I wonder how many of the little girl readers of ST. NICHOLAS are fond
of history? If they answer candidly, I do not doubt that a very large
proportion will declare that they prefer the charming stories they
find in ST. NICHOLAS to the dull pages of history, with its countless
battles and murdered sovereigns. But history is not every bit dull,
by any means, as you will find if your elder sisters and friends will
select portions for you to read that are suitable to your age and
interests. Perhaps you are very imaginative, and prefer fairy tales to
all others. I am sure, then, that you will like the story I am about
to tell you, of a little French princess, who was married and crowned
Queen of England when only eight years old, and who became a widow at
twelve.
This child-sovereign was born many hundred years ago--in 1387--at the
palace of the Louvre in Paris, of whose noble picture-gallery I am
sure you all have heard,--if, indeed, many of you have not seen it
yourselves. She was the daughter of the poor King Charles VI., whose
misfortunes made him insane, and for whose amusement playing-cards
were invented, and of his queen, Isabeau of Bavaria, a beautiful but
very wicked woman. Little Princess Isabella was the eldest of twelve
children. She inherited her mother's beauty, and was petted by her
parents and the entire court of France.
King Richard II. of England, who was a widower about thirty years old,
was urged to marry again; and, instead of selecting a wife near his
own age, his choice fell upon little Princess Isabella.
"She is much too young," he was told. "Even in five or six years she
will not be old enough to be married." The king, however, thought
this objection too trifling to stand in the way of his marriage, and
saying, "The lady's age is a fault that every day will remedy," he
sent a magnificent embassy to the court of France, headed by the
Archbishop of Dublin, and consisting of earls, marshals, knights, and
squires of honor uncounted, with attendants to the number of five
hundred.
When the embassy reached Paris, and the offer of marriage had been
formally accepted, the archbishop and the earls asked to see the
little princess who was soon to become their queen. At first the
French Council refused, saying so young a child was not prepared to
appear on public occasions, and they could not tell how she might
behave. The English noblemen were so solicitous, however, that at last
she was brought before them. The earl marshal immediately knelt before
her, and said, in the old-fashioned language of the time: "Madam, if
it please God, you shall be our lady and queen."
Queen Isabeau stood at a little distance, curious and anxious, no
doubt, to know how her little daughter would answer this formal
address. To her great pleasure, and the great surprise of all present,
Princess Isabella replied:
"Sir, if it please God and my father that I be Queen of England, I
shall be well pleased, for I am told I shall then be a great lady."
Then, giving the marshal her tiny hand to kiss, she bade him rise from
his knees, and leading him to her mother, she presented him to her
with the grace and ease of a mature woman.
According to the fashion of the time, Princess Isabella was
immediately married by proxy, and received the title of Queen of
England. Froissart, a celebrated historian living at that epoch, says:
"It was very pretty to see her, young as she was, practicing how to
act the queen."
In a few days, King Richard arrived from England with a gay and
numerous retinue of titled ladies to attend his little bride. After
many grand festivities they were married and were taken in state to
England, where the Baby Queen was crowned in the famous Westminster
Abbey.
I must not forget to describe the magnificent _trousseau_ that the
King of France gave his little daughter. Her dowry was 800,000 francs
($160,000); her coronets, rings, necklaces, and jewelry of all
sorts, were worth 500,000 crowns; and her dresses were of surpassing
splendor. One was a robe and mantle of crimson velvet, trimmed with
gold birds perched on branches of pearls and emeralds, and another was
trimmed with pearl roses. Do you think any fairy princess could have
had a finer bridal outfit?
When the ceremonies of the coronation were over, little Isabella's
life became a quiet routine of study; for, although a reigning
sovereign, she was in the position of that young Duchess of Burgundy
of later years, who at the time of her marriage could neither read nor
write. This duchess, who married a grandson of Louis XIV. of France,
was older than Queen Isabella--thirteen years old; and as soon as the
wedding festivities were over, she was sent to school in a convent,
to learn at least to read, as she knew absolutely nothing save how to
dance. Queen Isabella, however, was not sent away to school, but was
placed under the care of a very accomplished lady, a cousin of the
king, who acted as her governess. In her leisure hours, the king, who
was a fine musician, would play and sing for her, and, history gravely
informs us, he would even play dolls with her by the hour!
