Chapter I: Introduction (1)

Philip de Commines has been called the Father of Modern History. “His Memoirs,” says Mr. Hallam, “almost make an epoch in historical literature. He is the first modern writer who in any degree has displayed sagacity in reasoning on the characters of men and the consequences of their actions, or who has been able to generalise his observations by comparison and reflection.” This ability to discuss motives as well as events renders him far superior to Froissart, who, on the other hand, greatly exceeds him in picturesqueness of style and fertility of invention. Froissart merely described notable occurrences; Commines delineated great men. “The one,” says Sir James Stephen, “had contemplated the strife of kings and kingdoms as a spectator of the Isthmian Games may have gazed at that heart-stirring spectacle. The other had watched the schemes of statesmen and the conflict of nations, with some approach to that judicial serenity which we ascribe to a member of the Amphictyonic Council.” If Froissart may be termed the Livy of France, she had her Tacitus in Commines.

The Memoirs of Philip de Commines relate to one of the most interesting periods of history. In the words of the Preface to the old English translation of 1723: “He gives us a prospect of all the most memorable occurrences in the reigns of Louis XI., his son Charles VIII., Charles the last Duke of Burgundy, and Mary his only daughter and heir; as likewise a description of the most remarkable passages in England, Flanders, Germany, Italy, Spain, and other neighbouring countries, which happened in the space of thirty-four years, from 1464 to 1498. He teaches with as much verity as plainness and simplicity of style, such fair lessons as will show princes the way of governing their people with gentleness and order. There it is to be seen how kings can never be at peace with their subjects, whilst they are at variance with the King of kings, to whom all mankind, of what dignity or qualification soever, must give an account. There it is to be seen how justice, equity, moderation, and uprightness in all things, is that which gives them a quiet and happy dominion over the hearts of their subjects, without employing either menaces or force. In short, his book is a pleasant and profitable field, full of infinite good fruits, useful for all conditions, in good fortune as well as bad,—for him that commands as well as him that obeys; and all enforced with such Christian-like persuasions, and fortified with such important and excellent precepts, that it is impossible to read them without being affected.”

On the peculiar interest attaching to the Memoirs of Commines, Dr. Arnold has the following remarks: “The Memoirs of Philip de Commines terminate about twenty years before the Reformation, six years after the first voyage of Columbus. They relate, then, to a tranquil period immediately preceding a period of extraordinary movement; to the last stage of an old state of things, now on the point of passing away. Such periods, the lull before the burst of the hurricane, the almost oppressive stillness which announces the eruption, or, to use Campbell’s beautiful image,

‘The torrent’s smoothness ere it dash below,’

are always, I think, full of a very deep interest. But it is not from the mere force of contrast with the times that follow, nor yet from the solemnity which all things wear when their dissolution is fast approaching—the interest has yet another source: our knowledge, namely, that in that tranquil period lay the germs of the great changes following, taking their shape for good or for evil, and sometimes irreversibly, while all wore an outside of unconsciousness. We, enlightened by experience, are impatient of this deadly slumber; we wish in vain that the age could have been awakened to a sense of its condition, and taught the infinite preciousness of the passing hour. And as, when a man has been cut off by sudden death, we are curious to know whether his previous words or behaviour indicated any sense of his coming fate, so we examine the records of a state of things just expiring, anxious to observe whether in any point there may be discerned an anticipation of the great future, or whether all was blindness and insensibility. In this respect, Commines’ Memoirs are striking from their perfect unconsciousness: the knell of the middle ages had been already sounded, yet Commines has no other notions than such as they had tended to foster; he describes their events, their characters, their relations, as if they were to continue for centuries. His remarks are such as the simplest form of human affairs gives birth to; he laments the instability of earthly fortune, as Homer notes our common mortality, or in the tone of that beautiful dialogue between Solon and Crœsus, when the philosopher assured the king that to be rich was not necessarily to be happy. But resembling Herodotus in his simple morality, he is utterly unlike him in another point; for whilst Herodotus speaks freely and honestly of all men without respect of persons, Philip de Commines praises his master Louis the Eleventh as one of the best of princes, although he witnessed not only the crimes of his life, but the miserable fears and suspicions of his latter end, and has even faithfully recorded them. In this respect, Philip de Commines is in no degree superior to Froissart, with whom the crimes committed by his knights and great lords never interfere with his general eulogies of them: the habit of deference and respect was too strong to be broken, and the facts which he himself relates to their discredit, appear to have produced on his mind no impression.”[1]

