His entry into the fallen town was made with all the wonted Burgundian pomp. Nothing in the proceedings occurred in a headlong or passionate manner. A council of war was held and the proceedings decided upon. The cruelty that was exercised was used in deliberate punishment, not in savage lawlessness. The personal insults to his mother and to himself rankled in the count's mind. As one author remarks23 with undoubted reason, it is not likely that any of those responsible for the insult were among those punished. After the siege, "pitiable it was to see, for the innocent suffered and the guilty escaped."
Certain rich citizens bought their lives with large sums, others were sold as slaves,24 or were hanged or beheaded, or were thrown into the Meuse.25 In the monasteries, life was conceded to the inmates but that was all. All their property was confiscated. The Count of St. Pol, now Constable of France, tried to intercede for the citizens with Philip who remained at Bouvignes, but to no result. It might have been chance or it might have been intentional that at last flames completed the work of destruction. The abode of Adolph of Cleves, at the corner of Nôtre Dame, was found to be on fire at about one o'clock in the morning of Thursday, August 28th.
That Charles was responsible for this conflagration Du Clercq thinks is incredible.26 He would certainly have saved all ecclesiastical property which was almost completely consumed. Indeed, Charles gave orders to extinguish the flames as soon as they were discovered, but every one was so occupied with saving his own portion of booty that nothing was accomplished and the town-hall caught fire and the church of Nôtre Dame. From the latter some ornaments and treasures were saved and the bones of Ste. Perpète, with other holy relics, were rescued by Charles himself at risk to his own life.
"It was never known how the fire originated. Some say it was due to a defective flue. To my mind," [concludes the pious historian], 27 "it was the Divine Will that Dinant should be destroyed on account of the pride and ill deeds of the people. I trust to God who knows all. The duke's people alone lost more than a hundred thousand crowns' value."
Cy fust Dinant, "Dinant was," is the sum of his description, four days after the conflagration. 28
On September 1st, Philip, who had remained at Bouvignes while all this passed under the direction of Charles, took boat and sailed down to Namur. It was almost a triumph,—that trip that proved one of the last ever made by the proud duke—and the procession on the river and the entry into Namur were closed by a humble embassy from Liege in regard to certain points of their peace.
Du Clercq gravely relates, by the way, that the Count of St. Pol's men had had no part in the plunder of Dinant. This was hard on the poor fellows. Therefore, Philip turned over to their mercies, as a compensation for this deprivation, the little town of Tuin, which had been rebellious and then submitted. Tuin accepted its fate, submitted to St. Pol, and then compounded the right of pillage for a round sum of money. Moreover, they promised to lay low their gates and their walls and those of St. Trond. In this way, it is said that the constable made ten thousand Rhenish florins. Still both he and his men felt ill-compensated for the loss of the booty of Dinant.
Charles continued a kind of harassing warfare on the various towns of Liege territory. The people of Liege themselves seem to have varied in their humour towards Charles, sometimes being very humble in their petitions for peace and again very insolent. As a rule, this conduct seems to be traceable to their hope of Louis's support. On September 7th, there was one pitched battle where victory decided the final terms of the general peace, and after various skirmishes and submissions, Charles disbanded his troops for the winter and joined his father at Brussels.
[Footnote 1: Doc. inédits sur l'hist. de France. "Mélanges," ii., 398.]
[Footnote 2: Polain, Récits historiques sur l'ancien pays de Liège, I, etc.]
[Footnote 3: See Kirk, Charles the Bold, i., 329.]
[Footnote 4: Jacques de Hemricourt suggested four chief points of difficulty in Liege government:
-
The size of the council—two hundred, where twenty
would do.
-
The equal voice granted to all gilds without regard to
size, when all were assembled by the council to vote on a
matter.
-
Extension of franchise to youths of fifteen.
- Facile naturalisation laws.
(See Kirk, i., 325.)]
[Footnote 5: In many cases when the interdict was imposed, it is probable that it was only partially operative.]
[Footnote 6: See Victor Hugo, Le Rhin, i. The Walloon dialect varies greatly between the towns. Here are a few words of the "Prodigal Son" as they are written in Liege, Huy, and Lille:
-
LIEGE. Jésus lizi d'ha co: In homme aveut deux fis.
Li pus jone dérit à s'père: père dinnez-m'con qui m'dent riv'
ni di vosse bin; et l'père lezi partagea s'bin.
-
HUY. Jésus l'zi d'ha co: Eun homme avut deux fis. Li
peus jone dérit a s'père etc.
- LILLE. Jesus leu dit incore: un homme avot deux garchens. L'pus jeune dit à sin père-mon père donez me ch que j'dor recouvre d'vo bien; et l'père leu-z-a doné a chacun leu parchen.
See also Doc. inédits concernant l'hist. de la Belgique, ii., 238, for comment on Scott's treatment of the language.]
[Footnote 7: The numbers are probably exaggerated. To-day it contains about two hundred thousand.]
