Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
LUDUS
Edited by
Laurie Postlewate
and
Wim Hsken
Contents
Laurie Postlewate
Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
151
183
217
Contents
249
269
303
319
List of Illustrations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
355
359
337
Introduction
Laurie Postlewate
In the pre-modern era, communication was almost strictly viva
voce and through the physical presence of its agents. For the
Middle Ages and Renaissancebefore the dissemination of the
printed (much less the broadcast) wordmeaning and power
were created and propagated through public performance. By performance we mean here the actual, physical, visual, and audible
manifestations of bodies and voices which communicated to their
publics through symbolic systems and codes. Scholars today are
increasingly aware of the importance of these instances of display
and performance which reveal so much to us about the mentalits
of their actors and audiences. Processions, coronations, speeches, trials, and executions are all types of public performance that
were both acts and texts: acts that originated in the texts that gave
them their ideological grounding; texts that bring to us today a
trace of their actual performance. Literature, as well, was for the
pre-modern public a type of performance: throughout the medieval and early modern periods we see a constant tension and negotiation between the oral/aural delivery of the literary work and the
eventual silent/read reception of its written text.
The current volume of essays examines the plurality of forms
and meanings given to performance in the Middle Ages and Renaissance through discussion of the essential performance/text relationship. The authors of the essays represent a variety of scholarly disciplines and subject matter: from the performed life of
the Dominican preacher, to coronation processions, to book presentations; from satirical music speeches, to the rendering of
widow portraits, to the performance of romance and pious narrative. Yet in spite of the diversity of their objects of study, all of
Introduction
the essays in the volume examine the links between the actual
events of public performance and the textual origins and subsequent representation of those performances.
Part One of the volume, The Power of Performance, includes chapters on how social structure and political power were
constructed, destroyed, and recorded through public rituals such
as coronations, processions, tournaments, and court entertainments. Special attention is given in these chapters not only to the
actual events of performance, but also to the representation of
those events in the texts that record and comment on them. In the
first essay, The Preacher and His Audience: Dominican Conceptions of the Self in the Thirteenth Century, we see how within
the Dominican order, the dynamic between performer and audience was extended to influence the notion of the self. Dallas G.
Denery, drawing on a variety of texts including preaching aids
and novice manuals, discusses how the Dominican imperative to
adapt ones preaching style to various audiences also shaped the
brothers behaviour generally; this included not only their conduct
before the laity to whom they might preach, but also before their
fellow brothers in the priory, and indeed before themselves and
God. The notion of constant self-presentation before the gaze of
God and other people, implied also constant self-adjustment
the heuristics of adaptationwhich required study and a new
kind of speculatio focusing less on inward contemplation and
more on informed calculation of outward behaviour.
Public rituals, normally highly regulated and orchestrated
events, were also by their very public-ness open to the possibility
of the un-programmed and unexpected. Joyce Coleman, in her
essay Public-Access Patronage: Book-Presentation from the
Crowd at a Royal Procession, discusses a curious episode in
which the normally elegant and noble ceremony of the bookpresentation was imitated by a lowly and unknown author in his
attempts to procure patronage for his work. The event is recorded
in the proem to the work being presented, Knyghthode and Bataile, and reportedly took place in the procession of Henry VI
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Introduction
Laurie Postlewate
Introduction
Laurie Postlewate
took place during the Seventeenth Barnard Medieval and Renaissance Conference, Public Performance / Public Ritual, in December 2000. In this essay, the performance by Linda Marie
Zaerr of passages from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,
Chrtien de Troyes Yvain, and Alfonso the Wises Cantigas de
Santa Maria, is introduced and commented on by Evelyn Birge
Vitz who provides the historical evidence for the performance of
medieval texts. Interspersed with Vitzs historical backdrop is a
description by Linda Marie Zaerr, of the performances and a discussion of the different approaches that can be taken today in the
performanceboth spoken and sungof medieval literary
works. This contribution demonstrates how many of the issues
discussed in the present volume are not limited to the realm of
scholarly interest, but also have practicaland very important
application for the classroom and performance hall today.
In Part Three, The Performance of Gender, issues raised in
the two previous sections are taken up again, but with a focus on
how gender influenced the content and form of performance in the
Middle Ages. The essay by Marilyn Lawrence, The Woman
Composer and Performer: The Heroine Marthe in Ysae le Triste, examines late-medieval ideas concerning the art and identity
of the minstrel and the author, including issues of gender, class,
genre, and literary modes of performance and transmission. Lawrence focuses on how Ysae le Triste, an anonymous French
prose romance dating from the late fourteenth or early fifteenth
century, defines and distinguishes the identities of the author and
the performer through the heroine Marthes use of minstrel disguise (that is her disguise as a professional performer). Marthes
primary identity as an author and her adopted minstrel identity
(first as a male and then as a female minstrel) are kept distinct
throughout her lengthy disguise. Lawrence demonstrates how the
author of Ysae le Triste uses Marthes minstrel-disguise episode
to create a hierarchical differentiation between the author and minstrel that privileges the figure of the authorand specifically the
female authorover that of the minstrel, and writing over oral
performance.
13
Introduction
14
Part I:
Dallas G. Denery II
In the Vitae Fratrum, a collection of stories compiled during the
1250s concerning the formation and early growth of the Dominican Order, Grard de Frachet relates the tale of an unnamed
English friar who thought it might be a good idea to incorporate
as many philosophical reasonings and axioms as possible into
the matter of his sermon. The night before he was to give his
sermon, Christ appeared before him as he slept and handed him a
Bible covered in filth. When the friar asked for a reason, Christ
opened the book and showed him that, despite its cover, the
pages themselves were spotless. My word is fair enough, Christ
tells the Englishman, but it is you who have defiled it with your
philosophy.1 The tale itself is not particularly unique. It is only
one in a series of short anecdotes scattered throughout the Vitae
Fratrum that point up a certain unease with studying, with philosophy and with teaching.
Dominicans were not alone in their ambivalence towards
studying, nor in their recognition of its importance. A tradition
extending back to the Bible itself had simultaneously warned of
both the dangers and the importance of study. No less an authority than Bernard of Clairvaux had contrasted those who sought
knowledge for its own sake, for glory or for money with those
who sought knowledge in order to be of service to others or to
better themselves.2 And Bernards was an authority that the Dominicans were eager to repeat word for word. Regardless, appearances can be deceiving and the apparent continuity of concern
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Dallas G. Denery II
Dallas G. Denery II
would they be able to bring back to the true faith the souls which
had been deluded by the heretics with their false appearance of
virtue.12
This demand to live the life of witness, institutionalized into
the very self-understanding of the Dominican Order, appears
throughout Humberts treatise. A preacher, he writes, should
preach not only with his voice, but with all that he is.13 A
preacher must maintain a certain radiance about his life. It does
not suffice for a preacher to lead a good life; rather, his brilliance
must shine before everyone so that he preaches not only with
words, but also with deeds.14 The demand for good conduct,
however, is more than a demand aimed at improving the effectiveness of the preachers sermons. It effectively erases the distinction between preaching and non-preaching settings. Humbert
notes that a preacher must attempt to win the salvation of others
in any way they can. And sometimes this is achieved better by
good conduct than by words.15 The preachers conduct must not
be good in just one respect, but totally, that is, with respect to
everything and this means in every sort of company, in every
sort of place, and during every moment of the day. Be Holy in
all your way of life, Humbert concludes, glossing 1 Peter 1, all
your way of life, that is, with regard to everything and every
body, in every place and all the time.16 These demands arise because all settings are, in effect, preaching settings, settings in
which the preacher must present himself appropriately in word
and in deed. A preacher, Humbert warns, must never be idle in
the presence of people he lives with. He should always be devoting himself to some chance of getting results.17
If all settings become preaching settings, then the preacher is
enjoined at every moment to consider, adapt and adjust himself to
his audience. Not only must he consider how he appears to his
listeners, but also to his companions. When he is alone, the
preacher is required to treat himself as his audience, to see himself, to look within and to examine his conduct. After all, preaching presents the preacher with specific dangers precisely because
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Dallas G. Denery II
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Public-Access Patronage:
Book-Presentation from the Crowd
at a Royal Procession*
Joyce Coleman
Among the many illuminations showing book-presentation, the
many prologues implying such a presentation, and the few surviving actual descriptions of such presentations taking place, I
know of only one text that departs from elegant, upper-class ritual
to depict a grab at patronage by a humble and unknown petitioner.
This is the proem to a translation known as Knyghthode and
Bataile, and what enabled this scene to take place was its setting,
a royal procession.
Illuminations almost always show books being presented
within the patrons court or householdin a throne room, hall, or
bed-chamber. The moment always seems frozen in its ritual and
symbolism: kneeling presenter, seated patron graciously extending a hand to the book, attendants clumped to one side or another
as witnesses, elegant surroundings and costumes. Often a court
official stands to one side of the patron with a small piece of paper
rolled up in his hand, representing the bill or petition that requested or announced the ceremony.1 Figure 1 is a typical scene,
showing the earl of Shrewsbury presenting a collection of French
texts to Margaret of Anjou, on the occasion of her marriage to
Henry VI of England.
While public, as a site of general interaction, the court or
household was clearly a place where access was monitored and
events were managed. Occasions on which royalty, especially,
took their symbolism to the streets exposed them to a form of pub35
Joyce Coleman
Figure 1
John, earl of Shrewsbury, presents a book to Margaret of Anjou (London, BL
Royal 15 E.vi, fol. 2v, 1445). By permission of the British Library.
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Joyce Coleman
(ll. 33-34)
Public-Access Patronage
displaced person, a man of little family or importance. If the author was poor, however, his style, with its many echoes of Chaucer and Lydgate, and his competence as a translator evidently
working directly from Vegetius Latin, implies that he was a welleducated and intelligent man.9 Possibly, as Henry Noble MacCracken hypothesizes, he was the same man who had produced
On Husbondrie, a translation of Palladius De re rustica, for
Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, between 1439 and 1447.10 His
Vegetius project may have been intended to restore his fortunes,
but it was not hackwork. Rather, the poet ardently desires to inspire Henry to assert control of his kingdomespecially Calais,
which he envisions, at the close of his work, regained in a great
naval victory (ll. 2833-923).11
Manuscript in hand, now, the parson encourages himself with
his prayer to all the saints in heaven and earth, summons up a
happy image of his book sailing before a good wind, and admonishes himself to
Enserche & faste [in]quere
Thi litil book of knyghthode & bataile /
What Chiualer is best on it bewere {bestow} .
(ll. 38-40)
The author is looking among the royal retainers for the one most
likely to ease his way to Henry.
In the next stanza (stanza 6), anthems are sung at St. Pauls as
our author hies himself to Westminster, apparently preparing to
intercept the procession on its return. More anthems, and then the
author declares:
Thi bille vnto the kyng is red . and he
content withal . and wil it not foryete /
(ll. 45-46)
(ll. 47-48)
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(ll. 49-51)
(ll. 52-53)
Joyce Coleman
Public-Access Patronage
Figure 2
Thomas Bynders scribbles and, by line 47, the marginal comment:
Aftir my mastre, possibly also by Thomas
(Pembroke College, Cambridge, ms. 243, fols. 1b-2a, 15th century).
By permission of the Master and Fellows of Pembroke College, Cambridge.
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Joyce Coleman
This dramatic exchange implies some means for private conversation among the crowds and the noise. I would guess that we are
to imagine the author hailed by and then walking beside the
mounted lord in the procession, or standing with him as the group
piled up at the end, as they dismounted and prepared to enter
Westminster Palace. The array of short, enjambed utterances in
stanzas 7 and 8 seems to imply not an author petitioning the
kings minister in the relative calm of the palace but, rather, one
making his case as fast as he can, before the preoccupied lord
waves him away.
In the final lines of stanza 8, the pace slows as the viscounts
assent, alleviating the authors anxiety, sends him off into rapturous praise of Henry. Then, in the tenth stanza, he either continues this apostrophe or moves back into reportage, giving the (no
doubt prepared) words he said when introduced to the king:
Lo Souuerayn Lord of Knyghthode & bataile
This litil werk your humble oratour
Ye therwithal your chiualers tavaile
Inwith your hert to crist the conquerour
offreth ...
(ll. 73-77)
and so on.
In this interpretation, line 79Accepte it is to this Tryumphatourwould report Henry accepting the book. Whatever the
occasion, Henry was a likely target for such a gift, or any gift.
Ralph Griffiths notes that Henrys relations to his household can
scarcely be paralleled in medieval England for its indulgence,
generosity, and liberality. ... [Henry] was likely to respond readily to ... the importunings of associates, servants, and acquaintances.19 Moreover, Henry was a habitual reader of chronicles,20
while his education would presumably have included study of
Vegetius, a standard manual for all upper-class males.21
By line 81, accordingly, the kingalso, one assumes, sheltered in this threshold moment between public spectacle and pri44
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vember 1459. Since the opening proem must have been written
some time after the events it describes, however, Dyboski and
Arend assumed it was affixed to the work upon its completion
and final presentation.29 The historians, and some literary scholars, have favoured a different royal entry. Noting that the proem
dates the event to 1 March,30 and refers to the Yorkists as atteynte (l. 30), this group associates the Knyghthode and Bataile
procession with Henry VIs return to London from Coventry on 1
March, 1460.31 That argument is supported by the poets association of the procession with the day on which Dauid the Confessour ascended to heaven.32 Although he is not known to have
ascended to heaven, the Welsh St. David was nominated Bishop
and Confessor, and 1 March was his feast-day.33
The 1458 procession matches the description in the opening
proem better, however. Like the procession depicted there, the
Love-Day was a full-scale royal entry, with king, queen, and nobles processing to and from a mass at St. Pauls. March 25
Lady-Day, the feast of the Annunciationis also a highly appropriate setting for the Advent imagery that plays a large part in the
opening of the poem. Meanwhile, our only evidence of the later
entry are minutes from a London council meeting of 28 February,
1460. The aldermen note that the king will be entering the City the
next day, at Cripplegate, and plan to meet him there with twentyfour men armed and arrayed. They arrange similar guards for
every other gate of the City as well, suggesting their awareness of
the volatility of the political situation. The security arrangements
in place, the council then notes briefly the need to welcome the
king honourably; obviously, however, there was little time to
arrange for masses and pageantry. If there were plans to stage a
faux-impromptu book-presentation at Cripplegate, they would
presumably have had to be coordinated with the City council.
Otherwise, one can imagine the reaction of the twenty-four guards
to an unknown man launching himself out of nowhere towards
the king. But the only subsidiary plan mentioned in the minutes is
a proposal to ask the king to appoint a certain John Aungewyn as
sergeant-at-arms.34
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imitation of courtly presentation. Instead of a measured and elegant exchange, however, we see a breathless and improvised
but successfulencounter.
In Wendy Scases view, as noted above, this exciting story
follows more than the fate of one displaced parson of Calais.
[A]ttention to the perspective of the witness, she notes, is more
a function of a poetics of spectacle than of a first-hand documentary account.35 It is a politicized form of affective piety,
fueled by a conflation of monarch with deity: in the Arrivall, we
witness a miracle sacralise Edwards claims to kingship; in
Knyghthode and Bataileto use Ruth Evans wordsthe author
fuses Christs role as conqueror ... with Henrys duties as a king
in an attempt to present warfare as a devotional exercise. Indeed,
in the latter part of this difficult proem, it is sometimes hard to tell
if Henry or Christ is the subject.36 As readers and hearers of a
poem such as Abide, Ye Who Pass By are invited to stand at
the foot of the cross and experience directly the sacrifices of
Christ,37 readers and hearers of the Arrivall or of Knyghthode
and Bataile are perhaps being invited to stand among the adoring
crowd and experience the divine aura surrounding their king. In
Knyghthode and Bataile the effect diversifies, however; rather
than merely reporting the event, the author creates a vivid drama
of personal displacement and ambition. The sense of urgency
carries on throughout the translation, with the author continually
exclaiming about the importance of the information he is relaying.
Whether he invented this strategy on his own, however, or
whether it was specified by Beaumont or another patron, is as
unanswerable a question as the general issue of the proems historicity and origin.
Neither drama nor propaganda can have effect, of course, until the book reaches its audience. Scase does not consider how
such spectacular texts would be read, but surely the most productive means would be a public reading, by which the political
propaganda imbued with religious affect would be most widely
propagated. Knyghthode and Bataile takes breath, literally,
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Figure 3
Flavius Vegetius reads his De re militari to an emperor and his knights
(Oxford, Bodl. Laud Lat. 56, fol. 1, first quarter 15th century).
By permission of The Bodleian Library, University of Oxford.
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APPENDIX
A diplomatic transcription of the text of the proem, from Pembroke Coll. Cam. ms. 243, fols. 1a-2b. Boldface indicates that
the letter or word is written in, or slashed with, red. Abbreviations have been expanded silently, while line and stanza numbering have been added. Conjectural readings at points of damage in
the manuscript are placed in square brackets; editorial comments
are in pointed brackets. (See the frontispiece to Dyboski and
Arends EETS edition for a facsimile of the first page of the
proem.)
Proemium
[fol. 1a]
Salue festa dies
Mauortis {inserted above: .i. martis} auete
Kalende Qua deus
ad celum subleuat
ire Dauid .*
Stanza 1
1
* Ruth Evans translates the Latin incipit: Hail, holy day / of the 1st of
March! / Welcome the calends of March! / when God / lifted David up to
heaven. See Jocelyn Wogan-Browne et al. [eds.], The Idea of the
Vernacular: An Anthology of Late Middle English Literary Theory,
1280-1520, University Park, 1999, p. 183.
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Stanza 2
And she thi modir (. Blessed mot she be)
10 That cometh eke . and Angelys an ende
Wel wynged / and wel horsed hidir fle
Thousendys or {error for on} this goode approche attende /
And ordir aftir ordir thei commende /
As Seraphin . as cherubyn . as throne
15 As Domynaunce and princys hidir sende
And at . o . woord . Right welcom euerychone .
Stanza 3
But Kyng Herry the Sexte as goddes sone
Or themperour or kyng Emanuel
to London welcomer / be noo persone
20 O souuerayn lord welcom / Now wel Now wel
Te Deum to be songen / wil do wel
and Benedicta Sancta Trinitas
Now prosperaunce and peax perpetuel
shal growe / And why / ffor here is Vnitas
Stanza 4
25 Therof / to the Vnitee . Deo gratias
In Trinitee the clergys and knyghthode
And comynaltee better accorded nas
Neuer then now / Now nys ther noon abode
But . Out on hem that fordoon goddes forbode
30 Periurous ar / Rebell[ou]s / and atteynte /
So forfaytinge her lyif and lyvelode /
Although ypocrisie her faytys peynte .
Stanza 5
Now person of Caleys pray euery Seynte
In hevenys & in erth / of help . Thavaile
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[fol. 1b]
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Joyce Coleman
[fol. 2b]
Stanza 10
Lo Souuerayn Lord of Knyghthode & bataile
This litil werk your humble oratour
75 Ye therwithal your chiualers tavaile
Inwith your hert to crist the conquerour
offreth / ffor ye ther y[eu]eth {or, y[e geu]eth} him thonour
His true thought / accepte it he besecheth
Accepte it is to this Tryumphatour
80 That myghti werre exemplifying / techeth .
Stanza 11
He redeth . And fro poynt to poynt he secheth
How hath be doon / and what is now to done
His prouidence on aftirward he strecheth
By see & lond . he wil provide sone
85 To chace his aduersaryes euerychone
Thei hem by lond . Thei hem by see asseyle /
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I am indebted to the members of the Seminar in Medieval and Tudor London History, of the Institute of Historical Research at the School of Advanced Study, University of London, for their comments and suggestions
on a draft version of this paper. My thanks to Caroline Barron and Vanessa Harding for inviting me to present this material in that stimulating forum. I am also grateful to Daniel Wakelin, of Christs College Cambridge, for sharing his expertise on Knyghthode and Bataile and for
allowing me to read his forthcoming work on the topic. Work on this
project was supported by a grant from the Senate Scholarly Activities
Committee of the University of North Dakota.
For discussion of book-presentation and its iconography, see Erik Inglis,
A Book in the Hand: Some Late Medieval Accounts of Manuscript Presentation, Journal of the Early Book Society for the Study of Manuscript and Printing History 5 (2002), pp. 57-97.
Ruth Evans edited the proem for Jocelyn Wogan-Browne et al. (eds.),
The Idea of the Vernacular: An Anthology of Middle English Literary
Theory, 1280-1520, University Park, 1999, pp. 182-86. Wendy Scase
discusses it in Writing and the Poetics of Spectacle: Political Epiphanies in The Arrivall of Edward IV and Some Contemporary Lancastrian
and Yorkist Texts, in: Jeremy Dimmick, James Simpson & Nicolette
Zeeman (eds.), Images, Idolatry, and Iconoclasm in Late Medieval
England: Textuality and the Visual Image, Oxford, 2002, pp. 172-84,
esp. 181-82. I am grateful to Prof. Scase for allowing me to see a preprint of this article. Daniel Wakelin has investigated the humanistic roots
of the text and its manuscripts in his doctoral thesis (Vernacular Humanism in England, c. 1440-1485, Ph.D. dissertation, University of Cambridge, 2002) and in resulting articles (see notes 3 and 14 below).
On the manuscripts, see R. Dyboski & Z. M. Arend, Introduction, in
Idem (eds.), Knyghthode and Bataile: A 15th-Century Verse Paraphrase
of Flavius Vegetius Renatus Treatise De re militari, London, 1935
[EETS OS 201], pp. xi-lxxvi, esp. xi-xvi, and Daniel Wakelin, Scholarly Scribes and the Creation of Knyghthode and Bataile, English Manuscript Studies 12 (2005), pp. 26-45. All that is known of the Pembroke
manuscripts provenance is that it came into the colleges collection in
the seventeenth century, presumably as a gift of an alumnus or fellow
(see Montague Rhodes James, A Descriptive Catalogue of the Manu-
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rayed should guard that gate and similarly for whichever gate through
which the king (?)might come . arrayed men will have its custody so that
[every] individual gate of the city will be similarly guarded). Journal 6,
fol. 204v (photo no. 333) continues: In esto communo concilio ministrantur materia pro adventu regis honorifice faciend et habiend die sabbati proxeme (In this common council means were decided to honourably
make and have the kings arrival next Saturday); Item esto communo
consilio ministrantur lettere facias bene honorabile domine nostri rege pro
officis communis serventes ad armas pro admissione Johannes Aungewyn
serventis ipsius regis in officio predicto (Item, in this common council
it was decided to make full honourable letters to our lord the king for the
common offices of sergeants at arm for the admission of John Aungewyn
the servant of this same king in the aforesaid office). I am very grateful
to Jessica Newton, archivist at the Corporation of London Record Office,
for her help, including providing copies of these entries, and to Maureen
Jurkowski for her assistance in reading and translating them. As the
minutes are written by a poor hand in uncertain Latin, the transcriptions
and translations provided here are at some points speculative; any errors
are my own. On the Citys reactions to the political upheavals of the
period, see Caroline M. Barron, London and the Crown 1451-61, in:
John R. L. Highfield & Robin Jeffs (eds.), The Crown and Local Communities in England and France in the Fifteenth Century, Gloucester,
1981, pp. 88-109.
Scase, Writing and the Poetics of Spectacle, p. 174.
Evans in Wogan-Browne et al. (eds.), The Idea of the Vernacular, p.
182; see also Dyboski & Arend, Introduction, p. xxxii.
Abide, Ye Who Pass By is poem no. 46 in Carleton Brown (ed.), Religious Lyrics of the XIVth Century, Oxford, 1952 [2d ed. revised by G.
V. Smithers], pp. 59-60.
Evans in Wogan-Browne et al. (eds.), The Idea of the Vernacular, p.
182 and p. 186 n. to l. 65.
I am indebted to Mary Kay Duggan for her comments on this passage.
Speaking of chiualeres, for example, the author comments: And think I
wil that daily wil thei lere, / And of antiquitee the bokys here, / And that
thei here, putte it in deuoyre (ll. 1695-97).
For the reading at the Inns of Court, see Sir John Fortescue, De laudibus
legum Anglie, (ed. and trans.) Stanley Bertram Chrimes, Cambridge,
1942, pp. 118-19. For Edward IVs household, see A. R. Myers (ed.),
The Household of Edward IV: The Black Book and the Ordinance of
1478, Manchester, 1959, p. 129. For discussion, see Joyce Coleman,
Public Reading and the Reading Public in Late Medieval England and
France, Cambridge, 1996, pp. 130-31 and 135-36; and Joyce Coleman,
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Amy Schwarz
The anonymous biographer of Cola di Rienzo (1313-54) recorded
the ascent of an innkeepers son to become the self-appointed
Tribune of Rome. The authority of the papacy, situated in
Avignon from 1309 until 1368, and that of the reigning nobility
upon the citizens government were overcome by opportunity.
Fourteenth-century Rome was ravaged by plague and famine, the
city was unsafe for trade and community, and the feuding barons
struggled for dominance, particularly from the Colonna and Orsini families.
In 1343, the notary Cola di Rienzo, accompanied the citizens
committee of Thirteen Good Men to urge the newly elected
Pope Clement VI to return the papacy to Rome. In an eloquent
letter from Avignon to the Roman citizens, Rienzo announced papal permission to declare 1350 a Jubilee Year, thus indicating the
Popes promised return to the Eternal City. The Jubilee of 1300,
decreed by Pope Boniface VIII to take place each century, was
amended to every fifty years to restore faith in the papacy and in
the importance of Rome.
The papal residency in Avignon, a humiliating distance from
St. Peters, was due to coercion from the French Monarchy and
threats of anti-papal sentiment in Italy. Rienzo met with Clement
VI through the auspices of the Roman Cardinal Giovanni Colonna, as recommended by the recent poet laureate and honorary citizen of Rome, Francesco Petrarca (1304-74). A poet and statesman promoting the revival of the ancient Roman Republic, Petrarch was in the employment of the Cardinal situated in Avignon.
An early Humanist, Petrarch desired to see Rome in the form of
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On Pentecost day, Cola di Rienzo with the papal legate, Raimond de Chameyrac, and a large following of citizens and soldiers proceeded to the Capitol.4 The presence of the papal legate
signified the backing of Pope Clement VI, thereby attracting additional support and lending conviction to Rienzos position. Four
large banners were carried in the procession: the red banner of
liberty bore the inscription in gold Roma Caput Mundi; on it was
painted Queen Rome enthroned between two lions, a globe in her
left hand, a palm in her right. The white banner of justice revealed
St. Paul holding a sword and a crown. Next, a banner depicted
St. Peter holding the keys of concord and peace. Last was
brought an old banner of St. George, the Knight of Christendom,
earlier carried in the processions of Pope Boniface VIII.5 The
banners visually proclaimed the need to defend Romes liberty,
justice and peace, and prepared the setting for the promised Jubilee in 1350. For all those who could not hear or comprehend Cola
di Rienzos fine speech, in which he announced a new constitution, the banners asserted new hope for abandoned Rome.
At the Senatorial Palace, Rienzo and the papal legate became
joint rectors of Rome, thereby confirming this revolutionary figures papal appointment. In addition, after the practice of the ancient histories recorded by Livy, Boetius, and more currently, Petrarch, Cola di Rienzo assumed the title of Tribune. This was in
conjunction with the idea of reviving the Roman Senate, or,
House of Justice, and drew attention to the Capitol as an institution and as a monument. He signed his letters, as found in an example to the poet Francesco Petrarca (Epistolario 15, Rome, 28
July, 1347), Nicholas, the severe and clement, by the grace of
our most merciful Lord Jesus Christ, tribune of liberty, of peace,
and of justice, and illustrious deliverer of the Holy Roman Republic ....6
All the sacred feast-days and Saints days were observed, ensuring Cola di Rienzos own exposure to the populace. On the
Feast of St. John (24 June), he arranged a splendid procession to
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the Lateran reminescent of Henry VIIs coronation in 1312. Rienzo rode a white horse, a privilege of the pope or an emperor, and
was accompanied by one hundred horsemen. He wore the robes
of triumph, white trimmed with gold.7
Earlier at the Lateran (some time in 1346), Cola di Rienzo rediscovered a bronze tablet inscribed with the Lex Regia of Emperor Vespasian (Rome, 69-79 AD). Placed on the altar in the
time of Pope Boniface VIII (c. 1300), it had been forgotten as
the basilica was left in disrepair.8 The Lex Regia documented the
Roman Senate conceding power to the emperor. Rienzo had the
tablet set onto the inside wall behind the choir, framed by one of
the allegorical paintings that appeared to depict its meaning.
Remarkably, given the origin of the Lateran basilica as a Constantinian foundation, the painting made no reference to the Donation
of Constantine, the document that for centuries provided the papacy with the legitimation of the Churchs temporal rule and territorial holdings, including the city of Rome. Cola di Rienzo, in a
glorious costume, explained from his decorated pulpit, You see
how great was the magnificence of the Senate, which gave authority to the Empire.9 He appealed to the nobles, the citys judges
and canon lawyers, and men of authority to observe and protect
the law in the interest of justice. Naturally, Rienzos ability to eloquently persuade and hold the attention of his listeners, and their
inability to read and decipher the inscriptions on the tablet, were
essential to the illusion of legitimate authority.
Amongst a variety of possible sources for the painting surrounding the bronze tablet is the example of decretal miniatures.
