Foix is in the south of France, occupying the eastern part of the modern département of Ariège, and you can read about its castle here. The former counts are listed here. But I am concerned presently with only one of them, Gaston Phoebus III de Foix, of whom my previous knowledge was mainly confined to his great love of hunting, and the influential manuscript he wrote on the subject. You can acquire a modern reproduction of it here.
This renowned work was translated by Edward, 2nd Duke of York, who added information about the English way of hunting.
York’s book is widely available and reasonably priced, but you can also read it online free at this link
I certainly didn’t know that this Count of Foix was apparently so dizzyingly good-looking and charming that Froissart had “….never seen any so handsome, either in the form of his limbs and shape, or in countenance, which was fair and ruddy, with grey and amorous eyes, that gave delight whenever he chose to express affection. He was so perfectly formed, one could not praise him too much….” Good heavens. As the count was 59 at the time of Froissart’s visit in around 1390, he really must have been quite something to behold throughout his life because he died aged 60 on 1 August 1391.
While browsing through Terry Jones’s Who Murdered Chaucer? A Medieval Mystery, I came upon a passage describing Froissart’s visit to the count. It relates specifically his host’s daily schedule and dining habits.
In one respect at least the adjective ‘extravagant’ can be definitely be pinned to Gaston Phoebus, because he believed in lighting his castle as brilliantly as possible. At least, the parts of it where he himself wished to be. He was what Froissart called a “night person”. It was all of noon before he even got out of bed, and all of midnight before he took supper. Froissart writes:
“….At midnight, when he came out of his chamber into the hall to supper, he always had before him twelve torches burning, carried by twelve varlets, standing in front of his table all through supper; they gave a great light, and the hall was always full of knights and squires, and many other tables laid out for whoever wished to dine….”
Now, lighting wasn’t cheap in the medieval period, so the count was being very ostentatious with such a brilliant display of his wealth and power. Even so, what Froissart thought was bright we would probably find rather dark. Mind you, in these days of ridiculously high prices for fuel I think we too need a purse as deep of the count’s!
Froissart was at the count’s castle for ten weeks, during which he entertained the court by reading aloud from his book Meliador. This was the way it was done. People didn’t read, silently, using their eyes, but with their ears as someone else read or recited aloud. Like listening to the radio. There is a famous illustration of Chaucer reading his Troilus to the court of Richard II.
One wonders what Froissart thought when he was in mid-sentence and the count simply stood and went off to his bed! Anyway, the thought of the whole scene fascinated me. The torches, the gorgeous count, the hall packed with knights and varlets, Froissart declaiming proudly…. What happened when the count upped and left? No doubt most of the costly lighting was extinguished and a babble of noisy chatter broke out. Did Froissart press on, having to raise his voice to be heard? Or did he take umbrage and fall silent? Not the latter, I suspect, for fear the count would learn and decide his guest wasn’t earning his ten-week keep! Besides which, Froissart too had his reputation to consider.
You can read of Froissart’s visit to Foix here and about the count’s personal history here.
To find a biography of the count go here, but you’ll need £75 for a new copy, or £40 for previously owned.
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