The transactions of the next few days, though certainly comprising
matters of great interest to many of the persons connected with the
present history, must be passed over as briefly as possible, because
their nature is in a certain sense discordant with the general tenour
of the story. This is no tale of battles; unless it be the battle of
passions in the human heart; and therefore it is that we give no
minute detail of the incidents which befel Albert Maurice in his short
but brilliant military career. Suffice it to say, that by happy
combinations, and the strenuous exertion of the great activity which
was one of the most conspicuous traits in his character, he had, in
the short space of five days, thrown forces into Douai and Lille, and
had defeated Le Lude and a body of men-at-arms despatched from Arras
to cut off his retreat.
Well aware of the mighty effect of success in blowing up the bubble of
popularity, he despatched messenger after messenger to Ghent, bearing
tidings of each event as it occurred. Joy and gratulation spread
through the city; and the people of Ghent, elated by their novel
exploits in arms, laid out in fancy vast plans of conquest and
aggrandizement, and began to think themselves invincible in the field.
Nor was his military success without effect upon the heart of Albert
Maurice himself. It did not, it is true, produce such overweening
expectations in his own bosom, as it did in those of his weaker fellow
citizens. But it certainly did give him fresh confidence in his own
powers, from the very fact of finding good fortune attend him in every
effort, however new and unfamiliar to his habits and his mind. It
nerved him to dare all, and to struggle against every difficulty; and
the combination of constant occupation and repeated triumph drowned,
for the time, those feelings of remorse and self-upbraiding which, day
by day, had been acquiring a stronger hold upon his heart. Besides, it
communicated to his mind the refreshing consciousness of being
energetically employed in the execution of duties totally unmingled
with any baser motive in their origin, or any degrading means in their
progress. In the actions which he performed during these four days, he
felt that for the first time he was really serving his country--that
he was winning a purer glory and gaining a nobler name, than faction
or intrigue, whatever might be its object, and whatever might be its
result, could ever obtain for man; and his heart expanded with a joy
long unknown when, at night he summed up the events of the day, and
found that another sun had risen and set on deeds which he could dare
all the world to scrutinize. Still the necessity of his immediate
return to Ghent was not the less felt; and as soon as ever he had
accomplished the great purpose of his expedition, he commenced his
march homewards, and pursued it with as much rapidity as possible.
His force was, by this time, reduced to a thousand horse, from the
various reinforcements he had thrown into the frontier towns; but
nevertheless, confident of his own powers, in returning to Ghent he
took a road which passed in the immediate neighbourhood of Tournay,
although various bands detached from the garrison of that city were
continually making excursions into the country around. He fixed his
quarters for the night, after his first day's march homeward, in a
little village about three miles to the east of that town; and, taking
such precautions as were necessary to guard against surprise, he
passed the hours of darkness undisturbed.
It was a fine spring morning when he again put his troops in motion.
The sun had just risen; and the fresh, elastic air, driving the
vapours of the night before it, had gathered together in the north a
wide extent of dark clouds, streaked with the whiter mists that were
every moment carried to join them by the wind; while, over all the
rest of the sky, the bright sunshine was pouring triumphantly, and
flashing upon the diamond drops that the night had left behind on
every spray and every blade of grass.
The body of horse which the young citizen commanded moved on quickly,
but cautiously, through the by-roads and less direct paths which led
between Tournay and Ath; and it had proceeded in this manner for about
an hour, when the distant sound of a culverin, followed by a heavy
discharge of artillery, was borne upon his ear from the westward. The
troopers listened eagerly, with no small curiosity written on their
countenances; but the face of Albert Maurice scarcely betrayed that he
heard the sounds, except by a curl of the lip, slight indeed, but
bitter and contemptuous. He rode on without comment; and, shortly
after, as he led his force over the summit of a small hill, he could
perceive on looking towards Tournay, though the place itself was
hidden by some wavy ground that intervened, a long stream of thick,
white smoke, drifting down the valley in which that city stands. He
drew in his horse for a moment, and gazed upon the sight; and then,
putting his force into a quicker pace, pursued his road onward towards
Ghent.