Illuminated manuscripts of canon law were produced in great
quantities during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, particularly with the establishment of communal governments in Italy.
Concepts of jurisprudence were made tangible in manuscript illumination, inventively derived from the iconography of the Last
Judgement. The figure of Justice was a recognized form with
which to illustrate principles of authority grounded in Roman law.
The personification of Iustitia, like that of Roma, was an en67
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throned female holding a sword in her right hand and scales in her
left hand, as seen on the covers of books of civil law and finance
records, bicchierna.10
A composition of influence to Cola di Rienzos painting might
be seen at the Lateran, the Triclinium mosaic of Pope Leo III
(798). This associated Charlemagne with the Donation of Constantine. However, Rienzos legitimation of authority deviated
from the content of Leo IIIs mosaic, taking advantage of the
secular concerns of the Lex Regia, prior to Christianity.11
On the feast-day of Saints Peter and Paul, the tribune dressed
in green and yellow silk. In the pious procession to St. Peters,
Rienzo threw coins to the crowd, as the pope would do. On the
steps of the church, he was greeted by the canons and clergy
singing Veni creator spiritus.12 There was no mention of the
papal legates presence at the event.
Cola di Rienzo advanced from pageantry to serious performance on 1 August, 1347. It was the ancient Roman triumphal festival of Augustus and the Christian feast-day of St. Peter in
chains. Dressed in white and riding a white horse, he appeared
like an apocalyptic hero. Accompanied by the popes vicar, the
procession traveled from the Capitol (seat of the Senate) to the
Lateran (seat of the papal curia). Foreign ambassadors, knights
and prelates entered the Lateran Baptistry. There they witnessed
Rienzos baptism in the very font where Constantine had been
baptized by Pope Sylvester more than a thousand years earlier.
Visible examples were accessible to Rienzo in the frescoes painted
for the chapel dedicated to Pope Sylvester (1246) in S.S. Quattro
Coronati in Rome. One scene reveals the humble, naked figure
of Emperor Constantine crouched in a basin (font), while Pope
Sylvester pours the baptismal water over him. Another fresco depicts Constantine delivering the tiara to the Pope, which was not
so explicitly imitated in 1347. Rienzo arranged to be knighted,
Immaculate knight of the Holy Ghost.13 These actions did not
meet with the approval of the Romans, and outraged the papacy in
Avignon, once the news was received.
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After a night held in vigil at the Lateran Baptistry, Cola di Rienzo appeared in scarlet the next day. In public ceremony, he received gold spurs and a sword from the Mayor of Rome, Gottfridus Scotus.14 Wearing the tiara and sword of Constantine, while
standing on the Lateran loggia of Boniface VIII, Cola di Rienzo
summoned all candidates with any claim to the rule of Rome to
come forth within two weeks. The Roman people then would
choose an emperor. Giotto painted (c. 1300), now located on a
pillar near the entrance to the Lateran, Pope Boniface VIII on his
balcony. Only the painted principle figures on the balcony remain,
but beneath it were depicted crowds awaiting his benevolence, as
preserved in a seventeenth-century drawing (Milano, Biblioteca
Ambrosiana, ms. Codice F. inf. 227, fols. 8v-9r).15 In 1347, the
site of the papal benediction was transformed into an electorial
platform for a new emperor of Rome. In defiance of the example
of Constantine, Rienzo disregarded all rights of the papacy. He
thus declared all Italian cities free from foreign rule, confident that
a unified empire, as in Antiquity, was desired by all. Twenty-five
delegates from the Italian communes were present.16 This was a
well publicized event.
The Franciscan Church, Sta. Maria in Aracoeli, standing near
the Senatorial Palace on the Capitol Hill, organized additional
ceremonies of the commune to honour Cola di Rienzo. Franciscan
support encouraged Rienzos manipulation of the prophetic tradition, particularly the views of the radical Franciscan spiritualists,
the Fraticelli.17 The Aracoeli was the head church of the Franciscan Order in Rome (established in 1291), and its location at the
Capitol inspired civic activity. Rienzo had his titles in blue and
gold hung from the tower of the Aracoeli.18 He managed to leave
his mark upon every site utilized.
Cola di Rienzos program was based upon manufacturing legitimate authority in order to assume the head of government in
Rome. The coronation of Rienzo took place on Assumption Day
(15 August, 1347), an event not recorded in the anonymous Vita. On the previous day, he had accompanied the annual proces69
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longing to the Colonna family, did not give in easily, nor with
ceremony. But here, we are concerned with the events of Rienzos early government.
Nearly two-hundred years later, Niccolo Machiavelli recorded
in his Florentine Histories (1525):
... A memorable thing happened in Rome: one Niccolo di Lorenzo, chancellor at the Capitol, drove out the Roman Senators and made himself,
with the title of Tribune, head of the Roman Republic, which he restored
in its ancient form with such a reputation for justice and virtue that not
only the towns nearby, but all Italy sent ambassadors to him.
[Book 1-31]28
2
3
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7
8
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
74
Petrarch, The Revolution of Cola di Rienzo, (trans.) Mario Emilio Cosenza, New York, 1986 [2nd ed. by Ronald G Musto], pp. 50 and 164;
Wright (ed.), Life of Cola di Rienzo, p. 47; Gabrielli (ed.), Epistolario
di Cola di Rienzo, pp. 37-38 [original Latin text].
Wright (ed.), Life of Cola di Rienzo, p. 51.
Jean-Franois Sonnay, La politique artistique de Cola di Rienzo (13131354), Revue de lart 55 (1982), pp. 35-43, esp. 39. On the Medieval
use of the Lex Regia, see essays by Frugoni, Miglio and Greenhalgh in
Salvatore Settis (ed.), Memoria dellantico nellarte italiano, vol. I:
LUso dei classici, Torino, 1984 [Biblioteca di Storia dellarte, n.s. 1].
See also Carrie E. Benes, Cola di Rienzo and the Lex Regia, Viator 30
(1999), pp. 231-52. The tablet is preserved in the Capitoline Museum,
Rome.
Wright (ed.), Life of Cola di Rienzo, pp. 35-36; Ernst Kantorowicz,
The Kings Two Bodies: A Study in Mediaeval Political Theology,
Princeton, 1957, pp. 96-97.
Anthony Melnikas, The Corpus of the Miniatures in the Manuscripts of
Decretum Gratiani, Ohio, 1975, vol. I, pp. 16 and 83. J. B. Riess,
Justice and Common Good in Giottos Arena Chapel Frescoes, Arte
Cristiana n.s. 1 (1984), pp. 69-80, esp. 74.
Richard Krautheimer, Rome: Profile of a City, 312-1308, Princeton,
1980, pp. 114-15 and note.
Wright (ed.), Life of Cola di Rienzo, p. 52; P. de Angelis, LOspedale
di S. Spirito in Saxia, 2 vols., Roma, 1960-62, vol. I, pp. 276-77.
Wright (ed.), Life of Cola di Rienzo, pp. 73 and 70; Gabrielli (ed.),
Epistolario di Cola di Rienzo, p. 107.
Massimo Miglio, Gruppi sociali e azione politica nella Roma di Cola di
Rienzo, Studi romani 23 (1975), pp. 442-61, esp. 460.
Eugne Mntz, Etudes sur lhistoire des arts Rome pendant le MoyenAge: Boniface VIII et Giotto, Roma, 1881, pp. 20-24. Charles Mitchell,
The Lateran Fresco of Boniface VIII, in: Andrew Ladis (ed.),
Franciscanism, the Papacy, and Art in the Age of Giotto; Assisi and
Rome, New York & London, 1998 [Giotto and the world of Early
Italian Art, 4 ], pp. 337-45.
Wright (ed.), Life of Cola di Rienzo, p. 72; Gregorovius, History of
the City of Rome, p. 269; Seibt, Anonimo romano, p. 110.
Mariano Armellini & Carlo Cecchelli, Le chiese di Roma dal secolo IV
al XIX, 2 vols., Roma, 1942, vol. I, pp. 664-66, vol. II, pp. 820-21.
Teodoro Amayden, La storia della famiglie Romane, (ed.) C. A. Bertini,
Roma, 1967, vol. I, pp. 316-18; Sonnay, La politique artistique de Cola
di Rienzo, p. 41.
The Marvels of Rome: Mirabilia Urbis Romae, (ed. and trans.) Francis
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
Morgan Nichols, New York, 1956 [rpt. ed. 1889], pp. 173-75; Ernst Kitzinger, A Virgins Face: Antiquarianism in twelfth-century art, Art
Bulletin 62 (1980), pp. 6-19.
Miglio, Gruppi sociali, p. 448; Gregorovius, History of the City of
Rome, pp. 283-85; Gabrielli (ed.), Epistolario di Cola di Rienzo, pp.
58-60.
Wright (ed.), Life of Cola di Rienzo, p. 31; Jeanette M. A. Beer, A
Medieval Caesar, Genve, 1976; Ernesto Monaci, Storie de Troja et de
Roma: altrimenti dette Liber Ystoriarum Romanorum: testo romanesco del secolo XIII: preceduto da un testo latino da cui deriva,
Roma, 1920 [Miscellanea della R. Societ romana di storia patria, 5],
pp. xxv and xlvii-xlviii. See also: Serena Romano, Limmagine di Roma: Cola di Rienzo e la fine del Medioevo, in: Maria Andaloro & Serena
Romano (eds.), Arte e iconografia a Roma: dal tardoantico alla fine del
Medioevo, Milano, 2002, pp. 175-94.
Ernest H. Wilkins, The Coronation of Petrarch, Speculum 18 (1943),
pp. 155-97.
Petrarch, Revolution of Cola di Rienzo, (trans.) Cosenza, pp. 2-3; Beer,
A Medieval Caesar, pp. 13 and 139; Livy in fourteen volumes; with an
English Translation by B. O. Foster, XIV vols., London-New York,
1919-59, vol. IV: Books VIII-X, Book IX, chapter 46, pp. 349-53.
De Angelis, Ospedale di S. Spirito, vol. II, p. 26; Sonnay, Politique
artistique, p. 42.
Wright (ed.), Life of Cola di Rienzo, p. 70, note 33; Gabrielli (ed.),
Epistolario di Cola di Rienzo, pp. 58-60, letter 22.
J. Gardner, Boniface VIII as a patron of sculpture, in: Angiola M.
Romanini (ed.), Roma anno 1300, Roma, 1983, p. 515.
See De Angelis, Ospedale di S. Spirito, vol. II, p. 33, for complete
Latin inscription and Italian translation. See also Giovanni Battista De
Rossi, Inscriptiones christianae urbis Romae septimo saeculo antiquiores Romae, vol. II, part 1, Roma, 1888, p. 434.
Niccolo Machiavelli, Florentine Histories, (trans.) Laura F. Banfield,
Princeton, 1988, Book I-31, p. 43.
Just published, since the presentation of this paper (2000), perhaps the
definitive work on the subject, Ronald G. Musto, Apocalypse in Rome:
Cola di Rienzo and the Politics of the New Age, Berkeley & Los Angeles, 2003.
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Preparations for Queen Elizabeths official entry into London
began in Christmas week, 1558.1 The Court of Aldermen sponsored a series of pageants written by Richard Hilles, a Member of
Parliament and a Merchant Taylor; Francis Robinson, a Grocer;
Richard Grafton, a printer and chronicler; and Lionell Duckett, a
Mercer and future Lord Mayor.2 These men had a long tradition
within which to develop Elizabeths triumphal entry. The procession route and locations of pageants, with minor variations, had
been regularized by 1415.3 Certain pageants and rituals were traditional: the civic triumph remained fundamentally conservative
in its emblematic ideas4 and props and set pieces were even reused from one monarchs reign to the next.5 As is typical for a
show of this type, the themes and subject matter of pageants in
Elizabeths entry strongly emphasize civic unity.
The emphasis on unity in the procession was more than a
matter of tradition, however. As merchants and political figures,
Hilles, Robinson, Grafton, and Duckett had a vested interest in
the welfare of England. Like many, they hoped that the new reign
would bring peace rather than a continuation of conflict. The
Wars of the Roses were not so distant as to be forgotten, and the
marital difficulties of Henry VIII had created discord that directly
resulted in the religious turbulence of the reigns of Edward and
Mary. Tired of strife, many pinned their hopes for peace on the
young Elizabeth. It was necessary that the pageants to accompany
the royal entry focus on the Queens virtues, on Gods blessing
for her reign, and the need for good government. The vehicle for
these notions is unity, which was displayed through the pageants
in a variety of ways.
L. Caitlin Jorgensen
78
This emphasis on unity troubles a number of scholars, howeverit seems forced or contrived, and New Historicists in particular emphasize the historical conditions that make unity a hopeless fantasy for early-Elizabethan England. Susan Frye, for instance, argues that the text of The Quenes Maiesties Passage is
unable to conceal the anxieties that lie behind its pretense of unity.
Unity is an impossible achievement for any text, since all writing
especially authoritative writingsummons the very inconsistencies, anxieties, and doubts that it attempts to quash.10 By
these standards, the thematic unity of the Queens coronation procession is either a blatant lie or a thin veil masking eroticized violence and social discontent. In one case, Frye reads the Citys gift
of a purse with a thousand marks of gold as a kind of inseminated vessel.11 The gift, according to Frye, brooks no refusal, so
that in her reading the act is a kind of rape performed on a young
Queen in the presence of her subjectshardly a harmonious occasion.
The concept of unity is troubling when it involves one class
or group achieving an apparentnot realunity by silencing the
voices of others. It is also troubling when unity means homogeneity, which would have been impossible in religiously- and economically-divided Elizabethan England.12 Perhaps these pageants,
commissioned by the Aldermen and employing an unequivocal
message of peace and accord, could be understood in this fashion. Theatrically, they are for the most part tableaux, the most
static of dramatic forms. The allegorical message of each pageant
is accompanied by a poem or speech that explains (and thereby
limits) the meaning. The story of The Quenes Maiesties Passage,
however, is larger than the pageants themselves. If New Historicist readings offer one model for interpreting the pageants, I
would like to offer another: that the procession emphasizes mutuality in place of hierarchy. Richard Mulcasters account of the
days activities describes each pageant fully, but it also includes
commentary on the pageants, observations of facial expressions
or signs of emotion, and narrative descriptions of interactions
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struggle for power that the Queen ultimately loses because she is
forced by the London Aldermen into a passive, powerless role.
Though Frye allows for the possibility that Elizabeth could have
taken power in this procession,44 power for Frye is limited to
control, particularly control over interpretation. Conflicting agendas prevent the possibility of collaboration. In Fryes view, Elizabeth and the Aldermen have little or no common ground; I have
demonstrated that the flexibility of roles in this procession created
a kind of kinship. Fryes argument is also limited by the parties
she selects for analysis. Though she is correct in attributing more
power to the London Alderman than other scholars have, in the
process she ignores the actors and the audience for the procession. Because Fryes reading of the coronation procession is so
different from mine, it may be useful to explore more thoroughly
Fryes assumptions about Elizabeths role in and response to the
procession.
Frye focuses her analysis on the gendered exchanges that
produced the text of The Quenes Maiesties Passage.45 As Frye
limits the procession to an interchange between the Queen and the
Aldermen, it becomes essentially about the weakness of a young
woman in the face of aggressive older males who wish to view
her as compliant, malleable, and gratefulin short, as their metaphoric wife.46 Even as Frye argues that these roles were imposed47 on the Queen, she notes that Elizabeth herself used these
roles to her advantage many times during her life. This way of
analyzing the situation creates the appearance of conflict, but it is
not at all clear that Elizabeth resented the roles she took on during
the procession.
In order for Frye to view Elizabeth as compliant and malleable, she limits Elizabeths participation in the procession to two
brief moments of self-representation: her prayer and her response
to the citys gift of a purse of gold.48 However, as I have argued
above, Elizabeth was continually active during her procession,
communicating both verbally and non-verbally with the audience
and the performers. Frye dismisses these moments by noting that,
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Elizabeths self-representation seems only to occur when she cannot be influenced by those around hershe notes that the prayer,
one of her moments of success, is the single scene that she does
not share with the merchants.54 She notes, the extent of her
power was determined by her willingness to engage and restructure the discourses current in her culture that naturalized gender
identity.55 Although Frye claims that the young Queen lacked assertiveness and rhetorical practice, in Fryes analysis Elizabeth
comes to her accession already conscious of the cultural, gendered systems of signification that she would oppose for the rest of
her reign. Frye provides no explanation for how Elizabeth is able
to recognize, as if from the outside, that context.
In fact, she could not have. Although Elizabeth sometimes
displayed frustration with the rules of her society, particularly as
they related to her role as a female monarch, the only way she
could interact with her culture was from the inside. If anything,
though, that was an advantage. Although some of her goals and
ideas may have been different from those of others, Elizabeth
identifies with the people of her coronation procession through
their shared culture: shared interpretive strategies, shared concerns about peace and unity, and shared hope at the beginning of
a new reign. Rather than being a contest of wills between the
Queen and the Court of Aldermen, the coronation procession is a
collaborative effort among all those who watched, created, and
participated. The scripts written by the authors of the pageants
framed the procession, Mulcasters account narrates it, but the
procession came alive through the active participation of the
Queen, the actors, and the audience.
Fryes argument is dependent on her assumptions about the
competition inherent in power relationships and on a very specific
reading of the exchanges during Elizabeths coronation procession. As I have argued above, the complexity of roles and relationships in the procession gives evidence for a very different
kind of exchange. When power is understood not as an absolute
weapon, but as a flexible tool for communication, the coronation
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procession, and the Queens role within it, are opened up for a
fresh analysis. In choosing to give significance to parties other
than herself, the Queen demonstrates that she is not passive, is
not without power. The question then becomes, in what ways
does she exercise her agency and her strength?
During the procession, Queen Elizabeth maintains a gracious
demeanour and a listening posture. She stops her carriage frequently to listen to requests from her people. She thanks the City
and the people often for their efforts and their love.56 She listens
carefully to the pageants, frequently asking for explanation and
reiteration. These moments make it clear that she is neither passive nor powerless. In fact, her behaviour is consistent with her
well-established role as a humanist student or scholar. Humanist
pedagogy, while providing a method for understanding Mulcasters interests and approaches, may also offer a way to interpret
the rhetorical strategies of Elizabeth I. In Elizabeths hands, the
scholarly role demonstrates her strength and enriches her relationship to her people.
Prior to her accession, Elizabeth Tudor was a precocious
scholar, proficient in Latin, Italian, and French by her early teens,
and she added Spanish and Greek to the list as she grew into maturity. Our primary source for information about Elizabeths education is Aschams The Scholemaster, in which he lays out his
pedagogy as well as his specific interactions with the Lady Elizabeth. Elizabeths education under Ascham consisted of the study
of both Greek and Latin with particular emphasis on Cicero, Demosthenes, Aristotle, Isocrates, Quintilian, and Plato.57 The bulk
of her time was spent in translation of the classics into English
and then back into Greek or Latin.58 Although as an adult she was
not forced to continue her studies, she did so willingly her whole
lifeone of her final projects was the translation of Boethius De
Consolatione Philosophiae into English.59 Elizabeths proficiency in these studies demonstrates her excellence as a scholar, but
her zeal demonstrates that she is also an active studentinterested in learning for its own sake. Although the speeches and
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place for women, for Elizabeth these notions become here a foundation for authority: the qualities that made for an idealized Renaissance woman, such as gentleness, mercy, and attentiveness,
also made for an ideal ruler. In this procession, these qualities
allowed Elizabeth to listen to her people and to honour them. As
The Quenes Maiesties Passage disrupted hierarchical distinction,
the honoured guest became an audience member as well as an
actor, and those who watched and performed were able to take on
power as well. This mutuality widened the scope of the procession: it was not only about a monarch and her powerful advisors or wealthy supporters, but also about people from a range
of backgrounds and social practices. As Elizabeth connected with
the larger audience in this early-Elizabethan procession, their interaction diffused some of the dichotomies that come so easily to
any culturerich and poor, male and female, powerful and powerlessand called the people together through their mutual desires for peace and unification.
Notes
1
John Gough Nichols (ed.), The Diary of Henry Machyn, Citizen and
Merchant-Taylor of London, from A. D. 1550 to A. D. 1563, London,
1848 [rpt. 1968], p. 185. Analyses of Elizabeths entry into London vary
in focus but can roughly be divided into two groups: those that emphasize theatrical conventions and literary qualities over social interactions
this group would include studies by David Bergeron, English Civic Pageantry, 1558-1642, London, 1971; Sydney Anglo, Spectacle, Pageantry, and Early Tudor Policy, Oxford, 1997 [2nd ed.]; Roy Strong,
The Cult of Elizabeth: Elizabethan Portraiture and Pageantry, London,
1977; and Gordon Kipling, Wonderfull Spectacles: Theater and Civic
Culture, in: John D. Cox & David Scott Kastan (eds.), A New History
of Early English Drama, New York, 1997, pp. 153-71and those that
focus on political and social implications of pageantry. The latter group
would include texts by Clifford Geertz, Local Knowledge: Further
Studies in Interpretive Anthropology, New York, 1983; Stephen Mullaney, The Place of the Stage: License, Play, and Power in Renaissance
England, Chicago, 1988; Jean Wilson, Entertainments for Elizabeth I,
Woodbridge & Totowa, N. J., 1980; Jonathan Goldberg, James I and the
Politics of Literature; Jonson, Shakespeare, Donne and their Contempo-
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4
5
7
8
9
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31
32
33
34
35
36
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Alejandro Caeque
In 1620 several judges of the audiencia (High Court) of Mexico
sent a long letter to the king to complain about the authoritarian
practices of the viceroy who ruled the viceroyalty of New Spain.
In that letter, the oidores (ustices) devoted a great deal of space to
what, at first sight, may seem to be mere anecdotal incidents in
the relations between the viceroy and the audiencia. For example,
the judges contended that the viceroy had clearly shown his intent
to snatch away their power and authority by forbidding them to
place black velvet cushions on the floor in front of their seats
when they attended church services, this being, according to the
oidores, the usual custom everywhere in the Indies, whenever
the viceroy was not present.1 Ironically, it would be a viceroy, the
count of Salvatierra, who, years later, would complain to the king
because Juan de Palafox, who had been sent to inspect the
viceroyalty at that time, argued that the viceroy could not put a
cushion on his seat while sitting in the audiencia with the
oidores. Whereas Palafox thought that the viceroy should not be
seated higher than the oidores, lest he differentiate himself from
them, the viceroy contended that the cushion simply served to
differentiate himself with this little sign from the other ministers.2
Although most historians have been aware of the ceremonial,
complicated protocol and frequent disputes over matters of precedence that surrounded the viceroys, they have generally dismissed these matters as simply amusing episodes, as vestigial
medieval customs designed to please the vanity of the vice-sovereigns, or as utterly irrelevant details, no matter how colourful
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ponsive to nuances detected in public appearances and ceremonies.10 It is also connected with the fact that in a society most of
whose members were not literate, symbolic representations of
power had a crucial importance: it was the language of power that
everybody understood. Thus, in this essay I examine how the
Spanish rulers constructed their authority through ritual and how
different sectors of the ruling elite contested colonial authority also through ritual.11 More concretely, I analyse the public display
of viceregal power, and explain the important role played, in the
grammar of colonial society, by the viceroys extreme visibility,
in opposition to the invisibility of the Spanish king. My argument is that colonial authority depended on the continuous public
display of the rulers.
The Politics of the Viceroys Body
Throughout the early modern period, the Spanish monarchy
created or adapted an extraordinarily rich repertoire of rituals devoted to creating what can be considered a true theatre-state.
These rituals were mostly borrowed from the ritual vocabulary of
the Church. In Catholic thought as elaborated in the Middle Ages,
rituals had the ability to enact, to bring something into being, to
make something present (the consecrated Host did not represent
the body of Christ, it was the body of Christ).12 It should not be
a surprise, then, that in the quintessential Catholic monarchy, the
Spanish monarchy, power was thought to be enacted through ceremonial performances. This is clearly evident, for example, in the
rituals surrounding the reception in New Spain of the royal seal.
The royal seal was stamped on all the writs (reales provisiones)
issued by the audiencias. Every time that a new monarch ascended the throne, a new seal with the kings coat of arms would
be sent to Mexico, the old one being melted down and the silver
sent back to Spain. On its arrival in Mexico City, the seal was received in the same way as the king or the viceroy was: the audiencia and the cabildo (City Council) would go to meet it and
ride back to the city with the seal, placed on a horse or mule, be104
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This way of exhibiting himself in public highlighted the viceroys majesty, since gravity and impassivity were thought to be
characteristics peculiar to monarchs (the Spanish kings were famous for their impassivity).17 This regulation of the publicly displayed body was applied not only to the viceroys but also to any
magistrate whose public appearance represented a manifestation
of royal power. Thus, a royal magistrate was expected to adopt
the same body language as the monarch who had given him his
power.18 In this regard, the body of the ruler had to be not only
well-proportioned and of austere bearing (to walk in a solemn and
sober way, for instance, demonstrated a judicious intellect), but
also had to be, in the words of the prominent Spanish jurist of the
sixteenth century Jernimo Castillo de Bobadilla, splendorous
and adorned. Rulers and magistrates had to dress with distinction, in a manner befitting their station, not for their own sake but
because of the authority they represented, since their offices were
imbued with the majesty of the prince, and for that reason the
populace esteems them more and fears them more, because they
cause fright with their greatness.19 The dignity and decorum of
the office of viceroy, therefore, demand that his body be covered
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This could be appreciated from the moment he landed in Veracruz and in his progress towards the capital. Through the viceregal progress, the viceroy, like the king himself would have done,
took symbolic possession of his realm. His public processions
and attendance at festivals stamped the territory with ritual signs
of dominance, marking it as though it were physically part of
him.26 In the case of Mexico, Octavio Paz has pointed out that the
itinerary followed by the viceroys from Veracruz to the capital city
was a ritual voyage which can be seen as political allegory.
Thus, before arriving in Mexico City, the new viceroy made public entries in three cities: the port city of Veracruz, associated with
the landing of Cortes and the beginnings of the conquest; Tlaxcala, the capital of the Indian republic allied with the conquistadores;
and Puebla, a city founded by the Spaniards and the rival of Mexico City, which in the symbolic geography of New Spain represented the Creole centre, while Tlaxcala signified the Indian one.
In addition, in Otumba, where a decisive victory of Cortess army
had taken place, the outgoing and the incoming viceroys met for
the transfer of power.27
The public entry of every new viceroy into these cities in his
progress towards the capital was a ritual with a very precise political meaning, whereby the viceroy was assimilated in a symbolic
and ritual way with the absent monarch. Every public gesture of
the viceroy was modeled after the royal entry, which always began with a gesture of loyalty on the part of the city: the handing
over of the keys of the city to the ruler on his arrival at the city
gates. The ruler, in turn, guaranteed the rights and privileges of
the city residents. This same gesture was repeated later before the
clergy on arriving at the cathedral or main church.28 It has been
argued that the meaning of the royal entry, nevertheless, changed
in the course of time. In the late Middle Ages, the entry was conceived above all as an advent, after Jesuss entry in Jerusalem
on Palm Sunday, in which worldly government was presented as
a mirror of the heavenly one. But starting in the sixteenth century,
the notion of the entry as triumph gained currency, and mon108
archs began to be represented as heroes in the fashion of the triumphal entries celebrated by Roman generals and emperors after
some victory. As a result, the entry gradually lost its character as
a dialogue between the rulers and the ruled and became instead an
assertion of absolute power.29
In New Spain, in the mid-seventeenth century, nevertheless,
the entry as advent was still present, though it is also true that in
the arches erected to welcome them, the viceroys were regularly
presented as heroes or gods of Antiquity. This is the way it is
presented, at least, by the author of one of the descriptions of the
ceremonies surrounding the arrival in the viceroyalty of a new
viceroy. Its author clearly constructed the ritual of the viceregal
entry as an advent rather than as a triumph (perhaps the fact
that the author was a member of the clergy might have had some
influence on it), as proven by the exclamations he put in the
mouth of those present. For him, the populace show for the arrival of the viceroy the same joy as that which captives show
when their ransom arrives, blessing him with expressions like,
Welcome, father of the poor, We welcome the light which is
going to expel darkness from us, or Since you are coming to
cure this republic, heal its abscesses. Similar expressions had
been used previously, according to the author of the description,
in the viceroys entry into Puebla, when the clerics had exclaimed:
Blessed be he who is sent in the name of the Lord.30 On the
other hand, the entry as triumph was manifested in the arch
built by the city in which the viceroy was depicted as Mercury,
who, according to the anonymous author of the description of the
arch, was a divine ambassador of God. Thus, the viceroy, ambassador of the monarch, represented the bond uniting the king
with his distant kingdom of New Spain.31
The official procession that welcomed the new viceroy at the
entrance of the city constituted, from the political point of view, a
very important aspect of the ceremony of the viceregal entry. At
the head of the procession were the constables with kettledrums
and bugles, followed by numerous knights. After them, there
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From the 1640s onwards, and utilizing the pretext that the duke
of Escalona, in spite of the royal cdula that allowed him to be
received under the canopy, had renounced this privilege when the
Mexican regidores presented him with the canopy, it became
customary to give two royal letters to the viceroys before their
departure for the Indies. The first was a public one, by which the
viceroys were allowed to be received under the canopy in consideration of their personal status and the eminence of the post of
viceroy, so that those appointed could be successful in their service to the monarch. The second was a secret one, whereby the
king ordered the viceroys not to use the palio ceremony, even
though they had been authorized to do so by the previous cdula.44 This ingenious formula solved the problem of excessive
expense while, at the same time, safeguarding the viceroys authority by explicitly acknowledging that it was right for the viceroy, as the kings living image, to use so fundamental a symbol
of royalty. He was not denied this use; it was only postponed,
due to the poverty of the present times, until the situation improved. Such a solution clearly shows the transcendent importance that contemporaries attributed to certain objects, which
rather than being mere adornments of power were its very embodiment.
