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Title: History of the United Netherlands, 1600-09, Vol. IV. Complete

Author: John Lothrop Motley

Last Updated: February 7, 2009
Release Date: October 15, 2006 [EBook #4884]

Language: English

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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNITED NETHERLANDS, IV. ***




Produced by David Widger




HISTORY OF THE UNITED NETHERLANDS

From the Death of William the Silent to the Twelve Year's Truce--1609

Volume IV.

By John Lothrop Motley




CHAPTER XXXVIII. 1600

   Military events--Aggressive movement of the Netherlanders--State of
   the Archdukes provinces--Mutiny of the Spanish forces--Proposed
   invasion of Flanders by the States-General--Disembarkation of the
   troops on the Spanish coasts--Capture of Oudenburg and other places
   --Surprise of Nieuport--Conduct of the Archduke--Oudenburg and the
   other forts re-taken--Dilemma of the States' army--Attack of the
   Archduke on Count Ernest's cavalry--Panic and total overthrow of the
   advance-guard of the States' army--Battle of Nieuport--Details of
   the action--Defeat of the Spanish army--Results of the whole
   expedition.

The effect produced in the republic by the defensive and uneventful
campaigning of the year 1599 had naturally been depressing. There was
murmuring at the vast amount of taxation, especially at the new
imposition of one-half per cent. upon all property, and two-and-a-half
per cent. on all sales, which seemed to produce so few results. The
successful protection of the Isle of Bommel and the judicious purchase of
the two forts of Crevecoeur and St. Andrew; early in the following year,
together with their garrisons, were not military events of the first
magnitude, and were hardly enough to efface the mortification felt at the
fact that the enemy had been able so lately to construct one of those
strongholds within the territory of the commonwealth.

It was now secretly determined to attempt an aggressive movement on a
considerable scale, and to carry the war once for all into the heart of
the obedient provinces. It was from Flanders that the Spanish armies drew
a great portion of their supplies. It was by the forts erected on the
coast of Flanders in the neighbourhood of Ostend that this important
possession of the States was rendered nearly valueless. It was by
privateers swarming from the ports of Flanders, especially from Nieuport
and Dunkirk, that the foreign trade of the republic was crippled, and its
intercommunications by river and estuary rendered unsafe. Dunkirk was
simply a robbers' cave, a station from which an annual tax was levied
upon the commerce of the Netherlands, almost sufficient, had it been paid
to the national treasury instead of to the foreign freebooters, to
support the expenses of a considerable army.

On the other hand the condition of the archdukes seemed deplorable. Never
had mutiny existed before in so well-organised and definite a form even
in the Spanish Netherlands.

Besides those branches of the "Italian republic," which had been
established in the two fortresses of Crevecoeur and St. Andrew, and which
had already sold themselves to the States, other organisations quite as
formidable existed in various other portions of the obedient provinces.
Especially at Diest and Thionville the rebellious Spaniards and Italians
were numbered by thousands, all veterans, well armed, fortified in strong
cities; and supplying themselves with perfect regularity by contributions
levied upon the peasantry, obeying their Eletto and other officers with
exemplary promptness; and paying no more heed to the edicts or the
solicitations of the archduke than if he had been the Duke of Muscovy.

The opportunity seemed tempting to strike a great blow. How could Albert
and Isabella, with an empty exchequer and a mutinous army, hope either to
defend their soil from attack or to aim a counter blow at the republic,
even if, the republic for a season should be deprived of a portion of its
defenders?

The reasoning was plausible, the prize tempting. The States-General, who
habitually discountenanced rashness, and were wont to impose superfluous
restraints upon the valiant but discreet Lewis William, and upon the
deeply pondering but energetic Maurice, were now grown as ardent as they
had hitherto been hesitating. In the early days of June it was determined
in secret session to organize a great force in Holland and Zeeland, and
to embark suddenly for Nieuport, to carry that important position by
surprise or assault, and from that basis to redeem Dunkirk. The
possession of these two cities, besides that of Ostend, which had always
been retained by the Republic, would ensure the complete subjugation of
Flanders. The trifling force of two thousand men under Rivas--all that
the archduke then had in that province--and the sconces and earthworks
which had been constructed around Ostend to impede the movements and
obstruct the supplies of the garrison, would be utterly powerless to
prevent the consummation of the plan. Flanders once subjugated, it would
not be long before the Spaniards were swept from the obedient Netherlands
as thoroughly as they had been from the domains of the commonwealth, and
all the seventeen provinces, trampling out every vestige of a hated
foreign tyranny, would soon take their natural place as states of a free;
prosperous, and powerful union.

But Maurice of Nassau did not share the convictions of the
States-General. The unwonted ardour of Barneveld did not inflame his
imagination. He urged that the enterprise was inexcusably rash; that its
execution would require the whole army of the States, except the slender
garrisons absolutely necessary to protect important places from surprise;
that a defeat would not be simply disaster, but annihilation; that
retreat without absolute triumph would be impossible, and that amid such
circumstances the archduke, in spite of his poverty and the rebellious
condition of his troops, would doubtless assemble a sufficient force to
dispute with reasonable prospects of victory, this invasion of his
territory.

Sir Francis Vere, too, was most decidedly opposed to the plan. He pointed
out with great clearness its dangerous and possibly fatal character;
assuring the Staten that, within a fortnight after the expedition had
begun, the archduke would follow upon their heels with an army fully able
to cope with the best which they could put into the field. But besides
this experienced and able campaigner, who so thoroughly shared the
opinions of Prince Maurice, every military man in the provinces of any
consideration, was opposed to, the scheme. Especially Lewis William--than
whom no more sagacious military critic or accomplished strategist existed
in Europe, denounced it with energy and even with indignation. It was, in
the opinion of the young stadholder of Friesland, to suspend the
existence of the whole commonwealth upon a silken thread. Even success,
he prophesied, would bring no permanent, fruits, while the consequences
of an overthrow, were fearful to contemplate. The immediate adherents and
most trusted counsellors of William Lewis were even more unmeasured in
their denunciations than he was himself. "'Tis all the work of Barneveld
and the long-gowns," cried Everard van Reyd. "We are led into a sack from
which there is no extrication. We are marching to the Caudine Forks."

Certainly it is no small indication of the vast influence and the
indomitable resolution of Barneveld that he never faltered in this storm
of indignation. The Advocate had made up his mind to invade Flanders and
to capture Nieuport; and the decree accordingly went forth, despite all
opposition. The States-General were sovereign, and the Advocate and the
States-General were one.

It was also entirely characteristic of Maurice that he should submit his
judgment on this great emergency to that of Olden-Barneveld. It was
difficult for him to resist the influence of the great intellect to which
he had always willingly deferred in affairs of state, and from which;
even in military matters, it was hardly possible for him to escape. Yet
in military matters Maurice was a consummate professor, and the Advocate
in comparison but a school-boy.

The ascendency of Barneveld was the less wholesome, therefore, and it
might have been better had the stadholder manifested more resolution. But
Maurice had not a resolute character. Thorough soldier as he was, he was
singularly vacillating, at times almost infirm of purpose, but never
before in his career had this want of decision manifested itself in so
striking a manner.

Accordingly the States-General, or in other words John of Olden-Barneveld
proposed to invade Flanders, and lay siege, to Nieuport. The
States-General were sovereign, and Maurice bowed to their authority.
After the matter had been entirely decided upon the state-council was
consulted, and the state-council attempted no opposition to the project.
The preparations were made with matchless energy and extraordinary
secrecy. Lewis William, who meanwhile was to defend the eastern frontier
of the republic against any possible attack, sent all the troops that it
was possible to spare; but he sent, them with a heavy heart. His
forebodings were dismal. It seemed to him that all was about to be staked
upon a single cast of the dice. Moreover it was painful to him while the
terrible game, was playing to be merely a looker on and a prophet of evil
from a distance, forbidden to contribute by his personal skill and
experience to a fortunate result. Hohenlo too was appointed to protect
the southern border, and was excluded from, all participation in the
great expedition.

As to the enemy, such rumors as might came to them from day to day of
mysterious military, preparations on the part of the rebels only served
to excite suspicion in others directions. The archduke was uneasy in,
regard to the Rhine and the Gueldrian; quarter, but never dreamt of a
hostile descent upon the Flemish coast.

Meantime, on the 19th June Maurice of Nassau made his appearance at
Castle Rammekens, not far from Flushing, at the mouth of the Scheld, to
superintend the great movement. So large a fleet as was there assembled
had never before been seen or heard of in Christendom. Of war-ships,
transports, and flat-bottomed barges there were at least thirteen
hundred. Many eye-witnesses, who counted however with their imaginations,
declared that there were in all at least three thousand vessels, and the
statement has been reproduced by grave and trustworthy chroniclers. As
the number of troops to be embarked upon the enterprise certainly did not
exceed fourteen thousand, this would have been an allowance of one vessel
to every five soldiers, besides the army munitions and provisions--a
hardly reasonable arrangement.

Twelve thousand infantry and sixteen hundred cavalry, the consummate
flower of the States' army, all well-paid, well-clad, well-armed,
well-disciplined veterans, had been collected in this place of rendezvous
and were ready to embark. It would be unjust to compare the dimensions of
this force and the preparations for ensuring the success of the
enterprise with the vast expeditions and gigantic armaments of later
times, especially with the tremendous exhibitions of military and naval
energy with which our own civil war has made us familiar. Maurice was an
adept in all that science and art had as yet bequeathed to humanity for
the purpose of human' destruction, but the number of his troops was small
compared to the mighty hosts which the world since those days has seen
embattled. War, as a trade, was then less easily learned. It was a guild
in which apprenticeship was difficult, and in which enrolment was usually
for life. A little republic of scarce three million souls, which could
keep always on foot a regular well-appointed army of twenty-five thousand
men and a navy of one or two hundred heavily armed cruisers, was both a
marvel and a formidable element in the general polity of the world. The
lesson to be derived both in military and political philosophy from the
famous campaign of Nieuport does not depend for its value on the numbers
of the ships or soldiers engaged in the undertaking. Otherwise, and had
it been merely a military expedition like a thousand others which have
been made and forgotten, it would not now deserve more than a momentary
attention. But the circumstances were such as to make the issue of the
impending battle one of the most important in human history. It was
entirely possible that an overwhelming defeat of the republican forces on
this foreign expedition would bring with it an absolute destruction of
the republic, and place Spain once more in possession of the heretic
"islands," from which basis she would menace the very existence of
England more seriously than she had ever done before. Who could measure
the consequences to Christendom of such a catastrophe?

The distance from the place where the fleet and army were assembled to
Nieuport--the objective point of the enterprise--was but thirty-five
miles as the crow flies. And the crow can scarcely fly in a straighter
line than that described by the coast along which the ships were to shape
their course.

And here it is again impossible not to reflect upon the change which
physical science has brought over the conduct of human affairs. We have
seen in a former chapter a most important embassy sent forth from the
States for the purpose of preventing the consummation of a peace between
their ally and their enemy. Celerity was a vital element in the success
of such a mission; for the secret negotiations which it was intended to
impede were supposed to be near their termination. Yet months were
consumed in a journey which in our day would have been accomplished in
twenty-four hours. And now in this great military expedition the
essential and immediate purpose was to surprise a small town almost
within sight from the station at which the army was ready to embark. Such
a midsummer voyage in this epoch of steam-tugs and transports would
require but a few hours. Yet two days long the fleet lay at anchor while
a gentle breeze blew persistently from the south-west. As there seemed
but little hope that the wind would become more favourable, and as the
possibility of surprise grew fainter with every day's delay, it was
decided to make a landing upon the nearest point of Flemish coast placed
by circumstances within their reach: Count Ernest of Nassau; with the
advance-guard, was accordingly, despatched on the 21st June to the
neighbourhood of the Sas-of Ghent, where he seized a weakly guarded fort,
called Philippine, and made thorough preparations, for the arrival of the
whole army. On the following day the rest of the troops made their
appearance, and in the course of five hours were safely disembarked.

The army, which consisted of Zeelanders, Frisians, Hollanders, Walloons,
Germans, English, and Scotch, was divided into three corps. The advance
was under the command of Count Ernest, the battalia under that of Count
George Everard Solms, while the rear-guard during the march was entrusted
to that experienced soldier Sir Francis Vere. Besides Prince Maurice,
there were three other members of the house of Nassau serving in the
expedition--his half-brother Frederic Henry, then a lad of sixteen, and
the two brothers of the Frisian stadholder, Ernest and Lewis Gunther,
whom Lewis William had been so faithfully educating in the arts of peace
and war both by precept and example. Lewis Gunther, still a mere youth,
but who had been the first to scale the fort of Cadiz, and to plant on
its height the orange banner of the murdered rebel, and whose gallantry
during the whole expedition had called forth the special commendations of
Queen Elizabeth--expressed in energetic and affectionate terms to his
father--now commanded all the cavalry. Certainly if the doctrine of
primordial selection could ever be accepted among human creatures, the
race of Nassau at that day might have seemed destined to be chiefs of the
Netherland soil. Old John of Nassau, ardent and energetic as ever in the
cause of the religious reformation of Germany and the liberation of
Holland, still watched from his retirement the progress of the momentous
event. Four of his brethren, including the great founder of the republic,
had already laid down their lives for the sacred cause. His son Philip
had already fallen under the banner in the fight of Bislich, and three
other sons were serving the republic day and night, by sea and land, with
sword, and pen, and purse, energetically, conscientiously, and
honourably. Of the stout hearts and quick intellects on which the safety
of the commonwealth then depended, none was more efficient or true than
the accomplished soldier and statesman Lewis William. Thoroughly
disapproving of the present invasion of Flanders, he was exerting
himself, now that it had been decided upon by his sovereigns the
States-Generals, with the same loyalty as that of Maurice, to bring it to
a favourable issue, although not personally engaged in the adventure.

So soon as the troops had been landed the vessels were sent off as
expeditiously as possible, that none might fall into, the enemy's hands;
the transports under a strong convoy of war-ships having been directed to
proceed as fast as the wind would permit in the direction of Nieuport.
The march then began. On the 23rd they advanced a league and halted for
the night at Assenede. The next day brought them three leagues further,
to a place called Eckerloo. On the 25th they marched to Male, a distance
of three leagues and a half, passing close to the walls of Bruges, in
which they had indulged faint hopes of exciting an insurrection, but
obtained nothing but a feeble cannonade from the fortifications which did
no damage except the killing of one muleteer. The next night was passed
at Jabbeke, four leagues from Male, and on the 27th, after marching
another league, they came before the fort of Oudenburg.

