UC-NRLF B 3 S7T ID? ^-«ir- THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA BEQUEST OF Alice R. Hilgard *- X A [i :ix ^- (I ^ 0) uionKST rorxT oi' intkhkst an.. I N Pl.ASfl OF LIGnTSING UKOKf-'. A' MARY OF BURGUNDY €T)e l^ebolt of iSiijmt BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ. " Thou wouldst be gi'eat, Art not witliout ambition, but without The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly That thou wouldst holily ; wouldst not play false, Anil yet wouldst wrongly win." LONDON: SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNIIILL. MDCCCXLIV. S55 J28 TO HUGH SCOTT, ESQ. OF HARDEN, THIS WORK, AN INADEQUATE TESTIMONY OF SINCERE RESPECT, REGARD, AND ESTEEM, BY HIS FAITHFUL AND OBLIGED SERVANT, THE AUTHOR. M8559i:8 INTRODUCTORY PREFACE. The following pages were written at a period when Europe had just been agitated by a new revolution in a country already re- markable in history for one of the most tremendous social con- vulsions which ever shook down old and decaying institutions, to make room for others better adapted to the age. Earthquakes, however, seldom pass away with only one shock, and the milder and more beneficent revolution which occurred in France in the year 1830 was perhaps but a natural consequence of that which went before. Nevertheless, the expulsion of the Bourbon dynasty, and the fears and apprehensions of a new period of anarchy which it spread throughout Europe, naturally turned my thoughts to the consideration of other great popular movements mentioned in history. Having been in Paris at the time when the last revolution took place, and having had various opportunities of learning the motives, and some of the secret proceedings of those who acted a part in that important transaction, it became a curious subject of inquiry, whether it generally occurs, in such insurrections, (successful or not,) that the pressure of circumstances, and the inevitable course of events, by forcing forward that human selfish- ness, which is latent, if not developed, in every bosom, into prominent action, do or do not so modify the results, that only a partial change is effected, even when the convulsion that takes place seems, by its strength and fury, destined to sweep away all before it, and not alone to bring forward new dynasties and im- VI INTRODUCTORY PREFACE. proved institutions, but to create totally different forms of govern- ment, and alter the whole framework of society. In looking back throughout all history, I found that in almost every case where great movements of the masses had taken place, the ultimate results were by no means commensurate with the forces brought into operation ; that institutions, very similar to those which had been carried away, rose again in their place, — modified, it is true, but slightly ; and that changes of names were more frequently to be found than changes of things, as the consequences of a revo- lution. The new institutions principally differed from the old ones in being more susceptible of after modification ; and in building from the ruins of the past, — as the world is continually doing, — it seemed to me, we usually erect fabrics which we can enlarge and improve with greater facility than could be done with the sterner and more solid structures of ages passed away. Still, however, the question recurred, why it is that the effect is always less than we should have anticipated fi-om the cause ? — why, when a tyranny has been overthrown, when liberty has de- viated into the fiercest anarchy, and the most necessary restraints of society have been set at nought, as insupportable shackles upon man's freedom — why is it that we find, in a wonderfully short space of time, a new but no less oppressive tyranny established ; laws more stringent than ever, succeeding others which had been blotted out; and nations submitting patiently to bonds more weighty, if not more grievous, than those which they have cast off? Is it, I asked myself, that old institutions are really stronger than they seem, and exist still, though overwhelmed in the tor- rent of innovation, which, like a flood that has overwhelmed a city in a valley, gradually subsides, and leaves the solider con- structions standing, though desolate, to be tenanted by new inhabitants in a brighter day?— or is it that there is less real than apparent strength in the great revolutionary movements which take place from time to time, more violence than vigour, more fury than power ? Perhaps something of both ; but yet, in many of the great popular ebullitions which have marked memorable epochs, we find immense and extraordinary energy INTRODUCTORY PREFACE. vU displayed by the people in asserting their rights and liberties, — courage, wisdom, resolute endurance, perseverance — and, never- theless, comparatively little has been accom})lished of all the great objects that were sought. In almost all these instances, I thought, I could distinctly trace various modifications of human selfishness, on the part both of leaders and followers, acting, as it were, in the manner of dams and sluices, and, by diverting the stream of popular energy from one direct and straightforward course, diminishing the force of the current, and turning the torrent, which might have overborne every obstacle, into a mere inundation, which gradually flowed off, or evaporated, as the sources which supplied it were exhausted. It was with these reflections fresh in my mind, that I sat down to write the romance that follows fi:om a part of history which I had studied while considering the great questions that I have stated. The period, and more especially the fate and character of the fair heiress of the Burgundian coronet had interested me much, and I thought they might also interest the reader, while the historical events related, and the characters introduced to illustrate the views I entertained regarding the general course of popular insurrections, might afford some instruction or some warning. Although I adhered somewhat closely to the facts of history, in regard to Mary herself and the revolt of the people of Ghent, I did not think it necessary to abstain from the usual licence allowed to the romance writer, of embellishing the nar- rative with various fictitious characters, of compressing some of the events which occupied a longer, into a shorter space of time, and of supplying all those adjuncts which imagination may suggest, either to render the tale more pleasing to the reader, or to display more fully the workings of those passions which there are historical grounds for believing, produced the great general result. Nevertheless, there was sufficient veri- similitude in the work to have prevented a very learned anti- quary as well as skilful diplomatist, and a native of the city of Ghent, from finding any farther fault with the author than for having carried up one of the towers of the palace somewhat VIU INTRODUCTORY PREFACE. liigher than it ever was carried, in order to give the Princess a view over the city and the neighbouring country. 1 must attribute, however, a great deal to his good humour and inch- nation to be pleased, for I cannot doubt that with his knowledge of history and his critical ability, he might have discovered a great many more errors if he had thought fit to look for them. I trust that the j)ublic will continue as kind ; and in order to merit as far as possible its favour in this respect, I shall proceed to make a fair confession of the principal deviations from fact of which I have been guilty. Amongst the personages which appear upon the scene, there is a group which naturally detaches itself from the rest, and stands forth somewhat too evidently perhaps as formed of creatures of imagination. The old Lord of Ilannut, his fair niece Alice, the Vert Gallant of llannut, and his Green Riders, are all more or less of this class. Not, indeed, that I mean to say no such person as the Vert Gallant ever existed, for the whole of that part of the country, more especially on the side of the Ardennes, is full of traditions respecting him and his followers, which must have had some foun- dation in fact. For centuries, the frontiers of France and those small feudal sovereignties now consolidated in the Belgian kingdom were infested by innumerable bands of free companions, many of which obtained a very unenviable reputation. Not so, however, w-ith the Green Riders, who seem to have been