CHARLES THE BOLD

XXI

THE BATTLE OF NANCY

1477

It was manifestly impossible for Charles to attempt to retrieve his fortunes without having large sums of ready money at his command. He therefore proceeded to appeal to the guardians of each and every treasury in his various states. Flanders and Burgundy were, however, the only quarters whence succour was in the least probable. The Estates of the latter duchy met, deliberated, and resolved to make no pretence nor to "yield anything contrary to the duty which every one owes to his country." A certain Sieur de Jarville, accompanied by other true Burgundians, undertook to report the proceedings to Charles,—a duty usually falling to the share of the presiding officer of the ecclesiastical chamber. The message which he carried was laconic but sturdy:

"Tell Monsieur that we are humble and brave subjects and servitors, but as to what is asked in his behalf, it never has been done, it cannot be done, it never will be done."

"Small people would never dare use such language," is the comment of the Burgundian chronicler, proud of the temerity of his fellow countrymen.

In the Netherlands, the individual Estates were equally emphatic in their refusal to meet the duke's wishes. Charles, therefore, resolved to call together a general assembly of deputies in the hope of finding them, collectively, more amenable. Writs of summons were issued very widely and a "States-general" was formally convened at Ghent on Friday, April 26, 1476. At the last assembly of this nature, in 1473, the duke had expressly promised, in consideration of an annual grant of 500,000 crowns for six years then accorded to him, to refrain from further demands, and there was a spirit of sullen resentment in the air when this session, whose purpose was plain, was opened by Chancellor Hugonet. He set forth three points for consideration. Monseigneur wished his daughter Mary, "that most precious jewel," to join him in Burgundy. A suitable escort was necessary to ensure her safe journey and that the duke requested the States to provide. Secondly he desired the States to endorse a levy of fresh troops to meet his immediate requirements. Further, he requested each town to equip a specified number of horses at its own expense; he demanded the service of his tenants, fief and arrière-fief; and, in addition, he required that all other men, no matter what their condition, able to bear arms, should enlist or provide a substitute. A portion of the troops should be set to guard the frontier, and the rest should be sent to the duke in Burgundy.

It was a demand pure and simple for a universal call to arms, a national levy. The duke's paternal desire to see his daughter was the flimsiest of excuses that deceived no one for a moment.

After the chancellor's exposition there was probably adjournment for discussion. The pensionary of Brussels, Gort Roelants, then acted as spokesman to present the following report, as the result of their deliberations, to the duchess-regent.

As for Mlle. of Burgundy, the deputies would ascertain the wishes of their principals, but the second request did not call for a referendum. The representatives were fully capable of settling the matter at once. Considering the heavy burdens laid on the people, and taking into account the promises made to them in 1473, that no further demands should be made on the public purse, the three Estates concurred in humbly petitioning Monseigneur to excuse them from granting his request.

It was on a Sunday after dinner (April 28th) when this decision was communicated to the duchess in her own hotel. After a private colloquy between her and Hugonet, the chancellor told the messenger that it was quite right for the deputies to consult their principals before the heiress was permitted to leave the guardianship of her faithful subjects. That was a grave matter, but surely there was no reason why her "escort" could not be determined upon at once. In regard to the levies, Madame was not empowered to take any excuse. It was beyond her province. Since the opening of the assembly, fresh letters had arrived from the duke urging the speedy execution of his previous instructions. The chancellor then appointed a committee to meet a committee from the States at 8 A.M. on the morrow at the convent of the Augustines.

This was not satisfactory. Hugonet was speedily notified that the States did not feel empowered to appoint a committee. The most they could do was to resolve themselves into a committee of the whole. The objection to this was that a small conference was far better suited to free discussion. It was easy for unqualified persons to enter the session of a large body. The States, however, were tenacious in their opinion that their writs did not qualify them to appoint committees. Every point must be threshed out in the presence of every deputy. Potestas delegata non deleganda est.

There was further negotiation, and it was not until Monday afternoon that Hugonet's commissioner brought a conciliatory message that if the gentlemen were so bent on it, he would, in spite of the difficulty of discussion in an open meeting, talk over both points with them in full assembly. Again the States objected. They had no instructions whatsoever in regard to Mademoiselle, and could not discuss her movements either in public or in private session. As to levies, they repeated in detail all previous arguments, and expressed a fervent hope that Monseigneur would withdraw the request. It would, in the end, be more to Monseigneur's advantage, etc. Back and forth travelled the commissioner between States and duchess. The latter simply reiterated her dictum that Mary must certainly set forth to visit her father in May, with an adequate escort, in whose ranks must appear three prelates, three or four barons, fifty knights, and notable men from the "good towns," well armed.

