Illness of the Queen—Her recovery—Floods in Paris—Death of several princesses of the Royal Family—Bertrand du Guesclin—The Court of Charles V. and Jeanne de Bourbon—The peers of France—The King’s will—Betrothal of his daughters—Visit of the Emperor Charles IV.—The Emperor and the Duchess-dowager de Bourbon—Birth of the Princess Catherine—Death of the Queen—Of the Princess Isabelle—Grief of the King—His death.

The beds used at this time were enormous. If only six feet square they were considered very small and called couchettes, but when they were from eight feet and a half by seven and a half to twelve feet by eleven, they were supposed to be of a sufficient size and called couches. These beds were mounted on very wide steps covered with rich carpets, and were hung with exquisite and costly stuffs; alcoves, supposed to be so much later an invention, were then in use. The chronicler of the quatre premiers Valois relates that in 1373 the Queen was seized with a dangerous illness. She seems to have been delirious, as he goes on to say that she lost her bonne mÉmoire, that the King, qui moult l’aimoit, made many pilgrimages about it, and that by the mercy of God and Our Lady she recovered her good health and good senses. In spite of his delicate health Charles often made these pilgrimages to holy places, walking barefoot with the monks.

In the early part of 1373 there were great floods, especially of the Seine, Marne, Yonne, Oise, and Loire. They lasted two months and were said to be the worst that had happened within living memory. The streets of Paris were full of water so that people had to go about in boats. From one gate to another the water flowed; it rose to the bridges and filled the lower rooms in the houses.

Several princesses of the French royal family had died within a short time—the Queen-dowager, Jeanne d’Evreux, of whose will and funeral an account was given in a former volume; Jeanne, Queen of Navarre, eldest sister of the King; the Princess Jeanne, daughter of Philippe VI. and Queen Blanche, who died on her way to Spain to marry the son of the King of Aragon. Also the old Prioress of Poissy, great aunt of the Queen, who was the Princess Marie de Clermont, daughter of Robert, Comte de Clermont, son of St. Louis. In early youth she had been betrothed to the Marquis de Montferrat. But she had set her heart on a monastic life, and she took the veil with the approval of her cousin Philippe le Bel, in the convent he had just founded at Poissy. She became Prioress, but having lost her sight she resigned that dignity, and died in May, 1372, at seventy-three years of age. It was, of course, afterwards that Marie de Bourbon, youngest sister of the Queen, was made Prioress of Poissy.

These were years of success and happiness for Charles and Jeanne. They had now four children, two of whom were sons. Prosperity was restored to their kingdom. The people trusted them, so that heavier taxes than those which caused riots under Jean and Charles VI. were paid without opposition by the subjects of Charles V., who knew that the affairs of the State were administered by able hands, and that the money so collected would be used for the defence and welfare of the country, not squandered on court pageants or unworthy favourites.

A truce was made with England, who had lost all the territories won from the late King, and restored to France by the wisdom of Charles le Sage and the valour of Bertrand du Guesclin.

