State entry of Isabeau into Paris—Magnificent fÊtes—Southern tour of Charles and Louis—Bad health of Charles—Bonne d’Artois and Jean de Clermont—Dreadful storm—Birth of Dauphin—Death of Blanche, Duchesse d’OrlÉans—Pierre de Craon and the Constable de Clisson—Madness of the King.

Although it was now four years since her marriage with Charles VI., Isabeau had never been crowned; and although she had of course often been in Paris, she had not made any ceremonial entry into that city.

But she had no idea of giving up the honours usually conferred on the Queens of France; and the King, always delighted at the idea of any new festival, made inquiries as to how these state entries had been arranged in the times of his predecessors, so that nothing might be wanting in magnificence on the present occasion.

There was one member of the royal family who was considered a great authority on these and many other matters. The famous Blanche de Navarre, although she had been Queen-dowager for forty-one years and was the widow of the King’s great-grandfather, Philippe de Valois, was only about fifty-nine years old, had been in her youth the brightest star of the Valois court, and all her life one of the most brilliant, powerful, and popular women of her century.121 To her Charles applied for advice, and into her hands he gave authority to regulate every detail of the whole ceremony. She consulted the records kept at St. Denis, and from those and her own recollections she arranged one of the most splendid pageants known to history.

The Queen went from Melun to St. Denis, where she stayed two days until the royal family and court were assembled. On Sunday, August 17th, at midday, the procession started for Paris. Isabeau, dressed in a silk robe covered with golden fleur-de-lis, was in a gorgeous open litter, followed by Queen Blanche, the Duchesses of Burgundy, Berry, and Bar, the Comtesse de Nevers, and the Dame de Coucy, all in their litters. The royal dukes on horseback surrounded the Queen’s litter, and among them rode Valentine, Duchesse de Touraine, on a horse covered with trappings embroidered with gold. Each litter was escorted by a troop of cavaliers, and burghers dressed in red and green, and mounted on horses with trappings of the same colours, lined the road from St. Denis to Paris, from the gates of which issued a brilliant crowd, shouting, “Vive le roi! Vive la reine! NoËl! NoËl!”

The cortÈge entered Paris by the Porte aux Peintres into the rue St. Denis, which was draped from top to bottom with crimson and green covered with gold stars. At every turn was some new spectacle. As Isabeau entered Paris she passed under an artificial sky, with clouds, stars, the three Persons of the Trinity, and a troop of children dressed like angels, two of whom descended singing a verse in her honour, and placed a crown of gold and jewels on her head; and as she passed over one of the bridges which had been covered with silken curtains, they were suddenly divided, and a man with another crown flew down a cord from the tower of Notre Dame, and flew up again with a lighted torch in each hand, which, as it was already getting dark, could be seen by all Paris. Wine was flowing all day and night from fountains and taps in the streets and carrefours; in open-air theatres plays and “mysteries” were acted, the houses were hung with rich stuffs and costly tapestries. The procession had stopped at St. Lazare, where the Queen put on her crown and the princesses and duchesses their coronets, the princes of the blood and nobles dismounting and ranging themselves by the litters of the Queen and ladies; then proceeding to Notre Dame they entered the church, made a short prayer, and went on to the Palais de la CitÉ, where they supped.122

Next day the King in his royal robes, scarlet mantle glittering with jewels, and crown on his head, entered the chapel of the Palais. The Queen, also covered with scarlet and jewels, and with her hair flowing on her shoulders, knelt before the altar, saluted the King, mounted on to a high dais covered with cloth of gold, and was anointed and crowned by the Archbishop of Rouen.123

Then there was a splendid fÊte in the great hall of the Palais de la CitÉ, the most ancient of all the palaces of the Kings of France. This hall was considered one of the largest and finest in the world. It was paved with black and white marble and panelled and vaulted with wood, rows of columns went down it, decorated with gold and blue and adorned with the statues of the Kings of France; those who were distinguished and fortunate having their hands raised, while the hands of those who were bad rulers, weak, or unlucky hung down. At one end, going right down it, was an enormous table, so long, so wide, and so thick that it was said that never were there such huge blocks of marble as those of which it was composed. It stood there for hundreds of years, and was used for great banquets. At it dined only Emperors, Kings, and other Princes and Princesses of the blood royal, peers of France and their wives; the rest of the nobles and courtiers sat at other tables. This huge table was also used as a stage for the clercs de la Basoche for their plays and mummeries during two or three hundred years.124

It was very hot, and there was a great crowd at the joustes and banquet, the Queen and several of the ladies nearly fainted. The King ordered a barrier to be broken down to let in air, and the tables withdrawn (“levÉes”) to let them go out “without wine or spices” (dessert).

