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Title: Charles the Bold
       Last Duke Of Burgundy, 1433-1477

Author: Ruth Putnam

Release Date: December 28, 2004 [EBook #14496]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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[Illustration: CHARLES THE BOLD OF BURGUNDY (1433-1477) (FROM MS.
STATUTE BOOK OF THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE, VIENNA) PAINTED
BETWEEN 1518-1531]





CHARLES THE BOLD

LAST DUKE OF BURGUNDY

1433-1477


BY


RUTH PUTNAM

AUTHOR OF "WILLIAM THE SILENT," "A MEDIAEVAL PRINCESS," ETC.


       *       *       *       *       *

G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS

NEW YORK AND LONDON

The Knickerbocker Press

1908

       *       *       *       *       *

COPYRIGHT 1908,

BY

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

The Knickerbocker Press, New York

       *       *       *       *       *



PREFACE

The admission of Charles, Duke of Burgundy into the series of Heroes
of the Nations, is justified by his relation to events rather than by
his national or his heroic qualities. _"Il n'avait pas assez de sens
ni de malice pour conduire ses entreprises,"_ is one phrase of Philip
de Commines in regard to the master he had once served. Render _sens_
by _genius_ and _malice_ by _diplomacy_ and the words are not far
wrong. Yet in spite of the failure to obtain either a kingly or an
imperial crown, the story of those same unaccomplished enterprises
contains the germs of much that has happened later in the borderlands
of France and Germany where the projected "middle kingdom" might have
been erected. A sketch of the duke's character with its traits of
ambition and shortcomings may therefore be placed, not unfitly, among
the pen portraits of individuals who have attempted to change the map
of Europe.

The materials for an exhaustive study of the times, and of the
participants in the scenes thereof, are almost overwhelming
in quantity. Into this narrative, I have woven the words of
contemporaries when these related what they saw and thought, or at
least what they said they saw or thought, about events passing within
their sight or their ken. The veracity attained is only that of a
mosaic of bits, each with its morsel of truth. And the rim in which
these bits are set is too slender to contain all the illumination
necessary. The narrative is, of necessity, partial and fragmentary,
for a complete story would require a series of biographies presented
in parallel columns. My own preliminary chapter to this book--a
mere explanation of the presence of the dukes of Burgundy in the
Netherlands--grew into an account of a sovereign whom they deposed and
was published under the title of _A Mediaeval Princess._

John Foster Kirk gave 1713 pages to his record of Charles the Bold,
Duke of Burgundy. Forty years have elapsed since that publication
appeared and a mass of interesting material pertinent to the subject
has been given out to the public, while separate phases of it have
been minutely discussed by competent critics, so that at every point
there is new temptation for the biographer to expand the theme where
the scope of his work demands brevity.

In using the later fruit of historical investigation, it is delightful
for an American to find that scholars of all nations do justice to
Mr. Kirk's accuracy and industry even when they may differ from his
conclusions. It has been my privilege to be permitted free access to
this scholar's collection of books, and I would here express my deep
gratitude to the Kirk family for their generosity and courtesy towards
me.

After some preliminary reading at Brussels and Paris and in England,
the work for this volume has been completed in America, where the
opportunity of securing the latest results of research and criticism
is constantly increasing, although these results are still lodged
under many roofs. I have had many reasons to thank the librarians of
New York, Boston, and Washington, and also those of Harvard, Columbia,
and Cornell universities for courtesies and for serviceable aid; and
just as many reasons to regret the meagreness of what can be put
between two covers as the gleanings from so rich a harvest.

One word further in explanation of the use of _Bold_. The adjective
has been retained simply because it has been so long identified with
Charles in English usage. I should have preferred the word _Rash_ as
a better equivalent for the contemporary term, applied to the duke in
his lifetime,--_le temeraire_.

R.P.

WASHINGTON, D.C., 1908.

       *       *       *       *       *



CONTENTS

*  *  *

CHAPTER I
CHILDHOOD

CHAPTER II
YOUTH

CHAPTER III
THE FEAST OF THE PHEASANT

CHAPTER IV
BURGUNDY AND FRANCE

CHAPTER V
THE COUNT AND THE DAUPHIN

CHAPTER VI
THE WAR OF PUBLIC WEAL

CHAPTER VII
LIEGE AND ITS FATE

CHAPTER VIII
THE NEW DUKE

CHAPTER IX
THE UNJOYOUS ENTRY

CHAPTER X
THE DUKE'S MARRIAGE

CHAPTER XI
THE MEETING AT PERONNE

CHAPTER XII
AN EASY VICTORY

CHAPTER XIII
A NEW ACQUISITION

CHAPTER XIV
ENGLISH AFFAIRS

CHAPTER XV
NEGOTIATIONS AND TREACHERY

CHAPTER XVI
GUELDERS

CHAPTER XVII
THE MEETING AT TREVES

CHAPTER XVIII
COLOGNE, LORRAINE, AND ALSACE

CHAPTER XIX
THE FIRST REVERSES

CHAPTER XX
THE CAMPAIGNS OF 1475 AND 1476

CHAPTER XXI
THE BATTLE OF NANCY

BIBLIOGRAPHY

INDEX


[Illustration]



ILLUSTRATIONS

*  *  *

CHARLES THE BOLD, DUKE OF BURGUNDY          _Frontispiece_
From MS. statute book of the Order of the Golden
Fleece at Vienna. The artist is unknown. Date
of the codex is between 1518 and 1565. This
portrait is possibly redrawn from that attributed
to Roger van der Weyden. That, however,
shows a much stronger face.

PHILIP THE GOOD AS FOUNDER OF THE ORDER OF
THE GOLDEN FLEECE
From a reproduction of a miniature in MS. at Brussels.

A DUKE OF BURGUNDY AND THE POPE AT AVIGNON
From a contemporary miniature reproduced in
Petit's _Hist. de Bourgogne_.

PHILIP THE GOOD, DUKE OF BURGUNDY, AS PATRON
OF LETTERS
From a reproduction of part of a miniature in a
beautiful MS. copy in Brussels Library of Jacques
de Guise's _Annales_. The author is depicted
presenting his book to the duke, who is attended
by his son and his courtiers. The miniature is
attributed by turns to Roger van der Weyden, to
Guillaume Wijelant or Vrelant, and to Hans
Memling.

A CASTLE IN BURGUNDY
From Petit's _Hist. de Bourgogne_.

FRONTISPIECE OF A XVTH CENTURY ACCOUNT BOOK

COUNT OF ST. POL AND HIS JESTER
From reproduction of a miniature in Barante, _Les
ducs de Bourgogne_,

THE STATUE OF CHARLES OF BURGUNDY AT INNSBRUeCK

LOUIS XI
From an engraving by A. Boilly after a drawing by
G. Boilly.

PHILIP AND CHARLES OF BURGUNDY
From a drawing in a MS. at Arras.

BATTLE OF MONTL'HERY (JULY 16, 1465)
From a contemporary miniature reproduced in
Comines-Lenglet.

LOUIS XI, WITH THE PRINCES AND SEIGNEURS OF THE
WAR OF THE PUBLIC WEAL
From a contemporary miniature reproduced in
Comines-Lenglet.

ANTHONY OF BURGUNDY
After Hans Memling, Dresden Gallery.

CHARLES, DUKE OF BURGUNDY, PRESIDING OVER A
CHAPTER OF THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE
From reproduction of a miniature in MS. at
Brussels.

PHILIP DE COMMINES

OLIVIER DE LA MARCHE
From sketch in MS. at Arras reproduced in
_Memoires couronnes de l'acad. royale de Belgique,_
xlix.

MARY OF BURGUNDY
From a contemporary miniature reproduced in
Barante, _Les ducs de Bourgogne_.

MAP OF ALSACE AND ADJACENT TERRITORIES
From Toutey, _Charles le temeraire_.

MEDAL OF CHARLES, DUKE OF BURGUNDY

BURGUNDIAN STANDARD CAPTURED AT BEAUVAIS

ARNOLD, DUKE OF GUELDERS
From engraving by G. Robert in Comines-Lenglet.

MARY OF BURGUNDY
After design by C. Laplante.

CHARLES THE BOLD
Idealised by P. P. Rubens, Vienna Gallery. (By
permission of J. J. Loewy, Vienna.)

MAXIMILIAN OF AUSTRIA
Medal.

A FORTIFIED CHURCH IN BURGUNDY
From Petit's _Hist. de Bourgogne_,

KING RUHMREICH AND HIS DAUGHTER EHRENREICH
(These characters in Maximilian's poem of _Theuerdank_
represent Charles and Mary of Burgundy.)
From a reproduction of a wood engraving by
Schaeufelein in edition of 1517.

A PLAN OF THE BATTLE OF MORAT
Used by kind permission of Miss Sophia Kirk and
J. B. Lippincott Company.

PHILIBERT, DUKE OF SAVOY
After a design by Matthey reproduced in
Comines-Lenglet.

PLAN OF THE BATTLE OF NANCY
Used by kind permission of Miss Sophia Kirk and
the J. B. Lippincott Company.

PLAN OF THE BATTLE OF NANCY
From contemporary miniature reproduced in
Comines-Lenglet.

A MONUMENT ON THE BATTLEFIELD AT NANCY
From Barante, _Let ducs de Bourgogne_.

THE TOMB OF CHARLES OF BURGUNDY
Church of Notre Dame, Bruges





CHARLES THE BOLD

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER I


CHILDHOOD

1433-1440


On St. Andrew's Eve, in the year 1433, the good people of Dijon were
abroad, eager to catch what glimpses they might of certain stately
functions to be formally celebrated by the Duke of Burgundy. The mere
presence of the sovereign in the capital of his duchy was in itself
a gala event from its rarity. Various cities of the dominions
agglomerated under his sway claimed his attentions successively. His
residence was now here and now there, without long tarrying anywhere.
His coming was usually very welcome. In times of peaceful submission
to his behest, the city of his sojourn reaped many advantages besides
the amusement of seeing her streets alive beyond their wont. In the
outlay for the necessities and the luxuries of the peripatetic ducal
court, the expenditures were lavish, and in the temporary commercial
activity enjoyed by the merchants, the fact that the burghers' own
contributions to this luxury were heavy, passed into temporary
oblivion.[1]

This autumn visit of Philip the Good to Dijon was more significant
than usual. It had lasted several weeks, and among its notable
occasions was an assembly of the Knights of the Golden Fleece for the
third anniversary of their Order. On this November 30th, Burgundy was
to witness for the first time the pompous ceremonials inaugurated at
Bruges in January, 1430. Three years had sufficed to render the new
institution almost as well known as its senior English rival, the
Order of the Garter, which it was destined to outshine for a brief
period at least. Its foundation had formed part of the elaborate
festivities accompanying the celebration of the marriage of Philip,
Duke of Burgundy, to Isabella of Portugal. As a signal honour to his
bride, Philip published his intention of creating a new order of
knighthood which would evince "his great and perfect love for the
noble state of chivalry."

Rumour, indeed, told various tales about the duke's real motives. It
was whispered that a certain lady of Bruges, whom he had distinguished
by his attentions, was ridiculed for her red hair by a few merry
courtiers, whereupon Philip declared that her tresses should be
immortally honoured in the golden emblem of a new society.[2] But that
may be set down as gossip. Philip's own assertion, when he instituted
the Order of the Golden Fleece, was that he intended to create a
bulwark

    "for the reverence of God and the sustenance of our Christian
    faith, and to honour and enhance the noble order of chivalry, and
    also for three reasons hereafter declared; first, to honour the
    ancient knights ...; second, to the end that these present.... may
    exercise the deeds of chivalry and constantly improve; third, that
    all gentlemen marking the honour paid to the knights will exert
    themselves to attain the dignity." [2]

The special homage to the new duchess was expressed in the device

  _Aultre n'aray
   Dame Isabeau tant que vivray[4]_

This pledge of absolute fidelity to Dame Isabella was, indeed, utterly
disregarded by the bridegroom, but in outward and formal honour to her
he never failed.

The new institution was, from the beginning, pre-eminently significant
of the duke's magnificent state existence, wherein his Portuguese
consort proved herself an efficient and able helpmeet. Again and again
during a period of thirty years, rich in diplomatic parleying, did
Isabella act as confidential ambassador for her husband, and many were
the negotiations conducted by her to his satisfaction.[5]

But it must be noted that whatever lay at the exact root of Philip's
motives when he conceived the plan of his Order, the actual result of
his foundation was not affected. He failed, indeed, to bring back into
the world the ancient system of knighthood in its ideal purity and
strength. Rather did he make a notable contribution to its decadence
and speed its parting. What was brought into existence was a house
of peers for the head of the Burgundian family, a body of faithful
satellites who did not hamper their chief overmuch with the criticism
permitted by the rules of their society, while their own glory added
shining rays to the brilliant centre of the Burgundian court.

Twenty-five, inclusive of the duke, was the original number appointed
to form the chosen circle of knights. This was speedily increased to
thirty-one, and a duty to be performed in the session of 1433, was
the election of new members to fill vacancies and to round out the
allotted tale.

[Illustration: PHILIP THE GOOD AS FOUNDER OF THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN
FLEECE]

In their manner of accomplishing the appointed task, the new
chevaliers had, from the outset, evinced a readiness to cast their
votes to the satisfaction of their chief, even if his pleasure
directly conflicted with the regulations they had sworn to obey. No
candidate was to be eligible whose birth was not legitimate,[6] a
regulation quite ignored when the duke proposed the names of his sons
Cornelius and Anthony. For his obedient knights did not refuse to open
their ranks to these great bastards of Burgundy, who carried a bar
sinister proudly on their escutcheon. So, too, others of Philip's many
illegitimate descendants were not rejected when their father proposed
their names.

