compactness, political distinction, and local rule, and in national
characteristics, language, and laws. His peculiar position exposed him
to the jealous rivalry of Louis XI of France. The King's object was the
consolidation of his monarchy, while Charles aimed to extend his duchy
at the expense of Louis' territories. Thus the two rivals became deadly
enemies.
Charles conceived the design of restoring the old kingdom of Burgundy. In
1467, having secured alliances with Brittany and England, he prepared for
a campaign of conquest. But Louis offered him advantageous terms of peace
and invited him to a conference. While Charles hesitated, Louis stirred
to revolt the Duke's subjects in Liege, with whom Burgundy had lately
been at war. The negotiations between Louis and Charles, and the events
which followed, form the subject of Willert's narrative.
Many messengers came and went, yet Charles hesitated to accept peace even
on terms so greatly to his advantage. The King, if he could but see the
Duke, felt sure he might end this uncertainty, perhaps even obtain more
favorable concessions.
When once the idea of a personal interview had possessed him he was deaf
to the warnings and entreaties of his more prudent or honest advisers.
Charles did not seem anxious to meet the King, and when at length
he yielded to the representations of the King's envoy, he sent a
safe-conduct in the most explicit terms: "Sir, if it be your pleasure to
visit this town of Péronne to confer with us, I swear to you and promise
by my faith and on my honor that you may come, stay, and return at your
good pleasure, without let or harm, notwithstanding any cause that may
now be or hereafter may arise."
After receiving this assurance, Louis might fairly suppose that he had
nothing to fear. He had before trusted himself safely to Charles' honor.
Nor had he himself abused the chance which once delivered his rival into
his hands unprotected by promise or oath. He therefore set out at once
for Péronne, accompanied only by some eighty archers of his Scotch
guard and by his personal attendants. He was met at the frontier by
a Burgundian escort under Philip de Crèvecoeur, and he found Charles
himself waiting to receive him at the banks of a little river not far
from Péronne. The princes greeted each other with respect on the one
side, and with hearty affection on the other. They entered the town side
by side, the King's arm resting on his kinsman's shoulder. The castle of
Péronne was small and inconvenient; the King was therefore lodged in
the house of one of the richest citizens. He had scarcely reached his
quarters when the Marshal of Burgundy joined Charles' army with the
forces he commanded. With him came Philip of Savoy and two of his
brothers, Antony de Châteauneuf, and other men who had shared largely in
the King's favor, but who had fled from his resentment after betraying
his confidence. These his enemies might consider the occasion favorable
for a bold stroke. If they acted without the connivance of Charles he
might be grateful to those who satisfied his enmity without irretrievably
compromising his honor. Louis therefore asked to be allowed to move into
the castle, where his archers could at any rate defend him against a
surprise. On the next day the conference began; all that he could demand
was offered to Charles if only he would abandon the alliance of Brittany
and England. But he was determined not to give way, and was insensible to
the blandishments of his guest, who may have been tormented by painful
misgivings as he looked from his prison-like rooms at a gloomy tower in
which Charles the Simple had been confined, and, it was said, murdered by
a rebellious vassal.
At the first suggestion of the interview with the King, Charles had
objected that he could scarcely believe in his sincere desire for peace
while his envoys were encouraging rebels. Cardinal Balue replied that
when the people of Liège learned that the King and Duke had met, they
would not venture upon any hostile movement. But the French agents were
not informed of their master's intended visit to Péronne, and did not
attempt to discourage a premature attack. It is indeed doubtful whether
they could in any case have changed the course of events.
The first rumors of what had happened in a popular outbreak at Liège
reached Péronne on the night of October 10th. As was natural, they were
greatly exaggerated. Tongres had been sacked, the garrison put to the
sword; Humbercourt, the Burgundian Governor, and the Bishop murdered;
the King's envoys had been seen leading and encouraging the assailants.