This important post on the road which the army would necessarily traverse
in coming from the interior to the coast was easily captured and then
strongly garrisoned. Maurice with the main army spent the two following
days at the fortress, completing his arrangements. Solms was sent forward
to seize the sconces and redoubts of the enemy around Ostend, at
Breedene, Snaaskerk, Plassendaal, and other points, and especially to
occupy the important fort called St. Albert, which was in the downs at
about a league from that city. All this work was thoroughly accomplished;
little or no resistance having been made to the occupation of these
various places. Meantime the States-General, who at the special request
of Maurice were to accompany the expedition in order to observe the
progress of events for which they were entirely responsible, and to aid
the army when necessary by their advice and co-operation, had assembled
to the number of thirteen in Ostend. Solms having strengthened the
garrison of that place then took up his march along the beach to
Nieuport. During the progress of the army through Holland and Zeeland
towards its place of embarkation there had been nothing but dismal
prognostics, with expressions of muttered indignation, wherever the
soldiers passed. It seemed to the country people, and to the inhabitants
of every town and village, that their defenders were going to certain
destruction; that the existence of the commonwealth was hanging by a
thread soon to be snapped asunder. As the forces subsequently marched
from the Sas of Ghent towards the Flemish coast there was no rising of
the people in their favour, and although Maurice had issued distinct
orders that the peasantry were to be dealt with gently and justly, yet
they found neither peasants nor villagers to deal with at all. The whole
population on their line of march had betaken themselves to the woods,
except the village sexton of Jabbeke and his wife, who were too old to
run. Lurking in the thickets and marshes, the peasants fell upon all
stragglers from the army and murdered them without mercy--so difficult is
it in times of civil war to make human brains pervious to the light of
reason. The stadholder and his soldiers came to liberate their brethren
of the same race, and speaking the same language, from abject submission
to a foreign despotism. The Flemings had but to speak a word, to lift a
finger, and all the Netherlands, self-governed, would coalesce into one
independent confederation of States, strong enough to defy all the
despots of Europe. Alas! the benighted victims of superstition hugged
their chains, and preferred the tyranny under which their kindred had
been tortured, burned, and buried alive for half-a-century long, to the
possibility of a single Calvinistic conventicle being opened in any
village of obedient Flanders. So these excellent children of Philip and
the pope, whose language was as unintelligible to them as it was to
Peruvians or Iroquois, lay in wait for the men who spoke their own mother
tongue, and whose veins were filled with their own blood, and murdered
them, as a sacred act of duty. Retaliation followed as a matter of
course, so that the invasion of Flanders, in this early stage of its
progress, seemed not likely to call forth very fraternal feelings between
the two families of Netherlanders.

The army was in the main admirably well supplied, but there was a
deficiency of drink. The water as they advanced became brackish and
intolerably bad, and there was great difficulty in procuring any
substitute. At Male three cows were given for a pot of beer, and more of
that refreshment might have been sold at the same price, had there been
any sellers.

On the 30th June Maurice marched from Oudenburg, intending to strike a
point called Niewendam--a fort in the neighbourhood of Nieuport--and so
to march along the walls of that city and take up his position
immediately in its front. He found the ground, however, so marshy and
impracticable as he advanced, that he was obliged to countermarch, and to
spend that night on the downs between forts Isabella and St. Albert.

On the 1st July he resumed his march, and passing a bridge over a small
stream at a place called Leffingen, laying down a road as he went with
sods and sand, and throwing bridges over streams and swamps, he arrived
in the forenoon before Nieuport. The fleet had reached the roadstead the
same morning.

This was a strong, well-built, and well-fortified little city, situate
half-a-league from the sea coast on low, plashy ground. At high water it
was a seaport, for a stream or creek of very insignificant dimensions was
then sufficiently filled by the tide to admit vessels of considerable
burthen. This haven was immediately taken possession of by the
stadholder, and two-thirds of his army were thrown across to the western
side of the water, the troops remaining on the Ostend side being by a
change of arrangement now under command of Count Ernest.

Thus the army which had come to surprise Nieuport had, after
accomplishing a distance of nearly forty miles in thirteen days, at last
arrived before that place. Yet there was no more expeditious or energetic
commander in Christendom than Maurice, nor troops better trained in
marching and fighting than his well-disciplined army.

It is now necessary to cast a glance towards the interior of Flanders, in
order to observe how the archduke conducted himself in this emergency. So
soon as the news of the landing of the States' army at the port of Ghent
reached the sovereign's ears, he awoke from the delusion that danger was
impending on his eastern border, and lost no time in assembling such
troops as could be mustered from far and near to protect the western
frontier. Especially he despatched messengers well charged with promises,
to confer with the authorities of the "Italian Republic" at Diest and
Thionville. He appealed to them in behalf of the holy Catholic religion,
he sought to arouse their loyalty to himself and the Infanta
Isabella--daughter of the great and good Philip II., once foremost of
earthly potentates, and now eminent among the saints of heaven--by whose
fiat he and his wife had now become legitimate sovereigns of all the
Netherlands. And those mutineers responded with unexpected docility.
Eight hundred foot soldiers and six hundred cavalry men came forth at the
first summons, making but two conditions in addition to the stipulated
payment when payment should be possible--that they should be commanded by
their own chosen officers, and that they should be placed in the first
rank in the impending conflict. The example spread. Other detachments of
mutineers in various strongholds, scenting the battle from afar, came in
with offers to serve in the campaign on similar terms. Before the last
week of June the archduke had a considerable army on foot. On the 29th of
that month, accompanied by the Infanta, he reviewed a force of ten
thousand foot and nearly two thousand cavalry in the immediate vicinity
of Ghent. He addressed them in a few stirring words, reminding them of
their duty to the Church and to himself, and assuring them--as commanders
of every nation and every age are wont to assure their troops at the eve
of every engagement--that the cause in which they were going forth to
battle was the most sacred and inspiring for which human creatures could
possibly lay down their lives. Isabella, magnificently attired, and
mounted on a white palfrey, galloped along the lines, and likewise made
an harangue. She spoke to the soldiers as "her lions," promised them
boundless rewards in this world and the next, as the result of the great
victory which they were now about to gain over the infidels; while as to
their wages, she vowed that, rather than they should remain unpaid, she
would sacrifice all her personal effects, even to the plate from which
she ate her daily bread, and to the jewels which she wore in her ears.

Thousands of hoarse voices greeted the eloquence of the archdukes with
rude acclamations, while the discharge of arquebus and volleys of cannon
testified to the martial ardour with which the troops were inspired; none
being more enthusiastic than the late mutineers. The army marched at
once, under many experienced leaders--Villars, Zapena, and Avalos among
the most conspicuous. The command of the artillery was entrusted to
Velasco; the marshal-general of the camp was Frederic van den Berg, in
place of the superannuated Peter Ernest; while the Admiral of Arragon,
Francisco de Mendoza, "terror of Germany and of Christendom," a little
man with flowing locks, long hooked nose, and a sinister glance from his
evil black eyes, was general of the cavalry. The admiral had not
displayed very extraordinary genius in his recent campaigning in the
Rhenish duchies, but his cruelty had certainly been conspicuous. Not even
Alva could have accomplished more murders and other outrages in the same
space of time than had been perpetrated by the Spanish troops during the
infamous winter of 1598-9. The assassination of Count Broeck at his own
castle had made more stir than a thousand other homicides of nameless
wretches at the same period had done, because the victim had been a man
of rank and large possessions, but it now remained to be seen whether
Mendoza was to gain fresh laurels of any kind in the battle which was
probably impending.

On the 1st of July the archduke came before Oudenburg. Not a soul within
that fortress nor in Ostend dreamed of an enemy within twenty miles of
them, nor had it been supposed possible that a Spanish army could take
the field for many weeks to come. The States-General at Ostend were
complacently waiting for the first bulletin from Maurice announcing his
capture of Nieuport and his advance upon Dunkirk, according to the
program so succinctly drawn up for him, and meantime were holding
meetings and drawing up comfortable protocols with great regularity.
Colonel Piron, on his part, who had been left with several companies of
veterans to hold Oudenburg and the other forts, and to protect the rear
of the invading army, was accomplishing that object by permitting a large
portion of his force to be absent on foraging parties and general
marauding. When the enemy came before Oudenburg they met with no
resistance. The fort was surrendered at once, and with it fell the lesser
sconces of Breedene, Snaaskerk, and Plassendaal--all but the more
considerable fort St. Albert. The archduke, not thinking it advisable to
delay his march by the reduction of this position, and having possession
of all the other fortifications around Ostend, determined to push forward
next morning at daybreak. He had granted favourable terms of surrender to
the various garrisons, which, however, did not prevent them from being
dearly--every man of them immediately butchered in cold blood.

Thus were these strong and well-manned redoubts, by which Prince Maurice
had hoped to impede for many days the march of a Spanish army--should a
Spanish army indeed be able to take the field at all--already swept off
in an hour. Great was the dismay in Ostend when Colonel Piron and a few
stragglers brought the heavy news of discomfiture and massacre to the
high and mighty States-General in solemn meeting assembled.

Meanwhile, the States' army before Nieuport, not dreaming of any pending
interruption to their labours, proceeded in a steady but leisurely manner
to invest the city. Maurice occupied himself in tracing the lines of
encampment and entrenchment, and ordered a permanent bridge to be begun
across the narrowest part of the creek, in order that the two parts of
his army might not be so dangerously divided from each other as they now
were, at high water, by the whole breadth and depth of the harbour.
Evening came on before much had been accomplished on this first day of
the siege. It was scarcely dusk when a messenger, much exhausted and
terrified, made his appearance at Count Ernest's tent. He was a straggler
who had made his escape from Oudenburg, and he brought the astounding
intelligence that the archduke had already possession of that position
and of all the other forts. Ernest instantly jumped into a boat and had
himself rowed, together with the messenger, to the headquarters of Prince
Maurice on the other side of the river. The news was as unexpected as it
was alarming. Here was the enemy, who was supposed incapable of mischief
for weeks to come, already in the field, and planted directly on their
communications with Ostend. Retreat, if retreat were desired, was already
impossible, and as to surprising the garrison of Nieuport and so
obtaining that stronghold as a basis for further aggressive operations,
it is very certain that if any man in Flanders was more surprised than
another at that moment it was Prince Maurice himself. He was too good a
soldier not to see at a glance that if the news brought by the straggler
were true, the whole expedition was already a failure, and that, instead
of a short siege and an easy victory, a great battle was to be fought
upon the sands of Nieuport, in which defeat was destruction of the whole
army of the republic, and very possibly of the republic itself.

The stadholder hesitated. He was prone in great emergencies to hesitate
at first, but immovable when his resolution was taken. Vere, who was
asleep in his tent, was sent for and consulted. Most of the generals were
inclined to believe that the demonstrations at Oudenburg, which had been
so successful, were merely a bravado of Rivas, the commander of the
permanent troops in that district, which were comparatively insignificant
in numbers. Vere thought otherwise. He maintained that the archduke was
already in force within a few hours' march of them, as he had always
supposed would be the case. His opinion was not shared by the rest, and
he went back to his truckle-bed, feeling that a brief repose was
necessary for the heavy work which would soon be upon him. At midnight
the Englishman was again called from his slumbers. Another messenger,
sent directly from the States-General at Ostend, had made his way to the
stadholder. This time there was no possibility of error, for Colonel
Piron had sent the accord with the garrison commanders of the forts which
had been so shamefully violated, and which bore the signature of the
archduke.

It was now perfectly obvious that a pitched battle was to be fought
before another sunset, and most anxious were the deliberations in that
brief midsummer's night. The dilemma was as grave a one as
commander-in-chief had ever to solve in a few hours. A portentous change
had come over the prospects of the commonwealth since the arrival of
these despatches. But a few hours before, and never had its destiny
seemed so secure, its attitude more imposing. The little republic, which
Spain had been endeavouring forty years long to subjugate, had already
swept every Spanish soldier out of its territory, had repeatedly carried
fire and sword into Spain itself, and even into its distant dependencies,
and at that moment--after effecting in a masterly manner the landing of a
great army in the very face of the man who claimed to be sovereign of all
the Netherlands, and after marching at ease through the heart of his
territory--was preparing a movement, with every prospect of success,
which should render the hold of that sovereign on any portion of
Netherland soil as uncertain and shifting as the sands on which the
States army was now encamped.

The son of the proscribed and murdered rebel stood at the head of as
powerful and well-disciplined an army as had ever been drawn up in line
of battle on that blood-stained soil. The daughter of the man who had so
long oppressed the provinces might soon be a fugitive from the land over
which she had so recently been endowed with perpetual sovereignty. And
now in an instant these visions were fading like a mirage.

The archduke, whom poverty and mutiny were to render powerless against
invasion, was following close up upon the heels of the triumphant army of
the stadholder. A decision was immediately necessary. The siege of
Nieuport was over before it had begun. Surprise had failed, assault for
the moment was impossible, the manner how best to confront the advancing
foe the only question.

Vere advised that the whole army should at once be concentrated and led
without delay against the archduke before he should make further
progress. The advice involved an outrageous impossibility, and it seems
incredible that it could have been given in good faith; still more
amazing that its rejection by Maurice should have been bitterly censured.
Two-thirds of the army lay on the other side of the harbour, and it was
high water at about three o'clock. While they were deliberating, the sea
was rising, and, so soon as daybreak should make any evolutions possible,
they would be utterly prohibited during several hours by the inexorable
tide. More time would be consumed by the attempt to construct temporary
bridges (for of course little progress had been made in the stone bridge
hardly begun) or to make use of boats than in waiting for the falling of
the water, and, should the enemy make his appearance while they were
engaged in such confusing efforts, the army would be hopelessly lost.

Maurice, against the express advice of Vere, decided to send his cousin
Ernest, with the main portion of the force established on the right bank
of the harbour, in search of the archduke, for the purpose of holding him
in check long enough to enable the rest of the army to cross the water
when the tide should serve. The enemy, it was now clear, would advance by
precisely the path over which the States' army had marched that morning.
Ernest was accordingly instructed to move with the greatest expedition in
order to seize the bridge at Leffingen before the archduke should reach
the deep, dangerous, and marshy river, over which it was the sole passage
to the downs. Two thousand infantry, being the Scotch regiment of Edmonds
and the Zeelanders of Van der Noot, four squadrons of Dutch cavalry, and
two pieces of artillery composed the force with which Ernest set forth at
a little before dawn on his hazardous but heroic enterprise.

With a handful of troops he was to make head against an army, and the
youth accepted the task in the cheerful spirit of self-sacrifice which
characterized his house. Marching as rapidly as the difficult ground
would permit, he had the disappointment, on approaching the fatal point
at about eight o'clock, to see the bridge at Leffingen in the possession
of the enemy. Maurice had sent off a messenger early that morning with a
letter marked post haste (cito, cito) to Ostend ordering up some four
hundred cavalry-men then stationed in that city under Piron and Bruges,
to move up to the support of Ernest, and to destroy the bridge and dams
at Leffingen before the enemy should arrive. That letter, which might
have been so effective, was delivered, as it subsequently appeared,
exactly ten days after it was written. The States, of their own
authority, had endeavoured to send out those riders towards the scene of
action, but it was with great difficulty that they could be got into the
saddle at all, and they positively refused to go further than St. Albert
fort.

