King René d'Anjou and His Seven Queens

by Edgcumbe Staley

I.

Child-marriage was a distinguishing mark of the Renaissance, but its fashion in the Sovereign States of France was very much more commendable than its prototype in Italy. In the Italian republics it became a holocaust of immature maidens, condemned to untimely death through the perverted passions of worn-out men of middle age. In France the girl brides were mated with boy husbands, but cohabitation was regulated by the watch and will of guardians. In both countries, doubtless, the marriage contract was essentially a commercial undertaking, but in France it marked the attainment of political and dynastic aims. Sovereign families rarely allied their offspring out of the ruling class. At the same time the danger of conjugal union between individuals nearly related was immeasurably increased. Indeed, such relationships were those most zealously cultivated by ambitious and exclusive rulers. The marriage of René d’Anjou and Isabelle de Lorraine was a striking and typical instance of this precocious marital custom.

ISABELLE DE LORRAINE

From a Miniature by King René, in “Le Livre des Heures”

To face page 94

Isabelle, “the Pride of Lorraine,”—as she was acclaimed by her devoted subjects at the time of her betrothal,—was born at the Castle of Nancy, March 20, 1410. Her parents were Charles II., Duke of Lorraine, and his consort, Margaret of Bavaria. Charles himself was the eldest son of Jehan, Duke and Count of Lorraine, and Sophie, Princess of Würtemberg. Born in 1364, at Toul,—a free city of the German Empire and an ecclesiastical sovereign see,—Charles succeeded his father in 1392. Originally a fief of the Holy Roman Empire, Lorraine was erected a kingdom by the Emperor Lothair, who styled himself “King and Baron of Lothairland.” The first Prince to bear the ducal title was Adelebert, in 979, and that style descended unbroken through 500 years.

The Duchess Margaret was the second daughter of the Emperor Robert III., Duke and Baron of Bavaria. She married Charles II. in 1393. To them were born eight children, but, alas! Louis and Rodolphe died in infancy, Charles and Ferri before their majority, and Robert in 1419, unmarried, at twenty-two. Of their three daughters, Isabelle was the eldest. Marie became the wife of Enguerrand de Coucy, Baron of Champagne and Lord of Soissons, a lineal descendant of the founder, in the thirteenth century, of the famous Château de Coucy, the most complete feudal fortress ever built, whose proud motto may still be seen on the donjon wall:

“Roi je ne suis

Prince ni Comte aussi:

Je suis le Sire de Coucy.”

This union was childless. Catherine, the third daughter, in 1426 married James, Marquis of Baden, Count Palatine of the Rhine and Elector. She renounced all claims to Lorraine. Their only child was a daughter.

At the time of their marriage, Charles II. of Lorraine and Margaret of Bavaria were a model couple upon the principles of dissimilarity and contrast. The Duke, a soldier born, had made good his degree of knighthood ten years before, when, a mere stripling, he won his spurs fighting daringly by the side of his cousin, Philippe “le Hardi,” Duke of Burgundy. With him he went on a punitive expedition against the pirates of the Barbary coast. At Rosebach, and especially at the tremendous battle of Azincourt, he did prodigies of valour. In Flanders and in Germany his ensign led on victorious troops. Charles’s last military achievement was the rout of the Emperor Wenceslas under the very walls of Nancy. No warrior loved fighting more than the Duke of Lorraine. Slightly to alter the text, he was one of those war-lords whom Shakespeare, in his “seven ages of man,” says “sought reputation at the cannon’s mouth.” He yearned for the applause of gallant knights, both friends and foes; he yielded himself amorously to the smiles and embraces of the fair sex, and he revelled in the praise and adulation of poets and minstrels. His mailed fist was ever toying with his trusty sword and grappling the chafing-reins of his charger; his mailed foot was ever ready for the stirrup and to trample upon the head of a fallen foe.

At the same time he was a gay and polished courtier, one of the most accomplished Princes in Europe. Fond of literature and poetry, he studied daily his Latin copy of the “Commentaries of Julius Cæsar” and similar treatises. He had besides a taste for music, and was no mean exponent of the lute and guitar, and a friend of troubadours.

On the other hand, the gentle, lovable Duchess was born for the cloister and for the worship of the Mass. Her bare feet were ever moving in penitential pilgrimages and religious processions, and her shapely hands were ever joined in prayer or divided in charity. Her passion was the submissive rule of Christ, her will the conquest of herself.

Daring and devotion thus harnessed together rocked the family cradle, and insured for their offspring the best of two worlds. Such a union was bound to be productive of genius and corrective of faults of heredity. What a bitter disappointment, then, it must have been for both the Duke and the Duchess when one after another their beauteous babes and adolescent sons dropped like blighted rosebuds from their young love’s rosebush prematurely into the cold, dark grave, leaving only the aroma of their sweet young lives to soothe their sorrowing parents!

