis Jd . I ... . . . ' . "' r e est was ,ueady Duke of Normandy and Dauph111. the nexr: Louis, he made Duke An.Joli and Mame; to the nexr. John. he gaw Berf\' and Auvergne is 1 11s (UC I hy ancl rn rhe youngest, Philip. Touraine. This was in the rear 1)60 " A year brer. in 1361. the young. fifteen-year-old Duke. of Burgunch die l ,,., c. 1wo
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prenous 1Y he had. married J\fargarer. the daughrer and sole heir of rhe Count ot Flanders: bm he died w1thom leaving children Ir w1s 1 hr<'t re"i.on b l. '''co tat tounc \V1thour -a ruler on the 1oun" D ll l . 1rselt cJ . unexpected death of rhe c ,e,. It
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cons1sre nor only of rhe duchy or Burgundy proper. bm also rhe counties of Boulogne and AuYergne. rogerher with the counf\" , of Buruund\ 0 . ' rh Fran h eL ' (

were, certainly, orhtr major rerrirori<1l rulers who were nor members of the royal house, or ,u least nor directly.. Bur in rhe struggle for supremacy rhey were no )on!!tr proragonisrs of rhe first order Amon;:: rhese at rhe rime of John rhe Good vrns Charles rhe Bad. King of Navarre LHis father. Philip of Evreux. was a grandson of Philip III, a nepht\\ of Philip rhe Fair and of Charles of Valois: his mother was a granclclaughrer of Philip rhe Fair, a daughrer of Louis X: in addirion he himselfw1s rhe son-in-law of John rhe Good. To him belonged. besides rhe Pyrenem rerriwry of Navarre. a number

Comre <111d other areas_ benJ11d rhe rradirional frontiers of the western Frankish empire. On grounds of somewhat complex family relationships. John rhe Good claimed rl11s whole esrnre for himself There was no one ro comest it with hi
and .in he gave. it to his youngest son Philip. whom he particularly Philip fought. especially braveh ar his side in rhe Bartle of Poiriers and accompanied him to prison. This was cu be his aixmciut: in ];lace of Tour' ine ',,, l . . . "' ' ,,e )e111g m111cltul. said rhe King. '"that we are enjoined by muure rn give our ch1lclren enough rn allow them rn honour the glory of their origin. and rhar we must be especially generous rn those who have parricularlv merited ir'" " 1 unmisrnkablv how . Both the fact of these apanages and their morirnrion tar .French territorial power still had rht character of a family possession i,n this ptnod: bm they also show how this promoted fragmenwrion. No doubt strong tendencies were already operating in rhe opposite direction. tendencies resrricr1ug rhe private .or domanial characrer of rule: rhe groups representing these opposed r.endenc1es at rhe court will be discussed shordy.. The personal character and rndnxlual forrnnes of John rhe Good no doubt played a part in his particular propensity tor nchly endowing all rhe royal sons for rhe sake of family prestige. rh1s tendency clearly owed no less rn the heightening of competition rhat expresswn 111 the Hundred Years \Var and which. afoor rhe Caperians' defeat. gaye nst to a particularly insiscenr demonstration of the wealth of rheir

of prtYiously apam1ged regions from che Capecian possessions. norably rht county
of Eneux and pares of che duchy of Normandy.. His possessions thus txttncled dan!!erouslv close ro Paris itself Charles .rhe Bad of Navarre was one of rbt first proponents of this struggle among apanaged family members of rhe Caperian house for supremacy in the western Frankish region. and ulrimarely for the crown. He was rhe chief mainland ally of rhe Planrageners in rhe first phase of the Hundred Years \Var. During this war he was for a rime the military commander of P,uis ( 13 58); even the of rhe cirr, eYen Etienne J\Iarcel, vvas temporarily on his side; and his of wresring .the crown from rhe other Capetian heir seemed close w realization" To rhis end his membership of rhe Kings family gave him <111 imperns. powers and claims rhar others lacked. The Planragener wirh whom he allied himself, Edward III, was likewise, rhou"h only rhe female line of descenr. a close relarion of rhe Caperians He
too

