Neither Queen Eleanor, who sent an entreating letter with a present of falcons to her sister, nor Cardinal Farnese, who brought fresh proposals of peace from the Pope, fared any better. The young Duchess Christina now determined to make an attempt herself, and came to meet her uncle at Spires when he attended the Diet. The ostensible reason of this journey was to visit her sister Dorothea, but Charles, divining her intention, sent the Countess Palatine word that if the Duchess of Bar brought proposals of peace she might as well stay at home. Christina, however, arrived at Spires on the 8th of February, with a train of fourteen ladies and fifteen horse, and spent a week with the Count and Countess Palatine. The sisters saw the Emperor and King Ferdinand every day, and were to all appearance on the most affectionate terms with them. But nothing transpired as to what passed between Christina and her uncle in private. On the day that she left Spires to return to Nancy, Frederic heard of the death of his brother, the Elector Palatine, and hastened to Heidelberg with Dorothea to attend his funeral and take possession of the rich Rhineland, to which he now succeeded. Six weeks later he returned to do homage for the Palatinate, and assist at the wedding of his cousin Sabina with Lamoral d'Egmont, the hero of so many hard-fought fields. The Emperor gave a sumptuous banquet in honour of his gallant brother-at-arms, Dorothea led the bride to church, and Frederic, in a fit of generosity, settled 14,000 florins on his young kinswoman.[350]

In this same month Ambassadors arrived at Spires from Christian III. of Denmark, who had quarrelled with the French King and was anxious to make peace with the Emperor. In spite of a protest from the Palatine, a treaty was concluded on the 23rd of May, by which Charles recognized the reigning monarch's title to the crown. So the long war, which had lasted twenty-one years, was at length ended, and the Emperor finally abandoned the cause of Christian II. But a clause was added by which his daughters' rights were reserved, and a promise given that the severity of his captivity should be relaxed and that he should be allowed to hunt and fish in the park at Sonderburg. Christian III. gladly agreed to these more humane conditions, and even offered to give Dorothea and Christina a substantial dowry, but the Palatine refused to accept any terms, and persisted in asserting his wife's claims.[351]

IV.

Soon after her return from Spires, on the 20th of April, 1544, Christina gave birth, at Nancy, to a daughter, who was named Renée, after the late Duchess. But her happiness was clouded by the illness of her husband, whose health had become a cause of grave anxiety. Fighting was renewed with fresh vigour in the spring, and unexpected success attended the imperial arms. Luxembourg was recovered by Ferrante Gonzaga, and the French invaders were expelled from most of the strongholds which they held in this province. The war raged fiercely on the borders of Lorraine, and the annoyance to which his subjects were exposed, induced Duke Antoine to make another effort at mediation. Since the Emperor turned a deaf ear to all appeals, he decided to apply to King Francis in person, and on the 8th of May he set out in a litter for the French Court; but when he reached Bar he was too ill to go any farther, and took to his bed in this ancient castle of his ancestors. His sons hastened to join him, and Christina followed them as soon as she was able to travel, and arrived in time to be present at her father-in-law's death-bed. The fine old man made his will, appointed his brothers, the Duke of Guise and the Cardinal, to be his executors, and with his last breath begged his son to rule Lorraine wisely and raise as few extraordinary taxes as possible. Above all, he adjured him to preserve his people from the scourge of war, and use every endeavour to obtain the restoration of peace. With these words on his lips, he passed away on the 19th of June, 1544.[352] The new Duke was as anxious for peace as his father, but the moment was unpropitious for any efforts in this direction. King Henry had at length taken the field and invaded Picardy with a large army, and the Emperor was bent on carrying the war into the heart of France, and urged his ally to meet him under the walls of Paris. On the 17th of June Charles himself came to Metz with Maurice of Saxony and the young Marquis Albert of Brandenburg, the boldest warrior in Germany, and prepared plans for the extension of the campaign which Ferrante Gonzaga and the Prince of Orange were carrying on in Champagne. Here Francis of Lorraine joined him as soon as he was able to mount a horse, and, after spending some days at Metz, induced the Emperor to accompany him to Nassau-le-Grand, where Christina was awaiting him.[353] On his way Charles stopped at Pont-à-Mousson, and paid a visit to Queen Philippa, the sister of his old enemy Charles of Guelders, for whom he had always entertained a genuine regard, and who was proud to welcome the great Emperor under her convent roof. Since the death of the Empress, five years before, Charles had formed a fixed resolution to end his days in some cloistered retreat, and he looked with admiration, not unmixed with envy, on the aged Queen's peaceful home, and the garden where she hoed and raked the borders and planted flowers with her own hands. It was a memorable day in the convent annals, and one which left pleasant recollections in the Emperor's breast.[354]

