At each of King René’s residences, and more especially at Aix, he designed and erected a raised architectural loggia, or terrace, which at once gained the name of _La Cheminée du Roy_. Here he was wont to spend a good deal of his time in the enjoyment of the fresh air and the contemplation of the persons and avocations of his subjects within range. Here, too, he gave audience to all sorts and conditions of his subjects, passing the time of the day merely to many, but with some of them entering fully into matters proposed for his consideration. Craftsmen, tradesmen, and merchants, were accustomed to pass that way to expose commodities, and exhibit novelties which might tempt the Royal patronage. One salient object of this amiable habit was that, as he put it, “my children may see their father, and take cognizance of my state of health and my pursuits.” René lived and worked among and for his people, and none who approached him ever went away empty or dissatisfied. Nothing pleased him better than a morning salutation or an evening serenade by troubadour-jongleurs and other makers of music and of fun. Sometimes the municipal authorities made courteous protests to their liege Lord for the creation of crowds and obstruction to the free circulation of the traffic. To all such representations the King turned a ready ear, but also turned their pleas into subjects for good-humoured merriment. “You see,” he used to say, “I am something of a troubadour myself, and life’s serious moods require joyous elevation.” René was great in loving-cups, or, more correctly, their contents. Nothing pleased him more than to hand to anyone who had interested or amused him a delicious beverage, and often enough in the utmost good-humour he bade the recipient keep the cup as a memento of his interview--and “mind,” he added, “you drink my health and Queen Jehanne’s sometimes.” René’s consideration of and generosity to his servants and attendants was proverbial. The _Comptes_ are full of instructions to his Treasurers to pay such and such sums of money or other benefactions. To Jehan de Sérancourt, an equerry, for example, he gave a purse of 200 ducats, “for thy skilful care of my favourite charger.” To Alain le Hérault, a valet and barber “a gold snuffbox and fifty ducats for his daughter’s confinement.” He was very fond of quoting the example of Marie d’Harcourt, mother of his son-in-law Ferri de Vaudémont, who died in 1476. She was affectionately called “the Mother of the Poor.” “She was rightly called; am not I, then, father too?”