friendly to the peasantry and the lower classes, and to have won a degree of reverence and attachment from them remembered even to the present day. Thus, where the Yorkshire inn displays the sign of the Robin Hood, and the tale circulates of the bold outlaw and his forest companions, on the limits of France and Rclgiun), aj^pears the sign of the Vert Gallant, and many a legend is related of his exploits in times past. Under these circumstances I thought it quite fair to employ such a personage for my own purposes, and to place him in the times that suited me best; and as, according to talc and tradition, he underwent various transformations, sometimes turning out a count, a prince, and even a king, I did not see INTRODUCTORY PREFACE. IX any reason why I should not change hiui into anybody most agreeable to myself. In regard to the old Lord of Hannut, the reader acquainted with antiquarian lore may, perhaps, object that though the study of astrology and the belief in that pretended science was indeed carried down to much later periods, the persons who followed it were not generally those of a very elevated rank, but rather quacks employed by the superstitious nobility of an un- enlightened age to discover the secrets of the future. Instances, however, exist of astrology having been deeply studied and implicitly believed by persons both of high rank and high intel- lect, sufficiently numerous to justify me in introducing such a personage. The characters which I have pointed out as purely imaginary take but a small share in the historical events which are mingled with the incidents of the romance ; but I am bound to acknow- ledge that another who occupies a very prominent situation throughout the whole work is, at least in most of the details, fictitious also. I refer to the principal male personage in the book, namely, Albert Maurice. It was my wish to show how, in any great movement of the people, a man endowed with the noblest qualities of mind, and moved by many of the most generous impulses of the human heart, ardently seeking the welfare of his country and struggling to resist the influence of all selfish passions both in himself and others, might, by the combined effect of external circumstances and some few personal weak- nesses, be led step by step to acts that he never contemplated, and to crimes that he abhorred; how patriotism, by an easy transition, might give place to ambition; how the love of liberty might, step by step, lead to the tolerance, if not the encourage- ment of anarchy ; how the generous defender of one class might be changed to the sanguinary oppressor of another; and how, by indulgence, the passions in his own breast, like the mobs which he led or directed, might in time become his masters, and force him forward to deeds the most abhorrent to his better nature. I did not find such a personage in the history of those times. X INTRODUCTORY PREFACE. and accordingly 1 created him. The leaders of the various insurrections of Ghent were generally coarse in character, though occasionally endowed with great abilities, and an extra- ordinary grasp of mind ; but I wanted something more. To bring out the great points in a picture of the fall of a high human heart, it was necessary that I should have a high human heart to deal with ; and not finding one at that period really in existence, I was obliged so far to violate historical truth as to endow the leader of the revolt with qualities which he might have possessed, though probably he did not. I trust in so doing, however, that I have in no degree outraged probability. The first Van Artevelde had many qualities in common with Albert Maurice ; the second had many others ; and there is no reason why we should not suppose that the great advance which society had made since the death of Philip, might not have added those graces of demeanour and elevation of character to the citizen of Ghent, which I have thought fit to attribute to my hero in the latter part of the fifteenth century. The picture of Mary of Burgundy herself is, I believe, per- fectly consistent with history ; and all the principal events connected with that princess are simply related as they occurred, to the best of my knowledge and information. Her fate was a sad and perilous one : the child of a brutal and selfish tyrant, she was treated by him merely as a means of attaining the objects of his ambition ; and, left an orphan at the age of twenty- one, she saw her hand contended for by numerous suitors, all but one odious to her personally, and dangerous to the state. With the armies which her warlike father had collected, scattered and discomfited ; with the greater part of his gallant nobility slaughtered or in prison ; with the oldest and most favoured servants of her house — such as Philip of ('revecceur — abandon- ing her interests, and betraying her fortresses to the enemy ; with her subjects in revolt, and herself almost a captive in their hands, she beheld her dominions invaded by the most powerful, the most subtle, and the most treacherous monarch of the age. Grief upon grief was piled upon her hcatl : the magistrates INTRODUCTORY PREFACE. XI of Ghent appointed by her fiither, contrary to the privileges of the citizens, fell a sacrifice to popular fury in the manner described in the tale, as soon as the death of Charles the Bold was ascertained. The Chancellor Hugonet, and Iinbercourt, Count of Meghc, two of her most devoted friends, were exe- cuted under her very eyes, while, with dishevelled hair and floods of tears, she was beseeching the citizens in the public market-place to spare them ; and the blood of her faithful servants is said to have sprinkled her garments as she was carried fainting from the terrible scene. Her friends and relations were banished from the city ; and Louis XL, marching on at the head of a large army, while affecting to consider the interests of the orphan princess, not only robbed her of her territories, but exercised the most inhuman cruelties upon her subjects. Perhaps in the whole range of history no example occurs of an unjust war carried on with such barbarous incidents. Not content with the usual excesses of warfare, wherever resistance was shown by the vassals of the house of Burgundy, Louis called in the arm of the executioner to accomplish what strife had left undone. On several occasions more than a hun- dred prisoners were beheaded in one day, for no crime but having remained faithful to their sovereign ; and old John JNIolinet, an eye-witness of what he relates, gives the most fearful picture of the cruelties exercised by a king calling himself Most Christian. "The account would be too long and in- credible," he says, in his quaint and pedantic style, " if I were to reckon up the exactions, the scornings, the opprobriums, the slaughters, the tyrannies, the robberies, the seizures, and the inhumanities, which the king permitted his free archers to commit in the conquests which they effected, per fas et nefas, of the towns named ; for then full course was given to the de- flowering of virgins, the effusion of innocent blood, the spoiling of hospitals, the pillage of matrons, the imprisonment of youths, the destruction of children, the drowning of old men, the burn- ing of churches, the persecution of all persons, the violation of women, the demolition of towns, and the ruining of the castles xii iM iioDircTom' i'Hi:rA(;i:. and t'ann-housc-s of tlic open country, as long as fire and sword could do their work, which failed sooner than the rage of the satellites who employed them." He then goes on to detail the tortures inflicted on the prisoners and the peasantry, especially of the female sex, and sums up all b}' assuring us that it was common to demand of a wife a ransom for her captive husband, and when it was obtained, to deliver her only his corpse — that villages were constantly burnt, after having paid composition — that prisoners were even crucified in their dungeons, and that, in the end, Louis caused ten thousand mowers to be collected from the Soissonnois, Vermandois, and neighbouring territories, and employed to cut down the rich harvests of Flanders and Ilainault while they were yet green. Tidings of all these events poured in upon the hapless daughter of Charles the Bold, while she was yet grieving for her father's death, and opposing to her revolted citizens nought but the meek and gentle spirit of a pure and