Twenty Centuries of Paris

by Mabell S. C. Smith

Charles VI (1380-1422) was only twelve years old, and, of course, was entirely in the hands of his guardians. The Parisians were disposed to be gentle toward the child, and received him with rejoicing when he entered the city after his coronation at Rheims. Their attitude was soon to change. Charles VI’s reign was one of such dissension and turbulence among his subjects, of such intrigue, hypocrisy and treachery among his friends and relatives, and of such advance by his external enemies who naturally took advantage of these internal troubles, that France has never been in worse case except during the horrors of the Revolution. Paris, where centered the initiative of the country, was torn by riot and insurrection, the burghers were manipulated by the lords, and the populace was at last declared subject to its chief enemy, the English.

The earliest trouble came when there was need of money for the meditated war with Flanders, and for the duke of Anjou’s secret preparations for an expedition to Naples where it was his life’s ambition to rule. As usual, the coffers of the Jews offered an irresistible temptation. The ghetto was in the heart of the Cité. Its houses were plundered and burned and many Hebrews lost their lives in trying to protect their property. To Anjou the citizens were more generous than to the king. A certain sum which they had promised to the royal treasury went into the avuncular pocketbook.

There had been fair words at first about the reduction of taxes, but when the words came to nothing the Parisians rose in hot rebellion. The immediate cause was the announcement of a new tax on all merchandise sold. When the tax-gatherers attempted to do their duty the people went to the Hôtel de Ville and the Arsenal and armed themselves with the mallets which Hugh Aubriot had prepared for the use of the militia when they should be called out against the English. For several days the people were masters of the city. Aubriot was released from the bishop’s prison and was put at the head of the rebellion, but he evidently regarded this as a doubtful honor, for he disappeared in the course of the night, seeming to think that an escape confirmed was better than a hazardous leadership. Prisoners for debt were released by the insurrectionists and the maillotins—mallet-bearers—committed many murders for which they were to suffer swift punishment.

Young Charles had had his first taste of war in Flanders and had gained the battle of Rosebecque. Returning to Paris the citizens came forth to meet him fully armed and with such martial demeanor that it looked as if they came to greet their lord in battle array. Charles sent an officer to them as they stood massed under Montmartre, to the north of the city, with a message to the effect that he had no desire to see them in any such guise, and ordering them back within the walls. When the young king had restored the oriflamme to its place beside the altar at Saint Denis he entered the city with every evidence of displeasure at the recent revolutionary behavior of the citizens. The barriers before the gates and the gates themselves were destroyed as if the monarch were making an entrance into the town of an enemy, and he rode haughtily through the streets, the only mounted soldier in the army, acknowledging neither by look or word the acclamations of his subjects. No sooner had he given thanks for his victories and had left Notre Dame than he issued stern orders of reprisal. He punished individuals by fine or imprisonment or death and the city by a loss of privileges which it had taken long to win. Among them, the Provost of Merchants became merely a minor officer of the king, the corporations lost the right of electing their heads, the chains which had been stretched across the streets at night and which could be serviceable as barricades were removed, and the burghers were disarmed.

Among the executions was that of Jean Desmarets, an old man who had served well and faithfully both king and people. His had been a soothing influence on many occasions when the citizens would have broken out in rebellion, but now he was caught in a position where his conviction was inevitable in the midst of a turmoil where discriminations were not made. On his way to execution some one shouted to him to ask King Charles for mercy. “God alone will I ask for mercy,” he said. “I served well and faithfully King Charles’s great-grandfather, and his grandfather, and his father, and they had nothing with which to reproach me. If the king had the age and knowledge of a man he would never have been guilty of such a judgment against me.”

When the Parisians piled up before the Louvre enough arms to furnish forth eight hundred thousand soldiers Charles knew that they were thoroughly penitent.

The king’s uncles soon wearied of guardianship which each must share with his brother, and they went off on their separate interests with the exception of the strongest of them all, the duke of Burgundy. He was that same Philip the Bold who had fought beside his father at Poitiers and who had received the duchy of Burgundy as his reward. He had made an advantageous marriage, and so firmly established was he and so conscious of his power that at the coronation of Charles VI he had sat down beside the king in the place which his brother Anjou should have occupied, and no one tried to dispossess him. Now he practically ruled the kingdom alone, though the other uncles returned now and then. Charles was but a lad still, and it was not unnatural that he should be lively, and his uncles were well content that he should be diverted from any attempt to learn anything of his business of government. Balls and jousts were frequent. There was a revival of the fashions of the days of chivalry, and old chronicles and tales were sought out to teach the ancient customs. The ladies wore extravagant head-dresses with veils and horns and the men decked themselves in tight nether garments and flowing sleeves.

Froissart tells in detail the events of the “First Entry” of Charles’s queen, Isabeau of Bavaria, into Paris. He is not right in saying that she never had been in the city. She had been married five years at the time: her wedding banquet had been given in the palace of the Cité, and she had been crowned in the Sainte Chapelle. This “Entry” was merely an excuse for especially gorgeous festivities.

“It was on Sunday, the 20th day of June, in the year of our Lord 1389,” says the chronicler, “that the queen entered Paris. In the afternoon of that day the noble ladies of France who were to accompany the queen assembled at Saint Denis, with such of the nobility as were appointed to lead the litters of the queen and her attendants. The citizens of Paris, to the number of 1,200, were mounted on horseback, dressed in uniforms of green and crimson, and lined each side of the road. Queen Joan and her daughter the Duchess of Orleans entered the city first, about an hour after noon, in a covered litter, and passing through the great street of Saint Denis, went to the palace, where the king was waiting for them.

“The Queen of France, attended by the Duchess of Berry and many other noble ladies, began the procession in an open litter most richly ornamented. A crowd of nobles attended, and sergeants and others of the king’s officers had full employment in making way for the procession, for there were such numbers assembled that it seemed as if all the world had come thither. At the gate of Saint Denis was the representation of a starry firmament, and within it were children dressed as angels, whose singing and chanting was melodiously sweet. There was also an image of the Virgin holding in her arms a child, who at times amused himself with a windmill made of a large walnut. The upper part of this firmament was richly adorned with the arms of France and Bavaria, with a brilliant sun dispersing his rays through the heavens; and this sun was the king’s device at the ensuing tournaments. The queen, after passing them, advanced slowly to the fountain in the street of Saint Denis, which was decorated with fine blue cloth besprinkled over with golden flowers-de-luce; and instead of water, the fountain ran in great streams of Clairé, and excellent Piement. Around the fountain were young girls handsomely dressed, who sang most sweetly, and held in their hands cups of gold, offering drink to all who chose it. Below the monastery of the Trinity a scaffold had been erected in the streets, and on it a castle, with a representation of the battle with King Saladin performed by living actors, the Christians on one side and the Saracens on the other. The procession then passed on to the second gate of Saint Denis, which was adorned as the first; and as the queen was going through the gate two angels descended and gently placed on her head a rich golden crown, ornamented with precious stones, at the same time singing sweetly the following verse:—