Again, it was plainly stipulated that the new member should have
proven himself a knight of renown. Yet, in this session of 1433, one
of the candidates proposed for election, though nominally a knight,
had assuredly had no time to show his mettle. The dignity was his only
because his spurs had been thrown right royally into his cradle before
his tiny hands had sufficient baby strength to grasp a rattle, and
before he was even old enough to use the pleasant gold to cut his
teeth upon.[7]

Among the eight elected at Dijon in 1433, was Charles of Burgundy,
Count of Charolais, son of the sovereign duke, born at Dijon on the
previous St. Martin's Eve, November 10th.[8]

    "The new chevaliers, with the exception of the Count of
    Virnenbourg who was absent, took the accustomed oath at the hands
    of the sovereign in a room of his palace."


So runs the record. Jean le Fevre, Seigneur de St. Remy, present on
the occasion in his capacity of king-at-arms of the Order, is a trifle
more communicative.[9] According to him, all the gentlemen were very
joyous at their election as they received their collars and made their
vows as stated. He excepted no member in the phrase about the joy
displayed, though, as a matter of inference, the pleasure experienced
by the Count of Charolais may be reckoned as somewhat problematical.

The heir of Burgundy had attained the ripe age of just twenty days
when thus officially listed among the chevaliers present at the
festival. Born on November 10th of this same year, 1433,[10] he had
been knighted on the very day of his baptism, when Charles, Count of
Nevers, and the Seigneur of Croy were his sponsors. The former gave
his name to the infant while the latter's name was destined to be
identified with many unpleasant incidents in the career of the future
man. This brief span of life is sufficient reason for the further item
in the archives of the Golden Fleece:

    "As to the Count of Charolais, he was carried into the same room.
    There the sovereign, his father, and the duchess, his mother, took
    the oath on his behalf. Afterwards the duke put the collars upon
    all." [11]


Thus was emphasised at birth the parental conviction that Charles of
Burgundy was of different metal than the rest of the world. The great
duke of the Occident made a distinct epoch in the history of chivalry
when he conferred its dignities upon a speechless, unconscious infant.
The theory that knighthood was a personal acquisition had been
maintained up to this period, the Children of France[12] alone being
excepted from the rule, though in his _Lay de Vaillance_ Eustache
Deschamps complains that the degree of knighthood is actually
conferred on those who are only ten or twelve years old, and who do
not know what to do with the honour.[13] That plaint was written not
later than the first years of the fifteenth century, and the poet's
prediction that ruin of the institution was imminent when affected by
such disorders seemed justified if, in 1433, even the years of the
eligible age had shrunk to days. Philip himself had not received the
accolade until he was twenty-five.

How his predecessor in Holland, Count William VI., had acquitted
himself valiantly the moment that he was dubbed knight is told by
Froissart, and the tales of other accolades of the period are too well
known to need reference.

It is said that the baby cavalier was nourished by his own mother.
Having lost her first two infants, Isabella was solicitous for the
welfare of this third child, who also proved her last. He was,
moreover, Philip's sole legal heir, as Michelle of France and Bonne of
Artois, his first wives, had left no offspring. The care and devotion
expended on the boy were repaid. Charles became a sturdy child who
developed into youthful vigour. In person, he strangely resembled
his mother and her Portuguese ancestors, rather than the English
Lancastrians, from whom she was equally descended.

His dark hair and his features were very different from the fair type
of his paternal ancestors, the vigorous branch of the Valois family.
Possibly other characteristics suggesting his Portuguese origin were
intensified by close association with his mother, who supervised the
education directed by the Seigneur d' Auxy. They often lived at The
Hague, where Isabella acted as chief and official adviser to the
duke's stadtholder in the administration. [14]

Charles was a diligent pupil, if we may believe his contemporaries,
surprisingly so, considering his early taste for all martial pursuits
and his intense interest in military operations.

At two years of age he received his first lesson in horsemanship, on
a wooden steed constructed for his especial use by Jean Rampart, a
saddler of Brussels.

His biographers repeat from each other statements of his proficiency
in Latin. This must be balanced by noting that the only texts which
he could have read were probably not classic. In the inventory of the
various Burgundian libraries of the period, there are not six Greek
and Latin classical texts all told, and excepting Sallust, not a
single Roman historian in the original.[15] There was a translation
of Livy by the Prior of St. Eloi and late abridgments of Sallust,
Suetonius, Lucan, and Caesar,[16] with a French version of Valerius
Maximus, but nothing of Tacitus. Doubtless these versions and a volume
called _Les faits des Romains_ were used as text-books to teach the
young count about the world's conquerors. The last mentioned book
shows what travesties of Roman history were gravely read in the
fifteenth century.

There are stories[17] that the bit of history most enjoyed by the
pupil was the narrative of Alexander. Books about that hero were easy
to come by long before the invention of printing, though Alexander
would have had difficulty in recognising his identity under the
strange mediaeval motley in which his namesake wandered over the land.
No single man, with the possible exception of Charlemagne, was so
much written about or played so brilliantly the part of a hero to
the Middle Ages and after.[18] The simplicity and universality of his
success were of a type to appeal to the boy Charles, himself built on
simple lines. The fact, too, that Alexander was the son of a Philip
stimulated his imagination and instilled in his breast hopes of
conquering, not the whole world perhaps, but a good slice of territory
which should enable him to hold his own between the emperor and the
French king. Tales of definite schemes of early ambition are often
fabricated in the later life of a conqueror, but in this case they may
be believed, as all threads of testimony lead to the same conclusion.

The air breathed by the boy when he first became conscious of his
own individuality was certainly heavy with the aroma of satisfied
ambition. The period of his childhood was a time when his father stood
at the very zenith of his power. In 1435, was signed the Treaty of
Arras, the death-blow to the long coalition existing between Burgundy
and England to the continual detriment of France. Philip was
reconciled with great solemnity to the king, responsible in his
dauphin days for the murder of the late Duke of Burgundy. After
ostentatiously parading his filial resentment sixteen long years,
Philip forgave Charles VII. his share in the death of John the
Fearless, on the bridge at Montereau, and swore to lend his support to
keep the French monarch on the throne whither the efforts of Joan of
Arc had carried him from Bourges, the forlorn court of his exile.

England's pretensions were repudiated. To be sure, the recent
coronation of Henry VI. at Paris was not immediately forgotten, but
while the Duke of Bedford had actually administered the government as
regent, in behalf of his infant nephew, it was a mere shadow of his
office that passed to his successor. Bedford's death, in 1435, was
almost coincident with the compact at Arras when the English Henry's
realms across the Channel shrank to Normandy and the outlying
fortresses of Picardy and Maine. Later events on English soil were to
prove how little fitted was the son of Henry V. for sovereignty of any
kind.

Out of the negotiations at Arras, Philip of Burgundy rose triumphant
with a seal set upon his personal importance.[19] His recognition of
Charles VII. as lawful sovereign of France, and his reconciliation did
not pass without signal gain to himself.

The king declared his own hands unstained by the blood of John of
Burgundy, agreed to punish all those designated by Philip as actually
responsible for that treacherous murder, and pledged himself to erect
a cross on the bridge at Montereau, the scene of the crime. Further,
he relinquished various revenues in Burgundy, hitherto retained by the
crown from the moment when the junior branch of the Valois had been
invested with the duchy (1364); and he ceded the counties of Boulogne,
Artois, and all the seigniories belonging to the French sovereign on
both banks of the Somme. To this last cession, however, was appended
the condition that the towns included in this clause could be redeemed
at the king's pleasure, for the sum of four hundred thousand gold
crowns. Further, Charles exempted Philip from acts of homage to
himself, promised to demand no _aides_ from the duke's subjects
in case of war, and to assist his cousin if he were attacked from
England. Lastly, he renounced an alliance lately contracted with the
emperor to Philip's disadvantage.[20]

One clause in the treaty crowned the royal submissiveness towards the
powerful vassal. It provided that in case of Charles's failure to
observe all the stipulated conditions, his own subjects would be
justified in taking arms against him at the duke's orders. A similar
clause occurs in certain treaties between an earlier French king and
his Flemish vassals, but always to the advantage of the suzerain, not
to that of the lesser lords.

The duke was left in a position infinitely superior to that of the
king, whose realm was terribly exhausted by the long contest with
England, a contest wherein one nation alone had felt the invader's
foot. French prosperity had been nibbled off like green foliage before
a swarm of locusts, and the whole north-eastern portion of France
was in a sorry state of desolation by 1435. On the other hand, the
territories covered by Burgundy as an overlord had greatly increased
during the sixteen years that Philip had worn the title. An
aggregation of duchies, counties, and lordships formed his domain,
loosely hung together by reason of their several titles being vested
in one person--titles which the bearer had inherited or assumed under
various pretexts.

Flanders and Artois, together with the duchy and county of Burgundy,
came to him from his father, John the Fearless, in 1419. In 1421, he
bought Namur. In 1430, he declared himself heir to his cousins in
Brabant and Limbourg when Duke Anthony's second son followed his
equally childless brother into a premature grave, and the claims were
made good in spite of all opposition. Holland, Zealand, and Hainaut
became his through the unwilling abdication of his other cousin,
Jacqueline, in 1433. To save the life of her husband, Frank van
Borselen, the last representative of the Bavarian House then
formally resigned her titles, which she had already divested of all
significance five years previously, when Philip of Burgundy had become
her _ruward_, to relieve a "poor feminine person" of a weight of
responsibility too heavy for her shoulders.[21]

Divers items in the accounts show what Philip expended in having
the titles of Holland, Zealand, and Hainaut added to his other
designations. Also there were various places where his predecessor's
name had to be effaced to make room for his. (Laborde, i., 345).]

Antwerp and Mechlin were included in Brabant. Luxemburg was a later
acquisition obtained through Elizabeth of Goerlitz.

There were very shady bits in the chapters about Philip's entry into
many of his possessions, but it is interesting to note how cleverly
the best colour is given to his actions by Olivier de la Marche and
other writers who enjoyed Burgundian patronage. Very gentle are the
adjectives employed, and a nice cloak of legality is thrown over the
naked facts as they are ushered into history. Contemporary criticism
did occasionally make itself heard, especially from the emperor, who
declared that the Netherland provinces must come to him as a lapsed
imperial fief. For a time Philip denied that any links existed between
his domain and the empire, but in 1449 he finally found it convenient
to discuss the question with Frederic III. at Besancon; still he never
came to the point of paying homage.

All these territories made a goodly realm for a mere duke. But
they were individual entities centred around one head with little
interconnection.

Philip thought that the one thing needed to bring his possessions into
a national life, as coherent as that of France, was a unity of legal
existence among the dissimilar parts, and the effort to attain this
unity was the one thought dominating the career of his successor,
whose pompous introduction to life naturally inspired him with a high
idea of his own rank, and led him to dream of greater dignities for
himself and his successor than a bundle of titles,--a splendid, vain,
fatal dream as it proved.

As a final cement to the new friendship between Burgundy and France,
it was also agreed at Arras that the heir of the former should wed a
daughter of Charles VII. When the Count of Charolais was five years
old, the Seigneur of Crevecoeur,[22] "a wise and prudent gentleman"
was despatched to the French court on divers missions, among which
was the business of negotiating the projected alliance. A very joyous
reception was accorded the envoy by the king and the queen, and his
proposal was accepted in behalf of the second daughter, Catherine,
easily substituted for an older sister, deceased between the first and
second stages of negotiation.

A year later, a formal betrothal took place at St Omer, whither
the young bride was conducted, most honourably accompanied by the
archbishops of Rheims and of Narbonne, by the counts of Vendome,
Tonnerre, and Dunois, the young son of the Duke of Bourbon, named the
Lord of Beaujeu, and various other distinguished nobles, besides a
train of noble dames and demoiselles in special attendance on the
princess, and an escort of three hundred horse.

At the various cities where the party made halt they were graciously
received, and all honour was paid to the ten-year-old Daughter of
France. At Cambray, she was met by the duke's envoys and as she
travelled on towards her destination, all the towns of Philip's
obedience contributed their quota of welcome.

At St. Omer, the duke was awaiting her coming. When her approach was
announced he rode out in person to greet her, attended by a brilliant
escort.

[Illustration: A DUKE OF BURGUNDY AND THE POPE AT AVIGNON]

Within the city, "melodious festivals" were ready to burst into tune;
the betrothal was confirmed amid joyousness and the ceremony was
followed by tourneys and jousts, all at the expense of the duke.

What a series of pompous betrothals between infant parties the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries can show! Poor little puppets, in
whose persons national interests were supposed to be centred, were
made to lisp out their roles in international dramas whose final acts
rarely were consistent with the promise of the prologue.

Catherine did not live to become Duchess of Burgundy nor to temper the
duel between her husband and her brother Louis. The remainder of
her short existence was passed under the care of Duchess Isabella,
sometimes in one city of the Netherlands, sometimes in another.

La Marche[23] records one return of Philip to Brussels when his
arrival was greeted by Charles of Burgundy, honourably accompanied
by children of high birth about his age or less, some only eleven or
twelve years old. There were with him Jehan de la Tremoille, Philip
de Croy, Philip de Crevecoeur, Philip de Wavrin, and many others. All
were mounted on little horses harnessed like that of their governor, a
very honest and wise gentleman, named Messire Jehan, Seigneur et Ber
d'Auxy. This gentleman was a fine man, well known, of good lineage,
ready of speech and able to discuss matters of honour and of state.

He was both hunter and falconer, skilled in all exercise and sport.

    "Never [asserts La Marche] have I met a gentleman better adapted
    to supervise the education of a young prince than he.... Among his
    pupils were also Anthony, Bastard of Burgundy,[24] son of Philip,
    and the Marquis Hugues de Rottelin. These lads were older than the
    first mentioned."