Isabelle was the fairest daughter of the three. She inherited the force of character of her father and the pious disposition of her mother, and to these precious traits she joined a spirit of intelligence much in advance of her years as a growing girl. In short, she was remarkable “pour ses qualités de l’esprit et du cœur,” a description difficult to render into good English; perhaps we may say she had her father’s will and her mother’s love.

Many were the suitors for her hand, some for the pure love of beauty, grace, and spirit, but most with a view to the Duke-consortship in the future of rich Lorraine. The “Pride of Lorraine,” indeed, served as an ever-reinforced magnet. She became remarkable for her loveliness of person, her animation of manner, and her distinguished carriage. The natural sweetness of her voice lent a gracious persuasiveness to her eloquence, which in later life proved invaluable in the recruiting of adherents to her husband’s cause. High-souled and condescending, she brought her enemies to her feet, only to raise them her warmest friends. Talented beyond the average of Princesses, she had also the charm of winsome gaiety, and proved herself a worthy spouse and companion for her gallant and clever consort René. Tall, slim, fair-haired, blue-eyed, with a skin of satin softness, the “Pride of Lorraine” won all hearts and turned many a head.

To Louis, Cardinal de Bar, was due the accomplishment of an idea suggested by Queen Yolande with respect to the future of her second son, René d’Anjou. He had for ever so long been considering what steps he should take with respect to the succession to the duchy. He of course, as an ecclesiastic, could have no legitimate offspring. His brothers had died childless, and only one of his sisters had male descendants, the grandsons of Violante de Bar, his own grand-nephews. In His Eminence’s mind, too, was a project to reconstitute the ancient kingdom of Lothair by merging Barrois and Lorraine proper. Whilst Duke Charles II.’s young sons were living, the Cardinal looked to one of them as his heir; and when they all drooped and died, he reflected whether or not he should name Charles as his successor. At this juncture his niece, the Queen of Sicily-Anjou, was busy looking out for brides for her two elder sons, Louis and René. For the former a Bretagne alliance was indicated; for the latter a union with Lorraine—Burgundy for the time being out of the question—or Champagne seemed desirable.

The Cardinal clinched the matter, and paid a visit to the Duke of Lorraine in furtherance of his project, which was the very natural and sensible one of marrying his nephew René with the Duke’s eldest daughter Isabelle. Whether Charles had any inklings of the Cardinal’s cogitations with relation to his own position with respect to Bar we know not; but possibly he had, for he met the proposition with a direct refusal. He read to his relative two clauses of a will he had recently executed, which forbade his daughter Isabelle to marry a Prince of French origin, and especially barred the House of Anjou. This latter prohibition was inserted with reference to the rupture between Jean “sans Peur,” the Duke of Burgundy, and Louis II., King of Sicily and Duke of Anjou, which resulted from the part the former had played in the assassination of the Duke of Orléans in 1407, and the consequent repudiation of the betrothal of Catherine de Bourgogne and Louis d’Anjou. Lorraine and Burgundy were in close alliance.

The Cardinal, however, was not to be diverted from the course he had taken. He placed ten considerations before the Duke and his advisers:—(1) The advisability of reuniting the two portions of Lorraine; (2) Charles’s lack of male heirs; (3) his own incompetence in the same direction; (4) his choice of his grand-nephew, René d’Anjou, as his successor at Bar-le-Duc; (5) the attractive personality, mental attainments, and high courage of the young Prince; (6) his descent from a Barrois-Lorraine Princess, Violante, his sister; (7) the risks of the application of the power of the Salic Law over his daughters; (8) the equality of age of René and Isabelle; (9) the wish of the late King and of the Queen of Sicily-Anjou for an alliance with Lorraine and a better understanding politically; (10) the welfare of the peoples of the two duchies and the love of the Lorrainers for their princely house.

Charles asked time to consider these points, but meanwhile he summoned the Estates, and laid before them a proposition concerning the succession to Lorraine at his death. He named his eldest daughter as Hereditary Duchess, and proposed that her consort should bear the title, and with her exercise the prerogatives, of Duke of Lorraine. A concordat was agreed to whereby the Estates were pledged to support the Duchess Isabelle, and to carry out Charles’s wishes.

Queen Yolande had seconded her uncle’s negotiations in a very womanly and sensible way. She communicated directly with good Duchess Margaret. She pointed out to her the mutual advantages of the marriage of the two children, and declared that such a union would heal the breach between the eastern and the western Sovereigns of France. Margaret, loving peace and holy things, was easily persuaded to reason with her husband; she submitted absolutely to the overpowering personality of the Queen. With Charles, Yolande had a stiffer fight, but she gathered up her strength, and in the end, lusty warrior that he was, he yielded up his defence to the tactful diplomacy of the good mother of Anjou. Woman’s wit once more, as it generally does, triumphed over man’s obstinacy.

