 Chapter 25, Part 5, Volume 3 of a Popular History of France from the earliest times. Louis XI. 1461-1483. Part 5. Whilst Duke Charles was thus abandoning himself to the first outburst of his wrath, King Louis remained impassive in the castle of Perron, quite close to the Great Tower, wherein, about the year 925, King Charles the Simple had been confined by Herbert, Count of Vermandois, and died a prisoner in 929. None of Louis's people had been removed from him, but the gate of the castle was strictly guarded. There was no entering on his service, but by the wicket, and none of the Duke's people came to visit him. He had no occasion to parlay, explain himself, and guess what it was expedient for him to say or do. He was alone, wrestling with his imagination and his lively impressions, with the feeling upon him of the recent mistakes he had committed, especially in exciting the liegies to rebellion, and forgetting the fact just when he was coming to place himself in his enemy's hands. Far, however, from losing his head, Louis displayed in this perilous trial all the penetration, activity, and shrewdness of his mind, together with all the suppleness of his character. He sent, by his own servants, questions, offers, and promises to all the Duke's servants from whom he could hope for any help or any good advice. Fifteen thousand golden crowns, with which he had provided himself at starting, were given by him to be distributed amongst the household of the Duke of Burgundy, a liberality which was perhaps useless, since it is said that he to whom he had entrusted the sum kept a good portion of it for himself. The King passed two days in this state of gloomy expectancy, as to what was in preparation against him. On the eleventh of October Duke Charles, having cooled down a little, assembled his council. The sitting lasted all the day and part of the night. Louis had sent to make an offer to swear a peace, such as, at the moment of his arrival, had been proposed to him without any reservation or difficulty on his part. He engaged to join the Duke in making war upon the Lieges and chastising them for their rebellion. He would leave as hostages his nearest relatives and his most intimate advisors. At the beginning of the council his proposals were not even listened to. There was no talk, but of keeping the King a prisoner and sending after his brother, the Prince Charles, with whom the entire government of the Kingdom should be arranged. The messenger had orders to be in readiness to start at once. His horse was in the courtyard. He was only waiting for the letters which the Duke was writing to Brittany. The Chancellor of Burgundy and some of the wiser councilers besought the Duke to reflect. The King had come to Perron on the faith of his safe conduct. It would be an eternal dishonour for the House of Burgundy if he broke his word to his sovereign Lord, and the conditions which the King was prepared to grant would put an end, with advantage to Burgundy, to serious and difficult business. The Duke gave heed to these honest and prudent councils. The news from Lieges turned out to be less serious than the first rumours he'd represented. The Bishop and Sir Dumbercourt had been set at liberty. Charles retired to his chamber, and there, without thinking of undressing, he walked to and fro with long strides, threw himself upon his bed, got up again, and soliloquized out loud, addressing himself occasionally to come in, who lay close by him. Towards morning, though he still showed signs of irritation, his language was less threatening. He has promised me, said he, to come with me to reinstate the Bishop of Lieges, who is my brother-in-law, and a relation of his also. He shall certainly come. I shall not scruple to hold him to his word that he gave me, and he had once sent Sir de Créquis, de Charny, and de La Roche, to tell the King that he was about to come and swear peace with him. Commine had only just time to tell Louis in what frame of mind the Duke was, and in what danger he would place himself if he hesitated either to swear peace, or to march against Lieges. As soon as it was broad day, the Duke entered the apartment of the castle where the King was a prisoner. His look was courteous, but his voice trembled with collar. His words were short and bitter. His manner was threatening. A little troubled at his aspect, Louis said, Brother, I am safe, am I not, in your house and your country? Yes, sir, answered the Duke. So safe that if I saw an arrow from a bow coming towards you, I would throw myself in the way to protect you. But will you not be pleased to swear the treaty just as it is written? Yes, said the King, and I thank you for your good will. And will you not be pleased to come with me to Lieges, to help me punish the treason committed against me by these Lieges, all through you and your journey hither? The Bishop is your new relative of the House of Bourbon. Yes, Padieu, replied Louis, and I am much as standard at their wickedness, but begin we by swearing this treaty, and then I will start with as many or as few of my people as you please. Fourth width was taken out from the King's boxes the wood of the so-called True Cross, which was named the Cross of Saint-Lô, because it had been preserved in the Church of Saint-Lô at Angers. It was supposed to have formally belonged to Charlemagne, and it was the relic which Louis regarded as the most sacred. The treaty was immediately signed, without any change being made in that of Conflon. The Duke of Burgundy merely engaged to use his influence with Prince Charles of France to induce him to be content with Brie and Champagne as Apenage. The storm was weathered, and Louis almost rejoiced at seeing himself called upon to chastise impersonaliers, who had made him commit such a mistake and run such a risk. Next day the two princes set out together, Charles with his army, and Louis with his modest train increased by three hundred men-at-arms, whom he had sent for from France. On the twenty-seventh of October they arrived before Liège. Since Duke Charles' late victories, the city had no longer any ramparts or ditches. Nothing seemed easier than to get into it, but the besieged could not persuade themselves that Louis was sincerely allied with the Duke of Burgundy, and they made a sortie shouting, Hurrah for the King, Hurrah for France! Great was their surprise when they saw Louis advancing in person, wearing in his hat the Cross of Saint Andrew of Burgundy, and shouting Hurrah for Burgundy. Some even amongst the French who surrounded the King were shocked. They could not reconcile themselves to so little pride and such brazen falsehood. Louis took no heed of their temper, and never ceased to repeat when pride rides before, shame and hurt follow close after. The surprise of the Liège was transformed into indignation. They made a more energetic and a longer resistance than had been expected. The besiegers, confident in their strength, kept careless watch, and the sorties of the besiege became more numerous. One night Charles received notice that his men had just been attacked in a suburb which they had held and were flying. He mounted his horse, gave orders not to awake the King, repaired by himself to the place where the fight was, put everything to rights, and came back and told the whole affair to Louis, who exhibited a great joy. Another time, one dark and rainy night, there was an alarm about midnight of a general attack upon the whole Burgundian camp. The Duke was soon up, and a moment afterwards the King arrived. There was great disorder. The Liège saluted by this gate, said some. No, said others. It was by that gate. There was nothing known for certain, and there were no orders given. Charles was impetuous and brave, but he was easily disconcerted, and his servants were somewhat vexed not to see him putting a better countenance on things before the King. Louis, on the other hand, was cool and calm, giving commands firmly and ready to assume responsibility wherever he happened to be. Take what men you have, said he to the Constable Saint-Pois, who was at his side, and go in this direction. If they are really coming upon us they will pass that way. It was discovered to be a false alarm. Two days afterwards there was a more serious affair. The inhabitants of a canton which was close to the city, and was called freshman, resolved to make a desperate effort, and go and fall suddenly upon the very spot where the two princes were quartered. One night, about ten p.m., six hundred men saluted out by one of the breeches, all men of stout hearts and well armed. The Duke's quarters were first attacked, only twelve archers were on guard below, and they were playing at dice. Charles was in bed. Commine put on him as quickly as possible his breastplate and helmet, and they went downstairs. The archers were with great difficulty defending the doorway, but help arrived and the danger was over. The quarters of King Louis had also been attacked, but at the first sound the Scottish archers had hurried up, surrounded their master, and repulsed the attack, without caring whether their arrows killed the aegis, or such Burgundians as had come up with assistance. The gallant fellows from Franchemont fell almost to a man. The Duke and his principal captains held a council the next day, and the Duke was for delivering the assault. The King was not present at this council, and when he was informed of the resolution taken he was not in favour of an assault. You see, said he, the courage of these people, you know how murderous and uncertain is street fighting, you will lose many brave men to no purpose. Wait two or three days, and the aegis will infallibly come to terms. Nearly all the Burgundian captains sided with the King. The Duke got angry. He wishes to spare the aegis, said he. What danger is there in this assault? There are no walls. They can't put a single gun in position. I will certainly not give up the assault. If the King is afraid, let him get gone to Namur. Such an insult shocked even the Burgundians. Louis was informed of it, but said nothing. Next day, the 30th of October 1468, the assault was ordered, and the Duke marched at the head of his troops. Up came the King, but Bide, said Charles, put not yourself uselessly in danger. I will send you word when it is time. Lead on, brother, replied Louis. You are the most fortunate Prince alive. I will follow you. And he continued marching with him, but the assault was unnecessary. Discouragement had taken possession of the aegis, the bravest of whom had fallen. It was Sunday, and the people who remained were not expecting an attack. The cloth was laid in every house, and all were preparing for dinner. The Burgundians moved forward through the empty streets, and Louis marched quietly along, surrounded by his own escort, and shouting, a rather burgundy. The Duke turned back to meet him, and they went together to give thanks to God in the Cathedral of Saint-Lombert. It was the only church which had escaped from the fury and the pillaging of the Burgundians. By midday, there was nothing left to take in the houses or in the churches. Louis loaded Duke Charles with felicitations and commendations. He knew how to turn them in a fashion so courteous and amiable that the Duke was charmed and softened. The next day, as they were talking together, Brother, said the King to the Duke, If you have still need of my help, do not spare me. But if you have nothing more for me to do, it would be well for me to go back to Paris to make public in my Court of Parliament the arrangement we have come to together. Otherwise, it would run a risk of becoming of no avail. You know that such is the custom of France. Next summer we must meet again. You will come into your duchy of Burgundy. And I will go and pay you a visit, and we will pass a week duriously together in making good cheer. Charles made no answer, and sent for the treaty lately concluded between them at Péran, leaving it to the King's choice to confirm or to renounce it, and excusing himself