La Marche dilates on the pleasure the duke felt in this youthful band
of horse, and then tells how, within Brussels,

    "he was received by the magistrates and conducted to his palace,
    where the Duchess of Burgundy awaited him holding by the hand
    Madame Catherine of France, Countess of Charolais. She was about
    twelve and seemed a lady grown, for she was good and wise, and
    well conditioned for her age."

At various state functions the Count and Countess of Charolais
appeared together in public, and witnessed certain of the gorgeous
and costly entertainments which were almost the daily food of the gay
Burgundian court. One of these occasions was calculated to make a deep
impression on the boy and to arouse his pride at the spectacle of a
proud city wooing his father's favour, in deep humiliation.

In 1436, an insurrection had occurred in Bruges, when the animosity of
the burghers had caused the duchess to flee from their midst, holding
her little son in her arms, alarmed for his personal safety. Philip
suppressed the revolt, but, in his anger at its insolence, declared
that never again would he set foot within the gates unless in company
with his superior.

[Illustration: PHILIP THE GOOD AS PATRON OF LETTERS

THE YOUNG COUNT OF CHAROLAIS IS IN THE BACKGROUND WITH ONE OF PHILIP'S
SONS FROM MINIATURE REPRODUCED IN BARANTE, "HIST. DES DUCS DE
BOURGOGNE"]

Among the many negotiations wherein Isabella played a prominent part
as her husband's representative, were those concerning the liberation
of the Duke of Orleans, who had remained in England, a prisoner, after
the battle of Agincourt in 1415. The last advice given by Henry V.
to his brothers was that they should make this captivity perpetual.
Therefore, whenever overtures were made for his redemption, a strong
party, headed by Humphrey of Gloucester, rejected them vehemently.

In 1440, however, there was a turn in the tide of sentiment. Possibly
the low state of the English exchequer made the duke's ransom more
attractive than his person. At any rate, 120,000 golden crowns were
accepted as his equivalent, and the exile of twenty-five years
returned to France, having pledged himself never to bear arms against
England.

Isabella of Burgundy was at Calais to welcome him, and to escort him
to St. Omer, where high revels were held in his honour and in that of
his alliance with Marie of Cleves, Philip's niece.

The week intervening between the betrothal and the nuptials was
passed in a succession of banquets and tourneys, gorgeous in their
elaboration. Moreover, St. Andrew's Day chancing to fall just then,
the new Burgundian Order was convened and the Duke of Orleans was
elected a Knight of the Golden Fleece, while in his turn he presented
his cousin with the collar of his own Order of the Porcupine. Lord
Cornwallis and other English gentlemen who had accompanied Orleans
across the Channel participated in these gaieties, nor were they among
the least favoured guests, adds Barante.

Amity was triumphant, and there was a general feeling abroad that the
returned exile was henceforth to be the ruling power in France. People
began to look to him to act as the go-between in their behalf, to be
their mediator with Charles VII., still little known at his best. Many
towns turned towards him in hopes of finding a friend, and among them
was Bruges. But it was not royal favours that Bruges sought. Her
burghers felt great inconvenience from the breach with their sovereign
duke. Anxious to be reinstated in his grace, they seized the
opportunity of reminding Philip of his assertion, and they besought
him to enter their gates in company with the Duke of Orleans, a
prince of the blood, closer to the French sovereign than the Duke of
Burgundy.

After some demur, Philip consented to grant their petition. Possibly
he was not loth to be persuaded. The deputies hastened back to Bruges
to rejoice their fellow-citizens with the news, and to prepare a
reception for their appeased sovereign, calculated to make him content
with the late rebels.

Before the grand cortege, composed of the two dukes, their consorts,
and the dignitaries who had assisted in the feasts of marriage and of
chivalry, reached the gates of Bruges, the citizens were ready with a
touching spectacle of humility and repentance.[25]

A league from the gates, the magistrates and burghers stood in the
road awaiting the travellers from St. Omer. All were barefooted and
bareheaded. Under the December sky they waited the approach of the
stately procession. When the duke arrived, they all fell upon their
knees and implored him to forgive the late troubles and to reinstate
their city in his favour. Philip did not answer immediately--delay was
always a feature of these episodes. Thereupon, the Duke of Orleans,
both duchesses, and all the gentlemen joined their entreaties to the
citizens' prayers. Again a pause, and then, as if generously yielding
to pressure, Philip bade the burghers put on their shoes and their
hats while he accepted at their hands the keys of all the gates. Then
the long procession moved on towards Bruges. At the gate were the
clergy, followed by the monks, nuns, and beguins of the various
convents and foundations, bearing crosses, banners, reliquaries, and
many precious ecclesiastical treasures. There, too, were the gilds
and merchants, on horseback, with magnificent accoutrements freshly
burnished to do honour to the welcome they offered their forgiving
overlord.

Throughout Bruges, at convenient places, platforms and stages
were erected, whereon were enacted dramatic performances, given
continuously, to provide amusement for the collected crowds. Sometimes
the presentation carried significance beyond mere entertainment. Here
a maid, garbed as a wood nymph, appeared leading a swan which wore the
collar of the Golden Fleece and a porcupine. This last beast was to
symbolise the Orleans device, _Near and Far_, as the creature was
supposed to project his spines to a distance.

One enthusiastic citizen covered his whole house with gold and the
roof with silver leaves to betoken his satisfaction. Indeed, if we
may believe the chroniclers, never in the memory of man had any city
incurred so much expense to honour its lord. The duke permitted his
heart to be touched by these proofs of devotion, and on the very
evening of his arrival he evinced that his confidence was restored by
sending the civic keys and a gracious message to the magistrates. At
the news of this condescension the cries of "_Noel_" re-echoed afresh
through the illuminated streets.

Charles was not present at this entry, which took place on Saturday,
December 11th, but Philip was so much entertained with the performance
that he sent for his son, and on the following Saturday he and the
Countess of Charolais came from Ghent to join the party. The Duke of
Orleans and many nobles rode out of the city to meet the young couple,
who were formally escorted to the palace by magistrates and citizens
in a body. On the Sunday there were repetitions of some of the plays
and every attention was offered by the Bruges burghers to their young
guests. When Orleans departed with his bride on Tuesday, December
14th, what wonder that the lady wept in sorrow at leaving these gay
Burgundian doings!

While Charles did not actually witness the humiliation of the
citizens, the seven-year-old boy would, undoubtedly, have heard and
known sufficient of the cause of the festivals to be fully aware that
the citizens who had dared defy his father were glad to buy back his
smiles at any cost to their pride and purse. He would have known, too,
that merchants from Venice, Genoa, Florence, and elsewhere joined the
Bruges burghers in the welcome to the mollified overlord. It was a
spectacle of the relations between a city and the ducal father not to
be easily forgotten by the son.


[Footnote 1: The indefatigable Gachard has published an itinerary of
Philip the Good, so far as he could make it. _(Collection des voyages
des souverains des Pays Bas_, i., 71.) Unfortunately, owing to
the destruction of papers, only a few years are complete. Between
1428-1441, there is nothing. But the itinerary for 1441 and for other
years shows how often the duke changed his residences. Sometimes he
is accompanied by Madame de Bourgogne, sometimes by M. and Madame de
Charolais.]

[Footnote 2: It was also said that the woollen manufactures of
Flanders were denoted by the emblem of the golden fleece.]

[Footnote 3: Reiffenberg, _Histoire de l'Ordre de la Toison d'Or,_ p.
xxi.]

[Footnote 4: _ Hist. de I'Ordre,_ etc., p. i.]

[Footnote 5: All the Burgundian embassies were not as patent to
the public as were Isabella's. An item like the following from the
accounts of 1448-49 whets the reader's curiosity:

"To Jehan Lanternier, barber and varlet of the chamber, for delivering
to a certain person for certain causes and for secret matters of which
Monseigneur does not wish further declaration to be made, 53 pounds 17
sous."

(Laborde _Les Ducs de Bourgogne_, etc., "Preuves," i. xiii.)]

[Footnote 6: "Vingt-quatre chevaliers gentilshommes de nom et d'armes
et sans reproches nes et procrees en leal mariage" _(see_ description
of the first list).--_Hist. de l'Ordre,_ p. xxi.]

[Footnote 7: Jacquemin Dauxonne, a merchant of Lombardy living at
Dijon, received twenty-two francs and a half for a rich cloth of black
silk draped about the baptismal font. Why mourning was used on this
joyful occasion does not appear. (Laborde, i., 321.)]

[Footnote 8: Summary of a register containing the acts of the Order of
the Golden Fleece quoted in _Histoire de l'Ordre,_ pp. 12, 13.]

[Footnote 9: St. Remy, _Chronique_, ii., 284. St. Remy is usually
called _Toison d'Or._]

[Footnote 10: His full name was Charles Martin. One tower alone
remains of the palace where he was born.]

[Footnote 11: _Hist, de l'Ordre,_ p. 13.]

[Footnote 12: Selden _(Titles of Honor_, p. 457), however, says he
knows not by what authority this statement is made and that he knows
nothing of it. Seven is the earliest age mentioned by Gautier for
receiving knighthood.]

[Footnote 13: Deschamps, _OEuvres Completes_, ii., 214.]

[Footnote 14: The ancient quarrel between the old Holland parties of
Hooks and Cods continually blazed out anew. On one notable occasion,
to show her impartiality, the duchess appeared in public accompanied
by the stadtholder, Lelaing, a partisan of the Hooks, and by Frank van
Borselen, himself a Cod, the widower of Jacqueline, the late Countess
of Holland.]

[Footnote 15: Barante, _Histoire des Dues de Bourgogne_, vi., 2, note
by Reiffenberg.]

[Footnote 16: See _Catalogue des manuscrits des Ducs de Bourgogne,_
"Resume historique," i., lxxix.]

[Footnote 17: Barante, vi., 2, note.]

[Footnote 18: Loomis, _Medieval Hellenism_.]

[Footnote 19: Pirenne, _Histoire de Belgique_, ii., 231.]

[Footnote 20: It was in June, 1434, that this alliance had been made.
Sigismund claimed that Philip had no right in Brabant, Holland,
Zealand, and Hainaut, which in his opinion were lapsed fiefs, of the
empire.]

[Footnote 21: Putnam, _A Medieval Princess_.

[Footnote 22: Monstrelet, _La Chronique_, v., 344.]

[Footnote 23: La Marche, _Memoires_, ii., 50.]

[Footnote 24: Reiffenberg, _Essai sur les enfants naturels de Philippe
de Bourgogne._]

[Footnote 25: Meyer, _Commentarii sive Annales rerum Flandricarum, _
p. 296.]





CHAPTER II


YOUTH

1440-1453


The heir of Burgundy was still in very tender years when he began to
take official part in public affairs, sometimes associated with one
parent, sometimes with the other.

There was a practical advantage in bringing the boy to the fore by
which the duke was glad to profit. With his own manifold interests, it
was impossible for him to be present in his various capitals as often
as was demanded by the usage of the diverse individual seigniories. It
was politic, therefore, to magnify the representative capacity of his
son and of his consort in order to obtain the grants and _aides_ which
certain of his subjects declared could be given only when requested
orally by their sovereign lord. Thus, in 1444, it was Count Charles
and the duchess who appeared in Holland to ask an _aide_.[1] In the
following year, Charles accompanied his father when Philip made one
of his rare visits--there were only three between 1428 and 1466--to
Holland and Zealand.

[Illustration: A CASTLE IN BURGUNDY]

Olivier de la Marche was among the attendants on this occasion, and he
describes with great detail how rejoiced were the inhabitants to have
their absentee count in their land.[2] Many matters could only be
set aright by his authority. Among the complaints brought to him at
Middelburg were accusations against a certain knight of high birth,
Jehan de Dombourc. Philip ordered that the man be arrested at once and
brought before him for trial. This was easier said than done. Warned
of his danger, Dombourc, with four or five comrades, took refuge in
the clock tower of the church of the Cordeliers, a sanctuary that
could not be taken by storm.[2] He was provided with a good store of
food, this audacious criminal, and prepared to stand a siege. There he
remained three days, because, for the honour of the Church, they could
not fire upon him.

"And I remember [adds La Marche] seeing a nun come out and call to
Jehan Dombourc, her brother, advising him to perish defending himself
rather than to dishonour their lineage by falling into the hands of
the executioner. Nevertheless, finally he was forced to surrender to
his prince, and he was beheaded in the market-place at Middelburg,
but, at the plea of his sister, the said nun, his body was delivered
to her to be buried in consecrated ground."

In this same visit Philip presided over the Zealand estates and the
young count sat by his side, not as an idle spectator, but because
usage required the presence of the heir as well as that of the Count
of Zealand.

When Charles was twelve he was present at an assembly of the Order of
the Golden Fleece held in Ghent. It was the first occasion of the kind
witnessed by La Marche, and very minute is his description of the
lavish magnificence of the affair, undoubtedly intended to awe the
citizens into complying with the requests of their Count of Flanders.

Charles played a prominent part in all the functions, and assisted in
the election of his tutor, Seigneur et Ber d'Auxy. Another candidate
of that year was Frank van Borselen, Count of Ostrevant, widower of
Jacqueline, late Countess of Holland.

In 1446, the little Countess of Charolais died at Brussels.
"Honourably as befitted a king's daughter" was she buried at Ste.
Gudule.[4]

    "Tireless in their devotion were the duke and duchess in her last
    illness, and Charles VII. despatched two skilled doctors to her
    aid but all efforts were vain.

    "Much bemourned was the princess for she was virtuous. God have
    pity on her soul"

piously ejaculates La Marche.

