.

The Glass Delusion
of King Charles VI of France

‘His malady grew worse every day until his mind
was completely gone. Sometimes he thought he
was made of glass and would not let himself be
touched. He had iron rods put into his clothing
and protected himself in all sorts of ways so that
he might not fall and break.’

—Pope Pius II, writing of Charles VI

Much like the blooming of the Midday Rose,
The light reflected when your awe-struck eyes
Dare gaze upon the beauty of my being
Is not my own, but of Eternity
Which shines right through me, changing me to glass;
Imperfect, yes—my earthly stains add colour
And twist its rays—but growing ever clearer,
For more and more I see you do not see
A man at all, but stare beyond my skin
To something more than mortal flesh can be.

But if coarse hands attempt to grasp at it
Then I will surely shatter, for so fine
A form is hardly of this fallen realm,
Where traitors, accidents and pestilence
All lie in wait at every turn to take
The delicate and grind it into dust
And one so pure as I must be condemned
To this soft dungeon, never to come down;
So wrap me carefully in reams of silk—
Beware those heavy hands don’t crack my crown—

And pay no mind to those dull, smirking men
With all their manuscripts and measurements
And arrogance of art, who promise that,
With a swift kick, my rump would bruise not break.
They would confuse all majesty with madness
But, just as surely as the sun does bow
In daily homage to the earth, the truths
They proudly whore—as if God’s perfect mind
Were bound by theory, treatises, and law—
Are naught but straw, the dreaming of the blind.

And yet I fear their drab, fantastic world
Must come to pass, as I, at last, shall fracture
Into a million tiny, gleaming shards,
Each one unique in its own prettiness
But lacking the perfection of the whole,
And breaking, breaking into smaller splinters
Whose pellucid points pierce those thieving hands
Who’d claim my brittle grandeur for their own;
For after me come waning generations
Of small, grey-hearted men, cut from dull stone.

So, as you look upon me now, behold
The glory of a slowly setting sun
But do not speak of miracles or madmen
Until you’ve seen through your own skin, for though
This world might be a many-coloured window
Which veils a finer light we fools call darkness,
Its sad delusions, wrought of dust and fire,
Must be too real or light could not appear,
And so, as clearest glass confounds the eye,
I am like nothingness, yet I am here.

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The Midday Rose: The southern, and largest, of the three rose windows of Notre Dame cathedral. The imagery in its 84 panels is drawn from the Last Judgement.

.

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Shaun C. Duncan is a picture framer and fine art printer who lives in Adelaide, South Australia.

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28 Responses

  1. Joseph S. Salemi

    This is a powerful dramatic monologue, made all the more compelling in that it is the voice of a madman.

    The poem is also impersonal — it is the feigned speech of a historical character, and not the whining confessional drivel that is typically the product of modernism and its offshoots. Do readers not see that this is more interesting, more exciting, and more lavish in its fictive capacity than writing about one’s personal problems and feelings? (Well, don’t answer that. The notion that poetry has to be personal and emotive seems to have infected nearly everyone today.)

    The last two lines present a striking simile that is tangible and psychologically profound at the same time:

    And so, as clearest glass confounds the eye,
    I am like nothingness, yet I am here.

    I hope Mr. Duncan will pen a companion piece about “The Dance of the Burning Ones,” another strange episode in the life of this unfortunate French king.

    Reply
    • Shaun C. Duncan

      Thank you for this generous comment, Joseph. I’m not one for whining and I honestly couldn’t imagine anything more boring than writing about myself. I’d also question whether true confessional art is even possible – certainly most of what I’ve read comes across as dishonest posturing.

      The closing lines are adapted from the testimony of a 20th century sufferer of the glass delusion, which seemed to echo something of the theology of Dionysius the Areopagite which was, in turn, influential in the development of stained glass windows. I didn’t have a particular destination in mind when I started writing the piece, but given these associations (and the fact that Dionysius is often identified with St Denis, the patron saint of Paris) it seemed like the perfect way to close.

      I promise I will start writing a piece on “The Dance Of The Burning Ones” just as soon as I finish another I am currently working on.

      Reply
      • Julian D. Woodruff

        Shaun, thank you for a very distinctive poem, about a figure and an affliction that were unknown to me. As conversant with such vivid chapters of history as you are, I hope to see your poetic treatment of others.

