From Thionville, Charles journeyed on to Nancy, where he was welcomed by his protege, outside the city walls, and the two rode in together as the duke and the emperor had entered Treves.  Charles had been so long keeping up a show of obsequiousness which he did not feel that, undoubtedly, he enjoyed again being the first personage.[7] He refused, however, to accept the young man’s hospitality, and spent the two days of his sojourn in the house of a certain Malhortie, where he felt more at ease in his conferences with Lorrainers willing to proceed further to the disadvantage of their new sovereign.

The ally certainly became more exigeant.  In various towns on the Moselle, Epinal, Charmes, Dompaire, etc., the Lorraine soldiers were replaced by Burgundians.  This immediate and arrogant use of the rights he had wrested from the Duke of Lorraine alienated many who had been warm for Burgundy.  Rene himself admired Charles as Maximilian had done.  The strong man exercised a fascination over both youths, but the duke did not turn this admiration into real friendship, underestimating the character of his protege.  His measures, too, were taken without the slightest consideration for local feeling.  Garrison after garrison was installed and commanded to obey his officers alone, while the soldiers were allowed to levy their own rations, equivalent to raids on a friendly country.  As always, the agglomeration of mercenary companies was difficult to control.  The duke did not succeed in having those remote from his jurisdiction kept in due restraint.  Complaints began to pour into his headquarters.  Public sentiment shifted day by day.  The Burgundian became the personification of a public foe.  Before Charles proceeded on his way to Alsace, Rene had begun to lose his admiration and it was not long before he impatiently awaited an opportunity to break with his too doughty protector.

Alsace

During the four years that Charles had delayed in coming to look at the result of the bargain of 1469 in the Rhine valley, his lieutenant, Peter von Hagenbach, had given the inhabitants reason to regret the easy-going absentee Austrian seigneurs.  Much had been done, undoubtedly, in restraining the lawlessness of the robber barons.  The roads were well policed, and safety was assured to travellers.  “I spy,” was the motto blazoned on the livery of the forces led by Hagenbach up and down the land, until he had unearthed lurking vagabonds.  It was acknowledged that gold and silver could be carried openly from place to place, and that night journeys were as safe as day.  Still, this advantageous change had not won popularity for the man who wrought it.  Perhaps the people thought it less burdensome to make their own little bargains with highwaymen or petty nobles,[8] a law unto themselves, than to meet the rigorous requisitions of the Burgundian tax collector.

It was the country that had profited most by the new administration.  The small towns had long enjoyed great independence, and had shown ability in managing their own affairs.  They wanted no interference.  Not liked by those whom he had really protected, Hagenbach was absolutely hated by the burghers who felt his iron hand, without acknowledging that its pressure had more good than evil in it.