A little item[5] in the accounts suggests that a pleasant friendship
had existed between the two young people:

    "To Jehan de la Court, harper of Mme. the Countess of Charolais,
    for a harp which she had bought from him and given to Ms. the
    Count of Charolais for him to play and take his amusement, xii
    francs."[6]

It is easy to surmise that music was not, however, the young count's
favourite amusement. In Philip's court, tournaments were still held
and afforded a fascinating entertainment for a lad whose bent was
undoubtedly towards a military career.

One valiant actor in these tourneys where were revived the ancient
traditions of knighthood, was Jacques de Lalaing, a chevalier with all
the characteristics of times past, fighting for fame in the present.
In his youth, this aspirant for reputation swore a vow to meet thirty
knights in combat before he attained his thirtieth year. Dominated by
a desire to fulfil his vow, Lalaing haunted the court of Burgundy,
because the Netherlands were on the highroad between England and many
points in Germany, Italy, and the East, and there he had the best
chance of falling in with all the prowess that might be abroad. For
stay-at-home prowess he cared naught. A delightful personage is
Messire Jacques and a brave role does he play in the series of jousts,
sporting gaily on the pages of the various Burgundian chroniclers,
who recorded in their old age what they had seen in their youth. One
description, however, of these encounters reads much like another and
they need not be repeated.

During his childhood Charles was a spectator only on the days of mimic
battle. In his seventeenth year he was permitted to enter the lists
as a regular combatant, a permission shared by his fellow pupils all
eager to flesh their maiden spears. The duke arranged that his son
should have a preliminary tilt a few days before the public affair in
order to test his ability. All the courtiers--and apparently ladies
were not excluded from the discussion on the matter--agreed that no
better knight could be found for this purpose than Jacques de Lalaing,
who, on his part, was highly honoured by being selected to gauge the
untried capabilities of the prince.[7]

In the park at Brussels with the duke and duchess as onlookers, the
preliminary encounter took place. At the very first attack, Charles
struck Messire Jacques on the shield and shattered his lance into many
pieces. The duke was displeased because he thought that the knight
had not exerted his full strength and was favouring his son. He
accordingly sent word to Jacques that he must play in earnest and not
hold his force in leash. Fresh lances were brought; again did
the count withstand the attack so sturdily that both lances were
shattered. This time the boy's mother was the dissatisfied one,
thinking that the knight was too hard with his junior, but the duke
only laughed.

    "Thus differed the parents. The one desired him to prove his
    manhood, the other was preoccupied with his safety. With these
    two courses the trial ended amid rounds of applause for the
    prince."[8]

The actual tourney was held on the market-place in Brussels before a
distinguished assembly. Count Charles was escorted into the arena by
his cousin, the Count d'Estampes, and other nobles. Seigneur d'Auxy,
his tutor, stood near to watch the maiden efforts of the prince and
his mates. He had reason to be proud of Charles, both for his bearing
and his skill. He gave and received excellent thrusts, broke more
than ten lances, and did his duty so valiantly that in the evening he
received the prize from two princesses, and "Montjoye" was cried
by the heralds in his honour. From that time forth, the count was
considered a puissant and rude jouster and gained great renown.

    "And that is the reason why I commence my memoirs about him and
    his deeds[9] [continues La Marche, on concluding his description
    of the tournament], and I do not speak from hearsay and rumour.
    As one who has been brought up with him from his youth in his
    father's service and in his own, I will touch upon his education,
    his morals, his character, and his habits from the moment when I
    first saw him as appears above in my memoirs.

    "As to his character, I will commence at the worst features. He
    was hot, active, and impetuous: as a child he was very eager to
    have his own way. Nevertheless, he had so much understanding and
    good sense that he resisted his inclinations and in his youth no
    one could be found sweeter or more courteous than he. He did not
    take the name of God or the saints in vain, and held God in great
    fear and reverence. He learned well and had a retentive memory. He
    was fond of reading and of hearing read the stories of Lancelot
    and Gawain, but to both he preferred the sea and boats. Falconry,
    too, he loved and he hunted whenever he had leave. In archery he
    early excelled his comrades and was good at other sports. Thus was
    the count educated, trained, and taught, and thus did he devote
    himself to good and excellent exercise."

That the report of the lavishness and extravagance of the Burgundian
court was no idle rumour, exaggerated by frequent repetitions, is
attested to by every bit of contemporary evidence. Enthusiastic and
loyal chroniclers dwell on the magnificence, and the arid details of
bills paid show what it cost to attain the vaunted perfection, while
the protests from taxpayers prove that this splendour did not grow
like the lilies of the field.

[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE OF AN ACCOUNT-BOOK XVTH CENTURY]

Philip's treasury had many separate compartments. There were many
quarters to which he could turn for his needed supplies, but there
were times when his exchequer ran very threateningly low, and his
financial stress led him to be very conciliatory towards the burghers
with full purses.

In 1445, Ghent had been honoured by the celebration of the feast of
the Order of the Golden Fleece within her gates. Two years later,
Philip appeared in person at a meeting of the _collace_, or municipal
assembly, and delivered a harangue to the Ghentish magistrates and
burghers, flattering them, moreover, by using their vernacular. The
tenor of this speech was as follows[10]:

    "My good and faithful friends, you know how I have been brought
    up among you from my infancy. That is why I have always loved you
    more than the inhabitants of all my other cities, and I have
    proved this by acceding to all your requests. I believe then that
    I am justified in hoping that you will not abandon me to-day when
    I have need of your support. Doubtless you are not ignorant of the
    condition of my father's treasury at the period of his death. The
    majority of his possessions had been sold. His jewels were
    in pawn. Nevertheless, the demands of a legitimate vengeance
    compelled me to undertake a long and bloody war, during which the
    defence of my fortresses and of my cities, and the pay of my
    army have necessitated outlays so large that it is impossible to
    estimate them. You know, too, that at the very moment when the war
    on France was at its height, I was obliged, in order to assure the
    protection of my country of Flanders, to take arms against the
    English in Hainaut, in Zealand, and in Friesland, a proceeding
    costing me more than 10,000 _saluts d'or,_ which I raised with
    difficulty. Was I not equally obliged to proceed against Liege, in
    behalf of my countship of Namur, which sprang from the bosom of
    Flanders? It is not necessary to add to all these outlays those
    which I assume daily for the cause of the Christians in Jerusalem,
    and the maintenance of the Holy Sepulchre.

    "It is true, however, that, yielding to the persuasions of the
    pope and the Council, I have now consented to put an end to the
    evils multiplied by war by forgetting my father's death, and by
    reconciling myself with the king. Since the conclusion of this
    treaty, I considered that while I had succeeded in preserving
    to my subjects during the war the advantages of industry and of
    peace, they had submitted to heavy burdens in taxes and in
    voluntary contributions, and that it was my duty to re-establish
    order and justice in the administration. But everything went on as
    though the war had not ceased. All my frontiers have been menaced,
    and I found myself obliged to make good my rights in Luxemburg, so
    useful to the defence of my other lands, especially of Brabant and
    Flanders.

    "In this way, my expenses continued to increase; all my resources
    are now exhausted, and the saddest part of it all is that the good
    cities and communes of Flanders and especially the country folk
    are at the very end of their sacrifices. With grief I see many of
    my subjects unable to pay their taxes, and obliged to emigrate.
    Nevertheless, my receipts are so scanty that I have little
    advantage from them. Nor do I reap more from my hereditary lands,
    for all are equally impoverished.

    "A way must be found to ease the poor people, and at the same time
    to protect Flanders from insult, Flanders for whose sake I would
    risk my own person, although to arrive at this end, important
    measures have become imperative."

After this affectionate preamble, Philip finally states that, in order
to raise the requisite revenues, no method seemed to him so good and
so simple as a tax on salt, three sous on every measure for a term of
twelve years. He promised to dispense with all other subsidies and to
make his son swear to demand nothing further as long as the _gabelle_
was imposed.

    "Know [he added in conclusion] that even if you consent to it I
    will renounce it if others prove of a different opinion, for I do
    not desire that the communes of Flanders be more heavily weighted
    than any other portion of my territory."

The duke might have spared his trouble and his elaborate
condescension. The answer to his conciliatory request was a flat
refusal to consider the matter at all. Salt was a vital necessity to
Flemish fisheries, and its cost could not be increased to the least
degree without serious inconvenience. The Flemings were wroth at his
imitating the worst custom of his French kinsmen.

Philip departed from Ghent in great dudgeon. After a time he was
persuaded that the indisposition of the town to meet his reasonable
wishes was not due to the citizens at large, but to the machinations
of a few unruly agitators among the magistrates. In 1449, therefore,
he took a high-handed course of trying to direct the issue of the
regular municipal elections, so as to ensure the choice of magistrates
on whose obedience he could rely. The appearance of Burgundian troops
in Ghent, before the election of mid-August, aroused the wrath of the
community, who thought that their most cherished franchises were in
jeopardy.

This was the beginning of a bitter struggle between Ghent and Philip.
The duke found it no light matter to coerce the independent burghers
into remembering that they were simply part of the Burgundian state.
"_Tantae molis erat liberam gentem in servitutem adigere_!" ejaculates
Meyer in the midst of his chronicle of the details of fourteen months
of active hostilities.[11] Matters were long in coming to an outbreak.
Various points had been contended over, when Philip had endeavoured
to change the seat of the great council, or to take divers measures
tending to concentrate certain judicial or legislative functions for
his own convenience, but in a manner prejudicial to the autonomy of
Ghent. His centripetal policy was disliked, but when his policy went
further, and he attempted to control purely civic offices, dislike
grew into resentment and the Ghenters rose in open revolt.

For a time, their opposition passed in Philip's estimation as mere
insignificant unruliness. By 1452, however, the date of the tourney
above described, it became evident that a vital issue was at stake.
The Estates of Flanders endeavoured to mediate between overlord and
town, but without success. Owing to Philip's interference in the
elections, the results were declared void, and when a new election was
appointed, the Burgundians accused the city of hastily augmenting its
number of legal voters by over-facile naturalisation laws. The gilds,
too, evinced a readiness to be very lenient in their scrutiny of
candidates for admission to their cherished privileges, preferring,
for the nonce, numbers to quality. Occupancy of furnished rooms was
declared sufficient for enfranchisement, and there were cases where
mere guests of a bourgeois were hastily recorded on the lists as
full-fledged citizens.

By these means the popular party waxed very strong numerically. The
sheriffs found themselves quite unequal to holding the rampant spirit
of democracy in check. The regular government was overthrown, and the
demagogues succeeded in electing three captains _(hooftmans)_
invested with arbitrary power for the time being. The decrees of
the ex-sheriffs were suspended, and a mass of very radical measures
promulgated and joyfully confirmed by the populace, assembled on the
Friday market. It was to be the judgment of the town meeting that
ruled, not deputed authority. One ordinance stipulated that at the
sound of the bell every burgher must hasten to the market-place, to
lend his voice to the deliberations.

For a time various negotiations went on between Philip and envoys from
Ghent. The latter took a high hand and insinuated in unmistakable
terms that if the duke refused an accommodation with them, they would
appeal to their suzerain, the King of France. No act of rebellion,
overt or covert, exasperated Philip more than this suggestion. Charles
VII. was only too ready to ignore those clauses in the treaty of
Arras, releasing the duke from homage, and virtually acknowledging his
complete independence in his French territories. The king accepted
missives from his late vassal's city, without reprimanding the writers
for their presumption in signing themselves "Seigneurs of Ghent."[12]
His action, however, was confined to mild attempts at mediation.

It was plain to the duke that his other towns would follow Ghent's
resistance to his authority if there were hopes of her success.
Therefore he threw aside all other interests for the time being, and
exerted himself to levy a body of troops to crush Flemish pretensions.
His counsellors advised him to sound the temper of other citizens and
to ascertain whether their sympathies were with Ghent. Answers of
feeble loyalty came back to him from the majority of the other towns.
Undoubtedly they highly approved Ghent's efforts. They, too, could
not afford to pay taxes fraught with danger to their commerce, nor to
relinquish one jot of privileges dearly bought at successive crises
throughout a long period of years. The only doubt in their minds was
as to the ultimate success of the burghers to stem the course of
Burgundian usurpation. Therefore, they first hedged, and then
consented to aid the duke. This course was pursued by the Hollanders
and the Zealanders, all alike short-sighted.

The Ghenters succeeded in possessing themselves of the castle of
Poucque by force, and of the village of Gaveren by stratagem, taking
advantage in the latter case of the castellan's absence at church.

When every part of his dominions had been canvassed for troops, and
Philip was prepared for his first active campaign against Ghent, he
was anxious to leave his heir under the protection of the duchess,
conscious that the imminent contest would be bitter and deadly. A
pretence was made that the young count's accoutrements were not ready,
and that, therefore, he would have to remain in Brussels.

    "But he whose ambitions waxed, hastened the completion of his
    accoutrements, and swore by St. George, the greatest oath he ever
    used, that he would rather go in his shirt than not accompany his
    father to punish his impudent rebel subjects."[13]

The approaching hostilities were watched by foreign merchants in dread
of commercial disaster.

    "On May 18th, the _nations_[14] of the merchants of Bruges
    departed thence to go to Ghent to try to make peace between that
    city and the Duke of Burgundy, and there were _nations_ of Spain,
    Aragon, Portugal, and Scotland, besides the Venetians, Milanese,
    Genoese, and Luccans."[15]

But the men of Ghent were beyond the point where commercial arguments
could stem their course. The very day that this company arrived in the
city, the burghers sallied forth six or seven thousand strong, fully
equipped for offensive warfare.

Both the actual engagements and guerilla skirmishes that raged over
a minute stretch of territory were characterised by an extraordinary
ferocity. Around Oudenarde, which town Philip was determined to
relieve, men were beheaded like sheep.