in covert terms for having thus constrained him and brought him away. The King made a show of being satisfied with the treaty, and on the 2nd of November 1468, the day but one after the capture of Liège, set out for France. The Duke bore him company to within half a league of the city. As they were taking leave of one another, the King said to him, If, per adventure, my brother Charles, who is in Brittany should be discontented with the assignment I make for him, for love of you, well, what would you have me do? If you do not please to take it, answered the Duke, but would have you satisfy him, I leave it to you too. Louis desired no more. He returned home free and confident in himself, after having passed the most trying three weeks of his life. But Louis XI's deliverance after his quasi-captivity at Péran, and the new treaty had concluded with Duke Charles, were and could be only a temporary break in the struggle between these two princes, destined as they were, both by character and position, to irremediable incompatibility. They were too powerful and too different to live at peace when they were such close neighbours, and when their relations were so complicated. We find in the chronicle of Georges Chastain, a Flemish burger, and a servant on familiar terms with Duke Charles, as he had been with his father, Duke Philip, a judicious picture of this incompatibility, and the causes of it. There had been, he says, at all times a rancour between these two princes, and whatever pacification might have been affected today, everything returned to the old condition and no real love could be established. They suffered from incompatibility of temperament and perpetual discordance of will, and the more they advanced in years, the deeper they plunged into a state of serious difference and hopeless bitterness. The king was a man of subtlety and full of fence. He knew how to recoil for a better spring, how to affect humility and gentleness in his deep designs, how to yield and to give up in order to receive double, and how to bear and tolerate for a time his own grievances in hopes of being able at last to have his revenge. He was therefore very much to be feared for his practical knowledge, showing the greatest skill and penetration in the world. Duke Charles was to be feared for his great courage, which he evinced and displayed in his actions, making no account of king or emperor. Thus, whilst the king had great sense and great ability, which he used with dissimulation and suppleness in order to succeed in his views, the duke on his side had a great sense of another sort and to another purpose, which he displayed by a public ostentation of his pride without any fear of putting himself in a false position. Between 1468 and 1477, from the incident at Pahron to the death of Charles of the Siege of Nancy, the history of the two princes was nothing but one constant alternation between ruptures and readjustments, hostilities and truces, wherein both were constantly changing their posture, their language, and their allies. It was at one time the affairs of the Duke of Brittany, or those of Prince Charles of France, become Duke of Guyenne. At another, it was the relations with the different claimants to the throne of England, or the fate of the towns in Piccadilly, handed over to the Duke of Burgundy by the treaties of Conflom, Pahron, which served as a ground or pretext for the frequent recurrences of war. In 1471 Saint Cointin opened its gates to Count Louis of Saint-Pois, Constable of France, and Duke Charles complained with threats about it to the Count of Damartin, who was in command on that frontier of Louis XI's army, and had a good understanding with the Constable. At Damartin, one of the bravest men of his time, says Duclos, in the Histoire de Louis XI, in the ennui complet de Duclos, tract II, page 429, sincere and faithful, a warm friend, and an implacable foe, at once replied to the Duke, most high and puissant prince, I suppose your letters to have been dictated by your council and highest clerics, who are folks better at letter-making than I am, for I have not lived by quill-driving. If I write you matter that displeases you, and you have a desire to revenge yourself upon me, you shall find me so near to your army, that you will know how little fear I have of you. Be assured, that if it be your will to go on long making war upon the king, it will at last be found out by all the world that as a soldier you have mistaken. The next year, 1472, war broke out. Duke Charles went and laid siege to Beauvais, and on the 27th of June, delivered the first assault. The inhabitants were at this moment left almost alone to defend their town. A young girl of 18, Jean Fourquet, whom a burger's wife of Beauvais, Madame Lesne, her mother by adoption, had bred up in the history, still so recent of Jean-Ovape, threw herself into the midst of the throne, holding up her little axe, Hachette, before the image of Saint-Ancordesme, patroness of the town, and crying, how glorious Virgin come to my aid, to arms, to arms! The assault was repulsed. Reinforcements came up from Noyon, Amiens and Paris, under the orders of the Marchel de Roi, and the mayor of Beauvais presented Jean to him. Sir, said the young girl to him, you have everywhere been victor, and you will be so with us. On the 9th of July, the Duke of Burgundy delivered a second assault, which lasted four hours. Some Burgundians had escalated apart with the ramparts. Jean Hachette arrived there just as one of them was planting his flag on the spot. She pushed him over the side into the ditch, and went down in pursuit of him. The man fell on one knee. Jean struck him down, took possession of the flag, and mounted up to the ramparts again, crying, Victory! The same cry resounded at all points of the wall. The assault was everywhere repulsed. The vexation of Charles was great. The day before, he had been almost alone in advocating the assault. In the evening, as he lay on his camp-bed, according to his custom, he had asked several of his people whether they thought the townsmen were prepared for it. Yes, certainly, said the answer. There are a great number of them. You will not find a soul there to-morrow, said Charles with a sneer. He remained for 12 days longer before the place, looking for a better chance. But on the 12th of July, he decided upon raising the siege, and took the road to Normandy. Some days before attacking Beauvais, he had taken, not without difficulty, Nezla in the vermondois. There it was, said Comine, that he first committed a horrible and wicked deed of war, which had never been his want. This was burning everything everywhere. Those who were taken alive were hanged. A pretty large number had their hands cut off. It mislikes me to speak of such cruelty, but I was on the spot, and must need say something about it. Comine undoubtedly said something about it to Charles himself, who answered, It is the fruit borne by the tree of war. It would have been the fate of Beauvais, if I could have taken the town. Chapter 25 Louis XI 1461-1483 Part 6 Between the two rivals in France, relations with England were a subject of constant manoeuvring and strife. In spite of reverses on the continent and civil wars in their own island, the kings of England had not abandoned their claims to the crown of France. They were still in possession of Calais, and the memory of the battles of Cressy, Poitiers and Agincourt were still a tower of strength to them. Between 1470 and 1472 the House of York had triumphed over the House of Lancaster, and Edward IV was undisputed king. In his views touching France, he found a natural ally in the Duke of Burgundy, and it was in concert with Charles that Edward was incessantly concocting and attempting plots and campaigns against Louis XI. In 1474 he, by a herald, called upon Louis to give up to him Normandy and Guyenne, else he told him he would cross over to France with his army. Tell your master, answered Louis Cooley, that I should not advise him to. Next year the herald returned to tell Louis that the king of England, on the point of a barking, called upon him to give up to him the kingdom of France. Louis had a conversation with the herald. Your king, said he, is undertaking this war against his own grain at the solicitation of the Duke of Burgundy. He would do much better to live in peace with me, instead of devoting himself to allies who cannot but compromise him without doing him any service. And he had three hundred golden crowns presented to the herald with a promise of considerably more if peace were made. The herald, thus won over, promised in his turn to do all he could, saying that he believed that his master would lend a willing ear. But, that, before mentioning the subject, they must wait until Edward had crossed the sea and formed some idea of the difficulties in the way of his enterprise. And he advised Louis to establish communications with my lord Howard and my lord Stanley, who had great influence with King Edward. Whilst the king was parlaying with the said herald, there were many folks in the hall, says Comine, who were waiting, and had great longing to know what the king was saying to him, and what countenance he would wear when he came from within. The king, when he had made an end, called me, and told me to keep the said herald talking so that none might speak to him, and to have delivered unto him a piece of crimson velvet containing thirty l's. So did I, and the king was right joyous at that which he had got out of the said herald. It was now three years since Philip the Comine had left the Duke of Burgundy's service to enter that of Louis XI. In 1471, Charles had, none knows why, rashly authorised an interview between Louis and the Comine. The king's speech, says the chronicer Molyne in the Duke of Burgundy's service, was so sweet and full of virtue that it entranced Siren like all those who gave ear to it. Of all princes, says Comine himself, he was the one who was at most pains to gain over a man who was able to serve him, and able to injure him, and he was not put out at being refused once by one whom he was working to gain over, but continued there at making him large promises, and actually giving money and estate when he made acquaintances that were pleasing to him. Comine spoke according to his own experience. Louis, from the moment of making his acquaintance, had guessed his value, and, as early as 1468, in the course of his disagreeable adventure at Perron, he had found the good offices of Comine of great service to him. It was probably from this very time that he applied himself assiduously to the task of gaining him over. Comine hesitated a long while, but Louis was even more perseveringly persistent than Comine was hesitating. The King backed up his handsome offers by substantial and present gifts. In 1471, according to what appears, he lent Comine six thousand livres of tour, which the Duke of Burgundy's counselor lodged with a banker at tour. The next year the King, seeing that Comine was still slow to decide, bade one of his counselors to go to tour, in his name, and seized at the bankers the six thousand livres entrusted to the latter by Comine. This, says the learned editor of the last edition of Comine's memoir, was an able and decisive blow. The effect of the seizure could not but be, and indeed was, to put Comine in the awkward dilemma of seeing his practices, as the saying was at that time, divulged, without reaping the fruit of them, or of securing the advantages only by setting aside the scruples which held him back. He chose the latter course which had become the safer, and during the night between the seventh and eighth of August, 1472, he left Burgundy for ever. The King was at that time at Pont de Sey, and there his new servant joined him. The very day of his departure at six a.m. Duke Charles had a seizure made of all the goods and all the rights belonging to the fugitive, but what Comine lost on one side, said his editor, he was about to recover a hundredfold on the