The wretch condemn'd with life to part,
Still, still on hope relies,
And every pang that rends the heart,
Bids expectation rise.
Hope, like the glimmering taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way;
And still, the darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.
GOLDSMITH
Few days had passed ere Louis had received, with a smile of gratified
vengeance, the intelligence that his favourite and his councillor,
the Cardinal Balue, was groaning within a cage of iron, so disposed
as scarce to permit him to enjoy repose in any posture except when
recumbent, and of which, be it said in passing, he remained the unpitied
tenant for nearly twelve years. The auxiliary forces which the Duke had
required Louis to bring up had also appeared, and he comforted himself
that their numbers were sufficient to protect his person against
violence, although too limited to cope, had such been his purpose, with
the large army of Burgundy. He saw himself also at liberty, when time
should suit, to resume his project of marriage between his daughter and
the Duke of Orleans; and, although he was sensible to the indignity of
serving with his noblest peers under the banners of his own vassal, and
against the people whose cause he had abetted, he did not allow these
circumstances to embarrass him in the meantime, trusting that a future
day would bring him amends.
“For chance,” said he to his trusty Oliver, “may indeed gain one hit,
but it is patience and wisdom which win the game at last.”
With such sentiments, upon a beautiful day in the latter end of harvest,
the King mounted his horse; and, indifferent that he was looked upon
rather as a part of the pageant of a victor, than in the light of an
independent Sovereign surrounded by his guards and his chivalry, King
Louis sallied from under the Gothic gateway of Peronne, to join the
Burgundian army, which commenced at the same time its march against
Liege.
Most of the ladies of distinction who were in the place attended,
dressed in their best array, upon the battlements and defences of the
gate, to see the gallant show of the warriors setting forth on the
expedition. Thither had the Countess Crevecoeur brought the Countess
Isabelle. The latter attended very reluctantly, but the peremptory order
of Charles had been, that she who was to bestow the palm in the tourney
should be visible to the knights who were about to enter the lists.
As they thronged out from under the arch, many a pennon and shield
was to be seen, graced with fresh devices, expressive of the bearer's
devoted resolution to become a competitor for a prize so fair. Here a
charger was painted starting for the goal--there an arrow aimed at
a mark--one knight bore a bleeding heart, indicative of his
passion--another a skull and a coronet of laurels, showing his
determination to win or die. Many others there were; and some so
cunningly intricate and obscure, that they might have defied the most
ingenious interpreter. Each knight, too, it may be presumed, put his
courser to his mettle, and assumed his most gallant seat in the saddle,
as he passed for a moment under the view of the fair bevy of dames and
damsels, who encouraged their valour by their smiles, and the waving of
kerchiefs and of veils. The Archer Guard, selected almost at will from
the flower of the Scottish nation, drew general applause, from the
gallantry and splendour of their appearance.
And there was one among these strangers who ventured on a demonstration
of acquaintance with the Lady Isabelle, which had not been attempted
even by the most noble of the French nobility. It was Quentin Durward,
who, as he passed the ladies in his rank, presented to the Countess of
Croye, on the point of his lance, the letter of her aunt.
“Now, by my honour,” said the Count of Crevecoeur, “that is over
insolent in an unworthy adventurer!”
“Do not call him so, Crevecoeur,” said Dunois; “I have good reason to
bear testimony to his gallantry--and in behalf of that lady, too.”
“You make words of nothing,” said Isabelle, blushing with shame, and
partly with resentment; “it is a letter from my unfortunate aunt.--She
writes cheerfully, though her situation must be dreadful.”
“Let us hear, let us hear what says the Boar's bride,” said Crevecoeur.
The Countess Isabelle read the letter, in which her aunt seemed
determined to make the best of a bad bargain, and to console herself
for the haste and indecorum of her nuptials, by the happiness of being
wedded to one of the bravest men of the age, who had just acquired a
princedom by his valour. She implored her niece not to judge of her
William (as she called him) by the report of others, but to wait till
she knew him personally. He had his faults, perhaps, but they were
such as belonged to characters whom she had ever venerated. William
was rather addicted to wine, but so was the gallant Sir Godfrey, her
grandsire--he was something hasty and sanguinary in his temper, such had
been her brother Reinold of blessed memory; he was blunt in speech,
few Germans were otherwise; and a little wilful and peremptory, but she
believed all men loved to rule. More there was to the same purpose; and
the whole concluded with the hope and request that Isabelle would, by
means of the bearer, endeavour her escape from the tyrant of Burgundy,
and come to her loving kinswoman's Court of Liege, where any little
differences concerning their mutual rights of succession to the Earldom
might be adjusted by Isabelle's marrying Earl Eberson--a bridegroom
younger indeed than his bride, but that, as she (the Lady Hameline)
might perhaps say from experience, was an inequality more easy to be
endured than Isabelle could be aware of.
