Part 6 (1/2)

”J. PELHAM.

”To my trew Lorde.”

While her position gave her equal rank with her husband, it also laid upon the lady of the manor the cares natural to her station. A great lady had always her bodyguard of maidens, and the lord his following of pages, these young people being thus provided for that they might receive the training of gentility and courtesy which were the essentials in the character of the n.o.ble persons of the times. These maidens, who were intrusted to the care of the lady of the manor, had to be trained in all domestic accomplishments as well as in polite attainments. It is singular that this custom of sending children from home was often interpreted by foreigners as an evidence of a lack of parental affection; and, indeed, it did at times furnish a means of easy riddance of daughters whose tempers were incompatible with those of their parents, or whose self-will--or the selfish policy of the household--made it desirable for the parents to sever the tie which lacked the strength of affection. Thus, in 1469, Dame Margaret Paston writes to her son, Sir John Paston, regarding his sister Margery: ”I wuld ye shuld purvey for yur suster to be with my Lady of Oxford, or with my Lady of Bedford, or in sume other wurshepfull place, wher as ye thynk best, and I wull help to her fyndyng, for we be eyther of us werye of other.”

It will be seen from this fas.h.i.+on of the times--more particularly of the latter part of the Middle Ages--that a knight's lady performed many of the functions of a mistress of a boarding school. Those intrusted to her care, regardless of their rank or station, were subjected to rigid discipline and were required to perform the arduous duties of the household. These tasks embraced the varied forms of plain and fancy needlework, for every lady was expected to be proficient in such matters; all wearing apparel and fabrics of all sorts required for household use, and the banners and altar cloths of the churches as well, were made in the household. When the household was a large one, the lady and her maidens were kept busily employed in attending to its needs. It is, however, entirely probable that the manufacture of the coa.r.s.er materials and their making into clothing were delegated to the servants, of whom every manor had a large retinue. The designing and making of the costumes of the wealthy--especially those that were to be worn on court and other high occasions--were given over to professional tailors, who were called ”scissors.”

The round of domestic duty made daily drafts upon the time of the wives. In every family of the higher cla.s.s, the lady of the household had to see to the provisioning as well as to the clothing of its members and servitors. This was not a simple matter, as the provisions had to be supplied at the cost of great inconvenience, excepting in the case of the products of the manor farms belonging to the estate.

The stewards' accounts are often a valuable source of information as to the grade of living of the times.

In view of the industry of the women in the manufacture of textile fabrics, the poet's eulogy is deserved:

”Of gold tissues, and cloth of silk; Therefore say I, whate'er their ilk, To all who shall this story find They owe them all to womankind.”

The limits of the manor formed the horizon of its women; the men frequently had to make long journeys in the pursuit of their larger concerns, and were often in foreign lands serving as soldiers or crusaders. But the lack of variety in the lives of the women was more than compensated for by the opportunities which were furnished them by quiet and seclusion for the improvement of their minds and the cultivation of those finer qualities of character which are the basis of the refinement and good manners of the cultivated English women of the present day. It is not too much to say of the Middle Ages that without the peculiar circ.u.mstances of manorial living, the culture, confidence, self-containment, and initiative of the English woman would not have become as they are--her predominant characteristics.

So effectual, indeed, were the conditions of the times for seclusion, and so greatly were its privileges appreciated, that it could be said of many a fine lady, as was a.s.serted of Lady Joan Berkeley, that she never ”humored herselfe with the vaine delightes of London and other cities,” and never travelled ten miles from her husband's houses in Somerset and Gloucester.

The life of the manors was not, however, a round of tireless industry.

The ruddy-cheeked, simple-minded English women of the better cla.s.s were possessed of a redundant vitality and a fund of joyousness and humor which sought and found expression in a variety of healthful outdoor recreations, as well as indoor amus.e.m.e.nts. The pleasing art of letter writing had come to hold a position of interest in polite circles; for although the women may not have been skilled with the quill, their letters were nevertheless natural, simple, and sincere, and they were fairly proficient in the art of reading. Their religious duties occupied a part of each day, as did their visitation of the homes of the dependants on the estate; for it was the lady of the manor who was looked to by the poor for herbal medicines and such delicacies as were supplied to the sick. Great ladies sometimes recognized their duties to the poor not only by giving individual doles, but by founding almshouses. Nearly every lady of distinction felt it inc.u.mbent upon her to do something for the relief of suffering and distress. It is especially pleasing to know that it was the women whose sensibilities were thus touched, and who were first influenced by the idea of social responsibility for the less fortunate cla.s.ses of society. The records of the times abound with instances of benevolence in inst.i.tutional forms. When it was impracticable for her to be her own almoner, the lady employed for the office a monk or a priest, and so a.s.sociated her charities with the Church, by the teachings of which her impulses were trained. The saints' days were customarily observed by especial and important contributions for the poor.