Charles broke into cries of rage: "The traitor King! So he is only come
to cheat me by a false pretence of peace! By St. George, he and those
villains of Liège shall pay dearly for this!" He did not pause to
consider whether it was likely that Louis had been simple enough to
provoke a catastrophe fatal to his hopes and dangerous to his safety. If
Comines, the Duke's chamberlain, and another favorite attendant, who were
with their master at the time, had not done their best to soothe him it
is probable that the donjon of Péronne would once more have closed upon a
captive king. Charles was at little pains to conceal his rage; and when
Louis was told that the gates of town and castle were guarded to prevent
the escape of a thief who had stolen a casket of jewels, he knew that he
was a prisoner. Yet, however bitter his self-reproach, however gloomy his
forebodings, he did not lose his presence of mind. His attendants were
allowed free access to the castle; he had brought with him fifteen
thousand gold crowns, and these he anxiously employed to secure the good
offices of Charles' advisers. For three nights the angry agitation and
perplexity of Charles were so great that he did not undress. He would
throw himself on his bed for a time and then start up and pace about his
room, uttering threats and invectives against the King.
Nothing was done or decided on the first day, October 11, 1468. On the
second a council was held which sat late into the night. A minority of
the council, the enemies of Louis, or those who were only anxious to
flatter the passions of their master, advised him to use to the full
the opportunity which chance and the foolhardiness and duplicity of his
adversary had placed in his hands. They urged him to keep the King in
secure confinement after providing for the virtual partition of the
kingdom among the great feudatories. The majority, those who had some
regard for the honor of the house of Burgundy, the lawyers, who respected
the letter, if not the spirit, of an agreement, perhaps also the more
far-sighted politicians, were of a different opinion. The fame of the
Duke would suffer irreparable injury by so flagrant a violation of his
plighted word. The advantages, moreover, to be gained by the captivity,
the deposition, perhaps the death of the King, were uncertain. The heir
to the throne was entirely in the hands of the Bretons, and was not
likely to be eager to advance the interests of Burgundy. A large and
well-disciplined army, commanded by experienced captains, was assembled
on the frontiers. If they could not rescue their master, they would at
least endeavor to avenge him, while the new King could acquire an easy
popularity by execrating a crime of which he and Francis of Brittany
would reap all the advantage. It was a wiser course to accept the terms
which the King in his alarm proffered--the settlement in favor of
Burgundy of all the disputed questions which had arisen out of the
treaties of Arras and Conflans--and it might be possible to humiliate and
disgrace Louis by compelling him to take part in the punishment of his
allies, the citizens of Liège, who by their trust in him had been lured
to destruction.
Charles left the council apparently undecided, and passed the night in as
great a storm of passion as the two preceding. The conflict within him
doubtless fanned his wrath. Comines, who shared his room, endeavored to
calm him, and to persuade him to embrace the course most consistent with
his interests and the King's safety; for so great a prince, if once a
captive, might scarcely hope to leave his prison alive. Toward morning
Charles determined to content himself with insisting that Louis should
sign a peace on such terms as he should dictate, and accompany him
against Liege. The King, says Comines, had a friend who informed him that
he would be safe if he agreed to these conditions, but that otherwise his
peril would be extreme. This friend was Comines himself, and Louis never
forgot so timely a service. The two days during which his fate was being
decided had been passed by him in the greatest agony of mind. Though he
had been allowed to communicate freely with the French nobles and his own
attendants, he had been ominously neglected by the Burgundian courtiers.
As soon as the Duke had determined what conditions he intended to impose,
he hastened to the castle to visit his captive. The memorable interview
is described by two eye-witnesses--Comines and Olivier de la Marche.
Charles entered the King's presence with a lowly obeisance; but his
gestures and his unsteady voice betrayed his suppressed passion. The King
could not conceal his fear. "My brother," he asked, "am I not safe in
your dominions?"
"Yes, sire, so safe that if I saw a cross-bow pointed at you I would
throw myself before you to shield you from the bolt."