other. Scarcely had he arrived at the court of Louis XI, when he received at once the title of counselor and chamberlain to the King. Soon afterwards a pension of six thousand livres of tour was secured to him, by way of giving him wherewithal to honourably maintain his position. He was put into the place of captain of the castle and keep of the town of Chino, and lastly a present was made to him of the rich principality of Talmont. Six months later, in January 1473, Comine married Ellen de Chambre, daughter of the Lord of Montsurreux, which brought him as dowry twenty-seven thousand five hundred livres, which brought him as dowry twenty-seven thousand five hundred livres of tour, which enabled him to purchase the castle, town, barony, land, and lordship of Argentin, arrondissement of Bois-Sueux, de part département of Deux-Sèvres, the title of which events forward assumed. Half a page or so can hardly be thought too much space to devote in a history of France to the task of tracing to their origin the conduct and fortunes of one of the most eminent French politicians, who, after having taken a chief part in the affairs of their country and their epoch, have dedicated themselves to the work of narrating them in a spirit of liberal and admirable comprehension both of persons and events. But we will return to Louis XI. The King of England readily entertained the overtures announced to him by his herald. He had landed at Calais on the 22nd of June, 1475, with an army of from sixteen to eighteen thousand men, thirsting for conquest and pillage in France, and the Duke of Burgundy had promised to go and join him with a considerable force. But the latter, after having appeared for a moment at Calais to concert measures with his ally, returned no more, and even hesitated about admitting the English into his towns of Artois and Picardie. Edward waited for him nearly two months at Péran, but in vain. During this time Louis continued his attempts at negotiation. He fixed his quarters at Amiens, and Edward came and encamped half a league from the town. The King sent to him, it is said, three hundred wagons laden with the best wines he could find. The witch train, says Commine, was almost an army as big as the English. At the entrance of the gate of Amiens Louis had caused to be set out two large tables, laden with all sorts of good eatables and good wines, and at each of these two tables he had caused to be seated five or six men of good family, stout and fat, to make better sport for them who had a mind to drink. When the English went into the town, wherever they put up, they had nothing to pay. There were nine or ten taverns well supplied, whether they went to eat and drink, and asked for what they pleased, and this lasted three or four days. An agreement was soon come to as to the terms of peace. King Edward bound himself to withdraw with his army to England, so soon as Louis XI should have paid him seventy-five thousand crowns. Louis promised besides to pay annually to King Edward fifty thousand crowns in two payments during the time that both princes were alive. The truce for seven years was concluded. They made mutual promises to lend each other aid if they were attacked by their enemies or by their own subjects in rebellion, and Prince Charles, the eldest son of Louis XI, was to marry Elizabeth, Edward's daughter, when both should be of marriageable age. Lastly, Queen Margaret of Anjou, who had been a prisoner in England since the death of her husband Henry VI, was to be set at liberty, and removed to France on renouncing all claim to the Crown of England. These conditions having been formulated, it was agreed that the two kings should meet and sign them at Pecuny on the Somme, three leagues from Amiens. Viva, accordingly, they repaired on the 29th of August 1475. Edward, as he drew near, doffed his bonnet of black velvet, wherein was a large fleur de ly in jewels, and bowed down to within half a foot of the ground. Louis made an equally deep reverence, saying, Sir, my cousin, right welcome, there is no man in the world I could more desire to see than I do you, and praise be God that we are here assembled with such good intent. The King of England answered this speech, in good French enough, says Cummins. The missile was brought. The two kings swore and signed four distinct treaties, and then they engaged in a long private conversation, after which Louis went away to Amiens and Edward to his army, with a Louis sent to him, all that he had need of, even to torches and candles. As he went chatting along the road with Cummins, Louis told him that he had found the King of England so desirous of paying a visit to Paris that he had been anything but pleased. He is a right-handsome king, said he, he is very fond of women, and he might well meet at Paris some smitten one who would know how to make him such pretty speeches, as to render him desirous of another visit. His predecessors were far too much in Normandy and Paris. His comradeship is worth noting on our side of the sea, on the other side of a yonder. I should like very well to have him for good brother and good friend. Throughout the whole course of the negotiation Louis had shown pliancy and magnificence. He had laden Edward's chief courtiers with presents. Two thousand crowns, by way of pension, had been allowed to his Grand Chamberlain, Lord Hastings, who would not give an acknowledgement. The gift comes of the King your Master's good pleasure and not at my request, said he to Louis Stuart. If you would have me take it, you shall slip it here inside my sleeve, and have no letter or voucher beyond. I do not wish to have people saying, The Grand Chamberlain of England was the King of France's pensioner, or to have my acknowledgments found in his Exchequer Chamber. Lord Hastings had not always been so scrupulous for, on the fifteenth of May 1471, he had received from the Duke of Burgundy a pension for which he had given an acknowledgment. Another Englishman, whose name is not given by Cummins, waxed Roth at hearing someone say, 600 pipes of wine, and a pension given you by the King soon sent you back to England. That is certainly what everybody said, answered the Englishman, that you might have the laugh against us, but call you the money the King gives us pension? Why, it is tribute, and by Saint George, you may perhaps talk so much about it as to bring us down upon you again. There was nothing in the world, says Cummins, of which the King was more fearful than lest any word should escape him to make the English think that they were being derided, at the same time that he was laboring to gain them over, he was careful to humour their susceptibilities. And Cummins, under his schooling, had learned to understand them well. They are rather slow-goers, says he, but you must have a little patience with them, and not lose your temper. I fancy that to many it might appear that the King abased himself too much, but the wise might well hold that the Kingdom was in great danger, save for the intervention of God, who did dispose the King's mind to choose so wise a course, and did greatly trouble that to the Duke of Burgundy. Our King knew well the nature of the King of England, who was very fond of his ease and his pleasures. When he had concluded these treaties with him, he ordered that the money should be found with the greatest expedition, and everyone had to lend somewhat to help to supply it on the spot. The King said that there was nothing in the world he would not do, to thrust the King of England out of the realm, save only that he would never consent that the English should have a bit of territory there, and rather than suffer that, he would put everything to jeopardy and risk. Cummins had good reason to say that the Kingdom was in great peril. The intentions of Charles the Rash tended to nothing short of bringing back the English into France in order to share it with them. He made no concealment of it. "'I am so fond of the Kingdom,' said he, that I would make six of it in France. He was passionately eager for the title of King. He had put out feelers for it in the direction of Germany, and the Emperor, Frederick III, had promised it to him, together with that of vicar general of the Empire, on condition that his daughter, Mary of Burgundy, married Duke Maximilien, Frederick's son. Having been unsuccessful on the Rhine, Charles turned once more towards the Thames, and made alliance with Edward IV, King of England, with a view of renewing the English invasion of France, flattering himself, of course, that he would profit by it. To destroy the work of Joan of Arc, and Charles VII, such was the design, a criminal and a shameful one for a French prince, which was checkmated by the peace of Pequeigny. Charles himself acknowledged as much when, in his wrath at this treaty, he said, he had not sought to bring over the English into France for any need he had of them, but to enable them to recover what belonged to them. And Louis XI was a patriotic King when he declared that there was nothing in the world he would not do to thrust the King of England out of the realm, and rather than suffer the English to have a bit of territory in France, he would put everything to jeopardy and risk. The Duke of Burgundy, as soon as he found out that the King of France had, under the name of Truce, made peace for seven years with the King of England, and that Edward IV had recrossed the channel with his army, saw that his attempts so far were a failure. Accordingly, he too lost no time in signing, on the 13th of September 1475, a truce with King Louis for nine years, and directing his ambition and aiming his blows against other quarters the western France. Two little states, his neighbours on the east, Lorraine and Switzerland, became the object in the theatre of his passion for war. Lorraine had at that time for its Duke Rene II of the House of Anjou through his mother Yolande, a young prince who was wavering, as so many others were, between France and Burgundy. Charles suddenly entered Lorraine, took possession of several castles, had the inhabitants who resisted hanged, besieged Nancy, which made a valiant defence, and ended by conquering the capital as well as the country places, leaving Duke Rene, no asylum but the court of Louis XI, of whom the Lorraine prince had begged to support which Louis, after his custom, had promised, without rendering it effectual. Charles did not stop there. He had already been more than once engaged in hostilities with his neighbours, the Swiss, and he now learned that they had just made a sanguinary raid upon the district of Vaux, the domain of a pretty prince of the House of Savoy, and a devoted servant of the Duke of Burgundy. Scarcely two months after the capture of Nancy, Charles set out, on the 11th of June 1476, to go and avenge his client, and wreak his haughty and turbulent humour upon these bold peasants of the Alps. In spite of the truce he had but lately concluded with Charles the Rush, the prudent Louis did not cease to keep an attentive watch upon him, and to reap advantage against him from the leisure secured to the King of France by his peace with the King of England and the Duke of Brittany. A late occurrence had still further strengthened his position. His brother, Charles, who became Duke of Guyenne in 1469 after the Treaty of Peron, had died on the 24th of May 1472. There were sinister rumours abroad touching his death. Louis was suspected, and even accused, to the Duke of Brittany, an intimate friend of the deceased prince, of having poisoned his brother. He caused an inquiry to be instituted into the matter, but the inquiry itself was accused of being incomplete and inconclusive. King Louis did not possibly cause his brother's death, said Monsieur de Barrent, but nobody thought him incapable of it. The will which Prince Charles had dictated a little before his death increased the horror inspired by such a suspicion. He manifested in it a feeling of affection and confidence towards the King, his brother. He requested him to