This tendency on the part of Commines to praise the princes who successively enjoyed his aid and allegiance, is thus noticed by Sir James Stephen:—“He regards Charles the Rash with that affectionate interest which the heroism even of the unwise will excite in the bosoms of the wisest. He contemplates Louis XI. with that combination of curiosity, attachment, and awe, which minds of more than ordinary power so often cherish for each other. The images of the fiery duke and of the crafty king were projected in bold relief on the imagination of this acute and vigilant observer; and the truth and distinctness of those images forms the great charm of his retrospect of his own eventful life. The higher charm of a just sensibility, whether to moral beauty or to the absence of it, is, however, wanting in his pages. He is the unqualified admirer, if not the unscrupulous apologist, of his royal master, and seems insensible alike to the injustice of the ends at which he aimed, and to the baseness of the means by which he pursued them. Yet man is not less inconsistent in his faults and errors than in his virtues, and thus, even the utilitarian Commines is unable to survey the revolutions in which he so largely participated without an occasional, and apparently heartfelt acknowledgment that, in bringing to pass the disastrous catastrophes of the world’s history, the will and agency of man are but instruments by which the Divine will accomplishes its immutable purposes of wisdom and of justice. In the subtlety of his analysis of the great characters of his generation—in the force and discrimination of his portraits of them—in the sagacity with which he explores, and the perspicuity with which he interprets, the hidden causes of the events in which they acted,—and in the vigorous dispersion of the mists with which ignorance or passion obscures the true aspect of human affairs, Commines is emphatically a Frenchman. In the reverence with which, on reaching the impassable limits of human investigation, he ceases to inquire, and pauses to adore, he rises higher still, and becomes not only a citizen, but a teacher of the great Christian Commonwealth.”[2]

The composition of his Memoirs was the occupation of the last years of the life of Commines, when circumstances had, sorely against his will, condemned him to retirement and repose. He wrote the first six books in the years 1488-1494, and the last two, probably, in 1497-1501. They remained in manuscript until 1524, when the first edition was published by Galliot du Pré. This contained only so much of the work as related to the reign of Louis XI.; but as the book immediately became popular, the remainder was put to press and published in 1528. In 1552, Denys Sauvage republished the whole work, under the title which it now bears, and divided into books and chapters. This was the standard edition of Commines until 1649, when Denys Godefroy, historiographer of France, brought out a new one, in which he corrected numerous errors into which Sauvage had fallen. This edition was printed at the Royal Press in the Louvre, and Louis XIV. assisted with his own hands in pulling some of the copies of the first sheet. In 1747, another and still more accurate edition, with a copious appendix, was brought out by the celebrated Lenglet Dufresnoy. This has recently been superseded by the edition published by Mdlle. Dupont, who has carefully collated the various manuscripts and editions of the text, and added biographical, genealogical, and historical notes, of great value and accuracy.

The present translation has been made from the text as restored by Mdlle. Dupont, and the notes are mostly taken from her edition. The various treaties mentioned in the Memoirs are given at large in their proper places; and with a view to render the work more complete as a history of Louis XI., the “Chronique Scandaleuse” of Jean de Troyes is printed at the end of the second volume.

A. R. S.

LIFE OF PHILIP DE COMMINES.

The town of Commines, on the confines of France and Belgium, is situated on the River Lys, by which it is divided into two parts; the right bank belongs to France, and the left to Belgium. It possesses no great importance at the present day; but formerly, and until the end of the seventeenth century, it could boast of strong fortifications and a castle, which were destroyed by the French in 1672. The lordship of the town had been enjoyed by several noble families in succession; but for our present purpose it will be sufficient to state that about the year 1373, Jeanne de Waziers, Lady of Commines and Halewin, brought it in marriage to Nicholas, surnamed Colart de la Clite. The name of Commines, which had been honourably mentioned at the time of the first Crusades, was still so imposing that the new lord, or at least his descendants, did not hesitate to substitute it for that of their original race. This nobiliary lustre, however, would not have sufficed to have rescued it any more than other mediæval names, from the obscurity of genealogical archives, if a distinction of a higher character had not secured it immortal renown.

In the Castle of Commines, in the year 1447, was born that celebrated historian whose works have saved from oblivion the meaner glories of his ancestral line. His father, the sovereign-bailiff of Flanders, had been dubbed a knight by the Duke of Burgundy on the day of the battle of St. Riquier, the 31st of August, 1421, on which day that prince had also received the honour of knighthood from the hands of John of Luxembourg; and perhaps this circumstance, adroitly called to mind by the father, induced Philip the Good to do the new-born babe the honour of holding him at the font, and presenting his god-son to baptism under the invocation of his own patron saint. A most hopeful future seemed thus to open before young Commines, who was placed, from his very birth, under the protection of a most powerful monarch; but he was ere long destined to suffer cruel losses. His mother, Marguerite d’Armuyden, died soon after giving him birth, and a few years later, the death of his father left him completely an orphan, with an estate greatly impoverished by bad management and reckless expenditure.

The young orphan and his property were placed by the king under the guardianship of his cousin-german, Jean de la Clite, Lord of Commines, who succeeded, not without great difficulty, in preserving to his ward a small part of his patrimony—so small, indeed, that its value amounted only to the sum of 2424 livres 16 sols 6 deniers tournois. The development of the mind of young Commines was almost as utterly neglected as the management of his property; for his guardian was too much absorbed by more personal business to attend to either. His ward received the same education as, with but few exceptions, was then given to all the children of the nobility. Greek and Latin formed no part of his instruction, and bodily exercises were cultivated with far greater assiduity than mental discipline. Perhaps, however, we ought to congratulate ourselves that this was the case. Intellects like that of Commines form themselves, and advance all the faster and farther because they have no useless acquirements to forget, and no false instruction to unlearn. The sagacious and meditative mind of the future historian was likely to learn far more from the great book of the world than from all the writings of the schoolmen; and that book soon opened before him.