What course should he now pursue? He had been sent to cut the archduke's
road. He had failed. Had he remained in his original encampment his force
would have been annihilated by the overwhelming numbers of the enemy so
soon as they reached the right bank of Nieuport haven, while Maurice
could have only looked hopelessly on from the opposite shore. At least
nothing worse than absolute destruction could befal him now. Should he
accept a combat of six or eight to one the struggle would be hopeless,
but the longer it was protracted the better it would be for his main
army, engaged at that very moment as he knew in crossing the haven with
the ebbing tide. Should he retreat, it might be possible for him to
escape into Fort Albert or even Ostend, but to do so would be to purchase
his own safety and that of his command at the probable sacrifice of the
chief army of the republic. Ernest hesitated but an instant. Coming
within carbine-shot of the stream, where he met his cavalry which had
been sent forward at full speed, in the vain hope of seizing or
destroying the bridge before it should be too late, he took up a position
behind a dyke, upon which he placed his two field-pieces, and formed his
troops in line of battle exactly across the enemy's path. On the right he
placed the regiment of Scots. On the left was Van der Noot's Zeeland
infantry, garnished with four companies of riders under Risoir, which
stood near St. Mary's church. The passage from the stream to the downs
was not more than a hundred yards wide, being skirted on both sides by a
swamp. Here Ernest with his two thousand men awaited the onset of the
archduke's army. He was perfectly aware that it was a mere question of
time, but he was sure that his preparations must interpose a delay to the
advance of the Spaniards, should his troops, as he felt confident, behave
themselves as they had always done, and that the delay would be of
inestimable value to his friends at the haven of Nieuport.

The archduke paused; for he, too, could not be certain, on observing the
resolute front thus presented to him, that he was not about to engage the
whole of the States' army. The doubt was but of short duration, however,
and the onset was made. Ernest's artillery fired four volleys into the
advancing battalions with such effect as to stagger them for a moment,
but they soon afterwards poured over the dyke in over whelming numbers,
easily capturing the cannon. The attack began upon Ernest's left, and
Risoir's cavalry, thinking that they should be cut off from all
possibility of retreat into Fort St. Albert, turned their backs in the
most disgraceful manner, without even waiting for the assault. Galloping
around the infantry on the left they infected the Zeelanders with their
own cowardice. Scarcely a moment passed before Van der Noot's whole
regiment was running away as fast as the troopers, while the Scots on the
right hesitated not for an instant to follow their example. Even before
the expected battle had begun, one of those hideous and unaccountable
panics which sometimes break out like a moral pestilence to destroy all
the virtue of an army, and to sweep away the best-considered schemes of a
general, had spread through Ernest's entire force. So soon as the
demi-cannon had discharged their fourth volley, Scots, Zeelanders,
Walloons, pikemen, musketeers, and troopers, possessed by the demon of
cowardice, were running like a herd of swine to throw themselves into the
sea. Had they even kept the line of the downs in the direction of the
fort many of them might have saved their lives, although none could have
escaped disgrace. But the Scots, in an ecstasy of fear, throwing away
their arms as they fled, ran through the waters behind the dyke, skimmed
over the sands at full speed, and never paused till such as survived the
sabre and musket of their swift pursuers had literally drowned themselves
in the ocean. Almost every man of them was slain or drowned. All the
captains--Stuart, Barclay, Murray, Kilpatrick, Michael, Nesbit--with the
rest of the company officers, doing their best to rally the fugitives,
were killed. The Zeelanders, more cautious in the midst of their panic,
or perhaps knowing better the nature of the country, were more successful
in saving their necks. Not more than a hundred and fifty of Van der
Noot's regiment were killed, while such of the cavalry of Bruges and
Piron as had come to the neighbourhood of Fort Albert, not caring to
trust themselves to the shelter of that redoubt, now fled as fast as
their horses' legs would carry them, and never pulled bridle till they
found themselves in Ostend. And so beside themselves with panic were
these fugitives, and so virulent was the contagion, that it was difficult
to prevent the men who had remained in the fort from joining in the
flight towards Ostend. Many of them indeed threw themselves over the
walls and were sabred by the enemy when they might have been safe within
the fortifications. Had these cavalry companies of Bruges and Piron been
even tolerably self-possessed, had they concentrated themselves in the
fort instead of yielding to the delirium which prompted them to
participate in their comrades' flight, they would have had it entirely in
their power, by making an attack, or even the semblance of an attack, by
means of a sudden sally from the fort, to have saved, not the battle
indeed, but a large number of lives. But the panic was hopeless and
universal, and countless fugitives scrambling by the fort were shot in a
leisurely manner by a comparative few of the enemy as easily as the
rabbits which swarmed in those sands were often knocked down in
multitudes by half-a-dozen sportsmen.

And thus a band of patriots, who were not cowards by nature, and who had
often played the part of men, had horribly disgraced themselves, and were
endangering the very existence of their country, already by mistaken
councils brought within the jaws of death. The glory of Thermopyla; might
have hung for ever over that bridge of Leffingen. It was now a pass of
infamy, perhaps of fatal disaster. The sands were covered with
weapons-sabre, pike, and arquebus--thrown away by almost every soldier as
he fled to save the life which after all was sacrificed. The artillery,
all the standards and colours, all the baggage and ammunition, every
thing was lost. No viler panic, no more complete defeat was ever
recorded. Such at half-past eight in the morning was that memorable
Sunday of the 2nd July, 1600, big with the fate of the Dutch
republic--the festival of the Visitation of the Virgin Mary, always
thought of happy augury for Spanish arms.

Thus began the long expected battle of Nieuport. At least a thousand of
the choicest troops of the stadholder were slain, while the Spanish had
hardly lost a man.

The archduke had annihilated his enemy, had taken his artillery and
thirty flags. In great exultation he despatched a messenger to the
Infanta at Ghent, informing her that he had entirely defeated the
advance-guard of the States' army, and that his next bulletin would
announce his complete triumph and the utter overthrow of Maurice, who had
now no means of escape. He stated also that he would very soon send the
rebel stadholder himself to her as a prisoner. The Infanta, much pleased
with the promise, observed to her attendants that she was curious to see
how Nassau would conduct himself when he should be brought a captive into
her presence. As to the Catholic troops, they were informed by the
archduke that after the complete victory which they were that day to
achieve, not a man should be left alive save Maurice and his brother
Frederic Henry. These should be spared to grace the conqueror's triumph,
but all else should be put to the sword.

Meantime artillery thundered, bonfires blazed, and bells rang their
merriest peals in Ghent, Bruges, and the other obedient cities as the
news of the great victory spread through the land.

When the fight was done the archduke called a council of war. It was a
grave question whether the army should at once advance in order to
complete the destruction of the enemy that day, or pause for an interval
that the troops fatigued with hard marching and with the victorious
combat in which they just had been engaged, should recover their full
strength. That the stadholder was completely in their power was certain.
The road to Ostend was barred, and Nieuport would hold him at bay, now
that the relieving army was close upon his heels. All that was necessary
in order to annihilate his whole force, was that they should entrench
themselves for the night on the road which he must cross. He would then
be obliged to assault their works with troops inferior in number to
theirs and fatigued by the march. Should he remain where he was he would
soon be starved into submission, and would be obliged to surrender his
whole army. On the other hand, by advancing now, in the intolerable heat
of a July sun over the burning and glaring sands, the troops already
wearied would arrive on the field of battle utterly exhausted, and would
be obliged to attack an enemy freshly and cheerfully awaiting them on
ground of his own selection.

Moreover it was absolutely certain that Fort Albert would not hold an
hour if resolutely assaulted in the midst of the panic of Ernest's
defeat, and, with its capture, the annihilation of Maurice was certain.

Meantime the three thousand men under Velasco, who had been detached to
protect the rear, would arrive to reinforce the archduke's main army,
should he pause until the next day.

These arguments, which had much logic in them, were strongly urged by
Zapena, a veteran marshal of the camp who had seen much service, and
whose counsels were usually received with deference. But on this occasion
commanders and soldiers were hot for following up their victory. They
cared nothing for the numbers of their enemy, they cried, "The more
infidels the greater glory in destroying them." Delay might after all
cause the loss of the prize, it was eagerly shouted. The archduke ought
to pray that the sun might stand still for him that morning, as for
Joshua in the vale of Ajalon. The foe seeing himself entrapped, with
destruction awaiting him, was now skulking towards his ships, which still
offered him the means of escape. Should they give him time he would
profit by their negligence, and next morning when they reached Nieuport,
the birds would be flown. Especially the leaders of the mutineers of
Diest and Thionville were hoarse with indignation at the proposed delay.
They had not left their brethren, they shouted, nor rallied to the
archduke's banner in order to sit down and dig in the sand like
ploughmen. There was triumph for the Holy Church, there was the utter
overthrow of the heretic army, there was rich booty to be gathered, all
these things were within their reach if they now advanced and smote the
rebels while, confused and panic-stricken, they were endeavouring to
embark in their ships.

While these vehement debates were at the hottest, sails were descried in
the offing; for the archduke's forces already stood upon the edge of the
downs. First one ship, then another and another, moved steadily along the
coast, returning from Nieuport in the direction of Ostend.

This was more than could be borne. It was obvious that the rebels were
already making their escape, and it was urged upon the cardinal that
probably Prince Maurice and the other chieftains were on board one of
those very vessels, and were giving him the slip. With great expedition
it would still be possible to overtake them before the main body could
embark, and the attack might yet be made at the most favourable moment.
Those white sails gleaming in the distance were more eloquent than Zapena
or any other advocate of delay, and the order was given to advance. And
it was exactly at this period that it still lay within the power of the
States' cavalry at Ostend to partially redeem their character, and to
render very effective service. Had four or five hundred resolute troopers
hung upon the rear of the Spanish army now, as it moved toward Nieuport,
they might, by judiciously skirmishing, advancing and retreating
according to circumstances, have caused much confusion, and certainly
have so harassed the archduke as to compel the detachment of a very
considerable force of his own cavalry to protect himself against such
assaults. But the terror was an enduring one. Those horsemen remained
paralyzed and helpless, and it was impossible for the States, with all
their commands or entreaties, to induce them to mount and ride even a
half mile beyond the city gates.

While these events had been occurring in the neighbourhood of Ostend,
Maurice had not been idle at Nieuport. No sooner had Ernest been
despatched on his desperate errand than his brother Lewis Gunther was
ordered by the stadholder to get on horseback and ride through the
quarters of the army. On the previous afternoon there had been so little
thought of an enemy that large foraging parties had gone out from camp in
all directions, and had not returned. Lewis gave notice that a great
battle was to be expected on the morrow, instead of the tranquil
commencement of a leisurely siege, and that therefore no soul was
henceforth to leave the camp, while a troop of horse was despatched at
the first gleam of daylight to scour the country in search of all the
stragglers. Maurice had no thought of retreating, and his first care was
to bring his army across the haven. The arrangements were soon completed,
but it was necessary to wait until nearly low water. Soon after eight
o'clock Count Lewis began to cross with eight squadrons of cavalry, and
partly swimming, partly wading, effected the passage in safety. The
advanced guard of infantry, under Sir Francis Vere--consisting of two
thousand six hundred Englishmen, and two thousand eight hundred Frisians,
with some companies of horse, followed by the battalia under Solms, and
the rearguard under Tempel--then slowly and with difficulty moved along
the same dangerous path with the water as high as their armpits, and
often rising nearly over their heads. Had the archduke not been detained
near the bridge of Leffingen by Ernest's Scotchmen and Zeelanders during
three or four precious hours that morning; had he arrived, as he
otherwise might have done, just as the States' army--horse, foot, and
artillery--was floundering through that treacherous tide, it would have
fared ill for the stadholder and the republic. But the devotion of Ernest
had at least prevented the attack of the archduke until Maurice and his
men stood on dry land.

Dripping from head to foot, but safe and sound, the army had at last
reached the beach at Nieuport. Vere had refused his soldiers permission
to denude themselves in crossing of their shoes and lower garments. There
was no time for that, he said, and they would either earn new clothes for
themselves that day, or never need doublet and hose again any more in the
world. Some hours had elapsed before the tedious and difficult crossing
of infantry, cavalry, artillery, and munition trains had been
accomplished.

Lewis Gunther, with eight squadrons of picked cavalry, including his own
company, Maurice's own, Frederic Henry's own, with Batenburg's
arquebus-men, and other veterans, was first to place himself in battle
order on the beach. His squadrons in iron corslet and morion, and armed
with lances, carbines, and sabres, stretched across from the water to the
downs. He had not been long stationed there when he observed that far
away in the direction of Ostend the beach was growing black with troops.
He believed them at first to be his brother Ernest and his forces
returning victorious from their hazardous expedition, but he was soon
undeceived.

A couple of troopers from Ostend came spurring full gallop along the
strand, and almost breathless with dismay, announced that it was the
whole army of the archduke advancing in line of battle. They were
instantly sent to the rear, without being allowed to speak further, in
order that they might deliver their message in private to the
commander-in-chief. And most terrible were the tidings to which Maurice
now listened in very secret audience. Ernest was utterly defeated, his
command cut to pieces, the triumphant foe advancing rapidly, and already
in full sight. The stadholder heard the tale without flinching, and
having quietly ordered the messengers upon their lives not to open their
lips on the subject to living soul, sent them securely guarded in a boat
on board one of the war-ships in the offing. With perfect cheerfulness he
then continued his preparations, consulting with Vere, on whom he mainly
relied for the marshalling of the army in the coming conflict. Undecided
as he had sometimes shown himself, he was resolute now. He called no
council of war, for he knew not how much might be known or suspected of
the disaster already sustained, and he had fully made up his mind as to
the course to be pursued. He had indeed taken a supreme resolution.
Entirely out of his own breast, without advising with any man, he calmly
gave directions that every war-ship, transport, barge, or wherry should
put to sea at once. As the tide had now been long on the flood, the few
vessels that had been aground--within the harbour were got afloat, and
the whole vast, almost innumerable armada, was soon standing out to sea.
No more heroic decision was ever taken by fighting man.

Sir Francis gave advice that entrenchments should be thrown up on the
north-east, and that instead of advancing towards the enemy they should
await his coming, and refuse the battle that day if possible. The
Englishman, not aware of the catastrophe at Leffingen, which Maurice had
locked up in his own breast, was now informed by the stadholder that
there were to be no entrenchments that day but those of pike and
arquebus. It was not the fault of Maurice that the fate of the
commonwealth had been suspended on a silken thread that morning, but he
knew that but one of two issues was possible. They must fight their way
through the enemy back to Ostend, or perish, every man of them. The
possibility of surrender did not enter his mind, and he felt that it was
better to hasten the action before the news of Ernest's disaster should
arrive to chill the ardour of the troops.

