Читать книгу The Queens of England - Strickland Agnes - Страница 15

Eleanora was born in the beautiful province of Aquitaine, a name that Julius Caesar gave to the south of Gaul on account of its numerous rivers and fine ports. The people liked the name and adopted it; but it was really the ancient kingdom of Provence.

Eleanora and her sister Petronilla were daughters of William, Count of Poitou, such a good, pious man,'that as he happened to be in the Holy Land at the time of his death, he was forever after called St. William.

The grandfather of these girls was William IX., not a very good man, but a learned one, and an excellent poet. The most polished and civilized people on the face of the earth in the 12th and 13th centuries were to be found in Provence, and their language, which was a mixture of French and Italian, was particularly adapted for poetry and music. This is no doubt the reason why there were so many minstrels in that country, who wandered about from one nobleman's house to another, singing their songs and reciting their poems.

William IX. was a troubadour, and his compositions were so popular that they became models for all the others. He was the most powerful prince in all Europe, but as he advanced in years his conscience began to trouble him, and he thought he must reform before it was too late. So, when Eleanora was about fourteen years of age, he ap> pointed her ruler of Aquitaine in his place, assembled all the nobles of the land, and made them take an oath of allegiance to her, because, as he told them, he wished to occupy himself with spiritual matters.

This done, he planned a marriage between Eleanora and the son of Louis VI. of France. The young people had no objections to offer, and they were married at Bordeaux without delay.

A.D. 1137. As soon as they were crowned Duke and Duchess of Aquitaine, William IX. laid aside his royal robes forever. Attired in a hermit's gown, he started on a pilgrimage to Spain, and passed several years in different caves in the gloomy, rocky wilderness, where he ended his days.

Now, Eleanora was a great heiress, because all the rich territory that her grandfather had owned passed into her possession.

Afterwards, young Louis was crowned Duke of Guienne, when he and his youthful bride were summoned to France to attend the death-bed of his father, Louis VI., the good king and wise law-maker. His dying words were: "Remember, royalty is a public trust, for the exercise of

which a rigorous account will be exacted by Him who has the sole disposal of crowns and sceptres."

Louis was impressed by these words, but they had little weight with the thoughtless Eleanora. She was beautiful and accomplished, but seemed to think that the chief object in life was enjoyment. She was a fine musician, and wrote some beautiful poetry, which she set to music. These verses were remembered and sung long after she had ceased to live, which proves that they must have had considerable merit.

Eleanora's southern subjects adored her, and were dreadfully grieved whenever she had to leave them to return to her court at Paris. She preferred to stay among them, too, because, as she had entire control of affairs in the south, all was life and fun there, while her husband's palace was under such rigid rule that it was almost like a convent.

She gave festivals in Provence, called "Courts of Love," that were very popular among her subjects. On such occasions she, with her ladies-in-waiting, would receive all the troubadours who chose to come with their new poems and songs. The ladies would hear them, and then pronounce sentence upon them, and as Eleanora was a very accomplished poetess, her judgment was considered of great value.

She could not induce her husband to take part in these amusements, yet she had considerable influence oyer him, which, unfortunately, once led him to commit an act of great injustice. It was on account of her sister, Petronilla, whose beauty was equal to her own, and whose sense of right was sadly wanting. This princess happened to fall in love with a certain young count, whose affection she was determined to have, although he was a married man. So she and Eleanora put their heads together and planned, until they brought about a divorce between the count and his wife for some trifling excuse. Then Petronilla married him. But the former wife had a brother, the Count of Champagne, who would not stand such treatment towards his sister, so he laid the matter before the pope, who commanded the divorced count to leave his new wife immediately and take back the former one. This so enraged Eleanora that she persuaded her husband to punish the Count of Champagne. Louis, who had another cause of offence against this man, did not need much urging, and invaded his country at the head of a large army. They destroyed right and left until they came to the town of Vitry, which they began to storm; thirteen hundred of the terrified inhabitants rushed to the cathedral and locked themselves in for safety. The building was set on fire by the besiegers, and every soul w'as burned to death. About this period the eloquent St. Bernard came to Burgundy and preached the crusade. Such crowds of people flocked to hear him that they were obliged to meet in the market place, for there was no church in the town nearly large enough to contain them. King Louis and Queen Eleanora were present also, and the saint spoke so eloquently, and in such harsh tones, about the burning of the Vitry cathedral that they both felt very repentant. The king resolved to atone for the horrible deed by going to the Holy Land to fight for the Christian cause. That was all very well, and one can only admire him for such a resolution. But the queen vowed that she would accompany her lord, and lead her southern forces in person. This was a silly determination for a woman, and the excellent Abbot Suger tried to persuade her to give up all idea of such a wild expedition, but she had made up her mind to become a female crusader, and no argument could change her. Throughout her life, she was weak where she ought to have been

