Every one knows that, in the early dawn of a Sicilian morning, the
shepherds and the watchers on the coast of the Messinese Strait will
sometimes behold, in the midst of the clear unclouded blue of the sky,
a splendid but delusive pageant, which is seen also, though in a less
vivid form, amongst the Hebrides. Towers and castles, domes and
palaces, festivals and processions, arrayed armies and contending
hosts, pass, for a few minutes, in brilliant confusion before the eyes
of the beholders, and then fade away, as if the scenes of another
world were, for some especial purpose, conjured up during one brief
moment, and then withdrawn for ever from their sight.
Thus there are times, too, in the life of man, when the spirit,
excited by some great and stirring passion, or by mingling with mighty
and portentous events, seems to gain for a brief instant a confused
but magnificent view of splendid things not yet in being. Imagination
in the one case, and her daughter Hope, in the other, give form and
distinctness to the airy images, though both are too soon doomed to
fade away amidst the colder realities of the stern world we dwell in.
The mind of Albert Maurice had been excited by the scenes he had just
gone through; and success, without making him arrogant, had filled him
full of expectation. Each step that he took forward seemed but to
raise him higher, and each effort of an enemy to crush him seemed,
without any exertion of his own, only to clear the way before him.
Such thoughts were mingling with other feelings, brought forth by the
sight, and the voice, and the smile of Mary of Burgundy, when the
sudden call to her presence woke him from such dreams; but woke him
only to show to his mind's eye many a confused but bright and splendid
image, as gay, as glittering, as pageant-like, but as unreal also, as
the airy vision which hangs in the morning light over the Sicilian
seas. Fancy at once called up everything within the wide range of
possibility. Battles and victories, and triumphant success, the shout
of nations and of worlds, the sceptre, the palace, and the throne, and
a thousand other indistinct ideas of mighty things, danced before his
eyes for a moment, with a sweeter and a brighter image, too, as the
object and end of ambition, the reward of mighty endeavour, the
crowning boon of infinite success. But still he felt and knew, even
while he dreamed, that it was all unreal; and, as he followed the
messenger with a quick pace, the vision faded, and left him but the
cold and naked truth. At length, after passing through several
chambers, which flanked the hall of audience, the door of a small
apartment, called the bower, was thrown open, and the young burgher
stood once more before Mary of Burgundy.
One of the most painful curses of high station is that of seldom, if
ever, being alone; of having no moment, except those intended for
repose, in which to commune with one's own heart, without the
oppression of some human eye watching the emotions of the mind as they
act upon the body, and keeping sentinel over the heart's index, the
face. Mary of Burgundy was not alone, though as much alone as those of
her station usually are. She stood near a window, at the other side of
the apartment, with her soft rounded arm and delicate hand twined in
those of one of her fair attendants, Alice of Imbercourt, on whom she
leaned slightly, while the Lord of Imbercourt himself stood beside her
on the other hand; and, with his stately head somewhat bent, seemed,
with all due reverence, to give her counsel upon some private matter
of importance. Another figure was retiring from an opposite door as
Albert Maurice entered; but who it was, the faint glance he caught did
not permit the young burgher to distinguish.
He advanced towards the spot where the princess stood, with the usual
marks of ceremony and reverence; and, as he came near and bent one
knee, she held out her hand for him to kiss, with a gentle smile, but
with the air and demeanour of a princess.
"I congratulate you, Master Albert Maurice," she said, as soon as he
had risen, "on the clear and satisfactory manner in which you have
been enabled to establish your innocence; for I fear, it sometimes
happens that persons accused are not able to bring forward sufficient
evidence to exculpate them before their princes, who, judging
according to their best conscience, are often charged with cruelty or
partiality, more from the defect of the testimony offered to them,
than from any desire of doing aught but justice. I therefore
congratulate you most sincerely on your having had the means of
establishing your innocence beyond all doubt: and I am deeply
gratified myself, that you have been able to remove every doubt from
my own mind, as well as to satisfy my council."
"Had every person accused, so gracious and impartial a judge, madam,"
replied the young citizen, "it were happy for the world; and, indeed,
it was my full confidence in your own justice, and in that of the
noble lords of the council, which made me appeal so boldly to your own
decision."
