1413-1435
Riots led by Burgundy--The Duc d’Aquitaine’s ball--His
quarrels with Burgundy--The Comte de Charolais--Battle of
Azincourt--Death of Aquitaine--The Dauphin Jean--His court--His
death--Imprisonment of the Queen--Jean Sans-peur rescues
her--Enters Paris by night--Massacre of Armagnacs--The Dauphin
Charles--Murder of Jean Sans-peur--Marriage of Catherine
de France to Henry V.--Departure for England--Birth of a
son--Return to Paris--Festivities--Death of Henry V.--Death
of Charles VI.--Retirement of the Queen--Henry VI. enters
Paris--Treaty of Arras--Death of Isabeau.
It was May, 1413, the court was at Saint Paul. The King had just
recovered from one of his attacks. Every one had been, dressed in white
hoods, to Notre Dame to give thanks, and now the important event was
the wedding to be celebrated on the following day between the Queen’s
brother, Duke Ludwig of Bavaria, and Catherine d’Alençon, widow of
Pierre de Navarre, Comte de Mortaigne.
There had been a good deal of uneasiness in the air for some time
and the war with England was going on. When peace was made between
Burgundians and Armagnacs, the latter were obliged to break their
alliance with the English king, whose troops under his second son, the
Duke of Clarence, had ever since been ravaging Normandy, Picardy, and
Maine, notwithstanding that the little Comte d’Angoulême, the youngest
of the Orléans princes, had been given them as a hostage. They were
also attacking some of the southern parts of France, and swore they
would regain the duchy of Aquitaine, their ancient patrimony. Two
months ago Henry IV. had died, and the Prince of Wales, now Henry
V., hitherto remarkable chiefly for his fast, disorderly, somewhat
scandalous life, seemed likely to be a powerful and dangerous enemy.
The populace of Paris were deeply discontented, as well they might be,
for it was openly declared that the expenses of the King’s household,
which used to be 94,000 francs were now 450,000, and yet the tradesmen
were not paid; that although the allowance for the King and Queen’s
alms went on, scarcely any alms were ever given; that some of the royal
servants and officers received enormous salaries, while others could
never get any wages paid at all; and that, in spite of the sums allowed
for the repair of the King’s castles and palaces, they were in such a
state that they would soon fall into ruins.
{1413}
The Duke of Burgundy had his own reasons for wishing to stir up the
people. He was afraid of certain transactions by which he had got hold
of a large sum of money being made known by Pierre des Essarts, provost
of Paris, who held his receipts for them, and now belonged to the
Orléanists; he was uneasy about the power and favour of that party and
the estrangement of the Duc d’Aquitaine, who disliked him because he
was so overbearing and disagreeable.
The Duc d’Aquitaine had been warned that an attack upon the hôtel St.
Paul was intended, and advised to arm his household, raise the banner
with the _fleur-de-lis_ over the entrance and defend himself. But while
he was deliberating with the other princes, instead of taking immediate
action, as any of his forefathers would have done, a dreadful noise
began to be heard, and a shouting, howling, desperate mob was seen to
be rushing down the streets towards the hôtel St. Paul. They surrounded
that palace, planted the standard of the city, and with loud cries and
threats demanded to speak to the Duc d’Aquitaine.
Among the chief characteristics that distinguish the history of France
from that of any other Christian or civilised nation are the furious,
credulous, ferocious mobs, whose atrocious deeds continually appear
in her annals, and who seem to belong to no particular century; for
whether we see them murdering nobles and gentlemen with their wives and
children in the fourteenth century, Huguenots in the sixteenth, waggon
loads of women, young girls, and little children in the eighteenth--or
priests and unarmed hostages in the nineteenth, whether they are called
Jacques, or Leaguers, or Septembriseurs, or Communists--they evidently
do not excite either abhorrence or shame in the minds of the great mass
of their countrymen who have just raised a statue in Paris in honour of
one of the most bloodthirsty of the wretches who acted as their leader
in the perpetration of those cowardly and brutal crimes against which
the rest of civilised humanity revolts.
One of these mobs, not a whit more cruel and savage than those which
yelled and howled and danced through the streets of Paris in our own
and our fathers’ and grandfathers’ days, was now pressing round the
hôtel of the Duc d’Aquitaine at Saint Paul. They had certainly much
reason for their anger and complaints, but whether their cause is a
bad or a good one the means by which they carry it out are always
atrocious. On this occasion they put forward a Carmelite monk called
Eustace, who gave a harangue on the calamities, bad government, and
generally disastrous state of things. The Duke of Burgundy came
down, said the King was only just recovered and could not bear this
agitation, and advised them to go away. But they clamoured for the Duc
d’Aquitaine, who, terrified by the tumult and urged by the Duke of
Burgundy, appeared at a window and promised all they asked.
One of their leaders, named Jean de Troyes, then imposed silence,
and in a speech received with enthusiastic applause by the people
and with scarcely concealed indignation by the nobles, declared that
they would do no harm to the Duc d’Aquitaine, but demanded that his
evil counsellors should be given up to them; and on his chancellor
imprudently asking to whom they referred handed up a list of fifty
names, including not only the principal gentlemen of his household, but
Ludwig of Bavaria, the Queen’s brother, Edouard, Duc de Bar, cousin
of the King, and several of the Queen’s ladies. The princes could
not pacify them, the Queen wept and raved, the King remonstrated in
vain; the Duc d’Aquitaine, turning with a furious look to the Duke of
Burgundy, exclaimed, “Father-in-law, this outrage is your doing, for
the leaders of it are the people of your house. Know surely that the
day will come when you shall repent of it, for things will not always
go on according to your pleasure.”
Some of the nobles and ladies came down and gave themselves up, the
others were seized by the mob, who broke into the palace and hunted all
over the rooms and galleries to find them, tearing one gentleman out of
the arms of the Duchesse d’Aquitaine, who tried to protect him. They
were carried away on horseback and shut up, some in the Palais, some in
the Louvre.
When they were gone, the King went to dinner and the Duc d’Aquitaine
retired with the Queen into her room, where they shut themselves up and
cried.
Something, however, had to be done, so they sent the Comte de
Vertus, who escaped to his brother, the Duc d’Orléans, told him what
had happened, and how some of the princes were in prison, and the
King, Queen, and Duc d’Aquitaine like prisoners in the hands of the
Parisians, and desired the rest of the princes to make haste to come
and deliver them.
The King of Sicily, the Ducs d’Orléans, Bourbon, and Bretagne, the
Comtes de Vertus and Alençon accordingly assembled at Vernon, and sent
a message to the populace that unless the prisoners were immediately
set free they would put all Paris to fire and sword.
The Duke of Burgundy saw he had gone too far, having infuriated the
Duc d’Aquitaine and set all the princes against him, the University
of Paris hastened to disassociate herself with the riots, and the
chief _bourgeois_, frightened at what had been done tried by all
means and with many apologies, to divert and appease the anger of the
royal family. The city was still very unquiet, _frère Eustache_ went
on preaching against Aquitaine, saying that the licentiousness and
debauchery of such a life as he was leading had already caused the
madness of his father and the death of his uncle, and that it would be
better to declare his brother, Jean de Touraine, the heir of France;
while one Léon de Jacqueville forced his way into the ballroom of his
hôtel one night in the middle of a ball and loudly declaimed against
him, saying that he dishonoured his rank. The Duke struck him three
times with his dagger, but his cuirass saved him. The ballroom was a
scene of confusion, the mob rushed to attack the hôtel and were only
stopped by the opportune arrival of the Duke of Burgundy, who dispersed
them. The Duc d’Aquitaine was so agitated by the scene that he spit
blood for days afterwards.[247]
Burgundy, however, saw that he was rapidly losing friends, and thought
it well to send his son, the Comte de Charolais, away. That young
prince, therefore, with his wife, the Princess Michelle, set off for
Gand, accompanied as far as Lendit by a great body of the _bourgeois_
of Paris of whom she took leave affectionately, begging them to
deliver her uncle, the Duke of Bavaria, and then she proceeded to St.
Denis with her husband, after which they went with a brilliant train to
Gand.[248]
While all these commotions were going on the English made a descent
upon the county of Eu, sacked and burnt Tréport and several other
towns, took to their ships and sailed for England with their plunder.
The Armagnacs were devastating the country, and the Parisians more and
more terrified at the threats of the princes. Their party grew stronger
and stronger, the King ordered the Duc d’Aquitaine to go and liberate
the prisoners, which he did, riding to the Palais and the Louvre
and bringing them all away with him except the ladies, who had been
liberated soon after they were taken, and two or three gentlemen who
had been killed in the riots. Bells rang, feasting went on, the rioters
were either seized and punished or else fled, and the princes entered
Paris in triumph.[249]
The Duc d’Aquitaine ordered all the favourites of Burgundy to
be seized, one only was spared at the entreaty of the Duchesse
d’Aquitaine, the rest were arrested or fled. Jean Sans-peur himself,
warned that the streets round the hôtel d’Artois were being watched by
night by the Orléanists who were crowding into Paris to join the Duc
d’Aquitaine, fled from a hunting party with one gentleman only, rode at
full speed in doubt and fear through the forest of Bondy, and next day
meeting one of his followers with a band of men-at-arms pursued his
journey safely to Flanders.
{1414}
For a little while the Armagnacs were triumphant. The marriage of the
Duke of Bavaria took place, and what was more important, Charles, Comte
de Ponthieu, youngest son of the King, was betrothed to Marie d’Anjou,
daughter of the King of Sicily, at the Louvre in presence of the Queen
and Princes, the King being ill at the time.
There was also a talk of marrying the Princess Catherine, youngest
daughter of the King and Queen, to Henry V. of England.
In February of 1414, with bitterly cold winds appeared a disease that
seems just like the modern influenza. It was attended by cold, cough,
loss of appetite, violent pains in the head and general languour. It
attacked all classes; judges and lawyers had to suspend their courts,
the malady spread and was very dangerous.
A foolish step of the Queen’s had just re-opened the routs and
quarrels that always seemed now to rage amongst the royal family.
There were certain gentlemen in the household of her son, the Duc
d’Aquitaine, whom she distrusted because they had been placed there by
his father-in-law, and she wished to remove them. She was just then
living at the hôtel St. Paul, and the Duchesse d’Aquitaine with her;
the Duke was at the Louvre. Having consulted with the Armagnac chiefs,
who were silly enough to countenance her plans, she went suddenly to
the Louvre taking the Duchess with her, seized Jean de Croy, and three
other officers of her son’s household, and threw them into prison. The
Duc d’Aquitaine, who liked them, flew into a great rage and the princes
could hardly prevent him from rushing out to appeal to the mob, and
could not stop him from writing secretly to the Duke of Burgundy to
come back.
With two such people as Isabeau and her son what could be done?
Jean Sans-peur set off at once with a body of troops--but before he
could arrive Isabeau and the princes had contrived to pacify the Duc
d’Aquitaine and persuade him to contradict everything he had said,
and write to the fortified towns proclaiming the Duke of Burgundy an
enemy of the King. Infuriated by this treatment, the Duke of Burgundy
produced and displayed his son-in-law’s letters, and continued his
march towards Paris, the civil war beginning again with much cruelty
and slaughter.
The domestic quarrels of the royal family were worse than ever. The old
Duc de Berry disputed the regency during the King’s frequent attacks,
with the Duc d’Aquitaine, just as he and his brother had done with
Louis d’Orléans, and on the same pretence, his youth and inexperience.
Aquitaine was at daggers drawn with his father-in-law, and so far
justified his great-uncle’s assertions that besides possessing all
the faults of his uncle, Louis d’Orléans and his father, he had no
taste for military affairs, no attraction or charm, though he was
rather good-looking. He was exceedingly unpopular, hated appearing in
public, and shut himself up all day (when he was not in bed) playing
the harp and _épinette_ with his musical friends. If the King gave him
any business to do he neglected it, and was so ill-tempered that he
could not bear to be found the least fault with. Music, horses, and
dissipation were all he cared for. He had now separated from his wife
and reduced her household to a very low estate; he had always disliked
her. Historians say that she gave no cause whatever for complaint,
but that people made mischief between them.[250] The Duke of Burgundy
sent a message requiring him to dismiss La Cassinelle and take his
wife back, which only made him more angry. He had removed her from his
mother’s care and sent her to St. Germain-en-Laye,[251] also seizing
some treasure kept by Isabeau at the houses of confidential agents,
taking advantage of the illness of the King his father to do as he
chose. This was the beginning of the Queen’s dislike for Armagnac, who
was mixed up in the affair, and her inclining towards the Burgundian
party.
{1415}
In March, 1415, the Emperor of Germany paid a visit to the French
Court, where he was entertained with the usual lavish profusion. He, in
return, gave a great banquet at the Louvre to the ladies of the court
and _bourgeoises_ of Paris, “and to each one was laid a German knife,
and the strongest wine that could be got. And everything was so spiced
they could hardly eat it. There were many minstrels, and after dinner
they danced and some sang. And when they left to each was given a gold
ring, which, however was not of much value.”[252]
When the summer came round the truce with England expired. English
troops from Calais and other places began to attack the French
provinces, and it was rumoured that King Henry was gathering a great
host at Southampton to invade France.
It was nearly sixty years since the battle of Poitiers, and seventy
since that of Crécy, and there were old people alive who could remember
the confusion, dismay, and terror of that time. The Duc de Berry had
himself been in the battle of Poitiers, from which he had fled; while
the Duke of Burgundy, then a boy of thirteen, had fought to the last
beside their father, King Jean, and been carried prisoner with him to
England.
Times were still more disastrous now. With a mad King, a worthless
heir-apparent, and a number of princes of the blood without either
capacity or conduct, there were no leaders whom the people could trust
or love, or whom they would follow and die for as their fathers and
grandfathers did for Philippe de Valois, King Jean, the Duc de Bourbon,
the gallant Princes of Navarre, the heroic King of Bohemia, or the
noble chiefs of the Capétienne house of Burgundy.