The States were then resolved into a committee of the whole, for a private deliberation, an action that probably enabled them to exclude the embarrassing spectators. In preparation for this, the diligent commissioner called apart one deputy from each contingent, and expatiated on the duke's need of proof of sturdy loyalty. Seven to eight thousand combatants, besides Mademoiselle's escort and the fiefs and arrière-fiefs, Monseigneur could manage to make suffice for the present, and these must be provided. These confidences were at once reported to the assembly, which then adjourned to think over the matter during the night.

When they met again on April 30th, the chancellor was ready with a new message from Madame: "Go home now, consult your principals, and return on May 15th." On the motion of some deputy, this date was changed to May 24th. Precautions were taken to prevent any binding action in the interim. Moreover, the exact phrasing of the reports to the separate groups of constituents was also agreed upon by the majority of the deputies. In this, Hainaut refused to participate, as in that province there was a reluctance to deny the obligations of the fiefs.

When the deputies reassembled a month later, Hugonet tried to weaken the effect of their answer by a suggestion that it had better not be considered the final decision, but a mere informal expression of opinion. "There were so many strangers present," etc. The States determinedly refused to be trifled with. "Madame must not be displeased if they gave the result of their deliberations in the presence of the whole assembly, not by way of opinion, but as a formal and conclusive report." Their charge was restricted to this manner of procedure. The chancellor, interrupting them, asked, since their charge was thus restricted,  whether they had also been limited in the number of times they might drink on their way. The answer was: "Chancellor, come now, say what you wish. The answer shall be given as it was meant to be given."

The communication was so long that its delivery took from 3 to 8 P.M. It was nothing more than a detailed apology for refusing the sovereign's demands. Several days more were consumed in unsuccessful efforts to cajole or browbeat the deputies into a more genial mood. The only concessions offered were insignificant, and to their resolution the deputies held firmly. "According to current rumour [concludes Gort Roelants's story] the ducal council would gladly have accepted a notable sum in lieu of the service of towns and of the fiefholders, but the States made no such offer."

There was evidently a hope that better results might be obtained from a new assembly, but none was held and the most earnest endeavours of the duke's wife and daughter failed to arouse enthusiasm for his plans. Moreover, when there seemed a prospect that the Netherlands might be attacked from France, the sympathy of even the duchess and council for offensive operations was chilled. Not only did Margaret fail to send her husband the extra supplies demanded, but she decided to appropriate the three months' subsidy, the chief item of regular ducal revenue, for protection of the Flemish frontier—an action that made Charles very angry. Defences at home! Yes, indeed, they were necessary, but the people must provide them. The subsidy was lawfully his and he needed every penny of it. His army had not been destroyed. He was simply obliged to strengthen it. Burgundy was helping him. Flanders must do her part. They were deaf to this appeal, although a generous message was sent saying that if he were hard pressed they would go in person to rescue him from danger.

The story of the assembly of the Estates of the two Burgundies is equally interesting as a picture of the clash between sovereign will and popular unreadiness to open the carefully guarded money-boxes.The deputies convened at Salins on July 8th, in the presence of the duke himself. The session was opened by Jean de Grey, the president of the parlement of the duchy, with a brief statement of the sovereign's needs. Then Charles took the floor, and delivered a tremendous harangue with a marvellous command of language. Panigarola declared that his allusions to parallel crises in ancient times were so apt and so fluent that it seemed as though the book of history lay opened before him and that he read from its pages. The impression he made was plain to see.

His demands for aid to retrieve the Swiss disasters were open and aboveboard this time. There was no such pretence put forward as the escort of Mary. The argument was that any ruler, backed by his people unanimous in their willingness to give their last jewel for public purposes, must inevitably succeed in his righteous wars, etc.

His learned and able discourse was well received, according to other reporters besides the Milanese, but there was no hearty yielding to sentiment in the reply. Four days were consumed in deliberation before that was ready on July 12th. They had certainly considered that the grant of 100,000 florins annually for six years, accorded two years previously, was their share. But in view of the duke's appeal, they would endeavour to aid him. Let him stipulate which cities he wished fortified and they would assume charge of the work. Two favours they begged—that Charles should not rashly expose his person "for he was the sole prince of his glorious House," and that he should be ready to receive overtures of peace. "We will give life and property for defence, but we implore you to take no offensive step." Charles did not, perhaps, feel the distrust of his military skill and of his judgment that these words implied.