"For so doing I thank you, sir," replied the princess; "and I have now
sent for you to say so, as well as to speak with you on one part of
your defence, which somewhat touched upon the honour of my father's
justice. Although I marked it at the time, I did not choose to notice
it before the many; and now, by the advice of one of my best and most
faithful friends, I seek this private mode, certainly not of chiding
you for what has passed your lips, but of calling to your remembrance
things which might have made your words less bitter."
The princess paused for a moment, colouring slightly, with some degree
of agitation, from the task thus imposed upon her, and from the long
time which it required her to speak upon subjects of some political
importance. She showed, indeed, no awkward incompetence, no want of
mental power; but her blush and her slight embarrassment were those of
her youth, of her sex, and of a delicate and feeling mind. While she
paused, Albert Maurice merely bowed his head, without reply; and in a
moment after, she proceeded.
"I am very young, sir," she said, "and, as a woman, am of course cut
off from mingling greatly with mankind. Nevertheless, as it has so
unfortunately fallen out, that the rule of these territories should
seem to be at some time destined for a female hand, and that hand
mine, I have not, of course, neglected the study of the laws and
institutions, nor of the history, of the dominions that may one day
become my own. In speaking of the city of Namur, you named rights
violated, and privileges infringed, and, perhaps, alluded to some
other privileges of which other towns have been deprived. Most of the
events that you probably referred to, took place before the period to
which my own remembrance extends; but, if the historians of the land
say true, no rights were ever, in any instance, arbitrarily wrenched
away from the people. In all cases, if my memory serve me right, the
loss of privileges was inflicted on the citizens as a punishment for
some crime, for some unprovoked revolt, for some attempt to snatch the
power from what they considered a weak or embarrassed hand. Such being
the case, justice, both in the abstract sense of awarding punishment
for evil, or in the moral policy of deterring others from crime, by
the example of retributive infliction, required that the cities which
so acted should suffer a certain penalty as the consequence. That
penalty has always been the loss of some of their privileges; which
punishment has uniformly been received by them as most merciful, at
the time when detected treason or suppressed revolt brought upon them
the wrath, and placed them at the mercy, of a powerful prince. Nor,
let me say, can they hope to regain the privileges they have lost,
except by a calm and tranquil obedience, or some service rendered,
which may merit reward and confidence."
She waited for a reply; but Albert Maurice remained silent. In truth,
he felt no small difficulty in so shaping his answer as not to swerve
from the truths indelibly written in his own heart, and yet not to
hurt the feelings, or lower himself in the esteem, of one whose good
opinion had become, he knew not why, of more consequence in his eyes
than mortal opinion had ever been before. He felt, too, that the
princess spoke according to the ideas and sentiments of her rank and
of her times; while he himself bore within his bosom the feelings of
his own class, and the thoughts of times long gone, when liberty was
eloquent and powerful.
Although between such different principles there was a gulf as deep as
the abyss, still love might span it with a bridge, which, like that
that leads to the Moslem paradise, is finer than a famished spider's
thread. But it were wrong to say he loved. Oh, no! he would have
shrunk from so idle a thought, had it come upon him in a tangible
shape. Yet there was something growing upon his heart which softened
it towards Mary of Burgundy; which rendered it unwilling to hurt her
feelings; which made it timid of offending her, though the eye of the
proudest sovereign that ever trod the earth would not have caused it
to quail for an instant.
The Lord of Imbercourt saw more clearly into the character of the man,
and knew more of the circumstances of the times, than the princess he
had stayed to counsel; and perceiving that the young citizen was not
about to reply, he spoke a few words in addition to that which Mary
had advanced, taking a wider ground than she had assumed, and
examining the subject more as a philosopher than either a feudal
noble, or the counsellor of an absolute prince. He spoke of the
necessity of order and good government, for the peace and happiness of
the people themselves; he pointed out that tranquillity and general
confidence were absolutely necessary to industry, both commercial and
productive; and he showed, with the voice of years and experience,
that turbulence and discontent were ruinous to any nation, but, in a
tenfold degree ruinous to a commercial people.
"Believe me, Master Albert Maurice," he added, "that just in the same
proportion that the man is to be blest, who teaches a people to
improve their moral state, to cultivate their intellects, and to
extend their knowledge and resources, in the same degree is he to be
hated and despised, who teaches them to be discontented with their
condition."
