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Chapter 16: Ramilies
Neither Rupert Holliday nor Maria van Duyk would be troubled more with Sir Richard Fulke. He was absolutely and unquestionably dead. He had fallen on his head, and death had been instantaneous. In the man whom Rupert shot through the window, Hugh and he recognized the fellow who had been his accomplice in the attempt to carry off Maria in London.
Maria was wholly uninjured, although she was days before she was able to speak with comfort, so roughly had the gag been thrust into her mouth. She had not seen her chief abductor after she had been carried off, as Sir Richard must have felt that it was in vain either to threaten or to sue until he had got her in safety far from Dort.
Leaving the rest of the gang to be dealt with by the authorities, Rupert with his followers left Dort two days later, happy in having finally freed his friends from the danger which had so long menaced them. Mynheer van Duyk said but little; but Rupert knew how deep were his feelings of gratitude; and he again sighed deeply over the fact that Rupert was still but little over eighteen. Maria herself was equally grateful.
Van Duyk would have freighted a shipful of presents to Rupert's friends in England, but the latter would not hear of it. He insisted, however, on sending a pipe of magnificent old Burgundy for the colonel's drinking; while Maria sent a stomacher of antique workmanship, with valuable gems, to Madame Holliday.
No adventure marked their homeward journey. Their ship took them rapidly with a fair wind to London Bridge; and Rupert and Hugh started next day by the coach for Derby, the former having made Joe Sedley a handsome present, to enable him to enjoy his holiday, and an invitation to come down to Windthorpe Chace when he was tired of London.
A letter had been written from Holland a few days before starting, to announce their coming, but it was, of course, impossible in the days of sailing ships to fix a day for arrival.
Hiring a chaise, they drove to Windthorpe Chace, where the delight both of Mistress Holliday and of the colonel was unbounded. Hugh, too, was greeted very warmly by both, for Rupert had done full justice to the services he had rendered him. It was difficult to recognize in the dashing looking young officer and the stalwart trooper the lads who but two years and a half before had ridden away posthaste from the Chace. Hugh was driven off to the farm; and Rupert remained alone with his mother and the colonel, who overwhelmed him with questions.
The colonel had changed but little, and bid fair to live to a great age. His eye was bright, and his bearing still erect. He scarcely looked sixty-five, although he was more than ten years older.
Mistress Dorothy was, Rupert thought, softer and kinder than of old. Her pride, and to some extent her heart, had met with a rude shock, but her eyes were now fully open to the worthlessness of her former suitor, who had lately been obliged to fly the country, having been detected at cheating at cards.
Colonel Holliday rejoiced when he heard of the pipe of prime Burgundy, which started from London on the day Rupert left; while Mistress Dorothy was enchanted with the stomacher, which her son produced from his trunk.
"Have you ever heard from Monsieur Dessin, grandfather? You told me that he said he would write and tell you his real name."
"I doubt not that he did so, Rupert; but the carriage of letters between this and France is precarious. Only smugglers or such like bring them over, and these, except when specially paid, care but little for the trouble. That he wrote I am certain, but his letter has not reached me, which I regret much."
The six months at home passed rapidly. Rupert fell into his old ways; rode and hawked, and occasionally paid state visits to the gentry of the neighbourhood, by whom, as one of Marlborough's soldiers, he was made much of.
"I think this soldiering life makes one restless, Master Rupert," Hugh said one day when the time was approaching for their start. "I feel a longing to be with the troop again, to be at work and doing."
"I feel the same, Hugh; but you would not find it so, I think, if you had come home for good. Then you would have your regular pursuits on the farm, while now you have simply got tired of having no work to do. When the war is over, and we have done soldiering, you will settle down on one of the farms of the Chace. Madame says you shall have the first that falls vacant when you come home. Then you will take a wife, and be well content that you have seen the world, and have something to look back upon beyond a six miles circuit of Derby."
The next campaign may be passed over briefly. The parsimony of England and Holland, and the indifference of Germany, spoiled all the plans of Marlborough, and lost the allies all the benefits of the victory of Blenheim. The French, in spite of their heavy losses, took the field in far greater force than the allies; and instead of the brilliant offensive campaign he had planned, Marlborough had to stand on the defensive.
