Volume III Part 1 (1/2)
A Popular History of France From The Earliest Times.
by Francois Pierre Guillaume Guizot.
Volume III.
CHAPTER XXIII.----THE HUNDRED YEARS' WAR--CHARLES VI. AND THE DUKES OF BURGUNDY.
Sully, in his Memoirs, characterizes the reign of Charles VI. as ”that reign so pregnant of sinister events, the grave of good laws and good morals in France.” There is no exaggeration in these words; the sixteenth century with its St. Bartholomew and The League, the eighteenth with its reign of terror, and the nineteenth with its Commune of Paris, contain scarcely any events so sinister as those of which France was, in the reign of Charles VI., from 1380 to 1422, the theatre and the victim.
Scarcely was Charles V. laid on his bier when it was seen what a loss he was and would be to his kingdom. Discord arose in the king's own family.
In order to shorten the ever critical period of minority, Charles V. had fixed the king's majority at the age of fourteen. His son, Charles VI., was not yet twelve, and so had two years to remain under the guardians.h.i.+p of his four uncles, the Dukes of Anjou, Berry, Burgundy, and Bourbon; but the last being only a maternal uncle and a less puissant prince than his paternal uncles, it was between the other three that strife began for temporary possession of the kingly power.
Though very unequal in talent and in force of character, they were all three ambitious and jealous. The eldest, the Duke of Anjou, who was energetic, despotic, and stubborn, aspired to dominion in France for the sake of making French influence subserve the conquest of the kingdom of Naples, the object of his ambition. The Duke of Berry was a mediocre, restless, prodigal, and grasping prince. The Duke of Burgundy, Philip the Bold, the most able and the most powerful of the three, had been the favorite, first of his father, King John, and then of his brother, Charles V., who had confidence in him and readily adopted his counsels.
His marriage, in 1369, with the heiress to the counts.h.i.+p of Flanders, had been vigorously opposed by the Count of Flanders, the young princess's father, and by the Flemish communes, ever more friendly to England than to France; but the old Countess of Flanders, Marguerite of France, vexed at the ill will of the count her son, had one day said to him, as she tore open her dress before his eyes, ”Since you will not yield to your mother's wishes, I will cut off these b.r.e.a.s.t.s which gave suck to you, to you and to no other, and will throw them to the dogs to devour.” This singular argument had moved the Count of Flanders; he had consented to the marriage; and the Duke of Burgundy's power had received such increment by it that on the 4th of October, 1380, when Charles VI. was crowned at Rheims, Philip the Bold, without a word said previously to any, suddenly went up and sat himself down at the young king's side, above his eldest brother, the Duke of Anjou, thus a.s.suming, without anybody's daring to oppose him, the rank and the rights of premier peer of France.
He was not slow to demonstrate that his superiority in externals could not fail to establish his political preponderance. His father-in-law, Count Louis of Flanders, was in almost continual strife with the great Flemish communes, ever on the point of rising against the taxes he heaped upon them and the blows he struck at their privileges. The city of Ghent, in particular, joined complaint with menace. In 1381 the quarrel became war. The Ghentese at first experienced reverses. ”Ah! if James Van Artevelde were alive!” said they. James Van Artevelde had left a son named Philip; and there was in Ghent a burgher-captain, Peter Dubois, who went one evening to see Philip Van Artevelde. ”What we want now,” said he, ”is to choose a captain of great renown. Raise up again in this country that father of yours who, in his lifetime, was so loved and feared in Flanders.” ”Peter,” replied Philip, ”you make me a great offer; I promise that, if you put me in that place, I will do nought without your advice.” ”Ah! well!” said Dubois, ”can you really be haughty and cruel? The Flemings like to be treated so; with them you must make no more account of the life of men than you do of larks when the season for eating them comes.” ”I will do what shall be necessary,”
said Van Artevelde. The struggle grew violent between the count and the communes of Flanders with Ghent at their head. After alternations of successes and reverses the Ghentese were victorious; and Count Louis with difficulty escaped by hiding himself at Bruges in the house of a poor woman who took him up into a loft where her children slept, and where he lay flat between the pailla.s.se and the feather-bed. On leaving this asylum he went to Bapaume to see his son-in-law, the Duke of Burgundy, and to ask his aid. ”My lord,” said the duke to him, ”by the allegiance I owe to you and also to the king you shall have satisfaction. It were to fail in one's duty to allow such a sc.u.m to govern a country. Unless order were restored, all knighthood and lords.h.i.+p might be destroyed in Christendom.” The Duke of Burgundy went to Senlis, where Charles VI.
