Chapter 21

THE CAMPAIGNS OF 1475

"Monseigneur the chancellor, I do not know what to write to you of the English, for thus far they have done nothing but dance at St. Omer and we are not sure whether the King of England has landed. If he has, it must be with so small a force that it makes no noise, nor do the prisoners captured at Abbeville know anything, nor do they believe that there will be any English here in XL days. Tell the news to Monsg. de Comminge, and recommend my interests to him as I have confidence in him, and in Mons. de Thierry and Mons. the vice-admiral."[1]

Thus wrote Louis XI in June. Two days later and he has heard of the truce. He seizes the occasion to express to the Privy Council of Berne his real opinion of the emperor: "So Frederic has deserted us all!"[2] Well, it was not the first time! Thirty years previous, when Louis was dauphin, the emperor had tried to turn the Swiss against him. Had not God, knowing the hearts of men, inspired the brave mountaineers, Louis would have been a victim of execrable treachery. The outcome had been wonderful, for an eternal friendship had sprung up between him and the Swiss which must be preserved.

Meantime, Charles has made his own definite plan of the campaign which was to introduce Edward into Rheims for the coronation. The following letter from him to Edward IV. bears no date, but it was evidently written at about the time of the truce[3]:

"Honoured seigneur and brother, I recommend myself to you. I have listened carefully to your declaration through the pronotary, and understand that you do not wish to land without my advice, for which I thank you. I understand that some of your counsellors think you had better land in Guienne, others in Normandy, others again at Calais. If you choose Guienne you will be far from my assistance but my brother of Brittany could help you. Still it would be a long time before we could meet before Paris. As to Calais, you could not get enough provisions for your people nor I for mine. Nor could the two forces make juncture without attack, and my brother of Brittany would be very far from both. To my mind, your best landing is Normandy, either at the mouth of the Seine or at La Hogue. I do not doubt that you will soon gain possession of cities and places, and you will be at the right hand of my brother of Brittany and of me. Tell me how many ships you want and where you wish me to send them and I will do it."

On hearing further rumours of the actual arrival of the English, Louis hastened to Normandy to inspect the situation for himself. There he learned that his own naval forces stationed in the Channel to ward off the invaders had landed on the very day before his arrival, abandoning the task.

"When I heard that we took no action, I decided that my best plan would be to turn my people loose in Picardy and let them lay waste the country whence they [the English] expected to get their supplies."[4]

At the same time, the rumour that was permitted to be current in France was, that Charles of Burgundy had been utterly defeated at Neuss, and that there was nothing whatsoever to apprehend from him. He, meanwhile, was continuing his own preparations by strenuous endeavours to levy more troops and to obtain fresh supplies. After the signing of the convention with the emperor, the duke proceeded to Bruges to meet the Estates of Flanders. The answer to his demand for subsidies was a respectful refusal to furnish funds, on the plea that his expansion policy was ruining his lands. Counter reproaches burst from Charles. He accused the deputies of leaving him in the lurch and thus causing his failure at Neuss. Neither money, nor provisions, nor soldiers had they sent him as loyal subjects should.

"For whom does your prince labour? Is it for himself or for you, for your defence? You slumber, he watches. You nestle in warmth, he is cold. You are snug in your houses while he is beaten by the wind and rain. He fasts, you gorge at your ease.... Henceforth you shall be nothing more than subjects under a sovereign. I am and I will be master, bearding those who oppose me."[5]

Then turning to the prelates he continued: "Do you obey diligently and without poor excuses or your temporal goods shall be confiscated." To the nobles: "Obey or you shall lose your heads and your fiefs." Finally, he addressed the deputies of the third estate in a tone full of bitterness: "And you, you eaters of good cities, if you do not obey my orders literally as my chancellor will explain them to you, you shall forfeit privileges, property, and life."

All the fervency of this adjuration failed to convince the deputies of their duty, as conceived by the orator. They declared that they had levied troops and would levy more, for defence, but that the four members of Flanders were agreed that they would contribute nothing to offensive measures. Charles must accept their decision as his sainted father had done. The details of all the aid they had given him, 2500 men for Neuss and many other contributions, were recapitulated. Flanders had been generous indeed. The concluding phrases of their answer were as follows:

"As to your last letters, requiring that within fifteen days every man capable of bearing arms report at Ath, these were orders impossible of execution, and unprofitable for you yourself. Your subjects are merchants, artisans, labourers, unfitted for arms. Strangers would quit the land. Commerce, in which your noble ancestors have for four hundred years maintained the land, commerce, most redoubtable seigneur, is irreconcilable with war."