strong, and determined where timidity would have been, by far, more becoming and womanly. The king did not oppose her crusade; but even if he had, she would have forced him to yield to her will.

She received the holy cross from the hand of St. Bernard, and immediately put on the dress of an Amazon and mounted a horse. All the court ladies did the same, calling themselves the queen's body-guard. Then they formed in parade every day, and practised military exercise in public, making themselves as ridiculous as possible. In short, they were a band of madwomen, and nobody could control them. When once they had become Amazons they abandoned all womanly occupations, consequently had no use for their distaffs; these they sent to all the knights and nobles who kept out of this insane expedition. Thus, many of them being too weak to stand such a taunt, were actually shamed into joining though their good sense opposed it.

King Louis managed his difficult enterprise with a good deal of courage and prudence, but it would have required a greater general than the world has ever known to discipline a regiment of fantastic women. The freaks of these female warriors were the cause of all the misfortunes that befell the army, for the king, after landing in Thrace, sent them forward with his choicest troops, and told them exactly how to choose their camp so that they would overlook the valley of Laodicea. He remained about five miles behind with the baggage, of which there was a large supply, and had to stop frequently to fight the bands of Arabs who attacked him.

Instead of obeying her husband's directions, Queen Eleanora insisted that her part of the army should halt in a lovely valley, full of grass and flowers. This inviting spot caught her fancy, and military discipline became of secondary importance to her. It was almost night when the king approached the valley; he could not distinguish his troops on the elevated ground where they ought to have been, and knew not what to make of it. The queen was not encamped there, that was certain, so there was nothing for him to do but to enter the valley in search of her. Soon after he was attacked from the hills by swarms of Arabs, and had to move in and out among the rocks to dodge them. At one time he barely escaped with his life by climbing a tree, whence he fought desperately. It was daylight before he discovered the troops that he had sent in advance. During the night seven thousand French soldiers had been killed, the provisions had been cut off, the baggage, containing all the fine clothing of the lady warriors, had been plundered by the Arabs, and the whole army was in great distress. Fortunately, Eleanora had an uncle living near by; his name was Prince Raymond, and he was the handsomest man of his time. He threw open his friendly gates to the defeated French army, and they were glad to rest and refresh themselves after all the hardships they had endured. The uncle and niece met for the first time, and were so charmed with each other that Louis soon became jealous; so one night he hurried his wife off without taking leave of his polite host. This made Eleanora so angry that when they arrived at Jerusalem she did nothing but grumble and complain. Most pilgrims had their piety aroused on this holy ground, but it was not so with Eleanora; she wanted to get home, and quarrelled with her husband for keeping her there. In fact, she never forgave him for forcing her away from her uncle's agreeable company, and from that time all affection w'as at an end between this royal couple Eleanora was not willing to submit to restraint of any sort, and her husband's temper was so tried that he resolved to have a divorce. So, on his return to Paris, he consulted his confidant, the Abbot Suger, about this matter. That worthy man advised him to wait; because, he argued, that it would be troublesome for France to have to give up the money Eleanora's provinces in the south yielded; besides Louis' daughter, the Princess Marie, would probably be deprived of her inheritance if her mother should take it into her head to marry again.

Louis accepted this advice, but he had his wife closely watched, and would not allow her to go to Provence at all. She complained of the stupid life she led in Paris, and made great fun of her husband for wearing plain clothing and keeping his head and beard closely cropped, which she declared made him look more like a priest than a king.

Well, in time another princess was born, and named Alice. Soon after this event Henry Plantagenet visited Paris. He was a noble-looking young prince, full of energy and very intellectual.