[The marriage of William de la Marck with the Lady Hameline is as
apocryphal as the lady herself.--S.]
Here the Countess Isabelle stopped, the Abbess observing, with a prim
aspect, that she had read quite enough concerning such worldly vanities,
and the Count of Crevecoeur, breaking out, “Aroint thee, deceitful
witch!--Why, this device smells rank as the toasted cheese in a rat
trap.--Now fie, and double fie, upon the old decoy duck!”
The Countess of Crevecoeur gravely rebuked her husband for his violence.
“The Lady,” she said, “must have been deceived by De la Marck with a
show of courtesy.”
“He show courtesy!” said the Count. “I acquit him of all such
dissimulation. You may as well expect courtesy from a literal wild
boar, you may as well try to lay leaf gold on old rusty gibbet irons.
No--idiot as she is, she is not quite goose enough to fall in love with
the fox who has snapped her, and that in his very den. But you women
are all alike--fair words carry it--and, I dare say, here is my pretty
cousin impatient to join her aunt in this fool's paradise, and marry the
Bear Pig.”
“So far from being capable of such folly,” said Isabelle, “I am doubly
desirous of vengeance on the murderers of the excellent Bishop, because
it will, at the same time, free my aunt from the villain's power.”
“Ah! there indeed spoke the voice of Croye!” exclaimed the Count, and no
more was said concerning the letter.
But while Isabelle read her aunt's epistle to her friends, it must
be observed that she did not think it necessary to recite a certain
postscript, in which the Countess Hameline, lady-like, gave an account
of her occupations, and informed her niece that she had laid aside for
the present a surcoat which she was working for her husband, bearing the
arms of Croye and La Marck in conjugal fashion, parted per pale, because
her William had determined, for purposes of policy, in the first action
to have others dressed in his coat armour and himself to assume the arms
of Orleans, with a bar sinister--in other words, those of Dunois. There
was also a slip of paper in another hand, the contents of which the
Countess did not think it necessary to mention, being simply these
words: “If you hear not of me soon, and that by the trumpet of Fame,
conclude me dead, but not unworthy.”
A thought, hitherto repelled as wildly incredible, now glanced with
double keenness through Isabelle's soul. As female wit seldom fails in
the contrivance of means, she so ordered it that ere the troops were
fully on march, Quentin Durward received from an unknown hand the billet
of Lady Hameline, marked with three crosses opposite to the postscript,
and having these words subjoined: “He who feared not the arms of Orleans
when on the breast of their gallant owner, cannot dread them when
displayed on that of a tyrant and murderer.”
A thousand thousand times was this intimation kissed and pressed to the
bosom of the young Scot! for it marshalled him on the path where both
Honour and Love held out the reward, and possessed him with a secret
unknown to others, by which to distinguish him whose death could alone
give life to his hopes, and which he prudently resolved to lock up in
his own bosom.
But Durward saw the necessity of acting otherwise respecting the
information communicated by Hayraddin, since the proposed sally of De la
Marck, unless heedfully guarded against, might prove the destruction of
the besieging army, so difficult was it, in the tumultuous warfare of
those days, to recover from a nocturnal surprise. After pondering on
the matter, he formed the additional resolution, that he would not
communicate the intelligence save personally, and to both the Princes
while together, perhaps because he felt that to mention so well
contrived and hopeful a scheme to Louis whilst in private, might be too
strong a temptation to the wavering probity of that Monarch, and lead
him to assist, rather than repel, the intended sally. He determined,
therefore, to watch for an opportunity of revealing the secret whilst
Louis and Charles were met, which, as they were not particularly fond of
the constraint imposed by each other's society, was not likely soon to
occur.