In the first regular engagement in which Charles took part, he showed
a brave front and learned the duties of a prince by rewarding others
with the honour of knighthood. Among those slain in the course of the
war, were Cornelius, Bastard of Burgundy, and the gallant Jacques
de Lalaing. Philip grieved deeply over the death of the former, his
favourite among his natural sons, and buried him with all honours in
the Church of Ste-Gudule in Brussels. The title by which he was known,
hardly a proud one it would seem, passed to his brother Anthony.
Lalaing, too, was greatly mourned, thus prematurely cut down in his
thirty-third year.

There was so much fear lest the duke's sole legitimate heir might also
perish in these conflicts where there was no mercy, that Charles was
persuaded to go to visit his mother in the hope that she would keep
him by her side. She made a feast in his honour, but, to the surprise
of all, the duchess, who had wished to protect her son from the mild
perils of a tourney, now encouraged him with brave words to return
to fight in all earnest for his inheritance.[16] He himself was very
indignant at the efforts to treat him as a child.

The first truce and negotiations for peace, initiated in the summer of
1452, were broken off because the conditions were unbearable to the
Ghenters. Another year of warfare followed before the decisive battle
of Gaveren, in July, 1453, forced them sadly to succumb. There was
no other course open to them. Not only were they defeated but their
numbers were decimated.[17] With full allowance for exaggeration, it
is certain that the loss was very heavy. Terms scornfully rejected at
an earlier date were, in 1453, accepted with every humiliating detail.
More, the defeated rebels were bidden to be grateful that their kind
sovereign had imposed nothing further to the conditions. As to abating
the severity of the articles, he declared that he would not change an
_a_ for a _b_.[18]

The chief provisions were as follows: The deans of the gilds were
deprived of participation in the election of sheriffs. The privileges
of the naturalisation laws were considerably abridged. No sentence of
banishment could be pronounced without the intervention of the duke's
bailiff, whose authorisation, too, was required before the publication
of edicts, ordinances, etc. The sheriffs were forbidden to place their
names at the head of letters to the officers of the duke. The banners
were to be delivered to the duke and placed under five locks, whose
several keys should be deposited with as many different people,
without whose consensus the banners could not be brought forth to lead
the burghers to sedition. One gate was to be closed every Thursday in
memory of the day when the citizens had marched through it to attack
their liege lord, and another was to be barred up in perpetuity or
at the pleasure of their sovereign. To reimburse the duke for his
enforced outlay, a heavy indemnity was to be paid by the city.

July 30th was the date appointed for the final act of submission, the
_amende honorable_ of the unfortunate city. The scene was very similar
to that played at Bruges in 1440. Two thousand citizens headed by the
sheriffs, councillors, and captains of the burgher guard met the
duke and his suite a league without the walls of Ghent. Bareheaded,
barefooted, and divested of all their robes of office and of dignity,
clad only in shirts and small clothes, these magistrates confessed
that they had wronged their loving lord by unruly rebellion, and
begged his pardon most humbly.

The duke spent the night of July 29th at Gaveren, prepared to march
out in the morning with his whole army in handsome array. Philip was
magnificently apparelled, but he rode the same horse which he had used
on the day of battle, with the various wounds received on that day
ostentatiously plastered over to make a dramatic show of what the
injured sovereign had suffered at the hands of his disloyal subjects.

The civic procession was headed by the Abbot of St. Bavon and the
Prior of the Carthusians. The burghers who followed the half-clad
officials were fully dressed but they, too, were barefoot and
ungirdled. All prostrated themselves in the dust and cried, "Mercy on
the town of Ghent." While they were thus prostrate, the town spokesman
of the council made an elaborate speech in French, assuring the
duke that if, out of his benign grace. he would take his loving and
repentant subjects again into his favour, they would never again give
him cause for reproach.

    "At the conclusion of this harangue, the duke and the Count of
    Charolais, there present, pardoned the petitioners for their evil
    deeds. The men of Ghent re-entered their town more happy and
    rejoiced than can be expressed, and the duke departed for Lille,
    having disbanded his army, that every one might return to their
    several homes." [19]

The joy experienced by the conquered, here described by La Marche, as
he looked back at the event from the calm retirement of his old age,
was not visible to all eye-witnesses. The progress of this war was
watched eagerly from other parts of Philip's dominion. His army was
full of men from both the Burgundies, who sent frequent reports to
their own homes. Some passages from one of these reports by an unknown
war correspondent run as follows:

    "As to news from here, Monday after St. Magdalen's Day,
    Monseigneur the duke got the better of the Ghenters near Gaveren
    between ten and eleven o'clock. They attacked him near his
    quarters.... The duke risked his own person in advance of his
    company in the very worst of the slaughter, which lasted from the
    said place up to Ghent, a distance of about two leagues. The slain
    number three or four thousand, more or less, and those drowned in
    the river of Quaux about two hundred.... This Tuesday, the date of
    writing, the army departs from their quarters to advance on Ghent
    to demand the conditions lately offered them, and the bearer of
    this letter will tell you what is the result. M. the duke and
    his army marched up to Ghent and I have seen the bearing of the
    citizens. They are very bitter and despondent. M. the marshall has
    been parleying. I hear that matters have been settled. I hear that
    the Ghenters' loss is thirteen to fourteen thousand men. I
    cannot write more for I have no time owing to the haste of the
    messenger."

This was written July 23d. There is another despatch of July 31st,
giving the last news, which was "very joyous." The public apology had
just been enacted--

    "and afterwards, in token of being conquered and as a confession
    that my said seigneur was victorious, those of Ghent have
    delivered up all their banners to the number of eighty. And on
    this day my said lord has created seven or eight knights and
    heralds in honour of his triumph, which is inestimable."[20]

The duke's victory was certainly "inestimable" in its value to him,
yet, in spite of the rigour enforced on this defeated people, they
were not as crushed as they might have been had they submitted in
1445. Philip was clever enough to be more lenient than appeared at
first. Ancient privileges were confirmed in a special compact, and the
duke swore to maintain all former concessions in their entirety except
in the points above specified. Liberty of person was guaranteed, and
it was expressly stipulated that if the bailiff refused to sustain the
sheriffs in their exercise of justice, or tried to arrogate to himself
more than his due authority, he should forfeit his office. Lastly, and
more important than all, the duke made no attempt to revive the demand
for the _gabelle_--salt was left free and untaxed. As a matter of
fact, too, the duke was not exigeant in the fulfilment of every item
of the treaty and, two years later, he increased certain privileges.
He had cut the lion's claws but he had no desire to pit his strength
again with Flemish communes. He had taught the audacious rebels a
lesson and that sufficed him.[21]


[Footnote 1: Blok, _Eene Hollandsche stad onder de Bourg.
Oostenrijksche Heerschappij,_ p. 84.]

[Footnote 2: La Marche, ii., 79, etc.]

[Footnote 3: See also _Chronijcke van Nederlant,_ p. 76, and
_Vlaamsche Kronijk,_ p. 203. Ed. C. Piot.]

[Footnote 4: D'Escouchy, _Chronique_, i., 110.]

[Footnote 5: The items of the funeral expenses can be found in
Laborde, i., 380. There were 600 masses at two sous apiece.]

[Footnote 6: In that same year, 1440, in which this gift is recorded,
there is another item showing how Charles took his amusement not only
on the harp but in planning some of the elaborate surprises regularly
introduced between courses in the banquets. "To Barthelmy the painter,
for making the cover of a pasty for the Count of Charolais to present
to Monseigneur on the night of St. Martin in the previous year, v
francs" (Laborde, i., 381).]

[Footnote 7: La Marche, ii., 214.]

[Footnote 8: Gachard puts this tournament in Lent, 1452. Charles's
outfit cost 360 livres.]

[Footnote 9: La Marche, i., ch. 21.]

[Footnote 10: Kervyn, _Histoire de Flandre_, iv. Kervyn quotes from
the _Dagboek des gentsche collatie_, M. Schayes.]

[Footnote 11: Meyer, xvi., 303.]

[Footnote 12: They were charged with using this phrase. Gachard says
that they placed at the top of their letter their titles of
sheriffs and deans, as princes and lords take the title of their
seignories.--(La Marche, ii., 221. _See also_ d'Escouchy, ii., 25.)]

[Footnote 13: La Marche, ii., 230.]

[Footnote 14: Associations of merchants in foreign cities.]

[Footnote 15: Chastellain, _OEuvres_, ii., 221.]

[Footnote 16: La Marche, ii., 312. Chastellain, ii., 278. See also
_Chronique d'Adrian de Budt_, p. 242, etc.]

[Footnote 17: Meyer, p. 313. La Marche, ii., 313. Lavisse, _Histoire
de France_, accepts 13,000 as the number slain. Chastellain (ii., 375)
puts the number at 22-30,000, including those drowned by the duke's
order. Du Clercq lets a certain sympathy for the rebellious people
escape his pen. Chastellain and La Marche treat the antagonism to
taxes as unreasonable.]

[Footnote 18: Chastellain, ii., 387.]

[Footnote 19: La Marche, ii., 331. The Chastellain MS. is lacking for
this event.]

[Footnote 20: _Revue des societes savantes des departements_, 7me.
serie, 6, p. 209.

These two reports were enclosed with brief notes dated July 31 and
August 8, 1453, from the ducal attorney at Amont to the magistrates
of Baume. The former was one of the highest officials in the
Franche-Comte. The reporter might have been one of his secretaries.
The two notes with their unsigned enclosures were discovered (1881)in
the archives of the town of Baume-les-Dames.]

[Footnote 21: Kervyn, _Histoire de Flandre_, iv., 494.]





CHAPTER III


THE FEAST OF THE PHEASANT

1454


After the fatigues of this contest with Ghent, followed a period of
relaxation for the Burgundian nobles at Lille, where a notable
round of gay festivities was enjoyed by the court. Adolph of Cleves
inaugurated the series with an entertainment where, among other
things, he delighted his friends by a representation of the tale of
the miraculous swan,[1] famous in the annals of his house for bringing
the opportune knight down the Rhine to wed the forlorn heiress.

When his satisfied guests took their leave, Adolph placed a chaplet on
the head of one of the gentlemen, thus designating him to devise a new
amusement for the company; and under the invitation lurked a tacit
challenge to make the coming occasion more brilliant than the first.
Again and again was this process repeated. Entertainment followed
entertainment, all a mixture of repasts and vaudeville shows in whose
preparation the successive hosts vied with each other to attain
perfection.

The hard times, the stress of ready money, so eloquently painted when
the merchants were implored to take pity on their poverty-stricken
lord, were cast into utter oblivion. It was harvest tide for skilled
craftsmen and artisans. Any one blessed with a clever or fantastic
idea easily found a market for the product of his brain. He could see
his poetic or quaint conception presented to an applauding public with
a wealth of paraphernalia that a modern stage manager would not
scorn. How much the nobles spent can only be inferred from the ducal
accounts, which are eloquent with information about the creators of
all this mimic pomp. About six sous a day was the wage earned by a
painter, while the plumbers received eight. These latter were called
upon to coax pliable lead into all sorts of shapes, often more
grotesque than graceful.

One fete followed another from the early autumn of 1453 to February,
1454, when "The Feast of the Pheasant," as the ducal entertainment was
called, crowned the series with an elaborate magnificence that has
never been surpassed.

Undoubtedly Philip possessed a genius for dramatic effect and it is
more than possible that he instigated the progressive banquets for the
express purpose of leading up to the occasion with which he intended
to dazzle Europe.[2]

[Illustration: COUNT OF ST. POL AND HIS JESTER]

For the duke's thoughts were now turned from civic revolts to a great
international movement which he hoped to see set in motion. Almost
coincident with the capitulation of Ghent to Philip's will had been
the capitulation of Constantinople to the Turks. The event long
dreaded by pope and Christendom had happened at last (May 29, 1453).
Again and again was the necessity for a united opposition to the
inroads of the dangerous infidels urged by Rome. On the eve of St.
Martin, 1453, a legate arrived in Lille bringing an official letter
from the pope, setting forth the dire stress of the Christian Church,
and imploring the mightiest duke of the Occident to be her saviour,
and to assume the leadership of a crusade in her behalf against the
encroaching Turk.[2]

Philip was ready to give heed to the prayer. Whatever the exact
sequence of his plans in relation to the court revels, the result was
that his own banquet was utilised as a proper occasion for blazoning
forth to the world with a flourish of trumpets his august intention of
dislodging the invader from the ancient capital of the Eastern empire.

The superintendence of the arrangements for this all-eclipsing fete
was entrusted, as La Marche relates,

    "to Messire Jehan, Seigneur de Lannoy, Knight of the Golden
    Fleece, and a skilful ingenious gentleman, and to one Squire Jehan
    Boudault, a notable and discreet man. And the duke honoured me so
    far that he desired me to be consulted. Several councils were held
    for the matter to which the chancellor and the first chamberlain
    were invited. The latter had just returned from the war in
    Luxemburg already described.

    "These council meetings were very important and very private, and
    after discussion it was decided what ceremonies and mysteries were
    to be presented. The duke desired that I should personate the
    character of Holy Church of which he wished to make use at this
    assembly."

As in many half amateur affairs the preparations took more time than
was expected. At the first date set, all was not in readiness and the
performance was postponed until February 17th. This entailed serious
loss upon the provision merchants and they received compensation for
the spoiled birds and other perishable edibles.[4]

The gala-day opened with a tournament at which Adolph of Cleves again
sported as Knight of the Swan to the applause of the onlookers. After
the jousting, the guests adjourned to the banqueting hall, where fancy
had indeed, run riot, to make ready for their admiring eyes and their
sagacious palates. _Entremets_ is the term applied to the elaborate
set pieces and side-shows provided to entertain the feasters between
courses, and these were on an unprecedented scale.

