Part 6

Father Vignier of the Oratory, a learned and zealous philobiblon, ever in pursuit of literary discoveries, of which so many are due to the institution of the Oratory, found during a visit to Metz, while turning over the archives of that city, the following notice, in a manuscript register of the events that had taken place there during the 15th century: “In the year 1436, Messire Phlin Marcou was sheriff of Metz, and on the 20th day of May of the aforesaid year, came the maid Jeanne, who had been in France, to la Grange of Ormes, near St. Privé, and was taken there to confer with any one of the sieurs of Metz, and she called herself Claude; and on the same day there came to see her there her two brothers, one of whom was a knight and was called Messire Pierre, and the other “petit Jehan” a squire, and they thought that she had been burnt, but as soon as they saw her they recognised her, and she them. And on Monday the 21st day of the said month they took their sister with them to Boquelon, and the sieur Nicole, being a knight, gave her a stout stallion, of the value of thirty francs, and a pair of saddle cloths; the sieur Aubert Boulle, a riding hood; the sieur Nicole Grognet a sword; and the said maiden mounted the said horse nimbly, and said several things to the sieur Nicole by which he well understood that it was she who had been in France; and she was recognised by many tokens to be the maid Jeanne of France who escorted king Charles to Reims, and several declared that she had been burnt in Normandy, and she spoke mostly in parables. She afterwards returned to the town of Marnelle for the feast of Pentecost, and remained there about three weeks, and then set off to go to Notre Dame d’Alliance. And when she wished to leave, several of Metz went to see her at the said Marnels and gave her several jewels, and they knew well that she was the maid Jeanne of France; and she then went to Erlon in the Duchy of Luxembourg, where she was thronged, so much so that the son of the count of Wuenbourg took her to Cologne near his father the count de Wuenbourg, and the said count loved her greatly, and when she wished to come away he had a handsome cuirass made for her to equip her therein; and then she came to the aforesaid Erlon and there was solemnised the marriage of Monsieur de Hermoise knight, and the said maid Jeanne, and afterwards the said sieur Hermoise with his wife the maid, came to live at Metz in the house the said sieur had, opposite Saint Seglenne, and remained there until it pleased them to depart.”

Since the discovery made by Père Vignier, this remarkable document has been inserted in a work entitled: _Chronique de Metz, composé par le doyen de Saint Thiebaut de la même ville_. This chronicle terminates at the year 1445.

Vignier might not probably have put much faith in this manuscript, had it not been supported by a proof which he considered of great weight. As he was very popular among the best families of Lorraine, he frequently visited them, and being one day at dinner with M. des Armoises, member of an old and illustrious race, the conversation fell on the genealogy of this nobleman, who told the learned father that among the family archives he would find much information regarding his ancestors. Dinner was therefore no sooner ended than the keys of the chamber containing these musty papers were given to Vignier, and he spent the remainder of the day in looking over numerous old manuscripts and parchments. At length he fell upon a contract of marriage between one Robert des Armoises, chevalier, with Jeanne d’Arcy, the so called Maid of Orleans. I leave the reader to imagine the surprise of father Vignier at this unexpected confirmation of the manuscript register.

This historical novelty excited a great sensation at the time, as may easily be supposed. The above extract was inserted in the before mentioned chronicle, and Dom Calmet placed it among the printed documents in his _History of Lorraine_.

The circumstance had been nearly forgotten, when, towards the year 1740, a member of the literary society of Orleans, while making some researches among the archives in the town-hall, found a bill of Jacques l’Argentier, in which in the years 1435 and 1436 there is mention of a sum of eleven panes eight cents for refreshments supplied to the messenger who had brought letters from the maid of Orleans; and another sum of twelve livres, given by the magistrates on the 21st August 1436 to John du Lis, brother to the maid of Orleans, to help him to pay his journey back to his sister. He had an audience of the king, who had granted him a donation of one hundred francs.

