Women of the Romance Countries (Illustrated)

A careful analysis of the court life during these youthful days will reveal the fact that its essential characteristics may be summed up in the three phrases-love of literary study, love of gallantry, and love of intrigue; it so happens that each of these phases is typified by a woman, Joanna representing the first, Maria, – the natural daughter of Robert, – the second, and Philippa the Catanese, the third. Much has been said already of Joanna's love for study and of her unusual attainments, but a word or two more will be necessary to complete the picture. Her wonderful gifts and her evident delight in studious pursuits were no mere show of childish precocity which would disappear with her maturer growth, for they ever remained with her and made her one of the very exceptional women of her day and generation. Imagine her there in the court of her grandfather, where no woman before her had ever shown the least real and intelligent interest in his intellectual occupations. It was a great thing, of course, for all the ladies of the court to have some famous poet come and tarry with them for a while; but they thought only of a possible affaire d'amour, and odes and sonnets descriptive of their charms. There was little appreciative understanding of literature or poetry among them, and they were quite content to sip their pleasures from a cup which was not of the Pierian spring. Joanna, however, seemed to enter earnestly into the literary diversions of the king, and many an hour did they spend together in the great library of the palace, unfolding now one and now another of the many parchment rolls and poring over their contents. Three learned languages there were at this time in this part of the world, the Greek, the Latin, and the Arabic, and the day had just begun to dawn when the common idioms of daily speech were beginning to assert their literary value. So it is but natural to assume that the majority of these manuscripts were in these three languages, and that it required no small amount of learning on Joanna's part to be able to decipher them.

Far different from this little princess was Maria of Sicily, a woman of many charms, but vain and inconstant, and satisfied with the frivolities of life. Indeed, it must be said that it is solely on account of her love for the poet Boccaccio, after her marriage to the Count of Artois, that she is known to-day. Boccaccio had journeyed to the south from Florence, as the fame of King Robert's court had reached him, and he was anxious to bask in its sunlight and splendor, and to bring to some fruition his literary impulses, which were fast welling up within him. And to Naples he came as the spring was retouching the hills with green in 1333, and there he remained until late in the year 1341, when he was forced to return to his home in the north. His stay in Naples had done much for him, though perhaps less for him personally than for his literary muse, as he plunged headlong into the mad whirlpool of social pleasures and enjoyed to the utmost the life of this gay court, which was enlivened and adorned by the wit of men and the beauty of women. Not until the Easter eve before his departure, however, did he chance to see the lady who was to influence to such a great degree his later career. It was in the church of San Lorenzo that Boccaccio saw Maria of Sicily, and it was a case of love at first sight, the coup de foudre that Mlle de Scudéry has talked about; and if the man's word may be worthy of belief under such circumstances, the lady returned his passion with an equal ardor. It was not until after much delay, however, that she was willing to yield to the amorous demands of the poet, and then she did so in spite of her honor and her duty as the wife of another. But this delay but opened the way for an endless succession of gallant words and acts, wherein the art of coquetry was called upon to play no unimportant part. Between these two people there was no sincere friendship such as existed later between Boccaccio and Joanna, and they were but playing with the dangerous fire of passion, which they ever fanned to a greater heat.

Philippa the Catanese, as she is called in history, stands for the spirit of intrigue in this history; and well she may, as she has a most wonderful and tragic history. The daughter of a humble fisherman of Catania in Sicily, she had been employed by Queen Violante, the first wife of Robert, in the care of her infant son, the Duke of Calabria. Of wonderful intelligence for one in her station, gifted beyond her years, and beautiful and ambitious, she won the favor of the queen to such a degree that she soon became her chief attendant. Her foster-child, the Duke of Calabria, who tenderly loved her, married her to the seneschal of his palace and appointed her first lady in waiting to his wife; and thus it happened that she was present at the birth of Joanna, and was the first to receive her in her arms. Naturally enough, then, King Robert made her the governess and custodian of the small duchess after her father's death. This appointment of a woman of low origin to so high a position in the court gave offence to many of the highborn ladies there, and none could understand the reason for it all. Many dark rumors were afloat, and, although the matter was discussed in undertones, it was the general opinion that she had been aided by magic or sorcery, and the bolder spirits said that she was in daily communication with the Evil One. However that may be, she was faithful to her trust, and it was only through her too zealous scheming in behalf of her young mistress that she was brought to her tragic end.