Three tables stood prepared respectively for the duke and his suite,
for the Count of Charolais, his cousins, and their comrades, and for
the knights and ladies. The first table was decorated with marvellous
constructions, among which was a cruciform church whose mimic clock
tower was capacious enough to hold a whole chorus of singers. The
enormous pie in which twenty-eight musicians were discovered when the
crust was cut may have been the original of that pasty whose opening
revealed four-and-twenty blackbirds in a similar plight. Wild animals
wandered gravely at a machinist's will through deep forests, but in
the midst of the counterfeit brutes there was at least one live lion,
for Gilles le Cat[5] received twenty shillings from the duke for the
chain and locks he made to hold the savage beast fast "on the day of
the said banquet."

Again there was an anchored ship, manned with a full crew and rigged
completely. "I hardly think," observes La Marche, "that the greatest
ship in the world has a greater number of ropes and sails."

Before the guests seated themselves they wandered around the hall
and inspected the decorations one by one. Nor was their admiration
exhausted when they turned to the discussion of the toothsome dainties
provided for their delectation.

During the progress of the banquet, the story of Jason was enacted.
Time there certainly was for the play. La Marche estimated forty-eight
dishes to every course, though he qualifies his statement by the
admission that his memory might be inexact. These dishes were wheeled
over the tables in little chariots before each person in turn.

"Such were the mundane marvels that graced the fete," is the
conclusion of La Marche's[6] exhaustive enumeration of the
masterpieces from artists' workshops and ducal kitchen.

    "I will leave them now to record a pity moving _entremets_ which
    seemed to be more special than the others. Through the portal
    whence the previous actors had made their entrance, came a giant
    larger without artifice than any I had ever seen, clad in a long
    green silk robe, a turban on his head like a Saracen in Granada.
    His left hand held a great, old-fashioned two-bladed axe, his
    right hand led an elephant covered with silk. On its back was a
    castle wherein sat a lady looking like a nun, wearing a mantle of
    black cloth and a white head-dress like a recluse.[7]

    "Once within the hall and in sight of the noble company, like one
    who had work before her, she said to the giant, her conductor:

      "'Giant, prithee let me stay
        For I spy a noble throng
        To whom I wish to speak.'

     "At these words her guide conducted his charge before the ducal
    table and there she made a piteous appeal to all assembled to come
    to rescue her, Holy Church, fallen into the hands of unbelieving
    miscreants. As soon as she ceased speaking a body of officers
    entered the hall, Toison d'Or, king-at-arms, bringing up the rear.
    This last carried a live pheasant ornamented with a rich collar of
    gold studded with jewels. Toison d'Or was followed by two maidens,
    Mademoiselle Yolande, bastard daughter of the duke, and Isabelle
    of Neufchatel, escorted by two gentlemen of the Order. They all
    proceeded to the host. After greetings, Toison d'Or then said:

    "'High and puissant prince and my redoubtable lord, here are
    ladies who recommend themselves very humbly to you because it is,
    and has been, the custom at great feasts and noble assemblies to
    present to the lords and nobles a peacock or some other noble bird
    whereon useful and valid vows may be made. I am sent hither with
    these two demoiselles to present to you this noble pheasant,
    praying you to remember them.'

    "When these words were said, Monseigneur the duke, who knew for
    what purpose he had given the banquet, looked at the personified
    Church, and then, as though in pity for her stress, drew from his
    bosom a document containing his vow to succour Christianity, as
    will appear later. The Church manifested her joy, and seeing that
    my said seigneur had given his vow to Toison d'Or, she again burst
    forth forth into rhyme:

      "'God be praised and highly served
        By thee, my son, the foremost peer in France.
        Thy sumptuous bearing have I close observed
        Until it seemed thou wert reserved
        To bring me my deliverance.
        Near and far I seek alliance
        And pray to God to grant thee grace
        To work His pleasure in thy place.

      "'0 every prince and noble, man and knight,
        Ye see your master pledged to worthy deed.
        Abandon ease, abjure delight,
        Lift up your hand, each in his right,
        Offer God the savings from thy greed.
        I take my leave, imploring each, indeed,
        To risk his life for Christian gain,
        To serve his God and 'suage my pain.'

    "At this the giant led off the elephant and departed by the same
    way in which he had entered.

    "When I had seen this _entremets_, that is, the Church and a
    castle on the back of such a strange beast, I pondered as to
    whether I could understand what it meant and could not make it out
    otherwise except that she had brought this beast, rare among us,
    in sign that she toiled and laboured in great adversity in the
    region of Constantinople, whose trials we know, and the castle in
    which she was signified Faith. Moreover, because this lady was
    conducted by this mighty giant, armed, I inferred that she wished
    to denote her dread of the Turkish arms which had chased her away
    and sought her destruction.

    "As soon as this play was played out, the noble gentlemen, moved
    by pity and compassion, hastened to make vows, each in his own
    fashion."

    The vow of the Count of Charolais was as follows: "I swear to God
    my creator, and to His glorious mother, to the ladies and to the
    pheasant, that, if my very redoubtable lord and father embark on
    this holy journey, and if it be his pleasure that I accompany him,
    I will go and will serve him as well as I can and know how to do."

Other vows were less simple: all kinds of fantastic conditions being
appended according to individual fancy. One gentleman decided never to
go to bed on a Saturday until his pledge were accomplished. Another
that he would eat nothing on Fridays that had ever lived until he
had had an opportunity of meeting the enemy hand to hand, and of
attacking, at peril of his life, the banner of the Grand Turk.

Philip Pot vowed never to sit at table on a Tuesday and to wear no
protection on his right arm. This last the duke refused to permit.
Hugues de Longueval vowed that when he had once turned his face to the
East he would abstain from wine until he had plunged his sword in an
infidel's blood, and that he would devote two years to the crusade
even if he had to remain all alone, provided Constantinople were not
recovered. Louis de Chevelast swore that no covering should protect
his head until he had come to within four leagues of the infidels,
and that he would fight a Turk on foot with nothing on his arm but a
glove. There was the same emulation in the vows as in the banquets and
many of the self-imposed penalties were as bizarre as the side-shows.

There were so many chevaliers eager to bind themselves to the
enterprise that the prolonged ceremony threatened to become tedious.
The duke, therefore, declared that the morrow would be equally valid
as the day.[8]

The Count of St. Pol was the only knight present who made his going
dependent on the consent of the King of France, a condition very
displeasing to his liege lord of Burgundy.]

    "To abridge my tale [continues La Marche], the banquet was
    finished and the cloth removed and every one began to walk
    around the room. To me it seemed like a dream, for, of all the
    decorations, soon nothing remained but the crystal fountain.
    When there was no further spectacle to distract me, then my
    understanding began to work and various considerations touching
    this business came into my mind. First, I pondered upon the
    outrageous excess and great expense incurred in a brief space by
    these banquets, for this fashion of progressive entertainments,
    with the hosts designated by chaplets, had lasted a long time. All
    had tried to outshine their predecessors, and all, especially my
    said lord, had spent so much that I considered the whole thing
    outrageous and without any justification for the expense, except
    as regarded the _entremets_ of the Church and the vows. Even that
    seemed to me too lightly treated for an important enterprise.

    "Meditating thus I found myself by chance near a gentleman,
    councillor and chamberlain, who was in my lord's confidence and
    with whom I had some acquaintance. To him I imparted my thoughts
    in the course of a friendly chat and his comment was as follows:

    "'My friend, I know positively that these chaplet entertainments
    would never have occurred except by the secret desire of the duke
    to lead up to this very banquet where he hoped to achieve a holy
    purpose and to resist the enemies of our faith. It is three years
    now since the distress of our Church was presented to the Knights
    of the Golden Fleece at Mons. My lord there dedicated his person
    and his wealth to her service. Since then occurred the rebellion
    of Ghent, which entailed upon him a loss of time and money. Thanks
    be to God, he has attained there a good and honourable peace, as
    every one knows. Now it has chanced that, during this very period,
    the Turks have encroached on Christianity still further in their
    capture of Constantinople. The need of succour is very pressing
    and all that you have witnessed to-day is proof that the good duke
    is intent on the weal of Christendom.'"

During the progress of this conversation, a new company was ushered
into the hall, preceded by musicians. Here came _Grace Dieu_, clad
as a nun followed by twelve knights dressed in grey and black velvet
ornamented with jewels. Not alone did they come. Each gentleman
escorted a dame wearing a coat of satin cramoisy over a fur-edged
round skirt _a la Portuguaise. Grace Dieu_ declared in rhyme that God
had heard the pious resolution of Duke Philip of Burgundy. He had
forthwith sent her with her twelve attendants to promise him a happy
termination to his enterprise. Her ladies, Faith, Charity, Justice,
Reason, Prudence, and their sisters, were then presented to him.
_Grace Dieu_ departs alone and no sooner has she disappeared than
Philip's new attributes begin to dance to add to the good cheer. Among
the knights was Charles and one of his half-brothers; among the ladies
was Margaret, Bastard of Burgundy, and the others were all of high
birth. Not until two o'clock did the revels finally cease.

It must be noted that La Marche's reflections upon the extravagance of
the entertainment occur also in Escouchy's memoirs. Probably both
drew their moralising from another author. It is stated by several
reputable chroniclers that Olivier de la Marche himself represented
the Church. That he merely wrote her lines is far more probable.
Female performers certainly appeared freely in these as in other
masques, and there was no reason for putting a handsome youth in this
role of the captive Church. In mentioning the plans that La Marche
claims to have heard discussed in the council meeting, he says plainly
that he was to play the role of Holy Church, but as he makes no
further allusion to the fact, it may be dismissed as one of his
careless statements.

This pompous announcement of big plans was the prelude to nothing! Yet
it was by no means a farce when enacted. Philip fully intended to
make this crusade the crowning event of his life, and his proceedings
immediately after the great fete were all to further that end. To
obtain allies abroad, to raise money at home, and to ensure a peaceful
succession for his son in case of his own death in the East--such were
the cares demanding the duke's attention.

The twenty-year-old Count of Charolais was entrusted with the regency
for the term of his father's sojourn abroad in quest of allies, and
he hastened to Holland to assume the reins of government, but he was
speedily recalled to Lille to submit once more to paternal authority
before being left to his own devices and to maternal bias.

For the ducal pair disagreed seriously on the subject of their son's
second marriage. Isabella wished that a bride should be sought in
England, and this wish was apparently echoed by Charles himself. The
important topic was discussed with more or less freedom among the
young courtiers, until the drift of the conversations, whose burden
was wholly adverse to his own fixed purpose, came to Philip's ears,
together with the information that one of his own children was among
those who incited the count to independent desires about his future
wife. Very stern was the duke in his reprimand to the two young men.
He acknowledged that force of circumstances had once led him into
friendly bonds with the foes of his own France, but never had he been
"English at heart." Charles must accept his father's decision on pain
of disinheritance. "As for this bastard," Philip added, turning to the
other son, destitute of status in the eyes of the law, "if I find that
he counsels you to oppose my will, I will have him tied up in a sack
and thrown into the sea."[9]

The bride selected for the heir was Isabella of Bourbon, daughter
of the duke's sister, and the betrothal was hastily made. Even the
approval of the bride's parents was dispensed with. This passed the
more easily as the young lady herself was conveniently present in the
Burgundian court under the guardianship of her aunt, the duchess,
who had superintended her education. A papal dispensation was more
necessary than paternal consent, but that, too, was waived as far as
the betrothal was concerned. To that extent was Philip obeyed. Then
Charles returned to Holland and his father proceeded to Germany to
obtain imperial co-operation in his Eastern enterprise.

The duke's departure from Lille was made very privately at five
o'clock in the morning. He was off before his courtiers were aware of
his last preparations. That was a surprise, but not the only one in
store for those left behind. In order to save every penny for his
journey, Philip ordered radical retrenchment in his household
expenses. The luxurious repasts served to his retainers were abolished
and all alike found themselves forced to restrict their appetites to
the dainties they could purchase with the table allowance accorded
them. "The court's leg is broken," said Michel, the rhetorician.[10]

In his own outlay there was no stinting; the duke's progress was
pompous and stately as was his wont. As he traversed Switzerland,
Berne, Zurich, and Constance asked and obtained permission to show
their friendship with ceremonious receptions. Loud were the cries of
"_Vive Bourgogne_." Equally hospitable were the German cities. Game,
wine, fodder, were offered for the traveller's use at every stage, as
he and his suite rode to the imperial diet.

At Ratisbon, disappointment greeted him. The emperor whom he had come
so far to see in person failed to appear. Unwilling to accede to the
plan of co-operation, afraid to give an open refusal, Frederic
simply avoided hearing the request. Essentially lazy, he shrank from
committing himself to a difficult enterprise, nor was his ambition
tempted by possible glory. It had cost no pang to refuse the crown
of Bohemia and Hungary. But even had he been personally ambitious
he might still have been slow to lend his adherence to the duke's
project, in the not unnatural dread lest the flashing renown of the
greatest duke of the Occident might throw a poor emperor as ally
into the shade. The very warmth of Philip's reception in Germany had
chilled Frederic. From a retreat in Austria, he sent his secretary,
AEneas Sylvius, to represent him at Ratisbon, a substitution far from
pleasing to the visitor.

There were other defections, too, from the diet. None of those present
was in a position to aid Philip in furthering his schemes. The matter
was brought forward and laid on the table to be discussed at the next
diet, appointed to meet in November at Frankfort. But Philip would
not wait for that. Germany did not agree with him. He was not well.
Rumours there were of various kinds about his reasons for returning
home. They do not seem to require much explanation, however. He had
not been met half way in Germany and was highly displeased at the
failure. Declining all further entertainment proffered by the cities,
he travelled back to Besancon by way of Stuttgart and Basel. In the
early autumn he was at Dijon.

