Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent

by G. P. R. James

A great multitude had collected near the palace gates, to see the different members of the council, and the deputies from the various cities and states of Flanders and Brabant, proceed in state to visit the Princess Mary; and the approbation of the crowd, often depending not a little upon the splendour of the several trains, was loudly expressed as their peculiar favourites approached the gates of the great court. At the same time it was remarkable, that though loud and vociferous in their applause, the multitude restrained all marks of disapprobation on the appearance of persons supposed to be unpopular, with wonderful and unexpected moderation.

Since the first effervescence of feeling had subsided, after the defeat of Nancy and the death of Charles the Bold, and since the apprehension of immediate revolt had gone by, the ministers of Mary of Burgundy--or, to speak more correctly, the members of the provincial council of Flanders--though spending the greater part of the day in the palace, had generally returned to inhabit their own hotels at night. Thus, almost every one but the Lord of Ravestein, who remained in the palace with his cousin, had to traverse the crowd in their way to the audience hall. Imbercourt and Hugonet, neither of whom had ever been very popular, passed amidst profound silence, and Maillotin du Bac, who, in his official dress as Prevot, was riding about the ground, took no small credit to himself for saving those two noblemen from some sort of insult. The Duke of Cleves again, was loudly cheered; but the Duke of Gueldres, who, by some means unknown even to himself, had acquired an extraordinary degree of popularity during the short time which had elapsed since his return to the city, received a degree of applause that went far beyond that which greeted the Duke of Cleves. Albert Maurice, however, as the great favourite of the people, and one whom they considered more peculiarly as their own representative, was received with loud, long-continued, and reiterated shouts. Indeed, as he rode on upon a splendid and fiery horse, dressed in magnificent apparel--not only as president of the council of Ghent and grand bailli of the city, but as holding, in the capacity of chief pensionary, the presidency of the states general of Flanders[^[7]]--and followed by a number of guards and attendants, with his lordly air and his beautiful person, he looked more like some mighty prince going to claim his bride, than a simple merchant about to appear before his sovereign.

The visit was one of ceremony, and as no business of importance was to be transacted, the princess received her court in state; and, to see the splendour with which she was surrounded, the guards, the attendants, the kneeling subjects, no one would have supposed, as was indeed the case, that Mary of Burgundy was less a free agent than the meanest subject in her capital.

All who presented themselves before the princess were received with affability and courtesy, with the one exception of the Duke of Gueldres, from whom, as he approached the chair of state, she seemed to shrink with a repulsive abhorrence, which she could in no degree command. Although he appeared there contrary to her commands, she strove to say something kind in regard to his liberation, and to smile as he offered his thanks; but the words died away before they were uttered, and the smile faded upon her lip as soon as it appeared. To Imbercourt and Hugonet, the Lord of Vere and others, who supported the French alliance--although they had so strongly pressed her to sacrifice all her own personal feelings, and to abandon the hope of happiness for life--she still, from a deep conviction of the honesty of their intentions, and from long habits of regard, yielded the same marks of friendship and affection with which she had always distinguished the counsellors and friends of her father, however much their advice to him or to herself had been at times opposed to her own opinion, or to her dearest wishes. On Albert Maurice, too, as the boldest and strongest supporter of her own wishes against the voice of her more politic advisers, and as the leader of those who really ruled in Flanders, she smiled sweetly, from a feeling of gratitude as well as esteem; and none who beheld the young citizen in the midst of that splendid court, could help acknowledging that he was well fitted, in appearance at least, to take his place among the noblest and most courtly of the land. His mien had all the calm dignity of power and the easy grace of confident but not presuming self-possession. There was also a freshness and variety in his words and actions, which, springing from a rich and generous mind, gave a sparkling grace to the whole of his demeanour, and rendered it at once striking and pleasing. There was certainly a difference in his manners from that of the stiff and stately nobles of the court of Burgundy, but it was slight, and to his advantage, characterized by no want of grace or dignity, but rather by the calm ease of natural politeness, as opposed to the acquired formality of courtly etiquette. It seemed, not that he was assuming a rank, and mingling amidst a class to which he did not belong--but rather as if he had suddenly taken possession of a station which was his own by the indefeasible title of ennobling nature. The respect and deference also with which all the rest of the court felt themselves obliged to treat him, both from his authority over the people, and the powers of his own mind, placed him at his ease; and perhaps the very excitement which he felt under the eyes of Mary of Burgundy, and the mighty aspirations and brilliant hopes which thrilled in his bosom, were not without their share in giving firmness and dignity to the step with which he trod the ducal halls of the house of Burgundy.

Thus passed by the morning; and everything proceeded in undisturbed harmony and tranquillity, both within the Cours du Prince and without its walls. The populace showed themselves calm and placable; and it had seldom happened of late that so many nobles and statesmen, of different opinions and different interests, had met within the gates of that palace with so little jarring and contention. Nevertheless, there were things observed by many of the keen eyes which always hang about courts and watch the flickering signs of the times, that boded events not quite so pacific and gentle as the first aspect of affairs might augur. Between Albert Maurice and the Lord of Imbercourt no words passed; but, when their glances encountered upon more than one occasion, the lordly brow of the young citizen became overcast, and a fire blazed up in his eye, which spoke no very cordial feeling towards that nobleman. Imbercourt himself, whose demeanour through life had always been characterized by calm gravity, not absolutely approaching sadness, but still far removed from cheerfulness, had, since the death of his master, shown himself more gloomy and reserved than he had ever before appeared; and, on the present occasion, there was a deep immovable sternness in his countenance, which had something in it more profound than can be expressed by the word melancholy. He met the fiery glance of the young citizen, however, calm and unchanged. His eyelid never fell, his brow contracted not a line, his lip remained unmoved. Not a trace of emotion of any kind passed over his face, as he endured rather than returned the gaze of the young citizen; and, after remaining a few minutes in the princess's presence, he took his leave, mounted his horse, and rode homewards. But as he passed by Maillotin du Bac, and addressed some common observation to that officer, there was a sort of triumphant sneer on the hard countenance of the Prevot, and an unnatural degree of courtesy in his manner, from which, those who saw it inferred no very favourable anticipations in his mind regarding the Lord of Imbercourt.

When the whole ceremony was over, and Mary of Burgundy was left alone with Alice of Imbercourt, and a few of her other attendants, her heart seemed lightened of a load, and a smile brightened her countenance for the first time since her father's death.

"Thank God, Alice," she said, "that it is over. I was very anxious about the passing by of this morning, for I feared much that some angry clashing might have taken place, concerning the messengers despatched to the cruel King of France. But you are sad, Alice," she continued, seeing the fair face of her gay friend overcast with unusual clouds, which probably had arisen from the increased gloom she had observed upon the countenance of her father; "you are sad, Alice;--you, whose gay and happy spirit seems formed by heaven to bear up against everything."

"I know not well how it is, your Grace," replied Alice, with a sigh; "nothing particular has happened to make me so; and yet, I own, my heart feels more gloomy than it generally does on such a sunshiny day."

"Nay, Alice," replied the princess, "you must be sad, indeed, to call Mary of Burgundy 'your Grace,' when from our earliest years we have grown up together as sisters more than friends. But be not gloomy, dear Alice; all will, I trust, go well. There is not that evil, in all this sorrowful world, which could shake my trust in an over-ruling Providence, or make me doubt that the end will yet be good."

"But sorrows must sometimes happen," replied Alice; "and in that book--which I wish I had never looked into--in the cabinet at Hannut, I saw that some time soon you were to lose two faithful friends: I wonder if I shall be one."