The gallantry of his English troops, and the effect which Blenheim had produced upon the morale of the French, enabled him to hold the ground won, and to obtain several minor successes; one notably at the Dyle, where Villeroi's troops were driven out of lines considered impregnable, but where the pusillanimity and ill will of the Dutch generals prevented any substantial results being obtained; but no important action took place, and the end of 1705 found things in nearly the same state that 1704 had left them.
The non success of the campaign undid some of the harm which the success of that of 1704 had effected. In Flanders the genius of the duke had enabled the allies to maintain their ground; but on the Rhine they had done badly, and in Italy the French had carried all before them. Therefore while after Blenheim an apathy had fallen on the victors, so now the extent of the danger moved them to fresh exertions.
Marlborough, after seeing his army into winter quarters, visited the capitals of Vienna, Berlin, and the Hague, and again by the charm of his manner succeeded in pacifying jealousies, in healing quarrels, and in obtaining the promises of vigorous action and larger armaments in the spring.
The bad conduct of the Dutch generals had created such a general cry of indignation through Europe, that the States General were compelled, by the pressure of public opinion, to dismiss several of the men who had most distinguished themselves by thwarting the plans of Marlborough, and interposing on every occasion between him and victory. Consequently the campaign of 1706 seemed likely to open with far brighter prospects of success than its predecessors had done.
Suddenly, however, all the arrangements broke down. The Imperialists had just suffered another reverse in Italy; and matters looked so desperate there, that Marlborough proposed to pass the Alps with an army of 40,000 men to their assistance, and there, as he would have the warm cooperation of Prince Eugene instead of the cowardice of the Dutch generals, and the incapacity and obstinacy of the Prince of Baden, he anticipated the complete discomfiture of the French.
In these hopes, however, he was thwarted. The Prince of Baden would do nothing beyond defending his own dominion. The cabinets of Berlin and Copenhagen fell to quarrelling, and both refused to supply their promised contingents. The Hanoverians and Hessians had also grievances, and refused to join in any general plan, or to send their troops to form part of the allied army. Thus all ideas of a campaign in the south were destroyed; but Marlborough persuaded the Dutch to send 10,000 of the troops in their pay across the Alps to assist Prince Eugene, under the promise that he with the English and Dutch troops would defend Flanders.
So the campaign commenced; and on the 19th of May Marlborough joined his army, which lay encamped on the Dyle, on the French frontier. On the 22nd a Danish contingent, which had at the last moment been dispatched in answer to an urgent appeal of the duke, arrived; and his army now consisted of 73 battalions and 123 squadrons, in all 60,000 men, with 120 guns. Marshal Villeroi's force, which lay on the other side of the Dyle, consisted of 74 battalions and 128 squadrons–62,000 men, with 130 guns. They had also, as at Blenheim, the advantage that the troops were all of one nationality, and accustomed to act together, while Marlborough's army consisted of troops of three nations, at least half of them new to war, and unused to act with each other.
Marlborough opened the campaign by moving towards Tirlemont, with a view of laying siege to Namur, where many of the citizens were anxious to throw off the French yoke. Villeroi, anxious to cover Namur, moved his troops out from their quarters on the Dyle to stop the advance of the allies, and bring on a battle in the open field.
The ground taken up by the French marshal was exceedingly strong. Marlborough was aware of the great importance of the position, and had made every effort to be the first to seize it; but the French had less distance to march, and when the allied troops arrived within sight of the ground, the French were already in camp upon Mont Saint Andre.
Mont Saint Andre is an extensive and elevated plateau, being, indeed, the highest ground in Brabant. From it four rivers take their rise–the Great Gheet, the Little Gheet, the Dyle, and the Mehaigne. The French camp was placed immediately above the sources of the two Gheets.
The plan of the battle should be examined carefully, and the events of the great battle will then be understood without difficulty.
The descents from the plateau to the Great Gheet are steep and abrupt. The other rivers rise in wet marshes, in some places impassable. The French left was on the crest of the ridge, above the marshes of the Little Gheet, and extended to the village of Autre Eglise; while the extreme right stood on the high ground overlooking the sources of the Mehaigne. The village of Tavieres, in front of the right, was strongly held; while in the villages of Offuz and Ramilies, opposite their centre, were numerous infantry, no less than twenty battalions occupying Ramilies.
