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BOOK VII
CLEVES, ORANGE, AND LORRAINE
1539-1541

I.

The negotiations for the King of England's marriage with the Duchess of Milan were broken off. But there was no lack of suitors for Christina's hand. During the winter and spring of 1539 the Emperor's niece received offers of marriage from three princely bridegrooms. The first of these was Antoine, Duke of Vendôme, whose courtship of the Duchess on the journey to Compiègne had aroused King Henry's jealousy. The second was William of Cleves, who since the old Duke Charles's death had taken possession of Guelders, and was now seeking to obtain the investiture of the duchy, together with Christina's hand. The third was Francis, the Marquis of Pont-à-Mousson, and heir of Lorraine. From the day that this Prince first met the Duchess at Compiègne, he sought her for his bride with a constancy and steadfastness that were eventually to be crowned with success. But for the moment the Duke of Cleves seemed to have the best chance of winning the coveted prize. From the first Mary of Hungary had regarded this alliance with favour, and when, in January, 1539, she consulted her Councillors on the Duchess's marriage, it was this union which met with their highest approval.

The alternative proposal, she proceeded to say, deserved consideration, seeing the great anxiety which the Duke of Lorraine's son showed for the marriage. No doubt the Emperor's niece, with her large dowry, would be a very honourable match for him, and well worth the surrender of his rights on Guelders; but, since it was most desirable to recover this duchy without delay, it might be well to secure the help of Lorraine by this means.

The situation was a difficult one, and from the moment of the old Duke's death in June, 1538, Mary had never ceased to entreat Charles to come to Flanders and take active measures for the recovery of Guelders before it was too late. Throughout the winter Duke William went from town to town, endearing himself to his new subjects; and when the deputies of Lorraine asserted their master's superior claims, he told them that he would never give up Guelders to any mortal man. By the death of his father on the 6th of February, 1539, he succeeded to the rich provinces of Cleves and Jülich, and became the wealthiest and most powerful Prince in North Germany.[244]

Still Charles put off his coming, and told his sister that he was bent on undertaking a second Crusade against the Turks, and could not spare the time for a journey to Flanders. This was too much for Mary's equanimity, and she protested in the strongest language against the Emperor's folly in exposing his person to such risks, declaring that this Crusade would not only prove the utter ruin of the Netherlands, but of all Christendom.[245] Fortunately, Mary's remonstrances were supported by the Emperor's wisest Councillors, and, in deference to their representations, he decided to abandon his Crusade for the present and come to Flanders. This decision was confirmed by the discontent which the Duke of Cleves's intrigues helped to foment in Ghent—always a turbulent city—as well as by the news that the King of England had entered into a close alliance with Cleves, and was about to marry his sister.

Cromwell, with his habitual duplicity, had been in correspondence with the German Princes while he professed to be zealous for the Emperor's alliance; and in March Christopher Mont, his Envoy to Frankfort, was desired to make diligent inquiries as to the shape, stature, and complexion, of the Duke of Cleves's sister Anne. If these were satisfactory, he was to suggest that proposals of marriage should be made by that Prince and his brother-in-law, the Elector John Frederick of Saxony. Mont sent glowing descriptions of the lady's beauty, and was bold enough to declare that she excelled the Duchess of Milan as much as the golden sun excels the silver moon.[246]

Henry was now all on fire to see the Lady Anne, although he had not yet lost all interest in Christina, whose name still figures constantly in letters from Brussels. On the 6th of April we hear that the Duchess of Milan is sick of fever, and ten days later Cromwell writes to the King that Her Grace is no longer sick, and that "at Antwerp the people still cherish a hope that Your Highness will yet marry her."[247] If he could not make her his wife, the King was determined to prevent another suitor from succeeding where he had failed, and renewed his offer of his daughter Mary with a large dowry to the Duke of Cleves. William, however, showed no alacrity to avail himself of this offer, and sent Envoys both to Brussels and Toledo to press his suit for Christina's hand.