was, and asked for his support on behalf of the Count of Flanders. The question was referred to the king's council. The Duke of Berry hesitated, saying, ”The best part of the prelates and n.o.bles must be a.s.sembled and the whole matter set before them; we will see what is the general opinion.” In the midst of this deliberation the young king came in with a hawk on his wrist. ”Well! my dear uncles,” said he, ”of what are you parleying? Is it aught that I may know?” The Duke of Berry enlightened him, saying, ”A brewer, named Van Artevelde, who is English to the core, is besieging the remnant of the knights of Flanders shut up in Oudenarde; and they can get no aid but from you. What say you to it?
Are you minded to help the Count of Flanders to reconquer his heritage, which those presumptuous villains have taken from him?”
”By my faith,” answered the king, ”I am greatly minded; go we thither; there is nothing I desire so much as to get on my harness, for I have never yet borne arms; I would fain set out to-morrow.” Amongst the prelates and lords summoned to Compiegne some spoke of the difficulties and dangers that might be encountered. ”Yes, yes,” said the king, ”but 'begin nought and win nought.'” When the Flemings heard of the king's decision they sent respectful letters to him, begging him to be their mediator with the count their lord; but the letters were received with scoffs, and the messengers were kept in prison. At this news Van Artevelde said, ”We must make alliance with the English; what meaneth this King Wren of France? It is the Duke of Burgundy leading him by the nose, and he will not abide by his purpose; we will frighten France by showing her that we have the English for allies.” But Van Artevelde was under a delusion; Edward III. was no longer King of England; the Flemings' demand was considered there to be arrogant and opposed to the interests of the lords in all countries; and the alliance was not concluded. Some attempts at negotiation took place between the advisers of Charles VI. and the Flemings, but without success. The Count of Flanders repaired to the king, who said, ”Your quarrel is ours; get you back to Artois; we shall soon be there and within sight of our enemies.”
Accordingly, in November, 1382, the King of France and his army marched into Flanders. Several towns, Ca.s.sel, Bergues, Gravelines, and Turnhout, hastily submitted to him.
There was less complete unanimity and greater alarm amongst the Flemings than their chiefs had antic.i.p.ated. ”n.o.ble king,” said the inhabitants, ”we place our persons and our possessions at your discretion, and to show you that we recognize you as our lawful lord, here are the captains whom Van Artevelde gave us; do with them according to your will, for it is they who have governed us.” On the 28th of November the two armies found themselves close together at Rosebecque, between Ypres and Courtrai. In the evening Van Artevelde a.s.sembled his captains at supper, and, ”Comrades,” said he, ”we shall to-morrow have rough work, for the King of France is here all agog for fighting. But have no fear; we are defending our good right and the liberties of Flanders. The English have not helped us; well, we shall only have the more honor. With the King of France is all the flower of his kingdom. Tell your men to slay all, and show no quarter. We must spare the King of France only; he is a child, and must be pardoned; we will take him away to Ghent, and have him taught Flemish. As for the dukes, counts, barons, and other men-at-arms, slay them all; the commons of France shall not bear us ill will; I am quite sure that they would not have a single one of them back.” At the very same moment King Charles VI. was entertaining at supper the princes his uncles, the Count of Flanders, the constable, Oliver de Clisson, the marshals, &c. They were arranging the order of battle for the morrow.