[Footnote 8: Du Clercq, iv., 203.]
[Footnote 9: Du Clercq, iv., 249.]
[Footnote 10: Du Clercq, iv., 239-262.]
[Footnote 11: Gachard, Doc. inéd., ii., 285, 322. For letters and negotiations anterior to this peace see p. 197 et seq.]
[Footnote 12: Duclos, v., 236.]
[Footnote 13: Book ii., ch. i. To-day there are only about eight thousand inhabitants.]
[Footnote 14: In addition to Commines and Du Clercq see also Kirk, i., 385, for quotations from Borgnet and others.]
[Footnote 15: Gachard, Doc. inéd., i., 213, et passim.]
[Footnote 16: Gachard, Doc. inéd., ii., 350.]
[Footnote 17: Est falme commune que tres haute princesse la ducesse de Bourgogne, à cause desdictes injures at conclut telle hayne sur cestedite ville de Dinant qu'elle a juré comme on dist que s'il li devoit couster tout son vaellant, fera ruynner cestedite ville en mettant toutes personnes à l'espée. (Gachard, Doc. inéd., ii., 222.)]
[Footnote 18: Gachard, Doc. inéd., ii., 337, et passim.]
[Footnote 19: Du Clercq, iv., 273.]
[Footnote 20: He says messengers were put to death without regard to their sacred office, even a little child being torn limb from limb. Priests were thrown into the river for refusing to say mass, and the situation was strained to the last degree.]
[Footnote 21: Qui a mandé ce vieil monnart vostre duc, etc.]
[Footnote 22: Du Clercq, iv., 278.]
[Footnote 23: De Ram, Documents relatifs aux troubles du pays de Liége, "Henricus de Merica," p. 159.]
[Footnote 24: Vel vendebantur in servos. See De Ram et passim for documents.]
[Footnote 25: It seems to be well attested that the prisoners were tied together and drowned.]
[Footnote 26: Du Clercq, iv., 280.]
[Footnote 27: Ibid., 281.]
[Footnote 28: In 1472, a new church was erected "on the spot formerly called Dinant" and after that, little by little, the town came to life. (Gachard, Analectes Belgiques, 318, etc.).]
CHAPTER VIII
THE NEW DUKE
1467
The Good Duke's journey to Bouvignes where he witnessed the manner in which his authority was vindicated was his last effort. In the early summer following, on Friday, June 10th, Philip, then at Bruges, was taken ill and died on the following Monday, June 13th, between nine and ten in the evening.1 Charles was summoned on the Sunday, and it seemed as though his horse's hoofs hardly struck the pavement as he rode, so swift was his course on the way to Bruges.
When he reached the house where his father lay dying, he was told that speech had already ceased, but that there was still life. The count threw himself on his knees by the bedside, weeping in all tenderness, and implored a paternal benediction and pardon for all wherein he had offended his father. Near the duke stood his confessor who begged the dying man to make a sign if he could still understand what was said to him. On this admonition and in reply to his son's prayers, Philip turned his eyes to Charles, looked at him and pressed the hand which was laid upon his own, but further token was beyond his strength. The count stayed by his side until he breathed his last.
Thus ended the life of a man who had been a striking figure in Europe for forty years. His most fervent dream, indeed, had never been fulfilled. All his pompous vows to wrest the Holy Land from the invading Turks had proved vain. Many years had passed since he had had military success of any kind, and even in his earlier life his successes had been owing to diplomacy and to a happy conjunction of circumstances rather than to skilful generalship. He possessed pre-eminently the power of personality.
When Duke John of Burgundy fell on the bridge at Montereau and Philip came into his heritage, Henry V. of England was in the full flush of his prosperity, standing triumphant over England and France, and in a position to make good his claim with three stalwart brothers to back him. All these young men had died prematurely. Their only descendant was Henry VI., and that meagre and wretched representative of the ambitious Henry V. had had no spark of the character of his father and uncles. The one vigorous element in his life was his wife, Margaret of Anjou, who diligently exerted herself to keep her husband on his throne. In vain were her efforts. By 1467, Edward of York was on that throne. Gone, too, was Charles VII., whose father's acts had clouded his early, whose son darkened his latter years.
Out of his group of contemporaries, Duke Philip alone had marched steadily to every desired goal. His epitaph gave a fairly accurate list of his achievements in doggerel verses:
"John was born of Philip, child of good King John.
To that John, I, Philip, was born his eldest son.
Flanders, Artois, and Burgundy his will bequeathed to me
Therein to follow him and rule them legally.
With Holland, Zealand, Hainaut, my own realm greater grew.
Luxemburg, Brabant, Namur soon were added too.
The Liegeois and the German my lawful rights defied,
By force of right and arms they have been pacified.
At one single time against me were maintained
French, English, German forces,—nothing have they gained.
Against King Charles the Seventh, I warred in great array.
From me he begged a peace and king was from that day!
The mighty conflicts that I fought in all are numbered seven.