beneficent nature. No sign of irritation, no angry word, no harsh reproach ever escaped her ; and all her dealings with her people were in sorrow, not in anger, till at length the fire of faction wore itself out, and, entangled in difficulties, apparently inextricable, the citizens appealed to her for aid, whose sorrows they had rudely violated, whose prayers they had rejected and contemned, whose means of protecting herself or them they had paralysed, whose personal liberty they had abridged, and whose rights and authority they had trampled under foot. There was now no resource but in the house of Austria; and policy, as well as inclination, led Mary of Burgundy to bestow her hand upon the only prince, of all her many suitors, who could defend her dominions and w ho possessed her heart. A short period of brightness succeeded ; and after a few years of uninterrupted happiness, the Princess met her death in conse- quence of a fall from her horse, while pursuing her favourite sport of hawking. Excessive delicacy induced her to conceal the injury she had received, even from her husband, till the ]">hysi- • ciaus' art would no longer avail, and she died in her youth uni- versally regretted and beloved. INTRODUCTORY PREFACE. xiii Such was the fate of one of the most amiable and accompUshed ladies of those times; and it seemed to me, that no period and no scries of events in the range of history, could aiford better materials for a romance. I found little need of calling upon imagination for incidents, when so many were already supplied by history; and I had only to add some few embellishments, and to enliven the scene by clothing the characters in the customs and manners of the times, as far as my information would admit. The favour the work obtained with the public I trust may still be continued to it, as it owes little to the author, and almost all to the historical interest of the period. Amongst what may be termed the embellishments, is a descrip- tion of a thunderstorm, accompanied by that most awful of phe- nomena, ground lightning, where the earth, or the vapour that rises upon it, charged with electricity, pours out the fiery fluid towards the clouds above. I had often heard of this extraor- dinary effect in the part of the country where my scene is laid, and remembered a sad disaster which had resulted from this phenomenon on the Malvern Hills ; but, as I wished to be certain that I had committed no great error in natural philosophy, I submitted the passage in which the description is contained, to my friend Sir David Brewster, who readily put his imprimatur upon it; and, as a piece of mere writing, it obtained more credit than it deserved, and more, certainly, than it would have obtained had I not been greatly favoured and assisted by my excellent good mistress. Dame Nature, who, while I was dictating the passage, treated me with a most magnificent storm upon the Eildon Hills, dazzling my own eyes as they were stretched wido^ to mark all the incidents, and somewhat startling my worthy amanuensis, by the lurid glare that ever and anon flashed over the paper under his hands. In reading over the work, I found various errors, some of which were evidently attributable to my own carelessness, and to an utter distaste and inaptitude for the correction of the press ; others to those bearers of many sins, the printers. Of these feults I have now removed a considerable number, but doubtless a fully XIV INTRODUCTORY PREFACE. sufficient j)()rti()n yt't roinaiiis to make inc crave the indulgence of the reader for these, as well as many other errors, and to hcg him to consider what a sleepy and stupifying task it is for an autiior to read his own works, and wherever he does find an omission, to fancy that my eyes have there been unwillingly closed (after st(jut resistance) by a page every word of which 1 knew better than the first line of the hornbook. I have only to add, that this work was the first that 1 ever dictated, my lamented friend Sir Walter Scott having suggested to me that plan of composition shortly before, as a great allevia- tion of literary labour. For that suggestion, as well as lor many another act of kindness, I owed him deep gratitude, which never can be forgotten. Ever since, I have been enabled to pursue my course with comparatively few of the inconveniences from which most authors suffer; and I attribute to the hint then given, the enjoyment of a much greater share than I could reasonably expect of that most invaluable blessing, health.* * In publishing this new edition of my works, circumstances, which would be uninteresting to the public, as they refer only to the bookselling business, have induced me to deviate from the order in which the works were originally composed. A learned and very judicious friend has suggested, that, to facili- tate the arrangement of the volumes according to the dates of the first pub- lication, if any purchasers should be inclined to adopt that plan, I should give a list of my romances in the order of their composition. I have found more difhculty in framing such a list than might be expected ; but one shall be given with a succeeding volume. ADVERTISEMENT THE FIRST EDITION. The Author of this work thinks it right to acknowledge, that, ^ if there be anything interesting in the following pages, he is but little entitled to claim it as his own, almost all the principal inci- dents being narrated in the works of George Chatelain, Jean Molinet, Philippe de Comines, and in the Chronicles of Flan- ders. Amongst the incidents which he has introduced from such authentic sources, he might cite the embassy of Olivier le Dain, the expedition of the Duke of Gueldres against Arras, the massacre of the Magistrates of Ghent, and especially the death of the Counsellors in the very presence of the Princess Mary, — some writers asserting that their blood absolutely sprinkled her garments. Doubtless, the learned and judicious antiquary and critic may be inclined to point out, that the character of the hero of the revolt is a creation of the author's own imagination ; and that we have no hist6rical proof that he was actuated, or rather torn, by the contending passions which arc here represented as con- tinually struggling against each other in his bosom, and by turns conquering one another. One fact, however, is certain, — that no human being now living can possibly have such means of knowing what were the xvi ADVRRTISKMENT. real fct-lings of the individual alluded to, as the author of these volumes ; and he therefore trusts that the public will receive them as true, upon his authority. It only remains farther to be explained, that the magistracy of the city of Ghent formerly consisted of the Grand Bailli, aided by thirteen Eschevins, three Pensioners, and six Secretaries; inferior to whom were the Lieutenant Bailli, thirteen Eschevins, one Pensioner, and four Secretaries. Whenever the States General of the province assembled at Ghent, which was most frequently the case, the chief Pensioner, or the chief Eschevin of the city, claimed, as a right, the presidency of the Estates. Besides this body of magistrates, and the general assembly of the States, the provincial council of the sovereign generally held its scat in Ghent ; at least, such was the case from the year 1463 to the year 1579. It most frequently consisted of five Counsellors and a President, but the numbers changed from time to time ; and during the early part of the reign of Mary its powers were almost null. As the language of the court and the nobility in Flanders was at that time French and all the principal authorities are only to be found in that language, the writer of the following pages has preserved the names of offices, persons, and things, as he found them, in that tongue, without seeking at all, to inflict upon those who are kind enough to read his book, the necessity of studying a Flemish vocabulary for that purpose. MARY OF BURGUNDY: OB, THE REVOLT OF GHENT. CHAPTER I. It was on the evening of a beautiful day in the beginning of September, 1456, — one of those fair autumn days that wean us, as it were, from the passing summer, with the light as bright, and the sky as full of rays, as in the richest hours' of June ; and with nothing but a scarce perceptible shade of yellow in the woods to tell that it is not the proudest time of the year's prime. — It was in the evening, as I have said; but nothing yet