Meantime Lewis Gunther and his cavalry had been sitting motionless upon
their horses on the beach. The enemy was already in full view, and the
young general, most desirous to engage in a preliminary skirmish, sent
repeated messages to the stadholder for permission to advance. Presently
Sir Francis Vere rode to the front, to whom he eagerly urged his request
that the infantry of the vanguard might be, brought up at once to support
him. On the contrary the English general advised that the cavalry should
fall back to the infantry, in order to avoid a premature movement. Lewis
strongly objected to this arrangement, on the ground that the mere
semblance of retreat, thus upon the eve of battle, would discourage all
the troops. But he was over-ruled, for Maurice had expressly enjoined
upon his cousin that morning to defer in all things to the orders of
Vere. These eight squadrons of horse accordingly shifted their position,
and were now placed close to the edge of the sea, on the left flank of
the vanguard, which Vere had drawn up across the beach and in the downs.
On the edge of the downs, on the narrow slip of hard sand above
high-water mark, and on Vere's right, Maurice had placed a battery of six
demi-cannon.

Behind the advance was the battalia, or centre, under command of that
famous fighter, George Everard Solms, consisting of Germans, Swiss,
French, and Walloons. The "New Beggars," as the Walloons were called, who
had so recently surrendered the forts of Crevecoeur and St. Andrew, and
gone over from the archduke's service to the army of the States, were
included in this division, and were as eager to do credit to their new
chief as were the mutineers in the archduke's army to merit the
approbation of their sovereign.

The rearguard under Tempel was made up, like the other divisions, of the
blended nationalities of German, Briton, Hollander, and Walloon, and,
like the others, was garnished at each flank with heavy cavalry.

The Spanish army, after coming nearly within cannon-shot of their
adversary, paused. It was plain that the States' troops were not in so
great a panic as the more sanguine advisers of the archduke had hoped.
They were not cowering among the shipping, preparing to escape. Still
less had any portion of them already effected their retreat in those
vessels, a few of which had so excited the enemy's ardour when they came
in sight. It was obvious that a great struggle, in which the forces were
very evenly balanced, was now to be fought out upon those sands. It was a
splendid tournament--a great duel for life and death between the
champions of the Papacy and of Protestantism, of the Republic and of
absolutism, that was to be fought out that midsummer's day. The lists
were closed. The trumpet signal for the fray would soon be blown.

The archduke, in Milanese armour, on a wonderfully beautiful snow-white
Spanish stallion, moved in the centre of his army. He wore no helmet,
that his men might the more readily recognize him as he rode gallantly to
and fro, marshalling, encouraging, exhorting the troops. Never before had
he manifested such decided military talent, combined with unquestionable
personal valour, as he had done since this campaign began. Friend and foe
agreed that day that Albert fought like a lion. He was at first well
seconded by Mendoza, who led the van, and by Villars, La Bourlotte,
Avalos, Zapena, and many other officers of note. The mutinous Spanish and
Italian cavalry, combined with a few choice squadrons of Walloon and
German horse, were placed in front and on the flanks. They were under the
special supervision of the admiral, who marshalled their squadrons and
directed their charging, although mounted on a hackney himself, and not
intending to participate in the action. Then came the battalia and rear,
crowding very closely upon each other.

Face to face with them stood the republican host, drawn up in great solid
squares of infantry, their standards waving above each closely planted
clump of pikemen, with the musketeers fringing their skirts, while the
iron-clad ponderous cavalry of Count Lewis and Marcellus Bax, in black
casque and, corslet, were in front, restlessly expecting the signal for
the onset. The volunteers of high rank who were then serving on the staff
of the stadholder--the Duke of Holstein, the Prince of Anhalt, two young
Counts Solms, and others--had been invited and even urged to abandon the
field while there was yet time for setting them on board the fleet.
Especially it was thought desirable that young Frederic Henry, a mere
boy, on whom the hopes of the Orange-Nassau house would rest if Maurice
fell in the conflict, should be spared the fate which seemed hanging over
the commonwealth and her defenders. But the son of William the Silent
implored his brother with clasped hands not to send him from his side at
that moment, so that Maurice granted his prayer, and caused him to be
provided with a complete suit of armour. Thus in company with young
Coligny--a lad of his own age, and like himself a grandson of the great
admiral--the youth who was one day to play so noble a part on the stage
of the world's affairs was now to be engaged in his first great passage
of arms. No one left the field but Sir Robert Sidney, who had come over
from Ostend, from irrepressible curiosity to witness the arrangements,
but who would obviously have been guilty of unpardonable negligence had
he been absent at such a crisis from the important post of which he was
governor for the queen.

The arena of the conflict seemed elaborately prepared by the hand of
nature. The hard, level, sandy beach, swept clean and smooth by the
ceaseless action of the tides, stretched out far as the eye could reach
in one long, bold, monotonous line. Like the whole coast of Flanders and
of Holland, it seemed drawn by a geometrical rule, not a cape, cove, or
estuary breaking the perfect straightness of the design. On the right,
just beyond high-water mark, the downs, fantastically heaped together
like a mimic mountain chain, or like tempestuous ocean-waves suddenly
changed to sand, rolled wild and confused, but still in a regularly
parallel course with the line of the beach. They seemed a barrier thrown
up to protect the land from being bitten quite away by the ever-restless
and encroaching sea. Beyond the downs, which were seven hundred yards in
width; extended a level tract of those green fertile meadows,
artificially drained, which are so characteristic a feature of the
Netherland landscapes, the stream which ran from Ostend towards the town
of Nieuport flowing sluggishly through them. It was a bright warm
midsummer day. The waves of the German Ocean came lazily rolling in upon
the crisp yellow sand, the surf breaking with its monotonous music at the
very feet of the armies. A gentle south-west breeze was blowing, just
filling the sails of more than a thousand ships in the offing, which
moved languidly along the sparkling sea. It was an atmosphere better
befitting a tranquil holiday than the scene of carnage which seemed
approaching.

Maurice of Nassau, in complete armour, rapier in hand, with the
orange-plumes waving from his helmet and the orange-scarf across his
breast, rode through the lines, briefly addressing his soldiers with
martial energy. Pointing to the harbour of Nieuport behind them, now
again impassable with the flood, to the ocean on the left where rode the
fleet, carrying with it all hope of escape by sea, and to the army of the
archduke in front, almost within cannon-range, he simply observed that
they had no possible choice between victory and death. They must either
utterly overthrow the Spanish army, he said, or drink all the waters of
the sea. Either drowning or butchery was their doom if they were
conquered, for no quarter was to be expected from their unscrupulous and
insolent foe. He was there to share their fate, to conquer or to perish
with them, and from their tried valour and from the God of battles he
hoped a more magnificent victory than had ever before been achieved in
this almost perpetual war for independence. The troops, perfectly
enthusiastic, replied with a shout that they were ready to live or die
with their chieftain, and eagerly demanded to be led upon the foe.
Whether from hope or from desperation they were confident and cheerful.
Some doubt was felt as to the Walloons, who had so lately transferred
themselves from the archduke's army, but their commander, Marquette, made
them all lift up their hands, and swear solemnly to live or die that day
at the feet of Prince Maurice.

Two hours long these two armies had stood looking each other in the face.
It was near two o'clock when the arch duke at last gave the signal to
advance. The tide was again almost at the full. Maurice stood firm,
awaiting the assault; the enemy slowly coming nearer, and the rising tide
as steadily lapping away all that was left of the hard beach which
fringed the rugged downs. Count Lewis chafed with impatience as it became
each moment more evident that there would be no beach left for cavalry
fighting, while in the downs the manoeuvring of horse was entirely
impossible. Meantime, by command of Vere, all those sandy hillocks and
steeps had been thickly sown with musketeers and pikemen. Arquebus-men
and carabineers were planted in every hollow, while on the highest and
most advantageous elevation two pieces of cannon had been placed by the
express direction of Maurice. It seemed obvious that the battle would,
after all, be transferred to the downs. Not long before the action began,
a private of the enemy's cavalry was taken, apparently with his own
consent, in a very trifling preliminary skirmish. He bragged loudly of
the immense force of the archduke, of the great victory already gained
over Ernest, with the utter annihilation of his forces, and of the
impending destruction of the whole States' army. Strange to say, this was
the first intimation received by Count Lewis of that grave disaster,
although it had been for some hours known to Maurice. The prisoner was at
once gagged, that he might spread his disheartening news no further, but
as he persisted by signs and gestures in attempting to convey the
information which he had evidently been sent forward to impart, he was
shot by command of the stadholder, and so told no further tales.

The enemy had now come very close, and it was the desire of Count Lewis
that a couple of companies of horse, in accordance with the commands of
Maurice, should charge the cavalry in front, and that after a brief
skirmish they should retreat as if panic-stricken behind the advance
column, thus decoying the Spanish vanguard in hot pursuit towards the
battery upon the edge of the downs. The cannon were then suddenly to open
upon them, and during the confusion sure to be created in their ranks,
the musketeers, ambushed among the hollows, were to attack them in flank,
while the cavalry in one mass should then make a concentrated charge in
front. It seemed certain that the effect of this movement would be to
hurl the whole of the enemy's advance, horse and foot, back upon his
battalia, and thus to break up his army in irretrievable rout. The plan
was a sensible one, but it was not ingeniously executed. Before the
handful of cavalry had time to make the proposed feint the cannoneers,
being unduly excited, and by express command of Sir Francis Vere, fired a
volley into the advancing columns of the archduke. This precipitated the
action; almost in an instant changed its whole character, and defeated
the original plan of the republican leader. The enemy's cavalry broke at
the first discharge from the battery, and wheeled in considerable
disorder, but without panic, quite into and across the downs. The whole
army of the archduke, which had already been veering in the same
direction, as it advanced, both because the tide was so steadily
devouring the even surface of the sands, and because the position of a
large portion of the States' forces among the hillocks exposed him to an
attack in flank, was now rapidly transferred to the downs. It was
necessary for that portion of Maurice's army which still stood on what
remained of the beach to follow this movement. A rapid change of front
was then undertaken, and--thanks to the careful system of wheeling,
marching, and counter-marching in which the army had been educated by
William Lewis and Maurice--was executed with less confusion than might
have been expected.

But very few companies of infantry now remained on the strip of beach
still bare of the waves, and in the immediate vicinity of the artillery
planted high and dry beyond their reach.

The scene was transformed as if by magic, and the battle was now to be
fought out in those shifting, uneven hills and hollows, where every
soldier stood mid-leg deep in the dry and burning sand. Fortunately for
the States' army, the wind was in its back, blowing both sand and smoke
into the faces of its antagonists, while the already weltering sun glared
fiercely in their eyes. Maurice had skilfully made use of the great
advantage which accident had given him that day, and his very refusal to
advance and to bring on a premature struggle thus stood him in stead in a
variety of ways Lewis Gunther was now ordered, with Marcellus Bax and six
squadrons of horse, to take position within the belt of pasture land on
the right of the downs. When he arrived there the van of the archduke's
infantry had already charged the States' advance under Vere, while just
behind and on the side of the musketeers and pikemen a large portion of
the enemy's cavalry was standing stock still on the green. Without
waiting for instructions Lewis ordered a charge. It was brilliantly
successful. Unheeding a warm salutation in flank from the musketeers as
they rode by them, and notwithstanding that they were obliged to take
several ditches as they charged, they routed the enemy's cavalry at the
first onset, and drove them into panic-stricken flight. Some fled for
protection quite to the rear of their infantry, others were hotly pursued
across the meadows till they took refuge under the walls of Nieuport. The
very success of the attack was nearly fatal however to Count Lewis; for,
unable to restrain the ardour of his troopers in the chase, he found
himself cut off from the army with only ten horsemen to support him, and
completely enveloped by the enemy. Fortunately Prince Maurice had
foreseen the danger, and had ordered all the cavalry to the meadows so
soon as the charge was made. Captain Kloet, with a fresh company of
mounted carabineers, marked the little squad of States' cavalry careering
about in the midst of the Catholics, recognized their leader by the
orange-plumes on his calque, and dashed forward to the rescue. Lewis
again found himself at the head of his cavalry, but was obliged to wait a
long time for the return of the stragglers.

While this brilliant diversion had been enacting as it were on the fringe
of the battle, its real bustle and business had been going on in the
downs. Just as Lewis made his charge in the pastures, the infantry of the
archduke and the advance guard of the republicans met in deadly shock.
More than an hour long they contended with varying success. Musketeers,
pikemen, arquebusmen, swordmen, charged, sabred, or shot each other from
the various hollows or heights of vantage, plunging knee-deep in the
sand, torn and impeded by the prickly broom-plant which grew profusely
over the whole surface, and fighting breast to breast and hand to hand in
a vast series of individual encounters. Thrice were the Spaniards
repulsed in what for a moment seemed absolute rout, thrice they rallied
and drove their assailants at push of pike far beyond their original
position; and again the conquered republicans recovered their energy and
smote their adversaries as if the contest were just begun. The tide of
battle ebbed and flowed like the waves of the sea, but it would be mere
pedantry to affect any technical explanation of its various changes. It
was a hot struggle of twenty thousand men, pent up in a narrow space,
where the very nature of the ground had made artistic evolutions nearly
impracticable. The advance, the battalia, even the rearguard on both
sides were mixed together pell-mell, and the downs were soon covered at
every step with the dead and dying-Briton, Hollander, Spaniard, Italian,
Frisian, Frenchman, Walloon, fighting and falling together, and hotly
contesting every inch of those barren sands.

It seemed, said one who fought there, as if the last day of the world had
come.

Political and religious hatred, pride of race, remembrance of a
half-century of wrongs, hope, fury, and despair; these were the real
elements contending with each other that summer's day. It was a mere
trial of ferocity and endurance, not more scientific than a fight between
packs of wolves and of bloodhounds.

No doubt the brunt of the conflict fell upon Vere, with his Englishmen
and Frisians, for this advance-guard made up nearly one-half of the
States' army actually engaged. And most nobly, indefatigably, did the
hardy veteran discharge his duty. Having personally superintended almost
all the arrangements in the morning, he fought all day in the front,
doing the work both of a field-marshal and a corporal.

He was twice wounded, shot each time through the same leg, yet still
fought on as if it were some one else's blood and not his own that was
flowing from "those four holes in his flesh." He complained that he was
not sufficiently seconded, and that the reserves were not brought up
rapidly enough to his support. He was manifestly unjust, for although it
could not be doubted that the English and the Frisians did their best, it
was equally certain that every part of the army was as staunch as the
vanguard. It may be safely asserted that it would not have benefited the
cause of the States, had every man been thrown into the fight at one and
the same moment.