Here is a third extract, even more remarkable than the former: “_Au Sieur du Lis, le 18 Octobre 1436, pour un voyage qu’il fit en la dite ville, en route vers la Pucelle, qui se trouvant_ _alors à Arlon, au Luxembourg, et pour port de letters de Jeanne la Pucelle, pour le Roi, à Loicher, où il résidait alors, six livres parisis._”

And again: “_A. Renard Brune, le 25 Juillet 1435, au soir, pour faire loire un messager qui apportait lettres de Jeanne la Pucelle et allait devers Guillaume Belier, Bailly de Troyes, II. s. 83. Parisis._”

The reader must remember that immediately after the execution of Jeanne d’Arc, there was a common rumour that she was not dead, and that another victim had been substituted for her. In the _Histoire de Lorraine_ by Dom Calmet, which only extends to 1544, we read, speaking of the siege of Compiègne, that the Maid of Orleans escaped in the crowd, and that no one knew what became of her. Some supposed her to have been captured and carried to Rouen and burnt, others affirm that the army was averse to her death.

The chronicle of Metz is still more explicit. After relating the capture of Jeanne d’Arc, her removal to Rouen, and her death at the stake, the author adds: “It was so asserted, but since that time a contrary opinion has been held.”

Pasquier, in his researches on France, declares, that during four whole years he had in his keeping the original trial of the maid of Orleans with all the attendant circumstances, and he introduced the subject into chapter V. book VI. of his history. His opinion then should be treated with consideration. He observes that the inexplicable delay between the condemnation and execution, and still more the extraordinary precautions that were taken to hide the victim from the eyes of the public, are very remarkable. When she was led to the stake, a large mitre was placed on her head, which concealed the greater part of her face, and a huge frame, covered with insulting phrases, was carried before her, and completely concealed her person.

In 1440, the people so firmly believed that Jeanne d’Arc was still alive, and that another had been sacrificed in her place, that an adventuress who endeavoured to pass herself off as the Maid of Orleans was ordered by the government to be exposed before the public on the marble stone of the palace hall, in order to prove that she was an impostor. Why were not such measures taken against the real Maid of Orleans, who is mentioned in so many public documents, and who took no pains to hide herself?

The king of France not only ennobled Jeanne d’Arc, her father, brothers, and their descendants male and female, by letters patent dated 1429, but moreover wished that her brothers should take the surname of de Lys, and in fact we find this name in the registers already quoted.

A very remarkable extract given by Pasquier is drawn from the accounts of the auditor of the Orleans estate, in the year 1444 (observe the date). An island on the river Loire is restored to a brother of the Maid of Orleans, Pierre de Lys, chevalier: “_Quie la supplication de Messire Pierre, contenant que pour acquitter la loyauté envers le Roi notre seigneur et Monsieur le Duc d’Orléans, il se partit de son pays pour venir au service du Roi et de Monsieur le Duc, en la compagnie de Jeanne la Pucelle sa seur, avec la quelle, jusques à son absentement et depuis jusques à présent, il a exposé son corps et ses biens au dit service et au fait des guerres du Roi, tant à la résistance des anciens ennemis du Royaume qui tinrent le siège devant la ville d’Orléans, comme en plusieurs voyages faits et entrepris pour le Roi, &c._”

It is scarcely necessary to observe here how very much stronger the claims of this brother would have been, if in 1444, instead of saying “_jusques à son absentement_,” he had brought forward the martyrdom of this sister, as having been the means of saving France from the yoke of England. The expression _son absentement_ may, easily be explained when we remember that the Duke of Bedford, regent of France, died in 1435, and that most probably Jeanne d’Arc was released from prison after this event. It was only one year later that she married Robert des Armoises.

But we may be told that Pope Calixtus III. appointed in 1455 a commission to inquire into the justice or injustice of the condemnation of the maid of Orleans, and that more than a hundred witnesses were heard during this examination without the question of the reality of her execution being once raised. Father Vignier has met this objection by observing that the committee of enquiry was desired to examine exclusively whether the judges had been justified in condemning her as a heretic and an apostate, and it was on this point only that the inquiry touched.