However, it was necessary to make preparations. Enormous taxes were
levied in haste, and everywhere bands of soldiers were hurrying up to
join the army, and plundering the villages on their way. What the tax
collectors left they carried off, and the people in terror and despair
left their homes and hid in the woods, longing only that the campaign
might be over, whichever side won.[253]
Charles d’Albret was appointed commander-in-chief, and all the highest
commands were given to Armagnacs. Jean Sans-peur took no post in the
army at all, and forbade the Comte de Charolais to join; being, besides
politically hostile, resolved not to risk his only son as had been done
to their cost by the former house of Burgundy.
Early in August the English fleet sailed from Southampton, and sixteen
hundred ships entered the Seine, passed up between Honfleur and
Harfleur, and landed the troops, who proceeded to invest the latter
town, which was an important commercial place and the key of Normandy,
being a strong fortress surrounded with deep moats and massive walls
and towers.[254] It was bravely defended, but as no help came from the
French army which was slowly gathering at Vernon, the town surrendered
on September 22nd.
King Henry repaired, provisioned, and garrisoned the place, and then
began his victorious march through France. Charles, who just then was
in his right mind, came to Rouen with the Duc d’Aquitaine and the rest
of the princes in October, and at a hurried council it was decided that
a battle must be fought, but that the King and his son should not be
present for fear of a calamity such as befel King Jean at Poitiers. All
over France the nobles were summoned to join the royal standard with
their vassals, but the princes were stupid enough to refuse a body of
six thousand armed men offered by the city of Paris whose services they
disdained.
The Comte de Charolais, who knew there was going to be a battle but
did not know when, was wild to get away and join the army. His tutors,
however, had been warned by the terrible Duke of Burgundy that he made
them responsible for his not doing so, and they were at their wits’
end what to do. They did not like to tell the young Philippe, lest
he should find some way of circumventing them, and when a summons
arrived for him from the Constable d’Albret, he declared he would
go. He was then at Arras, and in much perplexity they pretended to
consent, and leaving that city got him to the castle of Aire, where
the Constable again sent several seigneurs and Montjoye, King-at-arms,
to fetch him. As long as they could the distracted tutors put off his
departure, carefully concealing from him the time when the battle was
to take place, but most of his people kept escaping secretly to go to
the front, and at last they were obliged to tell him, to appease his
anger, of his father’s orders, which he dared not disobey but retired
to his room in despair and shut himself up there crying. (“_Moult fort
pleurant._”)[255]
[Illustration: MAN IN ARMOUR, FIFTEENTH CENTURY.]
The King of England desired to cross by the ford of Blanchetache, where
his great-grandfather, Edward III., had passed over the river seventy
years ago, but the place was too strongly guarded, so he marched along
the bank for some distance and came up with the French army which was
waiting for him at a place enclosed with little woods between the
villages of Rousseauville and Azincourt. It was Thursday, October 24th,
about the hour of vespers, when the two armies confronted each other.
Philippe, Comte de Nevers, and several young nobles had just been
knighted by the hand of Boucicault, Marshal of France. The Constable
had arrived with the royal banner, the Oriflamme.[256] Around it
rose the banners of the princes, barons, and chevaliers with their
followers who had flocked to the standard of France. Great fires were
lighted, for the night was cold; a drizzling rain had begun to fall,
and they were waiting for the English army which must pass on its way
to Calais.
The English were hungry and tired with their long march, but they came
up with the sound of trumpets and martial music, and the heavy tramp
of horses and armed men, so that the earth seemed to tremble with the
echo. Silently and composedly they took up their perilous position,
well aware of the danger which lay before them, for the French host
outnumbered them by at least three to one, and had a much larger
proportion of cavalry. But they thought of Crécy and Poitiers, passed
the night in attending to their horses, bows, and armour, and prepared
for death by confessing their sins, and receiving the Sacrament of the
Body of Christ.[257]
The French had scarcely any musical instruments to rejoice their
spirits, and their horses did not neigh, but made scarcely a sound
all night, which many considered an evil omen. The rain and mud and
cold depressed their spirits which sank lower as they, too, remembered
Crécy and Poitiers. All night they were calling to each other in the
darkness, and many who had been at enmity made friends again, forgave
each other, embraced, and drank out of the same cup, as they thought
that perhaps they were about to see the dawn of their last day.[258]
Still, when morning broke and they saw their own great superiority in
numbers and strength, they gathered confidence, and thought indeed that
the English army could not escape them. And between nine and ten they
advanced to battle, bending their heads so that the arrows might not
pierce through their visors.
King Henry had heard mass at the break of day, and then mounting his
grey charger had arranged his troops for the battle, the archers
forming the right and left wings. He rode through the ranks and
harangued the soldiers, pointing out the danger of their position,
from which the only escape was victory. He reminded them of those
other battles in which their fathers and grandfathers, wearied and
outnumbered, had fought and conquered, and then dismounting from
his horse he placed himself at the head of the infantry and led the
attack. Twice they halted to take breath, and twice they came on with
a great shout, while a shower of arrows rushed through the air into
the vanguard of the French army. The English archers were slightly
armed and poorly dressed, but strong and active; they wore an axe or
sword at their girdle and carried a pike to force their way through
the thickest of the fight. In the French army there was neither order
nor discipline. The King and his sons were not present as at Crécy and
Poitiers, and the princes would obey no other leader. Those who were
not placed in the vanguard refused to stay with their men but pressed
forward to join the line of cavaliers in heavy armour who bore the
noblest names in France, and stood in the front of the battle.
A squadron of cavalry was ordered to charge; they were the flower of
the French troops. They came on impetuously at a gallop, but the ground
was soft with deep mud, the horses slipped, floundered, and became
unmanageable, a flight of arrows falling amongst them added to their
confusion, they turned and fled. Then the English throwing down bows
and pikes, seized their swords and axes and rushed into the thick of
the fight. They broke through the first division, but when they came to
the second and third there were no leaders, as they had all gone to the
front ranks. The subalterns could not lead the soldiers, who hesitated,
wavered, and at last gave way, and the battle became a rout. The
English were too few in number to pursue as they dared not separate,
and Henry seeing a troop coming up, and thinking the enemy were being
reinforced, gave the order to put the prisoners to death, which command
began to be carried out, but presently, seeing that the troop was also
retreating, the King ordered the massacre to be stopped, which was at
once done, but not before many lives had been sacrificed, and a deep
stain inflicted upon his name.
The English lost sixteen hundred men, including the Duke of York and
Earl of Oxford, but the losses of the French are said to have been ten
thousand men and fifteen hundred prisoners. Among the dead were the
Duc de Brabant and Comte de Nevers, brothers of the Duke of Burgundy,
the Duc de Bar and his two brothers, the Constable d’Albret and the
Duc d’Alençon, all nearly related to the King, and numbers of other
nobles and gentlemen. Among the prisoners were the Ducs d’Orléans and
Bourbon, the Comtes de Richemont and Eu, Marshal Boucicault, and many
others of high degree.
But the army of King Henry was too small and too exhausted to push its
victory any further; in fact, its safety appeared to him so doubtful
that he ordered all the plunder taken to be burnt, and taking their
prisoners with them the English troops turned their steps towards
Calais and embarked for Dover a week after the victory.[259] The Queen
was at Melun when the news of the disaster arrived. She was ill at the
time, and had also become so stout that she had been obliged to give up
riding, therefore in haste and consternation she had herself carried
in a litter to Paris, taking with her the Duchesse d’Aquitaine, for
fear of falling into the hands of the Duke of Burgundy, who directly
he heard of the result of the battle and the losses of the Armagnacs,
started for the capital at the head of ten thousand cavalry. The Queen
and Duchesse d’Aquitaine were at the hôtel d’Orléans,[260] and the Duc
d’Aquitaine, who now returned in haste to Paris, went to the hôtel de
Bourbon; the King, the Duc de Berry, and Comte d’Armagnac also hurried
back; the King of Sicily took refuge at Angers, to get out of the way
of Jean Sans-peur, who was his bitter enemy, because he had first
betrothed his son to the daughter of the latter, a little child, and
then changed his mind and sent her back to her father.
{1416}
The Duc d’Aquitaine sent to forbid Burgundy to advance, and not liking
to set his son-in-law at defiance he arrested his march, but in the
midst of all the anxiety and commotion that was going on, Louis Duc
d’Aquitaine died after a few days’ illness, having, as had always
been foretold, utterly destroyed his constitution by the excesses of
his life. Before his death he expressed his remorse at his conduct
to his wife.[261] Of course there were some who declared that he
had been poisoned, and that Jean Sans-peur had done it, but as his
death prevented the Duke of Burgundy’s daughter from being Queen of
France this is not at all likely, however angry he might have been at
Aquitaine’s treatment of her and disregard of his own counsels.
The next Dauphin, Jean Duc de Touraine, lived with his wife and her
family in Hainault, where the Queen and Council (the King being ill)
sent, to desire him to come at once to Paris. But Jean, brought up by
the near relations and firm allies of Burgundy, was far more Burgundian
than his elder brother, the son-in-law of Jean Sans-peur. He refused
to receive the deputation except in the presence of the Burgundian
ambassadors, and he would not go to Paris unless his uncle of Burgundy
might go too. Louis d’Aquitaine had died at the beginning of 1416,
and it was not until early in 1417 that, after much discussion and
exchange of letters and messengers he set off with his father-in-law
for Compiègne, as the Queen absolutely refused to come to St. Quentin
as they wished.[262]
{1417}
They established themselves in the royal palace of Compiègne, where
they were joined by the Dauphine and Comtesse de Hainault, and where
they lived in state and splendour as Jean always had done, for the
Hainaults were very rich. Jacqueline was their only child, and they
were exceedingly proud of the alliance with the son of the King,
especially now he had become Dauphin. He was now eighteen, and seems
to have had more constancy of purpose than his brother, but to have
been entirely under the influence of the Comte de Hainault and Duke
of Burgundy. What he was really like is impossible to say. De Mézeray
calls him “_un jeune homme capriceux, acriastre, déplaisant en mœurs
et façons_.” Juvenal des Ursins and Paradin observe that it was a pity
he did not live to be King, as he had been well brought up and taught
by the Comte de Hainault who was a wise prince. The monk of St. Denis
declares that he was a noble character, but he generally appears to
have had that opinion of the _fleurs-de-lis_. It was very likely that
he was better than his eldest brother, as he easily might have been.
He was extravagant and magnificent like all his family, and those who
surrounded him and had charge of his education were always praising his
lavish generosity and inciting him to hold a more brilliant court than
his parents the King and Queen.[263]
That the Dauphin and Dauphine lived in great splendour at Compiègne
is proved by many of the bills and accounts still existing, the
costly stuffs of their dresses, the magnificent plate and jewels,
and the presents they made to each other and to the members of their
households. Messengers went perpetually between Compiègne, Senlis,
Paris, and other places to fetch things and to carry letters. There is
a record of a sum paid to the Provost of Senlis for having escorted
“_pour la doubte et péril des chemins_,” a sum of money from Senlis to
Compiègne. Sums of money are also given to the King’s minstrels, to the
choristers of the Dauphin’s chapel, and to Hennequin who takes care of
his pet dogs; also for tapestry hangings for his room, nine pieces,
with a stag hunt and boat hunt on green worked with silk, gold, and
silver.[264]
Isabeau must have been estranged from the son who had been so separated
from her; for we find that when she came to Senlis with her youngest
son Charles, who had been made Duc de Touraine, Governor of Paris, and
Duc de Berry (the old Duke having just died), although the Dauphine
was taken there to pay her homage, and spent some hours with her “_en
grande léeses_,” Isabeau returned to Paris with the Comte de Hainault
without seeing the Dauphin. Possibly she may have been irritated
against him, for he still refused to come to Paris, now in the hands
of the Armagnacs, and demanded the regency during the King’s malady.
But amongst the schemes, disputes, and rivalry of the two parties, one
of which put its trust in the Dauphin, and the other fixed its hopes
on his brother, the Duc de Touraine, then between fourteen and fifteen
years old--a sudden change raised the spirits of the one and filled the
other with dismay. The Dauphin began to be ill. Doctors were sent for;
we read of “_chevaucheurs_” sent to ride “_haste hastivement_” to fetch
fruit and medicines from Paris; and prayers and masses said and sung in
chapels and convents for his recovery.
Early in April the Comte de Hainault, secretly warned that he would
be arrested by the Armagnacs, escaped early in the morning from Paris
on pretence of a pilgrimage to St. Maur-des-fossés, in the forest of
Vincennes, from whence he rode in haste to Compiègne. But he found the
Dauphin ill in bed “with a swollen body and other symptoms of poison,”
according to some historians, or, as others say, with an abscess in the
ear. At any rate he died in a few days,[265] and there was an outcry of
poison, perhaps with more probability than usual, for he had not ruined
his health like his brother, and though it could be nothing but an
outrageous calumny that the Queen had done it by means of a gold chain
she sent him, it was more likely that if there had been foul play at
all it came from the Armagnacs who had everything to gain by the death
of the Burgundian Jean and the succession of the Armagnac Charles, the
son-in-law of the King of Sicily and bitter enemy of Burgundy.
Isabeau was certainly most unlucky in her relations with her sons.
Three of them died in early childhood, with Louis she latterly had
frequent quarrels, Jean was estranged from her; but the unnatural
strife and hatred between her and her remaining son Charles was the
crown of all the calamities of her reign. It seems to have been caused
in the first place by Armagnac, who, in consequence of the death soon
after each other of the King’s two elder sons, the Duc de Berry, the
King of Sicily, and the Comte de Hainault, had become exceedingly
powerful and, the only person whose power and influence might stand in
his way being the Queen, proceeded to make mischief between her, the
Dauphin, a weak, characterless boy, and the King, whose mind was now
more clouded and his intellect feebler during the intervals between the
attacks of his terrible malady.
