In spite of the splendour and cordiality of his reception, Charles was sad and tired, and longed more than all else to find himself among his kindred and people. It was with heartfelt relief that he reached Cambray, and found the Prince of Orange, the Duke of Aerschot, and his faithful De Courrières, with the Archers' Guard, awaiting him. The next day he went on to Valenciennes, where his loyal subjects welcomed his return with passionate joy. Triumphal arches adorned the streets, and the houses were hung with tapestries. Now it was his turn to act as host, and do honour to the Dauphin and Duke of Orleans, who, with Vendôme, the Constable, and Aumale, the Duke of Guise's eldest son, had insisted on escorting him across the frontier.[273] The keys of the city were presented to the Dauphin at the Cambray gate, torches blazed all along the streets, and the bells rang merry peals as Charles led the way to the ancient hôtel-de-ville, known as La Salle, where the Queen of Hungary and the Duchess of Milan received him with open arms. The next two days were given up to mirth and festivity. Charles showed the French Princes the sights of the town, while the Constable was invited to dine alone with the Queen and her niece, and sat down to table between the two royal ladies. A splendid banquet was followed by a ball, which lasted far on into the morning. All the ladies appeared in magnificent costumes—French, Italian, Flemish, or Spanish, as they chose—and wore the richest jewels. The Emperor moved through the vast hall, blithe and debonair beyond his wont, jesting with his old friends and rejoicing to be once more in his native land. Mary and Christina, both of whom, remarks the chronicler, although widows, were still young and beautiful, danced with the French Princes all the evening, and were in high spirits.[274] There was much gay talk, and the Pope's Legate, the young Cardinal Farnese, amused the guests with stories of the latest gossip from the Court of England, which Queen Eleanor had heard from Marillac. According to him, the new Queen, Anne of Cleves, was too old and ugly for King Henry's taste, while her dresses and those of her German "Fraus" were so monstrous that the King would not allow them to appear at Court, and told his wife to adopt French fashions.[275]
The next morning the French Princes appeared early to bid the Queen farewell, and were very gracious in their manner of leave-taking. The Dauphin received a superb diamond jewel in the shape of a griffin, and a very fine emerald was bestowed on the Constable. There was some talk of a marriage between the Duke of Orleans and a daughter of King Ferdinand, while the King of Navarre and his wife, Margaret of Angoulême, were eager for a match between their only daughter, Jeanne, and the Prince of Spain. Vendôme probably realized that he had little chance of winning the Duchess of Milan, but he shrugged his shoulders and went his way gaily, saying he would wed the Pope's granddaughter, Vittoria Farnese, the sister of the boy Cardinal. And they all rode off in high spirits to join the King at La Fère and show him the Emperor's costly gifts. They met him on his way back from hunting, riding at the side of the Queen's litter, clad in a scarlet cloak, which made the English Ambassador remark how much better Eleanor was treated since her brother's visit. And the whole Court, in Bishop Bonner's words, "made much demonstration of gladness, thinking they have God by the foot."[276]
III.
Among all his political anxieties and preoccupations, the Emperor had not forgotten his niece. Before he left Spain on this perilous journey through his old enemy's country, he drew up a paper of instructions to be given to his son Philip in case of his own death. A large part of this advice was devoted to the choice of a wife for the Prince himself, the heiress of Navarre being on the whole, in Charles's opinion, the most eligible bride for his son. After suggesting various alliances for his little daughters, Maria and Juana, the Emperor proceeded to urge on his successor the importance of finding a husband for his niece, the Widow of Milan, saying that he counted her as one of his own children. Three Princes, he said, were all eager to marry her—the Duke of Cleves, the heir of Lorraine, and the Duke of Vendôme—but it would be necessary to defer his decision until he had ascertained the best measures for recovering Denmark and settling the question of Guelders. "And if God," he added, "should call to Himself the Palatine Frederic, who is old and broken, one of these Princes might marry his widow."[277] Christina's marriage, it is easy to see, was closely bound up with the settlement of Guelders, an object which lay very near to her uncle's heart.
