In my own youthful days, when turning over the leaves of storybooks, I used to pause at those tales which began “Once upon a time.” I always had a feeling that there was something of the fairy-tale about stories which began in this fashion, and I should like so to begin this day.
For truly the story I am about to tell you is but one incident in the life of a girl whose whole career was so full of ups and downs—alas, most often downs,—that it reads, even in the solemn old Dutch documents, like the most fanciful tale of the imagination.
When she died at thirty-seven, it seems as if our Jacqueline had dared everything and lost,—lost kingdom, home, and friends. Yet even in a life so full of disaster there were some bright spots, and in this story you will hear how once at least our Princess wins.
She was born, our heroine, at her father’s palace at The Hague on St. James’ Day, 1401. The little girl was baptised Jacoba, in honour of the holy day of her birth, Jacobus being the Latin form of the name James. Gradually Jacoba was changed into the French form of Jacqueline, though in the strange old documents of the times her name is written as Jacob, or Jacque, or sometimes Madam Jake, and often as Jaque de Bavière.
Jacqueline was born a princess, and when she was three years old, had the title given her of “Daughter of Holland,” as she was the sole heir and successor of her father, William the Sixth, Count of Holland, who on the death of his father had succeeded him as Count of Zealand and Hainault.
In the Middle Ages, when might made right, possessions were held in many cases by him who had the strongest arm, who could muster the greatest number of followers and had the most powerful connections. Marriage with princes who had great possessions of land or would inherit them was one of the ways by which sovereigns of small states strengthened their positions, and this was one reason why mere babies were given in marriage by their parents. You see, the parents could not go to war against each other when it was arranged that their children were to be married when they grew up!
Little Jacqueline was no exception to the rule, and before she was quite five years old was formally betrothed to John, Duke of Tourraine, second son of Charles the Sixth of France, called the “Well-beloved.”
The betrothal of Jacqueline to her bridegroom of nine years old took place in the old French town of Compiègne, where both the French and Dutch courts were present. The fine old palace with its great number of rooms was elegantly furnished for the occasion, and the little Jacqueline had in her company Staes, Jan, and Hans, her drummer, piper, and trumpeter! Now these were very important personages in those times,—they amused the company when there was nothing else to be done, they had their duties among the soldiers; and in some of the old papers which are still preserved, and which show the expenses of this betrothal down to the last groot, it is duly set down that Staes, Jan, and Hans are each to have six French crowns to cover their travelling expenses. This would be equal to about nine dollars of our money.
Neither of the fathers of the two children was present at the betrothal, for King Charles had one of his attacks of insanity, and Count William had been bitten by a dog, and was not able to be there, either.
But the mothers had seen to it that nothing was lacking to make the ceremony a handsome one. The Dutch expense account tells of new clothes for everybody connected with Jacqueline, even those who had to stay at home having wedding garments and fine new hat-bands.
When the betrothal ceremonies were over, the young bridegroom was handed over to Jacqueline’s mother, and the two children were taken home to Holland to be brought up together.
From time to time they had presents sent to them from their subjects, which seem more like taxes than free gifts, and which were duly set down in the archives. For instance, there were fish and wine for John, and there were many ells of “very fine cloth of silk” for Madam Jake. They had a special dispensation sent them, too, so that they could eat meat on fast-days; and this dispensation was extended also to the napkin-bearer, the cook, and ten other servants who had to taste the dishes beforehand.
You see, our Jacqueline lived in the days when people were sometimes poisoned by their enemies, so that royalty had “tasters,” who ate of every dish before it was placed on the table for their Majesties to eat, and if the tasters did not suffer, why then it was deemed safe for their masters to eat.
Notwithstanding all these things, the children passed many happy years studying French, English, and Latin, and in hunting, hawking, riding on horseback, playing tennis and ball, and, best of all, in skating on the long winding canals. Perhaps they skated the “Dutch Roll,” and Hans, Staes, and Jan went along too, to make things merry with the fife, trumpet, and drum. These were their pleasures. It was a more solemn matter when they had to learn how to rule their kingdoms and subjects, for the little bridegroom stood next but one to the great throne of France, and Jacqueline was heir to her father’s kingdom.
They were married in 1415, when Jacqueline was fourteen years old.
Two years later, her young husband, who, by the death of his elder brother, had become Dauphin and heir to the throne of France, died. The poor lad breathed his last at Compiègne, in the very palace where he had been betrothed, whether by poison or from getting overheated at tennis, none can say, but at any rate while he was away from his wife and from his family.
As if this was not enough, just two months later, Count William, the kind and loving father of Jacqueline, died also. The poor girl, without father or husband to protect her or her possessions, turned to her Fatherland to pronounce her sovereign of Zealand and Hainault.
