Paper given at the 5th Annual Indiana University
Symposium on Medieval Studies:
Work and Play in the Middle Ages
April 1992
From Functional Feast to Frivolous Funhouse:
Two Ideals of Play in the Burgundian Court
by Jesse D. Hurlbut
I would like to report and comment briefly on two unique
instances of PLAY from the court of Philip the Good, Duke of
Burgundy from 1419 to 1467. The first of these was a banquet
held in Lille in 1454, widely referred to as the Feast of the
Pheasant. The second concerns some unusual features of the
duke's castle in Hesdin.
Before describing the Feast of the Pheasant, I would like to
point out two basic historical facts which contribute to the
understanding of some of the details of this event. First,
Philip the Good founded the chevalric Order of the Golden Fleece
in 1430, on the occasion of his wedding to Isabelle of Portugal.
The champion of the Order was originally Jason the Argonaut.
Later questions about this hero's morality gave rise to the
selection of the biblical Gideon as a replacement.
Representations of both Jason and Gideon persisted throughout
Burgundian culture until the end of the century. Second, in
1453, the city of Constantinople fell to a Turkish invasion,
inspiring Duke Philip to embark on a Crusade, although no
official measures had been taken to this effect prior to the
feast in Lille.
Here, then, are some of the details regarding this Feast.
The banquet was served on three tables--one large, one medium,
and one small. On the medium-sized table, there was a church
with bells, stained-glass windows, and a working pipe organ and
choir, which provided musical interludes throughout the evening.
On the same table, a mannekin pis kept a silver ship filled with
rose water. There were, in addition, a model of an anchored
freight ship and a glass fountain which featured Saint Andrew,
Philip's patron saint, with water spewing from the X-shaped cross
of his martyrdom.
The large table was far more elaborate. Eight-and-twenty
musicians, baked in a giant meat pie, accompanied the interludes
of the church choir on the previous table. In addition, the
towers of a castle squirted orange punch into its moat; archers
tried to catch a magpie perched on top of a windmill. A trick
barrel could give either sweet or sour wine: "Take some, if you
want!" was written on the scroll of a man standing nearby. There
are no dimensions or proportions mentioned in the chronicles, but
it is a reasonable assumption that with the exception of the meat
pie, all of these "entremets" (as they were called) were scale
models. Practicality and the chronicler's amazement at the
attention to minute details support this impression. Five more
"entremets" adorned this same table: a tiger fighting a serpent;
a wildman on a camel; an amorous couple eating the birds that a
man was beating out of a bush with a stick; there was also a
jester on the back of a bear and a ship floating back and forth
between cities.
There was room for only three "entremets" at the small
table: a forest with wild animals that moved as if alive; a man
hitting a dog in front of a lion attached to a tree; and a street
merchant carrying his wares on a harness.
Elsewhere in the hall, a living lion was chained to a pillar
protecting a statue of a nude woman who served "hypocras" from
her right breast. Above the lion, it was written, "Ne touchez a
ma dame."
Once the guests, most of whom were in disguise, were seated
and in their places, the real spectacle began ("entremets
vivants, mouvants, et allants par terre" Coussy 101). This
included an assortment of musical numbers and acrobatic acts,
interspersed with three scenes of a play relating the story of
Jason. At one point, two falcons, which had been released in the
banquet hall, captured and killed a heron, which was presented to
the duke as a trophy. Later on, a dragon is reported to have
flown from one end of the hall to the other.
The climactic event, and presumably the justification for
the entire affair, was the sudden arrival of a giant, dressed
like a Saracen. On a leash, he held an elephant. On the back of
the elephant was a castle, and in the castle was woman dressed
like a nun. The giant led the elephant to Duke Philip's table,
where the disheveled woman introduced herself as Holy Church.
She relayed the dangers she had endured since the Turkish
invasion of Constantinople. She then asked the duke for his
assistance in restoring peace by taking up the cross and
restoring her honor.