The great bulk of the French cavalry were arranged in two lines on their right, the extreme right of their cavalry being in front of the tomb, or barrow, of the ancient German hero Ottomond; the highest part of the ridge, and commanding the whole field of battle.
Marlborough, having with the Dutch General Overkirk, a loyal and gallant old man, reconnoitred the ground, immediately formed his plan of attack.
The French position was somewhat in the form of a bow, the ends being advanced. They would therefore have more difficulty in sending troops from one end to the other of their line than would the allies, who could move in a direct line along, as it were, the string of the bow; and the ground was sufficiently undulating to enable the movements of troops to be concealed from the enemy on the plateau.
The commanding position of Ottomond's tomb appeared the key of the whole battleground; and Marlborough determined to make his main attack on this point, first deceiving the enemy by a feigned attack on their left. Accordingly, he formed, in a conspicuous position, a heavy column of attack, opposite the French left, and menacing the village of Autre Eglise.
Villeroi, believing that the main attack would be made there, moved a considerable body of his infantry from his centre behind Offuz, to reinforce Autre Eglise.
As the column of attack advanced, a large portion was withdrawn by a dip behind the rising ground on which the others advanced, and moved rapidly towards the left centre; the Danish horse, twenty squadrons strong, being directed to the same spot. The smoke of the advance towards Autre Eglise, and the nature of the ground, concealed all these movements from the French, who directed a very heavy artillery fire on the column advancing against Autre Eglise.
Suddenly the real attack began. Five Dutch battalions advanced against Tavieres; twelve battalions under General Schultz, supported by a strong reserve, moved to attack Ramilies.
The vehemence of their attack showed Villeroi that he had been deceived; but he had now no infantry available to move to reinforce the troops in the threatened villages. He therefore ordered fourteen squadrons of dragoons to dismount, and with two Swiss battalions to advance to the support of Tavieres. They arrived, however, too late, for before they could reach the spot, the Dutch battalions had, with great gallantry, carried the village; and the Duke of Marlborough, launching the Danish horse on the supports as they came up, cut them up terribly, and threw back the remnant in confusion upon the French cavalry, advancing to charge.
Overkirk now charged the French cavalry with the first of the allied horse, broke and drove them back; but at this moment, when the allied cavalry were in disorder after their success, the second line of French cavalry, among whom were the Royal life guards, burst upon them, drove them back in great confusion, and restored the battle in that quarter.
The danger was great, for the victorious cavalry might have swept round, and fallen upon the rear of the infantry engaged in the attack upon Ramilies. Marlborough saw the danger, and putting himself at the head of seventeen squadrons of dragoons, and sending an aide-de-camp to order up twenty squadrons still in reserve, charged the French life guards. The French batteries on the heights behind Ramilies poured in so dreadful a fire that the cavalry hesitated, and some French troopers, recognizing the duke, made a dash at him as he rode ahead of the troops.
In an instant he was surrounded; but before any of his troops could ride to his rescue, he cut his way through the French troopers, sword in hand. As his horse tried to leap a wall it fell, and the enemy were again upon him. At this moment Rupert Holliday. whose troop was in the front line, arrived on the spot, followed by Hugh and half a dozen other troopers, and some of the Duke's personal staff.
A desperate fight raged round the general, until the cavalry charged heavily down to the rescue of their beloved leader. But they were still over matched and pressed backwards by the French guards. At this critical time, however, the twenty squadrons of the reserve arrived on the ground, and charged the French cavalry in front, while the Danish cavalry, who had been detained by morasses, fell at the same moment on their flank, and the French cavalry fell back in confusion. Forming the allied cavalry in two lines, Marlborough led them forward in person, and sweeping aside all resistance, they halted not until they reached the summit of Ottomond's tomb, where they were visible to the whole army, while a tremendous shout told friend and foe alike that the key of the whole position had been gained, and victory in that part of the field secured.