In his study of the English royal entry, R. Malcolm Smuts has
argued that the Stuart kings dislike of public ritual, especially the
royal entry, contributed to the collapse of royal authority in the
1640s. Instead of a visible symbol of the values that united England, Charles I ruled as a remote source of authority. Thus, by
failing to project an effective public image, he found it increasingly difficult to inspire loyalty.45 This is something that the Spanish
monarchs and their viceroys appeared to have always had in
mind, despite the very serious financial difficulties experienced in
the seventeenth century and the many criticisms made against the
excessive costs of the viceregal entries. In the Mexican case, for
example, the king was always a remote source of authority but,
contrary to the English monarch, he never lost his powerful pub114
lic image thanks to his viceroys, who were living as constant reminders of his existence; hence, the ambivalence about restricting
the use of the symbols and marks of royal sovereignty by the
viceroys. The inhabitants of Mexico City, for example, were constantly reminded of the idea that the viceroy was a surrogate king
through a series of ritual ceremonies that made him the centre of
the rites of passage of the monarch and his family. Every time a
member of the royal family was born, married, or died, or whenever the kings or the queens birthday was celebrated, all the representatives of the principal institutions of New Spanish society
went to the viceregal palace to offer congratulations or express
their condolences to the viceroy. There, the viceroy, seated under
a canopy (which certainly highlighted the idea of majesty whose
surrogate embodiment he was) would receive these corporations
with total solemnity, separately, and in strict hierarchical order,
beginning with the lesser ones and concluding with the oidores.46
For their part, the viceroys always attempted to emphasize
their authority symbolically, conscious as they were that their
power could be seriously compromised if their public image as
the supreme authority of the viceroyalty was not clearly transmitted to the populace. This might explain the fact that ritual entries
of rulers never went out of style in New Spain, as they had elsewhere by the late seventeenth century, when monarchs emancipated themselves from old royal ceremonials that had brought the
ruler and his subjects together in public forums, creating in their
stead rites of personality carried out within the walls of their
palaces.47 In the case of Mexico, it was not until the second half
of the eighteenth century that these trends can be discerned, although viceregal arches continued to be erected as late as 1783,
when the practice was discontinued.48 Nor does New Spains
elite appear to have experienced any changes in their attitude toward the kind of conspicuous consumption exemplified by viceregal entries, in spite of the enormous debt accumulated by the
cabildo.49 Throughout the seventeenth century, the Mexican re115
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came the colleges and seminaries, the religious orders (in strict
order of seniority, starting with the most modern, the Society of
Jesus, and concluding with the oldest, the Dominicans), the clergy, and the ecclesiastical chapter. Then the royal tribunals marched after the clerics. In first place came the protomedicato (board
of medical doctors) followed by the consulado (merchants
guild), the university, and the city council. After them, came the
royal insignia (the scepter, the sword, and the crown), escorted
by the members of the military orders. The chancellor, the Tribunal of Accounts, and the audiencia, in this order, marched behind
the royal insignia. Finally, the viceroy appeared, as expressed by
the chronicler, crowning the cortege with his greatness. He
marched with the senior oidor at his left. In addition, the viceregal guard escorted the viceroy and the audiencia, while the city
battalion brought up the rear of the cortege.54
From the political standpoint, it is necessary to underline several aspects of the processional order. First, while the procession
that welcomed the viceroy was exclusive, the funeral procession
was inclusive. They constituted different ritual genres, so to
speak. If in the procession that welcomed the viceroy, as we
mentioned above, the common people were formally absent, it
was because, in a procession devised to emphasize political power, there was no reason to include the people who lacked such
power. By including blacks, mulattos, mestizos and Indians, the
funeral procession, on the contrary, showed that, although the
common peoples mission was not to rule the community, they
were, nevertheless, rightful members of the body politic (in the
language of the period, they were not the heads but the feet of the
body politic). That is, the physical space they occupied at the procession meant the position they occupied in the political community: they were literally performing their place in the body politic.
On the other hand, the processional order was an assertion of
royal power, since the kings alter ego was the crown of the
procession and its apex. It may be argued that, in a way, the en117
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tire procession was an extremely long introduction to the viceroys appearance. Furthermore, the procession proclaimed the
preeminence of secular over ecclesiastical power (although not the
latters separation or independence from the former) by having the
clergy march before the royal tribunals (in the processions, the
order of precedence was always established from front to back).
Lastly, the fact that the viceroy marched with the senior oidor at
his side was also a political statement, with which he was affirming his will to cooperate with the audiencia. Marching alone,
behind the oidores, separating himself from the audiencia,
would have meant that the viceroy desired to assert his power as
independent from that of the audiencia. Thus, the procession
provided a continuous discourse on the constitutional order of the
community. As Edward Muir has argued, the procession was, in
fact, the constitution, since one of the defining characteristics of
the period was that political constitutions were ceremonial as well
as textual in nature.55 That is why any change in the processional
order was considered a grave matter and created continuous confrontations among the different institutions of colonial rule.
Contesting and Affirming Power through Ritual
The viceroy, although the manifest centre of power, nevertheless
had to compete with other centers of authority to be able to sustain
his power. In colonial society there were only two kinds of people who could seriously question viceregal authority: the oidores
and the bishops. In the case of the former, as shall be shown in
the last section, it was more a question of establishing the limits
of viceregal power within a relationship of subordination (at least
in theory); in the case of the latter, the problem was far more serious, especially in Mexico City, where the archbishops constituted another powerful centre of power, often challenging viceregal
authority. The Church, despite being usually depicted as the loyal
instrument of the Spanish monarchy, never lost its jurisdictional
autonomy. This autonomous power of the Church found its justification in the ideology of the two knives.56 The existence of
such an ideology was only possible in the political system that
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Bishop Osorio was received under the canopy in express contravention of the viceroys orders. When the viceroy was informed,
he flared up and in a long and repetitive letter begged the king to
punish the bishops audacity, reminding the monarch that the
palio was a sacred object and his greatest royal privilege. In a
peremptory tone, he also pointed out to the king that the viceroys
orders must be obeyed blindly, especially in the Indies because
of its remoteness; otherwise, he argued, viceroys would not be
necessary, nor could the monarch preserve his possessions.63
As for the baldachin (dosel), this was a ticklish matter, as the
viceroys insisted on using it in placeschurcheswhich fell under the exclusive jurisdiction of the bishops. Archbishops and
bishops, for their part, often tried to make clear that they had the
same right as the viceroys to sit under a canopy. By the midseventeenth century, it appears that some sort of compromise had
been reached: the archbishop could not sit under a canopy if the
viceroy and the audiencia were present (with this, the preeminence of royal over ecclesiastical power was acknowledged), unless he was celebrating mass in pontifical dress, that is, he was
wearing all of the archbishops liturgical vestments and insignia.
In this way, the equality between archbishop and viceroy was
recognized.64 This compromise solution, however, did not solve
the problem entirely, since it could lend itself to different interpretations. The archbishops could try to affirm their right to sit under
a canopy whether the viceroy was present or not, especially as a
means of asserting their power when they were in the middle of
some confrontation with the viceroys. The viceroys, for their
part, could opt for tolerating the practice or asserting the preeminence of royal power, depending on the state of their relations
with the archbishops at that precise moment.
The royalist arguments in defense of viceregal primacy are
presented in all clarity by Juan Francisco de Montemayor, one of
the oidores of the audiencia of Mexico, whose opinion Viceroy
Baos had solicited concerning Archbishop Osorios decision to
sit under a baldachin even when he was not in pontifical dress.65
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ing the monstrance, had walked by. Only then, as the viceroy and
the oidores were passing by the palace, did the vicereine show
up on the balcony. With this very visible gesture, there was no
doubt as to whom the vicereine was adoring.71
While during the viceregal entry procession, the viceroy was
welcomed separately by the representatives of the city and the
clergy, in the Corpus Christi procession there was a fusion of all
sectors of society around its central symbol: the consecrated
Host.72 For that reason, the position of a person or corporation in
relation to the monstrance was of the utmost importance, becoming a frequent object of contention.73 This politics of proximity
was not peculiar to the Corpus Christi procession. In fact, it was
a defining characteristic of all processions, which always revolved around a sacred centre, be it the king or the Host, the viceroy
or the archbishop. In the Corpus Christi procession it was the
monstrance displaying the Sacred Host which constituted the core
of the ritual parade. Thus, maintaining proximity to the ritual
centre of the procession was a public declaration of power, for
which reason the viceroys always strived to find a way to have
themselves seen as close as possible to the Host.74
The behaviour of viceroys and archbishops when they met in
public constituted an entire poetics of power. For example, in
processions the archbishop was to march in front of the viceroy
and was never to mingle with the audiencia. Whenever the viceroy attended a public ceremony other than a procession with the
archbishop, the viceroy had to march on the right side of the archbishop.75 When the viceroy was attending services at the cathedral, whenever the archbishop walked from the choir to the altar
and back again, the viceroy would rise from his seat and walk
forward two or three steps to receive the prelates blessing. Similarly, whenever the archbishop walked past the viceroy or the
vicereine, the page who was carrying the train of his cape had to
release it. Also, when the archbishop paid the viceroy a visit, the
latter would go to meet him at the door of the first antechamber
and, on leaving, the viceroy would accompany him to the first
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step of the main stairway. When the viceroy was the visitor, the
archbishop would greet and say good-bye to him to the middle of
the staircase of his residence, and sometimes he even accompanied him to his carriage.76
Each member of New-Spanish society possessed a capital of
honour, according to his or her respective position in the social
hierarchy, which, in the last instance, declared an individuals
power. This power, in turn, was staged in different spaces, the
viceregal palace (or rather royal as it was called by contemporaries) being one of the privileged stages of power in Mexico.77
Here the leading actor was, no doubt, the viceroy, his movements
and those of the rest of the actors who swarmed about the palace
being perfectly regulated by court etiquette. This etiquette provided the inhabitants of the palace with a mental map for guiding
their behaviour. In particular, these rules and ceremonies were
necessary among people of similar but not equal status. It was
imperative that ones status not be confused with that of another,
much less that of the viceroy, who in theory presided over everything from the summit of the hierarchical pyramid. Thus, in the
case of visits to the viceroy, the higher the rank of the visitor, the
farther he was permitted to penetrate into the palace, whereas the
viceroy moved in the opposite direction, walking from his chamber to the appropriate place to welcome the visitor, according to
the latters rank and position.78 In this spatial code the stairs were
critical points of formal contact. Stairs were critical locations for
measuring the relations between powers and a way to lessen the
status of the visitor, depending on where the host chose to meet
him.79 That the archbishop usually accompanied the viceroy to the
middle of the stairway or to his carriage was an indication of the
primacy of royal power, just as keeping him to his right was. It
was enough that the archbishop awaited the viceroy halfway up
the staircase instead of going to meet him farther down for the
viceroy to clearly understand the message.
In the constant confrontations between viceroys and bishops,
which very often were manifested in ritual form, this liturgy of
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The gesture of the archbishop was beyond doubt. By prostrating himself before the Holy Sacrament and refusing to release the
train of the cape, a courtesy owed to the viceroy because of the
preeminence of his post, he was refusing to recognize the su126
premacy of viceregal over episcopal power. At stake was the preeminence of viceregal power, which a little gesture, executed by
the archbishop in front of New Spains entire ruling elite, had
questioned.84 As the viceroy and the oidores reminded Enrquez
de Ribera in a note that it sent to him soon after the cathedral incident, the train on the prelates vestments was introduced because
of the gravity and dignity of their persons, and not releasing it
when exchanging courtesies denotes superiority, which is
something tolerable and allowed when done before those who do
not have an equal or greater [dignity].85
The viceroy would have considered the continual discourtesies
the archbishop directed at him as demonstrating a mere lack of
urbanity had they not become public knowledge. But when they
took place during a public ceremony, for all the populace to see,
then it became a matter of being disrespectful not only to the person of the marquis of Mancera but also to the viceroy of New
Spain and, by extension, to the monarch himself. Then, Mancera
contended, it was no longer possible to practice dissimulation.86
These same ideas had been forcefully expressed by the fiscal
(crown attorney) of the audiencia when answering a request
made of him to give his opinion on this matter. According to him,
[t]he preservation of monarchies consists in ... preserving the authority
and esteem of the offices, and that is why everyone is obliged to give
them special consideration and respect for the greater interest of the common good. ... This is so because this obligation emanates from natural,
divine, human, canon, civil, and political law, and he who does not comply with this reverence in all places ... commits a great and despicable
crime, such that he who occupies the office cannot pretend not to notice
when those prerogatives owed him because of [his post] are omitted. Furthermore, being the above general and common rules that apply to the
courtesy owed to any magistrates, the present case has other qualities of
much greater consideration, as the Most Excellent Viceroys of the Indies
are the living representation of His Majesty who sends them, on whose
authority and preeminence there are many statements aimed at maintaining in all its luster such a great post.87
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that the oidores also partook of the kings authority, for which
reason it was indispensable for them to have enough credit to be
able to carry out their duties.90
In the context of New Spain, all these ceremonial gestures and
controversies, which may seem to us to be so insignificant, had a
deeper meaning: the strengthening of the viceroys and, by extension, the kings power, in opposition to those who wanted to limit it. These disputes can be explained as the manifestation in the
theatre of politics of the ideological debate that took place in the
seventeenth century between the supporters of an absolute
monarch and those who thought that the best monarchy was that
in which the king ruled together with the kingdom (the latter being
represented by either the Cortes, or the cities, or the councils).91
This was reflected in New Spains politics in the conflicting
views of viceregal power held by the oidores and the viceroys.
Their disputes regarding ceremonial matters were but the most
visible aspect of this debateand in the opinion of many of its
protagonists, the most decisive one, given the effects attributed to
the public exhibition of rulers. For example, concerning the
squabble about the viceroys cushion, mentioned at the beginning
of this paper, the count of Salvatierra had no doubts about two
things. First, his power and authority were superior to that of the
oidores because, as the monarchs image, he represented royal
power more closely (ms inmediatamente), that is, the power
of a viceroy resembled that of the king more closely than did the
power of the oidores.92 Second, this superior power of the viceroys had to be acknowledged in public by the oidores, that is,
during all public ceremonies and rituals, by the oidores, as only
in this way could the authority necessary to guarantee the obedience and love of their subjects be established.93 Since the importance of personal prestige or crdito was thought to be essential to exercising authority in an effective way, then, without
sufficient credit, it was very hard for a ruler to impose his authority. Therefore, public recognition by the oidores of the viceroys superiority increased his credit and thus his authority.94
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In the eyes of the corregidor, to allow such a low-status figure as the chief constable of the Inquisition to walk publicly at his
right (a sign of deference and preeminence) was to allow his reputation and credit to be damaged and diminished. The corregidor, therefore, had no other choice than to defend the decorum of his post, which, in the last analysis, was what gave him
132
the moral authority to have his orders complied with. That is why
it was impossible to ignore these public examples of disrespect
and contempt.
Conclusion
As has been shown in the course of these pages, the existence of
conflicting political views among the members of the New Spanish ruling elite manifested itself with great force in the theatre of
colonial politics. In this regard, the ritual activities of the inhabitants of New Spain constituted a crucial stage on which was developed not only the process of creation of legitimizing discourses
but also those processes of cooperation and contestation that characterize every political system. The Spanish monarchy was able to
turn the apparent handicap of the kings continuous absence from
his American dominions into an advantage, as the kings permanent invisibility endowed him with an attribute peculiar only to the
divinity. With this, the Crown reinforced the image of the monarch as a figure beyond good and evil, who, from the distance,
looked after the well-being of his American vassals. But, on the
other hand, in a society in which authority was intimately connected with the physical presence of the ruler, it was necessary to
have the presence of a figure who constantly reminded the inhabitants of Mexico of the existence and power of human majesty.
And here the figure, or more appropriately, the body of the viceroy acquired great transcendence: his constant exhibition in public, surrounded by the symbols of majesty, was an inescapable
reminder of the monarchs existence and puissance.
The Spanish rulers, therefore, tried to create in New Spain a
ritual culture very similar to the one that existed in Spain. What
differentiated this culture from its peninsular original was not the
creation of ritual forms and principles different from those
brought from the other side of the Atlantic, but an intensification
of the importance of the physical presence of power. This was so
because the Mexican territory was constructed as a place where
order and authority were more difficult to maintain due to, at least
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went on among the members of the ruling elite in an effort to impose a particular political vision.
Notes
1
4
5
135
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8
9
10
11
12
13
136
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
AGI, Mexico 41, no. 54, the marquis of Mancera to the queen regent, 30
November 1666.
Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: the Birth of the Prison, London, 1977, pp. 47-57.
See, for example, Gregorio Martn de Guij, Diario (1648-1664), Mxico, 1952, and Antonio de Robles, Diario de sucesos notables (16651703), 3 vols., (ed.) Antonio Castro Leal, Mxico, 1946.
Instruccin dada al marqus de Montesclaros por Pablo de la Laguna, presidente del Consejo de Indias, 14.I.1603, in: Hanke (ed.), Virreyes espaoles en Amrica, pp, 267-70.
See John Elliott, Spain and Its World, 1500-1700: Selected Essays, New
Haven, 1989, p. 150.
On the relation between power and body language, see, for instance, Jernimo Castillo de Bobadilla, Poltica para corregidores y seores de vasallos [etc.], [Madrid, 1597] Amberes, 1704, lib. I, cap. VIII, and Juan
de Madariaga, Del senado y de su prncipe, Valencia, 1617, pp. 303-05.
Castillo de Bobadilla, Poltica para corregidores, lib. I, cap. III, nos. 4447.
One of the functions of servants dressed in splendid liveries was to accompany their masters as walking signs of wealth and power. On conspicuous consumption as a symbol of status and power, see Peter Burke,
The Historical Anthropology of Early Modern Italy: Essays on Perception and Communication, Cambridge, 1987, pp. 132-49.
Castillo de Bobadilla, Poltica para corregidores, lib. I, cap. III, no. 47.
For a similar argument, see Diego de Tovar Valderrama, Instituciones
polticas, (ed.) Jos Luis Bermejo Cabrero, [Alcal de Henares, 1645]
Madrid, 1995, pp. 193-94. Part of the instruccin given by the president
of the Council of the Indies to the marquis of Montesclaros was devoted
to the viceroys adornment, something that, in the presidents words,
would give honour and credit to the viceroy. See Instruccin dada al
marqus de Montesclaros, in: Hanke (ed.), Los virreyes espaoles en
Amrica, pp. 271-72. On the extraordinary importance given by the
regidores of Mexico to the clothing they had to wear for the viceregal
entry, see Linda A. Curcio-Nagy, The Great Festivals of Colonial Mexico City: Performing Power and Identity, Albuquerque, 2004, p. 20.
For this argument, see Pierre Bourdieu, The Logic of Practice, (trans.)
Richard Nice, Cambridge, 1990, pp. 117-20.
The idea that to define itself and advance its claims political authority requires a "cultural frame" or "master fiction" that has a central authority
with sacred status was first proposed by Clifford Geertz in Centers,
Kings, and Charisma: Reflections on the Symbolics of Power, in: Jo-
137
Alejandro Caeque
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
seph Ben-David & Terry Nichols Clark (eds.), Culture and Its Creators:
Essays in Honor of Edward Shils, Chicago, 1977, pp. 13-38. However,
as shall be shown below, the viceroy was not only the manifest centre of
political action and colonial power in New Spain but of resistance as
well.
Orest Ranum, Courtesy, Absolutism, and the Rise of the French State,
1630-1660, Journal of Modern History 52 (1980), pp. 426-51.
On the constitutive power of etiquette and ceremonial, see Norbert Elias,
The Court Society, (trans.) Edmund Jephcott, Oxford, 1983, pp. 78-116.
Further on in his study (pp. 117-18, 130-31, 137-8), Elias, however,
argues that etiquette was used by the king as an instrument to dominate
his subjects, especially the nobility. On how the Spanish kings power
was constructed through ritual, see Carmelo Lisn-Tolosana, La imagen
del rey: Monarqua, realeza y poder ritual en la Casa de los Austrias,
Madrid, 1991, pp. 115-70.
Geertz, Centers, Kings, and Charisma, p. 16.
Octavio Paz, Sor Juana Ins de la Cruz o las trampas de la fe, Mxico,
1982, pp. 193-95.
See, for example, Real Academia de la Historia [hereafter RAH], Col.
Salazar y Castro, F-20, Relacin de la entrada que hizo en la ciudad de
Mxico ... el Sr. Arzobispo Don Fray Garca Guerra ... a tomar la posesin del oficio de virrey y capitn general de aquel reino por Su Majestad
..., ao 1610, fols. 113-16.
Roy Strong, Art and Power: Renaissance Festivals, 1450-1650, Woodbridge, 1984, pp. 7-11, 44-50. The formalities of the entry constituted a
ritual defense of the city, since cities were physically and symbolically
vulnerable at their gates. The entry can also be understood as a liminal
rite during which the body of the prince entered the closed space of the
city. See Muir, Ritual in Early Modern Europe, p. 241.
Cristbal Gutirrez de Medina, Viaje del virrey marqus de Villena, (ed.)
Manuel Romero de Terreros, Mxico, 1947), pp. 64, 83-84.
Descripcin y explicacin de la fbrica y empresas del sumptuoso arco
que la ... ciudad de Mxico, cabeza del occidental imperio, erigi a la
feliz entrada y gozoso recibimiento del Exmo. Sr. Don Diego Lpez
Pacheco ... duque de Escalona, marqus de Villena, Mxico, 1640, fols.
2v, 17v.
This description is based on Gutirrez de Medina, Viaje del virrey marqus de Villena, pp. 85-87. See also RAH, Col. Salazar y Castro, F20, Relacin de la entrada .... For an almost identical way of receiving
the king, see Biblioteca Nacional de Madrid [BNM], ms. 11260 (17),
Ceremonial que suele guardarse en el recibimiento del rey cuando entra en
138
139
Alejandro Caeque
140
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
141
Alejandro Caeque
56 On the theory of the two knives or two swords, see Francisco Ugarte de
Hermosa y Salcedo, Origen de los dos gobiernos divino y humano y forma de su ejercicio en lo temporal, Madrid, 1655, pp. 100-17, 126-40;
Castillo de Bobadilla, Poltica para corregidores, lib. II, cap. XVII, nos.
1-7.
57 For these arguments, see Pablo Fernndez Albaladejo, Iglesia y configuracin del poder en la monarqua catlica (siglos XV-XVII): Algunas consideraciones, in: J.-Ph. Genet & B. Vincent (eds.), Etat et glise dans la
gense de ltat moderne, Madrid, 1986, pp. 209-16.
58 So it was believed at least by the anonymous author of the account of
Prince Baltasar Carlos funeral. He was pleased by the harmony that existed at that moment between the two princes, which increased the
splendour of the obsequies. See Real mausoleo y funeral pompa, fol. 4.
59 Among the privileges of those cities which were head of the kingdom
was that of being obligated to meet only royal persons, although an exception was made with archbishops and bishops the first time they entered their dioceses. This clearly put archbishops on a symbolic level very
similar to that of viceroys, who were the only persons the Mexico City
cabildo received ceremonially. See Castillo de Bobadilla, Poltica para
corregidores, lib. III, cap. VIII, no. 21; Gaspar de Villarroel, Gobierno
eclesistico pacfico y unin de los dos cuchillos, pontificio y regio,
Madrid, 1656, pp. 28-29; Archivo Histrico de la Ciudad de Mxico
[hereafter AHCM], Ordenanzas 2981, nos. 16, 17, 22. On the archbishops entry, see, for example, AHCM, Actas de Cabildo, vol. 365-A,
cabildos of 29 and 31 August 1628; vol. 369-A, cabildos of 31 December 1640, and 3, 8, and 9 January 1641; AGI, Mexico 44, no. 73,
the corregidor of Mexico City to the viceroy, 30 November 1670.
60 On the arches erected to welcome the archbishops, see, for example, Esfera de Apolo y teatro del sol: Ejemplar de prelados en la suntuosa fbrica y portada triunfal que la ... Iglesia Metropolitana de Mxico erigi
... a la venida del Ilmo. Sr. Don Marcelo Lpez de Azcona ... arzobispo
de Mxico, Mxico, 1653; Alonso de la Pea Peralta & Pedro Fernndez
Osorio, Pan mstico, numen simblico, simulacro poltico, que en la fbrica del arco triunfal, que erigi el amor y la obligacin en las aras de
su debido rendimiento la ... Metropolitana Iglesia de Mxico al felicsimo recibimiento y plausible ingreso del Ilustrismo. y Revermo. Seor
M. D. Fr. Payo Enriques de Ribera, ... su genialsimo pastor, prelado y
esposo, Mxico, 1670.
61 AGN, RCD, vol. 180, fol. 20, cdula of 2 July 1596; AGN, RCO,
vol. 6, exp. 33, cdulas of 29 August and 20 November 1608. This prohibition would be later included in the Recopilacin, lib. III, tt. XV,
142
ley iiii.
62 See AGI, Mexico 38, no. 15b, cabildo of 17 July 1640.
63 AGI, Mexico 38, nos. 15 and 15a, the duke of Alburquerque to the king,
20 and 26 July 1656; ibid., no. 15b, Copia de las diligencias fechas sobre la consulta que la ciudad de la Puebla de los Angeles hizo al duque de
Alburquerque ... sobre si se haba de recebir con palio por dicha ciudad al
obispo della, 20 July 1656; ibid., no. 15c, the alcalde mayor of Puebla
to the duke of Alburquerque, 24 July 1656; ibid., no. 15d, Testimonio
que remiti la ciudad de la Puebla sobre haber entrado el obispo della debajo de palio ..., 25 July 1656. As a result of this incident, the Council
of the Indies resolved to send a cdula to every viceroy and governor
whose district had a bishop, reiterating the prohibition against using the
palio. See AGI, Mexico 6, Ramo 1, consulta of 17 May 1658; AGN,
RCO, vol. 6, exp. 33, cdula of 23 July 1658.
64 See AGI, Mexico 39, no. 13b, the king to the count of Baos, 9 March
1660; ibid., no. 13, the count of Baos to the king, 20 November 1663;
16, the fiscal of the Council, 18 August 1664; Recopilacin, lib. III,
tt. XV, ley iii.
65 The political-religious career of Diego Osorio is very similar to that of
Juan de Palafox, another controversial figure of seventeenth-century New
Spain. Both were bishops of Puebla, both were appointed archbishops of
Mexico (although they both renounced the archbishopric in order to remain in the diocese of Puebla), both were appointed acting viceroys, and
last but not least, their clashes with the viceroys were among the most
virulent of the entire century.
66 AGI, Mexico 39, no. 13b, Montemayor to the count of Baos, 11 October 1663.
67 AGI, Mexico 39, no. 13b, Acuerdo of 22 October 1663.
68 AGI, Mexico 39, no. 13b, bishop Osorio to the count of Baos, 6/29
October 1663; AGI, Mexico 344, bishop Osorio to the king, 18 January
1664. On bishops as rulers of souls, see Francisco Nez de Cepeda,
Idea de el buen pastor, copiada por los SS. Doctores, representada en
Empresas Sacras con avisos espirituales, morales polticos y econmicos para el gobierno de un prncipe eclesistico, Lyon, 1682, p. 438-39.
69 On the importance and significance of Corpus Christi in Mexico City,
see Linda A. Curcio-Nagy, Giants and Gypsies: Corpus Christi in Colonial Mexico City, in: William H. Beezley et al. (eds.), Rituals of
Rule, Rituals of Resistance: Public Celebrations and Popular Culture in
Mexico, Wilmington, Del., 1994, pp. 1-26.
70 AGI, Mexico 39, no. 10, the count of Baos to the king, 2 June 1663;
ibid., no. 10f, autos hechos por orden del virrey, 1663; Martn de Guijo,
143
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144
145
Alejandro Caeque
21 August 1696.
90 AGI, Mexico 82, no. 2, the audiencia of Mexico to the queen regent,
12 January 1674. The queen agreed with the arguments of the oidores
and ordered the viceroys not to force the oidores to escort them when
they were not obligated to do so. See AGI, Mexico 82, no. 2, Fernando
Paniagua to the Council, 14 June 1674; AGN, RCO, vol. 14, fols. 88,
90, 92, 93, 94, 95, the queen regent to the archbishop-viceroy Enrquez
de Ribera, 6 July 1674 (also in AGI, Mexico 48, nos. 23, 27, 29, 30,
31). All this notwithstanding, when the archbishops successor, the count
of Paredes, arrived in Mexico, he wasted no time in soliciting the king
that all the cdulas issued in 1674 be revoked. The success of Paredes
the cdulas favouring the position of the oidores were abrogated by a
royal order in 1681was determined, in all likelihood, by his powerful
connections at the Madrid court (he was the brother of the duke of
Medinaceli, who, besides being one of the wealthiest and most powerful
noblemen of Castile, was the monarchs chief minister at the time).