betokened darkness. The sun had glided a considerable way on his descent down the bright arch of the western sky, yet without one ray being shadowed, or any lustre lost. He had reached that degree of declination alone, at which his beams, pouring from a spot a little above the horizon, produced, as they streamed over forest and hill, grand masses of light and shade, with every here and there a point of dazzling brightness, where the clear evening rays were reflected from stream or lake. It was in the heart of a deep forest, too, whose immemorial trees, worn away by time, or felled by the axe, left in varioi.is places wide open spaces of broken ground and turf, brushwood and dingle — and amidst whose deep recesses a thousand spots rich in woodland beauty lay hidden from the eye of man. Those were not, indeed, times when taste and cultivation had taught the human race to appreciate fully all the charms and magnificence wherewith Nature's hand has robed the globe which we inhabit ; B 2 IMAllY OF BURGUNDY; OR, juul the only beings that then trod the deeper glades of the forest were the woodman, the hunter, or those less fortunate ])crsons who, — as we see them represented by the wild peneil of Sal- vator Rosa, — might greatly increase the picturesque effect of the scenes they frequented ; but, probably, did not particularly feel it themselves. But there is, nevertheless, in the heart of man, a native sense of beauty, a latent sympathy, a harmony witli all that is lovely on the earth, which makes him unconsciously seek out spots of peculiar sweetness, not only for his daily dwelling, but also for both his temporary resting place, and for the mansion of his long repose, whether the age or the country be rude or not. Look at the common cemetery of a village, and you will gene- rally find that it is pitched in the most picturesque spot to be found in the neighbourhood. If left to his free wnll, the peasant will almost always — without well knowing why — build his cot- tage where he may have something fair or bright before his eyes ; and the very herd, while watching his cattle or his sheep, climbs up the face of the crag, to sit and gaze over the fair ex- panse of Nature's face. It was in the heart of a deep forest, then, at the distance of nearly twenty miles from Louvain, that a boy, of about twelve years of age, was seen sleeping by the side of a small stream ; which, dashing over a high rock hard by, gathered its bright waters in a deep basin at the foot, and then rushed, clear and rapidly, through the green turf beyond. The old trees of the w^ood were scattered abroad from the stream, as if to let the little waterfall sparkle at its will in the sunshine. One young ash tree, alone, self-sown by the side of the river, waved over the boy's head, and cast a dancing veil of chequered light and shade upon features as fair as eye ever looked upon. At about a hundred yards from the spot where he was lying, a sandy road wound through the savannah, and plunged into the deeper parts of the wood. On the other side, however, the ground being of a more open nature, the path might be seen winding up the steep ascent of a high hill, with the banks, which occasionally flanked it to the east, surmounted by long lines of tall overhanging trees. A rude bridge of stone, whose ruinous condition spoke plainly how rarely the traveller's foot trod the path through the forest, spanned over the stream at a little distance, vind the evenuig Vight, as it poured in from the west, caught bright upon the coun- THE Ri:VOLT OF GHENT. 3 tenance of the sleeping boy, upon the dancing cascade above his head, upon many a flasliing turn in the river, and, after gilding the ivy that mantled the old bridge, passed on to lose itself gradually in the gloom of the deep masses of forest-ground beyond. The dress of the sleeper accorded well with the scene in which he was found ; it consisted of a full coat, of forest-green, gathered round his waist by a broad belt, together with the long tight hose common at the period. In his belt was a dagger and knife ; and on his head he had no covering, except the glossy curls of his dark brown hair. Though the material of his garments was of the finest cloth which the looms of Ypres could produce, yet marks of toil, and even of strife, were appa- rent in the dusty and torn state of his habiliments. He lay, however, in that calm, deep, placid sleep, only known to youth, toil, and innocence. His breath was so light, and his slumber was so calm, that he might have seemed dead, but for the rosy hue of health that overspread his cheeks. No sound appeared at first to have any effect upon his ear, though, while he lay beside the stream, a wild, timid stag came rustling through the brushwood to drink of its waters, and suddenly seeing a human thing amidst the solitude of the forest, bounded quick away through the long glades of the wood. After that, the leaves waved over him, and the wind played with the curls of his hair for nearly half an hour, without any living creature approaching to disturb his repose. At the end of that time, some moving objects made their appearance at the most distant point of the road that was visible, where it sunk over the hill. At first, all that could be seen was a dark body moving forward down the descent, enveloped in a cloud of dust ; but, gradually, it separated into distinct parts, and assumed the form of a party of armed horsemen. Their number might be ten or twelve; and, by the slowness of their motions, it seemed that they had already travelled far. More than once, as they descended the slope, they paused, and appeared to gaze over the country, as if either contemplating its beauty, or doubtful of the road they ought to take. These pauses, however, always ended in their resuming their way towards the spot which we have described. When they at length reached it, they again drew the rein ; and it became evident, that uncertainty, with regard to their onward course, had been the cause of then* several halts upon the hill. b2 4 MARY OK BlKGUiNUY; OR, " By my lliltli, Sir Tlii!)alt of Ncufchatcl," said one of the horsemen, who rode a little in advance of the others, '* for Marshal of Burfrundy, you know but little of your lord's domi- nions. By the holy Virgin, methinks that you are umch better acquainted with every high road and by-path of my poor ap- panage of Dauphiny. At least, so the worthy burghers of Vienne were wont to assert, when we would fain have squeezed the double crowns out of their purses. It was then their inva- riable reply, that the Marshal of Burgundy had been upon them with his lances, and drained them as dry as hay — coming no one knew how, and o-oinfj no one knew where." The man who spoke was yet, not only in his prime, but in the early part of that period of life which is called middle age. There was no peculiar beauty in his countenance, nor in his person ; there was nothing, apparently, either to strike, or to please. Yet it was impossible to stand before him, and not to feel one's self — without very well knowing why — in the presence of an extraordinary man. There was in his deportment to be traced the evident habit of command, lie spoke, as if knowing that his words were to be obeyed. But that was not all; from underneath the overhanging penthouse of his thick eyebrows, shone forth two keen grey eyes, which had in them a prying, inquisitive cunning, which seemed anxiously exerted to discover at once the thoughts of those they gazed upon, befoi'c any veil, of the many which man uses, could be drawn over motives or feelings, to conceal them from that searching glance. Those given to physiognomy might have gathered, fi'om his high and projecting, but narrow forehead, the indications of a keen and observing mind, with but little imagination, super- stition without fancy, and talent without wit. The thin, com- pressed lips, the naturally firm-set posture of the teeth, the curling line from the nostril to the corner of the mouth, might have been construed to imply a heart naturally cruel, which derived not less pleasure from inflicting wounds by bitter w^ords than from producing mere corporeal pain. His dress, at this time of his life, was splendid to excess ; and the horse on which be rode showed the high blood that poured through its veins, by a degree of fire and energy far superior to that exhibited by the chargers of his companions, though the journey it had