Financial stress was not the duke's only difficulty in 1476. The defection of his allies continued, Yolande—that former good friend of his—was now a fervent suppliant to Louis XI., begging him to restore her to freedom and to her son's estates. Not that her restraint was in itself hard to bear. At Rouvre, whither she had been removed from Rochefort, she was free to do what she wished, except to depart. Couriers, too, were at her service apparently, who carried uninspected letters to Milan, Geneva, Nice, Turin, and to Louis XI. Commines says that she hesitated to take refuge with the last lest he should promptly return her to Burgundian "protection." Yet her brother's hatred to Charles seemed a fairly strong assurance against such action. Louis XI. was never so genial as when hearing some ill of Charles. "From what I have learned, I believe his Turk, his devil in this world, the person he loathes most intensely, is the Duke of Burgundy, with whom he can never live in amity." These words were sent by Petrasanta to the Duke of Milan, who was also turning slowly, with some periods of hesitation, to an alliance with Louis, now engaged in "following the hare with a cart."

On his side the king declared that he had no intention of troubling further about his obligations to the Duke of Burgundy. "He has himself broken the truce repeatedly. I can begin a war when I please. But I have thought it best to temporise."

In the succeeding weeks Louis plunged deeper and deeper into negotiations with any and every one whom he could turn against Charles. In October, Sire de Chamont, governor of Champagne, —the territory that Edward IV. had failed to consign to the duke's sovereignty,—made a descent on Rouvre and rescued Yolande of Savoy. There was no attempt to stay her departure, and she was scrupulous, so it is said, in leaving money behind to pay for the Burgundian property carried off in her train—though it were nothing but an old crossbow. "Welcome, Madame the Burgundian," was the fraternal salutation which she received on her arrival at her brother's court. She replied that she was a good French woman and quite ready to obey his majesty's commands.

During the summer, Charles remained at La Rivière exerting every effort to levy an army. It was no easy task, and the review held on July 27th showed a meagre return for his exertions. But he did not slacken his efforts. Lists were immediately drawn up showing the vacancies in each company, and his money stress did not prevent his offering increased pay as an extra inducement to recruits. "An excellent means of encouragement," comments Panigarola.

The necessity for his preparations was evident. An opportune legacy inherited by René of Lorraine enabled that dispossessed prince to work to better advantage than he had been able to do since Charles had convened the Estates of Lorraine at Nancy. Moreover, on the very day of the review of the deficient Burgundian troops, a Swiss diet at Fribourg adopted resolutions regarding, a closer alliance with René. Louis XI ostensibly maintained his truce with Charles but he had intimated that a French army would wait in Dauphiné ready "to help adjust the affairs of Savoy," and, at about the same time when Yolande was at court, he gave a gracious reception to a Swiss embassy, so that René did not feel himself without support as he advanced to recover his city.

The mercenaries left by Charles at Nancy were weak and indifferent—a brief siege, and the capital of Lorraine capitulated to Duke René. Charles was too late to prevent this mortifying loss. His forces, too, were a mere shadow. Three to four thousand men rallied round him in the Franche-Comté, a few hundred joined him in Burgundy, and as he skirted the frontier of Champagne he received slight reinforcements from Luxemburg. Then came Campobasso and his mercenary troops, and the Count of Chimay with such Flemish fiefs as had, individually, respected the duke's appeal. In all, the forces at Charles's disposition amounted to about ten thousand, far fewer than those at Neuss or at Granson.

At a diet of October 17th, the compact between René and the Swiss was confirmed, and the former was assured of efficient aid to help him repulse Charles in his advance into Lorraine. There was need. The city of Toul refused admission to both dukes, but furnished provision for Charles's troops, so that for the moment he was the better off of the two. René then proceeded to provision Nancy and to prepare it for a siege, while he himself proceeded to Pont-à-Mousson, and for several days the two adversaries were only separated by the Moselle. Charles's army was augmented daily by slight accessions from Flanders, and England, and by fragments of the garrisons of the towns in Lorraine that had yielded to René and the latter fell back, little by little. Charles in his turn held Pont-à-Mousson, and proceeded along the road to Nancy, not deterred by the Lorrainers.

It was on October 22nd, that Charles of Burgundy laid siege for the second time to Nancy. In thus entering into active hostilities, he was ignoring the advice of his councillors who were unanimous in begging him to devote the winter months to refitting his army in Luxemburg or Flanders. His position was really very dangerous. He had no base on which to rest as he had recovered no towns except Pont-à-Mousson. But he ignored the patent obstacles and tried assault after assault upon Nancy—all most valiantly repulsed. Within the walls, there was an amazing display of courage, energy, and good humour. As a matter of fact, the duke's reputation had waned, while the fear of his cruelty emboldened the burghers to hold out to the last ditch. Any fate would be better than falling into his hands, was the general opinion.

Throughout Lorraine, the captains of the garrisons seized every occasion to harry the Burgundians. Familiar with the lay of the land, with every cross-road and by-path, they were able to lie in wait for the foragers and to do much damage. Four hundred cavaliers, coming up from Burgundy, were attacked by one Malhortie de Rozière, and literally cut to pieces, while their horses changed sides with ease. Only a few escaped to report the fate of the others to Charles. Not long after, Malhortie, encouraged by this success, crept up to the Burgundian camp, fell upon the sleepers, and captured a goodly number of horses.