While Paredes had based his petition on the authority and reverence
owed to his post, the monarch justified the order given to the oidores to
always accompany the viceroy from his private residence to the viceregal
palace (viceroys usually moved out of the palace in the weeks before their
successors took office) with the argument that it was precisely at that
time when, more than ever, the viceroys authority needed to be reinforced, as it was a period of transition in which his power was weakened.
See AGN, RCO, vol. 19, exp. 5, fols. 7-12r, the king to the audiencia
of Mexico, 31 December 1681.
91 For an analysis of these two main currents, which dominated Spanish political thought in the seventeenth century, see Jos A. Fernndez-Santamara, Reason of State and Statecraft in Spain (1595-1640), Journal of
the History of Ideas 41 (1980), pp. 355-79.
92 On the importance and significance of the concept of the viceroy as the
monarchs image, see Alejandro Caeque, The Kings Living Image:
The Culture and Politics of Viceregal Power in Colonial Mexico, New
York, 2004, ch. 1.
93 AGI, Mexico 35, n. 42, the count of Salvatierra to the king, 20 February 1645. The following year, a royal order was issued upholding the
viceroys arguments. See AGN, RCO, vol. 2, exp. 94, fol. 192, the
king to the count of Salvatierra, 18 February 1646. Only when the audiencia had taken over the government because of the absence of a viceroy was the senior oidor allowed to use the cushion in public ceremonies. See Recopilacin, lib. III, tt. XV, ley xxvi.
94 On the meaning and importance of the notion of personal credit in the
early modern world, see Kristen B. Neuschel, Word of Honor: Interpret-
146
95
96
97
98
99
ing Noble Culture in Sixteenth-Century France, Ithaca, 1989, pp. 7277; Jonathan Dewald, Aristocratic Experience and the Origins of Modern
Culture: France, 1570-1715, Berkeley, 1993, pp. 157-58; and Jay M.
Smith, No More Language Games: Words, Beliefs, and the Political
Culture of Early Modern France, The American Historical Review 102
(1997), pp. 1427-38.
See Recopilacin, lib. III, tt. XV, ley xxv.
AGN, RCO, vol. 4, exp. 78, fol. 168, cdula of 26 June 1652. See
also Recopilacin, lib. III, tt. XV, ley xxviii. On the symbolism of the
chair as a marker of power, see AGN, RCO, vol. 24, exp. 37, fol. 85,
the king to the count of Galve, 22 June 1691 (also in AHCM, Cdulas
y Reales Ordenes, vol. 2977, exp. 12).
See, for example, AGN, RCO, vol. 16, exp. 84, fols. 168-69, cdula
of 13 September 1678; AGI, Mexico 319, the city of Mexico to the
king, 13 July 1689; AGI, Mexico 318, informes del fiscal, 29 August
and 16 November 1690; AGN, RCO, vol. 23, exp. 111, fol. 428, the
king to the count of Galve, 30 December 1690; AGN, RCD, vol. 39,
fol. 47v, the king to the count of Galve, 30 December 1692.
AGI, Mexico 318, the city of Mexico to the king, 21 November 1625.
The city always resented having to sit on a bench instead of chairs. See,
for instance, AGI, Mexico 33, L. 2, F. 5-12, the marquis of Cadereita to
the king, 22 July 1637. Another way of defending the preeminence of the
city was by ceremonially strengthening the figure of the corregidor,
since all the honours bestowed upon the head were likewise reflected on
the rest of the body. This was the reason for the request of Mexico
Citys cabildo to allow the corregidor to sit on a chair during his visits
to the viceroy. See A G N , R C D , vol. 180, fol. 67v, cdula of 27
August 1614.
Early modern society was populated by imaginary persons (personae
fictae in the terminology of the law) such as the estates or the corporations of diverse rank, which were the exclusive subjects of the system.
The individual as an indivisible person, as a unitary subject of rights,
was nonexistent. This way of conceiving the political community had
one fundamental implication: the multiplicity of estados (estates) and the
absence of individuals made the existence of the Estado (state) as the
only depositary of the subjects loyalties impossible. In other words, as
long as these political and juridical assumptions were not altered in a radical way, it was not possible to conceive of the modern idea of the state.
For these arguments, see Bartolom Clavero, Tantas personas como estados: Por una antropologa poltica de la historia europea, Madrid,
1986, pp. 53-105, and Idem, Razn de Estado, razn de individuo, razn
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148
Part II:
Adrian P. Tudor
In his seminal essay on the Roman dEracle, Paul Zumthor
spoke of la prpondrance, parmi les valeurs mises en jeu par
lcriture, de celles qui sattachent au modle performanciel, cest-dire vocal et au sens complet du terme dramatique.1 Zumthor
acknowledges the intrinsic link between orality and performance,
noting that Gautier dArras situates the whole text dans la perspective concrte dune performance [in the concrete perspective
of a performance], calling it la figure dune parole vive [the figure of a living word].2 But, most importantly for the present essay, Zumthor concretizes the notion of performance as essentially
oral:
La finalit performancielle est si profondment inviscre au texte que de
nombreux passages ne sont facilement comprhensibles la lecture muette que grce aux artifices des diteurs [...]. Quest-ce qu dire, sinon que,
dans lintention mme de Gautier, le texte exige une glose vocale-tonale,
mimique ou gestuelle?3
Adrian P. Tudor
saintliness, but also confirmed the publics devotion and translated its understanding of reality and the mysteries of its fate.4
scripts, although inspired in each case by the same short narrative, display features which suggest widely differing interpretations of and reactions to the same text. Following Conrad
Rudolph, who has characterized the illuminations of the Cteaux
Moralia in Job as a contemporary response to the concerns outlined in the text, I read these illustrations as a gateway into the
notoriously inaccessible area of contemporary reaction to and
interpretation of medieval texts.8
Talking Pictures: Performance by the Texts
Short pious narratives such as the first Vie des Pres are both
eminently performable and plainly performative. Some are
also conserved in richly illustrated manuscripts that are a far cry
from the plain and portable codices commonly held to contain
texts for performance (or at least the repertory of a jongleur).9
The conundrum is clear. But performance is not merely a synonym for drama. It is my assertion that certain illustrated manuscripts themselves stage the texts they contain, visually, on the
page. These are not merely pictures showing the text being performed / read, but as logical continuations of the text are performances in themselves. The evidence seen in some Vie des
Pres illustrated manuscripts is that they can perform the story
(or at least convey the message) just as effectively as can the
words of the text. Take the example of the third tale in the collection, Sarrasine (ll. 723-1194):
Long ago in Egypt lived a saintly hermit. One day, in order to escape
conversation with his fellow hermits, he decides to leave his community
and live on his own. He travels a good distance and sets up his new hermitage in pagan territory, near a wood and next to a spring. Avoiding the
luxury of rich food, he lives a very ascetic life. The spring attracts pagan
women who often come to wash or draw water, and the hermit notices a
particularly beautiful woman who frequently comes on her own. He falls
in love with her and begins to forget about God. When he realizes his sin
and its possible consequences, he laments and vows to close his eyes the
next time she comes; but, when she does come again, he wrestles with
himself and is haunted by her beauty. Finally, he decides that he is doing
153
Adrian P. Tudor
no wrong to give her his love. He goes to her priest and asks for her as
his wife. The pagan priest, after consultation with the devil, agrees that
the hermit should have the woman of his desire, and the hermit is overjoyed. It is agreed that if he renounces his faith and accepts the pagan law,
then he can marry her. But, when the hermit speaks to confirm the pact, a
white dove flies out of his mouth; he suddenly becomes aware of his sin
and runs away. Again he laments, and this time it is sincere: how could
he renounce God and the Virgin? Close to despair, he prays for forgiveness and pledges himself to God. In a very sad state, he sets off to find
his brother hermits again. He is forgiven after confession and penance and
prays for the dove to reappear; this it does, eventually returning to the
hermits mouth and staying there for the rest of his life. When he dies, he
rises to heaven.
De sa franchize se demet
Qui en servitude ce met;
A boin droit ce doit cil doloir
Qui saservist par son voloir.
(ll. 723-26)
155
Adrian P. Tudor
daughter. He instantly vows to make her his queen. Before leaving, the
king asks his fiance if he can see her in private. She shows him a secret
entrance to her chambers and gives him a key to her room. The kings seneschal, however, persuades him the foolishness of such a meeting, and
the king, convinced that his wishes are unwise, hands over the key. At
this point, the seneschal decides to help himself to the girl. He makes his
way into her chamber at the appointed time and, since it is dark, she does
not notice that he has taken the kings place. The seneschal thus tricks
her into sleeping with him. Afterwards, he falls asleep and begins to
snore, and the girl realizes by this sign that, unlike the young king, this
man is old and fat: she fetches some light and her worst fears are
confirmed. She seizes the seneschals sword and slays him as he sleeps.
With the help of her cousin, the girl throws the body into an old well.
There is an extensive search for the seneschal when his absence is noted,
but no trace of him is found.
Some time later, on the day of the wedding, the girl agrees with her
cousin, a virgin, that the latter should secretly take her place in the conjugal bed; this will hide the fact that the new queen is not a virgin. However, once the couple have had sex and the king falls asleep, the cousin
refuses to give way to the queen: having enjoyed sex, she decides that she
wants the king for herself. The queens reaction is to tie her now sleeping
cousin to the bed and set fire to it. The cousin is consumed by the flames
but the king is saved. He is delighted to discover his new wife safe and
sound, and since the fire is so intense, no trace of the cousin is found, and
no-one except the queen knows that another person had been present in
the chamber.
The queen never forgets her sins and establishes a chapel dedicated to
the Virgin. After two years she decides to confess and tearfully tells all to
the kings chaplain. He, however, is a lustful and hypocritical priest who
threatens to tell the king of the matter unless the queen sleeps with him.
Astonished, the queen refuses and, fearful that she will recount the episode of his blackmail to the king, the chaplain hurries first to the king
and tells of the queens crimes. The king is shocked, and orders the well
to be searched. Sure enough, the body of the seneschal is discovered. The
king has the queen tried by his bishops and his barons and she is sentenced to be burned. Terrified, the queen prays to the Virgin for mercy.
An old and respected hermit is then told in a vision that he must save her;
he makes his way to court and has the queen brought before the king.
Miraculously, as soon as she sees the holy hermit, she is freed from her
chains and clothed and veiled by heavenly grace. On her veil there is a
message which is read out by the hermit. When the king learns of all the
156
queen has done for his sake, he feels great remorse. He has the chaplain
burned and dispossesses the seneschals family. He and the queen lead
pious lives and earn eternal salvation.
Adrian P. Tudor
159
Adrian P. Tudor
160
[Any man who saves another and delivers him from death by laying down his own life for him, performs a great and good deed.
Lord, you performed that deed for us by dying for us, and in dying you triumphed over death. Otherwise, we would all have perished, as a result of Eves biting of the apple; when she took that
bite, she undid all the good which you, who well knew of our
needs, had promised us.]
It would appear that, for the artist, the creation of woman was the
moment which led to the Fall. In the next illustration (top right)
two hermits are pendant to the creation image. This is how to
avoid the Fall, to save ones soul and avoid sin: read horizontally,
these two pictures show the two ways of In the beginning...,
the cause and consequences of the Fall. This pictorial performance is both brilliant and effective. Below is an illustration of
Juitel which informs the more general teaching of the upper
images: red is dominant on the left, denoting of hell, fire, wrath
and sacrifice. The initially evil Jewish father is in three-quarter
profile, but is neither grotesque nor even noticeably Jewish. To
the right the viewer sees the mother of the saved child, her gesture
suggesting both piety and surprise. This can be compared to the
image of anguish in the first frame: the artist uses the same gestuelle in both, refining the detail of his composition with an excellent use of body language diacritics. The man in green is pointing to moral of picture, whilst the fathers hands are held in salvation and wonder. The fire (red) is still burning in the second picture, but is effaced by the Christ figure. The boys gesture evokes
the saved in the bosom of Abraham. Read horizontally, the pic161
Adrian P. Tudor
162
(ll. 1-5)
[Come to our help, O God! Lord Jesus, Father, Son and Holy
Ghost: God omnipotent and creator of all things, who cried out
on the Holy Cross: Im dying of thirst...]
The shock here is tangible: a pious, improving text clashes with
the world of the margins, a world of trickery, entertainment and
deceit, so transparently performed by its marginal characters. In
many ways, it echoes and functions in the same way as the sculptural patterns adorning the outside of medieval churches. The first
thing the viewer sees is the deception, attractive performers and
seductive entertainments; it takes an effort to reach and read the
text. In his study of the Luttrell Psalter, Michael Camille has
spoken of the high and low marginal images in Gothic manuscripts, remarking that they keep both sides in tension, caritas
163
Adrian P. Tudor
Adrian P. Tudor
Adrian P. Tudor
2
3
4
5
6
8
9
168
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
use, including how the complex matrices of any single manuscript page
may be interpreted, Keith Busbys Codex and Context: Reading Old
French Verse Narrative in Manuscript, 2 vols., Amsterdam-New York,
2002 [Faux Titre, 221-222], is indispensable.
Might the illustrator have had in the back of his mind the pattern-book
image of the bishop-saint of exorcisms?
See Busby, Codex and Context, and Richard A. Rouse & Mary A.
Rouse, Illiterati et Uxorati: Manuscripts and their Makers: Commercial
Book Production in Medieval Paris, 1200-1500, Turnhout, 2000.
The Hunting Book of Gaston Phbus: Manuscrit franais 616, Paris,
Bibliothque Nationale, (commentary by) Wilhelm Schlag, London,
1998.
For a dated, but still interesting, study of this fascinating legend, see Eugen Wolter (ed.), Der Judenknabe: 5 griechische, 14 lateinische und 8
franzsische Texte, Halle, 1879 [Bibliotheca Normannica, 2]. See also
my essay, La Lgende de lenfant juif: peinture des personnages,
mouvance dpithtes, in: Larry Duffy & Adrian P. Tudor (eds.), Les
Lieux Interdits: Transgression and French Literature, Hull, 1998, pp.
31-62.
Michael Camille, Mirror in Parchment: The Luttrell Psalter and the
Making of Medieval England, London, 1998, p. 269.
Ibid., p. 275.
I am indebted to Catherine Emerson for the following details given during
our e-mail correspondence: In BNF, fr. 286 (the first book of the Mmoires of Olivier de La Marche) can also be seen a shield hanging from
a tree. In fact this was a fairly standard practice in jousting. Most jousts
had somewhere to attach participants coats of arms (Rn dAnjou stipulates that coats of arms should be displayed in the course of tournaments,
in the Traictie de la fourme et devis dung tournoy (in: Thodore de
Quatrebarbes [ed.], Oeuvres compltes du roi Rn, 4 vols., Angers,
1843-46, vol. II, pp. 1-42) and quite often this seems to have taken the
form of a tree. There were two major pas darmes in the Burgundian
court named after trees, the pas de larbre Charlemagne and the pas de
larbre dor. In the first, shields were hung on the tree and combatants
touched the shield of their choice to determine what sort of combat they
would participate in. In the pas de larbre dor, held to celebrate the
wedding of Charles the Bold and Margaret of York, in 1468, challengers
hung their shields on the tree when they made their challenge. There are
also literary archetypes: Gallahad in the Grail Romances finds his armour
hanging on a tree. Illustrators wanting to depict coats of arms have a
number of ways of doing this, and one of these is to show them in the
context in which they appear in court combat affixed to a tree.
169
Adrian P. Tudor
170
Figure 1
Sarrasine (BNF, fr. 1039, fol. 7)
171
Adrian P. Tudor
Figure 2
Sarrasine (BNF, fr. 25440, fol. 64v)
172
Figure 3
Sarrasine (BNF, fr. 12471, fol. 161)
173
Adrian P. Tudor
Figure 4
Snchal (BNF, nouv.acq.fr. 13521, fol. 204)
174
Figure 5
Snchal (BNF, fr. 1544, fol. 86)
175
Adrian P. Tudor
Figure 6
Snchal (BNF, fr. 1039, fol. 104)
176
Figure 7
Fornication Imite (BNF, fr. 1039, fol. 1)
177
Adrian P. Tudor
Figure 8
Fornication Imite (BNF, fr. 13521, fol. 121)
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Figure 9
Fornication Imite / Juitel (BNF, fr. 1544, fol. 1)
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Adrian P. Tudor
Figure 10
Fornication Imite (BNF, fr. 25440, fol. 1)
180
Figure 11
Fornication Imite (BNF, fr. 25440, fol. 2v)
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Figure 12
Full page opening of Fornication Imite (BNF, fr. 25440, fol. 3)
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The Miracles de Nostre Dame, a collection of miracles of the
Virgin and pious songs that Gautier de Coinci composed between
1214 and 1236, was surely performed.1 There is musical evidence to support this assertion, manuscript evidence, and evidence drawn from our understanding of liturgical ritual and public
reading practices in the high Middle Ages.2 The collection nevertheless poses serious problems for the understanding of medieval
literary performance because of the bewildering variety of performance modes that applies to it.
The conundrum that faces a researcher of medieval literary
performance in the Miracles de Nostre Dame involves the
management of multiple performance modes and the resolution of
conflicts that arise among them. Let us begin with the basic observation that the songs of the Miracles require performance because their newly-composed devotional lyrics comment on the older melodies that Gautier borrowed from the well-known trouvre repertory. For his lyrical commentaries to work, one must
not only hear the melodies, but one must also listen to them carefully to recognize their origins in secular love songs. But this tells
us nothing of how they were performed; were they sung singly,
in sequence, or as part of a performance that included the miracle
narratives as well? Since the songs rarely circulated singly or independently of the works miracle narratives, they were probably
performed in sequence.3 Supporting this idea is Gautiers practice
of attaching his song cycles to the spoken poems (dits) that precede them using a sophisticated rhetorical figure, annominatio,
Kathryn A. Duys
ries: philosophical attitudes toward performance drawn from classical sources (with their practical medieval applications), processional liturgies as model performances, and vernacular minstrelsy
in all its scurrilous glory. These three categories are not perfectly
exclusive of one another; in Gautiers hands all three share a concern for the value of performance. Furthermore, the first two categories have a common interest in dramatic performance, and the
second two overlap in their focus on the figure of the performer
himself. As I present Gautiers ideas of performance, I will show
that he put them to use to regulate his audiences experience of the
Miracles de Nostre Dame, to define his authorial presence in the
work, and to shape his vast collection into what he felt would be a
useful book.
The Poet and His Work
Gautier de Coinci was a monk at the royal Benedictine abbey of
St. Mdard de Soissons in northeastern France.6 He entered the
monastery in 1193, when he was fifteen or sixteen years old. Just
one year later, in 1194, St. Mdard founded a small priory in honour of St. Leocadia in the nearby town of Vic-sur-Aisne. In
1214 Gautier became prior of St. Leocadia; he remained in Vic for
approximately nineteen years and there composed most if not all
of his Miracles. In 1233 Gautier was recalled to St. Mdard to
become grand prior of the large royal monastery. He died there in
1236 at the age of fifty-nine or sixty.
Gautiers birthplace, Coinci, is located slightly to the southeast of Soissons. His family seems to have been closely associated with the Priory of St. Leocadia at Vic-sur-Aisne, for its first
three priors there were Guy, Gautier, and Gobert de Coinci. All
three later became grand priors of St. Mdard, while another relation, Jrome de Coinci, was later abbot of that monastery. Since
few monks at St. Mdard were of humble origin, and high ranking positions at the royal abbey were usually held by influential
aristocracy, we can be reasonably certain that Gautiers family
was quite prominent in the region.
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he refused to abandon his book. Gautier drove the devil off with
the sign of the cross, but as the demon departed he promised to
exact revenge once the vision had slipped from Gautiers memory. Four days before Pentecost in 1219, when daily duties did
finally drive the devils threat from Gautiers mind, an image of
the Virgin that Gautier had painted and the relics of St. Leocadia
were stolen. Thanks to the intervention of the Virgin and St. Leocadia, however, on the eve of Pentecost the image was recovered
in a nearby pasture and the relics were found at the banks of the
river Aisne, which runs through the town of Vic. There the chilly
waters began to cure the sick, a miracle that Gautier commemorated with a procession and a great feast. This miracle enabled Gautier to return to his work. He then turns once again to his great
Latin manuscript from the library of St. Mdard and pushes forward (II Pro 1). Finally, at the end of the Miracles de Nostre
Dame, Gautier wearily closes his great Latin source and urges
his manuscript pages into the hands of a friend at a nearby priory
who had the work copied, illuminated, and disseminated among
local clergy and nobility (II Epi 33).
The collections frame narrative is studded with cycles of
songs attached to the prologue and epilogue poems. The songs
have several functions, one of which is structural and depends on
a deceptively simple device: repeated melodies, a form of lyric
citation. Two melodies in particular form the skeleton of Gautiers
work; they are set to the first and last songs of the Miracles, and
also to the middle songs, the ninth and tenth. When the two melodies reappear at the midpoint of the collection, they are set to new
words in the processional songs of the Leocadia cycle.9 Those
songs commemorate Gautiers personal miracle, and because they
are the ninth and tenth songs of the eighteen Miracles de Nostre
Dame lyrics, they also divide Gautiers lyric corpus into two
groups of nine songs each. The repeated melodies therefore impose a symmetrical patterning on the collection and root that patterning in the dramatic story of the theft of the Leocadia relics
Gautiers personal authorizing miracle.10
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cerpted and combined with other works, which is how they appear in over forty manuscripts.13
One nagging question remains, however, and with this question I launch my examination of performance in the Miracles de
Nostre Dame. As I mentioned earlier, we know that Gautiers
work was performed; it is consistent with our knowledge of medieval reading habits and with the nature of Gautiers songs,
whose lyrics comment on their melodies. Why, then, would Gautier build an elaborate performance fiction into the frame of a
work that was performed anyway?
Performance and the Salutary Literary Delights of
Aristotle and Horace
Why did Chaucer represent the performance of the Canterbury
Tales within the work itself; why did Boccaccio do so in his
Decameron? The autobiographical and lyrical performance frame
that Gautier used to shape his miracle collection predates these
works by at least a century and was one of the most important innovations he wrought on his Latin sources. Some of Gautiers
miracles came from twelfth-century Latin general collections of
Marian miracles, that is, compilations of the oldest and most
widely-circulated stories (Theophilus, Ildefonsus, The Jewish
Boy, etc.). These works are thought to have been used as liturgical readings on Marian feasts.14 Others he drew from twelfthcentury Latin shrine collections, compilations of miracles that
all occurred at a single shrine within a relatively brief period of
time. One of the primary functions of these shrine collections is
that they supported pilgrimages by serving as documentary evidence that the site was favoured by the Virgin; they may also have
served as liturgical readings on Marian feast days. By the late
twelfth century, the most famous shrine collections (from Laon,
Soissons, and Rocamadour) were combined with the voluminous
general collections and were widely circulated. Gautiers vernacular collection of Marian miracles was strikingly different from
these Latin models, for it was meant neither for liturgical reading,
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[I want to sing new dits and new songs of her to entertain and
amuse you and to comfort my head. I want to sing of her with
pleasure for in her songs I take great pleasure, in her sweet songs
there is so much joy ...]
When Gautier introduced the pleasure principle into his Marian
compilation, it was no slapdash affair. On the one hand, he asserts that his poetry was more delightful than pastourelles and the
romances of Renart the Fox:
Plus delitant sont si fait conte
As bonnes gens, par saint Omer
Que de Renart ne de Romer
Ne de Tardiu le limeon.
[All these tales are more delightful are to good people, by Saint
Omer, than those of Renart or Romer, or those of Tardiu-thesnail.]
However, Gautier chafed at this comparison too. He meant his
songs and miracles to entertain, but only to a degreethey were
not supposed to elicit raucous laughter or buffoonery. He defined
the literary delight of his work and circumscribed it with care, introducing Horaces famous dictum to argue that unlike the tales of
Renart, his poetry should profit more than it pleases: En ces myracles ci retraire A porfiter be plus que plaire (II Pro 1, ll. 6465). 16
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Many of Gautiers clerical contemporaries had similar concerns about the balance of profit and pleasure in literary works,
and generally sought to justify delight by using a number of standard strategies. One oft-used argument was that the skilled use of
rhetorical ornamentation in a delightful work might serve as a
model for others and would thereby justify the pleasures of the
narrative itself.17 Gautier did not make this argument even though
his elegant use of annominatio was much admired and often imitated. In fact, he disavowed rhetorical ornamentation as frivolous
and claimed that his own style was actually simple and rusticated
like St. Jeromes: Mais sains Jeroimes fait savoir Et bien le dit
lautoritex Que symplement la veritez Vaut milz a dire rudement
Que biau mentir et soutilment (II Pro 1, ll. 58-62).18 The pleasure of Gautiers poetry needed no such justification. It was not
derived from trifles, but from the truths his tales recounted and
from the very nature of the Virgin herself, whose sweet solace
had no equal. The pleasure his work inspired was virtuous in and
of itself because of the spiritual, temperate, and exemplary nature
of Mary and her miracle stories.
Tuit nos devomes deliter
En recorder ses grans douceurs.
Cest li refuis as pechers,
Cest li solas, cest li confors
A toz foibles et a toz fors...
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lection was of a fundamentally pragmatic nature: it was an entertainment that restored energy to the body and tranquility to the
mind within an ethical framework attuned to the spiritual concerns
of religious men and women.
The useful pleasure that Gautier experienced as he composed
and recited the Miracles de Nostre Dame, and which he hoped
others would find in it, is not provided for at all in the Benedictine
rule. In fact, the rule harshly criticizes casual entertainments: as
for buffoonery or idle words, such as move to laughter (scurrilitates ver vel verba otiosa et risum moventia), we utterly condemn
them in every place, nor do we allow the disciple to open his
mouth in such discourse.20 Gautier practically quotes this part of
the rule as he explicitly restricts literary pleasure to temperate and
ethical diversions. In doing so, he acknowledges that monks and
nuns turned habitually to secular songs and stories for relaxation.
One of his goals was to replace that worldly vernacular fare with
delightful songs and stories that were spiritually uplifting and
edifying.
Dyables saut, dyables trepe
Et trop demainne grant baudoire
Quant peut un clerc ou un provoire,
Qui dire doit les Dieu paroles,
Faire chanter chans de karoles,
Dire gabois et legeries
Et chanter chans de lecheries.
Il mest avis que sainte bouche
Qui le cors Dieu baise et atouche
Ne devroit ja menoignes dire
Ne vanit chanter ne lire.
Quant gens letrees sont ensamble
Plus grans deduis est, ce me samble
De raconter vraies estoyres,
Bons essamples, paroles voires
Et de retaire les sains fais
Des sains hommes et des parfais
De parler de sains et de saintes
Que de truffer truffes et faintes.
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[Devils leap, devils tap their feet and create a great rumpus when a
clerk or priest, who should say the words of God, sings songs of
caroles (dances), recites taunts and ditties, and sings boorish
songs. I am advised that the holy mouth who kisses and touches
the body of God should never tell lies, nor should it read or sing
vanities. When lettered people are together there is greater pleasure, it seems to me, in telling true stories, good exempla, truthful
words, and in recounting saintly deeds of saintly men and perfect
people, and in speaking of men and women saints rather than toying with trifles and fantasies.]
Beginning at the end of the twelfth century, the clergys harsh
views on relaxation and entertainments began to change. References to salutary recreation began to appear and some aspects of
minstrelsy gained a measure of respect among clergy.21 In Paris,
Peter the Chanter wrote about the usefulness of salutary pleasures:
... artifices etiam instrumentorum musicorum, ut eis tristitia et taedium
amoveatur, devotio non lascivia excitetur.22
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Amusement does have an aspect of good inasmuch as it is useful for human living. As man sometimes needs to give his body rest from labors,
so also he sometimes needs to rest his soul from mental strain that ensues from his application to serious affairs. This is done by amusement.
For this reason Aristotle says that, since there should be some relaxation
for man from the anxieties and cares of human living and social intercourse by means of amusementthus amusement has an aspect of useful
goodit follows that in amusement there can be a certain agreeable association of men with one another, so they may say and hear such things as
are proper and in the proper way.24
Bartholomaeus da Montagnana, an early Renaissance Italian physician, prescribed singing or reciting aloud as exercises that were
particularly good for the chest, but he also attributed adverse effects to certain types of narrative. In a long concilium (a physicians report on one of his cases, or one he knows of) for a Dominican friar, he stressed that the man should avoid reading horrible stories depicting martyrdoms or death.28 Hence, the stories
and songs recommended as medical therapy were, like monastic
recreations, restricted to avoid excesses and frivolity, and to conform to ethical restrictions as well.