The sudden death of the Empress at Toledo on the 1st of May altered all Charles's plans. A few weeks before this Isabella had given birth to a son, who only lived a few hours, and Charles had written to inform his sister of the infant's death. On the 2nd of May he wrote a few touching lines with his own hand to tell Mary the grievous news. The doctors had pronounced her to be out of danger, but catarrh attacked the lungs, and proved fatal in a few hours.

When this sad event took place, Christina's sister Dorothea and her husband, Count Frederic, were staying at the Imperial Court. These adventurous travellers had come to Spain in the vain hope of inducing the Emperor to support their claims on Denmark, and, after crossing the Pyrenees in rain and snow, had at length reached Toledo, where they were hospitably entertained. The Empress treated Dorothea with great affection, but Frederic's German servants, who consumed five meals a day and ate meat on Ash Wednesday, shocked the Spanish courtiers, and drew down the censures of the Inquisition upon them. Even the Emperor asked his cousin why he brought so numerous a suite on his travels; but, although he would make no promises of further help, he good-naturedly paid Frederic's expenses at Toledo, and gave him a present of 7,000 crowns. The death of the Empress, Dorothea's best friend, put an end to all hope of further assistance. The Emperor shut himself up in a Carthusian convent, and the Palatine and his wife started for the Low Countries.[249] On their way through France they were royally entertained by the King and Queen in the splendid Palais des Tournelles, and Francis took so great a fancy to his wife's niece that Eleanor felt it wise to keep Dorothea continually at her side. Here they were detained some time by Frederic's illness, and after his recovery spent several days at Chantilly with the Constable, and at the King's fine new villa of Cotterets, on their way to the Netherlands.[250]

Here the travellers were eagerly awaited by Christina and her aunt. After the funeral services for the repose of the Empress's soul had been duly celebrated, and the last requiem sung in S. Gudule, the Queen set out on a progress through Holland and Friesland, and spent some time at Bois-le-Duc, on the frontiers of Guelders, trying to arrange matters with the Duke of Cleves. But, although friendly letters and messages were exchanged, nothing could be settled until the Emperor's arrival, which was now delayed till the autumn, and the Court moved to the Hague for August. Here the Queen received news that the Count Palatine and his wife had reached Dordrecht and were coming by sea to Holland. Christina at once travelled to Rotterdam, intending to go by boat to meet the travellers. But the weather was rough and stormy, and the sailors were reluctant to set out. The Duchess, however, would hear of no delay, and, embarking in a small boat, bade the sailors put out to sea. Hardly had they left the shore before a terrific gale sprang up, and from the deck of their ship the Palatine and his wife saw a barque tossed on the raging seas, sending up signals of distress. Altering their course, they hastened to the rescue, and found, to their great surprise, that the Duchess of Milan was on board. Count Frederic scolded his sister-in-law soundly for her rashness, but Dorothea was enchanted to see Christina, and laughed and cried by turn as she embraced her.[251] The Queen awaited the travellers no less eagerly, in her anxiety to hear the latest news from Spain, and agreed readily to Frederic's proposal that his wife should remain at the Hague while he returned to Germany. Early in September the Palatine took leave of his relatives and went to Antwerp, saying that he must raise money for his journey to Heidelberg. But he kept his true destination a secret. During his illness in Paris, Bishop Bonner had brought Frederic a letter from Cromwell, begging him to come to England, since he was only divided from this country by a narrow arm of the sea, and His Majesty was very anxious to see him again. All immediate alarm of war had died away, and the irascible monarch's anger was allayed by the arrival of a new French Ambassador in the person of Marillac, and by the permission which Mary gave him to buy ammunition in the Low Countries. In return, he ordered an imposing requiem to be held in St. Paul's for the late Empress, and desired Cromwell and the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, with twenty Bishops, to attend the service.[252] He resumed his old habit of spending the summer evenings on the river, enjoying the music of flutes and harps, and sent to France and Italy for excellent painters and musicians—a sure sign, Marillac was told, that he was about to marry again. Another fête, at which the Ambassador declined to be present, was a mock-fight on the Thames between two galleys, one of which bore the King's arms, while the other was decorated with an effigy of the Pope with the triple tiara and keys, attended by the Cardinals. The show ended in the triumph of the English sailors, who threw the Pope and Cardinals into the river—"the whole thing," according to Marillac, "being as badly represented as it was poorly conceived."[253]