He then asked the King to swear a peace on the proposed basis: (i) The
faithful execution of the treaty of Conflans; (2) the abolition of the
jurisdiction of the Parliament of Paris over Flanders; (3) the surrender
of all regalian rights in Picardy; (4) the release of the Duke from all
fealty to the King if the treaty was in any way infringed or imperfectly
executed. Louis agreed, and Charles requested his assistance in punishing
the rebellion of Liège. The King expressed his perfect readiness. The
princes then signed a draft of the treaty and swore to execute it
faithfully on the cross of St. Laud. Charles had insisted that Louis
should swear on the relic, a fragment of the true Cross once kept in the
Church of St. Laud at Angers, which the King always carried with him,
esteeming it highly, because he believed that whoever forswore himself on
it would surely die within the year. The Duke at the same time promised
to do homage for the fiefs he held of the crown of France, but the
execution of this promise was evaded.
On the 15th the Duke, with an army of forty thousand men, and the King
with his slender escort, and some three hundred men-at-arms who joined
him by the way, began their march on Liège. Louis was not less anxious
than his companion that Dammartin should not attempt a forcible rescue.
Victory or defeat would have been alike dangerous to his safety. Twice
at Charles' request orders were sent to disband, or at least remove, the
French army from the frontier. The King's letters were delivered by his
messenger in the persistent presence of a Burgundian who prevented the
possibility of any private communication. Louis' crafty old soldier,
Dammartin, paid little attention to such orders. He sent word to the Duke
that, unless his master soon returned, all France would come to fetch
him.
The first divisions of the Burgundian army reached Liège October 22d. The
citizens, whose walls had been destroyed and artillery confiscated, were
in no position to resist an army which might have conquered an emperor.
At the suggestion of the legate they released their bishop, begging him
to intercede on their behalf, and offered to surrender their goods to the
Duke's discretion if only he would spare their lives. Charles would
not listen to their overtures; he swore that he would have town and
inhabitants at his discretion or that he and his army should perish in
the attempt.
The townsmen, with the boldness of despair, sallied forth to meet the
advance guard of their enemies; they were driven back with great loss.
Four days later, the 26th, the Duke and main body of the army had not
come up. The troops, who had repulsed the sally on the 22d, had as yet
met with little resistance, and thought themselves strong enough to
occupy an open town defended only by ill-armed traders and mechanics.
The weather was cold and rainy, the temptation of securing comfortable
quarters and the undivided profits of the sack irresistible. The
assailants occupied one of the suburbs, but their advance was checked by
some hastily constructed defences. At nightfall the citizens came
out through the breaches of their walls; they were enabled, by their
knowledge of the rough and precipitous ground, to fall unobserved upon
the rear of the enemy; eight hundred Burgundians were killed, and the
rout would have been complete had not the Duke with the main body of
his army pushed forward to the assistance of a division which was still
holding its ground.
On the next day the King arrived, and soon after took up his quarters
close to those of the Duke. He showed himself to the men, who had
placed their trust in him, wearing the St. Andrew's cross, the badge
of Burgundy, and replying "_Vive Bourgogne!_" to their cries of "_Vive
France!_" That night there was a great and sudden alarm. The Duke of
Burgundy, though brave, was sometimes wanting in presence of mind, and on
this occasion appeared more troubled in the King's presence than pleased
his friends. Louis took the command, giving his orders with great
coolness and prudence. Even as a general he gained by comparison with his
rival. He was indeed not less anxious than Charles that the Burgundian
army should suffer no reverse. He feared everything that might arouse the
ready suspicion and ungovernable temper of the Duke. On the evening of
the 29th a few hundred men, colliers and miners from the mountainous
district of Franchemont, led by the owners of the house in which the King
and Duke were sleeping, made a desperate attempt to surprise the princes
in their beds. They would have succeeded had they not delayed to attack
a barn in which three hundred Burgundian men-at-arms were posted. Only
a few followed their guides straight to the quarters of the sovereigns.