Among literary therapies, song and music were the most popular recommendations, but stories were sometimes recommended,
and with time theatre predominated. This accentuates one aspect
of salutary and therapeutic literature that we have not touched upon yet: its dependence on the social conviviality of public performance. The Secretum secretorum was among the best known
medical treatises on health in the Middle Ages. The short Latin
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version of Johannes Hispaliensis, quoted here in a Middle English translation, makes it clear that social intercourse is part of the
recommended literary experience: Also if he may beholde beauteuous parsonis, and delectabil bookis, and here pleasaunt songis,
and be in the cumpany of such as a man louith, and to were goode
clothis, and to be anoyntid with swete oynementis.29 The social
conviviality of gathering in public to attend the theatre is one of its
therapeutic features, so it is not surprising that when physicians
recommended stories, they advised their patients to listen to
stories told or read aloud by others, or to read aloud themselves to
others. Reading in private did not have the same benefit, and, if
we are to believe Francescas tearful testimony to Dante, it could
even have tragically adverse effects. In the Summa recreatorum,
discussed above, monastic refreshers are presented in the context of a banquet, which presupposes that social intercourse is
part of the recipe for recreation and provides a classic performance context for storytelling and singing. Indeed, when Hugh of
St. Victor discusses the salutary effects of theatrica, which he
classes as a mechanical art in his Didascalion, he includes recitations and storytelling, making music and singing songs, as well
as dramatic scenarios.
These occur in public places such as the entrance porches of
buildings, feasts, and shrines among othersall to forestall people from gathering in taverns.30 And when Bonaventure folds
Hughs ideas on theatrica into his own De reductione artium ad
theologiam, we come full circle, for he explicitly associates the
salutary delights of such public entertainments with Horaces
ideas on literary profit and pleasure: every mechanical art is intended for mans consolation or his comfort; its purpose, therefore, is to banish either sorrow or want; it either benefits or delights, according to the words of Horace.31
Public performance was an integral part of the virtuous pleasure of the Miracles de Nostre Dame, and it was just as crucial to
the restorative powers of the work as its ethical concerns and temperate qualities were. Standard literary practice was to read aloud
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in public, which is exactly Gautiers performance stance. His audience of clerks, monks, nuns, and pious lay nobility accordingly
enjoyed a measure of social conviviality as part of the works salutary pleasuresperhaps more than just a little, for Gautier often
calls for quiet among his listeners, suggesting lively interactions:
Tenez silence, bele gens (I Mir 21, l. 1) and Entendez tuit,
faites silence (I Mir 22, l. 1). The Decameron and Chaucers
Canterbury Tales contain similar touches, as do Chaucers Book
of the Duchess, and Aucassin et Nicolette. The salutary effects
of literary performance explain why in the later Middle Ages and
throughout the Renaissance, when solitary readers were not as
rare, performance fictions persisted. Without such virtual performances, literature like the Decameron and the Heptameron
could not fulfill the practical application of the Horatian dictum:
that good literature should profit and please by refreshing physical, mental, and spiritual facultiesin good company, with moderate cheer and moral directionto restore ones forces for the
true work of life.
Whos Afraid of Processional Liturgies?
All performances, whether real or virtual, depend on a set of
recognizable practices that shape the experience of a work of literature and its meaning. Not all performances deliver the same
quality of delight, and Gautier fretted that lower forms of entertainment might corrupt clergy, especially in their youth, in search
of recreation. The sort of entertainments against which the Miracles de Nostre Dame pit themselvessecular romances, animal
fables, love songsextended into the territory of minstrelsy,
which the clergy traditionally complained about vigorously. It is
perhaps for this reason that Gautier showcased another form of
performance as the centrepiece of his collection: a processional liturgy reported and represented in his Leocadia miracle narrative,
which is followed by trouvre-style songs that he claims were
sung in the procession. With this processional cycle of poems,
Gautier asserted a devotional performance practice and called for
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mon, and Raoul, abbot of St. Eloi de Noyon, presided over the
procession bearing a reliquary with one of Leocadias teeth (I Mir
44, ll. 647-75). The three lyrics that follow the Leocadia miracle
represent themselves as the songs that were sung during the kilometer-and-a-half procession; the songs form a narrative sequence
that retells the miracle story en route. The Pentecost Monday procession in honour of the Virgin and St. Leocadia was held every
year for centuries, finally dying out in the nineteenth century.36
Around 1830, a Confraternity of St. Leocadia was formed to renew the spiritual life of its members.37 Unfortunately, I do not
know if Gautiers three songs were sung in the annual processions until the nineteenth century, and if they were, whether his
Miracles served to preserve the repertory for performance in the
annual procession. Let us recall that they were the lyric centrepiece of the book. By setting two of the three Leocadia songs to
the first and last melodies of his book, Gautier used lyric citations
to create a melodic embrace that tied the entire collection into the
Leocadia story, the miracle that authorized the entire poetic project.
As a performance piece, the Leocadia miracle has literary
resonances that reached from liturgy across many generic boundaries. We already saw how Gautier hoped that his miracles
might be understood like saint lives, but worried that they could
be interpreted like minstrels tales and secular love lyrics. Now
we shall see how, through processional liturgies, the miracles intersected with early dramatic traditions, especially those of Arras.
Arras drama had its roots in Marian miracles, but its poetic culture
was dominated by a strong confraternity of minstrels who
brought a different flavour to Marys feats, as we shall see. By
placing his own clergy-led procession at the centre of his book,
and calling for its re-enactment, Gautier made every effort to
displace the possibilities inherent in the increasingly slippery
genre of Mary miracles.
Processional liturgies that reenacted miracle stories, as the
Leocadia miracle and its songs do were not uncommon, but pro200
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[God, what a murderer! God! God! Whoever loves such criminals, such minstrels, I hate to death. So do God, His sweet
mother, and all her saints. Holy Mary! May God help me! For
some fast-talking scholar-poets and tricksters who go about these
towns every day carrying reliquaries and little bells and perform
false miracles and because of them, those who lack faith and
whom no one should believe say that the miracles of our Lady are
also false and invented.]
Li haut myracle, li haut fait
Que jor et nuit par le mont fait
Nostre Dame sainte Marie,
Ce seit bien chascuns, ne sont mie
De myracles truanders
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[The great miracles, the great deeds that day and night all over the
world Our Lady, Holy Mary performs are not, some know well,
trumped-up miracles that tricksters perform in monasteries at
crossroads, and at fountains.]
The counterfeit miracles that Gautier associates with Arras minstrelsy were fictions that entertainers invented, but they could also
be consthe ruses of tricksters for swindling a gullible public.
Gautiers fears are confirmed by the slippery trickster-minstrels
who later appeared in a well-known Arras comedy by Adam de la
Halle, the Jeu de la Feuille, which was likely composed for the
annual celebration of the confraternitys founding Marian miracle. In that play, Adam casts himself as scholar-poet who bids
farewell to the people of Arras as he heads off to Paris to become
a clerk. Among the townspeople is a dim-witted monk who
parades through the town ringing a bell and carrying relics of St.
Acaire that are said to cure madness. The relics have no effect on
a mad boy, li Derv, who is led among the crowds by his father
in fruitless search of a cure. In the final scene of the play, Adam
and his friends are in the tavern and set about swindling the
monk. There the monk, who has spent much of the play asleep,
awakens to find that the medieval barflies have tricked him. One
fellow has played dice on his behalf, and lost, so the monk must
foot the bill for everyones revelry. He leaves his relics as security and goes off to raise money to pay the tavern keeper. Relics
in hand, the tavern keeper then announces that he can preach and
asks the company of barflies, Adam included, to croon in solemn
celebration of the saint whose relics they had christened, so to
speak. The good fellows, glad to comply, bray the incipit of a
weaving song, at which point the Derv, who had been absent,
returns and rejoins with his own caterwauling, a scene that has
long been thought to parody the puy of Arras.
The necrology of Arras makes it clear that Adam de la Halle,
who appears to play himself in the Jeu de la feuille, also cast his
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Mary performed for him was the first in the earliest and most
widely circulated collection of Mary miracles, known as H-M
(Hildefonsus-Murieldis, named for its first and last miracles).48
When the Virgin appeared to Ildefonsus, only ten days after Leocadia did, she was seated on the episcopal throne in the cathedral
and offered him a celestial chasublea piece of clothing made in
heavenin thanks for his work on her behalf.
This miracle was especially important to Bartholomew de Jur,
bishop of Laon from 1113 to 1150, where another cult of Mary
had developed after the cathedral burned in the communal insurrection of 1112. Bartholomew had tried to acquire relics of Ildefonsus for his cathedral shrine, but was unable to. Instead, he
used Ildefonsus story and his book on Marys perpetual virginity
to make a prologue for the shrine collection of Marys Laonnois
miracles which he commissioned. As a result, the archbishop of
Toledo and his little book on the perpetual virginity of Mary stand
as a model for the bishop of Laon and the Laon shrine collection,
the little book of miracles that he had had made, also for Mary.49
The Laon shrine collection was among Gautiers Latin sources
and Bartholomews careful construction of his own authority
using Ildefonsus as his model was a powerful influence on the
way Gautier used the Ildefonsus miracle. As Gautier saw it, he
had close ties to Ildefonsus, not only because he had Ildefonsus
Leocadia relic, but because both he and Ildefonsus had been beneficiaries of a miracle in which Leocadia and the Virgin had teamed up for a literary cause. Leocadia and the Virgin had thanked Ildefonsus for his book, and the two had saved Gautiers book
from being abandoned to the devil. Both Ildefonsus and Gautier
also received gifts of clothing in the two miracle stories. The Virgin gave Ildefonsus a heavenly chasuble, and she returned to
Gautier the bit of Leocadias robe that Ildefonsus had snipped off
so many centuries earlier. It was through the detail of the clothing
that Gautier worked minstrelsy into his connection with Ildefonsus, a move that encompassed the breadth of his own authorship,
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Kathryn A. Duys
[As for trouvres, when I try to do their work, I do not scorn the
challenges at all, but because I wear black stuff and they wear
multicoloured robes, may my undertaking not offend them, for I
am no trouvre at all, except for my lady and my beloved. Nor
am I a minstrel, except for the nights when I digressed and because sometimes I have disputed their vain thoughts about faith,
Ive criticized them. I do not compose to win fame, nor for robes
or for wealth, but to obtain the love of the lady who quickly
clothes naked souls and carries her lovers up to the clouds. I
dont compose to get a robe, but for the lady who clothes me
when the devil had stripped me. They are deceived and tricked
who day and night compose flatteries to earn horses and robes. I
do not compose for wealth, but to obtain the love of the fair one
who has no peer or equal ...]
In this closing passage, Gautier deliberately uses the practice
of remunerating minstrels for their performances with clothing to
create a chain of authority that works an inherently unauthoritative
figure, the minstrel, into an authorial construct that rests on St. Ildefonsus. He might have simply associated himself with Ildefonsus; after all, he had the Spanish archbishops Leocadia relic.
However, he deliberately introduced the figure of the minstrel, albeit in a negative way, to make a comparison that allowed him to
bring courtly lyricism and a performers presence to his persona.
Thus, Gautier created a three part authorial construct, having harnessed the literary and ecclesiastical auctoritas of Ildefonsus to
the performing presence of the lowly minstrel, whose wily nature
he tamed with the figure of David. In doing so, he accommodated
some of the most innovative aspects of the Miracles de Nostre
Dame: the fact that it is in the vernacular and combines lyric and
narrative poetry, and though the collection is unified by its focus
on the Virgin, each piece in the compilation calls forth Gautier
himself as well. Gautier used cutting-edge lyrico-narrative poetics
to structure a new vernacular authority that appropriated the performance traditions of minstrelsy and reshaped them to fit a book
that answered to the needs of his reality: the spiritual life of monks.
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Conclusion
Gautier de Coinci fit an elaborate performance frame around the
miracles of his Miracles de Nostre Dame to regulate his audiences delight by moderating their pleasure and soothing their
cares with religious, not worldly solace. This required a complex
authorial persona whose presence in the work rests on a carefully
structured pattern of lyrical citations that tie him to the figure of a
performer who leaves nothing to chance. The interpretation of
Gautiers Marian miracles is a potentially slippery affair, for they
intersect with a broad range of performance traditions: minstrel
recitations of animal fables; the singing of saints lives and secular
love songs; processional liturgies shaped by pilgrims, clergy,
jongleurs; and finally early drama in all its configurations. Gautiers ever-present persona directs the performance, monitors the
audiences response, and shapes their interpretation of the powerful stories of the Virgin that so many sought to usurp. By fixing
this dynamic performance in a book, Gautiers finely attuned performance was reproducible and available to the broad sweep of
audiences that constantly sought new sources of pleasure and
solace.
The historical moment of the emergence of the Miracles de
Nostre Dame is important. Without the philosophical advances of
the late twelfth century, two developments that are crucial to the
Miracles would not have been possible: the rising acceptance of
minstrelsy and the massive movement of vernacular poetry into
manuscript culture. This period saw the birth a body of devotional
and moral literature whose temperate pleasures were meant as
recreatio for pious men and women, whether they were in holy
orders or not. Gautier was hardly alone in his endeavour to shape
recreations; many other religious works from this period are cast
as minstrel performances as well, such as the Eructavit paraphrase by Adam de Perseigne,50 the Chateau damour by Robert
Grosseteste, the Miserere and the Roman de Carit of the Renclus de Moliens, the anonymous Court de paradis, many saints
lives, La Bible de lAssomption de Notre Dame by Hermann de
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212
213
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13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
Boise State University who, with Evelyn Vitz of New York University,
presented a performance of a medieval narrative with commentary. See
their contribution to the present volume.
Duys, Books Shaped by Song, p. 23-25.
On the earliest Latin general and shrine collections of Marian miracles, see Evelyn Wilson (ed.), The Stella Maris of John of Garland,
edited, together with a study of certain collections of Mary legends made
in Northern France in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Cambridge,
Mass., 1946, pp. 3-12.
My English translations of I Pro 1 and II Pro 1 take into account the
Spanish translations of Jess Montoya in his article Los prlogos de
Gautier de Coinci [I Pro 1 (D. 1) y II Pro 1 (D. 53)], Estudios romanicos 2 (1979-80), pp. 43-75.
Jean-Louis Benoit, Lart littraire dans les Miracles de Nostre Dame de
Gautier de Coinci: Un art au service de la foi, Lille, 1999, p. 177-81.
Glending Olson, Literature as Recreation in the Later Middle Ages,
Ithaca & London, 1982, pp. 35-36.
Jess Montoya, Los prlogos, pp. 12-16.
Olson, Literature as Recreation, pp. 19-20, 37.
Timothy Fry (ed.), The Rule of St. Benedict in English, New York,
1998, p. 16.
Christopher Page, The Owl and the Nightingale: Musical Life and Ideas
in France, 1100-1300, Berkeley, CA, 1989, p. 9, and Edmond Faral,
Les jongleurs en France au Moyen Age, Paris, 1911 [rpt. 1987], pp. 4465.
Petrus Canter, Verbum abbreviatum, in: J.-P. Migne (ed.), Patrologiae
cursus completus [...], Series Latina, Paris, 1844-90, vol. CCV, col.
253; cited in Page, Owl and the Nightingale, p. 20.
Petrus Canter, Summa de sacramentis et animae consiliis, (ed.) JeanAlbert Dugauquier, Louvain, 1954-67, vol. III, 2a, p. 176; cited in Page,
Owl and the Nightingale, p. 22.
Thomas Aquinas, Commentary on the Nicomachean Ethics, 2 vols.,
(trans.) C. I. Litzinger, Chicago, 1964, vol. II, pp. 900-01, cited in Olson, Literature as Recreation, p. 96. Thomas Aquinas, In decem libros
ethicorum Aristotelis ad Nicomachum expositio, (ed.) Raimondo M.
Spiazzi, Torino, 1964 [3rd ed.], L. X, lectio IX, p. 538.
Olson, Literature as Recreation, p. 111.
Olsen, Literature as Recreation, pp. 111-12. See also Alfons Hilka, Zur
Summa recreatorum: Liste der poetischen Stcke und Abdruck von vier
Marienliedern, in: W. Stach & H. Walther (eds.), Studien zur lateinischen Dichtung des Mittelalters: Ehrengabe fr Karl Strecker zum 4.
September 1931, Dresden, 1931, pp. 97-116.
214
215
Kathryn A. Duys
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
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Introduction
Modern scholars agree that medieval romance was an art form
initially conceived for public enjoyment, an auditory experience
involving a performer who enunciated a text, written or memorized, in front of an assembled group of listeners.1 What is far less
clear, and what has received little scholarly scrutiny, is precisely
when the reading of a document containing a romance ceased to
be a public endeavour involving a trained lector and an audience
and became instead a private one that involved a single, amateur
reader.2 The purpose of the present study is to offer evidence that,
by 1530 in France, the reading of romance had become a personal
activity. Specifically, this study will document how in 1530 a
Parisian printing house seized a medieval intellectual product patently constructed for public performanceChrtien de Troyes
Conte du Graaland reformatted it textually and visually with
the express goal of creating a second intellectual product, a printed book designed to be read in private by an amateur reader.
Before presenting my definition of an amateur reader, I will
first offer a summary of the portrait that modern scholars draw of
the medieval professional reader. In a group setting, such as at a
royal court or in the home of a wealthy private citizen, the professional reader was a skilled performer who was engaged to read
literary works aloud.3 Codex in hand, this individual declaimed a
romance in front of his or her audience. Perhaps this lector was
itinerant, perhaps hired full-time, and it is probable that the per-
Paul Creamer
219
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Paul Creamer
ing verse over two or even three ruled lines on the columns right
side. Unlike the minor capitals found in the illustrated Conte du
Graal manuscripts, the major capitals do, in my judgement, fall
at the beginning of major textual segments.26 When, for example,
the narrative reaches the end of a triumphant adventure of Gauvains and then moves to rediscover the troubled Perceval at verse
6009, Manuscripts P, T, and S begin this verse with a major capital.27 But there are two reasons that prevent me from endorsing
major capitals as a reader-orienting tool. First, they are merely
single letters, rather than detailed explanatory phrases. A large,
multi-coloured, and decorated P at the beginning of verse 6009
(Percevax, ce conte lestoire) might well have drawn the medieval eye, but the large P alone could not have explained that
Chrtien was moving from an accounting of a successful campaign by Gauvain to a reconsideration of the wayward Welsh
lad.28 Second, there are so few major capitals (a total of fifteen
found in Manuscripts M and S, and far fewer in the three other
codices) for the Conte du Graals roughly 9,000 verses that it
would not have been possible for them to provide sustained guidance.29 Major capitals, like minor capitals, must have served as a
cue for lectors who performed the romance.30
Miniatures, at first glance, would seem like the ideal tool to
help readers through the Conte du Graal text. These illustrations
rectangular in shapewere painted into blank spaces on the
parchment that had been reserved for them at certain points within
the columns of text. The codex, once completed, featured these
colourful illustrations embedded every so often in the chain of the
text. For the most part, these painted scenes correctly depictin
pictorial formthe action that occurs in word form in the romance.31 It seems reasonable to suggest from the outset, however, that a first-time reader of the Conte du Graal would not
have found guidance from the miniaturesno matter how accurate and detailed they werefor the simple reason that he or she
would not yet have understood the depicted figures role in the
plot during that first reading. Another problem is the very small
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some forty words per rubric.38 Again, at issue is how much eight
intermittently inserted rubrics could have directed a reader who
was navigating through the Conte du Graal, which runs fifty-two
full folios, or one hundred and four full pages, in Manuscript
U. Because in this codex there is less than one rubric per thousand verses of text, I do not believe the rubrication could have
offered the reader sustained help.39
These observations suggest that the illustrations must have
been meant to be shown by the lector to his or her audience during short breaks in the performance, and that the rubrics were intended to serve as a cue to the lector as he or she progressed
through the text.40 Both elements also added aesthetically pleasing
enrichment to the folios they occupied.
Architecture of the Tresplaisante Hystoire Printed
Book
On 1 September 1530, a printed book entitled the Tresplaisante et
Recreative Hystoire du Trespreulx et valliant Chevallier Perceval
le galloys was published in Paris.41 For the sake of brevity, this
book will hereafter be referred to as the Tresplaisante Hystoire.
While the Conte du Graal is a work in verse, this anonymous
Renaissance adaptation is in prose. To be precise, this volume
contains a prose rendering of Chrtiens Conte du Graal, the
First Continuation, the Second Continuation, and the Continuation of Manessier in sequence and as a single text. While being
rather flat and unartistic, this mise en prose of the Conte du
Graal is in general quite faithful, in a word-for-word, scene-forscene way, to the original.42 Three men are mentioned on the
books title page as being the marchans libraires responsible for
the volume: Jehan Longis, Jehan Sainct-Denis, and Galliot Du
Pr.43 I was unable to find any scholarly reference to the first two
men during my research, and very little to Du Pr.44 Their business enterprise was located in the Palais, a massive building that
held governmental offices, law courts, as well as commercial addresses, and it was a structure that had been located on Paris Ile
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Figure 1
Title page of the Tresplaisante et Recreative Hystoire
du Trespreulx et vaillant Cheuallier Perceual le galloys ...
(Paris: J. St. Denys, J. Longis & G. Du Pr, 1530)
[The Pierpont Morgan Library, New York, PML 31537]
227
Paul Creamer
Figure 2
Folio ii recto of the Tresplaisante et Recreative Hystoire
du Trespreulx et vaillant Cheuallier Perceual le galloys ...
(Paris: J. St. Denys, J. Longis & G. Du Pr, 1530)
[The Pierpont Morgan Library, New York, PML 31537]
228
Figure 3
Folio iiii verso of the Tresplaisante et Recreative Hystoire
du Trespreulx et vaillant Cheuallier Perceual le galloys ...
(Paris: J. St. Denys, J. Longis & G. Du Pr, 1530)
[The Pierpont Morgan Library, New York, PML 31537]
229
Paul Creamer
Figure 4
Folio aa iiii verso of the Tresplaisante et Recreative Hystoire
du Trespreulx et vaillant Cheuallier Perceual le galloys ...
(Paris: J. St. Denys, J. Longis & G. Du Pr, 1530)
[The Pierpont Morgan Library, New York, PML 31537]
230
Figure 5
Folio a i recto of the Tresplaisante et Recreative Hystoire
du Trespreulx et vaillant Cheuallier Perceual le galloys ...
(Paris: J. St. Denys, J. Longis & G. Du Pr, 1530)
[The Pierpont Morgan Library, New York, PML 31537]
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Paul Creamer
The reader is informed that this moment in the text occurs on fol.
iiii.57 What is even more surprising is that when we then turn to
this page in the Tresplaisante Hystoire, we findpreceding the
actual portion of the text in questiona yet more detailed summary than the one that stands in the table of contents. This page,
labeled by the printers as fol. iiii, is reproduced photographically in Figure 3. The capsule reads as follows:
Comment aprs que Perceval eust faict plusieurs demandes et enquestes
aux nobles chevalliers / et deux prins cong: retourna vers sa mre. Lequel aprs avoir ouy plusieurs enseignmens Doctrines et remonstrances
quelle luy fist / print cong delle pour aller au noble et vaillant Roy
Artus.
second, lengthier type are embedded throughout the Tresplaisante Hystoires text, assuring the reader that he or she is never
more than a few turns of a page away from a synopsis that
specifies what has just happened and what is about to happen.
We see, too, that many optical devices are used to separate the
various units of meaning on this page. White space divides all of
the various printed entities so that, for example, the capsule is
clearly and immediately distinct from the actual text. We note,
too, that the portion of the text found below the capsule begins
with a very large A. This pattern of using oversized initials immediately after capsules to introduce the various articulations of
the story proper is consistent throughout the Tresplaisante Hystoire, as is the generous and intelligent use of white space.
The printers rigid attention to detail and organization can be
further documented if we return to the first page of the table of
contents and note the smaller details found there.58 Not only is
this table labeled as such in the large-type title running atop the
page (La table de ce prsent livre), but the printers have also included at the top of the left column of that first page the words
Brifve recollection des matires continues au prsent volume in
smaller type, and at the conclusion of the table of contents, four
and a quarter pages later, the phrase Fin des matires continues
en ce prsent volume de Perceval le Galloys. In other words, the
table of contents is designated as such a total of three times
within the table itself.
What offers a striking contrast to the precision and userfriendliness of the Tresplaisante Hystoires textual content is the
inanity and banality of its illustrations. There are only two images
in the whole book: one of a knight, and one of an author. These
images are reproduced, respectively, in Figures 4 and 5.59 These
pictorial representationsmanufactured from engraved platesin
no way suggest any real affinity with the text they purport to
illustrate. The image of the knight (Figure 4), which is positioned
in each book opposite the page that contains the beginning of the
Tresplaisante Hystoires text, could not be more generic: He
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Treppeal, and dates from 1505. It seems clear that both illustrations in the Tresplaisante Hystoire were merely pulled from a reserve of stock printers images, and were not intended to offer
customized pictorial representation of the story of Perceval and
Gauvain.
In sum, the Tresplaisante Hystoirewith its title page, its
dense table of contents, its detailed summary capsules inserted
throughout the text, its physically aerated textual segments printed
in clear typeface with little use of abbreviation, and its consistent
use of block initials at the beginning of each major articulation in
the narrativewould seem to have comprised an easily navigable
text for a reader of modest competence.65 The two illustrations,
however, seem like afterthoughts and bear virtually no relevance
to the text.
Conclusion
The two preceding sections of this study were meant to document
the presence or absence of reader-orienting tools that would have
met the eye of a first-time reader of, respectively, the Conte du
Graal and the Tresplaisante Hystoire. It seems evident, from
this codicological evidence, that the Tresplaisante Hystoire was
designed to be used by anyone possessing a basic degree of literacy. The illustrated Conte du Graal manuscripts, however,
would have been discouraging for the modestly skilled reader
who was unfamiliar with the story. Their lack of any sort of extratextual guidance, combined with the harshly monolithic layout,
would probably have been untenable for the amateur reader. The
professional reader, however, fluent in the spontaneous decryption of medieval abbreviation systems, able to instantaneously
invent and insert punctuation based on context, and probably
already familiar with the legend of Perceval and Gauvain by trade,
would have had little problem with these codices.66
The last of the illustrated Conte du Graal manuscripts was
completed around 1350. Less than two hundred years later we
find the Tresplaisante Hystoire. But this time span reveals far
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Paul Creamer
more than just the distance between a public- and a private-reading audience for the story of Perceval the Welshman. Dramatic
changes took place in the production of, and access to, the literature in France between 1350 and 1530, some of which I feel have
not been exhaustively studied. Clearly the manner in which the
legend of Perceval was artfully transmuted as it traveled from
Chrtiens plume across timemorphing into an element in the
plot of Perlesvaus, the Queste del Saint Graal, and other texts,67
gaining or losing importance, shifting from verse to proseto arrive in its Tresplaisante Hystoire form (an unartistic prose twin
of Chrtiens original text, only now in modern French) is worthy of our interest. But I would prefer to look at the broader questions of why and how, between 1350 and 1530, the reading of
this tale went from being a public, performative effort to being an
individual, private one.68
I do not believe that such a shift occurred monolithically,
whereby one mode of reading (public performance) suddenly
switched over to another (private reading), universally and without difficulty. Joyce Coleman argues for a much more nuanced,
text-specific, and complex process of change:
The habit of approaching late medieval literature with the standard oral/
literate polarities ready-mapped before our faces, sure the data will fit the
map, has led us down some debatable paths. If we are willing to adopt a
more ethnographic approach, following the texts as they draw their own
map for us, we will identify not a triumphal, quick-step march from orality to literacy, but a long-term, intricate interdigitation of the oral,
the aural, and the literate.69
I agree with her that we must study this shift in all of its intricacies.70 I believe that the present study of the Tresplaisante Hystoire will prove useful because it clearly signals 1530, a precise
calendar year, as a point at which private readership of romance
had been established in France. But this calendar year is only a
single point in a vast and vague time period designated as the
Renaissance, a period during which we scholars have assumed
236
We find in this sober legal statement proof that there was no interest, at least not in this case, for simply reprinting Chrtiens original text tel quel for a Renaissance audience. It seems clear from
this privilege that both an updating of Chrtiens language and a
237
Paul Creamer
reformatting into prose were commercially essential.74 This conversion process was so expensive that the French kings representative, in the privilege, granted these printers six years exclusive rights to the Conte du Graal story to compensate them for
their investment:
Ad ce quilz peussent recouvrir les fraitz et impenses par eulx faitz et
fraitz pour faire imprimer et traduire ledict livre [...] Et deffendons tous
autres de ne Imprimer ne faire imprimer ledict livre jusques six ans sur
peine de confiscation desdictz livres et damande arbitraire.
Between the time I completed the final draft of this study and the time I
received the printers proofs for it, I became aware of two other studies
that focus on the Tresplaisante Hystoire. The most recent is Pierre Servet, Dun Perceval lautre: La mise en prose du Conte du Graal
(1530), in Claude Lachet (ed.), LOeuvre de Chrtien de Troyes dans la
littrature franaise: Rminiscences, resurgences et rcritures, Lyon,
1997, pp. 197-210. While Servets article is chiefly concerned with how
the anonymous Renaissance adapter translated and modified Chrtiens
238
239
Paul Creamer
5
6
pinpoint that shift within a specific time frame. Roger Chartier, The
Practical Impact of Writing, in: Roger Chartier (ed.), A History of Private Life, vol. III: Passions of the Renaissance, Cambridge, Mass.,
1989, pp. 111-59, for example, writes that [B]etween 1500 and 1800
mans altered relation to the written word helped to create a new private
sphere into which the individual could retreat, seeking refuge from the
community (p. 111), but he does not narrow the time frame further.