This answer gave the true key to the situation. The Estates of Flanders were determined to be bled no further for schemes in which they did not sympathise. When this memorial was presented to Charles he broke out into fresh invective about the base ingratitude of the Flemish: "Take back your paper," were his last words. "Make your own answer. _Talk_ as you wish, but _do_ your duty." This was on July 12th. Charles had no further time to waste in argument. He was still convinced that the burghers would, in the end, yield to his demands.

With a small escort Charles left Bruges, and reached Calais on July 14th, where he had been preceded by the duchess, eager to greet her brother, who had actually landed on July 4th, with the best equipped army--about twenty-four thousand men--that had ever left the shores of England, and the latest inventions in besieging engines.

The expedition proved a wretched failure--a miserable disappointment to the English at home, who had been lavish in their contributions. Charles seems to have been put out by the place of landing. His own plan is clear from the letter quoted. He wished the two armies of Edward and himself to sweep a large stretch of territory as they marched toward each other. The one thing that he objected to was a consolidation of the two forces. Incapacity to turn an unexpected or an unwelcome situation to account was one of the duke's most deeply ingrained characteristics. He showed no inventiveness or resourcefulness. He held his own army at a distance from the English, much to the invader's chagrin, who was forced to march unaided over regions rendered inhospitable by Louis's stern orders, and outside of cities ready to hold him at bay. "If you do not put yourself in a state of security, it will be necessary to destroy the city, to our regret," was the king's message to Rheims, and the most skilful of French engineers was fully prepared to make good the words.

Open hostilities were avoided. Edward camped on the field of Agincourt, where perhaps he dreamed of his ancestor's success, but no fresh blaze of old English glory illumined his path. He did not proceed to Paris, there was no coronation at Rheims, no comfortable reception within any gates at all, for Charles was as chary as Louis himself of giving the English a foothold, though he advised Edward to accept an invitation from St. Pol to visit St. Quentin. This, however, proved another disappointment. Just as Edward was ready to enter, the gates opened to let out a troop which effectually repulsed the advancing foreigners. The Count of St. Pol had changed his mind.

"It is a miserable existence this of ours when we take toil and trouble enough to shorten our life, writing and saying things exactly opposite to our thoughts," writes the keenest observer of this elaborate network of pompous falsehoods[6] wherein every action was entangled. Louis XI trusted no one but himself, while he played with the trust of all, and his game was the safest. His fear of the invaders was soon allayed. "These English are of different metal from those whom you used to know. They keep close, they attempt nothing," he wrote to the veteran Dammartin.

It was, indeed, a patent fact that Edward was not a foe to be feared. Baffled and discouraged, he readily opened his ears to his French brother, and Louis heaped grateful recognition on every Englishman who helped incline his sovereign to peaceful negotiations. Velvet and coin did their work. Edward was easily led into the path of least resistance, and an interview between the rival kings was appointed for August 29th. Great preparations were made for their meeting on a bridge at Picquigny, across which a grating was erected. Like Pyramus and Thisbe, the two princes kissed each other through the barriers, and exchanged assurances of friendship. Edward was, indeed, so easy to convince that Louis was in absolute terror lest his English brother would accept his invitation to show him Paris before his return. No wonder Edward was deceived, for Louis was definite in his hospitable offers, suggesting that he would provide a confessor willing to give absolution for pleasant sins.

The duke was duly forewarned of this colloquy. On August 18th, he was staying at Peronne, whence he paid a visit to the English camp. It was ended without any intimation of Edward's change of heart towards the French king whom he had come to depose, though his plan was then ripe. On the 20th, Charles received a written communication with the news which Edward had disliked broaching orally, and was officially informed that the king had yielded to the wishes of his army, and was considering a treaty with Louis XI., wherein Edward's dear brother of Burgundy should receive honourable mention did he desire it.

