The chronicles of Enguerrand de Monstrelet, Vol. 11 [of 13]

by Enguerrand de Monstrelet

FOOTNOTES:

[84] The earl of Warwick was killed at the battle of Barnet,—and the prince of Wales was ungenerously murdered after the fatal battle of Tewkesbury, for a spirited answer to an insolent demand from Edward IV.

[85] Never was the proverb of 'like master like man'—'tel mâitre, tel valet,' so truly exemplified as in Louis XI. and Olivier le Diable, Olivier le Mauvais, or, as the king ordered him to be called in his letters of nobility, Olivier le Daim. I copy from the 222d number of Proofs to Comines what M. Godefroy said of this infamous character.

'Philip de Comines cries out justly against the choice the king made of a man of such a character as his ambassador to the princess of Burgundy. Master Olivier (for thus he was called in the low countries, where, to this day, the masters of any trade are called by their Christian names only) was born in the little town of Thielt, a dependancy on the castlewick of Courtray in Flanders. He went to France and became barber to the king, whose confidence he gained by his intrigues.

'Having acquired great riches, the desire of appearing with eclat in the country of his birth, which is the usual presumption of persons suddenly raised from the dregs of the people to high rank, blinded him so much that he accepted of an embassy, which he naturally should have refused, if he had not been devoured with pride.

'The magnificence of his equipage only served to make him more despised by his countrymen—and the barber was plainly seen under the dress of a prince. The ghent men would have made his time pass unpleasantly, and, if he had not avoided it by a precipitate retreat, would have suffered what he afterward could not escape from.

'He was one of the most profligate and unprincipled men in the world.'

Here follows what a french author, named Boitel, relates of the latter end of his life, in the 321st page 'des intentions morales, civiles, et militaires d'Antoine le Pipre,' printed at Antwerp in the year 1625.

'You must know that Louis XI. king of France, bewitched with friendship for Olivier le Daim, (whose first trade was that of barber) made him governor of the castle of Loches, which was and is at this moment, a handsome establishment, appointed him to the government of St Quentin, in Picardy, and made him one of the gentlemen of his bed-chamber. He had purchased considerable lordships from the great riches he possessed, and plunged into all kinds of luxuries, as well during the king's life as after his death.

'It happened one day that a young gentleman committed a crime, for which the provost of the king's household had him confined. His wife, fearing the consequences might be fatal to her husband, solicited every one whom she thought had credit with king Charles VIII. Thinking that Olivier le Daim might enjoy the same favour as with the late king, from seeing him richly dressed, followed by many of the courtiers, and having admittance to the king's apartments when he pleased, she addressed herself to him, and entreated that he would obtain her husband's liberty. Olivier observing that the suitress was young, handsome, and elegantly made, promised the deliverance of her husband, provided she would yield to his desires, which after many difficulties, she consented to.

'To perform his promise, he went to the provost and desired that he would not criminate the gentleman, which he refused. He then begged that he would allow him to escape, as if he had forced his way out of prison; but this he more obstinately refused. Master Olivier, seeing himself thus disappointed, began to reproach the provost for his ingratitude,—for he had given him his place, and had also obtained for him, from Louis XI. many rich presents; and when that king was much irritated against him for bad management in his office, he had appeased the king's anger. In short, these reproaches had such an effect on the provost that he told him to consider on some means for the prisoner to escape, provided that he were not brought into trouble, nor implicated,—for those who had caused him to be confined had great power. Master Olivier replied, that the most secure method would be to strangle him in his dungeon, and to throw the body into the river; for then his enemies would be satisfied, and his wife, by avoiding the infamy of a public execution, would likewise be contented,—and this would be the means of gratifying all parties.

'Having fixed on their plan, master Olivier solicited the lady to come that night to his lodgings, which she complied with, assuring herself that on the morrow she should obtain her husband's liberty; but she was deceived; for while master Olivier, was caressing her in bed, his valet de chambre Daniel, with another called Oyac, strangled the miserable gentleman in the provost's prison, and then dragged the body to the Seine. The corpse floated on the water, as they were unable to sink it. The boatmen drew it to the bank, where it lay the whole day, and was viewed by numbers, who immediately recognised it for the body of such a gentleman. The wife, who had risen early in the expectation of meeting her husband, was told that he had been drowned, and was then lying on the bank of the river. Thither she hastened and found the report but too true.

'This unfortunate lady flung herself on the corpse, and, with bitter tears, cursed Olivier le Daim, who had deceived her, and ravished her honour, under promise of procuring her husband's liberty. Her lamentations excited the pity of the populace in so great a decree that they informed the officers of justice of what had happened. On this, master Olivier was arrested, and sentenced to the torture; but without suffering much, he confessed the fact, imagining his judges would not dare to condemn him, and, if they should, he trusted to his favour with the king. He was, however, completely mistaken; for, being hated for his abuse of authority under Louis XI. he was sentenced to be hanged and strangled. His servant Daniel was condemned to make a pecuniary restitution to the widow.

'With regard to Oyac, he was not hanged, because it had appeared on the trial that he would not assist to strangle the gentleman in prison, although he had aided to throw him into the river; for which he was condemned to have his ears cut off, his tongue pierced, and to be banished the realm.

'Master Olivier was pitied by none: and it may be shown, from an infinity of examples, that a disgraceful or an unfortunate death is commonly the lot of such as put their trust in the favour of princes, abuse their authority, and only make use of their great riches in the commission of the most enormous crimes. God becomes tired of their iniquities, and commences even in this world to punish them for their wickednesses.'

This crime may be nearly matched by that of another monster in our own country. Colonel Kirke, when pursuing the duke of Monmouth's partisans at Taunton, was guilty of an act attended with rather more insulting cruelty; and to him likewise may be applied the motto, 'Tel mâitre, tel valet.'

There is also a similar story told in 491. of the Spectator; but it is not mentioned by Comines, or by any other historian of that period that I am acquainted with.