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On the night between the 16th and 17th of July, however, Talbot set out with his troops to raise the siege of Castillon. He marched all night and came suddenly in the early morning upon the French archers, quartered in an abbey, who formed the advanced guard of their army, which was strongly intrenched before the place. A panic set in amongst this small body, and some of them took to flight. "Ha! you would desert me then?" said Sire de Rouault, who was in command of them; "have I not promised you to live and die with you?" They thereupon rallied and managed to join the camp. Talbot, content for the time with this petty success, sent for a chaplain to come and say mass; and, whilst waiting for an opportunity to resume the fight, he permitted the tapping of some casks of wine which had been found in the abbey, and his men set themselves to drinking. A countryman of those parts came hurrying up, and said to Talbot, "My lord, the French are deserting their park and taking to flight; now or never is the hour for fulfilling your promise." Talbot arose and left the mass, shouting, "Never may I hear mass again if I put not to rout the French who are in yonder park." When he arrived in front of the Frenchmen's intrenchment, "My lord," said Sir Thomas Cunningham, an aged gentleman who had for a long time past been his standard-bearer, "they have made a false report to you; observe the depth of the ditch and the faces of yonder men; they don't look like retreating; my opinion is, that for the present we should turn back; the country is for us, we have no lack of provisions, and with a little patience we shall starve out the French." Talbot flew into a passion, gave Sir Thomas a sword-cut across the face, had his banner planted on the edge of the ditch, and began the attack. The banner was torn down and Sir Thomas Cunningham killed. "Dismount!" shouted Talbot to his men-at-arms, English and Gascon. The French camp was defended by a more than usually strong artillery; a body of Bretons, held in reserve, advanced to sustain the shock of the English; and a shot from a culverin struck Talbot, who was already wounded in the face, shattered his thigh, and brought him to the ground. Lord Lisle, his son, flew to him to raise him. "Let me be," said Talbot; "the day is the enemies'; it will be no shame for thee to fly, for this is thy first battle." But the son remained with his father, and was slain at his side. The defeat of the English was complete. Talbot's body, pierced with wounds, was left on the field of battle. He was so disfigured that, when the dead were removed, he was not recognized. Notice, however, was taken of an old man wearing a cuirass covered with red velvet; this, it was presumed, was he; and he was placed upon a shield and carried into the camp. An English herald came with a request that he might look for Lord' Talbot's body. "Would you know him?" he was asked. "Take me to see him," joyfully answered the poor servant, thinking that his master was a prisoner and alive. When he saw him, he hesitated to identify him; he knelt down, put his finger in the mouth of the corpse, and recognized Talbot by the loss of a molar tooth. Throwing off immediately his coat-of-arms with the colors and bearings of Talbot, "Ah! my lord and master," he cried, "can this be verily you? May God forgive your sins! For forty years and more I have been your officer-at-arms and worn your livery, and thus I give it back to you!" And he covered with his coat-of-arms the stark-stripped body of the old hero.

The English being beaten and Talbot dead, Castillon surrendered; and at unequal intervals Libourne, St. Emillon, Chateau-Neuf de Medoc, Blanquefort, St. Macaire, Cadillac, &c., followed the example. At the commencement of October, 1453, Bordeaux alone was still holding out. The promoters of the insurrection which had been concerted with the English, amongst others Sires de Duras and de Lesparre, protracted the resistance rather in their own self-defence than in response to the wishes of the population; the king's artillery threatened the place by land, and by sea a king's fleet from Rochelle and the ports of Brittany blockaded the Gironde. "The majority of the king's officers," says the contemporary historian, Thomas Basin, "advised him to punish by at least the destruction of their walls the Bordelese who had recalled the English to their city; but Charles, more merciful and more soft-hearted, refused." He confined himself to withdrawing from Bordeaux her municipal privileges, which, however, she soon partially recovered, and to imposing upon her a fine of a hundred thousand gold crowns, afterwards reduced to thirty thousand; he caused to be built at the expense of the city two fortresses, the Fort of the Ila and the Castle of Trompette, to keep in check so bold and fickle a population; and an amnesty was proclaimed for all but twenty specified persons, who were banished. On these conditions the capitulation was concluded and signed on the 17th of October; the English re-embarked; and Charles, without entering Bordeaux, returned to Touraine. The English had no longer any possession in France but Calais and Guines; the Hundred Years' War was over.

And to whom was the glory?

An original document, dated 1450, which exists in the "cabinet des titres" of the National Library, bears upon it a receipt for sixty thousand livres from Jacques Coeur to the king's receiver-general in Normandy, "in restitution of the like sum lent by me in ready money to the said lord in the month of August last past, on occasion of the surrendering to his authority of the towns and castle of Cherbourg, at that time held by the English, the ancient enemies of this realm." It was probably a partial repayment of the two hundred thousand crowns lent by Jacques Coeur to the king at this juncture, according to all the contemporary chroniclers.