On hearing these most unwelcome tidings, Charles set off for the English camp in hot haste, attended by a small escort, and nursing his wrath as he rode.[7] King Edward was rather alarmed at the duke's aspect when the latter appeared, and asked whether he would not like a private interview. Charles disregarded his question. "Is it true? Have you made peace?" he demanded. Edward's attempt at smooth explanations was blocked by a flood of invectives poured out by Charles, who remembered himself sufficiently to speak in English so that the bystanders might have the full benefit of his passionate reproaches. He spared nothing, comparing the lazy, sensual, pleasure-loving monarch, whose easeful ways were rapidly increasing his weight of flesh, with the heroism of other English Edwards with whom he was proud to claim kin. As to the offers to remember his interests in the perfidious peace that perfidious Albion was about to swear with equally perfidious France, his rejection was scornful indeed. "Negotiate for _me_! Arbitrate for _me_! Is it I who wanted the French crown? Leave _me_ to make my own truce. I will wait until you have been three months over sea." Among those who witnessed the scene were several Englishmen who sympathised with Charles--if we may believe Commines. "The Duke of Burgundy has said the truth," declared the Duke of Gloucester, and many agreed with him." Having given vent to his sentiments, Charles hurried away from his disappointing ally and reached Namur on the 22d, where he spent the night.

Edward troubled himself little about his brother-in-law's summary of his character. He was tired of camp hardships, and both he and his men found it very refreshing to have Amiens open her gates to them at the order of Louis XI. Food and wine were lavished upon all alike. It was a delightful experience for the English soldiers to see tables groaning with good things spread in the very streets, and to be bidden to order what they would at the taverns with no consideration for the reckoning. They enjoyed good French fare, free of charge, until their host intimated to King Edward that his men were very intoxicated and that there were limits in all things. But Louis did not spare his money or his pains until he was sure that a bloodless victory had been won. He fully realised the importance of extravagant expenditure in order to reach the goal he had set himself.

"We must have the whole sum at Amiens before Friday evening, besides what will be wanted for private gratifications to my Lord Howard, and others who have had part in the arrangement.... Do not fail in this that there may be no pretext for a rupture of what has been already settled."

Though they had now no rood of land, the English returned richer than they came, and they eased their _amour propre_ by calling the sums that had changed hands, "tribute money."[8]

"Ryght reverend and my most tender and kynd Moodre, I recommende me to youw. Pleas it yow to weete that blessyd be God, this vyage of the kynges is fynnysshyd for thys tyme and alle the kynges ost is comen to Caleys as on Mondaye last past, that is to seye the iiij daye of Septembre, and at thys daye many of hys host be passyd the see in to Ingland ageyn, and in especiall my Lorde off Norfolk, and my bretheryn ....I also mysselyke somewhat the heyr heer; for by my trowte I was in goode heele whan I come hyddre and all hooll and to my wetyng I hadde never a better stomake in my lyffe and now in viij dayes I am crasyd ageyn."[9]

Thus wrote one Englishman from Calais and doubtless many others found the air more wholesome at home.

Charles of Burgundy was now ready to consider the affairs of Lorraine. He advised René of his intentions, in a manifesto which reached him on September 5th. The preamble contained a long list of the manifold benefits conferred upon Lorraine by the House of Burgundy. Then René was admonished to observe in every particular the terms of his own treaty with Charles, which he, René, had signed voluntarily, or the former would "make him know the difference between his friendship and his enmity."

This menace was ominous to the poor Duke of Lorraine. For on September 13th, his friend Louis XI. had signed a fresh treaty with Charles of Burgundy at Soleure, and Campobasso was marching mercenaries in Burgundian pay towards the unfortunate duchy. In other words, the French king abandoned the young protégé whom he had spared no pains to alienate from Burgundian protection. It was a moment when his one interest apparently was to settle accounts with the Count of St. Pol, who had been equally treacherous in his dealings with England, Burgundy, and France.[10]

Having rested during the summer, the Burgundian troops were in fine trim when Charles marched to Nancy, taking towns on the way, and sat down before the capital in the last week of October. From his camp he wrote to the Duke of Milan:

"Very dear brother, I recommend myself to you. I have just accepted a truce with the king for nine years to come, in the form and manner contained at length in the copy of the articles which I have given to your ambassador, resident with me . . . . And be sure, _fratello mio_, that nothing would have induced me to accept the truce, had you not been comprised therein. And, similarly, you must be satisfied in all the pacts between the king and myself, just as you were comprised in the convention lately made at Neuss.