Now the King was anxious to hear the Emperor's intention from the Palatine's own lips, while Frederic on his part was flattered by this powerful monarch's invitation, and felt that his assistance might prove of use in his visionary schemes for the recovery of Denmark. But, knowing that of late relations between Henry and the Queen had been strained, he kept his counsel, and told no one but his wife that he was bound for Calais.

Here he was courteously entertained by Lord Lisle, an illegitimate son of Edward IV., and escorted by him to Canterbury and London. Frederic was lost in admiration at the rows of stately palaces along the Thames, and the fine Castle of Richmond, but was disappointed, when he visited Westminster Abbey, not to see the famous antlers of the stag which King Dagobert caught, and which wore a golden collar inscribed with the words, "Julius Cæsar let me go free." Afterwards he learnt that these legendary trophies had lately been removed by the King's orders, for fear the monks, whom he was about to expel, might conceal them.

In the absence of the King at Ampthill, Cromwell, who had been told to "grope out the reason of Frederic's coming," entertained the Count splendidly at his own house, and showed him the Tower of London and the Temple Church. But the Deputy's wife, Lady Lisle, who looked on Cromwell with deep distrust, begged her husband to beware of the Lord Privy Seal's fair words, and was none too well pleased to hear that he had partaken of the partridge pasty and baked cranes which she had sent from Calais, together with her own toothpick for the Palsgrave's use, having noticed that her noble guest "used a quill to pick his teeth with."[254]

Meanwhile the Palatine's visit to England was exciting much curiosity, and not a little alarm, in some quarters. The Pope and the French King feared it might lead to a secret covenant between Henry and Charles, while in London it was commonly reported that Frederic came to renew negotiations for his union with the Duchess of Milan, and the Duke of Cleves hastily sent Ambassadors to conclude his sister's marriage. These Envoys reached Windsor on the same day as the Count Palatine, whom Henry invited to a banquet there on the 24th of September. When he bade the Lord High Admiral escort the Palsgrave to Windsor, Southampton, eager to curry favour with the King, expressed his opinion that the Cleves alliance was preferable to a marriage with a French Princess or one of the Emperor's family, "albeit the Duchess of Milan was a fair woman and well spoken of," and told the King of the resentment which his union with the Lady Anne had aroused at the Court of Brussels. Henry remained plunged in thought for some moments; then a smile broke over his face, and he exclaimed: "Have they remembered themselves now? They that would not when they might, when they would they shall have nay!"[255]

Nothing was lacking, however, to the splendour of the Palatine's reception at Windsor. The Duke of Suffolk rode out to meet him beyond Eton Bridge with 100 horsemen clad in velvet, and the banquet was served on golden dishes in a hall carpeted with cloth of gold, to the strains of delicious music from the King's famous band. The Cleves Envoys were at table, but after dinner the King took the Count apart, and conversed with him for over two hours on his travels. Frederic took this opportunity of begging the King to help him in driving out the usurper of Denmark, and releasing his unhappy father-in-law, Christian II.[256] Henry listened kindly, and promised to consider the matter, but no mention was made of Christina. The next day a great hunting-party was given in the Palsgrave's honour. A pavilion of green laurel boughs was set up in a meadow on the banks of the river, and while the King and his guests were at dinner the merry note of hunting-horns rang through the air, and a stag bounded across the turf, followed by the hounds at full cry. Immediately the whole party sprang to horse and joined in the chase, which lasted for three hours, and ended in the slaughter of thirty-four stags. From Windsor Frederic went to Hampton Court, and on the 3rd of October finally took leave of the King, who gave him 2,000 crowns as a parting gift. Hubert also received a silver cup from the Lord Privy Seal, who begged him and his lord to return at Christmas, and surprised him by asking if the Palsgrave had any castle to let or sell, as it might be convenient for him to secure a retreat abroad. The Minister evidently realized the precarious nature of his position, and Hubert remembered his request when he heard of the doom which soon afterwards overtook the King's favourite.[257]