At the same time that at the pinnacle of government and in his court Louis was thus making his power felt, and was engaging a new set of servants, he was zealously endeavoring to win over, everywhere, the middle classes and the populace. He left Rouen in the hands of its own inhabitants; in Guienne, in Auvergne, at Tours, he gave the burgesses authority to assemble, and his orders to the royal agents were, "Whatever is done see that it be answered for unto us by two of the most notable burgesses of the principal cities." At Rheims the rumor ran that under King Louis there would be no more tax or talliage. When deputations went before him to complain of the weight of imposts, he would say, "I thank you, my dear and good friends, for making such remonstrances to me; I have nothing more at heart than to put an end to all sorts of exactions, and to re-establish my kingdom in its ancient liberties. I have just been passing five years in the countries of my uncle of Burgundy; and there I saw good cities mighty rich and full of inhabitants, and folks well clad, well housed, well off, lacking nothing; the commerce there is great, and the communes there have fine privileges. When I came into my own kingdom I saw, on the contrary, houses in ruins, fields without tillage, men and women in rags, faces pinched and pale. It is a great pity, and my soul is filled with sorrow at it. All my desire is to apply a remedy thereto, and, with God's help, we will bring it to pass." The good folks departed, charmed with such familiarity, so prodigal of hope; but facts before long gave the lie to words. "When the time came for renewing at Rheims the claim for local taxes, the people showed opposition, and all the papers were burned in the open street. The king employed stratagem. In order not to encounter overt resistance, he caused a large number of his folks to disguise themselves as tillers or artisans; and so entering the town, they were masters of it before the people could think of defending themselves. The ringleaders of the rebellion were drawn and quartered, and about a hundred persons were beheaded or hanged. At Angers, at Alencon, and at Aurillac, there were similar outbursts similarly punished." From that moment it was easy to prognosticate that with the new king familiarity would not prevent severity, or even cruelty. According to the requirements of the crisis Louis had no more hesitation about violating than about making promises; and, all the while that he was seeking after popularity, he intended to make his power felt at any price.

Louis, in his latter words, was a little too boastful. He had very much augmented the imposts without assembling the estates, and without caring for the old public liberties. If he frequently repressed local tyranny on the part of the lords, he did not deny himself the practice of it. Amongst other tastes, he was passionately fond of the chase; and, wherever he lived, he put it down amongst his neighbors, noble or other, without any regard for rights of lordship. Hounds, hawking birds, nets, snares, all the implements of hunting were forbidden. He even went so far, it is said, on one occasion, as to have two gentlemen's ears cut off for killing a hare on their own property. Nevertheless, the publication of his manifesto did him good service. Auvergne, Dauphiny, Languedoc, Lyon and Bordeaux turned a deaf ear to all temptations from the league of princes. Paris, above all, remained faithful to the king. Orders were given at the Hotel de Ville that the principal gates of the city should be walled up, and that there should be a night watch on the ramparts; and the burgesses were warned to lay in provision of arms and victual. Marshal Joachim Rouault, lord of Gamaches, arrived at Paris on the 30th of June, 1465, at the head of a body of men-at-arms, to protect the city against the Count of Charolais, who was coming up; and the king himself, not content with despatching four of his chief officers to thank the Parisians for their loyal zeal, wrote to them that he would send the queen to lie in at Paris, "the city he loved most in the world."

Louis, meanwhile, after passing a day at Corbeil, had once more, on the 18th of July, entered Paris, the object of his chief solicitude. He dismounted at his lieutenant's, the Sire de Meinn's, and asked for some supper. Several persons, burgesses and their wives, took supper with him. He excited their lively interest by describing to them the battle of Montlhery, the danger he had run there, and the scenes which had been enacted, adopting at one time a pathetic and at another a bantering tone, and exciting by turns the emotion and the laughter of his audience. In three days, he said, he would return to fight his enemies, in order to finish the war; but he had not enough of men-at-arms, and all had not at that moment such good spirits as he. He passed a fortnight in Paris, devoting himself solely to the task of winning the hearts of the Parisians, reducing imposts, giving audience to everybody, lending a favorable ear to every opinion offered him, making no inquiry as to who had been more or less faithful to him, showing clemency without appearing to be aware of it, and not punishing with severity even those who had served as guides to the Burgundians in the pillaging of the villages around Paris. A crier of the Chatelet, who had gone crying about the streets the day on which the Burgundians attacked the gate of St. Denis, was sentenced only to a month's imprisonment, bread and water, and a flogging. He was marched through the city in a night-man's cart; and the king, meeting the procession, called out, as he passed, to the executioner, "Strike hard, and spare not that ribald; he has well deserved it."