"For the rest, I have heard from your ambassador about the troops that can be furnished me, for which I am well content, praying you to continue to serve me in accordance with the promises of your ambassador. As to the coming of your brother to me [Sforza, Duc de Bari], I should be very glad. He has no reason now for delay as he can travel in Lorraine as safely as in Lombardy, as I have said to your ambassador. Pray the Lord to give you the desires of your heart.

"Written in my camp at Nancy the penultimate day of October, 1475.

"CHARLES."[11]

Some trifling assistance was offered to René by Strasburg and other foes to Burgundy, but it was wholly insufficient to rescue him from his difficulties, and he was finally obliged to order the capitulation of Nancy on November 19th. The magistrates desired to hold out, but were forced by the populace to submit, and on November 30, 1475, Charles of Burgundy marched triumphantly through the gate of Craffe into the capital of Lorraine where he was received as the sovereign duke.[12]

This time Charles acted the role of a merciful and diplomatic conqueror. There was no cruelty permitted, and every evidence of conciliation was shown. The majority of the Lorrainers accepted the new order of things without further protest. At the end of December, Charles convened the Estates of Lorraine in the ducal palace, addressed them as his subjects of Burgundy, promised to be a good prince, demanded their attachment, confided his plans of expansion, and announced his intention of making Nancy the capital of his states. Again the duke's star rose. This acquisition seemed a sign of the reality of his dreams. Even before the fall of Nancy, his approaching success bore fruit, inasmuch as the emperor changed the late convention into a firmer treaty signed on November 17th. Indeed had Charles died at that moment, there would have been little doubt that his dreamed-of kingdom had been simply prevented by a mere accident.

The detailed story of all that had happened in the Swiss Confederation and the Lower Union, since their formal declaration of war against Charles, is too complicated to relate. At the begining of 1476, the situation was, briefly, that Sigismund held the debated mortgaged lands, while the Swiss allies, with Berne as the most militant member of the league, had continued to carry on offensive operations against the duke and his allies, notably the Duchess of Savoy. The conquest of Lorraine caused a panic, especially in the face of the fresh agreements between the duke and the emperor and the king.

There was a short period of hesitation, marked by a truce till January 1, 1476, between Charles and the confederates, a period when the timid among the allies urged their counsel of reconciliation at all hazards. Charles, too, seems to have desired an accord rather than hostilities, even though he still bore the Swiss a bitter grudge for Héricourt. It was probably appeals from Yolande of Savoy that decided him to open a campaign in midwinter.

"The prince has been so busy for a week past [wrote the Milanese ambassador] in the reorganisation of his army according to new ordinances, and in the regulation of his receipts and outlays that he has scarcely given himself time to eat once in twenty-four hours. He is importuned by the Duchess of Savoy and the Count of Romont for aid against the Swiss who respect no treaty, and do not cease increasing their forces. In consequence, Duke Charles intends leaving Nancy in six days to go towards the Jura. He expects to take with him 2300 lances and 10,000 ordnance, which, joined to the feudal militia of Burgundy and Savoy, will swell his army to the number of 25,000 combatants. His operations are so planned that he will have more to gain than to lose."[13]

When Charles left Nancy on January 11th, he issued one of his grandiloquent manifestoes declaring that he was acting in behalf of all princes and seigneurs who had suffered wrong at the hands of the Swiss, and that he was ready to punish all who had provoked his just wrath by ravaging his province of Burgundy. It was rather a curious act on his part, to let his chief mercenary captain go off to make a pilgrimage just as he was on the eve of a campaign, but so he did, granting Campobasso leave of absence to visit the shrine of St. James at Compostella, a leave possibly utilised by the Italian to further the understanding with Louis XI., at which he arrived later.

On across the Jura marched the Burgundian army, while the Swiss diet came to a slow and confused decision to prepare to meet him. He did not take the route generally expected, directly towards Berne, his chief antagonist, but turned aside and attacked the little fortress of Granson. The castle was not over strong. Efforts to provision it by water failed, and, finally, on February 28th, after a brief siege, the captain of the garrison, Hans Wyler, capitulated to the duke's German forces, who represented to them that Charles was as generous as he was magnificent.

If the Milan ambassador can be trusted, the surrender was unconditional. Charles was soon on the spot. The four hundred and twelve soldiers, who had succeeded in holding the Burgundian army at bay for ten whole days, were made to march past his tent with bowed heads. Then he ordered one and all to be hanged, reserving two to help in the executions. Four hours were occupied in fulfilling these pitiless orders. Panigarola arrived at the camp on the 29th,--it was leap year, 1476,--and found this accomplished and saw the bodies hanging on the trees, but he asserts that no word was broken.[14] Charles was now absolutely confident of complete success. "_Bellorum eventus dubii sunt_," remarked the prudent Milanese, however, and he was proved right.

