"The Duke of Berry, he is dead,
Brittany doth nod his head,
Burgundy doth sulky sit,
While Louis works with every wit."[32]
Such was the tenor of a doggerel verse sung in France, a verse that probably never came to Charles's ears—though Louis might have listened to it cheerfully.
Infinitely disastrous were the events of that summer to Charles of Burgundy. Not only had he lost in allies, not only had he squandered life and money uselessly in his reckless expedition over the north of France, but his own retinue was diminished and weakened by the men whom Louis had succeeded in luring from his service. The loss that Charles suffered was not only for the time but for posterity. Among those convinced that there was more scope for men of talent in France than in Burgundy was that clever observer of humanity who had been at Charles's side for eight years. In August of 1472, Philip de Commines took French leave of his master and betook himself to Louis, who evidently was not surprised at his advent.
The historian's own words in regard to this change of base are laconic: "About this time I entered the king's service (and it was the year 1472), who had received the majority of the servitors of his brother the Duke of Guienne. And he was then at Pont de Cé."[33] This passing from one lord to another happened on the night between the 7th and 8th of August, when the Burgundian army lay near Eu.
The suddenness of the departure was probably due to the duke's discovery of his servant's intentions not yet wholly ripe, and those intentions had undoubtedly been formed at Orleans, in 1471, when Commines made a secret journey to the king. On his way back to Burgundy, he deposited a large sum of money at Tours. Evidently he did not dare put this under his own name, or claim it when it was confiscated as the property of a notorious adherent of Louis's foe.[34]
When the fugitive reached the French court, however, he was amply recompensed for all his losses.[35] For, naturally, at his flight, all his Burgundian estates were abandoned.[36] It was at six o'clock on the morning of August 8th that the deed was signed whereby the duke transferred to the Seigneur de Quiévrain all the rights appertaining to Philip de Commines, "which rights together with all the property of whatever kind have escheated to us by virtue of confiscation because he has to-day, the date of this document, departed from our obedience and gone as a fugitive to the party opposed to us."[37]
There are various surmises as to the cause of this precipitate departure. Not improbable is the suggestion that Charles often overstepped the bounds of courtesy towards his followers. Once, so runs one story, he found the historian sleeping on his bed where he had flung himself while awaiting his master. Charles pulled off one of his boots "to give him more ease" and struck him in the face with it. In derision the courtiers called Commines tête bottée, and their mocking sank deep into his soul.
Contemporary writers make little of the chronicler's defection. These crossings from the peer's to the king's camp were accepted occurrences. But by Charles they were not accepted. There is a vindictive look about the hour when he disposes of his late confidant's possessions, only explicable by intense indignation not itemised in the deed approved by the court of Mons.[38]
More loyal was that other chronicler, Olivier de la Marche, though to him, also, came intimations that he would find a pleasant welcome at the French court. He, too, had opportunities galore to make links with Louis. The accounts teem with references to his secret missions here and there, and with mention of the rewards paid, all carefully itemised. So zealous was this messenger on his master's commissions, that his hackneys were ruined by his fast riding and had to be sold for petty sums. The keen eye of Louis XI. was not blind to the quality of La Marche's services, and he thought that they, too, might be diverted to his use.[39]