The brilliant and splendid court of Philip the Good then rivalled those of more powerful monarchs in magnificence and lustre. Commines was summoned to this sphere of action by his godfather, who attached him to his person as one of his esquires, probably in the year 1463, and soon transferred him, in the same capacity, to the service of his son, the Count of Charolois. He was then about seventeen years of age, and his youthful inexperience was easily dazzled by two dominant qualities of his new master, self-confidence and courage, which were fated so soon to involve him in acts of presumption and temerity. Under such a prince, the opportunity of winning his spurs was not long delayed. Commines accompanied him into France at the time of the war of the Public Good (1465), fought by his side at the battle of Montlhery, and did not leave him during the whole of that eventful day—feeling less alarmed at his own danger, than astonished at the audacity of the French in resisting his master. Two years later, he entered Liege with the victorious duke, and there is every reason to believe that at this period he was dubbed a knight.

Soon after his return from this expedition, and a short time before the marriage of Charles the Bold, which took place on the 16th of February, 1468, Commines was appointed chamberlain and councillor of that prince. The privileges of this double office secured him, though he was only about twenty years of age, the right of entrance into the Burgundian council, and a sort of respectful intimacy with his master. Doubtless the duties of a councillor could not have been easy to fulfil in the household of a prince of such unmanageable disposition, and “who despised all other advice in the world, except only his own;” but the chamberlain, at all events, might make himself agreeable, and succeed in obtaining a considerable degree of familiar intimacy with his sovereign. Commines soon obtained this, either from trying some indirect, but certain means of acquiring influence over the mind of the duke, or because daily communications between two persons not separated by any great difference of age naturally led to this result. The influence to which we refer, and which we have no wish to exaggerate, was ere long to be subjected to a decisive test, under very memorable circumstances.

In the month of October, 1468, Louis XI. came to Peronne, and imprudently placed himself at the mercy of Charles the Bold, against whom he was then secretly instigating the Liegeois to revolt. This step involved him in great peril, and his danger was increased by the fact that the duke, irritated at so audacious a piece of perfidy, was surrounded by scarcely any persons who were not animated by powerful motives of hatred against the king. The most violent counsels were given, and favourably received by a prince who was naturally inclined to extreme courses. Commines, aided by some other servants of the duke, few in number, but more sensible, more jealous of the honour of their master, and, in a word, more politic than his other advisers, succeeded in partially allaying the storm; but it soon burst out afresh with still greater vehemence. The king alone could avert its direful consequences. In his first alarm he had recourse to means of safety whose efficacy was well known to him: now, gold was of no further avail; he must bow his royal head.

Numerous propositions of a humiliating character were about to be made to him; he would have to accept them all, and that at once and unreservedly; otherwise all would be lost. The duke had dishonoured himself by breaking his plighted word; he was detaining his guest in captivity; and certain members of his council seemed to hope that he would venture still further. A happy inspiration of Commines saved France and her king, Burgundy and her duke, from the incalculable misfortunes which would have resulted from so fatal an event. He secretly informed Louis XI. of all that had been resolved upon regarding him, and of the risk he would incur by the slightest resistance to the demands of the duke. Two important results, equally desirable to every loyal servant of Charles the Bold, might be produced by this hazardous proceeding. It might compel the duke to respect the safe-conduct which he had given to Louis XI., and at the same time secure him as great, if not greater, advantages than those which he might hope to obtain by violating his promised word. The event proved that Commines had calculated rightly. Louis, it is well known, submitted, with the best grace in the world, to all that the gaoler chose to exact from his captive; so that the duke, who, on approaching him had used angry gestures and language, left him in high contentment.

On leaving Peronne, in order to perform one of the conditions which had been imposed upon him, the king had to march with the Duke of Burgundy against the Liegeois. He had encouraged their rebellion, and he was obliged to suffer the disgrace of contributing to punish it. Commines accompanied the two princes on this expedition, and had his share in the imminent danger to which they were exposed. He was sleeping with three others in his master’s bed-chamber, when a band of Liegeois, favoured by the darkness, fell suddenly on the lodgings of Charles the Bold and Louis XI. This sortie was ably conducted, and nearly met with all the success which the besieged hoped for; the two princes, with their servants, narrowly escaped finding defeat and death where they had imagined their triumph would be certain and easy. It was most fortunate for the duke that he had not followed the advice of some of his councillors, who recommended him “to dismiss a part of his army, seeing that the city of Liege had had its gates and walls demolished during the previous years, and that it could hope for succour from no quarter.” The king, who had his reasons for it, was inclined to adopt this suggestion; but Commines and other prudent councilors remonstrated against so imprudent a step, and their advice was followed, less perhaps because of its wisdom than because the duke greatly suspected the king.

