Rich Folks

Visconti Coat of Arms

In these days of “class warfare” and politicized resentment of the rich, it’s good to remind ourselves that things have been worse.

Consider, for example, this description of the sumptuous wedding of Lionel of England, son of Edward III, and Violante Visconti, daughter of Galeazzo II, Lord of Milan, held in that city in June 1368:

On arrival in Milan, Lionel was accompanied, in addition to his own suite, by 1,500 mercenaries of the White Company, which had switched from the Pope’s service to that of the Visconti. Eighty ladies all dressed alike – as was customary to enhance the pageantry of great occasions – in gold-embroidered scarlet gowns with white sleeves and gold belts, and sixty mounted knights and squires also uniformly dressed came in the train of Galeazzo to greet him. In addition to a dowry for his daughter so extensive that it took two years to negotiate, Galeazzo paid expenses of 10,000 florins a month for five and a half months for the bridegroom and his retinue.  

The stupendous wedding banquet, held outdoors in June, left all accounts gasping. Its obvious purpose was to testify to “the Largeness of Duke Galeas his soul, the full satisfaction he had in this match and the abundance of his coffers.” Thirty double courses of meat and fish alternated with presentation of gifts after each course. Under the direction of the bride’s brother, Gian Galeazzo the younger, now seventeen and father of a two-year-old daughter, the gifts were distributed among Lionel’s party according to rank. They consisted of costly coats of mail, plumed and crested helmets, armor for horses, surcoats embroidered with gems, greyhounds in velvet collars, falcons wearing silver bells, enameled bottles of the choicest wine, purple and golden cloth and cloaks trimmed with ermine and pearls, 76 horses including six beautiful little palfreys caparisoned in green velvet with gold rosettes, and two others of extra quality named Lion and Abbott; also six fierce strong alaunts or war-dogs, sometimes used with cauldrons of flaming pitch strapped to their backs, and twelve splendid fat oxen.  

The meat and fish, all gilded,* paired suckling pigs with crabs, hare with pike, a whole calf with trout, quails and partridges with more trout, ducks and herons with carp, beef and capons with sturgeon, veal and capons with carp in lemon sauce, beef pies and cheese with eel pies, meat aspic with fish aspic, meat galantines with lamprey, and among the remaining courses, roasted kid, venison, peacocks with cabbage, French beans and pickled ox-tongue, junkets and cheese, cherries and other fruit. The leftover food brought away from the table, from which servants customarily made their meal, was enough, it was said, to feed a thousand men. Among those who shared the feast were Petrarch, an honored guest at the high table, and both Froissart and Chaucer among the company, although it is doubtful if the two young unknowns were introduced to the famous Italian laureate. 

 * With a paste of powdered egg yolk, saffron, and flour, sometimes mixed with real gold leaf.

This passage appears in A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century by Barbara W. Tuchman.

Lest you think that following this magical wedding everyone lived happily ever after, Tuchman informs us that four months later Lionel died of an undiagnosed “fever.” Some suspected he was poisoned by his father-in-law, but Tuchman thinks it is more likely he died of delayed effects from all that gilded meat at the wedding banquet, served as it was during the heat of the Lombardy summer.

The bride, Violante, was married off subsequently to a “half-mad sadist,” the Marquis of Montferrat, who was given, we are told, to strangling boy servants with his own hands. He died a violent death. Violante proceeded to marry her first cousin, who was then murdered by her brother.  She died at age 31, three times a widow, Tuchman notes.

Not much to envy when it comes to those particular rich folks….