It was but a few years later, in 1448, that the famous charter of which a nearly contemporary copy has fortunately been preserved, was granted to certain glass-workers in Lorraine by Jean de Calabre, governor of that duchy in place of his father, King René. In this document we have early evidence of the claim of the glass-workers to the rights of gentlemen.[[171]] Full recognition is given to the ‘plusieurs beaux droitz, libertez, franchises et prérogatives, et dont eulx et leurs prédécesseurs ayant joui et usé de tous temps passez et esté tenus et réputez en telle franchise comme chevaliers estimez et gens nobles dudit duchié de Lorrainne.’ Then follows a list of all these privileges, not the least important being the exemption from ‘toutes tailles, aydes, subsides, d’ost, de giste et de chevaulchiées quelconques.’
This is by no means the earliest French document in which the claim to some kind of nobility is made for the profession. As far back as the later thirteenth century, in the reign of Philippe le Bel, the glass-workers of Champagne claimed similar rights, basing their pretensions on certain edicts of Constantine and on others found in the Theodosian Code! Charles VI., whose interest in the manufacture of glass has been already referred to (p. [137]), in his Lettres Royales of 1399, granted important rights to the glass-makers, ‘à cause de la noblesse du dict mestier.’ These privileges, however, were confined to those whose ancestors had followed the craft for several generations.
But for all this, these poor ‘gentilshommes de verre’ never obtained that complete recognition in France that had always been granted to their brother craftsmen at Venice and L’Altare, and their claims at times exposed them to ridicule. There is an often-quoted epigram, directed against one of their number (it is probably by François Maynard, a follower of Ronsard), which well expresses the popular feeling with regard to their position—
‘Votre noblesse est mince;
Car ce n’est pas d’un prince,
Daphnis, que vous sortez.
Gentilhomme de verre,
Si vous tombez à terre,
Adieu vos qualités.’
The question of these gentilshommes verriers was fully discussed by the late M. Garnier in his book upon glass (La Verrerie, p. 174 seq.), and he quotes passages from contemporary documents to show both the extent of the claims and the ambiguous position actually held by these needy gentry in the eighteenth century. At that time they were still always referred to as gentilshommes, and they vindicated their social status by fighting duels among themselves. Their position, however, was often very wretched, less so, indeed, in Normandy than in Lorraine, where the competition of the Germans was so keen. It is a significant fact that at the Revolution they as a body joined the party of the émigrés, and actually petitioned M. D’Artois to enrol them in a special corps. One point is clear: the profession of glass-worker was at all times in France open to the nobility, and this, of course, was not the case with other crafts and trades.