In his last interview Henry told the Count that he feared it would be impossible for him to join in any enterprise against Denmark, as his new allies the German Princes were in league with the present King. At the same time he informed his good cousin of his intended marriage to the Lady Anne of Cleves, a Princess of suitable age and elegant stature, and begged him to obtain a safe-conduct from the Regent for his bride's passage through the Low Countries.[258] The next day Frederic crossed the Channel and joined his wife at Brussels. Here, as Dorothea had already told him, he found the Queen much displeased at the trick which he had played her, and Hubert came in for his share of blame. They soon left Brabant for Heidelberg, and the Palatine sent Lady Lisle—or, as he called her, "Madame ma bonne mère"—a barrel of fine red and white Rhine wine in remembrance "of her loving son."[259]

II.

King Henry's marriage to Anne of Cleves, as Southampton told his master, was exceedingly unpopular in the Netherlands. The alliance of so powerful a monarch with Duke William was fraught with danger, and the people bitterly resented the insult which, in their eyes, had been offered to the Duchess of Milan. The merchants of Antwerp said openly that, if King Henry chose to break faith with their Princess, he should not enjoy the company of another wife, and declared they would not allow the Lady Anne to pass through their city. The Cleves Envoys in England were so much alarmed by these reports that they travelled back to Düren in disguise, and advised the bride to take the sea-route from Germany. But Mary of Hungary was too wise to show her annoyance, and sent a gracious message to Henry, saying that she would send Count Büren to wait on the Lady Anne, on her journey through the Emperor's dominions. The King wrote back in high glee to thank "his dearest sister," and on the 27th of December his new bride landed safely at Dover.[260] The loyal citizens of Flanders consoled themselves with the thought that, if their Duchess was not to be Queen of England, they would keep her among them, and the old rumour was persistently repeated: "She shall marry the Prince of Orange." All through the past year René had devoted himself to Christina's service, had worn her favours and broken lances in her honour. Her Italian servants called him openly the Duchess's cavaliere sirvente.[261] But it was plain to Italians and Flemings alike that the affection was not at all on one side, and that this gallant Prince had won Christina's heart. Old courtiers smiled kindly on the young couple, and ladies drew aside discreetly to leave them together. They were eminently fitted for each other by age, race and character. If the succession to the principality of Orange, which had been lately restored by the French King, hardly entitled René to a place among the reigning Princes of Europe, at least he could offer her splendid homes at Brussels and Breda, and a position which many ladies of royal birth might envy. The Countess Palatine Dorothea privately encouraged the Prince, and her husband warmly approved of the match, and said openly that, since his sister-in-law could not be King Henry's wife, she had better marry the man of her choice, and not waste the best years of her life, as he himself had done.[262]

