It was after dinner on the following morning--which meal, be it
remarked, took place in those days about ten o'clock--that the Dauphin
and the Marshal of Burgundy rose to bid adieu to their noble host, and
offered him, in courteous terms, their thanks for the hospitable
entertainment he had shown them.
"I have, my lord, a favour to ask in return," said the Lord of Hannut,
"which will leave me your debtor. The case is simply this: some worthy
merchants of Ghent, travelling on mercantile affairs, as I am told,
arrived here this morning; and, being fearful of encountering some of
the robbers, who have given to this forest not the best repute, they
are now waiting in the inner court, anxious to join themselves to your
train, and accompany you as far as Cortenbergh, where they will leave
you, and take the short-cut to Ghent."
"Willingly, willingly," replied the Dauphin; "by my faith, if there be
robbers in the wood, the more men we are, the better."
The Marshal of Burgundy looked somewhat grave. "I have heard rumours,
my lord," he said, "that the men of Ghent, who, in my young day, when
I frequented this part of the country, were as turbulent a race of
base mechanics as ever drove a shuttle or worked a loom, have not
forgotten their old habits, and from day to day give my lord the duke
some fresh anxiety."
"Nay, nay," replied the Lord of Hannut; "these men are rich burghers,
returning peacefully to their own city from some profitable
excursion."
"Oh, let us have them, by all means!" exclaimed Louis, who possibly
might have his own views, even at that time, in cultivating a good
understanding with the people of Ghent. At least, we know that he
never ceased to keep up some correspondence with the burghers of the
manufacturing towns of Flanders, from the time of his exile among
them, to the last hour of his life. "Oh! let us have them by all
means. Think of the robbers, my Lord Marshal! By my faith! I have too
few florins in my purse to lose any willingly!"
The Marshal of Burgundy signified his assent by a low inclination of
the head; though it was evident, from his whole manner, that he was
not at all pleased with the new companions thus joined to his band;
and would at once have rejected the proposal, had good manners towards
his host, or respect towards the Dauphin, permitted him to make any
further opposition.
"So necessary do I think caution against the freebooters, my lords,"
said the master of the mansion, as he conducted them towards the
court-yard, where their horses stood saddled, "that I have ordered ten
spears of my own to accompany you to the verge of the forest. They
will join you at the little town of Hannut, about a quarter of a
league distant; and will remain with you as long as you may think it
necessary."
Louis expressed his gratitude in courtly terms; and the Lord of
Neufchatel thanked his old friend more frankly; but said, he should
like to see the boldest freebooter that ever was born, stand before
the Marshal of Burgundy, though he had but four lances and four
horseboys in his train. The party were by this time in the court-yard;
and Louis greeted the burghers, whom he found waiting, with a familiar
cordiality, well calculated to win their hearts, without diminishing
his own dignity. The Marshal of Burgundy, on the contrary, spoke not;
but looked on them with a grim and somewhat contemptuous smile;
muttering between his teeth, with all the haughtiness of a feudal
noble of that day, "The rascallion communes! they are dressed as
proudly as lords of the first degree!"
Notwithstanding his offensive pride, yet untamed by years, the Lord of
Neufchatel was far from treating the burghers with any real
unkindness; and, after the whole party had mounted, and left the
castle of Hannut, he gratified himself every now and then by a sneer,
it is true; but, whenever any occasion presented itself for
contributing to their comfort, or rendering them a substantial
service, the natural courtesy of a chivalrous heart got the better of
the prejudices of education. At an after period, indeed, he went still
further, and greatly changed his demeanour towards the people of the
towns; but at present, his pride offended more than his services
pleased; and when, after a quiet and uninterrupted journey, the two
parties separated at Cortenbergh, though the Marshal left them as a
set of men on whom he should never waste another thought, they
remembered him long as one of those haughty tyrants whose insults and
oppression often goaded the people into tumults, though the time was
not yet come for a successful struggle for emancipation.