When the allied forces of the mountaineers finally arrived in the duke's neighbourhood a hot pitched battle ensued. The Burgundians, led by the duke in person, were thrown into utter confusion. The mercenaries, terrified by the uncouth yells and battle-cries of Uri and Unterwalden, simply lost their heads and did nothing. Charles was pushed on as far as Jougne. It was not only a defeat, but a complete rout. When the Swiss came in sight of the late garrison hanged to the trees, their rage knew no bounds. In their turn they massacred, hanged, and drowned every one in Burgundian pay whom they could lay hands upon. The Burgundians saved their lives when they could, but their valuable artillery and their baggage, the mass of riches that Charles carried with him were ruthlessly sacrificed, and gathered up contemptuously as booty by the Swiss, who cared little for the tapestries and jewels though they prized the gold. Such was the battle of Granson, on the 2nd of March.

The fatal mistake committed by Charles was that he despised his enemy and underestimated his quality as well as his strength. Just before engaging in battle, the whole Swiss army fell upon their knees in prayer that the issue might be successful. This action deceived Charles into thinking that they were cowardly and his opinion was shared by his men. A contemptuous laugh broke out from the Burgundian ranks.[15]

Olivier de la Marche ends a meagre account of Granson with the following rather barren words[16]:

"In short the Duke of Burgundy lost the day and was pushed back as far as Jougne, where he stopped, and it is meet that I tell how the duke's bodyguard saved themselves ... and reached Salins where I saw them arrive for I was not present at the battle on account of a malady I suffered. From Jougne the duke went to Noseret, and you can understand that he was very sad and melancholy at having lost the battle, where his rich baggage was stolen and his army shattered."

On March 21, 1476, Sir John Paston writes to Margaret Paston from Calais:

"As ffor tydyngs heer we her ffrom alle the worlde. ... Item, the Duke of Burgoyne hath conqueryd Lorreyn and Queen Margreet shall nott nowe be lykelyhod have it; wherffer the Frenshe kynge cheryssheth hyr butt easelye; but afftr thys conquest off Loreyn the Duke toke grete corage to goo upon the londe off the Swechys [Swiss] to conquer them butt the berded hym att an onsett place and hathe dystrussyd hym and hathe slayne the most part of his vanwarde and wonne all hys ordynnaunce and artylrye and mor ovyr all stuffe thatt he hade in hys ost with hym; exceppte men and horse ffledde nott but they roode that nyght xx myle; and so the ryche saletts, heulmetts garters, nowchys[17] gelt and all is goone with tente pavylons and all and soo men deme hys pryde is abatyd. Men tolde hym that they were ffrowarde karlys butte he wolde nott beleve it and yitt men seye that he woll to them ageyn. Gode spede them bothe."

Many of the rumours that were current represented Charles as completely prostrated by his disaster. This was only half true. His efforts to retrieve himself were immediate but, physically, he certainly showed the effects of this campaign. He was attacked by a low fever, his stomach rejected food, insomnia afflicted his nights, and dropsical swellings appeared on his legs. This condition was attributed to his fatigues and exposure in a hard climate, and to his habit of drinking warm barley-water in the morning. He was urged to use a soft feather-bed instead of his hard couch, while Yolande's own physician and one Angelo Catto watched anxiously over him. The latter claimed the credit of saving his life. Charles was not, however, fully recovered when he resumed his activities and held a review on May 9th. With all his efforts exerted in every quarter likely to yield results, the whole number of troops was but twenty thousand men. Every onlooker felt that the duke was now trying to accomplish something quite beyond his resources.

"Illustrious prince [wrote the King of Hungary[18]], we cannot sufficiently wonder that you should have been so gravely deceived and that, after having once found that you were lured into loss and disgrace, again you let yourself be snared in a labyrinth from which you will either never escape, or escape only with damage and shame.... Without risk to himself [your foe] has precipitated you into an abyss and tied you where you are exposed to the loss of your possessions and your life.... We exhort you to pause before incurring heavier losses and greater dangers. If fortune smiles upon you in your attack on that people, you will have the whole empire against you. In the opposite event--which God avert--it will be turned into a common tale how a mighty prince was overcome by rustics whom there would have been no honour in conquering, while to be conquered by them would be an eternal disgrace."

