JEANNE DE MONTFORT
WE are now coming to a period in the history of France when woman,
though she may not play a part either more prominent or more honorable,
will be a centre of universal interest to the subjects of France and of
England. Much ink and much fluid of a brighter hue and a more precious
quality will be shed in the war between the lawyers and the soldiers of
France on the one hand, and those of England on the other; and all to
establish the legal status of woman in the eyes of the French law. The
great question is: Shall the succession to the crown of France be
governed by the laws and customs prevailing in many other countries and
in a large part of France itself, whereby women are entitled to inherit
equally with men; or shall the ancient law of the Salian Franks apply,
the _Loi Salique_, "let no part of the Salian land pass into the hands
of a woman"? Since the question has been argued by many a scholiast and
many a historian and settled for all time by the arms of Frenchmen
defending their right to rule France as seemed best to them, we shall
give but small attention to the niceties of the legal argument; but an
exposition of the principal facts seems essential.
The argument of the French lawyers was that the Salian land was now
represented by domains of the crown; and since the protection of the
Salian land necessitated the guardianship of a man, _a fortiori_ must
the guarding of the kingdom demand the power of the sword rather than
the gentler distaff. Feeling that we owe some apology for clothing in
figurative language the simple statement that no woman could wear the
crown of France, none more apt can we find than a literal transcription
of one of the arguments used by the French lawyers, which suggested the
unfortunate distaff. It ran thus: In the Gospel of Saint Matthew (6: 28)
one reads: "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil
not, neither do they spin: And yet 'I say unto you, That even Solomon in
all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." Now France was the
kingdom of the lily, witness the _fleur-de-lis_ upon the royal arms;
lilies, according to Scripture, are gloriously arrayed, though they
cannot spin: _ergo_, the kingdom of the lily should never pass to the
distaff.
There were of course arguments of more weight than this, which we have
ventured to present merely for the sake of its quaintness,
characteristic as it is of the day when tireless pedants were wont to
debate in this fashion all things in heaven and on earth. Closer study
of the Salic law itself, nevertheless, was not reassuring to the
adherents of France; for there they found one of the formulas of Marculf
proving that, from the days of the Merovingian kings, the _terre
salique_, the allodial land, could be inherited by a woman. This ancient
act reads: "To my dear daughter: It is among us a custom ancient but
impious that sisters shall not share with their brothers in the heritage
of the paternal land. I have considered that you all came to me alike
from God, that you should therefore find an equal share of love in me,
and, after my death, enjoy equally the heritage of my worldly goods. For
these reasons, my sweet daughter, I constitute you by this letter a
legitimate and equal co-heir with your brothers in all my estate, in
such sort that you shall share with them not only the acquired property
but the allodial land." In the abstract, therefore, as much could be
said for as against the claims of a woman to succeed to the crown of
France. There could be no question, however, that the long established
custom of the kingdom had excluded women, and that this exclusion had
operated to the great profit of the kingdom, by keeping it under the
stronger rule of men, and more still by preventing it from passing under
the control of foreign princes who had married French princesses. As a
French constitutional lawyer has remarked: "France is the only one of
the great states of Europe where we see the crown remaining for more
than eight centuries in the same family.... It is to the Salic Law that
France owes the long persistence of the Capetian dynasty."
In the first half of the fourteenth century it was a danger of exactly
the kind alluded to above that menaced the kingdom of France: a foreign
prince claimed the throne as his heritage through his mother. In order
to understand the absolute futility of the claim made by Edward III. of
England, based on the alleged rights of his mother, Isabelle de France,
daughter of Philippe le Bel, it is necessary only to recall that both
Isabelle's brothers, Louis le Hutin and Charles le Bel, had left
daughters who would have had prior rights if any woman could have
inherited. The potent reasons of public polity which would also have
absolutely excluded Isabelle and Edward III. have been mentioned above,
and are stated in a different way by Froissart. He says that after the
death of Charles IV., "the twelve peers and all the barons of France
would not give the realm to Isabel the sister (of Charles IV., Louis X.,
and Philippe V.), who was queen of England, because they said and
maintained, and yet do, that the realm of France is so noble that it
ought not to go to a woman, and so consequently not to Isabel, nor to
the king of England her eldest son: for they determined the son of the
woman to have no right nor succession by his mother, since they declared
the mother to have no right: so that by these reasons the twelve peers
and barons of France by their common accord did give the realm of France
to the lord Philip of Valois, nephew sometime to Philip le Beau king of
France." Then, as all the world knows, ensued the great wars between
France and England of which Froissart tells with such evident enjoyment
of deeds of valor and splendid martial pageants; for, he says, "sith the
time of the good Charlemagne, king of France, there never fell so great
adventures."