From Cortenbergh, the Dauphin and his companions rode on towards
Brussels, sending forward a messenger to inform the Duke of Burgundy
of their approach; but, before they reached the gates of the town,
they received information that the prince whom they sought was even
then in the field against the people of Utrecht. Nevertheless, as a
safe asylum in Brussels was all that Louis demanded, he rode on upon
his way; and, being admitted at once within the walls of the town,
proceeded towards the palace. His coming had been notified to the
Duchess Isabelle: and on arriving at the barriers which at that time
separated the dwelling of every prince or great noble from the common
streets of the town, he found that princess, together with the young
and beautiful Countess of Charolois--the wife of him afterwards famous
as Charles the Bold--waiting to do honour to the heir of the French
throne. No sooner did he perceive them, than, springing from his
horse, he advanced with courtly grace, and gallantly saluted the cheek
of every one of the fair bevy who had descended to welcome him; and
then, offering his arm to the Duchess, wished to lead her into the
palace. But this method of proceeding was not at all permitted by the
mistress of the most ceremonious court, at that time, in Europe; and a
series of formal courtesies began and endured for a mortal half hour,
such as would have slain any queen in modern Europe. At length, the
resistance of the Duchess was vanquished by the Dauphin taking her by
the hand, and thus leading her forward, as he exclaimed, "Nay, nay,
lady, you are overceremonious towards one who is now the poorest
gentleman of all the realm of France, and knows not where to find a
refuge, except with you and my fair uncle of Burgundy."
We might now pursue Louis XI. through all his cunning intrigues at the
court of Burgundy; for, though then a young man, with the ardent blood
of youth mingling strangely, in his veins, with the cold serpent-like
sanies of policy, yet his nature was the same artful nature then that
it appeared in after-years: and treachery and artifice were as
familiar to his mind while combined with the passions and follies of
early life, as they were when connected with the superstitions and
weaknesses of his age.
At present, however, it is neither with Louis nor with the Duke of
Burgundy, nor with his warlike son, that we have principally to do,
but rather with the young Countess of Charolois, then in that
interesting situation when the hopes of a husband and a nation are
fixed upon a coming event, which, with danger to the mother, is to
give an heir to the throne and to the love of both sovereign and
people.
The subjects of Burgundy watched anxiously, till at length, in
the month of February, on St. Valentine's eve, was born Mary of
Burgundy--the only child that ever blessed the bed of Charles the
Bold. The baptism was appointed to take place as soon as possible: and
the Dauphin was invited to hold at the font the infant princess, much
of whose after-being his ambition was destined to render miserable.
Now, however, all was joy and festivity; and magnificent presents, and
splendid preparations, evinced how much the Flemish citizens shared,
or would have seemed to share, in the happiness of their duke and his
family. Even the people of Utrecht, so lately in rebellion, vied with
Bruges and Brussels, Ghent and Ypres, in offering rich testimonies of
their gladness; and Brussels itself was one scene of gorgeous
splendour during the whole day of the christening. The centre of the
great street, from the palace to the church of Cobergh, was enclosed
within railings breast-high; and towards night, four hundred of the
citizens, holding lighted torches of pure wax in their hands, were
stationed along the line. A hundred servants of the house of Burgundy,
furnished also with torches, lined the aisles of the church, and a
hundred more were soon seen issuing from the palace gates, followed by
as splendid a _cortege_ as the world ever beheld. The Duchess of
Burgundy herself, supported by the Dauphin, carried her son's child to
the font; and all the nobles of that brilliant court followed on foot
to the church.
It is not necessary here to describe the pompous ceremonies of that
day, as they are written at full in the very elaborate account given
by Eleonore of Poitiers. Suffice it to say, such joy and profusion
never before reigned in Brussels. The streets of the city flowed with
wine, and blazed with bonfires. Every rich citizen gathered round his
glowing hearth all the friends and relations of his house. Comfits and
spiced hippocras fumed in every dwelling; and the christening of Mary
of Burgundy became an epoch of rejoicing in the memory of men.
One event of that night, however, must be noticed. The fate of the
city of Ghent, whose project of revolt had, in spite of all
precautions, become known to the Duke Philip, had been left in the
hands of the Count of Charolois, that prince's son; and a deputation
from what were then called the three members of Ghent--that is to
say,[2] from the burghers and nobles, from the united trades, and from
the incorporation of weavers--were even then in Brussels, for the
purpose of imploring mercy and forgiveness. The young Count, whose
hasty and passionate nature was prone to be irritated by anything that
hurried or excited him, had been in such a state of fretful impatience
during the preparations for the baptism of his child, that his wiser
counsellors, who wished much that he should deal clemently with the
Gandois, had concealed their arrival, in hopes of a more favourable
moment presenting itself.
