When someone impea­ched the court of his lord, the lord came in per­son before the over­lord to defend the judg­ment of his court. Similarly, in the case of appeal for default of jus­tice, the party sub­poe­naed before the over­lord brought his lord with him so that, if the default was not pro­ven, he could reclaim his court.1

Subsequently, what were only two par­ti­cu­lar cases having become gene­ral for all suits by the intro­duc­tion of all sorts of appeals, it see­med extra­or­di­nary that the lord should be obli­ged to spend his life in other tri­bu­nals than his own, and for other cases than his own. Philip de Valois orde­red that bai­liffs alone be sub­poe­naed,2 and when the prac­tice of appeals became even more fre­quent, it was up to the par­ties to defend on appeal ; the posi­tion of the judge became that of the party.3

I have said that in the appeal for default of jus­tice, all the lord lost was the right to have the mat­ter jud­ged in his court.4 But if the lord was him­self atta­cked as a party,5 which became very fre­quent,6 he paid to the king or to the over­lord before whom he had been chal­len­ged a fine of sixty livres. Whence the prac­tice, when appeals were uni­ver­sally admit­ted, to have the fine paid to the lord when the sen­tence of his judge was being amen­ded, a prac­tice that long sub­sis­ted, which was confir­med by the ordi­nance of Roussillon, and which peri­shed through its own absur­dity.

Défontaines, ch. xxi, art. 33.

In 1332.

See what the state of things was in the time of Boutillier, who was living in 1402. Somme rural, book I, p. 19–20.

Above, ch. xxx.

Beaumanoir, ch. lxi, p. 312 and 318.