performed was the same which had so wearied them. As he spoke the words before detailed, he looked back to THE REVOLT OF GHL:i\T. a gentleman, who rode a step or two behind him on his right hand ; and on his countenance appeared, what he intended to be, a smile of frank, good-humoured raillery. The natural expression of his features mingled with it nevertheless, and gave it an air of sarcasm, which made the bitter, perhaps, preponderate over the sweet. The person to whom he addressed himself, however, listened with respectful good humour. " In truth, my lord," he replied, " so little have I dwelt in this part of the duke's dominions, that I know my way less than many a footboy. I once was ac- quainted with every rood of ground between Brussels and Tirlemont; but, God be thanked, my memory is short, and I have forgotten it all, as readily as I hope you, sir, may forget certain marches in Dauphiny, made when Louis the Dauphin was an enemy to Burgundy, instead of an honoured guest." " They are forgotten. Lord Marshal, they are forgotten," re- plied the Dauphin, afterwards famous as Louis XL, " and can never more be remembered but to show me how much more pleasant it is to have the lord of Neufchatel for a friend rather than an enemy. But, in Heaven's name," he added, changing the subject quickly, " before we go farther, let us seek some one to show us the way, or let us halt our horses here, and wait for the fat citizens of Ghent, whom we left on the other side of the river." His companion shook his head with a doubtful smile, as he replied, " It would be difficult, I trow, to find any guide here, unless Saint Hubert, or some other of the good saints, were to send us a white stag with a collar of gold round his neck, to lead us safely home, as the old legends tell us they used to do of yore." " The saints have heard your prayer, my lord," cried one of the party who had strayed a little to the left, but not so far as to be out of hearing of the conversation which was passing between the other two ; " the saints have heard your prayer ; and here is the white stag, in the form of a fair boy in a green jerkin." As he spoke, he pointed forward with his hand towards the little cascade, where the boy, who had been sleeping by its side, had now started up, — awakened by the sound of voices, and of horses' feet, — and was gazing on the travellers, with anxious eyes, and with his hand resting on his dagger. " Why, how now, boy I" cried the Dauphin, spurring up 6 MARY OF nURGUiNDY; OR, towards the stream. " Thinkest thou that we arc Jews, or cut- throats, or wild uicn of the woods, that thou chitchcst thy knife so fearfully ? Say, canst thou tell how far we are from Tirle- mont ?" The boy eyed the party for several moments ere he replied. " IIow should I know whether you be cut-throats or not ?" he said, at length ; " I have seen cut-throats in as fine clothes. — How far is it from Tirlemont ? As far as it is from Liege or Namur." " Then, by my troth. Sir Marshal," said the Dauphin, turning to his companion, " our horses will never can-y us thither this night. What is to be done ?" " What is the nearest town or village, boy ?" demanded the Marshal of Burgundy. " If we be at equal distances from Namur and Lic"-e and Tirlemont, we cannot be far from Hannut." " Ilannut is the nearest place," answered the boy ; " but it is two hours' ride for a tired horse." " We will try it, however," said the Marshal ; and then added, turning to the Dauphin, " the lord of the castle of Ilannut, sir, thoufi-h first cousin of the bad Duke of Gueldres, is a noble gentleman as ever lived ; and I can promise you a fair reception. Though once a famous soldier, he has long cast by the lance and casque ; and, buried deep in studies — which churchmen say are hardly over holy — he passes his whole time in solitude, except when some ancient friend breaks in upon his reveries. Such a liberty I may well take. — Now, boy, tell us our road, and there is a silver piece for thy pains." The boy stooped not to raise the money which the Marshal threw towards him, but replied eagerly, "If any one will take me on the croup behind him, I will show you easily the way. — Nay, I beseech you, noble lords, take me with you ; for I am wearied and alone, and I must lie in the forest all night if you refuse me." " But dost thou know the way well, my fair boy ?" demanded the Dauphin, approaching nearer, and stooping over his saddle- bow to speak to the boy with an air of increasing kindness, " Thou art so young, mcthinks thou scarce canst know all the turnings of a wood like this. Come, let us hear if thy knowledge is ecpial to the task of guiding us ?" " 'Jliat it is," answered the boy at once. " The road is as easy to find as a heron's nest in a bare tree. One has nothing to do THE REVOLT OF GHENT. 7 but to follow on that road over the bridge, take the two first turnings to the right, and then the next to the left, and at the end of a league more the castle is in si";lit." " Ay," said the Dauphin, " is it so easy as that ? Then, by my faith, I think we can find it ourselves. — Come, Sir Marshal, come !" And, so saying, he struck his spurs into his horse's sides, and cantered over the bridge. The Marshal of Burgundy looked back with a lingering glance of compassion at the poor boy thus unfeelingly treated by his companion. But, as the Prince dashed forward and waved his hand for him to follow, he rode on also, though not without a muttered comment on the conduct of the other, which miffht not have given great pleasure had it been vented aloud. The whole train followed ; and, left alone, the boy stood silent, gazing on them as they departed, with a flushed cheek and a curling lip. " Out upon the traitors !" he exclaimed, at length. " All men are knaves ; yet it is but little honour to their knavery, to cheat a boy like me." The train wound onward into the wood, and the last horseman was soon hidden from his eyes : but the merry sound of laughing voices, borne by the wind to his ear for some moments after they were out of sight, spoke painfully, how little interest they took in his feelings or situation. He listened till all was still, and then, seating himself on the bank of the stream, gazed vacantly on the bubbling waters as they rushed hurriedly by him ; while the current of his own thoughts held as rapid and disturbed a course. As memory after memory of many a painful scene and sorrow — such as infancy has seldom known — came up before his sight, his eyes filled, the tears rolled rapidly over his cheeks, and, casting himself prostrate on the ground, he hid his face amongst the long grass, and sobbed as if his heart would break. He had not lain there long, however, when a heavy hand, laid firmly on his shoulder, caused him once more to start up ; and, though the figure which stood by him when he did so, was not one whose aspect was very prepossessing, yet it would be difficult to describe the sudden lightning of joy that sparkled in his eyes through the tears with which they still overflowed. The person who ]jad roused him from the prostrate despair in which he had cast himself down, was a middle-sized, broad- made man, with long sinewy arms, and a chest like that of a 8 MARY OF UIHGUNDY; OR, mountain-bull. He might be nearly forty years of age; and his face, which had once been fair, — a fact which was vouched alone by his light brown hair, and clear blue eye, — had now reached a hue nearly approaching to the colour of mahogany, by con- stant exposure to the summer's sun and the winter's cold. There was in it, withal, an expression of daring hardihood, softened and, as it were, purified by a frank, free, good-humoured smile, which was not without a touch of droll humour. His garb at once bespoke him one of those vagrant sons of Mars, with whom war, in some shape, was a never-failing trade ; — a class of which we must speak more hereafter, and which the abuses of the feudal system, the constant feuds of chieftain with chieftain, and the long and desolating warfare between France and England, had at that time rendered but too common in every part of Europe, lie was not, indeed, clothed from head to heel in cold iron, as was customary with the knight or man-at-arms when ready for the field ; but there was quite a sufficient portion of old steel about his person, in the form of arms both offensive and defensive, to shew that hard blows were the principal merchandise