It is wonderful, though common to a proverb, that days of sunshiny
brightness and placid tranquillity should so often precede great
convulsions in the natural and the political world; and that although
"coming events often cast their shadows before them," yet that the
storm, when it does approach, should almost always find the world all
smiling, and the birds in song.
The day after the return of the deputation from Arras, the aspect of
the city of Ghent was more like that which it had been during the most
brilliant days of Philippe the Good and Charles the Bold, than it had
appeared for many months. The shops and booths, which projected into
the street, and which, being totally unprovided with any means of
defence against popular violence, were generally closed in times of
tumult and disturbance, were now again all open, and full of the
finest wares. Mountebanks of different grades, and those who sold
books, and repeated verses, were exercising their usual vocations at
the corners of the streets. Burghers and their wives, lords and
ladies, artisans and peasantry, all in their gayest dresses--for it
was one of the high festivals of the year--moved about in the streets
and, to crown all, the foul weather had disappeared, and the sun shone
out with a warm and promising beam.
A great multitude had collected near the palace gates, to see the
different members of the council, and the deputies from the various
cities and states of Flanders and Brabant, proceed in state to visit
the Princess Mary; and the approbation of the crowd, often depending
not a little upon the splendour of the several trains, was loudly
expressed as their peculiar favourites approached the gates of the
great court. At the same time it was remarkable, that though loud and
vociferous in their applause, the multitude restrained all marks of
disapprobation on the appearance of persons supposed to be unpopular,
with wonderful and unexpected moderation.
Since the first effervescence of feeling had subsided, after the
defeat of Nancy and the death of Charles the Bold, and since the
apprehension of immediate revolt had gone by, the ministers of Mary of
Burgundy--or, to speak more correctly, the members of the provincial
council of Flanders--though spending the greater part of the day in
the palace, had generally returned to inhabit their own hotels at
night. Thus, almost every one but the Lord of Ravestein, who remained
in the palace with his cousin, had to traverse the crowd in their way
to the audience hall. Imbercourt and Hugonet, neither of whom had ever
been very popular, passed amidst profound silence, and Maillotin du
Bac, who, in his official dress as Prevot, was riding about the
ground, took no small credit to himself for saving those two noblemen
from some sort of insult. The Duke of Cleves again, was loudly
cheered; but the Duke of Gueldres, who, by some means unknown even to
himself, had acquired an extraordinary degree of popularity during the
short time which had elapsed since his return to the city, received a
degree of applause that went far beyond that which greeted the Duke of
Cleves. Albert Maurice, however, as the great favourite of the people,
and one whom they considered more peculiarly as their own
representative, was received with loud, long-continued, and reiterated
shouts. Indeed, as he rode on upon a splendid and fiery horse, dressed
in magnificent apparel--not only as president of the council of Ghent
and grand bailli of the city, but as holding, in the capacity of chief
pensionary, the presidency of the states general of Flanders[7]--and
followed by a number of guards and attendants, with his lordly air and
his beautiful person, he looked more like some mighty prince going to
claim his bride, than a simple merchant about to appear before his
sovereign.
The visit was one of ceremony, and as no business of importance was to
be transacted, the princess received her court in state; and, to see
the splendour with which she was surrounded, the guards, the
attendants, the kneeling subjects, no one would have supposed, as was
indeed the case, that Mary of Burgundy was less a free agent than the
meanest subject in her capital.