Not once was I defeated. To God the praise be given.
Time and time again Liege and Ghent revolted,
But I put them down. I would not be insulted.
In Barrois and Lorraine, King René warred upon me.
Of Sicily erst king, captivity soon won he.
Louis, son of Charles, depressed and refugee,
From me received his crown. Five years my guest was he.
Edward, Duke of York, fled, wretched, to my land;
That now he's England's king is due my aid and hand.
To defend the Church, which is the House Divine,
The Golden Fleece was founded, that great order mine.
Christian faith to succour in vigour and in strength,
My galleys sailed the sea in all its dreary length.
In later days I planned and most sincerely meant
To take the field myself, but Death did that prevent.
When Eugene the Pope by the council was disdained,
Through my control alone as Pope was he retained.
In 1467, Time my goal has set.
When I am seventy-one, I pay Dame Nature's debt.
With father and grandfather, I now lie buried here.
As in life I ever was their equal and their peer.
Good Jesu was my guide in every word and deed,
Beseech him every one that Heaven be my meed!"
The territories thus named, that passed to the new duke, covered a goodly space of earth. Had Philip not slacked his ambition at a critical time, undoubtedly he could have left a royal rather than a ducal crown to his son. He did not so will it, and, moreover, in a way he had receded from his independence as he had accepted feudal obligations towards Louis XI. which he never had towards Charles VII.
Lured by the hope of becoming prime adviser of the French king, he had emphasised his position as first peer of France. Thus it was as Duke of Burgundy par excellence that Philip died, as the typical peer whose luxury and magnificence far surpassed the state possible to his acknowledged liege. To his son was bequeathed the task of attempting to turn that ducal state into state royal, and of establishing a realm which should hold the balance of power between France and Germany.
There was no doubt in Charles's mind as to which was the greater, the cleverer, the more powerful of the two, Louis the king and Charles the duke. Had not the former been a beggarly suppliant at his father's gates, as dauphin? As king, had he not been forced to yield at the gates of his own capital to every demand made by Charles, standing as the conscientious representative of the public welfare of France?
Had not Louis befriended the contumelious neighbour of Charles, only to learn that his Burgundian cousin could and would deal summarily with all protests against his authority among the lesser folk on Netherland territory?
The Croys made an attempt to gain the new duke's friendship, as appears from this letter to Duke Charles:
"Our very excellent lord, we have heard that it has pleased Our Lord to take to Himself and to withdraw from the world the good Duke Philip, our beloved lord and father, prince of glorious memory, august duke, most Christian champion of the faith, patron and pattern of the virtues and honours of Christianity, and the dread of infidel lands. By his valorous deeds, he has won an immortal name among living men, and deserves to our mind to find grace before the merciful bounty of God whom we implore to pardon his faults.
"Alas! our most doughty seigneur, thus dolorous death shows what is to be expected by all mortals. How many lands, how many nobles, how many peoples, how many treasures, and how many powers would have been ready to prevent what has come to pass, and how many prayers would have risen to God could He have prevented this death!...
"Death is inevitable, and the death of the good is the end of all evils and the beginning of all benefits, but still your loss and ours cannot pass without affliction. Nevertheless, our most puissant lord, when we consider that we are not left orphans, and that you, his only son, remain to fill his place, this is a cause for comfort.
"We implore you to be pleased to count us your loyal subjects and very humble servitors and to permit us to go to you, to thus declare ourselves, etc.
"A. DE CROY,
"J. DE CROY."
At the time of the duke's death, Olivier de La Marche was in England, whither he had accompanied the Bastard of Burgundy on a mission to King Edward.2 Right royally had the latter received the embassy.
"Clad in purple, the garter on his leg and a great baton in his hand, he seemed, indeed, a personage worthy of being king, for he was a fine prince with a grand manner. A count held the sword in front of him, and around his throne were from twenty to twenty-five old councillors, white-haired and looking like senators gathered together to advise their master."
Thus appeared Edward on the occasion of a tourney given in honour of the embassy which La Marche proceeds to describe in detail. The Bastard of Burgundy, wearing the Burgundian coat-of-arms with a bar sinister, made a fine record for himself.
After the tournament he invited the ladies to a Sunday dinner,
"especially the Queen and her sisters and made great preparations therefor and then we departed, Thomas de Loreille, Bailiff of Caux, and I to go to Brittany to accomplish our embassy. We arrived at Pleume and were obliged to await wind and boats to go into Brittany. While there, came the news that the Duke of Burgundy was dead. You may believe how great was the bastard's mourning when he heard of his father's death, and how the nobility who were with him mourned too. Their pleasures were melted into tears and lamentations for he died like a prince in all valour.