Romance and poetry gather, as well they may, around the career of this heroic leader, the despised, neglected child of a poor Breton gentleman; who swept the English from his country, and died Constable of France, surrounded by his victorious troops, the keys of ChÂteauneuf-Randon, his last conquest, being laid upon his coffin. His father, a Breton noble, and his mother, who was proud and beautiful, considered their eldest son a disgrace to their family—for Bertrand was ugly, rough, and continually fighting and getting into mischief. Disliked and ill-treated at home he made his escape from his father’s chÂteau, and took refuge with an uncle and aunt, who received him with kindness, and with whom he remained. When he was sixteen or seventeen there was one day a wrestling match at Rennes, and being resolved to attend it he ran away from church, fought at the match and won the prize, but was so dreadfully hurt that he had to be carried back to the chÂteau of his uncle, where he was laid up for some time, during which his aunt, divided between her sorrow and uneasiness about his wounds and her anger at his disobedience, kept coming into his room, alternately reproaching and consoling him. Sometime afterwards there was a tourney at Rennes. Bertrand borrowed a horse and arms of his cousin and presented himself in the lists, challenging the first esquire who would break a lance with him. One of the bravest of the troop came forward, and was overthrown by him at the first shock. The next adversary who advanced was his own father. Recognising the arms of his house upon his father’s shield, Bertrand threw down his own, to the astonishment of all present, who attributed his doing so to fear. But he overthrew the next adversary and then raised his casque. His father embraced him, and his mother and aunt were filled with joy. His father then gave him everything he wanted for the outfit of a cavalier, and by his gallant deeds he soon rose to the height of fame. The story of his death in 1380, when besieging the castle of ChÂteauneuf-Randon in GÉvaudan, as told by ancient chroniclers, is as follows: The Castle was to surrender the day after Du Guesclin died; Marshal de Sancerre summoned the Governor to give up the keys, but he answered that he had sworn to yield them only to Du Guesclin. Being told that he was dead, he replied, “Then I will lay them on his tomb.” The Marshal consented, the Governor, at the head of the garrison, issued from the castle, and passing through the ranks of the besieging army knelt before75 the body of Du Guesclin and laid the keys on his coffin.

Before he died Du Guesclin charged his captains to remember that in whatever country they made war, women, children, the poor and les gens de l’Église were not their enemies. He had all his life been good to the weak and the poor.

The King and Queen showed all honour and affection to Du Guesclin.

Louis de Harcourt had been one of the foremost captains in the English war, and now came to Paris with the King’s brothers. Charles had suspected him sometime before of being in love with the Queen, and had regarded him with jealousy and anger in consequence, but having become convinced that he had been mistaken and unreasonable, que sans raison il avoit eu cette folle suspicion, he received him moult agrÉablement et joyeusement.76

While there can be no doubt that the court of Charles V. and Jeanne de Bourbon was much more orderly and more intellectual than those of the two first Valois kings, it does not seem so certain that it was equally amusing. It was stately and magnificent; comfort, luxury, and civilisation had greatly increased; there were splendid banquets, balls, and other entertainments, but the accounts of the daily life there, which have come down to us from that time, especially those of Christine de Pisan, who lived among the scenes she describes, show a very different state of things from the brilliant, reckless lives of pleasure and gaiety led by all who belonged to the Court of France in the days of Philippe de Valois and his son Jean.

The King got up at six or seven o’clock in the morning, and when dressed his breviary was brought him and he went to his oratory to hear mass; after which he gave audience to anybody who wished to ask him anything. In these interviews he treated everybody who approached him with the greatest courtesy and kindness. On certain days he then went to the Council Chamber, and at ten o’clock he sat down to dinner, music going on all the time of that repast. When it was over he devoted two hours to interviews with foreign envoys, or with any one bringing news from the seat of war,77 or of any other matters of importance in different parts of his kingdom. Then he went to lie down for an hour, and after that, one reads with a feeling of relief, that he allowed himself a little pleasure. Christine de Pisan takes care to explain that this was only in order that he might work better afterwards, but one may trust that this absurd suggestion was only an idea of her own, and that the mind of Charles was not so saturated with duty and dulness as she would imply. At any rate, he amused himself during this part of the day by looking at his books, jewels, and different collections, and talking with his friends. Perhaps the most intimate and the one he loved best was Jean de la RiviÈre. There is a note of a ring he gave him, with a ruby in it qui tient au violet.

Next, the King went to vespers and then out into his garden, where generally the Queen was with him, and where curious and beautiful things were often brought to them by the merchants. In winter he had different books read to him; stories from the Scriptures, philosophy, romances, &c., till supper, and during the rest of the evening he amused himself. Jeanne also had some one to read aloud to her while she was at dinner.

The King’s devotion to the Queen had never changed. From his boyish days at the court of his grandfather she had been the only woman he had ever loved. Without consulting her he would take no step of importance, and he cared for no pleasure she could not share. They lived, as Christine de Pisan says, en paix et en amour. Charles delighted in finding and giving her beautiful presents of jewels, curiosities, objects of art, or anything that he thought would please her.