Many folks blamed the Duke of Burgundy for having brought so young a king, the hope of the realm, into the perils of war. It was resolved to confide the care of him to the constable de Clisson, whilst conferring upon Sire de Coucy, for that day only, the command of the army. ”Most dear lord,” said the constable to the king, ”I know that there is no greater honor than to have the care of your person; but it would be great grief to my comrades not to have me with them. I say not that they could not do without me; but for a fortnight now I have been getting everything ready for bringing most honor to you and yours. They would be much surprised if I should now withdraw.” The king was somewhat embarra.s.sed.
”Constable,” said he, ”I would fain have you in my company to-day; you know well that my lord my father loved you and trusted you more than any other; in the name of G.o.d and St. Denis do whatever you think best. You have a clearer insight into the matter than I and those who have advised me. Only attend my ma.s.s to-morrow.” The battle began with spirit the next morning, in the midst of a thick fog. According to the monk of St. Denis, Van Artevelde was not without disquietude. He had bidden one of his people go and observe the French army; and, ”You bring me bad news,” said he to the man in a whisper, ”when you tell me there are so many French with the king: I was far from expecting it. . . . This is a hard war; it requires discreet management. I think the best thing for me is to go and hurry up ten thousand of our comrades who are due.” ”Why leave thy host without a head?” said they who were about him: ”it was to obey thy orders that we engaged in this enterprise; thou must run the risks of battle with us.” The French were more confident than Van Artevelde. ”Sir,” said the constable, addressing the king, cap in hand, ”be of good cheer; these fellows are ours; our very varlets might beat them.” These words were far too presumptuous; for the Flemings fought with great bravery. Drawn up in a compact body, they drove back for a moment the French who were opposed to them; but Clisson had made everything ready for hemming them in; attacked on all sides they tried, but in vain, to fly; a few, with difficulty, succeeded in escaping and casting, as they went, into the neighboring swamps the banner of St.
George. ”It is not easy,” says the monk of St. Denis, ”to set down with any certainty the number of the dead; those who were present on this day, and I am disposed to follow their account, say that twenty-five thousand Flemings fell on the field, together with their leader, Van Artevelde, the concoctor of this rebellion, whose corpse, discovered with great trouble amongst a heap of slain, was, by order of Charles VI., hung upon a tree in the neighborhood. The French also lost in this struggle some n.o.ble knights, not less ill.u.s.trious by birth than valor, amongst others forty-four valiant men who, being the first to hurl themselves upon the ranks of the enemy to break them, thus won for themselves great glory.”
The victory of Rosebecque was a great cause for satisfaction and pride to Charles VI. and his uncle, the Duke of Burgundy. They had conquered on the field in Flanders the commonalty of Paris as well as that of Ghent; and in France there was great need of such a success, for, since the accession of the young king, the Parisians had risen with a demand for actual abolition of the taxes of which Charles V., on his death-bed, had deplored the necessity, and all but decreed the cessation. The king's uncles, his guardians, had at first stopped, and indeed suppressed, the greater part of those taxes; but soon afterwards they had to face a pressing necessity: the war with England was going on, and the revenues of the royal domain were not sufficient for the maintenance of it. The Duke of Anjou attempted to renew the taxes, and one of Charles V.'s former councillors, John Desmarets, advocate-general in parliament, abetted him in his attempt. Seven times, in the course of the year 1381, a.s.semblies of notables met at Paris to consider the project, and on the 1st of March, 1382, an agent of the governing power scoured the city at full gallop, proclaiming the renewal of the princ.i.p.al tax. There was a fresh outbreak. The populace, armed with all sorts of weapons, with strong mallets amongst the rest, spread in all directions, killing the collectors, and storming and plundering the Hotel de Ville. They were called the Malleteers. They were put down, but with as much timidity as cruelty. Some of them were arrested, and at night thrown into the Seine, sewn up in sacks, without other formality or trial. A fresh meeting of notables was convened, towards the middle of April, at Compiegne, and the deputies from the princ.i.p.al towns were summoned to it; but they durst not come to any decision: ”They were come,” they said, ”only to hear and report; they would use their best endeavors to prevail on those by whom they had been sent to do the king's pleasure.” Towards the end of April some of them returned to Meaux, reporting that they had everywhere met with the most lively resistance; they had everywhere heard shouted at them, ”Sooner death than the tax.” Only the deputies from Sens had voted a tax, which was to be levied on all merchandise; but, when the question of collecting it arose, the people of Sens evinced such violent opposition that it had to be given up. It was when facts and feelings were in this condition in France, that Charles VI. and the Duke of Burgundy had set out with their army to go and force the Flemish communes to submit to their count.