The history of the Hundred Years' War is quite beyond the scope of this
volume; but let us be humble camp followers of the great armies that
march across Froissart's pages, where perchance we may find some women
as amazons, as heroines, or as pitiful victims in this sanguinary and
ruinous conflict.
The first woman whom we note in this period, Jeanne de Montfort, was a
veritable heroine of the wars, one known to us, through the enthusiastic
record of Froissart, as an amazon, but hardly known at all as a woman.
The only really interesting part of her career is that occurring during
the wars in Brittany, and so we shall begin her history with these
events. Marguerite, or Jeanne,--as she was called, perhaps because her
husband's name was Jean,--de Montfort, wife of the Count de Montfort,
was sister to the Count of Flanders. The countess, whom we shall call
Jeanne, was already a matron when events in her husband's native
Brittany called for his and her presence there. For generations,
Brittany had been ruled by a line of princes who were regarded by the
native population with far greater affection and respect than any king
of France could inspire; for they were of an ancient house, associated
with all the poetic legends of the land which, poets tell us, had been
of the domain of the noble King Arthur. Half of Brittany was rather
inclined to sympathy with France, owing to admixture of French blood,
while the other half, _Bretagne bretonnante_, clung to the Celtic
traditions and to those of England, the land once dominated by their
race across the channel; but Bretons of any part of Brittany were
Bretons first and always; the allegiance to their dukes was paramount;
that to the King of France was quite an afterthought.
When John III., Duke of Brittany and a descendant of that Pierre
Mauclerc who caused such serious trouble to Blanche de Castille, died
without issue in 1341, he left the succession to his duchy in a very
uncertain state. He himself had intended that the ducal crown should go
to his niece, Jeanne de Penthievre, the wife of Charles de Blois, rather
than to Jean de Montfort, who was only a half-brother on the mother's
side. To the ordinary mind it would seem that Jean de Montfort had at
least a reasonable claim; but the Count de Blois was a nephew of
Philippe VI., who would therefore throw all his influence against the
family of Montfort, long allied in one way or another with England.
Both Montfort and his wife realized that if the succession were left to
the adjudication of the French Court of Peers, their claim would receive
no consideration. Supported in his bold act by the ambitious and
courageous Jeanne, the Count de Montfort, immediately after his
half-brother's death, "went incontinent to Nantes, the sovereign city of
all Bretayne," where his liberal promises and general fair conduct won
him the confidence of the citizens, so that "he was received as their
chief lord, as most next of blood to his brother deceased, and so (they)
did to him homage and fealty. Then he and his wife, who had both the
hearts of a lion, determined with their counsel to call a court and to
keep a solemn feast at Nantes at a day limited, against the which day
they sent for all the nobles and counsels of the good towns of Bretayne,
to be there to do their homage and fealty to him as to their sovereign
lord."
While the new duke and duchess were waiting and hoping for a large
accession of Breton knights on the day appointed for doing homage, the
duke heard of a large treasure collected by the late duke and stored at
Limoges. Leaving Jeanne at Nantes, he took a small body of knights and
went to Limoges, where he was favorably received, and secured the
treasure, with which he returned to Nantes in time for the appointed day
of homage. But the Breton nobles were not at all inclined to flock to
his banner and hail him as rightful duke, only one knight, Herve de
Leon, appeared to do homage; and though seven out of nine bishops, and
the burgesses of Nantes, Limoges, and some other towns, had declared for
Montfort, his position was by no means secure. Nevertheless, he and
Jeanne held their little court with what state they could, and
determined to use the treasure taken from Limoges to pay for the defence
of their duchy, hiring mercenaries, "so that they had a great number
afoot and a-horseback, nobles and other of divers countries." With the
aid of these forces,--not always required, for some places were quite
ready to receive him as their lord,--Montfort took certain towns and
fortresses, such as Brest, Rennes, Hennebon, and Vannes.
