Twenty Centuries of Paris

by Mabell S. C. Smith

“Dame enclose entre fleurs de Lys,
Reine êtes vous de Paris.
De France, et de tout le païs,
Nous en r’ allons en paradis.

“Opposite the chapel of Saint James a scaffold had been erected, richly decorated with tapestry, and surrounded with curtains, within which were men who played finely on organs. The whole street of Saint Denis was covered with a canopy or rich camlet and silk cloths. The queen and her ladies, conducted by the great lords, arrived at length at the gate of the Châtelet, where they stopped to see other splendid pageants that had been prepared. The queen and her attendants thence passed on to the bridge of Notre Dame, which was covered with a starry canopy of green and crimson, and the streets were all hung with tapestry as far as the church. It was now late in the evening, for the procession, ever since it had set out from Saint Denis, had advanced but at a foot’s pace. As the queen was passing down the street of Notre Dame, a man descended by means of a rope from the highest tower of Notre Dame church, having two lighted torches in his hands, and playing many tricks as he came down. The Bishop of Paris and his numerous clergy met the queen at the entrance of the church, and conducted her through the nave and choir to the great altar, where, on her knees, she made her prayers, and presented as her offering four cloths of gold, and the handsome crown which the angels had put on her head at the gate of Paris. The Lord John de la Rivière and Sir John le Mercier instantly brought one more rich with which they crowned her. When this was done she and her ladies left the church, and as it was late upwards of 500 lighted tapers attended the procession. In such array were they conducted to the palace, where the king, Queen Joan, and the Duchess of Orleans were waiting for them.

“On the morrow, which was Monday, the king gave a grand dinner to a numerous company of ladies, and at the hour of high mass the Queen of France was conducted to the holy chapel, where she was anointed and sanctified in the usual manner. Sir William de Viare, Archbishop of Rouen, said mass. Shortly after mass the king, queen, and all the ladies entered the hall: and you must know that the great marble table which is in the hall was covered with oaken planks four inches thick, and the royal dinner placed thereon. Near the table, and against one of the pillars, was the king’s buffet, magnificently decked out with gold and silver plate; and in the hall were plenty of attendants, sergeants-at-arms, ushers, archers, and minstrels, who played away to the best of their ability. The kings, prelates, and ladies, having washed, seated themselves at the tables, which were three in number: at the first, sat the King and Queen of France, and some few of the higher nobility; and at the other two, there were upwards of 500 ladies and damsels; but the crowd was so great that it was with difficulty they could be served with dinner, which indeed was plentiful and sumptuous. There were in the hall many curiously arranged devices: a castle to represent the city of Troy, with the palace of Ilion, from which were displayed the banners of the Trojans; also a pavilion on which were placed the banners of the Grecian kings, and which was moved as it were by invisible beings to the attack of Troy, assisted by a large ship capable of containing 100 men-at-arms; but the crowd was so great that this amusement could not last long. There were so many people on all sides that several were stifled by the heat, and the queen herself almost fainted. The queen left the palace about five o’clock, and, followed by her ladies, in litters or on horseback, proceeded to the residence of the king at the hotel de Saint Pol. The king took boat at the palace, and was rowed to his hotel, where, in a large hall, he entertained the ladies at a banquet; the queen, however, remained in her chamber where she supped, and did not again appear that night. On Tuesday, many superb presents were made by the Parisians to the King and Queen of France, and the Duchess of Touraine. This day the king and queen dined in private, at their different hotels, for at three o’clock the tournament was to take place in the square of Saint Catherine, where scaffolds had been erected for the accommodation of the queen and the ladies. The knights who took part in this tournament were thirty in number, including the king; and when the jousts began they were carried on with great vigor, every one performing his part in honor of the ladies. The Duke of Ireland, who was then a resident at Paris, and invited by the king to the tournament, tilted well; also a German knight from beyond the Rhine, by name Sir Gervais di Mirande, gained great commendation. The number of knights made it difficult to give a full stroke, and the dust was so troublesome that it increased the difficulty. The Lord de Coucy shone with brilliancy. The tilts were continued without relaxation until night, when the ladies were conducted to their hotels. At the hotel de Saint Pol was the most magnificent banquet ever heard of. Feasting and dancing lasted till sunrise, and the prize of the tournament was given, with the assent of the ladies and heralds, to the king as being the best tilter on the opponent side; while the prize for the holders of the lists was given to the Halze de Flandres, bastard brother to the Duchess of Burgundy. On Wednesday the tilting was continued, and the banquet this evening was as grand as the preceding one. The prize was adjudged by the ladies and heralds to a squire from Hainault, as the most deserving of the opponents, and to a squire belonging to the Duke of Burgundy, as the best tenant of the field. On Thursday also the tournament was continued; and, this day, knights and squires tilted promiscuously, and many gallant justs were done, for every one took pains to excel. When night put an end to the combat there was a grand entertainment again for the ladies at the hotel de Saint Pol. On Friday the king feasted the ladies and damsels at dinner, and afterwards very many returned to their homes, the king and queen thanking them very graciously for having come to the feast.”