Added to all this, the King of England threatened that he would soon
be in Paris and there were hurried preparations to resist him. All the
places that lay on the road by which he would pass were strengthened,
moats deepened, walls repaired, batteries of wood and stone made, and
stores of provisions laid in. St. Denis was especially fortified, and
the monks had to contribute largely to the defence fund, for which
purpose they were obliged to sell two large gold crowns and a quantity
of silver plate. The holy relics, including the body of St. Denis,
were taken by some of the monks to Paris and hidden in a safe but
secular place, which, however, caused so much scandal that they had to
be brought back again; and the monk who writes of this time says that
for eleven months the trumpets of the enemy were continually in their
ears.[266]
The Queen was holding her court at Vincennes and had placed in command
of the troops who acted as her guards, Louis de Bosredon, and the Sires
de Graville and Giac, dissolute young nobles, who spent enormous sums
of money and passed their time in feasting, revelry, and in carrying
on intrigues with the Queen’s ladies, and, it was rumoured, even with
the Queen herself. At least it was said by Armagnac and his party, to
whose interest it was to circulate such a report, and who succeeded
in making the Dauphin and the King, who then had a lucid interval,
believe the story. Being at the same time weak and violent, and so, as
is always the case, more dangerous and mischievous than a person who,
though violent, is also strong, they listened to the words of Armagnac,
and the King riding in haste one evening to Vincennes, passed Bosredon,
who instead of dismounting according to the usual etiquette, saluted
slightly and rode on. This put a finishing stroke to the anger of
Charles, who ordered him to be arrested. He was put to the “_question_”
or torture, and was said to have made compromising confessions
respecting the Queen. He was thrown into the Seine and drowned; the
other young nobles escaped. It is very likely, whatever admissions were
wrung by these iniquitous means from Bosredon, that he was not guilty;
as to Isabeau she was about forty-seven years old, had grown fat, and
was suffering from gout, which circumstances make such an accusation as
far as she was concerned highly improbable, though the disorders of her
court were doubtless deplorable. However, the conspiracy had succeeded,
she was sent to Tours with the Duchess of Bavaria her sister-in-law,
and not allowed as she wished, to go to Melun, where she had much
treasure, a great deal of which was seized by the Dauphin, and the part
he took in this outrage aroused in the Queen that undying hatred which
caused such disaster to him and to France.
{1418}
It would have been better for the Dauphin Charles if he had let his
mother and her friends and her treasure alone, for Isabeau, though
capricious and foolish, was not a woman to submit tamely to such an
outrage as this. And Jean Sans-peur was neither capricious, foolish,
nor weak, and it was to him that her thoughts turned in this crisis.
For about six months Isabeau led an intolerable life at Tours in close
captivity, guarded by Jean Picard, who had been her own secretary, and
had betrayed to the Dauphin the existence of a collection of gold,
silver, pearls, and diamonds which she had entrusted to the keeping of
the Abbot of St. Denis; Guillaume Toreau, her chancellor, and Laurent
du Puy, whom she hated more than any of them, as he prevented her from
writing or receiving letters without his leave and treated her with
disrespect, even speaking to her without taking his hat off.
She managed however to send a secret message to the Duke of Burgundy
with her seal. Jean Sans-peur was besieging Corbeil, but he knew that
the Queen was worth more to him than the possession of that or any
other town, so he raised the siege and rode day and night to Tours
where he arrived on the Feast of All Souls.
The Queen meanwhile had signified her intention of performing her
devotions at the abbey of Marmoutiers on the banks of the Loire, near
Tours. The three gaolers did not venture to object to this act of
religion. While prayers were going on they approached the Queen and
said that a great company of Burgundians and English were close at
hand. Just then Hector de Saveuse, lieutenant of the Duke of Burgundy,
having posted armed men all round, entered the church and saluted
the Queen in the name of his master who was close at hand. Isabeau
pointed to her three gaolers saying, “Arrest these three men.” This was
immediately done, but Laurent du Puy, who knew it was all over with
him, broke away, ran down to the Loire, tried to jump into a boat that
lay moored to the shore, fell into the water and was drowned. In two
hours the Queen and the Duke of Burgundy had met and become reconciled;
the Queen assumed the regency, and under the powerful escort of the
Duke of Burgundy, having been recognised by the authorities of Tours,
made a progress through central France with her ladies, and fixed her
court and parliament at Troyes. She had a seal engraved with the arms
of France and Bavaria and issued proclamations beginning, “_Isabelle,
par la grace de Dieu Royne de France_.” The civil war now raged as
fiercely as ever, and the English had conquered most of Normandy and
were besieging Rouen.
In May, 1418, a party of young men, partisans of the Queen and
Burgundy, led by Perrinet le Clerc, whose father kept the keys of
the porte S. Germain-des-Près, went to Seigneur de L’Isle Adam, and
offered to admit the Burgundian troops by night into Paris. It was
arranged that the latter should be at the gate with eight hundred
men, and Perrinet should contrive to steal the keys from his father
who always kept them under his pillow, and who would have distrusted
any one rather than his son. With a band of the conspirators Perrinet
crept secretly in the darkness to the Porte St. Germain and awaited the
coming of the soldiers. It was nearly two hours after midnight when the
gate was unlocked, L’Isle Adam and his troops in order of battle passed
stealthily through, and Perrinet le Clerc locked the gate behind them
and threw the keys over the wall into the moat, while the Burgundians
began their silent march through the dark, narrow streets, no word
being spoken until they stood before the Châtelet where a body of four
hundred armed men waited for them, and then began the attack on the
houses of the Armagnacs with a sudden rush amid cries for the King and
Burgundy. Forcing their way to the palace they seized the King, induced
him to grant all their demands and rode away with him. Armagnac escaped
in disguise; Tanneguy du Chastel, provost of Paris, aroused by the
noise and tumult, hastened to the hôtel of the Dauphin, wrapped him in
a cloak, and hurried him and the Dauphine into the Bastille where
some of their party had taken refuge. Doors were flung open, people
rushed out of their houses with arms in their hands, torches gleamed
and cries resounded in the streets, plunder, fighting, and slaughter
went on all night, and in the morning both King and capital were in
the hands of the Burgundians. Armagnac was betrayed by the man who had
sheltered him and carried off to prison; Tanneguy du Chastel escaped
with the Dauphin to Corbeil and thence to Melun; the town was given
up to violence, pillage, and murder; the Armagnacs fled in confusion;
and the Duke of Burgundy went to Troyes and brought back the Queen in
triumph. All the chiefs of the Burgundian party came to meet them with
six hundred of the principal citizens, bringing velvet robes covered
with crosses of St. Andrew for Burgundy and his nephew which they put
on to enter Paris. The Queen was seated on a “_char_,” the streets
so lately running with blood were strewn with flowers, and the King
received the Queen with affection and satisfaction.
[Illustration: FRANCE AFTER THE DEATH OF CHARLES VI., 1380-1422.]
But very soon the approach of the English army compelled them to take
refuge at Troyes, while a dreadful pestilence was ravaging the country.
The Abbot of St. Denis died, and many other people of importance.
Many fled from the country, and for four months there was a dreadful
mortality.[267] The Duke of Burgundy was now declared Captain of Paris
instead of the Dauphin, who remained at Bourges. The King, Queen, and
Princess Catherine were completely under the influence of Burgundy,
whose eldest son was, it will be remembered, married to another
daughter of the King, and whose aim now was to get the Dauphin also
under his guidance, which did not seem to be at all impossible, Charles
being only fifteen, and having no more brains, capacity, nor decision
of character than his brother Louis; being absolutely guided by whoever
he was with, and at present surrounded by persons of no particular rank
or weight. The young Comte de Clermont, son of the Duc de Bourbon, who
was about the age of the Dauphin and had just returned from captivity
in England, had come over to the Burgundians, saying that wherever the
King was, there was his place, and it was hoped the Dauphin would do
the same. Armagnac was dead, and his chief counsellor was Tanneguy du
Chastel, a Breton gentleman. Burgundy had sent his young wife Marie
d’Anjou back to him and was anxious for a reconciliation.
The English conquests were spreading. Rouen was besieged and taken,
and though negotiations were going on for the marriage of the Princess
Catherine, Henry V. demanded as her dowry all the provinces conceded to
his great-grandfather by the peace of Bretigny, to which the King and
Duke of Burgundy would not agree.
As the King and Queen started to take the Princess Catherine to meet
Henry V. at Pontoise, however, the King was seized with an attack of
frenzy, so he had to be left there while the Duke of Burgundy went on
to Melun with the Queen and Princess.
Henry V. met them, and at once fell in love with the Princess who was
just nineteen and extremely beautiful; but he would not come to terms
about the dowry, and Isabeau, thinking to inflame his passion for her,
only let them meet once and then sent her back to Pontoise. However,
this only infuriated Henry, who told Burgundy that he would have the
Princess and the lands too, in spite of them, “_et je vous chasseray de
France, vous et vostre Roy_.”[268]
The negotiations not having resulted in much good the King desired the
Dauphin and Duke of Burgundy to make peace. The Duc de Bretagne went
to and fro between the Dauphin, his brother-in-law, and the Queen and
Burgundy. “Everywhere there was a great longing for the success of
the arrangements for there was great desolation in all parts of the
kingdom for the war was of father against son, brother against brother,
uncle against nephew. And the worst was when in one town were held the
two factions of Burgundy and Armagnac, and thieves and robbers were
everywhere and merchandise always and everywhere lost.”[269]
It was difficult enough to persuade the Dauphin to agree to terms, but
the Queen sent the Dame de Giac, an old lady the Dauphin had been very
fond of from his childhood, and who was said to have been at one time
the mistress of the Duke of Burgundy, to Pouilly where the conference
was going on. She went from one tent to the other and managed so to
arrange matters as to bring about a reconciliation. The Dauphin,
who, though he had no sense, had very pleasant manners, showed great
courtesy to the Duke and when they separated frantic rejoicings took
place at Paris, bells ringing, feasting in the streets, singing and
dancing going on all night long.[270]
{1419}
But, as at the marriage festivities of Richard II. and Isabelle, a
great storm came on during the conference, “and,” says the monk of
St. Denis, “the heavens were black with clouds, there was thunder and
lightning and torrents of rain and huge hailstones which destroyed the
vines and crops. Some said this storm arose from natural causes, but
it was most generally believed that the evil spirits could sometimes
produce these disorders and that perhaps the interviews of the princes
were disagreeable to them. Therefore people did not believe in the
stability or durability of the treaty concluded. It was also the
opinion of several of the learned astrologers. For my part I leave
their judgment to Him who reigns in the heavens.”[271]
The truce with England expired and the war broke out again. The English
troops took many towns and castles, the Duke of Burgundy retired with
the King and Queen to Troyes, and no adequate measures were taken
against the enemy. The Dauphin returned from Touraine in September,
and sent Tanneguy du Chastel to Troyes to ask for another conference
with the Duke of Burgundy, who at first refused, saying that there was
peace between them and the Dauphin had much better come to Troyes to
his father and mother. However, he allowed himself to be persuaded and
consented to meet the Dauphin at Montereau, in spite of the entreaties
and warnings of his own friends and followers who dreaded the vengeance
of the Armagnacs for all his deeds, from the murder of Louis d’Orléans
to the late massacres of their friends and relations in Paris, besides
their fear of his gaining over the Dauphin the influence he already
possessed over the King and Queen.
The interview was to take place on the bridge of Montereau, to which
the Duke of Burgundy rode on the 10th of September, about three in
the afternoon. As he dismounted to go on to the bridge, three of his
servants who had been upon it examining the barrier across it, which
they did not like the look of, came up to him and again begged him
not to risk himself on it, but it was no use. At the barrier in the
middle of the bridge he met the Dauphin, the one through which he
himself passed having been locked behind him. After a few words of
conversation, the Dauphin, as the Duke knelt before him, began to
reproach him with having done nothing to oppose the English. At that
moment one of the Armagnacs pushed him from behind, Burgundy laid his
hand on his sword which had got behind him to pull it forward. Robert
de Loir, who had pushed him, exclaimed, “_Mettez-vous la main à vostre
épée en la présence de Monseigneur le Dauphin?_” Tanneguy du Chastel
approached, made a sign, and saying “_Il est temps_” struck the Duke
with an axe. He tried to draw his sword but it was too late, there was
a cry of “_Tuez! tuez!_” a fierce scuffle; then Jean Sans-peur lay
dead at the feet of the Dauphin, and Louis d’Orléans was avenged.
{1420}
The rage, consternation, and mischief caused by this event throughout
the country, just as every one thought there was going to be a little
peace, cannot be described. The Queen and her son-in-law Philippe,
Comte de Charolais, now Duke of Burgundy, prepared to take their
revenge. Philippe, overwhelmed with grief, would scarcely see or speak
to any one for days. To his wife he said, “Michelle, your brother
has murdered my father”; and then finding that she was fretting and
making herself miserable fearing to lose his affection he comforted and
reassured her. The Queen and Duke of Burgundy sent proclamations to all
the chief towns in France denouncing the Dauphin for the murder of Jean
Sans-peur; and made a treaty with the King of England at Troyes, by
which they agreed that he should marry the Princess Catherine and not
only act as regent of France during the King’s illnesses but succeed to
the crown to the exclusion of the Dauphin.
Isabeau, who was then at Troyes, sent the Bishop of Arras secretly
to Henry to invite him to come there, and to take him a love-letter
from the Princess Catherine, with which he was delighted.[272] The
young princess was deeply in love with Henry V. and very anxious to be
Queen of England, and had all along persuaded her mother, whose great
favourite she was, to help her in the matter and forward the alliance.
Isabeau was glad enough to do so for she loved her daughter and hated
her son, and this marriage fell in with her views regarding them both.
The wedding was celebrated at Troyes, June 3, 1420, with extraordinary
magnificence. The Kings and Queens of France and England and the young
Duke of Burgundy entered Paris, and spent Christmas there; after which
Henry and Catherine went on a visit to England. The young Queen seems
to have felt bitterly the separation from her parents and country; an
ancient chronicle says of her: “_Item, ce jour party la fille de France
nommée Catherine que le roy d’Engleterre avoit espousée et fut menée en
Engleterre, et fut une piteuse départie, especialement du roy de France
et de sa fille._”[273]
{1422}
Just before Christmas, 1421, came the news of the birth of a son
to the King and Queen of England. In Paris as in London bells rang
and bonfires blazed in the streets; for the child, afterwards the
unfortunate Henry VI., was born the heir of both England and France.
The winter was an unusually cold one, the frost being so severe that
no corn could be ground except in windmills, all the watermills being
frozen up.
In May, 1422, Queen Catherine came back escorted in great pomp by a
great body of English troops. She arrived at Vincennes, where she
stayed some weeks with her parents and husband who received her, as an
ancient chronicler observes, “as if she had been an angel.” The court
kept Whitsuntide at Paris, Charles VI. and Isabeau at the hôtel St.