The commission was by no means ignorant of the received opinion that Jeanne d’Arc still lived, but they were bound to keep to the letter of the instructions received.

Jules Quicherat has collected almost every item bearing upon the doubt of the fate of Jeanne d’Arc, in the fifth volume of his work: _Procès de condamnation et de réhabilitation de Jeanne d’Arc_ (in 8ᵛᵒ. Paris 1849). 1) He gives the entire extract from the chronicle of Metz. 2) The extract from the audited accounts of the city of Orleans for the year 1436, according to the register preserved in the Orleans library. 3) An extract from the contract of sale of the fourth part of the lordship of Haraucourt by Robert des Armoises and Jeanne du Lys, called la Pucelle, his wife. 4) Other extracts from the accounts kept by the city of Orleans and the city of Tours for presents of wine made to the Pucelle, and expense of postage of letters from the Bailly of Tournay to the king, touching the matter of Dame Jeanne des Armoises.

Quicherat does not admit that this Jeanne was the true Pucelle, but those who read all his authorities will still retain strong doubts on the subject.

In the 4th volume of the same work we find the account of the execution of Jeanne according to the chronicle of Perceval de Cagny, whom M. Quicherat considers to be the most complete, the best informed, and the most honest of all the historians of “la Pucelle.”

This Perceval was in the service of the Duc d’Alençon who had constant intercourse with the maid of Orleans and had the best opportunities of observing and knowing her. It was in 1436 that Perceval occupied himself in committing the facts to writing, only five years after the execution at Rouen. Now he asserts that the victim’s face was covered when walking to the stake, while at the same time a spot had been chosen for the execution, that permitted the populace to have a good view. Why this contradiction? A place is chosen to enable the people to see everything, but the victim[32] is carefully hidden from their sight. Does it not seem as if this was arranged with a sinister intention?

The following words are from the chronicle: “_Les gens de la justice du Roi d’Angleterre et la dite ville de Rouen firent appareiller lieu convenable pour exécuter la justice, qui peult être vu de très grand peuple. Et le dit 24ⁱᵉᵐᵉ jour de May environ l’eure de midy, la pucelle fut amenée du Chastel, le visage embronché (recouvert) au dit lieu ou le feu estoit prest; et après autres choses lues en la ditte place, elle fut liée à l’estache et arse, par le rapport de ceux, qui disent ce avoir vu._”

THE MURDER OF THE COUNTESS OF CHATEAUBRIAND.

A. D. 1525.

The tragical death of the Countess of Chateaubriand is one of the most remarkable traditions of Brittany.

Go in the present day to Chateaubriand, that feudal city whose duke rendered homage to the Duke of Brittany alone. Let yourself be conducted to the castle, now transformed into the town-hall, with a tricolor flag waving over the dilapidated arms of the Sires of Chateaubriand. Question the first person you meet, be it a young woman or child: either will relate to you with an air of unalterable conviction the tragical fate of Françoise de Foix, assassinated by her husband Jean, Count of Chateaubriand. No other proofs will be advanced in support of the murder than the public belief transmitted from father to son, and the traces still visible of the blood of the victim in the room where the crime was committed. Follow your guide, who is about to show you these bloody vestiges, which nearly three centuries have, it is said, failed to efface.

You mount a staircase the steps of which are worn by feet; you cross long galleries and reach at length a vast chamber stript of its gothic furniture, but still preserving as a remnant of past splendour decorations of faded gilt leather, a wainscot of carved oak, and some painted panels blackened by age. It is here, you are told, that the Countess remained a prisoner for several years; it is here that she breathed her last sigh, exhausted by the blood that flowed from veins opened in her hands and feet by order of her husband.