Charles agreed to receive the young Prince, and judge for himself of his prepositions and qualifications. The result was beyond the Cardinal’s expectation, for the Duke declared himself charmed with the boy. He was, he said, ready to rescind the prohibitory clauses of his will, but he made it a condition that he should have the personal and unrestricted guardianship of the boy until he reached the age of fifteen. He desired René to proceed at once to Angers to obtain Queen Yolande’s consent to the matrimonial contract between himself and Princess Isabelle. Everything went merrily, like the marriage-bells which soon enough pealed forth all over Lorraine, Barrois, and Anjou, at the auspicious nuptials. The final arrangements were completed, and René and Isabelle were betrothed at the Castle of St. Mihiel, and on October 20, 1420, married at the Cathedral of Nancy by the Bishop of Toul, Henri de Ville, Duke Charles’s cousin. Immediately before the wedding, Cardinal-Duke Louis caused a herald to proclaim publicly, in the market-place of Nancy, René d’Anjou, Comte de Guise, Hereditary Duke of Bar, with the ad interim title of Marquis of Pont-à-Mousson.

The record of the marriage is thus entered in “Les Chroniques de Lorraine”: “Les nopces furent faictes en grant triomphe, et la dicte fille menée à Bar moult honorablement. Le Cardinal fust moult joyeulx.”[A] The contract had been signed on March 20, 1420, by the Duke and the Cardinal at the Château de Tourg, near Toul, Queen Yolande’s signature being provided by her proxy. She granted to her son the right to quarter the arms of Bar and Lorraine with those of Anjou and Guise.

[A] “The nuptials were celebrated with great ceremony, and the said Princess was conducted to Bar very honourably. The Cardinal was full of joy.”

On November 10 formal proclamation was made in every important town in Lorraine, to the effect that Duke Charles II. constituted his eldest daughter, now Duchess of Barrois and Countess of Guise, heiress to the duchy of Lorraine, and confirmed to her, and to her issue by René d’Anjou and Bar, full rights of succession and government. The proclamation named Queen Yolande of Sicily-Anjou, Louis, Cardinal de Bar, and the Duke himself, Charles’s guardians during the minority of the young couple.

“René,” wrote a chronicler, “is well-grown, well-bred, and well-looking. He is greatly admired by all the fair sex, and loves them in return. He will make a good husband, and has the making of a great Sovereign.” The bride’s praises were sung by poets and minstrels the length and breadth of Lorraine and Bar.

Among the earliest to congratulate the young people and their parents was the redoubtable Duke of Burgundy! He sent a special embassy to Nancy with this striking message: “Tous estoient si joyeulx de veoir la fervente et cordiale amour qui estoit entre ces deulx jeuns gens, que je me trouve capable des sentiments les plus amiables pour tous mes cousins royales. Je salue mes bons frères les Souverains Ducs de Lorraine et Barrois avec Madame la Duchesse Marguerite, et sans autre choses la bonne Rogne de Cecile, son épous le Roy Louis, pour jamais.”[A]

[A] “Everybody was delighted to behold the fervent and cordial love which exists between the two young people, whilst I found myself filled with the most amiable sentiments for all my royal cousins. I salute my good brothers the Sovereign Dukes of Lorraine and Barrois, and also the Duchess Margaret, and equally the good Queen of Sicily and her consort King Louis.”

This was as a jewel in the hair of Queen Yolande, and as nectar in the cup of Cardinal Louis. Their plans had succeeded splendidly.

Shortly after his marriage, René returned to Bar-le-Duc with his child-bride, and they were received in royal state by the Cardinal, who had renovated and decorated the castle specially in their honour and for their use. The town of Ligny was causing trouble in Barrois by refusing to pay the accustomed tribute. The Prince de Ligny claimed that portion of the duchy of Bar as his, by the marriage contract of his wife, the Cardinal’s sister. He attacked the Castle of Pierrepoint and the town of Briey, whose garrison he caused to be put to the sword. The Cardinal took arms, and, accompanied by René and companies of Lorraine soldiers from Longwy, defeated his relative and took him prisoner. The young Prince received the rebel’s sword and personally conducted him to Nancy, where, after two years’ confinement in the fortress, he signed an act of renunciation of his pretensions in Barrois.

René, only twelve years old, the following year accompanied Charles II. of Lorraine to the siege of Toul,—for many years a turbulent element in his dominions,—where there was a hot dispute concerning certain laws and customs oppositive to the claims of the crown of Lorraine. Toul was captured, and mulcted in an annual tribute of a thousand livres.

Directly the proclamation of Isabelle of Lorraine with René as the sharer of her throne was made, Antoine de Vaudémont, Duke Charles’s eldest nephew, entered a protest and claimed the succession. He based his action upon the three conditions—(1) The Salic Law ruled the succession of Lorraine; (2) the male line had not been broken since the creation of the duchy; and (3) the realm had never gone out of the family. Charles scouted all these positions, affirmed his own sovereign right to name his successor, and refused to alter the terms of the proclamation so far as regarded the succession of his daughter and Duke René.