The troops on which Charles counted most confidently were Campobasso's. Several attempts were made to warn him that treachery was possible in that quarter if the commander were too much exasperated by delays in payment, too much tried by the ill-temper of his employer. But the duke persisted in being oblivious to what was passing under his eyes. Thus, while awaiting the moment for his final defection, the Italian found it possible to enter into communication with René and to retard the operations of the siege so as to give time for the advance of the army of relief.

The weather of this year was a marked contrast to the mild season of 1473. The winter set in early and the cold became very severe, almost at once. Their sufferings made the burghers very impatient for the relief of whose coming they could get no certain assurance. The Burgundian lines were held so rigidly that the interchange of messages between the city and her friends was rendered very difficult. One Suffren de Baschi tried to slip through to Nancy, to tell the besieged that René was levying troops in Switzerland and would soon be with them. Baschi fell into the duke's hands and was immediately hanged. One story says that Campobasso was among the interceders for his life and received a box on the ear for his pains, an insult that proved the last straw in his allegiance to Charles. Commines, however, declares that the Italian urged the death of the captive, fearful of the premature betrayal of his own intended treachery.

This execution was one of those arbitrary acts condemned by public opinion as contrary to the code of warfare. Intense indignation among the Lorrainers and the Swiss forced René to retaliatory measures, and he ordered the execution of all the Burgundian prisoners. One hundred and twenty bodies hung on the gibbets, each bearing an inscription to the effect that their death was the work of le téméraire. The rancour of the proceedings became terrible. No quarter was given in any engagements. Slaughter was the only thought on either side.

Towards the end of December, one Thierry, a draper of Mirecourt, proved more successful than Baschi in reaching Nancy. His information, that René's army would leave Basel on December 26th, put heart into the beseiged and the bells rang out joyfully.

Just at this epoch, there was an attempt at mediation between the combatants. The King of Portugal, nephew of Isabella, appeared at his cousin's camp and implored him to put an end to the carnage, and in the name of humanity to stop a war that was horrible to all the world. In spite of his own stress, Charles managed to give his kinsman a splendid reception, but he waved aside his petition, and simply invited him to join him in his campaign.

A week sufficed for the Swiss contingent to march from Basel to Nancy, across the plains of Alsace. Meantime René had rallied about four thousand men under Lorraine captains, and to this was added an Alsatian force which had joined him by way of St.-Nicolas-du-Port. They were a rude, pitiless crowd, as they soon evinced by routing a few Burgundians out of the houses where they had hidden, and massacring them publicly. A reconnaissance, sent out by Charles, was easily put to flight.

On January 4th, Charles learned that fresh troops had reached St. Nicolas. He showed assurance, arrogance, and negligence. His belief in his star was fully restored. He actually did not take the trouble to try once more to ascertain the exact strength of the enemy. He had commissioned the Bishop of Forli to negotiate for him at Basel, and refused to credit the statement that the Swiss were throwing in their fortunes with René. He thought that "the Child," as he contemptuously termed his adversary, had simply gone right and left to hire mercenaries, and he rather ridiculed the idea of taking such canaille seriously, saying that it was a host unworthy of a gentleman. Still he resolved to meet and finish them once for all.

It is a fact that the Swiss reinforcements were a different and far less efficient body than the volunteers of Granson and Morat had been. French gold, scattered freely, had done its work in exciting the cupidity of every man who could bear arms. There were some staunch leaders, like Waldemar of Zurich and Rudolph de Stein, but their kind was in the minority. Berne aided with money rather than with men, but she was not a generous ally as she insisted on having hostages to ensure her repayment. A venal spirit was evident in every quarter. As the troops made their way over the Jura their behaviour showed that the late splendid booty had affected them. Plunder was their aim. When René reviewed these fresh arrivals from Basel, one of his attending officers was Oswald von Thierstein, late governor of Alsace. Disgraced by Sigismund he had passed over to the Duke of Lorraine, who appointed him marshal.

On that January 4th, a Saturday, Charles held a council meeting. The opinion of the wisest, already given on previous occasions, was urged again:

"Do not risk battle. René is poor. If there are no immediate engagements, his mercenaries will abandon him for lack of pay. Raise the siege and depart for Flanders and Luxemburg. The army can rest and be increased. Then at the approach of spring it will be easy to fall upon René deprived of his troops."