A.D. 1151. Eleanora fell so desperately in love with him that without hesitation or advice she applied for a divorce from Louis, and got it. No doubt the king was glad to be rid of such an undutiful, unwomanly wife, though he did have to give up all control over his southern provinces, even Guienne.

Eleanora went straight to her favorite home, where Henry Plantagenet followed her. He was probably not so very much in love with her, for she was twelve years his senior, but he needed her money and her ships to fight King Stephen, and lay claim to the throne of England, which he did during the first year of their marriage.

He returned in triumph, and was besieging the castle of a rebel duke in Normandy when the news of Stephen's death reached him. For six weeks England was without a king, until Eleanora and Henry arrived with their young son. They were crowned at Westminster Abbey in 1154, and such a magnificent coronation had never been seen. The costumes of costly silk and brocade worn on that occasion had been brought by Eleanora from Constantinople. In one of her portraits she wears a close coif, or hood, over which is a band of precious stones; a rich brocade gown is fastened with full gathers just below the throat, and confined there with a costly collar of exquisite gems. Over this is an outer robe, or pelisse, bordered with fur, the large sleeves of which fall open from the shoulder, displaying the tight ones of the gown beneath. In some portraits her hair is braided and wound closely around her head with jewelled bands, and over this is a piece of fine gauze, which could be so arranged as to serve the double purpose of veil or bonnet, just as the wearer chose.

Before marriage, the girls of that time wore their hair in long ringlets, but the church required married ladies to conceal their locks. After Henry I. cut off his curls, and forbade his courtiers to wear their hair long, they adopted wigs, but Henry II. abolished them, and appeared at his coronation with short hair and shaven chin. His dalmatica, or long gown, was of the richest brocade with elaborate gold embroidery; over this he wore the short cloak afterwards called the court-mantle. This coronation introduced into England the sumptuous robes of silk and velvet worn by the ecclesiastics there on that occasion. The queen's first residence in England was at a little village nearly opposite to London, and she must have been struck with the grandeur of that remarkable city, with its tower, its tall spires, and the river Thames running through it, so different from anything she had ever seen before.

Now, although she did not please her new subjects, who were acquainted, of course, with her former behavior, they felt the advantage of being connected with her Aquitainian dominion, and in a few months large fortunes were made by the London traders in the wines imported from the port of Bordeaux.

One of the queen's country residences was at Woodstock, where rather a peculiar incident occurred. She was resting in the park, concealed by the shrubbery, one day when the king passed so close to her that she observed a thread of silk tightly twisted into his spur. She wondered where he could have been to have picked up such a thing, so, as he moved off, she cut it, and resolved to ferret out the mystery. Next day he left Woodstock for a long journey, and the queen immediately thought that now was her time to gratify her curiosity. So she sought the piece of silk, which proved to be the end of a ball, and followed its windings among the roads and thickets until she came to a door cunningly concealed by a luxuriant vine. This she opened, and found it to be the entrance to a winding path under ground. A few minutes' walk brought her to a bower at the further end of the forest, in which sat an exceedingly pretty young girl embroidering. "Aha!" thought the lady, "now we know where Henry gets his spurs caught in balls of silk."

This girl was Rosamond Clifford, who was said to have been a playmate of Henry's in his youth, and as she was kept a prisoner, it is probable that she did not know of his marriage until his wife informed her of it. At all events, nobody ever heard what took place at this interview, but it is certain that, in obedience to the queen's commands, Rosamond entered the convent of Godstowe, where she passed the remaining twenty years of her life.

II. fancied himself about to die, he left dominions to all his sons excepting this one.

Little Matilda was three years old when she was married to Henry the Lion, Duke of Saxony.

A revolt in the south of France caused Eleanora's return, because her subjects there insisted on having her to rule them. King Henry escorted her to Bordeaux, where she stayed with her son Richard.