All who presented themselves before the princess were received with
affability and courtesy, with the one exception of the Duke of
Gueldres, from whom, as he approached the chair of state, she seemed
to shrink with a repulsive abhorrence, which she could in no degree
command. Although he appeared there contrary to her commands, she
strove to say something kind in regard to his liberation, and to smile
as he offered his thanks; but the words died away before they were
uttered, and the smile faded upon her lip as soon as it appeared. To
Imbercourt and Hugonet, the Lord of Vere and others, who supported the
French alliance--although they had so strongly pressed her to
sacrifice all her own personal feelings, and to abandon the hope of
happiness for life--she still, from a deep conviction of the honesty
of their intentions, and from long habits of regard, yielded the same
marks of friendship and affection with which she had always
distinguished the counsellors and friends of her father, however much
their advice to him or to herself had been at times opposed to her own
opinion, or to her dearest wishes. On Albert Maurice, too, as the
boldest and strongest supporter of her own wishes against the voice of
her more politic advisers, and as the leader of those who really ruled
in Flanders, she smiled sweetly, from a feeling of gratitude as well
as esteem; and none who beheld the young citizen in the midst of that
splendid court, could help acknowledging that he was well fitted, in
appearance at least, to take his place among the noblest and most
courtly of the land. His mien had all the calm dignity of power and
the easy grace of confident but not presuming self-possession. There
was also a freshness and variety in his words and actions, which,
springing from a rich and generous mind, gave a sparkling grace to the
whole of his demeanour, and rendered it at once striking and pleasing.
There was certainly a difference in his manners from that of the stiff
and stately nobles of the court of Burgundy, but it was slight, and to
his advantage, characterized by no want of grace or dignity, but
rather by the calm ease of natural politeness, as opposed to the
acquired formality of courtly etiquette. It seemed, not that he was
assuming a rank, and mingling amidst a class to which he did not
belong--but rather as if he had suddenly taken possession of a station
which was his own by the indefeasible title of ennobling nature. The
respect and deference also with which all the rest of the court felt
themselves obliged to treat him, both from his authority over the
people, and the powers of his own mind, placed him at his ease; and
perhaps the very excitement which he felt under the eyes of Mary of
Burgundy, and the mighty aspirations and brilliant hopes which
thrilled in his bosom, were not without their share in giving firmness
and dignity to the step with which he trod the ducal halls of the
house of Burgundy.
Thus passed by the morning; and everything proceeded in undisturbed
harmony and tranquillity, both within the Cours du Prince and without
its walls. The populace showed themselves calm and placable; and it
had seldom happened of late that so many nobles and statesmen, of
different opinions and different interests, had met within the gates
of that palace with so little jarring and contention. Nevertheless,
there were things observed by many of the keen eyes which always hang
about courts and watch the flickering signs of the times, that boded
events not quite so pacific and gentle as the first aspect of affairs
might augur. Between Albert Maurice and the Lord of Imbercourt no
words passed; but, when their glances encountered upon more than one
occasion, the lordly brow of the young citizen became overcast, and a
fire blazed up in his eye, which spoke no very cordial feeling towards
that nobleman. Imbercourt himself, whose demeanour through life had
always been characterized by calm gravity, not absolutely approaching
sadness, but still far removed from cheerfulness, had, since the death
of his master, shown himself more gloomy and reserved than he had ever
before appeared; and, on the present occasion, there was a deep
immovable sternness in his countenance, which had something in it more
profound than can be expressed by the word melancholy. He met the
fiery glance of the young citizen, however, calm and unchanged. His
eyelid never fell, his brow contracted not a line, his lip remained
unmoved. Not a trace of emotion of any kind passed over his face, as
he endured rather than returned the gaze of the young citizen; and,
after remaining a few minutes in the princess's presence, he took his
leave, mounted his horse, and rode homewards. But as he passed by
Maillotin du Bac, and addressed some common observation to that
officer, there was a sort of triumphant sneer on the hard countenance
of the Prevot, and an unnatural degree of courtesy in his manner, from
which, those who saw it inferred no very favourable anticipations in
his mind regarding the Lord of Imbercourt.
When the whole ceremony was over, and Mary of Burgundy was left alone
with Alice of Imbercourt, and a few of her other attendants, her heart
seemed lightened of a load, and a smile brightened her countenance for
the first time since her father's death.
