That day,—February 27, 1445,—was a red-letter day in the annals of all three kingdoms. Louis d’Harcourt, Bishop of Toul, was chief celebrant, assisted by half the prelates of France, and Cardinal Beaufort was in choir to administer the Papal benediction. The young Queen’s Maids of Honour were the two most lovely girls in France—Jehanne de Laval, in the suite of Queen Marie, and Agnes Sorel, in that of Queen Isabelle. It was a singular and delightful coincidence that these two lovely damsels were in evidence on that auspicious day; for were they not the charming cynosures respectively of two pairs of kingly eyes—René and Charles!
The interest and the importance of the celebration was heightened considerably by the fact that there was a double wedding: Count Ferri de Vaudémont and Princess Yolande of Sicily-Anjou were united in the bonds of matrimony immediately after the nuptials of the new Queen. Fêtes and festivities were carried out right royally for eight whole days and nights. The “Lists” were held in the great wide Place de Carrière in Nancy. Charles and René met in amicable conflict, but it was the former’s lance which was tossed up, and René gained the guerdon, which he presented gallantly enough to his sister, the Queen of France. The champion of champions, however, was none other than Pierre de Luxembourg, the earliest fiancée of Queen Margaret, and he had the happy satisfaction of receiving the victor’s crest of honour from her hands—now another’s! Minstrelsy and the stage also lent their aid to the general rejoicings. King René was already styled the “Royal Troubadour,” and he rallied his melodious, merry men in a goodly phalanx, whilst he himself led the music in person and recited his own new marriage poem. The theatre proper had only very recently been established in France. Church mysteries and pageant plays had had their vogue, when, in 1402, Charles VI. granted his charter to “La Confrèrerie de la Passion,”—a company, or guild, of masons, carpenters, saddlers, and other craftsmen, and women,—which he established at the village of St. Maur, near Vincennes. These merry fellows introduced to their distinguished audience, in the Castle of Nancy, secular travesties of the well-worn religious spectacles, and won the heartiest applause. King René personally, through the gracious hands of the royal bride, decorated the actors with gay ribbons and medallions.
The dress of the right royal company was, as may well be supposed, sumptuous in the extreme; but among the wearers of rich attire a pathetic note was struck, when it was mooted that royal Margaret had been dressed for her bridal by Queen Marie, her aunt, because her own parents were too much impoverished to supply suitable marriage robes! The bride’s dress was mainly that worn by Queen Marie herself, twenty-three years before, at her own nuptials with Charles VII. The kirtle was of cloth of gold cunningly embroidered with the white lilies of France—the same for Anjou; the robe of state was of crimson velvet bordered with ermine, which also formed the trimming of the stomacher she wore. Her hair was dressed à l’Angloise, its rich golden coils being crowned with a royal diadem, almost the only jewel of Queen Yolande’s treasury which had not been sold or pawned. The little Queen was slight of build and short of stature for her age; very fair of skin, with a peachy blush; her eyes light blue, her hair a golden auburn; her whole face and figure lent themselves to delightful expression and graceful pose. Above all, she was very self-possessed, and gave all beholders the impression of ability and decision beyond the average.
With respect to King René’s inability to provide a fitting trousseau for his daughter, there is an entry in the Comptes de Roy René which indicates that he was not unmindful of the sartorial requirements of his family. Under date September 11, 1442, is an order, addressed to Guillaume de la Planche, merchant of Angers, for 11 aulnes of cloth of gold, embroidered in crimson and pleated, at 30 écus per aulne, with a suite of trimming to cost 30 livres. At the same time François Castargis, furrier of Angers, is directed to supply ten dozen finest marten skins at a cost of £15 7s. 6d., and to pack and despatch them to the care of the Seigneur de Precigny at Saumur, “for dresses for Madame Margaret.” This de Precigny was Bertrand de Beauvau, who married King René’s natural daughter Blanche d’Anjou.
At the wedding of Henry VI. and Margaret at Tours and Nancy, the courtiers were very richly attired in short jackets or tunics of pleated brocade trimmed with silk fringes; their body hose was of parti-coloured spun silk to match their tunics. Their shoes were made long, of white kid with high heels, and were laced with golden thread. Calves where skimpy were padded, and narrow shoulders were puffed out. They wore long pendent sleeves, pricked and furred. Their hair, generally worn à la Nazarene, hung in thick straight locks upon their shoulders, cut square over the forehead. A small berretta, with a heron’s plume and a jewelled brooch, completed the costume. Chains of gold and jewels were worn at will. The ladies of the Court wore short kirtles or petticoats, with long bunched-up trains of silk brocade in two contrasting colours; cloth of gold was reserved for dames of royal degree. Strict rules were observed in the wearing of fur—its quality and its breadth; ermine was reserved for royalty. Their gloves were long-fingered, and their shoes long-toed, the points of each being caught up with thin golden chains to their garters—“un chose ridicule et absurde,” as Paradin wrote. The salient mark adopted by the ladies of fashion was noted in their coiffures. The popular name, or, rather, the name of scorn,—thanks to Father Thomas of Brittany,—for the astounding headgear à la mode, “hennin,” was in select circles called en papillons—“butterflied.” Some ladies had double horns like the mitres of Bishops, some had round redoubts “comme les donjons,” some were half-moon shape, and some like hearts, whilst many goodly dames made themselves still more ridiculous by wearing miniature windmills! All these erections were made of white stiffened linen, built up on frameworks of wicker and carton. Over all floquarts,—thin gauze veils,—were gently cast. Collars of jewels and ropes of pearls were de rigueur, and most of the ladies wore badges of chivalry—the guerdons of their lords and sweethearts. One very pretty conceit was introduced at the time of Queen Margaret’s marriage—a dainty holder for the necessary pocket-handkerchief. This took the shape of a small heart of gold suspended from an enamelled white marguerite, and hung at the side of the jewelled cincture. The ladies’ shoes were richly embroidered with seed-pearls and gold thread. Rings were worn outside the gloves.
Among the suite sent by Henry to attend upon his bride were the Countess of Shrewsbury and the Lady Emma de Scales, with five Barons and Baronesses of the realm. In attendance, too, was Scrivener William Andrews, Private Secretary to the King, who acted as juris-consult at the signing of the marriage registers. In his diary he wrote: “Never have I seen or heard of a young Princess so greatly loved and admired.”
EMPANELLING THE KNIGHTS BEFORE THE “LISTS,” SAUMUR TOURNAMENT, 1446
Painted by King René. From “Le Livre des Tournois”