At the conclusion of this speech, a contingent of ladies and
knights approached the duke lead by the King of Arms, an officer
of the Order of the Golden Fleece, named Toison d'Or. He was
carrying a live pheasant in his arms, which was richly decorated
with a golden necklace of pearls and jewels. He invited the duke
to make a vow in the presence of the bird according to the
tradition of noble courts (no doubt a reminder of the Peacock
oaths of Alexander's court as found in French romances of the
13th century). Conveniently enough, the duke had a vow written
down, which he delivered to the King of Arms. He then pronounced
a brief promise to do what he had written in the letter. Toison
d'Or read the letter out loud, which included the duke's vow to
undertake, God willing, a crusade to restore Constantinople to
the Christians. Holy Church, overcome with joy, expressed her
gratitude and left the same way she came in.
In an enthusiastic outbreak, knights, squires and
trenchermen in turn pronounced their own oaths to join Philip on
the crusade. The chronicle of Mathieu de Coucy, in which the
description of this whole event is preserved, records the vows of
99 men after Philip. Not all of these vows were delivered at the
banquet, however. Always sensitive to the attention span of his
court, and seeing that "la chose eut este merveilleusement
longue" (Coussy 118), the duke ordered that the vows stop and
that the remainder be recorded the following day and be valued
just the same.
The evening's entertainment continued with an allegorical
play in which The Grace of God addressed the duke and awarded him
with twelve Virtues to aid him in the fulfillment of his vow.
The roles of the Virtues and their escorts were played by the
highest members of the court, with the exception of the duke (who
played himself).
After the play, they all danced and ate. In all, 48
different dishes had been served. A prize for that day's
tournament was presented to Philip's son Charles, who proclaimed
a new joust for the next day.
* * *
In the long series of playful forms I have just described
here, I am struck, first of all, by the ingenuity of some of the
activities and decorations. For the purposes of this paper,
however, I am particularly interested in those portions of that
evening's activities for which spectacle was not a passive form
of entertainment, but in which the duke and his court became
active participants.
The involvement, indeed, the interaction, of the court in
the last portion of the spectacle was not merely for
entertainment purposes--it was not just audience-participation
night at the duke's palace. Specifically, the activity of making
vows was taken particularly seriously. Each vow was registered
with Toison d'Or, seals were attached and the documents were
signed. Many of the vows included clauses stating in very
specific terms how the vow would be fulfilled if visible ill-
health or imprisonment prevented its accomplishment. Usually
this involved sending one or several paid soldiers in the place
of the volunteer himself, who garanteed their financial support
for a stated amount of time.
The fact that several vows were put off until the next day
shows that they were important enough to be collected and
recorded. On the other hand, it also shows that the
entertainment facade for what was, in essence, a political rally
overtook the central purpose in importance to the point of
relegating the enlistment of volunteers to another day.
From the time Philip had established the Order of the Golden
Fleece, the Burgundian ideal was clearly one of preserving a
deteriorating chevalric culture. The models for these ideals may
have come, in part, from historical precedent or progressive
strategies. It appears, however, that the models for this ideal
were largely "romantic," that is, stemming from the romances of
the day. The duke wanted to play out the stories he so avidly
collected in his library while establishing political policy and
international relations at the same time.
A closer look at the vows shows how some of this "literary"
or "playful" ideal won out over a wiser, more prudent ideal of
contemporary politics and warfare. The 100 vows were formulaic
in nature and can be categorized according to which motifs were
included by each knight. Several volunteers, for example,
beginning with Duke Philip himself, vowed to serve as champions
in single combat against the Great Turk or his chosen warriors.
Others committed themselves to wearing an "emprinse"--a banner or
scarf of some sort that served to indicate one's willingness to
do battle either on horse or on foot. Still others promised to
try their hardest to be in the front lines of battle or to smite
down the Turk's flag, like Jehan de Chassa who swore that "jamais
la teste de mon cheval ne retournera que je n'aye veu la banniere
du Turc abattue ou gaingnee" ("My horse's head will never turn
back until I've seen the Turk's flag toppled or captured," Coussy
165).