[Ill.u.s.tration: The Procession went over the Gates----16]
Returning victorious from Flanders to France, Charles VI. and his uncles, everywhere brilliantly feasted on their march, went first of all for nine days to Compiegne, ”to find recreation after their fatigues,” says the monk of St. Denis, ”in the pleasures of the chase; afterwards, on the 10th of January, 1383, the king took back in state to the church of St.
Denis the oriflamme which he had borne away on his expedition; and next day, the 11th of January, he re-entered Paris, he alone being mounted, in the midst of his army.” The burgesses went out of the city to meet him, and offer him their wonted homage, but they were curtly ordered to retrace their steps; the king and his uncles, they were informed, could not forget offences so recent. The wooden barriers which had been placed before the gates of the city to prevent anybody from entering without permission, were cut down with battle-axes; the very gates were torn from their hinges; they were thrown down upon the king's highway, and the procession went over them, as if to trample under foot the fierce pride of the Parisians. When he was once in the city, and was leaving Notre Dame, the king sent abroad throughout all the streets an order forbidding any one, under the most severe penalties, from insulting or causing the least harm to the burgesses in any way whatsoever; and the constable had two plunderers strung up to the windows of the houses in which they had committed their thefts. But fundamental order having been thus upheld, reprisals began to be taken for the outbreaks of the Parisians, munic.i.p.al magistrates or populace, burgesses or artisans, rich or poor, in the course of the two preceding years;--arrests, imprisonments, fines, confiscations, executions, severities of all kinds fell upon the most conspicuous and the most formidable of those who had headed or favored popular movements. The most solemn and most iniquitous of these punishments was that which befell the advocate-general, John Desmarets.
”For nearly a whole year,” says the monk of St. Denis, ”he had served as mediator between the king and the Parisians; he had often restrained the fury and stopped the excesses of the populace, by preventing them from giving rein to their cruelty. He was always warning the factious that to provoke the wrath of the king and the princes was to expose themselves to almost certain death. But, yielding to the prayers of this rebellious and turbulent mob, he, instead of leaving Paris as the rest of his profession had done, had remained there, and throwing himself boldly amidst the storms of civil discord, he had advised the a.s.sumption of arms and the defence of the city, which he knew was very displeasing to the king and the grandees.” When he was taken to execution, ”he was put on a car higher than the rest, that he might be better seen by everybody.”
Nothing shook for a moment the firmness of this old man of seventy years.
”Where are they who judged me?” he said: ”let them come and set forth the reasons for my death. Judge me, O G.o.d, and separate my cause from that of the evil-doers.” On his arrival at the market-place, some of the spectators called out to him, ”Ask the king's mercy, Master John, that he may pardon your offences.” He turned round, saying, ”I served well and loyally his great-grandfather King Philip, his grandfather King John, and his father King Charles; none of those kings ever had anything to reproach me with, and this one would not reproach me any the more if he were of a grown man's age and experience. I don't suppose that he is a whit to blame for such a sentence, and I have no cause to cry him mercy.
To G.o.d alone must I cry for mercy, and I pray Him to forgive my sins.”
Public respect accompanied the old and courageous magistrate beyond the scaffold; his corpse was taken up by his friends, and at a later period honorably buried in the church of St. Catherine.