During this summer, negotiations about Charles's marriage had
continued. The Duke of Bourbon was inclined to chaffer about the dowry
demanded by Philip. One of the estates asked for was Chinon, and it
was urged that it, a male fief, was not capable of alienation. Philip
was not inclined to accept this reason as final and the negotiations
hung fire, much to the distress of the Duchess of Bourbon, who feared
a breach between her husband and brother. Naive are the phrases in one
of her letters as quoted by Chastellain[11]:

    "MY VERY DEAR SEIGNEUR AND BROTHER,

    "I have heard all Boudault's message from you ... To be brief,
    Monseigneur is content and ready to accede the points that you
    demand. It seems to me that you ought to give him easy terms and
    that you ought to put aside any grudge you may cherish against
    him. Monseigneur, since I consider the thing as done, I beg you to
    celebrate the nuptials as soon as possible although not without me
    as you have promised me."[12]

The king, too, was interested in the matter, and wrote as follows to
Duke Philip:

    "DEAR AND MUCH LOVED BROTHER:

    "Some time ago my cousin of Bourbon informed me of the
    negotiations for the marriage of my cousin of Charolais, your son,
    to my cousin Isabella of Bourbon, his daughter, which marriage
    has been deferred, as he writes me, because he does not wish to
    alienate to his daughter the seignory of Chateau-Chinon. It is not
    possible for him to do this on account of the marriage agreement
    of our daughter Jeanne and my cousin of Clermont, his son, wherein
    it was stipulated that Chateau-Chinon should go to them and their
    heirs. Moreover, it cannot descend in the female line, and in
    default of heirs male it must return to the crown as a true
    appanage of France.

    "Lest, peradventure, you may doubt the truth of this, and imagine
    that the point is urged by our cousin of Bourbon simply as an
    excuse for not ceding the estate, we assure you that it is true,
    and was considered in arranging the alliance of our daughter so
    that it is beyond the power of our cousin of Bourbon to make any
    alienation or transfer of the territory at the marriage of his
    daughter. We never would have permitted the marriage of our
    daughter without this express settlement. With this consideration
    it seems to me that you ought not to block the marriage in
    question, especially as my cousin says he is offering you an
    equivalent. He cannot do more as we have charged our councillor,
    the bailiff of Berry, to explain to you in full. So pray do not
    postpone the marriage for the above cause or for any cause, if
    by the permission of the Church and of our Holy Father it can be
    lawfully completed.

    "Given at Romorantin, Oct. 17.

    "CHARLES.[13]

    CHALIGAUT."


As the marriage was an event of importance, and the circumstances
are simple historic facts, it is strange that there should be any
uncertainty regarding the details of its solemnisation. But there is a
certain vagueness about the narratives. One version is so amusing that
it deserves a slight consideration.[14] The chronicler relates how
Charles VII. felt some uneasiness at the delay in the negotiations.
Conscious of the sentiments of the Duchess of Burgundy, he feared
lest her well-known sympathies for England might prevail in the final
decision.

When Philip had returned to Dijon, the bailiff of Berry came as the
king's special envoy to discuss some aspects of the subject with him.
The mission was gladly undertaken as the messenger had never seen
Philip nor his court and he was pleased at the chance of meeting a
personage whose fame rang through Europe. Very graciously was he
received by the duke, who read the king's letters attentively and
replied to the envoy's messages in general terms of courteous
recognition, without making his own intention manifest. The bailiff
waited for an answer, finding, in the meanwhile, that his days passed
very agreeably.

As a matter of fact, before his arrival at Dijon Philip Pot had set
out for the Netherlands, bearing the duke's orders to his son to
celebrate his nuptials without further delay. The duke did not intend
to be influenced by any one. It was his will that his son should
accept the bride selected and that was all sufficient. The reason why
the duke detained the king's messenger was that he "awaited news from
Messire Philip de Pot, whom he had sent in all speed to his son to
hasten the wedding."[15] The said gentleman found the count at Lille
with the duchess, his mother, and he was so diligent in the discharge
of his mission that he made all the arrangements himself and saw the
wedding rites solemnised immediately. The bridegroom did not even know
of the plan until the night preceding the important day. Then Philip
Pot rode back to Dijon.

When the duke was assured that the alliance was irrevocably sealed
he was quite ready to answer the king's messenger, whom he at once
invited to an audience. In a casual fashion Philip remarked:

"Now bailiff, the king sent you hither about a matter which I am
humbly grateful for his interest in. You know my opinion. I had no
desire to dissemble. Here is a gentleman fresh from Flanders; ask him
his news and note his reply."

"What tidings, Monsieur, do you bring us?

Prithee impart it" said the bailiff to the chevalier. And the
gentleman, laughing, replied: "By my faith, Monsieur bailiff, the
greatest news that I know is that Monseigneur de Charolais is
married!"

"Married! to whom?"

"To whom?" responded the chevalier, "why, to his first cousin,
Monseigneur's niece."

Merry was the duke over the Frenchman's blank amazement. Again the
latter had to be reassured of the truth of the statement. Philip Pot
told him that it was so true that the wedded pair had spent the night
together according to their lawful right.

The bailiff did not know which way to turn. "So he acted out his
two roles. Returning thanks to the duke in the king's name with all
formality, he then joined in the general laugh over the unsuspected
trick. He was a man of the world and knew how to take advantage of
sense and of folly."

It was on the morrow of this hasty tying of the wedding knot that the
Countess of Charolais sent a messenger to announce the fact to her
parents. They seem to have been perfectly satisfied, made no further
objection to any point, and the mooted territory of Chinon made part
of the dower in spite of the reasons urged against it.

As to the bailiff, when he made his adieux at Dijon, Philip presented
him with a round dozen stirrup cups, each worth three silver marks,
and he went home a surprised and delighted man.

    "About this time [says Alienor de Poictiers] Monsieur de Charolais
    married Mademoiselle de Bourbon and he married her on the eve of
    All Saints[16] at Lille, and there was no festival because Duke
    Philip was then in Germany. Eight days after the nuptials the
    duchess gave a splendid banquet where were all the ladies of
    Lille, but they were seated all together, as is usually done at
    an ordinary banquet, without mesdames holding state as would have
    been proper for such an occasion."

It is evident from all the stories that Charles protested against his
father's orders as much as he dared and then obeyed simply because he
could not help himself.

Yet, strange to say, the unwilling bridegroom proved a faithful
husband in a court where marital fidelity was a rare trait.

Philip's plans for the international union against the Turk were less
easily completed than those for the union of his son and his niece. In
November, the diet met at Frankfort; the expedition was discussed and
some resolutions were passed, but nothing further was achieved.

Charles VII. would not even promise co-operation on paper. He had
gradually extended his own domain in French-speaking territory and had
dislodged the English from every stronghold except Guisnes and Calais.
Under him France was regaining her prestige. Charles had much to lose,
therefore, in joining the undertaking urged by Philip and he was
wholly unwilling to risk it. From him Philip obtained only expressions
of general interest in the repulse of the Turks, and more definite
suggestions of the dangers that would menace Western Europe if all her
natural defenders carried their arms and their fortunes to the East.

When the anniversary of the great fete came round not a vow was yet
fulfilled!


[Footnote 1: A performance repeated in our modern Lohengrin.]

[Footnote 2: The chroniclers are not at one on this point.]

[Footnote 3: DuClercq, _Memoires_, ii., 159.]

[Footnote 4: This banquet at Lille was the subject of several
descriptions by spectators or at least contemporary authors.

The Royal Library at the Hague possesses a manuscript copied from an
older one which contains the order of proceedings together with the
text of all vows. There is a minute description in Mathieu d'Escouchy,
who claims to have been present, and in a manuscript coming from
Baluze, whose anonymous author might also have been an eye-witness. Of
the various versions, that of La Marche seems to be the most original.
One record shows that "a clerk living at Dijon, called Dion du Cret,
received, in 1455, a sum of five francs and a half for having, at the
order of the accountants, copied and written in parchment the history
of the banquet of my said seigneur, held at Lille, February 17, 1453,
containing fifty-six leaves of parchment" (La Marche, ii., 340 note).
It is possible that all the authors refreshed their memory with this
account, which seems to have been merely a copy.]

[Footnote 5: Laborde, i., 127.]

[Footnote 6: II., 361.]

[Footnote 7: The text says in the Burgundian or recluse fashion.
_Beguine_ is probably the right reading.]

[Footnote 8: Mathieu d'Escouchy (ii., 222) gives all the vows as
though made then, and differs in many unessential points from La
Marche's account.

[Footnote 9: Du Clerq, ii., 203.]

[Footnote 10:'"Michel dit que le gigot de la cour etait rompu."--La
Marche, i., ch. xiv.]

[Footnote 11: Chastellain, iii., 20, note.]

[Footnote 12: "Toute fois que ce ne soit pas sans moy."]

[Footnote 13: The original, signed, is in the _Archives de la
Cote-d'Or,_ B. 200. _See_ Du Fresne de Beaucourt, _Histoire de Charles
VII_., v. 470.]

[Footnote 14: Chastellain, iii., 23, etc.]

[Footnote 15: Chastellain, iii., 24]


[Footnote 16: The chroniclers differ as to this date. Chastellain
(iii., 25) says the first Sunday in Lent. D'Escouchy (ii., 270, ch.
cxxii) the night of St. Martin. Alienor de Poictiers, Hallowe'en _(Les
Honneurs de la Cour_, p. 187). The last was one of Isabella's ladies
in waiting.]





CHAPTER IV.


BURGUNDY AND FRANCE

1455-1456.


The duke's journey failed in accomplishing its object, but it proved
an important factor in the development of the character of Charles of
Burgundy. The opportunity to administer the government in his father's
absence changed him from a youth to a man, and the manner of man he
was, was plain to see.

His character was built on singularly simple lines. Vigorous of
body, intense of purpose, inclined to melancholy, he was profoundly
convinced of his own importance as heir to the greatest duke in
Christendom, as future successor to an uncrowned potentate, who could
afford to treat lightly the authority of both king and emperor whose
nominal vassal he was.

The Ghent episode, too, undoubtedly had an immense effect in enhancing
the count's belief in his father's power, in causing him to forget
that the communes of Flanders did not owe their existence to their
overlord. As yet, Charles of Burgundy had not met a single check to
his self-esteem, to his family pride. As a governor, he probably
exercised his brief authority with the rigour of one new to the helm.

    "And the Count of Charolais bore himself so well and so virtuously
    in the task, that nothing deteriorated under his hand, and when
    the good duke returned from his journey, he found his lands as
    intact as before."

Such, is La Marche's testimony.[1] Intact undoubtedly, but possibly
the satisfaction was not quite perfect. Du Clercq[2] declares that
Count Charles acquitted himself honourably of his charge and made
himself respected as a magistrate. Above all, he insisted that justice
should be dealt out to all alike. The only danger in his methods was
that he acted on impulse without sufficiently informing himself of the
matter in hand, or hearing both sides of a controversy. As a result,
his decisions were not always impartial and the father was preferred
to the strenuous and impetuous son. "Not that Philip was often
inclined to recognise other law than his own will, but he was more
tranquil, more gentle than his son, and more guided by reason," adds
a later author.[2] There was an evident dread as to what might be the
outcome of the count's untrained, youthful ardour.

The duke's chief measures after his return in February, 1455, seemed
hardly calculated to arouse any great personal devotion to himself or
a profound trust that his first consideration was for the advantage of
his Netherland subjects. His thoughts were still turned to the East,
and his main interest in the individual countships was as sources of
supply for his Holy War. Considerable sums flowed into his exchequer
that were never used for their destined purpose, but the duke cannot
be justly accused of actual bad faith in amassing them. His intention
to make the Eastern campaign remained firm for some years.

[Illustration: STATUE OF CHARLES THE BOLD AT INNSBRUCK]

In another matter, his despotic exercise of personal authority, far
without the pale of his jurisdiction inherited or acquired, shows no
shadow of excuse.

In the bishropic of Utrecht the ecclesiastical head was also lay
lord. Here the counts of Holland possessed no voice. They were near
neighbours, that was all. Philip ardently desired to be more in this
tiny independent state in the midst of territories acknowledging his
sway.

In 1455, the see of Utrecht became vacant and Philip was most anxious
to have it filled by his son David, whom he had already made Bishop of
Therouanne by somewhat questionable methods. The Duke of Guelders
also had a neighbourly interest in Utrecht and he, too, had a pet
candidate, Stephen of Bavaria, whose election he urged. The chapter
resolutely ignored the wishes of both dukes and the canons were almost
unanimous in their choice of Gijsbrecht of Brederode.[4]

A very few votes were cast for Stephen of Bavaria, but not a single
one for David of Burgundy.

Brederode was already archdeacon of the cathedral and an eminently
worthy choice, both for his attainments and for his character. He was
proclaimed in the cathedral, installed in the palace, and confirmed,
as regarded his temporal power, by the emperor.

Philip, however, refused to accept the returns, although not a single
suffrage had been cast by the qualified electors for his son. He
despatched the Bishop of Arras to Rome to petition the new pope,
Calixtus III., to refuse to ratify the late election and to confer
the see upon David, out of hand. Philip's tender conscience found
Gijsbrecht ineligible to an episcopal office because he had
participated in the war against Ghent, certainly a weak plea in an age
of militant bishops!