Paul, Henry V. and Catherine at the Louvre. The people thronged to see
the great banquets at which the King and Queen of England feasted in
splendid robes, crowns, and jewels; while those of the King and Queen
of France were neglected, and at neither were food and wine given away
according to ancient custom, which caused much discontent. But these
were the last great fêtes of the French court in the reigns of Charles
and Henry. In the following August the King of England, who had for
some time been suffering from a dangerous and, in those days, incurable
malady, died at Vincennes, and his death was followed in October by
that of Charles VI. at the hôtel St. Paul. Henry died at thirty-six,
in the midst of a brilliant and victorious career King of England
and almost King of France, leaving a widow of twenty-one overwhelmed
with grief, an infant heir to two kingdoms, and a nation in mourning.
Charles, whose reign began so magnificently, passed away in the
half-deserted palace of St. Paul. Although Isabeau was living there at
the time, only his confessor, almoner, and the first gentleman of his
household were with him when he died, at the age of fifty-three.
{1423}
The Queen does not seem to have been present at the funeral, the
Dauphin was an exile and an enemy, and the chief mourner was the Duke
of Bedford, Regent of France for Henry of Lancaster. The funeral waited
till his arrival at Paris and there was much dispute as to what the
arrangements should be, it having been so long since a King of France
had been buried that very few people remembered, and there were no
records on the subject.
The litter was so constructed, that it could be made narrower to pass
through the doors of St. Paul, Notre Dame, and the narrow streets,
and widened in the broader thoroughfares. On it was placed the coffin
covered with a pall of cloth of gold and scarlet with deep border of
blue velvet embroidered with golden _fleurs-de-lis_, which fell down
to the ground. It was surmounted by an image of the King dressed in
royal robes, with mantle of ermine, crown, and sceptre. The litter was
carried by the “_varlets_” of the King and followed by two hundred
gentlemen of his household in black, bearing torches and shields
with the arms of France. Next came the mendicant orders, Jacobins,
Carmelites, Cordeliers, and Augustins, then the colleges, parochial
clergy, ecclesiastics of the collegiate churches and university,
bishops, abbots and nobles, members of Parliament, the four presidents
in mantles of scarlet and vair holding the four corners of the pall,
the King’s chamberlain, esquires, and many of the chief citizens; the
Duke of Bedford, Regent of France, rode behind the litter. The streets
and windows were crowded with people mourning and lamenting, and so,
at the hour of vespers the body of Charles le Bien-aimé was carried
to Notre Dame. The church was hung with costly stuffs covered with
_fleurs-de-lis_, and blazing with torches, the psalms and vigils for
the dead were chanted “_et fut nuict_.” Next morning, after mass, the
procession formed again and the body was carried in state to St. Denis,
where all night the monks chanted psalms and vigils for the dead; and
then next day, after a magnificent requiem, Charles VI. was buried by
his father and mother, and through the dim aisles and cloister of the
great abbey resounded the cry, “Pray for the soul of the most excellent
prince, Charles VI., King of France.”
After the religious rites were over the Duke of Bedford dined in his
own room, but there was a great dinner in the vast hall of the abbey
to which crowded prelates, nobles, gentlemen, and officials, _maîtres
d’hôtel_ restraining those who were pressing to the chief table and had
no right there, and alms being distributed while the banquet was going
on to more than five thousand poor people.
Isabeau survived her husband twelve years, but this latter part of her
life contains scarcely anything of sufficient interest to record. After
the death of her son-in-law Henry V., with whom she always got on well,
the departure of her daughter Catherine for England, and the death of
Charles VI., she lived in the half-deserted palace of St. Paul with a
diminished household and shattered fortune. Her daughter the Duchess of
Burgundy died in 1423, and of her twelve children there only remained
the son she hated, the Queen of England, now far away, and her second
and third daughters, Jeanne, Duchesse de Bretagne, and Marie, Prioress
of Poissy, whom it is to be supposed she sometimes saw.
Her brother, Ludwig of Bavaria, also survived her. But war and famine
and pestilence had devastated the kingdom. Grass grew in the streets
of Paris, and wolves came and attacked children outside the walls and
even within the city.[274] One event of interest happened in 1431,
which was the state entry of her grandson Henry VI. into Paris. While
Isabeau stood at the window of the hôtel St. Paul watching the pageant,
the child looked up at her as he rode by, and, some one saying to
him, “That is the Queen-dowager of France, your grandmother,” he took
off his cap and saluted her. At the sight of the young King, the son
of her favourite daughter, riding as she herself had done amid the
acclamations of the people through the streets which had once been
decorated and thronged to do her honour, Isabeau burst into tears and
turned from the window. The King, then ten years old, afterwards went
to visit his grandmother at the hôtel St. Paul.[275]
{1435}
Isabeau died there in 1435, September 29th. She had a favourite old
German lady who lived with her to the last and with her other ladies
followed her funeral _cortège_ to Notre Dame on the 13th of October.
Very little pomp was displayed on that occasion, but the clergy of
that cathedral came in procession to St. Paul, and spared nothing to
make the office worthy of a sovereign, lending a crown, sceptre, and
other royal ornaments. There were present the Chancellor of France,
the Bishop of Paris, and certain French and English nobles. After the
ceremony the body was placed in a boat by the presidents of Parliament
and taken to St. Denis to be buried by her husband Charles VI.[276]
Paris was still in possession of the English, but just before the
Queen’s death the treaty of Arras was signed between the Duke of
Burgundy and Charles VII.
[Illustration: Losangé d’argent & d’azur de 21. pieces mises en bande.]
_MARIE D’ANJOU, WIFE OF CHARLES VII._
_CHARLOTTE DE SAVOIE, WIFE OF LOUIS XI._
1413
Round Marie d’Anjou and Charlotte de Savoie, wives of Charles VII.
and Louis XI., partly from their own personality and partly from the
circumstances amidst which they were placed, so much less interest
gathers than around the two Queens who precede or the one who follows
them, that I have preferred to pass over their reigns, and to conclude
this volume with a sketch of the more interesting character and
eventful life of Anne de Bretagne, whose death closes the annals of the
early Queens of the house of Valois.
[Illustration: Marie d’Anjou.]
Marie was the granddaughter of Louis, Duc d’Anjou, the second,
handsomest, and perhaps worst of the sons of King Jean. Although
she was exceedingly beautiful, and in many ways gifted, she had no
influence with Charles VII., whom she had married as a child, when, his
elder brothers being alive, there appeared no prospect of his becoming
King. After his accession he constantly neglected her for Agnes Sorel
and other mistresses. She seems not to have been wanting in judgment
or capacity, and under different circumstances might have made an
excellent queen; but her idea of duty was the submission of a slave,
and her gentle, saintly character was more fitted for the cloister
than the throne. She was the only human being her son, Louis XI.,
really loved,[277] and would never oppose, and her death soon after
his accession to the throne was considered a public calamity. She had
twelve children, of whom seven died young.
{1463}
[Illustration: Tiercé en chef, au 1. facé d’argent Et de gueules de
huit pieces, pour Hongrie. Au 2. semé de France au lambel de trois
pendant de gueules, pour Anjou Sicile. Au 3. d’argent à la croix
potencée d’or, cantonnée de quatre croisettes de mè mei pour Jerusalem.
Soutenu au 1. de la pointe et semé de France à la bordure de gueules
pour Anjou. parti d’or a quatre pals de gueules, pour Arragon.]
[Illustration: Charlotte de Savoie]
{1451}
Charlotte de Savoie was much less gifted and more unfortunate than her
predecessor. Charles VII., with all his faults, was neither cruel,
avaricious, nor disagreeable, and his wife was free to amuse herself
and direct her children and household as she pleased. But Louis XI.
was a cruel, remorseless tyrant, and the only consolation of the
unfortunate Charlotte de Savoie was that she seldom saw him. She lived
in seclusion and with little state at Loches and Amboise, and when his
death gave her freedom she was already in bad health, and only survived
him for a few months. Of her six children only three lived to grow
up: Charles VIII., Anne de Beaujeu, Regent of France, and Jeanne, the
deformed wife of Louis XII.
[Illustration: De gueules à la croix d’argent.]
_REIGN OF ANNE DE BRETAGNE, WIFE OF CHARLES VIII. AND LOUIS XII._
CHAPTER I
1476-1491
Birth of Anne and Isabelle--Their childhood--Louis
d’Orléans--Alain d’Albret--Death of François II.--First
Council--French war--Marriage ceremony--Siege of Rennes.
Anne, eldest daughter of François II., Duc de Bretagne, and his second
wife, Marguérite de Foix, was born at Nantes, January 26, 1476,[278]
and her sister, Isabelle, four or five years after.
{1476}
Their mother died in 1485, leaving the children under the care of
Françoise de Dinan, Dame de Laval, a member of one of the greatest
families of Bretagne, who had been their governess from their infancy.
They continued to be brought up at the court of their father, who seems
to have kept them constantly with him, but whose affection for them did
not prevent his promising them to anybody whose alliance he thought
might be useful to him amidst the difficulties and dangers he had
brought upon the duchy which had been so prosperous when he succeeded
to it.
Always under the influence of some unworthy favourite, he had for many
years been governed by Antoinette de Maignelais, Dame de Villequier,
niece of Agnes Sorel, and her successor in the affections of Charles
VII. After his death she carried on a _liaison_ with François, which
embittered the life of his first wife, daughter of the last Duc de
Bretagne, so that the people declared that his having no son to succeed
him was a punishment from heaven for his conduct.
Anne, as the heiress of Bretagne, was of especial importance, and
proposals for her marriage and her sister’s with the King of the
Romans, the young sons of Edward IV. of England, the Infant of Spain,
or some of the chief Breton nobles, were perpetually being entertained.
Some French writers have originated a romantic story of love between
Anne and Louis, Duc d’Orléans, who had quarrelled with Charles VIII.
and his sister, the Regent,[279] and was a great deal at the court of
Bretagne. But as Anne was from eight to eleven years old at that time,
by comparing dates and details given by early chroniclers, it becomes
evident that this was not possible, and that if Louis, who was then
from two to five and twenty, thought of such a child at all, it could
only be as the heiress of Bretagne. He was, like his grandfather, the
brother of Charles VI., always involved in some love affair, besides
being already married to Jeanne, the deformed daughter of Louis XI.,
who had forced the marriage upon him in childhood, notwithstanding
his opposition and that of his parents,[280] Charles Duc d’Orléans
and Marie de Clèves, hoping thereby to extinguish that branch of the
family. And, notwithstanding his aversion to his wife, he could not get
rid of her whilst her brother was King and her sister Regent of France.
Jeanne, Duchesse d’Orléans, was greatly to be pitied. She loved Louis
as Valentine Visconti had loved his still handsomer and more dissipated
grandfather. But Valentine was a brilliant, attractive woman of the
world, with whom the Duke, in spite of his frequent infidelities, had
got on very well. Jeanne, besides being deformed, was a meek, ascetic
person, whose life had been passed in slavish submission to her father,
the terrible Louis XI., and despairing love for her husband; her tastes
and ideas were those of the cloister.
Although his follies were the cause of many calamities to the duchy,
François II. was very popular, he was good-looking and pleasant,
encouraged art, literature, and commerce, and spent his money freely.
Charles V.
|
+----------------------------------------+
| |
Charles VI. Louis Duc d’Orléans _m._ Valentine Visconti.
| |
Charles VII. +------------+------+----------+
| | | |
Louis XI. | Philippe Comte Jean Comte
| | de Vertus. d’Angoulême.
Charles VIII. | |
| |
+--------------+ |
| |
Charles Duc d’Orléans _m._ 1. Isabelle de France; |
| 2. Bonne d’Armagnac; |
| 3. Marie de Clèves. |
| | |
+-------------------------+ |
| |
Louis XII., Duc d’Orléans _m._ 1. Jeanne de France; |
| 2. Anne de Bretagne. |
| | |
+-----------------------------+ Charles Comte d’Angoulême
| _m._
| Louise de Savoie.
| |
Claude _m._ François I.
| |
+-------------------+-------------------------+
|
Henri II. _m._ Catherine dei Medici.
|
+-------------------+-------------------+
| | |
François II. Charles IX. Henri III.
End of the Valois Kings.
The greatest danger in which he involved the State arose from his
constant enmity to France, whose fugitives he protected, and whose
enemies he encouraged and assisted on all occasions; and from the
credulous weakness which placed him always under the influence of
some objectionable person. Antoinette de Maignelais died in 1475,
but still more fatal was his infatuation for one Landais, a man of
obscure birth and abominable character, whom he made his treasurer,
and whose crimes and cruelties so exasperated the Bretons that they
rose in rebellion, surrounded the palace with threats and cries, and
demanded that he should be given up to them. The Comte de Foix tried
to appease them, but returned in haste, exclaiming, “I would rather be
Prince over a million wild boars than over such people as your Bretons;
you will certainly have to give up your treasurer, or we shall all be
murdered.”[281] Landais was accordingly tried, condemned, and executed,
but the harm he had done and the disastrous state of affairs still
remained.
The young English princes having been murdered by their uncle, Richard
III., the Vicomte de Rohan wanted to marry the two princesses to his
two sons; other suitors also presented themselves, of whom the one
specially detested by Anne was Alain, Comte d’Albret, brother of her
governess, the Dame de Laval. He was a widower of forty-five, rough,
ugly, disagreeable, ill-tempered, and the father of eight legitimate
and four illegitimate children. A more preposterous husband for the
young princess could not have been thought of; notwithstanding which,
the Dame de Laval used all her influence in his favour. But her
persuasions were useless. Anne could not bear the sight of him, and
would not listen. Besides her personal dislike to him, she said his
position was far beneath her. She wanted to marry a King, or the son of
a King, not a mere Breton noble who was her father’s subject and would
be her own.
{1488}
There was, however, a strong party who, desiring that their future
duchess should marry a Breton and stay in her own country, supported
the pretensions of Albret, and so harassed the Duke, her father, that
in order to gain allies and help in his difficulties, he consented to
this monstrous sacrifice, and desired her to accept him. Anne resisted,
but she was then a child of eleven or twelve years of age, and when
her father, whom she loved, used reproaches, commands, entreaties,
and assured her that the marriage was necessary to the welfare of the
country she adored, he succeeded in wringing a reluctant consent from
her.