Charles de Blois, baffled by the promptness and activity of Montfort and
appalled at the rapidity with which the latter was making himself actual
if not rightful Duke of Brittany, appealed to the King of France,
presenting the claim of his wife, Jeanne de Penthievre. Montfort,
summoned to appear before the French court, went first to England and
did homage to Edward III. for Brittany. Returning to France, he obeyed
the summons of Philippe, and went to Paris with a splendid retinue, says
Froissart, of four hundred horse, leaving his countess to keep watch for
him in Brittany. The show of force with which Montfort presented himself
before the king did not have the effect of intimidating the latter, if
it had been so intended, and Montfort moderated his tone in the
interview with Philippe, denying positively that he had sworn fealty to
Edward III., and merely urging his rights as nearest of kin to the late
Duke of Brittany. Philippe appointed a day for the meeting of the Court
of Peers to sit in judgment on the claims of the two heirs, and forbade
Montfort to leave Paris during the next fifteen days. Montfort saw, from
the reception accorded him by the crafty Philippe, that his case was
already judged; "he sat and imagined many doubts"; if he remained in
Paris and the verdict of the Peers went against him there was the
certainty of arrest and imprisonment until he should have made an
accounting for the treasure seized at Limoges and delivered up all the
towns he had captured. Therefore he determined upon the course that
would at least give him a chance of active resistance if the worst came
to the worst; he fled from Paris secretly, and was with his wife in
Nantes before the king was aware that the bird had flown. The event
justified his distrust, for on September 7, 1341, the Court of Peers
adjudged the duchy of Brittany to Jeanne de Penthievre and Charles de
Blois.
By the aid and counsel of his wife Montfort gathered his forces and
garrisoned the towns he had taken, while Charles de Blois led a French
army against him and soon had him beleaguered in Nantes. The events of
this siege would not concern us, since the Countess Jeanne was not in
Nantes, were it not for the peculiar interest attaching to certain
episodes and the light they throw upon the remarkable character of
Charles de Blois. This man was reputed a saint in his own day, so much
so that, under Pope Urban V., an inquiry was held and a favorable report
made but never acted upon for a formal canonization. We learn some most
curious things from _The Life and Miracles of Charles, Duke of Brittany,
of the House of France_, in regard to what was in those days considered
evidence of saintliness. "He confessed himself morning and evening, and
heard mass four or five times daily.... Did he meet a priest, down he
flung himself from his horse upon his knees in the mud.... He put
pebbles in his shoes." When he prayed he beat himself in the breast till
he turned black in the face. Next his skin he wore a coarse garment of
sackcloth, and "he did not change his sackcloth, although full of lice
to a wonder; and when his groom of the chambers was about to clean the
said sackcloth of them, the lord Charles said: 'Let be; remove not a
single louse;' and said they did him no harm, and when they stung him he
remembered his God." Truly, at such a price salvation would seem dear to
many of us! Yet the history of the early Church is full of saints whose
fanaticism assumed this extraordinary type, the predilection for bodily
filth. With all this piety, Charles de Blois was unrelentingly cruel and
even immoral; for he began the siege of Nantes by cutting off the heads
of thirty knightly partisans of Montfort and throwing them over the
walls, and when he himself lay dead on the battlefield "a bastard son of
his, called Sir Jean de Blois, was slain by his side."
Nantes was treacherously captured and Montfort treacherously seized and
imprisoned by the holy Charles de Blois, who sent his rival to be
confined in the tower of the Louvre at Paris. But the war was not over
because the count was captured; there was still the countess to deal
with, that lady, who, according to the enthusiastic Jean Froissart, "had
the courage of a man and the heart of a lion. She was in the city of
Rennes when her lord was taken, and howbeit that she had great sorrow at
her heart, yet she valiantly recomforted her friends and soldiers, and
showed them a little son that she had, called John, and said: 'Ah! sirs,
be not cast down because of my lord, whom we have lost: he was but one
man. See here my little child, who shall be, by the grace of God, his
restorer (avenger) and who shall do well for you. I have riches in
abundance, and I will give you thereof and will provide you with such a
captain that you shall all be recomforted.' When she had thus comforted
her friends and soldiers in Rennes, then she went to all her other
fortresses and good towns, and led ever with her John her young son, and
did to them as she did at Rennes, and fortified all her garrisons of
everything that they wanted, and paid largely and gave freely, whereas
she thought it well employed."
