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Bal des Ardents: When the King of France nearly burned to death

By Peter Konieczny

Perhaps the strangest scandal from the Middle Ages took place on 28 January 1393 in Paris. What was supposed to be a fun night celebrating a wedding ended with four French nobles dead, and the King of France coming close to burning to death.

Charles VI was not yet twelve years of age when he succeeded to the French throne. It was the year 1380, a time when France had seen a series of defeats in the Hundred Years’ War against England, and many more problems within the country caused by repeated outbreaks of plague, unruly peasants, and roaming bands of mercenaries causing trouble. For the next few years, the government was run by four of Charles’ uncles – not very well – but in 1388, the young king took over the rule himself, and it seems he did well enough that his French subjects would nickname him Charles the Beloved.

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However, in just a few years Charles would begin to show the signs of a deep and lifelong mental illness. A few signs had emerged by 1392, but in that summer he had set off on a campaign against the Duke of Brittany. According to Jean Froissart, the best-known chronicler of this period, it was a very hot day in August, and Charles was riding on a horse with his army:

Then, as they were all riding along like this, the page carrying the lance forgot what he was about or dozed off, as boys and pages do through carelessness, and allowed the blade of the lance to fall forward on to the helmet which the other page was wearing. There was a loud clang of steel, and the King, who was so close that they were riding on his horse’s heels, gave a sudden start. His mind reeled, for his thoughts were still running on the words which the madman or the wise man had said to him in the forest, and he imagined that a great host of his enemies were coming to kill him. Under this delusion, his weakened mind caused him to run amok. He spurred his horse forward, then drew his sword and wheeled round on to his pages, no longer recognizing them or anyone else. He thought he was in a battle surrounded by the enemy and, raising his sword to bring it down on anyone who was in the way, he shouted: ‘Attack! Attack the traitors!’

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Before the king could be subdued, several men were dead. Meanwhile, Charles fell comatose, and it took several days for him to recover. News of the event spread throughout France, worrying many, with Froissart noting that the blame fell on his uncles and the people who cared for Charles when he was younger.

Charles VI attacking his knights, from Froissart’s Chronicles – BNF MS Francais 2646 fol. 153v

By September, things seemed to have been better, and the king was back in Paris. A physician recommended that Charles keep himself busy with amusements. This may have been why the king organized a special party: Catherine de Fastaverin, the friend and lady-in-waiting to Queen Isabeau of Bavaria, was getting married to another member of the king’s court. The usual celebrations took place, with Froissart noting that, “the wedding day was passed in dancing and rejoicing; the king entertained the queen at supper in great state, and everyone exerted himself to add to the gaiety, seeing how much delighted the king appeared.”

Later that night, however, Charles unleashed a surprise for the wedding guests – the king and five young knights came into the room disguised in elaborate outfits to make themselves look like wild and hairy creatures. They were all tied together and proceeded to dance near the groom.

The king had previously ordered that no one was to approach these ‘wild men’ with torches, for he had been warned that the outfits could easily catch fire. In fact, the linen cloths they wore were soaked in a type of wax, making them extremely flammable.

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However, as the dancing continued, the king’s younger brother, Louis, Duke of Orléans, arrived in the room with four knights, all carrying torches. As the king moved away from the other dancers to talk with the Duchess of Berry, a ‘most unfortunate accident” took place, according to Froissart:

Through the youthful gaiety of the Duke of Orleans, who, could he have foreseen the mischief he was about to cause, would not on any consideration have acted so. Being very inquisitive to find out who they were, while the five were dancing he took one of the torches from his servants, and holding it too near, set their dresses on fire. Flax, you know, is instantly in a blaze, and the pitch with which the cloth had been covered to fasten the flax added to the impossibility of extinguishing it. They were likewise chained together, and their cries were dreadful; some knights did their utmost to disengage them, but the fire was so strong that they burnt their hands very severely.

The Bal des Ardents depicted in a 15th-century miniature from Froissart’s Chronicles. The Duchess of Berry holds her blue skirts over a barely visible Charles VI of France as the dancers tear at their burning costumes. One dancer has leapt into the wine vat; in the gallery above, musicians continue to play. British Library MS Harley MS 4380 fol. 1r

One of the burning men was able to break his chain and jump into a large tub of water used for washing dishes and plates, but the others were badly burned. The king himself was lucky to be further away, and even luckier that the Duchess of Berry was quick-witted enough to save Charles from any fire by throwing the train of her robe over him.

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The fire was then put out, but two of the dancers were already dead, and two more would die the next day from their burns. The only other chronicler to report on the event in detail was Michel Pintoin, who agrees with Froissart on most of the details, but he decries the whole event as immodest and evil. At the same time, he claims that Charles was saved by angelic intervention, while the other dancers were so horribly burnt “that their genitals and penises, falling into pieces, drenched the floor in blood.”

Again news spread fast of the disaster, which would be called ‘Bal des Ardents’ (‘Ball of the Burning Men’). The next day crowds arrived at the king’s palace, and Charles had to go out and speak with them – he and his attendants then rode around Paris, going to Notre-Dame cathedral, in an effort to prove he was alive and well.

Bal des Ardents by the Master of Anthony of Burgundy (c. 1470s), showing a dancer in the wine vat in the foreground, Charles huddling under the Duchess of Berry’s skirt at middle left, and burning dancers in the center – BNF MS Français 2646, fol. 245v

However, the event probably did little to improve Charles’ mental health. In fact, a few months later he was suffering from an episode where he could not remember his name or that he was a king. This would be just one of a series of incidents where Charles had psychotic episodes or breakdowns – at one point he refused to bathe or change clothes for five months, and another time he believed his body was made of glass. His ability to govern would be gone for months at a time, and increasingly it was Queen Isabeau who had to take charge of the running of France.

Charles V would live on until 1422, but his reign would be seen as one of the worst eras in French history. His family members and leading nobles would spend this time fighting each other. Louis of Orléans would himself be assassinated in 1407. King Henry V was able to exploit this infighting to invade France and decimate the French at the Battle of Agincourt in 1415. In fact, Henry was poised to become the King of France after Charles’ death, but the English king died just a few weeks earlier than Charles, allowing the French to repudiate the deal.

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The ‘Bal des Ardents’ is now considered one of those strange incidents that show how medieval royal courts could be extravagant and foolish. It certainly was a scandal that would be talked about for years afterwards. But it should also be viewed as an important event in Charles V’s life – a near-death experience that further harmed his mental health.

Further Reading:

Jean Froissart, Chronicles, translated by Geoffrey Brereton (Penguin, 1978)

Tracy Adams, The Life and Afterlife of Isabeau of Bavaria (The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010)

Susan Crane, The Performance of Self: Ritual, Clothing, and Identity During the Hundred Years War (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002)

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