But shortly afterwards he was beaten by the French at St. Aubin, and
after signing a treaty giving up Dol, St. Malo, and other important
towns, and promising not to marry either of his daughters without
permission of Charles VIII., he fell ill and died in September, 1488.
The Princess Anne, now Duchess de Bretagne, was not quite thirteen
years old, but in capacity and character far beyond her age. She was
well educated, understood Latin and Greek, and wrote very good letters.
One to Maximilian of Austria, with an account of the war, the troubles
in Bretagne, and the battle of St. Aubin is quoted as a surprising
production for one so young. But Anne was full of talent and high
spirit, her faults and good qualities were those of a noble nature.
Brave, proud, impetuous, imperious, passionately attached to her own
country, loving her friends and hating her enemies with all her heart,
always to be relied on, yielding only to the commands of the Church, or
the good of her own Bretagne, a woman to be loved, admired, sometimes
feared, but never despised or distrusted.
The Duke left his daughters under the guardianship of the Maréchal de
Rieux and the Comte de Comminges, who were also to consult Dunois, son
of the famous Bastard of Orléans, and Madame de Laval was to remain
their governess.[282] She must have been fond of them and good to them
in spite of her reprehensible partisanship of her unsuitable brother,
for Anne always showed her much affection.
The princesses were taken immediately from Coiron, where the Duke died,
to Guérande, which was considered safer. The Breton nobles had sworn
allegiance to Anne in her father’s lifetime, among others her natural
brother, François Baron d’Avaugour, son of Antoinette de Maignelais. He
and Anne were very fond of each other.
An embassy was sent to the King of France and the States hastily
summoned. Anne sat at the head of the Council, and her ministers soon
discovered that she was no weak, timid girl of whom they could dispose
at their pleasure, but a high-spirited princess who knew very well that
she was their sovereign.
When Rieux brought forward again the project of marrying her to the
detested Albret as the best way out of the present difficulties, she
immediately, with an eloquence and decision that astonished them,
rejected the proposal. An historian remarks, “And the high heart that
she had! girl as she was!”[283]
She said that Albret had not even fulfilled the conditions which alone
had induced her to consent to such an engagement, in giving assistance
to her father, who had never desired nor approved of the marriage,
but had been tormented into consenting when in weak health by Madame
de Laval, that she had always protested against it, and that Albret
knew he was repugnant to her, and that she never meant to carry it
out. That she was the Duchesse de Bretagne and the greatest heiress in
Christendom, that the idea of trying to force her to marry against her
will was contrary to all propriety, and that sooner than make such a
marriage as this she would retire into a convent and take the veil.
[Illustration: Anne de Bretagne]
She hated Albret all the more, because as she grew older and increased
in beauty, he had conceived a violent passion for her, but her courage
and firmness put a stop to the tyrannical meddling of her ministers
and filled them with respect and admiration.
She then sent a messenger to England claiming the protection of Henry
VII.
Her chancellor, Montauban, supported her, considering the match far
beneath her, and told Albret plainly of the aversion and indignation
of the Duchess and the preposterous nature of his claims. The Comte
d’Albret flew into a furious rage, but was of course powerless in the
matter. And just then Charles VIII. sent to claim the wardship of the
Duchess and her sister, saying that he would marry them to the two sons
of the Vicomte de Rohan and resign all his claims to the duchy.
But the Bretons, who hated the Rohans because they were considered
friends to France and traitors to Bretagne, would not hear of this;
Louis d’Orléans was in prison at Bourges, help did not come from
England, and the friends of the Duchess, including the Maréchal de
Rieux, who saw that it was hopeless to think of the Comte d’Albret,
proposed the eldest son of the Emperor Maximilian, King of the Romans,
who had been already suggested as a possible husband for her during the
lifetime of her father, and to whom she had no objection. For, although
Maximilian was also a widower and a great deal older than herself, he
was a handsome, courteous, pleasant man in the prime of life, and could
give her the most splendid position in Europe.
The duchy was by this time in a condition equally deplorable and
dangerous. Charles VIII., exasperated at the English and other foreign
troops being called in, made vigorous war upon Bretagne, town after
town was besieged and taken by his army. Alain d’Albret continued to
put forth his claims on the young Duchess, declaring that he had her
father’s promise and her own consent, but ignoring the fact that this
consent had been wrung from a weak and almost dying man, and a child
of ten years old, who directly she was free had made a public protest
against this arbitrary act. Madame de Laval for a long time continued
her advocacy of her brother’s cause, while Anne steadily persisted that
she would take the veil sooner than marry him.
{1489}
Meanwhile she waited anxiously for help from England, but Henry
VII., unwilling to make war on France, lost a great deal of time in
correspondence with the French King, hoping to arrange matters by this
means. But the war went on, and the young Duchess fled from one town to
another, and at length, finding herself in an unsafe position in the
unfortified town of Rhédon, with her sister, where there was a great
chance of being taken by the French, sent to her guardians, Rieux and
Comminges, to come up with the troops and escort them to Nantes. There
was no time to lose, for the French were in the neighbourhood, and the
place could not be defended.
The princesses were waiting in great anxiety when they were told that
Rieux and Comminges had both gone to Nantes, where they had joined
Albret. Anne was very angry, all the more as she suspected that they
would try to influence the people against her and her friends by
making them believe that Dunois intended to deliver up both her and
the town to the King of France. She set off from Rhédon on horseback
with Isabelle and the Chancellor Montauban, with a bodyguard of ten
Bretons as an escort, and rode to La Pasquelay, about three leagues
from Nantes, where she was joined by Dunois at the head of some troops.
She sent a message to Nantes ordering the gates to be opened for
her entry, but the reply was that she was welcome to enter with her
household and private guards, but not with Montauban, Dunois, or the
troops; and seeing that the plan was to throw her into the power of
Rieux and Albret, she angrily refused, upon which they marched out of
the town with a large force to compel her to enter as they proposed.
With undaunted courage Anne mounted on horseback behind Montauban and
rode forward, while Dunois and the troops prepared for battle. But the
townspeople no sooner saw her than they forbade any force to be used
against her, but obliged the nobles to go back into the town. For some
days negotiations went on, but Anne sent word that she would only enter
Nantes as its sovereign, and turning away after a perilous journey took
refuge at Rennes, where the people had begged her to come, and where
they received her with bursts of enthusiastic loyalty and abuse of the
traitors of Nantes.[284]
Her cousin, Jean de Châlons, who was taken prisoner with the Duc
d’Orléans, but had been released,[285] was Anne’s great friend and
supporter against Albret; and in March, 1490, it was decided to
place her under the protection of the Emperor, by marrying her to his
son, the King of the Romans. Negotiations were accordingly carried on
with profound secrecy. Madame de Laval, seeing that her efforts were
vain, abandoned the cause of her brother; Maximilian, King of the
Romans, sent the Baron Volfan de Polhaim, with several other nobles,
to Bretagne, and a few days after the ceremony of betrothal was gone
through, and the marriage celebrated without any one knowing the day on
which it took place. According to the old German custom in such cases,
the young princess was placed in her bed into which Polhaim, as proxy
for Maximilian, put his bare leg up to the knee in presence of the
three other envoys, Madame de Laval and some members of the household
of the Duchess, and declared the marriage to be consummated.
{1490}
It was not likely that so important an event could be long concealed.
The Chancellor de Montauban was one of the first to let it out by
giving Anne, in several official acts, the title of Queen of the
Romans. This disclosure caused an outburst of anger and commotion.
The French pushed on the war with more activity than ever, Alain
d’Albret betrayed Nantes into their hands, and Charles VIII. refused
to acknowledge the legality of the marriage, contracted without his
consent.
Anne, who was in desperate straits for want of money, sold her plate
and jewels, and struck a coinage of leather with a small piece of
silver in the centre. She gave the command of her army to Rieux, who
had left Albret, returned to his allegiance, and for the sake of the
country, been pardoned. He drove the French out of Lower Bretagne;
Brest, St. Malo, and some other towns held out for her; she had English
archers and German and Spanish troops from Maximilian, but was too weak
to withstand the French, who, late in the autumn, laid siege to Rennes.
Anne made her Chancellor, Montauban, promise not to leave her for a
day; she trusted also in Jean de Châlons and Dunois, who was as brave
as his renowned father though his enormous size interfered with his
activity.
[Illustration: TRUMPETER.]
CHAPTER II
1491-1498
Joustes before Rennes--Death of Isabelle--Betrothal of
Anne--Marguérite of Austria--Marriage of Anne--Charles
VIII.--Birth of Dauphin--Italian War--Return of King--Death of
Dauphin--Birth and death of other children--Death of Charles
VIII.
The French army lay encamped before Rennes. Hostilities began by the
Bastard de Foix dressed as St. George, riding up to the walls and
challenging any knight to come out and break a lance with him in honour
of the ladies. A Breton noble in complete armour at once appeared,
lists were made among the moats, Anne had a scaffolding erected from
which she with her ladies and court witnessed the combat, first with
lances, then with swords, and, after she had supplied hypocras and
other refreshments to the French, every one retired.
{1491}
Next day the siege began. Provisions and money ran short and the
Princess Isabelle died. Charles offered Anne a large pension, any place
she chose to live in except Rennes or Nantes; and Louis de Luxembourg,
the Comte d’Angoulême or the Duc de Nemours for a husband in exchange
for the duchy, which she refused. He next offered her foreign troops
all the arrears due to them if they would withdraw from Rennes, which
they immediately did. Then he tried to induce her to accept a large
allowance, give up the duchy and go to the King of the Romans; and
finally proposed that she should throw over Maximilian, who could get
no money from his father, the Emperor, had never even seen her, and
probably cared very little for the marriage (having lately lost Marie
de Bourgogne whom he loved passionately), and marry him.
It was far the best way out of this disastrous state of things. Charles
was politically her enemy, but she had no personal dislike to him, he
was a suitable age and a splendid match, besides which it was evident
that she must either accept him or lose Bretagne altogether. And
whether it would be better for her or Bretagne that she should be a
landless fugitive or Queen of France was a question about which there
was no doubt whatever in the minds of any of the sensible people who
surrounded her. Her cousin, the Prince of Orange, her guardian, the
Maréchal de Rieux, her Chancellor, Montauban, and her governess, Madame
de Laval, all told her the same thing, and tried to persuade her to
consent to this marriage. The Duc d’Orléans, who had been released
by the intercession of his wife; and the Comte de Dunois, added their
entreaties, and Anne at last began to hesitate. Then Madame de Laval
told her confessor and begged him to speak to her. He accordingly
assured her that it was required of her by God and the Church to make
this sacrifice for the good of her country and the restoration of
peace. Anne yielded to the only authority she recognised and consented
to an interview with the King.
Charles therefore went, on pretence of a pilgrimage to the chapel of
Notre Dame which was at the gate of Rennes. After his devotions were
finished, he suddenly entered the town accompanied by the Princess Anne
de Beaujeu, and an armed escort. The next day he presented himself at
the palace of the Duchess. They had a long private audience in which
Charles seems to have succeeded in overcoming any dislike Anne may have
had for him, as they were betrothed to each other three days afterwards
in the chapel of Notre Dame.
Two solemn contracts had to be broken for the sake of this marriage,
so important both to Bretagne and France. Besides the ceremonial
marriage of Anne and Maximilian, his daughter Marguérite had not only
been for the last eight years the legal wife of Charles VIII., but had
been brought up in France and treated as Dauphine and then as Queen.
The marriage, which was of course only a form, had been celebrated at
Amboise just before the death of Louis XI., with pomp and ceremony
in the presence of the court, the Dauphin being then twelve and the
Princess Marguérite three years old.[286]
It was a great affront to Maximilian, both on his own account and that
of his daughter, who, though so young, was extremely indignant, having
long considered herself Queen of France. She was conducted back to her
father with great state, and when, as she passed through Arras, the
people began the French cry of “Noël, Noël!” she said impatiently,
“Do not cry ‘Noël!’ but ‘Vive Bourgogne!’” She was afterwards the
famous Regent of the Netherlands, and throughout her life never forgot
the slight or felt anything but enmity to France, in which, however,
she did not include the Queen, who had sent her splendid jewels and
beautiful embroideries, and with whom she was always on friendly
terms.[287]
A chronicler favouring the Austrian party, observes in his writings
that with respect to this alliance three things are most surprising:
first, that Charles VIII. should have had the audacity to carry it out,
being already married to the daughter of Maximilian; secondly, that the
Duchesse de Bretagne should have accepted the deadly enemy of her house
as her husband; and thirdly, that the Seigneur de Dunois, who had done
so much to bring about this marriage, should have fallen dead from his
horse as he returned from the betrothal, _ce qui épouvanta fort tout le
peuple_.[288]
For Dunois, one of the most faithful friends of the young Duchess,
never saw her crowned Queen, having been seized with apoplexy as just
described.
Although by this alliance Anne gained a much higher rank, she lost that
of a sovereign princess. Charles was the conqueror, and she had no
choice but to submit to the French terms, which were--that the duchy of
Bretagne should pass entirely into the hands of the King; that if she
should survive him but have no living children, it should again become
hers, but that in that case, in order to avoid another war she should
bind herself not to marry any one but the King of France or his heir;
that she should receive the same dowry as the King’s mother; and, by
his special desire, that any jewels, furniture, or property of whatever
value, which might be in her possession at the King’s death, should be
hers absolutely. The Prince of Orange approved of this contract, which
she signed on her wedding day, December 6, 1491.
In spite of her poverty, Anne displayed royal magnificence in her
dress and all the accessories of her wedding. It is probable that the
States granted her a large sum of money for that occasion. At any
rate her wedding-dress of cloth-of-gold with gold embroideries, cost
126,000 francs (present value), and all her travelling appointments
were splendid. She gave velvet dresses to the ladies and gentlemen of
her household, that of Madame de Laval being of violet velvet, and a
costume of cloth-of-gold to the Prince of Orange.[289]
Anne was now fifteen years old and the King twenty. After their
wedding, they went to Tours, and then to Paris, splendidly received all
the way. Anne was crowned at St. Denis in the following February, on
which occasion she was dressed in white satin. The crown was too large
and heavy for the young head, and was held by Louis, Duc d’Orléans. The
next day she entered Paris.