Jeanne herself was no mean strategist and captain, and she selected for
herself and her young son the strong castle of Hennebon, on the coast of
Brittany, where they passed the winter, she keeping up her connection
with the various garrisons and making preparations to resist Charles de
Blois when he should have reduced Rennes. The siege of this latter place
was not ended until May, 1342, when the citizens surrendered the town
and did homage to Charles de Blois, who was then left free to undertake
the capture of Jeanne de Montfort and her son. "The Earl being in
prison, if they might get the Countess and her son it should make an end
of all their war." Accordingly, the French army laid siege to Hennebon,
establishing as complete a cordon around it as they could by land, the
sea side necessarily remaining open, since they had no fleet to blockade
the port.
This siege of Hennebon is one of those romantic episodes of history
learned or absorbed almost unconsciously in childhood, which lingers as
a precious memory in the hearts of all who love the brave days of old.
Even France could but forgive the fair and gallant Countess Jeanne,
fighting so valiantly for the heritage of her husband; and whether in
French or in English histories, we find a page or two reserved for
Jeanne de Montfort, a picture of her, maybe, and all because the genius
of Froissart has left us such a vivid narrative of the events at
Hennebon. We shall tell the story, familiar to most of our readers, as
nearly as possible in the style of Froissart.
"When the countess and her company understood that the Frenchmen were
coming to lay siege to the town of Hennebon, then it was commanded to
sound the watch-bell alarm, and every man to be armed and draw to their
defence." After some preliminary skirmishes, in which the French lost
more than the Bretons, Charles's army encamped for the night about
Hennebon. Next day the siege began with minor attacks, followed on the
third day by a general assault. "The Countess herself ware harness on
her body and rode on a great courser from street to street, desiring her
people to make good defence, and she caused damosels and other women to
tear up the pavements of the streets and carry stones to the battlements
to cast upon their enemies, and great pots full of quicklime."
"The Countess de Montfort did here a hardy feat of arms, and one which
should not be forgotten. She had mounted a tower to see how her people
fought and how the Frenchmen were ordered (_i. e._, disposed for the
assault) without. She saw how that all the lords and all other people of
the host were all gone out of their field to the assault. Then she
bethought her of a great feat, and mounted once more her courser, all
armed as she was, and caused three hundred men a-horseback to be ready,
and went with them to another gate where was no assault. She and her
company sallied out, and dashed into the camp of the French lords, and
cut down tents and fired huts, the camp being guarded by none but
varlets and boys, who ran away. When the lords of France looked behind
them and saw their lodgings afire and heard the cry and noise there,
they returned to the camp crying 'Treason! treason!' so that all the
assault was left.
"When the Countess saw that, she drew together her company, and when she
saw that she could not enter again into the town without great damage,
she went straight away toward the castle of Brest, which is but three
leagues from there. When Sir Louis of Spain, who was marshal of the
host, was come to the field, and saw their lodgings burning and the
Countess and her company going away, he followed after her with a great
force of men at arms. He chased her so near that he slew and hurt divers
of them that were behind, evil horsed; but the Countess and the most
part of her company rode so well that they came to Brest, where they
were received with great joy by the townspeople."
The astonishment and chagrin of the French knights upon hearing that the
whole scheme had been conceived and actually carried out by a woman may
well be imagined. They moved their scorched finery into other huts made
of boughs, and prepared to capture the countess if she should return;
but Jeanne was too good a captain to fall into the trap. Her faithful
garrison in Hennebon, not knowing that she had reached Brest safely,
were tormented by the misrepresentations of the besiegers, who told them
they should never see her more. Five days of anxiety passed in this way,
without any tidings of Jeanne. "The Countess did so much at Brest that
she got together five hundred men, well armed and well mounted. And then
she set out from Brest, and by the sunrising she came along by the one
side of the host, and so came to one of the gates of Hennebon, the which
was opened for her, and therein she entered and all her company, with
great noise of trumpets and cymbals." Too late aware of the return of
the valiant lady, the French nevertheless delivered another determined
assault upon Hennebon, in which they lost more than did the defenders.