During this "bloody bit," as Vere called it, between the infantry on both
sides, the little battery of two field-pieces planted on the highest
hillock of the downs had been very effective. Meantime, while the
desperate and decisive struggle had been going on, Lewis Gunther, in the
meadow, had again rallied all the cavalry, which, at the first stage of
the action, had been dispersed in pursuit of the enemy's horse. Gathering
them together in a mass, he besought Prince Maurice to order him to
charge. The stadholder bade him pause yet a little longer. The aspect of
the infantry fight was not yet, in his opinion, sufficiently favourable.
Again and again Lewis sent fresh entreaties, and at last received the
desired permission. Placing three picked squadrons in front, the young
general made a furious assault upon the Catholic cavalry, which had again
rallied and was drawn up very close to the musketeers. Fortune was not so
kind to him as at the earlier stage of the combat. The charge was
received with dauntless front by the Spanish and Italian horse, while at
the same moment the infantry poured a severe fire into their assailants.
The advancing squadrons faltered, wheeled back upon the companies
following them, and the whole mass of the republican cavalry broke into
wild and disorderly retreat. At the same moment the archduke, observing
his advantage, threw in his last reserves of infantry, and again there
was a desperate charge upon Vere's wearied troops, as decisive as the
counter charge of Lewis's cavalry had been unsuccessful. The English and
Frisians, sorely tried during those hours of fighting with superior
numbers in the intolerable heat, broke at last and turned their backs
upon the foe. Some of them fled panic-stricken quite across the downs and
threw themselves into the sea, but the mass retreated in a comparatively
orderly manner, being driven from one down to another, and seeking a last
refuge behind the battery placed on the high-water line of the beach. In
the confusion and panic Sir Francis Vere went down at last. His horse,
killed by a stray shot fell with and upon him, and the heroic Englishman
would then and there have finished his career--for he would hardly have
found quarter from the Spaniards--had not Sir Robert Drury, riding by in
the tumult, observed him as he lay almost exhausted in the sand. By his
exertion and that of his servant Higham, Vere was rescued from his
perilous situation, placed on the crupper of Sir Robert's horse, and so
borne off the field.

The current of the retreating and pursuing hosts swept by the spot where
Maurice sat on horseback, watching and directing the battle. His bravest
and best general, the veteran Vere, had fallen; his cousin Lewis was now
as utterly overthrown as his brother Ernest had been but a few hours
before at the fatal bridge of Leffingen; the whole army, the only army,
of the States was defeated, broken, panic-struck; the Spanish shouts of
victory rang on every side. Plainly the day was lost, and with it the
republic. In the blackest hour that the Netherland commonwealth had ever
known, the fortitude of the stadholder did not desert him. Immoveable as
a rock in the torrent he stemmed the flight of his troops. Three
squadrons of reserved cavalry, Balen's own, Vere's own, and Cecil's, were
all that was left him, and at the head of these he essayed an advance. He
seemed the only man on the field not frightened; and menacing, conjuring,
persuading the fugitives for the love of fatherland, of himself and his
house, of their own honour, not to disgrace and destroy themselves for
ever; urging that all was not yet lost, and beseeching them at least to
take despair for their master, and rather to die like men on the field
than to drown like dogs in the sea, he succeeded in rallying a portion of
those nearest him. The enemy paused in their mad pursuit, impressed even
more than were the States' troops at the dauntless bearing of the prince.
It was one of those supreme moments in battle and in history which are
sometimes permitted to influence the course of events during a long
future. The archduke and his generals committed a grave error in pausing
for an instant in their career. Very soon it was too late to repair the
fault, for the quick and correct eye of the stadholder saw the point to
which the whole battle was tending, and he threw his handful of reserved
cavalry, with such of the fugitives as had rallied, straight towards the
battery on the beach.

It was arranged that Balen should charge on the strand, Horace Vere
through the upper downs, and Cecil along the margin of the beach. Balen
rode slowly through the heavy sand, keeping his horses well in wind, and
at the moment he touched the beach, rushed with fury upon the enemy's
foot near the battery. The moment was most opportune, for the last shot
had been fired from the guns, and they had just been nearly abandoned in
despair. The onset of Balen was successful: the Spanish infantry, thus
suddenly attached, were broken, and many were killed and taken. Cecil and
Vere were equally fortunate, so that the retreating English and Frisians
began to hold firm again. It was the very crisis of the battle, which up
to that instant seemed wholly lost by the republic, so universal was the
overthrow and the flight. Some hundred and fifty Frisian pikemen now
rallied from their sullen retreat, and drove the enemy off one hillock or
dune.

Foiled in their attempt to intercept the backward movement of the States'
army and to seize this vital point and the artillery with it, the
Spaniards hesitated and were somewhat discouraged. Some Zeeland sailors,
who had stuck like wax to those demi-cannon during the whole conflict,
now promptly obeyed orders to open yet once more upon the victorious foe.
At the first volley the Spaniards were staggered, and the sailors with a
lively shout of "Ian-fall on," inspired the defeated army with a portion
of their own cheerfulness. Others vehemently shouted victory without any
reason whatever. At that instant Maurice ordered a last charge by those
few cavalry squadrons, while the enemy was faltering under the play of
the artillery. It was a forlorn hope, yet such was the shifting fortune
of that memorable day that the charge decided the battle. The whole line
of the enemy broke, the conquered became the victors, the fugitives
quickly rallying and shouting victory almost before they had turned their
faces to the foe, became in their turn the pursuers. The Catholic army
could no longer be brought to a stand, but fled wildly in every
direction, and were shot and stabbed by the republicans as they fled. The
Admiral of Arragon fell with his hackney in this last charge. Unwounded,
but struggling to extricate himself from his horse that had been killed,
he was quickly surrounded by the enemy.

Two Spaniards, Mendo and Villalobos by name, who had recently deserted to
the States, came up at the moment and recognised the fallen admiral. They
had reason to recognise him, for both had been in his service, and one of
them, who was once in immediate household attendance upon him, bore the
mark of a wound which he had received from his insolent master. "Admiral,
look at this," cried Villalobos, pointing to the scar on his face. The
admiral looked and knew his old servants, and gave his scarf to the one
and the hanger of his sword-belt to the other, as tokens that he was
their prisoner. Thus his life was saved for heavy ransom, of which those
who had actually captured him would receive a very trifling portion. The
great prisoner was carried to the rear, where he immediately asked for
food and drink, and fell to with an appetite, while the pursuit and
slaughter went on in all directions.

The archduke, too, whose personal conduct throughout the day was
admirable, had been slightly wounded by a halberd stroke on the ear. This
was at an earlier stage of the action, and he had subsequently mounted
another horse, exchanged his splendid armour for a plain black harness,
over which he wore a shabby scarf. In the confusion of the rout he was
hard beset. "Surrender, scoundrel!" cried a Walloon pikeman, seizing his
horse by the bridle. But a certain Flemish Captain Kabbeljaw recognising
his sovereign and rushing to his rescue, slew his assailant and four
others with his own hand. He was at last himself killed, but Albert
escaped, and, accompanied by the Duke of Aumale, who was also slightly
wounded, by Colonel La Bourlotte, and half a dozen troopers rode for
their life in the direction of Bruges. When they reached the fatal bridge
of Leffingen, over which the archduke had marched so triumphantly but a
few hours before to annihilate Count Ernest's division, he was nearly
taken prisoner. A few soldiers, collected from the scattered garrisons,
had occupied the position, but knowing nothing of the result of the
action in the downs, took to their heels and fled as the little party of
cavaliers advanced. Had the commander at Ostend or the States-General
promptly sent out a company or two so soon as the news of the victory
reached them to seize this vital point, the doom of the archduke would
have been sealed. Nothing then could have saved him from capture.
Fortunately escaping this danger, he now pushed on, and never pulled
bridle till he reached Bruges. Thence without pausing he was conveyed to
Ghent, where he presented himself to the Infanta. He was not accompanied
by the captive Maurice of Nassau, and the curiosity of the princess to
know how that warrior would demean himself as a prisoner was not destined
on this occasion to be gratified.

Isabella bore the disappointment and the bitter intelligence of the
defeat with a stoicism worthy of her departed father. She had already had
intimations that the day was going against her army, and had successively
received tidings that her husband was killed, was dangerously wounded,
was a prisoner; and she was now almost relieved to receive him, utterly
defeated, but still safe and sound.

Meantime the mad chase continued along the beach and through the downs.
Never was a rout more absolute than that of Albert's army. Never had so
brilliant a victory been achieved by Hollander or Spaniard upon that
great battleground of Europe--the Netherlands.

Maurice, to whom the chief credit of the victory was unquestionably due,
had been firm and impassive during the various aspects of the battle,
never losing his self-command when affairs seemed blackest. So soon,
however, as the triumph, after wavering so long, was decided in his
favour--the veteran legions of Spain and Italy, the picked troops of
Christendom, all flying at last before his troops--the stadholder was
fairly melted. Dismounting from his horse, he threw himself on his knees
in the sand, and with streaming eyes and uplifted hands exclaimed, "O
God, what are we human creatures to whom Thou hast brought such honour,
and to whom Thou hast vouchsafed such a victory!"

The slaughter went on until nightfall, but the wearied conquerors were
then obliged to desist from the pursuit. Three thousand Spaniards were
slain and about six hundred prisoners were taken. The loss of the States'
army; including the affair in the morning at Leffingen, was about two
thousand killed. Maurice was censured for not following up his victory
more closely, but the criticism seems unjust. The night which followed
the warm summer's day was singularly black and cloudy, the army was
exhausted, the distance for the enemy to traverse before they found
themselves safe within their own territory was not great. In such
circumstances the stadholder might well deem himself sufficiently
triumphant to have plucked a splendid victory out of the very jaws of
death. All the artillery of the archduke--seven pieces besides the two
captured from Ernest in the morning--one hundred and twenty standards,
and a long list of distinguished prisoners, including the Admiral Zapena
and many other officers of note, were the trophies of the conqueror.
Maurice passed the night on the battle-field; the admiral supping with
him in his tent. Next morning he went to Ostend, where a great
thanksgiving was held, Uytenbogart preaching an eloquent sermon on the
116th Psalm. Afterwards there was a dinner at the house of the
States-General, in honour of the stadholder, to which the Admiral of
Arragon was likewise bidden. That arrogant but discomfited personage was
obliged to listen to many a rough martial joke at his disaster as they
sat at table, but he bore the brunt of the encounter with much fortitude.

"Monsieur the Admiral of Arragon," said the stadholder in French, "is
more fortunate than many of his army. He has been desiring these four
years to see Holland. Now he will make his entrance there without
striking a blow." The gibe was perhaps deficient in delicacy towards a
fallen foe, but a man who had passed a whole winter in murdering his
prisoners in cold blood might be satisfied if he were stung only by a
sharp sarcasm or two, when he had himself become a captive.

Others asked him demurely what he thought of these awkward apprentices of
Holland and Zeeland, who were good enough at fighting behind dykes and
ramparts of cities, but who never ventured to face a Spanish army in the
open field. Mendoza sustained himself with equanimity however, and found
plenty of answers. He discussed the battle with coolness, blamed the
archduke for throwing the whole of his force prematurely into the
contest, and applauded the prudence of Maurice in keeping his reserves in
hand. He ascribed a great share of the result to the States' artillery,
which had been well placed upon wooden platforms and well served, while
the archduke's cannon, sinking in the sands, had been of comparatively
little use. Especially he expressed a warm admiration for the heroism of
Maurice in sending away his ships, and in thus leaving himself and his
soldiers no alternative but death or triumph.

While they still sat at table many of the standards taken from the enemy
were brought in and exhibited; the stadholder and others amusing
themselves with reading the inscriptions and devices emblazoned upon
them.

And thus on the 2nd July, 1600, the army of the States-General, led by
Maurice of Nassau, had utterly defeated Albert of Austria.

   ["Enfin l'affaire vint auix mains et fut combattu bien furieusement
   de deux costes l'espace de deux heures. Enfin Dieu par sa grace
   voulut que la victoire demeura de more coste." Such were the simple
   words in which Maurice announced to his cousin Lewis William his
   victory in the most important battle that had been fought for half a
   century. Not even General Ulysses Grant could be more modest in the
   hour of immense triumph.]

Strange to say--on another 2nd July, three centuries and two years
before, a former Albert of Austria had overthrown the emperor Adolphus of
Nassau, who had then lost both crown and life in the memorable battle of
Worms. The imperial shade of Maurice's ancestor had been signally
appeased.

In Ostend, as may well be imagined, ineffable joy had succeeded to the
horrible gloom in which the day had been passed, ever since the tidings
had been received of Ernest's overthrow.

Those very cavalry men, who had remained all day cowering behind the
walls of the city, seeing by the clouds of dust which marked the track of
the fugitives that the battle had been won by the comrades whom they had
so basely deserted in the morning, had been eager enough to join in the
pursuit. It was with difficulty that the States, who had been unable to
drive them out of the town while the fight was impending or going on,
could keep enough of them within the walls to guard the city against
possible accident, now that the work was done. Even had they taken the
field a few hours earlier, without participating in the action, or
risking their own lives, they might have secured the pass of Leffingen,
and made the capture of the archduke or his destruction inevitable.

The city, which had seemed deserted, swarmed with the garrison and with
the lately trembling burghers, for it seemed to all as if they had been
born again. Even the soldiers on the battle-field had embraced each other
like comrades who had met in another world. "Blessed be His holy name,"
said the stadholder's chaplain, "for His right hand has led us into hell
and brought us forth again. I know not," he continued, "if I am awake or
if I dream, when I think how God has in one moment raised us from the
dead."

Lewis Gunther, whose services had been so conspicuous, was well rewarded.
"I hope," said that general, writing to his brother Lewis William, "that
this day's work will not have been useless to me, both for what I have
learned in it and for another thing. His Excellency has done me the
honour to give me the admiral for my prisoner." And equally
characteristic was the reply of the religious and thrifty stadholder of
Friesland.

"I thank God," he said, "for His singular grace in that He has been
pleased to make use of your person as the instrument of so renowned and
signal a victory, for which, as you have derived therefrom not mediocre
praise, and acquired a great reputation, it should be now your duty to
humble yourself before God, and to acknowledge that it is He alone who
has thus honoured you . . . . You should reverence Him the more, that
while others are admonished of their duty by misfortunes and miseries,
the good God invites you to His love by benefits and honours . . . . I am
very glad, too, that his Excellency has given you the admiral for your
prisoner, both because of the benefit to you, and because it is a mark of
your merit on that day. Knowing the state of our affairs, you will now be
able to free your patrimony from encumbrances, when otherwise you would
have been in danger of remaining embarrassed and in the power of others.
It will therefore be a perpetual honour to you that you, the youngest of
us all, have been able by your merits to do more to raise up our house
out of its difficulties than your predecessors or myself have been able
to do."

The beautiful white horse which the archduke had ridden during the battle
fell into the hands of Lewis Gunther, and was presented by him to Prince
Maurice, who had expressed great admiration of the charger. It was a
Spanish horse, for which the archduke had lately paid eleven hundred
crowns.

A white hackney of the Infanta had also been taken, and became the
property of Count Ernest.