The pope was afraid to offend the one man in Europe upon whose
immediate aid he counted in the Turkish campaign. He accepted the gift
of four thousand ducats offered by Gijsbrecht's envoys, the customary
gift in asking papal confirmation for a bishop-elect, but secretly
he delivered to Philip's ambassador letters patent creating David of
Burgundy Bishop of Utrecht.[5]

The Burgundian La Marche states euphemistically that David was elected
to the see, and the Deventer people would not obey him, therefore
Philip had to levy an army and come in person to support the new
bishop.[6] Du Clercq puts a different colour on the story and
d'Escouchy[7] implies that the whole trouble arose from party strife
which had to be quelled in the interests of law and order.

Apart from any question of insult to the Utrechters by imposing upon
them a spiritual director of acknowledged base birth, the right of
choice lay with them and the emperor had confirmed their choice as far
as the lay office was concerned. While the issue was undecided, the
Estates of Utrecht appointed Gijsbrecht guardian and defender of the
see to assure him a legal status pending the papal ratification. The
people were prepared to support their candidate with arms, a game that
Philip did not refuse, and the force of thirty thousand men with which
he invaded the bishopric proved the stronger argument of the two and
able to carry David of Burgundy to the episcopal throne, upon which he
was seated in his father's presence, October 16, 1455.

Some of Philip's allies reaped certain advantages from the situation.
Alkmaar and Kennemerland redeemed certain forfeited privileges by
means of their contributions to the duke's army. The city of Utrecht
preferred a compromise to the risk of war. The bishop-elect,
Gijsbrecht, consented to withdraw his claim, being permitted to retain
the humbler office of provost of Utrecht and an annuity of four
thousand guilders out of the episcopal revenues.

Deventer was the only place which was obstinate enough to persist in
her rebellion and Philip was engaged in bringing her citizens to terms
by a siege when news was brought to him that a visitor had arrived at
Brussels under circumstances which imperatively demanded his personal
attention.

In the twenty years that had elapsed since the Treaty of Arras, there
had been great changes in France in the character both of the realm
and of the ruler. Little by little the latter had proved himself to
be a very different person from the inert king of Bourges.[8] Old at
twenty, Charles VII. seemed young and vigorous at forty. Bad advisers
were replaced by others better chosen and his administration gradually
became effective. Fortune favoured him in depriving England of the
Duke of Bedford (1435), the one man who might have maintained English
prestige abroad and peace at home during the youth of Henry VI. It was
at a time of civil dissensions in England, that Charles VII. succeeded
in assuming the offensive on the Continent and in wresting Normandy
and Guienne from the late invader.

But this territorial advantage was not all. Distinct progress had been
made towards a national existence in France. The establishment of
the nucleus of a regular army was an immense aid in curbing the
depredations of the "_ecorcheurs_," the devastating, marauding
bands which had harassed the provinces. There was new activity in
agriculture and industry and commerce.[9] The revival of letters and
art, never completely stifled, proved the real vitality of France in
spite of the depression of the Hundred Years' War. Royal justice was
reorganised, public finance was better administered. By 1456, misery
had not, indeed, disappeared, but it was less dominant.

The years of growing union between king and his kingdom were, however,
years of discord between Charles and his son. The dauphin Louis had
not enjoyed the pampered, petted life of his Burgundian cousin. Very
poor and forlorn was his father at the time of the birth of his heir
(1423).[10] There was nothing in the treasury to pay the chaplain who
baptised the child or the woman who nourished him. The latter received
no pension as was usual but a modest gratuity of fifteen pounds.
The first allowance settled on the heir to his unconsecrated royal
father's uncertain fortunes was ten crowns a month. Every feature of
his infancy was a marked contrast to the early life of the Count of
Charolais.

From his seventeenth year Louis was in active opposition to the
king, heading organised rebellion against him in the war called
the _Praguerie_. Finally, Charles VII. entrusted to his charge the
administration of Dauphine, thus practically banishing him honourably
from the court where he was, evidently, a disturbing element. The only
restrictions placed upon him in his provincial government were such
as were necessary to preserve the ultimate authority of the crown. To
these restrictions, however, Louis paid not the slightest heed. He
assumed all the airs of an independent sovereign. He made wars and
treaties with his neighbours and at last proceeded to arrange his own
marriage.

At this time Louis was already a widower, having been married at the
age of thirteen to Margaret of Scotland, who led a mournful existence
at the French court, where she felt herself a desolate alien. Her
death at the age of twenty was possibly due to slander. "Fie upon
life," she said on her deathbed, when urged to rouse herself to resist
the languor into which she was sinking. "Talk to me no more of it."

Her husband cared less for her life than did Margaret herself. He took
no interest in the inquiry set on foot to ascertain the truth of the
charges against the princess, and was more than ready to turn to a new
alliance. At the date of his widowerhood he was in Dauphine and his
own choice for a wife was Charlotte, daughter of the Duke of Savoy.
After negotiations in his own behalf he informed his father of his
matrimonial project. It did not meet the views of Charles VII., who
ordered his son to abandon the idea immediately.

A messenger was despatched post haste to Chambery to stop the
dauphin's nuptials.[11] The duke evaded an interview and the envoy was
forced to deliver his letter to the chancellor of Savoy. On the morrow
of his arrival, he was taken to church, where the wedding ceremony was
performed (March 10, 1451), but his seat was in such a remote place
that he could barely catch a glimpse of the bridal procession, though
he saw that Louis was clad in crimson velvet trimmed with ermine. Two
days later the envoy carried a pleasant letter to the king, expressing
regrets on the part of the Duke of Savoy that the alliance was made
before the paternal prohibition arrived.

Nine years were spent by Louis in Dauphine. He introduced many
administrative and judicial reforms, excellent in themselves but not
popular. There were various protests and when he dared to impose taxes
without the consent of the Estates, an appeal was made to the king
begging him to check his son in his illegal assumptions. Charles
summoned his son to his presence. Instead of obeying this order in
person, Louis sent envoys who were dismissed by his father with a curt
response: "Let my son return to his duty and he shall be treated as a
son. As to his fears, security to his person is pledged by my word,
which my foes have never refused to accept."[12]

Louis showed himself less compliant than his father's foes. As Charles
approached Dauphine, and made his preparations to enforce obedience,
Louis appealed to the mediation of the pope, of the Duke of Burgundy,
and of the King of Castile, beside sending offerings to all the chief
shrines in Christendom, imploring aid against parental wrath. Then
his thoughts took a less peaceful turn. He called the nobles of his
principality to arms and bade the fortified towns prepare for siege,
while he loftily declared that he would not trouble his father to seek
him. He would meet him at Lyons.

Meanwhile, the Count of Dammartin was directed by the king to take
military possession of Dauphine and to put the dauphin under arrest.
As he was _en route_ to fulfil these orders, the count heard that
a day had been set by Louis for a great hunt. That an excellent
opportunity might be afforded for securing his quarry in the course
of the chase, was the immediate thought of the king's lieutenant. So
there might have been had not the wily hunter received timely warning
of the project for making _him_ the game.

At the hour appointed for the meet, the dauphin's suite rode to the
rendezvous, but the prince turned his horse in the opposite direction
and galloped away at full speed, attended by a few trusty followers.
He hardly stopped even to take breath until he was out of his father's
domain, and made no pause until he reached St. Claude, a small town
in the Franche-Comte, where he threw himself on the kindness of the
Prince of Orange.

How gossip about this strange departure of the French heir fluttered
here and there! Du Clercq[13] tells the story with some variation from
the above outline, laying more stress on the popular appeal to the
king for relief from Louis's transgressions as governor of Dauphine,
and enlarging on the accusation that Louis was responsible for the
death of _La belle Agnes_, "the first lady of the land possessing the
king's perfect love." He adds that the dauphin was further displeased
because the niece of this same Agnes, the Demoiselle de Villeclerc,
was kept at court after her aunt's death. Wherever the king went he
was followed by this lady, accompanied by a train of beauties. It was
this conduct of his father that had forced the son to absent himself
from court life for twelve years and more, during which time he
received no allowance as was his rightful due, and thus he had been
obliged to make his own requisitions from his seigniory.

There were other reports that the king was quite ready to accord his
son his full state; others, again, that Charles drove Louis into exile
from mere dislike and intended to make his second son his heir and
successor. At this point Du Clercq's manuscript is broken off abruptly
and the remainder of his conjectures are lost to posterity. Where the
text begins again, the author dismisses all this contradictory hearsay
and says in his own character as veracious chronicler, "I concern
myself only with what actually occurred. The dauphin gave a feast
in the forest and then departed secretly to avoid being arrested by
Dammartin."

This flight was the not unnatural termination of a long series of
misunderstandings between a father whose private conduct was not above
criticism, and a son, clever, unscrupulous, destitute of respect for
any person or thing except for the superstitious side of his religion.

Charles VII. was a curious instance of a man whose mental development
occurred during the later years of his life. When his son was under
his personal influence his character was not one to instil filial
deference, and Louis certainly cherished neither respect nor affection
for the father whose inert years he remembered vividly.

Whether, indeed, the dauphin had any part in Agnes Sorel's death which
gave him especial reason to dread the king's anger, is uncertain, but
of his action there is no doubt. To St. Claude he travelled as rapidly
as his steed could go, and from that spot on Burgundian soil he
despatched the following exemplary letter to his father:

    "MY VERY REDOUBTABLE LORD:

    "To your good grace I recommend myself as humbly as I can. Be
    pleased to know, my very redoubtable lord, that because, as you
    know, my uncle of Burgundy intends shortly to go on a crusade
    against the Turk in defence of the Catholic Faith and because my
    desire is to go, your good pleasure permitting, considering that
    our Holy Father the Pope bade me so to do, and that I am standard
    bearer of the Church, and that I took the oath by your command, I
    am now on my way to join my uncle to learn his plans so that I can
    take steps for the defence of the Catholic Faith.

    "Also, I wish to implore him to find means of reinstating me in
    your good grace, which is something that I desire most in the
    world. My very redoubtable lord, I pray God to give you good life
    and long.

    "Written at St. Claude the last day of August.

    "Your very humble and obedient son,

    "LOYS."[14]


This letter hardly succeeded in carrying conviction to the king.
He characterised the projected expedition to Turkey as a farce, a
pretence, and a frivolous excuse.[15] Probably, too, he did not
contradict his courtiers when they declared that the project had
been in the wind a long time, and that the Duke of Burgundy would
be prouder than ever to have the heir to France dependent on his
protection.

The epistle despatched, Louis continued his journey under the escort
of the Seigneur de Blaumont, Marshal of Burgundy, at the head of
thirty horse. Their pace was rapid to elude the pursuit of Tristan
l'Hermite. The prince needed no spurs to make him flee. Even if his
father did not intend to have him drowned in a sack his immediate
liberty was certainly in jeopardy. "In truth this thing was a
marvellous business. The Prince of Orange and the Marshal of Burgundy
were the two men whom the dauphin hated more than any one else,
but necessity, which knows no law, overcame the distaste of the
dauphin."[16]

Louvain was the next place where Louis felt safe enough to rest. Here
he wrote to the Duke of Burgundy to announce his arrival within his
territory. The letter found Philip in camp before Deventer. It is
evident that he was entirely taken by surprise, and was prepared to be
very cautious in his correspondence with the French king. He assured
him that he was willing to receive and honour Louis as his suzerain's
heir, but he implored that suzerain not to blame him, the duke, for
that heir's flight to his protection.

His envoy, Perrenet, was charged with many reassuring messages in
addition to the epistle. Before he reached the French court, his
news was no novelty. Rumour had preceded him. The messenger was very
eloquent in his assurances to the king that Philip was wholly innocent
in the affair and a good peer and true. Perrenet

    "stayed at the French court until Epiphany and I do not know what
    they discussed, but during that time news came that the king had
    garrisoned Compiegne, Lyons, and places where his lands touched
    the duke's territories. When the envoy returned to the duke, he
    published a manifesto ordering all who could bear arms to be in
    readiness."[17]

Philip sent messages of welcome to Louis with apologies for his
own inevitable absence, and the visitor was profuse in his return
assurances to his uncle that he understood the delay and would not
disturb his business for the world. "I have leisure enough to wait and
it does not weary me. I am safe in a pleasant land and in a fine town
which I have long wished to see." He showed his courtesy when the
Count d'Etampes, Philip's nephew-in-law, presented his suite, by
pronouncing each individual name and assuring its bearer that he had
heard about him.[18]

The count was commissioned to conduct the dauphin to Brussels and we
have the story of an eye-witness of his reception by the ladies of the
ducal family:

    "I saw the King of France, father of the present King Charles,
    chased away by his father Charles for some difference of which
    they say that the fair Agnes was the cause, and on account of
    which he took refuge with Duke Philip, for he had no means of
    subsistence.[19]

    "The said King Louis, being dauphin, came to Brussels accompanied
    by about ten cavaliers and by the Marshal of Burgundy. At this
    time Duke Philip was at Utrecht in war and there was no one to
    receive the visitor but Madame the Duchess Isabella and Madame
    de Charolais, her daughter-in-law, pregnant with Madame Mary of
    Burgundy, since then Duchess of Austria.

    "Monsieur the dauphin arrived at Brussels, where were the ladies,
    at eight o'clock in the evening, about St. Martin's Day.[20] When
    the ladies heard that he was in the city they hastened down to the
    courtyard to await him. As soon as he saw them he dismounted and
    saluted Madame the Duchess and Mme. de Charolais and Mme. de
    Ravestein. All kneeled and then he kissed the other ladies of the
    court."

Alienor goes on to describe how a whole quarter of an hour was
consumed by a friendly altercation between Isabella and her guest as
to the exact way in which they should enter the door, the dauphin
resolute in his refusal to take precedence and Isabella equally
resolute not even to walk by the side of the future king. "Monsieur,
it seems to me you desire to make me a laughing stock, for you wish
me to do what befits me not." To this the dauphin replied that it was
incumbent u