Certainly, the most intriguing collection of vows are those
involving some privation for a determined period. From the day
of his departure, Philip Pot, for example, promises that he will
not wear any armor whatsoever on his right arm and will not eat
sitting down on Tuesdays until he has seen a battle in which 1000
men lose their lives. In a brief lapsus into the realities of
their commitments, Duke Philip ordered Toison d'Or to strike from
the record the part about leaving off any armor in battle--
another indication that they were taking this whole thing quite
seriously. Still, Louis de Chevallart gets away with a similar
vow by promising to wear a gauntlet and Inglebert d'Orlay's
promise to fight with a bare right arm goes unchecked by the
duke. The Lord of Pons refuses to stay in any city more than two
weeks or to sleep in a bed on Saturdays until he has fought a
Sarracen from the army of the Great Turk. Some deny themselves
any meat on Friday, or on Sunday. Others will go without wine on
Saturdays or give it up altogether for a year. Still more will
eat, but not sitting down on one day of the week. And then,
there is the valiant trencherman who combines several vows,
promissing always to wear some piece of armor night and day,
never to drink wine, sleep in a bed or eat at a table on
Saturdays, and to wear a hairshirt until he has seen the face of
battle.
I am not really prepared to talk about the sociology of war
and what kinds of "rituals" or activities accompany the decision
to go to war or the recruitment process. What we observe here,
however, is a strange mix of play and very real commitment--just
as the banquet featured, on the one hand, "stage" depictions of
Jason's conquests, and, then, the real slaughter of a heron
brought down by two hawks. The presence of the lion at the
banquet also evokes the arousing blend of spectacle and real
danger. Perhaps the literary evocations and imitations, along
with all the spectacle, were a superficial veneer for political
performance and activity--or was it, rather, the result of
cultural intoxication that had naturalized the dangerous notion
that King Arthur's way really was the best way, even in the
fifteenth century?
Even religion seems to submit itself to this deeply-anchored
"literary" ideal. Complimenting the pursuit of the cult of the
Virgin Mary, for example, is what Georges Doutrepont called "le
culte . . . de la femme" (115). Each of the vows is modeled
after Philip's and begins (with only slight variation): "Je voue
a Dieu mon createur, tout premierement, et a la tres glorieuse
Vierge sa mere, et en apres aux dames et au phaisant..." ("I vow
to God my creator, first of all, and to his mother, the most
glorious Virgin, and thereafter to the Ladies, and to this
Pheasant..." Coussy, 115). Could it be that it was the
privileged role of the Lady in the chevalric ideal that set
priorities out of kilter for Jehan de Bremettes, who vowed: "se
je ne joys point de ma dame entre cy et le voyage, que la
premiere dame ou damoiselle qui aura vingt mille escus, je l'en
prendrai en mariage si elle veult" ("if I do not enjoy the
pleasures of my lady before the trip, that I will take as my wife
the first woman with 20,000 ecus, if she is willing" Coussy 172).
* * *
A second product of Burgundian culture worth investigation
in a study of PLAY was the ducal palace at Hesdin. We know
little about this castle, built in a small town between Arras and
Boulogne-sur-Mer, yet, which was one of the most popular
residences of Duke Philip and his family. It was demolished in
the 16th century at the order of Charles Quint. The best
description of the castle is in an accounting record of payment
made to one Colard le Voleur for certain enhancements to some
already existing fixtures on the interior of the castle.
From this document, we learn that there was a large gallery
painted with the arms and mottoes of the duke. An impressive
fountain that could be switched on and off was, at first glimpse,
the main attraction. At the entrance to the galery, however,
there were paintings of three people which squirted water to
anyone passing by. The account reveals, in addition, a distorted
mirror, and a machine that would slap the visitor in the face and
dump soot or flour on them. Another machine splashed water "pour
mouiller les dames par dessoubz." On the way out of the gallery,
one received several blows to the head and shoulders.
The next room could produce rain, thunder and snow. A
hermit, made of wood, conversed with visitors. A false floor was
put in so that anyone trying to get out of the rain would fall
through into a sack of feathers. Elsewhere, another trap door
was installed, this time on a bridge over water. In many other
places, water was dumped, splashed or squirted at the touch of
special buttons devised for that purpose. Anyone trying to open
a particular window was hosed down by an automaton who closed the
window after them. A book of ballads on a lectern may have
looked inviting, but touching it caused one to be covered in soot
and then sprayed with water. Flour was dumped on anyone trying
to see themselves in a mirror.