But although Charles was full of affection for Christina and her husband, he declined to receive the Cardinal of Lorraine, who begged for an interview, and during his brief visit not a word was spoken with regard to overtures of peace.[355] On the 12th of July he took leave of the Duke and Duchess, and joined the Prince of Orange's camp before St. Dizier. This town was strongly fortified, but René had taken up his position near a bridge across the Marne, and opened fire from a battery of guns placed in the dry bed of the castle moat. Charles himself visited the trenches on the day of his arrival, and early the next morning the Prince of Orange walked round to inspect the artillery with Ferrante Gonzaga. The Marquis of Marignano was sitting in a chair, which had been brought there for the Emperor's use the day before, and, seeing the Prince, sprang to his feet and offered him his seat. Compliments were exchanged on both sides, and the Prince finally sat down in the empty chair. He had hardly taken his seat before he was struck by a shell which, passing between the Viceroy and the Marquis, broke one of his ribs, and shattered his shoulder to pieces. They bore his unconscious form to the Emperor's tent, where he lay between life and death for the next forty-eight hours. The whole camp was filled with consternation.

Before the writer had finished his letter, a servant came in to tell him that the Prince was gone.[356]

A Spanish officer on the spot wrote a touching account of the Prince's last moments. From the first the doctors gave little hope, and when the Emperor heard of René's critical state he hastened to the wounded hero's bedside, and knelt down, holding his hand in his own. The Prince knew him, and begged him as a last favour to confirm the will which he had made a month before, and take his young cousin and heir, William of Nassau, under his protection. Charles promised to do all in his power for the boy, and, with tears streaming down his face, kissed the Prince's cheek before he passed away.

From all sides the same bitter wail was heard. There was sorrow in the ancient home at Bar, where René's marriage had been celebrated with great rejoicing four years before. The Duke and Duchess wept for their gallant brother-in-law, and Christina thought, with tender regret, of the hero who in youthful days had seemed to her a very perfect knight. The sad news was sent to De Courrières at the English camp before Boulogne, by his Lieutenant of Archers, and the veteran shed tears over the gallant Prince whom he had often followed to victory. Great was the lamentation at Brussels when the truth became known. Nothing but weeping was heard in the streets, and Queen Mary retired to the Abbey of Groenendal to mourn for the loss which the Netherlands had sustained by René's untimely death.[358] In his own city of Breda the sorrow was deeper still. There his faithful wife, Anne of Lorraine, was waiting anxiously for news from the battle-field. Her father had died a few weeks before, and now her lord was torn from her in the flower of his age, and she was left a childless widow. Early in the year she had given birth to a daughter, who was christened on the 25th of February, and called Mary, after her godmother, the Queen of Hungary, but who died before she was a month old. Now report said that she was about to become a mother for the second time, but her hopes were once more doomed to disappointment. By René's last will, his titles and the greater part of his vast estates passed to his cousin William of Nassau, a boy of eleven, while a large jointure and the rich lands of Diest were left to Anne for her life.[359] The Prince's corpse, clad in the robes of a knight of the Golden Fleece, was borne to Breda, and buried with his forefathers; but his heart was enshrined in the Collegiate Church of Bar, among the tombs which held the ashes of his wife's ancestors. On his death-bed René had expressed a wish that a representation of his face and form, not as he was in life, but as they would appear two years after death, should be carved on his tomb. This strange wish was faithfully carried out by Anne of Lorraine, who employed Ligier-Richier, the gifted Lorraine sculptor, to carve a skeleton with upraised hand clasping the golden casket which contained the dead hero's heart. The figure, carved in fine stone of ivory whiteness, was, as it were, a literal rendering of the words, "Though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." At the Revolution, the Collegiate Church of Bar, with the chapel of the Lorraine Princes, which Montaigne called the most sumptuous in France, was entirely destroyed; but René's monument was saved and placed in the Church of St. Étienne, where it is commonly known as "La Squelette de Bar."[360]