The King, who took no part in the entry, which was in honour of the Queen alone, had nevertheless managed to amuse himself very well, and had seen the whole spectacle in disguise. “Savoisy,” he said to his chamberlain, “I want you to get on a good horse, and I will get up behind you; we will disguise ourselves so that no one will know us, and go and see my wife’s entry.”125

They mingled in the crowd, seeing and hearing much that diverted them, and the King afterwards told the Queen and ladies all his adventures with great delight.

Some of the ladies left and went to their own hÔtels when the King and Queen retired, but many remained all night, and the next morning the Queen and court moved to the hÔtel St. Paul, where the revels went on for six days more, with a license that again called forth the reproaches and indignation of the preachers.126

Splendid presents were given by the City of Paris and by different people to the Queen and the Duchesse de Touraine, whose first appearance among them had excited great curiosity and interest. The Duc de Berry gave Isabeau a large house in the faubourg St. Marcel, with courts, galleries, moats, gardens, meadows, and a rabbit warren.127

The fatigue and excitement of all these gaieties seem to have told upon her, for she could not be present at a banquet and dance given by the King to the ladies of the court during the festivities at St. Paul, but stayed in her room and supped there.

She did not accompany the King when early in October he set off on a journey south. He had received great complaints from Aquitaine128 of the oppressions and extortions of the Duc de Berry, and he also wanted to attend the coronation at Avignon of the young King of Sicily. The Queen being enceinte could not take a long and tiring journey, besides which it is more than probable that Charles on this occasion greatly preferred her absence. For his progress through Provence, Guyenne, and Languedoc, though ostensibly for political objects, such as the extinction of the schism at Avignon, the coronation of the King of Sicily, and the reformation of the abuses in Aquitaine, had also its social side. There, in the land of troubadours, poetry, and courts of love, where the sun was burning and the nights were bright, where the imagination was more vivid and the hot blood of the south ran quicker through the veins, where manners and morals were easy and had a tinge of orientalism derived from contact with the East; the progress of the young King from one town to another was a saturnalia of dancing, feasting, love-making, and violent exercise in games and tournaments, which for the first time seem to have taken visible effect upon him.

Some symptoms he must have felt which troubled and alarmed him, for while at Avignon he caused an effigy of himself to be made life-size in wax and placed under a tabernacle close to the relics of the young Cardinal Pierre de Luxembourg, of saintly reputation, to whose tomb people were flocking to be cured of epilepsy and other maladies.129

There was no royal post at that time; it was not instituted till the reign of Louis XI. Charles sent a courier to the Queen two or three weeks after his departure, to ask for news of her; he was then in DauphinÉ, and from that time until his return in March she seems to have had no more letters or communications from him.130

During his absence another daughter was born and named Jeanne, like the first one. Isabeau had now two daughters still living. This second Jeanne afterwards married the Duc de Bretagne.

M. Vallet de Viriville says of Isabeau that although frivolous, capricious, and fantastic, she seems to have been liked by her ladies, and was certainly just as fond of her children as other women usually are. While they were little she had them always with her, caressed and watched over them, wept and prayed when they were ill, and redoubled her lamentations when any of them died. Her neglect of them a little later on, however, seems to contradict this; but then Isabeau was a person so inconsistent and selfish that neither her affection nor her dislike could ever be reckoned upon; and her extravagance and folly was the cause of the penury to which the royal children were at one time reduced. Her quarrels with her sons in later years were long after they had passed childhood; with those of her daughters who lived to grow up she does not seem to have disagreed.

The Queen and the Duchesse de Touraine had been left together at BeautÉ by their husbands when they started for the south.