Meanwhile the march continued, and the confederates soon entered the
territories of Liege. Here the Burgundian soldiers, at least a part of
them, composed of those bands who had acquired the title of Ecorcheurs,
or flayers, showed, by the usage which they gave the inhabitants, under
pretext of avenging the Bishop's death, that they well deserved that
honourable title; while their conduct greatly prejudiced the cause
of Charles, the aggrieved inhabitants, who might otherwise have been
passive in the quarrel, assuming arms in self defence, harassing his
march by cutting off small parties, and falling back before the main
body upon the city itself, thus augmenting the numbers and desperation
of those who had resolved to defend it. The French, few in number, and
those the choice soldiers of the country, kept, according to the King's
orders, close by their respective standards, and observed the strictest
discipline, a contrast which increased the suspicions of Charles, who
could not help remarking that the troops of Louis demeaned themselves as
if they were rather friends to the Liegeois than allies of Burgundy.
At length, without experiencing any serious opposition, the army arrived
in the rich valley of the Maes, and before the large and populous
city of Liege. The Castle of Schonwaldt they found had been totally
destroyed, and learned that William de la Marck, whose only talents were
of a military cast, had withdrawn his whole forces into the city, and
was determined to avoid the encounter of the chivalry of France
and Burgundy in the open field. But the invaders were not long of
experiencing the danger which must always exist in attacking a large
town, however open, if the inhabitants are disposed to defend it
desperately.
A part of the Burgundian vanguard, conceiving that, from the dismantled
and breached state of the walls, they had nothing to do but to march
into Liege at their ease, entered one of the suburbs with the shouts
of “Burgundy, Burgundy, Kill, kill--all is ours!--Remember Louis of
Bourbon!”
But as they marched in disorder through the narrow streets, and were
partly dispersed for the purpose of pillage, a large body of the
inhabitants issued suddenly from the town, fell furiously upon them,
and made considerable slaughter. De la Marck even availed himself of
the breaches in the walls, which permitted the defenders to issue out
at different points, and, by taking separate routes into the contested
suburb, to attack, in the front, flank, and rear at once the assailants,
who, stunned by the furious, unexpected, and multiplied nature of the
resistance offered, could hardly stand to their arms. The evening, which
began to close, added to their confusion.
When this news was brought to Duke Charles, he was furious with rage,
which was not much appeased by the offer of King Louis to send the
French men at arms into the suburbs, to rescue and bring off the
Burgundian vanguard. Rejecting this offer briefly, he would have put
himself at the head of his own Guards, to extricate those engaged in the
incautious advance; but D'Hymbercourt and Crevecoeur entreated him to
leave the service to them, and, marching into the scene of action at two
points with more order and proper arrangement for mutual support, these
two celebrated captains succeeded in repulsing the Liegeois, and in
extricating the vanguard, who lost, besides prisoners, no fewer than
eight hundred men, of whom about a hundred were men at arms. The
prisoners, however, were not numerous, most of them having been rescued
by D'Hymbercourt, who now proceeded to occupy the contested suburb, and
to place guards opposite to the town, from which it was divided by an
open space, or esplanade, of five or six hundred yards, left free of
buildings for the purposes of defence. There was no moat betwixt the
suburb and town, the ground being rocky in that place. A gate fronted
the suburb, from which sallies might be easily made, and the wall was
pierced by two or three of those breaches which Duke Charles had caused
to be made after the battle of Saint Tron, and which had been hastily
repaired with mere barricades of timber.
D'Hymbercourt turned two culverins on the gate, and placed two others
opposite to the principal breach, to repel any sally from the city, and
then returned to the Burgundian army, which he found in great disorder.
In fact, the main body and rear of the numerous army of the Duke had
continued to advance, while the broken and repulsed vanguard was in the
act of retreating; and they had come into collision with each other, to
the great confusion of both. The necessary absence of D'Hymbercourt, who
discharged all the duties of Marechal du Camp, or, as we should now say,
of Quartermaster General, augmented the disorder; and to complete the
whole, the night sank down dark as a wolf's mouth; there fell a thick
and heavy rain, and the ground on which the beleaguering army must needs
take up their position, was muddy and intersected with many canals. It
is scarce possible to form an idea of the confusion which prevailed in
the Burgundian army, where leaders were separated from their soldiers,
and soldiers from their standards and officers. Every one, from the
highest to the lowest, was seeking shelter and accommodation where he
could individually find it; while the wearied and wounded, who had been
engaged in the battle, were calling in vain for shelter and refreshment;
and while those who knew nothing of the disaster were pressing on to
have their share in the sack of the place, which they had no doubt was
proceeding merrily.