The news of the great battle spread with unexampled rapidity, not only
through the Netherlands but to neighbouring countries. On the night of
the 7th July (N.S.) five days after the event, Envoy Caron, in England,
received intimations of the favourable news from the French ambassador,
who had received a letter from the Governor of Calais. Next morning, very
early, he waited on Sir Robert Cecil at Greenwich, and was admitted to
his chamber, although the secretary was not yet out of bed. He, too, had
heard of the battle, but Richardot had informed the English ambassador in
Paris that the victory had been gained, not by the stadholder, but by the
archduke. While they were talking, a despatch-bearer arrived with letters
from Vere to Cecil, and from the States-General to Caron, dated on the
3rd July. There could no longer be any doubt on the subject, and the
envoy of the republic had now full details of the glorious triumph which
the Spanish agent in Paris had endeavoured for a time to distort into a
defeat.

While the two were conversing, the queen, who had heard of Caron's
presence in the palace, sent down for the latest intelligence. Cecil made
notes of the most important points in the despatches to be forthwith
conveyed to her Majesty. The queen, not satisfied however, sent for Caron
himself. That diplomatist, who had just ridden down from London in foul
weather, was accordingly obliged to present himself--booted and spurred
and splashed with mud from head to foot--before her Majesty. Elizabeth
received him with such extraordinary manifestations of delight at the
tidings that he was absolutely amazed, and she insisted upon his reading
the whole of the letter just received from Olden-Barneveld, her Majesty
listening very patiently as he translated it out of Dutch into French.
She then expressed unbounded admiration of the States-General and of
Prince Maurice. The sagacious administration of the States' government is
"so full of good order and policy," she said, "as to far surpass in its
wisdom the intelligence of all kings and potentates. We kings," she
said, "understand nothing of such affairs in comparison, but require, all
of us, to go to school to the States-General." She continued to speak in
terms of warm approbation of the secrecy and discretion with which the
invasion of Flanders had been conducted, and protested that she thanked
God on both knees for vouchsafing such a splendid victory to the United
Provinces.

Yet after all, her Majesty, as mankind in general, both wise and simple,
are apt to do, had judged only according to the result, and the immediate
result. No doubt John of Barneveld was second to no living statesman in
breadth of view and adroitness of handling, yet the invasion of Flanders,
which was purely his work, was unquestionably a grave mistake, and might
easily have proved a fatal one. That the deadly peril was escaped was
due, not to his prudence, but to the heroism of Maurice, the gallantry of
Vere, Count Lewis Gunther, and the forces under them, and the noble
self-devotion of Ernest. And even, despite the exertions of these brave
men, it seems certain that victory would have been impossible had the
archduke possessed that true appreciation of a situation which marks the
consummate general.

Surely the Lord seemed to have delivered the enemy into his hands that
morning. Maurice was shut in between Nieuport on one side and the
archduke's army on the other, planted as it was on the only road of
retreat. Had Albert entrenched himself, Maurice must either have attacked
at great disadvantage or attempted embarkation in the face of his enemy.
To stay indefinitely where he was would have proved an impossibility, and
amid the confusion necessary to the shipping of his army, how could he
have protected himself by six demi-cannon placed on the sea-beach?

That Maurice was able to extricate himself from the horrible dilemma in
which he had been placed, through no fault of his own, and to convert
imminent disaster into magnificent victory, will always redound to his
reputation as a great military chief. And this was all the fruit of the
expedition, planned, as Elizabeth thought, with so much secrecy and
discretion. Three days after the battle the stadholder came again before
Nieuport, only to find the garrison strengthened meantime by La Bourlotte
to three thousand men. A rainy week succeeded, and Maurice then announced
to the States-General the necessity of abandoning an enterprise, a
successful issue to which was in his opinion impossible. The
States-General, grown more modest in military matters, testified their
willingness to be governed by his better judgment, and left Ostend for
the Hague on the 18th July. Maurice, after a little skirmishing with some
of the forts around that city, in one of which the archduke's general La
Bourlotte was killed, decided to close the campaign, and he returned with
his whole army on the last day of July into Holland.

The expedition was an absolute failure, but the stadholder had gained a
great victory. The effect produced at home and abroad by this triumphant
measuring of the republican forces, horse, foot, and artillery, in a
pitched battle and on so conspicuous an arena, with the picked veterans
of Spain and Italy, was perhaps worth the cost, but no other benefit was
derived from the invasion of Flanders.

The most healthy moral to be drawn from this brief but memorable campaign
is that the wisest statesmen are prone to blunder in affairs of war,
success in which seems to require a special education and a distinct
genius. Alternation between hope and despair, between culpable audacity
and exaggerated prudence, are but too apt to mark the warlike counsels of
politicians who have not been bred soldiers. This, at least, had been
eminently the case with Barneveld and his colleagues of the
States-General.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Alas! the benighted victims of superstition hugged their chains
     Culpable audacity and exaggerated prudence
     The wisest statesmen are prone to blunder in affairs of war




CHAPTER XXXIX.

   Effects of the Nieuport campaign--The general and the statesman--
   The Roman empire and the Turk--Disgraceful proceedings of the
   mutinous soldiers in Hungary--The Dunkirk pirates--Siege of Ostend
   by the Archduke--Attack on Rheinberg by Prince Maurice--Siege and
   capitulation of Meura--Attempt on Bois-le-Duc--Concentration of the
   war at Ostend--Account of the belligerents--Details of the siege--
   Feigned offer of Sir Francis Vere to capitulate--Arrival of
   reinforcements from the States--Attack and overthrow of the
   besiegers.

The Nieuport campaign had exhausted for the time both belligerents. The
victor had saved the republic from impending annihilation, but was
incapable of further efforts during the summer. The conquered
cardinal-archduke, remaining essentially in the same position as before,
consoled himself with the agreeable fiction that the States,
notwithstanding their triumph, had in reality suffered the most in the
great battle. Meantime both parties did their best to repair damages and
to recruit their armies.

The States--or in other words Barneveld, who was the States--had learned
a lesson. Time was to show whether it would be a profitable one, or
whether Maurice, who was the preceptor of Europe in the art of war, would
continue to be a docile pupil of the great Advocate even in military
affairs. It is probable that the alienation between the statesman and the
general, which was to widen as time advanced, may be dated from the day
of Nieuport.

Fables have even been told which indicated the popular belief in an
intensity of resentment on the part of the prince, which certainly did
not exist till long afterwards.

"Ah, scoundrel!" the stadholder was said to have exclaimed, giving the
Advocate a box on the ear as he came to wish him joy of his great
victory, "you sold us, but God prevented your making the transfer."

History would disdain even an allusion to such figments--quite as
disgraceful, certainly to Maurice as to Barneveld--did they not point the
moral and foreshadow some of the vast but distant results of events which
had already taken place, and had they not been so generally repeated that
it is a duty for the lover of truth to put his foot upon the calumny,
even at the risk for a passing moment of reviving it.

The condition of the war in Flanders had established a temporary
equilibrium among the western powers--France and England discussing,
intriguing, and combining in secret with each other, against each other,
and in spite of each other, in regard to the great conflict--while Spain
and the cardinal-archduke on the one side, and the republic on the other,
prepared themselves for another encounter in the blood-stained arena.

Meantime, on the opposite verge of what was called European civilization,
the perpetual war between the Roman Empire and the Grand Turk had for the
moment been brought into a nearly similar equation. Notwithstanding the
vast amount of gunpowder exploded during so many wearisome years, the
problem of the Crescent and the Cross was not much nearer a solution in
the East than was that of mass and conventicle in the West. War was the
normal and natural condition of mankind. This fact, at least, seemed to
have been acquired and added to the mass of human knowledge.

From the prolific womb of Germany came forth, to swell impartially the
Protestant and Catholic hosts, vast swarms of human creatures. Sold by
their masters at as high prices as could be agreed upon beforehand, and
receiving for themselves five stivers a day, irregularly paid, until the
carrion-crow rendered them the last service, they found at times more
demand for their labor in the great European market than they could fully
supply. There were not Germans enough every year for the consumption of
the Turk, and the pope, and the emperor, and the republic, and the
Catholic king, and the Christian king, with both ends of Europe ablaze at
once. So it happened that the Duke of Mercoeur and other heroes of the
League, having effected their reconciliation with the Bearnese, and for a
handsome price paid down on the nail having acknowledged him to be their
legitimate and Catholic sovereign, now turned their temporary attention
to the Turk. The sweepings of the League--Frenchmen, Walloons, Germans,
Italians, Spaniards--were tossed into Hungary, because for a season the
war had become languid in Flanders. And the warriors grown grey in the
religious wars of France astonished the pagans on the Danube by a variety
of crimes and cruelties such as Christians only could imagine. Thus,
while the forces of the Sultan were besieging Buda, a detachment of these
ancient Leaguers lay in Pappa, a fortified town not far from Raab, which
Archduke Maximilian had taken by storm two years before. Finding their
existence monotonous and payments unpunctual, they rose upon the
governor; Michael Maroti, and then entered into a treaty with the Turkish
commander outside the walls. Bringing all the principal citizens of the
town, their wives and children, and all their moveable property into the
market-place, they offered to sell the lot, including the governor, for a
hundred thousand rix dollars. The bargain was struck, and the Turk,
paying him all his cash on hand and giving hostages for the remainder,
carried off six hundred of the men and women, promising soon to return
and complete the transaction. Meantime the imperial general,
Schwartzenberg, came before the place, urging the mutineers with promises
of speedy payment, and with appeals to their sense of shame, to abstain
from the disgraceful work. He might as well have preached to the wild
swine swarming in the adjacent forests. Siege thereupon was laid to the
place. In a sortie the brave Schwartzenberg was killed, but Colonitz
coming up in force the mutineers were locked up in the town which they
had seized, and the Turk never came to their relief. Famine drove them at
last to choose between surrender and a desperate attempt to cut their way
out. They took the bolder course, and were all either killed or captured.
And now--the mutineers having given the Turk this lesson in Christian
honour towards captives--their comrades and the rest of the imperial
forces showed them the latest and most approved Christian method of
treating mutineers. Several hundred of the prisoners were distributed
among the different nationalities composing the army to be dealt with at
pleasure. The honest Germans were the most straightforward of all towards
their portion of the prisoners, for they shot them down at once, without
an instant's hesitation. But the Lorrainers, the remainder of the French
troops, the Walloons, and especially the Hungarians--whose countrymen and
women had been sold into captivity--all vied with each other in the
invention of cruelties at which the soul sickens, and which the pen
almost refuses to depict.

These operations and diversions had no sensible effect upon the progress
of the war, which crept on with the same monotonous and sluggish cruelty
as ever; but the incidents narrated paint the course of civilization more
vividly than the detailed accounts of siege and battle; mining and
countermining, assaults and ambuscades can do, of which the history books
are full. The leaguers of Buda and of other cities and fortresses in
Hungary went their course; and it was destined to remain for a still
longer season doubtful whether Cross or Crescent should ultimately wave
over the whole territory of Eastern Europe, and whether the vigorous
Moslem, believing in himself, his mission, his discipline, and his
resources, should ultimately absorb what was left of the ancient Roman
Empire.

Meantime, such of the Walloons, Lorrainers, Germans, and Frenchmen as had
grown wearied of the fighting on the Danube and the Theiss--might have
recourse for variety to the perpetual carnage on the Meuse, the Rhine,
and the Scheld. If there was not bloodshed enough for all, it was surely
not the fault of Mahomet, nor Clement, nor Philip.

During the remainder of the year not much was done in of the stadholder
or the cardinal, but there was immense damage done to the Dutch shipping
by the famous privateersman, Van der Waecken, with his squadron of twelve
or fourteen armed cruisers. In vain had the States exerted themselves to
destroy the robbers cave, Dunkirk. Shiploads of granite had been brought
from Norway, and stone fleets had been sunk in the channel, but the
insatiable quicksands had swallowed them as fast as they could be
deposited, the tide rolled as freely as before, and the bold pirates
sailed forth as gaily as ever to prey upon the defenceless trading
vessels and herring-smacks of the States. For it was only upon
non-combatants that Admiral Van der Waecken made war, and the fishermen
especially, who mainly belonged to the Memnonite religion, with its
doctrines of non-resistance--not a very comfortable practice in that
sanguinary age--were his constant victims. And his cruelties might have
almost served as a model to the Christian warriors on the Turkish
frontier. After each vessel had been rifled of everything worth
possessing, and then scuttled, the admiral would order the crews to be,
thrown overboard at once, or, if he chanced to be in a merry mood, would
cause them to be fastened to the cabin floor, or nailed crossways on the
deck and then would sail away leaving ship and sailors to sink at
leisure. The States gave chase as well as they could to the miscreant--a
Dutchman born, and with a crew mainly composed of renegade Netherlanders
and other outcasts, preying for base lucre on their defenceless
countryman--and their cruisers were occasionally fortunate enough to
capture and bring in one of the pirate ships. In such cases, short shrift
was granted, and the buccaneers were hanged without mercy, thirty-eight
having been executed in one morning at Rotterdam. The admiral with most
of his vessels escaped, however, to the coast of Spain, where his crews
during the autumn mainly contrived to desert, and where he himself died
in the winter, whether from malady, remorse, or disappointment at not
being rewarded by a high position in the Spanish navy.

The war was in its old age. The leaf of a new century had been turned,
and men in middle life had never known what the word Peace meant. Perhaps
they could hardly imagine such a condition. This is easily said, but it
is difficult really to picture to ourselves the moral constitution of a
race of mankind which had been born and had grown up, marrying and giving
in marriage, dying and burying their dead, and so passing on from the
cradle towards the grave, accepting the eternal clang of arms, and the
constant participation by themselves and those nearest to them in the
dangers, privations, and horrors of siege and battle-field as the
commonplaces of life. At least, those Netherlanders knew what fighting
for independence of a foreign tyrant meant. They must have hated Spain
very thoroughly, and believed in the right of man to worship God
according to the dictates of his conscience, and to govern himself upon
his own soil, however meagre, very earnestly, or they would hardly have
spent their blood and treasure, year after year; with such mercantile
regularity when it was always in their power to make peace by giving up
the object for which they had been fighting.

Yet the war, although in its old age, was not fallen into decrepitude.
The most considerable and most sanguinary pitched battle of what then
were modern times had just been fought, and the combatants were preparing
themselves for a fresh wrestle, as if the conflict had only begun. And
now--although the great leaguers of Harlem, Leyden, and Antwerp, as well
as the more recent masterpieces of Prince Maurice in Gelderland and
Friesland were still fresh in men's memory--there was to be a siege,
which for endurance, pertinacity, valour, and bloodshed on both sides,
had not yet been foreshadowed, far less equalled, upon the fatal
Netherland soil.