After an absence of several months, spent as has been described, those young princes turned their steps northwards again. When they arrived at Montpellier the King told his brother that he felt so impatient to see the Queen and Duchesse de Touraine again that he could not wait any longer, but proposed that they should race back to Paris; a bet of 5,000 francs to be paid to the winner. Louis agreed, and they set off, riding day and night, changing horses very frequently and being carried in litters when it was absolutely necessary to take a little rest. The race was won by Louis, who got on to a boat at Troyes and went down the Seine to Melun, thus getting rest all that part of the way. At Melun he disembarked and rode on to Paris, where he arrived some hours before the King, having done it in four days and a half.

Louis went straight to see the Queen, and then presented himself before his brother and claimed the 5,000 francs. This adventure does not seem to have done Louis any harm, but it was declared by the doctors to have been most injurious to Charles, and to have helped to over-excite and unsettle his brain.

The King returned from his southern tour weakened, exhausted, and very angry with all he had found out about the oppressions and cruelties of the Duc de Berry. He had held a Parliament at Toulouse, punished some of the officials, dismissed others, and tried to redress some of the worst grievances. But though Charles was generous and kind-hearted, neither he nor his brother nor any of his uncles, except the Duc de Bourbon, had any idea how to govern, and the latter was entirely opposed to the Dukes of Berry and Burgundy; so much so, indeed, that a melancholy romance was the result of their dissensions.

The youngest daughter of the Duke of Burgundy had been, in 1386, betrothed to the Comte de Clermont, son of the Duc de Bourbon. But they were too young at the time for the marriage to take place, and meanwhile the quarrels of their families caused it to be broken off. They appear, however, to have been deeply attached to each other, for Bonne de Bourgogne, or, as she is named in her epitaph, Bonne d’Artois, declared that she would have no other husband than the Comte de Clermont, and, after refusing every other alliance suggested to her, died at Arras, 1399. The Comte de Clermont also refused to marry any one else as long as she lived.131

The Queen was again enceinte, and the court were at Saint Germain-en-Laye for the summer. Money was wanted, as usual, for the extravagant follies of the royal household, and in spite of the compassion of the King for the suffering of the people, it was proposed to levy new taxes.

It was a calm, cloudless day in July; the Council was sitting, the King presiding, and the Queen had gone to mass in her private chapel, when suddenly the sky became black with clouds, forked lightning flashed through the darkness accompanied by awful claps of thunder, and a violent wind tore the windows from their hinges and shattered all the panes of glass in the Queen’s Chapel. Mass had to be finished low and hurriedly lest the Host132 be torn out of the hands of the officiating priest, the palace seemed to shake, and everybody was prostrate with terror. The Queen went trembling to the King, saying that this was an expression of the anger of God for their oppression of the people, and they had better give up the new taxes. The Council was dismissed accordingly and the taxes abandoned. Many trees were torn up in the forest, and four officers of the royal household killed by the lightning.133 Isabeau had always the greatest terror of a thunderstorm; she had a vaulted cellar under the Palais de la CitÉ on purpose to take refuge in on those occasions.134

The much longed for Dauphin was born on the 6th of February, 1391, at the hÔtel St. Paul. The King was asleep, for it was in the middle of the night, but the tidings were soon brought to him and to all Paris, which was at once plunged into a tumult of rejoicing. The bells of all the churches were ringing, couriers were starting for all parts of the kingdom, the streets were filled with people and torches, and set with tables covered with wine and food at which stood ladies of the highest rank, offering them freely to all who passed.

The Dauphin was baptized next day in the church of St. Paul, his god-parents being Blanche, Duchess-dowager of OrlÉans, the Duke of Burgundy, and Comte de Daumartin.

In the following May was born, also at the hÔtel St. Paul, the eldest son of Louis and Valentine. He was also named Charles. The Duc de Bourbon was his godfather. He afterwards married the Princess Isabelle, eldest daughter of Charles VI.135

The Duchess-dowager of OrlÉans, Blanche de France, died in February, 1392, after a long and painful illness. She was greatly respected and honoured, and her funeral at St. Denis was attended by the whole of the royal family and court. She was daughter of Charles IV. and Jeanne d’Evreux, and, as she on one occasion remarked to King Philippe de Valois, if she had been a man she would have been king instead of him. She was proud, high-spirited, and so charitable that she had given away nearly all her fortune before she died.136 The King gave the duchy of OrlÉans to his brother instead of that of Touraine.