"Thank God, Alice," she said, "that it is over. I was very anxious
about the passing by of this morning, for I feared much that some
angry clashing might have taken place, concerning the messengers
despatched to the cruel King of France. But you are sad, Alice," she
continued, seeing the fair face of her gay friend overcast with
unusual clouds, which probably had arisen from the increased gloom
she had observed upon the countenance of her father; "you are sad,
Alice;--you, whose gay and happy spirit seems formed by heaven to bear
up against everything."
"I know not well how it is, your Grace," replied Alice, with a sigh;
"nothing particular has happened to make me so; and yet, I own, my
heart feels more gloomy than it generally does on such a sunshiny
day."
"Nay, Alice," replied the princess, "you must be sad, indeed, to call
Mary of Burgundy 'your Grace,' when from our earliest years we have
grown up together as sisters more than friends. But be not gloomy,
dear Alice; all will, I trust, go well. There is not that evil, in all
this sorrowful world, which could shake my trust in an over-ruling
Providence, or make me doubt that the end will yet be good."
"But sorrows must sometimes happen," replied Alice; "and in that
book--which I wish I had never looked into--in the cabinet at Hannut,
I saw that some time soon you were to lose two faithful friends: I
wonder if I shall be one."
"Heaven forbid, dear Alice!" replied the princess. "However, I am
sorry that you have told me;" and she fell into a deep and somewhat
painful reverie, from which she only roused herself, to propose that
they should go to the apartments of the Dowager Duchess, Margaret, who
inhabited the other wing of the building.
Alice willingly followed; and Margaret--though, in her grief
and widowhood, she had taken no part in the ceremonies of the
day--received her fair visitors with gladness, and inquired with some
anxiety how the morning and its events had passed away. Her mind was
of that firm and equable, though gentle tone, which feels every
misfortune intensely, but bears it with unshaken resolution; and it is
a quality of such minds to communicate a part of their own tranquil
and enduring power to others with whom they are brought in contact.
Thus Mary of Burgundy always felt more calm and more resigned after
conversing long with Margaret of York than before; and if, in the
present instance, her design in visiting her stepmother was to obtain
some such support, she was not disappointed. Both herself and Alice of
Imbercourt returned from the apartments of the Duchess less gloomy
than when they went; and the vague omens which had given rise to their
melancholy were dropped and forgotten, especially as nothing occurred
during the rest of the morning to recall them to the mind of either
the princess or her fair attendant. The day went by in peace and
tranquillity. The multitudes dispersed and retired to their own homes.
The brief sunshine of a winter's day soon lapsed into the dark, cold
night; and a thick white fog, rolling densely up from the many rivers
and canals that intersect the town of Ghent, rendered all the streets
doubly obscure. Several of the hours of darkness also went by in
tranquillity: though the glare of many torches, lighting various
groups of persons, through the dim and vapoury atmosphere, and casting
round them a red and misty halo of circumscribed light, together with
the shouting voices of people who had lost their way, and the equally
loud replies of those who strove to set them right, broke occasionally
upon the still quiet of the streets of Ghent, during the course of the
evening. All this, too, passed away, and the hour approached for
resigning the body and the mind to that mysterious state of
unconscious apathy, which seems given to show that we can die, as far
as sentient being goes, and yet live again, after a brief pause of
mental extinction. Mary of Burgundy, whose days--if ever the days of
mortal being did so--should have passed in peace, was about to retire
to rest, thanking Heaven that one more scene in life's long tragedy
was over. Her fair hair was cast over her shoulders, in soft and silky
waves, and she was thinking--with the natural comment of sorrow upon
human life--"how sweet a thing is repose!" Although she had assumed in
public the state of a sovereign princess, in private she had hitherto
dispensed with that burdensome etiquette, which renders the domestic
hours of princes little less tedious than their public ceremonies. Her
ladies were all dismissed to rest before she herself retired to her
own apartment, and two tiring women of inferior rank were all that
remained to aid her in the toilet of the night. Those women, whose
whole intellects were limited in their range to the thoughts of dress
and ornament, contented themselves with performing their several
offices about the person of the princess, and leaving her mind to
reflection. Thus, perhaps, the hour which she spent each night in her
own chamber, ere she lay down to rest, was one of the sweetest
portions of time to Mary of Burgundy. It was the hour in which her
heart, relieved from all the pressure of the day, could commune with
itself at ease; and, could one have looked into her bosom on that at
any other night, the whole course of her life gives reason to believe,
that it would have displayed as fine and pure a tissue of sweet and
noble ideas, as ever the thoughts of woman wove. Her toilet for the
night, however, had proceeded but a short way, on the present
occasion, when the door of the chamber was thrown open with
unceremonious haste, and Alice of Imbercourt, pale, agitated,
trembling, with her own brown hair streaming over her shoulders like
that of the princess, showing how sudden had been the news that so
affected her, rushed into the apartment, and, casting herself upon her
knees before Mary, hid her eyes upon the lap of the princess, and wept
so bitterly as to deprive herself of utterance.
