Words of Command (Hervey 12) (Matthew Hervey) (45 page)

The concession, whether prudent or not, at once emboldened the agitators in deeds and words alike. The press gave free vent to emotion, the
Catholique
of Ghent thundering:

There is no salvation for the throne, but in an ample concession of our rights. The essential points to be accorded are royal inviolability and ministerial responsibility; the dismissal of Van Maanen; liberty of education and the press; a diminution of taxation … in short, justice and liberty in all and for all, in strict conformity with the fundamental law.

The
Coursier des Pays Bas
was perhaps more circumspect regarding actual independence, but was nevertheless uncompromising in its demands, including the dismissal of Van Maanen, and adamant The Hague must act to save the union:

We repeat that we are neither in a state of insurrection nor revolution; all we want is a mitigation of the grievances we have so long endured, and some guarantees for a better future.

And some of the gentry of the uprising, believing themselves now to be masters of events, sought to dress the violence in more humble clothes. Next day, the twenty-eighth, a rally at the Hôtel de Ville appointed a deputation of five, led by Alexandre de Gendebien, a prominent lawyer from Mons, and the comte de Mérode, to bear to the king a loyal address setting out these grievances, and asking respectfully for their removal.

Meanwhile, having learned that morning from several
émigrés
that the new government in Paris intended sending troops to Wallonia ‘to protect their French-speaking cousins’, Hervey set out for the border with two troops.

There were conventions for choosing which troop. If it were a detached command, the senior captain’s had the privilege. But in leaving D Troop in Brussels as a depot Hervey broke no rules – since in strict law Tyrwhitt was still captain; nor, indeed, did he discompose either Vanneck or Worsley, for the prospect of getting out of the city and seeing a little action, albeit, he assured (warned) them, peaceable, was more than enough to entice them. Besides, although they would be under his direct command, they would, he explained, range so widely as to be in effect quite independent. Indeed, though he did not tell them (hardly needing to), he had chosen their troops for that very reason. In Vanneck and Worsley he had captains on whom he could rely – rely absolutely. And this would be a game in which a card played ill could cost them dearly – life, limb, reputation; perhaps even the safety of the realm.

At least, that was how Hervey saw it. And so did Vanneck and Worsley, for when he told them his intention to go and look for the French they said it was the finest thing, if the greatest hazard. Afterwards they speculated on what in the circumstances they themselves would have done, but determined only that while as captains, even of cavalry, they would probably be spared the fate of Admiral Byng, shot for a seeming want of zeal to close with the enemy – ‘
pour encourager les autres
’ – perhaps a lieutenant-colonel would not be. There again, Admiral Codrington had hardly been feted for his determination to close with the Turks at Navarino.

There was another reason, too, for choosing Vanneck and Worsley – their serjeant-majors. Armstrong and Collins had faced the French on too many occasions to be either overawed or overexcited, and this was an undertaking that needed the strongest of resolution and the coolest of heads.

In truth, the only decision that had required much consideration was whether he should leave the quartermaster and regimental serjeant-major in Brussels. He concluded that, to begin with at least, Lincoln should come with him, for the business of provisioning was his, and in that regard Mordaunt’s troop was well provided for; while the question of shipping home was in these circumstances secondary. As for Mr Rennie, it would have been an affront to remain where there was but one troop, even though matters in Brussels would have benefited greatly from his judgement, which Hervey would have found reassuring. Moreover, was there ever a cooler head than that which had defused the bomb at the wheels of the crown princess’s carriage? His place was at the frontier.

The march south took them across
two
battlefields – Waterloo and Malplaquet. It seemed more than a little portentous. Both those great contests had been towards the same purpose as theirs now – to keep the French out of the Low Countries. Of Waterloo every dragoon was now an authority to varying degrees, but Malplaquet, a century before, needed instruction in the saddle. There, England’s other great captain, the Duke of Marlborough, had defeated Marshal Villars and the following month retaken the great fortress of Mons. Yet he had suffered such losses – it was perhaps the bloodiest battle in all of that bloody century – that Villars wrote to the French king, ‘If it please God to give your majesty’s enemies another such victory, they are ruined.’ And Marlborough had received no letter of thanks afterwards from the Queen, as he had for his other victories. While the field of Waterloo was therefore somehow an inspiration to ride across, that of Malplaquet was a warning. And Hervey was most conscious of it.

They had kept the baggage to a minimum – tentage, five days’ rations, cooking pots and twelve hundredweight of corn per troop. There would be green fodder enough – it had been a good summer for grass – and last year’s hay would not be too hard to come by perhaps, but bread and meat were already short, as well they knew from the half-starved beggars who’d been filling the streets of Brussels. They had three days’ supply of salt pork and dried peas, but he knew full well they wouldn’t be able to remain in the field long unless Lincoln were able to buy more. He certainly had the means: the imprest account saw to that, though doubtless there’d be questions to answer on return to Hounslow. Hervey reckoned they could subsist for a fortnight, at most; but, then, if the French were to make a move it would surely be sooner than later, before reinforcements from the northern provinces could be sent into Wallonia. And they’d be imprudent to do so without some reconnaissance, some probing of the border, for they couldn’t risk a clash of arms with the Dutch. No, a fortnight should be enough.

It was on this supposition therefore that he laid out his design to the captains on the first night – in the Château de Seneffe, seat of the Depestre family, whose wealth had come from contracts with the Austrian army in the century before, and who were perfectly happy to increase it with billeting money (and, indeed, for Lincoln to settle contracts for a good deal of fresh meat, flour and potatoes). It was a chance choosing, but one that did Hervey’s reputation for resource and luck no ill at all.