All this time the twenty French battalions in Ramilies under the Marquis Maffie had fought obstinately, although far removed from succour. Gradually, however, they were driven out of the village. The British had fresh battalions of infantry available, and these were sent against them, and the victorious horse charging them in flank, they were almost all made prisoners or destroyed.
The fight had lasted but three hours, and the victory was complete on the right and left. The confusion was, however, great, and Marlborough halted his troops and reformed them, before advancing to the final attack; while Marshal Villeroi strove on his part also to reform his troops, and to take up a new front. The roads, were, however, choked with baggage waggons and artillery, and before the troops could take up their fresh posts, the allies were ready. The charge was sounded, and horse and foot advanced to the attack on the centre, while the troops who had commenced the battle by their demonstration against Autre Eglise joined in the general attack.
Confused and disheartened, the French did not await the onslaught, but broke and fled. The Spanish and Bavarian horse guards made a gallant attempt to stem the tide of defeat, but were cut to pieces. The battle was now over. It was a rout and a pursuit, and the British horse, under Lord Orkney, pursued the fugitives until they reached Louvain, at two o'clock in the morning.
In the battle of Ramilies the French lost in killed and wounded 7000 men, and 6000 were taken prisoners. They lost 52 guns, their whole baggage and pontoon train, and 80 standards. Among the prisoners were the Princes de Soubise and Rohan, while among the killed were many nobles of the best blood of France.
The Allies lost 1066 killed, and 2567 wounded, in all 3633 men.
But great as was the victory itself, the consequences were even more important. Brussels, Louvain, Mechlin, Alost, Luise, and all the chief towns of Brabant, speedily opened their gates to the conqueror. Ghent and Bruges, Darn and Oudenarde, followed the example. Of all the cities of Flanders, Antwerp, Ostend, Nieuport, and Dunkirk, with some smaller fortresses, alone held out for the French.
The Duke of Marlborough issued the most stringent orders for the protection and fair treatment of the inhabitants, and so won such general goodwill among the populations, that when he advanced on Antwerp the local troops and citizens insisted on a surrender; and the French troops capitulated, on condition of being allowed to march out with the honours of war, and to be escorted safely to the French frontier. Ostend was then besieged, and captured after a brave resistance; and then, after a desperate resistance, the important and very strong fortress of Menin was carried by assault, 1400 of the storming party, principally British, being slain at the breach. Dindermande and Ath were next taken, and the allied army then went into winter quarters, after a campaign as successful, and far more important in its results, than that of Blenheim.
Chapter 17: A Prisoner of War
In the brilliant results which arose from the victory at Ramilies, Rupert Holliday had no share. The 5th dragoons formed part of the cavalry force which, when the battle was over, pursued the broken French cavalry to the gates of Hochstad.
In the pursuit, along a road encumbered with deserted waggons, tumbrels, and guns, the pursuers after nightfall became almost as much broken up as the pursued.
Rupert's horse towards the end of the pursuit went dead lame, and he dismounted in order to see if he could do anything to its hoof. He found a sharp stone tightly jammed in the shoe, and was struggling to get this out when the troop again moved forward. Not doubting that he would overtake them in a minute or two, and fearing that unless his horse was relieved of the stone it would become so lame that it would not be able to carry him back, Rupert hammered away at it with a large boulder from the road. It was a longer job than he had anticipated, and five minutes elapsed before he succeeded in getting the stone out, and then, mounting his horse, he rode briskly forward. Presently he came to a point where the road forked. He drew rein and listened, and thought he heard the tramping of horse on the road that led to the left. As he rode on the noise became louder, and in another five minutes he came up to the troop.
It was quite dark, and riding past the men, he made his way to the head of the column.
"I have had an awful bother in getting rid of that stone," he said, as he rode up to the leader. "I began to think that I should lose you altogether. It is quite a chance I took this road."
"An unfortunate chance, sir, for you. A fortunate one for us," the officer he addressed said in English, but with a strong accent, "since you are our prisoner," and as he spoke he laid his hand on Rupert's bridle.
Rupert gave an exclamation of horror at finding the mistake that he had made, but he saw at once that resistance would be useless.
"Je me rends, monsieur. But what horrible luck."
The three French officers at the head of the troop burst into a laugh.
