The following stories are taken from the memoirs of the Lord of
Joinville, a noble from Champagne, who became a counsellor and confidant
of King Saint Louis IX. He tells how Saint Louis would exercise justice
in the suits brought before him, at times even defending his people to
the very court officer he himself had appointed.
He had arranged his business in such a fashion, that my lord of Nesle
and the good Count of Soissons, and we others who were about his person
after hearing Mass used to go and listen to the Pleas of the Gate (which
they call now “Petitions”). And when he came back from the minster, he
used to send for us, and would sit down at the foot of his bed and make
us sit all round him, and would ask us, whether there were any cases to
be dispatched that could not be dispatched without him, and we named
them, and he would send for the parties, and ask them: “Why do you not
accept what our officers offer you?” and they would say: “It is very
little, Sir.” And he would talk to them as follows: “You ought really to
take what people are ready to concede.” And in this way the holy man
laboured with all his might to bring them into the right and reasonable
course.
Many a time it chanced in summer, that he would go and sit in the
forest of Vincennes, after Mass, and all who had business would come and
talk with him, without hindrance from ushers or anyone. Then he would
ask them with his own lips: “Is there anyone here, that has a suit?” and
those that had suits stood up. Then he would say: “Keep silence, all of
you; and you shall be dealt with in order.” Then he would call up my
lord Peter of Fontaines and my lord Geoffrey of Villette, and say to one
of them: “Dispatch me this suit!” and if, in the speech of those who
were speaking on behalf of others, he saw that a point might be better
put, he himself would put it for them with his own lips. I have seen him
sometimes in summer, when to hear his people’s suits, he would come
into the gardens of Paris, clad in a camel’s-hair coat, with a
sleeveless surcoat of tiretaine, a cloak of black taffety round his
neck, his hair well combed and without a coif, and a white swansdown hat
upon his head. He would cause a carpet to be spread, that we might sit
round him; and all the people who had business before him stood round
about, and then he caused their suits to be dispatched, just as I told
you before about the forest of Vincennes. Ethel Wedgwood, trans. The Memoirs of the Lord of Joinville: A New English Version (New York: E.P. Dutton and Co., 1906), pp. 20-22.
He had arranged his business in such a fashion, that my lord of Nesle
and the good Count of Soissons, and we others who were about his person
after hearing Mass used to go and listen to the Pleas of the Gate (which
they call now “Petitions”). And when he came back from the minster, he
used to send for us, and would sit down at the foot of his bed and make
us sit all round him, and would ask us, whether there were any cases to
be dispatched that could not be dispatched without him, and we named
them, and he would send for the parties, and ask them: “Why do you not
accept what our officers offer you?” and they would say: “It is very
little, Sir.” And he would talk to them as follows: “You ought really to
take what people are ready to concede.” And in this way the holy man
laboured with all his might to bring them into the right and reasonable
course.
Many a time it chanced in summer, that he would go and sit in the
forest of Vincennes, after Mass, and all who had business would come and
talk with him, without hindrance from ushers or anyone. Then he would
ask them with his own lips: “Is there anyone here, that has a suit?” and
those that had suits stood up. Then he would say: “Keep silence, all of
you; and you shall be dealt with in order.” Then he would call up my
lord Peter of Fontaines and my lord Geoffrey of Villette, and say to one
of them: “Dispatch me this suit!” and if, in the speech of those who
were speaking on behalf of others, he saw that a point might be better
put, he himself would put it for them with his own lips. I have seen him
sometimes in summer, when to hear his people’s suits, he would come
into the gardens of Paris, clad in a camel’s-hair coat, with a
sleeveless surcoat of tiretaine, a cloak of black taffety round his
neck, his hair well combed and without a coif, and a white swansdown hat
upon his head. He would cause a carpet to be spread, that we might sit
round him; and all the people who had business before him stood round
about, and then he caused their suits to be dispatched, just as I told
you before about the forest of Vincennes.
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