"In his life he accomplished two things to the full. One was he died as the richest prince of his time, for he left four hundred thousand crowns of gold cash, seventy-two thousand marks of silver plate, without counting rich tapestries, rings, gold dishes garnished with precious stones, a large and well equipped library, and rich furniture. For the second, he died as the most liberal duke of his time. He married his nieces at his own expense; he bore the whole cost of great wars several times. At his own expense, he refitted the church and chapel at Jerusalem. He gave ten thousand crowns to build the tower of Burgundy at Rhodes; ... No one went from him who was not well recompensed. The state he maintained was almost royal. For five years he supported Monseigneur the Dauphin, and was a prince so renowned that all the world spoke well of him."
The Bastard of Burgundy took leave of the English court and hastened to Bruges to join his brother, the Count of Charolais, who received him warmly. "Henceforth," explains Olivier, "when I mention the said count I will call him the Duke of Burgundy as is reasonable."
Solemnly was the prince's body carried into the church of St. Donat in Bruges, there to repose until it could be taken to Burgundy to be buried at Dijon with his ancestors. La Marche dismisses the funeral with a brief phrase as he was not himself present at Bruges, being busied in Brittany. There was a memorial service there, the finest he ever saw. The arms of Burgundy were inserted in the chapel decorations, not merely pinned on,3 a fact that impressed the chronicler. No nobles, not even those from Flanders, were permitted to put on mourning. The Duke of Brittany declared that none but him was worthy of the honour for so high a prince.
"So he alone wore mourning. At the end of the service I went to thank him for the reverence he had shown the House of Burgundy, and he responded that he had only done his duty. Then I finished my business as quickly as I could and crossed the sea again and returned to my new master."
In his treatise on the eminent deeds of the Duke of Burgundy,4 Chastellain recounts, more at length than La Marche, all that his great master had accomplished. Then he proceeds to describe the duke as he knew him.
He was medium in height, rather slight but straight as a rush, strong in hip and in arm, his figure well-knit. His neck was admirably proportioned to his body, his hand and foot were slender, he had more bone than flesh, but his veins were full-blooded. Like all his ancestors, his face was long, as was his nose, his forehead high. His complexion was brunette, his hair brownish, soft, and straight, his beard and eye-brows the same colour, but the former curly, the latter were bushy and inclined to stand up like horns when he was angry. His mouth was well-proportioned, his lips full and high-coloured; his eyes were grey, sometimes arrogant but usually amiable in expression. His personality corresponded perfectly to his appearance. His countenance showed his character, and his character was a witness to the truth of his physiognomy. Nothing was contradictory, perfect was the harmony between the inner and the outer man, between the nobility of thought and the simple dignity, well-poised and graceful. Among the great ones of this earth, he was like a star in heaven. Every line proclaimed "I am a prince and a man unique."
It was for his bearing rather than his beauty that he commanded universal admiration. In a stable he would have looked like an image in a temple. In a hall he was the decoration. Whereever his body was, there, too, was his spirit, ready for the demands of the hour. He was singularly joyous and nicely tempered in speech with so much personal magnetism that he could mollify any enemy if he could only meet him face to face. His dress was always rich and appropriate. He was skilful in horsemanship, in archery, and in tennis, but his chief amusement was the chase. He liked to linger at the table and demanded good serving but was really moderate in his tastes, as often he neglected pheasant for a bit of Mayence ham or salted beef. Oaths and abuse were never heard from him. To all alike his speech was courteous even when there was nothing to be gained.
"Never, I assert, did falsehood pass his lips, his mouth was equal to his seal and his spoken word to his written. Loyal as fine gold and whole as an egg." Chastellain repeats himself somewhat in the profusion of his eulogy, but such are the main points of his characterisation. Then he proceeds to some qualifications:
"In order to avoid the charge of flattery, I acknowledge that he had faults. None is perfect except God. Often he was very careless in administration, and he neglected questions of justice, of finance, and of commerce in a way that may redound to the injury of his house. The excuse urged is that it was his deputies who were at fault. The answer to that is that he trusted too much to deputies and should not be excused for his confidence. A ruler ought to understand his business himself.
"Also he had the vices of the flesh. He pleased his heart at the desire of his eyes. At the desire of his heart he multiplied his pleasures. His wishes were easy to attain. What he wanted was offered freely. He neglected the virtuous and holy lady his wife, a Christian saint, chaste and charitable. For this I offer no excuse. To God I leave the cause.
"Another fault was that he was not wise in his treatment of his nobles. Especially in his old age he often preferred the less worthy, the less capable advisers. The answer to this charge is that, as his health failed, whoever was by his side obtained ascendency over him and succeeded in keeping the others at a distance. Ergo, theirs is the malice and the excuse is to the princely invalid. In his solitude even valets used their power, as is not wonderful.
"He went late to mass and often out of hours. Sometimes he had it celebrated at two o'clock or even three, and in so doing he exceeded all Christian observance. For this there is no excuse that I dare allege. I leave it to the judgment of God. He had, indeed, obtained dispensation from the pope for causes which he explained, and he only is responsible. God alone can judge about him.