Charles was absolutely deaf to these arguments. He was determined on facing the issue at once. Leaving a small force to sustain the siege, he ordered the camp to be broken on the evening of the 4th and a movement made towards St.-Nicolas. He selected a ground favourable for the manipulation of a large body, and placed his artillery on a plateau situated between Jarville and Neuville. It was not a good position, being hedged in on the right and in front by woods which could conceal the movements of a foe without impeding them. Only one way of retreat was open—towards Metz, whose bishop was Charles's last ally. But to reach Metz, it was necessary to cross several small streams and deceptive marshes, half frozen as they were, besides the river Meurthe, a serious obstacle with the garrison of Nancy on the flank. In short, there was ample reason to dread surprise, while in case of defeat a terrible catastrophe was more than possible. Curiously, the precise kind of difficulties which beset the field of Morat were repeated here—proof that Charles had not the qualities of a general who could learn by experience.

The exact force at his disposal on this occasion has been variously estimated. Considering the ravages of the sanguinary skirmishes during the siege, and of the cold, it is probable that the actual combatants did not number more than ten thousand, all told. And only half of these were of any value—two thousand men under Galeotto, and three thousand Burgundians commanded by Charles and his immediate lieutenants. The remainder were unreliable mercenaries and the still more unreliable troops of Campobasso already pledged to the foe. La Marche estimates René's force at twelve thousand and adds: "The Duke of Burgundy was far behind, for, on my conscience, he had not two thousand fighting men."

The allies adopted a plan of battle proposed by a Lorrainer, Vautrin Wuisse. The first manoeuvre was to divert the foe and turn him towards the woods, and then to attack his centre, which would at the same time be pressed at the front by the Lorraine forces, headed by René himself. The plan succeeded in every point. Surprised that they dared take the offensive, Charles was alert to the harsh cries of the "bull" of Uri and the "cow" of Unterwalden, which were heard across the woods. A sudden presentiment saddened him. Putting on his helmet, he accidentally knocked off the lion bearing the legend Hoc est signum Dei. He replaced it and plunged into the mêlée.

The onslaught was terrific. Galeotto's troops and the duke's were the only ones to make sturdy resistance. The right wing of the army gave way under the fierce assault of the Swiss. The cry, "Sauve qui pent!" raised possibly by Campobasso's traitors, produced a terrible rout. Three quarters of the troops were in flight, while the duke still fought on with superhuman ferocity.

Galeotto, seeing that the day was lost, protected his own mercenaries as best he could, while Campobasso completed the treason that he had plotted with René, which had been partially accomplished four days previously, and calmly took up his position on the bridge of Bouxières on the Meurthe, to make prisoners for the sake of ransom. Then the besieged made a sudden sortie which increased the disorder. The battle proper was of short duration, with little bloodshed, but the pursuit was sanguinary in the extreme, because the Burgundian army had left no loophole open for retreat.

The Swiss pursued the fugitives hotly as far as Bouxières and inflicted carnage right and left on the route. It was easy work. The morasses were traps and the Burgundians, encumbered with their arms, found it impossible to free themselves, when they once were entangled. They fell like flies before the fury of the mountaineers. The Lorrainers and Alsatians were more humane or more mercenary, for they took prisoners instead of killing indiscriminately. Charles fought desperately to the very end. There is no doubt that he plunged into the thick of the fight and risked his life in a reckless manner, but there is absolute uncertainty as to how he met his death. It is generally accepted that the last person to see him alive was one Baptista Colonna, a page in the service of a Neapolitan captain. This lad, with an extra helmet swung over his shoulder, found himself close to the duke. He saw him surrounded by troops, noticed his horse stumble, was sure that the rider fell. The next moment, Colonna's attention was diverted to himself. He was taken prisoner and knew no more of the day's events. The figure of Charles of Burgundy disappears from the view of man. A curtain woven of vague rumour hides the closing scenes of his life.