When D'Hymbercourt returned, he had a task to perform of incredible
difficulty, and imbittered by the reproaches of his master, who made
no allowance for the still more necessary duty in which he had been
engaged, until the temper of the gallant soldier began to give way under
the Duke's unreasonable reproaches.
“I went hence to restore some order in the van,” he said, “and left the
main body under your Grace's own guidance, and now, on my return, I
can neither find that we have front, flank, nor rear, so utter is the
confusion.”
“We are the more like a barrel of herrings,” answered Le Glorieux,
“which is the most natural resemblance for a Flemish army.”
The jester's speech made the Duke laugh, and perhaps prevented a farther
prosecution of the altercation betwixt him and his general.
By dint of great exertion, a small lusthaus, or country villa of some
wealthy citizen of Liege, was secured and cleared of other occupants,
for the accommodation of the Duke and his immediate attendants; and the
authority of D'Hymbercourt and Crevecoeur at length established a guard
in the vicinity, of about forty men at arms, who lighted a very large
fire, made with the timber of the outhouses, which they pulled down for
the purpose.
A little to the left of this villa, and betwixt it and the suburb,
which, as we have said, was opposite to the city gate, and occupied by
the Burgundian Vanguard, lay another pleasure house, surrounded by a
garden and courtyard, and having two or three small enclosures or
fields in the rear of it. In this the King of France established his own
headquarters. He did not himself pretend to be a soldier further than
a natural indifference to danger and much sagacity qualified him to be
called such; but he was always careful to employ the most skilful in
that profession, and reposed in them the confidence they merited. Louis
and his immediate attendants occupied this second villa, a part of his
Scottish Guard were placed in the court, where there were outhouses and
sheds to shelter them from the weather; the rest were stationed in the
garden. The remainder of the French men at arms were quartered closely
together and in good order, with alarm posts stationed, in case of their
having to sustain an attack.
Dunois and Crawford, assisted by several old officers and soldiers,
amongst whom Le Balafre was conspicuous for his diligence, contrived, by
breaking down walls, making openings through hedges, filling up ditches,
and the like, to facilitate the communication of the troops with each
other, and the orderly combination of the whole in case of necessity.
Meanwhile, the King judged it proper to go without farther ceremony to
the quarters of the Duke of Burgundy, to ascertain what was to be the
order of proceeding, and what cooperation was expected from him. His
presence occasioned a sort of council of war to be held, of which
Charles might not otherwise have dreamed.
It was then that Quentin Durward prayed earnestly to be admitted, as
having something of importance to deliver to the two Princes. This was
obtained without much difficulty, and great was the astonishment of
Louis, when he heard him calmly and distinctly relate the purpose of
William de la Marck to make a sally upon the camp of the besiegers,
under the dress and banners of the French. Louis would probably have
been much better pleased to have had such important news communicated
in private, but as the whole story had been publicly told in presence
of the Duke of Burgundy, he only observed, that, whether true or false,
such a report concerned them most materially.
“Not a whit!--not a whit!” said the Duke carelessly. “Had there been
such a purpose as this young man announces, it had not been communicated
to me by an Archer of the Scottish Guard.”
“However that may be,” answered Louis, “I pray you, fair cousin, you and
your captains, to attend, that to prevent the unpleasing consequences of
such an attack, should it be made unexpectedly, I will cause my soldiers
to wear white scarfs over their armour.--Dunois, see it given out on
the instant--that is,” he added, “if our brother and general approves of
it.”
“I see no objection,” replied the Duke, “if the chivalry of France are
willing to run the risk of having the name of the Knights of the Smock
Sleeve bestowed on them in future.”
“It would be a right well adapted title, friend Charles,” said Le
Glorieux, “considering that a woman is the reward of the most valiant.”
“Well spoken, Sagacity,” said Louis. “Cousin, good night, I will go arm
me.--By the way, what if I win the Countess with mine own hand?
“Your Majesty,” said the Duke, in an altered tone of voice, “must then
become a true Fleming.”
“I cannot,” answered Louis, in a tone of the most sincere confidence,
“be more so than I am already, could I but bring you, my dear cousin, to
believe it.”
The Duke only replied by wishing the King good night in a tone
resembling the snort of a shy horse, starting from the caress of the
rider when he is about to mount, and is soothing him to stand still.
