of this delay all the works which it had cost so many lives to execute
were thrown away. Heavy cannon, placed on the bastions commanding this
angle of the walls, were brought to bear upon the gallery, and the
damage done by the shot enabled the besieged to set fire to it by means
of burning barrels of pitch, which they hurled upon it. The whole fabric
was soon in flames, and the conflagration, which was witnessed by the
whole of the Imperial army, produced a very striking effect, as it
illuminated all the ramparts, towers, and structures in its vicinity.
Bourbon had thus the mortification of seeing the work, on which so much
labour had been expended, utterly destroyed.
As soon as the gallery was consumed, and the blackened beams had fallen
into the moat, the energetic commanders of the garrison ordered ladders
to be brought, and a large party of men descended for the purpose of
destroying the traverse. Before they could accomplish this, they were
attacked by a strong detachment of Spanish infantry, and a desperate
conflict took place. The Spaniards were driven back with great loss,
but, as they were speedily reinforced, the besiegers were compelled to
abandon the work and remount the walls.
Shortly after this occurrence, a council of war was held by Renzo da
Ceri and Chabot de Brion in a large hall in the episcopal palace.
Ever since the commencement of the siege this splendid structure had
been abandoned by the bishop, who had taken up his abode in a less
exposed part of the city, and the palace was now occupied by troops. All
the principal officers of the garrison were present, and Renzo announced
to the meeting that it would be necessary to demolish the palace in
whieh they stood, as well as the venerable church of Saint Cannot
adjoining it, lest the besiegers should obtain possession of them.
“It grieves me sorely,” he said, “to order the destruction of these
noble edifices, endeared to the citizens of Marseilles by so many
recollections. But there is no help for it. With the aid of Heaven, I
trust, we may keep off the foe. But should he pass the walls, we must
afford him no shelter. The work must be commenced without delay.”
Not a single dissentient voice was raised, but the proposition was
received with sadness. After a pause, Renzo added, “I perceive from your
silence that you are all of my opinion. Let us now repair to the church
of Saint Cannat, where mass will be celebrated for the last time.”
The edifice which had thus been doomed to destruction was a fine old
Gothic church, and, as we have just intimated, was held in especial
veneration by the citizens. It was soon known that it was about to be
demolished, and thousands flocked towards it to join in the sacred rites
which were to be performed within it for the last time.
The interior of the church presented a very striking spectacle, the
interest of which was heightened by the circumstances that had brought
together such an assemblage. The aisles were filled with soldiers and
armed citizens; and among the former were many whose grim visages showed
they had been actively engaged in the recent strife. In the nave was
drawn up the corps of Amazons, with Marphise and Marcelline at their
head. Within the choir stood Renzo da Ceri, Chabot de Brion, Mirandel,
and all the principal officers, in their full accoutrements. The viguier
and the chief magistrates of the city were likewise present. The Bishop
of Marseilles, assisted by other ecclesiastical dignitaries, officiated
at the altar, and never before in that fabric had mass been solemnised
with such fervour and devotion as ou that night.
The occasion, indeed, was one that could not fail to excite the
profoundest interest in all who witnessed the ceremonial. Never more
within those hallowed walls, which were so firmly built that they might
have lasted for ages, would holy rites be performed. All those reverend
objects, all those tombs and monuments, would be destroyed--all those
shrines desecrated. It was a sad reflection, but it weighed upon every
breast.
Among those gathered in the church were Pomperant and Hugues. They were
stationed near one of the pillars that lined the north aisle within a
few paces of Marcelline, who was aware of the proximity of her lover.
An address was pronounced by the bishop, in which he deeply lamented
the necessary destruction of this temple of the Most High, denouncing
Bourbon as the cause of the sacrilege, and invoking Heaven's vengeance
upon his head. It was not without a shudder that Pomperant listened to
these awful words, and perceived the effect they produced on Marcelline.
Just as the bishop concluded his discourse, the thunder of artillery
was heard, and Renzo da Ceri and some of the other leaders quitted the
church, but the service was not otherwise interrupted. The corps of
Amazons remained to the last, and Marcelline allowed her companions to
march forth without her. She lingered behind to exchange a few words
with her lover. By this time the church was almost deserted, and they
moved to a part of the aisle where the tapers, having been extinguished,
left them almost in darkness.
“I ought to regard you as an enemy,” she said. “I fear you are included
in the denunciation which the good bishop has just pronounced upon
Bourbon.”
“Listen to me, Marcelline, and believe what I tell you,” he rejoined.
“The obstinacy of the citizens of Marseilles has rendered this siege
necessary. They have brought all the calamities of war upon themselves.
Why could they not act like the inhabitants of Aix and other towns of
Provence?”
“Because they are loyal subjects of the king,” she replied.
“These were not your sentiments when we first met,” rejoined Pomperant.
“You and your brother were then devoted to Bourbon.”
“My brother is still devoted to him,” she said. “Nay more, he is
condemned to death by the Parliament of Paris for the share he has taken
in the conspiracy, and if he had not fled, the sentence would have been
executed. But I have changed. Sinee I have been in Marseilles, and have
discoursed with these loyal and patriotic citizens, I have imbibed their
opinions.”
“You are wrong,” rejoined Pomperant. “Marseilles will be far happier
and more prosperous under Bourbon's rule than under that of François de
Valois. A day will come--and that shortly--when Bourbon's name will be
as much honoured in this city as it is now execrated.”
“Heaven grant he may never enter Marseilles as a conqueror!” exclaimed
Marcelline, fervently.
“Be not deceived, Mareelline. He will never retire till he has taken the
city, and it cannot hold out long.”
“You are mistaken,” she cried, energetically. “It will hold out till it
is relieved by the king. But if its fall should be inevitable, it is the
fixed determination of the citizens to burn it to the ground rather than
Bourbon shall possess it, I have vowed to kill myself rather than full
into the hands of his ruthless soldiery.”
“Your fears are groundless, I repeat,” said Pomperant; “but if you have
such apprehensions, why do you not leave the city? The port is open. You
can easily gain the fleet.”
“I have promised Marphise to remain here to the last, and I shall keep
my word,” she rejoined.
“Then I will stay and guard you,” he said. “Oh, Marcelline! let not
these differences separate us. I love you not the less devotedly because
of your loyalty to François de Valois, Do not hate me for my attachment
to Bourbon.”
“But I am bound to regard you as a traitor,” she rejoined.
“Not as a traitor to you,” he replied. “I have never swerved, even in
thought, from my fidelity to you.”
“Talk to me no more of love,” she cried. “I have steeled my breast
against all the softer emotions. But we must separate. Those who are
engaged to demolish this saintly pile are about to commence their task.
Farewell!”
And she quitted the church by a side-door.
A number of priests and friars now entered the fane, and proceeded to
remove all the sacred vessels, reliques, and other objects from the
sacristy and from the various shrines. The great silver crucifix, and
the tall silver candlesticks, were carried away from the altar.
While this was going on, a large band of workmen, armed with pickaxes,
shovels, and bars of iron, had set to work to pull down the monuments
and open the tombs, and the church resounded with the noise of their
implements.
Ere long a great number of ancient coffins were disinterred--some of
stone and some of mouldering wood, and from the former the dead were
taken. Coffins and corpses were then laid upon litters, and taken out
of the church, to be deposited in a more secure spot--the bearers being
headed by a procession of priests and monks.
As soon as they were gone, the church, which had thus been despoiled of
its treasures and its dead, was given up to the destroyer.