  2. Paul Buchheit

    Great story, Shaun, and expertly rendered! I had never heard of this “glass malady.”

    Reply
    • Shaun C. Duncan

      Thank you, Paul. I hadn’t heard of it either until quite recently and I started writing the poem immediately upon learning of it!

      Reply
  3. Cheryl Corey

    One of the things I love about SCP is the variety of poetry. There’s always an opportunity to learn about the most unique subjects. This is one of those poems. It prompted me to do a little research about the unfortunate king and his history of mental illness. Very interesting, Shaun. I like the way that you incorporate glass-related imagery such as “pellucid points”, “brittle grandeur”, “gleaming shards”, and “many-coloured window.”

    Reply
    • Shaun C. Duncan

      Thank you, Cheryl. If nothing else, I’d like my poems to at least be interesting, so hopefully the subject matter will distract from any technical shortcomings in my work!

      Reply
  4. DONALD PETER McCRORY

    HI SHAUN,

    A really readable rendition of a diffcult theme. Well done!

    I wonder if the famous novel, one of 12, entitled EL LICENCIADO VIDRIERA ( THE GRADUATE MADE OF GLASS) written by Miguel de CERVANTES ( 1547-1616) was inspired by the illness of King Charles VI?

    If you have not read the novel, included in his collection of texts translated as the Exemplary Novels, it may be worthwhile taking a look. Cervantes wrote much more than Don Quijote, vols 1 & 2. It is mentioned in my biography of Cervantes published by PETER OWN in London in 2002.
    Best wishes and look forward to your next poems.

    Reply
    • Shaun C. Duncan

      Thank you, Donald. I haven’t read Cervantes’ novella yet (I wanted to wait until I’d finished writing my poem) but it’s often mentioned in commentary on glass delusions and I think it’s one of the earliest writings on the subject. I don’t know if it was inspired by Charles VI directly – while his remains the most famous case, apparently such delusions were fairly common among the upper classes from the high middle ages through to the dawning on the industrial revolution.

      I’d be kean to read your biography of Cervantes – if I can’t find a copy locally, I’ll grab the kindle version.

      Reply
      • DONALD PETER McCRORY

        HI SHAUN

        Amazon etc surely has copies. P:OWEN sold the copyrights to an american company and so I have lost contact. I now am living in Spain. My biography was translated into Mandarin and Dutch and was very well received when first published.
        Other works of mine (novels for Y/A and for Mind-Body Spirit readers and award-winning poems you can fond on my website: http://www.donaldmccrory.co.uk.
        Keep up your good work and I wish you every success.
        Best, Donald

  5. Joseph S. Salemi

    The “glass delusion” seems to have been a fairly frequent mental problem in the 15th, 16th, and 17th centuries. Many persons began to imagine that they were made of glass, and could break easily. Not just Cervantes, but several other writers of the time mentioned the phenomenon.

    One psychologist suggests that it has to do with the arrival of a new technology, and how it is seized upon by the unconscious mind as a locus of fixation. Something similar happened in the late 19th and early 20th century, when electricity came into common use. Many people were terrified that electricity was “leaking” into their homes, and would poison or kill them.

    I suggest that it’s happening right now to millions of people, who have become deranged over the dangers of fossil fuels.

    Reply
    • Julian D. Woodruff

      Another set of intriguing historical tidbits–thank you, Joseph. I was struck by the one on electricity, since I have critique partner who’s polishing a kids’ novel called Feeders, set in 1892 Rochester NY, and featuring beings that emerge from electrical outlets and growing …

      Reply
    • Isabel Scheltens

      Could there be any connection to the phenomenon of people claiming to be sensitive to electromagnetic fields?

      Reply
      • Joseph S. Salemi

        Some doctors think the condition is purely psychosomatic, since the reported symptoms of EMF exposure vary widely, and are much more common in certain nations (Scandinavia and Germany) than in other nations with just as much exposure to electromagnetic fields. It could very well be another instance of the “glass delusion.”

