And what I say to thee, I say for the sake of all the Christians thou mayest purpose to bring.  I fear them not; I was born to fight them, and to conquer the world.”  Everywhere and at all times human pride, with its blind arrogance, is the same.  Bajazet saw no glimpse of that future when his empire would be decaying, and held together only by the interested protection of Christian powers.  After paying dearly for their errors and their disasters, Count John of Nevers and his comrades in captivity re-entered France in February, 1398, and their expedition to Hungary was but one of the last vain ventures of chivalry in the great struggle that commenced in the seventh century between Islamry and Christendom.

While this tragic incident was taking place in Eastern Europe, the court of the mad king was falling a victim to rivalries, intrigues, and scandals which, towards the close of this reign, were to be the curse and the shame of France.  There had grown up between Queen Isabel of Bavaria and Louis, Duke of Orleans, brother of the king, an intimacy which, throughout the city and amongst all honorable people, shocked even the least strait-laced.  It was undoubtedly through the queen’s influence that Charles vi., in 1402, suddenly decided upon putting into the hands of the Duke of Orleans the entire government of the realm and the right of representing him in everything during the attacks of his malady.  The Duke of Burgundy wrote at once about it to the parliament of Paris, saying, “Take counsel and pains that the interests of the king and his dominion be not governed as they now are, for, in good truth, it is a pity and a grief to hear what is told me about it.”  The accusation was not grounded solely upon the personal ill-temper of the Duke of Burgundy.  His nephew, the Duke of Orleans, was elegant, affable, volatile, good-natured; he had for his partisans at court all those who shared his worse than frivolous tastes and habits; and his political judgment was no better than his habits.  No sooner was he invested with power than he abused it strangely; he levied upon the clergy as well as the people an enormous talliage, and the use he made of the money increased still further the wrath of the public.  An Augustine monk, named James Legrand, already celebrated for his writings, had the hardihood to preach even before the court against abuses of power and licentiousness of morals.  The king rose up from his own place, and went and sat down right opposite the preacher.  “Yes, sir,” continued the monk, “the king your father, during his reign, did likewise lay taxes upon the people, but with the produce of them he built fortresses for the defence of the kingdom, he hurled back the enemy and took possession of their towns, and he effected a saving of treasure which made him the most powerful amongst the kings of the West.  But now, there is nothing of this kind done; the height of nobility in the present day is to frequent bagnios,