They were not, indeed, deceived in this expectation; and, after the
ceremony was over, and all the splendour he could have wished had been
displayed, without cloud or spot, on the christening of his child, the
heart of the Count seemed to expand, and he gave himself up entirely
to the joy of the occasion. His friends and attendants determined to
seize the moment while this favourable mood continued. After the
infant had been carried back from the church and presented to its
mother, and after the cup and sweetmeats had been handed with formal
ceremony to each of the guests, the Lord of Ravestein called the
Prince's attention to a petition he held from his father's humble
vassals, the citizens of Ghent; and seeing that he received the paper
with a smile, he added the information that the deputies were even
then waiting anxiously without, in what was termed the _chambre de
parement_. The Count's brow instantly became clouded; but, without
answering, he beckoned Ravestein, and several others, to follow him
out of the Countess's chamber, in which this conversation had taken
place, and at once entered the apartment in which the burghers were
assembled. There was something in the stern haste of his stride, as he
advanced into the room, which boded little good to the supplicants;
and his brow gave anything but a favourable presage.
The deputation consisted of about twenty persons, chosen from all
ranks; and amongst them were two or three who had followed to the
presence of the prince, from motives of curiosity, and a desire, for
once, to see the splendours of a royal court, though the reception of
the whole party was not likely to be very gratifying. Amongst the
principal personages of the deputation appeared our good friend Martin
Fruse, who had brought with him his nephew, Albert Maurice; and most
of the other persons whom we have seen with him in the forest of
Hannut bore him company also on the present occasion. Though the
burghers of Ghent were sufficiently accustomed to harangue each other,
either in the town-house or the market-place, and had a good conceit
of their own powers of oratory, yet fear, which, of all the affections
of the human mind, is the greatest promoter of humility, had so
completely lessened their confidence in their own gift of eloquence,
that, instead of intrusting the supplications they were about to make
to one of their own body, they had hired a professional advocate, from
a different town, to plead their cause before their offended prince.
"Range out, Messires, range out!" were the first ungracious words of
the Count of Charolois; "range out, and let me see the lovely faces of
the men who would fain have excited our father's subjects to revolt."
By his orders, the deputies from Ghent were arranged in a semicircle
before him; and, according to etiquette, the whole party dropped upon
one knee; though some went farther, and bent both to the ground. In
the meantime, their advocate pronounced a long, florid, and frothy
harangue, after the manner of that day, and calling David, Solomon,
and many others, both sacred and profane, to his aid, as examples of
clemency, besought the Count to show mercy to the repentant citizens
of Ghent.
The heir of Burgundy appeared to give little attention to the studied
and unnatural oration of the advocate, but continued rolling his eyes
over the countenances of the supplicants, with a bent brow, and a
smile, which--as a smile always proceeds from some pleasurable
emotion--could only arise from the gratification of pride and revenge,
at the state of abasement to which he saw the revolted Gandois
reduced.
When the orator had concluded, the Count replied:--"Men of Ghent, I
have heard that in all time ye have been turbulent, discontented,
factious, like a snarling cur that snaps at the hand that feeds it,
but crouches beneath the lash: think not that you shall escape without
due punishment; for know, that it is as much the duty of a prince to
punish the criminal, as to protect the innocent."
He paused, and no one ventured to reply, except the boy Albert
Maurice, who, grasping the hilt of the small dagger, which persons of
almost all ages or ranks then wore, muttered, in a tone not quite
inaudible, the words "Insolent tyrant."
Whether these words caught the ear of any one else or not, they were,
at all events, loud enough to reach that of the Count of Charolois;
and, taking one stride forward, he struck the youth a blow, with the
palm of his open hand, which laid him almost senseless on the ground.
A momentary confusion now ensued; the nobles and attendants
interposed, to prevent any farther act of unprincely violence; the boy
was hurried away out of the room; several of the deputies made their
escape, fearing the immediate consequences of the prince's fury; and
the Count of Ravestein endeavoured to persuade his cousin, Charles of
Burgundy, to quit the apartment, terrified lest he should proceed to
measures which would throw the Gandois into open rebellion.
He was mistaken, however; the rage of the Count had evaporated in the
blow he had struck; and, somewhat ashamed of the act of passion he had
committed, he endeavoured to make it seem, both to himself and to
those around him, not the effect of hasty wrath--which it really
was--but the deliberate punishment of an insolent boy.