Seeing the folly of confining all of his men to the siege of Hennebon,
Charles de Blois drew off with part of his army and laid siege to Auray,
while Louis of Spain and Herve de Leon, now on the side of the French,
were left in charge of the operations at Hennebon.
The besiegers had several large and powerful catapults, with which they
so battered the walls of the town that the citizens "were sore abashed,
and began to think of surrender." Among those in high place within
Hennebon was the Bishop Guy de Leon, uncle of Herve de Leon, who now
held a parley with his nephew and agreed to use his influence toward
bringing about a surrender. "The Countess was suspicious of some evil
design the moment the Bishop returned to the castle, and she prayed the
lords of Brittany not to play her false and abandon her, for God's sake;
for that she was in great hopes that she would have succor from England
before three days. Howbeit the Bishop spake so much and showed so many
reasons to the lords that they were in a great trouble all that night.
The next morning they drew to council again, so that they were near of
accord to have given up the town, and Sir Herve was come near to the
town to have taken possession thereof. Then the Countess looked down
along the sea, out at a window in the castle, and began to smile for
great joy that she had to see the succors coming, the which she had so
long desired. Then she cried out aloud and said twice: 'I see the
succors of England coming.' Then they of the town ran to the walls and
saw a great number of ships great and small coming towards Hennebon."
We heave a sigh of relief with Jeanne de Montfort; for our sympathies
are always with those who fight the good fight. And all the poetry of
chivalry is suggested in the scene that followed, a scene in whose
enthusiasm and half hysterical joy we can partly sympathize, for we know
that the siege of Hennebon will be raised and that the lady and her son
will go free. The ships in the offing were, indeed, the long delayed
reinforcements which Amaury de Clisson had gone to fetch from England
and which contrary winds had kept at sea sixty days. Bishop Guy de Leon,
in a rage because the surrender he had arranged was not to take place,
at once left the castle, and went over to the enemy: not an irreparable
loss, one would fancy, that counsellor who was ready to treat with the
countess's enemies behind her back.
The departure of a lukewarm adherent could not mar the joy of the loyal
defenders of Hennebon. "Then the Countess dressed up halls and chambers
to lodge the lords of England that were coming, with much joy, and did
send to meet them with great courtesy. And when they were a-land she
came to them with great reverence and feasted them the best she might,
and thanked them right humbly, for great had been her need. And all the
company, knights and squires and others, she caused to be lodged at
their ease in the castle and in the town, and the next day prepared a
sumptuous feast for them."
The leader of the English forces which came to the relief of Hennebon
was that chivalrous Sir Walter de Manny, known and loved by all admirers
of Froissart and the Black Prince. This bold and doughty knight had no
sooner tasted of the Countess Jeanne's good cheer than he began looking
about him for some adventure that might profit her and her beleaguered
garrison. The huge catapults erected by the French were still doing
damage to the town, and one of these Sir Walter determined to put out of
action. With the aid of some of the Breton knights a rapid sally was
made, and the "engine" was pulled to pieces, there being but a handful
of men in immediate proximity to defend it. But when the French knights
saw what was happening and hurried to the rescue it behooved the English
knights to beat a retreat. Nevertheless, Sir Walter de Manny cried: "Let
me never more be loved by my dear lady, if I have not one bout with
these fellows." So he and some others rode full tilt at the French
knights, and then, says Froissart, with his love of a fight and of the
comic, there "were several turned heels over head... and many noble
deeds were done on both sides," till Sir Walter drew off his men and
retired to the shelter of the castle walls. "Then the Countess descended
down from the castle with a glad cheer and came and kissed Sir Walter de
Manny and his companions, one after another, two or three times, like a
valiant lady."
Neither the lady nor Sir Walter shall we blame for this kiss, given with
no thought of unfaithfulness to the husband for whom she was fighting;
it was sheer mad joy that inspired her, and the little incident is
typical of the character of this good lady, so full-blooded, so staunch,
so sturdy a warrior.
Temporarily worsted at Hennebon, Charles de Blois retired from before it
and went to besiege and capture other places in Brittany. Jeanne de
Montfort had not sufficient troops to make head against him in these
enterprises, and had to look on from Hennebon while he took Dinan,
Vannes, Auray, and other places, in spite of the diversions created by
Sir Walter de Manny and the English allies. After the capitulation of
Carhaix, Charles de Blois returned to the attack upon Hennebon, where he
was joined by his lieutenant, Louis of Spain, disgruntled by a recent
defeat at Quimperle inflicted by Walter de Manny. The siege was again
fruitless, and, during a truce agreed upon between the combatants, the
countess obtained a chance to enlist more active assistance.