The commandant of the gendarmerie now inhabits this immense apartment, in which the vulgarity of the shabby modern furniture contrasts with the general aspect of the room. If you question the clerks and servants who lodge in the interior of the ancient castle, or are obliged from the nature of their duties to frequent these spots, they will tell you, making the sign of the cross, that the soul of the Countess yearly revisits the place where she lost her life, on the night of the 24th October, the anniversary of this cruel act of vengeance. Many witnesses will be at hand to declare that they have frequently heard piercing cries and stifled lamentations issue from the walls at midnight, the hour at which the Count de Chateaubriand murdered his wife. The commandant, nevertheless, we are happy to say, contrives to sleep remarkably well on the very scene of the alleged crime.

The story of Françoise de Foix is told as follows: Endowed with extraordinary beauty, she was married at the age of twelve years to the Count of Chateaubriand, who obtained her hand without difficulty, being content to receive it with no other dowry than her youth and loveliness. The young countess in course of time presented her husband with a daughter, and his happiness would have been complete had he been able for an indefinite period to conceal his treasure in the secluded corner of Brittany in which they lived. But the reputation of his wife’s beauty traversed the confines of the province, and when Francis I., King of France, desired that the ladies, who had until then only appeared at court on state occasions, should henceforward be introduced and should take part in all the festivities, one of the first on whom his thoughts rested was the Countess of Chateaubriand.

The count for a while evaded the royal mandate, and laid the blame on the peculiar temperament of his wife, representing her as a wild wayward creature whom it was impossible to subdue.

At length some urgent and unforeseen business calling the count to Paris, he hit upon an expedient by which he hoped to escape the importunity of the king, and at the same time reserve to himself private communication with, and control over the actions of, his wife. He ordered two rings to be made of a peculiar device, and so exactly similar that they could not be distinguished the one from the other. He gave one to the countess, and told her that during his absence she was not to put faith in any instructions he might send her from Paris unless they were accompanied by his ring enclosed in the letter.

He then parted from her somewhat relieved in mind, but still anxious and doubtful as to the result of his precaution. On his arrival in Paris he was questioned about his wife by the king, who complained of her absence from court. The count, to excuse himself, offered to summon her at once from Brittany, and even to write to her in the name of Francis I., begging her to come immediately to join her husband. But the letter, unaccompanied by the ring, produced no effect. At length a servant of the count, yielding to the seductions of a bribe, betrayed his master’s secret. A duplicate ring was made, and in the next letter addressed by the count to his wife it was fraudulently inserted. The young countess hastened to her husband’s side, and the count’s stupefaction may be imagined on the sudden appearance of one he so little expected to see. She showed him the second ring; he at once perceived that he had been betrayed, and feeling sure of the inevitable consequences under the influence of such a monarch as Francis I., he took a hasty departure for Brittany in order to avoid being a witness to his wife’s shame and his own dishonour.

The countess, after some little resistance, verified all his apprehensions, and yielded to the importunities of her royal lover.

For some time she ruled the king absolutely, and provided handsomely for her three brothers. Her husband would also have been raised to some important office in the state, had he not indignantly refused any such preferment. He would not even allow his wife’s name, under any pretext, to be mentioned in his presence.

On the fall of Francis I., and his imprisonment after the battle of Pavia, the Countess of Chateaubriand was thrown upon the mercy of her husband, who only awaited his opportunity to revenge himself upon his wife.

On her return to the castle in Brittany, he refused to see her, and shut her up in apartments entirely draped in black. He allowed their little daughter, then seven years of age, to take her meals with her mother and to remain with her a part of each day; but after six months the countess was deprived of this consolation by the death of her child, and the count, having no longer this endearing object before his eyes, to plead for the mother, gave himself up entirely to the gratification of his vengeance.

One day he entered the gloomy prison of his wife accompanied by six men in masks and by two surgeons. The latter bled the countess in the arms and feet and then left her gradually to die. The count took refuge in a foreign land to escape the pursuit of justice.