But King Richard's days of quiet pleasure with his child-wife were at
last disturbed, and he was obliged to leave her and go to the war in
Ireland. The parting was very sad and affecting, and they never met
again.
While King Richard was in Ireland, his cousin, Henry of Lancaster,
afterward Henry IV., took possession of the royal treasury, and upon
the return of Richard from his unfortunate campaign, marched at the
head of an army and made a prisoner of him, lodging him in that grim
Tower of London from which so few prisoners ever issued alive.
Meantime, the poor little queen was hurried from one town to another,
her French attendants were taken from her, and the members of her new
household were forbidden ever to speak to her of the husband she
loved so dearly. Finally, it was rumored that Richard had escaped.
Instantly, this extraordinary little girl of eleven issued a
proclamation saying that she did not recognize Henry IV. (for he was
now crowned King of England) as sovereign; and she set out with an
army to meet her husband. The poor child was bitterly disappointed
upon learning that the rumor was false, and her husband was still a
prisoner, and before long she also was again a prisoner of Henry IV.,
this time closely guarded.
In a few months Richard was murdered in prison by order of King Henry,
and his queen's childish figure was shrouded in the heavy crape of her
widow's dress. Her superb jewelry was taken from her and divided
among the children of Henry IV., and she was placed in still closer
captivity. Her father, the King of France, sent to demand that she
should return to him, but for a long time King Henry refused
his consent. Meantime, she received a second offer of marriage
from--strange to say--the son of the man who had killed her husband
and made her a prisoner, but a handsome, dashing young prince, Harry
of Monmouth, often called "Madcap Hal." Perhaps you have read, or your
parents have read to you, extracts from Shakspeare's "Henry IV.," so
that you know of the wild exploits of the Prince of Wales with his
friends, in turning highwayman and stealing purses from travelers,
often saying,
"Where shall we take a purse to-morrow, Jack?"
and finding himself in prison sometimes as a result of such
amusements? Isabella was a child of decided character, and truly
devoted to the memory of her husband, and much as she had enjoyed
her rank she refused to continue it by marrying handsome Madcap Hal,
although he offered himself to her several times, and even as she was
embarking for France.
Poor little Isabella, who had left France so brilliantly, returned a
sad child-widow, and all that remained to her of her former splendor
was a silver drink-cup and a few saucers. As Shakspeare says:
"My queen to France, from whence set forth in pomp,
She came adorned hither like sweet May,
Sent back like Hallowmas or shortest day."
She was received throughout France with joy, and tears of sympathy.
When Isabella was eighteen. Madcap Hal again offered his hand to her,
supposing she had forgotten her former prejudice, but although she
married again she was so far faithful to the memory of her English
husband that she would not accept the son of his murderer. Some years
later, when Prince Hal was king, he married her beautiful sister
Katherine.
Isabella's second husband was her cousin, the Duke of Orleans, whose
beautiful poems are considered classic in France. Again she was the
joy of her family and the pride of France, but all her happiness was
destined to be fleeting, for she survived her marriage only one year.
Her husband, who loved her fondly, wrote after her death:
"Alas!
Death, who made thee so bold,
To take from me my lovely princess,
Who was my comfort, my life,
My good, my pleasure, my riches?
Alas! I am lonely, bereft of my mate--
Adieu! my lady, my lily!
Our loves are forever severed."
And in another poem, full of expressions that show how very devoted
was his affection for her, he says:
"Above her lieth spread a tomb
Of gold and sapphires blue,
The gold doth show her blessedness,
The sapphires mark her true.
"And round about, in quaintest guise,
Was carved--'Within this tomb there lies
The fairest thing to mortal eyes.'"
Farewell, sweet Isabella!--a wife at eight, a widow at twelve, and
dead at twenty-two,--your life was indeed short, and, though not
without happy days, sorrow blended largely with its joy!