The corpse of the noble duke was left all that night on the bed, with a black bonnet on his head, and likewise remained there on the morrow until evening,—so that there was time enough for all who wished it to see him: it was marvellous the great crowds who went thither, and all prayed God to have mercy on his soul.
On Tuesday evening, the body was opened and embalmed, and his heart separated from it. His body and bowels were each put into a well-closed coffin of lead, and placed that night on a bier from five to six feet high, covered to the ground with black velvet, in the chapel of his household, over which bier was a cross of white damask cloth, and at the four corners four thick waxen tapers burning.
Masses were daily celebrated there until noon,—and, about four or five in the afternoon on the following Sunday, the body was carried to Saint Donnast's church in Bruges for interment, until preparations should be made to carry it elsewhere, according to the instructions which he had given when alive. The funeral procession to the church was preceded by sixteen hundred men, in black cloaks emblazoned with the arms of the duke, each with a lighted taper in his hand,—four hundred of whom were of the household, and at the expense of the new duke,—four hundred from the town of Bruges, four hundred from the different trades of that town, and four hundred from the country of the Franc, each at the expense of those who sent them. Between this line of torches walked full nine hundred men, as well nobles as officers and servants of the late duke: among those were the magistrates of Bruges and of the Franc,[62] twenty-two prelates: a bishop from Hybernie[63] was in the number, who chaunted the first mass on the ensuing day. Between the prelates and the body were four kings at arms, with their heads covered, and clothed in their tabards of arms.
The body was borne by twelve knights of name and renown, around whom were the archers of the body of the late duke. It was covered with a pall of black velvet, reaching to the ground, on which was a broad cross of white damask cloth. Over the body was borne a canopy of cloth of gold, on four lances, by the count de Nassau, the earl of Buchan, Baldwin bastard of Burgundy, and the lord de Châlons. Immediately before the body walked the first equerry of the late duke, bearing his sword with the point downward. The chief mourners who followed the body were the new duke Charles, and after him James de Bourbon and Adolphus of Cleves, his two cousins-german,—then the count de Marle, Jacques de Saint Pol, the lord de Roussy, and some others of the great lords of the court.
In the front of all, walked the four mendicant orders of friars, and the clergy of the different parishes in Bruges, in the churches of which the vigils for the dead were that day celebrated, and on the morrow a solemn service for the soul of the deceased.
The body was placed on a bier, in the middle of the choir of the cathedral. It had on it a cloth of gold bordered with damask, and a large cross of white velvet, with four large burning tapers, and was surrounded by upwards of fourteen hundred lesser ones, which caused so great a heat that the windows of the church were obliged to be thrown open.
The whole of the high altar, and the space above it, was hung with black cloth, the reading-desk, both within and without, with black velvet hanging down, emblazoned with the duke's arms: there were also his pennon of arms and his grand banner.
The nave was hung with black cloth, having the top and bottom of black camlet.
When the body was to be let down into the vault, no one can describe the groans, tears, and lamentations that filled the church from the duke's officers, and all present. Indeed all his subjects ought to have bewailed his death, for they had lost a prince, the most renowned for virtue and goodness that was in Christendom! full of honour, liberality, courage, and prudence, with a mind adorned with every generous virtue, who had preserved his countries in peace as well by his own good sense, and the prudence of his counsellors, as by the point of his sword, without personally sparing himself, against any one, however great he might be. He afforded an asylum to those who came to him to seek it, even though they were his enemies, doing good to all, and returning good for evil,—and he never had his equal for modesty. Even those who had never seen him, and who had disliked him for any cause, the moment they were acquainted with him, and knew his liberality, had an attachment and affection to him.