On Monday, March 5, 1453, when the Queen’s burial casket was borne under its silken canopy through the streets of Angers, twenty fair daughters of Anjou and the adjoining States strewed white flowers in the way. Their leader was Jehanne de Laval, now grown to womanhood, fresh and sweet. She had loved the lamented Queen, and learned much from her gentle ways and her heroism, and she grieved for the bereavement of King René and his children. Companions in love and comrades in sorrow cling equally to one another, and those who rejoice together in the sunshine compassionate each other in the shade. Pity is the tender veil of Cupid’s favours.
II.
King René’s grief at the untimely death of his devoted spouse completely unstrung the man and disabled the monarch. He gave himself away to tears and melancholy, from which even the embraces of his children failed to rouse him. His Ministers and courtiers viewed the desolation of their Sovereign with sincere and deep concern, for it threatened to unnerve him permanently for the arduous duties of his station. A consultation was held at Angers by the Barons and nobles of Anjou, Maine, Lorraine, Barrois, and Provence, with respect to their beloved Sovereign’s prostration, and a unanimous decision was reached—a second marriage with a young consort, comely, cultivated, and of good fame. A petition was presented to the King praying him to yield to the advice of his “right loyal lieges,” that he should look out for some noble and virtuous “pucelle qui fust à son gré.” They add: “We have found just such une très belle fille nommée Jehanne de Laval,—wise, well-conditioned, and of adult age,—and we know that she is ready to become the spouse of our very good lord.”
The sorrowful King took heart of grace, acceded to his subjects’ agreeable suggestion, and, knowing well himself all young Jehanne’s charms, despatched forthwith a gallant embassy to his old friend, Count Guy, demanding the hand of his beauteous daughter. Only one bar appeared to stop the course of true love,—for such René’s was for Jehanne,—the disparity of age: he was forty-seven, she twenty-two. This was soon dismissed, and “May” and “December” were betrothed in the August month of ripe red gold. Articles of marriage were signed at Angers on September 3, 1455—by Seigneur de Couldray, Captain of the Guard; Guy de Laval; Louis de Beauvau; the Counts of Vendôme and Tancarville; the Seigneur de Lohere; Raoul de Bosket; and Olivier de Feschal—whereby the bride’s dot was fixed at 40,000 écus d’or (circa £2,000). The marriage ceremony was celebrated at the abbey church of St. Nicholas d’Angers on September 16 by Cardinal de Foix, Archbishop of Arles, in the presence of Bishops and deputations from every part of King René’s dominions. The wedding ceremony was notable for the appearance of the bride’s young brother Pierre, a boy of eleven years of age, habited in full episcopal vestments. He was nominal Archbishop of Reims and Bishop of St. Brieux and St. Malo.
The citizens of Angers received their new Queen “en grant joye et lyesse,” but, notwithstanding the general satisfaction, the Court became grave and serious, and, to universal astonishment, there were neither tournaments for the nobles nor junketings for the poorer people. The heart of the King was still sore; he seemed disinclined for festivities, and sought solitude and devotional exercises; his spirit was acharné—sad within him. “Had he,” people asked, “renounced the pleasures he so loved for ever?” René found relief from the tension of his feelings in the composition of a moral allegory which he entitled “Le Mortefiement de Vaine Plaisance,” which he dedicated to his confessor, Jean Bernard, Bishop of Tours. It is by way of being a dialogue between a soul devoured by love divine and a heart full of earthly vanities. Other dramatis personæ are introduced at intervals: “Fear of God;” “Divine Justice;” “Faith,” “Hope,” and “Sovereign Love,” with “True Contrition.” Midway in the lengthy poem is a “similitude,” accompanied by a very beautiful drawing, showing a Queen,—perhaps Isabelle,—seated open-bosomed in a country waggon, bare-headed, her crown upon her knees. The two horses are tandem-harnessed, the wheeler bestridden by a rider with a thong in hand, the leader turning sharply round. Thus did René’s poetic imagination picture his loss and his woe. The dedication is most touching: “Considering that the course of life runs like a river, without stopping or running back, it is necessary to do good deeds to earn a sweet repose. I set myself to write this book for the love of the Redeemer, but, that my work may be useful for all, I tell in plain speech the conflict of the soul and heart.”