"It would be a dreadful shame if his soul suffered for this neglect in lifetime. Earth would not suffice to deplore, nor the nature of man to lament the perdition of such a soul and of such a prince. Hell is not worthy of him nor good enough to lodge him. O God, who rescued Trajan from Hades for a single virtuous act, do not suffer this man to descend therein!"
Having thus tried his best to give a vivid description of the father's personality, while acknowledging that he is not sure of the fate of his soul, the chronicler decides that it would be an excellent moment to paint the son, too, for all time, in view of his mortality. "I will use the past tense so that my words may be good for always."
Duke Charles was shorter and stouter than Duke Philip, but well formed, strong in arm and thigh. His shoulders were rather thick-set and a trifle stooping, but his body was well adapted to activity. The contour of his face was rounder than that of his father, his complexion brunette. His eyes were black and laughing, angelically clear. When he was sunk in thought it seemed as though his father looked out of them. Like his father's mouth was his, full and red. His nose was pronounced, his beard brown, and his hair black. His forehead was fine, his neck white and well set, though always bent as he walked. He certainly was not as straight as Philip, but nevertheless he was a fine prince with a fair outer man.
When he began to speak he often found difficulty in expressing himself, but once started his speech became fluent, even eloquent. His voice was fine and clear, but he could not sing, although he had studied the technique and was fond of music. In conversation he was more logical than his father, but very tenacious of his own opinion and vehement in its expression, although, at the bottom, he was just to all men.
In council he was keen, subtle, and ready. He listened to others' arguments judicially and gave them due weight before his own concluded the discussion. He was attentive to his own business to a fault, for he was rather more industrious than became a prince. Economical of his own time, he demanded conscience of his subordinates and worked them very hard. He was fond of his servants and fairly affable, though occasionally sharp in his words. His memory was long and his anger dangerous. As a rule, good sense swayed him, but being naturally impetuous there was often a struggle between impulse and reason.
He was a God-fearing prince, was devoted to the Virgin Mary, rigid in his fasts, lavish in charity. He was determined to avoid death and to hold on to his own, tooth and nail, and was his father's peer in valour. Like his father, he dressed richly; unlike him, he cared more for silver than for jewels. He lived more chastely than is usual to princes and was always master of himself. He drank little wine, though he liked it, because he found that it engendered fever in him. His only beverage was water just coloured with wine. He was inclined to no indulgence or wantonness. "At the hour in which I write his taste for hard labour is excessive, but in other respects his good sense has dominated him, at least thus far. It is to be hoped that as his reign grows older he will curb his over-strenuous industry."
As to the duke's sympathies, Chastellain regrets that circumstances have turned him towards England. Naturally he belonged to the French, and it was a pity that the machinations of the king, "whose crooked ways are well known to God, have forced him into self-defence. Yet on his forehead he wears the fleur-de-lys."
Chastellain acknowledges that Charles is accused of avarice, but defends him on the ground that he has been driven into collecting a large army. "A penny in the chest is worth three in the purse of another." "To take precautions in advance is a way to save honour and property," prudently adds the historian, who evidently flourishes his maxims to strengthen his own appreciation of the duke's economy, which, quite as evidently, is not pleasing to him. "I have seen him the very opposite of miserly, open-handed and liberal, rejoicing in largesse. When he came into his seigniory his nature did not change." It was simply the exigencies of his critical position that forced him to restrain his natural propensities and thus to gain the undeserved reputation for parsimony.
It was also said that he was a very hard taskmaster, but as a matter of fact he demanded nothing of his soldiers that he was not ready to undertake himself. Like a true duke, he was his own commander, drew up his own troops himself in battle array, and then passed from one end of the line to the other, encouraging the men individually with cheery words, promising them glory and profit, and pledging himself to share their dangers. In victory he was restrained and showed more mercy than cruelty.
After expatiating on the points where Charles was like his father—conventional princely qualities —Chastellain adds: "In some respects they differed. The one was cold and the other boiling with ardour; the one slow and prone to delay, the other strenuous in his promptness; the elder negligent of his own concerns, the younger diligent and alert. They differed in the amount of time consumed at meals and in the number of guests whom they entertained. They differed more or less in their voluptuousness and in their expenditures and in the way in which they took solace and amusement." But in all other respects, "in life they marched side by side as equals and if it please God He will be their conductor in glory everlasting" is the final assurance of their eulogist.
Yet, lavish as the Burgundian poet is in his adjectives about his patron, there is considerable discrimination between his summaries of the two dukes. It is very evident that from his accession Charles was less of a favourite than his father. While endeavouring to be as complimentary as possible, distrust of his capacities creeps out between the lines. Chastellain died in 1475, and thus never saw Charles's final disaster. But the violence of his character had inspired lack of confidence in his power of achievement, a violence that made people dislike him as Philip with all his faults was never disliked.
[Footnote 1: Du Clercq, iv., 302 et seq. Erasmus was born in this year, 1467.]
[Footnote 2: II., 49.]