Jeanne hurried over to England to implore more aid from Edward. At that
time the great king was unworthily occupied in his pursuit of the
Countess of Salisbury, in whose honor tournaments were held and
magnificent feasts given in London. In these gayeties the Countess de
Montfort must have shared with but a sad heart; for that heart was set
upon securing aid to win back her husband's patrimony in Brittany, now
all overrun by the adherents of Charles de Blois. At length Edward did
grant her plea, and she set sail for Brittany with a force of men at
arms under command of Robert d'Artois.
Louis of Spain, with a fleet of Genoese ships, was waiting for the
English off the coast of Guernsey, where a great naval battle was
fought. As the ships neared each other, the Genoese crossbowmen hailed
arrows upon the English, who hastened to grapple. "And when the lords,
knights, and squires came near together, there was a sore battle. The
countess that day was worth a man; she had the heart of a lion, and in
her hand she wielded a sharp glaive, wherewith she fought fiercely." The
English had the better of this hand-to-hand contest, but both sides were
glad to draw off in the night. The elements roused to battle, and a
great tempest wrought much havoc among the ships. After having some of
their stores captured and ships wrecked, the English "took a little
haven not far from the city of Vannes, whereof they were right glad."
The first task of the countess and her allies was the capture of Vannes,
which was accomplished without serious loss. Leaving Robert d'Artois
with a garrison to hold this city, Jeanne and Walter de Manny went to
loyal Hennebon, while English forces under the Earls of Pembroke and
Salisbury laid siege to Rennes. But Herve de Leon and Olivier de
Clisson, that rough and sturdy knight called "the butcher," recovered
Vannes, during the defence of which Robert d'Artois was sorely wounded.
He came to Hennebon to recover from his wounds, but grew worse, and
finally returned to England, where he died. This ally of the Countess de
Montfort was the same Robert d'Artois who had sought to deprive the
Countess Mahaut of her heritage. He was a man of most unhappy character,
and rested under the cloud of charges of forgery and other malpractices.
To conclude briefly the part of his story which connects him with Mahaut
d'Artois, we may recall the claim he made upon Artois just before
Mahaut's death, based upon documents forged for him by the wicked Jeanne
de Divion. When Jeanne was brought up to be interrogated, her whole
story broke down the attempts to employ the black art against the king,
which she ascribed to Mahaut, and the documents she had pretended to
discover in the archives of Thierry d'Hirecon--all was shown to be but
puerile fabrication. It was in vain for her to protest that she had
acted in these things at the instigation of the wife of Robert d'Artois;
she was burned as a witch and a forger. Robert, terrified by the
unmasking of his complicity in the forgery, did not await his trial, but
fled to Flanders and thence to England, while his wife, Jeanne de
Valois, although she was the king's sister, was banished to Normandy. It
was the utter wreck of the fortunes of the pair. We regret to find the
name of Jeanne de Montfort linked with that of this pitiful, disgraced
knight, whom people did not hesitate to accuse of having poisoned his
aunt, Mahaut d'Artois, and her daughter, Jeanne, both of whom had died
suddenly within a few months of each other.
The war was now to assume proportions far greater than had been at first
contemplated; it was become a war between the two kingdoms, and in this
greater drama we all but lose sight of Jeanne de Montfort. Michelet
remarks that, with curious inconsistency, Philippe VI. was upholding in
Brittany the right of the female line, while he denied that right in his
own kingdom, and Edward III. espoused the right of the male line in
Brittany and maintained that of the female in France. The inconsistency
mattered not to either monarch; in each case merely a pretext was sought
for increasing the dignity of his own crown.
