poor; that there were no good prisoners to make, and that the spurs and
the horses' bits in his own army were worth more money than all the
people of their territory could pay in 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 19th of February arrived before Granson, a little town in the
district of Vaud, 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 Tours and went to take
up his quarters at Lyons, close to the theatre of war and within an easy
distance for speedy information and prompt action.  Scarcely had he
arrived, on the 4th of March, when he learned that, on the day but one
before, Duke Charles had been tremendously beaten by the Swiss at
Granson; the squadrons of his chivalry had not been able to make any
impression upon the battalions of Berne, Schwitz, Soleure, 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 their advance by the lowings of the bull of Uri and the cow of
Unterwalden, 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 pewter," says
M. de Barante.  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 in pieces and distributed by the ell,
like common canvas in a village shop.  The duke's large diamond which he
wore round 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 neighborhood.  "There was nothing saved but
the bare life," says Commynes.

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 behavior and language towards Duke Charles, who sent to him
Sire de Contay "with humble and gracious words, which was contrary to his
nature and his custom," says Commynes; "but see how an hour's time
changed him; he prayed the king to be pleased to observe loyally the
truce concluded between them, he excused himself for not having appeared
at the interview which was to have taken place at Auxerre, 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
Commynes, "it did not seem to him time, as yet, to do other-wise;" and he
gave the duke the good advice "to return home and bide there quietly,
rather than go on stubbornly warring with yon folks of the Alps, so poor
that there was nought 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
Granson had thrown him into a state of gloomy irritation.  At Lausanne,
where he staid for some time, he had "a great sickness, proceeding," says
Commynes, "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 12th of March, Charles issued orders from his camp 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, cross-bowmen, infantry, or other
soldiery" who had fled or dispersed after the disaster at Granson; "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 hereinabove 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, Burgundians, Flemings, Italians, and English; and after having
reviewed it on the platform above Lausanne, he set out on the 27th of
May, 1476, and pitched his camp on the 10th of June before the little
town of Morat, six leagues from Berne, 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 Morat, 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 Morat;" and he swore to the
garrison and the inhabitants that he would put to death the first who
should speak of surrender.  Morat had been for ten days holding out
against the whole army of the Burgundians; the confederate Swiss were
arriving successively at Berne; and the men of Zurich alone were late.
Their fellow-countryman, Hans Waldmann, 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 Granson, but we shall manage
to pull through.  With God's help great honor awaits us.  Do not fail to
come as quickly as possible."  On the 21st of June, in the evening, the
Zurichers 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 22d of June, after a pelting rain and with the first gleams of
the returning sun, the Swiss attacked the Burgundian camp.  A 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 Merges,
twelve leagues from Morat.  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
Morat" was for a long while a common expression.

"The king," says Commynes, "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 Morat, 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 Dampmartin, who was in command of
his troops concentrated at Senlis, with orders to hold himself in
readiness for any event, but still carefully observe the truce with the
Duke of Burgundy.  Charles at that time was thinking but little of Louis
and their truce; driven to despair by the disaster at Morat, but more
dead set than ever on the struggle, he repaired from Morges to Gex, and
from Gex to Salins, and summoned successively, in July and August, at
Salins, at Dijon, at Brussels, and at Luxembourg the estates of his
various domains, making to all of them an appeal, at the same time
supplicatory and imperious, calling upon them for a fresh army with which
to recommence the war with the Swiss, and 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 bidden you; make no
default in anything whatsoever, and he henceforth in 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 encountered 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
Riviere, between Pontarlier and Joux, and shut himself up there for more
than six weeks, without, however, giving up the attempt to collect
soldiers.  "Howbeit," says Commynes, "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 aught, 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 worse for them."

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, Rend II., whom he had despoiled of his dominions and driven
from Nancy, had been wandering amongst neighboring princes and people in
France, Germany, and Switzerland, at the courts of Louis XI. and the
Emperor Frederic III., on visits to the patricians of Berne, 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 Morat.  The
defeat of Charles and his retreat to his castle of La Riviere gave Rend
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 for-tunes.  One
day, as he was at his prayers in a church, a rich widow, Madame Walther,
came up to him in her mantle and 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, four hundred cavalry, and eight
hundred infantry; Louis XI. lent him some money; and Rend before long
found himself in a position to raise a small army and retake Epinal,
Saint-Did, 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 John de Rubemprd, lord of Bievres, with a feeble
garrison, which numbered amongst its ranks three hundred English, picked
men.  Sire de Bievres 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.  Sire de
Bievres, 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
Rend dismounted, and handsomely went forward to meet him, saying, "Sir,
my good uncle, I thank you for having so courteously governed my duchy;
if you find it agreeable to remain with me, you shall fare the same as
myself."  "Sir," answered Sire de Bievres, "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."

