from the courts of the kings of Denmark, Navarre and Aragon,
from those of the dukes of Lancaster, Bavaria and Brunswick.
Hither came all who could “rimer et dicter.” What distinction
Froissart gained is not stated; but he received a gift of money,
as appears from the accounts: “uni Fritsardo, dictori, qui est
cum regina Angliae, dicto die, VI. mottones.”
After this congress of versifiers, he made his way to Brittany, where he heard from eye-witnesses and knights who had actually fought there details of the battles of Cocherel and Auray, the Great Day of the Thirty and the heroism of Jeanne de Montfort. Windsor Herald told him something about Auray, and a French knight, one Antoine de Beaujeu, gave him the details of Cocherel. From Brittany he went southwards to Nantes, La Rochelle and Bordeaux, where he arrived a few days before the visit of Richard, afterwards second of that name. He accompanied the Black Prince to Dax, and hoped to go on with him into Spain, but was despatched to England on a mission. He next formed part of the expedition which escorted Lionel duke of Clarence to Milan, to marry the daughter of Galeazzo Visconti. Chaucer was also one of the prince’s suite. At the wedding banquet Petrarch was a guest sitting among the princes.
From Milan Froissart, accepting gratefully a cotte hardie with 20 florins of gold, set out upon his travels in Italy. At Bologna, then in decadence, he met Peter king of Cyprus, from whose follower and minister, Eustache de Conflans, he learned many interesting particulars of the king’s exploits. He accompanied Peter as far as Venice, where he left him after receiving a gift of 40 ducats. With them and his cotte hardie, still lined we may hope with the 20 florins, Froissart betook himself to Rome. The city was then at its lowest point: the churches were roofless; there was no pope; there were no pilgrims; there was no splendour; and yet, says Froissart sadly,
“Ce furent jadis en Rome
Li plus preu et li plus sage homme,
Car par sens tons les arts passèrent.”
It was at Rome that he learned of the death of his friend King Peter of Cyprus, and, worse still, an irreparable loss to him, that of the good Queen Philippa, of whom he writes, in grateful remembrance—
“Propices li soit Diex à l’âme!
J’en suis bien tenus de pryer
Et ses larghesces escuyer,
Car elle me fist et créa.”
Philippa dead, Froissart looked around for a new patron. Then he hastened back to his own country and presented himself, with a new book in French, to the duchess of Brabant, from whom he received the sum of 16 francs, given in the accounts as paid uni Frissardo dictatori. The use of the word uni does not imply any meanness of position, but is simply an equivalent to the modern French sieur. Froissart may also have found a patron in Yolande de Bar, grandmother of King René of Anjou. In any case he received a substantial gift from some one in the shape of the benefice of Lestines, a village some three or four miles from the town of Binche. Also, in addition to his cure, he got placed upon the duke of Brabant’s pension list, and was entitled to a yearly grant of grain and wine, with some small sum in money.
It is clear, from Froissart’s own account of himself, that he was by no means a man who would at the age of four or five and thirty be contented to sit down at ease to discharge the duties of parish priest, to say mass, to bury the dead, to marry the villagers and to baptize the young. In those days, and in that country, it does not seem that other duties were expected. Preaching was not required, godliness of life, piety, good works, and the graces of a modern ecclesiastic were not looked for. Therefore, when Froissart complains to himself that the taverns of Lestines got 500 francs of his money, we need not at once set him down as either a bad priest or exceptionally given to drink. The people of the place were greatly addicted to wine; the taverniers de Lestines proverbially sold good wine; the Flemings were proverbially of a joyous disposition—
“Ceux de Hainaut chantent à pleines gorges.”
Froissart, the parish priest of courtly manners, no doubt drank with the rest, and listened if they sang his own, not the coarse country songs. Mostly he preferred the society of Gerard d’Obies, provost of Binche, and the little circle of knights within that town. Or—for it was not incumbent on him to be always in residence—he repaired to the court of Coudenberg, and became “moult frère et accointé” with the duke of Brabant. And then came Gui de Blois, one of King John’s hostages in London in the old days. He had been fighting in Prussia with the Teutonic knights, and now, a little tired of war, proposed to settle down for a time in his castle of Beaumont. This prince was a member of the great house of Chatillon. He was count of Blois, of Soissons and of Chimay. He had now, about the year 1374, an excellent reputation as a good captain. In him Froissart, who hastened to resume acquaintance, found a new patron. More than that, it was this sire de Beaumont, in emulation of his grandfather, the patron of Jean le Bel, who advised Froissart seriously to take in hand the history of his own time. Froissart was then in his thirty-sixth year. For twenty years he had been rhyming, for eighteen he had been making verses for queens and ladies. Yet during all this time he had been accumulating in his retentive brain the materials for his future work.
He began by editing, so to speak, that is, by rewriting with additions, the work of Jean le Bel; Gui de Blois, among others, supplied him with additional information. His own notes, taken from information obtained in his travels, gave him more details, and when in 1374 Gui married Marie de Namur, Froissart found in the bride’s father, Robert de Namur, one who had himself largely shared in the events which he had to relate. He, for instance, is the authority for the story of the siege of Calais and the six burgesses. Provided with these materials, Froissart remained at Lestines, or at Beaumont, arranging and writing his chronicles. During this period, too, he composed his Espinette amoureuse, and the Joli Buisson de jonesce, and his romance of Méliador. He also became chaplain to the count of Blois, and obtained a canonry of Chimay. After this appointment we hear nothing more of Lestines, which he probably resigned.
In these quiet pursuits he passed twelve years, years of which we hear nothing, probably because there was nothing to tell. In 1386 his travels began again, when he accompanied Gui to his castle at Blois, in order to celebrate the marriage of his son Louis de Dunois with Marie de Berry. He wrote a pastourelle in honour of the event. Then he attached himself for a few days to the duke of Berry, from whom he learned certain particulars of current events, and then, becoming aware of what promised to be the most mighty feat of arms of his time, he hastened to Sluys in order to be on the spot. At this port the French were collecting an enormous fleet, and making preparations of the greatest magnitude in order to repeat the invasion of William the Conqueror. They were tired of being invaded by the English and wished to turn the tables. The talk was all of conquering the country and dividing it among the knights, as had been done by the Normans. It is not clear whether Froissart intended to go over with the invaders; but as his sympathies are ever with the side where he happens to be, he exhausts himself in admiration of this grand gathering of ships and men. “Any one,” he says, “who had a fever would have been cured of his malady merely by going to look at the fleet.” But the delays of the duke of Berry, and the arrival of bad weather, spoiled everything. There was no invasion of England. In Flanders Froissart met many knights who had fought at Rosebeque, and could tell him of the troubles which in a few years desolated that country, once so prosperous. He set himself to ascertain the history with as much accuracy as the comparison of various accounts by eye-witnesses and actors would allow. He stayed at Ghent, among those ruined merchants and mechanics, for whom, as one of the same class, he felt a sympathy never extended to English or French, perhaps quite as unfortunate, and he devotes no fewer than 300 chapters to the Flemish troubles, an amount out of all proportion to the comparative importance of the events. This portion of the chronicle was written at Valenciennes. During this residence in his birthplace his verses were crowned at the “puys d’amour” of Valenciennes and Tournay.
