Warfare played no part in this reign.  Invasion was met by diplomacy, and slaughter and bloodshed were relegated to the executioner.  Incredible as it seems, it is said that from his windows this king could look out upon an avenue of gibbets upon which hung the bodies of his enemies.  The humorous spirit in which he disposed of obstructive nobles is illustrated by a note to an unsuspecting victim.  “Fair cousin, come and give us your advice.  We have need of so wise a head as yours.”  And in the morning the fair cousin’s wise head was in a basket filled with sawdust!

When all was done, a town council meant more than the “Order of the Golden Fleece”; and, pari passu, with the humiliation of the noble came the elevation of the bourgeois.  A nameless adventurer would be admitted to confidential intimacy when a Montmorenci could not get beyond his antechamber.

In fact, this levelling up and levelling down was the object of all this king’s odious crimes and the central purpose of his cold-blooded reign.  If a patent of nobility was a pretty good passport to the scaffold, good service in a town council was an open door to elevation.

So, judged by results, Louis XI. was a better king than many a better man had been.  He buried the ideals of the past fathoms deep and then stamped them down with remorseless feet.  He demolished the political structure of mediaevalism in his kingdom, and when his terrible reign was ended, in 1483, the Middle Ages had passed away and modern life had begun in France.

Almost any reign would have seemed colorless after that of Louis XI.  But that of his son, Charles VIII., was made memorable by one event, an invasion of Italy, which brought to France a long train of disastrous consequences.

It will be remembered that in the thirteenth century, Charles, Duke of Anjou, of Sicilian fame, or infamy, and brother of Louis the Saint, occupied the throne of Naples by invitation of the pope.

The family of Anjou having recently become extinct, Charles was now the rightful heir to that throne.  So as there was nothing in especial for him to do at home, and as his new army, created and equipped by his father, was a very splendid affair for that day, and as Charles was young and ambitious of a name, he determined to take forcible possession of his inheritance in Italy.

The success of the enterprise was quite dazzling.  Milan, Florence, Rome, were successively occupied, and finally Charles was actually seated upon the throne in Naples (1495).

But the seat was not comfortable.  The Neapolitans did not want him; and, what was more important, Spain, England, and Austria talked of uniting to drive him out.  And so he and his army returned to France, and all that had been gained by the enterprise was a wide-open door between France and Italy at the very time when it might better have been kept closed, and the discovery by Europe that the Italian peninsula was an easy prey to any ambitious European power.  What Charles had done might also, and more effectually, be done by England, Spain, or Austria.  All of which bore bitter fruit in the next century.