Charles the Bold Part 12

The young Commines is surprised that Paris and her environs were rich enough to feed so many men. Gradually the aspect of affairs changed.

Negotiating back and forth became more frequent. The disintegration of the allies became more and more evident. Louis XI. bided his time and then took the extraordinary resolution to go in person to the camp at Charenton to visit his cousin of Burgundy. With a very few attendants, practically unguarded, he went down the Seine. His coming had been heralded and the Count of Charolais stood ready to receive him, with the Count of St. Pol at his side. "Brother, do you pledge me safety?"

(for the count's first wife was sister of Louis) to which the count responded: "Yes, as one brother to another."[13]

Nothing could have been more genial than was the king. He a.s.sured Charles that he loved a man who kept his word beyond anything.

Veracity was his pa.s.sion. Charles had kept the promise he had sent by the archbishop of Narbonne, and now he knew in very truth that he was a gentleman and true to the blood of France. Further, he disavowed the insolence of his chancellor towards Charles, and repeated that his cousin had been justified in resenting it. "You have kept your promise and that long before the day."[14]

Then in a friendly promenade, Louis gave an opportunity to Charles and St. Pol to state, informally, the terms on which they would withdraw from their hostile footing, and count the weal restored to the oppressed public whose sorrows had moved them to a confederation.

Distasteful as was every item to Louis, he accepted the requisition of those who felt that they were in a position to dictate, and after a little more parleying at later dates, the treaty of Conflans was duly arranged. It was none too soon for the allies. They could hardly have held together many days longer in the midst of the jealousies rife in their camps.

The king paused at nothing. To his brother he gave Normandy, to Charles of Burgundy the towns on the Somme with guarantee of possession for his lifetime, while the Count of St. Pol was made Constable of France.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LOUIS XI. WITH THE PRINCES AND SEIGNEURS OF THE WAR OF PUBLIC WEAL TAKEN FROM CONTEMPORANEOUS MINIATURE IN ABBEY OF ST.

GERMAIN DES PReS (COMINES-LENGLET, II., FRONTISPIECE)]

Boulogne and Guienne, too, were ceded to Charles, lesser places and pensions to the other confederates. The contest ended with complete victory for the allies who were left with the proud consciousness that they had set a definite limit to royal pretensions, at least, on paper.

After the treaty was signed, the king showed no resentment at his defeat but urged his cousin to amuse himself a while in Paris before returning home. Charles was rash, but he had not the temerity to trust himself so far. Pleading a promise to his father to enter no city gate until on paternal soil, he declined the invitation and soon returned to the Netherlands, where his own household had suffered change.

During his absence, the Countess of Charolais had died and been buried at Antwerp. Charles is repeatedly lauded for his perfect faithfulness to his wife, but her death seems to have made singularly little ripple on the surface of his life. The chroniclers touch on the event very casually, laying more stress on the opportunity it gave Louis XI.

to offer his daughter Anne as her successor, than on the event itself.[15]

[Footnote 1: La Marche, ii., 227. Peter von Hagenbach was the chamberlain to enforce this.]

[Footnote 2: The receipt for this half payment was signed October 8, 1462. (Comines, _Memoires_, Lenglet du Fresnoy edition, ii., 392-403.)]

[Footnote 3: Du Clercq, iii., 236; Comines-Lenglet, ii., 393.]

[Footnote 4: Commines, _Memoires_ I., ch. i. In the above pa.s.sages Dannett's translation is followed for the racy English.]

[Footnote 5: Commines says at The Hague; Meyer makes it Gorc.u.m.]

[Footnote 6: III., 3.]

[Footnote 7: Lavisse iv^{ii}., 336.]

[Footnote 8: Chastellain, v., i, etc.]

[Footnote 9: V., II.]

[Footnote 10: Letter of the Count of Charolais to the citizens of Amiens. (_Collection de Doc.u.ments inedits sur l'histoire de France_.) "Melanges," ii., 317. In this collection taken from MS. in the Bibl.

Nat. there are many letters private and public about these events.]

[Footnote 11: Since its recovery from the English, there had been no duke in Normandy. It was thus the one province open to the king.]

[Footnote 12: I., ch. xi. His vivacious story of the siege should be read in detail.]

[Footnote 13: I., ch. xii.]

[Footnote 14: Commines, I., ch. xii.]

[Footnote 15: La Marche, iii., p. 27.]

CHAPTER VII

LIEGE AND ITS FATE

1465-1467

"When we have finished here we shall make a fine beginning against those villains the Liegeois." Thus wrote the count's secretary on October 18th.[1] Charles had no desire to rest on the laurels won before Paris. To another city he now turned his attention, to Liege which owed nothing whatsoever to Burgundy.

Before the days when the buried treasures of the soil filled the air with smoke, the valley where Liege lies was a lovely spot.[2]

Tradition tells how, in the sixth century, Monulphe, Bishop of Tongres, as he made a progress through his diocese was attracted by the beauties of the site where a few hovels then cl.u.s.tered near the Meuse. After looking down from the heights to the river's banks for a brief s.p.a.ce, the bishop turned to his followers and said, as if uttering a prophecy:

"Here is a place created by G.o.d for the salvation of many faithful souls. One day a prosperous city shall flourish here. Here I will build a chapel." Dedicated to Cosmo and Damian, the promised chapel became a shrine which attracted many pilgrims who returned to their various homes with glowing tales of the beautiful and fertile valley.