Queen Mary was, clearly, not averse to the Prince's suit, and had a strong liking for René; but reasons of State prevented her from giving the union her public sanction, and all parties were agreed that nothing could be arranged until the Emperor's arrival. The date of his journey was now definitely fixed, and in November Mary told the English Ambassador Vaughan that her brother would be at Brussels by the New Year. Charles at length realized the critical situation of affairs, and saw that if he wished to keep his provinces de par-deça he must no longer delay his coming.[263] In September, 1539, the citizens of Ghent, who had long been discontented, broke into open revolt. After refusing to pay their share of the subsidy voted by the States, the leading citizens put to death their chief magistrate, Lieven Pyl, because he declined to bear their insolent message to the Regent, and proceeded to tear up the famous "Calf-vel," a parchment deed containing an agreement which they had made with Charles V. twenty-four years before. Worse than all, they sent deputies to King Francis, asking him to defend their liberties against the Emperor. At the first tidings of these disorders Mary hastened to Malines and took energetic measures to suppress the insurrection, which had already spread to several of the neighbouring towns.[264] For some weeks the alarm was great, and watchers were posted on the tower of S. Rombaut night and day; but the Queen's presence of mind, and the support of her able lieutenants, Aerschot and De Courrières, who was now Bailiff of Alost, succeeded in confining the mutiny to the walls of Ghent. A simultaneous rising at Maestricht was put down by the Prince of Orange, who raised 300 horse and hastened to restore order in that city. But the citizens of Ghent still openly defied the Regent, although Francis, to do him credit, refused to help the rebels. More than this, he addressed a letter with his own royal hand to Charles, saying that, if the Emperor was coming to chastise his revolted subjects, he hoped that he would do him the honour of passing through France, assuring him, on the faith of a Prince, that every possible honour and hospitality would be shown him.[265]

So critical was the situation, both with regard to Ghent and Guelders, that Charles decided to accept the offer and take the shortest route to Flanders.

He expressed the same feelings in still stronger terms to Wyatt, whom Cromwell sent to Blois in December to be present at the meeting of the two monarchs.

On the 23rd of November Charles left Burgos, and four days later he entered Bayonne, attended by the Dauphin and the Constable Montmorency, whom the King had sent to meet him on the frontier. He had begged Francis to dispense with ceremonies, as his great object was to reach Flanders as quickly as possible, and to excuse him from entering on political matters, since he could not decide anything of importance until he had seen the Queen-Regent.[267] But, in spite of this request, he was everywhere received with the utmost pomp and festivity. Triumphal arches were erected at the city gates, and the prison doors were thrown open at his entrance. Bordeaux presented him with 300 barrels of wine, Poitiers gave him a golden eagle, Orleans a dinner-service of richly chased plate. The meeting of the two monarchs took place at Loches on the 10th of December. Charles, clad in deep mourning, walked under a canopy of cloth of gold, adorned with the imperial eagles, across the picturesque court to the gates of the castle, where King Francis met him, surrounded by a brilliant company. Three times over he embraced his guest, and led him to the hall, where Eleanor, in robes of purple satin glittering with pearls, welcomed her brother with transports of joy. Banquets and hunting-parties now followed each other, as the Court journeyed by slow stages along the banks of the Loire, from one fair château to another. At Amboise a heap of tow caught fire as Charles rode up the famous spiral staircase in the dusk, and he narrowly escaped being suffocated. But, mercifully, no one was injured, and Francis escorted his imperial brother by way of Blois and Orleans to Fontainebleau, where Christmas was spent and the Emperor was allowed to enjoy a week's rest. On New Year's Day the Emperor entered Paris, where the Parliament and University received him "as if he were a god from heaven," and the following motto was inscribed on the gates in golden letters:

Queen Eleanor, who scarcely left her brother's side, took him to see the Sainte Chapelle which St. Louis had built to receive the Crown of Thorns, and escorted him to the Louvre, where sumptuous rooms had been prepared for his reception. On Sunday a grand tournament was held on the Place des Tournelles, in front of the palace which then occupied the Place des Vosges, and the Duke of Vendôme and the Count of Aumale opened the joust, while it was closed by Francis of Lorraine, the Marquis of Pont-à-Mousson. Charles left Paris on the 7th of January, and was presented by the city with a silver model of the Column of Hercules, seven feet high, bearing his motto, Plus oultre.[269] The King took his guest to dine at his new pleasure-house, the Château de Madrid, accompanied him to St. Denis, where he visited the Tomb of the Kings, and went on to the Constable's house at Chantilly. Finally, on the 20th, the Emperor took his leave of the King and Queen at St. Quentin, and with tears in his eyes thanked his host for this truly brotherly reception.[270]