Jean de Montfort, in whose behalf his countess had been conducting the
war in Brittany, escaped from his prison in the Louvre in the spring of
1345, and made his way to England. Furnished with an army by Edward, he
returned to Brittany, but was repulsed before Quimper, and died at
Hennebon, in September, leaving his claims to his young son and their
prosecution to his heroic widow. With the aid of the English, Jeanne
continued the struggle, and had the usual fortunes of war, now victor,
now vanquished, in a strife that came to be known as the war of the
three ladies. The three ladies were Jeanne herself, Jeanne de Clisson,
and Jeanne de Penthievre. Jeanne de Clisson and her boy fled from the
French to the Countess of Montfort, after Philippe VI., in 1345, had
treacherously seized and executed Olivier de Clisson; Jeanne de
Penthievre was left, like Jeanne de Montfort, to support her own claims,
for Charles de Blois, her husband, coming into Brittany and laying siege
to the fortress of La Roche-Darien, had been surprised and captured by
the Countess de Montfort at the head of her English troops. While he was
held prisoner in England, Jeanne de Penthievre made herself the head of
her party, a leader in field and in council not unworthy to rival Jeanne
de Montfort.
Fortune favored the cause of the house of Montfort, and Jeanne had the
pleasure of seeing her son win first a temporary advantage, then a
complete victory over the house of Blois. At the battle of Auray Charles
was slain, and the treaty of Guerande, negotiated soon after (1364),
finally recognized the young Jean de Montfort as Duke of Brittany, while
Jeanne de Penthievre had to content herself with the county of
Penthievre and the viscounty of Limoges. Brittany was weary of the war
which had desolated the land from 1342 to 1364, and the battle of Auray
had been the decisive struggle, in which both sides had determined to
win or lose all.
Of the private character of Jeanne de Montfort we cannot speak with any
degree of assurance, since the information we possess is very slight.
Hume has ventured to characterize her as "the most extraordinary woman
of the age," which is in some respects true enough. In those qualities
admired by chivalry she was unquestionably an extraordinary woman;
courageous and personally valiant, with a head to plan daring exploits
and a heart to conduct her through the thick of the danger, impulsive
and generous, a free-handed ruler, and an admirer of those deeds of
chivalrous daring in others which she was only too ready to share
herself. No Eleanor of Guienne have we here, masquerading in tinsel
armor at the head of a troop of stage amazons, but a gallant lady
charging her foes sword in hand. One cannot read her story without
enthusiasm; and yet one would gladly know more of the woman before
bestowing unreserved praise upon the countess "who was worth a man in
the fight," and "who had the heart of a lion."
With all the brilliance and the heroism of these wars between England
and France, the glory is not untarnished; for the very patterns of
chivalry were too often guilty of most atrocious cruelties. Charles, the
saintly Count of Blois, cutting off the heads of the Breton knights and
throwing them over the walls of Nantes; Philippe VI. inviting the
Bretons to a tourney, and then seizing and executing them; the Count de
Lisle hurling from a catapult, over the walls of Auberoche, the
miserable servant who had ventured to bear letters from the garrison
through his lines; these, and more than these, are the sort of things
one finds even in the pages of Froissart, who was so careful to conceal
the unpleasant and to bring into the light of genius the chivalrous
episodes in his chronicle of the wars. For the weak and the fallen there
is little of pity; a word as some brave knight falls, a word of the
sorrow of those dependent upon him, and on we go to fresh fields, fresh
knightly exploits and pageants. Though the very spirit of chivalry is in
the air, how little thought is given to woman! It is only the rare
masculine qualities of a Jeanne de Montfort that can win her grudging
notice from Froissart.
When such is the spirit animating the great chronicler of the age, it is
rather remarkable that we find even three or four women winning such
fame as to be remembered. The great war will in time bring forth the
greatest heroine of France; yet it may be questioned whether Jeanne
d'Arc would have received even fair treatment at the hands of Froissart,
if the knight-chronicler had lived to see the glory of this wonderful
peasant girl illumine all France. We may guess that Jeanne the saint,
even Jeanne the valiant warrior (he loved warriors better than saints),
would have been for him but Jeanne the peasant, the miserable child of
some more miserable Jacques Bonhomme, to whom the courtly chronicler
would have referred with contempt, scorn, or brutal hate.
The horrors of war are not allowed on the scene in the chronicles from
which we draw most of our information about Jeanne de Montfort; but it
is pleasant to find in these same pages at least one recognition of the
higher and better role of woman, as intercessor for the distressed. We
allude, of course, to the famous and beautiful story of Philippa of
Hainault saving the citizens of Calais, a story which we shall venture
to sketch once more, in order to bring before our readers a famous
character and a famous scene in history.