They were unable, therefore, to overcome the resistance of the guard
before the noise of the conflict had aroused the camp. The assailants
were overwhelmed by numbers, and fell fighting to the last. The assault
had been ordered for the next day, but this bold and unexpected attack so
surprised and disconcerted the Burgundians that the King thought he might
be able to persuade the Duke to agree to a capitulation, or at least to
postpone the assault. He only obtained a contemptuous request that he
should consult his own safety by retiring to Namur. This reflection on
his courage stimulated him to greater ostentation of zeal. He could
scarcely be restrained from leading the assault.
The citizens were worn out by guarding an open town against a powerful
army for more than a week; they imagined that as it was a Sunday they
would not be attacked till the morrow. The assailants entered the town
with little or no resistance. Yet the fury and license of the soldiery
could not have been greater had their passions been excited by an
obstinate and bloody struggle. The horrors of the sack of Dinant[1] were
surpassed, although many of the citizens were able to escape across the
Meuse. The deliberate vengeance of the Duke was more searching and not
less cruel than the lust and rapine of his army; all prisoners who would
not pay a heavy ransom were drowned. Although the cold was so intense
that wine froze, and that his men lost fingers and toes from frost-bites,
Charles did not shrink from the labor of hunting down those who had fled
to the mountains, and burning the villages in which they had sought a
refuge. He had previously taken leave of the King.
Four or five days after the occupation of Liège, Louis had expressed a
wish to depart. If he could be of any further use, his brother might
command his services; but he was anxious to see that their treaty was
registered by the Parliament of Paris, without which it could not be
valid. The Duke seemed unwilling to let his prey escape, but could find
no pretence for his detention. Next year, said the King, he would come
again and spend a month pleasantly with his dear brother in festivities
and good cheer. The treaty, now drawn up in its final shape by the
Burgundian lawyers, was read over to Louis, in order that he might object
to any article of which he disapproved. But he readily ratified all that
he had promised at Pèronne. It had seemed useless to require him to
bestow Normandy on Charles of France; nor is the question of his appanage
mentioned in the treaty itself. But the King was compelled to promise
to invest his brother with Champagne and Brie. These provinces, lying
between Burgundy and the Low Countries, would, in the hands of an ally,
serve to consolidate the Duke's dominions, and could be easily defended
in case the King attempted to resume his concessions. Just before the
princes departed, Louis said, as if the thought had suddenly occurred:
"What do you wish me to do if my brother is not content with the appanage
I offer him for your sake?" Charles answered carelessly: "If he will
not take it, I leave the matter to you two to settle; only let him be
satisfied." The King considered the thoughtless admission into which he
had tricked his rival most important, since he fancied that it released
him, so far as his brother's appanage was concerned, from the fearful
obligation of his oath.
But notwithstanding this last advantage, we cannot doubt that Louis felt
bitterly disappointed and ashamed. Although all songs, caricatures,
and writings reflecting on the perfidy of the Duke of Burgundy, and
by implication on the folly of the King, were forbidden under severe
penalties, and even all manner of talking birds which might be taught the
hateful word "Peronne" had been seized by the royal officers, he had not
the heart to visit Paris. The parliament was summoned to meet him at
Senlis. He ordered it to register the treaty without comment, and
hastened southward to hide his mortification in his favorite castles of
Touraine.
[Footnote 1: By Burgundians in 1466.]
LORENZO DE' MEDICI RULES IN FLORENCE
ZENITH OF FLORENTINE GLORY
A.D. 1469
OLIPHANT SMEATON
During the twelfth century several of the Italian cities--especially
Florence and Venice--rose to great wealth and power. Venice, through her
favorable situation, became preeminent in commerce, while Florence was
coming to be the most important industrial centre of Europe. In the
thirteenth century Florence was the scene of continual strife between the
Guelfs and Ghibellines, but she not only continued to develop in material
prosperity, but also attained to intellectual activities whereby in the
next century she gained a higher distinction. She took the foremost
part in the Renaissance, and was the birthplace or the home of Dante,
Boccaccio, and other leaders of the modern movement.
