From
all sides, ladies and gentlemen thronged to offer him their services;
some gave him their sons for pages, some archers for a bodyguard; and by
the time he reached Tournay, he had a following of 300 horse. Everywhere
he was received as though he had been the king of France. [44] If he did
not come to imagine himself something of the sort, he certainly forgot
the existence of any one with a better claim to the title. He conducted
himself on the hypothesis that Charles VII. was another Charles VI. He
signed with enthusiasm that treaty of Arras, which left France almost at
the discretion of Burgundy. On December 18 he was still no further than
Bruges, where he entered into a private treaty with Philip; and it was
not until January 14, ten weeks after he disembarked in France, and
attended by a ruck of Burgundian gentlemen, that he arrived in Paris and
offered to present himself before Charles VII. The King sent word that
he might come, if he would, with a small retinue, but not with his
present following; and the duke, who was mightily on his high horse
after all the ovations he had received, took the King's attitude amiss,
and turned aside into Touraine, to receive more welcome and more
presents, and be convoyed by torchlight into faithful cities. And so you see here was King Arthur home again, and matters nowise
mended in consequence. The best we can say is, that this last stage of
Charles's public life was of no long duration. His confidence was soon
knocked out of him in the contact with others. He began to find he was
an earthen vessel among many vessels of brass; he began to be shrewdly
aware that he was no King Arthur. In 1442, at Limoges, he made himself
the spokesman of the malcontent nobility. The King showed himself
humiliatingly indifferent to his counsels, and humiliatingly generous
towards his necessities. And there, with some blushes, he may be said to
have taken farewell of the political stage. A feeble attempt on the
county of Asti is scarce worth the name of exception. Thenceforward let
Ambition wile whom she may into the turmoil of events, our duke will
walk cannily in his well-ordered garden, or sit by the fire to touch the
slender reed. [45]


  IV

If it were given each of us to transplant his life wherever he pleased
in time or space, with all the ages and all the countries of the world
to choose from, there would be quite an instructive diversity of taste. A certain sedentary majority would prefer to remain where they were. Many would choose the Renaissance; many some stately and simple period
of Grecian life; and still more elect to pass a few years wandering
among the villages of Palestine with an inspired conductor. For some of
our quaintly vicious contemporaries, we have the decline of the Roman
Empire and the reign of Henry III. of France. But there are others not
quite so vicious, who yet cannot look upon the world with perfect
gravity, who have never taken the categorical imperative to wife, and
have more taste for what is comfortable than for what is magnanimous and
high; and I can imagine some of these casting their lot in the court of
Blois during the last twenty years of the life of Charles of Orleans. The duke and duchess, their staff of officers and ladies, and the
high-born and learned persons who were attracted to Blois on a visit,
formed a society for killing time and perfecting each other in various
elegant accomplishments, such as we might imagine for an ideal
watering-place in the Delectable Mountains. The company hunted and went
on pleasure-parties; they played chess, tables, and many other games. What we now call the history of the period passed, I imagine, over the
heads of these good people much as it passes over our own. News reached
them, indeed, of great and joyful import. William Peel received eight
livres and five sous from the duchess when he brought the first tidings
that Rouen was recaptured from the English. [46] A little later and the
duke sang, in a truly patriotic vein, the deliverance of Guyenne and
Normandy. [47] They were liberal of rhymes and largesse, and welcomed the
prosperity of their country much as they welcomed the coming of spring,
and with no more thought of collaborating towards the event. Religion
was not forgotten in the court of Blois. Pilgrimages were agreeable and
picturesque excursions. In those days a well-served chapel was something
like a good vinery in our own,--an opportunity for display and the
source of mild enjoyments. There was probably something of his rooted
delight in pageantry, as well as a good deal of gentle piety, in the
feelings with which Charles gave dinner every Friday to thirteen poor
people, served them himself, and washed their feet with his own
hands. [48] Solemn affairs would interest Charles and his courtiers from
their trivial side. The duke perhaps cared less for the deliverance of
Guyenne and Normandy than for his own verses on the occasion; just as
Dr. Russell's correspondence in _The Times_ was among the most material
parts of the Crimean War for that talented correspondent. And I think it
scarcely cynical to suppose that religion as well as patriotism was
principally cultivated as a means of filling up the day. It was not only messengers fiery red with haste and charged with the
destiny of nations who were made welcome at the gates of Blois. If any
man of accomplishment came that way, he was sure of an audience, and
something for his pocket. The courtiers would have received Ben Jonson
like Drummond of Hawthornden, and a good pugilist like Captain Barclay. They were catholic, as none but the entirely idle can be catholic. It
might be Pierre, called Dieu d'amours, the juggler; or it might be
three high English minstrels; or the two men, players of ghitterns, from
the kingdom of Scotland, who sang the destruction of the Turks; or again
Jehan Rognelet, player of instruments of music, who played and danced
with his wife and two children; they would each be called into the
castle to give a taste of his proficiency before my lord the duke. [49]
Sometimes the performance was of a more personal interest, and produced
much the same sensations as are felt on an English green on the arrival
of a professional cricketer, or round an English billiard-table during a
match between Roberts and Cook. This was when Jehan Nègre, the Lombard,
came to Blois and played chess against all these chess-players, and won
much money from my lord and his intimates; or when Baudet Harenc of
Chalons made ballades before all these ballade-makers. [50]

It will not surprise the reader to learn they were all makers of
ballades and rondels. To write verses for May-day seems to have been as
much a matter of course as to ride out with the cavalcade that went to
gather hawthorn. The choice of Valentines was a standing challenge, and
the courtiers pelted each other with humorous and sentimental verses as
in a literary carnival.