The memory of this popular Prince lingered long in the land of his birth, and his fame lived in the songs of Flanders and Holland for many generations. One of the best known begins with the lines:

And so the story goes on through many stanzas, which tell how, in spite of his wife's dark forebodings, the hero rode out to the wars to fight against the French, how he met with his fatal wound, and never came home again.

V.

The Prince's death threw a gloom over the imperial camp, but did not diminish the warlike ardour of his battalions, who swore with one voice that they would avenge their leader. On the 17th of August St. Dizier at length surrendered. "A right dear-bought town," wrote Wotton, "considering the number of men lost in the assault, and chiefly the inestimable loss of that noble Prince." Ferrante immediately sent a troop of light horse, with Francesco d'Este at their head, against Joinville, the splendid home of the Guises, although, as Wotton remarked, this was rather a house of pleasure than a stronghold. The castle was spared by order of the Emperor for the sake of his niece Christina, who begged him not to add to the Princess of Orange's grief by destroying her uncle's house; but the town and churches were sacked and set on fire, and the beautiful gardens, with their fine water-shows and temples, were destroyed.[362] The news was received with consternation in Paris, where Antoinette and her grandson had taken refuge, and the Duchess's brother, Cardinal Bourbon, wrote to the Scottish Queen telling her of the report that the enemy had burnt down Joinville, which had fortunately proved to be false. "The destruction of such a beautiful house," he adds, "would indeed have been sad."[363] This calamity had been averted by Christina, but, in their anger at the damage done by the imperial troops, the Guise Princes hardly remembered the debt that they owed her. The King was furious, and in the first burst of his indignation sent the Duke of Lorraine a message, threatening to destroy him and all his house. The Duke now determined to go to the French Court to defend himself from these charges and see if it were possible to make proposals of peace in this quarter. The Emperor's rapid advance had excited great alarm in Paris. Even the King awoke to a sense of danger, and said to Margaret of Navarre, the sister to whom he turned in all his worst troubles, "Ma mignonne, pray God to spare me the disgrace of seeing the Emperor encamped before my city of Paris." Queen Eleanor, in her distress, sent a Dominican friar in whom she had great confidence—Don Gabriel de Guzman—to implore her brother to hear her prayers. But Charles was still obdurate. He received Francis of Lorraine in the camp after the Prince of Orange's death, but when he heard that his nephew was going to the French Court, he sent Montbardon to beg the Duchess, "as she loved him," not to let her husband go to France so soon after he had seen him, lest people should think that he was sent by the Emperor to treat of peace.

Christina replied in a letter written, as Wotton remarked, in her own hand, telling her uncle that she had sent a servant post-haste to overtake her husband, but that he was already at Châlons, and had gone too far to retrace his steps. In spite of this manful attempt, the Duke never reached Paris; he fell from his horse in a fainting fit at Épernay, and was brought back in a litter to Bar, where Christina nursed him for several weeks.[364] His efforts, however, proved more effectual than he had expected. The Emperor's precautions were necessary owing to the jealousy with which the English King regarded every proposal of peace on the part of his ally, but in reality Charles was almost as eager as Francis to put an end to the war. His resources were exhausted, the plague was raging in Luxembourg and Flanders, and he realized the danger of advancing into the enemy's country with the Dauphin's army in his rear, while his hopes of the English march on Paris had been disappointed by Henry's delays before Montreuil and Boulogne. Under these circumstances he felt that he could no longer refuse to treat with his foes. On the 29th of August, a week after the Duke had started on his unfortunate journey, Admiral l'Annebaut and the French Chancellor were admitted into the Emperor's presence, in the camp near Châlons, and conferences were opened between them and Granvelle, with the happy result that on the 19th of September peace was signed at Crépy-en-Laonnois.