"Monsieur," the one who had first spoken said, now in his native tongue, "we are indebted to you, for you have made us laugh, and heaven knows we have had little enough to laugh at today. But how came you here? Your cavalry have taken the upper road. We were drawn up to make a last charge, when we heard them turn off that way; and were, I can tell you, glad enough to get off without more fighting. We have had enough of it for one day."
As the speaker proceeded, Rupert became more and more convinced that he knew the voice; and the fact that the speaker was acquainted with English, the more convinced him that he was right.
"I stopped to get rid of a stone in my horse's hoof," he said. "If I had only had a fight for it I should not have minded, but not even to have the pleasure of exchanging a pass or two with one of you gentlemen is hard indeed."
"It is just as well that you did not," one of the officers said, "for Monsieur le Marquis de Pignerolles is probably the best swordsman in our army."
"The Marquis de Pignerolles," Rupert said, courteously; "it would have been a pleasure to have crossed swords with him, but scarcely fair, for he knows already that he is not a match for me."
"What!" exclaimed the marquis himself and the two officers, in astonishment.
"You are pleased to joke, sir," the marquis said haughtily.
"Not at all," Rupert said, gravely. "You have met two persons who were your match. You remember Monsieur Dalboy?"
"Dalboy!" the marquis said. "Surely, surely, le Maitre Dalboy, yet–?"
"No, I am assuredly not Monsieur Dalboy," Rupert said. "And the other?"
The marquis reined in his horse suddenly.
"What!" he said, "you are–?"
"Rupert Holliday, my dear Monsieur Dessin."
"My dear, dear lad," the marquis exclaimed. "What pleasure! What delight!" and drawing his horse by the side of Rupert he embraced him with affection.
"My friends," he said to the other officers, who were naturally astonished at this sudden recognition between their prisoner and their colonel, "gentlemen, this English officer is my very dear friend. What kindness have I not received from his grandfather during my time of exile! While to himself I am deeply indebted.
"What a fortunate chance, that if you were to have the bad luck to be made prisoner, you should fall into my hands of all men. I wish that I could let you go, but you know–"
"Of course, of course," Rupert said. "Really I am hardly sorry, since it has brought us together again."
"Did you recognize my name?" the marquis said.
"No indeed," Rupert answered. "The letter which, we doubted not, that you wrote to my grandfather, never came to hand, and we never knew what Monsieur Dessin's real name was, so that Colonel Holliday did not know to whom to write in France."
"I wrote twice," the marquis said, "but I guessed that the letters had never arrived. And the good gentleman your grandfather, he is still alive and well?"
"As well as ever," Rupert said, "and will be delighted to hear of you.
"Mademoiselle is well, I trust?"
"Quite well, and quite a belle at the court, I can assure you," the marquis said. "But there are the gates of Louvain. You will, of course, give me your parole not to try to escape, and then you can come straight to my quarters with me, and I need not report you for a day or so. We shall be in fearful confusion tonight, for half our army is crowding in here, and every one must shift for himself.
"Peste! What a beating you have given us! That Marlborough of yours is terrible.
"I know some people here," he said, turning to the officers. "They will take us four in, and the men must picket their horses in the courtyard and street, and lie down in their cloaks. Tomorrow we will see what is to be done, and how many have escaped from the terrible debacle."
The streets of Louvain were crowded with fugitives, some of them had thrown themselves down by the sidewalks, utterly exhausted; others mingled with the anxious townsmen, and related the incidents of the disastrous day; while the horses stood, with drooping heads, huddled together along the middle of the street. It was only by making long detours that the Marquis de Pignerolles reached the house of which he was in search. Late as was the hour the inmates were up, for the excitement at Louvain was so great that no one had thought of going to bed; and Monsieur Cardol, his wife and family, did all in their power for their guests.
Supper was quickly laid for the four gentlemen; a barrel of wine was broached for the troops, and what provisions were in the house were handed over to them.
"Now let us look at you," the Marquis de Pignerolles said, as they entered the brightly lighted room. "Ah, you are a man now; but your face has little changed–scarcely at all."
"I am scarcely a man yet," Rupert said, laughing. "I am just twenty now; it is rather more than four years since we parted, without even saying goodbye."