The work of demolition immediately commenced, hundreds being employed
in the task, which was superintended by experienced engineers. Gunpowder
was used to accelerate the operations, and before morning the reverend
and beautiful fabric was little better than a heap of ruins, the roof
gone, the pillars in the aisles undermined and thrown down, and the
walls demolished. The most determined enemy could not have done the work
quicker than it was executed by the patriotic citizens, and they ceased
not in their task till the holy pile was razed to the ground. The stones
and beams that had composed it were employed in barricading the streets.
As Pomperant and Hugues were in the church when the work of demolition
commenced, they were compelled to join in it, and they both laboured as
industriously as the rest, till relieved by a fresh party.
When Pomperant escaped from the irksome task imposed upon him by
necessity, he found that a multitude of citizens and soldiers were
employed in pulling down the bishop's palace. Explosion after explosion
shook the house to its foundations, and the walls fell with a tremendous
crash.
The good bishop stood by, watching the destruction of his palace, and
expressed no regret, but encouraged the soldiers and citizens in their
task. But when the entire fabric fell to the ground, his looks expressed
the deepest emotion, and he turned away and quitted the spot.
So complete was the destruction, that it seemed as if it had been caused
by an earthquake. But again the active soldiers were at work, and the
remains of the late noble edifice were expeditiously removed.
Much had been accomplished during that night--more than Pomperant, who
could not tear himself from the scene, supposed possible. A stately
palace, embellished by charming gardens, and a large church had been
utterly destroyed, and a great portion of the wreck of both buildings
carried away, and employed, as we have said, in barricading the streets,
and in the construction of other defensive works.
“If Bourbon should carry yon walls by assault to-day, he will find no
shelter here,” remarked Pomperant to Hugues.
“And the barricades must be taken before he can get into the city,”
rejoined Hugues. “These citizens of Marseilles, it must be owned, are
good workmen.”
IX. LES TRANCHERS DES DAMES.
|Greatly to the surprise of the citizens, who expected a renewal of the
tremendous cannonade which had been carried on during the two previous
days, the firing on the part of the besiegers now ceased. As this
complete cessation of hostilities endured throughout the day, and as
the night passed without disturbance, the general opinion prevailed that
Bourbon, admonished by his recent failure, was about to raise the siege
and retire.
But this opinion was not shared by Renzo da Ceri and the leaders of the
garrison. They felt certain that a new plan of action was about to
be adopted by the besiegers; and the supposition was soon shown to be
correct. It was found that Bourbon was approaching the walls by sap, and
had already made considerable advance before the discovery of his plan
was made. It was now evident that, despairing of making a sufficient
breach with his cannon, he was proceeding to undermine the walls, and
level them with gunpowder.
As soon as Renzo da Ceri discovered the enemy's design, which was
revealed to him during a sortie made with that object, he set to work to
defeat it, and immediately ordered trenches to be cut near the walls,
so as to enable him to prepare counter-mines. These works were at once
commenced, and were carried on with the same zeal and spirit that had
been displayed during the previous operations. But as these trenches and
subterranean galleries were to be of great depth as well as length, and
must be completed within a short space of time, extraordinary exertions
were required. Thousands of active citizens offered their services, and
worked like regular pioneers.
On hearing what was to be done, Marphisc and Marcelline, accompanied
by the corps of Amazons, sought an interview with the commander, who
received them somewhat ungraciously.
“What would you with me?” he said. “This is no time for trifling. I want
men, not women.”
“We can work as well as men,” replied Marphise, boldly. “We ask to be
employed in digging the trenches.”
“I admire your spirit, and thank you for the offer,” said Kenzo; “but
such rough work as this is unfit for your delicate hands.”
“We will show you what women ean do, if you deign to employ us,” urged
Marphise. “Our example will serve to animate the citizens, and will
teach the enemy what they have to expect.”
“Again I say, you overrate your own powers,” rejoined Renzo. “The work
is sueh as would tax the strength of the stoutest pioneer. You will soon
be compelled to abandon it.”
“Have no sueh fear,” cried Marcelline, resolutely. “I speak in the name
of the whole corps. If we commence the work, we will carry it through.
Will we not?” she added, appealing to them.
All the Amazons shouted an affirmative.
“We demand to be employed,” said Marphise, warmly. “We will take no
refusal.”
“Well, since you are resolved, I will not attempt to dissuade you
further,” said Renzo, smiling. “You have my full permission to work at
the trenches.”
This response was received by a loud and ringing shout from the whole
body of the Amazons.
“You will not regret granting us permission, monseigneur,” said
Marcelline. “But we must further stipulate that none but women be
allowed to work at our trench.”
“That is but fair,” replied the commandant. “I unhesitatingly agree to
the condition. The whole honour of the work shall be yours; and if you
achieve it, your names will ever occupy the proudest page in the annals
of your city.”
This speech was received with another shout from the female corps.
“Conduct us to the spot where the trench is to be opened, and we will
begin at once,” said Marphise.
Yielding to the request, Renzo proceeded with the gallant little band
towards the Tour de Saint Paul, where he marked out a spot adjoining the
walls. Experienced pioneers explained to the Amazons the nature of the
work they would have to perform, and supplied them with the necessary
implements. This done they retired, and the resolute damsels having
divested themselves of their helmets and breastplates, immediately set
to work, their operations being watched with great curiosity by the
soldiers stationed on the adjacent tower, and by those on the ramparts.
They pursued their task with an unflagging energy that excited the
admiration of all who beheld them, and in a few hours the trenches were
fairly opened. Marphise and Marcelline were foremost in the work, and as
they came forth from the excavation to rest for a short time from their
toil, and allow others to take their place, they perceived Pomperant
watching them from a distance.
This undertaking caused a great sensation throughout the city, and
before long dames and damsels of all ranks flocked to the trenches, and
zealously assisted in the operations, which were continued night and day
without interruption--one band being immediately relieved by another.
Marphise and Marcelline passed three entire days and as many nights in
the trenches, and during that interval allowed themselves but little
repose.
On the morning of the fourth day the work was complete. A long
subterranean gallery, about five feet square, had been excavated, having
chambers at intervals, carried below the foundation of the walls, in
which powder could be deposited. As Renzo da Ceri examined the work, he
was struck with astonishment.
“I could not have believed this could have been done had I not seen it,”
he exclaimed. “These trenches are marvellously executed. If this
siege is memorable for nothing else, it will be for this unparalleled
achievement. While Marseilles shall endure, these trenches will never be
forgotten.”
Renzo's words have come to pass. The Boulevard des Dames of the modern
city of Marseilles is so designated because it occupies the site of the
famous Ladies' Trenches.
X. HOW POMPERANT FURNISHED A SAFE-CONDUCT TO THE DEPUTIES TO THE KING.
|In less than a week Renzo da Ceri had completed his vast defensive
operations.
In this interval a fosse of great depth had been cut behind that part
of the walls most exposed to the fire of the enemy. Not only was it
intended that this fosse should be filled with powder, petards, and
caltrops, but it was flanked by high ramparts, so that in reality a
second line of fortifications would have to be taken if the outer walls
should be carried. But though Renzo was firmly persuaded he could hold
out, he felt that the king ought to be made acquainted with the exact
condition of the city, so that his majesty might take such measures as
he should deem necessary for its relief.
Intelligence had been received through the fleet that François was at
Avignon with his army, but the difficulty was how to communicate with
him. At last the commander bethought him of Pierre Cépède and Jean
Bègue, two citizens distinguished for their courage and loyalty, and
proposed the errand to them, and they at once agreed to undertake it.