By this treaty the Duke of Orleans was to be given either the Emperor's daughter in marriage, with the reversion of the Netherlands as her dower, or else one of his Austrian nieces with the immediate possession of Milan. In return Francis was to renounce his claims on Naples and Artois, restore the Duke of Savoy's dominions, and endow his son with large estates and revenues. All the towns and fortresses which had been captured during the recent war were to be restored, including Stenay, which, as Charles pointed out, the King of France "had seized in the strangest manner, and held by force without paying homage, although it is notoriously a fief of the empire."[365] As soon as peace was signed, Granvelle's son, the young Bishop of Arras, was sent to ask the English King to become a party to the treaty; but Henry, who had just taken Boulogne after a long siege, quite refused, and professed great surprise to hear that the Emperor had agreed to terms which seemed to him more befitting the vanquished than the victor. On the other hand, a strong party at the French Court complained that the rights of the Crown were sacrificed to the personal aggrandisement of Orleans, and on the 12th of December the Dauphin signed a secret protest against the treaty, which was witnessed by Vendôme and Aumale.[366] But in the provinces where war had been waging, peace was welcomed with thankfulness, and the ruler and people of Lorraine could once more breathe freely.

The Duke of Lorraine was now able to convey his father's body from the Castle of Bar, where he had died, to Nancy. On the 15th of September he and his brother set out at the head of the funeral procession, along roads lined with crowds of people weeping for the good Duke who had ruled the land so well. But since it was impossible for the Duke of Guise and his family to come to Nancy at present, the last rites were put off till the following year, and the old Duke's remains were left to repose for the time in the Church of St. Georges.[367] Little dreamt these loyal subjects that before the year was over the young Duke, on whom their hopes were fixed, would himself be numbered with the dead, and lie buried in his father's grave. But for the moment all was well. The return of peace was hailed with rejoicing, and the restitution of Stenay removed a blot from the scutcheon of Lorraine, while the independence of the duchy was confirmed by a decree of the Diet of Nuremberg, to which the Emperor gave his sanction.[368]

The Duke and Duchess received a pressing invitation to join in the festivities that were held at Brussels to celebrate the peace. Charles and Mary arrived there on the 1st of October, and were shortly followed by Queen Eleanor, bringing in her train the Duke of Orleans and the Duchess of Étampes, who had used all her influence with the King to bring about peace, chiefly from jealousy of the Dauphin and his mistress, Diane de Poitiers. The burghers of Brussels gave the imperial family a magnificent entertainment at the hôtel-de-ville, and presented Eleanor with a golden fountain of exquisite shape and workmanship; while the Emperor lavished costly presents on his guests, and gave the Queen of Hungary the fine domains of Binche and Turnhout in gratitude for her services. Unfortunately, Christina was detained at Nancy by a return of her husband's illness, and did not reach Brussels till the 4th of November. By this time Eleanor had set out on her return, and Christina, eager to see her aunt, followed her to Mons, and spent two days in her company. On the 7th the Duchess came back to Brussels with her brother-in-law, Nicolas de Vaudemont, and remained with her uncle and aunt during a fortnight. It was her first visit to Brussels since her wedding, more than three years before, and old friends and faces welcomed her on all sides. But one familiar figure was missing, and she found a melancholy pleasure in the company of her sister-in-law, the widowed Princess of Orange, whom she saw for the first time since her gallant husband's death. Charles treated his niece with marked kindness, and gave her a superb necklace of pearls and diamonds as a parting present.[369]