The path which they were following entered, at about the distance of
two miles from the spot where they then were, the high road from
Tournay to Oudenarde; and, passing among some woody grounds, it lay
very much concealed from observation. As they came near the open road,
however, Albert Maurice himself proceeded a little in advance of the
line to reconnoitre, before he led his forces forth from the less
exposed ground below. But ere he reached it, the sounds that he heard
were sufficient to satisfy him that the highway was occupied by some
party of armed men, either friends or foes. The prospect of meeting
with the forces commanded by the Duke of Gueldres was little less
disagreeable to him than of encountering a superior body of the enemy,
and he accordingly halted his men, riding slowly along the narrow
border of copse which separated the low grounds from the high road, in
order to ascertain who were his immediate neighbours, and what was the
direction they were taking. The trampling of horses, the jingling of
armour, laughter, merriment, and oaths, announced sufficiently the
presence of a military force; and the moment after, a break in the
belt of wood showed him the rear of a body of horsemen passing on in a
continuous but somewhat irregular line towards Tournay; while the
straight crosses of cut cloth which they wore sewed upon their
gambesons, at once designated them as the adherents of France in
opposition to Burgundy, the partisans of which dukedom were as
universally designated by the cross of St. Andrew.
The young burgher paused for several minutes; and fixing his eye upon
a break some way farther down the road, watched till the spears and
plumes began to pass by that aperture also, and, by means of the two,
easily ascertained that the party he beheld did not amount to more
than five hundred men. Though from various traces of recent strife,
joined to the merriment that reigned amongst them, he judged, and
judged rightly, that the French were returning to Tournay after some
successful skirmish, which, he doubted not, had taken place with the
Duke of Gueldres; yet, the superiority of his own numbers and his
confidence in his own powers, determined him immediately to attack the
enemy. This resolution was no sooner formed than executed; and
although the space was narrow for the evolutions of cavalry, the road
having on one side a large piece of marshy ground, and on the other a
scattered wood; yet so unprepared were the French for the attack of
the Gandois, and so skilfully did the young citizen employ a raw
against a veteran force, that the old soldiers of Louis at once gave
way before the fresh levies of Ghent; and while many a man found an
ignoble death in the morass, those were the happiest who, by sharp
spurring, made their way unscathed to Tournay.
A battery of small cannon, which enfiladed the part of the road that
led directly to the gate, protected the fugitives in their retreat;
and Albert Maurice, not fully aware of the state of the garrison, and
the amount of forces it could pour forth upon his small corps,
hastened to retreat from before the walls as soon as he found himself
exposed to their artillery. The way seemed clear before him; yet, as
he knew that the enterprise of the Duke of Gueldres was to have taken
place about that time, and from the firing he had heard in the
morning, doubted not it had been attempted on that very day, he could
not believe that so small a party as that which he had just driven
back, would have ventured forth alone against the superior force of
the Gandois; and he felt sure that some larger body of French troops
must still lie between him and the retreating army of the Duke of
Gueldres.
Under these circumstances, and fearful of tarnishing the gloss of his
success by encountering a defeat at last, he caused the country to be
well reconnoitred as he advanced; and ere long, the reported
appearance of a large force seen moving in the line of the high road,
about a league in advance, made him resolve once more to take the
paths through the wood to the east, however circuitous and
inconvenient, being very well assured, from his knowledge of the
country and from his acquaintance with the plans of the people of
Ghent, that the line of operations of either party could not have
extended far to the east of the _Chemin d'Oudenarde_, as the high road
was called.
He accordingly at once quitted the broad causeway which led directly
to Ghent, and passing across some of the wide yellow mustard fields
that lay to the right, he gained, unobserved, the shelter of the
scattered woods through which he had been before advancing. As he
marched on, however, the appearance of some of the fearful vestiges of
warfare--now a slain horse--now a long track of blood--now some piece
of armour, or some offensive weapon cast away in flight--showed that a
deadly strife must have passed not far from the ground over which he
was marching. These tokens of battle and defeat, however, soon became
less frequent; and, by care and circumspection, he was enabled to
guide his forces to a safe distance from Tournay without encountering
any of the bands of either party which were scattered over that part
of the province. Not knowing the state of the country, and determined,
whatever were the case, to force his way onward to Ghent without loss
of time, he did not choose to detach any parties from his main body;
but he was of course very anxious for intelligence, and it was not
long before he received as much as was necessary for the purpose of
determining his after proceedings. Ere he had marched half a league,
several stragglers belonging to the army of Ghent joined his force;
and from them he learned, that on that very morning the Duke of
Gueldres had attacked and burned the suburbs of Tournay; but that in
effecting his retreat, his rear-guard had been charged by a small
force from the town, and had been nearly cut to pieces,
notwithstanding extraordinary efforts on the part of the duke himself.
That prince was reported to be dead or taken, and the rest of the army
had retreated in no small confusion upon Oudenarde.