of Philip III. ,1 nephevv of Philip rhe fair <md of Charles of

296

The Cil'i/i::,ing PrrKcJS

51'1tt Fum1t1tion dlld Cil'ili:atio11

297

Valois; his mother was a daughter of Philip the Fair, a niece of Charles of and he was thus at least as closely related to the Capetians as the French opposing him, John the Good, the grandson of Charles of Valois Adjoining the mainland terrirnrv of the Plantauenecs to the nort'11 \"e . .. . c ,, re rhi; regions that John the Good had given hrs younger sons, the territories Duke of Anjou, John, of Berry, and of Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy rngether with the land ot Louis, Duke of Bourbon. He, the Duke of Bourbo ' was descended from the Ca1)etians through a brother of Phili1) IIi Robert c n, ._ ' ,ount of Clermont. who married Beauice, the heiress of Bourbon; his mother was Valois, his sister the wife of Charles V: and he himself was thus on his moth , . . ' , ers side an uncle of Charles VI, as the Dukes of An1ou Burgundy and Berrv ne re on the paternal side. These were the main actors in the struggles of the period of John the Good, Charles V and Charles VI. Apart from the Plantagencts aud the Bourbons, they were all owners of apanaged parts of the Capetian inheritance who were now for their part srruggling ro increase their family's power finally co win supremacy.
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d",;1 15t0n
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an cl of the great older feudal houses on the mainland only the duchy . , remained. This older srrarnm, however, had now been replaced by a r13ntran} . -- l 01 circle of terrirorial rulers, sremm111g from offshoots ot t 1e apeo:in cl these were now driven inrn conflict by the mechanism of rernrnnal 'onse, an . . cl f- . . . 11 - compulsions wh1ch-ow111u to the low egree o 1megr,lf10n or . JJ1pet1tIOn. c . co . . t. t. ncrions in any society with a barter economy, and parocularly a

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The balance within these tensions first tilted. under Charles V, to tt1e reignin Valois. \Vhen he died. his son and successor was only twelve years old . Here,! always, circumstances-accidents from the poim of view of the whole development-favoured certain tendencies already inherent in the structure of society The youth and weakness of the ruling Valois strengthened the cemrifugal forces that had long been gathering, and released the pem-up pressures. Charles V had absorbed Dauphine once and for all imo his family possessions; he had recovered the Norman rerrirnries of the King of Navarre as well as a number of other apanaged lands like the duchy of Orleans and rhe coumy of Auxerre . But on his death there were already seven great fruclal lords in the land, descended from St Louis (Louis IX) and thus from the Caperian house: at the rime they were called '"princes des fleurs de !is"; and there were now-apart from a number of smaller and medium lords who had long ceased w play an independe-m pan in the struggles for power 02 -only two major houses besides the Plamageners-whose members were nor in direct male line of dtscenr from the Capetian house: the dukes of Brittany and the coums of Flanders. But the Count of Flanders at this time had only one child, a daughter. For her hand and rhe future ownership of Flanders there arose, after the death of the young Duke of Burgundy ro whom she was originally berrothtd, an inevitable conflict between the Plamageners and rhe Capetian heirs . After much vacillation the hand of the heiress of Flanders finally \vem. with the help of the head of the Valois, Charles V. rn the Llfter's younger brother Philip, who through his father's imervemion had already become Duke of Burgundy. The marriages of great feudal lords were arranged from what we would roday call a purely "business" poim of view, for the sake of expansion and success in the territorial competition. Philip the Bold thus uni red. after the death of the Coum of Flanders, the latter's possessions with

r h C olinnian dominions and then to the feudal soCial order ot the rnelfrh orrc:M"" fl" . Once auain j)eople ro whom the cemral ruler had given land rom 11s century. c . . . l 111dependem and become nva s own large p ossessions ' rencled rn make themselves . . _ _ . . . of rhe weakened cemral house. Bue rhe poss1b1lrry ot entenng the competmon , l"I mired ro a few descendants of the original central house, .a clear \Vl!S nO\\ . . . . d" . of how far the structure of human relauons had changed 111 tlus 011 m ic,1u . . .

cierv-rhrearen rhe existence of a monopoly of power and possessrons warn or so .ons rendinn rn d1s1meurare . cl t- t. "' l pro1)ertv .r 1 ar<re r egl , o o an rein orce cenrn uc,1 a\e "' had be<,un their work anew . Once again there occurred one of those c . . . rendencres, ' meunrion such as had led centunes earlier ro the_ drsso 1ucron -hifrs wwarcls clrs 1 c ' _ _ _

society, how far chis human network had already become, at least 111 its agranan ror a system with closed opportunities s.c ' . fl cl l .. l l l. The rivalry between rhe most powerful "princes des eurs e rs eruprec immediately after the death of Charles V in the struggle for the regency and ) ot rhe heir co rhe throne . s1111 guard ran _ ' .who was still a _minor. Charles . . V had _. appointed his brother Louis, Duke ot An1ou, as reg:m, hrs brother Phdrp, D_uke of Burgundy, and his brother-in-law Louis, Duke of Bourbon, as guardians of hrs son. This was clearly rhe only thing he could do to prewm power passing emirelv into the hands of a single man. But it was precisely complete power that Louis ;f Anjou, and Philip as well, were really pursuing. They wished to l'.l1!te guardianship and regency. And the conflicts between the rival members of the_ ;oval house filled the whole reign of Charles VI, who possessed little power ot
p