As the two children, Andreas and Joanna, grew up to maturity, it became more and more apparent that there was no bond of sympathy between them. Andreas had as his preceptor a monk named Fra Roberto, who was the open enemy of Philippa, and her competitor in power. It was his constant aim to keep Andreas in ignorance and to inspire him with a dislike for the people of Naples, whom he was destined to govern, and to this end he made him retain his Hungarian dress and customs. Petrarch, who made a second visit to Naples as envoy from the pope, has this to say of Fra Roberto: "May Heaven rid the soil of Italy of such a pest! A horrible animal with bald head and bare feet, short in stature, swollen in person, with worn-out rags torn studiously to show his naked skin, who not only despises the supplications of the citizens, but, from the vantage ground of his feigned sanctity, treats with scorn the embassy of the pope." King Robert saw too late the mistake he had committed, as the sorrow and trouble in store for the young wife were only too apparent. To remedy, so far as was in his power, this unhappy condition of affairs, he called again a meeting of his feudal lords; and this time he had them swear allegiance to Joanna alone in her own right, formally excluding the Hungarians from any share in the sovereign power. While gratifying to the Neapolitans, this act could but excite the enmity of the Hungarian faction under Fra Roberto, and it paved the way for much intrigue and much treachery in the future.

When King Robert died in 1343, Joanna became Queen of Naples and Provence at the age of fifteen; but on account of her youth and inexperience, and because of the machinations of the hateful monk, she was kept in virtual bondage, and the once peaceful court was rent by the bitterest dissensions. Through it all, however, Joanna seems to have shown no special dislike to Andreas, who, indeed, was probably innocent of any participation in the scheming of his followers; Petrarch compares the young queen and her consort to two lambs in the midst of wolves. The time for Joanna's formal coronation was fixed for September 20, 1345, and some weeks before, while the palace was being decorated and prepared for this great event, the young couple had retired to the Celestine monastery at Aversa, some fifteen miles away. Joanna, who was soon to become a mother, was much benefited by this change of scene, and all was peace and happiness about them, with nothing to indicate the awful tragedy which the future held in store. On the night of September 18th, two days before the coronation was to take place, Andreas was called from the queen's apartment by the information that a courier from Naples was waiting to see him upon urgent business. In the dark corridor without, he was at once seized by some person or persons whose identity has never been made clear, who stopped his mouth with their gloves and then strangled him and suspended his body from a balcony. The cord, however, was not strong enough to stand the strain, and broke, and the body fell into the garden below. There the assassins would have buried it upon the spot, if they had not been put to flight by a servant of the palace, who gave the alarm.

This deed of violence gave rise to much suspicion, and the assertion is often made that Joanna had at least connived at her husband's unhappy end. Indeed, there is a story-which is without foundation, however-to the effect that Andreas found her one day twisting a silken rope with which it was her intention to have him strangled; and when he asked her what she was doing, she replied, with a smile: "Twisting a rope with which to hang you!" But it is difficult to believe the truth of any of these imputations. If she were cruel enough to desire her husband's death, and bold enough to plan for it, she was also intelligent enough to execute her purpose in a manner less foolish and less perilous to herself. Never, up to this time, had she given the slightest indication of such cruelty in her character, and never after that time was the slightest suspicion cast upon her for any other evil act. How, then, could it be possible that Andreas had been murdered by her order? Whatever the cause of this ferocious outbreak, the Hungarian faction, struck with consternation, fled in all directions, not knowing what to expect. The next morning Joanna returned to the castle Nuovo, where she remained until after the birth of her son. During this period of confinement, she wrote a letter to the King of Hungary, her father-in-law, telling him what had taken place. In this epistle she makes use of the expression:

"My good husband, with whom I have ever associated without strife;" and she declares regarding her own sorrow: "I have suffered so much anguish for the death of my beloved husband that, stunned by grief, I had well-nigh died of the same wounds!"