“I thank you, messieurs, for your ready compliance with my request,”
said Renzo. “If you should be taken, I do not think any harm will befal
you. I can compel Bourbon to set you free. You look surprised, but
I will explain my meaning. Last night I made a prisoner of great
importance. The Seigneur Pomperant, Bourbon's favourite, has had the
foolhardiness to venture within the city, and I should have ordered him
for immediate execution, had not the idea occurred to me that I could
turn him to account. What ho, there!” he added to the guard. “Bring in
the prisoners.”
Presently Pomperant and Hugues were brought in, guarded by halberdiers.
Both maintained an undaunted demeanour.
“Seigneur Pomperant,” said Renzo, sternly, “I know you are Bourbon's
chief favourite, and that he will gladly purchase your safety. I shall
therefore keep you as a hostage for these two gentlemen, who are going
as deputies to the king. You must furnish them with a safe-conduct.”
“Even if I were inclined to do so, monseigneur, I lack the power,”
rejoined Pomperant.
“I will show you how to do it,” said Renzo. “Sit down at that table, and
write a letter to Charles de Bourbon, telling him you are my prisoner,
and that you have engaged to protect Pierre Cépède and Jean Bègue from
all harm and interruption. Add, that if they return to Marseilles in
safety, I will set you free, but if they are detained or molested, I
will hang you in the sight of the whole Imperial army.”
“If I write as you desire, the Duke de Bourbon will not respect my
letter,” said Pomperant. “But if you carry out your threat, I warn you
that terrible retribution will follow.”
“I will take my chance of that,” rejoined Renzo. “If you are wise, you
will save yourself from an ignominious death. Refuse to write as I have
dictated, and I will forthwith hang you as a spy.”
“Methinks you had better agree to these conditions, monseigneur,” said
Hugues. “If you decline, they will doubtless hang me at the same time.”
“You judge rightly, fellow,” remarked Renzo. “You will share the same
fate as your master.”
“Then, in Heaven's name, comply, monseigneur,” implored Hugues.
Pomperant sat down and wrote the required letter. When he had done
so, he gave it to Renzo, who, after scanning it, delivered it to the
deputies.
“There is your safe-conduct, messieurs,” he said. “You will start on
your expedition to-night.”
Then, turning to Pomperant, he added, “Fear not that I will act loyally
towards you, Seigneur Pomperant. You have been condemned to death as a
traitor by the Parliament of Paris, but I shall not regard the decree.
I look upon you only as a prisoner of war. On the return of these
gentlemen, I will liberate you and your attendant. Meantime, you will
both remain close prisoners.”
Pomperant and Hugues were then removed by the guard, and were conducted
to the tower of Saint Paul, where they were locked up in separate
dungeons.
XI. HOW TOULON WAS BESIEGED AND TAKEN BY THE MARQUIS DEL VASTO.
|More powder and larger cannon must be had, or a sufficiently wide
breach in the walls cannot be made,” remarked Peseara to Bourbon,
as they sat together in the tent of the latter. “But where are these
requisites to be procured?”
“In Toulon. In that fortress there are plenty of cannon of far larger
calibre than ours, together with abundance of powder and ball.”
“But Toulon has yet to be taken. That may be a work of some time, since
the fortress is strong.”
“The siege ought not to occupy more than a week,” rejoined Bourbon. “I
shall send your valiant nephew, the Marquis del Vasto, to besiege the
place by land. He will be supported by Monçada, who is lying off the
coast, as you know, and no interference is to be apprehended from the
French fleet, as La Fayette and Andrea Doria are fully occupied in
guarding the port of Marseilles. The capture of Toulon may therefore be
regarded as certain.”
“The plan appears practicable,” said Peseara, after some reflection;
“and since you are resolved upon it, the sooner it is executed the
better. Del Vasto will like the enterprise.”
“I am sure of it,” replied Bourbon. “I will ride down at once to his
camp and give him instructions. It is but a day's march to Toulon, and
he will appear before the fortress ere any tidings can be given of his
approach.”
As had been anticipated, the gallant young marquis received the command
with delight, and at once prepared for the expedition.
Taking with him a large detachment of the Spanish forces, he marched
throughout the night, and appeared at dawn on the crest of the hills
overlooking Toulon. At the same time, the Spanish fleet under Admiral
Mon-çada, who had received instructions from Bourbon, entered the
roadstead, and took up a position opposite the fortress, which
immediately opened fire upon the enemy.
At this epoch the Castle of Toulon was a place of great strength,
and its ramparts mounted a considerable number of guns of large
size. Notwithstanding this, the combined attack by land and sea was
successful, and on the fourth day from the commencement of the siege,
Del Vasto became master of the fortress. Irritated by the obstinate
defence he had encountered, and the heavy losses he had sustained, the
young Spanish general put the garrison to the sword.
All the large cannon found within the fort, together with an immense
stock of the munitions of war, were placed on board the fleet, and,
after being safely landed, were conveyed to the Imperial camp; thus
providing Bourbon with abundant materials for prosecuting the siege
of Marseilles with vigour. As may be supposed, Del Vasto received high
commendations from the duke for his brilliant achievement.
Meanwhile, despatches from his royal allies had reached Bourbon. The
Emperor informed him, by a letter brought by the Comte de Montfort, that
the army of Catalonia would speedily enter France.
“Tell the Emperor,” said Bourbon, well pleased by the intelligence,
“that I hope to send him in a few days the good news of the fall of
Marseilles. In anticipation of that event, entreat him to hasten as much
as possible the march of the auxiliary army, and entreat him also to
Strengthen his fleet, which is inferior to that commanded by La Fayette
and Andrea Doria. Things could not go better than they do at present. I
shall soon be in a condition to give battle to François de Valois--and
if I win it--and by Sainte Barbe I _shall_ win it!--his Imperial Majesty
will be the greatest monarch that ever reigned, and able to give law to
all Christendom.”
Charged with this message, the Comte de Montfort departed.
From Henry VIII. Bourbon received the sum of a hundred thousand ducats,
which was brought by Sir John Russell.
“Tell your royal master,” he said to Russell, “that the time has now
arrived when it will be needful to march his army into Picardy. Fifteen
days hence, at the latest, I trust to be joined by the auxiliary forces
about to be despatched by the Emperor from Catalonia. By that time
Marseilles will have fallen.”
“Your highness feels sure of that?” remarked the English envoy, with an
incredulous smile.
“I am certain of it,” said Bourbon, confidently. “The besieged have made
a gallant defence, but they cannot hold out much longer. My approaches
are now within a few toises of the moat. I have plenty of cannon of the
largest calibre, which will soon make a breach in the walls.”
“But I am told by Pescara that there is an inner fosse of great depth,
filled with combustibles, and a second line of ramparts with cannon
mounted on the embrasures,” remarked Sir John Russell.
“No matter,” rejoined Bourbon. “I will take the city in spite of its
defences, and, having done so, I shall withdraw to Aix, where I shall
await the arrival of the Catalonian army. On being joined by it, I shall
at once march to Avignon, and compel François to give me battle. If I am
victorious, your royal master will be King of France.”
“It will rejoice his majesty and the Lord Cardinal to learn that your
highness is so confident of success,” replied Russell. “I now take my
leave, and shall return at once to England.”
Sir John Russell had not long been gone, when a great noise was heard
outside the tent, and, surprised at the disturbance, Bourbon rushed out
to ascertain the cause of it.
“What means this noise?” he demanded of several arquebusiers, who were
standing around, and whose countenances manifested alarm. “Is the enemy
upon us?”
“Worse than that, general,” replied one of the men. “A great shot from
the accursed 'Basilisk' has just fallen upon the Marquis of Pescara's
tent,” pointing in that direction. “Your highness may see the rent it
has made.”