In the fifteenth century Florence reached a still loftier eminence under
the Medici, a family celebrated for the statesmen which it produced and
for its patronage of letters and art. Its most illustrious members were
Cosmo (1389-1464) and his grandson Lorenzo, surnamed the "Magnificent."
Lorenzo was born January 1, 1449, when the second great period of the
Renaissance was nearing its close. That was the "period of arrangement
and translation; the epoch of the formation of the great Italian
libraries; the age when, in Florence around his grandfather Cosmo,
in Rome around Pope Nicholas V, and in Naples around Alfonso the
Magnanimous, coteries of the leading humanists were gathered, engaged in
labors which have made posterity eternally their debtors."
Conjointly with his younger brother Giuliano, Lorenzo, on the death of
his father Piero, in 1469, succeeded to the vast wealth and political
power of the family. In 1478 the death of Giuliano left Lorenzo sole
ruler of Florence.
To few men has either the power or the opportunity been given to
influence their epoch, intellectually and politically, to a degree so
marked as was the lot of Lorenzo de' Medici. One of the most marvellously
many-sided of the many-sided men who adorned the Italy of the fifteenth
century, he did more to place Florence in the forefront of the world's
culture than any other citizen who claimed Val d'Arno[1] as his
birthplace. His influence was great because he was in sympathy so
catholic with all the varied life of his age and circle. While during the
one hour he would be found learnedly discussing the rival claims of the
Platonic and Aristotelian philosophers with Ficino and Landino, the next
might witness him the foremost reveller in the Florentine carnival,
crowned with flowers and with the winecup in his hand, gayly carolling
the _ballate_ he had composed for the occasion; while the third might
behold him surrounded by the leading painters and sculptors of Tuscany,
discoursing profoundly on the aims and mission of art. Truly a unique
personality, at one and the same time the glorious creation and the
splendid epitome of the spirit of the Renaissance!
When Lorenzo de' Medici consented to assume the "position" occupied by
his father Piero and his grandfather Cosmo, he was not the raw youth his
immature years would lead one to suppose. Although intellectual maturity
is reached at an earlier age in the sunny South than in the fog-haunted
lands of Northern Europe, Lorenzo had enjoyed a long apprenticeship
before being called to undertake the duties devolving on him as the
uncrowned king of Florence. From his thirteenth year he had been the
companion and shared the counsels, first of his grandfather and father,
and subsequently of his father alone. From the former especially he
learned many important lessons in statecraft. The matter is open to
question, however, if any advice had more far-reaching results or was
laid more carefully to heart than this which is contained in more
than one of Cosmo's letters: "Never stint your favors to the cause
of learning, and cultivate sedulously the friendship of scholars and
humanists." Toward such a course Lorenzo's inclinations, as well as his
interests, pointed, and during his life Florence was the Athens not only
of Italy but of Europe as a whole. Here, among many others, were to be
found such "epoch-makers" as Poliziano, Ficino, and Landino, Pico della
Mirandola, Leo Battista Alberti, Michelangelo, Luigi Pulci--men who
glorified their age by crowning it with the nimbus of their genius.
The literary and artistic greatness of Florence was not due, however,
to the comparative intellectual poverty of the other states in Italy.
Florence was only _primus inter pares_--greatest among many that were
great. When the fact is recalled that such contemporaries as Pomponius
Laetus, Bartolommeo Sacchi, Molza, Alessandro Farnese (Paul III),
Platina, Sabellicus at Rome; Pontanus, Sannazaro, and Porcello in Naples;
and Pomponasso and Boiardo at Ferrara, were then at or nearing their
prime, the position of Florence as the acknowledged centre of European
culture was conceded by sense of right alone. Than this nothing proves
more emphatically the strides learning had been making. It was no longer
the prerogative of the few, but the privilege of the many. From the
first, Lorenzo recognized what a strong card he held in the affection and
respect of the Italian as well as of the Florentine humanists.