"What is the matter, my dear Alice? What is the matter, my sweet
girl?" demanded Mary, anxiously. "Speak, speak, dear Alice! what has
happened so to affect you?"
"Oh, madam, madam!" sobbed Alice; "my father--my dear father!"
"What of him?" exclaimed Mary, turning deadly pale. "What has happened
to him, Alice? tell me, I beseech you!"
"Oh, madam, they have arrested him and the Lord of Hugonet!" replied
Alice, "and have dragged them from their beds, loaded with chains, to
the town-prison!"
"Good God!" cried Mary, clasping her hands; "will they deprive me of
all my friends? Has not the gold of Louis tempted all feeble hearts
from my service, and will my own subjects take from me the only ones
who have been found firm?"
"They will kill them: be sure they will kill them!" exclaimed Alice.
"There is only one person on the earth can save them; and, alas! I
fear these butchers of Ghent will be too quick in their murder for him
to come."
"Who do you mean, dear girl?" asked Mary. "Who is there you think can
aid them? What do you propose? Let us lose no time; but take any way
to save their lives. Some one," she added, turning to her tiring
women, "go to my mother, the Duchess; tell her I would fain speak with
her. Now, Alice, what way do you propose?"
"Oh, let me go!" cried Alice, wildly, "let me go! Let me lose not a
moment of time! I will easily find him out, or send on messengers--or
bring him by some way! Let me go, I beg--I entreat!"
"But of whom do you speak?" again demanded Mary. "You forget, dear
Alice, I know not what you mean."
"I mean!" replied Alice, while a slight blush passed rapidly over her
countenance, and was immediately again succeeded by the eager and
terrified paleness which had before appeared there: "I mean--I mean
the Vert Gallant of Hannut. 'Tis scarce three days ago, that, by a
letter from Hannut, Hugh de Mortmar bade me seek aid and assistance
from him, if any thing happened, in the tumults of this city, to cause
me danger or distress. He said that the Vert Gallant owed him much.
Let me go, madam, I beseech you."
"But you cannot go alone, dear Alice," said the princess, gazing upon
her almost as much bewildered as she was herself; "you cannot go
alone, and at this hour of the night. At all events, you must have a
party of the guards."
"Oh, no, no!" cried Alice; "they will only let one person go through
the gates at a time; and there are men here set to watch the river, so
that no large boat can pass."