Brantôme is the first historian who has mentioned the private amours of Francis I. and the Countess of Chateaubriand. Varillas is the first who published the secret details of the violent death of this lady. Since then most historians have regarded the authority of Brantôme as indisputable, founded as it is on contemporary opinion and belief, and sanctioned by the court itself. The details of Varillas, however, seem to be little better than a romance, so many errors and inaccuracies do they contain.

Before we enter upon the discussion of this tradition let us remark by way of preface, that the historian Varillas is acknowledged by all critics to be pre-eminently careless in verifying the sources from which he draws his information. He would not even have deigned to quote the documents on which he founded his narrative,[33] had not his detractors accused him of having invented the whole of it.

His talent for exaggerating or suppressing important facts to suit his personal views, is well known, and as he generally draws from his own prodigious memory without consulting references, he often falls into serious and unpardonable mistakes. His chief error in this instance is in the date he assigns to the murder of the Countess of Chateaubriand, viz. the 26th October 1526, when in fact she died on the 16th October 1537, as we learn from the inscription on her tomb in the church of the convent des Mathurins in the town of Chateaubriand. The count died on the 11th February 1543, and his natural heirs having instituted a law suit, memorable for its duration of half a century, against his donatee, Anne de Montmorency, the learned Pierre Hévin, a lawyer of the parliament of Rennes, published in 1686 a memoir founded on the original legal documents, in which he triumphantly refutes the assertions made by Varillas.

The marriage of Françoise de Foix with the Count of Chateaubriand took place in the course of the year 1509, and as we have said, they resided in Brittany until the king called them to court. Brantôme tells us that the Countess was appointed lady in waiting to Queen Claude of France. From the year 1515, her power over the king was apparent. The alacrity with which Francis conferred the dignity of field-marshal on her elder brother leads to the conclusion that the king sought to obtain her good graces as soon as he mounted the throne. Her husband was sent to a military command in Italy, that grave of many of the flower of the French nobility during the space of thirty years, but the count returned to France safe and sound. Francis being taken prisoner at Pavia, a correspondence in prose and in verse was carried on between him and the countess. It still exists in the Imperial Library, numbered 7688, and corrections are traceable in the handwriting of the king; but when the monarch was restored to liberty and to France, on the 10th March 1526, another beauty captivated his imagination, and the reign of the Countess of Chateaubriand was at an end.

From the date of the imprisonment of Francis I. Brantôme, Gaillard, and other historians shew that the countess lived on good terms with her husband, and that she accompanied him of her own accord to Chateaubriand, where the count falling dangerously ill, he deemed it expedient to make some settlement for the future maintenance of his wife. Towards the end, then, of the year 1526 he drew up a deed before a notary, in virtue of which she became entitled to 4000 livres a year independently of the castle. This act on the part of the count proves that his wife was pardoned; for it is, to say the least, unusual to begin by providing for and enriching those whom we intend to assassinate.

Hévin, the lawyer, avers, that in 1532, the countess herself superintended the erection of additional buildings at the castle of Chateaubriand. Brantôme, whose authorities are generally trustworthy, affirms that she was at court in 1533, and present at the interview between Francis I. and Pope Clement VII. at Marseilles: and J. Bouchet, in his _Annales d’Aquitaine_, even relates a remarkable anecdote connected with that meeting, in which the Countess of Chateaubriand plays a part. Lastly, a proof exists of her presence at the marriage of her brother Lautrec’s daughter in 1535.

One strong objection that still remains to be mentioned against the truth of the murder of the Countess, is this. Among the popular ballads of Brittany so carefully and scrupulously collected by M. Hersart de la Villemarqué, there is not one wherein we find the slightest allusion to this dramatic story.

_Les lettres inédites de la Reine de Navarre_ quoted by M. de Lescure in his _Amours de François I._, contain a document that is quite conclusive in refuting the statements of Varillas; a document which M. de Lescure was the first to discover.