De Mézeray declares that Anne had an immense influence over the King,
and that she ruled her own duchy entirely. But M. Le Roux de Lincy
denies this statement, and quotes in support of such contradiction two
well-known historians of Bretagne,[290] who assert that during the
whole of the married life of Charles VIII. and Anne, all the _actes de
Bretagne_ are in the name of Charles alone, without that of Anne ever
being mentioned.
In spite of the King’s jealous monopoly of her duchy, he was always
much attached to the Queen, although this did not prevent his carrying
on many love affairs and intrigues with other women, greatly to her
displeasure; and every now and then arose quarrels and disputes about
this or that person to whom his attentions were too much directed. But
they were always together, except when he was at war; he lavished money
and every luxury upon her, and was as much influenced by her as he
could be by anybody. For Charles was obstinate, rash, and chimerical;
and in many matters would take no advice from any one. He was not
handsome like most of his family, being short and badly made; but he
had beautiful eyes, a charming expression and manners so gentle and
courteous that it was said that no one had ever heard him say a rude or
harsh thing.
{1492}
Madame de Beaujeu, sister of the King, who had been hitherto the
greatest lady in France, began by trying in vain to oppose and
interfere with the Queen, who, having from childhood been accustomed to
the deference and obedience due to a sovereign princess, declined to
allow her authority to be questioned, so that the late Regent had to
yield.
Charles and Anne lived chiefly at Plessis and Amboise, which he had
caused to be magnificently refurnished and decorated for her reception.
Whenever it was possible Anne travelled by water, the rivers being
still the chief highways, and the great barges with wooden houses on
board the most comfortable conveyances. On October 10th was born the
Dauphin, Charles-Orland, at Plessis, to the great rejoicing of France,
Bretagne, and the King; he was christened with splendid ceremonial, his
god-parents being the Queen-dowager of Sicily and the Dukes of Orléans
and Bourbon. He was dedicated to the Virgin, and always dressed in
white and cloth of silver. A few months afterwards the King and Queen
set off for Lyon, leaving him at Amboise, surrounded by the strictest
precautions, amongst which was one forbidding any one to visit him who
had ever been in Italy.
They stayed at Lyon and Grenoble amidst much festivity until the
baggage arrived, was unloaded from the chariots and packed on mules to
cross the Alps. On September 1st, after attending mass, Charles bade
the Queen farewell, mounted his horse, placed himself at the head of his
army and started, accompanied by Louis d’Orléans.
[Illustration: TOUR D’AMBOISE.]
Anne remained at Lyon, and at first the King’s daily letters brought
news of unbroken conquests, which, however, like all the French
victories in Italy, melted away, leaving nothing but disaster to
France. It was fifteen months before Charles returned to Lyon where
Anne had waited for him. In spite of his reverses he was in good
spirits and resolved on another Italian campaign, for like all the
Valois he was an ardent soldier. His favourite charger “Savoie,” a
splendid black horse with only one eye, had carried him through all
the battles and loved him so much that he would fight for him with his
teeth and hoofs. He was given him by the Duc de Savoie.[291] Amongst
other adventures is told the story of a young girl to whom he took a
fancy at Naples. She was brought to his palace there and when left
alone with him she explained that she had not come of her own free
will, but had been carried off by force, and threw herself on his
mercy. Charles assured her that she need fear no violence from him,
sent her away in safety, and promised her his protection.
{1495}
In December, 1495, the Dauphin, then about three years old, was
suddenly taken ill and died at Amboise, where he had always lived.
Although he had been so little with his parents they were most anxious
about him, and constant news of him had always been sent them. M.
Le Roux de Lincy gives several letters written by the Queen to his
governor, full of inquiries and directions respecting him. He was a
beautiful, precocious child,[292] and his death was a severe blow to
his parents. Philippe de Commines, who had a grudge against Charles
because he had been imprisoned by him and the Regent, says that
he cared very little, being jealous of the Dauphin, a most absurd
supposition regarding a child of three years old, and it being most
unlikely that he should have[293] preferred his heir to be Louis
d’Orléans instead of a son of his own. On the contrary, the shock made
both Charles and Anne so ill and depressed that the doctors ordered the
King to be amused, therefore many more gaieties took place at court
than the Queen felt inclined for. She hated being present at them, and
quarrelled with the Duc d’Orléans because he seemed to her in such
good spirits that she fancied he was glad to be again heir-presumptive
and to be called “Monseigneur,” which she could not bear to hear.[294]
This caused a coolness between Louis and the King and Queen, so that
he retired to Blois, where he surrounded himself with literary men and
collected a large library, including the books and manuscripts written
by his father. Anne had another son next year, also named Charles, the
following year one called François, and then a daughter named Anne. But
although she got strong Bretonne women to nurse them and took every
precaution she could not save any. None of them lived more than a few
weeks. They were buried in an exquisitely sculptured tomb of white
marble in the cathedral of Tours.
The King and Queen, finding no medicine or cure any use, had tried
various superstitious means. They had a whole coffer full of charms and
amulets, and the people said it was a curse on them because they had
not been free to marry each other. But they were still very young and
hoped yet to have living children. Charles began to think that these
misfortunes were the punishment of Heaven for his dissipated life, and
resolved to reform. Anne was so uneasy and jealous of his proceedings
that she could not bear him to be out of her sight, and had at one time
brought on a miscarriage by persisting in going out hunting when she
was _enceinte_ because she did not want him to go without her. Now,
however, Charles declared he would have no more love affairs, would
give his whole attention to his kingdom and people. He had planned
another Italian campaign and a crusade against the unbelievers, but
it was strongly represented to him that he ought not to leave France
without having an heir. The Queen, who dreaded another long separation,
was naturally of the same opinion, and Charles was persuaded to remain
in France, and began to alter and decorate his favourite château of
Amboise. He had brought books, pictures, statues, and all sorts of
treasures from Italy, and had become much influenced by the splendour
of the renaissance then prevailing there. He began the great tower with
an inclined ascent by which a troop of cavalry can ride to the top,
from the lower entrance down by the river.
{1496}
The splendid old château had become more comfortable and luxurious
than ever under the rule of Anne de Bretagne.[295] Tapestries hung on
the walls, thick carpets lay on the floors, curtains of damask and
satin were over the beds and everywhere. The Queen was at Amboise with
the King, who could not bear to be separated from her, and in whose
pursuits and diversions she always shared. One day, about two o’clock
in the afternoon, he proposed that they should go and look on at a game
of _paume_ which was to be played _dans les fossés du château_.
{1497}
She consented, and the King, taking her by the hand, they left her
private apartment together. They had to pass through a low, dirty,
dilapidated gallery which Charles intended to have pulled down, and
in entering which he struck his head violently against its arched
doorway.[296] He declared, however, that he was not much hurt and they
proceeded to the seats from which they were to watch the game. While it
was going on the King talked and laughed as usual, but when it was over
he complained of pain in his head and said he would go to his own room.
The Queen, dreadfully frightened, went with him.[297] As they walked
back he began to speak of his repentance for the faults and follies
of his life, and just as he said, “_J’espère bien ne commettre aucun
péché, soit mortel, soit véniel_,” he suddenly fell to the ground. They
were again at the entrance of the fatal gallery, where a straw mattress
being hastily thrown on the floor he was laid upon it. They dared not
move him, so he lay there until about eleven at night, only recovering
consciousness for a few moments, when, after murmuring, “_Mon Dieu!
Vierge Marie! Monseigneur Saint Claude! Monseigneur Saint Blaise me
soient en aide!_” he died.[298]
CHAPTER III
1498-1501
Despair of the Queen--Resumes duchy--Friendship with Louis
XII.--Returns to Bretagne--King’s divorce--Charlotte
d’Aragon--Marriage of Anne and Louis XII.--Italian war--Birth
of Claude de France--Splendour of Court--Hôtel des
Tournelles--Maids of honour--Disaster in Italy.
Charles VIII. died at dawn on Palm Sunday.[299] The Queen, who was only
two and twenty, had now lost her mother, father, sister, children, and
husband. In a frenzy of grief and despair she shut herself up in her
own rooms where she remained crying, wringing her hands and refusing to
eat.
The Duc d’Orléans, now Louis XII., was still at Blois, and much
distressed at the melancholy state of the Queen. He sent the Cardinal
Briçonnet and the Bishop of Condon, who had been friends of hers and
of Charles VIII., to see her.[300] They found her lying on the floor
sobbing and crying in a corner of the room. She did not get up when
they came in, but the Bishop, a man of holy life and intellectual
power, succeeded in comforting her so far that she listened to his
words of consolation, rose, became calmer, and was persuaded to take
some food.
{1498}
Then she began to think about her beloved Bretagne, now her own again,
and directly she had finished that first repast she signed a decree
reestablishing the _chancellerie_ which had been suppressed.
Her nearest remaining relation was her brother the Baron d’Avaugour,
but she was very fond of her cousin, Jeanne de Laval, Queen-dowager of
Sicily, to whom she wrote, telling her of the death of the King; and
also of the Prince of Orange, Jean de Châlons, for whom she sent at
once and whom she made governor of Bretagne.
Three days after the death of Charles, Louis XII. came to see her. He
promised to give a splendid funeral to the late King, which he did.
Anne ordered her mourning to be black instead of the white usually worn
by Queens of France, and sent to the prelates, nobles, and _bourgeois_
of Bretagne to come and escort her to Paris, where, according to
custom, she was to pass the first months of widowhood; the hôtel
d’Estampes, one of the group forming the hôtel St. Paul, having been
prepared for her.
On May 15th she left Amboise with her great Breton train, paid a state
visit to the King, and establishing herself in her hôtel turned her
attention to the government of Bretagne, demanding from the _Mâitre de
la Monnaie_ at Nantes the gold and silver coinage with the effigies
of her father and herself, appointing her brother and other Breton
nobles governors of the towns, from which the French troops were now
withdrawn,[301] writing constantly to her relations, friends, and
officers, and occasionally seeing Louis XII., who did everything he
could to please her.
[Illustration: LOUIS XII.]
For although he could not have been in love with her, as some
historians assert, before she was ten years old, it is certain that he
was now most anxious to marry her, not only as Duchesse de Bretagne
but as the woman he admired and loved.[302] He was thirty-four,
handsome, and extremely attractive, and Anne, besides being ambitious
and reluctant to lose the French crown, seems to have returned his
affection. A French writer remarks that her love for Charles had arisen
from duty, and therefore was not likely to be very lasting,[303] which
may well have been the case. But it was evident that no such marriage
could take place until Louis had obtained a divorce from his present
wife, Jeanne de France, for which purpose he began negotiations with
the Pope, the friendship between Anne and himself meanwhile increasing
as may be seen by the following letter:--
“MONSIEUR MON BON FRÈRE,--Je aye receu par le Sr de la
Pomeraye, voz lectres & aveques sa charge entendu la singulere
benevoleme & amytié que me portés, dont je suys très consolée
& vous en remercie de tout mon cueur, vous priant de tousjours
ainsi continuer comme c’est la ferme confiance de celle que est
& à jamays serra.
“Vostre bonne seure, cosine & allyée,
“ANNE.”[304]
In June they met at Estampes and agreed to marry each other as soon
as Louis could get his divorce. Anne went back to Paris, and later in
the summer she went to Laval to stay with the Queen-dowager of Sicily,
after which she returned to Bretagne, where she was received with great
state and universal joy. Delighted to be once more in possession of
her own duchy she resolved now that she had recovered the reins of
government never again to let them slip out of her hands. Under her
supervision a history of Bretagne was written by a learned priest, her
almoner, from the papers and records in different monasteries.
She ruled Bretagne as a sovereign princess with much wisdom and
capacity, and being generous and charitable she made various excellent
laws for the good of the people. Her own household she arranged on a
magnificent scale, and appointed a guard of a hundred Breton gentlemen
who escorted her wherever she went.
While she was at Nantes her old governess, Madame de Laval, died, to
her great sorrow.
{1499}
The question of the King’s divorce was heard before an ecclesiastical
tribunal, and the marriage dissolved by Alexander VI. (Borgia).
Louis made Jeanne Duchesse de Berry and gave her a splendid appanage
of lands and money. She retired to Bourges, founded the order of the
Annonciades, became Superior of it, and died in 1500, after a life of
charity and devotion. The dissolution of a marriage to which he had
always had an unconquerable repugnance cannot be considered surprising,
but at first many of the people were indignant and pointed at the
judges, saying, “There is Caiaphas, there is Herod, there is Pontius
Pilate; they have judged against _la haute dame_ that she is not Queen
of France.”[305]
Alexander VI.,[306] of the noble Spanish family of Borgia, had in his
youth a natural daughter, the famous Lucrezia, Duchess of Ferrara,
and four sons. The eldest and youngest he married to daughters of the
King of Naples, the second, Giovanni, Duca di Gandia was supposed to
have been murdered by his next brother, the Cardinal Cesare, or Cæsar,
who had become a soldier and who surpassed most of his contemporaries
in the enormity of his crimes. The Pope now sent him to France with a
Cardinal’s hat for George d’Amboise, the King’s favourite minister,
and the bull for the dissolution of his marriage, Louis promising him
the duchy of Valentinois, a large pension and one of his relations in
marriage.
[Illustration: BOURGES.]
The court was at Chinon when he arrived. His followers, horses, and
mules were covered with silk, velvet, and cloth of gold. The horse
he rode had trappings of cloth of gold covered with precious stones;
he himself wore a dress of red satin and cloth of gold bordered with
pearls and gems; his hat was trimmed with a double row of rubies as
big as beans, which shed a strange light; even his boots were covered
with gold cords and edged with pearls. Around his neck was a necklace
or collar worth 30,000 ducats.[307] He gave the cardinal’s hat to the
King, telling him that the bull was not ready, although he had it with
him, as he hoped to be able to extort something more from Louis. The
Pope’s nuncio however told the King that the dispensation had been
made out long ago, and that Cæsar had got it. He was therefore obliged
to deliver it up, but he invited the nuncio to dinner, and, as he was
foolish enough to accept, he died of poison shortly afterwards.