That place of fashionable resort, where the fine folk of Europe now
bathe, and flirt, and prattle politics or scandal so cheerfully during
the summer solstice--cool and comfortable Ostend--was throughout the
sixteenth century as obscure a fishing village as could be found in
Christendom. Nothing, had ever happened there, nobody had ever lived
there, and it was not until a much later period that the famous oyster,
now identified with its name, had been brought to its bay to be educated.
It was known for nothing except for claiming to have invented the
pickling of herrings, which was not at all the fact. Towards the latter
part of the century, however, the poor little open village had been
fortified to such purpose as to enable it to beat off the great Alexander
Farnese, when he had made an impromptu effort to seize it in the year
1583, after his successful enterprise against Dunkirk and Nieuport, and
subsequent preparation had fortunately been made against any further
attempt. For in the opening period of the new century thousands and tens
of thousands were to come to those yellow sands, not for a midsummer
holiday, but to join hands in one of the most enduring struggles that
history had yet recorded, and on which the attention of Europe was for a
long time to be steadily fixed.

Ostend--East-end--was the only possession of the republic in Flanders.
Having been at last thoroughly fortified according to the principles of
the age, it was a place whence much damage was inflicted upon the enemy,
and whence forays upon the obedient Flemings could very successfully be
conducted. Being in the hands of so enterprising a naval power, it
controlled the coast, while the cardinal-archduke on the other side
fondly hoped that its possession would give him supremacy on the sea. The
States of Flanders declared it to be a thorn in the Belgic lion's foot,
and called urgently upon their sovereign to remove the annoyance.

They offered Albert 300,000 florins a month so long as the siege should
last, besides an extraordinary sum of 300,000, of which one third was to
be paid when the place should be invested, one-third when the breach had
been made, and one-third after the town had been taken. It was obvious
that, although they thought the extraction of the thorn might prove
troublesome, the process would be accomplished within a reasonable time.
The cardinal-archduke, on his part, was as anxious as the "members" of
Flanders. Asking how long the Duke of Parma had been in taking Antwerp,
and being told "eighteen months," he replied that, if necessary, he was
willing to employ eighteen years in reducing Ostend.

The town thus about to assume so much importance in the world's eye had
about three thousand inhabitants within its lowly; thatch-roofed houses.
It fronted directly upon the seacoast and stretched backward in a
southerly direction, having the sandy downs on the right and left, and a
swampy, spongy soil on the inner verge, where it communicated with the
land. Its northern part, small and scarcely inhabited, was lashed by the
ocean, and exposed to perpetual danger from its storms and flood-tides,
but was partially protected from these encroachments by a dyke stretching
along the coast on the west. Here had hitherto been the harbour formed by
the mouth of the river Iperleda as it mingled with the sea, but this
entrance had become so choked with sand as to be almost useless at low
water. This circumstance would have rendered the labours of the archduke
comparatively easy, and much discouraged the States, had there not
fortunately been a new harbour which had formed itself on the eastern
side exactly at the period of threatened danger. The dwarf mountain range
of dunes which encircled the town on the eastern side had been purposely
levelled, lest the higher summits should offer positions of vantage to a
besieging foe. In consequence of this operation, the sea had burst over
the land and swept completely around the place, almost converting it into
an island, while at high water there opened a wide and profound gulf
which with the ebb left an excellent channel quite deep enough for even
the ships of war of those days. The next care of the States authorities
was to pierce their fortifications on this side at a convenient point,
thus creating a safe and snug haven within the walls for the fleets of
transports which were soon to arrive by open sea, laden with soldiers and
munitions.

The whole place was about half an hour's walk in circumference. It was
surrounded with a regular counterscarp, bastions, and casemates, while
the proximity of the ocean and the humid nature of the soil ensured it a
network of foss and canal on every side. On the left or western side,
where the old harbour had once been, and which was the most vulnerable by
nature, was a series of strong ravelins, the most conspicuous of which
were called the Sand Hill, the Porcupine, and Hell's Mouth. Beyond these,
towards the southwest, were some detached fortifications, resting for
support, however, upon the place itself, called the Polder, the Square,
and the South Square. On the east side, which was almost inaccessible, as
it would seem, by such siege machinery as then existed, was a work called
the Spanish half-moon, situate on the new harbour called the Guele or
Gullet.

Towards the west and southwest, externally, upon the territory of
Flanders--not an inch of which belonged to the republic, save the
sea-beaten corner in which nestled the little town-eighteen fortresses
had been constructed by the archduke as a protection against hostile
incursions from the place. Of these, the most considerable were St.
Albert, often mentioned during the Nieuport campaign, St. Isabella St.
Clara, and Great-Thirst.

On the 5th July, 1601, the archduke came before the town, and formally
began the siege. He established his headquarters in the fort which bore
the name of his patron saint. Frederic van den Berg meanwhile occupied
fort Breden on the eastern side, with the intention, if possible, of
getting possession of the Gullet, or at least of rendering the entrance
to that harbour impossible by means of his hostile demonstrations. Under
Van den Berg was Count Bucquoy-Longueval, a Walloon officer of much
energy and experience, now general-in-chief of artillery in the
archduke's army.

The numbers with which Albert took the field at first have not been
accurately stated, but it is probable that his object was to keep as many
as twenty thousand constantly engaged in the siege, and that in this
regard he was generally successful.

Within the town were fifty-nine companies of infantry, to which were soon
added twenty-three more under command of young Chatillon, grandson of the
great Coligny. It was "an olla podrida of nationalities," according to
the diarist of the siege--[Meteren]. English, Scotch, Dutch, Flemings,
Frenchmen, Germans, mixed in about equal proportions. Commander-in-chief
at the outset was Sir Francis Vere, who established himself by the middle
of July in the place, sent thither by order of the States-General. It had
been the desire of that assembly that the stadholder should make another
foray in Flanders for the purpose of driving off the archduke before he
should have time to complete his preliminary operations. But for that
year at least Maurice was resolved not to renounce his own schemes in
deference to those so much more ignorant than himself of the art of war,
even if Barneveld and his subordinates on their part had not learned a
requisite lesson of modesty.

So the prince, instead of risking another Nieuport campaign, took the
field with a small but well-appointed force, about ten thousand men in
all, marched to the Rhine, and early in June, laid siege to Rheinberg. It
was his purpose to leave the archduke for the time to break his teeth
against the walls of Ostend, while he would himself protect the eastern
frontier, over which came regular reinforcements and supplies for the
Catholic armies. His works were laid out with his customary precision and
neatness. But, standing as usual, like a professor at his blackboard,
demonstrating his proposition to the town, he was disturbed in his
calculations by the abstraction from his little army of two thousand
English troops ordered by the States-General to march to the defence of
Ostend. The most mathematical but most obedient of princes, annoyed but
not disconcerted, sent off the troops but continued his demonstration.

"By this specimen," cried the French envoy, with enthusiasm, "judge of
the energy of this little commonwealth. They are besieging Berg with an
army of twelve thousand men, a place beyond the frontier, and five days'
march from the Hague. They are defending another important place,
besieged by the principal forces of the archdukes, and there is good
chance of success at both points. They are doing all this too with such a
train of equipages of artillery, of munitions, of barks, of ships of war,
that I hardly know of a monarch in the world who would not be troubled to
furnish such a force of warlike machinery."

By the middle of July he sprang a mine under the fortifications, doing
much damage and sending into the air a considerable portion of the
garrison. Two of the soldiers were blown into his own camp, and one of
them, strangely enough, was but slightly injured. Coming as he did
through the air at cannon-ball speed, he was of course able to bring the
freshest intelligence from the interior of the town.

His news as to the condition of the siege confirmed the theory of the
stadholder. He persisted in his operations for three weeks longer, and
the place was then surrendered. The same terms--moderate and honourable
were given to the garrison and the burghers as in all Maurice's
victories. Those who liked to stay were at liberty to do so, accepting
the prohibition of public worship according to the Roman ritual, but
guaranteed against inquisition into household or conscience. The garrison
went out with the honours of war, and thus the place, whose military
value caused it to change hands almost as frequently as a counter in a
game, was once more in possession of the republic. In the course of the
following week Maurice laid siege to the city of Meurs, a little farther
up the Rhine, which immediately capitulated. Thus the keys to the
debatable land of Cleves and Juliers, the scene of the Admiral of
Arragon's recent barbarities, were now held by the stadholder.

These achievements were followed by an unsuccessful attempt upon
Bois-le-Duc in the course of November. The place would have fallen
notwithstanding the slenderness of the besieging army had not a sudden
and severe frost caused the prudent prince to raise the siege. Feeling
that his cousin Frederic van den Berg, who had been despatched from
before Ostend to command the relieving force near Bois-le-Duc, might take
advantage of the prematurely frozen canals and rivers to make an
incursion into Holland, he left his city just as his works had been
sufficiently advanced to ensure possession of the prize, and hastened to
protect the heart of the republic from possible danger.

Nothing further was accomplished by Maurice that year, but meantime
something had been doing within and around Ostend.

For now the siege of Ostend became the war, and was likely to continue to
be the war for a long time to come; all other military operations being
to a certain degree suspended, as if by general consent of both
belligerants, or rendered subsidiary to the main design. So long as this
little place should be beleaguered it was the purpose of the States, and
of Maurice, acting in harmony with those authorities, to concentrate
their resources so as to strengthen the grip with which the only scrap of
Flanders was held by the republic.

And as time wore on, the supposed necessities of the wealthy province,
which, in political importance, made up a full half of the archduke's
dominions, together with self-esteem and an exaggerated idea of military
honour, made that prelate more and more determined to effect his purpose.

So upon those barren sands was opened a great academy in which the
science and the art of war were to be taught by the most skilful
practitioners to all Europe; for no general, corporal, artillerist,
barber-surgeon, or engineer, would be deemed to know his trade if he had
not fought at Ostend; and thither resorted month after month warriors of
every rank, from men of royal or of noblest blood to adventurers of
lowlier degree, whose only fortune was buckled at their sides. From every
land, of every religion, of every race, they poured into the town or into
the besiegers' trenches. Habsburg and Holstein; Northumberland, Vere, and
Westmoreland; Fairfax and Stuart; Bourbon, Chatillon, and Lorraine;
Bentivoglio, Farnese, Spinola, Grimaldi, Arragon, Toledo, Avila,
Berlaymont, Bucquoy, Nassau, Orange, Solms--such were the historic names
of a few only of the pupils or professors in that sanguinary high school,
mingled with the plainer but well known patronymics of the Baxes,
Meetkerkes, Van Loons, Marquettes, Van der Meers, and Barendrechts, whose
bearers were fighting, as they long had fought, for all that men most
dearly prize on earth, and not to win honour or to take doctors' degrees
in blood. Papist, Calvinist, Lutheran, Turk, Jew and Moor, European,
Asiatic, African, all came to dance in that long carnival of death; and
every incident, every detail throughout the weary siege could if
necessary be reproduced; for so profound and general was the attention
excited throughout Christendom by these extensive operations, and so new
and astonishing were many of the inventions and machines employed--most
of them now as familiar as gunpowder or as antiquated as a catapult--that
contemporaries have been most bountiful in their records for the benefit
of posterity, feeling sure of a gratitude which perhaps has not been
rendered to their shades.

Especially the indefatigable Philip Fleming-auditor and secretary of
Ostend before and during the siege, bravest, most conscientious, and most
ingenious of clerks--has chronicled faithfully in his diary almost every
cannon-shot that was fired, house that was set on fire, officer that was
killed, and has pourtrayed each new machine that was invented or imagined
by native or foreign genius. For the adepts or, pretenders who swarmed to
town or camp from every corner of the earth, bringing in their hands or
brains to be disposed of by either belligerents infallible recipes for
terminating the siege at a single blow, if only their theories could be
understood and their pockets be filled, were as prolific and as sanguine
as in every age. But it would be as wearisome, and in regard to the
history of human culture as superfluous, to dilate upon the technics of
Targone and Giustianini, and the other engineers, Italian and Flemish,
who amazed mankind at this period by their successes, still more by their
failures, or to describe every assault, sortie, and repulse, every
excavation, explosion, and cannonade, as to disinter the details of the
siege of Nineveh or of Troy. But there is one kind of enginry which never
loses its value or its interest, and which remains the same in every
age--the machinery by which stout hearts act directly upon willing
hands--and vast were the results now depending on its employment around
Ostend.

On the outside and at a distance the war was superintended of course by
the stadholder and commander-in-chief, while his cousin William Lewis,
certainly inferior to no living man in the science of war, and whose
studies in military literature, both ancient and modern, during the brief
intervals of his active campaigning, were probably more profound than
those of any contemporary, was always alert and anxious to assist with
his counsels or to mount and ride to the fray.

In the town Sir Francis Vere commanded. Few shapes are more familiar to
the student of those times than this veteran campaigner, the offshoot of
a time-honoured race. A man of handsome, weather-beaten, battle-bronzed
visage, with massive forehead, broad intelligent eyes, a high straight
nose, close-clipped hair, and a great brown beard like a spade; captious,
irascible, but most resolute, he seemed, in his gold inlaid Milan corslet
and ruff of point-lace, the very image of a partizan chieftain; one of
the noblest relics of a race of fighters slowly passing off the world's
stage.

An efficient colonel, he was not a general to be relied upon in great
affairs either in council or the field. He hated the Nassaus, and the
Nassaus certainly did not admire him, while his inordinate self-esteem,
both personal and national, and his want of true sympathy for the cause
in which, he fought, were the frequent source of trouble and danger to
the republic.

Of the seven or eight thousand soldiers in the town when the siege began,
at least two thousand were English. The queen, too intelligent, despite
her shrewishness to the Staten; not to be faithful to the cause in which
her own interests were quite as much involved as theirs, had promised
Envoy Caron that although she was obliged to maintain twenty thousand men
in Ireland to keep down the rebels, directly leagued as they were with
Spain and the archdukes, the republic might depend upon five thousand
soldiers from England. Detachment after detachment, the soldiers came as
fast as the London prisons could be swept and the queen's press-gang
perform its office. It may be imagined that the native land of those
warriors was not inconsiderably benefited by the grant to the republic of
the right to make and pay for these levies. But they had all red
uniforms, and were as fit as other men to dig trenches, to defend them;
and to fill them afterwards, and none could fight more manfully or
plunder friend and foe with greater cheerfulness of impartiality than did
those islanders.

The problem which the archduke had set himself to solve was not an easy
one. He was to reduce a town, which he could invest and had already
succeeded very thoroughly in investing on the land aide, but which was
open to the whole world by sea; while the besieged on their part could
not only rely upon their own Government and people, who were more at home
on the ocean than was any nation in the world, but upon their alliance
with England, a State hardly inferior in maritime resources to the
republic itself.

On the western side, which was the weakest, his progress was from the
beginning the more encouraging, and his batteries were soon able to make
some impression upon the outer works, and even to do considerable damage
to the interior of the town. In the course of a few months he had fifty
siege-guns in position, and had constructed a practicable road all around
the place, connecting his own fortifications on the west and south with
those of Bucquoy on the east.

