Mermaids in the MUDO at Beauvais - Les Sirènes au Musée de l'Oise à Beauvais....

Main building of the Episcopal Palace at Beauvais

Just opposite the romanesque Basse-Œuvre church that is attached to the Saint Pierre cathedral at Beauvais is the Musée de l’Oise (Le MUDO). This museum is housed in the former episcopal palace, the residence of the bishops of Beauvais, counts and peers of the realm, and dates back to the 12th century. It was initially built under the orders of Henri de France, son of King Louis VI ‘Le Gros’, who was Bishop of Beauvais before becoming Archibishop of Reims in 1162. A fortified entrance flanked by two towers was constructed in the 14th century in order to impose the episcopal authority on the unruly inhabitants of Beauvais, who had led a protest riot over the issue of tax increases. The construction work was financed by a fine levied on the bourgeois so it is probably safe to assume that the towers would have been a source of resentment for the people of the town.

Passing through this impressive porterie today, the visitor enters the enclosure of the palace that ‘Le grand bâtisseur’, Louis de Villiers, restored in the 16th century. The ornate gardens set off the elegance of the main building which combined flamboyant gothic and Renaissance features to great effect.

Although I did visit the museum’s art collection, it was in fact, part of the mural decorations in the original 14th century towers that caught my attention far more than some of those stodgy early-19th century Neoclassical paintings. Within one of the fortified towers, with its fairy-tale pointed slate roof is a discrete treasure - four ephemeral mermaid figures that seem to float above us on the vaulted ceiling. This fresco with its enigmatic vision of feminity offered my eyes a welcome respite from some of those hefty, heaving female forms of the MUDO collection.

This ceiling painting probably dates back to 1310-1320, shortly after the construction of the entrance. The function of the rooms within the towers is not clear. The presence of latrines and fireplaces indicates that they were inhabited, and it is assumed that some members of the bishop’s household occupied these spaces, rather than the main body of the palace itself. Were they used by members of the clergy or by the wealthy, prestigious family of the bishop, Simon de Clermont de Nesle? The nature of the intended audience would generally affect how the mermaids were to be interpreted; the simple presence of these fishy females was always significant.

Our modern-day image of the mermaid is that of a magical symbol of beauty, peace, light and grace, often associated with rainbows, unicorns and the like. However, these mythological hybrids have a far murkier reputation and legends abound of their sinister practices in cultures around the world. In the epic poem Odyssey, Homer’s malefic mermaids lured sailors onto the rocks with their bewitching siren songs, driving the unsuspecting males to their death. For Ovid, the sirens were the companions of the young Persephone who was destined to be the Queen of the Underworld. It was Demeter, her mother, who had given the sirens wings in order to search for her daughter who had been abducted by Hades. By the Middle Ages, mermaids had largely lost their wings, but had kept their symbolic fish tail and their wicked ways. The mermaid became symbolic of the lascivious female in general, flaunting her feminine charms to ensnare any man foolish enough to fall prey to her attributes. Most mermaid figures were shown playing musical instruments, as is the case here in Beauvais, and often carry a mirror and comb with which to preen themselves. The tempting yet treacherous nature of the mermaid had already been documented in the Bestiaire d’Amour of Richard de Fournival, dating back to the mid 13th century.

        "There are three kinds of siren ; two of which are half-woman, half-fish. The third is
         half-woman, half-bird… Their melody is so pleasant that nobody can hear it without wanting to                        draw close." 

Richard de Fournival, Bestiaire d'amour, 

Were these Beauvais sirens intended to warn the unsuspecting abstinent clergy of the dangers of the flesh, from a moral, God-fearing point of view ? Or, on the contrary, were they supposed to titillate the senses and satisfy aesthetic tastes of the profane red-blooded male? Many private chapels of the period were decorated with musical angels, that partly reflected the custom for chivalry and courtoisie with grand musical celebrations. Perhaps the image of mermaid musicians was used as a mischievous take on the musicians – les ménestrels - of the time? Certainly, the Middle Ages saw a fascination with many hybrid creatures and shape-shifters that embodied the ambigious, scandalous or sinful aspects of life itself. Many of these beasts would appear as marginalia, that is to say, figures decorating the borders of the main body of illuminated texts. These ornate manuscripts served the same role as stained-glass windows – informing a largely illiterate public through visual representation – and these marginalia underlined their central message.

In the tower, however, the mermaids do not occupy a marginal position, but rather a key one as they float around the intersection of the rib-vault ceiling. They seem to be the main focus of the artist rather than a quirky after-thought, unlike the usual drôleries (grotesques). Furthermore, these mermaids do not appear to be particularly ill-intentioned, even if they do have the long golden hair, voluptuous nude forms and long scaly, swishing tails of their evil sisters.

The cornemuse (left)  and the viol

Today, the room itself seems rather sober, which seems to makes the ceiling glow all the more. The bold ochre and terracotta colours are set next to slate-grey and the strange dotted decorations along the ribs and background seem to bring out the the curved, pale bodies of the mermaids themselves. Applied a secco on the stone itself, the painting has survived the centuries, unlike the rest of the original paint work in the room. Indeed, restoration work in 2013 revealed traces of decoration on the walls and around the windows that indicate that the room must have been as bright and eye-catching as the ceiling and would have created a very different impression to the one today.

The viol

The musical instruments that the sirènes hold lead us to further questions. One mermaid plays a large cornemuse, a French equivalent of the bagpipes, whilst another holds a viol, a violin-shaped instrument. A third musician plays a galoubet or flûte de tambourin, which is a three-hole pipe wind instrument, intended to be played in one hand whilst the other beats a snare drum – the 'tabor' –from the French word for drum; tambour. Finally, a fourth mermaid holds onto the elongated form of a trompette marine, appropriate in the context, one would think. However, the name is misleading since this instrument is neither related to the sea nor the brass family.

The trompette marine

This is in fact a bowed string instrument, producing the sound of a trumpet so that it was often used in convents instead of actual trumpets which were generally played by men alone. Instead of any association with wanton female seduction, the marine trumpet appears to have been closely linked to the culte marial, the Catholic devotion to the Virgin Mary. Marine was itself a deformation of the adjective marial ; in German, the instrument is known as the marientrompete or the nonnengeige – the nuns’ fiddle. Originally a monocorde instrument whose string was plucked, as in the painting here, later the marine trumpet had several strings played with a bow.

                                  EVO & L'Almodí - Alleluia / Quia ergo femina (6/10) - Auditorio Ciudad de León 7/5/2011

So all in all, these four mermaids continue to taunt their viewers, though not in the same manner as they originally did. We may not be sensitive to their particular powers of seduction today in the same way as our ancestors and certainly do not need to be warned of the dangers of the flesh but these mysterious figures still fascinate us. The simple fact that they have survived all these centuries makes their beauty all the more remarkable and humbling.

The galoubet or flûte de tambourin