e this as showing what a large
price he set, not so much on peace, as on seven days of freedom. Seven
days!--he would make them seven years in the employment. Finally, he
assured the ambassadors of his good-will to Philip of Burgundy;
squeezed one of them by the hand and nipped him twice in the arm to
signify things unspeakable before Suffolk; and two days after sent them
Suffolk's barber, one Jean Carnet, a native of Lille, to testify more
freely of his sentiments. "As I speak French," said this emissary, "the
Duke of Orleans is more familiar with me than any other of the
household; and I can bear witness he never said anything against Duke
Philip."[38] It will be remembered that this person, with whom he was so
anxious to stand well, was no other than his hereditary enemy, the son
of his father's murderer. But the honest fellow bore no malice,
indeed--not he. He began exchanging ballades with Philip, whom he
apostrophises as his companion, his cousin, and his brother. He assures
him that, soul and body, he is altogether Burgundian; and protests that
he has given his heart in pledge to him. Regarded as the history of a
vendetta, it must be owned that Charles's life has points of some
originality. And yet there is an engaging frankness about these ballades
which disarms criticism.[39] You see Charles throwing himself
head-foremost into the trap; you hear Burgundy, in his answers, begin to
inspire him with his own prejudices, and draw melancholy pictures of the
misgovernment of France. But Charles's own spirits are so high and so
amiable, and he is so thoroughly convinced his cousin is a fine fellow,
that one's scruples are carried away in the torrent of his happiness and
gratitude. And his would be a sordid spirit who would not clap hands at
the consummation (Nov. 1440); when Charles, after having sworn on the
Sacrament that he would never again bear arms against England, and
pledged himself body and soul to the unpatriotic faction in his own
country, set out from London with a light heart and a damaged integrity.

In the magnificent copy of Charles's poems, given by our Henry VII. to
Elizabeth of York on the occasion of their marriage, a large
illumination figures at the head of one of the pages, which, in
chronological perspective, is almost a history of his imprisonment. It
gives a view of London with all its spires, the river passing through
the old bridge and busy with boats. One side of the white Tower has been
ta