In spite of the sinister warnings which Charles had received before he set out on his journey, in spite of Mary of Hungary's fears and of Madame d'Étampes' thinly-veiled hostility, the experiment had proved a brilliant success. Spanish and French poets celebrated the triumph of Peace over War, and the return of the golden age. And Charles himself laughed heartily when the King's jester, Triboulet, told him that he had inscribed His Imperial Majesty's name on his Calendar of Fools, because he had been so rash as to venture into his enemy's country, but now that he had reached the end of his journey without mishap, he should rub out Charles's name, and write that of Francis in its place.[271]

The French King went home in high delight, and wrote to Marillac saying that now all his differences with the Emperor would be easily arranged. During those five weeks the King had respected his guest's wishes and avoided politics, but the Constable, who enjoyed the Emperor's confidence in a high degree, had made good use of this opportunity, and flattered himself that he had been entirely successful. He was above all anxious to effect a marriage between the widowed Emperor and the King's daughter, and told Granvelle that Madame Marguerite was a rose among thorns, an angel among devils, and that, if His Imperial Majesty thought of making a second marriage, he could not do better. But Charles was firmly resolved never to take another wife, and, when the Constable pressed the point after he had left France, wrote that he must beg the King to give up all idea of such a union, as he did not intend to marry again, and was too old for Madame Marguerite.[272]

In spite of the splendour and cordiality of his reception, Charles was sad and tired, and longed more than all else to find himself among his kindred and people. It was with heartfelt relief that he reached Cambray, and found the Prince of Orange, the Duke of Aerschot, and his faithful De Courrières, with the Archers' Guard, awaiting him. The next day he went on to Valenciennes, where his loyal subjects welcomed his return with passionate joy. Triumphal arches adorned the streets, and the houses were hung with tapestries. Now it was his turn to act as host, and do honour to the Dauphin and Duke of Orleans, who, with Vendôme, the Constable, and Aumale, the Duke of Guise's eldest son, had insisted on escorting him across the frontier.[273] The keys of the city were presented to the Dauphin at the Cambray gate, torches blazed all along the streets, and the bells rang merry peals as Charles led the way to the ancient hôtel-de-ville, known as La Salle, where the Queen of Hungary and the Duchess of Milan received him with open arms. The next two days were given up to mirth and festivity. Charles showed the French Princes the sights of the town, while the Constable was invited to dine alone with the Queen and her niece, and sat down to table between the two royal ladies. A splendid banquet was followed by a ball, which lasted far on into the morning. All the ladies appeared in magnificent costumes—French, Italian, Flemish, or Spanish, as they chose—and wore the richest jewels. The Emperor moved through the vast hall, blithe and debonair beyond his wont, jesting with his old friends and rejoicing to be once more in his native land. Mary and Christina, both of whom, remarks the chronicler, although widows, were still young and beautiful, danced with the French Princes all the evening, and were in high spirits.[274] There was much gay talk, and the Pope's Legate, the young Cardinal Farnese, amused the guests with stories of the latest gossip from the Court of England, which Queen Eleanor had heard from Marillac. According to him, the new Queen, Anne of Cleves, was too old and ugly for King Henry's taste, while her dresses and those of her German "Fraus" were so monstrous that the King would not allow them to appear at Court, and told his wife to adopt French fashions.[275]

The next morning the French Princes appeared early to bid the Queen farewell, and were very gracious in their manner of leave-taking. The Dauphin received a superb diamond jewel in the shape of a griffin, and a very fine emerald was bestowed on the Constable. There was some talk of a marriage between the Duke of Orleans and a daughter of King Ferdinand, while the King of Navarre and his wife, Margaret of Angoulême, were eager for a match between their only daughter, Jeanne, and the Prince of Spain. Vendôme probably realized that he had little chance of winning the Duchess of Milan, but he shrugged his shoulders and went his way gaily, saying he would wed the Pope's granddaughter, Vittoria Farnese, the sister of the boy Cardinal. And they all rode off in high spirits to join the King at La Fère and show him the Emperor's costly gifts. They met him on his way back from hunting, riding at the side of the Queen's litter, clad in a scarlet cloak, which made the English Ambassador remark how much better Eleanor was treated since her brother's visit. And the whole Court, in Bishop Bonner's words, "made much demonstration of gladness, thinking they have God by the foot."[276]

III.