Christine de Pisan describes with enthusiasm the way in which Jeanne held her court, the order and magnificence with which everything was arranged, whether in the daily life of her court and household, or in the splendid entertainments and ceremonies of state. She speaks of the beauty and dignity of Jeanne, as she appeared at these festivities, wearing her crown, her royal mantle of cloth of gold, or of silk covered with precious stones, and a girdle of jewels, accompanied by two or three queens (the two Queens-dowager, Jeanne and Blanche, and the Queen of Navarre), by her mother the Duchesse de Bourbon and by all the members of the royal family and court.

The peers of France in the time of Charles V. were as follows: Original peers ecclesiastical, called Clercs Ducs, i.e., the Archbishop of Reims and the Bishops of Laon and Langres; Clercs Comtes, i.e., the Bishops of Beauvais, ChÂlons, and Noyon.

Lay peers, i.e., Dukes of Burgundy, Normandy, and Aquitaine; Counts of Toulouse, Flanders, and Champagne.

But the King held in his hands the Counties of Toulouse and Champagne, and the following new ones had been created.

Comte d’AlenÇon, Duc de Bourbon, Comte d’Etampes, Comte d’Artois, Duc de Bretagne, Comte de Clermont and Roi de Navarre (as Comte d’Evreux).

The lay peers sat on the right of the King, the ecclesiastical on the left. New peers sat according to creation.78

That Charles should forbid private wars among the nobles was a matter of course. He also made a law forbidding games of hazard. He discouraged all books of licentious tendency and conversation of the same kind, and gave out that those who led scandalous lives would lose his favour and be dismissed from court. He was very angry with a young chevalier who had, as Christine de Pisan expresses it, “instructed the Dauphin in love and folly,” and forbade him to enter his presence, or that of the Queen and their children; but he does not seem to have been cruel or very severe. He would by no means allow either his nobles or any one else to condemn their wives to perpetual imprisonment if they were unfaithful to them, “considering the fragility of human nature,” and was with great difficulty persuaded to allow of their being kept under restraint if their conduct was too outrageous.

On one occasion his barber, who was shaving him, kept putting his hand in the pouch or purse the King wore at his side and taking out money. Charles saw what he was about and forgave him; but he repeated his offence twice or thrice. The fourth time, the King dismissed him but would not allow him to be put to death, as by the laws of that time he was liable to be; because he had served him so long. Another time, “it was in the time of the pestilence, before he was crowned,79 as he was entering Paris with a great company, after a great commotion in the town which had been against him,” as he passed through a street one of the rabble cried out, “By God, Sire! if I had been believed, you would not have come in; but they will not do much for you.”

The Comte de Tanquarville, who rode before the King, wanted to go and put the fellow to death, but Charles restrained him, only answering with an indifferent smile. “They will not believe you, beau sire.” On being told by some of the princes that he was too easy and too ready to grant pardons, by which he encouraged crime, he replied that he would much rather be too indulgent than too severe. He was exceedingly charitable both to the convents and to the poor and unfortunate of all classes, and gave away an immense amount of money.

The government of Languedoc had been entrusted by the King to the Duc d’Anjou, the eldest and perhaps the worst of his brothers. But his rule was so cruel and oppressive, and such commotions arose from it that Charles interfered; forbade the executions and punishments ordered by the Duke to be carried out, and took the government of the province away from him. The two elder of the King’s brothers were a continual source of uneasiness to him. Believing from his delicate health that his own life would not be a long one, he felt a dread that was only too well founded of what would happen if in the event of his death the kingdom and the Dauphin should fall into their hands. He did what he could to obviate this contingency. He fixed the majority of the Dauphin at fourteen years of age. He gave the guardianship of him and his brother and sisters to the Queen, her brother the Duc de Bourbon, and his third brother the Duc de Bourgogne. The Duc d’Anjou, though he was to be regent, was to swear on the gospels and holy relics to govern loyally for the welfare of the kingdom and his nephew, and was to have no jurisdiction over the town and vicomtÉ of Paris, the towns and baillages of Melun and Sens, and the whole of the duchy of Normandy, which were to be administered for the King by his guardians and a council; he also regulated the fortunes of his younger children. The Princess Marie was betrothed to Guillaume de BaviÈre, Comte de Hollande, et de Hainault, eldest son of the Duke of Bavaria, and the Princess Isabelle to Jean, Duc d’AlenÇon. The crowns or coronets for these little princesses and several other of their possessions appear in a list made by order of their father.80

