ce to a hundred thousand devils," comments the suave Chastellain,
aghast at this impolite, emphatic, though indirect reference to Louis
XI.

Equally aghast were the Burgundian courtiers present at this occasion.
After all, they, too, were French by nature. To wreck the new-made
peace for the sake of the English alliance, which had never been
really popular among them, that seemed an act of rash unwisdom.

"A murmur went the rounds of the ducal suite because their chief
thus implied contempt for the name of France to which the duke
belonged. Not going quite so far as to call himself English,
though that was what his heart was, he boasted of his mother,
ancient friend of England and enemy of France."

There were, indeed, times when the duke was more emphatic in asserting
his English blood. Plancher cites a scrap of writing in his own hands
which probably belonged to a letter to the magistrates and citizens of
Calais, whom he addresses, "O you my friends."[20] While reiterating
that he simply must defend his own state he adds, "By St. George who
knows me to be a better Englishman and more anxious for the weal of
England than you other English ... [you] shall recognise that I am
sprung from the blood of Lancaster," etc. His claims of kinship varied
with the circumstances.

While he was so conscious of his own greatness, present and future,
and of his own laudable intentions to do well by his subjects, it is
quite possible, too, that Charles was puzzled more or less consciously
by his failure to win popularity. For he was quite as unpopular with
his courtiers as with his subjects. The former did not like the rigid
court rules. There was no pleasure in sitting through audiences silent
and stiff "as at a sermon," and exposed to personal reprimands from
their chief if there were the slightest lapses from his standard of
conduct. They did not know on what meat the duke was feeding his
imagination, an imagination that already saw him as Caesar. Had he
actually attained the loftier rank that he dreamed of, his premature
arrogance might have been forgotten, but his pride of glory invisible
to the world about him was undoubtedly a bar to his popularity during
the years 1470-73.

Before this pompous scene passed at St. Omer, Louis had been relieved
of anxiety in regard to the stability of his kingdom, and the dangers
of an heir like his brother who might easily be used as a tool by some
clever faction oppo