This plain-spoken epistle failed to reach its destination until after the prophecy had been fulfilled. Its warning would probably have been futile had Charles read it before he marched on towards Berne, on June 8th. On the road that he chose lay the town of Morat, which had made ready for his approach. A few days to reduce it, and then on to Berne was his plan. His force succeeded in holding the ground and cutting off communication with Berne for three days. On the 14th, a messenger made his way through from the beleaguered city to Berne, and all the allies were then urged to do their best. The result was encouraging. "There are three times as many as at Granson, but let no one be dismayed, with God's help we will kill them all," wrote a leader of Berne.

The encounter came on June 23d. The force was really a formidable one. René of Lorraine was among the commanders on the side of the Swiss. It was a tremendous fight, brief as it was savage; at two o'clock the assault was made and within an hour Charles was repulsed. Almost all the infantry perished. The slain is estimated variously from ten to twenty-two thousand. Charles did not keep his vow to perish if defeated. To his assured allies he clung closely, and none had more reason to be faithful to him than Yolande of Savoy. After Granson he hastened to give the duchess his own view of the disaster:

"It has given me a singular pleasure to hear of your calmness and constancy of soul; for the thought of your affliction weighed more heavily upon me than what has befallen me ... every day diminishes the inconvenience and proves that the loss in men is less than we thought. _Such as it is it came from a mere skirmish_. The bulk of the armies did not engage, to my great displeasure. Had they fought the victory would have been mine. There has been none on either side. God, I trust, reserves it for you and for me ... the hope you have placed in me shall not be vain."

Thus he wrote on March 7th to encourage his anxious protégée.

After the second defeat it was to her that the duke turned again. In the very early morning after the battle of Morat, Charles paused at Morges on the Lake of Geneva, having ridden hard through the night. There he heard mass, breakfasted, rested awhile, and then rode on, reaching the castle of Gex at six o'clock in the evening, where Yolande of Savoy was awaiting his coming in full knowledge of the second disaster he had suffered.

At the foot of the staircase, attended by her ladies, Yolande was waiting to greet her disappointed friend. Charles dismounted and kissed each member of the family in order of precedence, the little duke, his brother, then the duchess, her daughter, and the ladies in waiting. Yolande had had time to move out of her own suite of apartments and have them prepared for her guest's use, and there the two talked together confidentially, while their attendants waited patiently just out of earshot.

Then Charles formally escorted his hostess to her son's room, returning to his own, showing signs of extreme fatigue. Panigarola was absent, but another Milanese was among her suite, and he pressed forward as the duke re-entered the apartment, offering to carry any message to the Duke of Milan, to be cut short with, "It is well. That is enough." Shortly afterwards, Olivier de la Marche and the Sire de Givry, commander of the Burgundians dedicated to Yolande's service, were summoned and had a long conference with Charles.

Yolande was, apparently, more communicative to the Milanese Appiano than to Charles, but he saw that she was not frank with him. "She must throw herself on the protection of France or of Milan," he wrote to his master.[20] She was, however, clear in her own mind that she would not accept Sforza's protection any more than that of Charles. She absolutely refused to identify her fortunes with the latter. She was determined to go to Geneva, but no farther. The duke remained at Gex until the 27th, and renewed his arguments to persuade her to cross the Jura with him. She was firm in adhering to her own plan. The two parties set out from the castle together, their roads lying in opposite directions, but Charles escorted his hostess about half-way to Geneva, riding beside her carriage, and continuing his persuasions in a low voice. At last he drew up his rein, gave her a farewell kiss, and rode off. He was much displeased at her determination, and he speedily resolved upon other methods of making sure of her fidelity to him. La Marche thus relates the story:[21]