As soon as her strength would permit, Joanna summoned a council of her advisers and signed a commission giving Hugh de Balzo full authority to seek out the murderers and punish them. Suspicion at once fell upon Philippa the Catanese, and upon other members of her family, as her hatred of the Hungarians was well known, and her past reputation for intrigue and mystery only added strength to the accusation. Philippa, who, since the death of King Robert, had been created Countess of Montoni, was now more powerful than ever at the court, and seemed to invite the danger which was hanging over her, in the belief that no harm could touch her head. But her calculations went astray, as Balzo appeared one morning at the palace gate, produced evidence incriminating her and her intimates, and dragged them off to prison, where they were put to death in the most approved Neapolitan fashion-with lingering torments and tortures. From that day the character of the young queen underwent a most decided change. Hitherto she had been gay, frank, and confiding, now she became serious and reserved. She had always been gracious and compassionate, and rather the equal than the queen of those about her, – according to Boccaccio's description, – but treachery had come so near to her, and her trusted Philippa had proved so vile a character, that she never after gave her entire confidence to any person, man or woman.

Some two years after the death of Andreas, for reasons of state, she married her second cousin, Louis of Taranto, a brave and handsome prince of whom she had long been fond. But she was not to be allowed to enjoy her newly found happiness in peace, as her domains were soon invaded by Louis, the elder brother of Andreas, who had recently ascended his father's throne as King of Hungary, and who now came to avenge his brother's death and seize Naples by way of indemnity. Joanna, deserted by many of her nobles in these dire straits, and not knowing what to do, – as her husband seems to have played no part in this emergency, – decided upon flight as the only means of safety, and, embarking with her entire household in three galleys, she set sail for Provence, where loyal hearts awaited her coming. There she went at once to Avignon, where Pope Clement VI. was holding his court with the utmost splendor; and in the presence of the pope and all the cardinals, she made answer in her own behalf to the charges which had been made against her by the Hungarian king. Her address, which she had previously composed in Latin, has been called the "most powerful specimen of female oratory" ever recorded in history; and the Hungarian ambassadors, who had been sent to plead against her, were so confounded by her eloquence that they attempted no reply to her defence.

In the meantime, Naples, in the hands of the invaders, had been stained with blood, and then ravaged by the great plague of which Boccaccio has given us a picture. Revolting at length under the harsh measures of the Hungarian governor who had been left in charge by Louis, the Neapolitans expelled him and his followers from the city, and sent an urgent invitation to Joanna to return to her former home. Right gladly was the summons answered, and with a goodly retinue of brave knights who had sworn to die in her service she returned to her people, who welcomed her homecoming with unbounded enthusiasm. Now the court resumed its gayety and animation, and again it became, as in the days of King Robert, a far-famed school of courtesy. Alphonse Daudet gives us a hint of all this in his exquisite short story entitled La Mule du Pape, where he tells of the young page Tistet Vedene, qui descendait le Rhône en chantant sur une galère papale et s'en allait à la cour de Naples avec la troupe de jeunes nobles que la ville envoyait tous les ans près de la reine Jeanne pour s'exercer à la diplomatie et aux belles manières [who descended the Rhône, singing, upon a papal galley, and went away to the court of Naples with the company of young nobles whom the city (of Avignon) sent every year to Queen Joanna for training in diplomacy and fine manners]. There was further war with the Hungarians, it is true, but peace was established, Sicily was added to Joanna's domain, and there was general tranquillity.

Twice again did Joanna marry, urged to this course by her ministers, but death removed her consort each time, and in the end she was put into captivity by her relative and adopted child, Charles of Durazzo, who had forsaken her to follow the fortunes of the King of Hungary, and who had invaded Naples and put forth a claim to the throne, basing it upon some scheming papal grant which was without legality. Charles had her taken to the castle of Muro, a lonely fortress in the Apennines, some sixty miles from Naples, and there, her spirit of defiance unsubdued, she was murdered by four common soldiers in the latter part of May, 1382, after a reign of thirty-nine years. So came to an end this brilliant queen, the most accomplished woman of her generation, and with her downfall the lamp of learning was dimmed for a time in southern Italy, where the din of arms and the discord of civic strife gave no tranquillity to those who loved the arts of peace.