in which he traded. He laid his large hairy hand, as I have said, firmly and fami- liarly on the boy's shoulder ; and the expression of the young wanderer's countenance, when he started up, and beheld the person who stood near him, at once showed, not only that they were old acquaintances, but that their meeting was both unex- pected and joyful. " Matthew Gournay !" exclaimed the boy, " good Matthew Gournay, is it you, indeed? Oh, why did you not come before^ With your fifty good lances, we might yet have held the castle out, till we were joined by the troops from Utrecht ; but now all is lost — the castle taken, and my father " "^ " I know it all. Master Hugh," intciTupted the soldier — " I know it all, better than the paternoster. Bad news flies faster than a swallow ; so I know it all, and a good deal more than you yourself know. You ask, why I did not come, too. By our I^ady, for the simplest reason in the world — because I could not. I was lying like an old rat in a trap, with four stone walls all round about me, in the good city of Liege. Duke Philip heard of the haste I was making to give you help, and cogged with the old bishop — may his skull be broken ! — to send out a couple of hundred reiters to intercept us on our march. — What THE REVOLT OF GHENT. 9 would you have ? We fought hke devils, but we were taken at a disadvantage, by a superior force. All my gallant fellows were killed or dispersed ; and at last, finding my back against a rock, with six spears at my breast, and not loving the look of such a kind of toasting-fork, I agreed to take lodging in the town prison of Liege." " But how got you out, then ?" demanded the bo}' ; " did they free you for good-will ?" " Not they," replied Matthew Gournay : " they gave me cold water and hard bread, and vowed every day to stick my head upon the gate of the town, as a terror to all marauders, as they said. But the fools showed themselves rank burghers, by leaving me my arms ; and I soon found means to get the iron bars out of the windows, ventured a leap of thirty feet, swam the ditch, climbed the wall, and here I am in the forest of Hannut — But not alone, jNIaster Hugh. I have got a part of my old comrades together already, and hope soon to have a better band than ever. The old seneschal, too, from the castle, is with us, and from him we heard all the bad news. But, though he talked of murder and putting to death, and flaying alive, and vowed that every- body in the castle had been killed but himself, I got an inkling from the old charcoal-burner's wife, at the hut in the wood, of how you had escaped, and whither you had gone. So, thinking, as you were on foot and alone, that you might want help and a horse, I tracked you like a deer to this place : for your father was always a good friend to me in the time of need ; and I will stand by you. Master Hugh, while I have a hand for my sword, or a sword for my hand." " Hark !" cried the boy, almost as the other spoke ; " there's a bugle on the hill ! It must be the duke's butchers following me." " A bugle !" cried the soldier ; " a cow's horn blown by a sow- driver, you mean. None of the duke's bugles ever blew a blast like that, something between the groaning of a blacksmith's bellows and the grunting of a hog. But there they are," he con- tinued, " sure enough, lances and all, as I live. We must to cover, Hugh, we must to cover ! Quick — thy hand, boy — they are coming down, straggling like fallow deer !" So saying, Matthew Gournay sprang up the high bank, in falling over which the little stream formed the cascade we have noticed ; and, as he climbed the rock himself, he assisted, or 10 MARY OF DURGUNDY; OR, rather dragged up after him, his young companion, whose hand he held locked in his own, with a grasp which no slight weight could have imbent. For a moment, they paused on the top of the crag, to take another look at the approaching party, and then plunged into the long shrubs and tangled brushwood that clothed the sides of the winding glen, down which the stream wandered previous to its fall. CHAPTER 11. The party, whose approach had interrupted tbc conversation of Matthew^ Gournay and his young companion, were not long before they reached the little open spot in the forest, from which they had scared the other two ; and, as it was at that point that their road first fell in with the stream, they paused for a moment, to water their horses ere they proceeded. Their appearance and demeanour corresponded well with the peculiar sound of the horn which they had blown upon the hill ; for though the instrument which announced their approach was martial in itself, yet the sounds which they produced from it were anything but mili- tary; and though swords and lances, casques and breastplates, were to be seen in profusion amongst them, there was scarcely one of the party who had not a certain burgher rotundity of figure, or negligence of gait, far more in harmony with furred gowns and caps a la mortier than with w^ar-steeds and glittering arms. The first, who paused beside the stream, had nearly been thrown over his horse's head, by the animal suddenl}' bending his neck to drink ; and it was long before the rider could sufficiently com- pose himself again in the saddle, to proceed with some tale which he had been telling to one of his companions, who urged him to make an end of his story, wdth an eagerness which seemed to show that the matter was one of great interest to him at least. " Well-a-day, Master Nicholas, well-a-day !" cried the discom- posed horseman, " let me but settle myself on my stool — saddle, I mean. God forgive me ! but this cursed beast has pulled the bridle out of my hands. — So ho! Bernard, so ho! — there, there, surely thou couldst drink without bending thy head so low." THE REVOLT OF GHENT. 11 While he thus spoke, by a slow and cautious movement, — not unlike that with which a child approaches a sparrow, to perform the difficult manoeuvre of throwing salt upon its tail, — he regained a grasp of the bridle-rein which the hoi'se had twitched out of his hand, and then went on with his story, — interrupting it, however, every now and then, to address sundry admonitions to his horse, — somewhat in the following style : — "Well, where was I, worthy Master Nicholas? — I was saying — so ho ! beast ! The devil's in thee, thou wilt have me into the river. — I was saying that, after the castle was taken, and every soul put to the sword, even the poor boy, Hugh, — for which last, I hear, the duke is very much grieved, — be quiet, Bernard, hold up thy head ! — Count Adolphus himself fled away by a postern- door, and is now a prisoner in " " Nay, but. Master Martin, you said they were all put to death,'' interrupted one of his companions. " Remember what the doctors say," replied the other; " namely, that there is no general rule without its exception. They were all killed but those that ran away, which were only Count Adol- phus and his horse, who got away together, the one upon the other. Fool that he was to trust himself upon a horse's back ! It was his ruin, alack ! it was his ruin." " How so ?" demanded Master Nicholas ; " did the horse throw him and break his pate? Methought you said, but now, that he was alive and a prisoner." " And I said truly, too," answered the other. " Nevertheless, his mounting that horse was the cause of his ruin ; for though he got off quietly enough, yet, at the bridge below Namur — where, if he had had no horse, he would have passed free — he was obliged to stop to pay pontage* for his beast. A priest, who was talking with the toll-man, knew him ; and he was taken on the spot, and cast into prison." " Methinks it was more the priest's fault than the horse's, then," rephed Master Nicholas ; " but whoever it was that betrayed him, bad was the turn they did to the city of Ghent ; for, what with * Philip de Comines, who relate3 this anecdote much in the same terms as those used by good Martin Fruse in the text, places it, however, several years later ; though, from the period of time during which Adolphus Duke of ■ Gueldres, here called Count Adolphus, was kept in prison by the Duke of Burgundy, it would seem that the time of his capture is here correctly stated. 