"Yes, indeed, Rupert. I tried to do you a good turn in the matter of the Brownlows. I hope it succeeded."
"It did indeed," Rupert said. "We are indeed indebted to you for your intervention then. You saved my lady mother from a wretched marriage, and you saved for me the lands of Windthorpe Chace."
"Ah, I am glad it came off well. But I am your debtor still, mind that; and always shall be. And now to supper. First, though, I must introduce you formally to my comrades, and to our host and hostess, and their pretty daughters."
Very much surprised were the latter when they heard that the handsome young officer was an Englishman and a prisoner.
"He does not look very terrible, does he, this curly-haired young fellow, mademoiselles; but he is one of those terrible horse which have broken the cavalry of the Maison du Roi today, and scattered the chivalry of France. As to himself, he is a Rustium, a Bobadil, if he has, as I doubt not, kept up his practice–" and he looked at Rupert, who nodded smilingly; for he had indeed, during the four years he had been in Flanders, not only practised assiduously in the regimental fencing salles, but had attended all the schools kept by the best Spanish, Italian, and German teachers, keeping himself in practice, and acquiring a fresh pass here, an ingenious defence there, and ever improving–"The first swordsman in France would run a chance against this good-tempered-looking lad with his blue eyes."
The French girls opened their eyes in astonishment, but they were not quite sure whether the marquis was not making fun of them.
"Parbleu!" the two officers exclaimed. "You are not in earnest surely, marquis?"
"I am, indeed, gentlemen; and I can claim some share of the merit, for I taught him myself; and before he was sixteen he was a better swordsman than I was; and as he loved the art, he will have gone on improving, and must be miraculous.
"By the way," he said, suddenly, "there was a story went through Flanders near four years back of the best swordsman in the German army being killed by a mere boy in an English regiment, and I said then, I think that this must be my pupil. Was it so?"
"It was," Rupert said. "It was a painful affair; but I was forced into it."
"Make no excuse, I beg," the marquis said, laughing.
"Now, young ladies, let us to supper; but beware of this prisoner of war, for if he is only half as formidable with his eyes as with his wrist, it is all up with your poor hearts."
Then, with much merriment, the four officers sat down to table, their host and hostess joining for company, and the young ladies acting as attendants.
No one would have guessed that three of the party had formed part of an army which that day had been utterly routed, or that the other was their prisoner; but the temperament of the French enables them to recover speedily from misfortune; and although they had been dull and gloomy enough until Rupert so suddenly fell into their hands, the happy accident of his being known to their colonel, and the pleasure and excitement caused by the meeting, sufficed to put them in high spirits again, especially as their own corps had suffered but slightly in the action, having been in reserve on the left, and never engaged except in a few charges to cover the retreat.
When the battle was alluded to, the brows of the French officers clouded, and they denounced in angry terms the fatal blunder of the marshal of weakening his centre to strengthen the left against a feigned attack. But the subject soon changed again, for, as the marquis said, "It would be quite time to talk it over tomorrow, when they would know who had fallen, and what were the losses;" for from their position on the left, they had little idea of the terrible havoc which had been made among the best blood in France.
Long after all the others had retired, the marquis and Rupert sat together talking over old times. Rupert learned that even before he had left the Chace the marquis had received news that the order of banishment, which the king had passed against him because he had ventured to speak in public in terms of indignation at the wholesale persecution of the Protestants, had been rescinded; and that the estates, which had also been confiscated, were restored. The Protestant persecutions had become things of the past, the greater portion of the French Protestants having fled the country; and the powerful friends of De Pignerolles had never ceased to interest themselves in his favour. The king, too, was in need of experienced soldiers for the war which was about to break out; and lastly, and by the tone in which his friend spoke Rupert saw that the subject was rather a sore one, his Majesty wished to have Adele near the court.
"Mademoiselle Dessin!" Rupert said, in astonishment.
"Well, not exactly Mademoiselle Dessin," the marquis said, smiling, "but la Marquise Adele de Pignerolles, who is by her mother's side–she was a Montmorency–one of the richest heiresses in France, and as inheriting those lands, a royal ward, although I, her father, am alive."