Sire de Bievres had no idea how true a prophet he was.  Almost at the
very moment when he was capitulating, Duke Charles, throwing off his
sombre apathy, was once more entering Lorraine with all the troops he
could collect, and on the 22d of October he in his turn went and laid
siege to Nancy.  Duke Rend, 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 re-enforcements 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 Rend was visiting
Strasbourg, Berne, 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 eight thousand fighting men.  He had,
moreover, in the very camp of the Duke of Burgundy, a secret ally, an
Italian condottiere, the Count of Campo-Basso, 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 Campo-Basso.  But Charles mistrusted
Louis's information, and kept Campo-Basso 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 Campo-Basso.  When the war took place in Lorraine, the
condottiere, whom Duke Charles had one day grossly insulted, entered into
communication with Duke Rend also, and took secret measures for insuring
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,
Rend, having returned with re-enforcements 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 Lorrainers; and we will
make them remember it.  By St. George! I will not fly before a boy,
before Rend of Vaudemont, 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 to-morrow 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 armor 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 one before, Campo-Basso 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 Campo-Basso 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.  Campo-Basso and his troops held the bridge
of Bouxieres, by which the Burgundian fugitives would want to pass; and
the Lorrainerss of Rend and his Swiss and German allies scoured the
country, killing all with whom they fell in.  Rend 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 M. de
Barante, "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 rumor 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 ye
comport yourselves otherwise than if he were still alive, for his
vengeance would be terrible on his return."  On the evening of the day
after the battle, the Count of Campo-Basso brought to Duke Rend 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 recognized to be that of Charles, by his doctor, by his
chaplain, by Oliver 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 Montlhery, and the loss of two teeth, put their assertion
beyond a doubt.  As soon as Duke Rend 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 pall, "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 honor to ambassadors and foreign folks; they were
right well feasted and entertained by him.  He was desirous of great
glory, and it was that more than ought 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, travail, 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 Neuss, 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 and the honor 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!"

[Illustration: The Corpse of Charles the Rash Discovered----236]

To this pious wish of Commynes, 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 masters' 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 sow broadcast around them!

The news of the death of Charles the Rash was for Louis XI. an unexpected
and unhoped-for 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 sent to him by George de la Tremoille,
Sire de Craon, commanding his troops on the frontier of Lorraine.

"Insomuch as this house of Burgundy was greater and more powerful than the
others," says Commynes, "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 gainsay him in his kingdom,
or in the neighborhood near him."  He replied the same day to Sire de
Craon, "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 duchy and countship 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 my 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 interests of the nation as well as of the French
kingship, and such had, accordingly, been Louis XI.'s first idea.  "When
the Duke of Burgundy was still alive," says Commynes, "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 subjects 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.  .  .  .  Howbeit it seems that
the king our master took not 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."

Commynes 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
her father, Mary of Burgundy was twenty years old, and Charles, the
_dauphin_, was barely eight.  There was another question, a point of
feudal law, as to whether Burgundy, properly so called, was a fief which
women could inherit, or a fief which, in default of a male heir, must
lapse to the suzerain.  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 it 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 and the heart of Mary herself, he labored with his usual zeal
and address 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, Hugonet, chancellor of Burgundy, and Sire
d'Humbercourt, were the victims of Louis XI.'s hostile manoeuvres and
of blind hatred on the part of the Ghentese; 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 Walloon and Flemish
provinces belonging to Mary.  "That I come into this country," said he to
the inhabitants of Quesnoy, "is for nothing but the interests of Mdlle.
de Burgundy, my well-beloved cousin and god-daughter.  .  .  .  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
Mdlle. de Burgundy to Germany, a strange land and a coarse, where she
will know no consolation, whilst your land of Hainault 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 Walloon
people; you want a prince of France, not a German.  As for me, I esteem
the folks of Hainault more than any nation in the world; there is none
more noble, and in my sight a hind of Hainault 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 Hainault, he was writing to the
Count de Dampmartin, whom he had charged with the repression of
insurrection in the country-parts of Ghent and Bruges, "Sir 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."  Dampmartin executed
the king's orders without scruple; and at the season of harvest the
Flemish country-places were devastated.  "Little birds of heaven," cries
the Flemish chronicler Molinet, "ye who are wont to haunt our fields and
rejoice our hearts with your 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."

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 and the
death of Charles the Rash, Arch-duke 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, an omen of unhappiness according to others."
Next day, August 19, 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
Bruges, in the midst of decorations bearing the modest device, "Most
glorious prince, defend us lest we perish" (Gloriosissime princeps,
defende nos ne pereamus).  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 Bruges cathedral, he remarked, as
he gazed on the tombs of the Austro-Burgundian princes, "There is the
origin of all our wars."  In vain, when the marriage of Maximilian and
Mary was completed, did Louis XI. attempt to struggle against his new and
dangerous neighbor; 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 St. Omer and Therouanne; and before long,
tired of war, which was not his favorite 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 favorable 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 ruin
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 prediscerned to be by only such eminent observers
as Commynes, 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 revelled 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 Balue, born in 1421, at the
market-town of Angles, in Poitou.  After having chosen him, as an
intelligent and a clever young priest, for his secretary and almoner,
Louis made him successively clerical councillor in the parliament of
Paris, then Bishop of Evreux, 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; Balue was a traitor to him,
and in 1468, at the very time of the incident at Peronne, 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 Balue
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 Clery; 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 Loches; and Louis resolved to
leave him there forever, 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 Balue suffer in person for his crime.  He
therefore had him confined in a cage, "eight feet broad," says Commynes,
"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 Loches castle, under the name of the Balue 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 1480 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 favor.  He remembered,
perhaps, at that time how that, sixteen years before, in writing to his
lieutenant-general in Poitou to hand over to Balue, Bishop of Evreux, the
property of a certain abbey, he said, "He is a devilish good bishop just
now; I know not what he will be here-after."