For descriptions of the professional reader, see: Zumthor, La lettre et la
voix, pp. 60-82; Coleman, Public Reading, pp. 84-85, 110-13, 12122, and 141-44; and Vitz, Orality and Performance, p. 207-17. See Vitz,
Orality and Performance, pp. 164-227, for a panoramic description of all
possible modes of performance for romance during the Middle Ages. She
divides them into two broad categories, each of which she further refines:
recitation from memory, such as at major festive events, enriched by
theatrical articulations and gestures; and reading from a codex, less dramatic but still with a hint of staging, and almost always in a small-group
public setting. I agree with her that private, individual reading of romance
during that period was exceedingly rare (p. 164). I believe there must
have been, during the Middle Ages, a very small number of people (a)
who were not professional readers, as defined above, (b) whobecause of
their profession, such as lawyer or clericwere nonetheless far more
talented at reading than a typical amateur reader, and (c) who, by position
or good fortune, had access to manuscripts containing works of romance.
This tiny fraction of the population was able to enjoy texts of medieval
romance right off the shelf, for and by themselves, as we do today.
Paul Saenger, Reading in the Later Middle Ages, in: Guglielmo Cavallo
& Roger Chartier (eds.), A History of Reading in the West, Cambridge,
1999, pp. 120-48, esp. p. 142. I am not aware of any studies that definitively (a) establish how an individual was selected and trained to become a
professional reader, (b) indicate whether this career was a full-time or a
part-time endeavour, (c) specify whether it was viewed as an elite or an
unglamorous field, or (d) explain how the reader was financially compensated. Clearly, this figure remains elusive. In addition, royal courts and
households must have had educated, literature-loving members who read
to their peers but did so for pleasure, not pay. See Vitz, Orality and Performance, pp. 205-15.
See Duggan, Oral Performance of Romance, pp. 53-58.
For a somewhat different approach to describing amateur readers of the
Middle Ages, see Vitzs (Orality and Performance) discussion of semiprivate and private reading, pp. 217-24, and Colemans (Public Reading)
description of recreational readers, p. 92.
240
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
241
Paul Creamer
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
242
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
243
Paul Creamer
pp. 363-65.
34 See Creamer, Choices in the Chain, pp. 156-59, and Appendices 5 (pp.
250-56) and 6 (p. 257). See also Busby, Illustrated Manuscripts, esp. p.
356. Regarding manuscripts T (p. 356), S (p. 358), and M (p. 359),
Busby points out how, physically speaking, miniatures were positioned
relatively evenly across the run of the text.
35 Today Manuscript M does, in fact, have rubrication, but I agree with
Nixon that its rubrics, located at the bottom margin of each folio and
written in a later hand, must have been added long after its initial manufacture. See the Catalogue of Manuscripts, p. 53.
36 These rubrics can be seen written out fully in printed type in Busby et
al., Manuscrits de Chrtien de Troyes / Manuscripts of Chrtien de
Troyes, Appendix IV, vol. II, pp. 284-88 for Manuscript P and pp. 297303 for Manuscript S.
37 A black-and-white photographic representation of this miniature can be
found in ibid., vol. II, p. 523.
38 The rubrics of Manuscript U are found written out fully in printed type in
ibid., vol. II, pp. 288-96.
39 Busby, Illustrated Manuscripts, p. 362, writes of the four rubric-bearing
codices: What the rubric certainly do not do is help the reader interpret
the text [...], citing Scholz, Hren und Lesen, p. 199 (see following
note).
40 See Creamer, Choices in the Chain, pp. 144-215, and Busby, Illustrated Manuscripts, pp. 356-57 and 361-62, who also cites Scholz, Hren
und Lesen, p. 194. Busby writes (p. 362) that Scholz sees rubrics as
having three possible functions: aiding the public reader during performance; intriguing or prompting the private reader or recapitulating for him;
and helping the illustrator understand what is to be painted in the given
miniature. On the orienting value of rubrics, Busby writes (p. 362): That
the rubrics indeed helped the reader or performer orientate himself is a
plausible suggestion that can be neither proved nor disproved.
41 This date is found in the books royal privilege, found on page 2 of the
Morgan exemplar and the Bibliothque Nationale exemplar, as they are
foliated today.
42 Alfons Hilka (ed.), Der Percevalroman (Li Contes del Graal) von
Christian von Troyes, Halle, 1932, p. 792, notes the conservatism of
the Renaissance adapter, while offering a short catalogue of what he believes to be troubling mistranslations.
43 I will spell Du Prs surname with a capital D, as does Annie CharonParent, Aspects de la politique ditoriale de Galliot Du Pr, in: Pierre
Aquilon et al. (eds.), Le livre dans lEurope de la Renaissance, Paris,
1988, pp. 209-18.
244
44 The main study I found on Du Pr was Charon-Parents. In it, she mentions a few other modern scholars who have inventoried Du Prs surviving property lists and commercial inventories.
45 Ibid., p. 210.
46 Ibid., p. 214.
47 The Tresplaisante Hystoire at the Pierpont Morgan Library bears the call
number of PML 31537, and the localization number of E/12/D. The
exemplar at the Bibliothque Nationale bears the call number of RES-Y274 support imprim, and is found in the magasin of the rez-de-jardin.
48 Hilka (ed.), Der Percevalroman, reprinted only that portion of the
Tresplaisante Hystoire that corresponded to Chrtiens text.
49 See note * above.
50 The page dimensions, by my measure, are 25.3 centimeters by 18.1 centimeters. The written area is that of two columns, each measuring 20.8
centimeters by 6.8 centimeters.
51 See Frappier, Sur le Perceval en prose de 1530, p. 213, note 4.
52 If we were to mentally remove from the Morgan copy the four sheets that
host the Elucidations six and a half pages of text, it would then be
identical in all ways to the copy housed at the Bibliothque Nationale.
The Elucidation itself does not figure in the table of contents of the
Pierpont Morgan exemplar, norof coursein that found in the Bibliothque Nationale copy. Because the Elucidation was not paginated, the
original Roman-numeral foliation of the text proper is the same in both
exemplars. Each book, however, has subsequently been given modern,
Arabic-numeral pagination according to how it is bound at present. I will
use each volumes modern foliation to indicate specific pages. Both Hilka (p. vii) and William Roach, The Continuations of the Old French
Perceval, Philadelphia, 1949, vol. I, p. xxxii, point out that some exemplars lack the Elucidation, and Hilka writes that he does not believe this
portion was a later insertion. For a precise description of where in the
volume the various textual segments start and end, see Roach, p. xxxii.
53 The title page is found in both volumes on page 1, as they are foliated
today.
54 When the books were printed, the title page was not numbered and the
table of contents was given its own separate numbering system, with
Roman-numeral page numbers found at the bottomrather than the top
of the recto side of each page.
55 There are, however, two types of abbreviation that are used in the Tresplaisante Hystoire with some frequency: ms and ns that follow vowels are sometimes designated by a tilde above the preceding vowel character, and the word et is usually represented with the Tironian 7 symbol.
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Paul Creamer
246
68
69
70
71
247
4604
4608
4612
4616
4620
4624
whatever she asks of me. Sire, I count myself already well satisfied. But I certainly wont refuse your request: Youll have it
complete, crust and crumb, this very year, I do believe. Here
ends Le Roman du Hem. And if Sarrasin comes out ahead, he
says it is largely thanks to God.]
The contract shows that Sarrasins Roman is conceived from
first to last as a book describing performances of chivalric feats
and the scenes inspired by romance played at the tournament. It
records the names of the parties to the agreement and the book
commission, including the content of the performances to be reported in a handsome style, the promise of payment, and the time
set for completion. Examining each of these elements of record in
turn, this article seeks to explain how Sarrasin conceives his festival book as a report of courtly performances, what models he
adapts for his account, how he envisions his task, his ethical and
social overview of the Le Hem tournament, and, finally, how the
contract itself points to a new relation between poet and patron.
...en un petit livre
Le Roman du Hem is one of the first festival books, that is, a
free-standing composition devoted solely to depiction of the
events and ceremonies of a courtly celebration. While to date,
most scholarship has focused on the later medieval entries and on
printed festival books,7 much remains to be learned about the early examples, which record chivalric performances rather than the
liturgical, municipal, or royal ceremonies described and depicted
in later festival books such as the Coronation Book of Charles V
(London, British Library, Cotton Tiberius B, VIII). I came upon
Le Roman du Hem in my search for accounts of noble and urban
festivities to which I might compare the extended descriptions of
the royal Parisian feste of 1313 in the Chronique mtrique of
Paris Bibliothque Nationale de France, MS fr. 146, the famous
Fauvel manuscript, and in other sources.8 However, Sarrasins
poem, like Jacques Bretels contemporary Tournoi de Chauvency, is not part of a chronicle. Instead, it is conceived as an inde251
Montjoies or monumental crosses were built to mark the processional route where Saint Louis relics were set down during
their solemn translation from Paris to Saint Denis and similar
crosses were erected to fix in memory the itinerary of the funeral
procession of Queen Eleanor of Castille from Lincoln to London
in 1290. Le Roman du Hem of 1278 does not commemorate any
such royal ritual but a contemporary festivity of far less political
weight. Yet Le Roman du Hem, like the Tournoi de Chauvency,
and the Frauendienst, show that writing, and a written record
commemorating notable festivities, are becoming features of a
lavish courtly style. These deluxe souvenir books are a mark of
social distinction, one of the luxury products of thirteenth-century
courtly culture.14
Et la rone qui la fu / Li commanda...
The epilogue to Le Roman du Hem stages one scene of that
courtly culture in the charming dialogue between Sarrasin, la rone who commissions Sarrasins festival book, and the Lord of
Basentin. La rone is identified only by the fictional role of
Queen Guinevere, which she plays throughout the tournament,
and by her family connection: she is the sister of Aubert, Lord of
Longueval, who died with Philip III on the ill-starred Aragonese
crusade in 1286. Aubert co-organized the Le Hem tournament
with his neighbour Huart de Bazentin, whose taste for tournaments took him to Chauvency in 1285. If li sires de Basentin
gallantly guarantees payment of the commission, it is perhaps a
gesture of courtship, for he apparently married the Queen
sometime after 1278. Sarrasins Roman points to gendered roles
within the families that sponsored the tournament and its written
record. It is noteworthy that a womanthe Queenis represented as commissioning the festival book (with a male guarantor), for she plays no part in Sarrasins detailed account of the
planning of the tournament itself,15 a role apparently reserved for
men. These latter arrangements are represented as a conversation
between Aubert de Longueval and Huart de Bazentin, during
253
254
4216
[Reading over what I wrote, I find and I have heard witnesses say
that no knight in this feast attacked more boldly than the Count of
Clermont.]
...les joustes quil vit molt dures
What Sarrasin most urgently needed to write down was names!
His festival book is intended to serve as a narrative roll of arms,19
for in it he records the full name and/or title of some one hundred
and eighty-nine knights joined in more than a hundred jousts.
This is a considerable feat if we imagine the difficulty of writing
in the turbulent circumstances of an outdoor tournament and of
singling out individuals among the throngs of knights, horses, and
grooms. Sarrasin himself notes how hard it was to follow the
many jousts occurring near and far from the grandstand:
3660
3664
[Many greatly esteemed Monseigneur Pieron de Houdenc: somewhere in the lists, I heard tell that he was one of those who jousted well; but it isnt possible at every point to remember to praise
each, one by one, in the nine score jousts held there.]
Sarrasin does not seem to have collaborated with a herald as does
Jacques Bretel in the Tournoi de Chauvency, for unlike Jacques,
he rarely blazons the coats of arms of the knights he names.20 Instead of drawing on the technical vocabulary of heraldry, Sarrasin
255
2548
2552
2556
2560
[Next came the Lord of Chanle well outfitted with fine armor.
Certainly, this knight is fair and fine, said a lady up on high.
His side of the lists was near the grandstand, closer than a stones
throw. And Messire Jehan de Piere leaves his place and charges
toward him. Now Jehan de Chanle will think he has failed if he
doesnt break (a lance). When he hears a lady favours him, he
sets off down his side of the lists shouting: Love! Love! he cries
out. And his partner doesnt dally. Jehan de Chanle breaks three
lances in short order, and then leaves the field. Messire Nicoles
Donchart and Jehan de Fenieres move forward. No stronger
lances can be found.]
...sil en faisoit un bel dit
In what way does the poets reporting satisfy the Queens
256
3952
Sarrasin, et je te requier,
Si com tu maimes et as chier,
Que tu dies de cascun bien;
Et saucuns fait aucune rien
Qui face a taire et a celer,
Tant soit de povre baceler,
Di le bien et si lai le mal.
[Sarrasin, I ask you, since you love and esteem me, that you
speak well of each; and if anyone does anything not worthy to be
spoken of or revealed, even if its a poor young knight, say what
was good and leave out the bad.]
The chief value of Sarrasins festival book for its patrons and
readers lies in its reflection of glory for the male participants, so
the poet threads the knights names he has noted into a gleaming
tapestry of prowess. Only a few strands mark individual effects:
Nevelon de Molains jousts in an angels costume (ll. 2630-33);
Enguerran de Bailleul is disguised as a devil (ll. 2262, 2659). At
one point, the shadowy presence of lower-class spectators is
glimpsed. When Monseigneur Flamenc de Mons unhorses his
partner, Bauduin de Saint-Nicolas, in front of the Queens grandstand, the rabbleli vilain de pute orine (l. 2514)pour into
the lists to get a closer look, pull Flamenc from his horse, and injure his groom. But this incident gives Sarrasin a chance to affirm
class distinctions in chivalric performance and to deliver a lesson
about proper equipment:
Peu ont li vilain gaaigni
Qui lont abatu sans raison.
Pour ou vous di ge que nus hom
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2524
[The rabble profited little from dragging him down for no reason.
This is why I say that no one should undertake to joust unless
hes mounted on a good steed, for one can quickly be dragged off
a weak one.]
Et si i mist les aventures / Dont vous avs o de beles /
Des chevaliers et des puceles / Et du Chevalier au Lyon
Sarrasin displays considerable literary proficiency in producing
his bel dit. He does not adorn his narrative with snatches of
courtly song as does Jacques Bretel in the Tournoi de Chauvency, or insert a collection of his own lyric compositions as does
Ulrich in his Frauendienst. Sarrasin is adept, however, at varying his descriptions of more than one hundred jousts; he handles
the resources of personification allegory easily, introducing the
gracious figure of Lady Courtesy (ll. 274-454). Above all, Sarrasin exploits his knowledge of courtly romance, for he takes Chrtien de Troyes and the tales of the Round Table as the model for
his festival book.
472
478
480
484
258
488
[As he speaks, Sarrasin says that he will want to use his knowhow to bring forth a romance (about this feast). You have heard
of the Trojans and of the fine romance that Chrtien made about
Perceval, about the Grail adventures where many words bring
pleasure. You have often heard stories told about those of the
Round Table, that they were very worthy and such great knights
that every court must hear of the prowess and the courage of valiant King Arthur and of the knights of his court. Now I ask that
each make ready to hear and listen to fair words and I will speak,
without more delay about the most wonderful enterprise of all.]
The romance paradigm Sarrasin selects for his own poem complements the design of the Le Hem tournament itself, for the
knights and ladies assembled at Le Hem are depicted throughout
as if they were performers in an Arthurian tale. Queen Guinevere presides over the tournament and knights are said to joust in
order to enter her court (ll. 369-408). Romance motifs and characters are highlighted too in the interludes which punctuate the
feast (and Sarrasins narrative) and which feature roles for
women in scenes where damsels in distress appeal to Guinevere
and her knights or are rescued by The Knight of the Lion (played by the guest of honour, Robert dArtois). When, in turn, Sarrasin invokes Chrtien and Arthur, he appeals to his readers familiarity with chivalric literature to cast the glamour of romance
over his idealized representation of the jousts and the interludes
that enlivened these chivalric performances. The romance roles
played by participants, the theatricalized Arthurian interludes, and
Sarrasins desire to outdo Chrtienall speak to the grip of fictional models on the chivalric imagination and on the very practice
of tournaments.22
259
120
124
128
Premierement li glougleour
I gaaignoient cascun jour,
Et li hiraut et li lormier,
Li marissal et li selier;
...
Tout nen soient il desfendu!
Font cil qui vendent les bons vins
Et cil qui vendent les commins
Et les pertris et les plouviers
Toutes gens qui sont de mestiers
Dient: Amen, que Dix loctroit!
[First the minstrels used to profit from each occasion and the
260
261
Notes
1
6
7
See Sarrasin, Le Roman du Hem, (ed.) Albert Henry, Paris, 1939 [Travaux de la Facult de Philosophie et Lettres de lUniversit de Bruxelles,
9]. Susan Muterspaughs survey of French romance prologues and epilogues shows that although many speak of a poets desire to please a patron, the presence of an explicit contract is exceptional; at most, one may
compare Waces expression of gratitude for support by Henry II, who
gave him une provende / E meinte autre dun [a prebend and many other
gifts]. See Le Roman de Rou, ll. 174-755, cited in Susan D. Muterspaugh, The Prologue in Medieval French Epic and Romance, Diss.
New York University, 1994, p. 118.
See Jacques Bretel, Le Tournoi de Chauvency, (ed.) Maurice Delbouille,
Lige, 1932 [Bibliothque de la Facult de Philosophie et Lettres de
lUniversit de Lige, 49]. See also Juliet Vale, The Late ThirteenthCentury Precedent: Chauvency, Le Hem, and Edward I, in: Idem, Edward III and Chivalry: Chivalric Society and its Context 1270-1350,
Woodbridge, 1982, pp. 4-24 and Appendices 1-9, and Nancy Freeman
Regalado, Picturing the Story of Chivalry in Jacques Bretels Tournoi
de Chauvency (Oxford, Bodleian MS Douce 308), in: Susan LEngle &
Gerald B. Guest (eds.), Tributes to Jonathan J. G. Alexander: Making
and Meaning in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, London, 2006.
At least three knights attending the Le Hem tournamentHuart de Bazentin, Pierre de Bauffremont, and Waleran de Luxembourgare also
named among the knights present at Chauvency. In his edition of the
Roman, Albert Henry offers historical information on all known participants at Le Hem. Vale, The Late Thirteenth-Century Precedent, adds information about the genealogy and provenance of participants, and the
role of the English at Le Hem.
See Roger Sherman Loomis, Chivalric and Dramatic Imitations of Arthurian Romance, in: William R. W. Koehler (ed.), Medieval Studies in
Memory of A. Kingsley Porter, Cambridge, Mass., 1939, pp. 79-97.
See Nancy Freeman Regalado, Performing Romance: Arthurian Interludes in Sarrasins Le Roman du Hem (1278), in: Evelyn Birge Vitz,
Nancy Freeman Regalado & Marilyn Lawrence (eds.), Performing Medieval Narrative, Woodbridge, 2005, pp. 103-19.
Translations of Sarrasins Roman are mine.
See Gordon Kipling, Enter the King: Theatre, Liturgy, and Ritual in the
Medieval Civic Triumph, Oxford, 1998; and Helen Watanabe-OKelly
& Anne Simon, Festivals and Ceremonies: A Bibliography of Works
Relating to Court, Civic, and Religious Festivals in Europe 1500-1800,
London, 2000. I thank Samuel Kinser, Gordon Kipling, and Margaret
Pappano for personal e-mail communications concerning bibliography on
263
10
11
12
13
264
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
778-831, and Idem, The Boy and the Blind Man: A Medieval Play Script
and its Editors, in: Sin Echard & Stephen B. Partridge (eds.), The
Book Unbound: Editing and Reading Medieval Books and Texts, Toronto, 2004, pp. 105-43.
See Georges Duby, The Culture of the Knightly Class: Audience and
Patronage, in: Robert L. Benson, Giles Constable & Carol D. Lanham
(eds.), Renaissance and Renewal in the Twelfth Century, Cambridge,
Mass., 1982, pp. 248-62; and Luxury, Display, and the Arts (in Chapter 5, Court Life and Court Culture), Vale, The Princely Court, pp.
165-70.
D. H. Green, Medieval Listening and Reading: The Primary Reception
of German Literature, 800-300, Cambridge, 1994, p. 296, comments
on the appeal of court literature to the interests of women.
Vale, The Late Thirteenth-Century Precedent.
On Philippe de Beaumanoir pre and fils as readers of romance, see
Elspeth Kennedy, The Knight as Reader of Arthurian Romance, in:
Martin B. Shichtman & James P. Carley (eds.), Culture and the King:
The Social Implications of the Arthurian Legend. Essays in Honor of
Valerie M. Lagorio, Albany, 1994 [SUNY Series in Medieval Studies],
pp. 70-90, esp. pp. 70-83. In his History of BNF fr. 1588 (pp. 42-68),
Roger Middleton traces connections between Philippe de Beaumanoir and
possible owners of the exemplar of Le Roman du Hem. See Philippe de
Remi, Le Roman de la manekine; edited from Paris BNF fr. 1588,
(trans.) Barbara N. Sargent-Baur with contributions by Alison Stones &
Roger Middleton, Amsterdam, 1999 [Faux Titre, 159]. On the milieu in
which BNF Fr. 1588 was produced and its subsequent history, see also
Keith Busby, Codex and Context: Reading Old French Verse Narrative
in Manuscript, 2 vols., Amsterdam, 2002 [Faux Titre, 221-222], vol.
II, pp. 518-23 and 798-804.
See Les deux bourdeurs ribauds, in: Edmond Faral (ed.), Mimes franais du XIIIe sicle, Paris, 1910, pp. 93-105, esp. the names listed on p.
98, ll. 138-47, and p. 103, ll. 92-106.
See Vale, The Late Thirteenth-Century Precedent, pp. 22-23. A specifically heraldic genre which begins to appear in the thirteenth century, rolls
of arms are lists of blazons or rows of painted coats of arms of knights;
some list those present at a particular event, and may take a narrative
form, such as the Siege of Caerlaverock, a rhymed account in French of
Edward Is expedition to Scotland in July 1300. See T. Wright (ed. and
trans.), The Roll of Arms of the Princes, Barons and Knights who Attended King Edward I to the Siege of Caerlaverock, London, 1864.
The only real coats of arms mentioned are those of Huart de Bazentin (ll.
4043 and 4083) and Wautier de Hardecourt (ll. 3090-93). The arms of the
265
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
Lord of the Castel du Bois (l. 1124) are perhaps imaginary; those which
the Knight of the Lion blazons for a squireunes armes dor ai, / A coquefabues vermeilles (ll. 1072-73)seem to be a comic disguise. See
Sarrasin, Le Roman du Hem, (ed.) Henry, p. xxxv.
Jacques Bretel declares the same intention in his Tournoi de Chauvency:
Donc doit on bien des bons bien dire / Que miex en valent, et li pire /
Aucunne fois i prenent garde (One must speak well of the good to increase their worth and so that the worst can learn from their example);
Jacques Bretel, Le Tournoi de Chauvency, (ed.) Delbouille, ll. 743-45.
See Larry D. Benson, The Tournament in the Romances of Chrtien de
Troyes & LHistoire de Guillaume Le Marchal, in: Larry D. Benson &
John Leyerle (eds.), Chivalric Literature: Essays on Relations between
Literature and Life in the Later Middle Ages, Toronto, 1980, pp. 1-24;
Richard Kaeuper, The Societal Role of Chivalry in Romance, in: Roberta L. Krueger (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Medieval Romance, Cambridge, 2000, pp. 97-114; and Kennedy, The Knight as
Reader.
La pauvret de Rutebuef (1277), in: Rutebeuf, Oeuvres compltes, 2
vols., (ed. and trans.) Michel Zink, Paris, 1989-90, vol. II, pp. 969-73.
In Le dit dAristote Rutebeuf says that gracious giving is worth more
than any gift (Au doneir done en teil meniere / Que miex vaille la bele
chiere / Que feras, au doneir le don, / Que li dons, car ce fait preudom
(ibid., pp. 956-61, ll. 63-66). But in De Brichemer, the poet complains he has not received a promised payment (ibid., pp. 950-53). On
begging and payment to poets, see Nancy Freeman Regalado, Poetic
Patterns in Rutebeuf: A Study in Non-Courtly Poetic Modes of the
Thirteenth Century, New Haven, 1970, pp. 284-85.
See Albert Henry (ed.), Les Oeuvres dAdenet le Roi, tome V: Cleomads, Bruxelles, 1971 [Travaux de la Facult de Philosophie et Lettres, 46], ll. 18587-698.
Compare the contract between Mahaut dArtois and the painter Pierre de
Brossielles for a wall painting depicting the deeds of her father, Robert
dArtois (cited by Vale, The Princely Court, pp. 280-81). A contract for
payment for a product is different from the contracts stipulating an annual
compensation for service by knights in the households of the great lords
of Northern Europe, which could include repayment of the considerable
expenses incurred in service at tournaments (Vale, The Princely Court,
pp. 186-92).
Regalado, Picturing the Story of Chivalry.
Edmond Faral, Les Jongleurs en France au Moyen Age, Paris, 1911 [2nd
ed. 1964], pp. 128-42, Carol Symes, The Makings of a Medieval Stage:
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William E. Engel
My previous work on verbal quibbles and visual puns signaling
eruptions of our mortality has turned up a number of references
that link Death to the figure of a blackamoor.1 The visual counterpart to calling Death the black man,2 which incidentally offers a
glimpse into the workings of the Renaissance allegorical imagination, is a dark and puissant figure, but one implicitly in the service
of a greater sovereignas can be seen in the Kalendrier des
Bergers (Figure 1).3 Accordingly, he was at times associated
with being a herald; more specifically, a moor. Death, like his
harbinger, often was depictedespecially in the danse macabreas being an alien among us; as something, or rather someone, foreign and sovereign (Figure 2). Indeed there are instances
when this recurring character of the Dance of Death, a spry cadaver visiting people of all stations leading them away from this
life, is depicted as a Turk or Moor, as in the panel from the
Luzern Totentanz, and in this case with a most arresting unMoorish white-face (Figure 3).4 Still there is no mistaking that the
infidel here is the agent of Death; at once an historical reality for
many in central Europe at the time and also intended as a symbolic
reminder, a stark memento mori, of the fragility and transience of
life. This image therefore, along with the others in the series,
takes on added significance given its program and specific location for those who crossed this bridge leading to and from the
Market Square in the commerce of daily life.5
William E. Engel
Figure 1
Moor with Horn and Dart, [Guy Marchant], Kalendrier des Bergers (1493),
sig. K3v. Photo courtesy of the Newberry Library.
270
William E. Engel
brings it back to us doubled, as it were mimetically and symbolically, and it does so with a vengeance. Let us see how this comes
to pass.
In Elizabethan England blacks in general were known as
moors. 7 This term was voiced phonetically the same as the
name given to the character of Death, mors (Figure 4).8 The likesounding term morrisalso rendered morisse, moreys,
moris, and mouricedescribed a traditional festive entertainment, which, although spelled in a variety of ways that linked it to
putative Moorish origins, all capture the same underlying phonetic idea.9 In records of the day this can lead to confusion as to
whether a blackamoor or a morris dancer was intended in an entertainment.10 So too, the term used for blackamoors in Elizabethan England, moriens, was the same as that used for the dying
person, Moriens, in conventional Ars moriendi treatises, on
The Art of Dying Well.11 Such homophones and what they signify, keep in play, and yet, by virtue of their very presence, undermine familiar mechanisms and conventions of representation.12
Mors and Moriens, like this visual display of morts, as such
images of the dead summoning people from their affairs of the
world were called in the French texts, quite literally served a mortifying function (Figure 5).13 Among the other phrases that attest
to the persistence of this foreign term, mort, in English, is as a
verb meaning to kill. In the printed version of the York Plays,
Cayaphus tells Pilate what they should do with Jesus: Sir, to
mort hym for mouyng menne.14 And a little farther North, in
Scotland, the term tramort indicated a newly dead person. It
shows up Dunbars poem Of Manis Mortalitie appropriately
enough: Thocht now thow be maist glaid of cheir, / Fairest and
plesandest of port, / Yit may thow be, within ane yeir, / Ane ugsum, uglye tramort.15 The final t in Thocht [though] would
not have been voiced, and neither would it have been in tramort
[dead body], thus making it recall the word moor, which, like
this corpse figure (mort), was recognized by its darkened skin.16
For in his Dance of the Sevin Deidly Synnis, the stanza where
272
Lechery, who looks a lot like Death (that lathly cors) and is led
by Idleness, is accompanied by ane ugly sort, / And mony stynkand fowll tramort, / That had in sun bene deid.17 From the
dancing of the deadly sins to that of the dead is a short step in the
allegorical imagination.
And so, although it is difficult to prove for certain, the morris
may well be connected to the Dance of the Dead by way of earlier
fertility rites.18 It is possible that through ritual and festive practices the morris was linked to morts, connections that were preserved through resonant cultural memories and aural echoes.19
This essay isolates and sorts out just such accidents of language
and related slips of thought that impinged on early modern cultural designs, and is guided in this endeavour by Cassirers view
that symbolism is rooted in the phenomenon of expression situated language within a larger rhetorical and social context: gesture
and ritual action.20
To get some theoretical bearings as to how visible expressions
were the basis of such cultural designs, let us begin by sampling
some representative displays of the kind of visual cunning that
typically drew on and extended the boundaries of verbal ingenuity. An emblem in Alciatos celebrated collection sets up an uncanny situation in which there is confusion of characters and concepts, when Amore and Morte get their iconographic lines crossed
(Figure 6; compare with Whitneys English version, Figure 3).21
One day Death and Love, not noticing the other, fell asleep behind
a tree; each woke up and grabbed the others arrows in error;
young people started dying and old ones fell in love. Although
this emblem was meant to be humorous in the service of evincing
a definite moral point, it also indicates the high price that is paid
when symbolic attributes are mixed up and crossed. We are left
with a residual sense of malaise concerning the always possible
(and, as depicted in this emblem, potentially fatal) instability of
conventional signs to convey their proper meanings, and thus the
faulty means by which meaning itself is produced in the world.
