Part 17 (1/2)

THE RISE OF THE MONARCHY

HISTORIANS, having a predilection for exactness, are concerned to find dates not only for kings and queens and battles and treaties, but for those great changes in the manners and morals of mankind which begin unconsciously, are wrought out in silence, and present themselves to the historian as accomplished revolutions before he is at all aware that anything of moment is going on. A revolution of this kind was in progress throughout Christendom in the fifteenth century; and its results are so astonis.h.i.+ng, so bewildering in their magnitude and in their infinite ramifications that we resort to figurative language and call the movement the Renaissance, the Revival of Learning. It is, indeed, a new birth, a new life, rather newer and altogether more astonis.h.i.+ng than any mere return of the learning of the ancients could have been; but the leaven in the decaying ma.s.s of feudalism operated slowly, and did not come to full power until long after the period which must be a limit for this book; therefore, we can but note certain significant facts in the mighty process which was to transform the feudal lady of the chateau into the lady of the court and of the brilliant literary salon, to subst.i.tute a Catherine de Medicis, or a Marguerite de Navarre, or a Madame de La Fayette, for an Eleanor of Guienne, a Mahaut d'Artois, or a Christine de Pisan. As nearly as can be determined, the age of feudalism ends in the fifteenth century; but the soul of the old civilization leaves its body imperceptibly and enters into that of the new: it ”melts, and makes no noise,

As virtuous men pa.s.s mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say Now his breath goes, and some say no.”

Jeanne d'Arc herself, we have said in the preceding chapter, was no product of chivalry, found no chivalry to s.h.i.+eld her. The old was already in her time yielding place to the new; for during the fifteenth century feudalism as well as chivalry was going to its death in France and in nearly all Europe. In France the civil wars had not only demoralized chivalry, they had also served to sever the intimate ties that bound the feudal lord and his family to the soil of their fief almost as rigidly as the villain was bound. Some families were utterly destroyed, some sought new lands, and found them in parts of the country far distant from their ancient holdings. With all his theoretically arbitrary power, the old baron, reared amid the peasants he was to govern, felt a certain kins.h.i.+p with them, and was often regardful of their time-honored customs and privileges, forgoing in their favor what arbitrary despotism or caprice suggested. No such ties bound the new n.o.bles to their new va.s.sals; the hold of the feudal lord upon his va.s.sals was weakened, as was their influence upon him. Many new families had risen into prominence, and kings no longer hesitated to enn.o.ble parvenus, a sure sign that the solidarity of the ancient n.o.bility of the soil was broken. This had come to pa.s.s in France by the time the great Louis XI. ascended the throne, not a generation after Jeanne d'Arc, and the same process was going on in England through the Wars of the Roses.

Louis was the determined enemy of feudalism, which he would have uprooted utterly. Much he did uproot; more he would have done, had he lived.

In the midst of this generation of struggles between the king and the faltering remnants of feudalism there are two or three instances in which the women as well as the men of the middle cla.s.s deserve mention.

Before we deal with the short and sad career of the last of the great house of Bourgogne, Marie, daughter of Charles le temeraire, we may glance at the simple story of a woman who defended Beauvais from this same Charles.

The danger from England had pa.s.sed; there was no longer need of a Jeanne d'Arc to drive out the insolent _G.o.ddems_; but a new enemy was found for France in the person of that great Duke of Burgundy whom modern history has named Charles the Bold, more properly Charles the Rash, or, as his contemporaries first called him, the Terrible, ”that wild bull wearing a crown, that wild boar who rushed straight ahead, his eyes shut.” In the spring of 1472, while Louis XI was intent upon reducing to submission the rebellious Duke of Brittany, Charles le temeraire, impatient at the tricky diplomacy which baffled him, declared war upon France and marched at once into Picardy with a great army, ravaging and burning as he went.