After the chastis.e.m.e.nts came galas again, of which the king and his court were immoderately fond. Young as he was (he was but seventeen), his powerful uncle, the Duke of Burgundy, was very anxious to get him married, so as to secure his own personal influence over him. The wise Charles V., in his dying hours, had testified a desire that his son should seek alliances in Germany. A son of the reigning duke, Stephen of Bavaria, had come to serve in the French army, and the Duke of Burgundy had asked him if there were any marriageable princess of Bavaria. ”My eldest brother,” answered the Bavarian, ”has a very beautiful daughter, aged fourteen.” ”That is just what we want,” said the Burgundian: ”try and get her over here; the king is very fond of beautiful girls; if she takes his fancy, she will be Queen of France.” The Duke of Bavaria, being informed by his brother, at first showed some hesitation. ”It would be a great honor,” said he, ”for my daughter to be Queen of France; but it is a long way from here. If my daughter were taken to France, and then sent back to me because she was not suitable, it would cause me too much chagrin. I prefer to marry her at my leisure, and in my own neighborhood.” The matter was pressed, however, and at last the Duke of Bavaria consented. It was agreed that the Princess Isabel should go on a visit to the d.u.c.h.ess of Brabant, who instructed her, and had her well dressed, say the chroniclers, for in Germany they clad themselves too simply for the fas.h.i.+ons of France. Being thus got ready, the Princess Isabel was conducted to Amiens, where the king then was, to whom her portrait had already been shown. She was presented to him, and bent the knee before him. He considered her charming. Seeing with what pleasure he looked upon her, the constable, Oliver de Clisson, said to Sire De Coney, ”By my faith, she will bide with us.” The same evening, the young king said to his councillor, Bureau de la Riviere, ”She pleases me: go and tell my uncle, the Duke of Burgundy, to conclude at once.” The duke, delighted, lost no time in informing the ladies of the court, who cried, ”Noel!” for joy. The duke had wished the nuptials to take place at Arras; but the young king, in his impatience, was urgent for Amiens, without delay, saying that he couldn't sleep for her. ”Well, well,”
replied his uncle, ”you must be cured of your complaint.” On the 18th of July, 1385, the marriage was celebrated at the cathedral of Amiens, whither the Princess Isabel ”was conducted in a handsome chariot, whereof the tires of the wheels were of silvern stuff.” King, uncles, and courtiers were far from a thought of the crimes and shame which would be connected in France with the name of Isabel of Bavaria. There is still more levity and imprudence in the marriages of kings than in those of their subjects.
Whilst this marriage was being celebrated, the war with England, and her new king, Richard II., was going on, but slackly and without result.
Charles VI. and his uncle of Burgundy, still full of the proud confidence inspired by their success against the Flemish and Parisian communes, resolved to strike England a heavy blow, and to go and land there with a powerful army. Immense preparations were made in France for this expedition. In September, 1386, there were collected in the port of Ecluse (Sluys) and at sea, between Sluys and Blankenberg, thirteen hundred and eighty-seven vessels, according to some, and according to others only nine hundred, large and small; and Oliver de Clisson had caused to be built at Trdguier, in Brittany, a wooden town which was to be transported to England and rebuilt after landing, ”in such sort,” says Froissart, ”that the lords might lodge therein and retire at night, so as to be in safety from sudden awakenings, and sleep in greater security.”
Equal care was taken in the matter of supplies. ”Whoever had been at that time at Bruges, or the Dam, or the Sluys would have seen how s.h.i.+ps and vessels were being laden by torchlight, with hay in casks, biscuits in sacks, onions, peas, beans, barley, oats, candles, gaiters, shoes, boots, spurs, iron, nails, culinary utensils, and all things that can be used for the service of man.” Search was made everywhere for the various supplies, and they were very dear. ”If you want us and our service,”
said the Hollanders, ”pay us on the nail; otherwise we will be neutral.”