CHAPTER V
A LEADER OF NATIONS
When the late evening fell it was obvious that nothing could save Namur,the allies had advanced a mile on the outworks of the castle. M. deBoufflers sent to request a two days' truce that he might bury the deadwho filled fosse and ditch. The King granted it. Before the timeexpired the Marechal offered to surrender if he was not relieved in tendays. William at once refused. His terms were instant surrender orinstant attack. M. de Boufflers capitulated, terms were speedily agreedupon, the garrison was to go free, the citadel, stores, and arms to beleft in possession of the allies.
On the 6th September, under a blazing sun, a marechal de France, for thefirst time since France had been a kingdom, delivered up a powerfulcastle to the enemy. It was the first obvious sign of that tide offortune that had been steadily setting against France since '88. Itmeant more even than the conquest of the strongest fortress in theworld--it meant that the arms of Louis were no longer invincible.
The garrison, reduced to five thousand, less than half their originalnumber, marched out through the breach made by the guns of theconfederate army, which was drawn up in lines of foot and horse thatreached to the banks of the glittering Meuse.
The French came with full honours, with the beat of drums and theensigns erect, but their spirits were heavy with a bitter humiliation.Their reverse was as unexpected as it was tremendous.
M. de Boufflers and his staff came last of the garrison, the Marechaldecked with all the pomp of war, gold encrusted cuirass, silk scarf,orders, a splendid white horse trapped in gilt and crimson, and a bluesaddle cloth _seme_ with lilies.
He held his bare sword erect and his face was set sternly. He wasexceedingly troubled by the ceremony in which he was about to take part.He would not, and could not, as a subject of King Louis, acknowledge thePrince of Orange as King of England, but it was difficult to treat avictorious general (and certainly a King _de facto_) with less thanrespect and retain his own dignity, especially as the astute Frenchmanwas perfectly well aware that William was King of England and wouldnever be shaken from his throne now in favour of the old man who waswearing Louis' patience thin with his complaints and demands. MoreoverPortland had insinuated that the allies would take any slight to Williamvery ill indeed; so, between mortification at his position, his duty tohis master, his desire to avoid the ridiculous and not offend theconventions of martial courtesy, the Marechal was in a perturbed temperindeed. But as he neared the spot where the allied sovereign awaitedhim, even his dilemma was forgotten in his curiosity to see the man whofilled so tremendous a part in the world, who for twenty years hadwithstood France, who had risen to absolute power in his own country,who had gained two kingdoms by diplomacy and a third by conquest, whowas the soul of a huge coalition and one of the greatest soldiers inEurope, the man who was always spoken of in Paris with hatred and somefear, as an upstart, a usurper, a heretic, one who had broken throughsacred family ties for the sake of personal ambition, and stirred Europeinto a turmoil to obtain a crown.
This feeling was shared by every officer behind him. They were alleager to see the Prince whom they had learnt from King James to regardas a pitiless, cold self-seeker, and from Louis as a royal adventurerunscrupulous and impudent.
Not far from the castle the commanders of the allied forces were drawnup, the German Princes, the representatives of Spain and the NorthernStates and the United Provinces on horseback, and near them, in acalash, or light open travelling coach, the King of England.
M. de Boufflers reined up his horse a few paces away; a handsome younggentleman with a very proud carriage, wearing a scarlet cloak, was theforemost of the group. M. de Boufflers knew him for Maximilien ofBavaria.
The garrison came on slowly past the four black coach horses held byfootmen wearing the livery of England, until the Marechal found himselfface to face with the occupant of the coach and the Elector who sat hishorse immediately beside the door.
There was a pause of silence; M. de Boufflers went pale under the eyes,and looked with the irresistible attraction of great curiosity at theman in the coach, who was surrounded by these brilliant and immovableescorts of princely horsemen.
He had heard the person of this Prince often described, and commonreport had drawn a picture of him familiar to the minds of men, but hefound the original totally different, though there were the salientcharacteristics, the frail stature, the strongly marked features, thebrilliant eyes, so well known throughout Europe.
But the swift and general impression he made was entirely other to whatthe Frenchman had expected. He saw a gentleman with an extraordinaryair of stillness and repose, dressed richly and rather heavily in blackand gold, wearing the George and the Ribbon of the Garter, but no otherdecoration, and a hat with black feathers cocked back from his face; hewore a long neck-cloth of Flanders lace, the ends of which were drawnthrough the buttonholes of his brocade waistcoat, after the Englishfashion. He sat leaning a little towards M. de Bavaria, and held in hisright hand a cane with a gold top.
There was something in his expression, his bearing, wholly unlooked forby M. de Boufflers, who could put no name to it, but thought, in aconfused way, that he had never seen a man whose principal occupationwas war appear less of a soldier.
The King, without moving, fixed his dark, flashing eyes on theFrenchman, and smiled, almost imperceptibly.
M. de Boufflers performed the salute of the sword; he lowered hisweapon, not directly at the King, but it was too high an honour for theElector, and William alone bent his head in acknowledgment.
The silence was profound as the gleaming weapon was returned to itssheath. M. de Boufflers drew his breath unsteadily. He would go nofurther; he spoke to the Prince to avoid the royal terms of address.
"Your Highness, I must congratulate you upon your good fortune though itis my own ill luck--but I must console myself that I have held evenNamur three months against such an army and such generals."
The Elector uncovered and, turning to the King, repeated with profoundrespect what the Marechal had said.