Louis, unwilling to be diverted from his attempt upon the Duke of Brittany, whom he was holding fast in his grip, could spare few troops, and gave orders that the small towns be abandoned and resistance be concentrated in the larger cities. The brave little town of Nesle was the first to offer a determined but hopeless resistance to the enraged Burgundian: Nesle was carried by a.s.sault, its defenders put to the sword or mutilated by the lopping off of their right hands. The very church ran with blood as Charles rode into it, commending the savage butchery of the inhabitants by his soldiers.

Beauvais was the next place of importance in his path, and the terrible news of the slaughter and the burning at Nesle was enough to inspire terror among its citizens. Yet these honest citizens, who had enjoyed liberal charters from France, were moved by a spirit of patriotism that is the best testimony to the fair treatment they had received from the subtle Louis. The fortifications of the town were antiquated, in no wise adapted to resist the powerful artillery that Charles was bringing with him, even had they been in good repair; as it was, they were going to ruin. And even had their walls been good and strong, the citizens had no garrison to help them to defend the town, and no munitions of war. A general meeting of the citizens debated the question of absolute submission, or of a resistance which, after the fate of Nesle, they felt must be to the bitter end. The vote was unanimous for resistance; they would do their duty and hold out for the king, though the last man should perish beneath the ruins. At once they began repairing the walls, closing up gates and posterns, and barricading the streets.

On the 27th of June, the bell of the great cathedral sounded the tocsin: the Burgundian army was in sight. And against this great army of disciplined soldiers must stand the volunteer defenders of the city. The a.s.sault began at once, after the Burgundian herald had summoned the town: ”In the name of the Duke, I summon the captain and the inhabitants of the city to submit humbly to his pleasure.”

Upon the walls the citizens had piled stones to hurl upon the a.s.sailants, and pots of hot oil and hot water were at hand to be emptied on their heads. Foremost in this work were the women of the town, while the men were left free to use their crossbows, arquebuses, axes. One figure stands out prominently in this band of heroic women; it is that of a young girl of eighteen, who const.i.tutes herself leader, marshals her companions, and drives from their homes timid maids and matrons, urging them on to bear stones to the ramparts, if they will do no more.

Like the great savior of France, this girl is named Jeanne; like her, too, she is of lowly birth, a good, honest girl of the people. Jeanne Laisne, daughter of a simple artisan, Mathieu Laisne, was born about 1454, in Beauvais. She was a wool-carder, one used to earning her own bread, and hence full of the energy and courage born of independence, not yet broken by years of severe toil. She was comely, too; perhaps an indispensable requirement in one who would win the unrestricted praise of the historians of a gallant race. Whether beautiful or not, Jeanne was a very Deborah of her cla.s.s, inspired with that fervent love of home, of _patrie_, which is innate in every good woman, and which is sometimes strongest in those who have to thank the _patrie_ for no favors of fortune. No heavenly spirits guided her, no prophecies proceed from her; her sole inspiration was courage and the determination to help in the defence of Beauvais. It would have been so easy for her to a.s.sume the role of a Jeanne d'Arc; she might even have pretended to be La Pucelle come to life again, as did several impostors who had recently won temporary credit, notably one who was brought to Charles VII., pretended to recognize him by divine inspiration, and confessed her imposture only when the king received her in good faith and referred to ”the secret between me and thee.” It is to the credit of this new Jeanne that she made no false pretensions, but simply served her native city and lived her life as merely the Jeanne whom all had known, and whom all respected.

Of her deeds during the siege there is not much to tell in detail, though it was her spirit and energy that insured the cooperation of other women. At first she and her band of amazons aided the men so effectually that the Burgundians were repulsed with heavy loss. But Charles was bent upon carrying the town by a.s.sault. His soldiers were urged on to the attack day after day, and still they saw the women of the town battling against them and were driven back from the walls, which the artillery, short of ammunition, could not breach. They carried one of the gates; Jeanne and her fellow townsmen fired it, and the fire burned so fiercely that for a week approach on that side was cut off.