All the church-bells in Barrois and Lorraine were again set jingling joyously when, in the ducal castle of Toul, on the morning of January 17, 1437, a young mother,—very young indeed, barely seventeen,—brought forth her first-born—a beauteous boy, the image, as the midwives said, of the boy-father, not yet nineteen. Church-bells, too, rang merrily all over Anjou and Provence when the glad tidings reached their borders that a male heir was born to the honours of Sicily-Anjou-Provence. Perhaps René and Isabelle were too young to realize what it all meant for France at large, but Queen Yolande understood well enough its tenor, and with her congratulations she greeted her first son’s grandchild with the title of “Prince of Gerona,” linking him ostentatiously with her hereditary rights in Aragon. Duke Charles, too, and Duchess Margaret were the happiest of grandparents, and baby Jean was created Comte de Nancy as future Duke.

Charles’s death was somewhat sudden and quite unexpected. Strong man that he was, King Death seemed to be a power not immediately to be feared. René was not at Nancy when the death-knell sounded, but news swiftly reached him, and he returned at once to the capital. Duchess Margaret,—despite her lamentations and her natural dislike to public appearance,—attired herself in full Court dress, the crown she rarely wore upon her head, and all the officials of the Court, the Government, and city, in her retinue, and hastened to the gate to welcome the new Duke of Lorraine. Before her carriage rode a number of lords and knights, who dismounted on the approach of René, and, saluting him deferentially, greeted him as “Vous estoit le nostre duc!” The cry was taken up by all the gallant company, whilst René, having dismounted at the portal of St. George, took the sacred missal offered by the Dean into his hands, and swore then and there to respect and safeguard the ancient liberties of the State and city.

One of the quaintest of quaint observances followed, a custom peculiar to Lorraine. After receiving the ecclesiastical blessing, the new Duke remounted his horse, and into his hand was placed the ancient altar cross called “Polluyon.” He rode slowly through the city to St. Nicholas Gate, where he again dismounted, and gave his charger into the care of one of the canons, who took his place in the saddle and rode out of sight. This strange custom had been observed at all the public recognitions of new Dukes of Lorraine ever since its inception by Duke Raoul, in 1339. The Duke then returned on foot to St. George’s, bearing still the jewelled cross. At the entrance the Bishop stood ready to administer the customary oaths and to accord the Papal benediction. This ceremony also was unique. The Bishop told him to face the assembly of his subjects at the four points of the compass, and to repeat at each the formula: “I take this oath before God and you willingly, and look to God for assistance, and to you for service.”

Then conducted to the castle in great circumstance, amid the vociferous plaudits of the populace,—“Noël! Noël!” they cried,—the Duke knelt and kissed the hand of Duchess Isabelle, who was waiting there, and presented her to the delirious citizens. “Vive le nostre Duc! Vive la nostre Duchesse!” rang through the city, and, caught up by the sculptured pinnacles and turrets of the cathedral, mingled harmoniously with the musical cadences of the bells, and so was wafted over all that fair and smiling land.

René, although but two-and-twenty, gave immediate evidence of wisdom beyond his years. His power to grasp and handle complex affairs of State, and his discrimination in matters of moment, proved the excellence of his grand-uncle’s training. His personal appearance was all in his favour, and his graceful, well-set-up figure, his open countenance, his majestic manner,—ever ready to bend to circumstances,—gained general admiration and confidence. His gracious, patient, and conciliatory bearing was remarkable. His modesty and absolute lack of presumption attracted the best men of all parties. His readiness to appoint a Council of State, with unusual freedom of deliberation and action, was only, perhaps, what might have been looked for from the son of the founder of the free Parliament of Provence in 1415. The new Duke set on foot movements for the amelioration of the condition of the poor, for the improvement of education, and for the rectification of the morals of the Court and city. One of his earliest edicts was for the suppression of blasphemy; a first charge was punishable by the judge in the ordinary way, a second involved a heavy fine, a third obtained correction in the public pillory, and a fourth offence was purged only by the splitting of the tongue and rigorous imprisonment.

RENÉ D’ANJOU

(Circa 1440)

Painted by himself “Le Livre des Heures”

To face page 106

In all these, and many similar acts of sapient policy, Duchess Isabelle bore her part in counsel and example; her conduct was beyond all praise. The next move was a progress through every part of the two duchies. At each considerable town the royal cortège halted first of all that the Duke and Duchess might make their devotions in the principal church, and endow Masses and ecclesiastical grants. Then, assembling the officials and chief citizens, they inquired into the hardships of the people and encouraged local institutions, at each place leaving largesse for distribution. In strong places with garrisons, the Duke interested himself in redressing injuries and inequalities among the veterans. He offered to pay all the losses of officers in the wars; he allowed eighteen sols for each horse killed in battle or on march; he bestowed on each soldier a surcoat and steel helmet with his royal cognizance, and created many knights. Meanwhile Duchess Isabelle endeared herself to the women-folk by consoling words of sympathy and gracious doles of charity. Widows and orphans she took under her personal patronage, and no worthy claimant for her benevolence lacked favour and assistance.