At seven o'clock the victorious Duke of Lorraine rode into the rescued city and re-entered his palace. At the gates was heaped up a ghastly memorial of the steadfastness of the burghers in their devotion to his cause. This was a pile of the bones of the foul animals they had consumed when other food was exhausted, rather than capitulate to their liege's foe. To ascertain the fate of that foe now became René's chief anxiety, and he despatched messengers to Metz and elsewhere to find out where Charles had taken refuge. The reports were all negative. The first positive assurance that the duke was dead came from young Baptista Colonna, whom Campobasso himself introduced into René's presence on Monday evening. The page told his tale and declared that he could point out the precise place where he had seen the Duke of Burgundy fall. Accordingly, on Tuesday morning, January 7th, a party went forth from Nancy to the desolate battlefield and were guided by Colonna to the edge of a pool which he asserted confidently was the very spot where he had seen Charles. Circumstantial evidence went to give corroboration to his word, for the dozen or more bodies that lay strewn along the ground in the immediate vicinity of the pool were close friends and followers of the duke, men who would, in all probability, have stayed faithfully by their master's person, a volunteer bodyguard as long as they drew breath. These bodies were all stripped naked. Harpies had already gathered what plunder they could find, and no apparel or accoutrements were left to show the difference in rank between noble and page. But the faces were recognisable and they were identified as well-known nobles of the Burgundian court. Separated from this group by a little space at the very edge of the pool, was another naked body in still more doleful plight. The face was disfigured beyond all semblance of what it might have been in life. One cheek was bitten by wolves, one was imbedded in the frozen slime. Yet there was evidence on the poor forsaken remains that convinced the searchers that this was indeed the mortal part of the great duke. Two wounds from a pick and a blow above the ear—inflicted by "one named Humbert"—showed how death had been caused. The missing teeth corresponded to those lost by Charles, there was a scar just where he had received his wound at Montl'héry, the finger nails were long like his, a wound on the shoulder, a fistula on the groin, and an ingrowing nail were additional marks of identification,—six definite proofs in all. Among those who gazed at this wretched sight, on that January morning, were men intimately acquainted with the duke's person.

"There were his physician, a Portuguese named Mathieu, and his valets, besides Olivier de la Marche and Denys his chaplain who were taken thither and there was no doubt that he was dead. It has not yet been decided where he will be buried, and to know it better it [the body] has been bathed in warm water and good wine and cleansed. In that state it was recognisable by all who had previously seen and known him. The page who had given the information was taken to the king. Had it not been for him it would never have been known what had become of him considering the state and the place where he was found."

Before the body could be freed from the ice in which it was imbedded, implements had to be brought from Nancy. Four Lorraine nobles hastened to the spot, when they heard the tidings, to show honour to the man who had been their accepted lord for a brief period, and they acted as escort as the burden was carried into the town and placed in a suitable chamber in the home of one George Marquiez. There seems to have been no insult offered to the fallen man, no lack of deference in the proceedings. The very spot where the bier rested for a moment was marked with a little black cross.

As the corpse was bathed, three wounds became evident—a deep cut from a halberd in the head, spear thrusts through the thighs and abdomen—proofs of the closeness of the last struggle. When all the dignity possible had been given to the miserable human fragment and the chamber hung with conventional mourning, René came thither clad in black garments. Kneeling by the bier, he said: "Would to God, fair cousin, that your misfortunes and mine had not reduced you to the condition in which I see you."

For five days the body lay in state before the high altar of the church of St. George, and the obsequies that followed were attended by René and his nobles, and the coffin was honourably placed among the ducal dead.

Yet doubt of the man's existence was not buried with the bones to which his name was given. When the Swiss turned their way homeward, their farewell words to René were: "If the Duke of Burgundy has escaped and should reopen war, tell us." "If he has assured his safety," René answered, "we will fight again when summer comes." There was no delay, however, in the division of the spoils. The Burgundian treasure was distributed among René's allies, and the ignorant soldiers received articles worth many times their pay, which they, in many cases, disposed of for an infinitesimal part of their value.

As late as January 28th, Margaret of York and Mary of Burgundy wrote to Louis XI. from Ghent:

"We are still hoping that Monseigneur is alive in the hands of his enemies." Other rumours continued to be current, not only for weeks but for years. In 1482, it was gravely recounted that the vanished duke had retired to Brucsal in Swabia, where he led an austere life, genus vitae horridum atque asperum. Bets were made, too, on the chances of his return.

Louis XI. was a very pleasant person when news was brought him that he liked to hear. Commines and Bouchage together had told him about the defeat of Morat and had each received two hundred silver marks. It was a Seigneur de Lude who had the good luck to bring him letters from Craon recounting the battle of Nancy. It was "really difficult for the king to keep his countenance so surprised was he with joy." His letter to Craon was written on January 9th and ran as follows.

"M. the Count, my friend, I have received your letter and heard the good news that you impart to me, for which I thank you as much as I can. Now is the time to use all your five natural senses to deliver the duchy and county of Burgundy into my hands. If the duke be dead, do you and the governor of Champagne take your troops and put yourselves within the land, and, if you love me, keep as good order among your men as if you were in Paris, and prove that I mean to treat them [the Burgundians] better than any one in my realm."

The "five natural senses" of the king's lieutenant were employed most loyally to his master's service. The duchy of Burgundy returned to the French crown. Before Easter, the Estates were convened by Louis XI, and there was no longer any duke in Burgundy to be an over powerful peer in France.

With the exception of Guelders the lands acquired by Charles fell away, but the remainder as inherited by him passed under the rule of his daughter Mary, who carried her heritage into the House of Austria, through which it passed finally to the King of Spain.