At this moment the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy entered the chamber of
her step-daughter; and Mary was beginning to explain the
circumstances, as far as she had been able to gather them from her
terrified companion, when she found that Margaret was already
acquainted with many more particulars concerning the arrest of
Imbercourt and Hugonet than herself. So daring an act on the part of
the turbulent men of Ghent, as the arrest of two members of the
supreme council of Flanders, of course terrified and shocked both Mary
and her step-mother. But their personal apprehensions for the future,
and consideration of the long series of calamities and horrors which
such a deed portended, were overpowered by the wild agony of the
daughter of one of those victims of popular sedition. The tears poured
over her cheeks, her fair hands clasped in convulsive agony, till the
taper fingers seemed as if they would have broken; and still she
besought the princess, with wild eagerness, to permit her instant
departure in search of him on whose assistance she seemed to place her
only hope of delivering her father. Mary called upon her stepmother to
second her arguments, for the purpose of persuading Alice to secure
some protection and assistance, at least in her attempt to escape from
the town, and in the difficult search she proposed to undertake for
one, whose character was so doubtful, and whose dwelling was so
uncertain. But Margaret, animated by a bolder spirit, saw the proposal
in a different light, and supported strongly the desire of Alice, to
seek the assistance she hoped for, accompanied alone by the page.
"Great things," she said, "have been done by less men than this
adventurer seems to be. Many a battle between York and Lancaster has
been won by the aid of foresters and outlaws. If you can once secure
his assistance, and he can, by any of those strange means which he has
been often known to employ so successfully, introduce his bands within
the town, these rebellious men of Ghent may yet be taught a lesson
which they have much need to learn. Go, then, my poor girl, if you
have any probable means of discovering the abode of him you seek. Take
the page with you; furnish yourself with all the money and jewels
which you can collect. The princess and I will do our best to
contribute, for with such men gold is better than eloquence; and, at
all events, you will have the satisfaction of doing your duty towards
your father."
"In the meantime, Alice," added Mary, "be not more anxious than
necessary for your father's safety. These men will, doubtless, never
attempt anything against his life without bringing him to trial. All
the preparations must take long, and I will leave no means unused to
delay their proceedings, and to mitigate their rancour. I will send
for the president; I will speak with him myself. I will entreat, I
will beseech, I will rather lay down my own life than that they should
hurt my faithful servants."
"Thank you; thank you, dear lady!" replied Alice, kissing her hand;
"thank you, thank you for your comfort! But I must go," she added,
with eager anxiety; "I must not lose a moment."
"Stay, stay!" said the young Duchess, seeing her about to depart. "Let
Bertha call the page whom we employed before, and we will determine on
some better plans than your own unassisted fancy can frame."
It would be unnecessary here to enter into the minute details of all
that ensued; and, indeed, so rapidly were the arrangements concluded,
that many words would only serve to give a false impression of things
that were resolved and executed in a few brief moments. Suffice it,
then, that the page was soon brought to the presence of the princess;
and, in eager and hasty consultation, it was determined that he should
proceed in search of a small skiff, which, being brought opposite to
the palace wall, on the water side, would enable Alice to make her
escape with less chance of observation than if she attempted to pass
the gates either on horseback or on foot, at that hour of the night.
No large boat would be allowed to proceed, and therefore he was
directed to seek the smallest that he could possibly find; but, at the
same time, to use all his shrewdness in endeavouring to discover some
boatman, who was either trustworthy by native honesty, or might be
rendered secret by a bribe. The boy at once declared in reply, that he
well knew a man who used to bring the duke's venison up from the
woods, and whose taciturnity was so great, that those who knew him
averred, he had never said ten words to anybody yet in life, nor ever
would say ten words more.
In search of this very desirable person the page instantly proceeded;
but, either from the darkness of the night, or from having found it
difficult to wake the boatman out of his first sleep, the boy was so
long in returning, that all Alice's preparations for her journey were
completed, and many minutes spent in agonizing anxiety, ere he
re-appeared. When he did come, however, he brought the glad tidings
that all was ready; and, after taking leave of the princess, Alice of
Imbercourt, with a rapid but silent step, threaded the dark and
intricate passages of the palace, passed the postern unquestioned, and
finding her way with difficulty through the dim and foggy air, to the
steps which led towards the water, stood at length by the side of the
boat. Stepping forward over some unsteady planks, she was speedily
seated in the stern, with the boy beside her; the single boatman, whom
they had found waiting, pushed silently away from the bank, and, in a
minute after, the skiff was making its slow way through the fog, down
the dull current of the Scheldt.