12 MARY OF BURGUNDY; OR, liis aid, and that of the good folks of Gueldres, and the worthy burghers of Utrecht, we might have held the proud duke at bay, and wrung our rights from him drop by drop, Uke water from a sponge." " God knows, God knows !" replied Martin Fruse, the burgher of Ghent, to whom this was addressed ; " God knows ! it is a fine thing to have one's rights, surely ; but, somehow^ I thought we were very comfortable and happy in the good old city, before there was any quarrel about rights at all. Well I know, we have never been happy since ; and I have been forced to ride on horseback by the week together; for which sin, my flesh and skin do daily penance, as the chirurgeons of Namur could vouch if they vrould. Nevertheless, one must be patriotic, and all that, so I would not grumble, — if this beast would but give over drinking, which I think he will not do before he or I drop down dead. Here, horse-boy, come and pluck his nose out of the pool ; for I cannot move him more than I could the town- house." The worthy burgher was soon relieved from his embarrass- ments ; and his horse being once more put upon the road, he led the way onward, followed by the rest of the party, with their servants and attendants. The place of leader was evidently con- ceded to good Martin Fruse ; but this distinction was probably assigned to him, more on account of his wealth and integrity, than from the possession of fine wit, great sense, energetic activity, or any other requisite for a popular leader. He was, in truth, a worthy, honest man, somewhat easily persuaded, especially wdiere his general vanity, and, more particularly, his own opinion of his powers as a politician, were brought into play : but his mind was neither very vigorous nor acute; though sometimes an innate sense of rectitude, and a hatred of injustice, would lend energy to his actions, and eloquence to his words. Amongst those who followed him, however, were two or three spirits of a higher order; who, without his purity of motives, or kindly disposition, possessed far greater talents, activity, and vigour. Nevertheless, turbulent by disposition and by habit, few of the burghers of Ghent, at that time, possessed any very grand and general views, whether directed to the assertion of the liberties and rights of their country, or to the gratification of personal ambition. They contented themselves Avith occasional tumults, or with temporary alliances with the other states and THE REVOLT OF GHENT. 13 Cities in the low countries, few of which rested long without being in open rebellion against their governors. One of the party, however, which accompanied good Martin Fruse must not pass unmentioned; for, though at that time acting no prominent part, he exerted considerable influence, in after days, on the fortunes of his country. He was, at the period I speak of, a bold, brave, high-spirited boy ; by no means unlike the one we have seen sleeping by the cascade, though perhaps two or three years older. He was strong and well proportioned for his age, and rode a wild young jennet, which, though full of fire, he managed with pei"fect ease. There was something, in- deed, in the manner in which he excited the horse into fury, gave it the rein, and let it dash free past all his companions, as if it had become perfectly ungovernable ; and then, without difficulty, reined it up with a smile of triumph, — which gave no bad picture of a mind conscious of powers of command, ambitious of their exercise, and fearless of the result. How this character of mind became afterwards modified by circumstances, will be shown more fully in the following pages. In the meanwhile, we must proceed with the train of burghers as they rode on through the wood; concerting various plans amongst themselves, for concealing from the Duke of Burgundy the extent of their intrigues with Adolphus of Gueldres and the revolted citizens of Utrecht, for excusing themselves on those points which had reached his knowledge, and for assuaging his anger by presents and submission. The first thing to be done, before presenting themselves at his court, was, of course, to strip themselves of the warlike habiliments in which they had flaunted, while entertaining hopes of a successful revolt. For this pur- pose, they proposed to avoid the high road either to Brussels or Louvain ; and as most of them were well acquainted with the country through which they had to pass, they turned to the left, after having proceeded about a mile farther on their way, and put spurs to their horses, in order to get out of the forest before nightfall, which was now fast approaching. The way was difficult, however, and full of large ruts and stones, in some places overgrown with briers, in some places interrupted by deep ravines. Here, it would go down so steep a descent, that slowness of progression was absolutely necessary to the safety of their necks ; there, it would climb so deep a hill, that whip and spur were applied to increase the speed of their beasts in vain. 14 iMARY OF iJURGUNDY; OR, As they thus journcvcd on, making but little way, the bright rosy hue which tinged the clouds above their heads showed that the sun was sinking beneath the horizon's edge : the red, after growing deeper and deeper for some time, begau to fade away into the grey ; each moment the light became fainter and more faint; and, at length, while they had yet at least three miles of forest ground to traverse, night fell completely over the earth. The darkness, however, was not so deep as in any degree to prevent them from finding their way onward, or from distinguish- ing the objects round about them, although it lent a mysterious sort of grandeur to the deep masses and long dim glades of the forest, made the rocks look like towers and castles, and con- verted many a tree, to the eyes of the more timid, into the form of an armed man. After having gone on in this state for about half an hour, — just a sufficient time, indeed, to work up every sort of ajipre- hension to the utmost, yet not long enough to familiarize the travellers with the darkness, and when every one was calling to mind all the thousand stories — which were, in those days, alas ! too true ones — of robbers, and murderers, and free plunderers, — the whole party plunged down into a deep dell, the aspect of which was not at all calculated to assuage their terrors, whether reasonable or foolish. Not, indeed, that it was more gloomy than the road through which they had been lately travelling; rather, on the contrary. Whatever degree of light yet remained in the heavens found its way more readily into that valley, where the trees were less high, and at greater intervals from each other, than into the narrow road which had led them thither, the high banks of which were lined all the way along with tall and overhanging beeches. The sort of dingle, however, which they now entered, was clothed with low but thick shrubs; and no means of egress whatever appeared, except by climbing some of the steep ascents which surrounded it on every side. There was a small })iece of level ground at the bottom, of about a hundred yards in diameter ; and the moment they had reached the flat, the word "Halt!" pronounced in a loud and impera- tive voice, caused every one suddenly to draw his bridle rein with somewhat timid obedience, though no one distinguished who was the spcakei'. The matter was not left long in doubt. A dark figure glided THE REVOLT OF GHENT. 