In December, 1377, the Emperor Charles IV. came on a visit to the King and Queen. Preparations for his reception were made on the grandest scale. He arrived at Cambrai on Tuesday before Christmas with his son, the King of the Romans, was met by a body of nobles and cavaliers sent by the King to welcome him and entertained by the Bishop. The next night he slept at the abbey of Mont St. Martin. The Duc de Bourbon, the Comte d’Eu, cousin of the King, and the Bishops of Beauvais and Paris came to meet him at CompiÈgne with three hundred cavaliers in blue and white, the Duke’s colours. The Duc de Bourbon entertained the whole company at supper and the next day, at Senlis, the Emperor was met by another array of cavalry with the Dukes of Burgundy and Berry. As he had been seized on the way with an attack of gout, the King of France sent a litter drawn by mules and “noblement appareilliÉe”81 belonging to the Queen, which the Emperor received with great satisfaction and in which he travelled to St. Denis. There he was met by a train of prelates and dignitaries who accompanied him to the famous church, into which, as he was not well enough to walk, he caused himself to be carried and offered his prayers before the altar of St. Louis. He was then carried to his room and his suite were supplied by the Abbot with “great fish, beef, mutton, rabbits, fowls, fodder for their horses, and abundance of wine.” Many presents were brought by the people of the town, and the Emperor when he had rested was carried to the treasury of the abbey, where priceless collections of relics, crowns, and gems were displayed before him. The robes, crowns, jewels, and everything of the kind used at the coronations were kept by the Abbot and monks of St. Denis.

The Emperor spent that day in the Abbey, and rose very early the next morning, January 4th, as on that day he was to go to Paris. But before he set off he was carried again into the church, where he asked to see the tombs of the kings, especially of Jean and of Philippe de Valois and his wife, Jeanne de Bourgogne. For he was the son of the gallant King of Bohemia, who died at CrÉcy; his sister, Bonne, was the first wife of Jean, and he himself had been brought up in the court of Philippe de Valois and Jeanne de Bourgogne. As he remarked, “his youth had been nourished in their hostel and much good they had done to him.”82 And he called the Abbot and monks and begged them to pray to God for the “bons seigneurs et dames qui gisoient lÀ.” Then, with much state and ceremony, he began his journey to Paris, to visit once more the splendid scenes of those far-off days and the children of those, who had been the friends and companions of his youth. And he said that more than any creature on earth he desired to see the King and Queen and their children, and then let God take him, for he would willingly die.

The Emperor got out of his litter and entered Paris mounted on a black horse richly caparisoned with the arms of France, sent him by the King his nephew, who came out to meet him mounted on a tall white charger wearing a scarlet robe, mantle and hat covered with pearls, with a great train of nobles and chevaliers gorgeously dressed attended by their followers wearing their liveries, the officers of the households of the King and the Dauphin in immense numbers dressed according to their grades. The King had sent a proclamation the day before that no one should dare (que nul ne fust tant hardi) to take up the space in the grant rue by coming to the palace with carts or people, and no one should move from the places where they had put themselves to see the King and Emperor pass. None were allowed to come into the town, and many of the inhabitants had to stay outside in the fields, while sergeants-at-arms were posted in the streets, and thirty of them with swords and maces rode before the King’s bodyguard. The King of France, the Emperor and the King of the Romans rode into Paris side by side in this magnificent procession, and it was three o’clock when they arrived at the marble steps of the palace, when the Emperor, who could hardly hold himself up from the gout, was placed in a chair covered with cloth of gold and with much honour and ceremony conducted to the apartment prepared for him.