Meanwhile the Burgundians were approaching Paris and pressing it more closely every day. Their different allies in the League were coming up with troops to join them, including even some of those who, after having suffered reverses in Auvergne, had concluded truces with the king. The forces scattered around Paris amounted, it is said, to fifty thousand men, and occupied Charenton, Conflans, St. Maur, and St. Denis, making ready for a serious attack upon the place. Louis, notwithstanding his firm persuasion that things always went ill wherever he was not present in person, left Paris for Rouen, to call out and bring up the regulars and reserves of Normandy. In his absence, interviews and parleys took place between besiegers and besieged. The former, found partisans amongst the inhabitants of Paris, in the Hotel de Ville itself. The Count de Dunois made capital of all the grievances of the League against the king's government, and declared that, if the city refused to receive the princes, the authors of this refusal would have to answer for whatever misery, loss, and damage might come of it; and, in spite of all efforts on the part of the king's officers and friends, some wavering was manifested in certain quarters. But there arrived from Normandy considerable re-enforcements, announcing the early return of the king. And, in fact, he entered Paris on the 28th of August, the mass of the people testifying their joy and singing "Noel." Louis made as if he knew nothing of what had happened in his absence, and gave nobody a black look; only four or five burgesses, too much compromised by their relations with the besiegers, were banished to Orleans. Sharp skirmishes were frequent all round the place; there was cannonading on both sides; and some balls from Paris came tumbling about the quarters of the Count of Charolais, and killed a few of his people before his very door. But Louis did not care to risk a battle. He was much impressed by the enemy's strength, and by the weakness of which glimpses had been seen in Paris during his absence. Whilst his men-of-war were fighting here and there, he opened negotiations. Local and temporary truces were accepted, and agents of the king had conferences with others from the chiefs of the League. The princes showed so exacting a spirit that there was no treating on such conditions; and Louis determined to see whether he could not succeed better than his agents. He had an interview of two hours' duration in front of the St. Anthony gate, with the Count of St. Poi, a confidant of the Count of Charolais. On his return he found before the gate some burgesses waiting for news.

"Well, my friends," said he, "the Burgundians will not give you so much trouble any more as they have given you in the past." "That is all very well, sir," replied an attorney of the Chatelet, "but meanwhile they eat our grapes and gather our vintage without any hinderance." "Still," said the king, "that is better than if they were to come and drink your wine in your cellars." The month of September passed thus in parleys without result. Bad news came from Rouen; the League had a party in that city. Louis felt that the Count of Charolais was the real head of the opposition, and the only one with whom anything definite could he arrived at. He resolved to make a direct attempt upon him; for he had confidence in the influence he could obtain over people when he chatted and treated in person with them. One day he got aboard of a little boat with five of his officers, and went over to the left bank of the Seine. There the Count of Charolais was awaiting him. "Will you insure me, brother?" said the king, as he stepped ashore. "Yes, my lord, as a brother," said the count. The king embraced him and went on; "I quite see, brother, that you are a gentleman and of the house of France." "How so, my lord?" "When I sent my ambassadors lately to Lille on an errand to my uncle, your father and yourself, and when my chancellor, that fool of a Morvilliers, made you such a fine speech, you sent me word by the Archbishop of Narbonne that I should repent me of the words spoken to you by that Morvilliers, and that before a year was over. Piques-Dieu, you've kept your promise, and before the end of the year has come. I like to have to do with folks who hold to what they promise." This he said laughingly, knowing well that this language was just the sort of flattery to touch the Count of Charolais. They walked for a long while together on the river's bank, to the great curiosity of their people, who were surprised to see them conversing on such good terms. They talked of possible conditions of peace, both of them displaying considerable pliancy, save the king touching the duchy of Normandy, which he would not at any price, he said, confer on his brother the Duke of Berry, and the Count of Charolais touching his enmity towards the house of Croy, with which he was determined not to be reconciled. At parting, the king invited the count to Paris, where he would make him great cheer. "My lord," said Charles, "I have made a vow not to enter any good town until my return." The king smiled; gave fifty golden crowns for distribution, to drink his health, amongst the count's archers, and once more got aboard of his boat. Shortly after getting back to Paris he learned that Normandy was lost to him. The widow of the seneschal, De Breze, lately killed at Montlhery, forgetful of all the king's kindnesses and against the will of her own son, whom Louis had appointed seneschal of Normandy after his father's death, had just handed over Rouen to the Duke of Bourbon, one of the most determined chiefs of the League. Louis at once took his course. He sent to demand an interview with the Count of Charolais, and repaired to Conflans with a hundred Scots of his guard. There was a second edition of the walk together. Charles knew nothing as yet about the surrender of Rouen; and Louis lost no time in telling him of it before he had leisure for reflection and for magnifying his pretensions. "Since the Normans," said he, "have of themselves felt disposed for such a novelty, so be it! I should never of my own free will have conferred such an appanage on my brother; but, as the thing is done, I give my consent." And he at the same time assented to all the other conditions which had formed the subject of conversation.