CHAPTER III

WOMEN AND THE CHURCH

Near the close of the first half of the fourteenth century, after the terrible ravages of the great plague had abated, the people were prostrate with fear and terrorized by the merciless words of the priests, who had not been slow to declare the pestilence as a mark of the wrath of God and who were utilizing the peculiar possibilities of this psychological moment for the advancement of the interests of the Church. In the churches-the wondrous mediæval structures which were newly built at that time-songs of spasmodic grief like the Stabat Mater, or of tragic terror such as the Dies iræ, were echoing under the high-vaulted arches, and the fear of God was upon the people. In a great movement of this kind it is but to be expected that women played no little part; their more sensitive natures caused them to be more easily affected than were the men by the threats of everlasting torment which were constantly being made by the priests for the benefit of all those who refused to renounce worldly things and come within the priestly fold. There was a most remarkable show of contrition and penitence at this time, and thousands of persons, men and women of all classes, were so deeply moved that they went about in companies, beating themselves and each other for the glory of God, and singing vociferously their melancholy dirges. These were the Flagellants, and there were crowds of them all over Europe, the number in France alone at this time being estimated at eight hundred thousand. One of the direct results of this state of religious excitement was an increased interest, on the part of women, in religious service, and a renewed desire to devote themselves to a religious life.

The conditions of conjugal life had been such throughout the feudal period that for many years there had been a slowly growing sentiment that marriage was but a manner of self-abandonment to the world, the flesh, and the devil, and many women from time to time were influenced to put away worldly things and seek peace in the protection of some religious order. Tertullian had long before condemned marriage, and Saint Jerome was most bitter against it. The various abuses of the marriage relation were such that those of pure hearts and minds could but pause and ask themselves whether or not this was an ideal arrangement of human life; and, all in all, there was still much to be done by means of educational processes before men and women could lead a life together which might be of mutual advantage to all parties concerned. Still, it must not be supposed that this tendency on the part of women to affiliate themselves with conventual orders was a movement of recent origin.

Since the earliest days of Christianity women had been especially active in the work of the Church, and there were countless martyrs among them even as far back as the time of the Roman persecutions. In the old days of pagan worship they had been allowed their part in religious ceremonies, and with the development of the religious institutions of Christendom this active participation had steadily increased. But, more than this, when it became necessary to withdraw from the corrupt atmosphere of everyday affairs in order to lead a good life, it came to pass that near the dwellings of the first monks and hermits who had sought the desert and solitude for their lives of meditation were to be found shelters for their wives and sisters and daughters who had followed them to their retreats to share in their holy lives.

Slowly, as in the case of the men, the conventual orders for women were formed in these communities and regulated by such rules as seemed best suited to their needs. At the outset it may be stated that celibacy as a prerequisite to admission to such orders was required of women before it was of men; and so in one way the profession of a nun antedates the corresponding profession of a monk, as the idea of an unmarried life had already made much progress in the Christian Church among women before it came into vogue among the men. It may be that the women of that time were inclined to take literally that chapter in Paul's first Epistle to the Corinthians wherein it is said: "There is this difference, also, between a wife and a virgin: the unmarried woman careth for the things of the Lord, that she may be holy both in body and in spirit; but she that is married careth for the things of the world, how she may please her husband;" but, however that may be, these orders of unmarried women soon became numerous, and severe were the penalties imposed upon all those who broke the vow of chastity when once it had been made. The consecration of a nun was a most solemn occasion, and the rites had to be administered by a bishop, or by one acting under episcopal authority. The favorite times for the celebration of this ceremony were the great Church festival days in honor of the Apostles, and at Epiphany and Easter. When the nuns were consecrated, a fillet was placed in their hair-a purple ribbon or a slender band of gold-to represent a crown of victory, and the tresses, which were gathered up and tied together, showed the difference between this bride of Christ and a bride of earth, with her hair falling loose about her shoulders after the Roman fashion. Then over all was placed the long, flowing veil, as a sign that the nun belonged to Christ alone.