This discomfiture of the Flemish forces, and the disgrace inflicted on
his country, were of course painful, as a whole, to the young citizen;
but there were parts of the detail which were not so unpleasant; for
his successes of course stood out in brighter light from their
contrast with the failure of the larger division; and as it appeared,
by the account of the fugitives, that the party which had defeated the
Duke of Gueldres was the very same that he himself had in turn
overthrown and driven into Tournay, the mortification would be in some
degree softened to the people of Ghent, while he could not find in his
heart to grieve very bitterly for their defeated commander.
The intelligence that he now received of the state of the garrison of
Tournay--which it appeared was very scanty, but bold and enterprising
in the extreme--made him resolve to halt for the night at the first
village on the road, in order to keep the forces of that city in
check, while the dispersed parties of Flemings effected their retreat.
He accordingly took up his quarters at the little town of Frasne, on
the edge of the wood, and immediately sent out parties to reconnoitre
the country, and bring in any stragglers they might meet with. Few
were found, indeed; but from their information, the young burgher was
led to suppose that the great body of the forces, which had issued
from Ghent two days before, had made good its retreat, without any
farther loss than the discomfiture of its rear-guard. By the time
these facts were fully ascertained, the evening was too far advanced
to make any farther movement; and Albert Maurice, having taken
measures to hold his present position in security, laid by the weighty
armour with which, according to the custom of the day, he was
encumbered on the march, and strolled out alone into the wood, to give
way to thoughts which had long been sternly pressing for attention.
He was now returning towards Ghent, where he could not hide from
himself that new scenes of intrigue, of anxiety, and of trouble, lay
before him. His previous conduct in the same career had given birth to
regrets which he had determined to scan and try more accurately than
he ever yet had done; and from his judgment on the past, to form a
firm and inflexible determination for the future. He found, too, that
now was the moment when the self-examination must begin, if ever it
was to be attempted; and many circumstances combined to render it less
painful than it had appeared before. Previous to the expedition in
which he was now engaged, the commune with his own heart had offered
so little but pure bitterness, that he had avoided it with care.
But his recent successes, in which was to be found no matter for
self-reproach, afforded him something wherewith to balance more
painful contemplations; and with a decided purpose of indulging that
craving for calm reflection which had long preyed upon him, he went
forth totally alone, merely saying to his attendants that he would
speedily return.
Of course, it is not possible to follow the thoughts of Albert Maurice
through all the tortuous and uncertain ways which the human heart
pursues in its examination of itself. The result, however, was
painful. He compared what he had done, now that power was given into
his hands, with what he had proposed to do, when that power existed
but in expectation. Not six months before he had determined, if ever
circumstances should favour the exertion of his abilities in the wide
arena of political strife, to dedicate all the talents and energy of
his mind solely to the good of his country: to free her from
oppression, to remedy the evils of her situation, to open the way for
arts and civilization, to place laws and rights upon such a footing
that they could never be doubted nor destroyed, and to accomplish all
this by the most calm and peaceful means, without spilling one
unnecessary drop of blood, without causing one eye through all the
land to shed a tear.
Such had been his purpose, but what had been his conduct, and what had
he become? He had appropriated to himself nearly the whole power of
the state. He had obtained influence greater than his fondest
expectations had held out. He had not improved one law. He had not
removed one evil. He had seen, under his own authority, anarchy
substituted for civil order and domestic peace. He had involved
himself in the meanest wiles of faction and intrigue. He had beheld
innocent blood shed by the hands of the populace. He had himself
brought about the death of two noble-minded men, who, his own heart
told him, were innocent of the crimes with which they were charged;
and conscience thundered in his ear that they were murdered for his
ambition. He could no longer look upon himself as a patriot. He knew
himself to have become solely an ambitious demagogue; and he saw no
means of extricating himself or his country from the state into which
he had aided to immerse it, but by pursuing the same dark and
intricate intrigues, the mean cunning of which he felt bitterly to be
degrading to his better nature--by shedding more blood, by stirring up
more discord, and by plunging deeper and deeper into the abyss of
anarchy and confusion.