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William E. Engel
Figure 3
Der Ritter [Death Takes the Knight]; reprinted with permission from Heinz
Horat, Katalog der Brckenbilder, in: Josef Brlisauer & Claudia Hermann
(eds.), Die Spreuerbrcke in Luzern: Ein barocker Totentanz von
europischer Bedeutung, Luzern, 1996, p. 183 [panel 21].
274
Figure 4
Geffrey Whitney, De morte, & amore: Iocosum,
in: Idem, A Choice of Emblemes, London, 1586, p. 132.
275
William E. Engel
Figure 5
Death Visits the Printing House, La grt danse macabre, Lyons, 1499;
reproduced from A. W. Pollard, Early Illustrated Books, London, 1893, p.
164.
Figure 6
De Morte et Amore, Andrea Alciato, Emblemata Liber (1531), sig. D3v.
Photo courtesy of the Henry E. Hunting Library, San Marino, California.
276
William E. Engel
one member of the Moore family, according to the rules of usage sanctioned by the Herald of Arms, was represented by a
canted visual pun on a Moors head.27 Although more common
in Northern Europe, there are examples of an Italian familys use
of the moors head where it had nothing to do with any ancestors
honourable engagement with the Turk, or even with the Saracens
in the Holy Land.28 As is evident, then, orthography was far from
stable where the spelling of moors and morris was concerned. In fact, the family name Morse, which some later branches
spelled Morris, derives from the ancient line of de Mors, and
which after the Conquest was shortened to Mors.29 With such
slips of thought in mind, conditioned by verbal as well as visual
cues, we can begin to understand how they come to mean more
than originally was intended and expected.
In 1620 three of King Jamess sergeants-at-arms obtained a license to build a large amphitheater.30 Insofar as these entrepreneurs sought to turn a profit, they proposed including a great variety of exhibitions and entertainments that would appeal to a
broad spectrum of people in London. Not unlike our modern day
municipal auditoriums and civic-centre arenas, which at various
times house ice follies, wrestling matches, garden shows, gun
exhibitions, monster-truck demolition and tractor-pulls, the proposed amphitheater was to have had all manner of Armes, and
Weapons for Foote, faire and richly armed, wrestling two or
three against one, Straunge and vnvsuall Padgeantes with very
admirable and rare Inventions, The nymble Niades in their
proper natures, and delightfull pleasures, in and about ye Springes, Fountaines, and Waters, as well as Masques of very Exquisite and Curious Inuentions with the best Dauncers that can be,
Mummeries allso, and Moriskors. The Moriskors presumably
were to have been the best that can be as well. And to play the
amphitheatre, they would have to choreograph the act and perhaps
shake some of the hayseed out of itor else, in a self-conscious
gesture back to its putative origins, put in more. By virtue of its
being presented at this urban venue, the domesticated morris un278
avoidably contained an element of satire, if not self-parody; it became an art form doubled, or at least folded over on itself. The
same sort of cultural dislocation and recontextualization can be
seen in our own age when operas call for traditional country
dances, as in Smetanas Bartered Bride or Floyds Susannah.
At nearly the same time the amphitheatres plans were approved, John Fletcher admonished that morris dances need not be
staged in plays having representations of shepherds and shepherdesses.31 The preface to his Faithful Shepherdess, printed
after the play apparently flopped, instructs his readers in the decorum of this pastoral tragi-comedy, telling them not to expect
Whitsun-ales, cream, wassail, and morris dances.32 The authors
attention to, and his need to justify the absence of, morris dancing
in a city-play about pastoral folk again comes back to the ticketbuying publics expectations about Moriskors for them to be
recognizable as such.
The title-page to Will Kemps self-aggrandizing Nine Days
Wonder (1600), an account of his antics on the road from London to Norwich, gives the key elements usually associated with a
typical morris dancer: accompanied by a drummer with a fife, he
wears bells on his legs, ribbons on his arms, and has floral designs on his smock (Figure 7). But is this to be taken for what a
Moriskor really looked like, or rather what Kemp and his backers
thought prospective pamphlet purchasers wanted to see? Can this
be taken to represent what he actually wore? Or were Moriskors
more like these nine common-folk making up a nine-man morris, a low, pastoral, drollery, corresponding in kind to the more
elevated nine muses represented dancing in a ring (Figure 8)?
Whatever morris dances looked likewhich, no doubt, varied
venue to venue, whether at court or in a rural May Day festival,
and whatever the dancers did to be considered Moriskors, they
were what entrepreneurs thought would lend variety and luster to
an amphitheatre. And so let us keep these issues in the air for now
so that, in the end, we might catch ourselves discovering how it is
that such artifice can open up a space from within which theatre
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William E. Engel
sets up, and reflects on, its own truthwhich is, I will argue,
double. For now, though, let us continue noting how morris
dancers figured into the visual and aural imagination, and how
they came to be linked symbolically to confusion and, ultimately,
to death.
Shakespeares 2 Henry VI gives us precisely these bearings.
York reflects on Cade who he has enlisted to make commotion
under the title John Mortimer, whose very cognomen contains the
word of death, mort. Cade is likened to a morris dancer, but the
implication is more of a savage dark warrior; furthermore, lurking
within this comparison is the rampant figure of Death himself
with his deadly dart: I have seen / Him caper upright like a wild
Morisco, / Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells.33 So too
William Dunbars poem Of Ane Blak-Moir brings together the
themes of wondrous strange festivities (morris), aliens among us
(moors), and the prospect of death (mort) whether on the point of
a lance or in the arms of a woman.34 This is a sly satire on the
beauty of a blackamoor (the refrain being: My ladye with the
meckle lippis) in the Scottish court around 1506. She was the focus of a costly spectacle, as it was reported: the justing of the
wild knycht for the blak lady.35 And in Myles Coverdales The
Old Faith (1547), we find: But alas and Woe to this unthankful
world! if any play a wise mans part, and do as he is warned by
Gods word, he shall have a sort of apish people, a number of
dizzards and scornful mockers, which, because the man will not
dance in the devils morrice with them ... laugh him to scorn, and
blear out their tongues at him.36 The late nineteenth-century facsimile of this text, which does not offer much in the way of footnotes, found it necessary to gloss this passage: The morrice or
moorish dance is said to have been first brought into England in
Edward the Thirds time. Owing to the ease with which these
terms are collapsed and the moorish origins accepted, we need to
sample this morris matter further. In the meantime, find a place in
the theatre of your memory for the grotesque image of the Devils
morris hoofed with apish people blearing out their tongues.
280
Figure 7
Alexander Dyce (ed.), Kempes Nine Daies Wonder, (1600), Title-page,
[rpt. London, 1840]. Photo courtesy of the Newberry Library.
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William E. Engel
Figure 8
I[ohn] C[otgrave], Wits Interpreter, London, 1655, frontispiece.
Photo courtesy of the Newberry Library.
282
Figure 9
Death Leads a Fool, Les Images de la Mort, Lyon, 1547, sig. C8.
Photo courtesy of the Newberry Library.
283
William E. Engel
Figure 10
Der Tanz der Toten; reprinted with permission from Heinz Horat, Katalog
der Brckenbilder, in: Josef Brlisauer & Claudia Hermann (eds.), Die
Spreuerbrcke in Luzern: Ein barocker Totentanz von europischer
Bedeutung, Luzern, 1996, p. 133 [panel 1].
284
Figure 11
Der Bote [The Messenger Overtaken by Death]; reprinted with permission
from Heinz Horat, Katalog der Brckenbilder, in: Josef Brlisauer & Claudia
Hermann (eds.), Die Spreuerbrcke in Luzern: Ein barocker Totentanz von
europischer Bedeutung, Luzern, 1996, p. 255.
285
William E. Engel
ed, wherein there were usually five men, and a boy dressed in a
Girles habit, whom they call the Maid Marrian or perhaps Morian,
from the Italian Morion a Head-peece, because her head was
wont to be gaily trimmed up. The common people call it a Morris
Dance.43 Before proceeding, and to keep the phonetic play of
these terms in mind, it is worth noting in passing that the word
Morian, as used to describe a dancer in a morris, also at the time
was used to define More, meaning A Moore ... Blackamore.44
But let us track the term as Blount gives it to us: moor,
marrian, morian, morion, morris. The Maid Marian (also
spelled Marion) part is easy to understand.45 English folk festivals and rustic entertainments often centred on the geste of Robin
Hood. In 1612 Warner records a poem that wistfully looks back
to a simpler time: At Paske begun our Morrise, and ere Penticoste our May, / Tho Robin Hood, liell Iohn, Frier Tuck and Marian deftly play.46 The morian, or head-piece, is easy to understand as well, in that girlonds were required for this morian
dance. As for the boy in a girls habit, suffice it to say there was
a long, and persistent, tradition of this practice in Renaissance
England.47 While much can be, and has been, surmised from this
about sexual conventions and anxieties of the day,48 for our present purposes I would have us direct attention toward another kind
of cross-dressing at work here, one which crosses not gender but
racial and cultural boundariesin the form of a boy dressed as a
moor.
In Arbeaus Orchesographie (1588), under the heading of
Morisques, he mentions that: In my young days, at supper-time
in good society, I have seen a daubed and blackened little boy his
forehead bound with a white or yellow scarf, who, with bells on
his legs, danced the Morisques.49 Acting the part of a foreigner,
in this wild jog-trot dance, with bells and scarves, we can see a
fantasmatic movement away from, while remaining securely
within, Christian Europe. A passage in Marstons Malcontent
(1604), makes even more clear the mixing of cultural and bodily
287
William E. Engel
the case since the bavians typical role in the morris was that of a
fool, a figure which Holbein among others showed to be unconcerned with such matters of bodily modesty (Figure 9).
This tongue-in-cheek expression of pedantic concern with
phallic decorum from within the frame of the play resonates outward to suggest that the boundaries were crossed often enough,
or that the audience in part expected them to beas is borne out
by the phrase introducing the characters in the dance: and next
the Fool, / The Bavian, with long tail and eke long tool (3.5.13132).57 The characters of the Kinsmen morris dance, perhaps intended as a good-natured parody as Gordon McMullen has suggested, parallel those in an antimasque that Fletchers friend and
sometime-collaborator, John Beaumont, included in the Masque
for Inner Temple and Grays Inn written and performed as part of
the wedding festivities of Princess Elizabeth and the Count Palatine.58 A Pedant ushers in the pairs of dancers: a May Lord and
May Lady, Servingman and Chambermaid, Country Clown and
Wench, Host and Hostess, He-Baboon and She-Baboon, HeFool and She-Fool.
In calling for a morris and thus bringing along with it the
semantic array of what morris / moors / morts might connote when
any one of the terms was used, whether or not in an intentionally
quibbling sense, all of these terms emerge and hover like a tacit
tutelary spirit of the play. In the Kinsmen morris, in fact, a most
unlooked for moor shows up as it were, through the literalization
of a rebus-charade. The syllables moor and is are put together
to form morris, possibly by holding up two emblematic pictures, or perhaps two characters mimed a tawny Moor and icy
Winter. The Schoolmaster explains to the royal party gathered in
the field: And with thy twinkling eyes look right and straight /
Upon this mighty morrof mickle weight / Isnow comes
in, which being glud together / Makes Morris, and the cause that
we came hither. (3.5.117-20). Unlike elements are thus made to
form a recognizable third term. The jarring union seeks to make
two separate things one by combining them to make something
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William E. Engel
over is a curious enactment of Coverdales Devils morris, complete with men aping apes.59
Other than the staging of the Moor-Ice rebus in the middle of
Two Noble Kinsmen, there are no moors in the morrissave
mors. Death is the creative genius animating the movement of
play, from start to finish. Indeed, the first act aptly concludes
with a sententious rhyme: This worlds a city full of straying
streets, / And deaths the market-place, where each one meets
(1.5.15-16). Thus the heavy loss of the three queens, who in the
opening scene had sought recourse to bury their husbands, comes
full circle. Ringing out further still, to encompass the entire play,
it is with the completion of funeral rites that some sort of reconciliation and resolution is achieved, if but in ceremonyand always
involving mors. From first to last, Death has been there, waiting;
waiting for Arcite who, even though he wins the contest, loses
his life in an unlooked for riding accident on his triumphal march
back to claim his prize of Emilia (5.4.90-95). It is the unbidden
presence of death that gives all cause to pause for, as Theseus
sums the substance of the play: Never fortune / Did play a subtler
game. The conquerd triumphs, / The victor has the loss; yet in
the passage / The gods have been most equal (5.4.113-16).
Death, as is his allegorical nature as the great leveler and thus who
has a hand in fortunes game, is equal to all as well. He has been
there all along, waiting in the wings as it were, throughout the interrupted marriage rites and halted funeral games, so that he might
take part in and pair off for the final dance. Death brings Arcites
into his fold, in whose place Palamon must be substituted for the
nuptials and lead Emilia from the stage of death (5.4.123). Theseus continues: A day or two / Let us look sadly, and give grace
unto / The funeral of Arcite; in whose end / The visages of bridegrooms well put on, / And smile with Palamon (5.4.124-28).
Thus the simple rustic instruments like those associated with
bells and bones, conjure up another dance in the Renaissance
visual and aural imagination, namely the Dance of the Dead.
Moreover, with the enforced pairings, from highest to lowest so291
William E. Engel
cial degree, in the form of Emilia with the substitute victor, Palamon, and the Jailers Daughter with her substitute Palamon in the
form of The Wooer (otherwise unnamed in the play, and who
takes the name of Palamon to bed and wed her), reminiscent of
the Dance of Death, a kind of city-version of the morris is evoked, one in which women are made to give themselves over to men
who are not of their own choosing. In The Roaring Girl, for example, as Ralph Trapdoor exchanges bawdy quips with Sir Alexander: The jingling of golden bells, and a good fool with a hobby-horse, will draw all the whores i th town to dance in a morris.60 Adding further to the association of taking a partner by way
of compromise, and moreover linked also to death, the term
morts was London street slang for one of several varieties of
prostitutes.61
In addition to street-walkers (who led one away from the affairs of the work-a-day world and promise a tussle with death, the
little-death, la petite mort), among the phrases current in Stuart
England which preserve the sense of the tension associated with
pursuit was all amort.62 In Thomas Lodges popular Roselind,
we find the same sense of melancholy (the black humour) and
sexual tension evoked through Alienas entreaty to her beloved
moorish prince: Why, how now, my Saladyne, all amort. What
melancholy, man, at the say of marriage?63 Moreover, the term
mort o the deer was the specific horn-call sounded when death
came to the quarry. Blounts Ancient Tenures records: As soone
as the Bukks head is offered uppe all the keepers shal blow a
Morte three tymes.64 There are even instances in the Totentanz
where the figure of Death is shown blowing the horn for the
messenger, hunting him down as it were, and bringing him to his
death (Figure 11).
In Shakespeares Winters Tale, the term mort takes on
these, and additional, resonances when Leontes frets suspiciously
over the attention his best friend, Polixenes, is showing to his
wife, Hermione: But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers,
/ As they now they are, and making practisd smiles / As in a
292
William E. Engel
1
2
This study is indebted to Roland Mushat Frye, Paul Gehl, Heinz Horat,
Nabil Mater, and Anne Lake Prescott, who have shared their ideas and
critical suggestions along the way. For access to the images from the
Luzern Totentanz, I would acknowledge with gratitude the superintendence of the Kantonale Denkmalpflege, Mr Elmar Elbs.
William E. Engel, Mapping Mortality: The Persistence of Memory and
Melancholy in Early Modern England, Amherst, 1995, p. 72.
On Death as Der schwarze Mann, see Henri Stegemeier, The Dance of
294
295
William E. Engel
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
296
297
William E. Engel
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
298
299
William E. Engel
45 See, for example, Barnabe Rych, The Honestie of This Age, London,
1615, sig. F, which faults men for this imbrodering of long locks ... fitter for Maid Marion in a Moris dance, then for him that hath either that
spirit or courage that shold be in a Gentleman. Also, Mawdmarion is
listed as one of the parts in a liuely morisdauns according to the account
given by Robert Laneham of the entertainment of Queen Elizabeth at
Killingworth Castle during her summer progress of 1575; see Frederick J.
Furnivall, Lanehams Letter, London, 1890, pp. 22-23.
46 William Warner, Albions England, London, 1612, p. 121.
47 In an invective against the abuses which are committed in your maygames, Christopher Featherstone, Dialogue against light, lewde, and
lasiuious dauncing, London, 1582, sig. D7, provides insight into the
fluid terminology associated with this manner of transgression: that you
due use to attyre men in womans apparel, whom you doe most commonly call may marrions.
48 McMullan, Politics of Unease, pp. 149-53. See also Stephen Orgel,
Impersonations: The Performance of Gender in Shakespeares England,
Cambridge, 1996, pp. 10-12; and Jonathan Dollimore, Subjectivity,
Sexuality, and Transgression: The Jacobean Connection, Renaissance
Drama 17 (1986), pp. 53-81.
49 Thoinot Arbeau (anagrammized pseudonym for Jean Tabourot), Orchesographie (1588), sig. A2. See the translation by Cyril W. Beaumont,
London, 1925, and see also Francis Douce, Illustrations of Shakespeare
and of Ancient Manners with a Dissertation on the English Morris
Dance, London, 1807, vol. II, p. 148, see also p. 437.
50 John Marston, The Malcontent, (ed.) M. L. Wine, Lincoln, 1964,
1.3.57-59. Catito is glossed as a boyish game, hence Catito is a boys
play-land.
51 Thomas Heywood, The Fair Maid of the West, Part Two, London,
1631, sig. L4v.
52 For example, II FMW, sig. L5; on the earlier currency of this epithet, see
Andrew Boorde, The Fyrst Boke of the Introduction of Knowledge,
[1562?], p. xxxvi, concerning the Mores whych dwel in Barbary.
53 Two Noble Kinsmen (Riverside Shakespeare), 3.5.
54 E. K. Chambers, The Mediaeval Stage, Oxford, 1903, vol. I, pp. 19697, notes of this passage that Bavian names the fool, coming from the
Dutch baviaan (baboon). The terms seems to be linked with apes in
most contexts in which it appears; for example, a list of grotesques in an
extended comparison in John Hart, Orthographie, London, 1569, sig.
H1: For they shoulde not halfe so well represent them, as should the
well proportioned figures of manye skipping Babians, Apes, Marmosets
300
55
56
57
58
59
60
or Monkeys, and dauncing Dogs and Beares. See also Ben Jonson, Epigrammes, CXXIX, To Mime, in: George Burke Johnston (ed.),
Poems of Ben Jonson, Cambridge, Mass., 1954, p. 67: Whilst thou
dost raise some Player, from the grave / Out-dance the Babion, or outboast the Brave; and Francis Bacon, Essayes, XXXVII, Of Masques
and Triumphs, in: Francis Bacon, Essayes, (ed.) Michael Kiernan,
Cambridge, Mass., 1985, pp. 117-18, esp. 118: Let Antimasques not
be long; They have been commonly of Fooles, Satyres, Baboones,
Wilde-Men, Antiques, Beasts, Sprites, Witches, Ethiopes, Pigmies, Turquets, Nimphs, Rusticks, Cupids, Statuas Moving, and the like. This
list sounds very much like what the promoters of the Projected Amphitheatre would have been delighted to have secured for their patrons.
See, for example, Thomas Middleton & Thomas Dekker, The Roaring
Girl, (ed.) Andor Gomme, London, 1976, 4.2 (l.131).
The tail may also refer to the fact that sometimes a fox tail worn by a
morris fool. Furthermore, Chambers, following Alfred Burton, Rushbearing: An Account of the Old Custom of Strewing Rushes [etc.],
Manchester, 1891, observes that the fool, sometimes known as owd
sooty-face generally was black, thus bringing back the darkened skin associated with death (tramort) and the tawny moor.
Chambers, Mediaeval Stage, pp. 196-97, comments that [h]is tail is
be noted; for the phallic shape sometimes given to the bladder which he
carries. And likely as not, there may well be some further iconographic
and semantic slipping involved in the tail or long tool attributed to
the bavian, or baboon, with regard to the classical character and etymological derivation of Baubo; see Winifred Milius Lubell, The Metamorphosis of Baubo: Myths of Womans Sexual Energy, Nashville & London, 1994, p. 22. And on the socio-sexual compensatory strategies used
in the Renaissance, especially as regards Baubo, see Adriane Stewart,
Body Phantoms: Ontological Instability, Compensation, and Drama in
Early Modern England, Diss. Vanderbilt University, 1995, chapter 3.
McMullan, Politics of Unease, p. 106.
On networks of apes and blackface in dance and theatre of the day as it is
being discussed here, see Kim F. Hall, Troubling Doubles: Apes,
Africans, and Blackface in Mr. Moores Revels, in: Joyce Green MacDonald (ed.), Race, Ethnicity, and Power in the Renaissance, Madison &
Teaneck, 1997, pp. 120-44, esp. 124: Apes and moors make their appearance concurrently and work to interrogate European social and cultural
assumptions in much the same way.
Roaring Girl, 1.2., ll. 221-22. See also the Jailer Daughters series of
bawdy double entendres involving the horse Palamon is imagined to have
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61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
given her, able to dance a morris twenty mile an hour, / and that will
founder the best hobby-horse (Two Noble Kinsmen, 5.2, ll. 51-52).
See for example Dyce (ed.), Works of Beaumont and Fletcher, vol. IX,
p. 29 (Beggars Bush, 2.1); Thomas Dekker, Belman of London (1608),
sig. D4, and also Lantern and Candlelight (1608), chapter one; Thomas
Harman, A Caveat for Common Cursitors (1566), reprinted in Arthur
Kinney (ed.), Rogues, Vagabonds and Sturdy Beggars, Amherst, 1990,
p. 138.
Cf. all amort, properly alamort, French la mort, which in Shakespeares day meant dejected, thus in Taming of the Shrew, 4.3.36-37:
How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort; and Robert Greene,
Friar Bacon, (ed.) Daniel Seltzer, Lincoln, 1963, 1.1.21; Ermsby, concerned that Prince Edward is melancholy over not being able to have the
lass he desires, remarks: Shall he thus all amort live malcontent?
Thomas Lodge, Roselind, (ed.) Donald Beecher, Ottawa, 1997, p. 223.
Blount, Ancient Tenures, p. 170.
John Sallis, Stone, Bloomington & Indianapolis, 1994, p. 4.
Ibid., pp. 117-47.
See above, note 54.
For a more detailed analysis of this theme, see William E. Engel, Death
and Drama in Renaissance England: Shades of Memory, Oxford, 2002,
pp. 164-67.
Sallis, Stone, p. 124.
Jane H. M. Taylor, Un Miroer Salutaire, in: Idem, Dies Illa: Death in
the Middle Ages, Liverpool, 1984, pp. 29-43, esp. 40: If the Danse
Macabre, then, is as I have argued a series of thirty potential self-portraits
structured around the notion of image and obverse, the spectators familiarity with the macabre associations of mirrors was likely to make him
able to grasp the message without further explanation.
302
do a fairly straightforward, dramatic, recitation. Then she will reperform the passage in two different ways, first playing with the
issue of metered vs. unmetered recitation. Then she will sing the
passage while also playing the vielle.
[performance]
Linda Marie Zaerrs subsequent comments on her performance: First I pantomimed the action as I recited the lines.
This approach is most accessible to a modern audience unfamiliar
with this difficult dialect of Middle English. I created the illusion
of a decapitated man lifting up his head by bowing my head and
then grasping my hair to lift up my face, rolling my eyes.
Then I illustrated two of the performance options that have
been discussed for alliterative long lines with irregular numbers
of syllables. Either the stressed syllables may be regularly
spaced, with the unstressed syllables fitting in as they may, or
the passage may be more freely rendered, with the stressed
syllables falling sometimes more quickly and sometimes more
slowly. There is certainly more room for expression in the second, unmetered approach, and such an approach allows a performer to conceal memorial hesitation in a way that is not
possible in a metronomic performance.
Finally I illustrated a sung version. There are many possible
ways of singing a text,7 but I settled on a chanted version to
demonstrate a maximum contrast with the initial performance. I
played a drone on the vielle and presented the text as a liturgical
style chant. A significant result was the diminution of my emotional involvement with the text. This approach instantly flattens
out the performers role, distancing her from the text. Presumably in a context where the audience were native speakers, the text
would then be more purely available to the audience, less tampered with by the performer, who becomes, as much as possible, a neutral intermediary of the text.
306
Evelyn Birge Vitz: We turn now to Chrtien de Troyes romance Yvain. Linda Marie will recite the scene where Yvain first
meets up with the lion. Again, she will first recite the passage in a
dramatic fashion, playing particular attention to the character of
the lion. We know from many iconographic images that performers often played the roles of animals. Then, she will again
re-perform the passage twice. She will be experimenting with different uses of the vielle. At our performance at Kalamazoo, we
also tried out a performance version in which Laura Zaerr played
the harp while Linda Marie recited and acted out the scene. That
variation was quite successful: in particular, it presented the advantage of freeing Linda Marie up to dramatize the scene rather
fully, while having an attractive musical backdrop. Clearly, having more than one performer available expands options considerably.
[performance]
Linda Marie Zaerr: Again, I first presented this passage by
pantomiming the action as I recited the text, and I adopted a
whimsical approach. I represented the lion by holding up my
hands, palms out, with the fingers slightly bent like claws. As
Prof. Vitz has discussed in her book, a figure like the lion has
considerably more impact when he is allowed a physical
presence.
I used this passage to demonstrate two different ways that a
musical instrument may be used to accompany Chrtiens octosyllabic couplets. The first approach employed melodic motifs to
underscore the verse structure. I adapted motifs from a song by
Gautier de Coinci to coordinate with the first and second lines of
each couplet.
For me this was not a satisfying approach. It was difficult for
me to recall the passage while thinking about what I was playing,
and the structure seemed more rigid and dangerous for a performer. It would certainly be possible for me to do an extended
307
310
[J. R. R. Tolkien & E. V. Gordon (eds.), Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,
Oxford, 1967 (2nd ed.), ll. 417-43.]
The Green Knight upon ground girds him with care:
Bows a bit with his head, and bares his flesh:
His long lovely locks he laid over his crown,
Let the naked nape for the need be shown.
Gawain grips his ax and gathers it aloft
The left foot on the floor before him he set
Brought it down deftly upon the bare neck,
That the shock of the sharp blow shivered the bones
And cut the flesh cleanly and clove it in twain,
That the blade of bright steel bit into the ground.
The head was hewn off and fell to the floor;
Many found it at their feet, as forth it rolled;
The blood gushed from the body, bright on the green,
Yet fell not the fellow, nor faltered a whit,
But stoutly he starts forth upon stiff shanks,
And as all stood staring he stretched forth his hand,
Laid hold of his head and heaved it aloft,
Then goes to the green steed, grasps the bridle,
Steps into the stirrup, bestrides his mount,
And his head by the hair in his hand holds,
And as steady he sits in the stately saddle
As he had met with no mishap, nor missing were his head.
His bulk about he haled,
That fearsome body that bled;
There were many in the court that quailed
Before all his way was said.
[Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, (trans.) Marie Boroff, New York, 1967.]
311
[Mario Roques (ed.), Le chevalier au lion (Yvain), Paris, 1971, ll. 3372-97.]
He drew his sword
its blade was cleanand then the lord
Yvain attacked the lowly snake
and cut him down, so he could break
the snake in two. Then Sir Yvain
struck at the snake time and again,
until the snake was cut in pieces.
But the dead snake would not release his
head, which held the lion tight
and gripped him by the tail. The knight
was forced to cut away a bit
of the lions tail to sever it.
So he cut off the least that he
could cut and set the lion free.
[Chrtien de Troyes, Yvain or the Knight with the Lion, (trans.) Ruth
Harwood Cline, Athens, GA, 1984 [1975], ll. 3183-210].
Cantiga 18
Chorus:
Por nos de dulta tirar,
Praz a Santa Maria
De seus miragres mostrar
Fremosos cada dia.
312
[Alfonso X el Sabio, Cantigas de Santa Maria, 3 vols., (ed.) Walter Mettmann, Madrid, 1986]
Chorus: It pleases Holy Mary to perform Her beautiful miracles each day in order
to free us from doubt.
[1] To prove Her worth to us, She performed a great miracle in Extremadura, in the
city of Segovia, where dwelt a lady who produced much silk in her home.
[2] Because she lost the silkworms and had little silk, she therefore promised to
give a length of silk for a veil to honor the statue of the Peerless Virgin, in whom
she fervently believed, which was on the altar.
[3] As soon as she had made the promise the silkworms thrived and did not die. But
the lady became negligent about her promise and kept forgetting to give the silk
for the veil.