[Footnote 3: "Non par armes attachées à espingles."]
[Footnote 4: Œuvres, vii., 213.]
CHAPTER IX
THE UNJOYOUS ENTRY
1467
After the dauphin was crowned at Rheims, he was monarch over all his domains. Charles of Burgundy, on the other hand, had a series of ceremonies to perform before he was properly invested with the various titles worn by his father. Each duchy, countship, seigniory had to be taken in turn. Ghent was the first capital visited. Then he had to exchange pledges of fidelity with his Flemish subjects before receiving recognition as Count of Flanders.
According to the custom of his predecessors, Charles stayed at the little village of Swynaerde, near Ghent, the night before he made his "joyous entry" into that city. It had chanced that the day selected by Charles for the event was St. Lievin's Day and a favourite holiday of the workers of Ghent. The saint's bones, enclosed conveniently in a portable shrine, rested in the cathedral church, whence they were carried once a year by the fifty-two gilds in solemn procession to the little village of Houthem, where the blessed saint had suffered martyrdom in the seventh century. All day and all night the saint's devotees, the Fools of St. Lievin, as they were called, remained at this spot. Merry did the festival become as the hours wore on, for good cheer was carried thither as well as the sacred shrine.
Now the magistrates were a little apprehensive about the rival claims of the new count of Flanders and the old saint of Ghent. They knew that they could not cut short the time-honoured celebration for the sake of the sovereign's inauguration, so they decided to prolong the former, and directed that the saint should leave town on Saturday and not return until Monday. This left Sunday free for the young count's entry. It probably seemed a very convenient conjunction of events to the city fathers, because the more turbulent portion of the citizens was sure to follow the saint.
Accordingly, Charles made a very quiet and dignified entrance,1 having paused at the gates to listen to the fair words of Master Mathys de Groothuse as he extolled the virtues of the late Count of Flanders, and requested God to receive the present one, when he, too, was forced to leave earth, as graciously as Ghent was receiving him that day. All passed well; oaths of fealty were duly taken and given at the church of St. John the Baptist. Charles himself pulled the bell rope according to the ancient Flemish custom, and the Count of Flanders was in possession. This all took place in the morning of June 28th. At the close of the ceremonies Charles withdrew to his hotel and the magistrates to their dwellings.
The devotees of St. Lievin prolonged their holiday until Monday afternoon. It was five o'clock2 when the revellers returned to Ghent. Many of the saint's followers were, by that time, more or less under the influence of the contents of the casks which had formed part of the outward-bound burden. The protracted holiday-making had its natural sequence. There was, however, too much method in the next proceedings for it to be attributed wholly to emotional inebriety.
The procession passed through the city gate and entered a narrow street near the corn market, where stood a little house used as headquarters for the collection of the cueillotte, a tax on every article brought into the city for sale, and one particularly obnoxious to the people. Suddenly a cry was raised and echoed from rank to rank of St. Lievin's escort, "Down with the cueillotte."
Then with the ingenious humour of a Celtic crowd, quick to take a fantastic advantage of a situation, a second cry was heard: "St. Lievin must go through the house. Lievin is a saint who never turns aside from his route."
Delightful thought, followed by speedy action. Axes were produced and wielded to good effect.
Down came the miniature customs-house in a flash. Little pieces of the ruin were elevated on sticks and carried by some of the rabble as standards with the cry "I have it—I have it." As they marched the procession was constantly augmented and the cries become more decidedly revolutionary: "Kill, kill these craven spoilers of God and of the world.3 Where are they? Let us seek them out and slay them in their houses, those who have flourished at our pitiable expense."
This was rank rebellion. Even under cover of St. Lievin's mantle, resistance to regularly instituted customs could hardly be described by any other name. Excited by their own temerity, the crowd now surged on to the great market-place in front of the Hôtel de Ville, where the Friday market is held, instead of returning the saint promptly to his safe abiding-place as was meet.
There the lawless deeds—lawless to the duke's mind certainly—became more audacious. Counterparts of the very banners whose prohibition had been part of the sentence in 1453 were unfurled,4 and their possession alone proved insurrectionary premeditation on the part of the gild leaders. Ghent was in open revolt, and the young duke in their midst felt it was an open insult to him as sovereign count.
His messenger failed to return from the market-place. His master became impatient and followed him to the scene of action with a small escort. As they drew near, the crowd thickened and hedged them in. The nobles became alarmed and urged the duke to return, but cries from the crowd promised safety to his person. To the steps of the Hôtel de Ville rode the duke, his face dark, menacing with suppressed wrath.5
As he dismounted, he turned towards a man whom he thought he saw egging on a disturbance and struck him with his riding whip, saying, "I know you." The man was quick enough to realise the value of the duke's violence at that moment and cried, "Strike again," but the Seigneur Groothuse, who had already tried to check Charles's anger and to curb the popular turbulence, exclaimed, "For the love of God do not strike again!" The wiser burgher at once understood the unstable temper of the mob, which had been fairly civil to the duke up to this moment. There were ugly murmurs to be heard that the blow would cost him dear.