While such a conviction forced itself upon his mind, he almost shrunk
from himself; and the small, still voice within whispered that but one
way was left--to yield the hand of Mary of Burgundy to any prince
whose state and situation offered the most immediate prospect of
benefit and support to his country; to make price of that fair hand
and the rich dowry that went with it, the full recognition of such
popular rights as would put the freedom and prosperity of Flanders for
ever beyond a doubt, and on his own part to resign the hopes and
aspirations that had led him so far astray. But those hopes--those
aspirations--had become parts of his very soul; and to require him to
cast them from him, was to bid him die. As the bare idea crossed his
mind of resigning Mary of Burgundy--of seeing her in the arms of
another--the blood rushed up into his head with violence; and he
paused abruptly on his way, resolved, if thought presented such
images, to think no more. The good and the evil principle were in his
heart at eternal war; calm reflection instantly gave the good full
promise of victory; but the evil had but to call up the idea of Mary
of Burgundy as the wife of another, to banish reflection altogether,
and every better purpose along with it.
He had, by this time, advanced somewhat far into the wood, and the
faint grey of the sky announced that the sun was sinking rapidly below
the horizon, and warned him to return to the village. The road he had
followed was a long grassy path, cut by the wheels of the wood-carts;
and there was no mistaking his way back. But, as he paused, determined
to think no more, since thought required such bitter sacrifices, he
looked onward vacantly, ere he turned, directing with difficulty his
mind towards external things, the better to withdraw it from himself.
As he did so, he remarked, at the bottom of the slope, down which the
path proceeded, some large white object lying amongst the long grass
which fringed a little forest stream. The distance was not more than a
hundred yards in advance; and attracted, he knew not very well why, he
strode on almost unconsciously towards the spot. As he came nearer,
the object which had caught his eye assumed the form of a horse,
either dead or asleep; and to ascertain which was the case he still
walked forward, till he stood close beside it, and found that it was
the carcase of a splendid charger, which had dropped apparently from
exhaustion and loss of blood. A rich military saddle and a poitrel,
inlaid with gold, announced that the rank of the rider must have been
high; while a fresh wound in the poor beast's side, and another in his
thigh, seemed to show that he had been engaged in the skirmish of that
morning.
Albert Maurice gazed on the horse for a moment, not exactly with
indifference, but with no great interest in a sight which had been
frequently before his eyes during the last two or three days. The
thing that principally attracted his attention, indeed, was the
costliness of the caparisons; and he looked round the little glade in
which he now stood, to see if he could perceive any further traces of
the horse's owner. His eye instantly rested upon a pile of splendid
arms, cast heedlessly down at a short distance; and as he walked
forward to examine them also, a man started up, as if from sleep,
amongst the fern which there thickly clothed the forest ground,
exclaiming--"Who goes there?"
A single glance sufficed to show Albert Maurice that he stood in
presence of the Duke of Gueldres; and that prince almost as soon
perceived whom he himself had encountered. No great love existed
between them, it is true; but a natural compassion for the defeat and
disappointment which the duke had that day sustained, and a conviction
that that defeat, together with his own success, had removed all
danger from the rivalry of the other, greatly softened the feeling of
enmity in the bosom of the young citizen; and a word would have
disarmed him entirely. The contrary, however, was the case with
Adolphus of Gueldres, who, naturally furious and impatient, had been
rendered almost insane by defeat and disgrace. He had heard, too, it
would seem, of the late successes of Albert Maurice; and jealousy and
envy were thus added to hatred. His words and his manner had been
quick and vehement, even before he had seen who it was that roused
him. But no sooner did he distinguish the features of the young
citizen, than the thought of his own overthrow and of the triumph of
Albert Maurice, mingled with remembrance of the opposition he had
formerly met with, and the cool contempt with which he had been
treated on their last meeting, all rose up in his mind; and his
countenance became convulsed with passion.
"Ha!" he cried, "you here, Sir Mechanic! you here to insult and
triumph over me! Or have you come to finish out what we but began in
the town-hall of Ghent? Doubtless you have! Quick, then! Quick! Draw,
sir, draw your sword, I say! Thank God, there is no one here, either
to part us, or to see the Duke of Gueldres stain his blade with the
blood of a low citizen!"
Albert Maurice himself was not, naturally, the most patient of men;
and he instantly laid his hand upon his sword. But nobler feelings
checked him the moment after; and he paused in the act, saying--"You
had better reflect, my lord!"
Before he could add another word, however, the Duke of Gueldres struck
him a blow with the pommel of his weapon, that made him reel; and the
next moment their blades were crossed.
Complete master of every military exercise, powerful, active,
quick-sighted and calm, Albert Maurice was far more than a match for
the Duke of Gueldres, though that prince had always been reputed a
stout and skilful man-at-arms. So great, indeed, did the young
President feel his own superiority to be, that, had he not been heated
in some degree by the blow he had received, he would, most probably,
have contented himself with wounding or disarming his antagonist. But
he was heated with the insult; and in four passes, the sword of the
Duke of Gueldres, turned from its course, was wounding the empty air
over the shoulder of Albert Maurice, while the blade of the young
citizen passed direct through the chest of his adversary.