When the treaties of Conflans and St. Maur were put before the parliament to be registered, the parliament at first refused, and the exchequer- chamber followed suit; but the king insisted in the name of necessity, and the registration took place, subject to a declaration on the part of the parliament that it was forced to obey. Louis, at bottom, was not sorry for this resistance, and himself made a secret protest against the treaties he had just signed.

At the outset of the negotiations it had been agreed that thirty-six notables, twelve prelates, twelve knights, and twelve members of the council, should assemble to inquire into the errors committed in the government of the kingdom, and to apply remedies. They were to meet on the 15th of December, and to have terminated their labors in two months at the least, and in three months and ten days at the most. The king promised on his word to abide firmly and stably by what they should decree. But this commission was nearly a year behind time in assembling, and, even when it was assembled, its labors were so slow and so futile, that the Count de Dampmartin was quite justified in writing to the Count of Charolais, become by his father's death Duke of Burgundy, "The League of common weal has become nothing but the League of common woe."

Scarcely were the treaties signed and the princes returned each to his own dominions when a quarrel arose between the Duke of Brittany and the new Duke of Normandy. Louis, who was watching for dissensions between his enemies, went at once to see the Duke of Brittany, and made with him a private convention for mutual security. Then, having his movements free, he suddenly entered Normandy to retake possession of it as a province which, notwithstanding the cession of it just made to his brother, the King of France could not dispense with. Evreux, Gisors, Gournay, Louviers, and even Rouen fell, without much resistance, again into his power. The Duke of Berry made a vigorous appeal for support to his late ally, the Duke of Burgundy, in order to remain master of the new duchy which had been conferred upon him under the late treaties. The Count of Charolais was at that time taking up little by little the government of the Burgundian dominions in the name of his father, the aged Duke Philip, who was ill and near his end; but, by pleading his own engagements, and especially his ever-renewed struggle with his Flemish subjects, the Liegese, the count escaped from the necessity of satisfying the Duke of Berry.

Louis returned no answer to this letter. He contented him-self with sending to the commission of thirty-six notables, then in session at Etampes for the purpose of considering the reform of the kingdom, a request to represent to the Count of Charolais the impropriety of such language, and to appeal for the punishment of the persons who had suggested it to him. The count made some awkward excuses, at the same time that he persisted in complaining of the king's obstinate pretensions and underhand ways. A serious incident now happened, which for a while distracted the attention of the two rivals from their mutual recriminations. Duke Philip the Good, who had for some time past been visibly declining in body and mind, was visited at Bruges by a stroke of apoplexy, soon discovered to be fatal. His son, the Count of Charolais, was at Ghent. At the first whisper of danger he mounted his horse, and without a moment's halt arrived at Bruges on the 15th of June, 1467, and ran to his father's room, who had already lost speech and consciousness. "Father, father," cried the count, on his knees and sobbing, "give me your blessing; and if I have offended you, forgive me." "My lord," added the Bishop of Bethlehem, the dying man's confessor, "if you only hear us, bear witness by some sign." The duke turned his eyes a little towards his son, and seemed to feebly press his hand. This was his last effort of life; and in the evening, after some hours of passive agony, he died. His son flung himself upon the bed: "He shrieked, he wept, he wrung his hands," says George Chatelain, one of the aged duke's oldest and most trusted servants, "and for many a long day tears were mingled with all his words every time he spoke to those who had been in the service of the dead, so much so that every one marvelled at his immeasurable grief; it had never heretofore been thought that he could feel a quarter of the sorrow he showed, for he was thought to have a sterner heart, whatever cause there might have been; but nature overcame him." Nor was it to his son alone that Duke Philip had been so good and left so many grounds for sorrow. "With you we lose," was the saying amongst the crowd that followed the procession through the streets, "with you we lose our good old duke, the best, the gentlest, the friendliest of princes, our peace and eke our joy! Amidst such fearful storms you at last brought us out into tranquillity and good order; you set justice on her seat and gave free course to commerce. And now you are dead, and we are orphans!" Many voices, it is said, added in a lower tone, "You leave us in hands whereof the weight is unknown to us; we know not into what perils we may be brought by the power that is to be over us, over us so accustomed to yours, under which we, most of us, were born and grew up."