Among all his political anxieties and preoccupations, the Emperor had not forgotten his niece. Before he left Spain on this perilous journey through his old enemy's country, he drew up a paper of instructions to be given to his son Philip in case of his own death. A large part of this advice was devoted to the choice of a wife for the Prince himself, the heiress of Navarre being on the whole, in Charles's opinion, the most eligible bride for his son. After suggesting various alliances for his little daughters, Maria and Juana, the Emperor proceeded to urge on his successor the importance of finding a husband for his niece, the Widow of Milan, saying that he counted her as one of his own children. Three Princes, he said, were all eager to marry her—the Duke of Cleves, the heir of Lorraine, and the Duke of Vendôme—but it would be necessary to defer his decision until he had ascertained the best measures for recovering Denmark and settling the question of Guelders. "And if God," he added, "should call to Himself the Palatine Frederic, who is old and broken, one of these Princes might marry his widow."[277] Christina's marriage, it is easy to see, was closely bound up with the settlement of Guelders, an object which lay very near to her uncle's heart.

The English Ambassador Wyatt, who had been posting after the Emperor across France, "through deep and foul roads," was convinced that Charles in his heart of hearts cared more for Guelders than he did for all Italy. This earnest desire to recover Guelders was, he felt sure, the true reason why the Emperor had undertaken this long journey in the depth of winter, and exposed his person to such great risks in passing through France. When, contrary to the Constable's express orders, Wyatt obtained an audience from the Emperor at Châtelhérault, as he came in from hunting with the Dauphin, and informed him of His Majesty's marriage and alliance with Cleves, Charles turned angrily on him, saying:

"What hath Monsieur de Cleves to do with Guelders? I mean to show him that he has played the young man. I hope the King will give him good advice, for, I can tell you, Monsieur de Cleves shall give me reason. I say he shall—he shall! If he does," he continued, laying his hand on his heart, "he shall find in me a Sovereign, a cousin, and a neighbour. Otherwise he will lose all three."[278]

When, two months later in Brussels, Wyatt craved another interview of the Emperor, and begged him in Henry's name to look favourably on his brother-in-law's petition, Charles said he must desire the King not to meddle between him and his subjects, repeating the same words, "Je ne ferai rien," two or three times over. An Envoy from the Duke of Cleves came to meet him at Brussels, but was told that the Emperor could not attend to his master's business until the affairs of Ghent were settled. These, as Wyatt remarked, had already quieted down in a singular manner from the moment that the Emperor started on his journey, and deputies from the revolted city had been sent to meet him at Valenciennes. But he refused sternly to see them, saying that they would learn his pleasure when he came to Ghent.[279]