“Great Heavens!” ejaculated Bourbon. “But the marquis!--is he safe?”
“Alas, general, I much fear he is killed,” replied the arquebusier. “He
was at mass at the time with his confessor, Padre Hilario.”
Bourbon heard no more, but flew to the tent. On entering it, a terrible
spectacle met his gaze. On the ground lay the mangled body of Padre
Hilario, and near the unfortunate priest lay two Spanish officers, one
of whom had been beheaded by the huge shot. Pescara was standing near
the ghastly group, so bespattered with blood that Bourbon fancied he
must be grievously wounded. A strange laugh, however, from the Spanish
general convinced him to the contrary.
“I have had a very narrow escape,” said Pescara. “If I had not knelt
on this side of poor Padre Hilario, I should have shared his fate. The
besieged have learned to take better aim with 'The Basilisk' than they
did at first. Your highness sees what messengers they send us,” he
added, in a tone of bitter raillery. “I suppose you thought the shouts
were caused by the timorous magistrates of Marseilles bringing you the
keys of the city--ha! ha!”
Bourbon made no reply to this ill-timed jest, but instantly quitted the
tent.
Next day, the Marquis del Vasto was sent to propose terms of surrender
to the garrison. He was accompanied by twenty lances, and preceded by
a herald and a trumpeter, and the errand of this little troup being
evidently pacific, it was allowed to approach the Porte d'Aix without
molestation.
On arriving before the gate, the trumpeter thrice sounded his clarion,
and when the bruit ceased, an officer from the battlements, addressing
the herald, demanded his business.
“The most noble Marquis del Vasto desires an audience of the commanders
of the garrison, to lay before them a proposition from his Highness the
Duke de Bourbon, general-in-chief of the Imperial army.”
“Tarry till I ascertain the pleasure of the commanders,” rejoined the
officer.
After a time the officer reappeared on the battlements, and announced
that the Marquis del Vasto could alone be admitted.
“His lordship may enter without fear,” said the officer. “I am
authorised by the commanders of the garrison to guarantee his safety.”
On this the drawbridge was lowered, and the gate being thrown open, a
strong guard of halberdiers issued forth, and lined the bridge.
Del Vasto then dismounted, and, crossing the bridge, was met at the gate
by the officer, who conducted him to a chamber on the basement floor of
the tower, ordinarily used as a guard-room. Here he found two knightly
personages, both completely cased in steel, whom he recognised as the
commanders of the garrison.
“I am sent to you, messeigneurs,” said Del Vasto, after formal
salutations had passed, “to make a proposition which I trust may be
entertained. Conceiving himself to be in a position to take this city,
which you have so long and so ably defended, his Highness the Duke de
Bourbon, influenced by feelings of humanity, before making the assault,
has determined to afford you the opportunity of capitulating on terms,
consistent with your own honour, and highly advantageous to the city.”
“It is needless to state the terms, my lord marquis,” replied Chabot de
Brion, haughtily. “We cannot listen to them.”
“Do not reject the proposal unheard, messeigneurs,” said Del Vasto.
“Have some consideration for the citizens.”
“You have taught us what to expect, marquis, by your treatment of the
garrison of Toulon,” rejoined Renzo, sternly. “But we are not to be
terrified. Tell your leader, Charles de Bourbon to take Marseilles--if
he can. We will only treat with him at the cannon's mouth.”
“You will have reason to repent your bold determination, messeigneurs,”
rejoined Del Vasto. “Before departing, I would say a word in regard to
the Seigneur Pomperant, who has fallen into your hands. Are you willing
to make an exchange of prisoners? You shall have a dozen of your own
officers for him.”
“Offer us twenty, and add twenty to those, and we will not part with
him,” rejoined Renzo. “Tell Bourbon so.”
With a proud salutation Del Vasto then departed. Conducted to the gate
by the officer, he passed through the guard lining the drawbridge,
mounted his charger, and rode back to the camp, where he related what
had occurred to Bourbon and Pescara.
“I felt sure the garrison would not capitulate,” said the latter.
“What of Pomperant?” demanded Bourbon, eagerly. “Will they exchange
him?”
“No, your highness, they absolutely refuse,” replied Del Vasto. “But I
do not imagine he is in any danger. They have some motive for detaining
him.”
“Possibly,” said Bourbon. “We shall learn what it is in time.”
XII. AVIGNON.
|Roused to exertion by the danger that menaced his kingdom, François
I. hastened to reinforce his army, which had been greatly reduced by
Bonnivet's reverses in the Milanese, and in a few weeks after Bourbon's
irruption into Provence, he had succeeded in augmenting it by fourteen
thousand Swiss mercenaries, six thousand lansquenets, and fifteen
hundred light horse.
Placing himself at the head of this force, he marched to Lyons, where
he was joined by the King of Navarre and several foreign princes. Almost
all the nobles, on whose aid Bourbon had counted, flocked round the
king's standard, bringing with them large companies of horse, so that
he had now a very numerous army--the three divisions which were placed
under the command of Marshals Chabannes, Foix, and Montmorency.
Continuing his march along the left bank of the Rhone, François pitched
his camp at Avignon, and again surrendered himself to pleasure, passing
his time in such festivities as he was wont to indulge in at Blois
and Fontainebleau. In the old Papal palace of Avignon--an enormous
structure, part convent and part castle--he held his court, and its
gloomy halls and chambers were enlivened by the presence of troops of
young nobles decked out in gay attire, and echoed to the light laugh of
the numerous frolic dames who ever accompanied the luxurious monarch.
Bonnivet was with his royal master at Avignon. In spite of the
favourite's reverses in the Milanese, he had lost none of his influence,
and easily persuaded the king that it was necessary to his glory to
recover possession of the lost duchy of Milan, and that if he appeared
at the head of an army in Italy, this object would infallibly be
accomplished. François therefore determined upon a new expedition as
soon as he should have driven Bourbon out of Provence.
Subjugated by the charms of the resistless Diane de Poitiers, who had
now completely supplanted the Comtesse de Chateaubriand, unable to tear
himself from her, encouraged in his luxurious idleness by Bonnivet,
Saint-Marsault, and others of his courtiers, the king wasted his time
in the pleasant city of Avignon, dreaming of conquests which he meant
to achieve, and allowing Bourbon to prosecute the siege of Marseilles
unmolested.
Attended by a mirthful train, Diane and the king made a pilgrimage to
Vaucluse, and, after quaffing of the classic fountain, François carved
the name of his mistress, linked with his own, on the walls of the
grotto.
One day it chanced that François and Diane were stationed on the
balcony over the gate of the Papal palace--an elevated spot whence
the sovereign-pontiffs who had inhabited the palace were accustomed to
pronounce their benediction upon the people, as they would have done
from the windows of the Vatican had Rome been free to them. Chance had
brought the amorous pair to the balcony. For the last hour they had been
strolling round the lofty walls of the palace. Vainly had Diane essayed
to count the spires that rose around her--nowhere are there so many
churches as in Avignon--and as if to confuse her still further, their
bells all rang out at once. Half distracted by the deafening clamour,
she turned to the towering cathedral, where Popes were enthroned, and
where Popes lie buried. From the contemplation of Notre-Dame des Dons,
as the mighty edifice is designated, she turned to gaze upon the camp,
which occupied the whole of the plain lying between the junction of the
rapid Durance and the rushing Rhone. The long rows of tents, mingled
with pavilions decorated with pennons and banners, formed a picture of
surpassing beauty.