On that fatal fifth of January, Charles of Burgundy had only just passed middle life. He was forty-four years, one month, and twenty-six days old, an age when a man has the right to look forward to new achievements. Every circumstance of the dreary and premature death was in glaring contrast to his prospects at his birth in 1433, in insolent contradiction to his own estimation of the obligations assumed by Fate in his behalf. In certain details of the catastrophe there are, of course, accidents. No one could have predicted that the duke whose chief title was a synonym for magnificence, that this cherished heir to his House, who had been bathed in all the luxury known to his epoch, should have thus lain in death, many hours long, unattended and uncared-for, naked and frozen on a bed of congealed mud, with a winter sky as canopy. The actual adversity as it overwhelmed him was too appalling for any foresight. But the great dream of the man's life that vanished with his vitality owed its annihilation to no mere chance of warfare. Had it not been rudely ended by the battle of Nancy, other means of destruction, inevitable and sure, would have appeared. The projected erection of a solidified kingdom stretching from the North Sea to Switzerland and possibly to the Mediterranean, one that could hold the balance of power between France and Germany, contained elements of disintegration, latent at its foundation. It is clear, from a consideration of the Duke of Burgundy and his position in the Europe of his time, that the materials which he expected to mould into a realm were a collection of sentient units. Each separate one was instinct with individual life, individual desires, conscious of its own minute past, capable of directing its own contracted future. That the hereditary title of overlord to each political unity had lodged upon a head already dignified by a plurality of similar titles, was a mere chance and viewed by the burghers in a wholly different light from that in which this same overlord regarded it. The fishers in Holland, the manufacturers in Brabant, the merchants in Flanders, the vintners in Burgundy, cared nothing for being the wings of an imperial idea. They wanted safe fishing grounds, unmolested highways of commerce, vineyards free from the tramp of armies. And with their desires fixed on these as needful, their attitude towards the political centralisation planned by their common ruler, often betrayed both ignorance and inconsistency. At various epochs some degree of imperialism for the Netherland group had been quite to popular taste. In Holland, Zealand and Hainaut, it had been conceded that Jacqueline of Bavaria was less efficient to maintain desirable conditions than her cousin of Burgundy, and the exchange of sovereigns had been effected in spite of the manifest injustice involved in the transaction. But while there was willingness to accept any advantages that might accrue to a people from the reputation of a local overlord, it was never forgotten for an instant that his relation to his subjects was as their own count and strictly limited by conditions that had long existed within each petty territory. While Charles seemed to be on the straight road towards his goal, the people within each body politic of his inherited states were profoundly preoccupied with their own local concerns, and only alive to his schemes when they feared demands upon their internal revenues for external purposes.

It does not seem probable, however, that the abstract question of the projected kingdom was ever taken very seriously among those to be directly affected by the proposed change. The bars interposed by his own subjects in the duke's progress towards royalty were obstructions to his successive steps rather than to his theory. Indeed, strenuous opposition to details was allied to a vague and passive acceptance of the whole. Moreover when the idea was phrased it was distinctly as a revival, not as a novelty. The previous existence of a kingdom of Burgundy was undoubtedly a potent factor in the degree of progress made by Charles towards conjuring into new life a reincarnation of that ancient realm. Yet it was a factor clothed with a shadow rather than with the substance of truth. Geographically there was very little in common between the dominion projected more or less definitely in 1473 and any one of the kingdoms of Burgundy as they had successively existed. That of Charles corresponded very nearly to the ancient kingdom of Lorraine. Franche-Comté was the only ground common to the territories actually held by the duke and to the latest kingdom of Burgundy. His possessions in Picardy and Alsace lay wholly beyond the limits of either Burgundy or Lorraine. But the old name survived in his ducal title, and it was that name that lent a semblance of reality to this fifteenth-century dream of a middle kingdom as outlined in the duke's mind more or less definitely or as bounded by his ambition.

In retrospect it is clear that more was requisite for the realisation of the vision of the wished-for nation, than imperial investiture of a crowned monarch with sovereignty over a group of lands. A modern writer has pointed out how infinitely subtle is the vital principle of a nation, one not even to be created by common interests. A Zollverein is no patria. An element of sentiment is needful, and an element of growth. The nation like the individual is the result of what has gone before. An heroic past, great men, glory that can command respect at home and abroad—that is the capital on which is based a national idea. To have wrought in common, to wish to accomplish more in the future, are essential conditions to be a people. "The existence of a nation is a plebiscite of every day, just as the existence of the individual is a perpetual affirmation of life."