"Indeed," says the courtly Chastellain, "the mischief was so imminent that God alone averted it, and there was not an archer or noble or man so full of assurance that he did not tremble with fear, nor one who would not have preferred to be in India for his own safety. Especially were they in terror for their young prince, who, they thought, was exposed to a dolorous death."
It was Groothuse alone who averted disaster:
"Do you not see that your life and ours hang on a silken thread? Do you think you can coerce a rabble like this by threats and hard words—a rabble who at this moment do not value you more than the least of us? They are beside themselves, they have neither reason nor understanding.6... If you are ready to die, I am not, except in spite of myself. You must try quite a different method—appease them by sweetness and save your house and your life.
"What could you do alone? How the gods would laugh! Your courage is out of place here unless it enables you to calm yourself and give an example to those poor sheep, wretched misled people whom you must soothe. Go down in God's name. [They were within the town hall.] Show yourself and you will make an impression by your good sense and all will go well."
To this eminently sound advice the young duke yielded. He appeared on a balcony or on the upper steps of the town hall and stood ready to harangue his unruly and turbulent subjects. A moment sufficed to still the turmoil and the silence showed a readiness to hear him speak.
Charles was not perfectly at ease in Flemish, but he was wise enough to use that tongue. One trait of the Ghenters was respect for the person of their overlord. When that overlord showed any disposition to meet them half-way the response was usually immediate. So it was now. The crowd which had been attending to St. Lievin, and not to the duke's joyous entry, suddenly remembered that his welcome had been strangely ignored. Their grumblings changed to greetings. "Take heart, Monseigneur. Have no fear. For you we will live and die and none shall be so audacious as to harm you. If there be evil fellows with no bump of reverence, endure it for the moment. Later you shall be avenged. No time now for fear."
This sounded better. Charles was sufficiently appeased to address the crowd as "My children," and to assure them that if they would but meet him in peaceful conference, their grievances should be redressed. "Welcome, welcome! we are indeed your children and recognise your goodness."
Then Groothuse followed with a longer speech than was possible either to Charles's Flemish or to his mood. This address was equally well received, and matters were in train for the appointment of a conference between popular representatives and the new Count of Flanders, when suddenly a tall, rude fellow climbed up to the balcony from the square. Using an iron gauntlet as a gavel to strike on the wall, he commanded attention and turned gravely to address the audience as though he were on the accredited list of speakers:
"My brothers, down there assembled to set your complaints before your prince, your first wish—is it not?—is to punish the ill governors of this town and those who have defrauded you and him alike."
"Yes, yes," was the quick answer of the fickle crowd.—"You desire the suppression of the cueillotte, do you not?"—"Yes, yes."—"You want all your gates opened again, your banners restored, and your privileges reinforced as of yore?"—"Yes, yes." The self-appointed envoy turned calmly to Charles and said:
"Monseigneur, this is what the citizens have come together to ask you. This is your task. I have said it in their behalf, and, as you hear, they make my words their own."
Noteworthy is Chastellain's pious and horrified ejaculation over the extraordinary insolence of this big villain, who thus audaciously associated himself with his betters: "O glorious Majesty of God, think of such an outrageous and intolerable piece of villainy being committed before the eyes of a prince! For a low man to venture to come and stand side by side with such a gentleman as our seigneur, and to proffer words inimical to his authority—words the poorest noble in the world would hardly have endured! And yet it was necessary for this noble prince to endure and to tolerate it for the moment, and needful that he should let pass as a pleasantry what was enough to kill him with grief."
Groothuse's answer to the man was mild. Evidently he did not think it was a safe moment to exasperate the mob: "'My friend, there was no necessity of your intruding up here, a place reserved for the prince and his nobles. From below, you could have been heard and Monseigneur could have answered you as well there as here. He requires no advocate to make him content his people. You are a strange master. Get down. Go down below and keep to your mates. Monseigneur will do right by every one.'
"Off went the rascal and I do not know what became of him. The duke and his nobles were simply struck dumb by the scamp's outrage and his impudent daring."
The sober report7 is less detailed and elaborate, but the thread is the same. Monseigneur, having returned to his hotel, sent Monseigneur de la Groothuse, Jean Petitpas, and Richard Utenhove back to the market to invite the people to put their grievances in writing. A draft was made and carried to the duke. After he had examined it and discussed it with his council, he sent Monseigneur de la Groothuse back to the market-place to tell the people that he wanted to sleep on the proposition and would give his answer at an early hour on the morrow. All through the night the people remained in arms on the market-place. At about eight o'clock on June 30th Groothuse returned, thanked the people in the count's name for having kept such good watch, and was answered by cries of "À bas la cueillotte."