Another automaton was programed to enter the room and order
everyone out by the command of the Duke himself. That meant
running the gauntlet past gigantic statues of fools ("sots et
sottes"). Anyone resisting would get completely drenched. An
owl, perched on a window responded to the questions of visitors.
Additional references make it clear that these were
luxurious chambers with ceilings painted in azure with golden
stars. The walls were covered with elaborate historiated murals
and faux-tapestries. Understandably, an oil-based paint was used
throughout.
Similar to portions of the banquet in Lille, this was an
active form of spectacle. Yet, as eager as the duke seemed to be
to engage the Grand Turk in single combat, and willing, therefore
to participate in the drama of the Holy Church, I don't imagine
that he devised this Funhouse in Hesdin in order to subject
himself to the buffetings and humiliations it afforded. The
primary function of such a contraption was most certainly for
entertainment, implying some kind of gratification to an
audience--presumably, the duke. But, just who was expected to go
through these galleries and just who was in control of the
buttons and switches that made it all work? Did the duke herd
local peasants through for his own sadistic pleasures? Did he
greet visiting dignitaries, perhaps even nobility there? Was it
just a practical joke or a convenient way to discourage unwanted
visitors? We can find no real answers to these questions.
Indeed, I think that where I was able to suggest an ideological
motivation for much of what took place at the banquet in Lille, I
am unable to substantiate any congruity in motives regarding the
galleries of this castle. The codes of chivalry, upheld in the
enlistment to honorably serve God, the Virgin-Mother and the
Ladies of the court seem breached in this instance. Is there any
way that the Funhouse antics can be construed as anything other
than sneaky, tricky and abusive? Could an officer of the Order
of the Golden Fleece engage in behavior of this sort in good
conscience. Or was hazing part of the initiation rite into the
prestigious chevalric Order?
My frustration at so many questions and so few answers has
already given rise to too much speculation here. By way of
conclusion, then, I will simply point to another important
literary product of the Burgundian court, _Les Cent Nouvelles
Nouvelles_, in which sacred and profane stories are collected
together, demonstrating that there is apparently room for
multiple, and even conflicting ideologies within the boundaries
of a single cultural space.
Notes
the Pheasant are: Olivier de la Marche, _Memoires_, Ed. H. Beaune
and J. d'Arbaumont, Paris, Societe de l'Histoire de France, 1883-
88, vol. 2, pp. 340-380 and Mathieu de Coussy, _Chroniques_, Ed.
J. A. Buchon, in _Chroniques d'Enguerrand de Monstrelet_, Paris,
Verdiere, 1826, vol. 11, pp. 83-185. For a recent study and good
bibliograph, see: Agathe Lafortune-Martel, _Fete noble en
Bourgogne au XVe siecle: Le Banquet du Faisan (1454): Aspects
politiques, sociaux et culturels_. Cahiers d'etudes medievales
8. Paris: Vrin, 1984.
For the castle in Hesdin, see: Danvin, B. _Vicissitudes,
heur et malheur du vieil-Hesdin_. St. Pol, 1886, pp. 115-134. A
partial translation is found in Richard Vaughan, _Philip the
Good: The Apogee of Burgundy_. New York: Barns and Noble, 1970,
pp. 138-139. Studies of the castle can be found in: Brunet,
Michel. "Le Parc d'attractions des ducs de Bourgogne a Hesdin,"
_Gazette des Beaux-Arts_, 78 (1971): 331-342; Anne van Buren-
Hagopian. "Un jardin d'amour de Philippe le Bon au parc
d'Hesdin. Le role de Van Eyck dans une commande ducale." _Revue
du Louvre et des musees de France_. 3 (1985): 185-192; and, by
the same author, "La Roulotte de Philippe le Bon." _Liber
amicorum. Etudes historiques offertes a Pierre Bourgard_. (also
found in: _Memoires de la Commission Departementale d'histoire et
d'archeologie du Pas-de-Calais_, 25; _Revue du Nord_, no 3,
special hors serie collection histoire), Arras, 1987, 115-122.
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