The alarm was so sudden and unforeseen that Commines and his two fellow-chamberlains had scarcely time “to arm the duke with his cuirass, and put a helmet on his head.” The enemy were pouring in on all sides, and, in order to get out into the street, it was necessary to drive back the Liegeois, who were resolutely attacking the doors and windows. Numbers at length obtained the advantage over desperate courage; the Liegeois, hemmed in on all sides, were cut to pieces. They met with a similar fate at the king’s quarters, which were valiantly defended by the Scottish archers of his guard. We may note, _en passant_, that these brave Scottish archers, renowned above all others for their skill, were on this occasion so awkward that, with their numerous arrows, “they wounded more Burgundians than Liegeois.”

On the following day, the town, attacked on both sides, was captured, set on fire, and given up to pillage. The devastation and massacre lasted for five or six days longer, after which the king began to negotiate for leave to return home: and, in a short time, he departed, leaving the Duke of Burgundy to pursue his work of destruction alone.

To return, however, to Commines. His father had not been an irreproachable administrator of the public funds, and had died, owing the duke enormous sums, for the recovery of which the agents of that prince sold one of the estates of the defaulter, named Renescure. The proceeds of this sale, however, did not amount to a sufficient sum to liquidate the entire debt. On the 1st of October, 1469, Commines obtained, in reward for his services, a receipt in full for all that might still be due from his family to the ducal treasury. In the following year, he was sent on a mission to the Governor of Calais, which, though very simple at first, was eventually rendered by circumstances very delicate, and even dangerous. At one moment the danger became so great, that he thought it prudent to apply for a safe-conduct, and inform his master of his position. He soon received an answer: the duke sent him his signet ring, ordering him to continue his negotiation, and promising that if he were made prisoner, he would ransom him. Commines had acted wisely in obtaining sureties, for the duke “never hesitated to expose one of his servants to danger, when he had need of his assistance.” The negotiation, however, was ably conducted, and brought to a successful issue, to the satisfaction of all the parties concerned.

The skilful agent of this treaty was entrusted with a new mission about the month of July or August, 1471. We are not acquainted with the object he had in view, but it is certain that he had an interview with Louis XI., by permission of the Duke of Burgundy. It was a very great mistake on the part of the duke to have allowed this; for, as Molinet says, the king’s speech “was so gentle and virtuous, that, like the voice of the siren, it lulled to sleep all who listened.” To this remarkable suavity of language Louis XI. added, according to the testimony of Commines himself, another no less powerful means of attraction; of all contemporary princes, he was the one “who most laboured to gain any man who was able to serve or injure him. And he was never diverted from his purpose by being once refused by any man whom he was endeavouring to gain; but steadfastly continued making him large promises, and actually giving him money and estates which he knew would please him.”

Commines, who was moreover allured by many great and truly royal qualities of Louis XI., allowed himself to be seduced, as many others had been, by promises and gifts. For we do not hesitate to believe that it was during this journey into France, that he deposited in the hands of Jean de Beaune, a merchant of Tours, a sum of 6000 livres tournois, to which we shall presently have occasion to refer again, and which he had probably received from the king.

The interested liberality of the monarch required some return, and Commines, in exchange for the favours he accepted, doubtless had to contract one of those engagements which are seldom evidenced by written agreements, but proved only by subsequent facts. What was the nature of this convention? We cannot say with certainty, but it appears extremely probable that the conditions of the treaty were these: Louis XI. assured to Commines, if he would consent to leave Charles the Bold and enter his service, the same position of councillor and chamberlain at the Court of France that he had held at the Court of Burgundy, together with numerous estates and lordships, offices and dignities of great value, and an annual pension of 6000 livres tournois. He further engaged to give him in marriage one of the rich heiresses of the kingdom. Of a truth there was in these offers enough to dazzle a young and ambitious man; the siren had lulled many consciences to sleep at less cost.

Commines accepted the conditions of the treaty; but on his return to his native land, a very natural feeling of hesitation made him recoil from the final accomplishment of the transaction. Louis XI., however, daily pressed him more urgently; the wily monarch could not consent to have tried his powers of seduction in vain. If Commines escaped his grasp, he determined at least to make sure of his money. A councillor of the great council, Master Pierre Clutin, was ordered to proceed to the residence of Jean de Beaune, and, in the king’s name, to seize the 6000 livres which had been entrusted to him by Commines. This was an able and decisive measure. The publicity of this seizure placed Commines in the unpleasant alternative of seeing his practices divulged, without gaining any profit by them, or of securing their advantages only by setting aside the scruples which delayed him. He took the latter and safer course, and during the night of the 7th of August, 1472, he abandoned Burgundy for ever. The king was then at Pont-de-Cè, and there his new servant joined him.

Very different opinions have been passed on this act in the life of Commines; some are too severe, and others too indulgent, to be adopted without qualification. Some writers, among whom we may instance Voltaire, seem to have forgotten that in weighing the actions of men, regard should be had to the times in which they lived, and to the daily examples which they had before their eyes; while others appear to have fallen into the opposite error of forgetting that, although equity requires us to take all the circumstances of the case into consideration, there are nevertheless certain acts which a healthy morality cannot wholly absolve. Let us award to Commines all the blame that he merits for his defection, but let us neither exaggerate his fault beyond due measure, nor extenuate it with blind and unreasoning partiality. Would that it were the gravest reproach to be addressed to his memory!