"After the duke had been discomfited the second time by the Swiss before Morat, believing that he could do the thing secretly, he made a plan to kidnap Mme. of Savoy and her children and take them to Burgundy, and he ordered me, I being at Geneva, on my head to capture Mme. of Savoy and her children and bring them to him. In order to obey my prince and master I did his behest quite against my heart, and I took madame and her children near the gate of Geneva. But the Duke of Savoy was stolen away from me (for it was two o'clock in the night) by the means of some of our own company who were subjects of the Duke of Savoy, and, assuredly, they did no more than their duty. What I did was simply to save my life, for the duke, my master, was the kind that insisted on having his will done under penalty of losing one's head. So I took my way, and carried Mme. of Savoy behind me, and her two daughters followed and two or three of her maids, and we took the road over the mountain to reach St. Claude. I was well assured of the second son, and had him carried by a gentleman. I thought I was assured of the Duke of Savoy, but he was stolen from me as I said. As soon as we were at a distance, the people of the duchess, and especially the seigneur de Manton, had torches brought and took the duke back to Geneva, in which they had great joy. And I with Mme. of Savoy and the little boy (who was not the duke), crossed the mountain in the black night and came to a place called Mijoux, and thence to St. Claude.

"You must know that the duke gave very bad cheer to the company, and chiefly to me. I was in danger of my life because I had not brought the Duke of Savoy. Then the duke went on to Salins without speaking to me or giving me any orders. However, I escorted Mme. of Savoy after him, and he ordered me to take her to the castle of Rochefort. Thence she was taken to Rouvre in Burgundy. After that I had nothing more to do with her or her affairs."

This queer story is undoubtedly true, and the tone in which La Marche relates it indicates that he, too, was alienated by the duke's manner, and might have been more willing to lend an ear to Louis's suggestions than he had been five years previously.

It is not evident that he played his master false or that he was cognisant of the recapture of the little duke, but he says himself that he thought the attendants were absolutely justified in it.

It is after this incident that the astute Panigarola returns and joins the duke's suite at Salins. He finds Charles a changed man, indulging in strange fits of hilarity, expressing the wish that a couple of thousand more of his troops had been killed, "French at heart" as they were. He refused to see Yolande, after thus forcibly obtaining the means of so doing, and sent her to the castle of the Sire of Rochefort for safe-keeping. Abstemious as he had been all his life, never taking wine without water, the strong Burgundy in which he now suddenly indulged went to his head.

Rumours went abroad that his mental balance was shaken. That does not seem to have been true to the extent of insanity. He was only infinitely chagrined but he certainly put on a brave front and retained his self-confidence and declared

"They are wrong if they believe me defeated. Providence has provided me with so many people and estates with such abundant resources, that many such defeats would be needed to ruin them. At the moment when the world imagines that I am annihilated, I will reopen the campaign with an army of 150,000 men."[22]

[Footnote 1: _Lettres de Louis XI_., v., 368.]

[Footnote 2: _Nos omnes relinquens, Ibid_., 371.]

[Footnote 3: Commynes-Dupont, i., 336.]

[Footnote 4: _Lettres_, v., 363. Louis to Dammartin.]

[Footnote 5: Gachard, _Doc. inéd_., i., 249.]

[Footnote 6: Commines, iv., ch. vi.] [Footnote 7: Commines, iv., ch. viii.: Comines-Lenglet, ii., 217.]

[Footnote 8: The terms of the treaty provided for a seven years' truce, with international free trade and mutual assistance in civil or foreign wars of either monarch. Louis's complaisance went so far that he did not insist on Edward's renouncing the title of King of England and France.]

[Footnote 9: _The Paston Letters_. Sir John Paston to his mother, Sept. 11, 1475.]

[Footnote 10: The story must be omitted here. The constable was finally apprehended, tried, and executed at Paris.]

[Footnote 11: _Dépêches Milanaises_, i., 253. The copy only is at Milan and there is no seal.]

[Footnote 12: Toutey, p. 380.]

[Footnote 13: _Dép. Milan_., i., 266.]

[Footnote 14: _Dép. Milan_., i., 300.]

[Footnote 15: Jomini lays the defeat to a tactical error. "Charles had committed the fault of encamping with one wing of his army resting on the lake, the other ill-secured at the foot of a wooded mountain. Nothing is more dangerous for an army than to have one of its wings resting on an unbridged stream, on a lake, or on the sea." Charles explained to Europe that he had been surprised, and his defeat was a mere bagatelle.]

[Footnote 16: III., 216.]

[Footnote 17: Embossed ornaments.]

[Footnote l8: _Dép. Milan._, ii., 126.]

[Footnote 19: _Dép. Milan._, ii., 335.]

[Footnote 20: _Dep. Milan_., ii., 295.]

[Footnote 21: III., 234.]

[Footnote 22: _Dep. Milan_, ii., 339.]