"But what says Paris?"--"She is deaf and dumb."

"Dares she not speak?"--"Nor she, nor parliament."

"The clergy?"--"O! the clergy are kept mum."

"Upon your oath?"--"Yes, on the sacrament."

"The nobles, then?"--"The nobles are still worse."

"And justice?"--"Hath nor balances nor weights."

"Who, then, may hope to mitigate this curse?"

"Who? prithee, who?"--"Why, France's three estates."

"Be pleased, O prince, to grant alleviation . . ."

"To whom?"--"To the good citizen who waits . . ."

"For what?"--"The right of governing the nation . . ."

"Through whom? pray, whom?"--"Why, France's three estates."

In the face of the evil Louis felt no fear of the remedy. He summoned the states-general to a meeting at Tours on the 1st of April, 1468. Twenty-eight lords in person, besides representatives of several others who were unable to be there themselves, and a hundred and ninety-two deputies elected by sixty-four towns, met in session. The chancellor, Juvenal des Ursins, explained, in presence of the king, the object of the meeting: "It is to take cognizance of the differences which have arisen between the king and Sir Charles, his brother, in respect of the duchy of Normandy and the appanage of the said Sir Charles; likewise the great excesses and encroachments which the Duke of Brittany hath committed against the king by seizing his places and subjects, and making open war upon him; and thirdly, the communication which is said to be kept up by the Duke of Brittany with the English, in order to bring them down upon this country, and hand over to them the places he doth hold in Normandy. Whereupon we are of opinion that the people of the three estates should give their good advice and council." After this official programme, the king and his councillors withdrew. The estates deliberated during seven or eight sessions, and came to an agreement "without any opposition or difficulty whatever, that as touching the duchy of Normandy it ought not to and cannot be separated from the crown in any way whatsoever, but must remain united, annexed, and conjoined thereto inseparably. Further, any arrangement of the Duke of Brittany with the English is a thing damnable, pernicious, and of most evil consequences, and one which is not to be permitted, suffered, or tolerated in any way. Lastly, if Sir Charles, the Duke of Brittany, or others, did make war on the king our sovereign lord, or have any treaty or connection with his enemies, the king is bound to proceed against them who should do so, according to what must be done in such case for the tranquillity and security of the realm . . . . And as often soever as the said cases may occur, the people of the estates have agreed and consented, do agree and consent, that, without waiting for other assemblage or congregation of the estates, the king have power to do all that comports with order and justice; the said estates promising and agreeing to serve and aid the king touching these matters, to obey him with all their might, and to live and die with him in this quarrel."

"My lord, if it is your pleasure to come to this town of Peronne for to see us, I swear to you and promise you, by my faith and on my honor, that you may come, remain, sojourn, and go back safely to the places of Chauny and Noy on, at your pleasure, as many times as it may please you, freely and frankly, without any hinderance to you or to any of your folks from me or others in any case whatever and whatsoever may happen."

When this letter arrived at Noyon, extreme surprise and alarm were displayed about Louis; the interview appeared to be a mad idea; the vicegerent of Amiens came hurrying up with a countryman who declared on his life that mylord of Burgundy wished for it only to make an attempt upon the king's person; the king's greatest enemies, it was said, were already, or soon would be, with the duke; and the captains vehemently reiterated their objections. But Louis held to his purpose, and started for Noyon on the 2d of October, taking with him the constable, the cardinal, his confessor, and, for all his escort, fourscore of his faithful Scots, and sixty men-at-arms. This knowing gossip, as his contemporaries called him, had fits of rashness and audacious vanity.