Now it is evident, in summing up the salient features of this failure, that a vital principle was not germinating in the inchoate mass. Charles himself never attained the rank of a national hero. More than that, with all his individual states, he never had any nation, great or small, at his back. Personally he was a man without a country. His father, Philip, was French, pure and simple, quite as French as his grandfather, Philip the Hardy, the first Duke of Burgundy out of the House of Valois, even though Philip the Good had extended his sway to many non-French-speaking peoples and was able to use the Flemish speech if it suited his whim. But that was as a condescension and as something extraneous. The chief of French peers remained his proudest title; his ability to influence French affairs, the task he liked best.

His son was quite different in his attitude towards France. He minimised his degree of French blood royal. More than once he boasted of his kinship with Portuguese, with English stock. He had certain characteristics of an immigrant, who has abandoned family traditions and is proudly confident that his bequest to posterity is to outshine what he has inherited. Charles was not exactly a stupid man, but he certainly was dazzled by his early surroundings into an overestimate of himself, into a conceit that was a tremendous stumbling-block in his path. He had not the kind of intelligence that would have enabled him to take at their worth the rhetorical phrases of adulation heaped upon him on festal occasions. Yet this same conceit, this very self-confidence, gave him a high conception of his duties. At his accession, he showed a sense of his responsibilities, a definite theory of conduct which he fully intended to act upon. His very belief in his own powers gave him an intrinsic honesty of purpose. He was convinced that he could maintain law, order, justice in his domain, and he fully intended to do so in a paternal way, but he left out of consideration the rights of the people, rights older than his dynasty. In his military career, too, at the outset, he evinced the strongest bent towards preserving the best conditions possible amid the brutalities of warfare. He curbed the soldiers' passions, he protected women, and was as relentless towards miscreants in his ranks as towards his foe. In civil matters he exerted himself to secure impartial equity for all alike. When he gave a promise, he fully intended to make his words good. It was only in the face of repeated deceptions of the cleverer and more unscrupulous Louis XI. that Charles changed for the worse. Exasperated by the knowledge that the king's solemn pledges were given repeatedly with no intention of fulfilment, he attempted to adopt a similar policy and was singularly infelicitous in his imitation. His political methods degenerated into mere barefaced lying, softened by no graces, illumined by no clever intuition of where to draw the line. From 1472 on, the duke's word was worth no more than the king's, and words were assuredly at a discount just then. A perusal of the international correspondence of the period leaves the reader marvelling why time was wasted in covering paper, with flimsy, insincere phrases, mendacious sign-posts which gave no true indication of the road to be travelled. There are, however, differences in the art of dissimulation and Charles never attained a mastery of the science.

The adjective which has attached itself to his name in English in an inaccurate rendering of le téméraire which belongs to him in French. There were other terms too applied to Charles at different periods of his career. He was Charles the Hardy in his early youth, Charles the Terrible in those last months when he tried to fortify himself with wine unsuited to his constitution, but at all times he might have been called Charles the self-absorbed, Charles the solitary. There have been many men more passionate, more uncontrolled, than Charles of Burgundy, whose personal magnetism yet enabled them to win friends and to keep them, as the duke was powerless to do. The failure to command personal devotion, unquestioning loyalty, was one of his chief personal misfortunes. Philip, magnificent, lavish, debonair, found many lenient apologists for his crimes, while his son received criticism for his faults even from the faithful among his servitors. How a reflection of his bearing glows out from the mirror turned casually upon him by Commines' skilful hand! Take the glimpse of Louis XI. as he lures on St. Pol's messenger to imitate Charles. The Sire de Créville inspired by the royal interest in his narration about an incident at the court of Burgundy, puffs out his cheeks, stamps his feet in a dictatorial manner, and swears by St. George as he quotes the duke's words. Behind a screen are hidden Commines, and a Burgundian envoy aghast at hearing his liege lord so mocked. It is a time when St. Pol is trying to ride three horses at once and the French king takes this method to have Charles informed of his duplicity. "Speak louder" he says, "I grow a little deaf," and the flattered envoy repeats his dramatic performance in a way to engrave it on the memory of the duke's retainer.

In thus touching on the traits of his former master, Commines does not show malice or even a dislike for the duke. He is much more severe about Louis—only he found the latter easier to serve.

In his family life, too, Charles does not seem to have found any companionship that affected his life. He is lauded as a faithful husband to Isabella of Bourbon but her death seemed to make little difference. Neither she nor Margaret of York had the actual significance enjoyed by Isabella of Portugal as consort to Philip the Good with his notoriously roving fancy.

Thus at home as well as abroad the last Duke of Burgundy tried to stand alone. Perhaps his chief happiness in life was that he never knew how insufficient for his desired task he was and how the new art of printing, the birth of Erasmus of Rotterdam, were the really great events of his brief decade of sovereignty. It was his good fortune that he never knew that no splendid achievement gave significance to his device: "I have undertaken it"—Je lay emprins.