Even his enemies did honour to the dead prince. Clothed in a robe of white satin, with a crimson satin mantle, his body was borne in state into the town he had vainly sought to conquer, and placed in a velvet bed under a canopy of black satin. His remains were interred in the church of St. George at Nancy, where they remained for more than fifty years. The Emperor, Charles V, then had them brought to Bruges and placed in the church of St. Donatian. His son, Philip II, removed them, five years later, to the wonderful shrine in the Church of Notre Dame where they remained until the French Revolution, when they were scattered to the winds as the bones of a tyrant. The sarcophagus, however, of the Duke and his gentle daughter, Marie, still remain, as we have seen, and are among the finest in existence. The death of the powerful Duke of Burgundy made a profound impression throughout Europe, and still remains, as Mr. Boulger in his admirable _History of Belgium_ says, "one of the tragedies of all history." His downfall was mainly due to the implacable hostility of Louis XI, whom he had once publicly humiliated at Péronne and affected at all times to despise. Many of the Swiss and Germans who fought against him in his last fatal campaign were hired mercenaries in the pay of the King of France, while some of his most trusted followers and advisers were traitors in constant correspondence with his wily and unscrupulous antagonist. Had Charles sought to conciliate his great Flemish communes instead of intimidate them his reign might have been prolonged by their powerful aid, and his dream of establishing a kingdom of Burgundy have been realised. As it was, he failed signally in most of his undertakings, and with all his fury and vainglory and cruelty lost in ten years the huge power that his father had taken fifty years to accumulate. Marie, Charles' only daughter, was left by his sudden and unexpected death "the greatest heiress in Christendom," but also well-nigh helpless to rule over or even hold her widespread dominions. To prevent the King of France from taking advantage of this situation her Flemish counsellors advised her to accept an offer of marriage from Maximilian, son of the Emperor Frederick III, and in August of the same year that saw the battle of Granson they were quietly married at Bruges. This event made Flanders a still smaller unit than before in a vast aggregation of states that in the course of events was being combined under the rule of the House of Hapsburg, nor did Marie's untimely death, less than five years later, in any wise delay the process of consolidation.