The ordinary rules of conduct which were prescribed for the inmates of the nunneries resemble in many ways those which were laid down for the men; and those first followed are ascribed to Scholastica, a sister of the great Saint Benedict, who established the order of Benedictines at Monte Cassino about 529; according to popular tradition, this holy woman was esteemed as the foundress of nunneries in Europe. For the regulation of the women's orders Saint Augustine formulated twenty-four rules, which he prescribed should be read every week, and later Saint Benedict revised them and extended them so that there were finally seventy-two rules in addition to the Ten Commandments. The nuns were to obey their superior implicitly, silence and humility were enjoined upon them, head and eyes were to be kept lowered at all times, the hours for going to bed and for rising were fixed, and there were minute regulations regarding prayers, watches, and devotions. Furthermore, they were rarely allowed to go out of their convents, they were to possess nothing of their own, mirrors were not tolerated, being conducive to personal vanity, and the luxury of a bath was granted only in case of sickness.

As with the ordinary rules of conduct, so the ordinary routine of daily life in a nunnery corresponded to that of a monastery. Hour by hour, there was the same periodical rotation of work and religious service, with short intervals at fixed times for rest or food. The usual occupation in the earliest times had to do with the carding and spinning of wool, and Saint Jerome, with his characteristic earnestness, advises the nuns to have the wool ever in their hands. Saint Augustine gives us the picture of a party of nuns standing at the door of their convent and handing out the woollen garments which they have made for the old monks who are standing there waiting to receive them, with food to give to the nuns in exchange. The simplicity of this scene recalls the epitaph which is said to have been written in honor of a Roman housewife who lived in the simple days of the Republic: "She stayed at home and spun wool!" Somewhat later the nuns were called upon to furnish the elegantly embroidered altar cloths which were used in the churches, and, still later, in some places girls' schools were established in the convents.

In the eleventh century, the successful struggle which had been made by Gregory VII., with the aid of the Countess Matilda, for the principle of papal supremacy exerted a marked influence upon the religious life of the time and gave an undoubted impetus to the idea of conventual life for women, as during this period many new cloisters were established. It will be readily understood that the deeds of the illustrious Tuscan countess had been held up more than once to the gaze of the people of Italy as worthy of their emulation, and many women were unquestionably induced in this way to give their lives to the Church. In the Cistercian order alone there were more than six thousand cloisters for women by the middle of the twelfth century.

It was during this same eleventh century, when a woman had helped to strengthen the power of the Church, that the influence of the Madonna-of Mary, the mother of Christ-began to make a profound impression upon the form of worship. A multitude of Latin hymns may be found which were written in honor of the Virgin as far back as the fifth century, and in the mediæval romances of chivalry, which were so often tinged with religious mysticism, she often appears as the Empress and Queen of Heaven. All through the mediæval period, in fact, there was a constant endeavor to prove that the Old Testament contained allusions to Mary, and, with this in view, Albertus Magnus put together a Marienbibel in the twelfth century, and Bonaventura edited a Marienpsalter. Therein, the gates of Paradise, Noah's ark, Jacob's ladder, the ark of the Covenant, Aaron's rod, Solomon's throne, and many other things, were held up as examples and foreshadowings of the coming of the Blessed Virgin; and in the sermons, commentaries, and homilies of the time the same ideas were continually emphasized. A collection of the Latin appellations which were bestowed upon the Madonna during this time contains the following terms, which reveal the fervor and temper of the age: Dei genitrix, virgo virginum, mater Christi, mater divinæ gratiæ, mater potens, speculum justitiæ, vas spirituale, rosa mystica, turris davidica, domus aurea, janua coeli, regina peccatorum, regina apostolorum, consolatrix afflictorum, and regina sanctorum omnium.