To Ravestein's remonstrances and entreaties for him to leave the
apartment, he replied by a loud laugh, demanding, "Thinkest thou I
could be moved to serious anger by a malapert lad like that? He spoke
like a spoiled boy, and I have given him the chastisement suited to a
spoiled boy; with these men of Ghent, I shall deal as towards men."
He was about to proceed, and was resuming the stern air with which he
had formerly addressed the deputies, when the Dauphin, stepping
forward, spoke to him in a low tone, as if to prevent his intercession
from being apparent, though his gesture and manner were quite
sufficient to show the burghers that he was pleading in their behalf.
The Count of Charolois had not yet learned all the intricate duplicity
of Louis's character, and took it for granted that, while he
interceded for the people of Ghent, he did really--as he affected to
do--desire that they should be ignorant of his generous efforts in
their favour.
"Well, be it so, my princely cousin," he replied, smoothing his
ruffled brow; "the godfather of my child shall not be refused his
first request to me, upon the very day of her baptism; but, by my
faith! the honour of this good act shall rest where it is due--with
you, not with me. Know, men of Ghent, that you have a better advocate
here, than this man of many words, whom you have brought to plead your
cause. My noble cousin, Louis of France, condescends to intercede for
you, and ye shall be pardoned upon the payment of a moderate fine.
But, remember! offend not again; for, by the Lord that lives! if ye
do, I will hang ten of each of your estates over the gates of the
city. What have ye there?" he added, suddenly, pointing to some large
objects, wrapped in violet-coloured linen, and carried by two or three
stout attendants, who had followed the men of Ghent to the prince's
presence; "what have ye there?"
"A humble offering, my lord the Count," replied Martin Fruse, rising
from his knees, and walking towards the object which had attracted the
attention of the Count of Charolois; "a humble offering from the city
of Ghent to our noble Count, upon the birth of his fair daughter;
though that foolish advocate forgot to mention all about it in his
speech."
"Well for ye that he did so!" exclaimed the Count; "for had he
attempted to bribe me to forget justice, I doubt much whether one of
the deputies of Ghent would have quitted these palace walls alive."
"But only look at them, my lord the Count," said Martin Fruse, whose
all-engrossing admiration of the rich presents they had brought made
him insensible to the stern tone in which the prince had been
speaking. "Only look at them; they are so beautiful;" and so saying,
he removed the linen which covered them, and exposed to view three
large and richly chased vases of massive silver. Certainly their
effect upon all present very well justified the commendations which he
had bestowed upon their beauty, and his censure of the advocate for
not mentioning them before.
Both Charles of Burgundy and the Dauphin took an involuntary step
forward, to look at them more nearly. But the eyes of Louis, who was
fonder of the examination of the human heart, than of the finest piece
of workmanship ever produced by the hands of man, were soon turned to
the face of his cousin; and, as he marked the evident admiration which
was therein expressed, he said, with a frank laugh, which covered well
the sneer that was lurking in his speech--"By my faith! fair cousin, I
think the advocate _was_ in the wrong."
"Good troth, but I think so too," replied the Count, joining in the
laugh. "Well, my friends," he continued, addressing the deputies in a
very different tone from that which he had formerly used; "get you
gone, and be cautious for the future how ye listen to the delusive
words of vain and ambitious men: the master of our household will see
that ye are well entertained with white bread, good wine, and all the
dainties of a christening; and as for the boy I struck," he added,
taking a gold brooch or fermail from the bosom of his own vest, and
putting it into the hands of Martin Fruse, "give him that to heal the
blow. There, set down the vases on that table. We thank you for them;
and by our faith! we will show them to our lady there within."
With many a lowly reverence the men of Ghent withdrew, very well
satisfied to have obtained pardon on easy terms. Young Albert Maurice
was found below, fully recovered from the blow he had received; but it
was in no degree effaced from his memory. His uncle immediately
presented him with the rich brooch which the Count had sent, never
doubting but the boy would be delighted with the present; but, the
moment he received it, he dashed it down upon the ground, and setting
his foot upon it, trampled it to atoms.
What he muttered at the same time was unheard by any one but his
uncle. The effect upon him, however, was such as to turn him deadly
pale; and after having tasted of the Count's wine, that he might not
be suspected of disaffection, he hurried his nephew away to the house
of a friendly citizen of Brussels, miserable, to all appearance, till
he had got the boy beyond the walls of the palace.