The confiscation of all the property, moveable and immoveable, which Commines left behind him, was an inevitable and expected consequence of the resolution he had taken. On the very day of his departure, at six o’clock in the morning, the Duke of Burgundy bestowed on the Lord of Quiévrain all the rights and properties reverting to the fugitive from the Lord of Trazegnies and his estate, in virtue of a decree of the Court of Mons. But whatever Commines lost on the one side, he regained a hundredfold on the other. No sooner had he arrived at the court of Louis XI., than he received in the first place, the title of councillor and chamberlain of the king; soon after, a pension of 6000 livres was bestowed on him, “that he might have the means of honourably maintaining his rank;” he was also rewarded with the office of captain of the castle and donjon of the town of Chinon; and, finally, he was presented with the rich principality of Talmont, the importance of which was greatly increased by its numerous dependencies, Olonne, Curzon, and Chateau-Gaultier, and which was soon after still further augmented by the chastellanies, lands, and lordships of Bran and Brandois. To impart additional value to these gifts, the town of Sables, in the lordship of Olonne, was exempted from all taxes, on condition that the inhabitants should enclose and fortify it.

Before pursuing our narrative any further, it will be expedient at once to acquaint the reader with certain details necessary to the proper understanding of our subsequent statements. The letters of Louis XI., conferring on Commines the principality of Talmont and its dependencies, although dated in the month of October, 1472, were not registered by the Parliament until the 13th of December, 1473, or by the Cour des Comptes until the 2nd of May, 1474. The proverbial slowness of judicial procedure was not the only cause of this delay. Opposition, which was only too well founded, as we shall presently see, had prevented Commines from entering upon the enjoyment of his royal master’s liberalities at an earlier period. The king’s title to the estates and lordships with which he had enriched his new chamberlain, was very doubtful and disputable. It was by a series of violent and arbitrary acts that the royal domain had been increased by these spoils of the house of Amboise. The last male representative of that illustrious family, Louis d’Amboise, Vicomte de Thouars, was the father of three daughters, of whom the eldest, Frances, was sought in marriage by George de la Tremoille, the all-powerful minister of Charles VII., who intended her for his eldest son. But a more advantageous match had previously presented itself, and Mademoiselle d’Amboise was already betrothed to Pierre de Bretagne, second son of the reigning duke. The minister could not see so rich an heiress escape from his grasp without feeling the utmost disappointment and displeasure. As his pride had, moreover, been wounded by the haughty manner in which his proposals had been rejected, he conceived a project of revenge which he carried, ere long, into execution. Under the pretext that the Vicomte de Thouars had made an attempt to deprive him of his liberty, he ordered him to be arrested and imprisoned in the Castle of Poitiers. The parliament was then sitting in that town. George de la Tremoille obtained a decree from that assembly, dated May 8. 1431, which declared the Lord of Amboise guilty of high treason for having attempted to seize upon the person of the king, by arresting the Lord de la Tremoille his minister, and by this means to obtain the direction of state affairs; and condemned him, as a traitor, to the punishment of death, and the confiscation of all his property. The latter part of this sentence was alone executed, as the king commuted the punishment of death into perpetual imprisonment. But even his captivity came to an end after three years, in consequence of the intervention of the Queen, Marie of Anjou. With his liberty, Louis d’Amboise recovered in September, 1434, the viscounty of Thouars, and his other estates, with the exception of the principality of Talmont, and the lordships of Amboise, Chateau-Gaultier, Olonne, Bran, and Brandois. At a later period, in January, 1438, Charles VII. declared that malevolence alone had stimulated the persecutors of the Lord of Amboise, who had been condemned without any form of trial, and he therefore restored him to the possession of all his estates of which he was still deprived. This restitution, however, was coupled with this, among other conditions, that he should not marry his eldest daughter without the king’s permission. Was this permission ever obtained? Apparently it was; for a short time after he had recovered his property, the Vicomte de Thouars celebrated the marriage of his eldest daughter with Duke Pierre of Bretagne. His third daughter, Marguerite d’Amboise, married the rejected suitor of Frances, that very Louis de la Tremoille, who had so recently been the involuntary cause of his father-in-law’s misfortunes; and this alliance, as we shall presently see, occasioned the transfer of all the property of the house of Amboise to the family of La Tremoille. On ratifying the contract of this second marriage, by an act dated August 22. 1446, Louis d’Amboise assigned to Marguerite, as her future share in his possessions, the estates of Talmont, Bran, Olonne, Curzon, Chateau-Gaultier, La Chaume, Les Sables, and Marans; reserving to himself however, the enjoyment of them during his life-time. In his old age, the Vicomte de Thouars gave himself up to the most foolish prodigalities, and to such disorderly conduct that his children were obliged to sue for the appointment of trustees to his estate.

