Pictures of the old French court

by Mrs. Bearne

The marriage of Eléonore de Comminges turned out unhappily, so she resolved to leave her husband, whose prodigality and neglect she could not bear any longer, and take refuge with her uncle, the Comte d’Urgel, who was a son of the King of Aragon. Taking her only child, a girl of three years old, she contrived to escape out of the dominions of her father-in-law and journeyed south towards those of her uncle. On the way she passed near Orthez, a castle of the famous Gaston, Comte de Foix, who was a cousin of hers and of whom she asked hospitality.

Now Gaston Phœbus was that Comte de Foix whose deeds have been described in the life of Blanche de Navarre. He was separated from his wife, the Princess Agnes of Navarre, who had gone back to her own family. He was supposed to have stabbed his only legitimate son in a fit of rage, and he now lived with several illegitimate sons and a mistress who was one of the chief causes of the departure of the Princess Agnes.

But he was a man of many and varied talents; passionately fond of music, a great soldier, an excellent governor of the province entrusted to him by Charles V., and a powerful ally and friend to any one he liked. He received his cousin with great kindness and affection and into his ears she poured the history of her wrongs; her anger against her husband and her resolve to obtain the restitution of Comminges, her inheritance, which had been wrongfully seized by the Comte d’Armagnac. As to her husband, she said, “he cares nothing about it, he is trop mal chevalier, all he cares for is to eat, drink, and waste his property; if he got Comminges he would only sell it for his follies, and besides, I cannot live with him. With great trouble I have taken and extracted my daughter out of the hands and country of my husband’s father, and I have brought her to you to ask you to be her guardian and take care of her. Her father will be rejoiced when he knows she is with you, for he told me he had doubts about her birth.”

Gaston de Foix, who seems to have taken a fancy to the child, willingly agreed, and his cousin continued her journey, leaving the child, who was from that time brought up by him as his own daughter in his castle.[118]

The Comtesse d’Auvergne occasionally came to see her daughter, but she always lived with her adopted father. At the time we are now concerned with, the Duc de Berry, who was a widower, and nearly fifty years of age, attracted by the riches and beauty of the child, now twelve years old, wanted to marry her, much to the disapprobation of the King, who thought it ridiculous. “Bel oncle,” he said, “what can you want with a child (une fillette) like that? She is only twelve years old and you are fifty! It is absurd for you to think of such a thing. Ask for her for my cousin Jean, your son, who is of a proper age for her; the affair would be much more suitable for him than for you.”

To which the Duke replied that he had already done so, but the Comte de Foix would not hear of it, as, by his late mother, Jean descended from the Comtes d’Auvergne, whom he hated; and that if the child were too young the marriage could remain a form for three or four years, until she was grown up.

The King laughed, again advised him not to proceed with the matter, but said that as he persisted he would see to it. Therefore he sent Bureau de la Rivière to treat with the Comte de Foix, to whom the Duke gave 3,000 francs for his care of the young girl, who was quite ready to be Duchesse de Berry, did not care a bit for the age of the Duke, but was delighted to marry so exalted a personage as the King’s uncle. The Comte de Foix sent her with an escort of five hundred lances, she was met by five hundred more with litters, chariots, and splendid dresses sent by the Duc de Berry, to whom she was married amid much festivity in presence of her father and other great nobles. And thus was an aunt of twelve years old added to the youthful royal family of France.

The Duc de Berry was delighted with the little Duchess, so were the King and Queen; she became an immense favourite at court, seems to have got on extremely well with the Duke and to have thoroughly enjoyed herself in her new life. She always expressed her gratitude to Bureau de la Rivière for bringing about her marriage, and, as will be seen later, he had every reason to congratulate himself that he had done so. When, after many years, the Duc de Berry died and she married again, she was not happy with her new husband and soon left him.

Just after this marriage came that of Louis, Duc de Touraine with Valentine Visconti, daughter of Gian Galeazzo Visconti and Isabelle de France, and consequently cousin both to the King and Queen. For it will be remembered that the Queen’s mother was a Visconti; while Isabelle de France was that little daughter of King Jean who was married so much against her will to Gian Galeazzo Visconti, but who had lived in Italy in great magnificence and honour; for the Visconti were delighted with the alliance, and the birth of her daughter (who was also granddaughter to the King of France) was received with great rejoicings all over the dominions of her father-in-law. Isabelle died in 1373, and Valentine was for a long time the only child of her father, as none of Isabelle’s three sons grew to manhood, and when, seven years later, he married Caterina Visconti, no children were born to them for eight years. Valentine, therefore, was a great heiress, and was sought in marriage all over Europe. But Gian Galeazzo, a quiet, rather shy man of studious tastes, always surrounded with ecclesiastics and learned men from all countries, would not part with the daughter who was his constant companion. For Valentine was clever and fond of learning, she read and spoke Latin, French, and German, and shared in the literary pursuits of her father and the cultivated circle in which they lived. A mysterious and sinister reputation hung over Gian Galeazzo Visconti. He was said to carry his researches beyond the lawful limits of human knowledge. It was whispered that the death of his uncle, Bernabo Visconti, might be traced to a subtle poison administered at his instigation, and what at that time caused even more terror than that of poison and assassination was the suspicion of sorcery that clung to him and attached itself afterwards to his daughter and even his son-in-law. In spite of the roughness, cruelty, and callousness prevailing in those days north of the Alps, the French regarded the Italians with feelings of mingled fear, curiosity, and admiration. The glory of Italian art, the splendour of Italian cities, the superior comfort and luxury of life in those immense palaces in that delicious climate, the fearful deeds done in the dungeons of the Italian tyrants, the learning and wisdom of the scholars and students who pored by day over books and manuscripts and watched the heavens from tower and loggia on starry, southern nights, who knew how to read their future from the stars and to destroy their enemies with a ring or a bunch of flowers; all this took firm hold on the imagination of their northern neighbours, and made them look upon Italy as a land full of romance, mystery, and supernatural dangers.

Valentine was twenty years of age when, in 1386, her father consented to her betrothal to the brother of the King of France. The marriage was much desired by the French as, besides Valentine’s enormous fortune, it would bring back to France the county of Vertus, the dowry of Isabelle, and also give her Asti, a whole province of towns, villages, and castles, which would be a footing for the French in Italy.