The wife upon whom Borgia fixed his choice was Charlotte d’Aragon,
daughter of Frederic III., King of Naples and Sicily, called Princesse
de Tarente at the French Court, where her mother, the niece of Queen
Charlotte de Savoie, had been brought up. When she died, as Frederic,
engaged in perpetual strife, could not look after his daughter, she had
been adopted by Charles VIII. when about ten years old, and lived at
court ever since.[308] She had a complete household, a litter, mule,
and several horses, being treated as a royal princess,[309] and was
_demoiselle d’honneur_ to the Queen. She grew up into a most attractive
girl--pretty, clever, amusing, kind-hearted; the favourite of the whole
court. The Queen, who was extremely fond of her, when, after the death
of Charles VIII., she returned to Bretagne, gave her a silver toilette
service and parted from her reluctantly.
{1500}
When Charlotte heard that Cæsar Borgia wanted to marry her she was very
much alarmed, very much horrified, and very angry. She declared that
she would not marry that abominable man, and entreated her father and
every one she knew to protect her. Borgia, who had set his mind on her,
and also hoped to get hold of the principality of Tarentum, pressed for
an answer. Charlotte positively refused, declaring that she would not
have for her husband a priest, the son of a priest, and a fratricide,
whose birth and conduct were alike, infamous. Cæsar revenged himself by
getting up a league against Frederic, who fled to Ischia and thence to
France. The Queen was delighted with her courage, and in 1500 married
her to Guy de Laval, a handsome young Breton noble, very rich and a
cousin of her own, so that Charlotte not only became still more nearly
connected with the Queen, but remained at court.
Anne chose to be married at Nantes in January, and this time the
contract secured her entire control of the government and revenues of
Bretagne, with power to leave it to her own heirs after the death of
the King if they had no children. Besides her dowry from Charles she
had one of equal amount for her life from Louis.
The King and Queen spent most of the winter in Bretagne, hunting and
amusing themselves, and in April travelled slowly to Blois, great
festivities attending their progress.
The Queen’s second marriage was much happier than the first. In
appearance, intellect, and character Louis was far superior to Charles.
The intrigues and dissipations of his former life disappeared before
the higher, nobler love of which Charles was incapable. No suspicion of
unfaithfulness ever arose between Anne and Louis;[310] she had regained
her beloved duchy, the management of which was her chief interest and
occupation, besides the share she took in the government of France.
Though she had no better luck with the sons of her second than of her
first marriage her two daughters lived, and upon them she lavished the
passionate affection she had given to the first Dauphin. Louis was the
idol of France; since the days of St. Louis there had been no such
king. To the virtues of Charles V. he united the gallant grace and
charm of the Valois, and the people called him “_le père du peuple_.”
Inheriting also the warlike spirit of his house, he resolved to make
an expedition to conquer the duchy of Milan, now seized by Ludovico
Sforza, but which he claimed as heir of his grandmother, Valentine
Visconti.
The Queen, in her anxiety about the child she was expecting, instead
of accompanying him to the frontier waited at Romorantin as the plague
was at Blois. Even there some of her household had it, and when it
abated she proceeded to Blois where her daughter was born and named
after Ste. Claude, to whose shrine she had just made a pilgrimage.
[Illustration: LADY OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.]
Notwithstanding his desire to have a son, Louis received the news with
great joy just as he was entering Milan, and both he and the Queen were
always devoted to this child, which though small and delicate lived
to grow up. Not long afterwards Louis returned with his victorious
army, and the court resumed its wonted gaiety, the Queen being anxious
that it should be the most magnificent in Europe. She was very rich,
exceedingly generous, and always ready to pay any expenses that Louis,
who was more economical, thought too great. She held many tournaments,
at which she gave splendid prizes; she was a great benefactress to the
religious orders, especially to the Cordeliers and Minimes, to whom she
gave convents,[311] and crowds of poor people waited for alms at her
gates.
The hôtel St. Paul, the favourite palace of Charles V. and Charles VI.,
was now deserted. It was considered unhealthy because of the malaria
arising from its many moats and ponds, and Louis XI. gave away most of
the splendid hôtels belonging to it.[312]
Louis XII. and Anne, when in Paris, lived at Les Tournelles, a most
picturesque and delightful old château near St. Paul, but more healthy.
It was built in 1380, and had belonged to Jean Duc de Berry, Charles
VI., and Louis d’Orléans. It was named from being a mass of little
towers and turrets, was very large and convenient, stood in a wood like
a country house, had chapels, galleries and gardens with fountains and
seats of turf. The Duke of Bedford lived there during the English rule,
and his beautiful wife, Anne of Burgundy; they kept flocks of peacocks
and other rare birds.
Louis and Anne were as fond of animals as their predecessors. The Queen
kept a large hawking establishment, and numbers of horses and mules;
her stables were magnificent, and her litters and _chariots branlants_
(suspended) lined with soft cushions and costly stuffs. She had many
dogs of different breeds and sizes.
The position of the Queen’s ladies was very distinguished and
important. Already in 1492 she had sixteen _dames_ and eighteen
_demoiselles_, of the noblest families. She was very strict, keeping
constant supervision over their books, songs, and amusements, and
forbidding them to be alone with the gentlemen of the court, or talk to
them about love that had nothing to do with marriage. If they disobeyed
her she was implacable, otherwise she treated them with unbounded
kindness, gave them the same luxuries she had herself, and took the
greatest care of them in illness. An existing account mentions silver
plate and a fur-lined coverlet for the night, ordered for Anne de Foix
when she was ill. She gave them dowries, arranged their marriages, and
if their husbands lived far away sent somebody to take care of them and
bring her news of them. Some she loved almost like her own children.
Ladislas, King of Hungary, Poland, and Bohemia, being a widower, wanted
a French princess for his wife. The Queen selected Anne de Candale
and Germaine de Foix, both pretty girls and princesses of Foix, and
sent him their portraits. He chose Anne, who did not wish to be Queen
of Hungary, but to marry the Comte de Dunois, son of the Queen’s old
friend whom he did not resemble, for though handsome and agreeable
he was supposed to be wanting in courage. The Queen would not hear
of it, and notwithstanding the tears and objections of the young
princess the marriage was celebrated by proxy, and she started with a
brilliant retinue in charge of Bretagne, King-at-arms, whose account
of the grandeur of her reception, presents, &c., still exists in the
_Bibliothèque Impériale_. Ladislas was enchanted with her and wrote
with enthusiastic gratitude to the Queen, who was very fond of and
anxious about her, and many messengers and letters passed between them;
but the princess, who never became reconciled to her splendid exile,
died in giving birth to a son.
{1501}
Germaine de Foix became the second wife of Ferdinand, King of Spain.
The Queen apparently acted in an arbitrary manner towards Anne de
Rohan, who clandestinely married a natural son of the house of Bourbon,
and who, after a stormy scene with her royal mistress, left the court
and was imprisoned by her father at a château in a forest until,
hearing that her husband had married somebody else in Germany, she
became the wife of her cousin, Pierre de Rohan.[313]
Cæsar Borgia had insisted on a wife being found for him, and the
person so sacrificed was Charlotte, the youngest daughter of Alain
d’Albret. His consent was bought by an enormous dowry from the Pope and
a cardinal’s hat for one of his family. Five years later Cæsar Borgia
was killed in a skirmish, and the Duchess de Valentinois, his widow,
who was universally respected, retired in peace with her daughter to a
castle in Berry.[314]
In April came disastrous news from Milan, which had revolted against
the French, who now only held the fortress itself.[315] The King sent
Louis de la Trémoille and the Cardinal d’Amboise immediately to take
command, and the wise counsels of the one and the military capacity of
the other so rapidly turned the tide that France was again victorious,
Sforza was taken prisoner, “and thus,” says the chronicler, “was the
duchy of Milan twice conquered in seven months and a half, and for this
time the war in Lombardy finished.”[316]
CHAPTER IV
1501-1506
Ludovico Sforza--Shipbuilding--Queen’s
gardens--Library--Treasures--Dress--Betrothal of Claude de
France--Archduke and Archduchess--Illness of King--Maréchal
de Gié--Second illness of King--Queen in Bretagne--Second
betrothal of Princess Claude.
Ludovico Sforza was imprisoned at Loches, at first rigorously, but
afterwards with indulgence, being allowed books, paper, ink, cards,
_paume_, &c. He died in captivity.
Louis had a project for the conquest of Naples, which displeased the
Queen, by whom he was in most matters greatly influenced, and whom he
called “_Ma Bretonne_.” She saw that these expeditions always caused
disasters to France, and had much more sympathy with his desire for
a crusade against the Turks, who had invaded Greece. Out of her own
revenues she raised soldiers and sailors and had twelve large ships
built in the seaports of Bretagne. The largest, _Marie la Cordelière_,
of 2,000 tons, carried 100 guns.[317] Anne took the deepest interest
in the navy, upon which she spent large sums, but managed her affairs
so well that in spite of her princely generosity she had no debts but
always plenty of money.
{1501}
This crusade was unsuccessful, the ships being damaged by a tempest.
[Illustration: BLOIS.]
Anne filled her household with her faithful Bretons. Her guard of
gentlemen assembled always on the terrace at Blois, called “_la
Perche aux Bretons_.” She never kept them waiting, but would rise
and hasten towards them saying, “There are my Bretons on their perch
expecting me.”[318] To her the French queens owed the right to have
their especial guard, also the right to receive separately all foreign
ambassadors.
She delighted in flowers and gardening, her favourite gardens being
those of Amboise, given her by Charles VIII., and of Blois by Louis
XII. She was also extremely fond of books, and had a splendid library,
for, besides all she inherited from her father and the French kings,
Charles VIII. brought her eleven hundred and forty from Naples and
Louis XII. a thousand manuscripts from the library of the Visconti
at Milan. She employed a colony of painters, sculptors, scribes, and
architects brought from Italy and established at Tours by Charles
VIII., and consequently possessed numbers of artistic treasures,
including that wonderful illuminated book containing the psalms,
prayers, and offices of the Church richly adorned with flowers,
animals, landscapes, portraits and scenes in miniature well known as
the “Livre d’Heures d’Anne de Bretagne,” and one of the most perfect
examples of French art of that day.[319]
She had a little room with boxes and drawers full of costly jewels
to give as presents. For dress personally she cared little, although
especially on state occasions she was always magnificent in her
toilette. The fashions in her reign were exceedingly graceful and
artistic. Fine linen, velvet or satin shoes, long trailing dresses
open in front, made of cloth of gold and crimson silk or velvet, with
a golden girdle and chaplet of pearls, chains and jewels round the
neck, headdress of white silk embroidered with gold and pearls, hoods
of cloth, satin, or velvet, scarlet for bourgeoises, black for nobles.
Sometimes long dresses of black velvet. These were purely French
till late in this reign when Italian and Flemish costumes began to be
copied.[320] Charles VIII., being short and ill-made, re-introduced the
long robes of former times, but Louis XII., who was tall and graceful,
usually wore short clothes. The Queen created an order for the ladies
of the court, called the Cordelière, from the cords that bound Christ:
the badge was a jewelled necklace in the form of a cord.
{1502}
Before the Princess Claude was two years old proposals came from
the Emperor Maximilian to marry her to his grandson, the Duke of
Luxemburg, son of the Archduke Philip of Austria. In France the general
desire was that she should become the wife of the Comte d’Angoulême,
heir-presumptive to the throne of that country, but the Queen strongly
favoured the Austrian alliance. In November, 1501, the Archduke and
Archduchess arrived on a visit. They were mounted on mules covered
with trappings of crimson velvet, next rode a long train of ladies,
and six hundred horses carried litters and drew waggons after them.
The procession entered Blois at night; as it wound up the steep street
torches blazed on every house, and the grand staircase of the castle
was lined with hundreds of archers of the guard in gilded armour. The
King, sitting in a great carved chair by the fire, welcomed them, and
asked the Archduchess if it was her pleasure to bestow a kiss upon him,
which she did, after asking permission of the Bishop of Cordova. Louis
then saying that he knew the ladies would like to be alone together,
she was taken to the Queen’s rooms, where Anne sat by the fire
surrounded by her ladies, who, it may here be remarked generally sat
on the floor or on cushions, not many chairs being usual in the rooms.
Later, she retired to her bedchamber, where, escorted by six pages in
red and yellow with wax candles in gold candlesticks, quantities of all
kinds of sweetmeats were carried to her by ladies and gentlemen, with
gold and silver boxes of knives, forks, serviettes, &c., which were all
placed on buffets and on the bed. The Queen’s apothecary followed, and
afterwards came silver warming-pans and washing basins, velvet coffers
of brushes, combs, sponges, mirrors, and fine linen.[321]
{1503}
The Princess Claude had been brought down, but directly she saw her
proposed mother-in-law she cried so loud that she had to be removed by
her governess.[322]
The Archduke had supper downstairs, but the King did not join him as
he was keeping the fast of _Notre Dame des Avents_ on bread and water.
They stayed five days, and the betrothal of the Princess was concluded.
January 21, 1503, was born a Dauphin, who, however, died immediately,
to the general grief and disappointment.
Next came news of reverses in Italy and the loss of two battles, soon
after which the King became very ill. The Queen nursed him untiringly,
scarcely ever leaving his room; every one was in consternation, and
the doctors gave up all hope of his recovery. Anne was in despair.
Added to her grief for him was the dread of what would be the position
of herself and her daughter in the event of his death and the triumph
of Louise de Savoie and the hostile party, at the head of which was
Pierre de Rohan, Maréchal de Gié, a Breton who had taken the side of
France against Bretagne.
She therefore ordered the officers of her household to load two or
three great barges on the Loire with all her treasure and take them
down to Nantes. Then, if the King died, she could retreat with her
child to Bretagne, where they would be safe among their own subjects.
But Gié, thinking the King’s death at hand, had the insolence to stop
the Queen’s barges, placing 10,000 archers to watch the Loire and
prevent the Princess Claude being carried out of France.[323] This
attempt of one of her own subjects to take from her guardianship her
daughter, the heiress of Bretagne, not of France, and to seize the
property settled on her by two kings, was not likely to be forgiven by
the Queen. Gié had overreached himself, for Louis suddenly recovered,
and on hearing of his conduct, ordered his arrest. The judges who
tried him hated him, and condemned him to death, but this sentence was
quashed by the King, and Gié was heavily fined, deprived of his post,
and banished from court for five years. Some French historians, who
seem to think any means justifiable to gain a province for France,
approve his conduct, and call Anne vindictive for insisting on its
punishment; others will probably consider that he got what he deserved.