Duke Charles went to meet him outside the town. They embraced one another, and returned on foot to Peronne, chatting familiarly, and the king with his hand resting on the duke's shoulder, in token of amity. Louis had quarters at the house of the chamberlain of the town; the castle of Peronne being, it was said, in too bad a state, and too ill furnished, for his reception. On the very day that the king entered Peronne, the duke's army, commanded by the Marshal of Burgundy, arrived from the opposite side, and encamped beneath the walls. Several former servants of the king, now not on good terms with him, accompanied the Burgundian army. "As soon as the king was apprised of the arrival of these folks," says Commynes, "he had a great fright, and sent to beg of the Duke of Burgundy that he might be lodged at the castle, seeing that all those who had come were evil disposed towards him. The duke was very much rejoiced thereat, had him lodged there, and stoutly assured him that he had no cause for doubt." Next day parleys began between the councillors of the two princes. They did not appear much disposed to come to an understanding, and a little sourness of spirit was beginning to show itself on both sides, when there came news which excited a grand commotion. "King Louis, on coming to Peronne, had not considered," says Commynes, "that he had sent two ambassadors to the folks of Liege to excite them against the duke. Nevertheless, the said ambassadors had advanced matters so well that they had already made a great mass . The Liegese came and took by surprise the town of Tongres, wherein were the Bishop of Liege and the Lord of Humbercourt, whom they took also, slaying, moreover, some servants of the said bishop." The fugitives who reported this news at Peronne made the matter a great deal worse than it was; they had no doubt, they said, but that the bishop and Sire d'Humbercourt had also been murdered; and Charles had no more doubt about it than they. His fury was extreme; he strode to and fro, everywhere relating the news from Liege. "So the king," said he, "came here only to deceive me; it is he who, by his ambassadors, excited these bad folks of Liege; but, by St. George, they shall be severely punished for it, and he, himself, shall have cause to repent." He gave immediate orders to have the gates of the town and of the castle closed and guarded by the archers; but being a little troubled, nevertheless, as to the effect which would be produced by this order, he gave as his reason for it that he was quite determined to have recovered a box full of gold and jewels which had been stolen from him. "I verily believe," says Commynes, "that if just then the duke had found those whom he addressed ready to encourage him, or advise him to do the king a bad turn, he would have done it; but at that time I was still with the said duke; I served him as chamberlain, and I slept in his room when I pleased, for such was the usage of that house. With me was there none at this speech of the duke's, save two grooms of the chamber, one called Charles de Visen, a native of Dijon, an honest man, and one who had great credit with his master; and we exasperated nought, but assuaged according to our power."

Whilst Duke Charles was thus abandoning himself to the first outburst of his wrath, King Louis remained impassive in the castle of Peronne, 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 parley, 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 Liegese 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 intrusted 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 11th 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 Liegese and chastising them for their rebellion. He would leave as hostages his nearest relatives and his most intimate advisers. 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 court-yard; he was only waiting for the letters which the duke was writing to Brittany. The chancellor of Burgundy and some of the wiser councillors besought the duke to reflect.

The king had come to Peronne on the faith of his safe-conduct; it would be an eternal dishonor 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 counsels; the news from Liege turned out to be less serious than the first rumors had represented; the bishop and Sire d'Humbercourt 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 Commynes, 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 Liege, 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 at once sent Sires de Crequi, de Charni, and de la Roche to tell the king that he was about to come and swear peace with him. Commynes 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 the Liegese.

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 choler; 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 Liege, to help me punish the treason committed against me by these Lidgese, all through you and your journey hither? The bishop is your near relative, of the house of Bourbon." "Yes, Padues-Dieu," replied Louis, "and I am much astounded 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."

Forthwith was taken out from the king's boxes the wood of the so-called true cross, which was named the cross of St. Laud, because it had been preserved in the church of St. Laud, at Angers. It was supposed to have formerly 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 Conflans. 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 appanage. The storm was weathered; and Louis almost rejoiced at seeing himself called upon to chastise in person the Liegese, 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 27th of October they arrived before Liege. Since Duke Charles's 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 St. 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 Liegese 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 besieged 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 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 Liegese sallied 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 St. Poi, 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 Franchemont, 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 sallied out by one of the breaches, 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. Commynes put on him, as quickly as possible, his breastplate and helmet, and they went down stairs. 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 Liegese 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 favor 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 Liegese will infallibly come to terms." Nearly all the Burgundian captains sided with the king. The duke got angry. "He wishes to spare the Liegese," said he; "what danger is there in this assault? There are no walls; they can't put a single gun in position; I certainly will not give up the assault; if the king is afraid, let him get him 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 Liegese, 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, "Hurrah for Burgundy!" The duke turned back to meet him, and they went together to give thanks to God in the cathedral of St. Lambert. 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 joyously together in making good cheer." Charles made no answer, and sent for the treaty lately concluded between them at Peronne, 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 2d of November, 1468, the day but one after the capture of Liege, 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, peradventure, my brother Charles, who is in Brittany, should be discontented with the assignment I make him for love of you, what would you have me do?" "If he do not please to take it," answered the duke, "but would have you satisfy him, I leave it to you two." Louis desired no more: he returned home free and confident in himself, "after having passed the most trying three weeks of his life."

In spite of the truce he had but lately concluded with Charles the Rash, 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 Guienne, in 1469, after the treaty of Peronne, had died on the 24th of May, 1472. There were sinister rumors 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," says M. de Barante, "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 Guienne 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 trust-worthy 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 Guienne, and many a royal client. He treated the friends of Prince Charles, whether they had or had not been heretofore his own, with marked attention. He re-established at Bordeaux the parliament he had removed to Poitiers; he pardoned the towns of Pdzenas 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 weal, the Duke of Burgundy was the only one left on the scene, and in a condition to put him in peril.