Thus René and Isabelle won, not only golden opinions, but the sincerest affection of their subjects, rich and poor. But a climax was put to the noble works of the kindly Sovereigns, and never came truer the saying; “Providence ever destroys the good that men do.” An evil genius appeared upon the peaceful scene when Antoine de Vaudémont refused to pay allegiance to the new Duke and Duchess. The moment of his declaration of hostility was as unfortunate as it was cruel. At the public baptism of Prince Jean, the Duke’s eldest son, who had been privately baptized at his birth, in 1426-27, the Count entered the Cathedral of Nancy in full armour, and objected to the Duke of Calabria,—the title of the young boy,—being received by the Church as heir to the throne of Lorraine.

The Duke immediately summoned him to appear before the Council of State, and also before a meeting of principal citizens, and there repeat his protest. By both assembles his pretensions were scouted unanimously. Sieur Jehan d’Haussonville, the Mayor, addressed the Count, and said: “Your uncle has left daughters; the eldest, Isabelle, is Duchess of Lorraine. I salute you. You may go.” Vaudémont left Nancy in a violent rage, crying out as he passed through the gateway of St. George: “I shall be Duke of Lorraine all the same, and soon, and then will I reckon with you dogs!” He posted off to Dijon, and there took counsel with the Duke of Burgundy.

The body of Charles II. had scarcely been consigned to its monumental tomb in the choir of St. Georges de Port at Nancy, when the Comte de Vaudémont revealed himself in his true colours. After his protest against the edict of the Duke which named Duke René of Barrois, the consort of the heiress to the throne, as his successor to the title of Duke of Lorraine, he had remained skulking in his castle, where he welcomed as many malcontents and disturbers of the peace as accepted his pretensions to the crown. The coronation of Duchess Isabelle was the signal for Vaudémont’s attempt to vindicate his claim. He had hardly a sympathizer at Court, for Charles had caused all the principal nobles and citizens to swear allegiance to his daughter and her husband before he died. The Count appeared suddenly before Nancy, and demanded the keys and the custody of the Duchess. Duke René was away besieging Metz, but he at once posted off to Nancy, and assisted with men-at-arms by Charles VII., and aided by the generalship of Barbazan, he defeated Vaudémont in eight battles great and small.

Vaudémont rallied his forces from Burgundy under Antoine de Toulongeon, Duke Philippe’s favourite general, and enlisted foreign mercenaries from Flanders and Germany. René had at his back all the armed men of Lorraine and Bar, and contingents from Anjou and Provence. James, Marquis of Baden, and Louis of Bavaria, joined him with squadrons of cavalry, and his army numbered nearly 20,000 men. Perhaps he was over-confident of his strength, his right, and his intrepidity; and having a very much more numerous following, he advanced upon his enemy disregarding sundry cautions and wise counsels. The two armies met upon the plain of Bulgneville, near Neufchâteau, on July 2. Vaudémont played a waiting game; besides, he had in reserve heavier artillery than his royal foeman. Early in the encounter Barbazan fell mortally wounded, and then René himself received a wound which incapacitated him for a time. The fall of their leaders demoralized the Lorraine army, and Vaudémont, seeing his advantage, made a dash with a column of heavy cavalry. René was smitten to the ground and surrounded. He refused to surrender until an officer of sufficient rank should be allowed to receive his sword. Then Toulongeon galloped up, and the Duke, covered with blood and dust, was lead away to the Burgundian camp.

Taken the same evening to the Château de Talant, near Dijon, the royal prisoner was treated with the deference due to his rank, but, alas! he had fallen into the hands of the enemy of his house—the hated Duke of Burgundy. That evening the curfew sounded not in Nancy, but the gates were shut and barred, and two weeping women, powerless in their woe, never sought their couches in the castle. Mother and daughter, Margaret and Isabelle, were nigh death themselves. No tidings could they gain of the whereabouts or of the condition of the man they loved. Duchess Isabelle cried out: “Alas! I do not know whether my husband is dead or alive or wounded, nor where they have taken him.” None had a consoling answer, for all Nancy was in mourning. Two thousand good men and true lay dead upon the stricken field, and three thousand more shared the imprisonment of their Duke. The wounded in hundreds crawled into city, village, and mansion; not a house in Lorraine but was flooded with women’s tears and men’s blood that desperate day and night. At last splashed and bedraggled heralds brought news of the Duke’s captivity, and that his wounds were not serious: “M’sieur le Duc, madame, estoit en bon santé; les Bourguignons l’avoient pris: il se trouv at Dijon demain.”

