After the first greetings, ensued an argument about the etiquette proper for the occasion, an argument similar to those which had absorbed the punctilious in the Burgundian court, when the dauphin made his famous visit to Duke Philip. For thirty minutes, the emperor argued with his guest before feudal scruples were overcome and the vassal was induced to ride by his chief's side into the city.
The entry was a grand sight, and crowds thronged the streets, more curious about the duke than about the emperor. Charles was then in the very prime of life. His personality commanded attention, but there were some among the onlookers who found it more striking than attractive. One bystander thought that the very splendour of his dress, wherein cloth of gold and pearls played a part, only brought into high relief the severity of his features. His great black eyes, his proud and determined air failed to cast into oblivion a certain effect of insignificance given by his square figure, broad shoulders, excessively stout limbs, and legs rather bowed from continuous riding.[l]
There is, however, another word portrait of the duke as he looked in the year 1473, whose trend is more sympathetic.[2] "His stature was small and nervous, his complexion pale, hair dark chestnut, eyes black and brilliant, his presence majestic but stern. He was high-spirited, magnanimous, courageous, intrepid, and impetuous. Capable of action, he lacked nothing but prudence to attain success."
From the two descriptions emerges a fairly clear picture of an energetic man, somewhat undersized, and sometimes inclined to assert his dignity in a fashion that did not quite comport with his physical characteristics. The conviction that he was a very important personage with greater importance awaiting him, and his total lack of a sense of humour, combined with his inability to feel the pulse of a situation, undoubtedly affected his bearing and made it seem more pompous.
The emperor was not an heroic figure in appearance any more than he was in the records of his reign, distinguished for being the feeblest as well as the longest in the annals of the empire. He was indolent, timid, irresolute, and incapable. His features and manners were vulgar, his intellect sluggish. Peasant-like in his petty economies, he was shrewder at a bargain than in wielding his imperial sceptre. At Trèves he was accompanied by his son, the Archduke Maximilian, a fairly intelligent youth of eighteen, very ready to be fascinated by his proposed father-in-law, who was a striking contrast to his own languid and irresolute father, in energy and strenuous love of action.
As the two princes rode together into the city, Charles's accoutrements attracted all eyes. The polished steel of his armour shone like silver. Over it hung a short mantle actually embroidered with diamonds and other precious stones to the value of two hundred thousand gold crowns. His velvet hat, graciously held in his hand out of compliment to the emperor, was ornamented with a diamond whose price no man could tell. Before him walked a page carrying his helmet studded with gems, while his magnificent black steed was heavily weighted down with its rich caparisons.
Frederic III., very simple in his ordinary dress, had exerted himself to appear well to his great vassal. His robe of cloth of gold was fine, though it may have looked something like a luxurious dressing-gown, as it was made after the Turkish fashion and bordered with pearls. The emperor was lame in one foot, injured, so ran the tradition, by his habit of kicking, not his servants, but innocent doors that chanced to impede his way.