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A count is a nobleman in European countries; his wife is a countess. The word count came into English from the French comte, itself from Latin comes—in its accusative comitem—meaning "companion", and later "companion of the emperor, delegate of the emperor". The British equivalent is an earl (whose wife is also a "countess", for lack of an Anglo-Saxon term). Alternative names for the "Count" rank in the nobility structure are used in other countries, such as Hakushaku during the Japanese Imperial era.
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In the late Roman Empire, the Latin title comes meaning (imperial) 'companion' denoted the high rank of various courtiers and provincial officials, either military or administrative: before Anthemius was made emperor in the West in 467, he was military comes charged with strengthening defenses on the Danube frontier[1].
In the Western Roman Empire count came to generically indicate a military commander, but was not a specific rank. In the Eastern Roman Empire, from about the seventh century, a count was a specific rank indicating the commander of two centuries (i.e. 200 men).
Military counts in the Late Empire and the Germanic successor kingdoms were often appointed by a dux and later by a king. From the start the count was in charge, not of a roving warband, but settled in a locality, a countship, his main rival for power being the bishop, whose diocese was often coterminous.
In many Germanic and Frankish kingdoms in the early Middle Ages, the count might also be a count palatine, whose authority derived directly from the royal household, the "palace" in its original sense of the seat of power and administration. This other kind of count had vague antecedents in Late Antiquity too: the father of Cassiodorus held positions of trust with Theodoric, as comes rerum privatarum, in charge of the imperial lands, then of comes sacrarum largitionum (concerned with the strictly monetary fiscal matters of the realm).[2]
The position of comes was originally not hereditary. By holding large estates, many counts were able to make it a hereditary title—though not always. For instance, in Piast Poland, the position of komes was not hereditary, resembling the early Merovingian institution. The title had disappeared by the era of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, and the office replaced with other institutions. Only after the Partitions of Poland did the title of "count" re-surface in the German-derived title hrabia.
The title of Count was also often conferred by the monarch as an honorific title for special services rendered, without an actual feudal estate (countship, county), just a title, with or without a domain name attached to it. In the UK, the equivalent Earl is often a courtesy title for the eldest son of a duke. In the United Kingdom stringent rules apply, often a future heir has a lower ranking courtesy title; in Italy, by contrast, all the sons of certain counts are counts (contini). In Sweden there is a distinction between counts (Swedish: greve) introduced before 1809 and after. All children in countship families introduced before 1809 are called count/countess. In families introduced after 1809 only the head of the family is called count, the rest had a status similar to barons and were called Mr. and Ms./Mrs. (before the use of titles was abolished).
The following lists are originally based on a Glossary on Heraldica.org by Alexander Krischnig. The male form is followed by the female, and when available, by the territorial circonscription
| Language | Male title | Female title / Spouse | Territory |
|---|---|---|---|
| Albanian | Kont | Konteshë | |
| Armenian | Կոմս (Koms) | Կոմսուհի (Komsuhi) | |
| Bulgarian | Кмет (Kmet), present meaning: mayor; medieval (9th-century) Комит (Komit): hereditary provincial ruler | Кметица (Kmetitsa), woman mayor / Кметша (Kmetsha), mayor's wife | Кметство (Kmetstvo); medieval Комитат (Komitat) |
| Catalan | Comte | Comtessa | Comtat |
| English | Count (applies to title granted by monarchies other than UK) | Countess (even where Earl applies) | Earldom for an Earl; Countship or county for a count, but the last is also, and indeed rather, in Anglo-Saxon countries an administrative district |
| French | Comte | Comtesse | Comté |
| Hungarian | Vikomt | Vikomtessz | These forms are now archaic and/or literary; Gróf is used instead. |
