Charles himself was installed grandly on a kind of throne, and to his feet Olivier de la Marche conducted the civic procession of penitents. Before this pompous gathering, after a statement of the city's sin and sorrow, the precious charter called the Grand Privilege of Ghent was solemnly read aloud, and then cut up into little pieces with a pen-knife. Next followed a recitation of the penalties imposed upon, and accepted by, the citizens (closing of the gates, etc)., and then the paternal Count of Flanders, duly mollified, pronounced the fault forgiven with the benediction, "By virtue of this submission and by keeping your promises and being good children, you shall enjoy our grace and we will be a good prince." "May our Saviour Jesus Christ confirm and preserve this peace to the end of this century," is the pious ejaculation with which the Relation closes.
Among the witnesses of the above scene, when the independent citizens of Ghent meekly posed as the duke's children, were envoys from George Podiebrad, ex-king of Bohemia. Lately deposed by the pope, he was seeking some favourable ally who might help him to recover his realm. He had conceived a plan for a coalition between Bohemia, Poland, Austria, and Hungary to present a solid rampart against the Turks, and strong enough to dictate to emperor and pope. He was ready for intrigue with any power and had approached Louis XI. and Matthias Corvinus, King of Hungary, before turning to Charles of Burgundy.[2]
Meantime, the Emperor Frederic tried to knit links with this same Matthias by suggesting that he might be the next emperor, assuring him that he could count on the support of the electors of Mayence, of Trèves, and of Saxony. He himself was world-weary and was anxious to exchange his imperial cares for the repose of the Church could he only find a safe guardian for his son, Maximilian, and a desirable successor for himself. Would not Matthias consider the two offices?
Potent arguments like these induced Matthias not only to turn his back on Podiebrad, but to accept that deposed monarch's crown which the Bohemian nobles offered him May 3, 1469. Then he proceeded to ally himself with Frederic, elector palatine, and with the elector of Bavaria. This was the moment when the ex-king of Bohemia made renewed offers of friendly alliance to Charles of Burgundy. In his name the Sire de Stein brought the draft of a treaty of amity to Charles which contained the provision that Podiebrad should support the election of Charles as King of the Romans, in consideration of the sum of two hundred thousand florins (Rhenish).[3]
This modest sum was to secure not only Podiebrad's own vote but his "influence" with the Archbishop of Mayence, the Elector of Saxony and the Margrave of Brandenburg.[4] While Podiebrad thus dangled the ultimate hopes of the imperial crown before the duke's eyes, he over-estimated his credulity. As a matter of fact the royal exile had no "influence" at all with the first named elector, and the last, too, showed no disposition whatsoever to serve his unstable policy. Both were content to advise Emperor Frederic. The sole result of the empty overtures was to increase Charles's own sense of importance.
Another negotiation which sought him unasked had, however, a material influence on the course of events, and must be touched on in some detail. Sigismund of Austria—first duke then archduke,—Count of Tyrol, cousin of the Emperor Frederic, was a member of the House of Habsburg. In 1449, he had married Eleanor of Scotland, and became brother-in-law of Louis during the term of the dauphin's first marriage. An indolent, extravagant prince, he was greatly dominated by his courtiers. His heritage as Count of Tyrol included certain territories lying far from his capital, Innsbruck. Certain portions of Upper Alsace, lands on both sides of the Rhine, Thurgau, Argau in Switzerland, Breisgau, and some other seigniories in the Black Forest were under his sway.
These particular domains were so remote from Innsbruck that the authority of the hereditary overlord had long been eluded. The nobles pillaged the land near their castles very much at their own sweet will. The harassed burghers appealed to the Alsatian Décapole,[5] and again to the free Swiss cantons for protection, and sometimes obtained more than they wanted.
Mulhouse was seriously affected by these lawless depredations. To her, Berne promised aid in a twenty-five years' alliance signed in 1466, and at Berne's insistance the cowardly nobles restrained their license. But when the city attempted to extend its authority Sigismund interfered. Having no army, however, he could not recover Waldshut, which the Swiss claimed a right to annex, except by offering ten thousand florins for the town's ransom. Poor in cash as he was in men, he had, however, no means to pay this ransom and begged aid in every direction. Moreover, he feared further aggressions from the cantons, which were growing more daring. What man in Europe was better able to teach them a lesson than Charles, the destroyer of Liege, the stern curber of undue liberty in Flanders? Was he not the very person to tame insolent Swiss cowherds?
In the course of the year 1468, Sigismund made known to Charles his desire for a bargain, intimating that in case of the duke's refusal, he would carry his wares to Louis XI. At that moment, Charles was busied with Liege and showed no interest in Sigismund's proposition. The latter tried to see Louis XI. personally in accordance with his imperial cousin's advice that an interview might be more effective than a letter.
It did not prove a propitious time, however; Louis was deeply engaged with Burgundy and he was not disposed to take any steps that might estrange the Swiss—and any espousal of Sigismund's interests might alienate them. He did not even permit an opening to be made, but stopped Sigismund's approach to him by a message that he would not for a moment entertain a suggestion inimical to those dear friends of his in the cantons—a sentiment that quickly found its way to Switzerland.