[Illustration: The Balue Cage----245]

He was still more pitiless towards a man more formidable and less
subordinate, both in character and origin, than Cardinal Balue.  Louis of
Luxembourg, Count of St. Pol, 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 favors, incurring and braving rancor, at one time on one side
and at 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
and 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 whither 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.
Pol," said the chancellor to him, "you have always passed for being the
firmest lord in the realm; you must not belie yourself to-day, 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 Place de
Greve.  "That is a mighty hard sentence," said the constable; "I pray God
that I may see Him to-day."  And he underwent execution with serene and
pious firmness.  He was of an epoch when 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 cession 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 Dukes of Burgundy had been
extinguished.  Louis XI. remained master of the battle-field 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 thorn.  The
trial of the constable, St. Pol, 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, with a 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 Pardiac, had been
governor to Louis, at that time _dauphin_.  Louis, on becoming king, had
loaded James d'Armagnac with favors; had raised his countship of Nemours
to a duchy-peerage of France; had married him to Louise of Anjou,
daughter of the Count of Maine and niece of King Rend.  The new Duke of
Nemours entered, nevertheless, into the League of Common Weal against the
king.  Having been included, in 1465, with the other chiefs of the league
in the treaty of Conflans, and reconciled with the king, the Duke of
Nemours made oath to him, in the Sainte-Chapelle, to always be to him a
good, faithful, and loyal subject, and thereby obtained the governorship
of Paris and Ile-de-France.  But, in 1469, he took part in the revolt of
his cousin, Count John d'Armagnac, who was supposed to be in
communication with the English; and having been vanquished by the Count
de Dampmartin, he had need of a fresh pardon from the king, which he
obtained on renouncing the privileges of the peerage if he should offend
again.  He then withdrew within his own domains, and there lived in
tranquillity and popularity, but still keeping up secret relations with
his old associates, especially with the Duke of Burgundy and the
constable of St. Pol.  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, Sire de Beaujeu, to
go and besiege him in his castle of Carlat, in Auvergne.  The Duke of
Nemours was taken prisoner there and carried off to Vienne, in Dauphiny,
where the king then happened to be.  In spite of the prisoner's
entreaties, Louis absolutely refused to see him, and had him confined in
the tower of Pierre-Encise.  The Duke of Nemours was so disquieted at his
position and the king's wrath, that his wife, Louise of Anjou, who was in
her confinement at Carlat, had a fit of terror and died there; and he
himself, shut up at Pierre-Encise, 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 futility of his pardons.
He was determined to intimidate his enemies by a grand example, and
avenge his kingly 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-Encise 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 with 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 he 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, "Poor 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 M. d'Albret, his cousin."  In such confessions there
was enough to stop upright and fair judges from the infliction 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 Noyon, 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 had
commenced proceedings, as well as thirteen other 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, Sire de
Beaujeu, 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'Armagnac, Duke of Nemours, was guilty of high
treason, and, as such, deprived of all honors, 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 Noyon on the
10th of July, 1477, was made known to the Duke of Nemours on the 4th of
August, in the Bastille, and carried out, the same day, in front of the
market-place.  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 Nemours 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 states-
general held in 1484, one of them after his death, raised their voices
against the trial of the Duke of Nemours, and in favor of his children,
has made any mention of this 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 cruelty 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 authorized 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 honor in whom he was able to have
confidence, and would actually confide in them even contrary to ordinary
probabilities.  He numbered amongst 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 Philip of Chabannes, Count de Dampmartin, an able and
faithful military 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 Dampmartin 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 their reconciliation more easy.
Three years afterwards, in 1466, he restored to Dampmartin his
possessions together with express marks of royal favor, and twelve years
later, in 1478, in spite of certain gusts of doubt and disquietude which
had passed across his mind as to Dampmartin 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 honor 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
at your 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, Odet d'Aydie,
Lord of Lescun in Warn, had commanded at Montlhery the troops of the
Dukes of Berry and Brittany against Louis XI.; and, in 1469, the king,
who had found means of making his acquaintance, and who "was wiser,"
says Commynes, "in the conduct of such treaties than any other prince of
his time," resolved to employ him in his difficult relations with his
brother Charles, then Duke of Guienne, "promising him that he and his
servants, and he especially, should profit thereby." Three years