William touched his hat in a formal salute silently. M. de Boufflerscoloured with vexation. The deference of the Elector, so much his ownsuperior, made his own attitude, he thought, appear ridiculous, but hehaughtily maintained it.
"I surrender to Your Highness the keys of the Castle of Namur," he said,and handed them with a bow to the Elector, who at once presented them tothe King.
"Sire," said M. de Bavaria, very lowly, "M. de Boufflers has the honourto request me to present to Your Majesty the keys of Namur."
William took them and again saluted.
"I, with Your Majesty's permission, will inform M. de Boufflers thatYour Majesty is satisfied that the terms of the capitulation arefulfilled?"
"Yes, Highness," answered William gravely, but still (as M. de Boufflerswas supremely conscious), with that slight smile.
"His Majesty," said the Elector, "is pleased to compliment you,monsieur, upon your gallant defence of the citadel."
"I thank Your Highness," answered the Marechal, colouring deeply.Neither he nor his officers could altogether conceal their astonishmentand vexation at seeing the proudest Princes of Germany treat William ofOrange with as great a deference as his meanest courtiers used to theirown master.
"We need not detain you, monsieur," said the Electoral Prince.
M. de Boufflers bowed over his saddle and passed on, his staff officersbehind him, all riding at the salute as they passed the alliedSovereigns.
When the last had gone, William, who had never taken his eyes from thecavalcade, spoke to M. Dyckfelt who rode close to the carriage.
"Mynheer," he said, "you will inform M. de Boufflers that he is ourprisoner until the garrisons of Dixmuyde and Deynse are released."
M. Dyckfelt departed with a body of Dutch cavalry, and, as the Kingdrove off, he could hear the indignant exclamations of the Frenchofficers as the Marechal was asked
to deliver up his sword. The Kingdrove to his tent across the town of Namur, which was like a barracksand a battlefield for soldiers and wounded. His bodyguard of princesraised a fine cloud of white dust from the dry roads, the air was stillfoul with the smell of powder and burning buildings, the sun burnt inthe acrid heavens with a sheer cloudless heat that seemed to draw allfreshness and moisture out of the earth, even the two great rivers had ahard, molten look in the glare as if they were lead, not water.
The commanders of the confederacy dined with the King; the tent was hot,but shaded from the intolerable glare by three poor scorched chestnuttrees that cast a meagre shadow over the canvas.
The Electoral Prince sat at the King's right, the Earl of Portland athis left, and, for the first time, Joost van Keppel was at the King'stable, an honour that was not grudged by any of the potentates, for theyoung soldier was exceedingly popular, being amiable, generous, sweettempered, and deferential, but Portland marked it with a bitter heart.
William, seated in a vermeil armchair, wearing his hat, and treated bythe others as if they were no more than his subjects, gave thetoast--"The allied army"--in a whisper to the Elector, who passed itround the table. It was drunk in silence, and the long meal, served ongold and crystal, began.
The King spoke hardly at all, save to utter a few sentences to Portland,who received them coldly, and the others were, out of deference, silent,all being, indeed, too elated with their recent great success (thegreatest they had achieved during the war), and too occupied in theirown thoughts with what this would mean to their several interests, tocare for speech.
When the meal was nearly over, M. Dyckfelt came to say that M. deBoufflers, after protesting violently, had delivered up his sword andreturned to Namur as a prisoner of the allies.
"We will send him to Huy until we receive the two garrisons," saidWilliam languidly, "though I doubt that we put too high a price on M. deBoufflers."
"His Master," remarked M. de Vaudemont, "must redeem him even at ahigher rate."
"Ah, cousin," answered the King, "His Majesty will return the men forpride's sake."
"And there is the English post in," said M. Dyckfelt, "all in a reekfrom skirting Villeroy's forces."
"Why must you remind me of England?" asked William.
Portland interposed quickly--
"Surely you will return almost immediately? Is this not a good junctureto call a parliament?"
"This is not a good season to discuss politics." The King administeredhis reproof in the gentlest manner, but Portland, with a curt bow,instantly set down his glass, rose, and left the tent. William flushed,and a kind of tremor ran through the company. They thought that theKing would not take this even from Portland.
But, after a second, he turned to the Prince de Vaudemont.
"My cousin," he said quietly, "will you go after my lord and persuadehim that he is unreasonable?"
The princes glanced at each other covertly as M. de Vaudemont obeyed.M. van Keppel coloured violently; he knew perfectly well who Portland'swrath was directed against, but his anger was not personal but for hismaster thus openly slighted.
The King sat silent, drinking slowly and looking down at the damaskcloth. In a few moments M. de Vaudemont returned alone.
It seemed almost incredible that Portland should refuse to return whensent for by the King and by such a messenger; William looked up.
"Sire," said M. de Vaudemont, "M. de Portland asks your Majesty toexcuse his attendance."
The King made no answer; he was outwardly composed, but the Elector,glancing at his face, guessed that his triumph was as nothing to himcompared to the coldness of his friend. M. de Hesse broke the silence.
"M. de Kohorn lost his bet after all!" he remarked; "until this moment Ihad forgotten it."
"I am a hundred pistoles the richer," answered the Elector, glad of thediscussion, "and yet I thought to lose--it was the victory of a fewhours only."
William suddenly laughed.
"Gentlemen," he said, slightly raising his glass, "I give you the loserof that wager and the man who took Namur--Baron Menno Kohorn."
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