treat his servants kindly, and, if in any way, he added, we have ever offended our right dread and right well-beloved brother, we do beg him to be pleased to forgive us, since, for our part, if ever in any matter he hath offended us, we do affectionately pray the Divine Majesty to forgive him, and with good courage and good will do we on our part forgive him. The Duke of Guyenne at the same time appointed the King executor of his will. If we acknowledge, however, that Louis was not incapable of such a crime, it must be admitted that there is no trustworthy proof of his guilt. At any rate, his brother's death had important results for him. Not only did it set him free from all fresh embarrassment in that direction, but it also restored to him the beautiful province of Guyenne and many a royal client. He treated the friends of Prince Charles, whether they had or had not been here to for his own, with marked attention. He re-established at Bordeaux the Parliament he had removed to Poitiers. He pardoned the towns of Pazinas and Montignac for some late seditions, and lastly he took advantage of this incident to pacify and satisfy this portion of the Kingdom. Of the great feudal chieftains who, in 1464, had formed against him the League of the Common-Wheel, the Duke of Burgundy was the only one left on the scene, and in a condition to put him in peril. CHAPTER XXV But though here was for the future his only real adversary, Louis XI continued, and with reason, to regard the Duke of Burgundy as his most formidable foe, and never ceased to look about for means and allies were with to encounter him. He could no longer count upon the cooperation, more or less general, of the Flemings. His behaviour to the Lieges after the incident at Peron, and his share in the disaster which befell Liege had lost him all his credit in the Flemish cities. The Flemings, besides, had been disheartened and disgusted at the idea of compromising themselves for or against their Burgundian Prince. When they saw him entering upon the campaign in Lohan in Switzerland, they themselves declared to him what he might or might not expect for them. If you were pressed, they said, by the Germans or the Swiss, and had not with him enough men to make his way back freely to his own borders, he had only to let them know, and they would expose their persons and their property to go after him, and fetch him back safely within his said borders. But, as for making war again at his instance, they were not free to aid him any more with either men or money. Louis XI then, had nothing to expect from the Flemings any more, but for two years past, and so soon as he observed the commencement of hostilities between the Duke of Burgundy and the Swiss, he had paved the way for other alliances in that quarter. In 1473 he had sent to the most high and mighty lords and most dear friends of ours, them of the League and City of Berm, and of the great and little League of Germany, ambassadors charged to make proposals to them, if they would come to an understanding to be friends of friends and foes of foes, make an offensive and defensive alliance. The proposal was brought before the diet of the cantons assembled at Lucerne. The King of France regretted that the Duke of Burgundy would not leave the Swiss in peace. He promised that his advice and support, whether in men or in money, should not be wanting to them. He offered to each canton an annual friendly donation of two thousand livres, and he engaged not to summon their valiant warriors to take service, save in case of pressing need, and unless Switzerland were herself at war. The question was discussed with animation, the cantons were divided. Some would have nothing to do with either the alliance or the money of Louis XI, of whom they spoke with great distrust and antipathy. Others insisted upon the importance of being supported by the King of France in their quarrels with the Duke of Burgundy, and scornfully repudiated the fear that the influence and money of Louis would bring a taint upon the independence and the good morals of their country. The latter opinion carried the day, and on the 2nd of October 1474, conformably with a treaty concluded on the 10th of the previous January between the King of France and the League of Swiss Cantons, the canton of Bern made to the French legation the following announcement. If, in the future, the said lords of the League asked help from the King of France against the Duke of Burgundy, and if the said Lord King, being engaged in his own wars, could not help them with men, in this case, he should cause to be lodged and handed over to them in the city of Lyon, twenty thousand reynish florins every quarter of a year as long as the war actually continued, and we, on our part, do promise, on our faith and honour, that every time and however many times the said Lord King shall ask help from the said lords of the League, we will take care that they do help him and aid him with six thousand men in his wars and expeditions according to the tenor of the late alliance and union made between them, albeit on payment. A Bernese messenger carried this announcement to the Burgundian camp before the fortress of Neus, and delivered it into the hands of Duke Charles himself, whose only remark as he ground his teeth was, ah, Bern, Bern. At the beginning of January fourteen seventy-six, he left Nancy, of which he had recently gained possession, returned to Besançon, and started thence on the sixth of February to take the field with an army amounting, it is said, to thirty or forty thousand men, provided with a powerful artillery and accompanied by an immense baggage-train, wherein Charles delighted to display his riches and magnificence in contrast with the simplicity and roughness of his personal habits. At the rumour of such an armament, the Swiss attempted to keep off the war from their country. I have heard tell, says Comine, by a night of theirs, who had been sent by them to the said Duke, that he told them that against them he could gain nothing, for that their country was very barren and poor, that there were no good prisoners to make, and that the spurs and the horse's bits in his own army were worth more money than all the people of their territory could pay and ransom, even if they were taken. Charles, however, gave no heed, saw nothing in their representations but an additional reason for hurrying on his movements with confidence, and, on the nineteenth of February, arrived before Carrinson, a little town in the district of Vaux, where war had already begun. Louis XI watched all these incidents closely, keeping agents everywhere, treating secretly with everybody, with the Duke of Burgundy as well as with the Swiss, knowing perfectly well what he wanted, but holding himself ready to face anything, no matter what the event might be. When he saw that the crisis was coming, he started from Tour and went to up his quarters at Lyon, close to the theatre of war, and within an easy distance for speedy information and prompt action. Scarcely had he arrived on the fourth of March, when he learned that, on the day but one before, Duke Charles had been tremendously beaten by the Swiss at Carrinson. The squadrons of a chivalry had not been able to make any impression upon the battalions of Bern, Schwyz, Solleur and Fribourg, armed with pikes, eighteen feet long, and at sight of the mountaineers marching with huge strides and lowered heads upon their foes, and heralding the advance by the lowings of the Bull of Uri and the Cow of Unterbalm, two enormous instruments made of buffalo horn, and given it was said to their ancestors by Charlemagne, the whole Burgundian army seized with panic had dispersed in all directions, like smoke before the northern blast. Charles himself had been forced to fly with only five horsemen, it is said, for escort, leaving all his camp, artillery, treasure, oratory, jewels, down to his very cap garnished with precious stones and his collar of the golden fleece, in the hands of the poor Swiss, astounded at their booty and having no suspicion of its value. They sold the silver plate for a few pence, taking it for Pute, says Monsieur de Barrent. Those magnificent silks and velvets, that cloth of gold and damask, that flanders lace, and those carpets from Arras, which were found heaped up in chests, were cut up in pieces, and distributed by the El, like common canvas in a village shop. The duke's large diamond, which he wore around his neck, and which had once upon a time glittered in the crown of the great mogul, was found on the road, inside a little box set with fine pearls. The man who picked it up, kept the box, and threw away the diamond as a mere bit of glass. Afterwards, he thought better of it, went to look for the stone, found it under a wagon, and sold it for a crown to a clergyman of the neighbourhood. There was nothing saved, but the bare life, says Comine. That even the bare life was saved was a source of sorrow to Louis XI, in the very midst of his joy at the defeat. He was, nevertheless, most proper in his behaviour and language towards Duke Charles, who sent to him Sio de Conte, with humble and gracious words, which was contrary to his nature and his custom, says Comine. But see how an hour's time changed him. He prayed the King to be pleased to observe loyally the truth concluded between them. He excused himself for not having appeared at the interview, which was to have taken place at Occea, and he bound himself to be present shortly, either there or elsewhere, according to the King's good pleasure. Louis promised him all he asked. For, adds Comine, it did not seem to him time as yet, to do otherwise, and he gave the duke the good advice, to return home and bide there quietly, rather than go on stubbornly warring with you on folks with the Alps, so poor that there was not to gain by taking their lands, but valiant and obstinate in battle. Louis might give this advice fearlessly, being quite certain that Charles would not follow it. The latter's defeat at Crescent had thrown him into a state of gloomy irritation. At Lausanne, where he stayed for some time, he had a great sickness preceding, says Comine, from grief and sadness on account of this shame that he had suffered. And, to tell the truth, I think that never since was his understanding so good as it had been before this battle. Before he fell ill on the twelfth of March, Charles issued orders from his count before Lausanne to his lieutenant at Luxembourg to put under arrest and visit with the extreme penalty of death without waiting for other command from us, all the men-at-arms, archers, crossbowmen, infantry or other soldiery, who had fled or dispersed after the disaster at Crescent. And as to those who be newly coming into our service, it is ordered by us that they, on pain of the same punishment, do march towards us with all diligence, and if they make any delay, our pleasure is that you proceed against them in the manner here and above declared without fail in any way. With such fiery and ruthless energy, Charles collected a fresh army, having a strength, it is said, of from twenty-five to thirty-thousand men, the Gundians, Flemmings, Italians and English, and after having reviewed it on the platform above Lausanne, he set out on the twenty-seventh of May, fourteen-seventy-six, and pitched his camp on the tenth of June before the little town of Moher, six leagues from Bern, giving notice everywhere that it was war to the death that he intended. The Swiss were expecting it and were prepared for it. The energy of pride was going to be pitted against the energy of patriotism. The Duke of Burgundy is here with all his forces, his Italian mercenaries, and some traitors of Germans, said the letter written to the Bernese by the governor of Moher, Adrian of Bubenberg. The gentlemen of the magistracy, of the council, and of the burgherhood may be free from fear and hurry, and may set at rest the minds of all our confederates. I will defend Moher, and he swore to the garrison and the inhabitants