| Irish | Cunta; Iarla | Cuntaois, Baniarla | Honorary title only; iarla does not derive from Latin comes but rather from English "earl". |
| Italian | Conte | Contessa | Contea, Contado, Comitato |
| Greek | Κόμης (Kómēs) | Κόμησσα (Kómēssa) | Κομητεία (Komēteía); in the Ionian Islands the respective Italianate terms Kóntes, Kontéssa were used instead |
| Latin (feudal jargon, not classical) | Comes | Comitissa | Comitatus |
| Maltese | Konti | Kontessa | |
| Monegasque | Conte | Contessa | |
| Norwegian | Komtesse, komtessa (Count's wife or unmarried daughter. Wife usually greivinna/grevinne, see below) |
||
| Portuguese | Conde | Condessa | Condado |
| Polish | Komes | Komesa | Comitates |
| Romanian | Conte | Contesă | Comitat |
| Romansh | Cont | Contessa | |
| Spanish | Conde | Condesa | Condado |
| Turkish | Kont | Kontes | Kontluk |
| Language | Male title | Female title / Spouse | Territory |
|---|---|---|---|
| Belarusian | Граф (Hraf) | Графiня (Hrafinia) | Графствa (Hrafstva) |
| Bulgarian | Граф (Graf) | Графиня (Grafinya) | Графство (Grafstvo) |
| Croatian | Grof | Grofica | Grofovija |
| Czech | Hrabě | Hraběnka | Hrabství |
| Danish | Greve | Grevinde | Grevskab |
| Dutch | Graaf | Gravin | Graafschap |
| English | Grave | Gravine | Graviate |
| Estonian | Krahv | Krahvinna | Krahvkond |
| Latvian | Grāfs | Grāfiene | Grāfiste |
| German | Graf | Gräfin | Grafschaft |
| Finnish | Kreivi | Kreivitär | Kreivikunta |
| Hungarian | Gróf | Grófnő, Grófné | Grófság |
| Icelandic | Greifi | Greifynja | |
| Lithuanian | Grafas | Grafienė | Grafystė |
| Luxembourgish | Graf | Gräfin | |
| Macedonian | Гроф (Grof) | Грофина (Grofina) | |
| Polish | Hrabia | Hrabina | Hrabstwo |
| Norwegian | Greve, greive | Grevinne, greivinna | Grevskap, greivskap |
| Romanian | Grof (also Conte, see above) | ||
| Russian | Граф (Graf) | Графиня (Grafinya) | Графство (Grafstvo) |
| Serbian | Grof | Grofica | Grofovija |
| Slovak | Gróf | Grófka | Grófstvo |
| Slovene | Grof | Grofica | Grofija |
| Swedish | Greve | Grevinna | Grevskap |
| Ukrainian | Граф (Hraf) | Графиня (Hrafynya) | Графство (Hrafstvo) |
Apart from all these, a few unusual titles have been of comital rank, not necessarily to remain there.
Since Louis VII (1137–80), the highest precedence amongst the vassals (Prince-bishops and secular nobility) of the French crown was enjoyed by those whose benefice or temporal fief was a pairie, i.e. carried the exclusive rank of pair; within the first (i.e. clerical) and second (noble) estates, the first three of the original twelve anciennes pairies were ducal, the next three comital comté-pairies:
Later other countships (and duchies, even baronies) have been raised to this French peerage, but mostly as apanages (for members of the royal house) or for foreigners; after the 16th century all new peerages were always duchies and the medieval countship-peerages had died out, or were held by royal princes
Other French countships of note included those of:
See also above for parts of present France
The title of Conte is very prolific on the peninsula, and modern counts occupy the position in rural society comparable to an English squire, members of rural gentry. In the eleventh century however, conti like the Count of Savoia or the Norman Count of Apulia, were virtually sovereign lords of broad territories. Even apparently "lower"-sounding titles, like Viscount, could describe powerful dynasts, such as the Visconti family who ruled a major city such as Milan. The essential title of a feudatory, introduced by the Normans, was signore, modelled on the French seigneur, used with the name of the fief. By the fourteenth century, conte and the Imperial title barone were virtually synonymous, but some titles of count, according to the particulars of the patent, might be inherited by the eldest son of a Count. Other younger brothers might be distinguished as "X dei conti di Y" ("X of the counts of Y"). However if there is no male to inherit the title and the count has a daughter, she can inherit the title: for example the Countess Luisa Gazelli di Rossana e di Sebastiano, mother of Queen Paola of Belgium. The Papacy and the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies might appoint counts palatine with no particular territorial fief. Until 1812 in some regions, the purchaser of land designated "feudal" was ennobled by the noble seat that he held and became a conte. This practice ceased with the formal abolition of feudalism in the various principalities of early-19th century Italy, last of all in the Papal States.