Were it not for the manors, the Middle Ages would lack almost altogether poetry and literature other than that of the monkish chroniclers. Literature and poetry in this period were chiefly centred around the women of the n.o.bility. It was probably due to the fondness of Henry I. for letters that a literary taste was excited among his queens. The earliest specimens existing of vernacular poetry are some verses addressed to Henry's second spouse, Adeliza. Feminine taste and royal patronage combined to free poetry from the pollution of the minstrel and his circle of vulgar auditors, to cause it to be cultivated by studious men and women, whose tastes had become refined by the study of the Latin cla.s.sics, and who were themselves emulous of gaining a literary reputation by the cultivation of the art of serious composition.

Vernacular poetry, having the sanction and esteem of the higher circles of life, came to be generally appreciated; and the mind, which is naturally responsive to matters of good taste, was willing to throw aside the incubus of low stories, dependent for their interest upon prurient situations, and to rise to the acceptance of literature whose interest centred around persons and situations that made their appeal by reason of worthiness or dignity. The patronage of letters by the n.o.bility led many, especially ecclesiastics, to develop their talents in that direction. Wace, a canon of Bayeux and a prolific rhymester, expressly states that his works were composed for the ”rich gentry who had rents and money.” Even the stormy reign of Stephen seems to have been no impediment to the cultivation of the literary taste which had its beginning in the court of Henry I. and in the patronage of his queens. The vernacular histories were either written or rendered into the popular tongue, and in this way became the intellectual property of the female world; they were not infrequently inspired by the wish of some lady--a wish which became the law of the lay or clerical writer.

The story of Eleanor of Aquitaine, the unhappy queen of Henry II., who in her later life frequently signed herself ”queen by the wrath of G.o.d,” ill.u.s.trates a phase of domestic infelicity which was not without many parallels. It also serves to show that, with the perfervid sentiment of chivalrous devotion to women, it was easy enough to forget the higher demands of faithfulness in the real relations of life. This queen herself was not blameless, and to an extent must be regarded as suffering the penalties of her own indiscretions. The story is almost too familiar to need reciting. She discovered that, although ostensibly Henry's wife, the position was really filled by one with whom the king had previously contracted marriage. The family of Rosamond Clifford was as respectable as and scarcely less ill.u.s.trious than her own. During a sojourn at Woodstock, the jealous eye of the queen had observed the king following a silk thread through the labyrinth of trees, by which means she came to knew of her rival.

The meeting of the two women can better be imagined than described: the queen poured out a torrent of reproaches and invectives, ending by offering to Rosamond the cup of poison or a dagger, and did not leave the place until the victim of her jealousy was no more.

But the tragic death of Rosamond did not serve to enlist for the queen the affections of her consort, nor did it tend to promote her domestic peace. Never was a family so torn by dissension and sin; her children were arrayed against their father and one another, and all were opposed to herself. Her husband added to her many troubles the further shame of installing in her place the wife of his son. Seeking release from a situation past all endurance, she eloped from a castle in Aquitaine, intending to find an asylum in the dominions of King Louis of France, her former husband. She was captured by Henry's myrmidons and thrown into prison, there to remain sixteen years until liberated by her renowned son, Richard Coeur de Lion. The sufferings of her life tempered her spirit and brought her into reliance upon religion for her comfort and strength.

Another example of the high courage and decision of purpose which the life of Eleanor of Aquitaine furnished in its later history is found at a subsequent period in another Eleanor, the daughter of Edward II. This patient, suffering wife, roused to indignant resistance of an unpardonable indignity, exhibited the spirit of an undaunted character. She had been married, at the tender age of fifteen, to the stern Reynald II., Earl of Gueldres and Zutphen. When the large dower she brought her husband had been spent by him, he sought pretext for a divorce from one with whom he could feel no sympathy; but for this her blameless life furnished no excuse. Although the countess was constantly surrounded by spies and her every act and word reported to her lord, she moved with stately dignity in the atmosphere of intrigue and deceit. In default of any other plea, her husband represented to the pope that she was afflicted with leprosy. Arrayed solely in a tunic, and enveloping herself in a capacious mantle, she made her way with majestic mien into the council room of the palace, where the perfidious lord was in consultation with his a.s.sembled n.o.bles about the details of the sinister purpose which he was seeking to effect.