But there were others who had their eyes and minds fixed on the sturdy little kingdom, and, truth to tell, they were the last persons one would suspect of such ideas, since they were Jacqueline’s own kinsfolk. But so it was; and in order to strengthen her position, and to allow her subjects to know and love her and to pay her their vows of fealty, Jacqueline, as was the custom in those times, started on a “progress,” or tour through her various cities.
These royal progresses were very splendid affairs, we can hardly imagine them now, and on this occasion Jacqueline’s mother bore her company, and there were many of her most powerful nobles as well.
On June 12, 1417, when the cavalcade rode into Mons, the whole city was gay to welcome the young girl who came thither to take her vows of sovereignty. How prettily the city, old even then, must have looked! From the windows fluttered banners of bright-coloured cloth, many of them worked with patterns of gold and silver! So large were some of these banners that they stretched from window to window across the street. Many were the arches wreathed with flowers and branches under which Jacqueline passed, and streamers waved everywhere.
Leaning from the casements were ladies richly dressed and holding chains of flowers; and children were here, there, and everywhere, come to see their little Princess, who was scarce more than a child herself.
Many great lords there were as well, having come forth from their castles on the wooded hills of Hainault, followed by their retainers and serfs, the former clad in suits of bright armour and riding on horseback, while the latter ran on foot beside the men-at-arms, and bore on their collars the names of their masters, and their doublets were of leather, and many times their feet were bare.
Jacqueline on a milk-white palfrey, with her mother at her left hand, rode at the head of them all. There are a few quaint old pictures which show her to have been slender and tall, brown-haired, and without the high cheek bones which are so usual in her countrywomen. On this occasion her appearance was royal indeed. She wore a gown of cloth of gold, which glittered in the warm June sunshine. Her coif, or headdress, was bound by many a chain of gold and jewels, suitable to her rank as Dauphine of France and Daughter of Holland.
She had not advanced far within the city before a deputation of young girls, all dressed in white, stood forth to meet her.
“Hail, Daughter of Holland, welcome to Mons,” the leader of them said, and stepping forward, hung her chaplet of flowers on Jacqueline’s arm. One by one each young girl followed in turn, and Jacqueline, turning with smiling face to her mother, said,—
“Our good city of Mons shows its loyalty in pleasing fashion, Madame. If all our other cities bear themselves like this, we care not for our uncle of Burgundy, who seeks to take our inheritance from us, nor for the Egmonts nor Arkels, nor any who are enemies of our house.”
“In truth all seemeth fair, my daughter. Our good burghers always respond to our need, though our nobles sometimes think too highly of their power.”
“Our loyal burghers! In truth they are our best friends. Yet remember how many nobles ride with us this day, and have sworn to urge our cause as though it were their own.”
They rode slowly forward, the little Princess pleased and happy at the homage of her subjects, bowing and smiling. At last the church of St. Waltrude was reached. Here Jacqueline dismounted, and entering the dim old building, walked slowly up the central aisle till she reached the high altar. Here she knelt, kissed the holy relics, and swore to preserve “all usages and privileges of the city, to protect the church, to uphold the right, to dispel the wrong.”
Then, seated on a lofty throne that had been set up beside the altar, she received the homage of her subjects, and their vows of loyalty to her and to her cause.
After the solemn ceremonies at the church were over, the royal party had a banquet given in their honour by the burghers of the city, who had arranged many festivities to give them pleasure.
Can you not see our Princess with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes standing at the table’s head? Her soft brown hair is tightly bound to her head and covered with a cap wrought of threads of gold strung with pearls. Embroidery of threads of gold and coloured silks in which the Dutch excelled, enrich her gown, which is of the heaviest silk that even Flanders can produce. Long chains of pearls, which were sold by weight, hang about her neck, and fur of minever binds and edges the cuts and slashes in her great sleeves and on the body of her gown.
Besides the banquet, there was planned a tournament, a favourite occasion for showing knightly deeds, and it was to be held on a grassy mead just without the walls of the city, on the day following the paying of homage, and entry into the city.
Thither early in the morning trooped the inhabitants of the town. Among the first to go were groups of apprentices, dressed in the uniforms of their guilds or trade societies. These trudged on foot, glad enough of a holiday. Mingling among them were serfs or bondsmen, easily to be told by their metal collars. Some carried burdens for their masters who should arrive later in the day, while some merely swung a cudgel, and hurried on as if conscious of their lowly position.
As the day wore on, the road was dusty with the men-at-arms, knights, nobles, and their attendants, with substantial burghers with their apprentices, and with groups of maidens from the town, eager to see the gay company, and looking pretty enough themselves in their close-fitting white caps and scarlet kirtles.
Only occasionally, walking sedately by her father’s side, shrouded in a long cloak to keep her clothes fresh from the dust, came some tradesman’s daughter, her neck encircled with strings of coral beads, and her gold earrings, handed down through many generations, a trifle longer than those of the serving maidens, and the inevitable cap edged with lace, or of finest plaited muslin, while theirs, though snowy white, were of coarse material.
