was not in fact an outbreak of young Romeos and Juliets engaging in illicit romances. The fifteenth-century court records studied in this book do not reveal a widespread practice of runaway youths engaging in secret marriages. They do not reveal an ecclesiastical court overwhelmed by concern over clandestine marriage practices, nor do they reveal the malcontent of parents whose children married against their wishes.
Instead, those records document a different problem. They document the practice and prosecution of men and women who, already married to living spouses, attempt to marry again. Moreover, many of these marriages took place in public and with a priest’s blessing. Clandestine marriage was simply not at issue in the prosecution of matrimonial offenses that mattered most to church court officials in Troyes, the diocese that is the primary focus of this book. The crisis of marriage at the end of the Middle Ages, at least as found in northern France, was not a conflict over parental control—though it was, in a sense, a battle over ecclesiastical control. It was, at core, a crisis about the legal requirement that marriage must be a monogamous and indissoluble bond, about the high and holy status accorded monogamy. This crisis emerged as a conflict between laity, on the one hand, who valued marriage so much that they wanted to marry even if already married to a no-longer desired spouse, and, on the other hand, ecclesiastical officials, who valued marriage as a sacrament and considered illegal remarriage an intolerable abuse of this sacrament.
To understand the depth of this crisis, we must begin by understanding the strength of the Christian commitment to marriage as a holy monogamy. Both indissolubility and monogamy were central to the problems of Christian marriage law as applied in much of medieval Europe. Christian doctrine prized monogamy above all, insisting that a Christian marriage could not involve more than two spouses. According to this doctrine, no Christian could be married to more than one living spouse at once. Additionally, divorce was forbidden. Christian marriage, once made, could only end with the death of a spouse.
Indeed, Christian custom disdained even remarriage following the death of a spouse. Widows and widowers could remarry, but these marriages, while tolerated, were frowned upon. Even these lawful remarriages were thought to deviate from the ideal of marriage as a unique commitment made between one man and one woman. Further, beginning in the late twelfth century, canon law considerably restricted the numbers of those men and women who might technically claim widowed status. New laws proclaimed that no man or woman married to an absent spouse could be considered free to remarry unless they could prove in court that this absent spouse had died. By the later Middle Ages these laws were enforced in at least some dioceses.
By the later Middle Ages, however, Christian society had made so much of marriage that many previously married people were determined to marry a new partner even if they broke the law in so doing. They wished to partake of the wide range of spiritual and social benefits marriage bestowed upon a wedded couple. However, they could not legally marry because they were already married to a living—if absent or otherwise undesirable—spouse. That these men and women could not legally marry, however, does not mean that they did not marry.
The consequence of this conflict between social practice and the law was an epidemic of illegal marriages in northern France. In marrying despite being already married, men and women of the later Middle Ages committed a crime I will somewhat anachronistically refer to as bigamy, for reasons explained in the next chapter.4 As a result of this widespread behavior, I argue, bigamy became a matter of grave concern.
Earliest evidence is found in the fifteenth century, in northern France and in Burgundian lands, and this book will focus on these earliest surviving sources. In the dioceses of Paris, Rouen, Cambrai, Châlons-en-Champagne, and most notably Troyes, local ecclesiastical officials made determined efforts to prevent and punish these illegal remarriages. Based on the current scholarship on ecclesiastical proceedings in other regions of medieval Europe, it appears that northern France stands out as exceptional in this regard. In England, Italy, southern France, southern Germany, and Spain, scholars have so far identified no such efforts at regulating marriage in the fifteenth century, and certainly not to the same degree or with the same emphasis on punishment as found in Troyes.5
This apparent exceptionalism of northern France does need to be qualified, though, and for reasons that will be explored further below.6 Even if we retain the assumption that Troyes was unusual, however, that does not mean that it is unimportant for an understanding of the development of Christian marriage law and practice or undeserving of study. This is true for two reasons. First, if the law as applied in practice in northern France was different, the law on the books was not. The courts in northern France—and that of Troyes in particular—were enforcing the rules established in canon law that all these places had in common, even if most courts did not implement them. By studying Troyes, we can learn something of real importance about what it means to put law into practice. Second, and perhaps more significant, what was possibly or even probably exceptional in the fifteenth century unquestionably became the rule in the sixteenth century, at least in Catholic lands.
Indeed, the issue of how to reconcile popular marriage practice with ecclesiastical requirements for Christian marriage and especially remarriage did not die with the end of the Middle Ages. Some of the most striking evidence for the character of the late medieval crisis of marriage emerges from sixteenth-century sources. The matter seemed so pressing to the Church hierarchy as a whole that they took it up at the Council of Trent (1545–64). At that fundamental council, Church officials decided to alter the laws of marriage radically, and for the explicit reason of preventing bigamy. Previously, couples could lawfully and indissolubly marry by the exchange of consent, with no need for publicity, parental consent, or the blessing of a priest. The Decree Tametsi of the Council of Trent (1563) finally abolished clandestine marriages, proclaiming that no Christian could legitimately marry without the participation of a priest and with banns announced beforehand.7 Any marriage made without these precautions was invalid and nonbinding.
The Catholic officials of the Counter Reformation did not make this decision, as previous scholarship has suggested, because of a concern over couples like Romeo and Juliet, who had so disastrously married in secret. Catholic leaders made their decision, as explained in the text of the decree, because of the great problem of bigamy, a problem found not only in northern France. Too many men and women, the text decreed, despite being already married to a living spouse, were taking additional spouses. Such behavior was too grave a threat to Christian society to be tolerated. Throughout the sixteenth century and beyond, prosecutions of bigamy took a prominent role in judicial proceedings across Catholic Europe and in the New World.8
The purpose of this book is to take that declaration from the Decree Tametsi at face value. Scholars have paid too little attention to the stated reason for the prevention of bigamy given in this decree. As a result, they have first not recognized that bigamy was perceived as a problem in medieval society, and second they have misunderstood the reasons why bigamy was the subject of widespread prosecutions in subsequent centuries. By studying the beginnings of this practice and prosecution as found in northern France, I thus call for a broad reconsideration of the history of Christian marriage as Europe emerged from the Middle Ages.
This reading of the meaning of bigamy also aims to force a reconsideration of the idea of identity and its relationship to criminal prosecution in the sixteenth century. Over the last forty years, scholars of early modern Europe have focused on the role of identity in pre-modern culture. Natalie Davis has made the widely embraced argument that the problem with a crime such as bigamy, or passing as the husband of another man’s wife—as in the case of The Return of Martin Guerre—was a problem of identity, of imposture and fraud.9 An attempt to so distort identity grievously offended a world as preoccupied with status and honor as early modern Europe. Davis’s Return of Martin Guerre is undoubtedly the most famous book related to the problem of bigamy known to most modern readers, and it may seem natural to apply Davis’s interpretive approach to the cases of bigamy found in my study.
It is my contention, however, that identity in the sense in which scholars influenced