A Bernese messenger carried this announcement to the Burgundian camp before the fortress of Neuss, and delivered it into the hands of Duke Charles himself, whose only remark, as he ground his teeth, was, "Ah! Berne! Berne!" At the be-ginning of January, 1476, he left Nancy, of which he had recently gained possession, returned to Besancon, and started thence on the 6th 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 rumor of such an armament the Swiss attempted to keep off the war from their country. "I have heard tell," says Commynes, "by a knight of theirs, who had been sent by them to the said duke, that he told him 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 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.

"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 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."

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!"

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!

"He endured with manly virtue so cruel a sentence," says Commynes, "and everything, even to death, more than any man I ever saw die; he spoke as coolly as if he had never been ill." He gave minute orders about his funeral, sepulchre, and tomb. He would be laid at Notre-Dame de Clery, and not, like his ancestors, at St. Denis; his statue was to be gilt bronze, kneeling, face to the altar, head uncovered, and hands clasped within his hat, as was his ordinary custom. Not having died on the battle-field and sword in hand, he would be dressed in hunting-garb, with jack-boots, a hunting-horn, slung over his shoulder, his hound lying beside him, his order of St. Michael round his neck, and his sword at his side. As to the likeness, he asked to be represented, not as he was in his latter days, bald, bow-backed, and wasted, but as he was in his youth and in the vigor of his age, face pretty full, nose aquiline, hair long, and falling down behind to his shoulders. After having taken all these pains about himself after his death, he gave his chief remaining thoughts to France and his son. "Orders must be sent," said he, "to M. d'Esquerdes to attempt no doings as to Calais. We had thought to drive out the English from this the last corner they hold in the kingdom; but such matters are too weighty; all that business ends with me. M. d'Esquerdes must give up such designs, and come and guard my son without budging from his side for at least six months. Let an end be put, also, to all our disputes with Brittany, and let this Duke Francis be allowed to live in peace without any more causing him trouble or fear. This is the way in which we, must now deal with all our neighbors. Five or six good years of peace are needful for the kingdom. My poor people have suffered too much; they are in great desolation. If God had been pleased to grant me life, I should have put it all to rights; it was my thought and my desire, let my son be strictly charged to remain at peace, especially whilst he is so young. At a later time, when he is older, and when the kingdom is in good case, he shall do as he pleases about it."

This was certainly just, and at the same time ungrateful.

"God," says Commynes, "had created our king more wise, liberal, and full of manly virtue than the princes who reigned with him and in his day, and who were his enemies and neighbors. In all there was good and evil, for they were men; but without flattery, in him were more things appertaining to the office of king than in any of the rest. I saw them nearly all, and knew what they could do."

Anne's discretion was soon put to a great trial. A general cry was raised for the convocation of the states-general. The ambitious hoped thus to open a road to power; the public looked forward to it for a return to legalized government. No doubt Anne would have preferred to remain more free and less responsible in the exercise of her authority; for it was still very far from the time when national assemblies could be considered as a permanent power and a regular means of government. But Anne and her advisers did not waver; they were too wise and too weak to oppose a great public wish. The states-general were convoked at Tours for the 5th of January, 1484. On the 15th they met in the great hall of the arch-bishop's palace. Around the king's throne sat two hundred and fifty deputies, whom the successive arrivals of absentees raised to two hundred and eighty-four. "France in all its entirety," says M. Picot, "found itself, for the first time, represented; Flanders alone sent no deputies until the end of the session; but Provence, Roussillon, Burgundy, and Dauphiny were eager to join their commissioners to the delegates from the provinces united from the oldest times to the crown."

On the 12th of March, 1484, the deputies from Normandy, twenty-five in number, happened to hold a meeting at Montils-les-Tours. The Bishop of Coutances told them that there was no occasion for the estates to hold any more meetings; that it would be enough if each of the six sections appointed three or four delegates to follow the course of affairs; and that, moreover, the compensation granted to all the deputies of the estates would cease on the 14th of March, and after that would be granted only to their delegates. This compensation had already, amongst the estates, been the subject of a long discussion. The clergy and the nobility had attempted to throw the whole burden of it upon the third estate; the third estate had very properly claimed that each of the three orders should, share proportionately in this expense, and the chancellor had with some difficulty got it decided that the matter should stand so. On the 14th of March, accordingly, the six sections of the estates met and elected three or four deputies apiece. The deputies were a little surprised, on entering their sessions-hall, to find it completely dismantled: carpets, hangings, benches, table, all had been removed, so certainly did the government consider the session over. Some members, in disgust, thought and maintained that the estates ought not to separate without carrying away with them the resolutions set down in their general memorial, formally approved and accompanied by an order to the judges to have them executed. "But a much larger number," says Masselin, "were afraid of remaining too long, and many of our colleagues, in spite of the zeal which they had once shown, had a burning desire to depart, according to the princes' good pleasure and orders. As for us, we enjoined upon the three deputies of our Norman nationality not to devote themselves solely to certain special affairs which had not yet been terminated, but to use redoubled care and diligence in all that concerned the general memorial and the aggregate of the estates. And having thus left our commissioners at Tours and put matters to rights, we went away well content; and we pray God that our labors and all that has been done may be useful for the people's welfare."