Now and again amid the crowd swung covered litters, bearing either the wife of some dignitary, or some high official who preferred this manner of travelling to going on horse or mule back.
At an hour past noon, out from the palace yard rode a troop of men on horseback, bright in a livery of orange and black. Their business it was to clear the road of any such as cumbered it, so that the passage to the field should be kept free, since the Princess Jacqueline would ride thither on her palfrey, to show herself to her subjects, who had prepared the tournament in her behalf.
As the cavalcade issued from the palace yard, there came first twoscore knights riding two abreast, each in a full suit of armour which sparkled like silver in the sun, each carrying his shield and a pennon of bright silk. Then came the members of the council of Mons, in rich robes of velvet, furred and wrought, and showing on their breasts the heavy gold chains of their office. They were men who showed on their faces intelligence and a sense of the importance of their office, slow to smile and grave, but true as steel to what they deemed the right, and loyal subjects when once won to their sovereign.
Next came Jacqueline with her mother beside her, both riding on splendid horses, whose caparison was as rich as cloth and gold could make it. Right royally shone our Princess, robed in a gown of damask which showed in the pattern tulips of many shades, the flower of all others most dear to the Dutch heart, the which were made richer yet by stitchery of brilliant silks. Around the neck and long sleeves, which reached almost to her feet, were bands of ermine fur, and beneath the flowing cap, made truly in the very shape of those worn by the peasant maidens, her hair was bound with many a string of pearl.
Behind her came those who were to take part in the tournament; and never had Mons, staid old city, seen a sight of such splendour. Forty knights came ahead at a stately pace, each mounted on a noble steed in trappings of velvet, for the steeds of the fallen knights became the prizes of the victors, and it was a matter of pride to have both horse and harness worthy to be a prize. After the knights rode forty ladies, chosen for their beauty, all richly dressed in colours of the gayest hues, mounted on palfreys, each one riding alone, and leading by a silver chain a knight completely armed for tilting, astride a splendid horse, which also wore armour, and a plume of feathers.
Minstrels and trumpeters followed along, blowing on their instruments; and then came the people, shouting and cheering, and hurrying along so as not to miss any of the sport at the field.
It was a lovely sight that met their eyes when the mead was reached. The grassy sward was dotted with gay and constantly changing groups, bright awnings and banners were stretched to keep off the sun from spectators and combatants, and almost encircling the tilting ground were fine trees, beneath whose shade many horses were tethered, while their attendants lounged on the grass. So busy were all with the scene before them, that none noted the cloud rising dark above the horizon, and he who called attention to it would have been but deemed a churl for his pains.
In the little enclosure set apart for the Princess and her immediate attendants, the hangings were of equal splendour with the rest of the arrangements. It was hung with gay strips of cloth, and with chains of flowers, and it was placed midway between the lists, so that the tilting could be seen to the best advantage.
All was ready; the heralds rode forth, each with his silver trumpet at his lips prepared to announce the opening of the fray, when a long rolling peal of thunder startled alike the spectators in the stands as well as those who stood upon the greensward pressing eagerly forward to see the first shock of the encounter.
The first peal was followed by another and another. The wind whirled across the wide meadow and tore into shreds the awnings which had been stretched against the sun. Rain descended in floods, and before Jacqueline and her party could take shelter in the rude stalls that had been built below the galleries, and in which the horses were stabled, they were pelted with hailstones so large, and which came with such force, that one of them left on Jacqueline’s cheek a cruel bruise.
Even centuries later, and in our own country, women and girls were burned as witches, and when our Daughter of Holland lived, many things which would seem quite natural to us were called “omens,” and were supposed to foretell either good or ill.
This hail-storm was judged a bad omen for poor Jacqueline. So strong a hold did it take on the superstitious people that while many important transactions and details of history are lost, a full account of this storm has been left in various Dutch documents, with fabulous tales as to the size of the hailstones, and that they killed cattle and ruined crops. Thus sadly ended for Princess Jacqueline the day that had opened so fair. Right bravely did she bear the hurried ride back into the city. With her mother she withdrew into their apartments as soon as they reached Mons, and was seen no more that night.
Indeed so wrought upon was Jacqueline by the great storm and the misfortune attending it, that, as soon as they were alone, she exclaimed to her mother,—
“Let us away as soon as our train can be made ready.”
“Nay, dear child, that would but incense our good people of Mons, who did their best to pleasure and to honour you.”
“But, mother, that is all past, and see the grievous bruise upon my cheek. It ill becomes the face of a princess.”
“That it does, my dearest, but it is but just to remember that, cruel though it be, unguents and laving it with soft water will heal it, and by the morrow thy cheek will show no stain. Neither must thou forget that for this bruise none of thy subjects should be blamed.”
To this the little Princess made no reply, yet could not her mother induce her to remain longer in the city; and shortly after sunrise the next morning, the cavalcade took their way from the city of Mons, Jacqueline travelling in a litter, since she chose not to show herself again in that ill-omened place.