He did not surrender his rights without a contest, but alleged that the Duke and Duchess of Bretagne were moved solely by discontent at not having been able to persuade him to give them the estate of Thouars, and that, furthermore, the proceedings instituted against him were irregular, inasmuch as, from his rank and relationship to the royal family of France, he must be tried by the king and “the duly assembled court of peers.” The parliament, disregarding his protest, made a provisional order that the vicomte should not alienate his property, or make any conveyance thereof without the advice and consent of Master Robert Thiboust, then president of that court. This decree was dated on the 16th of January, 1457. The suit was still in progress when Louis XI. ascended the throne; and it seemed to him that it would be easy to take advantage at once of the weakness and irritation of the vicomte. At a summons from the king, the vicomte proceeded to Tours, and Louis proposed to him to marry the Duchess of Bretagne, who had become a widow, to the Duke of Savoy, and appointed him to negotiate the alliance. The duchess gave a distinct and formal refusal to these overtures; and in order to destroy all chance of gaining her compliance, she pronounced a vow at the altar never to marry again. Louis XI. gave a very ungracious reception to the luckless negotiator, and frightened him so by his threats and the violence of his reproaches, that Louis d’Amboise, duped by this simulated anger, readily listened to the counsels of certain courtiers, who advised him to propitiate the king by giving him the viscounty of Thouars. But in order that this donation might be valid, it was necessary to get rid of the decree pronounced by the court in January, 1457. This obstacle did not long stand in the way of Louis XI. The affair was referred to the council, which, by a decree of the 5th of September, 1462, reversed the order of the parliament. Thus restored to the uncontrolled management of his property, Louis d’Amboise sold to the king the viscounty of Thouars for 100,000 crowns, to be paid within a week: but the king was not to take possession of the estate until the death of the vicomte. 10,000 crowns were paid to him a few days after the signature of the contract, and Louis XI. received in return a general receipt for the entire sum. The Duchess of Bretagne hastened to protest against this ill-disguised act of spoliation; but ere long, having taken the veil, she transferred all her rights to her nephew, Louis de la Tremoille, the eldest son of her sister Marguerite. Louis d’Amboise, after having spent the last years of his life in disgraceful disorders, died at length on the 28th of February, 1470. While he was on his death-bed, Jacques de Beaumont, Lord of Bressuyre, came, in pursuance of the king’s command, at the head of some thirty gentlemen, to invest the Castle of Thouars, from whence he had orders to remove the children, the wife, the relatives, and even the friends of the dying man. He executed these commands to the letter; and it was among strangers, and under the care of physicians selected by the Lord of Bressuyre, that Louis d’Amboise breathed his last. Some notable inhabitants of the town attended his funeral, which was arranged by Jacques de Beaumont, who caused an inventory to be taken immediately of the furniture and title-deeds, and seized in the king’s name on the viscounty of Thouars, and all the other property of the deceased. Such was the title of Louis XI. to the estate with which he had just enriched Commines. The head of the despoiled family opposed the registration of the king’s letters, both in the parliament and in the Cour des Comptes; but after some slight resistance, both the sovereign courts were constrained to yield. Commines took possession of the gifts of Louis XI., which were destined to prove to him the source of great anxiety and the cause of painful and scandalous lawsuits.

These honours and emoluments certainly recompensed Commines very amply for any loss he had sustained by leaving his native country. Louis XI., however, did not rest satisfied with these proofs of his gratitude. An advantageous marriage which he had long had in view, soon secured an increase of fortune to the Prince de Talmont, for that was the title assumed by Commines on the 27th of January, 1473, when he signed his contract of marriage with Helène de Chambes, eldest daughter of the Lord and Lady of Montsoreau. The dowry of the bride amounted to 20,000 golden crowns, as an equivalent for which Commines received from her parents the castle, town, barony, estate, and lordship of Argenton, in Poitou, with all its rich and numerous dependencies.

To all these benefits, Louis XI. added a gift of which he was not lavish—his confidence. Commines apparently proved himself worthy of it, for the favours of the king continued to shower down upon him. It would be tedious to enumerate them here; we will only mention that he was invested with the office of Seneschal of Poitou, in November, 1476, and with the captaincy of the Castle of Poitiers in February, 1477. Such continued favour could not fail to arouse the jealousy and even the hatred of less fortunate courtiers, especially of those who found it difficult to obtain their share of influence, which they were incapable of earning by services of so high, an order as those rendered by Commines. Envy, when brooding in the heart of such a man as Tristan l’Ermite, might produce the most fatal results; and the more so, as the new favourite was not naturally inclined to pause of his own accord in the career of honour which opened before him, and scarcely attempted to dissemble his disdain for the unworthy rival who endeavoured to stand in his way. The court was soon divided, as it were, into two camps, each of which maintained the pretensions of its chosen leader; and the prudence of Louis XI. had frequently to interfere to restore peace between two servants who, on different grounds, were equally necessary to him.