Thus assured of her husband’s safety, Isabelle brushed away her tears and roused herself to action. Promptly she called together the Council of State, where she presided in person, and eloquently demanded that strong measures should at once be taken to carry on the war against Vaudémont and Philippe de Bourgogne, raise sufficient funds to make good losses, and secure the liberty of the Duke. The Council responded nobly and patriotically to the call of their Duchess; as the “Chroniques de Lorraine” has it: “They had pity upon her, for she had borne four sturdy children as comely as you might wish to see.” “Elle fust allegrée!” was the universal testimony to Isabelle’s worth as a wife and mother. Duchess Margaret, too, perhaps for the first time in her life of devotion, raised her voice, and called for the temporal sword to be reground to avenge the disaster. She accompanied her daughter, both mounted, to Vézelise, which Isabelle had appointed as the rendezvous of the new army, and personally enrolled companies and squadrons, fastening to each man’s helm a thistle—the cognizance of Lorraine. Then she addressed a protest to the victor of Bulgneville, in which she warned him not to approach Nancy, but to regard herself as his implacable foe until he should deliver up the Duke. Étienne Pasquier, the chronicler, sums up in ten words the courageous character of Duchess Isabelle. “Within the body of a woman,” he says, “the Duchess carries the heart of a man.” After warning Vaudémont, she concluded with him a truce of three months, during which period she went in person to Charles VII., who was then in Dauphiné, and implored his intervention and assistance. In her train was a young Maid of Honour, Agnes Sorel, whose beauty and naïveté rightly affected that unstable monarch; it was an introduction which ripened later on into something more intimate than mere admiration.

Duchess Margaret also greatly bestirred herself. Hearing that her uncle, the Duke of Savoy, and her brother-in-law, the Duke of Berry, were at Lyons awaiting the coming of King Charles, she posted off there, taking with her as advisers the Bishops of Toul and Metz. In company with the King of France was no less a person than Queen Yolande, his mother-in-law—

“Aussi vient en icelle ville,

Accompaignée de demoiselles,

La noble Royne de Cecile.”

“There also came to the same town,

accompanied by Maids of Honour,

the noble Queen of Sicily.”

as we read in the “Heures de Charles VII.”

René was not kept long at Talant, but transferred to the fortress of Bracon, near Salines. His imprisonment varied in severity; at times he was treated roughly, half starved and unclothed, with no resources or intercourse with friends outside. Then he was served with dignity befitting his rank, and granted facilities for the better occupation of his time. But what a staggering blow was his misfortune to all his dreams and aims of honour, glory, and sovereignty!

Lorraine was in a terrible state, and so was Barrois; men knew not what to do nor whom to trust. Overrun with soldiers of fortune and the riff-raff of foreign camp-followers, security for person and for property was no more. Vaudémont made, however, no use of his victory—at least, so far as pressing his claims to the duchy. Everywhere his cause was unpopular; indeed, he found himself in the very unusual and humiliating position of a victor denied the fruits of his victory. He disbanded his army and retired from Lorraine, and took up his abode with his ally, Philippe of Burgundy, and there awaited developments. René found means to communicate with his desolated wife, and forwarded instructions to the Estates of Lorraine and Barrois to acknowledge and serve Duchess Isabelle as Lieutenant-General during his captivity. She entered upon her responsible duties with the utmost fortitude and courage. All historians testify to her indefatigable zeal and administrative ability.

Whilst the two Duchesses were doing all they could to effect the Duke’s release and maintain the rights of Lorraine and Barrois, René himself made a direct appeal to Philippe of Burgundy, and on March 1, 1432, he proposed certain terms to his royal gaoler. They were as follows: (1) The acceptance by the Duke of Burgundy of Duke René’s two young sons, Jean and Louis, as hostages for their father; (2) the cession of the castles of Clermont en Argonne, Châtille, Bourmont, and Charmes; and (3) the payment of the Burgundian troops in full for all arrears. Philippe accepted these hard conditions, and added to their harshness by fixing a ransom of 20,000 saluts d’or. At the same time thirty nobles of Lorraine and Barrois offered themselves in lieu of the two young Princes.

This contract Philippe submitted to the Comte de Vaudémont for his approval, which he gave after much consideration, but required the insertion of a clause to the effect that his son Ferri should be betrothed to Yolande, Duke René’s eldest daughter, then not quite three years old, and that she should receive a dowry of 18,000 florins de Rhin for the purchase of an estate in Lorraine, and he added very cunningly a proviso that residuary rights to the duchy should be settled upon the issue of the marriage. This was with grim vengeance the hoisting both of the Duke and the Count upon their own petards. Such an extraordinary arrangement was, perhaps, never before contrived by the craft of man.