that he would put to death the first who should speak of surrender. Moher had been for ten days holding out against the whole army of the Burgundians. The confederate Swiss were arriving successfully at Bern, and the men of Thurich alone were late. The fellow countrymen, Hans Valdmann, wrote to them, We positively must give battle, or we are lost every one of us. The Burgundians are three times more numerous than they were at Crescent, but we shall manage to pull through. With God's help, great honour awaits us. Do not fail to come as quickly as possible. On the twenty-first of June in the evening, the Thurich has arrived. Ha! the Duke was just saying. Have these hounds lost heart, pray? I was told that we were about to get at them. Next day, the twenty-second of June, after a pelting rain and with the first gleams of the returning sun, the Swiss attacked the Burgundian camp. And man at arms came and told the Duke, who would not believe it, and dismissed the messenger with a coarse insult, but hurried nevertheless to the point of attack. The battle was desperate, but before the close of the day it was hopelessly lost by the Burgundians. Charles had still three thousand horse, but he saw them break up, and he himself had great difficulty in getting away with merely a dozen men behind him and reaching Mersh, twelve leagues from Moha. Eight or ten thousand of his men had fallen, more than half it is said, killed in cold blood after the fight. Never had the Swiss been so dead set against their foes, and as cruel as at Moha was for a long while a common expression. The king, says Kamin, always willingly gave somewhat to him who was the first to bring him some great news, without forgetting the messenger, and he took pleasure in speaking thereof before the news came, saying, I will give so much to him who first brings me such and such news. My lord of Bouchage and I, being together, had the first message about the battle of Moha, and told it both together to the king, who gave each of us two hundred marks of silver. Next day Louis, as prudent in the hour of joy as of reverse, wrote to Count de Damantin, who was in command of his troops concentrated at Saint-Lis, with orders to hold himself in readiness for any event, but still carefully observed the truce with the Duke of Burgundy. Charles at that time was thinking but little of Louis in their truce, driven to despair by the disaster at Moha, but more dead set than ever on the struggle, he repaired from Morsch to Gex, and from Gex to Salin, and some had successively, in July and August, at Salin, at Dijon, at Porcelles, and at Luxembourg, the estates of his various domains, making to all of them an appeal, at the same time subjugatory and imperious, calling upon them for a fresh army with which to recommend the war with the Swiss, of fresh subsidies with which to pay it. If ever, said he, you have desired to serve us and do us pleasure, see to doing and accomplishing all that is bid in you, make no default in anything whatsoever, and he henceforth and dread of the punishments which may ensue. But there was everywhere a feeling of disgust with the service of Duke Charles. There was no more desire of serving him, and no more fear of disobeying him. He accounted almost everywhere nothing but objections, complaints and refusals, or else a silence, and an inactivity which were still worse. Indignant, dismayed, and dumbfounded at such desertion, Charles retired to his castle of La Javier between Pontaille and Roux, and shut himself up there for more than six weeks, without, however, giving up the attempt to collect soldiers. How be it, says Cummins, he made but little of it, he kept himself quite solitary, and he seemed to do it from sheer obstinacy more than anything else. His natural heat was so great that he used to drink no wine, generally took barley water in the morning, and ate preserved rose-leaves to keep himself cool. But sorrow changed his complexion so much that he was obliged to drink good, strong wine without water, and, to bring the blood back to his heart, burning tow was put into cupping-glasses, and they were applied thus heated to the region of the heart. Such are the passions of those who have never felt adversity, especially of proud princes who know not how to discover any remedy. The first refuge in such a case is to have recourse to God, to consider whether one have offended him in ought, and to confess one's misdeeds. After that, what does great good is to converse with some friend, and not be ashamed to show one's grief before him, for that lightens and comforts the heart, and not at any rate to take the course the duke took of concealing himself and keeping himself solitary. He was so terrible to his own folks that none durst come forward to give him any comfort or counsel. But all left him to do as he pleased, feeling that, if they made him any remonstrance, it would be the worst for them. End of Chapter 25 Part 7 Recording by Kate McKenzie Chapter 25 Part 8 of Volume 3 of A Popular History of France from the earliest times. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kate McKenzie Volume 3 of A Popular History of France from the earliest times by François Guizot, translated by Robert Black Chapter 25 Louis XI, 1461-1483 Part 8 But events take no account of the fears and weaknesses of men. Charles learned before long that the Swiss were not his most threatening foes, and that he had something else to do instead of going after them amongst their mountains. During his two campaigns against them, the Duke of Lorraine, Lorraine II, whom he had despoiled of his dominions and driven from Nancy, had been wandering amongst neighbouring princes and people in France, Germany and Switzerland, at the courts of Louis XI and the Emperor of Frederick III, and visits to the patricians of Bern and in the free towns of the Rhine. He was young, sprightly amiable and brave. He had nowhere met with great assistance, but he had been well received, and certain promises had been made him. When he saw the contest so hotly commenced between the Duke of Burgundy and the Swiss, he resolutely put himself at the service of the Republican mountaineers, fought for them in their ranks, and powerfully contributed to their victory at Moher. The defeat of Charles and his retreat to his castle of La Rivière gave Rene new hopes, and gained him some credit amongst the powers which had hitherto merely testified towards him a good will of but little value, and his partisans in Lorraine recovered confidence in his fortunes. One day, as he was at his prayers in a church, a rich widow, Madame Dalthe, came up to him in her mantle in Hood, made him a deep reverence, and handed him a purse of gold to help him in winning back his duchy. The city of Strasbourg gave him some cannon, 400 cavalry, and 800 infantry. Louis XI lent him some money, and Rene, before long, found himself in a position to raise a small army and retake Epinal, Sondid, Vaudemont, and the majority of the small towns in Lorraine. He then went and laid siege to Nancy. The Duke of Burgundy had left there as Governor Jean de Robemore, lord of Bievre, with a feeble garrison, which numbered amongst its ranks 300 English-picked men. Sir de Bievre sent message after message to Charles, who did not even reply to him. The town was short of provisions, the garrison was dispirited, and the commander of the English was killed. Sière de Bievre, a loyal servant, but a soldier of but little energy, determined to capitulate. On the 6th of October, 1476, he evacuated the place at the head of his men, all safe in person and property. At sight of him, Rene dismounted, and handsomely went forward to meet him, saying, Sir, my good uncle, I thank you for having so courageously governed my duchy. If you find it agreeable to remain with me, you shall fare the same as myself. Sir answered Sière de Bievre. I hope that you will not think ill of me for this war. I very much wish that my lord of Burgundy had never begun it, and I am much afraid that neither he nor I will see the end of it. Sière de Bievre had no idea how true a prophet he was. Almost at the very moment when he was capitulating, Duke Charles, throwing off his somber apathy, was once more entering Lorraine with all the troops he could collect, and on the 22nd of October, he, in his turn, went and laid siege to Nancy. Duke Rene, not considering himself in a position to maintain the contest, with only such forces as he had with him, determined to quit Nancy in person and go in search of reinforcements at a distance, at the same time leaving in the town a not very numerous but a devoted garrison, which, together with the inhabitants, promised to hold out for two months. And it did hold out, whilst Rene was visiting Strasbourg, Bern, Zurich and Lucerne, presenting himself before the councils of these petty republics with, in order to please them, a tame bear behind him, which he left at the doors and, promising thanks to Louis XI's agents in Switzerland, extraordinary pay. He thus obtained auxiliaries to the number of 8,000 fighting men. He had, more over, in the very camp of the Duke of Burgundy, a secret ally, an Italian condottiere, the Count of Campobasso, who, either from personal hatred or on grounds of interest, was betraying the master to whom he had bound himself. The year before, he had made an offer to Louis XI to go over to him with his troops during a battle, or to hand over to him the Duke of Burgundy, dead or alive. Louis mistrusted the traitor, and sent Charles' notice of the offers made by Campobasso. But Charles mistrusted Louis' information, and kept Campobasso in his service. A little before the Battle of Morat, Louis had thought better of his scruples or his doubts, and had accepted, with the compensation of a pension, the kind offices of Campobasso. When the war took place in Lorraine, the condottiere, whom Duke Charles had one day grossly insulted, entered into communication with Duke Rene also, and took secret measures for ensuring the failure of the Burgundian attempts upon Nancy. Such was the position of the two princes and the two armies, when, on the 4th of June 1477, Lorraine, having returned with reinforcements to Lorraine, found himself confronted with Charles, who was still intent upon the siege of Nancy. The Duke of Burgundy assembled his captains. Well, said he, since these drunken scoundrels are upon us, and are coming here to look for meat and drink, what ought we to do? The majority of those present were of opinion that the right thing to do was to fall back into the Duchy of Luxembourg, there to recruit the enfeebled army. Duke Rene, they said, is poor. He will not be able to bear very long the expense of the war, and his allies will leave him as soon as he has no more money. Wait but a little, and success is certain. Charles flew into a passion. My father and I, said he, knew how to thrash these Lorraine's, and we will make them remember it, by St George. I will not fly before a boy, before Rene of Vourmont, who is coming at the head of this scum. He has not so many men with him as people think. The Germans have no idea of leaving their stoves in winter. This evening we will deliver the assault against the town, and tomorrow we will give battle. And the next day, January the 5th, the battle did take place in the plain of Nancy. The Duke of Burgundy assumed his armour very early in the morning. When he put on his helmet, the gilt lion, which formed the crest of it, fell off. That is a sign from God, said he, but nevertheless, he went and drew up his army in line of battle. The day but when before, Camp Barser had drawn off his troops to a considerable distance, and he presented himself before Duke Rene, having taken off his red scarf and his cross of St Andrew, and being quite ready, he said, to give proofs of his zeal on the spot. Rene spoke about it to his Swiss captains. We have no mind, said they, to have this traitor of an Italian fighting beside us. Our fathers never made use of such folk or such practices in order to