It would be too long in a work like this to give the details so minutely described and so interesting to the student of history, of the proceedings of the next few days, during which the Emperor remained the guest of the King of France, of the banquets with five dais one above another in great halls where windows, ceiling, and columns were hung with cloth of gold, of the profusion of the feasting, of the spectacle of the conquest of Jerusalem in the vast hall of the Palais de la CitÉ, of the entertainments at the Louvre, BeautÉ and Vincennes, offered by the King to the Emperor. It will be sufficient to relate what is perhaps the most interesting event of his sojourn in Paris, his visit to the Queen at the hÔtel St. Paul on Sunday, January 10th. The Emperor, accompanied by the King of France, went down to the quay near the Louvre, where they embarked on the King’s barge and proceeded by water to St. Pol, where they landed. They were met in the middle of the court by the Dauphin and his brother Louis Comte de Valois, who knelt before the King and then went to salute the Emperor. The latter took off his hat, kissed the two boys, and was carried on in his chair through such a throng of seigneurs, knights, and people of the Court that the chair could hardly pass, to the salon of the Queen, who was in the midst of a great assemblage of princesses and ladies of the court. As he sat by the Queen the Emperor kept asking for her mother, the Duchesse de Bourbon, Isabelle de Valois, the sister of his first wife and friend of his sister Bonne, Duchesse de Normandie, whom he had known so well in the old days at Paris and Vincennes. She had withdrawn to the end of the great room out of the crowd, but when she was told that he was anxious to see her she came up to him.

Then for a moment they looked at each other in silence. The memories of bygone days, of their own youth, of the forms and faces of the dead came back to them and they both burst into tears, so that, as the chronicler says, “it was a piteous thing to see.”83 Finding it impossible to carry on any conversation then, they deferred it till after dinner. After the Emperor had rested in the apartment of the Dauphin, which had been prepared for him, the Kings of France and of the Romans dined, wine and dessert were served, and the banquet was in the great Salle de Sens. Then Charles V. retired to his own rooms; his brothers with the King of the Romans, who wanted to see the lions, went to find Louis, Comte de Valois, who probably wished to go with them, and the Duchesse de Bourbon came to the apartment of the Emperor, her brother-in-law. For a long time they sat together, talking of old times, as people will who were companions in childhood after being separated for half a lifetime. Later on they were joined by the Queen and her two little sons, and they all stayed with the Emperor till the hour of vespers.

They brought him two beautiful dogs with the golden fleur-de-lis on their silken collars, and he gave the Queen a gold reliquary. Towards evening the King came to fetch the Emperor as they were going down to Vincennes and BeautÉ, whence the latter was to take his departure.84

It was the last fÊte of the court of Jeanne de Bourbon. For less than a month afterwards, on the 4th of February, at the hÔtel St. Paul, she gave birth to a daughter, “dont moult fut grevÉe de travail.” To allay the violence of the fever with which she was seized the Queen insisted on being put into a cold bath, after which she became alarmingly ill. The child was hastily baptized by the Bishop of Paris and called after her mother’s favourite Saint Catherine. All her life Jeanne had desired to die before her husband, and said she hoped she would never live to be regent. She had her wish,85 for she died in the King’s arms February 6, 1378, about two hours before midnight.

The little Princess Isabelle died a few days after her mother, and was buried by her side at St. Denis.

Jeanne de Bourbon was one of the most charming and spotless characters in history. From her childish marriage to her death she does not seem to have had an enemy or a word of blame ever attached to her. She was always spoken of as “la belle duchesse” or “la bonne reine.” Charles was inconsolable. He never had the frank, open nature nor the graceful charm of manner that made some of the princes of his house adored by their friends and subjects. Quiet and reserved, he was a man of few but deep and lasting friendships and affections, and he was capable of a deathless love. The loss of Jeanne broke his heart. From that day his life was over. He never regained either health or spirits, but died rather more than two years after at his chÂteau of BeautÉ at the edge of his beloved forest.

Isabelle de Valois, Duchess-dowager de Bourbon, took charge of her granddaughters and retired into the convent of the CordeliÈres at Paris, where she ended her days.