On the 9th of July, says the Canon of Beauvais, Jean de Bonneuil, ”the Burgundians began the a.s.sault upon the gates of the Hotel-Dieu and of Bresle, in which a.s.sault the women bore (around the walls) the body of Saint Agadresme, patron saint of Beauvais.” But the repulse of this a.s.sault was not to be due to the miraculous intervention of Saint Agadresme; it was again Jeanne Laisne, now surnamed Hachette, from the ax she wielded, who saved the city. ”It is not to be forgotten,”

continues the chronicler, ”that in the said a.s.sault, while the Burgundians were setting up their ladders and mounting upon the walls, one of the said women of Beauvais, called Jeanne Laisne, did, without other aid or arm, seize and s.n.a.t.c.h away from one of the said Burgundians the standard which he bore and carry it to the church of the Jacobins, where was the shrine of Saint Agadresme.” Jeanne had remained on the ramparts while the enemy came on to the a.s.sault; and as the standard bearer planted the Burgundian flag in a breach, she smote him with her ax, so that he fell back into the fosse. Others hurried to her aid, and repelled once more the disheartened a.s.sailants.

Meanwhile, succor had come for Beauvais; at first only a handful of men-at-arms from Noyon, then at last a large body of troops under the best leaders in France effected an entrance into the town, and enabled it to withstand an a.s.sault lasting from dawn until noon, in which the duke sacrificed scores of his men to no purpose. Not till he found his army too much depleted and discouraged for further offensive operations, however, did Charles retire from before Beauvais, burning and pillaging as he marched toward Normandy. On July 22nd the besiegers were gone.

The heroism of Jeanne Hachette, as everyone now called her, had proved contagious: ”All the women of the town, high and low, showed themselves to be so valiant during this siege that they surpa.s.sed in boldness the men of other towns.” It was to the women, so all were willing to admit, that the preservation of Beauvais had been due; and now it was for Louis, as well as for the citizens, to make some visible and worthy acknowledgment of the debt. Louis, who, says Michelet, ”in his devout speculations... often took the saints and Our Lady for partners, keeping an open account with them, and trading for profit or loss, (thinking) by charities... by petty sums in advance, to secure their interest for some capital stroke,” Louis had vowed a whole ”town of silver” for the safety of Beauvais, and abstention from all flesh until the vow should be fulfilled. With all his superst.i.tion, and all his meanness and harshness to the n.o.bles, he would do unexpectedly generous things to reward and to encourage the commons, whom he loved and on whom he relied when n.o.ble lords might play him false. In the present instance he granted special privileges to the women of Beauvais; and his ordinances to that effect are curious in that they attempt to propitiate Saint Agadresme--who might be useful in connection with the ”open account” mentioned above--and at the same time to offer more substantial rewards to the wives of Beauvais.

The first of these ordinances, dated 1473, establishes an annual procession in honor of Saint Agadresme and of the deliverance of the city, and specially exempts the women of Beauvais from the operation of the sumptuary laws. After rehearsing the most dramatic incident of the siege, and praising the _tres grande audace, constance et vertu,...

oultre existimation du s.e.xe feminin_, the text of the edict continues: ”(The King) decrees that every year a procession be held, at the cost of our receipt and domains in the said city; and we order that henceforth forever the women in this procession shall precede the men and march immediately after the priests upon that day; and furthermore, they (the women) may, upon the day of their weddings or at any other times that it may please them, wear and adorn themselves with any raiment, ornaments, or jewels (that they may desire), without being subject to question, reproof, or prosecution, no matter of what rank of life they may be.”

More interesting to us, because more directly concerning the heroine herself, is the edict from which we learn of the special favors granted her. Beginning with a recital of the brave deeds done at Beauvais, and especially of the _bonne et vertueuse resistance_ of _notre chiere et amee Jeanne Laisne, fille de Mathieu Laisne_, the king's edict proceeds: ”For these reasons, and also because of and in favor of the marriage of Colin Pilon and (Jeanne), which marriage was, by our help, arranged for, agreed upon, and celebrated, and also for divers other reasons and considerations, we have granted and now do grant, by special grace, in these present letters, that the said Colin Pilon, and Jeanne, his wife, each one of them, shall be and remain for life exempt and free from all taxes that are and that may be in the future imposed and exacted in our name throughout our kingdom, whether for the maintenance or keep of our armies and soldiers or for any other cause whatsoever, and (they shall also be exempt) from the duties of watch and ward, wheresoever in our kingdom they may take up their abode. Given at Senlis, this 22nd day of February, in the year of grace one thousand four hundred and seventy-four.”