Albert Maurice recovered his weapon, and gazed for a moment on the
Duke, whose mortal career he felt must be at its close. But that
unhappy prince stood before him for an instant, still grasping his
sword, and still apparently firm upon his feet, though a ghastly
swimming of his eyes showed what a convulsive agony was moving his
frame within. He made no further effort to lunge again; but he stood
there by a sort of rigid effort, which sufficed for a time to keep him
from falling, though that was all. The next moment the sword dropped.
He reeled giddily; and then fell back with a fearful sort of sobbing
in his throat.
Albert Maurice kneeled down beside him, and strove to stanch the blood
(which was now flowing copiously from his wounds) in such a degree as
to enable him to speak, should he have any directions to give before
he died. He brought some water, also, from the brook hard by, and
sprinkled his face; and the duke almost instantly opened his eyes, and
gazed wildly about for a moment.
Then, as his glance met that of Albert Maurice, he exclaimed, in the
same harsh and brutal tone he had before used, "You have slain me
fellow! you have slain me! Out upon it, churl! you have spilt some of
the best blood of the land."
"My lord," said Albert Maurice, solemnly, "you have brought it on
yourself. But think not of that at this moment! You are dying. There
is such a thing as another world; and, oh! repent you of your sins
while you are yet in this!"
"Is it _you_ tell me to repent?" cried the duke, faintly, "you who
have shortened my time for repentance. What know you of my sins?"
"Nothing, but by report, my lord," replied the young citizen; "except,
indeed, on one occasion--the fire at the pleasure-house of
Lindenmar--the death of the young heir of Hannut!"
The duke groaned. "Oh! were that all," cried he, "were that all, that
might soon be pardoned; for my own hands in some degree undid what my
own voice commanded. But stay, stay," he added, speaking far more
quickly, "stay! The old man, they say, still grieves for his child;
still, perhaps, suspects me. Fly to him quick. Tell him the boy did
not die in the flames of Lindenmar. Tell him, tell him that I bore him
away myself. Tell him that, bad as I was, I could not resist the look
of helpless infancy; that I carried him away wrapped in my mantle; and
when my own boy died, bred him as mine; that I was kind to him; that I
loved him, till the butchers of Duke Philip murdered him, when they
cast me into prison at Namur."
A light broke at once upon the mind of the young citizen. "Good
God!" he cried, "he is not dead. He lives, my lord, he lives! He
escaped, found refuge with his own father; ay, and was instrumental in
procuring your liberation from prison. He lives--indeed, he lives!"
The eyes of the Duke of Gueldres fixed upon him as he spoke, with an
intense and half-doubting gaze. But as the young burgher repeated
earnestly, "He lives!" the dying man, by a great effort, half raised
himself from the ground, clasped his hands together, and exclaimed,
"Thank God!" They were the last words he ever spoke; for almost as he
uttered them, he closed his eyes, as if a faint sickness had come over
him, fell back upon the turf with a convulsive shudder; and in a few
moments Adolphus of Gueldres was no more.
Albert Maurice gazed upon him with a feeling of painful interest. He
had slain him, it is true, under circumstances which he believed to
justify the deed. But no one, that is not in heart a butcher, can,
under any circumstances, take life hand to hand, without feeling that
a shadow has settled over existence. There is always something to be
remembered, always something that can never be forgotten. In the case
of the young citizen, too, the cloud was of a deeper shade; for he
felt that in the death of the Duke of Gueldres, however justified by
the immediate provocation, he had taken another life in that course of
ambition, in which he foresaw that many more must fall.
Thus in gloomy bitterness, he took his way back to the village, and,
without any explanation, gave orders that the dead body should be
brought in with honour. The soldiers concluded that both horse and man
had died by the hands of the enemy; and Albert Maurice, in quitting
his quarters the next morning, gave strict directions that the remains
of the deceased prince should be immediately sent after him to Ghent.
After his departure, however, before a bier could be got ready, and
all the necessary preparations entered into, a party from the town of
Tournay swept the little village of Frasne; and the body of the Duke,
being found there, was carried away by the French. Due honours were
shown to the corpse by the people of Tournay; and many writers of that
age attribute the death of Adolphus, the bad Duke of Gueldres, to the
successful sortie of the garrison of that city.