By this time the bells had ceased ringing, and François was able to
resume the tender converse which the clamour had interrupted.
Thus beguiling the time, now gazing at one point of the ancient
city, now at another; sometimes looking at the cathedral, at the
fortifications, at the vast tract of country traversed by the Rhone,
at the mountains, or at the camp, they found themselves in the balcony
overlooking the gateway. Here, seated on a marble bench, which had been
once used by the Popes, they continued their discourse, while the young
nobles and dames in attendance ranged themselves behind them.
The balcony where the king and Diane sat commanded a wide open space in
front of the gateway, which was defended by a dry moat and drawbridge.
Perceiving two horsemen, escorted by an officer and half a dozen mounted
men-at-arms, approach the gateway, and being struck by their appearance,
François despatched Bonnivet, who was standing among the group of
courtiers, to make inquiries concerning them.
After the lapse of a few minutes Bonnivet reappeared, accompanied by the
two strangers, both of whom were men of middle age, grave deportment,
and plain attire, and presented them to the king as Messieurs Pierre
Cépède and Jean Bègue, deputies from Marseilles.
“I have not waited for permission to bring these brave and loyal
citizens before your majesty,” said Bonnivet, “because I felt certain
you would grant them an immediate audience.”
“You did right,” rejoined François. “Rise, messieurs,” he added to the
kneeling deputies. “You are welcome. You must have run great risk in
coming hither. How did you contrive to elude the vigilance of the foe?”
“Heaven has aided us, sire,” replied Pierre Cépède. “All the approaches
to the city, on the land side, are so strictly guarded, that certain
destruction would have attended any attempt at exit in that direction.
We were, therefore, compelled to pass out at the port; and not without
much difficulty and danger reached the mouth of the Rhône. We came up
the river to Arles, and thence, with as little delay as possible, to
this city.”
“You have done well,” replied François, approvingly. “What tidings do
you bring me of my faithful city of Marseilles?”
“The city still holds out, sire,” said Pierre Cépède; “and its defences
have been so greatly strengthened, that no uneasiness whatever was
felt by the commanders until the enemy obtained possession of the heavy
artillery from Toulon.”
“Ha!” exclaimed François, surprised and angry. “How is this? I did not
know that Toulon had fallen.”
“The news only arrived this morning, sire,” interposed Bonnivet. “I was
unwilling to trouble your majesty by mentioning it.”
“It should not have been kept from me for a single moment,” cried the
king, sharply. “By Saint Denis! this is a great disaster. Where was
my fleet at the time? How came La Fayette and Doria to let Toulon be
taken?”
“Sire, they could not leave the port of Marseilles,” returned Jean
Bègue. “The fall of Toulon is a heavy blow, but the fall of Marseilles
would be still heavier. Listen to the prayers of the citizens, sire, and
come to their relief. You do not know what exertions they have made for
the defence of the city--what heroism they have displayed. No sacrifices
have been too great. Our noblest and fairest dames have formed
themselves into bands, and have worked at the trenches like pioneers.
Oh, madame!” he continued, addressing Diane, “if you could only behold
what they have done, you would be filled with admiration. For three days
and three nights they laboured incessantly. We are proud of our women,
madame.”
“And with good reason,” rejoined Diane. “Oh, sire! you must fly to
the rescue of this devoted city. You will ever reproach yourself if it
should fall.”
Both the deputies looked gratefully at her as these words were uttered.
“Is there immediate danger, messieurs?” demanded the king.
“No, sire,” replied Pierre Cépède. “We have endeavoured to explain
to your majesty the exact condition of the city. Its defences are as
complete as they can be made. We have brave and experienced commanders,
and our citizens are animated by loyalty and devotion. But we have
an enemy opposed to us, skilful, daring, and confident of success. If
Marseilles _can_ be taken, Charles de Bourbon will take it.”
“It never shall be taken,” cried François. “Return to your
fellow-citizens, messieurs. Tell them how highly I estimate their
courage and loyalty. Say that I will forthwith send them from Martigues
a reinforcement of fifteen hundred men-at-arms, with good store of wine,
cattle, and provender. Bid them persevere in their valiant defence
of the city. They may rest assured that I will come to their succour.
Farewell, messieurs! In good time I will adequately requite the
important service you have rendered me.”
Well satisfied with these assurances, the deputies withdrew.
Next day, the king marched with his whole army towards Aix. On learning
that he was approaching, the viguier and the magistrates, dreading his
resentment, rode forth from the city to meet him, and strove to excuse
themselves for the welcome they had given to Bourbon. François fiercely
interrupted them, calling out, “Ha, knaves! ha, traitors! You have
opened your fates to a rebel in arms against us and our kingdom.
You received him with all honour, allowed him to usurp the title of
Comte de Provence, which belongs to us, and took the oath of fidelity
to him, in violation of your allegiance to us your lawful sovereign. You
deserve death, and you shall die.”
“Spare us, sire! spare us!” cried the viguier and the others, throwing
themselves at his feet. “We now see the enormity of our offence.”
“Repentance comes too late. I will have no pity upon you, vile
traitors,” rejoined the king, sternly. “From your fate your misguided
fellow-citizens shall learn what it is to incur our displeasure. Away
with them!” he added to the guard. “Let them be taken baek to the city,
and decapitated in the place in front of the Cathedral of Saint Sauveur.
Set their heads on the gates, so that all may see how treason is
punished.”
This severe sentence was carried into effect. As the king entered Aix,
he looked up at the gates, and beheld the heads of the unfortunate
viguier and his brother-magistrates.
Not content with punishing the chief offenders, François compelled all
the principal citizens and all public officers to renew their oaths
of allegiance to him, and imprisoned several who were proved to have
displayed zeal for the rebel chief.
Diane de Poitiers accompanied the king to Aix, and it was arranged that
she should occupy the old palace of René d'Anjou, while her royal lover
moved on to succour Marseilles.
XIII. HOW POMPERANT WAS ORDERED FOR, EXECUTION.
|Ever sinee the departure of the two deputies to Avignon, Pomperant had
been kept in strict confinement in the Tour de Saint Paul. One morning
the door of his dungeon was opened by an officer, whose sombre looks
proclaimed his errand.
“You are come to bid me prepare for death, I perceive, captain,” said
Pomperant, with as much composure as he could command.
“You have guessed rightly, monseigneur,” replied the officer. “The two
deputies have been captured, and unless they are liberated before noon
you will be executed. A message has been sent to that effect to the Duke
de Bourbon.”
“At least the commanders will let me die as becomes a gentleman--not as
a common malefactor?” said Pom-perant.
“I cannot give you that consolation, monseigneur,” rejoined the officer.
“You are to be hanged from the summit of this tower in face of the
hostile army. The execution will take place precisely at noon. You have
yet an hour to live.”
“An hour! Is that all?” mentally ejaculated Pom-perant.
“Send a priest to me, I pray you, captain,” he said, with forced
calmness. “I would fain make my peace with Heaven.”
The officer then withdrew, and shortly afterwards a priest entered, who
received the prisoner's confession, and gave him absolution.
“I will leave you now, my son,” said the holy man, “but I shall remain
without, and will attend you at the last.”
Pomperant had not been long alone, when the door of the cell again
opened, and gave admittance to Marcelline. A sad greeting passed between
them.
“I have striven to save you,” she said, in a voice half suffocated by
emotion. “I have been to Renzo da Ceri, and have implored him, on my
bended knees, to spare your life--but in vain. He will not even grant
you the respite of an hour. All I could obtain was permission to hold
this brief interview with you.”
