469, was finally appointed for this ceremony and the occasion was
utilised to show the duke's grandeur, the city's humiliation, to as
many people as possible who might spread the report far and wide.

It was a Sunday. Out in the courtyard of the palace the snow was thick
on the ground where a group of Ghent burghers cooled their heels for
an hour and a half, awaiting a summons to the ducal presence. There,
too, where every one could see those emblems of the artisans'
corporate strength, fluttered fifty-two banners unfurled before the
deans of the Ghentish _metiers_.[1]

Within, the great hall of the palace showed a splendid setting for a
brilliant assembly. The most famous Burgundian tapestries hung on the
walls. Episodes from the careers of Alexander, of Hannibal, and of
other notable ancients formed the background for the duke and his
nobles, knights of the Golden Fleece, in festal array. As spectators,
too, there were all the envoys and ambassadors then present in
Brussels from "France, England, Hungary, Bohemia, Naples, Aragon,
Sicily, Cyprus, Norway, Poland, Denmark, Russia, Livornia, Prussia,
Austria, Milan, Lombardy, and other places."

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 enou