Happier days, however, dawned both for King René and for King Charles, and jousts, pageants, and mystery-plays, were in full fling everywhere. At Angers, in particular, everything was gay and merry for the welcome of King René to his ancestral home,—after his duress at Tour de Bar,—and of Queen Isabelle. Agnes Sorel was still attached to her royal mistress, and, although unmarried, she numbered her lovers by the score.
Agnes Sorel, or Soreau, was born at Fromenteau, on the verge of the forest of Fontainebleau, on May 17, 1409. Her father was the Sieur Jehan Soreau, and her mother Catherine de Maignelais, who were quiet country people and occupied in agricultural pursuits. She had a younger sister, Jehanne, to whom she was devoted, and mothered her when Dame Catherine died. Her uncle, Raoul de Maignelais, followed the profession of arms, and made himself a name as a dauntless warrior in the service of King Charles VI. He had an only daughter, Antoinette, born 1420, who, her mother dying when she was very young, was confided to the care of her aunt, Catherine Soreau, and was brought up by her with her own little daughters. Nothing is positively known about Agnes’s girlhood, but in 1423 the two cousins entered the service of Isabelle, the Duchess of Bar-Lorraine. Bar-le-Duc, ever since the advent of the famous Countess Iolande, had been remarkable for the number of lovely damsels and comely youths from all parts of France attached to the “Court of Love,” under the patronage and maintenance of the Dukes and Duchesses. The young Duchess appears to have taken a particular fancy to fair Agnes, due no doubt to the girl’s physical beauty and mental brilliance. Few maidens at that merry Court excelled her in good looks, grace of figure, and distinction of deportment. Bourdigne, the Court chronicler, says “she was the most lovely girl in France.” She sang divinely,—a natural gift,—and danced bewitchingly, and gave promise of a splendid career. She was welcomed at Chinon with delight both by the King and Queen.
Perhaps one reason why Agnes’s presence was so grateful to the taciturn and indolent monarch was that she dressed so superbly, and yet so tastefully. The Queen and her ladies were subject to strict Court sartorial conventions, but the Demoiselle de Fromenteau knew no such restrictions. One day “la Belle des Belles,” as everybody called her, appeared as “Cleopatra,” another as “Diana,” and a third as “Venus,” and so on. Her costumes were of the richest and the thinnest. Her abundant beautiful brown hair, too, she dressed not only for the hennin à la mode,—bunched over the ears or gathered into a chignon,—but à la calotte galonnée: frizzed out, or en simple résille—in a net, or à tours, thrown round and round her head in massive coils. Agnes was short of stature, but she made up for this by wearing Venetian zilve, or high pattens, beautifully embroidered with silk and pearls. Her decollétage was never vulgar or immodest, like that of the King’s mother, but her well-formed bust was covered lightly by white lace or thinnest gauze. A string of pearls usually embraced her well-shaped throat. One article of clothing was peculiarly her own invention. Whilst the ladies of the Court, and even Queen Marie herself, wore serge chemises, hers were of fine Flemish linen. Very many of her tasteful fancies were taken up by the ladies about her, and Queen Marie herself followed suit by discarding the daily use of the hennin and the stiff and heavy fur borders of her kirtle. She, too, had hair as fair as that of Agnes, and she was privately quite as proud of it as was her Dame d’Honneur, for so “la Belle des Belles” had become.
KING RENÉ AND HIS COURT
From a Miniature by King René in his “Breviary.” Musée de l’Arsenal. Paris
To face page 194
A pretty story is told of “la Belle des Belles” with respect to the melancholy moods of King Charles. One day Charles was more than usually depressed, and, try how she would, Queen Marie could not cheer him; so she sent for Agnes, who at once ran to her mistress, and, then entering the King’s presence, knelt at his feet and fondled his knees. “Sire,” she said, “when I was a very little girl a soothsayer told my mother that I should be the plaything of a King who would be the most valiant in Europe. I thought that your Majesty was such an one, but I find that I am mistaken. Perhaps I ought to have sought the Court of Henry rather than that of Charles!” The King frowned, but the bantering words had struck home, and he raised himself and Agnes, and, kissing her affectionately, replied: “No, my sweet, you have no need to seek Henry. I am your valiant King!”