“I thank him for the grace--it is more than I expected,” replied
Pomperant, gazing at her with the deepest affection. “Oh! Marcelline,
you have made life so dear to me that I grieve to lose it. But the
thought that you love me will soothe the pangs of death.”
“It may console you to be assured that I will wed no other,” she
rejoined. “I will be true to your memory--doubt it not. As soon as this
siege is ended, I will enter a convent, and devote myself to Heaven.”
At this moment the priest entered the cell.
“Daughter,” said the good man, looking compassionately at her, “you must
bid your lover an eternal farewell.”
“Oh no, no--do not say so, father!” she rejoined. “Grant me a few more
minutes.”
“Alas, daughter, I have no power to comply with your request.”
“Nay, you must go, dear Mareelline,” said Pomperant. “Your presence will
only unman me. Farewell for ever!”
Mareelline continued gazing passionately at her lover, while the priest
drew her gently from the well.
Overcome by emotion, Pomperant sank down on a seat, and he had scarcely
regained his firmness, when the door of the cell was thrown suddenly
open. Nothing doubting that it was the guard eome to conduct him to
execution, he arose and prepared for departure.
What was his surprise, when Mareelline, half frenzied with joy, again
burst into the dungeon, exclaiming, “Saved! saved! They are come!”
The sudden revulsion of feeling was almost too much for Pomperant, and
he could searcely sustain Marcelline as she flung herself into his arms.
“Is this a dream?” he said, gazing at her, as if doubting the evidence
of his senses. “Methought we had parted for ever.”
“No, I have come to tell you you are saved,” she rejoined. “The deputies
have returned. You are free!”
As the words were uttered, Renzo da Ceri, accompanied by the two
deputies, and followed by the officer, entered the cell.
“I have eome to perform my promise, Seigneur Pomperant,” said Renzo.
“These gentlemen having been released, you are free to return to your
camp. You may congratulate yourself on your escape. A few minutes
more and it would have been too late. The escort that brought the two
deputies from the camp galloped all the way, and has only just reached
the gates.”
“We also have reason to congratulate ourselves,” remarked Pierre Cépède.
“Had we arrived too late, we should have been taken back for instant
execution.”
“Conduct the Seigneur Pomperant to the Porte d'Aix, where the escort
awaits him,” said Renzo to the officer. “Let his attendant go with him.”
“The orders shall be obeyed,” said the officer.
Bidding a tender adieu to Marcelline, and expressing a fervent nope
that they might meet again, Pomperant thanked the commander for his
honourable conduct, and quitted the cell with the officer.
On issuing from the tower, he found Hugues standing in the midst of a
guard of halberdiers, and the faithful fellow expressed the liveliest
satisfaction at beholding him. But not a moment was allowed for
explanation. They were hurried to the gate through a crowd of soldiers
and armed citizens.
On the farther side of the drawbridge, which was strongly guarded, stood
the escort. Joining it without delay, they mounted the steeds provided
for them, and the whole party then galloped off to the camp.
XVI. THE MINE.
|Within an hour after Pomperant's return to the camp, all the batteries
on which the heavy cannon brought from Toulon had been mounted, opened
fire upon that part of the ramparts where the breach had formerly been
made. By nightfall a wide gap was made, and the cannonade then ceased.
At the same time the sappers, who had carried their works under the
fosse after incredible toil, had reached the foundations of the walls.
Before midnight the chamber of the mine was completed, and the barrels
of gunpowder deposited within it; and Lurcy, who had been entrusted with
the superintendence of this dangerous operation, brought word to Bourbon
that all was ready.
“Let the mine be sprung, then,” replied Bourbon. “It will save some
hours' work in the morning.”
On returning to execute this order, Lurcy was accompanied by Pomperant.
After tracking the windings of the long gallery, which was lighted by
torches fixed at various points, and crowded by soldiers, they at length
reached the chamber of the mine. Having seen that all the arrangements
were carefully made, and that the casks of powder were so placed that
they could be simultaneously exploded, they were about to retire, when
the stroke of a pickaxe was heard on one side of the excavation. They
listened intently, and the sound was again plainly distinguished.
“The enemy are making a counter-mine,” said one of the sappers who was
with them. “They are close upon us.”
As he spoke, the strokes grew quicker and louder.
“They are working hard,” remarked another sapper, with a grim smile.
“But we shall soon check them.”
While this took place, a third sapper, who had been engaged in laying a
train of powder communicating with the barrels, got up and said to Lurcy
and Pomperant, “Retire, I pray you, messeigneurs. The train shall be
fired as soon as you are out of danger.”
On this intimation, Lurcy and Pomperant hastily retreated to the first
epaulment, which was placed on the outer side of the moat, and in which
they could take refuge during the explosion. All the sappers accompanied
them, except one man, whose business it was to fire the train.
On reaching the mouth of the epaulment, Lurcy called out to the man who
was left behind--“Fire!”
On this the sapper knelt down and applied a lighted tow-match to the
long train of powder. Both Lurcy and Pomperant watched the proceeding
from the entrance of their place of refuge. In an instant the fiery
line started on its terrible errand, and the sapper hurried off to the
shelter of the epaulment.
Just at this moment, however, and while Pomperant was still watching
the course of the burning train, he was startled by an unexpected
occurrence. The whole of the wall of earth at the end of the chamber of
the mine suddenly gave way, disclosing those who were engaged in making
the counter-mine.
What was Pomperant's horror on discovering that the foremost of the
party were no other than Marphise and Marcelline! Torches held by the
Amazons in the rear fully revealed them to view. There they stood,
pickaxe in hand, preparing to leap over the mass of earth into the
chamber.
Horrified at the sight, Pomperant would have rushed towards them had he
not been forcibly held back by Lurcy. The two Amazons seemed paralysed
by terror, and unable to retreat.
“Back, on your lives!” shouted Pomperant, in extremity of anguish.
A giddiness seized him, and, unable to offer any further resistance, he
was dragged into the epaulment by Lurcy.
At this moment the explosion took place with a terrific sound, and a
shock like that of an earthquake. From the noises that succeeded, it was
evident that a large portion of the wall, under which the mine had been
laid, was overthrown.
In another minute all these appalling sounds ceased, and a silence like
that of death succeeded.
Lurcy and Pomperant, with the sappers, rushed out of the epaulment.
But they could not proceed many paces. The torch held by one of the men
flashed on a terrible scene, and revealed the work of destruction. The
farther end of the passage beneath the moat was blocked up with huge
stones and rubbish, and rents having been made in the sides, the water
from the moat was pouring in, the place being already half flooded.
“I have lost her!” exclaimed Pomperant, in accents of despair. “They
must all have perished in that terrible explosion. Why did you not let
me extinguish the train?”
“Had you made the attempt, you would only have thrown away your own
life,” rejoined Lurcy. “But come away. You can do no good here.”
“I will not go till I have ascertained what has become of her,” cried
Pomperant.
“Give yourself no further trouble, monseigneur,” remarked the sapper
who had fired the mine. “Not one of those brave young women can have
escaped. They are all crushed beneath those stones.”
“I would I had perished with her!” ejaculated Pomperant. And he reeled
back, half fainting, against the side of the gallery.
Giving some hasty directions to the men, Lurcy took the arm of his
friend, and led him away from the scene of destruction.
As they threaded the winding passages, their progress was impeded by
parties of soldiers who were hastening from the place of arms to the
farther end of the mine; but at last they issued forth into the open
air.
As soon as Pomperant reached his tent, he threw himself on a couch in
a state of complete exhaustion, while Lurcy hastened to inform Bourbon
that the mine had been sprung.