Feb., 1540] GUELDERS
The English Ambassador Wyatt, who had been posting after the Emperor across France, "through deep and foul roads," was convinced that Charles in his heart of hearts cared more for Guelders than he did for all Italy. This earnest desire to recover Guelders was, he felt sure, the true reason why the Emperor had undertaken this long journey in the depth of winter, and exposed his person to such great risks in passing through France. When, contrary to the Constable's express orders, Wyatt obtained an audience from the Emperor at Châtelhérault, as he came in from hunting with the Dauphin, and informed him of His Majesty's marriage and alliance with Cleves, Charles turned angrily on him, saying:
"What hath Monsieur de Cleves to do with Guelders? I mean to show him that he has played the young man. I hope the King will give him good advice, for, I can tell you, Monsieur de Cleves shall give me reason. I say he shall—he shall! If he does," he continued, laying his hand on his heart, "he shall find in me a Sovereign, a cousin, and a neighbour. Otherwise he will lose all three."[278]
When, two months later in Brussels, Wyatt craved another interview of the Emperor, and begged him in Henry's name to look favourably on his brother-in-law's petition, Charles said he must desire the King not to meddle between him and his subjects, repeating the same words, "Je ne ferai rien," two or three times over. An Envoy from the Duke of Cleves came to meet him at Brussels, but was told that the Emperor could not attend to his master's business until the affairs of Ghent were settled. These, as Wyatt remarked, had already quieted down in a singular manner from the moment that the Emperor started on his journey, and deputies from the revolted city had been sent to meet him at Valenciennes. But he refused sternly to see them, saying that they would learn his pleasure when he came to Ghent.[279]
April, 1540] A SEVERE PUNISHMENT
It was Charles's intention to overawe the turbulent city by an imposing display of armed force. On the 14th of February, 1540, he entered Ghent—"that great, rich, and beautiful city," writes the city chronicler, "with its broad streets, fair rivers, noble churches, houses, and hospitals, the finest in the Netherlands"—at the head of a stately procession. The Queen rode on his right hand, the Duchess of Milan on his left, followed by the Princess of Macedonia and other ladies in litters, the officers of the household, and a long train of foreign Ambassadors, Princes, and Knights of the Golden Fleece. Cardinal Farnese, Don Ferrante Gonzaga, Viceroy of Sicily, the Prince of Orange, the Dukes of Alva and Aerschot, Count Egmont, Büren, De Praet, Lalaing, and Granvelle, were all present. In their rear came the troops—4,000 horse, 1,000 crossbowmen, 5,000 Landsknechten, and a strong body of artillery, numbering in all 60,000 persons and 15,000 horses. Their entry lasted six hours, and it was dusk before the last guns and baggage defiled through the streets. Charles, with his sister and niece, alighted at the Prinzenhof, the house where he had been born just forty years before, and the Archers' Guard took up their station at the gates.[280] A strong body of infantry was encamped in the neighbouring market-place, pickets of cavalry occupied the chief squares, and the rest of the troops were quartered in other parts of the city. But there was not the least show of resistance on the part of the citizens. Absolute tranquillity reigned everywhere while the stricken city awaited the Emperor's sentence. It was, as might be expected, a severe one. Twenty-three of the ringleaders were arrested, and after a prolonged trial were found guilty. On the 17th of March, nine of these were put to death in the market-place, while the others were banished and heavily fined. On the 29th of April the Emperor convened the chief officers of State and magistrates in the great hall of the Prinzenhof, and, in the presence of the Queen and her Court, delivered his sentence on the guilty city. The charters and privileges of Ghent were annulled, the property of the Corporation was confiscated, and heavy additional fines were imposed, beside the payment of the 400,000 florins which had been the cause of the quarrel. In their consternation, the burghers turned to Mary and implored her to intercede on their behalf; but she could only advise them to throw themselves on the Emperor's mercy. On the 3rd of May a memorable and historic scene took place in the court of the Prinzenhof. Here the Emperor, seated on a tribunal, with his crown on his head and sceptre in his hand, and surrounded by the Archers' Guard, received the senators and chief burghers, as, robed in black, with bare heads and feet, and halters round their necks, they knelt in the dust at his feet. The sentence of condemnation was read aloud in the presence of a brilliant assembly of nobles and courtiers, and of a vast crowd who looked on from the windows and roofs of the neighbouring houses. Then Mary, who occupied a chair at her brother's side, rose, and, turning to the Emperor, in eloquent words implored him to have pity on his poor city of Ghent, and to remember that he had been born there. The Emperor gave a gracious answer, saying that out of brotherly love for her and pity for his poor subjects he would pardon the citizens and restore their property. But he decided to build a citadel to keep the city in subjection, and, after taking his brother Ferdinand to the top of the belfry tower to choose a site, he eventually fixed on the high ground above the River Scheldt, where St. Bavon's Abbey stood. The demolition of the ancient monastery was at once begun, and before the Emperor left Ghent the first stone of the new fortress was laid.[281]