The first person who brought this prince any important news was sure to be rewarded by him with favour and gifts; skilful courtiers knew this, and lost no opportunity of profiting by this means of pleasing their master. Commines was one of the first to announce to him the result of the battle of Morat on the 22nd of June, 1476; and he received as his share of the recompense 200 marks of gold. No message could have been more agreeable to the king, excepting, perhaps, that which announced to him, a few months afterwards, the total defeat of the Duke of Burgundy, after the disastrous battle of Nancy on the 5th of January, 1477. The duke had been found dead on the field. At this news, even before it was known whether Charles the Bold had survived his defeat, Louis XI. “felt such exceeding joy that he almost lost countenance.” The Bastard of Bourbon and Commines were immediately sent into Picardy, with full power to receive and establish in the king’s allegiance all who were willing to surrender. The plan of Louis XI. was to march an army into Burgundy, and to take possession of the country in the name of the duke, after expelling the _Germans_, who had occupied it since their victory. Commines seems to have believed in the sincerity of these intentions, which, whether real or feigned, were not long entertained; for the positive news of the duke’s death soon reached the king’s ear, and altogether changed his plans.

Meanwhile, Commines and the Bastard of Bourbon proceeded towards Abbeville, whither they had taken the precaution of sending an emissary before them, to pave the way for an accommodation. But notwithstanding all their diligence, they had been anticipated, and when they reached the town, the people had already delivered up the gates to the Seigneur de Torcy. The two plenipotentiaries next went to Doullens, whence they sent to summon Arras to submit to the authority of the king. Commines set out alone to conduct this negotiation; but all his address failed to corrupt the loyalty of the people of Arras, who formally refused to acknowledge any other sovereign than their young duchess. He therefore contented himself with labouring secretly to gain the greatest possible number of partizans for his master; and this was, after all, the principal object of his mission. He had acted, moreover, on the mere announcement of the defeat of Charles the Bold; but the certain news of the death of that prince had, as we have already stated, totally changed the king’s intentions. It was no longer his object to preserve Burgundy from the invasion of the Germans; he wished to take possession of the country, and distribute its lordships among his servants. This failure at Arras was all the more displeasing to him because other negotiators had met with better success: Guillaume de Bische, for instance, had secured Peronne. His valet de chambre, Oliver, boasted that he would reduce to his allegiance the city of Ghent; and Robinet d’Odenfort answered for the submission of St. Omer. The king, flattered by these promises, and believing himself already in possession of these places, compared the meagre result of the mission entrusted to Commines with the happy issue promised him by the zeal of his faithful servants. The Lord du Lude and others, on being questioned by the king, concurred in his opinion; and all that Commines could do was to suggest doubts as to the facility with which such strong towns would be induced to surrender.

He was better acquainted with the country than any other member of the council; and his advice was to secure to the crown of France the possession of the rich domains which it coveted, rather by some valid title, as marriage or friendly cession, than by the means which it was intended to adopt. Louis XI. doubtless thoroughly understood the wisdom of this advice, and had once approved it; but the facility with which he had just succeeded almost everywhere in getting possession of important places had intoxicated him. Commines persisted in thinking that the wise slowness of negotiations and alliances was preferable to the dangerous risks which would otherwise be incurred, because by maintaining the kingdom in peace, it would hold more secure possession of its pacific conquests. These prudent suggestions, maliciously interpreted, were obnoxious to the king, who had made up his mind to pursue a different course. Under the pretext of a mission into Poitou, on the frontiers of Bretagne, he dismissed his unwelcome adviser. This was a real disgrace. All the courtiers saw this, and amused themselves at Commines’ expense; but, as he tells us himself, he had no mind to laugh at their jokes, as he feared that the king might be at the bottom of the sport. Another circumstance added the climax to his anxieties. He had written into Hainault to enlist partizans for his master; and one of his relatives came to him, bearing promises of adherence from a number of notable persons, who undertook to deliver into his hands the principal towns and fortresses in the country. Before his departure, Commines communicated these offers of service to Louis XI., who flatly refused them, thinking he would be able to dispense with the assistance of these noblemen; but he afterwards had reason to repent his refusal; “for,” says Commines, “I saw he would have highly esteemed them, if he could have renewed his dealings with them.”

The king’s ill-humour, however, was not of long duration, and his liberalities to others did not prevent his remembering Commines, who received his fair share of the confiscated property of Jacques d’Armagnac, which Louis XI. distributed among his favourites.

Towards the end of the year 1477, or perhaps at the beginning of the year following, Commines was sent into Burgundy at the head of the pensioners of the king’s household: but he does not explain the object of his mission. New annoyances awaited him in that country, and his stay therein was short. That rich province was unfortunate in its governors. The Lord of Craon, who had been recalled on account of his extortionate rapine, had been lately succeeded by Charles d’Amboise, Lord of Chaumont, “a very valiant and prudent man,” but no less avaricious than his predecessor, and who treated the province which he ruled “as if it were his own estate.” In relating these facts, Commines registers rather than censures them. If he blames the conduct of the Lord of Craon, it is with prudent reserve, and because “his pillagings, in truth, were too excessive.” The spirit of tolerance in which his narrative is composed lends some probability to the accusations which were, ere long, brought against himself. He was denounced to the king as having spared “certain burghers of Dijon concerning the quarters of men-at-arms.” This peccadillo alone would doubtless have been insufficient to necessitate his recall; but, “with some other slight suspicion,” about which the discreet historian makes no revelation, it combined to induce Louis XI. to send him “very suddenly” to Florence.

