When Wine Became Warfare: The Duke of Burgundy’s Historic Crusade Against the ‘Evil and Disloyal’ Gamay Grape

On July 31, 1395, the Duke of Burgundy declared a war of annihilation on what he considered an “evil and disloyal” enemy and invader: a purple, acidic grape known as “Gamay.”

According to the ordinance issued by Philip the Bold, Gamay was seen as a threat not only to the livelihoods of honest winegrowers who cultivated higher-quality grapes, but also to the reputation of Burgundy’s distinguished Pinot Noir wines with its inferior quality and purported detrimental effects on public health. To protect the renowned Pinot Noir and the well-being of Philip’s subjects, the decree commanded that all Gamay vines should be completely destroyed by the following Easter: “ripped out, eradicated, destroyed, reduced to nought … forever.”

The harsh tone of the edict perhaps reflected the personal nature of this endeavor for Philip, an astute economic overseer who tirelessly worked to enhance Burgundy’s wine production. As the younger son of King John II of France, Philip had been compensated with Burgundy, while his older brother Charles V ascended to the throne. With royal authority now weakening under Charles VI, the unstable son of the latter, the ambitious Philip aimed not just to govern his duchy as a virtually sovereign ruler, but also to eclipse all other domains in power, wealth, and splendor.

In his quest for dominance, Philip recognized that wine, with its significant trade revenue and prestige, represented an invaluable asset for both him and his duchy.

In the Late Middle Ages, the renown of Burgundian Pinot Noir was on the rise, yet it faced significant challenges from both natural disasters and human conflicts. The ongoing Hundred Years’ War saw invading soldiersspreading destruction across the land, compounded by the devastation of the Black Death, which first hit Burgundy in 1348 and reoccurred more fatally in 1360.

The aftermath was a sluggish recovery, and by the 1390s, another concern emerged as Philip noted the spread of the Gamay grape, named after a village near Beaune. Gamay vines proliferated quickly, producing three times the wine yield per acre and maturing two weeks earlier than the Pinot grape.

While high yields weren’t inherently an issue, the rapid spread of what was seen as a lesser grapecompared to Pinot troubled the duke. He feared that Gamay would dominate valuable agricultural land, replacing the higher-quality Pinot Noir. Philip criticized some winegrowers for abandoning superior vineyard sites to cultivate larger quantities of inferior wines. He also condemned the practice of enhancing Gamay wine with organic fertilizers and hot water, allegedly to mask its bitterness, a tactic that resulted only in temporarily improved flavors.

Philip declared this “bad wine” very harmful to human health, a claim not founded on personal experience but hearsay. He believed that the bitter taste of Gamay was indicative of its danger to consumers, arguing in stark contrast to the perceived benefits of Pinot Noir, which was thought to be nourishing. Despite such negative declarations, the real issue was the resultant damage to Burgundy’s wine reputation, as it became associated with the disliked Gamay rather than the prestigious Pinot grape. “Our land and people suffer great detriment, worsening unless we intervene,” Philip lamented.

That remedy was an order for the destruction of all Gamay vines within a month. Because Philip issued the ordinance at the end of July, vignerons would have to cut down their own harvest just as the grapes were beginning to ripen. Most poorer vignerons, more concerned about feeding and sheltering their families than the lofty ambitions and tastes of a royal prince, appreciated the Gamay for its easy harvest and high yield, which offered a reprieve that the temperamental and needy Pinot could not provide.

While Philip threatened a heavy fine for infractions, the prospect of losing much of their 1395 vintage would ruin Gamay growers who could not have foreseen the new orders. It’s probable that many of them, staying true to the healthy medieval tradition of popular resistance against unjust laws, disobeyed Philip’s ordinance, preferring to risk a fine than guarantee their own ruin.

Philip claimed in the ordinance to receive support from “many bourgeois [townspeople] and others of our good towns of Beaune, Dijon, and Chalon and their environs” who benefited from the influx of revenue and goods that came with selling good wine, but the actual reaction told an entirely different story. On August 9, 1395, the municipal council of Dijon, the largest city in the duchy proper (not counting the Flemish possessions of Philip’s wife), denounced the ordinance as a violation of their civic privileges and refused to publish or implement it. The duke responded by throwing the mayor in prison and appointing a governor to take control on the pretext of dealing with the alleged Gamay-and-water malpractice, possibly violating Dijon’s original charter that gave its own citizens responsibility for supervising the city’s economic life.

If the duke thought his heavy hand would stabilize Burgundy’s wine sector and move the region towards prosperity, he was wrong. The destruction of Gamay vines, which had emerged as a natural response to the already-declining productivity that Philip sought to reverse, plunged the region into a recession. Productivity fell ever more steeply, speculation in wine sales collapsed, and poverty gripped a population shorn of their precious trade. Few places were struck more severely than Beaune, the birthplace of Gamay, where records show a drop in the annual local wine monopoly bid from 65 livres in 1394 to just 27 livres in 1400.

During the same period, the number of financially stable households in Beaune shrank from 41% to 13%. The vineyards of Burgundy would take decades to recover, and by then, the region’s trade dynamics had shifted, turning Burgundy into a less significant territory as trade thrived in the Low Countries now under the control of Philip and his heirs through shrewd marital alliances. This shift is noted even in modern times where Burgundy is overshadowed by its own namesake polity.

Philip’s decree seemed to partially reach his goals. While it specifically targeted Gamay wine, the political autonomy of cities such as Dijon and Beaune waned under its implementation, possibly serving Philip’s broader goal of strengthening central rule. Moreover, his early policies on quality control and production influenced the development of regulatory practices akin to those of a modern state, setting the stage for the establishment of the official Vin de Bourgogne regional appellation (AOC).

Despite the ordinance, Gamay clung to survival, albeit diminished, relocating to Beaujolais south of Burgundy. In this new locale, blessed with sunlit summers and nutrient-rich soil, the previously despised grape triumphed anew, creating a vibrant, fine wine variety that abandoned the bitterness once criticized by the ducal palate. This Beaujolais wine, though initially a local favorite, eventually gained global recognition, earning an esteemed appellation in 1936 and a reclassification in 2011 as AOC Bourgogne Gamay within the larger Burgundy appellation.

Luckily for Philip, he did not witness the eventual vindication of the grape he so scorned.

About the Author: Chris Lehoux

Meet Chris Lehoux, an experienced wine connoisseur and dedicated blogger with a deep passion for all things wine-related. With years of expertise in the industry, Chris shares insightful wine reviews, valuable wine tasting tips, expert pairing advice, and captivating tales of vineyard visits. Join Chris on a journey through the world of wine, where every sip is an adventure waiting to be savored!