Then he assured them that all was pardoned and that they should obtain what they had asked in the draft. Only he requested them to appoint a committee of six to present their demands to Monseigneur and then to go home. This they did. St. Lievin was restored to the church and his followers betook themselves to the gates specified in the treaty of Gaveren. These they broke down, and also destroyed another house where was a tax collector's office.
"The report of these events carried to Monseigneur did not have a good effect upon his spirit. On the morrow Monseigneur quitted the city." The members of the corporation with the two deans and the popular committee of six having obtained audience before his departure, Groothuse acted as spokesman: "We implore you in all humility to pardon us for the insult you have suffered, and to sign the paper presented. The bad have had more authority than the good, which could not be prevented, but we know truly that if the draft is not signed they will kill us."
It is evident in all this story that the municipal authorities were frightened to death and that Charles allowed himself to be restrained to an extraordinary extent considering the undoubted provocation. His reasons for conciliatory measures were two, and literally were his ducats and his daughter. He had with him all the portable treasure and ready money that his father had had at Bruges, a large treasure and one on which he counted for his immediate military operations—operations very important to the position as a European power which he ardently desired to attain.
Still more important was the fact that his young daughter, Mary, now eleven years old, was living in Ghent, to a certain degree the ward of the city. If the unruly majority should realise their strength what easier for them than to seize the treasure and hold the daughter as hostage, until her father had acceded to every demand, and until democracy was triumphant not only in Ghent but in the neighbouring cities?
Charles simply did not dare attempt further coercion of the democratic spirit until he was beyond the walls. It is evident that he was completely taken by surprise at Ghent's attitude towards him, as the city had always professed great personal attachment to him. But there was a difference between being heir and sovereign. The agreement was signed, with a mental reservation on the part of the Duke of Burgundy. He only intended to keep his pledge until he could see his way clear to make terms better to his liking.
On Tuesday, June 30th, Charles left Ghent, taking his daughter and his treasure away, but a safe shelter for both was not easy to find. The duke's anticipations of the effect of Ghent's actions upon her neighbours were quickly proved to be no idle fears. There were revolts of more or less importance at Mechlin, at Antwerp, at Brussels, and other places. Moreover, there was serious discussion in the estates assembled at Louvain as to whether Charles should be acknowledged as Duke of Brabant, or whether the claims of his cousin, the Count of Nevers, should be considered as heir to Philip's predecessor, for the late duke's title had never been considered perfect.
Louis XI. seized the opportunity to urge the pretensions of the latter, and there were many reasons to recommend him, in the estimation of the Brabanters, who saw advantage in having a sovereign exclusively their own, instead of one with the widespread geographical interests of the Burgundian family. The final decision was, however, for Charles; a notice of the resolution of the deputies was sent to him at Mechlin, and he made his formal "entry" into Louvain, where he received homage from the nobles, the good cities, and the university.
The various insurgent manifestations were promptly quelled one after another, but, with a nature that neither forgot nor forgave, the duke was strongly impressed by them as personal insults. He blamed Ghent for their occurrence and deeply resented every one. Throughout Philip's whole career he remembered the localised tenure of his titles and the fact that they were not perfectly incontestable. For his own advantage he often found a conciliatory attitude the best policy. Charles considered all his rights heaven-born. Questioning his authority was rank rebellion. That he had accepted advice in regard to Ghent, and had been ruled by expediency for the nonce, did not mitigate his intense bitterness.
In another town that gave him serious trouble at this time, nothing led him to curb the severity of his measures. Though only a "protector," not an overlord, when he suppressed a rebellion in Liege he rigorously exacted the most complete and humiliating penalties. The city charters were abrogated, all privileges were forfeited. As an unprotected village must Liege stand henceforth, walls and fortifications rased to the ground.
"The perron on the market-place of the said town shall be taken down, and then Monseigneur the duke shall treat it according to his pleasure. The city may not remake the said perron, nor replace another like it in the market-place or elsewhere in the city. Nor shall the said perron appear in the coat-of-arms of Liege." 8
This was a terrible indignity for the city and a clear proof of their fear of their bishop's friend.
The episode impressed the citizens of Ghent with the duke's power, and made the more timorous anxious to erase the event of 1467 from his mind. The peace party finally prevailed in their arguments, but the scene of abnegation and self-humiliation crowning their apology was not enacted until eighteen months after the events apologised for, when the new duke had still further proven his metal.
[Footnote 1: Gachard, Doc. inéd., i., 210, etc.]
[Footnote 2: Some authorities make this five A.M., but the Rapport is probably correct.]
[Footnote 3: Chastellain, v., 260 et passim.]
[Footnote 4: So say some historians. But it seems probable that the drapery of St. Lievin's shrine was hastily used as a flag.]
[Footnote 5: Chastellain, v., ch. 7, etc.]
[Footnote 6: These are Chastellain's words to be sure, but the sober Rapport is similar in purport.]
[Footnote 7: Gachard, Doc. inéd., i., 212. ]
[Footnote 8: Gachard. Doc. inéd., ii., 462, "Instrument notarié."]