As soon as he had received his credentials, Commines set out on his journey, travelling very rapidly, and halting at as few places as possible. He remained for two or three days only at Turin, to pay his respects to the Duchess of Savoy; and about the same time at Milan. In this latter town, he had instructions to demand, in his master’s name, the execution of a treaty of offensive and defensive alliance which pledged the Milanese government to support the Florentines. The assistance which he solicited was liberally and readily granted. He then continued his journey to Florence, where he arrived towards the end of April, 1478. A formidable plot, which had been sternly repressed, had just deluged that city with blood: and Commines has given a graphic account of it in his Memoirs. If the sole object of his mission had reference to this event, it also tended to prove the interest felt by France in the cause of the Florentines (or, to speak more correctly, of the Medici family), who were then menaced by a powerful league, headed by Pope Sixtus V. and the King of Naples. The favour thus openly avowed was not injurious to the _protégés_ of Louis XI., but a good army would have served them far more effectually. Commines brought with him no troops, and wielded no weapons but those of diplomacy. Of these, he made the best use he could, and, as it would appear, to the entire satisfaction of the parties interested.

After a stay of some months in Florence and the towns in its territory, he began to think of returning to France; but, before his departure, he renewed with the ambassadors of the Duke of Milan, the ancient treaties of alliance between France and that duchy. This act of renewal was executed at Florence on the 18th of August, 1478, and was signed by Commines and Lorenzo de Medici, as representatives of the King of France. In the same capacity, on the 7th of September following, our historian received from Giovanni Galeazzo-Maria, Duke of Milan, the fealty and homage due by that prince for the duchies of Genoa and Savona, of which Louis XI. was suzerain lord.

A considerable period had now elapsed since Commines had left the court in order to discharge these various missions. On his return, he was struck by the change which had taken place in the appearance of his royal master, whom he found “somewhat aged,” and “beginning to have a tendency to illness.” He met with a most flattering reception from the king, who consulted him more than ever about his affairs, and, as a mark of signal favour, allowed him to sleep with him. This favour continued until the monarch’s death; but before, we proceed any further, we must go back a little to relate the most painful part of Commines’ personal history.

We have already described the iniquitous and violent proceedings by which Louis XI. had seized upon the property of Louis d’Amboise; and we have related how the Lord de la Tremoille, in the name of his children, gave all the opposition in his power to the putting Commines into possession of that part of the spoils which had fallen to his share. It will be remembered that the parliament, after an honourable resistance, had finally yielded; but on the very day after its submission to the orders of the king, it entered a protest on its records, declaring that its conduct had been under compulsion, and could not therefore be prejudicial to the rights of the family of La Tremoille, in whose favour it renewed its reservations. That family was in no degree disposed to abdicate its rights, but pursued its claims with courageous perseverance. Commines was in possession, it is true; but, finding himself disturbed in his possession by ceaseless lawsuits, he requested the Procureur du Roi, in conformity with the terms of the letters-patent granting him the property in question, to secure him from all future hindrances to his peaceable enjoyment of the same. The Procureur du Roi consequently interfered; and thenceforward the parties to the suit, in appearance at least, were Louis XI. and those whom he had spoiled. The parliament, with an independence which does it honour, availed itself of every pretext for securing to the oppressed family some remnant of their ancient domains. A great deal of the property had been sold to the king by the last possessor, but the conveyance had been illegally made, and of this the La Tremoilles furnished abundant proof. Louis XI. then adduced the letters of confiscation issued by his father against Louis d’Amboise: and if this property had been subsequently restored to that nobleman, it was, urged the king’s advocates, on conditions which had not been accomplished—among others, on condition that Jeanne d’Amboise should not marry without the consent of Charles VII. That permission, replied La Tremoille, had been obtained; but where was the proof? doubtless in the archives of the Chateau de Thouars, the ancient residence of their ancestors.

Louis XI., it will be remembered, had ordered the Seigneur de Bressuyre to take possession of this chateau at the beginning of the last illness of Louis d’Amboise. After his decease, no member of his family, not even his widow, was allowed to enter it. A very summary inventory of the furniture was hastily prepared, and great care was taken not to particularise the contents of the charter chests. In order to sustain his pretended rights against the persistent opposition of the La Tremoille family, and to cloak the most revolting iniquity with a show of justice, the king appointed a commission of inquiry to search the archives of Thouars for letters likely to serve his case. Two documents of great importance were found, under the hand and seal of Charles VII.; one granting the Vicomte de Thouars the restitution of all his confiscated property, and the other giving him permission to marry his daughter to the Prince of Bretagne, or any other husband he might select. Commines, who was one of the commissioners, saw at once that these papers would destroy all his chances of success, and he threw them into the fire. Jean Chambon, another commissioner, took them out again immediately, expressing his indignation at such culpable conduct; and the papers were transmitted to the king, whom Commines had informed of their character. On receiving them from the Seigneur de Bressuyre, the wily monarch threw them into the fire, saying, “It is not I who burn them, but the fire:” and he required all present to swear never to divulge what they had seen.