The Truce of God | Page 4

war. Our ancestors believed in
leagues with "teeth in them." From France where the movement had its
origin and culminated at Elne (1207) in the full organization of the
"Truce of God," it spread eastward into Germany and Thuringia. The
German duchies and the Austrian marches submitted soon after to its
humanitarian and Christian code. In 1030, the Pope, the French and
German princes united their efforts for the development of the
forerunners of the "Truce of God," the conventions known as the
"Peace of God." The Peace, the earlier institution of the two, exempted
from the evils of war, churches, monasteries, clerics, children, pilgrims,
husbandmen; the cattle, the fields, the vineyards of the toiler; his
instruments of labor, his barns, his bakehouse, his milch cows, his
goats and his fowl. The Truce forbade war at certain "closed seasons."
It gave angry passions time to subside, and endeavored to discredit war
by making peace more desirable and its blessings more prolonged. It is
probable that the Council of Charroux already mentioned laid the
germs of the Truce. At the Council of Elne we see it fully organized. In
1139 the Tenth General Council, the Second Lateran, gave in its
eleventh Canon its official approbation to what must be considered one
of the most beautiful institutions of the Middle Ages.
Under the guidance of our American author, George Henry Miles, we
are led back to the days of the eleventh century. He is an accurate and
picturesque chronicler of that iron, yet chivalrous age. If on the one
hand, we see the sinister figure of Henry IV of Germany, on the other
we find the austere but noble monk Hildebrand, who became Pope St.
Gregory VII. We hear the clash of swords drawn in private brawl and
vendetta, but see them put back into the scabbard at the sound of the

church bells that announce the beginning of the "Truce of God." The
tale opens beneath the arches of a Suabian forest, with Gilbert de Hers
and Henry de Stramen facing each other's swords as mortal foes; it
closes with Gilbert and Henry, now reconciled, kneeling at the tomb of
the fair and lovely Lady Margaret, their hates forgotten before the
grave of innocence and maidenly devotion, and learning from the
hallowed memory of the dead, the lesson of that forgiveness that makes
us divine.
The American novelist, like the Italian Manzoni, teaches the lesson
inculcated in "The Betrothed" ("_I Promessi Sposi_"). It is a lesson of
forgiveness. It is noblest to forgive. Forgiveness is divine. Forgive
seventy times seventy times, again and again. In Manzoni's story, the
saintly Frederick Borromeo preaches and acts that sublime lesson in his
scene with the Innominato with compelling eloquence. In "The Truce
of God," the Lady Margaret, the monk Omehr, the very woes of the
Houses of Hers and Stramen, the tragic madness of the unfortunate
Bertha, the blood shed in a senseless and passionate quarrel, the bells of
the sanctuary bidding the warring factions sheathe the sword,
incessantly proclaim the same duty. In writing his story, George Henry
Miles was not only painting for us a picture aglow with the life of olden
times, but pointing out in a masterly way, the historic rôle of the
Church in molding the manners of an entire generation.
The reader of "The Truce of God," in spite of the fact that the romance
seems to be sketched only in its broadest outlines, gets a distinct
knowledge of its chief actors. They live before his eyes. De Hers and
Stramen are not mere abstractions. They have the rugged, clear-cut
character, the sudden passions, the quick and at times dangerous and
savage impulses of the men of the eleventh century. In them the
barbarian has not yet been completely tamed. But neither has he been
given full rein. Somewhere in these hearts, there lurks a sentiment of
honor, of knighthood, which the Church of Christ has ennobled, and to
which the helpless and the innocent do not appeal in vain.
The American has caught this sentiment and plays upon it skillfully.
His setting is in keeping with his story. The wandering minstrel, the
turreted castle, the festive board, the high-vaulted hall with its oaken
rafters, the chase, the wide reaches of the forests of Franconia, the
beetling ramparts of old feudal castles by the Rhine or the lovely shores

of the Lake of Constance, the vineyards on the slopes of sunny hills,
the bannered squadrons, the din of battle, the crash of helm and spear,
are brought before us with dramatic power. Historic figures appear on
the scene. Close to the principal actors in the story, we see the gallant
Rodolph of Arles, Godefroi de Bouillon, Berchtold of Carinthia,
Hohenstaufen and Welf, acting their life drama at the council board