{1505}
Gié retired to his magnificent château of Verger, and the _clercs de la
Basoche_ gave a play called “_Trop chauffer cuit, trop parler nuit_”
alluding to him. In another they said, “_Un Maréchal avait voulu ferrer
une Anne (âne), mais elle lui avait donné un si grand coup de pied
qu’elle l’avait jeté hors de la cour, pardessus les murailles jusque
dedans le verger._”[324]
They were very witty, often impertinent. When the King was told
that they had ventured to represent him, because of some necessary
retrenchment, as Avarice, he said that the people might laugh, and
he would rather be called avaricious than extravagant; but when they
attempted any ridicule of the Queen he sternly forbade it, saying he
would suffer no disrespect to his wife, nor for that matter to any
woman in his kingdom.
The Queen’s second coronation at St. Denis and entry into Paris took
place when the King was convalescent--with the same splendour as the
first. It was by torchlight, and after the usual fêtes and banquet at
the Palais they returned to Touraine, and spent the rest of the summer
at Blois, Loches, and Amboise with the Princess Claude.
The year 1505 opened with an unsatisfactory state of affairs in
Italy,[325] where many of the best French officers, amongst them the
Chevalier Bayard, were still engaged. The King became depressed and
out of spirits, all the more because of the dispute about his daughter,
whose marriage the Emperor kept urging him to celebrate immediately
with the Duke of Luxemburg, while the French were so vehemently in
favour of François, whom he had created Duc de Valois, that he felt
both he and the Queen were for the first time becoming unpopular.
These matters so preyed upon his mind as to bring on an illness more
serious than the last. He was seized with fever and delirium, and all
the country was plunged into grief and alarm. Again the Queen nursed
him night and day, the people thronged the churches,[326] masses
were chanted, long lines of cowled figures carried holy relics, with
banners, crosses, and swinging censers through the streets, peasants
left their work and multitudes with bare feet, tears and lamentations
flocked after the processions. The Queen vowed that if he recovered she
would make a pilgrimage to Notre Dame du Foll-Coat in Bretagne before
the year was out.[327]
A romantic incident caused by this calamity was the death of Tommasina
Spinola, a beautiful Genoese who had fallen in love with Louis in
Italy. It was a platonic, chivalrous romance, to which neither her
husband nor the Queen objected, and after the shock of hearing
that Louis was dead had been fatal to her, he, having by this time
recovered, desired Jean d’Auton to write a record of her, which was
presented to him and the Queen at Tours.[328]
[Illustration: LOCHES.]
{1506}
In the summer the Queen set off for Bretagne to fulfil her vow about
the pilgrimage, leaving the King at Blois with their child.
When once Anne was in Bretagne it was no easy matter to get her away
again, although Louis was now left with Louise de Savoie, and all those
who were anxious for the French instead of the Austrian marriage of the
Princess Claude.
She took her ladies and a large suite of French nobles, and was joined
by numbers of Bretons, her progress through her own dominions being one
continual triumph. She visited many of the towns, which were richly
decorated, and gave splendid joustes and other fêtes in her honour, and
having made her _neuvaine_ and offerings at Foll-Coat, she summoned the
States, transacted a great deal of business, and went to Brest to see
her favourite ship, _Marie-la-Cordelière_.
The King, however, got very tired of being without her, and sent her
a message to come and join him at Angers. She was then at Morlaix
suffering from inflammation in the eye, and sent for a relic supposed
to be the finger of St. John Baptist, to cure her. It was kept in a
church at Plougarnon, not far off, but she was presently told that it
had disappeared on the way, and been found in the church again. Then
Anne with all her suite went to Plougarnon, slept in the village, and
attended mass at the dawn of day in the ancient church with massive
square tower and quaint leaden steeple, standing in a green valley by
a brook flowing down to the sea.[329] The Bishop of Nantes touched the
Queen’s eye with the relic when she had received the Communion; she
made her offerings, and the pilgrimage was finished.[330]
The King kept writing to her to come back, and began to get very
angry at her delay. The Cardinal d’Amboise, who was very much in the
confidence of them both, wrote three sensible and urgent letters,[331]
assuring her that he had never seen the King so displeased, and begging
her to return; saying what a pity it would be if any dissension should
arise between them; also that the King was going back to Blois and
thence by water to Amboise, taking Princess Claude and the Countess
d’Angoulême with him. The Queen therefore brought her Breton tour to an
end, and returned to Blois in September.
Her arrival dispelled the King’s vexation, but to her dismay she found
him bent upon breaking off the Austrian engagement of their daughter,
for many were murmuring against the Queen for allowing her dislike of
Louise de Savoie to influence her to the detriment of France. Even the
Bretons preferred the future King of France to the grandson of the
Emperor, and although the prediction of Anne that François would not
care about Claude, who was neither pretty, clever, nor attractive,
was certainly verified, there seems no reason to suppose she would
have been happier with the Duke of Luxemburg, afterwards Charles V.
Louis said he was resolved “_de n’allier ses souris qu’aux rats de son
grenier_;” and when Anne impatiently remarked, “To hear you one would
think mothers conspired to injure their daughters,” he asked if she
thought it was the same thing to rule Bretagne as to wear the crown
of France, saying, “_Voulez-vous préferer le bât d’un ane_ (Anne) _à
la selle d’un cheval?_” and as she still seemed unconvinced, he told
her that at the Creation God gave horns to hinds as well as stags,
but finding they wanted to govern everybody, He took them away as a
punishment.[332]
But not wishing to act in defiance of the Queen, Louis agreed that at
the meeting of the States at Tours, in May, 1506, the deputies should
implore him on their knees to consent to the marriage of the Princess
Claude to François, Duc de Valois. As he had foreseen, the Queen could
not then oppose it; and on Ascension Day the children were betrothed in
the great hall of the Castle of Plessis les Tours, she being six and he
twelve years old.[333]
CHAPTER V
1503-1514
Story of Anne de Graville--Illness of Claude--Court of
Anne de Bretagne--Italian war--Marriage of Marguérite
d’Angoulême--Dress and customs at Court--Birth of Renée de
France--The Prince de Chalais--The Queen ill--Birth and death
of a son--League of Cambrai--Sea-fight--Death of Queen.
Though much vexed at her daughter’s engagement the Queen still hoped
something might happen to prevent the marriage; meanwhile she formed
the household of the Princess, and amongst others she placed in it
Anne de Graville, one of her _demoiselles d’honneur_, a sister of whom
had been in that of the King’s first wife. To Anne, as to some of her
companions, is attached a romance, which, after four hundred years,
clings to her memory, and like the scent of rose leaves and lavender
in some old-fashioned country house, the refrain of an ancient ballad
or the quaint phrases traced in faded ink on some letter yellow with
age coming to us from a long-vanished generation, seems to give us a
momentary glimpse into the life of those far-off days.
{1503}
Louis de Malet, Admiral de Graville, bore one of the oldest names in
France, and had been the favourite of three kings. That he was a man of
great capacity and wisdom is proved by his correspondence, now existing
in the _Bibliothèque Impériale_. He was also extremely cultivated. He
gave a bell to Rouen Cathedral, built the portal of Sens and a church
near Paris. He collected a valuable library of manuscripts, with
illuminations, miniatures, poems in French and Italian, &c., and filled
his château of Marcoussy with pictures and splendid furniture.
Marcoussy, about eighteen miles from Paris, was one of the most
imposing castles in the Ile-de-France, with its massive walls,
huge towers, and deep moats, surrounded by trees and gardens with
terraces, fountains, and fishponds. Here he passed most of his time
when not occupied in public affairs, and here grew up his children,
Louis, Joachim, Jeanne, Louise, and Anne. They studied music, poetry,
literature, and received altogether as good an education as was then
attainable. The youngest, Anne, was herself the authoress of a poem
written on one of the stories of Boccaccio, and many an exquisite
embroidery for church or convent was done by the three sisters.
But upon the prosperous, happy lives of the Gravilles sorrow began to
fall. Louis and Joachim died, and their loss so affected their mother
that she also died in March, 1503, desiring to be buried near Joachim
in the monastery of Marcoussy. Louise and Jeanne had made brilliant
marriages, and Anne was left alone with her father, whose favourite
she was, and who dreaded parting with her. However, between marriage
and the cloister there was no alternative, and the Admiral wrote to
her saying he had received offers from three young nobles, of whom he
thought the first frivolous, the second rash and hasty, but the third,
though less rich, was sensible and irreproachable in character.[334]
But meanwhile, Anne fell in love with her cousin Pierre, Baron
d’Entragues, illegitimate son of Robert de Balzac, a young soldier of
four and twenty who, fearing the Admiral might not allow the marriage,
carried her off; some said with, others without her consent. At any
rate she forgave him, and their marriage was celebrated without waiting
for the permission of the Admiral, who was very angry, threatened to
disinherit his daughter and forbade any one to help them. The Baron
d’Entragues had no money and when he applied for help to his relations
they refused; the young people had nothing to live upon and did not
know what to do. So they bethought themselves of the good monks of the
Céléstin convent of Marcoussy and took refuge with them. The Prior and
brotherhood received them with kindness, sympathy, and promises of
help, and they stayed in the monastery waiting till Good Friday, which
was now approaching, when the Admiral was sure to come there to church.
Accordingly, when he presented himself at the office of the veneration
of the Cross, the Prior stopped him, saying, “Dare you approach with
your lips the sacred wood on which the Son of God shed His precious
blood to reconcile men with His Father; if you have not resolved from
your heart to forgive your two children who are here at your knees with
profound repentance imploring pardon for their fault?” As he spoke
Pierre and Anne threw themselves on their knees before him. The solemn
words of the Prior and the sight of the child who had always been so
dear to him were too much for the Admiral, he held out his arms to them
both, and took them back with him to the castle.[335] The marriage
proved a very happy one. Anne had a long prosperous life, and one of
her children inherited Marcoussy.
{1507}
In the spring of 1507, Louis went to Genoa, to put down a revolt there,
which, having done, he recrossed the Alps and came to Grenoble, where
the Queen went to meet him. While he was there the Princess Claude
was seized with a kind of continuous fever which greatly alarmed and
distressed the Queen, who kept up a constant correspondence with Madame
des Bouchage, governess to the little princess, being always fully
informed of her condition. The doctors at first declared she would not
recover, but as she very soon became much better, the Queen, who did
not believe in doctors because they had been altogether wrong about her
eldest son, and failed to save either him or any of her other children,
was so angry, and so confirmed in her opinion that she wrote to Madame
des Bouchage that the child was not to see any more of them, for they
were no use, she must take care of her herself.[336] The Princess
Claude soon recovered.
{1508}
The Italian war dragged on. The league of Cambrai was formed against
Venice in 1508, and Louis was eager to be again at the head of the
French army. Anne did all she could to dissuade him, and tried to
induce him to return to Blois, assuring him that Claude was fretting
to see him,[337] but it was useless. He recrossed the Alps, and soon
came tidings of the victory of Agnadel and conquest of nearly all the
Venetian mainland provinces.[338]
He returned, safe and victorious, to Blois at the end of the summer,
and there during that year took place the wedding of Marguérite, sister
of François, Duc de Valois, with the Duc d’Alençon. It was celebrated
with suitable splendour and followed by a great banquet and ball, after
which there were joustes. The Duc de Valois kept the lists with eight
others, served by the King himself, the princes who contended were so
young that small lances were made on purpose. The Pope’s legate not
being well, looked on from a window. Next day they fought again, this
time in white armour, the bridegroom dressed in white satin. The Queen
and her ladies gave the prizes.[339]
They all delighted in festivities and amusements, _fêtes champêtres_
were often given in the open air, a favourite day being Mid-Lent
Sunday, called, especially in the valleys of the Marne and Meuse,
_dimanche des fontaines_. M. Siméon de Luce describes those given in a
preceding reign by Beatrix de Bourlemont when young men and girls from
the neighbouring châteaux and peasants from the villages hung garlands,
dined, sang, and danced under an ancient beech tree said to be haunted
by fairies.[340]
A solemn and important domestic _fête_ in the country was the first
mass of a young priest. M. de Ribbe describes one of their mediæval
village festivals. Presents were given, relations and friends assembled
as for a marriage or christening. They walked to church two and two in
a long procession, minstrels playing before them and crowds following.
A collection was made in church and then there was a great banquet in
the _bergerie_ to which the relations contributed various dishes, the
cooking being done in a mill close by.[341]
On the opening of parliament it was customary to present quantities of
roses and violets to the members, one special person being responsible.
De Sauval mentions an account owing to Marguérite le Mercier,
_marchande de roses_, for four dozen _chapeaux_ of red roses, eight
bouquets of violets, and a great basinful of flowers to cover the
table, distributed to the Presidents, Councillors, and other officers
of the King, the vigil of the feast of Whitsuntide, who were assembled
at the Chastelet for the deliverance of the prisoners in the said
Chastelet “_comme d’anciennté a este coutume de faire_.”[342]
{1509}
Renée de France was born October, 1509. Amidst the general
disappointment at not getting a Dauphin, the King and Queen rejoiced
that this child lived. She was afterwards the celebrated Duchess of
Ferrara.
The Queen from this time entertained the project of leaving Bretagne
to Renée, if she could not break off Claude’s marriage, and constantly
endeavoured to gain the consent of the King; but, although, dreading
the outcry which would be the consequence, he would not agree to her
wishes, it seems very possible, considering her great influence over
him, that had she lived longer she would have succeeded in carrying out
one or other of these plans. During her lifetime she would never allow
the marriage of Claude to take place.
Anne was extremely fond of music; amongst other musicians in her
household were four Bretons minstrels. About six months after the birth
of Renée, being at Chartres, she was so struck with the voice of a
chorister boy in the cathedral that she asked the chapter to give him
to her, and in return for their doing so she said, “You have given
me a little voice and I will give you a large one,” and accordingly
presented them with a great bell, named “Anne de Bretagne” to be rung
every day from Easter to Trinity, and 3,000 livres.[343]