  6. Margaret Coats

    Shaun, this is a magnificent poem. As I first read it, I could not help but think of Shakespeare’s Richard II. In that play, the motif of “the king’s two bodies” is vitally important, as it is here, whether you explicitly intend it or not. One body is the king’s body of flesh, and the other is the realm he is consecrated to rule. Take a look at Richard’s speech, “Not all the water in the rough rude sea/Can wash the balm from an anointed king.” Richard was, nonetheless, deposed and murdered, with his realm going on to suffer all the evils of the Wars of the Roses. Similar things happened in Charles’s realm. He became king at age 12 in 1380, under the guardianship of four uncles, all of whom fought for dominance. He began personal rule in 1388, but his madness started in 1392, and continued intermittently until his death 20 years later. This entire time was one of great suffering for France, with the English in control of nearly half the country, and ceaseless battles among warring factions in the rest. No stability in that body politic, and very little in the way of governance at all! Patriotic royalist poet Christine de Pisan, who was present at court, interpreted the situation as follows in the first stanza of Ballade 95 in her “Hundred Ballades.”

    Oft should we, mindful of the grave damage,
    Weep for the woes of the kingdom of France,
    That was and is the realm and heritage
    Of Christians of greatest predominance,
    But God now subjects us to disturbance,
    By which our joy is rendered jeopardy,
    And for our vices one bears the penance,
    Our good king who suffers dire malady.

    Christine undoubtedly knew of the glass delusion, and she certainly knew the king sometimes had to be restrained from violent attacks on servants and members of his family. She wrote other poems that loyally conceal the worst of Charles’s condition. It is great to have yours which seems as sympathetic as hers, but beautifully explores the interior workings of the unfortunate king’s mind.

    Reply
    • Shaun C. Duncan

      Thank you for this comment, Margaret. The motif of the two bodies was intentional but I hadn’t made the connection with Richard II. The second body in my poem was intended to be that of the old order or divine sovereignty itself and I thought it might be interesting to add a prophetic element to Charles’ madness.

      Thank you as well for the translation of Christine de Pisan’s poem. I knew Charles had been satirised later but I had no idea he had a sympathetic voice at court.

      Reply
  7. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Shaun, like others I hadn’t heard of the glass malady – how intriguing, and what a wonderful challenge for a poet. You have brought the subject to life with poetry that ignites the page and fires my imagination. To slip into the realm of the bizarre and address this madness with mellifluous and elevated language that appeals to the senses is quite an accomplishment.

    There are so many highlights… I love the subtle ambiguity employed in; “Beware those heavy hands don’t crack my crown”, and I especially like the internal rhymes and adept use of alliteration. My favorite example is, “… pellucid points pierce those thieving hands” – I love the word ‘pellucid’ and alongside the short, sharp ‘points’ and ‘pierce’ it has aural and visual appeal… your use of imagery is exquisite.

    This poem is an absolute privilege to read. Shaun, thank you!

    Reply
    • Shaun C. Duncan

      Thank you, Susan. It was a fun subject to approach as a poet. I didn’t have anything I particularly wanted to express with the poem but it was a nice opportunity to riff on the metaphoric possibilities of glass for a few stanzas! It’s nice to use a bit of elevated language and write with someone else’s voice for a change too.

      Reply
  8. Monika Cooper

    This is complex and, I have to say, not easy to follow or read, at least for me. But I’m glad I read it. And I don’t think it is trying to be easy.

    There is a Hebrew blessing to say in the presence of an earthly king: Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who hast given of Thy glory to flesh and blood. The king in this poem experiences his flesh and blood as glass and knows that glory beams through it. Even in madness, he knows who he is, in a way the mockers don’t and can’t. The mad kings in history and literature are icons for us, here an icon pieced of glass.

    The poem reflects on kingship at its most vulnerable, which is also paradoxically, the point where the most of God’s glory comes through. You look at one of the weakest links in the royal succession and see the sacramental strength still holding there, because the source of this institution is not merely human but Divine. Madness in a king is less harmful to the nation than abdication would be.

    The last line has a mystical resonance. Any human could speak it. Any human knowing the touch of Divine light knows how much like nothingness he is. Yet, by His grace alone, here.