The royal couple left Angers immediately after their marriage, and spent the month’s honeymoon at the Castle of Launay les Saumur. Then they set off for Provence, and reached Arles early in November. This was the prelude to an entirely new course of life which King René had in his mind. For thirty years and more he had courted the smiles of Fortune in the arena of arms, and she had only given him frowns. His courage and his chivalry had met with scant success. Hopes disappointed and finances wasted, he was a wiser if a poorer man; but now the residue of his days and enterprises should be differently expended. Peace has its triumphs as well as war. Poets and writers, troubadours and musicians, artists and craftsmen, farmers and sportsmen, and peasants and fishermen, were peaceful folk; with such would he throw in his lot—a roi-patron, a roi-fainéant, would he be!
The journey to the south was, as usual, by river barge up the winding sylvan Loire to Roanne, and thence à portage to Valence, and on by water past Montelimart, Orange, and Avignon. The King, like other rulers in France, maintained a fleet of vessels for trade and pleasure upon the splendid waterways. It was, of course, a royal progress such as René and his father and brother, and Queen Yolande, his venerated mother, had often made, and very cordial were the greetings by the way. At Arles, where the King and Queen were rapturously received, they found awaiting them deputations from every considerable place in Provence, each bearing goodly offerings to their liege lord and lady. Arles presented 400 écus d’or in two enamelled gold flasks, and six chased cups of silver; Aix, two great bowls of silver embossed and jewelled, six silver cups, and three goblets of gold; Marseilles, 200 écus d’or, to be spent in buying fine wax, at the pleasure of the Queen,—a treasured possession,—and four silver cups; Avignon, twelve enamelled silver cups and two gold goblets; Tarascon, a great gold ewer and six small goblets—and so on. Formalities completed and Te Deum sung, René and Jehanne went off to Aix, there to settle and to arrange their household affairs. In recognition of this auspicious visit to Provence, the King created his consort Countess of Les Baux, with proprietary rights in that ancient stronghold.
The ancient family had become extinct in the comely person of Countess Alix, a helpless girl placed under the guardianship of her uncle, Robert de Beaufort, better known as “Le Fléau de Provence,” the leader of a band of ruffians designated “Les Tards-Venus.” Fair Alix died unmarried in 1426, and the county of Les Baux passed to Louis III. d’Anjou, King René’s brother. For Jehanne de Laval her loving spouse repaired and decorated the ruinous old castle. The pleasure-grounds were laid out by René, and the “Pavillon de la Royne Jehanne” erected, a true “Pavillon d’Amour,” wherein he and she could repose and utter sweet nothings to one another, and revive also some of the fascinating observances of the once famous “Court of Love” of Les Baux. Spirits of former Countess-Presidents of Chapters of the Troubadours flitted to and fro the “Chamber of the Rose.” The beauteous if fateful sisters, Étiennette and Douce, gracious spouses of two fierce rival Counts, Raymond des Baux and Berenger de Barcelona, but rivals in the poems and dances of the troubadours, away in the twelfth century, looked down, perhaps, from the eerie thrones in “Il Paradiso” upon the new Queen of Beauty. The girlish figure, too, of Cécile des Baux, “La Passe Rose,” the fairest beauty of them all, sought, a century later, the spiritual companionship of Alix, the last of the châtelaines, with her to observe the graceful figure of Queen Jehanne. Memories of lovely women and the romances of their lives appealed irresistibly to the royal troubadour; he could picture the gay crowds in the games of Love. Dark deeds, too—the clash of weapons and the stealthy poniard; the smothered cries from the oubliettes, and the defiant oaths of men in irons: these the imaginative poet-monarch could most easily re-create. A thought-moving memento of a vivid and lurid past was brought to light not so many years ago in a coffin discovered in the crypt of the ruined church of St. Catherine—it was a woman’s long soft golden hair cut off at the roots. To whom did this cabelladuro d’or belong? Some beauty done to death, perhaps, or peacefully fallen upon sleep in the dim, dim past? Or was it, as it may have been, the chevelure of that beautiful young Italian girl in the suite of Queen Jehanne, who married at Les Baux the Queen’s Seneschal, and died ere ever that day’s curfew sounded? The “Pavillon de la Royne Jehanne,” with its miniature dome and delicate frieze, supported on Ionic columns, still stands, but hidden away amid cornstalks and verdure, whilst, alas! nothing whatever remains of the Queen’s gardens, where courtier cavaliers flirted and toyed with her Maids of Honour. Jehanne loved Les Baux almost as much as she did her Laval barony of Beaufort, and René loved it, too, for her sake.