With the words, ”I am come, my beloved lord, to seek a diligent examination respecting the corporeal taint imputed to me,” she threw aside the mantle, disclosing the healthy texture of her skin, while a wave of emotion pa.s.sed over her, and her eyes suffused with tears.

”These,” she continued, ”are my children and yours; do they too share in the blemish of their mother? But it may come to pa.s.s that the people of Gueldres may yet mourn our separation, when they behold the failure of our line.” Husband and n.o.bles alike were profoundly affected by so sublime an appeal, and the royal pair were reconciled; but the male line of Reynald failed in his son, and the crown pa.s.sed to the female branch, as though the almost predictive words of the n.o.ble English woman were destined to be fulfilled.

Yet another daughter of fair France became the queen of a Plantagenet.

Richard II., the last Plantagenet, from the date of his accession, was involved in constant struggles, first with his Parliament, and then with Henry of Lancaster. His first queen, Anne of Bohemia, died in 1394. Richard's thoughts were thereupon directed to the necessity of choosing a second consort. He would consider only Isabelle of Valois, daughter of Charles VI., who was less than nine years old. The marriage was solemnized by proxy, and arrangements were made for the king to repair to Calais and receive his child-bride at the hand of Charles VI. The preliminaries having been completed, the ceremony is thus recorded by Froissart:

”On the morrow, the King of England visited the King of France in his tent, where the kings sat apart at one table. During the serving of dinner, the Duke de Bourbon said many things to enliven the kings, and addressed the King of England: 'Monseigneur, you ought to make good cheer; you have all you desire and demand. You have, or will have, your wife, she is about to be given to you.' The French king then said: 'Bourbonnais, we could wish that our daughter were of the age of our cousin of Saint-Pol, although it should have cost us dearly, for our son of England would have taken her more willingly.'

”The King of England heard this and responded to the French king: 'Father-in-law, our wife's age pleases us well; we think less of that than we do of the affection between us and our kingdoms, for with mutual friends.h.i.+p and alliance, there is no king, Christian or other, who could give umbrage to us.' The dinner was soon over, and then the young Queen of England was brought into the king's tent, accompanied by a great number of dames and demoiselles, and given to the King of England, her hand being held by her father, the King of France.”

This marriage brought nearly twenty years of peace between France and England. The young queen was carefully nurtured and educated by King Richard, whose attachment to her soon grew very deep. Turbulent factions disturbed Richard's rule, and Isabelle had always before her the menace of a prison rather than the prospect of a throne. Before leaving to quell a rebellion in Ireland, Richard visited his ”little queen,” for thus she was popularly styled, at Windsor Castle, to take farewell. This interview, at which it is said the young queen first realized how deeply she loved the king, was to be their last. Henry of Lancaster, taking advantage of Richard's absence to gather a force to wrest the sceptre from him, met Richard on his return, made him captive, and finally secured his resignation of the crown in 1399.

Simultaneously, the young queen fell into Henry's power, and was moved from castle to castle at the will of Henry. All this time she was kept in ignorance of the fate of her husband, and tortured by suspense and anxiety. Richard alive was too serious a danger to Henry's supremacy, and, a plot to restore him to his throne having failed, he was killed at Pontefract Castle soon after, in a heroic struggle against the myrmidons of Henry.

Meantime, the ”little queen” had joined in the movement against Henry, in the hope that her husband would recover his crown and be restored to her, but she was soon again a captive at Havering Bower. For some time the child-widow--she was not yet thirteen--was kept in ignorance of the death of Richard. Soon, however, she was importuned by Henry IV. on behalf of Monmouth, his son, but, faithful to the memory of Richard, she rejected with horror the proposed union. Finally, all hope of the alliance being destroyed, Henry consented to Isabella's return to her parents. She had endeared herself to the hearts of the English by her graces, and especially by her steadfast devotion to Richard.

After Isabelle's return to France, Henry still persisted in suing for her hand, but it was impossible to move her determination. In 1406, it seemed that joy might yet brighten the life of this unfortunate princess, for in that year she was betrothed to her cousin, the young Charles of Orleans, whom she married in 1409. The affection of husband and wife appeared to offer every prospect of happiness, but she was permitted to enjoy her newly found state for only a brief period, as she died during the following year, a few hours after the birth of an infant daughter. The memory of this sweet but unfortunate princess is enshrined in the poetic tributes of the Duke of Orleans, nor did the English fail to sing in ballads her praise.