With the ending of Saint Louis’ life (in 1270) such stability and beauty as he had achieved for his kingdom seemed to pass away. The fifteen years’ reign of his son, Philip III, was lacking in eventfulness. He was with his father on the Crusade that cost Louis his life, and he came back to Paris, the “king of the five coffins,” bringing with him for burial at Saint Denis not only his father’s body but that of his uncle, his brother-in-law, his wife, and his son. Louis’ body lay in state in Notre Dame. Philip inherited his father’s gentleness of spirit, but none of his intelligence or administrative ability. His physical courage won for him the nickname of “the Bold,” but it was through a train of circumstances with which he seems to have had little to do and not through war that the throne became enriched by the acquisition of some valuable territories in the south. Probably, also, he did not realize that when he raised to the nobility a certain silversmith whose work he admired he struck a blow at the hereditary pride of the lords, and showed a new power which threatened the integrity of their class. Naturally, too, it encouraged the democracy. A comparatively trivial happening of this reign shows the increasing boldness of the democratic spirit. The king took as his favorite a man who had been his father’s barber, and who probably possessed the traditional conversational charm attaching to his occupation. When Philip made him wealthy with lands, houses and gold the nobles of the court could not restrain their jealousy, and accusations charging him with the medieval equivalent of graft and even with baser crimes were soon so persistent and apparently so well-proven that even his royal master either was convinced or thought it wise to seem to believe. At any rate the man was hanged in company with Paris thieves of the meaner sort. To the commonalty of Paris who were not in a position to hear the whispers and accusations of the court this seemed an unmerited punishment, and they did not hesitate to express vivid opinions concerning the victim of what they supposed to be aristocratic greed. When an aristocrat engaged in petty graft his reproof was not so swiftly administered. Enguerrand de Marigny, under whose direction the palace was enlarged by Philip the Bold’s son, Philip the Fair, was accused of charging rental for the booths along the Galérie des Merciers which connected the Great Hall with the Sainte Chapelle and whose stalls were supposed to be given rent free to tradespeople whose goods might be of interest to the folk who had daily tasks at the palace. Nothing came of the accusation, however, unless it may be thought to have been punished in common with other financial misdeeds of which Marigny was accused by Philip the Fair’s successor, Quarrelsome Louis--le Hutin--, and for which he was hanged on the Montfaucon gallows which he had built when he was Philip’s “Coadjutor and Inspector.”