d;cision and finallv succumbed ro a kind of madness. The lc:idin" in the struggle for supremacy among the King's relations dunged co rime. The ;lace of Louis of Anjou as the strongest rival of the Burgundian Duke, for example, was raken at a certain srnge in the struggle br the brother of Charles VI, Louis, who ruled the duchy of Orleans as his But no matter how the persons changed. the network of compulsions impelling chem remained the same: again and again two or :hree people within chis, b\ now, very small circle of competirors came face to face, none of rhem prepareci or able--on pain of annihilation-to allow any of the othe,rs to become stronger than himself These conflicts between relar1ons of the Kmg, howewr nec;ssarilv became imerrwined with the larger conflicr of the rime, which still ven: far from being decided-the struggle with the Plamagenets, whose offshoots li,kewise becam; embroiled in similar rivalries by reason of analogous mechanisms

.298

Th, Cii'i!i::i11g PmctSs

Sulc Formafi()il 1md Ci1ili::.ati11n

.299

. _The sirnation of these members of the royal house must be visualized: all lift they were second or third. Their feelings told rhem oti:en tnow'h I l b o t 1ar m1g H e berrer and stronger monarchs than rhe man who happened to bt ltgl[Jmact heir to die crown and dit main possessions_ Between them and the goal c.Jften swod only one person, or only two or three. And there is no l k l . l . tac examp _ . es m l!Story o two or more such people dvinn c- in- quick SLiccession opc:nmg the way to power w the next in line. Bur e\en then, there would ' be hard struggles with their rivals. In rhis situation the less ]JOwerful rnin h cl l ' ar lv t\er arrnmec .rhe throne it he belonged ro onlv a secondarv line of ti1e f:amiJv . c . rhough he .might have the besr claim . There were near!; alwavs otl1'' . . . . . . .c:rs who conreste d his churn; their chum might be worse bur thev would win if tl1ey \Vere stronger. So those next rn lme ro the throne who ilre1dr ruled . . . _. . . . . ' ' . apanaged ternrnnes ot \arwus sizes. were preoccupied wirh creating and extending h b ' ' ' ' t eir asis ot support, rncreasrng their possessions, dieir income, their power. If thev had no d!fect access ro the rhrone, rheir rule should be ar lease no less ' mighty and ostentatious rhan rhar of rheir rivals. if possible ourshininu ev l K" l f ll o en t 1e mg s .. w 10 a rer a was no more rhan the grearesr among all rhe rivals or compenrnrs
<....
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He further acquired by purchase-with rhe aid of a large dowry from his wife Valentina Visconti-several counties including char of Blois Finally. through his he owned rhe counry of Asri in Italian territory. and he had rhe reversion

This was rhe si rnarion and atti rnde of the closest relarions of rhe weik Cl l _ _ ' 1ar es VI l . - 1is unclb-nor all, bur some ot rhem-and also his brorher_ And with certam changes. wirh ever-diminishing chances for rhe second and rhird in]' l. . cl . . . me, r 1is atnrn e. this sHuanon. chese tensions around rhe rhrone were rransmicte<l through of rhe rnosr diverse ralenrs, down to rhe rime when, with Henry of Narnrre. a relatively small terrirorial ruler for rhe lasr rime bee K' _ ame . mg of France; and as we have said. traces of rhese tendencies are to be found nght up to the time of Louis XIV The scron.!.!esr conresranr arnom' ' -',. .. /,:." \\"lS ., C' rl1i/CJ de .' , . Pl ] 1 [ Jp (h e
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of a number of other Iralian terrirories The Burgundian expanded in rhe direction of Holland. Orltans inro Iraly. \Vithin rhe former wesrern Frankish ---irorv irself. relations of ownership had betn consolidated; the major parts of teu . this region belonged either to rhe London or ro rhe Paris kings; and between chem even a ''jlri11<'1 dcr _1!,11rs c/1 !is" could only assert himself. only compete wirh one or ocher for supremacy. if he managed in one direction or anorher to build up a large domestic power of his own As rhe earlier elimination struggles within rhe large area of pose-Carolingian feudaliry had clone previously, so now analogous tensions impelled members of the far narrower circle of tht grear Caperian territorial lords to expand rheir land, ro crave incessantly for more possessions. Bur as means ro expansion, marriage, inherirance and purchase now played at least as important a parr as war and feud. Ir was nor only rhe: Habsburgs who marritd into greatness Since relarively large properry unirs wirh correspondingh grear rnilirnry potential had by now formed in chis society. individuals. and individual warrior houses who wanted to rise ar this stage. could only hope ro survive a military confrontation if rhey had already gaine