Three years later Charles became insane, and it seemed as if no man was his friend thereafter. Undoubtedly a life of youthful dissipation and a naturally violent temper were the bases of his malady. The provoking causes seem to have been two. Urged by the bishop of Laon Charles had plucked up courage enough definitely to send away his uncles and to undertake to rule with the help of some of his father’s advisers, whom he recalled. One of these men, his Constable, Oliver de Clisson, was foully murdered at a little distance from the Hôtel Saint Paul, a few minutes after he had left a banquet given by the king. When Charles was told of the murder he rushed into the street in his night clothes and heard the name of the assassin, de Craon, from de Clisson’s own lips. The king burned with desire for vengeance. He set out as soon as he could in pursuit of de Craon who was supposed to have fled to Brittany. On an extremely hot day for which the king was unsuitably dressed in a thick black velvet jacket and heavy scarlet velvet cap, there dashed out at him from the roadside an old man, probably half-witted, who kept crying “Go no farther; thou art betrayed.” Charles was much startled by this gruesome warning, and when close upon it a page’s lance fell clattering against some piece of steel equipment he was seized with frenzy, wounded several of his followers, and when he was at last overpowered and taken from his horse, recognized no one.

Never again was he wholly sane. There were times of betterment, but never any real mental health. His people loved him—his nickname is Bien-Aimé—as they would a helpless child, but after a while no one except a hired woman took any care of him. His clothes and his person were neglected and he had no medical care. Isabeau deserted him and he had a repugnance for her even when he did not recognize her. At other times he had lucid intervals when he took part in festivities prepared to divert him. It was at the wedding entertainment of a lady of the court, held at the Hôtel Saint Paul where he lived, that he came near being burned to death. He and five of his courtiers were sewed up in tarred skins and were supposed to represent satyrs. Some one, perhaps by accident, perhaps with the desire to get the king out of the way, set fire to these dresses. It was impossible to pull them off. One of the young men threw himself into a tub of water and was saved. The king escaped by being wrapped in the voluminous skirt of his very young aunt-in-law, the duchess of Berri.

With the head of the kingdom insane for thirty years and with court and political factions working against each other with all virulence it is not strange that the country became merely a ground for the display of individual passion. The duke of Burgundy of the moment was John the Fearless, son of Philip the Bold. Between John and Charles’s brother, Louis, duke of Orleans, raged a hot rivalry. Isabeau, whose relations with Louis were a public scandal, fed the fire of disturbance. At last, in November, 1407, only three days after a public reconciliation, Louis was assassinated at the hands of John’s bravos as he was decoyed by a false message purporting to be from Charles, from the Hôtel Barbette where he had been supping with the queen. The house with its charming little tower is still standing in a crowded street of the Marais. It is not hard to picture the rush of the assassins, the screams of onlookers aroused from sleep, the hiss of arrows shot at windows where eyes were seeing what was meant to be hid, and the final ordering away of the ruffians by a tall man in command.

The next day what member of the royal family more grief-stricken than the duke of Burgundy! Yet he admitted the deed to his uncle, the duke of Berri. In spite of that he had the audacity the day after to try to join the council of princes who met in the Hôtel de Nesle on the left bank to discuss the matter. To their credit be it said that they did not admit him. John rode away into Flanders, but so great was his confidence in the affection for him of the people of Paris that he ventured to return, to have his case defended by a monk—who argued for five hours justifying the murder of Louis as the murder of a tyrant—and to force the weak-minded king to forgive him the vile deed. He even practically ruled the city for a time in the absence of the queen. Indeed it was not long before he and Isabeau came to a secret understanding. A little later a marriage was arranged between the murderer’s daughter and one of the sons of his victim.

Louis of Orleans’ son Charles, better known as a poet than as a statesman or warrior, married for his second wife the daughter of the count of Armagnac of the south of France. The father-in-law was more energetic than Charles, and he headed the struggle with the Burgundians. The populace of Paris sided with the Burgundians, the court with the Armagnacs. For five years France, and especially Paris was rent with broils and battles. In Charles V’s day the corporations had grown strong enough to cause some concern to the king and the nobles. Now the powerful brotherhood of butchers entered with enthusiasm into the dissensions that were making Paris almost uninhabitable for the peacefully inclined. Accustomed to the sight of blood and its shedding they entered with enthusiasm into the reformation of the government and especially of such members of the Armagnac party as were prominent. Led by a slaughterer named Caboche they supported the Burgundians in every attack, always in the name of changes which the wisest men of the burghers saw to be beneficial, but which no one had the ability to bring to pass except by violence. The cry of “Armagnac” was enough to cause an attack on any passer in the street and many a private vengeance was accomplished by means of the party shout.

So bad did conditions become that the steadiest of the bourgeois at last summoned the Armagnacs to check the excesses of the Cabochiens. John the Fearless, who had been the real ruler, since he issued orders and proclamations purporting to come from the mad king, was driven out of the city.

His going was a relief to Paris but to the country as a whole it brought disaster, for the duke was not slow in joining forces with the English who had seen their opportunity in the disturbed condition of their enemy’s land. Henry V had recently succeeded his father and had all a newcomer’s and a young man’s enthusiasm for renewing the English claim upon the French crown. He himself headed the army and in October, 1415, inflicted upon the French the crushing defeat of Agincourt wherein 10,000 Frenchmen lay dead upon the field. Never since Agincourt has the oriflamme left the altar of Saint Denis.