The Axe and the Oath: Ordinary Life in the Middle Ages (review)

What can one make of a book in which the author, a distinguished European medieval historian, confesses at its end that he is not sure who his intended audience is, that his book most likely is “simplistic for the erudite, confusing for the student, [and] obscure for the non-initiate”? (384) The book contains no footnotes, no index, and no bibliography, although Fossier states frequently that he relies heavily on archeology and iconography to construct his narrative. Specialists in medieval history will recognize the author’s erudition, but his style is informal, the author seemingly engaged in a casual conversation with the reader.

Readers of this journal most likely will be interested in his “materialistic” focus on the “poor everyday man” (xii), the “little people” of the Middle Ages (his story covers the 10^th to the 14^th centuries, mostly in France), and most likely will find the first part of the book more satisfying than the second. Fossier divides his book in two, Part One covering “Man and the World,” and Part Two “Man in Himself.” The first part describes man’s body and environment, while the second reaches for his brain and his soul.

Fossier’s starting point is “naked man,” the “human beast” whose “life is an unceasing combat to avoid death.” (xi) A fragile, ungainly being, man the animal has only one “exceptional zoological” (5) advantage over other animals, his opposable thumbs and thus his tool-wielding capability. From this unflattering portrait, Fossier explores what perils the environment holds for this creature – Chapter One is largely about illnesses – and then leads us through Chapter Two, “The Ages of Life.” We learn that medieval man was amply but poorly fed (a high carbohydrate and protein poor diet consisting of bread, beans, peas and lentils, and little meat), thus causing, in part, his vulnerability to the threatening forces of nature. Further reflecting his materialistic premise, Fossier draws a direct link between the fragility of the human condition amid uncontrollable perils, and the importance of family. Man alone was lost, so he fashioned a “protective outer layer” (107) of blood relations, friends and neighbours.

It comes as no surprise that medieval man was “born to toil,” (117) nor is it surprising, again given the precarious state of human existence, that food-related activities represented half of the known trades, and scarcely one in ten occupations involved “services.” More controversial is Fossier’s description of the meaning of work for everyday man. Competition as we know it, he contends, did not exist, for the objective of work was “the common profit” and “good commerce.” (120) Work, quite simply, was “the fruit of an effort and involved a result.” (121) Perhaps this was true for the isolated villager, but it is hard to accept these notions in the thriving towns of the High Middle Ages. “Little people” populated these areas as well, after all, and we have ample evidence that a market economy was operating there.

From his focus on the body of man, Fossier shifts to the environment, “Nature,” in Chapter Three and “The Animals” in Four. Always with an eye cocked toward the precarious condition of man in the face of a hostile environment, Fossier explores the elemental importance of fire and water. “Fire was at the heart of every human group,” (157) its control essential for survival. The same could be said for water. Testimony to their importance, both were laden with life-giving, purifying symbolic importance. Fossier remains true to his materialistic focus in his description of the “products of the earth” (164) that sustained life. Of course, these came from agriculture (grains, grasses and vines), but Fossier also devotes considerable attention to the “forest, necessary and nourishing.” (180)

Naked man’s natural fragility made him a fearful creature, instinctively eyeing his environment with a defensive knowledge that its perils could harm and kill at a moment’s notice. Animals, only a...