XV. HOW THE SIEGE OF MARSEILLES WAS RAISED.
|NEXT morning, at an early hour, Del Vasto entered Pescara's tent, and
found his redoubted relative alone and fully armed.
“What commands have you for me?” said the younger general. “Of course
the assault will be made to-day. What with the long cannonade and the
damage done by the mine, the breach must be wide enough.”
“Ay, the breach is wide enough, undoubtedly,” rejoined Pescara; “but the
besieged are too well prepared. I shall not counsel the assault.”
“You are not wont to be so cautious,” said Del Vasto, surprised.
“Doubtless a large number of men will be sacrificed. But what of that?
The city will be taken.”
“No, my good nephew,” rejoined Pescara. “I find I must speak more
plainly. Bourbon shall never take Marseilles.”
“But you cannot prevent him. He will lead the assault, and we must
follow.”
“I forbid you,” rejoined Pescara, authoritatively. “Listen to me,
nephew. You know the full extent of Bourbon's ambitious designs, and
that he hopes to carve a kingdom for himself out of France. You know
that he aspires to the hand of the Emperor's sister Leonor, the widowed
Queen of Portugal. Lannoy and I have resolved to thwart his plans, We do
not mean to be supplanted by this proscribed prince. With this end,
Lannoy has delayed the march of the Catalonian array, and I shall
prevent the capture of Marseilles. If Bourbon is compelled to raise the
siege, he will forfeit the Emperor's favour, and will also lose credit
with his other royal ally, King Henry VIII.”
“Why not let the assault be made?” said Del Vasto. “Bourbon may fall,
and then all the glory will be yours.”
“But what if he should _not_ fall?” rejoined Pescara. “What if
the assault should prove resistless and he should become master of
Marseilles? Then his power would be confirmed, and it would be idle to
oppose him. That must not be. I will snatch the prize from him at the
very moment he deems he has secured it. But do not remain longer here.
Get your men ready, and leave the rest to me.”
Upon this, Del Vasto quitted the tent.
Meantime, orders having been issued that the assault would be made on
that day, all the troops were got under arms.
Attended by Pomperant, Lurcy, and others of his suite, Bourbon rode
along the lines, and addressed a few words to the men calculated to
incite their courage. Much to his surprise, however, and vexation, these
addresses were sullenly received, and in some cases responded to by
murmurs.
“What can it mean?” remarked Bourbon to his attendants, as, having
completed the inspection, he rode back towards his tent. “Officers and
men seem unwilling to fight. Did I not know them better--had not their
courage been proved in many a conflict--I should think they were alarmed
at the task before them.”
“They have heard too much of the reception they are likely to meet
with,” replied Lurcy. “They have seen how it has fared with hundreds of
their comrades who have gone before them, and fear to share their fate.
Besides? they have been discouraged.”
“Discouraged!” exclaimed Bourbon, fiercely. “By whom?”
“By their leaders,” rejoined Lurcy. “Pescara has said openly that the
city cannot be taken, and that the assault, when made, will fail. This
opinion delivered to the officers, has been repeated to the men, and
has produced the effect which your highness has just observed. The whole
army is discouraged.”
“By Sainte Barbe! I will speedily rouse its spirit,” cried Bourbon. “I
have long distrusted Pescara. He has thwarted me secretly at every turn,
but I have hitherto defeated his machinations, and I shall defeat them
now. But for him, I should have taken the city when the first breach was
made in the walls; and I have ever since reproached myself for yielding
to his perfidious counsel. The garrison is now far better prepared for
resistance than it was then.”
“Pescara's opinion may proceed from jealousy, but I confess I share it,”
said Pomperant. “If your highness had carefully examined the defences
of the city as I have done--if you had witnessed the spirit displayed by
the soldiers and by the people, and which presents a. strong contrast to
the sullenness and want of zeal of our own men, you would have come to
the conclusion that Marseilles cannot be taken.”
“Be the result what it may, the assault shall now be made,” rejoined
Bourbon. “By Sainte Barbe! I long for the moment of attack, when, amidst
the roar of cannon and the rattle of arquebuses, we shall force our way
through the breach, and hew down all who oppose us.”
“You will then have a second ditch to cross, full of powder and
combustibles,” said Pomperant, “and another rampart, bristling with
cannon, to scale.”
“Were there a third ditch and a third rampart, they would not daunt me,”
cried Bourbon. “With this good blade, which has never yet failed me, I
will cut a passage through the foe. Where I go, the men must follow.”
“That is all I fear,” said Lurcy. “I have no faith in these treacherous
Spaniards.”
“They cannot, dare not fall back now!” cried Bourbon.
“I hope not,” replied Lurcy. But his looks belied his words.
On entering his tent with his suite, Bourbon found his confessor
awaiting him, and the whole party knelt down reverently and performed
their devotions. After partaking of a hasty meal, they donned their
plumed casques, and buckling on their swords, issued forth, and mounted
their steeds. By this time, the whole side of the hill, down which
Bourbon now rode with his attendants, was covered with troops.
Glancing towards the city, Bourbon saw that ramparts, bastions, and
towers were crowded with armed men. Extraordinary efforts had been made
by the indefatigable Renzo da Ceri to repair the damage done by the
cannonade and by the mine, but the breach was too considerable to be
filled up in the short time allowed for the task. The gap, however, was
occupied by a living wall of pikemen.
“Your highness sees that the garrison are in good heart,” remarked
Pomperant. “They will assuredly make an obstinate defence.”
“You overrate their courage,” rejoined Bourbon. “Our attack will strike
terror into them. You will keep near me, Pomperant.”
“Doubt it not, monseigneur,” replied the other. “I care not if I perish
in the breach. She I loved lies buried there.”
At this moment Bourbon came to a halt, and shortly afterwards the
Marquis del Vasto, accompanied by the Counts de Hohenzollern and De
Lodron, with the principal leaders of the army, joined him. All these
martial personages were fully accoutred and well mounted, and made a
gallant show. But there was something in their looks and manner that
convinced Bourbon and those with him that they were disinclined to the
attack. However, he made no remark, but, saluting them with his wonted
cordiality, said to Del Vasto, “Where is the Marquis of Pescara? I wish
to consult with him before ordering the assault.”
“He will be here anon,” replied the young general. “He has ridden down
to examine the breach more nearly.”
“Close inspection is not required to ascertain its width,” cried
Bourbon, impatiently. “I shall not wait for his return. To your posts,
messeigneurs!--to your posts!”
But, to his surprise and vexation, none of them stirred.
“Do you not hear me?” he exclaimed. “To your posts, I say!”
“A few minutes' delay can matter little, highness,” remarked the Count
de Hohenzollern. “We wish to hear Pescara's report. He may have some
suggestions to offer.”
“I can listen to no suggestions now,” said Bourbon, imperiously. “My
plans are fixed.”
“Perhaps your highness has not been informed that the garrison has just
been reinforced by fifteen hundred lansquenets and three hundred horse
sent by the king,” remarked De Lodron.
“I care not for the reinforcements,” rejoined Bourbon. “Were the
garrison doubled I would not delay the assault. What means this
hesitation, messeigneurs? Away with you!”
“Highness,” said De Hohenzollern, respectfully, “I pray you pardon our
seeming disobedience but it is necessary we should hear what the Marquis
of Pescara to say.”
“Well, be it as you will,” said Bourbon, with difficulty restraining his
anger.,
“Here he comes!” cried Del Vasto, as Pescara galloped towards them,
attended by a score of mail-clad knights.
“So, you are come at last, marquis,” said Bourbon, as Pescara rode up.