A.D. 1156. Shortly after this adventure, the Princess Matilda was born, and a year later the celebrated Richard Cour de Lion came into the world. In course of time, Queen Eleanora had several other children, among whom was John, surnamed Lackland, because once, when Henry Great disputes had been going on in England for a long time between the church and state, headed by Thomas à Becket, the celebrated Archbishop of Canterbury. Prince Henry was so devoted to this priest, who had been his tutor, that the king became jealous of the influence exerted by Becket over the mind of his son. In order to change the current of the prince's thoughts, the father offered him a share in the government of his kingdom. This was gladly accepted, and young Henry was crowned. But he had a perverse little wife, Marguerite, daughter of Louis VII., who was fond of Becket, too, and she vowed that she would wear no crown that had not been placed on her head by that fascinating prelate; so she remained with her mother-in-law at Aquitaine.

King Henry met with so much opposition at the hands of Becket that he became enraged at the very sight of that priest. Once, when he was the subject of conversation among his knights, Henry asked, angrily, "whether no man loved him enough to revenge the affronts he perpetually received from an insolent priest?"

A.D. 1171. Four armed men instantly proceeded to the cathedral, and slaughtered the archbishop while he was kneeling before the altar in prayer.

When this happened Eleanora was still in the south with her son Richard, who had been crowned Count of Poitou. Suddenly she chanced to hear that Henry was thinking about getting a divorce from her, so she resolved to seek the protection of her former husband, the King of France. Disguised in male attire, she stole out of the palace at night, and started on her journey. But Henry had his Norman agents on the spot, and they watched her so closely that her absence was discovered in time for them to overtake her. They captured her very roughly, and brought her back to Bordeaux, where she was kept in close imprisonment until her lord was summoned. He remained only a few days in the south, then went back to England with two royal captives, his wife and the young Princess Marguerite, whom he had not forgiven for scorning the crown he offered unless it could be consecrated by his enemy, Becket. Now, that he had her in his power, he resolved to punish her. But after a few months' confinement she was restored to her husband.

Eleanora was not so fortunate, for she was kept a prisoner at the royal palace of Winchester for nearly sixteen years. During that time there was no end of strife among her sons. The real mischief-makers were the troubadours, of whom we have spoken, for with their inspiring war songs they were constantly urging the princes to battle for one trivial reason or another, even when they would gladly have been at peace.

It must not be supposed that the queen was unkindly treated at Winchester, for, on the contrary, she received the attention and respect due to her station. While she was there Louis VII., her divorced husband, died; and shortly after, the death of her eldest son, Henry Plantagenet, followed. This was a great sorrow to the royal couple, and Henry mourned with the deep grief of David over Absalom. Still later, their son Geoffrey was killed in a grand tournament in Paris.

In one of her letters to the pope, the queen thus writes about these bereavements: "The younger king and Geoffrey, Count of Bretagne, both sleep in the dust, while their most wretched mother is compelled to live on, though tortured by recollections of the dead.".

In 1189, Henry II. died, and was succeeded by his son Richard I., Cour de Lion. About the first act of the new king was to order his mother's release, and from a captive Queen Eleanora at once became a sovereign, for the reins

of government were placed in her hands as regent. Her long confinement must have had a good effect on her, for she went about, from city to city, releasing all the poor people that her husband had cruelly locked up for violating the Norman game laws, and spent her whole time in acts of mercy and charity. Richard was crowned in 1189, but, as his mother's mourning prevented her being present on that occasion, no women were admitted at all.

The king then settled a most liberal revenue on his mother, and she went to Aquitaine, the government of which was also restored to her. But she did not stay there; her old age was passed in England, where she assisted her son in governing, and made him, as well as herself, exceedingly popular.

Eleanora of Aquitaine is among the very few women who, after an ill-spent youth, have become wise and benevolent in old age. But she had a great deal more trouble to bear before her death. Her life exhibits many traces of a great ruler. If she had only been blessed in her early days with a good, moral education, she would have been one of the greatest women of her time. Slowly and surely she learned the stern lesson of life, which teaches that without virtue, power, beauty and royalty are of slight avail.

A.D. 1204. She was a very old woman when she retired to a convent, where she spent many months previous to her death, which occurred in 1204. She was buried by the side of Henry II., and on her tomb is a reclining statue said to be a good portrait of herself. The features are noble and intellectual. On the head is a hood, above which is a regal diadem; and a blue mantle, figured with silver crescents, is folded gracefully about her form.