It was Charles's intention to overawe the turbulent city by an imposing display of armed force. On the 14th of February, 1540, he entered Ghent—"that great, rich, and beautiful city," writes the city chronicler, "with its broad streets, fair rivers, noble churches, houses, and hospitals, the finest in the Netherlands"—at the head of a stately procession. The Queen rode on his right hand, the Duchess of Milan on his left, followed by the Princess of Macedonia and other ladies in litters, the officers of the household, and a long train of foreign Ambassadors, Princes, and Knights of the Golden Fleece. Cardinal Farnese, Don Ferrante Gonzaga, Viceroy of Sicily, the Prince of Orange, the Dukes of Alva and Aerschot, Count Egmont, Büren, De Praet, Lalaing, and Granvelle, were all present. In their rear came the troops—4,000 horse, 1,000 crossbowmen, 5,000 Landsknechten, and a strong body of artillery, numbering in all 60,000 persons and 15,000 horses. Their entry lasted six hours, and it was dusk before the last guns and baggage defiled through the streets. Charles, with his sister and niece, alighted at the Prinzenhof, the house where he had been born just forty years before, and the Archers' Guard took up their station at the gates.[280] A strong body of infantry was encamped in the neighbouring market-place, pickets of cavalry occupied the chief squares, and the rest of the troops were quartered in other parts of the city. But there was not the least show of resistance on the part of the citizens. Absolute tranquillity reigned everywhere while the stricken city awaited the Emperor's sentence. It was, as might be expected, a severe one. Twenty-three of the ringleaders were arrested, and after a prolonged trial were found guilty. On the 17th of March, nine of these were put to death in the market-place, while the others were banished and heavily fined. On the 29th of April the Emperor convened the chief officers of State and magistrates in the great hall of the Prinzenhof, and, in the presence of the Queen and her Court, delivered his sentence on the guilty city. The charters and privileges of Ghent were annulled, the property of the Corporation was confiscated, and heavy additional fines were imposed, beside the payment of the 400,000 florins which had been the cause of the quarrel. In their consternation, the burghers turned to Mary and implored her to intercede on their behalf; but she could only advise them to throw themselves on the Emperor's mercy. On the 3rd of May a memorable and historic scene took place in the court of the Prinzenhof. Here the Emperor, seated on a tribunal, with his crown on his head and sceptre in his hand, and surrounded by the Archers' Guard, received the senators and chief burghers, as, robed in black, with bare heads and feet, and halters round their necks, they knelt in the dust at his feet. The sentence of condemnation was read aloud in the presence of a brilliant assembly of nobles and courtiers, and of a vast crowd who looked on from the windows and roofs of the neighbouring houses. Then Mary, who occupied a chair at her brother's side, rose, and, turning to the Emperor, in eloquent words implored him to have pity on his poor city of Ghent, and to remember that he had been born there. The Emperor gave a gracious answer, saying that out of brotherly love for her and pity for his poor subjects he would pardon the citizens and restore their property. But he decided to build a citadel to keep the city in subjection, and, after taking his brother Ferdinand to the top of the belfry tower to choose a site, he eventually fixed on the high ground above the River Scheldt, where St. Bavon's Abbey stood. The demolition of the ancient monastery was at once begun, and before the Emperor left Ghent the first stone of the new fortress was laid.[281]

While these tragic events were taking place, a succession of illustrious guests arrived at Court. First of all, at the end of February, came Ferdinand, King of the Romans, a simple and honest Prince, the best of husbands and fathers, and as fondly attached to his sister Mary as she was to him. At the same time the Palatine Frederic sent his wife to join the family party and plead her unfortunate father's cause with the all-powerful Emperor. Although his journey to England had failed to secure Henry's support, he still cherished designs against Denmark, and was anxious to prevent a renewal of the truce between the Low Countries and King Christian III. After consulting Archbishop Carondelet, the President of the Council, and Granvelle, the two sisters, Dorothea and Christina, drew up a petition to the Emperor, imploring him to have pity on the poor prisoner, who had already languished seven years in solitary confinement, and reminding him gently of the pledges given to the Palatine at his marriage.

But although the sisters' touching appeal on behalf of their captive father moved many hearts, and both Henry VIII. and James V. of Scotland wrote to assure the Palatine of their sympathy, no one was inclined to embark on so desperate an enterprise, and Dorothea went back to her lord at Heidelberg without having obtained any satisfaction. On the 14th of April a truce was concluded with the Danish Envoys, who had followed the Emperor to Ghent, and the illusory hopes of the three crowns which had been so long dangled before the Palatine's eyes melted into thin air.[283]

There was still one important question awaiting settlement. William of Cleves had sent three successive Ambassadors to congratulate Charles on his return and to seek the investiture of Guelders at his hand. Now, at King Ferdinand's instance, he arrived at Ghent one day in person, to the surprise of the whole Court.