Little by little others came who did not leave, and by the seventh century when Bishop Lambert sat in the see of Tongres, Liege was a small town.

An active and loving shepherd was this Lambert. He gave himself no rest but travelled continually from one church to another in his diocese to look after the needs of his flock. He was a fearless prelate, too, and his words of well-deserved rebuke to the Frankish Pepin for a lawless deed excited the wrath of a certain n.o.ble, accessory to the act. Trouble ensued and Lambert was slain as he knelt before the altar in Monulphe's chapel at Liege. Absorbed in prayer the pious man did not hear the servants' calls, "Holy Lambert, Holy Lambert come to our aid," words that later became a war-cry when the bishop was exalted into the patron saint of the town.

Not until the thirteenth century, however, when the episcopal see was finally established at Liege, was Lambert's successor virtual lay overlord of the region as well as Bishop of Liege. Monulphe's little chapel had given way to a mighty church dedicated to the canonised Bishop Lambert. The ecclesiastical state became almost autonomous, the episcopal authority being restricted without the walls only by the distant emperor and still more distant pope. Within the walls, the same authority had by no means a perfectly free hand. There were certain features in the const.i.tution of Liege which differentiated it from its sister towns in the Netherlands.

Munic.i.p.al affairs were conducted in a singularly democratic manner.

There was no distinction between the greater and lesser gilds, and, within these organisations, the franchise was given to the most ignorant apprentice had he only fulfilled the simple condition of attaining his fifteenth year. Moreover, the naturalisation laws were very easy. Newcomers were speedily transformed into citizens and enjoyed eligibility to office as well as the franchise. The tenure of office being for one year only, there was opportunity for frequent partic.i.p.ation in public affairs, an opportunity not neglected by the community.[2]

The bishop was, of course, not one of the civic officers chosen by this liberal franchise. He was elected by the chapter of St. Lambert, subject to papal and imperial ratification for the two spheres of his jurisdiction. But in the exercise of his function there were many restrictions to his free administration, which papal and imperial sanction together were unable to remove.

A bishop-prince of Liege could make no change in the laws without the consent of the estates, and he could administer justice only by means of the regular tribunals. Every edict had to be countersigned. When there was an issue between overlord and people, the question was submitted to the _schepens_ or superior judges who, before they gave their opinion, consulted the various charters which had been granted from time to time, and which were not allowed to become dead letters.

A permanent committee of the three orders supervised the executive and the administration of the laws. These "twenty-two" received an appeal from the meanest citizen, and the Liege proverb "In his own home the poor man is king," was very near the possible truth.

Yet the wheels of government were by no means perfect in their running. Many were the conflicts between the different members of the state, and broils, with the character of civil war in miniature, were of frequent occurrence. The submergence of the aristocratic element, the n.o.bles, destroyed a natural balance of power between the bishop-prince and the people. The commons exerted power beyond their intelligence. Annual elections, party contests headed by rival demagogues kept the capital, and, to a lesser extent, the smaller towns of the little state in continuous commotion[4].

The ecclesiastical origin of the community was evident at all points of daily life. The cathedral of St. Lambert was the pride of the city.

Its chapter, consisting of sixty canons, took the place held by the aristocratic element in the other towns.

In the cathedral, the holy standard of St. Lambert was suspended. At the outbreak of war this was taken down and carried to the door by the clergy in solemn procession. There it was unfurled and delivered to the commander of the civic militia mounted on a snow-white steed. When he received the precious charge he swore to defend it with his life.

One object of popular veneration was this standard, another was the _perron_, an emblem of the civic organisation. This was a pillar of gilded bronze, its top representing a pineapple surmounted by a cross.

This stood on a pedestal in the centre of the square where was the _violet_ or city hall. In front of the perron were proclaimed all the ordinances issued by the magistrates, or the decrees adopted by the people in general a.s.sembly. On these occasions the tocsin was rung, the deans of the gilds would hasten out with their banners and plant them near the perron as rallying points for the various gild members who poured out from forge, work-shop, and factory until the square was filled.

There were two powerful weapons whereby the bishop-prince might enforce his will in opposition to that of his subjects did the latter become too obstreperous. He could suspend the court of the _schepens_, and he could p.r.o.nounce an interdict of the Church which caused the cessation of all priestly functions. When this interdict was in action, civil suits between burghers could be adjudged by the munic.i.p.al magistrates, but no criminals could be arrested or tried.

The elementary principles of an organised society were thrown into confusion. Still worse confusion resulted from the bishop's last resort as prince of the Church. An interdict caused the church bells to be silent, the church doors to be closed. The celebration of the rites of baptism, of marriage, of burial ceased.[5] The fear of such cessation was potent in its restraint, unless the populace were too far enraged to be moved by any consideration.