The death of Charles V. (1380) left the throne to a delicate boy of twelve years, who was to reign under the successive regencies of three uncles.  These brothers of Charles, and sons of the romantic King John, seem to represent all the traits and passions which can degrade humanity.  The oldest, the Duke of Anjou, was driven from the regency after stealing everything which was movable in the king’s palace and vaults.  The Duke of Burgundy, who succeeded him, had nobler objects, and needed a larger field for his ambitious soul.  He had an eye on the throne itself.  And when he and the Duke Berri, at the instigation of the archbishop, were compelled to resign the reins to the young King Charles VI., they carried with them to their own castles all that Anjou had left.  Of course the archbishop was mysteriously murdered, and then the boy king was married to Isabella of Bavaria, said to be the most beautiful and the wickedest woman in Europe.

Charles had always been a frail, delicate boy.  As he was riding one evening, a strange, wild-looking being sprang out of the darkness and seized the bridle of his horse, crying, “Fly, fly! you are betrayed.”  The astonished youth after the shock, became melancholy; then was suddenly seized with a fit of frenzy, in which he killed four of his pages.  A mad king was on the throne of France, the worst woman in Europe regent, and three uncles waiting like vultures around a dying man, ready to seize anything from a golden candlestick to a throne!

In the chaos of misrule and villainy into which France was falling, the determining factor was the deadly feud which existed between the house of Burgundy and that of Orleans.  Upon the death of the first Duke of Burgundy, his son John seized the regency for himself, snatching it from the Duke of Orleans, the king’s brother.  At this point started the feud which was to tear France asunder from end to end.  While the Orleanists were gathering their adherents to drive him out, John was intrenching himself in Paris.  Like many another villain, this Duke of Burgundy posed as the friend of the people.  He could doff his cap and speak smilingly to starving men.  He knew how to work upon their passions, and to please by torturing and executing those they believed had wronged them.  He told them how he pitied them for the extortions of the Duke of Orleans and Queen Isabella, kindly giving them pikes to defend themselves, and iron chains to barricade their streets, if they should be needed.  Then, extending his hand to his enemy of Orleans, brother of the king, they were reconciled:  the past was to be buried.

Then it is a pleasant picture we behold of the period:  the two friends partaking together of communion, and dining, and then embracing at parting with effusive words and promises to meet at a dance on the morrow, the unsuspecting Duke of Orleans going out into the dark, where hired assassins were waiting to hack him in pieces.  Then a court of justice trying and acquitting this confessed murderer of the king’s brother, upon the ground that tyrannicide is a duty; the sad, crazed wraith of a king saying the words he had been taught:  “Fair cousin, we pardon you all.”  And the tragedy and comedy were over!