‘Gentlemen,’ he began, presiding at the head of a vast dining table on which the captains had spread their maps, and the regimental staff their order books; ‘I shall take you now into my complete confidence, for it is only right that you understand that this enterprise is not without peril – not so much to life and limb but to our good name – and that we play for high stakes.’

Peril, high stakes … what cavalryman worth his salt did not thrill to such words? Ears pricked like a seasoned hunter’s to the sound of the horn. Even the surgeon, who thought his lot was ever to administer pills, sat up at the words, despite the assertion that the threat was not to life and limb.

‘You are as aware as I of the tumultuous state of affairs in Brussels. Its local consequences we cannot foretell; nor do they concern us at this time. If, however, the French take this opportunity to make mischief then the consequences for England must be great and apparent.’

Vanneck and Worsley nodded readily. They knew their history as well as any man: the hostile shore was ever a concern, the Scheldt, the barrel of the gun.

But what might two troops of light dragoons accomplish?

‘Gentlemen, it is possible –
possible
, mind – that if the French come they will do so in great strength and sweep all before them. That, however, might be tantamount to a hostile act – invasion, indeed; which of course it would be, no matter how it were to advantage dressed – protection of their French-speaking cousins and such like. So it seems to me to be at least as possible – and, I would claim, more probable – that if they come they will do so guardedly. And if, finding no troops barring their way, they then advance boldly and so disperse themselves about the Walloon provinces, the Dutch would have a nigh impossible task to eject them. I am yet to discover what Dutch troops – I should say Dutch-Belgic – there are to bar the way, but I have it on some authority that those that there are in Wallonia keep only the old barrier fortresses – those of principal interest to us being at Ath, Mons and Charleroi – and have none about the country but gendarmes. But since by my reckoning the French would not wish to appear to be making war on the Dutch, they would not invest those places but seek to slip by them.’

Again Vanneck and Worsley nodded. The logic was unassailable. But Worsley was examining his map with close attention, and looking increasingly uneasy.

Hervey sensed why. ‘Is it possible for a French force of any size to slip between the barrier forts thus? Let me answer in this way. We crossed the field of Malplaquet today, that bloody place where Marlborough lost … what – twenty thousand? But only two years later, as you’ll recall, he slipped through the lines of “Ne Plus Ultra” during the night and the French found themselves out-manoeuvred – out-generalled.’

Worsley smiled, conceding the point.

‘However, gentlemen, the French must not slip through
our
lines of “Ne Plus Ultra”.’
^fn1

And to stay the obvious protests he raised a hand.

‘I’m perfectly aware that two troops of light dragoons hardly constitute “lines” worthy of the name, but our advantage compared with those of Marlborough’s day is that our lines are not fixed. We may place them where we have a mind to once we’ve discovered the French route of advance. It’s possible they may cross the border in numerous places: there are good reasons for doing so. But such a dispersal would not necessarily be to their advantage, for if they are opposed in one part and their other columns continue, unknowing, the scheme therefore takes on the nature of invasion again – which, if my original supposition is correct, they would not wish. So I’m persuaded that their course will be to advance via the single best route, and that route is that which Bonaparte himself took fifteen years ago – the road down which we have ridden this day. Or else that which he also took to attack the Prussians, to the east towards Charleroi. Captain Worsley, the Mons road shall be yours, and Captain Vanneck, that from Jeumont.’

The captains examined their maps again. The distance between the crossing points on the border was about eight miles – too far to be of mutual assistance, not so very different from those tumultuous days in 1815.

‘As I have said, I believe the best interests of the French would be served by a single avenue of advance. As soon as that avenue is detected I shall withdraw the other troop to the support of that astride the advance. However, eight miles – an hour and a half to bring a troop to the support of the other: it would be close run. I intend therefore to scout the fortress at Maubeuge, which is the obvious
point d’appui
, to gain the earliest indication of which road they’ll take.’

The captains looked reassured – except that Maubeuge stood square in French territory.

‘Now, the manner of your barring the way: it is to be without violence. I mean, not a shot nor a blade is to touch a single cuirassier, lancer or whatever manner of cavalryman is sent. Draw swords – certainly; warning shots if necessary. I leave it to you to devise what drill you may – and for the night also, for it’s not impossible that they should try to pass in darkness; and I’ll talk with you of it when you see the ground tomorrow. We want no “untoward event”, no Navarino’ (the proximity of opposing forces had a momentum of its own, just as in that unfortunate battle): ‘if they offer violence the game’s up: it’s then invasion, and there’s nothing for it but to melt before them, as at a field day. We’ll have done all that’s reasonably in our power to do.’

Vanneck and Worsley nodded once more. There need be no sacrifice – not a single dragoon –
if
, unlike at Navarino, cool heads prevailed.

‘Now, there’s much for you to ponder, but one last detail, and as we’ve ridden across the battlefields of the two greatest exponents of exploring, let me quote the first duke, that nothing can be done without good and early intelligence. Cornets St Alban and Jenkinson shall therefore be detached for the purpose of exploring Maubeuge. In plain clothes, of course.’

The adjutant looked distinctly uneasy.

‘Mr Malet?’

‘Colonel, I was merely wondering if it might be more … with respect, prudent, to keep Jenkinson within his troop. If he were to be taken, detained, captured, or whatever it were, the nephew of the late prime minister …’

Hervey smiled just perceptibly. ‘It is for that reason that I choose him.’

Silence. There could be no clearer statement of their leader’s steely earnest.