“I could pardon all his duplicity,” said the Duke to Crevecoeur, “but
cannot forgive his supposing me capable of the gross folly of being
duped by his professions.”
Louis, too, had his confidences with Oliver le Dain, when he returned to
his own quarters. “This,” he said, “is such a mixture of shrewdness and
simplicity, that I know not what to make of him. Pasques dieu! think of
his unpardonable folly in bringing out honest De la Marck's plan of a
sally before the face of Burgundy, Crevecoeur, and all of them, instead
of rounding it in my ear, and giving me at least the choice of abetting
or defeating it!”
“It is better as it is, Sire,” said Oliver; “there are many in your
present train who would scruple to assail Burgundy undefied, or to ally
themselves with De la Marck.”
“Thou art right, Oliver. Such fools there are in the world, and we have
no time to reconcile their scruples by a little dose of self interest.
We must be true men, Oliver, and good allies of Burgundy, for this night
at least--time may give us a chance of a better game. Go, tell no man to
unarm himself; and let them shoot, in case of necessity, as sharply on
those who cry France and St. Denis! as if they cried Hell and Satan! I
will myself sleep in my armour. Let Crawford place Quentin Durward on
the extreme point of our line of sentinels, next to the city. Let him
e'en have the first benefit of the sally which he has announced to
us--if his luck bear him out, it is the better for him. But take an
especial care of Martius Galeotti, and see he remain in the rear, in a
place of the most absolute safety--he is even but too venturous, and,
like a fool, would be both swordsman and philosopher. See to these
things, Oliver, and good night.--Our Lady of Clery, and Monseigneur St.
Martin of Tours, be gracious to my slumbers!”
[The Duke of Burgundy, full of resentment for the usage which the Bishop
had received from the people of Liege (whose death, as already noticed,
did not take place for some years after), and knowing that the walls of
the town had not been repaired since they were breached by himself after
the battle of Saint Tron, advanced recklessly to their chastisement. His
commanders shared his presumptuous confidence: for the advanced guard
of his army, under the Marechal of Burgundy, and Seigneur D'Hymbercourt,
rushed upon one of the suburbs, without waiting for the rest of their
army, which, commanded by the Duke in person, remained about seven or
eight leagues in the rear. The night was closing, and, as the Burgundian
troops observed no discipline, they were exposed to a sudden attack from
a party of the citizens commanded by Jean de Vilde, who, assaulting them
in the front and rear, threw them into great disorder, and killed more
than eight hundred men, of whom one hundred were men at arms. When
Charles and the King of France came up, they took up their quarters in
two villas situated near to the wall of the city. In the two or three
days which followed, Louis was distinguished for the quiet and regulated
composure with which he pressed the siege, and provided for defence
in case of sallies; while the Duke of Burgundy, no way deficient in
courage, and who showed the rashness and want of order which was his
principal characteristic, seemed also extremely suspicious that the King
would desert him and join with the Liegeois. They lay before the town
for five or six days, and at length fixed the 30th of October, 1468,
for a general storm. The citizens, who had probably information of their
intent, resolved to prevent their purpose and determined on anticipating
it by a desperate sally through the breaches in their walls. They
placed at their head six hundred of the men of the little territory of
Fraudemont, belonging to the Bishopric of Liege, and reckoned the
most valiant of their troops. They burst out of the town on a sudden,
surprised the Duke of Burgundy's quarters, ere his guards could put on
their armour, which they had laid off to enjoy some repose before
the assault. The King of France's lodgings were also attacked and
endangered. A great confusion ensued, augmented incalculably by the
mutual jealousy and suspicions of the French and Burgundians. The people
of Liege were, however, unable to maintain their hardy enterprise,
when the men at arms of the king and Duke began to recover from their
confusion, and were finally forced to retire within their walls, after
narrowly missing the chance of surprising both King Louis and the Duke
of Burgundy, the most powerful princes of their time. At daybreak the
storm took place, as had been originally intended, and the citizens,
disheartened and fatigued by the nocturnal sally, did not make so much
resistance as was expected. Liege was taken and miserably pillaged,
without regard to sex or age, things sacred or things profane. These
particulars are fully related by Comines in his Memoires, liv. ii, chap.
11, 12, 13, and do not differ much from the account of the same events
given in the text. S.]