conquer. And Camp Barser held aloof. The battle began in gloomy weather, and beneath heavy flakes of snow lasted but a short time, and was not at all murderous in the actual conflict, but the pursuit was terrible. Camp Barser and his troops held the bridge of Buxière, by which the Burgundian fugitives would want to pass. And the Lorraine of Rene and his Swiss and German allies scoured the country, killing all with whom they fell in. Rene returned to Nancy in the midst of a population whom his victory had delivered from famine as well as war. To show him what sufferings they had endured, says Monsieur de Barrent, they conceived the idea of piling up in a heap before the door of his hostel, the heads of the horses, dogs, mules, cats, and other unclean animals, which had, for several weeks past, been the only food of the besieged. When the first burst of joy was over, the question was, what had become of the Duke of Burgundy? Nobody had a notion, and his body was not found amongst the dead in any of the places where his most valiant and faithful warriors had fallen. The rumour ran that he was not dead. Some said that one of his servants had picked him up wounded on the field of battle and was taking care of him, none knew where, and according to others, a German lord had made him prisoner and carried him off beyond the Rhine. Take good heed, said many people, how you comport yourselves otherwise than if you were still alive, for his vengeance would be terrible on his return. On the evening of the day after the battle, the Count of Campobasa brought to Duke Rene a young Roman page who, he said, had from a distance seen his master fall, and could easily find the spot again. Under his guidance a move was made towards a pond hard by the town, and there, half buried in the slush of the pond, were some dead bodies lying stripped. A poor washerwoman amongst the rest had joined in the search. She saw the glitter of a jewel in the ring upon one of the fingers of a corpse whose face was not visible. She went forward, turned the body over, and at once cried, Ah, my prince! There was a rush to the spot immediately. As the head was being detached from the ice to which it stuck, the skin came off, and a large wound was discovered. On examining the body with care it was unhesitatingly recognised to be that of Charles, by his doctor, by his chaplain, by Olivier de la Marche, his chamberlain, and by several grooms of the chamber. And certain marks, such as the scar of the wound he had received at Montléré, and the loss of two teeth put their assertion beyond a doubt. As soon as Duke René knew that they had at last found the body of the Duke of Burgundy, he had it removed to the town, and laid on a bed of state of black velvet under a canopy of black satin. It was dressed in a garment of white satin, a ducal crown set with precious stones was placed on the disfigured brow, the lower limbs were cased in scarlet, and on the heels were gilded spurs. The Duke of Lorraine went and sprinkled holy water on the corpse of his unhappy rival, and, taking the dead hand beneath the paw, ah, dear cousin, said he, with tears in his eyes. For the time that I knew him he was not cruel, but he became so before his death, and that was a bad omen for a long existence. He was very sumptuous in dress and in all other matters, and a little too much so. He showed very great honour to ambassadors and foreign folks they were right well feasted entertained by him. He was desirous of great glory, and it was that more than else that brought him into his wars. He would have been right glad to be like to those ancient princes of whom there has been so much talk after their death. He was as bold a man as any that reigned in his day. After the long felicity and great riches of this house of Burgundy, and after three great princes good and wise, who had lasted six score years and more in good sense and virtue, God gave this people the Duke Charles, who kept them constantly in great war, trivial and expense, and almost as much in winter as in summer. Many rich and comfortable folks were dead or ruined in prison during these wars. The great losses began in front of Neus, and continued through three or four battles up to the hour of his death, and at that hour all the strength of his country was sapped, and dead or ruined or captive were all who could or would have defended the dominions on the honour of his house. Thus it seems that this loss was an equal set off to the time of their felicity. Please God to forgive Duke Charles his sins. To this pious wish of Commine, after so judicious a sketch, we may add another. Please God that people may no more suffer themselves to be taken captive by the corrupting and ruinous pleasures procured for them by their master's grand, but wicked or foolish enterprises, and may learn to give to the men who govern them a glory in proportion to the wisdom and justice of their deeds, and by no means to the noise they make, and the risks they so broadcast around them. The news of the death of Charles the rash was, for Louis XI, an unexpected and unhopeful blessing, and one in which he could scarcely believe. The news reached him on the 9th of January, at the castle of Plessis-les-Tours, by the medium of a courier centre him by Georges de la Tomoye, Sire de Croix, commanding his troops on the frontier of Lorraine. In so much as this house of Burgundy was greater and more powerful than the others, says Commine, was the pleasure great for the King more than all the others together. It was the joy of seeing himself set above all those he hated, and above his principal foes. It might well seem to him that he would never in his life meet any to gain say him in his kingdom or in the neighbourhood near him. He replied the same day to Sire de Croix. Sir Count, my good friend, I have received your letters, and the good news you have brought to my knowledge for which I thank you as much as I am able. Now is the time for you to employ all your five natural wits to put the juicy encounters of Burgundy in my hands. And to that end place yourself with your band and the governor of Champagne, if so be that the Duke of Burgundy is dead within the said country, and take care for the dear love you bear me, that you maintain amongst the men of war the best order, just as if you were inside Paris, and make known to them that I am minded to treat them and keep them better than any in my kingdom, and that in respect of our God-daughter I have an intention of completing the marriage that I have already had in contemplation between the Lord, the Dauphin, and her. Sir Count, I consider it understood that you will not enter the said country, or make mention of that which is written above, unless the Duke of Burgundy be dead, and in any case I pray you to serve me in accordance with the confidence I have in you, and adieu. Beneath the discreet reserve inspired by a remnant of doubt concerning the death of his enemy, this letter contained the essence of Louis XI's grand and very natural stroke of policy. Charles the Rash had left only a daughter, Mary of Burgundy, sole heiress of all his dominions. To annex this magnificent heritage to the crown of France by the marriage of the heiress with the Dauphin, who was one day to be Charles VIII, was clearly for the best interest of the nation, as well as of the French kingship, and such had, accordingly, in Louis XI's first idea. When the Duke of Burgundy was still alive, said Commine, many a time spoke the king to me of what he would do if the Duke should happen to die, and he spoke most reasonably, saying that he would try to make a match between his son, who is now our king, and the said Duke's daughter, who was afterwards Duchess of Austria, and if she were not minded to hear of it, for that my Lord the Dauphin was much younger than she, he would essay to get her married to some younger Lord of this realm, for to keep her and her subject in amity, and to recover without dispute that which he claimed as his, and still was the said Lord on this subject a week before he knew of the said Duke's death. How be it it seems that the king our master took no hold of matters by the end by which he should have taken hold for to come out triumphant, and to add to his crown all those great lordships, either by sound title or by marriage, as easily he might have done. Commine does not explain or specify clearly the mistake with which he reproaches his master. Louis XI, in spite of his sound sense and correct appreciation generally of the political interests of France and of his crown, allowed himself on this great occasion to be swayed by secondary considerations and personal questions. His son's marriage with the heiress of Burgundy might cause some embarrassment in his relations with Edward IV, King of England, to whom he had promised the Dauphin as a husband for his daughter, Elizabeth, who was already sometimes called in England the Dauphiness. In 1477, at the death of the Duke of Father, Mary of Burgundy was twenty years old, and Charles the Dauphin was barely eight. There was another question, a point of feudal law, asked to whether Burgundy, properly so called, was a thief which women could inherit, or a thief which, in default of a male heir, must lapsed to the Sousaion. Several of the Flemish towns which belonged to the Duke of Burgundy were weary of his wars and his violence, and showed an inclination to pass over to the sway of the King of France. All these facts offered pretexts, opportunities, and chances of success for that course of egotistical pretension and cunning intrigue in which Louis delighted and felt confident of his ability, and into hit he plunged after the death of Charles the Rash. Though he still spoke of his desire of marrying his son the Dauphin to Mary of Burgundy, it was no longer his dominant and ever-present idea. Instead of taking pains to win the good will in the heart of Mary herself, he laboured with his usual zeal and a dress to dispute her rights, to despoil her brusquely of one or another town in her dominions, to tamper with her servants, or excite against them the wrath of the populace. Two of the most devoted and most able amongst them, Ugonnae, Chancellor of Burgundy, and Cyr Dumbercourt, were the victims of Louis XI's hostile manoeuvres and of blind hatred on the part of the Gentis, and all the Princess Mary's passionate entreaties were powerless, both with the King and with the Flemings, to save them from the scaffold. And so Mary, alternately threatened or duped, attacked in her just rights, or outraged in her affections, being driven to extremity, exhibited a resolution never to become the daughter of a Prince, unworthy of the confidence she, poor Orphan, had placed in the spiritual tie which marked him out as her protector. I understand, said she, that my father had arranged my marriage with the Emperor's son. I have no mind for any other. Louis, in his alarm, tried all sorts of means, seductive and violent, to prevent such a reverse. He went in person amongst the Waloon and Flemish provinces belonging to Mary. That I come into this country, said he to the inhabitants of Cresnau, is for nothing but the interests of Mamoisel de Burgundy, my well-beloved cousin and goddaughter. Of her wicked advisers some would have her espouse the son of the Duke of Cleves, but he is a Prince of far too little lustre for so illustrious a Princess. I know that he has a bad sore on his leg. He is a drunkard, like all Germans, and after drinking he will break his glass over her head and beat her. Others would ally her with the English, the Kingdom's old enemies, who all lead bad lives. There are some who would give her for her husband the Emperor's son, but those Princes of the Imperial House are the most avaricious in the world. They will carry off Mamoisel de Burgundy to Germany, a strange land and a course, where she will know no consolation, whilst your land of Ainot will be left without any Lord to govern and defend it. If my fair cousin were well advised, she would espouse the Dauphin. You speak French, you Waloon people. You want a Prince of France, not a German. As for me, I esteem the folks of Ainot more than any nation in the world. There is none more noble, and in my sight a hind of Ainot is worth more than a grand gentleman of any other country. At the very time that he was using such flattering language to the good folks of Ainot, he was writing to the Count de Damartin, whom he had charged with the repression of insurrection in the country parts of Ghent and Poge. So Grand Master, I send you some mowers to cut down the crop you wot off, put them I pray you to work, and spare not some casks of wine to set them drinking and to make them drunk. I pray you, my friend, let there be no need to return a second time to do the mowing, for you are as much Crown officer as I am, and if I am King, you are Grand Master. Damartin executed the King's orders without scruple, and at the season of harvest the Flemish country places were devastated. Little birds of heaven prized the Flemish chronicer Moline. Ye who are want to haunt off fields and rejoice our hearts with their amorous notes, now seek out other countries. Get ye hence from our tillages, for the King of the mowers of France hath done worse to us than do the tempests. Chapter 25 Part 9 of Volume 3 of a popular history of France from the earliest times. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kate Mackenzie. Volume 3 of a popular history of France from the earliest times by François Guizot, translated by Robert Black. Chapter 25 Louis XI 1461-1483 Part 9 All the efforts of Louis XI, his winning speeches, and his ruinous deeds, did not succeed in averting the serious check he dreaded. On the 18th of August 1477, seven months after the Battle of Nancy in the death of Charles the Rash, Archduke Maximilian, son of the Emperor Frederick III, arrived at Ghent to wed Mary of Burgundy. The moment he caught sight of his betrothed, say the Flemish chroniclers, they both bent down to the ground and turned as pale as death, a sign of mutual love according to some, and omen of unhappiness according to others. Next day, August the 19th, the marriage was celebrated with great simplicity in the chapel of the Hotel de Ville, and Maximilian swore to respect the privileges of Ghent. A few days afterwards, he renewed the same oath at Bourges, in the midst of decorations bearing the modest device, most glorious prince, defenders lest we perish. In Latin, gloriosísima, princeps, defendenos ne periamos. Not only did Louis XI thus fail in his first wise design of incorporating with France by means of a marriage between his son the Dauphin and Princess Mary, the heritage of the Dukes of Burgundy, but he suffered the heiress and a great part of the heritage to pass into the hands of the son of the German Emperor, and thereby he paved the way for that determined rivalry between the houses of France and Austria, which was a source of so many dangers and woes to both states during three centuries. It is said that in 1745, when Louis XV, after the Battle of Fontenoy entered Bourges Cathedral, he remarked as he gazed on the tombs of the Austro-Burgundian princes, ìthere is the origin of all our wars.î In vain, when the marriage of Maximilian and Mary was completed, did Louis XI attempt to struggle against his new and dangerous neighbour. His campaigns in the Flemish provinces in 1478 and 1479 had no great result. He lost, on the 7th of August 1479, the Battle of Guinegate between Saint-Omer and Terroin, and before long tired of war, which was not his favourite theatre for the display of his abilities, he ended by concluding with Maximilian a truce at first, and then a peace, which, in spite of some conditionals favourable to France, left the principal and the fatal consequences of the Austro-Burgundian marriage to take full effect. This event marked the stoppage of that great national policy which had prevailed during the first part of Louis XI's reign. Joan of Arc and Charles VII had driven the English from France, and for sixteen years Louis XI had by fighting and gradually destroying the great vassals who made alliance with them prevented them from regaining a footing there. That was work as salutary as it was glorious for the nation and the French kingship. At the death of Charles the Rash the work was accomplished. Louis XI was the only power left in France without any great peril from without, and without any great rival within, but he then fell under the sway of mistaken ideas and a vicious spirit. The infinite resources of his mind, the agreeableness of his conversation, his perseverance combined with the pliancy of his will, the services he was rendering France, the successes he in the long run frequently obtained, and his ready apparent resignation under his reverses for a while made up for or palliated his faults, his falsehoods, his perfidies, his iniquities. But when evil is predominant at the bottom of a man's soul he cannot do without youth and success. He cannot make head against age and decay, reverse of fortune and the approach of death. And so Louis XI, when old in years, master power still though beaten in his last game of policy, appeared to all as he really was, and as he had been predetermined to be by only such eminent observers as Camus, that is, a crooked, swindling, utterly selfish, vindictive, cruel man. Not only did he hunt down implacably the men who, after having served him, had betrayed or deserted him, he reveled in the vengeance he took and the sufferings he inflicted on them. He had raised to the highest rank both in state and church the son of a cobbler, or according to others, of a tailor, one John de Balu, born in 1421 at the market-town of Angla in Poitou. After having chosen him as an intelligent and a clever young priest for his secretary and almanac, Louis made him successively clerical councillor in the Parliament of Paris, then Béchapere Vore, and afterwards Cardinal, and he employed him in his most private affairs. It was a hobby of his, thus, to make the fortunes of men born in the lowest stations, hoping that, since they would owe everything to him, they would never depend on any but him. It is scarcely credible that so keen and contemptuous a judge of human nature could have reckoned on dependence as a pledge of fidelity, and in this case, Louis was, at any rate, mistaken. Balu was a traitor to him, and in 1468, at the very time of the incident at Perron, he was secretly in the service of Duke Charles of Burgundy, and betrayed to him the interests and secrets of his master and benefactor. In 1469, Louis obtained material proof of the treachery, and he immediately had Balu arrested and put on his trial. The cardinal confessed everything, asking only to see the King. Louis gave him an interview on the way from Amboise to Notre-Dame de Clérée, and they were observed, it is said, conversing for two hours as they walked together on the road. The trial and condemnation of a cardinal by a civil tribunal was a serious business with the Court of Rome. The King sent commissioners to Pope Paul II. The Pope complained of the procedure, but amicably and without persistence. The cardinal was in prison at Loche, and Louis resolved to leave him there, for ever, without any more fuss. But, at the same time, that, out of regard for the dignity of cardinal, which he had himself requested of the Pope for the culprit, he dispensed with the legal condemnation to capital punishment, he was bent upon satisfying his vengeance, and upon making Balu suffer in person for his crime. He therefore had him confined in a cage, eight feet broad, says Commine, and only one foot higher than a man's stature, covered with iron plates outside and inside, and fitted with terrible bars. There is still to be seen in Loche Castle, under the name of the Balu cage, that instrument of prison torture which the cardinal, it is said, himself invented. In it he passed eleven years, and it was not until fourteen eighty that he was let out, at the solicitation of Pope Sixtus IV, to whom Louis XI being old and ill, thought he could not possibly refuse this favour. He remembered, perhaps at that time, how, that sixteen years before, in writing to his left-tenant general in Poitou to hand over to Balu Bishop of Evre, the property of a certain Abbey, he said, he is a devilish good bishop just now, I know not what he will be hereafter. He was still more pitiless towards a man more formidable and less subordinate, both in character and origin, in cardinal Balu. Louis of Luxembourg, Count of St Paul, had been from his youth up, engaged in the wars and intrigues of the sovereigns and great feudal lords of western Europe, France, England, Germany, Burgundy, Brittany and Lorraine. From 1433 to 1475 he served and betrayed them all in turn, seeking and obtaining favours, incurring and braving rancour, at one time on one side, and that's another time on another, acting as constable of France and as diplomatic agent for the Duke of Burgundy, raising troops and taking towns for Louis XI, for Charles the Rash, for Edward IV, for the German Emperor, and trying nearly always to keep for himself what he had taken on another's account. The truth is that he was constantly occupied with the idea of making for himself an independent dominion and becoming a great sovereign. He was, says Duclos, powerful from his possessions a great captain, more ambitious than politic, and, from his ingratitude in his perfidies, worthy of his tragic end. His various patrons grew tired at last of being incessantly taken up with and then abandoned, served and then betrayed, and they mutually interchanged proofs of the desertions and treasons to which they had been victims. In 1475 Louis of Luxembourg saw a storm threatening, and he made application for a safe conduct to Charles the Rash, who had been the friend of his youth. Tell him, replied Charles to the messenger, that he has forfeited his paper and his hope as well, and he gave orders to detain him. As soon as Louis XI knew wither the constable had retired, he demanded of the Duke of Burgundy to give him up, as had been agreed between them. I have need, said he, for my heavy business of a head like his, and he added with a ghastly smile, it is only the head I want, the body may stay where it is. On the 24th of November 1475 the constable was, accordingly, given up to the King, and on the 27th was brought to Paris. His trial, begun forthwith, was soon over. He himself acknowledged the greater part of what was imputed to him, and on the 19th of December he was brought up from the Bastille before the Parliament. My Lord of St. Paul, said the Chancellor to him, you have always passed for being the firmest Lord in the realm, you must not belie yourself today when you have more need than ever of firmness and courage, and he read to him the decree which sentenced him to lose his head that very day on the plastic have. That is a mighty hard sentence, said the constable, I pray God that I may see him today. And he underwent execution with serene and pious firmness. He was of an epoch where the most criminal enterprises did not always preclude piety. Louis XI did not look after the constable's accomplices. He flew at the heads, says Duclos, and was set on making great examples. He was convinced that noble blood, when it is guilty, should be shed rather than common blood. Nevertheless, there was considered to be something indecent in the session by the King to the Duke of Burgundy of the Constable's possessions. It seemed like the price of the blood of an unhappy man, who, being rightfully sacrificed only to justice and public tranquillity, appeared to be so to vengeance, ambition, and avarice. In August 1477 the Battle of Nancy had been fought, Charles the Rash had been killed, and the line of the Ducs of Burgundy had been extinguished. Louis XI remained master of the battlefield on which the great risks and great scenes of his life had been passed through. It seemed as if he ought to fear nothing now, and that the day for clemency had