A conference was held at Amiens between the Dukes of Lancaster and York, uncles of Richard II., and the French King with the Dukes of Burgundy and Berry. The four dukes entered Amiens riding side by side so as to avoid questions of precedence. It was remarked that the English dukes were dressed with great simplicity in cloth of greenish brown, while the Duke of Burgundy had his clothes covered with pearls, rubies, and sapphires. They could not agree on terms of lasting peace, so they arranged a truce for a year longer, and then separated. But Charles, who, during the whole fortnight had not troubled himself at all about the negotiations, but passed the time in feasting and amusements, had made himself very ill with an attack of fever and had to be taken in a litter to Beauvais, where he stayed in the bishop’s palace till he was well again.137

Amongst the constant companions of the King and the Duc d’OrlÉans was a certain Pierre de Craon. He was a particular favourite of Louis, they often dressed alike, and Craon was the confidant of all the duke’s love affairs, which were innumerable. There was a girl in Paris whose beauty he had for some time admired and to whom he had offered 1,000 crowns if she would consent to become his mistress. She appears to have been hesitating about the matter, and meanwhile, Louis took Craon to see her. Craon had the rashness to go and tell the whole story to the Duchesse d’OrlÉans, with the result he might have expected. Valentine was very angry and sent for the girl, who appeared before her trembling with fear.

“Well,” said Valentine, “so you wish to take monseigneur away from me?”

“No, no, Madame, God forbid,” answered the girl, beginning to cry, “I should not dare even to think of such a thing.”

“That is true,” said Valentine, “I know all about it. Monseigneur loves you and you love him, things have even gone so far that he has offered you 1,000 crowns, but you have refused and you have done well. For this time I forgive you, and I forbid you, as you value your life, to have for the future anything to do with monseigneur. Dismiss him.”138

The girl retired, thankful to have escaped so well, and the next time the Duke called she fled from him, refusing to show him the least sign of affection. Much astonished and disappointed he asked what was the matter. She began to cry and reproached him with having betrayed her either to the Duchess or to somebody else who had told her, and went on to say, “you had better try to recollect to whom you have been making confidences. I am dreadfully afraid of Madame la Duchesse, and I have promised and sworn never to have any communication with you. I am not going to excite her jealousy.”

“Ma belle dame,” replied Louis, “I swear to you that I would rather lose a hundred thousand francs than betray you. Since you have promised, keep your oath, but at any cost I will find out who has revealed our secrets.”

Therefore Louis went that night to supper with his wife, to whom he made himself as pleasant as he well knew how to do. By soft words, love-making and persuasion he prevailed upon her to tell him that it was Pierre de Craon who had revealed the affair to her.

Next morning he rode to the Louvre in a furious rage and met the King going to Mass. Charles, who was very fond of him, seeing his disturbed looks, stopped and asked what was the cause of them. Louis poured out his indignation to his brother, adding that besides this, Craon was always reproaching him with his love of necromancy. “To hear him,” he said, “one would think I was a wizard. By the faith I owe you, monseigneur, if it were not for my respect for you I would kill him.”

“Do not do that,” replied Charles. “I will send him word that I have no further occasion for his services and he is to leave my hÔtel; you can turn him out of yours too.” Accordingly that day the Sires de la RiviÈre and de Noviant from the King, and two gentlemen of the household of the Duc d’OrlÉans, brought orders to Craon to retire.

He demanded an explanation, but neither the King nor the Duke would see him. Unable to get any information, and vowing vengeance against the unknown enemy, he retired to the court of his cousin, the Duc de Bretagne, and, after consulting together, they came to the conclusion that it must have been the Constable de Clisson who had done this, and resolved to avenge themselves on him.

Pierre de Craon therefore returned secretly to Paris and concealed himself in his hÔtel, which was a splendid house, and which he had well stored with food and necessaries, and in his anxiety that his presence should not be known, he even took the precaution of locking up the wife and daughter of his concierge for fear they should disclose it.

On the 13th June there was a fÊte at the hÔtel St. Paul. There were joustes in the afternoon and then a supper, followed by a ball which went on until about an hour after midnight.