Many Italian counts left their mark on Italian history as individuals, yet only a few contadi (countships; the word contadini for its inhabitants remains the Italian word for "peasant") were politically significant principalities, notably :
Count is one of the nobiliary titles granted by the Pope as temporal sovereign and the title's holder is thus often known as a Roman count, confused with the hereditary Roman nobility since the restoration of the papacy in 1815. The title of Count Palatine of the Lateran Palace, which can be for life or hereditary, has been awarded by popes and Holy Roman Emperors since the Middle Ages, infrequently before the 14th century, and the pope continued to grant purely honorary title even after 1870, when the ranks of the Roman nobility were otherwise frozen. By the Lateran Accord of 1929, the Italian government recognized and confirmed the pope's power to grant titles, and the titles granted by the Pope were considered equivalent to Italian titles. However, the title has not been generously granted since Pope Pius XII, John McCormack and Rose Kennedy being among the last few to receive this honor. With Paul VI, who responded to the formal Christmas message of the patriciate by declaring that the papal nobility would no longer be a constituent body in the papal court, the custom essentially disappeared. Pope John Paul II did grant several nobiliary titles to compatriots at the beginning of his pontificate, but quietly and without their being published in the Acts of The Apostolic See.[3]
The principalities tended to start out as margraviate and/or (promoted to) duchy, and became nominal archduchies within the Habsburg dynasty; noteworthy are:
Numerous small ones, particularly:
particularly see:
Apart from various small ones, significant were :
As opposed to the plethora of hollow 'gentry' counts, only a few countships ever were important in medieval Iberia; most territory was firmly within the Reconquista kingdoms before counts could become important. However, during the 19th century, the title, having lost its high rank (equivalent to that of Duke), proliferated.
Portugal itself started as a countship in 868, but became a kingdom in 1139 (see:County of Portugal). Throughout the History of Portugal, especially during the Constitutional Monarchy many other countships were created (see: List of Countships in Portugal).
In Spain, no countships of wider importance exist, except in the former Spanish march[citation needed].
In the First Bulgarian Empire, a komit was a hereditary provincial ruler under the tsar documented since the reign of Presian (836-852)[4] The Cometopouli dynasty was named after its founder, the komit of Sredets.
Like other major Western noble titles, Count is sometimes used to render certain titles in non-western languages with their own traditions, even though they are as a rule historically unrelated and thus hard to compare, which are considered 'equivalent' in relative rank.
This is the case with:
(incomplete)
| The
Countess by |
To E. W.
I inscribed this poem to Dr. Elias Weld of Haverhill, Massachusetts, to whose kindness I was much indebted in my boyhood. He was the one cultivated man in the neighborhood. His small but well-chosen library was placed at my disposal. He is the "wise old doctor" of Snow-Bound. Count Francois de Vipart with his cousin Joseph Rochemont de Poyen came to the United States in the early part of the present century. They took up their residence at Rocks Village on the Merrimac, where they both married. The wife of Count Vipart was Mary Ingalls, who as my father remembered her was a very lovely young girl. Her wedding dress, as described by a lady still living, was "pink satin with an overdress of white lace, and white satin slippers." She died in less than a year after her marriage. Her husband returned to his native country. He lies buried in the family tomb of the Viparts at Bordeaux.
I know not, Time and Space so intervene,
Whether, still waiting with a trust serene,
Thou bearest up thy fourscore years and ten,
Or, called at last, art now Heaven's citizen;
But, here or there, a pleasant thought of thee,
Like an old friend, all day has been with me.
The shy, still boy, for whom thy kindly hand
Smoothed his hard pathway to the wonder-land
Of thought and fancy, in gray manhood yet
Keeps green the memory of his early debt.
To-day, when truth and falsehood speak their words
Through hot-lipped cannon and the teeth of swords,
Listening with quickened heart and ear intent
To each sharp clause of that stern argument,
I still can hear at times a softer note
Of the old pastoral music round me float,
While through the hot gleam of our civil strife
Looms the green mirage of a simpler life.
As, at his alien post, the sentinel
Drops the old bucket in the homestead well,
And hears old voices in the winds that toss
Above his head the live-oak's beard of moss,
So, in our trial-time, and under skies
Shadowed by swords like Islam's paradise,
I wait and watch, and let my fancy stray
To milder scenes and youth's Arcadian day;
And howsoe'er the pencil dipped in dreams
Shades the brown woods or tints the sunset streams,
The country doctor in the foreground seems,
Whose ancient sulky down the village lanes
Dragged, like a war-car, captive ills and pains.
I could not paint the scenery of my song,
Mindless of one who looked thereon so long;
Who, night and day, on duty's lonely round,
Made friends o' the woods and rocks, and knew the sound
Of each small brook, and what the hillside trees
Said to the winds that touched their leafy keys;
Who saw so keenly and so well could paint
The village-folk, with all their humors quaint,
The parson ambling on his wall-eyed roan.