15 from the brushwood across their path ; half a dozen more fol- lowed ; and the glistening of the faint light upon various pieces of pt)lishcd iron, showed that there was no lack of arms to compel obedience to the peremptory order they had received to halt. As the persons who obstructed the way, however, seemed but few in number, one of the more bellicose of the burghers called upon his companions to resist. His magnanimity was suddenly diminished by a long arm stretched from the bushes beside him, which ajiplied the stroke of a quarter-staff with full force to his shoulders; and tliough a cuirass, by which his person was de- fended, protected him from any serious injury, yet he was thrown forward upon his horse's neck, with a sound very much resem- bling that produced by the falling of an empty kettle from the hands of a slovenly cook. All were now of one opinion, that, whatever might have been the result of resistance to the more open foes before them, it was useless to contend with such in- visible enemies also, especially as those that were visible were gradually increasing in numbers ; and worthy Martin Fruse led the way to a valorous surrender, by begging the gentlemen of the forest " to spare them for God's sake." " Down from your horses, every one of you !" cried the rough voice which had commanded them to halt, " and we shall soon see what stuff you are made of." The citizens hastened to obey ; and, in the terror which now reigned completely amongst them, strange were the attitudes which they assumed, and strange was the tumbling off, on either side of their beasts, as they hurried to show prompt submis- sion to the imperious command they had received. In the con- fusion and disarray thus produced, only one person of all their party seemed to retain full command of his senses ; and he was no other than the boy we have before described, who, now taking advantage of a vacancy he saw in the ranks of their opponents, dashed forward for a gap in the wood, and had nearly effected his escape. He was too late, however, by a single mo- ment : his bridle was caught by a strong arm, before he could force his way through ; and his light jennet, thrown suddenly upon its haunches, slipped on the green turf, and rolled with her young master on the ground. " By my faith," said the man who had thus circumvented him, " thou art a bold young springal ; but thou must back with 16 MAKV OF BURGUNDY; OR, me, my boy ;" and so saying, he raised him, not unkindly, from the earth, and led him to the place where his companions stood The Durghers and their attendants — in all, about ten in num- ber — were now divested of their arms, offensive and defensive, by the nameless kind of gentry into whose hands they had fallen. This unpleasant ceremony, however, was performed without harshness ; and, though no resistance of any kind was offered, their captors abstained, with very miraculous forbearance, from examining the contents of their pouches, and from searching for any other metal than cold iron. When all this was completed, and the good citizens of Ghent, reduced to their hose and jerkins, stood passive, in silent expectation of what was to come next, — not at all unlike a flock of sheep that a shepherd's dog has driven into a corner of a field, — the same hoarse-voiced gentleman, who had hitherto acted as the leader of their assailants, addressed them in a bantering tone : — " Now, my masters, tell rne truly," he cried, " whether do ye covet to go with your hands and feet at liberty, or to have your wrists tied with cords till the blood starts out from underneath your nails, and your ankles garnished in the same fashion?" The answer of the citizens may well be conceived; and the other went on in the same jeering manner: — " Well, then, swear to me by all you hold holy and dear but stay ! — First tell me who and what ye arc, that I may frame the oath discreetly ; for each man in this world holds holy and dear that which his neighbour holds foolish and cheap." " We are poor unhappy burghers of Ghent," replied Martin Fruse, who, though at first he had been terrified to a very un- dignified degree, now began to recover a certain portion of com- ]-)osure, — '' we are poor unhappy burghers of Ghent, who have been seduced by vain hopes of some small profit to ourselves and our good city, to get upon horseback. Alack ! and a well-a-day ! that ever honest, sober-minded men should be persuaded to trust their legs across such galloping, uncertain, treacherous beasts." " Ila ! ha ! ha !" shouted the man who had addressed him ; " as I live by sword and dagger, it is good Martin Fruse coming from Namur. Well, Martin, the oath I shall put to thee is this, — that by all thy hopes of golden florins, by all thy reverence for silks and furs and cloths of extra fineness, by thy gratitude to the shuttle and the loom, and by thy respect and love for a fine THE REVOLT OF GHENT. 17 fleece of English wool, thou wilt not attempt to escape from my hands, till I fix thy ransom and give thee leave to go." Martin Fruse very readily took the oath prescribed, grateful in his heart for any mitigation of his fears, though trembling somewhat at the name of ransom, which augured ill for the glittering heaps which he had left at home. His comrades all followed his example, on an oath of the same kind being exacted from each ; but when it was addressed to the youth who accom- panied them, a different scene was acted. He replied boldly, " Of cloths and furs I know nothing, but that they cover me, and I will not take such a warehouse vow for the best man that ever drew a sword." " How now, how now, Sir Princox !" cried Martin Fruse ; *' art thou not my nephew, Albert Maurice ? Take the oath this gentleman offers thee, sirrah, and be well content that he does not strike off thy young foolish head." " I will swear by my honour, uncle," replied the boy, " but I will never swear by cloth and florins, for such a vow would bind me but little." " Well, well, thy honour will do," said the leader of their captors ; " though, by my faith, I think we must keep thee with us, and make a soldier of thee ; for doubtless thou art unworthy of the high honour of becoming a burgher of Ghent." The sneering tone in which this was spoken expressed not ill the general feeling of contempt with which the soldiers of that day looked upon any of the milder occupations of life. Whatever kindness they showed towards the citizen, — which was at times considerable, — proceeded solely from sensations approaching compassion, or from considerations of self-interest. They looked upon the burgher, indeed, as a sort of inferior animal, whose helplessness gave it some claim upon their generosity ; and such was probably the feeling that prompted the mild and indulgent manner in which the body of roving adventurers who had cap- tured the Gandois travellers, marshalled their prisoners in rank, and led them away from the high road — where, though impro- bable, such a thing as an interruption might accidentally have taken place — to the deeper parts of the forest, in which silence and solitude seemed to reign supreme. This part of the arrangement, however, was not at all to the taste of good Martin Fruse ; and though he certainly did not venture any opposition, yet, w^hile led along, together with his 18 MARY OF nURGUNDY; OR, companions, by fifteen or sixteen armed and lawless men, it was with fear and trembling that he rolled his eyes around u])on the dark and dreary masses of wood, down the long profound glades, in which nothing was to be distinguished, and over the wild and broken rocks, which every now and then burst through their covering of trees and shrubs, and towering up into the sky, caught upon their brows the first rays of the rising moon, invisible to those who wandered through the forest at their foot. The scene was altogether a great deal too sublime and pic- turesque for his taste ; and he could not help thinking, as he walked unwillingly along, how admirably fitted was the place, into which he was led, for committing murder, without fear of discovery. Then would he picture to his own mind, his body left exposed beneath the green-wood trees, to be preyed on by the ravens, and beaten by the wintry showers ; and his heart would melt with tender compassion for himself, when he thought, how all his good gossips of Ghent would, in years to come, tell the lamentable story of worthy Martin Fruse, and how he was mur- dered in the forest of Ilannut, to the wondering ears of a chance guest, over a blazing fire, in the midst of the cold winter. He had nearly wept at the pitiful images he had called up of his own fate, in his own mind ; but, before he reached that point, a distant neighing met his ear. The horses on which he and his companions had ridden, and which were led after them by their captors, caught the sound also, and answered in the same sort; and in a few minutes more, a bright light began to gleam through the wood, which proved, on their farther advance, to proceed from a watch-fire, by the side of which a bird of the same feather with those who had captured them, was lying asleep. He started up, however, on their approach ; and by the congratulations which passed mutually between him and his comrades, it became evident to Martin Fruse, that a party of citizens of Ghent was a rich prize in the eyes of the freemen of the forest. It is true that he would rather have had his worth appreciated in a different manner ; but the sight of the fire cheered his heart, and a sumptcr horse, which the good burjirhers had brou