At Nancy in the Queen’s apartments there was sorrow keen. Isabelle’s heart was stabbed to the core. Could she part with her dear children? That was the question she had to answer. The other clauses of René’s charter of freedom were serious enough, to be sure, but none of them weighed upon a mother’s heart as did this. As she looked out upon the pleasaunce whence came echoes of childish laughter, her will failed her. No, there they were, Jean and Louis, lovely boys of six and four, too tender much to leave her fostering care, too young to face the rigours of captivity. And yet her dearly loved husband, René, could not be left in durance vile; his liberty was of the first importance, and no sacrifice would be too great to bring him home to her again. What should she do? First of all she knelt in prayer to God, and implored the aid of St. Mary and the saints. St. George was for Lorraine. Then she hied her to the boudoir of her mother, Duchess Margaret, and fell upon her bosom, sobbing violently, the woman with the courage of a man! Those tears, however, washed away her momentary want of resolution, and when she had laid bare her troubles before her sympathetic parent, the answer to her prayers came through the same devoted channel.

“Isabelle, my child,” the old Duchess said, “dry your tears, and thank God in any case, for this trouble will pass. St. Mary, the Mother of Jesus, feels for you, the mother of her boys. She inspires me, too, and I am ready to take the dear children myself to Dijon or wherever our René may be, and to remain with them till Philippe of Burgundy plays the man and the Christian and releases them, and then our René shall fold thee to his heart ere many suns have set.”

This pious and heroic resolution of the good-living Duchess-Dowager was, perhaps, no more than Isabelle expected. She, of course, could not take her hand off the helm of State, but her mother was a persona grata at the Burgundian Court; at least, she had been so when she came as a bride to Nancy many years before. The long and the short of the matter was that Duke René was released from his prison on March 1, 1432. He gave his parole to return there within a twelvemonth if the conditions of his freedom were not complied with.

By a curious concatenation of circumstances the arrival of Duchess Margaret and her two little grandsons at Dijon synchronized with that of the Duke of Burgundy. He had been away in Flanders and in the English camp on political business, and had postponed the bestowal of rewards and honours upon his adherents at Bulgneville. Now he called a Chapter of the “Order of the Toison d’Or” at Bracon, of all places in the duchy, apparently forgetful of the fact that his royal prisoner was there. The fortress possessed two towers; in one of these René was confined,—henceforward known as La Tour de Bar. There were three floors; on the topmost were the Duke’s two chambers, below certain Lorraine prisoners of distinction were accommodated, and the guard occupied the ground-floor. The other tower contained the regalia and the archives of the Order. A very pleasant story is told of a meeting of the two Dukes at Tour de Bar, and it delightfully illustrates the French proverb, “Noblesse oblige.” On the day of the Chapter the Duke of Burgundy, passing the portal of René’s tower, cast up his eyes, and beheld his prisoner looking out of a window. He tossed up his bare hand in token of recognition, and sent an officer up to René’s chamber with a request that he would permit him to enter and hold converse there. Such a demand appealed, of course, instantly to the chivalrous instinct of the Duke of Lorraine and Bar, and the two Sovereigns clasped each other’s hand in silence. Philippe’s heart failed him at the greeting of his captive, and he shed tears. Whilst the Princes were so engaged, a noble of the Court of Dijon approached his liege and delivered him a despatch, the perusal of which greatly affected him. It was, indeed, the intimation that Duchess Margaret of Lorraine was in attendance with René’s two young boys at the palace in Dijon, awaiting Duke Philippe’s pleasure. He communicated the intelligence to Duke René, who covered his face with his hands and sank to his seat in a conflict of emotions.

Duke Philippe, laying his hand on his prisoner’s shoulder, said: “La parole du Duc du Bar est plus forte que les ôtages!” Then he added: “Pray, Monseigneur, consider the portals of the Tour de Bar open to your orders. Let us go together and greet the good Duchess Margaret. You and she and your children shall be set forth this day to Nancy. May the good God cheer your way!” This was magnanimity incarnate—a choice trait of the days of la vraie chivalrie! To describe the joy of René as he once more caressed his sons and kissed the hand of his mother-in-law, and to set forth the rejoicings at Nancy, and, indeed, all along that joyous march from Dijon, with the blessedness of reunion between Isabelle and her spouse, would tax the pen of any ready writer. René was free, and Philippe had attained his apogee. Joy-bells rang, voices cheered, and Lorraine and Barrois gave themselves over to unbridled festivity; whilst the Duke and Duchess and their two brave boys made a royal progress, whereon they were nearly torn to pieces by their enthusiastic subjects. René and Isabelle once more visited every town, and personally thanked all and sundry for their loyalty and affection.

But business is business even in royal circles, and the Estates of Lorraine and Bar were assembled by the Sovereigns to consider and fulfil the terms of René’s charter of liberty. The crux was the amount of the money ransom, and how to raise it. Both duchies were stripped bare of resources, prolonged wars had impoverished the nobles, and had brought upon all classes great privations. In Anjou and Provence much the same conditions existed, and Queen Yolande had as much as she could do to make all ends meet. King Charles VII. was a fugitive or little better, he had no money, and the Duke of Brittany had his own responsibilities and cares. The only wealthy member of the Sicily-Anjou family was the Queen of Naples, and she was financing King Louis III. and his conflict with the King of Aragon. Nevertheless something had to be done, and René and Isabelle together put their pride into their pocket and made approaches to their unlovely relative. Queen Yolande and Duchess Margaret also backed up the appeal.