It were out of place to follow out here in all its details a war which belongs to the history of Italy far more than to that of France; it will suffice to point out with precision the positions of the principal Italian states at this period, and the different shares of influence they exercised on the fate of the French expedition.

It was very hotly contested, but did not last long, with alternations of success and reverse on both sides. The two principal commanders in the king's army, Louis de la Tremoille and John James Trivulzio, sustained without recoiling the shock of troops far more numerous than their own. "At the throat! at the throat!!" shouted La Tremoille, after the first onset, and his three hundred men-at-arms burst upon the enemy and broke their line. In the midst of the melley, the French baggage was attacked by the Stradiots, a sort of light infantry composed of Greeks recruited and paid by the Venetians. "Let them be," said Trivulzio to his men; "their zeal for plunder will make them forget all, and we shall give the better account of them." At one moment, the king had advanced before the main body of his guard, without looking to see if they were close behind him, and was not more than a hundred paces from the Marquis of Mantua, who, seeing him scantily attended, bore down at the head of his cavalry. "Not possible is it," says Commynes, "to do more doughtily than was done on both sides." The king, being very hard pressed, defended himself fiercely against those who would have taken him; the bastard Matthew of Bourbon, his brother-in-arms and one of the bravest knights in the army, had thrown himself twenty paces in front of him to cover him, and had just been taken prisoner by the Marquis of Mantua in person, when a mass of the royal troops came to their aid, and released them from all peril. Here it was that Peter du Terrail, the Chevalier de Bayard, who was barely twenty years of age, and destined to so glorious a renown, made his first essay in arms; he had two horses killed under him, and took a standard, which he presented to the king, who after the battle made him a present of five hundred crowns.

Probably no king was ever thus praised for his goodness, and his goodness alone, by a man whom he had so maltreated, and who, as judicious and independent as he was just, said of this same king, "He was not better off for sense than for money, and he thought of nothing but pastime and his pleasures."

A treaty concluded on the 9th of February, 1499, and published as signed at Blois no earlier than the 15th of April following, was the result of this negotiation. It provided for an alliance between the King of France and the Venetian government, for the purpose of making war in common upon the Duke of Milan, Ludovic Sforza, on and against every one, save the lord pope of Rome, and for the purpose of insuring to the Most Christian king restoration to the possession of the said duchy of Milan as his rightful and olden patrimony. And on account of the charges and expenses which would be incurred by the Venetian government whilst rendering assistance to the Most Christian king in the aforesaid war, the Most Christian king bound himself to approve and consent that the city of Cremona and certain forts or territories adjacent, specially indicated, should belong in freehold and perpetuity to the Venetian government. The treaty, at the same time, regulated the number of troops and the military details of the war on behalf of the two contracting powers, and it provided for divers political incidents which might be entailed, and to which the alliance thus concluded should or should not be applicable according to the special stipulations which were drawn up with a view to those very incidents.

In the month of August, 1499, the French army, with a strength of from twenty to five and twenty thousand men, of whom five thousand were Swiss, invaded Milaness. Duke Ludovic Sforza opposed to it a force pretty nearly equal in number, but far less full of confidence and of far less valor. In less than three weeks the duchy was conquered; in only two cases was any assault necessary; all the other places were given up by traitors or surrendered without a show of resistance. The Venetians had the same success on the eastern frontier of the duchy. Milan and Cremona alone remained to be occupied. Ludovic Sforza "appeared before his troops and his people like the very spirit of lethargy," says a contemporary unpublished chronicle, "with his head bent down to the earth, and for a long while he remained thus pensive and without a single word to say. Howbeit he was not so discomfited but that on that very same day he could get his luggage packed, his transport-train under orders, his horses shod, his ducats, with which he had more than thirty mules laden, put by, and, in short, everything in readiness to decamp next morning as early as possible." Just as he left Milan, he said to the Venetian ambassadors, "You have brought the King of France to dinner with me; I warn you that he will come to supper with you."

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