come. But such was not the King's opinion. Two cruel passions, suspicion and vengeance, had taken possession of his soul. He remained convinced, not without reason, that nearly all the great feudal lords who had been his foes were continuing to conspire against him, and that he ought not, on his side, ever to cease from striving against them. The trial of the Constable, Saint Paul, had confirmed all his suspicions. He had discovered thereby traces and almost proofs of a design for a long time past conceived and pursued by the Constable and his associates. The design of seizing the King, keeping him prisoner, and setting his son the Dauphin on the throne, were the regency composed of a council of lords. Amongst the declared or presumed adherents of this project, the King had found James d'Armagnac, Duke of Nemours, the companion and friend of his youth. For his father, the Count of Padillac, had been Governor to Louis, at that time Dauphin. Louis and the coming King had loaded James d'Armagnac with favours, had raised his Countship of Nemours to a douchey period of France, and married him to Louis-Avangeux, daughter of the Count of Maine and niece of King Renée. The new Duke of Nemours entered, nevertheless, into the League of Common Weal against the King, having been imploded in 1465 with the other chiefs of the League in the Treaty of Confluent and reconciled with the King, the Duke of Nemours made oath to him in the Saint Chapelle to always be to him a good, faithful and loyal subject, and thereby obtained the Governorship of Paris in Île-de-France. But in 1469 he took part in the revolt of his cousin, Count Jean d'Armagnac, who was supposed to be in communication with the English, and, having been vanquished by the Count de Damartin, he had need of a fresh pardon from the King, which he obtained on renouncing the privileges of a peerage if he should offend again. He then withdrew within his own domains, and there lived in rankulity and popularity, but still keeping up secret relations with his old associates, especially with the Duke of Burgundy and the Constable of St. Paul. In 1476, during the Duke of Burgundy's first campaign against the Swiss, the more or less active participation of the Duke of Nemours with the King's enemies appeared to Louis so grave that he gave orders to his son-in-law, Peter of Bourbon, Cyr de Beaujeu, to go and besiege him in his castle of Carla in Auvergne. The Duke of Nemours was taken prisoner there and carried off to Vienne in Dauphine, where the King then happened to be. In spite of the prisoner's entreaties, Louis absolutely refused to see him, and hadn't confined in the Tower of Pierre-Rancis. The Duke of Nemours was so disquieted at his position in the King's wrath that his wife, Louise Vanjoux, who was in her confinement at Carla, had a fit of terror and died there, and he himself, shut up at Pierre-Rancis in a dark and damp dungeon, found his hair turn white in a few days. He was not mistaken about the gravity of the danger. Louis was both alarmed at these incessantly renewed conspiracies of the great lords and vexed at the futilities of his pardons. He was determined to intimidate his enemies by a grand example, and avenge his keenly self-respect by bringing his power home to the ingrates who made no account of his indulgence. He ordered that the Duke of Nemours should be removed from Pierre-Rancis to Paris and put in the Bastille, where he arrived on the 4th of August 1476, and that commissioners should set about his trial. The King complained of the gentleness which the prisoner had been treated on arrival and wrote to one of the commissioners. It seems to me that you have but one thing to do. That is, to find out what guarantees the Duke of Nemours had given the constable of being at one with him in making the Duke of Burgundy regent putting me to death seizing my lord the dauphin and taking the authority and government of the realm. He must be made to speak clearly on this point, and must get hell be put to the torture in good earnest. I am not pleased at what you tell me as to the irons having been taken off his legs as to his being let out from his cage, and as to his being taken to the mass to which the women go. Whatever the Chancellor or others may say, take care that he budge not from his cage, that he be never let out save to give him hell, torture him, and that he suffer hell, torture, in his own chamber. The Duke of Nemours protested against the choice of commissioners and claimed, as a peer of the realm, his right to be tried by the Parliament. When put to the torture he ended by saying, I wish to conceal nothing from the King, I will tell him the truth as to all I know. My most dread and sovereign Lord, he himself wrote to Louis, I have been so misdoing towards you and towards God that I quite see that I am undone, unless your grace and pity be extended to me, the which accordingly, most humbly and in great bitterness and contrition of heart, I do beseech you to bestow upon me liberally. And he put the simple signature, Paul James. He confessed that he had been cognizant of the Constable's designs, but he added that, whilst thanking him for the kind offers made to himself, and whilst testifying his desire that the Lords might at last get their guarantees, he had declared what great obligations and great oaths he was under to the King, against the which he would not go. He, moreover, had told the Constable he had no money at the moment to dispose of, no relative to whom he was inclined to trust himself, or whom he could exert himself to win over, not even Monsieur d'Albray, his cousin. In such confessions there was enough to stop upright and fair judges for the inflection of capital punishment, but not enough to reassure and move the heart of Louis XI. On the Chancellor's representations he consented to have the business sent before the Parliament, but the peers of the realm were not invited to it. The King summoned the Parliament to New York to be nearer his own residence, and he ordered that the trial should be brought to a conclusion in that town, and that the original commissioners who would commence proceedings, as well as thirteen of the magistrates and officers of the King denoted by their posts, should sit with the Lords of the Parliament and deliberate with them. In spite of so many arbitrary precautions and violations of justice, the will of Louis XI met, even in a Parliament thus distorted, with some resistance. Three of the commissioners, added to the court, abstained from taking any part in the proceedings. Three of the Councillors pronounced against the penalty of death, and the King's own son-in-law, Cio de Beaujo, who presided, confined himself to collecting the votes without delivering an opinion and to announcing the decision. It was to the effect that James d'Amagnac, Duke of Nemoir, was guilty of high treason, and as such deprived of all honours, dignities and prerogatives, and sentenced to be beheaded and executed according to justice. Furthermore, the court declared all his possessions confiscated, and lapsed to the King. The sentence, determined upon at Noyor on the 10th July 1477, was made known to the Duke of Nemoir on the 4th of August in the Bastille, and carried out the same day in front of the marketplace. A disgusting detail, reproduced by several modern writers, has almost been received into history. Louis XI, it is said, ordered the children of the Duke of Nemoir to be placed under the scaffold, and be sprinkled with their father's blood. None of his contemporaries, even the most hostile to Louis XI, and even amongst those who, at the state's general held in 1484, one of them after his death, raised their voices against the trial of the Duke of Nemoir, and in favour of his children, has made any mention of his pretended atrocity. Amongst the men who have reigned and governed ably, Louis XI is one of those who could be most justly taxed with cruel indifference, when cruel he might be useful to him. But the more ground there is for severe judgment upon the chieftains of nations, the stronger is the interdict against overstepping the limit justified and authorised by facts. The same rule of historical equity makes it incumbent upon us to remark that, in spite of his feelings of suspicion and revenge, Louis XI could perfectly well appreciate the men of honour in whom he was able to have confidence, and would actually confide in them even contrary to ordinary probabilities. He numbered among his most distinguished servants three men who had begun by serving his enemies, and whom he conquered, so to speak, by his penetration and his firm mental grasp of policy. The first was Philippe of Charban, Count de Damartin, an able and faithful merchant leader under Charles VII, so suspected by Louis XI, at his accession that, when weary of living in apprehension and retirement, he came in 1463 and presented himself to the king, who was on his way to Bordeaux. Ask you justice or mercy, demanded Louis. Justice, sir, was the answer. Very well then replied the king, I banish you forever from the kingdom. And he issued an order to that effect, at the same time giving Damartin a large sum to supply the wants of exile. It is credible that Louis already knew the worth of the man, and wished in this way to render the reconciliation more easy. Three years afterwards, in 1466, he restored to Damartin his possessions, together with express marks of royal favour, and, twelve years later, in 1478, in spite of certain gusts of doubt and disquietitude which had passed across his mind as to Damartin, under circumstances critical for both of them, the king wrote to him, Sir Grand Master, I have received your letters, and I do assure you, by the faith of my body, that I am right joyous that you provided so well for your affair at Quesnoy, for one would have said that you and the rest of the old ones were no longer any good in an affair of war, and we and the rest of the young ones would have gotten the honour for ourselves. Search, I pray you, to the very roots the case of those who would have betrayed us, and punish them so well that they shall never do you harm. I have always told you that you have no need to ask me for leave to go and do your business, for I am sure that you would not abandon mine without having provided for everything. Wherefore, I put myself in your hands, and you can go away without leave. All goes well, and I am much better pleased that you are holding your own so well than if you had risked a loss of two to one, and so farewell. In 1465 another man of war, Ode de Idée, Lord of Lescartes and Warn, had commanded at Mon Léry the troops of the Dukes of Barry and Brittany against Louis XI, and in 1469 the king, who had found means of making his acquaintance, and who was wiser, says Comine, in the conduct of such treaties than any other prince of his time, resolved to employ him in his difficult relations with his brother-shells, then Duke of Guyenne, promising him that he and his servants, and he especially, should profit thereby. Three years afterwards, in 1472, Louis made Lescartes count of Cominge, wherein he showed good judgment, adds Comine, saying that no peril would come of putting in his hands that, which he did put, for never, during those past dissensions, had the said Lescartes a mind to have any communication with the English, or to consent that the places of Normandy should be handed over to them. And to the end of his life, Louis XI kept up the confidence which Lescartes had inspired by his judicious fidelity in the case of this great question. There is no need to make any addition to the name of Philip de Comine, the most precious of the politic conquests made by Louis, in the matter of eminent counsellors, to whom he remained as faithful as they were themselves faithful and useful to him. The memoirs of Comine are the most striking proof of the rare and unfettered political intellect placed by the future historian at the King's service, and of the estimation in which the King had wit enough to hold it.