    Reply
    • Shaun C. Duncan

      Thank you for your kind remarks and for taking the time to read my poem. I deliberately aimed for a stream-of-consciousness feel, allowing the metaphorical possibilities of glass and light to guide things. I wasn’t necessarily trying to make things difficult, but too much clarity might’ve undercut the sense of mental instability.

      That said, your reading of the poem squares perfectly with my intent. My fictional Charles struggles to reconcile his role as the sovereign with his experience of himself as a human being, but comes to a prophetic understanding of the fragility of power, which becomes more dangerous as it devolves from monarchy to “democracy”, and sees that the philosophy that would dismiss his condition as mere madness will ultimately attempt to strip the world of all glory.

      The last line is a paraphrase of a statement made by a 20th century sufferer of the glass delusion which is strikingly similar to a simile originally found in Dionysius the Areopagite but repeated by many other Christian mystics and theologians including Aquinas and Saint John of the Cross.

      Reply
      • Monika Cooper

        You may have read, or be interested in reading, In A Dark Wood Wandering by Hella Haasse, about Charles d’Orleans, with Charles VI as a character. It’s a novel of the Middle Ages with a meditative, almost esoteric, vision of that era in French history. Charles d’Orleans was, among his other roles, a poet.

  9. C.B. Anderson

    I wish that I, Shaun, knew how to write a poem as well ordered and as serious as this one of yours. The more I read such well-measured efforts, the less happy I am with my own shortcomings. This is what it comes down to: choose a subject and bring light to realms heretofore undiscovered.

    Reply
    • Shaun C. Duncan

      Thank you, CB, this is most kind. However, when I read your work I often feel my own is bloated and pretentious by comparison. Hopefully we can convert our mutual dissatisfaction into inspiration.

      Reply
  10. Margaret Coats

    Shaun, I have recently been exploring the technology of cryonics, by which some few hundreds of persons have already committed themselves to spend a few centuries after death “frozen” in a very low temperature state, thinking that perhaps their bodies or brains can be preserved and somehow live on. There is, of course, no guarantee and little practical likelihood of reanimation. Since the first person entered this state in 1967, it has been discovered that freezing cracks cell membranes in a destructive manner. Now, therefore, blood is drained and “antifreeze” chemicals introduced into the blood vessels to “vitrify” the recently deceased body. Turning the dead body into glass of a sort is today’s tenacious hope for immortality. Thus, there are now glass human bodies preserved in low temperature nitrogen. The individuals while living planned this, but unlike King Charles they are presently unconscious.

    Reply
    • Shaun C. Duncan

      Wow, I’m familiar with cryonics but I didn’t realise they were replacing their blood with antifreeze. I know some, who maybe don’t have the cash to freeze their whole body, have opted to freeze only their head, most likely in the belief they’ll one day be able to upload the contents of their brain to one of Amazon’s servers.

      It’s all quite ludicrous but I find it funny how deeply superstitious the California technologists are when it comes to their faith in “progress.” Cryonics is really not all that different from the funerary practices of the ancient Egyptians.

      Reply
    • Joseph S. Salemi

      A section of my epic “A Gallery of Ethopaths” deals with cryogenic freezing of the dead. I’m going to submit it to Evan Mantyk.

      As has been mentioned by several persons in discussion threads here at the SCP, a great deal of contemporary left-liberal fanaticism seems to be directed towards the unnatural altering, mutilation, or disfiguring of the human body, whether during life or afterwards in death. Recently in Germany (where else?) some artist or artists were involved in actually using preserved corpses as sculptural material. Place this beside the current craze for every sort of body alteration (piercings, tattooing, amputation, facial and mammary and buttock surgery, skin lifts and botoxing, and genital restructuring for trannies) and you see a world-wide miasma of demon-driven insanity. Cryogenic freezing is just an attempt to keep the process going even after death.

      For devout Christians, the world is incarnational. This means that everything, including our bodies, is suffused with varying degrees of holiness and blessedness. Our flesh is not only created by God, but He has also entered it in time, and sustains us with it via the Eucharist.

      What is going on right now, with the widespread degradation of the human body, is Hell’s savage campaign to stamp out any memory of incarnation, by debasing and uglifying our flesh.

      Reply
      • Margaret Coats

        Wise comment and analysis, Joe. It will be interesting to see your work here, and to hear the discussion in response.

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