Illuminated illustrations of Froissart

In Short

This book serves as a bridge between the reader and the medieval past. By curating a selection of illuminated manuscripts—hand-painted miniature scenes from the Chronicles of Jean Froissart—it allows the viewer to see history through the eyes of contemporary artists. The text provides historical context for each image, detailing events like the siege of Africa, courtly tournaments, and the deposition of kings. It remains a significant work because it preserves the aesthetic and narrative spirit of the 14th century, documenting the transition from chivalric ideals to the complexities of late-medieval politics.

The Story

The narrative arc follows the twilight of the 14th century, a period defined by shifting loyalties, crusading fervor, and the volatile whims of monarchs. The story begins with the grand, often brutal, mechanics of medieval statecraft. We witness the coronation of popes and the complicated truces between France and England, nations locked in a perpetual, exhausting contest for dominance. These political maneuvers form the backdrop for individual dramas, such as the failed assassination of the High Constable of France, Sir Oliver de Clisson, who survives a desperate ambush only to fall from grace later.

As the account progresses, the focus widens to include the broader Mediterranean world. European knights, spurred by the Genoese, launch a naval expedition against the town of Africa—a campaign marked by both genuine religious zeal and the practical logistics of medieval maritime warfare. The narrative captures the pageantry of these events, describing banners fluttering in the wind and the clamor of trumpets, while simultaneously grounding them in the harsh realities of siege craft and the "barbarous" nature of the combat.

The story eventually turns inward to the French court, where King Charles VI struggles with periodic bouts of madness. This vulnerability creates a vacuum of power, leading to the rise of sorcery accusations against the Duchess of Orleans and the imprisonment of ministers like the Lord de la Riviere. Amidst these courtly intrigues, we see the tragic, human side of history: the sudden, anticlimactic death of Count Gaston de Foix, who collapses after washing his hands in cold water, and the quiet, pious life of the preacher Jehan de Varennes.

The arc concludes with the decline of Richard II of England. The chronicler describes Richard’s immense wealth and his elaborate household, yet tracks his inevitable fall. The narrative culminates in the grim finality of Richard’s funeral procession through the streets of London, where his body lies exposed on a black-covered litter for thousands to witness. It is a striking meditation on the transience of power, as the chronicler reflects on a king who reigned for twenty-two years only to be reduced to a silent, observed object of public speculation. Throughout these events, the book weaves together the movements of armies, the shifting of borders, and the quiet, often overlooked domestic details—like the design of a fireplace or the style of a lady’s saddle—that anchor this panoramic view of history to the lived experience of the 14th century.

How It Unfolds

The grand visual record The book begins by establishing the value of illuminated manuscripts as a "vivid" alternative to the dry, filtered histories found in standard printed volumes. It presents the reader with a curated list of plates, each tied to specific pages in historical editions, effectively creating a map for the reader to follow the visual progress of the era.

The spectacle of war and travel The central chapters detail the movement of armies and the pageantry of the nobility, including a famous wager between the King of France and the Duke of Touraine regarding who could reach Paris faster. These sections highlight the contrast between the high-flown ideals of chivalry and the gritty, sometimes desperate, reality of 14th-century travel and warfare.

The fragility of authority The middle portion shifts to the internal instability of royal courts, focusing on the madness of kings and the resulting political infighting. The narrative lingers on the arrest of ministers and the social fallout of these trials, emphasizing how quickly favor was lost in the medieval power structure.

The finality of the crown The conclusion focuses on the end of lives and dynasties, particularly the downfall and funeral of Richard II. It brings the reader full circle, moving from the vibrant, gold-leafed illuminations of power to the somber, dark-draped reality of death, underscoring the author's argument about the instability of worldly fortune.

The People

Jean Froissart acts as our primary guide, a canon and treasurer who moves through these courts not merely as an observer but as a recipient of patronage. He holds a deep, perhaps naive, belief in the divine right of kings, yet his perspective is tempered by his proximity to the actual, often messy, lives of the nobility he describes.

King Charles VI of France serves as the tragic center of the later accounts. His descent into madness defines the instability of his reign, turning his court into a place of paranoia where even his own relatives are accused of using magic to secure his death. Opposite him, Richard II of England appears as a figure of extravagant, almost reckless, prosperity. His desire to maintain a grand state—witnessed firsthand by the author—ultimately contributes to the alienation of his subjects and his eventual lonely end.

Figures like Sir Oliver de Clisson and the Lord de la Riviere represent the precarious nature of service to the crown. Their stories are defined by sudden shifts between power and imprisonment, illustrating how easily the loyalties of monarchs could desert their most trusted advisors. Meanwhile, the Duke de Bourbon and the Count de Nevers embody the restless, often impetuous spirit of the warrior class, whose thirst for glory leads them into disastrous crusades and ambushes. Each of these figures is eventually humbled by forces beyond their control, whether through disease, betrayal, or the fickle turning of political tides.

In Its Own Voice

“It was a beautiful sight to view this fleet, with the emblazoned banners of the different lords fluttering in the wind, and to hear the minstrels and other musicians sounding their pipes, clarions, and trumpets, whose sounds were re-echoed back by the sea.”

The author describes the launch of a crusade, capturing the dissonance between the aesthetic beauty of the scene and the violent intent of the expedition.

“Now consider, ye lords, dukes, prelates, and earls, how very changeable the fortunes of this world are.”

Reflecting on the death of Richard II, the author addresses the ruling class, using the king’s fall as a moral warning about the inevitable decay of temporal power.

What It's Really About

This work is fundamentally concerned with the impermanence of human achievement. While it catalogs the surface-level details of medieval life—the architecture, the dress, the military tactics—its core theme is the fragility of the social and political order. It posits that the "stirring panorama" of history is shaped by powerful, often mercurial individuals whose lives are subject to the same decay as their institutions. The author grapples with the tension between the ideal of chivalry and the reality of political treachery. Ultimately, it asks the reader to look past the "gilded clasps" of history to see the human volatility beneath, suggesting that the pride of kings is as fleeting as the crisp vellum upon which their names were written.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate history, art, and the tactile nature of books will find much to admire here. The experience of reading this is akin to visiting a museum with an exceptionally well-informed guide; you are not just reading a narrative, but studying the visual culture of the 14th century. The book offers a rare, unflinching look at the period's attitudes, including its brutal treatment of dissenters and its narrow definitions of "civilized" society, which may prove challenging to a modern reader.

The prose is formal and earnest, reflecting the 19th-century perspective of the editor as much as the medieval spirit of the chronicler. It is not a quick read, nor is it a seamless narrative; it is a collection of fragments and plates, best enjoyed in focused sittings. However, for those interested in how the past has been curated and viewed by later generations, it offers a fascinating double-exposure. You will come away with a lingering sense of the sheer physical presence of the Middle Ages—the smell of the incense, the weight of the armor, and the stark, unavoidable reality of the funeral litter in Cheapside. It is a book for those who want to feel the weight of history in their hands.