Grave and erect, with white hair backward blown;
The tough old boatman, half amphibious grown;
The muttering witch-wife of the gossip's tale,
And the loud straggler levying his blackmail,--
Old customs, habits, superstitions, fears,
All that lies buried under fifty years.
To thee, as is most fit, I bring my lay,
And, grateful, own the debt I cannot pay.
Search
. . . . . . . . . .
Over the wooded northern ridge,
Between its houses brown,
To the dark tunnel of the bridge
The street comes straggling down.
You catch a glimpse, through birch and pine,
Of gable, roof, and porch,
The tavern with its swinging sign,
The sharp horn of the church.
The river's steel-blue crescent curves
To meet, in ebb and flow,
The single broken wharf that serves
For sloop and gundelow.
With salt sea-scents along its shores
The heavy hay-boats crawl,
The long antennae of their oars
In lazy rise and fall.
Along the gray abutment's wall
The idle shad-net dries;
The toll-man in his cobbler's stall
Sits smoking with closed eyes.
You hear the pier's low undertone
Of waves that chafe and gnaw;
You start,--a skipper's horn is blown
To raise the creaking draw.
At times a blacksmith's anvil sounds
With slow and sluggard beat,
Or stage-coach on its dusty rounds
Fakes up the staring street.
A place for idle eyes and ears,
A cobwebbed nook of dreams;
Left by the stream whose waves are years
The stranded village seems.
And there, like other moss and rust,
The native dweller clings,
And keeps, in uninquiring trust,
The old, dull round of things.
The fisher drops his patient lines,
The farmer sows his grain,
Content to hear the murmuring pines
Instead of railroad-train.
Go where, along the tangled steep
That slopes against the west,
The hamlet's buried idlers sleep
In still profounder rest.
Throw back the locust's flowery plume,
The birch's pale-green scarf,
And break the web of brier and bloom
From name and epitaph.
A simple muster-roll of death,
Of pomp and romance shorn,
The dry, old names that common breath
Has cheapened and outworn.
Yet pause by one low mound, and part
The wild vines o'er it laced,
And read the words by rustic art
Upon its headstone traced.
Haply yon white-haired villager
Of fourscore years can say
What means the noble name of her
Who sleeps with common clay.
An exile from the Gascon land
Found refuge here and rest,
And loved, of all the village band,
Its fairest and its best.
He knelt with her on Sabbath morns,
He worshipped through her eyes,
And on the pride that doubts and scorns
Stole in her faith's surprise.
Her simple daily life he saw
By homeliest duties tried,
In all things by an untaught law
Of fitness justified.
For her his rank aside he laid;
He took the hue and tone
Of lowly life and toil, and made
Her simple ways his own.
Yet still, in gay and careless ease,
To harvest-field or dance
He brought the gentle courtesies,
The nameless grace of France.
And she who taught him love not less
From him she loved in turn
Caught in her sweet unconsciousness
What love is quick to learn.
Each grew to each in pleased accord,
Nor knew the gazing town
If she looked upward to her lord
Or he to her looked down.
How sweet, when summer's day was o'er,
His violin's mirth and wail,
The walk on pleasant Newbury's shore,
The river's moonlit sail!
Ah! life is brief, though love be long;
The altar and the bier,
The burial hymn and bridal song,
Were both in one short year!
Her rest is quiet on the hill,
Beneath the locust's bloom
Far off her lover sleeps as still
Within his scutcheoned tomb.
The Gascon lord, the village maid,
In death still clasp their hands;
The love that levels rank and grade
Unites their severed lands.
What matter whose the hillside grave,
Or whose the blazoned stone?
Forever to her western wave
Shall whisper blue Garonne!
O Love!--so hallowing every soil
That gives thy sweet flower room,
Wherever, nursed by ease or toil,
The human heart takes bloom!--
Plant of lost Eden, from the sod
Of sinful earth unriven,
White blossom of the trees of God
Dropped down to us from heaven!
This tangled waste of mound and stone
Is holy for thy sale;
A sweetness which is all thy own
Breathes out from fern and brake.
And while ancestral pride shall twine
The Gascon's tomb with flowers,
Fall sweetly here, O song of mine,
With summer's bloom and showers!
And let the lines that severed seem
Unite again in thee,
As western wave and Gallic stream
Are mingled in one sea!
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