“You have kept us waiting long. What discovery have you made?”
“I have seen enough to satisfy me of the inutility of the attack,”
rejoined the other. “These citizens of Marseilles have spread a
well-covered table for our reception. Those who desire to sup in
Paradise may go there. I shall not.”
“A truce to this ill-timed jesting, my lord,” said Bourbon, sternly. “Be
serious for a moment, if you can, and let us arrange the attack.”
“I have had enough of this siege,” rejoined Pescara, “and shall return
at once to Italy, which is stripped of soldiers, and threatened by the
King of France.”
“If you withdraw now, my lord, it will be in express defiance of my
commands,” said Bourbon. “You will answer to the Emperor for your
conduct.”
“His Imperial Majesty knows me too well to suppose that I would
turn back from danger,” replied Pescara. “But I will not attempt
impossibilities. I am not alone in my opinion. Put the question to the
other generals. How say you, messeigneurs?” he added to them. “Ought the
assault to be made?”
“We are all against it,” said Del Vasto, speaking for the others, who
bowed assent.
“You are all in league to thwart me,” cried Bourbon, furiously. “But I
will put you to shame. I will show you that the assault _can_ be made
successfully. Go, my lord, if you will,” he added to Pescara. “Your
soldiers will follow me.”
“Your highness is mistaken,” returned the other. “They will inarch with
me to Italy.”
Suppressing his rage, Bourbon turned to the German generals.
“I shall not, I am sure, lack your aid, messeigneurs,” he said. “You and
your brave lanz-knechts will follow me?”
“Your highness must hold us excused,” they replied.
“Where the Marquis of Pescara declines to go, we are not foolhardy
enough to venture.”
“You find that I am right,” remarked Pescara, with a mocking laugh.
“There is nothing left for it but to raise the siege and depart.”
“Depart!--never!” cried Bourbon. “Why, if the assault be not made, the
meanest burgess of Marseilles will laugh us to scorn. Let the charge be
sounded,” he added to Pomperant. “We shall soon see who will follow me.”
“None but your own attendants will follow,” said Pescara.
At this moment an esquire approached, and stated that a messenger had
just arrived from Aix, bringing most important intelligence. Bourbon
immediately ordered the man into his presence.
“Highness,” said the messenger, “I have speeded hither to inform you
that the king arrived last evening at Aix with the army.”
“The king arrived at Aix!” exclaimed Bourbon. “By Sainte Barbe! this is
important news indeed, if true.”
“It will be speedily confirmed, monseigneur,” said the messenger. “The
Marshal de Chabannes is marching with the vanguard of the army to the
relief of Marseilles.”
Bourbon made no remark, but signed to the messenger to retire.
“Your highness must now admit that I gave you good counsel in advising
you to abandon the siege,” remarked Pescara.
“Out upon your counsel!--it has been ruinous,” cried Bourbon. “The city
might have been taken ere Chabannes could come up. But I will forgive
you all, if you will march with me at once to meet the king, and compel
him to give us battle. A victory will retrieve the disgrace we shall
incur by abandoning the siege, and satisfy both the Emperor and the King
of England.”
“I am against the plan,” rejoined Pescara, coldly. “The king's army is
far superior to our own in number and we shall have the forces of the
garrison in our rear! No, we must evacuate Provence.”
“Not when a kingdom is to be won,” cried Bourbon. “My lord! my lord!
what change has come over you? Be yourself. François de Valois will
now give us the opportunity we have so long sought. He cannot refuse a
battle. We shall conquer. France lies before us, and invites us on!”
“Let those who will, go on,” said Pescara, in a cold sarcastic tone.
“I shall take the road to Italy. I will not risk a battle the result of
which must be disastrous. Our army would be utterly destroyed. We must
retreat while we can do so with safety.”
“Never!” exclaimed Bourbon. “I will never retreat before François de
Valois. The command of the army has been entrusted to me by the Emperor,
and I call upon you to obey me.”
“I refuse, monseigneur--peremptorily refuse,” said Pescara.
For a few moments Bourbon was well-nigh choked with passion. When he
could speak, he said, in hoarse accents, “Since you are resolved upon
this disgraceful course, I cannot prevent it. But let not the retreat be
conducted with undue haste, and with disorder. Our munitions of war must
not fall into the hands of the enemy. Bury the heavy cannon brought from
Toulon. The lighter ordnance can be carried by mules. Throw all the
great shot into the sea. Leave nothing behind that can be serviceable to
the foe.”
Then casting one look at the city, the brave defenders of which thronged
its walls and towers, utterly ignorant of their deliverance, and
momentarily expecting the assault, he rode back to his tent, where he
remained during the rest of the day, a prey to indescribable mental
anguish.
By nightfall, all preparations for the retreat had been completed, and,
as soon as it became dark, the tents were struck, and the whole army got
into order of march, and set off in the direction of Toulon.
By midnight, the heights around Marseilles were entirely abandoned, and
the city, which for five weeks had been completely environed by enemies,
was once more free.
Cautiously as the retreat of the Imperial army was conducted, it could
not be accomplished without being discovered by the garrison. Indeed,
the inaction of the besiegers throughout the day had caused their design
to be suspected. A sortie, for the purpose of investigation, was made
by Renzo da Ceri at the head of a troop of cavalry, and when he returned
with the joyful intelligence that the heights were evacuated and the
enemy gone, nothing could exceed the delight of the citizens. All those
who had retired to rest were roused from slumber by shouts and the
ringing of bells. The populace were half frenzied with joy. Wherever
Renzo da Ceri and Chabot de Brion appeared they were greeted with the
most enthusiastic demonstrations of regard, and hailed as deliverers
of the city. A torchlight procession, headed by the two commanders,
was made through the principal streets, and when this was over, Renzo
addressed a vast crowd in the Place de Linche. After extolling the
courage and patriotic spirit displayed by the citizens, he said,
“The only circumstance that mars my satisfaction at this moment of
triumph is the loss of our brave Amazons, Marphise and Marcelline.”
“Let not that thought afflict you, monseigneur,” said Pierre Cépède, who
was standing near him. “They live. They have been rescued from the ruins
of the wall beneath which they were supposed to be buried. Heaven has
preserved them.”
When this joyful intelligence was communicated to the assemblage, a loud
and long-continued shout rent the air.
While the citizens passed the night in rejoicing, Renzo da Ceri put
himself at the head of a strong detachment of cavalry, and started in
pursuit of the retreating enemy, for the purpose of harassing their
march and cutting off stragglers.
He soon found they had taken the direction of Toulon, and had not
proceeded far when he was joined by the Marshal de Chabannes with
three hundred light horse. Together they hovered about the rear of the
Imperial army until it had passed the Var, when they retired.
The Imperialists then pursued their course without further molestation,
crossed the Maritime Alps, and entering Piedmont, proceeded to Alba,
where they came to a halt.
Thus ended Bourbon's invasion of France. All the dreams of conquest he
had indulged had vanished. The crown he had hoped to grasp had escaped
him. His plans had been thwarted by the jealousy of his generals, who
had deserted him at the critical moment, when success seemed
certain. Deep and bitter was the mortification he endured. But though
disheartened, he did not despair. He felt sure that the theatre of war
would be soon transferred to Italy, well knowing that François I. would
never relinquish his pretensions to the Duchy of Milan.
“We shall meet on these plains, if not in France,” he said to Pomperant,
“and then I will requite him for the injuries he has done me. I will
forgive Fortune all the scurvy tricks she has played me of late if she
will grant me that day.”
END OF THE FOURTH BOOK