For eight months the English army had lain before Calais, while the king
stubbornly persevered in his determination to reduce the town and the
garrison as stubbornly determined to resist to the death. Edward had
built for his camp a regular town about Calais, and starvation had at
last reduced the citizens to the point of submission. Jean de Vienne,
the commander of the garrison, parleyed with Edward's representatives,
but no terms could be obtained; the absolute surrender of the entire
garrison was demanded, with the threat of death for the bravest of them,
or Edward would go on with the siege till there should be absolute
necessity of yielding. To these terms Jean de Vienne nobly refused to
consent. Walter de Manny and other knights pleaded with the king to be
more merciful, if not out of kindness of heart then at least out of
policy, for fear of reprisals on the part of the French. The peculiarly
harsh and puerile conditions then proposed by Edward are well known:
"Sir Walter de Manny, say then to the captain of Calais that the
greatest grace that he and his shall find in me is that six of the chief
burgesses of the town come out to me bareheaded, barefooted, and
bare-legged, and in their shirts, with halters about their necks, and
with the keys of the town and the castle in their hands. With these six
will I deal as pleases me; the rest I will admit to mercy."
Jean de Vienne announced the terms to the citizens, and even he wept
that he should have to bring them such cruel terms. "After a little
while there rose the most rich burgess of the town, called Eustace de
St. Pierre, and said openly: 'Sirs, great and small, great mischief it
should be to suffer to die such people as be in this town, by famine or
otherwise, when there is a means to save them.... As for my part, I have
so good trust in our Lord God, that if I die in the quarrel to save the
residue, that God would pardon me of all my sins; wherefore to save them
I will be the first to put my life in jeopardy.'"
Beside the quiet heroism of this rich merchant of old Calais, what
tinsel seems the glory of the best of Froissart's favorite knights!
"King Edward may have been the victor,... as being the strongest, but
you are the hero of the siege of Calais! Your story is sacred, and your
name has been blessed for five hundred years. Wherever men speak of
patriotism and sacrifice, Eustace de Saint-Pierre shall be beloved and
remembered. I prostrate myself before the bare feet which stood before
King Edward. What collar of chivalry is to be compared to that glorious
order which you wear? Think,... how out of the myriad millions of our
race, you, and some few more, stand forth as exemplars of duty and
honour." Well does Eustace de Saint-Pierre merit the enthusiastic
phrases which we have copied from one who was no historian, but a great
man with a great heart William Makepeace Thackeray! For "greater love
hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."
Heroism was contagious in those days as for all time, and the example of
Eustace de Saint-Pierre was speedily followed by five of his fellow
townsmen. Let us now pass to the heroine of the story, Queen Philippa.
When the six burgesses, in their humble state, were led to the feet of
the haughty and relentless Edward, all pleas were vain to save them, the
king turning away in wrath even from the faithful Walter de Manny and
commanding that the hangman be summoned. "Then the Queen, being great
with child, kneeled down, and sore weeping said: 'Ah, gentle sir, sith I
passed the sea in great peril I have desired nothing of you; therefore
now I humbly require you in the honour of the son of the Virgin Mary and
for the love of me that ye will take mercy of these six burgesses.' The
King beheld the Queen and stood still in a study a space, and then said:
'Ah, dame, I would ye had been as now in some other place; ye make such
request to me that I cannot deny you. Wherefore I give them to you, to
do your pleasure with them.' Then the Queen caused them to be brought
into her chamber, and made the halters to be taken from their necks, and
caused them to be new clothed, and gave them their dinner at their
leisure; and then she gave each of them six nobles, and made them to be
brought out of the host in safeguard and set at their liberty."
A noble picture is this of the clemency of a woman where the prayers of
men availed not; and we join Jean Froissart in honoring his royal
patroness and mistress, "the most gentle Queen, most liberal and most
courteous that ever was Queen in her days, the which was the fair lady
Philippa of Hainault, Queen of England and Ireland." But it was not for
her mercifulness alone or even in chief that Froissart admired her; he
chiefly praises her because she was a woman warrior almost as determined
and successful as Jeanne de Montfort, and had come to Calais fresh from
her victories over the Scots, of which Froissart gives a careful and
glowing account.