The Constable de Clisson was the last to depart. He took leave of the King and Duc d’OrlÉans, and then, with eight valets of whom two carried torches, he proceeded towards the rue St. Catherine, at the corner of which Craon was lying in wait for him with a band of forty brigands. As he rode down the street, on a sudden the torches were snatched from his men and thrown to the ground. Clisson thought it was a trick of Louis d’OrlÉans and called out, “By my faith, monseigneur, this is too bad, but I forgive you because you are young and think of nothing but jokes.” But to his astonishment the answer was, “A mort! À mort Clisson! Si vous faut mourir,” as Craon drew his sword and with the gang of assassins attacked the Constable, who, after defending himself desperately, was flung from his horse against the door of a baker’s shop which gave way and he fell down two steps into the house. The baker and his people rushed out to pick him up, and the assassins, most of whom only now discovered that they had been hired to murder the Constable of France, fled in terror. Craon rode for his life through the Porte Saint Antoine, gained his own castle of SablÉ, and from thence got safe to Bretagne. Meanwhile, the news spread rapidly through the city. The King who was going to bed, was just undressing in the hÔtel St. Paul, when he was told that his Constable had been murdered.

“Murdered! My Constable! By whom?” he exclaimed.

“It is not known, but it is close by, in the rue St. Catherine.”

“Torches! quick!” cried the King. “I shall go and see him.” And without waiting for guards or suite, he threw a houppelande round him, and rushed out, arriving at the shop just as the Constable was beginning to recover his senses. He opened his eyes and they fell upon the young King leaning anxiously over him. “Ah, Constable, how do you feel?”

“Cher sire, bien faiblement et petitement.”

“Et qui vous a mis en ce parti?”

“Sire, Pierre de Craon et ses complices, trÂitreusement et sans dÉfense.”139 Charles turned to the doctor who had been hastily called in and said, “Look at my Constable, and tell me what there is to fear.”140 Delighted to hear that although Clisson was covered with wounds, his life was in no danger, and swearing that never had a crime been punished and avenged as this should be; Charles sent in pursuit of Craon and his companions, of whom some were taken and executed, but most of them escaped.

The King confiscated his dominions, took possession of his treasures, and divided his lands between the Duc d’OrlÉans and some of his friends. The wife and daughter of Craon fled, and the King ordered the Duc de Bretagne to give up the traitor who had attacked his Constable.

The Duke pretended not to know where he was, so Charles assembled his troops to go to war with him, ordering his uncles of Berry and Burgundy to join him with their vassals. They both hated this project as the Duke of Burgundy was a great friend of the Duc de Bretagne, and the Duc de Berry, who was in Paris at the time, had been told of the conspiracy the very day it was carried out, but as he could not bear the Constable he said nothing about it to the King on pretence of not wishing to disturb the festivities going on at the palace. However, they were forced to obey the King, who would not listen to their assurances that Craon was not there at all, but in Spain. He threw himself into a violent passion whenever the matter was discussed, and seemed to be growing so violent and so unreasonable that all who approached him were filled with alarm.141

The weather was very hot, and Charles was in a perfectly unfit state to bear the fatigue and excitement of a campaign. During the whole summer it had been so dry that the large rivers, the chief roads for merchandise, had been so low that boats could not go on them, wells and springs were dried up, the parched earth cracked; there was great distress, for no rain fell.

One broiling day he insisted, in spite of the advice of his uncles, on leaving Le Mans with the troops. He was dressed in black velvet, and almost suffocated with the heat.

As they were entering a wood a tall figure rushed out and caught his horse by the bridle, crying out that he was betrayed (which by the by is the typical exclamation of the modern Frenchman). This particular man, however, appears to have been mad, and while he was raving and warning the King not to go further he was seized by the guards.

Charles said nothing at first, but rode on for about an hour till the troop came out of the wood on to a sandy plain where the dust and heat were overpowering. One of the pages, who was so exhausted that he was falling asleep, let his spear fall against some one else’s armour. The clang it made startled the King, who suddenly gave a shout and rode furiously forward striking at everybody. He struck down several men, killing four, and rushed at the Duc d’OrlÉans, who fled for his life and escaped. The Duke of Burgundy rode up exclaiming, “Haro! le grand meschef! monseigneur est tout dÉvoyÉ!” They tried to catch the King, but it was most difficult and dangerous. However, at last a cavalier who was very fond of him got behind him and threw his arms round him. He was laid on the ground, the paroxysm passed off and he fell back insensible. They placed him in a litter, and the whole troop turned back to Le Mans. The expedition was at an end, and the King was mad.142