[4] Then it happened that on the great feast of August, she came to pray before the
statue at midday. While she knelt in prayer, she remembered the silk cloth that she
owed.
[5] Weeping in penitence, she ran home and saw the silkworms working
diligently to make the cloth. Then she began to weep with happiness.
...
313
[8] One by one and two by two they came quickly to the place and saw. Meanwhile, the silkworms made another veil, so that there might be a pair, and if
someone wished to take one of them, there would be another left.
[Songs of Holy Mary of Alfonso X, The Wise: A Translation of the Cantigas de Santa Maria, (trans) Kathleen Kulp-Hill, Tempe, 2000.]
Notes
*
1
2
3
5
6
7
The following text constitutes an attempt to provide a narrative reconstitution of our joint performance at the Barnard Conference. We think it is
useful to describe what Linda Marie Zaerr did in her performance, as well
as the reception / participation by the audience. We also discuss other
performance options that we might have tried, had time allowedor had
other performers been present as well.
Our presentation, entitled: We must perform early medieval romances:
The case of Chrtien de Troyes, was given in May 1998.
Evelyn Birge Vitz, Orality and Performance in Early French Romance,
Cambridge, 1998.
I discuss this issue in considerable detail in Orality and Performance in
Early French Romance. Such texts include Pierre de St. Clouds version
of the Renart; branch 1b of the Renart; Le bel inconnu of Renaut de
Beaujeu, as well as the romance Joufroi and Gerberts Perceval le
Gallois; some manuscripts of Erec et Enide including (ms. BN 1376)
the text recently edited by David Hult; occitan romances such as Jaufr
and Flamenca; Les ailes de courtoisie, Abril issie by the troubadour
Raimon Vidal; the comic argument between two jongleurs entitled Les
deux bourdeurs ribauds, and others. Numerous chansons de geste make
the same point, give the same picture of romance performance; they
include Aye dAvignon, Doon de Nanteuil, and Les enfances Godefroi.
Since this conference, Linda Marie Zaerr, together with harpist Laura
Zaerr and vielle player Shira Kammen, have produced a fifty-minute DVD
of excerpts from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, TEAMS and Chaucer
Studio, 2002.
I discussed these issues at some length in Chapter 6 of Orality and
Performance.
At our performance at Kalamazoo in 1998, Laura Zaerr also happened to
be present, and played the Gothic harp at various points.
Some other alternatives are demonstrated in Music and Medieval Romance: A Possible Performance of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,
audiotape, Chaucer Studio, 1990.
Since this talk/performance, I have, with two colleagues launched a web-
314
315
Part III:
Yseuts Legacy:
Women Writers and Performers in
the Medieval French Romance Ysae le Triste
Marilyn Lawrence
Women play a central role in the creation and performance of
written texts in the late-fourteenth- or early-fifteenth-century
anonymous French prose romance Ysae le Triste.1 In particular,
the romance spotlights three women writer-performers: first
Yseut (mother of Ysae, by Tristan), then Marthe (Ysaes lover
and, ultimately, his wife), and finally Orimonde (the wife of
Ysaes and Marthes son). Through the characters of Yseut,
Marthe, and Orimonde, Ysae le Triste depicts performance
(singing, reciting, reading aloud, etc.) of written narratives, lyric
poems, and letters as a womans most effective means of communication and self-expression, crucial to the fulfillment of her
goals and desires. Performance of written texts serves to relay
fundamental personal messages regarding love, marriage, and
childbirth, and enables absolution of sins, recognition of original
identity, and union between lovers.
Gender roles in Ysae le Triste highlight tension and reciprocity between performers and writers, and between oral and
written composition. Yseut, Marthe, and Orimonde are all highly skilled and admired performers.2 However, paradoxically,
none of these women transmits her written texts by performing
them herself. Rather, male characters perform womens written
works and male audiences analyze and judge womens compositions in terms of quality and content. Gender roles thus serve to
express a distinction here between authors and performers: in
Marilyn Lawrence
dissemination of written texts authors are separate from, yet dependent on, performers.
Ysae le Triste opens with a pregnant Yseut fleeing the court
to give birth in secret to a baby boy, Ysae. Hidden in the depths
of the forest, Yseut consults a book she has written recording the
story of her marriage with Marc and her love affair with Tristan
in order to determine the father of her child:
Izeut, que toudis metoit les heures en escript que Tristran gisoit avoec
elle, et ausy faisoit elle du roy Marcq ... elle est grosse. Si ceurt a ung
sien escring la u ou elle metoit il livre ou les heures devant nommees estoient escriptes, et treuve quil y avoit .iiii. mois et demi que Tristrans
lavoit venu veoir.
(27, 2)3
Yseut then gives her book to a hermit so that he may read her
story and absolve her of her sins. Thus Yseut, a character represented in Tristan lore as a consummate composer and performer
of lyric and narrative, is represented in Ysae le Triste as a
writerindeed as the original writer of the romance of Tristan
and Yseut.
When Yseuts son reaches adulthood, he falls in love with
Marthe and they conceive a sonnamed Marc! Receiving the
legacy of her mother-in-law, Marthe is portrayed as a gifted performer and writer. When the adventure-seeking Ysae abandons
Marthe, she disguises herself as a wandering performer: first as
a male, then as a female minstrel. She travels incognito in search
of Ysae, singing and telling her own compositions along the
way. Marthe eventually writes a romance which, like Yseuts
book, is an autobiographical narrative recounting her relationship with her lover. When Marthes story, an allegorical romance that is actually inserted into Ysae le Triste, is read aloud
to Ysae by his dwarf attendant, Tronc, Ysae at last recognizes
Marthe and the couple reunites.
Marthe passes down her skills to her future daughter-in-law,
Orimonde, the daughter of the Admiral of Persia. Orimonde impresses audiences by performing a variety of songs that she has
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Yseuts Legacy
apparently composed orally.4 She also writes, initiating her relationship with Marthes son, Marc, when she writes and sends
him a love letter. The Saracen maidens ability to write so pleasingly and proficiently in the French language astounds Marc.
His great-uncle, Yrion, explains that Orimonde learned her art
directly from Marthe: le premiere annee que je fui rois, ly Amiraux le menvoya par de cha pour aprendre, et navoit que douze
ans, et je lui envoyay Marte vostre mere, et fu la .vi. ans, et puis
le manday et il le menvoya, si li renvoyay se fille. (220, 349)
For six years, starting at the age of twelve and continuing
through her adolescence, Orimonde becomes a woman under the
tutelage of Marthe, the character most developed in Ysae le
Triste as a woman performer and writer.5
Through insertions of Marthes work, as well as through
scenes of Marthes composing and performing, Ysae le Triste
constructs in detail the portrait of a prolific woman writer-performer whose art is varied in genre and mode. A prose romance,
Ysae le Triste contains dozens of insertions, both in verse
(narratives and lyric poetry) and in prose (letters). Marthe composes more of these interpolations than any other character. Her
first inserted text is a prose letter; her twelve verse compositions
are songs and lais;6 her longest, most significant, and final interpolation is her written romance of over a thousand verses. She
composes orallydist en chantant cest son nouvel (122, 153)
and in writing: je veul escripre un lay nouvel. (167, 251)7
From the moment the character of Marthe enters the romance, she is specifically designated as a writer of texts performed by men. She is initially introduced not through physical
description, but rather through her writing: a messenger delivers
to Ysae a letter Marthe has written, an interpolated prose piece
that Tronc performs.8
Only after Ysae le Triste has established the character of
Marthe through her written text and its performance is she represented physicallyand when she is, this physical introduction
321
Marilyn Lawrence
322
Yseuts Legacy
323
Marilyn Lawrence
Yseuts Legacy
(105, 123). Although the text does not indicate whether he reads
the composition out loud or silently, Yrion takes her composition seriously and takes his time (par loisir) to read and reread
it carefully.
Marthes relationship to her beloved, Ysae, as well as to his
attendant, Tronc, are also defined by her writing and the performance of her written works. Through performance of
Marthes initial prose letter, Ysae le Triste immediately constructs the essential relationship between protagonists as a triangular one between writer, auditor, and performer. The messenger presents Marthes letter to Ysae and instructs the hero:
Lisis lez ou les faittes lires (94, 95). Ysae, who is literate
and reads elsewhere in the romance, can indeed choose whether
to read the work himself or to have someone else read it to
him.15 Establishing the fundamental three-way relationship of
writer-auditor-performer, Ysae orders Tronc to read the letter
aloud to him: Lors prent Ysae les lettres et froisse le chire et
baille lez lettres a Tronc qui lez lut appertement (94, 95).
Marthes letter is a written text well crafted for such reading
aloud. A prose piece, Marthes letter lacks rhyme, but is tightly
held together by the frequent repetition of speech sounds whose
importance Troncs oral performance would magnify. Virtually
every line of Marthes letter exploits alliteration, consonance, or
assonance to tie together strands of repeated consonantal or
vowel sounds into a densely-woven work. Read aloud, Marthes
letter seduces her auditors ear and draws him into the flow of
her lyrical prose: A vous, chevaliers parfais, parfaitement ams
damie, savoir vous fay que le grant grasse grasscieuse dont
vous estes raemplis ma dechut et me decheut, car vostre amour
est pis as seuree que le moie ne soit a la vostre ... (94, 96).
Through insertion of Marthes letter and representation of
another characters performance of it, Ysae le Triste positions
Marthe as the absent woman author, metonymically present
through her writing: vechy unnes lettres que Marte, le nieche
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Marilyn Lawrence
Yrion qui est rois de Blamir, vous envoye. (94, 95) Ysae is
the recipient, addressee, and auditor of this writing: Ysae et o
les lettres (95, 97). Tronc is the performer, reader, and transmitter of the writing: Tronc qui lez lut (94, 95). Gender roles
underscore this relation, portraying the woman as writer with
men as performers, auditors, addressees, and judges of womans
written texts.16
This three-way relationship is disturbed when Marthe disguises herself as a minstrel, hiding her identity as a writer and
performing her own orally composed works herself. During her
fifteen-year-long minstrel disguisethat is for more than onesixth of the lengthy Ysae le Triste (i.e., eighty pages out of Giacchettis 460-page edition)Marthe persistently tries to reunite
with her beloved through performance of her own autobiographical oral compositions. While making appearances as a
minstrel at various courts, Marthe meets up with her beloved
twicebut they do not recognize each other. They even unknowingly reside at the same court for some fourteen years.
How can it be that Marthes autobiographical performances, executed in the first-person singular, fail to spur recognition and
reunioneven when the hero and heroine face each other, virtually unchanged (with the exception of Marthes clothing)?
Although she is a skilled performer, the woman writer in
Ysae le Triste does not perform her most important works herself. In Ysae le Triste, the woman characters most effective
compositions require a separation between the writer and performer. Resolution will occur only once the original triangle is
reconstituted, when Marthe resumes her role as absent woman
writer and sends to Ysae her livre, her written verse romance,
which Tronc will perform aloud to the hero-auditor.17
Moreover, Ysae le Triste gives performance of written texts
precedence over performance of purely orally composed works
and specifically performance of written romance precedence
over performance of orally composed songs and lais. Although
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Yseuts Legacy
Marilyn Lawrence
explains: Pour lamour dun chevalier que elle amoit, qui estoit nomms Ysae ly Tristes. (183, 281) Despite these revelations, there is not a true separation between author and performer, no apparent recourse to writingand notably no recognition
nor reunion. Marthe persists in her search, proceeding, still in
minstrel disguise, to King Estrahiers court to look for her lover.
Estrahier, a fanatic of female musicians, keeps Marthe imprisoned for a good fifteen years.19 There Ysae and Marthe meet and
talk a second time. Yet despite lez beaux mos que Marte savoit
dire (188, 291), Marthes conversation with Ysae (who now
suffers from amnesia and can not remember who he is) does not
lead to recognition for either character.
The tension built by the incorporation of minstrel and authorial identities in the same character paradoxically lays the
ground for the solution of the crux of the episode: the reaffirmation of the protagonists original triangular relationship of
writer-auditor-performer. In this relationship, the woman is the
absent writer, the hero is the addressee and auditor of her writing, and the male attendant serves as its performer. Ysae le
Triste divides roles along gender lines to emphasize separation
between the figures of the author and the performer. When
Yreux, Ysaes companion, arrives at Estrahiers court, Marthe
overhears their recognition scene and learns Ysaes identity.
She takes out a little book containing a romance that she has
writtenLors quert a ung sien escring et en sacque ung livret
(224-25, 359)and tells a boy to deliver it to Ysae who is to
have someone look at (read) its contents: Mes enffes, fay tant
pour moy que tu portes cest livret au fol [Ysae] que de chy se
part, et ly dy que lune dez dames de ceste tour lui envoye et
quil fache garder quil y a dedens. (225, 359) The male messenger finds Ysae and faithfully executes Marthes command:
ly une dez dames qui est en le tour par desouls lequelle vous
gisis vous envoye cest livre, faittes le lire hastivement. (225,
359)
328
Yseuts Legacy
The terms used for Marthes romance link her work to that of
Yseut and other lovers in Ysae le Triste. Marthe calls her written narrative a livret, a little book; the boy presents it to Ysae
as a livre, a book;20 Ysae calls it a brief (225, 359) which, in
addition to being a general term for a written document, means
letter. Ysae le Triste thus associates Marthes romance with
that of Yseut, which is also called a livre (27, 2), livret (29,
5), or brief (29, 5-6). Use of the word brief underscores the
manner in which the authors story is delivered to its intended
audience. The term brief also connects Yseuts and Marthes
written narratives to general references in Ysae le Triste associating courtship and letter-writing, and specifically to the first
written composition Marthe has performed for Ysae, the letter
that established Marthes identity as a writer, and her relationship to Ysae and Tronc. Just as performance of Marthes first
letter paved the way for the lovers union, performance of this
briefher romancewill make way for their reunion.
However, Ysae does not immediately interpret the token as
a sign of Marthes identity: Quant Ysae lentent sy fu esmaris
dont ce peut venir. (225, 359) He can not interpret writing as a
signifier of Marthes identity unless another character performs
it to him: Tronc, fait Ysae, une dame ma envoyet ung livre.
Je vous prie que le lisis ... Je voel qui soit lus, fait Ysae,
delivrs vous. (225, 360) Enabling recognition and reunion,
Tronc begins to read Marthes composition aloud: Quant il voit
que faire ly couvient, lors commenche a lire (225, 360).
Troncs performance makes possible Marthes recovery of
her primary role as a woman writer, an identity separate and distinct from the performer of her writings. Through performance
of written narrative, Ysae le Triste stages recognition without
physical presence. Marthes true voice is expressed in writing,
and thus heard through the intermediary voice of another, of the
reader who performs her work. As Jesper Svenbro remarks in
his examination of Sappho: The order of written discourse requires the writer to define himself as absent, as dead.21 He adds:
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Marilyn Lawrence
The reader will breathe into the poem the psukh that Sappho
breathed out there. In short, the reader will restore life, voice,
sound, and meaning to the graph .22 Paradoxically, the absence
the deathof our Sappho, of our woman writer, generates her
rebirth: the resurrection of her original relations with the hero
and his attendant.
Performance of the womans written romance by a male
character emphasizes a separation between author and performer
necessary in Ysae le Triste to ensure communication between
and union of protagonists, and to fulfill the womans needs and
objectives. To tell their stories successfully, both Yseut and
Marthe hand over their written texts to male readers who perform autobiographical works whose first-person narrative voice
is feminine. Ysae le Triste thus uses gender to mark the distance between writer and performer, and between performer and
written text.
Yseuts voice, like that of Marthe, is heard not through her
own oral performance, but rather through the male readers actualization of her written text. After giving birth to Ysae, Yseut,
near death, does not confess orally, but rather has her confessor
read the livret that records the entire history of her affair with
Tristan:
Sires, toutes les besongnes dont je me sui mesfaite vers Roy Marcq mon
mari ne sai ge mie, mais je sai aucques toutes les choses quavenues sont
entre moy et Tristran de Loenois. Et pour que je ne leusse seut tout detenir par coeur, en ay ge mis le plus grant partie en ung livret qui est sur
moy: tens et lisis et je connisteray toutes ces coses estre vraies: sy
men asollez. A tant regarde le brief, ne mie si brief quil ny eust .xxx.
foelles, et parloit des le commenchement que Tristrans lala rouver pour
son oncle jusques a celui jour quelle estoit venue devant lui, et especiaument parloit de leure et du jour que Tristrans jut avoec lui, quant ly engenra le petit orphelin que encore nest baptis.
(29, 5)
Yseuts Legacy
tirety of her adulterous affair, and ultimately exonerates her because it proves to her male reader, her confessor, that she is
powerless to resist her passion:
Et li ermittes en ot pit, car bien vy, parmi ce que li brief tesmoignoit,
quelle estoit asss des fais ygnorente, car les amours de Tristran avoient
commenchi par le vertu dun beuvraige que li femme le roy Angins dIrlande, mere Yzeut bailla a Gormorail et a Bongien. Si ly fist le signe de
le crois, en non dassolucion.
(29, 6)
Marilyn Lawrence
Yseuts Legacy
to spotlight the prominence of women writers and the performance of written texts. Whereas Marthe invariably provides her
curious audiences specifics concerning her authorial identity and
intent, the actual historical author of Ysae le Triste stubbornly
chooses to remain anonymous and mysteriousthough, thanks
to our reading, our performance, of surviving manuscripts, not
silent.27
Notes
1
4
5
333
Marilyn Lawrence
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
334
Yseuts Legacy
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
335
Felicity Henderson
Now Gentlemen for mee it misbecomes
To ask of you your ill deserved Humms
These Ladies here will prove more kind perhaps
And Kindly on us all bestow their claps.1
Felicity Henderson
that is, they would have been equally qualified to give a serious
lecture. It seems the position of music speaker was highly sought
after, but the speech itself was often the product of a group effort.
Mr. Walbank claimed in his 1684 epilogue that The charming
Foster ... / Profferd a Guiney for this Preaching place, and was
planning to kill ye women ... / With his own beauty & ye students Wit.5 Foster is characterized as a fop who had proposed to
deliver a speech written by some of the students, in the hopes of
making a name for himself among the women. James Allestree
offered an insight into the production of the 1679 speech, in his
epilogue:
Had you but known how fast intelligence came
Wt notes were sent of this & tother Dame
Who treated who wt baudry past last night
Who jilted yt raw Esqr & this young Knight
Had yee known this I justly had bin blamd
Not why these few, but why no more were namd.6
Felicity Henderson
Felicity Henderson
Interestingly, the speaker attributed to the visiting ladies a knowledge and enjoyment of debauchery similar to that of the London
courtiers. This scholarly insecurity about the relationship between
the universities and courtly society manifested itself in various
ways, most obviously in the derision of fops, but also in the
way the scholars spoke about London. Lawrence claimed the ladies transforming presence in Oxford will make the Walkes &
Groves surpasse those of Greys-Inne and convert our New into
342
(fol. 7)
Felicity Henderson
and he followed this up with the obvious joke that the wives may
be hired like horses. His statement reinforced once again the notion, repeated throughout university satire, that the townsmens
wives preferred the sexual attentions of scholars to those of their
husbands. Linked with this is the idea that the townsmen were
unable to keep the scholars from their women. Smith, in 1693,
mentioned Byrams mornfull Nymphs, who were watcht &
guard like his bags: apparently a rare instance of a townsman
who had been able to enforce a long virginity on his daughters.16 The example of Byram also illustrates the way in which
town women, both wives and daughters, were almost always associated with trades, legitimate and illegitimate. Lawrence called
the better Herrings among them, our Consorts those Gills of all
trades that furnish us wth one sort of ware more then their husbands (fol. 8v). Smith said Where beauty is ye Traffick of ye
shop / The trade thrives best with windows folded up, and derided ye stale Daniels as dated like our tradesmens-tarnishd
ware.17 The emphasis on buying and selling was an attempt to
distance the scholars from these town women by implying that
any transactions that may have occurred were purely commercial,
and not the result of any kind of emotional attachment between
people of such different social positions. Lawrence even suggested that these illicit negotiations were part of the town/university
economy, asking whether the buying that [i.e., the wives sexual
favours] payes not for the rest of the husbands goods.
Like most of the music speakers, Lawrence devoted a portion
of his speech to discussing particular town girls. He not only
identified these women by their fathers occupations, but caricatured several of them as direct products of the townsmens trade.
One was a pale girle the creature of a Baker & shee like her
fathers bread is underbaked and wants kneading, another was a
chandlers greasy daughter that makes use of Tallow instead of
Pomatum to gett her a shining countenance (fol. 8v). The wit of
these identifications lies in the cleverness with which the descriptions of the girls might be made to fit their fathers trades; but the
345
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Felicity Henderson
349
Felicity Henderson
Valour & Knight-errantry must redeeme you out of this enchanted castle,
& a man must passe the pikes ere he can come at you.
(fol. 11)
Torless also touched upon the theme of capture and combat, comparing his audience with the Sabine Ladies, come to see our
sports (fol. 35). As it followed a long complaint about the universitys lack of women, the overtones of this allusion are obvious, and are not wholly effaced by his subsequent claim that
instead of our laying hands on you, You take us captives here at
home.28 In both these metaphors, the scholars make the tension
of the situation clear. As well as fighting with each other over the
women, as competitors did in a tournament, the scholars must
contend with the attacks of the women on their freedom. The
speakers imply that these perceived attacks were welcome as
proof of the scholars desirability and susceptibility to female
charms; but they must still be resisted if the scholars are to retain
their freedom and identity.
The music speeches, then, have a mixed message. The scholars treated the occasion as an elaborate courtship ritual, directed
towards women but played out in the sight of other males. Their
goal was to entrance the women with a display of wit, learning
and musical accomplishment, all the while making suggestive remarks presumably intended to inflame the ladies desire. At the
same time, they marked out their territory for the benefit of the
visiting London fops and courtiers, characterising themselves as
rakish ladies men and demonstrating their intimate knowledge of
women in general and Oxford women in particular. Their attempts
to know women thoroughly by a minute description is a demonstration of the scholars reliance on their own power of objective
knowledge. This was contrasted with the womens power, which
was mysterious or supernatural, stemming from their physical natures rather than their intelligence. The scholars defence of academic learning in the face of subversive female power was accomplished more completely through the womens presence on
the scholars home ground. The university men were able to see
the womens reactions to their raillery, reinforcing their dominant
350
351
Felicity Henderson
352
13
14
15
16
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
353
List of Illustrations
Joyce Coleman
Fig. 1: John, earl of Shrewsbury, presents a book to
Margaret of Anjou (London, BL Royal 15 E.vi,
fol. 2v, 1445) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
Fig. 2: Thomas Bynders scribbles and, by line 47,
the marginal comment: Aftir my mastre,
possibly also by Thomas (Pembroke College,
Cambridge, ms. 243, fols. 1b-2a) . . . . . . . 43
Fig. 3: Flavius Vegetius reads his De re militari to
an emperor and his knights (Oxford, Bodl. Laud
Lat. 56, fol. 1) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
Adrian Tudor
Fig. 1: Sarrasine (BNF, fr. 1039, fol. 7) . . . . . . .
Fig. 2: Sarrasine (BNF, fr. 25440, fol. 64v) . . . . .
Fig. 3: Sarrasine (BNF, fr. 12471, fol. 161) . . . . .
Fig. 4: Snchal (BNF, nouv.acq.fr. 13521, fol. 204) .
Fig. 5: Snchal (BNF, fr. 1544, fol. 86) . . . . . .
Fig. 6: Snchal (BNF, fr. 1039, fol. 104) . . . . . .
Fig. 7: Fornication Imite (BNF, fr. 1039, fol. 1) . . .
Fig. 8: Fornication Imite (BNF, fr. 13521, fol. 121) . .
Fig. 9: Fornication Imite / Juitel
(BNF, fr. 1544, fol. 1) . . . . . . . . . . .
Fig. 10: Fornication Imite (BNF, fr. 25440, fol. 1) . . .
Fig. 11: Fornication Imite (BNF, fr. 25440, fol. 2v) . .
Fig. 12: Full page opening of Fornication Imite (BNF, fr.
25440, fol. 3) . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
List of Illustrations
Creamer
Fig. 1: Title page of Chretien de Troyes, Tresplaisante et
Recreative Hystoire du Trespreusx et vaillant Chevallier
Perceval le galloys ... (Paris: J. St.
Denys, J. Longis & G. Du Pre, 1530) . . . . . 227
Fig. 2: Folio ii recto of Chretien de Troyes, Tresplaisante
et Recreative Hystoire du Trespreusx et vaillant
Chevallier Perceval le galloys ... (Paris: J. St.
Denys, J. Longis & G. Du Pre, 1530) . . . . . 228
Fig. 3: Folio iiii verso of Chretien de Troyes, Tresplaisante
et Recreative Hystoire du Trespreusx et vaillant
Chevallier Perceval le galloys ... (Paris: J. St.
Denys, J. Longis & G. Du Pre, 1530) . . . . . 229
Fig. 4: Folio aa iiii verso of Chretien de Troyes, Tresplaisante et Recreative Hystoire du Trespreusx et vaillant
Chevallier Perceval le galloys ... (Paris:
J. St. Denys, J. Longis & G. Du Pre, 1530) . . 230
Fig. 5: Folio a i recto of Chretien de Troyes, Tresplaisante
et Recreative Hystoire du Trespreusx et vaillant
Chevallier Perceval le galloys ... (Paris: J. St.
Denys, J. Longis & G. Du Pre, 1530) . . . . . 231
Engel
Fig. 1: Moor with Horn and Dart, [Guy Marchant],
Kalendrier des Bergers (1493), sig. K3v . . . .
Fig. 2: The Foole, John Daye, The Booke of Christian
Prayers, London, 1578, sig. Gg3v . . . . . .
Fig. 3: Der Ritter [Death Takes the Knight]; reproduced
from Heinz Horat, Katalog der Brckenbilder,
in: Josef Brlisauer & Claudia Hermann (eds.),
Die Spreuerbrcke in Luzern: Ein barocker
Totentanz von europischer Bedeutung,
Luzern, 1996, p. 183 [panel 21] . . . . . . .
Fig. 4: Geffrey Whitney, De morte, & amore: Iocosum,
356
270
271
274
List of Illustrations
357
Contributors
Evelyn (Timmie) Birge Vitz teaches at New York University, where she
is Professor of French and Affiliated Professor of Comparative Literature,
Medieval and Renaissance Studies, and Religious Studies. She has worked on
a wide range of medieval topics and texts. Her most recent book (co-edited
with Nancy Freeman Regalado and Marilyn Lawrence) is Performing Medieval Narrative. She is now working on a book entitled Performability of
Medieval French Narrative.
Alejandro Caeque teaches History and Latin American Studies at New
York University. His main area of research is the study of the political culture
of colonial Mexico and the Spanish empire. He is the author of The Kings
Living Image: The Culture and Politics of Viceregal Power in Colonial
Mexico (New York, 2004). He is currently working on a political history of
martyrdom in the Spanish empire in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
Joyce Coleman is the Rudolph C. Bambas Professor of Medieval English
Literature and Culture in the English Department at the University of Oklahoma. She received her Ph.D. from the University of Edinburgh in 1993. Her
research centres on literary performance and reception. Her book, Public
Reading and the Reading Public in Late Medieval England and France (Cambridge, 1996; rpt. paperback, 2005), has been followed most recently by articles reconstructing the performance context of Robert Mannyngs Story of
England, Thomas Malorys Morte Darthur, and the anonymous Wynnere
and Wastoure.
Paul Creamer is a French teacher at the Packer Collegiate Institute in New
York. His research focuses on the manufacturing processes used by commercial manuscript-makers of the Middle Ages when they produced an illustrated codex. He studied as an auditeur libreat the Ecole Nationale des Chartes
in Paris during the 1996-97 academic year, and has since written a doctoral
dissertation and an expanded, book-length study on the illustrated manuscripts
of Chretien de Troyes Conte du Graal (Perceval).
Dallas G. Denery II is an Assistant Professor at Bowdoin College. His
first book, Seeing and Being Seen in the Later Medieval World (Cambridge),
came out in 2005.
Contributors
360
Contributors
B.A. from Princeton and a Ph.D. from New York University, where she is a
Visiting Scholar.
Adrian P. Tudor is Lecturer in French at the University of Hull and researches mainly in the area of Old French narrative. His publications include
Tales of Vice and Virtue: The First Old French Vie des Pres (Amsterdam,
2005), a translation of Jehan Renarts Lai de lOmbre (Liverpool, 2004),
and, among other publications, a CD recording of short narratives in Old
French (2004, with Brian J. Levy). He was a Kennedy Scholar and Visiting
Fellow at Harvard University and has given guest lectures at the Collge de
France, Trinity College Dublin, and the University of Birmingham.
Amy Schwarz has a doctoral degree in Early Renaissance Italian Art and a
second Masters degree in Library Science. She is a librarian at the Frick Art
Reference Library of the Frick Collection, New York.
Linda Marie Zaerr teaches English at Boise State University and specializes in the interdisciplinary study of medieval romance. She uses live performance and recordings to demonstrate principles indicated by her research.
She has recorded with Psallite and the Quill Consort and has produced videos
of Middle English romances for Chaucer Studio. She received an MA in Interdisciplinary Medieval Studies from the University of York and a Ph.D. in
Middle English Literature from the University of Washington.
361