He paused; and Albert Maurice replied with more calm firmness than he
could, perhaps, have shown, had he answered the princess, "I will not,
my lord, attempt to use towards you that ordinary fallacy which, in
fact, arises only in the imperfection of language, namely, that people
must be rendered discontented with their condition, in order to gain
the desire of changing it. I know and feel, that, though we have not a
word exactly to express it, there is an immense difference between
discontent with our present state, and the calm desire of improving
it. But still, it may be doubted, whether the mind of man, especially
in multitudes, does not require some more universal and potent
stimulus to carry it generally forward to great improvements, than the
slow progress of increasing knowledge can afford."
"No, no, indeed," replied Imbercourt; "the potent stimulus is like too
much wine, which only maddens for the time, and leaves every nerve
more feeble and relaxed thereafter. No, no: administer good plain and
wholesome food to the social as well as to the human body; and,
growing in strength and performing all its functions correctly, it
will gain, by the same calm and easy degrees, the desire and the power
of obtaining that which is best adapted to its state."
Albert Maurice felt that there was truth in what the Lord of
Imbercourt advanced; but, nevertheless, between them there still
existed a thousand differences of opinion, which would have required
an infinite change of circumstances to have removed. The differences
of their age, of their station, of their education, and of their
habits, were all as much opposed to a coincidence of thought, as the
difference of their natural characters itself; and the only point of
resemblance between the young citizen and the high-born noble--namely,
the fine aspirations and elegant feelings which raised the former
above the generality of his class--naturally tended to make him detest
those laws of society which held him down in a rank below that for
which he was fitted, and look with disgust upon those who maintained
them as a barrier against him. At the same time he was conscious that
in his bosom there might be some feelings not entirely patriotic, or,
at least, he felt afraid that it was so; and, perceiving, also, that
the arguments which were addressed to him were far more liberal and
plausible than those usually held by the class to which the Lord of
Imbercourt belonged, he did not choose to enter into a farther
discussion, which might either shake his own determinations, or expose
the views on which he acted to those who would take means to foil his
designs.
"I am, of course, incompetent, my lord," he replied, "to argue with an
experienced statesman like yourself, on subjects which you must have
had a much greater opportunity of examining than I can have had."
Imbercourt watched his countenance during this brief reply; and he was
too much versed in the ways of men to be deceived by its apparent
modesty. He saw, and saw clearly, that the high and flashing spirit,
the keen and acute mind, which the young burgher had displayed at the
examination before the council--and which, indeed, had been reported
long before to the ministers of the Duke of Burgundy--was curbed and
restrained on the present occasion; and he easily divined some of the
motives which created such reserve. He saw, too, that it would be
necessary to make use of other inducements than those of argument for
the purpose of detaching the young citizen from the factious party in
Flanders, and of preventing him from giving to their designs the
consolidation, the direction, and the vigour which such a mind as his
might bestow.
Neither had the slight shade of emotion which had passed over the
countenance of Albert Maurice, when addressed by the princess, escaped
his experienced eye; and, though far too proud and aristocratic in his
own nature ever to dream that a burgher of Ghent could indulge in the
very thought of love towards the heiress of the land, he was
sufficiently chivalrous in mind to believe, that a smile from such
fair lips, a word from so sweet a voice, might bend a man on whom
arguments would prove all useless. He turned, therefore, to the
princess, with a smile, saying--"Well, let us not reason of the past;
I think, madam, that you had something to say to this young gentleman
concerning the future; and, as it could come with full effect from no
lips but yours, I pray you communicate it to him yourself."
"Most willingly will I do so," replied Mary of Burgundy; "and I am
sure that I shall not speak in vain. I have heard, and, indeed, I
know, Master Albert Maurice, that no man in the good city of Ghent
possesses so much influence as yourself with the merchants and people
of the good towns. My father being now absent, and likely, I fear, to
remain so for some time--as my dear and excellent stepdame, Margaret
his duchess, has been called to join him at Dijon--and the government
of Flanders resting in my weak hands, I am anxious, most anxious, to
preserve the country, and especially this city of Ghent--which," she
added, with a smile, "has not in all times been famous for its orderly
disposition--in peace and tranquillity during my temporary government,
which, I pray, God shorten. My request to you, therefore, is, that you
will use your best endeavours to still all irritation, to calm all
disposition to tumult, and to maintain in the people a spirit of order
and quiet. May I trust that you will do so?"