It will be seen from this that Jeanne was already married, and that the king himself had taken some sort of personal interest in her case, supplying the very necessary _dot_ for the bride. She had not sought an alliance out of her own cla.s.s, for Colin Pilon was a simple man-at-arms, who did not live long to enjoy either the love of his wife or the favor of the king, for he fell at the siege of Nancy, in 1477. A few years later, Jeanne married a cousin, one Fourquet, a soldier of fortune, at one time in the personal guard of the king. Henceforth nothing more is known of her, not even the date of her death. But popular fancy a.s.sociated her so intimately with the siege of Beauvais that, be her real surname what it might, she was always Jeanne Hachette; and even in the nineteenth century a certain Pierre Fourquet d'Hachette, claiming descent from the humble heroine, received a pension from Charles X. In Beauvais, too, her name and the memory of her good service were kept alive not only by the annual parade on the festival of Saint Agadresme, but also by a faded, ancient standard, borne by the young girls in the procession, at other times carefully guarded among the treasures of the city. It was a standard of white damasked cloth, bearing figures and mottoes in gilt and colored paints. Even now one can decipher the haughty device of Charles le temeraire: _Je l'ay emprins_ (I have undertaken it), and beside it the emblems of the great order of the Golden Fleece. It is the very standard that the girl s.n.a.t.c.hed from the Burgundian soldier more than four centuries ago.

The story of Jeanne Hachette is but an episode, of course; but in reading it we should remember that, however small the part she played in the great history of the world, she had one rare trait, a trait often distinctive of the best figures in history, though not always of the most notable--modesty. Like Jeanne d'Arc, her task once accomplished she was content to be what she had been before; more fortunate than that other Jeanne, she lived to see herself honored, and was not spoiled thereby any more than Jeanne d'Arc was spoiled by her far greater triumphs.

If Jeanne Hachette was a representative of that cla.s.s now about to a.s.sume greater importance in the life of France, namely the artisans, the unfortunate daughter of Charles le temeraire was, in her character as well as in the events of her life, as surely representative of disappearing feudalism and chivalry. Marie de Bourgogne was all her life but the plaything of a court that would use her in its pageants and in its schemes of aggrandizement with utter disregard of what might be her personal preferences. Reared amidst surroundings that suggested the pomp and glory of chivalry and were eloquent of feminine dependence if not of feminine inferiority, she was suddenly left to cope with one of the ablest and one of the most unscrupulous politicians in history.

Marie de Bourgogne was born at Brussels in 1457, being the first child born of the union of Isabelle de Bourbon and the haughty young Count de Charolais, who had been most unwilling to espouse this bride of his father's choice and who yet made a devoted and faithful husband. When Marie was born she was still but the daughter of the Count de Charolais, for ten years more of life remained for the worn out old Philippe le Bon. Still, she was prospective heiress of the great duchy of Burgundy, though none could yet foresee that she was the only hope of the great family that had made itself, in the hundred years of its existence, the most dangerous enemy, the most indispensable ally of France, nay, even the rival of France among the great powers of Europe.