René embarked at Marseilles directly Queen Giovanna’s reply reached him, for she demanded that his request for assistance should be made in person at Aversa. It was not a very pleasant prospect that presented itself to the Duke of Bar-Lorraine. The ill-fame of the Queen of Naples had by no means been lessened by her attempted liaison with his elder brother, King Louis. Nevertheless, René was prepared to pay a high price for the 20,000 saluts d’or, but Isabelle had no fear for his honour. The mission was a failure. The Queen’s price was impossible; and although René remained in dalliance upon her, and played the part of a complete courtier, so far as was possible for him to do, she dismissed her relative with a sneer and a refusal.

News of René’s failure reached Nancy before his own arrival, and resourceful Duchess Isabelle immediately set to work upon an alternative plan for securing the liberty of her consort. The city of Basel was then preparing to receive the Fathers of the Ecumenical Council of the Roman Church, and with them the citizens were required to welcome the Emperor of Germany, under whose protection they were. Sigismund was the son of Marie de France, sister of Louis I. of Sicily-Anjou. Moreover, he had married the Princess Elizabeth of Bavaria, a sister of Duchess Margaret.

A ROYAL PATRONESS AND WOMEN-WORKERS IN WOOL

From a Miniature, MS. Fifteenth Century, “Des Clercs et Nobles Femmes.” British Museum

A ROYAL PATRONESS OF HANDICRAFTS

From a Miniature, MS. Fifteenth Century, “Des Clercs et Nobles Femmes.” British Museum

Isabelle despatched a notable embassy to greet her uncle the Emperor, and at the same time to crave his sympathy and help. A very favourable reply came quickly back to Nancy, and with the returning Lorraine envoys travelled two Chamberlains of the Imperial Court, sent by the Emperor to escort René to Basel. Sigismund furthermore cited the Comte de Vaudémont to appear before him and state his case. A most patient hearing was granted by His Majesty to the arguments of the victorious Count, but on April 24 Sigismund ascended the imperial throne in the Cathedral of Basel, and there solemnly gave his judgment. He decreed that René was lawful Duke of Lorraine, that he should not be required to return to prison, and that further grace should be allowed for the payment of the ransom.

With scant reverence for the sacred edifice, and with much discourtesy to the Emperor and the dignitaries who sat with him as assessors,—the Papal Legate and the Patriarch of Constantinople,—Vaudémont indignantly refused to accept the imperial ruling, and demanded the immediate payment of the 20,000 saluts d’or or the prompt return of Duke René to Bracon. Duchess Isabelle, who had courageously accompanied her husband, fell upon her knees before their stern, irreconcilable enemy, and pleaded with him to extend knightly magnanimity towards his prisoner. No! Vaudémont would have the duchy or René’s money or his person. René, gently raising his loving spouse, led her from the scene, and then, tenderly embracing her, he returned to where he had left Vaudémont scowling. “See,” said he, “here I am: take me at once to Dijon.” Before leaving the Imperial Court the Emperor beckoned to him, and, directing him to kneel, formally invested him with the temporalities of the duchy of Lorraine, and upon Isabelle he bestowed with the Papal benediction the honour of the “Golden Rose.”

Torn from the bosom of his family once more, René bore his misfortune like a man, and Isabelle rose superior to her trouble. Their noble bearing gained further the respect and good-will of all the Sovereigns and peoples of Europe, whilst the spleen and meanness of Vaudémont rendered him odious everywhere. René submitted obediently to the newly-imposed discipline. He beguiled his time by adorning the walls and windows of his chamber with sketches and paintings. What a thousand pities it is that none of those treasures have been preserved! Alas! France has suffered more than any other land from the suicidal tendencies of her people. Over and over again national passion has swept away works of art and historical memorials. King René’s frescoes have, with the fortress of Bracon, wholly disappeared. Music, too, and poetry, formed for him consolations. He composed ballades, he sang songs, sacred and profane. He played the viol and zither, and so whiled away some of the tedium of his captivity. “Les Chroniques de Lorraine,” note that “il a sçu la musique, et marier la voix aulx doulx accents d’un luth, gémissant sous ses doigts.”[A]

[A] “He knew music, and how to modulate his voice to the notes of a lute, striking it with his fingers.”

At Bracon was the Duke of Burgundy’s splendid library, to which René was freely admitted. There he studied painstakingly classical works in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew.

Cut off as he was entirely from intercourse with his family, friends, and subjects, at times he gave way to melancholy, and regarded himself as unjustly treated by Providence. He craved to behold his children, and this longing was assuaged by the chivalrous consideration of the Duke of Burgundy, who permitted the little Princes Jean and Louis to visit their unhappy father in his prison.