The blood rushed up to the temples of the young citizen with fearful
force; and the pain that he experienced for a few moments, till he had
determined upon his reply, would be difficult to describe. At length
he answered, though with some hesitation.
"Madam," he said, "I feel assured that, under your sway, however long
the government of Flanders may be delegated to you by your father, no
infraction of the people's rights, no blow at the privileges of the
good towns, will, or can take place. Under this conviction, I will
willingly promise what you demand, though, in truth, you attribute to
me much greater influence than I possess. At the same time, madam, let
me pray you to remember, that if--which God forbid! evil ministers or
tyrannical officers should, as sometimes happens, wrong their master,
by trampling on his subjects, I cannot, and I will not, bind myself to
support such things, or to oppose my countrymen in seeking to right
themselves."
"God forbid, indeed," exclaimed Mary, eagerly, "that you should ever
be put to such a trial! Indeed, young gentleman, indeed," she added,
while her whole beautiful countenance glowed with enthusiasm, "to
merit and to win my people's love, to heal all feuds, to bind up every
wound, to wipe the eyes that weep, to raise up the oppressed, to
uphold and to promote the virtuous, and to guard the feeble and
defenceless, would be the first wish and thought of Mary of Burgundy,
were she queen of one half the world."
"Madam, I believe it! from my heart I believe it!" replied Albert
Maurice, catching the enthusiasm of her tone; "and may God bless and
prosper you in the performance of so noble an intention!"
As he spoke, he felt that the presence of that fair being had become
more dangerous to his resolutions and purposes, perhaps even to his
peace, than he could have imagined possible; and, afraid that at every
word he might promise more than circumstances might permit him to
perform, or bind himself so strictly, that his duty to his country
would be lost--he paused, and drew a step back, in order to take his
leave. The princess saw the movement, and bowed her head, to signify
that he was at liberty to depart. "Farewell, sir," she said; "and do
not forget the promise you have made."
The young citizen bowed, and retired; and, while Mary remained in deep
and anxious conversation with Imbercourt, he made his way back to the
ante-chamber of the audience-hall, which was now empty, and thence
into the court of the palace, where he was joined by his uncle, Martin
Fruse; and found the Lord of Neufchatel in the act of mounting his
horse. The old nobleman paused for a moment, to read the young citizen
a long and stately lecture upon the impropriety of leaving, as he had
done, those who had accompanied him to the council chamber, the moment
that the examination was over. The mind of Albert Maurice, however,
and his heart, were busied about far other things; and the reproof of
the old cavalier fell upon a somewhat dull and inattentive ear. He
answered with some formal words of apology, stating that he had been
called away unexpectedly; and then, with more energy and feeling,
expressed his gratitude for the kindness and services which the Lord
of Neufchatel had rendered him.
"Well, well, no more of that!" cried the old lord; "never shall it be
said that I shrunk from the side of an oppressed man, be he noble or
not noble. Happy I am that you have so fully cleared yourself, Master
Albert Maurice; and whenever the good citizens of Ghent require such
aid and advice concerning matters of state and feudal law, as I, from
my old acquaintance with courts and camps, can give, let them come
freely to consult me, without fear or bashfulness; that is to say,
while I am in the city; for, in ten days' time, I go to join the camp,
and once more, though the hand be feeble, and the head be grey, to lay
lance in rest for Burgundy. However, absent or present, I shall always
be happy to do what I can for the good city of Ghent."
Albert Maurice bowed, and his uncle bowed low; and, mounting his
horse, though with somewhat less alacrity than he had done in his
youthful days, the Lord of Neufchatel quitted the palace court, and
went nodding and smiling through the crowds assembled without. Albert
Maurice and his uncle then followed, passing the grim lanes of
soldiery that still occupied the interior of the court, with very
different feelings from those which they had experienced when they
entered its gates. The appearance of the young citizen, after his
exculpation, was instantly hailed by the multitudes without, as a sort
of popular triumph; and, amidst shouts of joy and congratulation, he
was conducted safely to his own dwelling.