The little countess was but eight years of age when her mother died, scarcely old enough to appreciate the loss, except perhaps to grieve that she must be reared by a great lady of her grandfather's court, the Countess of Crevecoeur. Three years more, and she had to take part in the greeting given to her father's second wife, Margaret of York. Little could Marie have understood of the political significance of this union which united the fortunes of the house of Burgundy with those of a family whose brief ascendency was marked by almost continual war and by political crimes of the darkest hue: the brothers of her stepmother were the handsome voluptuary, Edward IV., ”false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, that stabbed” young Edward of Lancaster ”in the field by Tewkesbury,” and the dark-minded Richard of Gloucester. It was a union of sinister omen for Charles, and one that had been opposed by his father: no good did or could come of it for Charles, and yet, to spite France, he persevered in his design, and brought Marie to take her small part in the brilliant reception accorded Margaret at Bruges. Marie must have witnessed and enjoyed the great show, and the famous tournament of the _perron d'or_ (golden beam), in which her father condescended to break a lance or two in honor of his bride; but she is hardly mentioned in the glowing accounts of these festivities, in which the ancient glories of chivalry were revived and surpa.s.sed. She was but a daughter, and though her father loved her it was only natural that he should yet hope for a son who might wear his ducal coronet.

But the years pa.s.sed, and still there was no son: Mademoiselle de Bourgogne seemed fated to wear that ducal coronet. Charles grew in power, in arrogance, in ambition; it was to be no longer a mere coronet, but a crown; he would found a new dynasty that would eclipse that of the elder branch of the Valois; at one time the very crown was made ready and exposed to the admiring yet fearful eyes of his future subjects.

Marie, who had grown into a handsome if not beautiful girl, carefully trained in all the accomplishments that befitted her rank, became a personage of great importance in the ambitious schemes of her father.

According to the custom of princes, her name was used as a lure in securing desirable alliances; and her wishes were but little regarded in the selection of her future husband. She was merely a sort of a.s.set to be reckoned among the other properties of which Charles might dispose to the highest bidder in furtherance of his projects. Her charms would naturally be set forth to the best advantage, therefore, in the pages of loyal Burgundian chroniclers, and in the midst of the diplomatic bargaining we forget not only that Marie was a girl, with at least some girlish fancies and preferences and romantic dreams, but we fail to distinguish the actual features of the girl. If one may judge from the portraits, Marie could not have been really a beauty; though there are upon the face the indefinable marks of high breeding, its lines are too heavy, moulded too obviously on the pattern of the features of her redoubtable father; above all, there is that heavy lip and protruding jaw, so very noticeable in her descendants as to become a distinguis.h.i.+ng family mark, albeit they call it Austrian, not Burgundian. But she was a comely girl; besides, would suitors hang back because the richest heiress in Europe was not at the same time a Venus?

Charles met with no difficulty in finding suitors for his daughter's hand; there was merely the embarra.s.sment of choice among so many who might be considered or who considered themselves eligible. At length, in 1473, Marie was betrothed to Nicholas of Calabria. But Nicholas died, and Marie was again to be disposed of; the betrothal had been too absolutely a matter of politics to justify any delay in seeking a new husband now that death had removed Nicholas. It happened that just at this time Charles was very eager to propitiate the empire, in furtherance of those schemes of monarchy that now began to a.s.sume definite shape in his imagination. The Archduke Maximilian, though somewhat more than three years younger than Marie, and though poor, was nevertheless the son of the emperor, and might be considered useful to Burgundy. The negotiations were conducted quietly; Charles did not, it appears, wish to show himself too anxious; perhaps he was thinking that circ.u.mstances might change, and therefore did not wish to commit himself to this match beyond the power of recall.

For the present, however, the n.o.ble lovers, who had never met, were both rather young; there was no need to hurry matters, since Charles himself was still in the prime of life. The disastrous campaign of the great duke in Switzerland has been described many a time, by historians friendly and unfriendly, and by a great romancer who loved all chivalry and who yet could not withhold his admiration from the intrepid Swiss freemen who bore down the power of Burgundy at Granson, at Morat, and at Nancy. Yet, whether we consider Charles a great ruler and leader or a mere military ruffian, no one can look without pity upon that snow-covered battlefield of Nancy, where a generous foe and the heartbroken servants of ”the pride of chivalry” must look in vain for two days for the body of Charles; none could surely tell how he had fallen; and when they found his frozen body the dogs had eaten half of one cheek, and the wounds on the head rendered it almost unrecognizable.