The winter was spent happily at Nancy, where the new Duke and Duchess made themselves popular with all classes. Francis gave free rein to his love of art and letters, and encouraged scholars and artists by his enlightened patronage. He took passionate delight in music, and was never happier than when he could surround himself with the best singers and players on the lute and viol. Christina shared his artistic tastes, and was greatly interested in the improvements of the ducal palace. Together they made plans for the decoration of its halls and gardens, and for the construction of new buildings and churches in different parts of Lorraine, while the Court painters, Crock and Chappin, were sent to Italy to collect antiques and study the best examples of art and architecture.[370] At the same time Christina took deep interest in the condition of her humbler subjects, and tried to relieve distress by founding charitable institutions on the pattern of those in Flanders. A new period of peace and prosperity seemed to have dawned on Lorraine, and everything promised a long and happy reign.

By the end of the year the Duke and Duchess of Guise returned to Joinville, and were actively engaged throughout the winter in rebuilding the ruined town and repairing the damage done by the imperial soldiery. Old quarrels between the two houses were forgotten, and friendly intercourse was renewed. In February the Duke and Duchess of Lorraine were present in the chapel of Joinville, at the consecration of Guise's son Charles, as Archbishop of Reims, and in March the Cardinal of Lorraine came to Nancy to discharge the duties of executor to the late Duke. Antoine had provided liberally for all his children. Nicolas de Vaudemont, his younger son, received a sum of 15,000 crowns, and Christina gave her brother-in-law a handsome present of furniture, to help him in setting up house. Some lordships near Joinville were left to the Duke of Guise, and everything was amicably arranged.[371]

Suddenly the Duke fell ill for the third time, and during several days his life was in danger. Wotton was convinced that he had been poisoned by his French enemies, and so alarming were the reports which reached Brussels, that the Emperor wrote privately to his new Ambassador in Paris, Granvelle's brother-in-law, St. Mauris, begging him to keep a watchful eye on the affairs of Lorraine, lest Guise and the Cardinal should take advantage of their nephew's condition to seize his domains. But this time Francis recovered once more, and was able to make his solemn entry into Nancy on the 16th of April. At the Porte St. Nicolas he was met by the three orders—the nobles, clergy, and people—and walked on foot, with Nicolas de Vaudemont at his side, followed by his Ministers, to the Church of St. Georges. Here, kneeling at the high-altar, he kissed the relic of the True Cross, and took a solemn oath to respect the privileges of the people of Lorraine and the liberties of the city of Nancy. After this a Te Deum was chanted and a banquet held in the ducal palace.[372] The next week, by the advice of his doctors, Antoine Champier and Nicolas le Pois, he went to Blamont, in the hope that the invigorating air of the hills might complete his cure; but he grew weaker every day, and was subject to frequent fainting fits of an alarming nature. In her anxiety, Christina sent to Strasburg and Fribourg for well-known physicians, and Mary of Hungary despatched her own doctor to Nancy, and consulted eminent doctors in London and Paris on the patient's symptoms.[373] But all was of no avail, and as a last resource the Duke was carried in a litter to Remiremont, his favourite shooting-lodge in the heart of the Vosges. It was the end of May, and the beautiful woods along the mountain slopes were in the first glory of their spring foliage. For a moment it seemed as if his delight in the beauty of the place and the life-giving influence of sunshine and mountain air would restore him to health. But already the hand of Death was upon him. On the Fête-Dieu he became much worse, and his end was evidently near; but he was perfectly conscious, and, sending for a notary, he made his last will, appointing his wife Regent of the State and guardian of her little son and daughter, and commending her and his children to the Emperor's care. After this he received the last Sacraments, and passed quietly away on Friday, the 12th of June. He was not yet twenty-eight, and had reigned exactly one year.[374] Death had once more severed the marriage tie, and Christina, who but lately called herself the happiest woman in the world, was left stricken and desolate, a widow for the second time, at the age of twenty-three.