Albert's leading thought however was to cut off the supplies. The freaks
of nature, as already observed, combined with his own exertions, had
effectually disposed of the western harbour as a means of ingress. The
tide ebbed and flowed through the narrow channel, but it was clogged with
sand and nearly, dry at low water. Moreover, by an invention then
considered very remarkable, a foundation was laid for the besiegers'
forts and batteries by sinking large and deep baskets of wicker-work,
twenty feet in length, and filled with bricks and sand, within this
abandoned harbour. These clumsy machines were called sausages,21 and were
the delight of the camp and of all Europe. The works thus established on
the dry side crept slowly on towards the walls, and some demi-cannon were
soon placed upon, them, but the besieged, not liking these encroachments,
took the resolution to cut the pea-dyke along the coast which had
originally protected the old harbour. Thus the sea, when the tides were
high and winds boisterous, was free to break in upon the archduke's
works, and would often swallow sausages, men, and cannon far more rapidly
than it was possible to place them there.

Yet still those human ants toiled on, patiently restoring what the
elements so easily destroyed; and still, despite the sea; the cannonade,
and the occasional sorties of the garrison, the danger came nearer and
nearer. Bucquoy on the other side was pursuing the same system, but his
task was immeasurably more difficult. The Gullet, or new eastern
entrance, was a whirlpool at high tide, deep, broad, and swift as a
millrace. Yet along its outer verge he too laid his sausages, protecting
his men at their work as well as he could with gabions, and essayed to
build a dyke of wicker-work upon which he might place a platform for
artillery to prevent the ingress of the republican ships.

And his soldiers were kept steadily at work, exposed all the time to the
guns of the Spanish half-moon from which the besieged never ceased to
cannonade those industrious pioneers. It was a bloody business. Night and
day the men were knee-deep in the trenches delving in mud and sand,
falling every instant into the graves which they were thus digging for
themselves, while ever and anon the sea would rise in its wrath and sweep
them with their works away. Yet the victims were soon replaced by others,
for had not the cardinal-archduke sworn to extract the thorn from the
Belgic lion's paw even if he should be eighteen years about it, and would
military honour permit him to break his vow? It was a piteous sight, even
for the besieged, to see human life so profusely squandered. It is a
terrible reflection, too, that those Spaniards, Walloons, Italians,
confronted death so eagerly, not from motives of honour, religion,
discipline, not inspired by any kind of faith or fanaticism, but because
the men who were employed in this horrible sausage-making and
dyke-building were promised five stivers a day instead of two.

And there was always an ample supply of volunteers for the service so
long as the five stivers were paid.

But despite all Bucquoy's exertions the east harbour remained as free as
ever. The cool, wary Dutch skippers brought in their cargoes as regularly
as if there had been no siege at all. Ostend was rapidly acquiring
greater commercial importance, and was more full of bustle and business
than had ever been dreamed of in that quiet nook since the days of Robert
the Frisian, who had built the old church of Ostend, as one of the thirty
which he erected in honour of St. Peter, five hundred years before.

For the States did not neglect their favourite little city. Fleets of
transports arrived day after day, week after week, laden with every
necessary and even luxury for the use of the garrison. It was perhaps the
cheapest place in all the Netherlands, so great was the abundance.
Capons, bares, partridges, and butcher's meat were plentiful as
blackberries, and good French claret was but two stivers the quart.
Certainly the prospect was not promising of starving the town into a
surrender.

But besides all this digging and draining there was an almost daily
cannonade. Her Royal Highness the Infanta was perpetually in camp by the
side of her well-beloved Albert, making her appearance there in great
state, with eighteen coaches full of ladies of honour, and always
manifesting much impatience if she did not hear the guns.

She would frequently touch off a forty-pounder with her own serene
fingers in order to encourage the artillerymen, and great was the
enthusiasm which such condescension excited.

Assaults, sorties, repulses, ambuscades were also of daily occurrence,
and often with very sanguinary results; but it would be almost as idle
now to give the details of every encounter that occurred, as to describe
the besieging of a snow-fort by schoolboys.

It is impossible not to reflect that a couple of Parrots and a Monitor or
two would have terminated the siege in half an hour in favor of either
party, and levelled the town or the besiegers' works as if they had been
of pasteboard.

Bucquoy's dyke was within a thousand yards of the harbour's entrance, yet
the guns on his platform never sank a ship nor killed a man on board,
while the archduke's batteries were even nearer their mark. Yet it was
the most prodigious siege of modern days. Fifty great guns were in
position around the place, and their balls weighed from ten to forty
pounds apiece. It was generally agreed that no such artillery practice
had ever occurred before in the world.

For the first six months, and generally throughout the siege, there was
fired on an average a thousand of such shots a day. In the sieges of the
American civil war there were sometimes three thousand shots an hour, and
from guns compared to which in calibre and power those cannon and
demi-cannon were but children's toys.

Certainly the human arm was of the same length then as now, a pike-thrust
was as effective as the stab of the most improved bayonet, and when it
came, as it was always the purpose to do, to the close embrace of foemen,
the work was done as thoroughly as it could be in this second half of the
nineteenth century.

Nevertheless it is impossible not to hope that such progress in science
must at last render long wars impossible. The Dutch war of independence
had already lasted nearly forty years. Had the civil war in America upon
the territory of half a continent been waged with the Ostend machinery it
might have lasted two centuries. Something then may have been gained for
humanity by giving war such preter-human attributes as to make its
demands of gold and blood too exhaustive to become chronic.

Yet the loss of human life during that summer and winter was sufficiently
wholesale as compared with the meagre results. Blood flowed in torrents,
for no man could be more free of his soldiers' lives than was the
cardinal-archduke, hurling them as he did on the enemy's works before the
pretence of a practical breach had been effected, and before a reasonable
chance existed of purchasing an advantage at such a price. Five hundred
were killed outright in half-an-hour's assault on an impregnable position
one autumn evening, and lay piled in heaps beneath the Sand Hill
fort-many youthful gallants from Spain and Italy among them, noble
volunteers recognised by their perfumed gloves and golden chains, and
whose pockets were worth rifling. The Dutch surgeons, too, sallied forth
in strength after such an encounter, and brought in great bags filled
with human fat esteemed the sovereignst remedy in the world for wounds
and disease.

Leaders were killed on both sides. Catrici, chief of the Italian
artillery, and Braccamonte, commander of a famous Sicilian legion, with
many less-known captains, lost their lives before the town. The noble
young Chatillon, grandson of Coligny, who had distinguished himself at
Nieuport, fell in the Porcupine fort, his head carried off by a
cannon-ball, which destroyed another officer at his side, and just grazed
the ear of the distinguished Colonel Uchtenbroek. Sir Francis Vere, too,
was wounded in the head by a fragment of iron, and was obliged to leave
the town for six weeks till his wound should heal.

The unfortunate inhabitants--men, women, and children--were of course
exposed to perpetual danger, and very many were killed. Their houses were
often burned to the ground, in which cases the English auxiliaries were
indefatigable, not in rendering assistance, but in taking possession of
such household goods as the flames had spared. Nor did they always wait
for such opportunities, but were apt, at the death of an eminent burgher,
to constitute themselves at once universal legatees. Thus, while honest
Bartholomew Tysen, a worthy citizen grocer, was standing one autumn
morning at his own door, a stray cannon-ball took off his head, and
scarcely had he been put in a coffin before his house was sacked from
garret to cellar and all the costly spices, drugs, and other valuable
merchandize of his warehouse--the chief magazine in the town--together
with all his household furniture, appropriated by those London warriors.
Bartholomew's friends and relatives appealed to Sir Francis Vere for
justice, but were calmly informed by that general that Ostend was like a
stranded ship, on its beam-ends on a beach, and that it was impossible not
to consider it at the mercy of the wreckers. So with this highly
figurative view of the situation from the lips of the governor of the
place and the commander-in-chief of the English as well as the Dutch
garrison, they were fain to go home and bury their dead, finding when
they returned that another cannonball had carried away poor Bartholomew's
coffin-lid. Thus was never non-combatant and grocer, alive or dead, more
out of suits with fortune than this citizen of Ostend; and such were the
laws of war, as understood by one of the most eminent of English
practitioners in the beginning of the seventeenth century. It is true,
however, that Vere subsequently hanged a soldier for stealing fifty
pounds of powder and another for uttering counterfeit money, but
robberies upon the citizens were unavenged.

Nor did the deaths by shot or sword-stroke make up the chief sum of
mortality. As usual the murrain-like pestilence which swept off its daily
victims both within an without the town, was more effective than any
direct agency of man. By the month of December the number of the garrison
had been reduced to less than three thousand, while it is probable that
the archduke had not eight thousand effective men left in his whole army.

It was a black and desolate scene. The wild waves of the German ocean,
lashed by the wintry gales, would often sweep over the painfully
constructed works of besieger and besieged and destroy in an hour the
labour of many weeks. The Porcupine's small but vitally-important ravelin
lying out in the counterscarp between the old town and the new, guarding
the sluices by which the water for the town moats and canals was
controlled, and preventing the pioneers of the enemy from undermining the
western wall--was so damaged by the sea as to be growing almost
untenable. Indefatigably had the besieged attempted with wicker-work and
timber and palisades to strengthen this precious little fort, but they
had found, even as Bucquoy and the archduke on their part had learned,
that the North Sea in winter was not to be dammed by bulrushes. Moreover,
in a bold and successful assault the besiegers had succeeded in setting
fire to the inflammable materials heaped about the ravelin to such effect
that the fire burned for days, notwithstanding the flooding of the works
at each high tide. The men, working day and night, scorching in the
flames, yet freezing kneedeep in the icy slush of the trenches and
perpetually under fire of the hostile batteries, became daily more and
more exhausted, notwithstanding their determination to hold the place.
Christmas drew nigh, and a most gloomy, festival it was like to be, for
it seemed as if the beleaguered garrison had been forgotten by the
States. Weeks had passed away without a single company being sent to
repair the hideous gaps made daily in the ranks of those defenders of a
forlorn hope. It was no longer possible to hold the external works; the
Square, the Polder, and the other forts on the southwest which Vere had
constructed with so much care and where he had thus far kept his
headquarters. On Sunday morning,--23rd December, he reluctantly gave
orders that they should be abandoned on the following day and the whole
garrison concentrated within the town.

The clouds were gathering darkly over the head of the gallant Vere; for
no sooner had he arrived at this determination than he learned from a
deserter that the archduke had fixed upon that very Sunday evening for a
general assault upon the place. It was hopeless for the garrison to
attempt to hold these outer forts, for they required a far larger number
of soldiers than could be spared from the attenuated little army. Yet
with those forts in the hands of the enemy there would be nothing left
but to make the best and speediest terms that might be obtained. The
situation was desperate. Sir Francis called his principal officers
together, announced his resolve not to submit to the humiliation of a
surrender after all their efforts, if there was a possibility of escape
from their dilemma, reminded them that reinforcements might be expected
to arrive at any moment, and that with even a few hundred additional
soldiers the outer works might still be manned and the city saved. The
officers English, Dutch, and French, listened respectfully to his
remarks, but, without any suggestions on their own part, called on him as
their Alexander to untie the Gordian knot. Alexander solved it, not with
the sword, but with a trick which he hoped might prove sharper than a
sword. He announced his intention of proposing at once to treat, and to
protract the negotiations as long as possible, until the wished-for sails
should be discerned in the offing, when he would at once break faith with
them, resume hostilities, and so make fools of the besiegers.

This was a device worthy of a modern Alexander whose surname was Farnese.
Even in that loose age such cynical trifling with the sacredness of
trumpets of truce and offers of capitulation were deemed far from
creditable among soldiers and statesmen, yet the council of war highly
applauded the scheme, and importuned the general to carry it at once into
effect.

When it came, however, to selecting the hostages necessary for the
proposed negotiations, they became less ardent and were all disposed to
recede. At last, after much discussion, the matter was settled, and
before nightfall a drummer was set upon the external parapet of the
Porcupine, who forthwith began to beat vigorously for a parley. The
rattle was a welcome sound in the ears of the weary besiegers, just drawn
up in column for a desperate assault, and the tidings were at once
communicated to the archduke in Fort St. Albert. The prince manifested at
first some unwillingness to forego the glory of the attack, from which he
confidently expected a crowning victory, but yielding to the
representations of his chief generals that it was better to have his town
without further bloodshed, he consented to treat. Hostages were
expeditiously appointed on both sides, and Captains Ogle and Fairfax were
sent that same evening to the headquarters of the besieging army. It was
at once agreed as a preliminary that the empty outer works of the place
should remain unmolested. The English officers were received with much
courtesy. The archduke lifted his hat as they were presented, asked them
of what nation they were, and then inquired whether they were authorized
to agree upon terms of capitulation. They answered in the negative;
adding, that the whole business would be in the hands of commissioners to
be immediately sent by his Highness, as it was supposed, into the town.
Albert then expressed the hope that there was no fraudulent intention in
the proposition just made to negotiate. The officers professed themselves
entirely ignorant of any contemplated deception; although Captain Ogle
had been one of the council, had heard every syllable of Vere's
stratagem, and had heartily approved of the whole plot. The Englishmen
were then committed to the care of a Spanish nobleman of the duke's
staff, and were treated with perfect politeness and hospitality.

Meantime no time was lost in despatching hostages, who should be at the
same time commissioners, to Ostend. The quartermaster-general of the
army, Don Matteo Antonio, and Matteo Serrano, governor of Sluys, but
serving among the besiegers, were selected for this important business as
personages of ability, discretion, and distinction.

They reached the town, coming in of course from the western side, as
expeditiously as possible, but after nightfall. Before they arrived at
headquarters there suddenly arose, from some unknown cause, a great alarm
and beating to arms on the opposite or eastern side of the city. They
were entirely innocent of any participation in this uproar and ignorant
of its cause, but when they reached the presence of Sir Francis Vere they
found that warrior in a towering passion. There was cheating going on, he
exclaimed. The Spaniards, he cried, were taking advantage of these
negotiations, and were about, by dishonourable stratagem, to assault the
town.

Astounded, indignant, but utterly embarrassed, the grave Spaniards knew
not how to reply. They were still more amazed when the general, rising to
a still higher degree of exasperation, absolutely declined to exchange
another word with them, but ordered Captains Carpentier and St. Hilaire,
by whom they had been escorted to his quarters, to conduct them out of
the town again by the same road which had brought them there. There was
nothing for it but to comply, and to smother their resentment at such
extraordinary treatment as best they could. When they got to the old
harbour on the western side the tide had risen so high that it was
impossible to cross.

Nobody knew better than Vere, when he gave the order, that this would be
the case; so that when the escorting officers returned to state the fact,
he simply ordered them to take the Spaniards back by the Gullet or
eastern side. The strangers were not very young men, and being much
fatigued with wandering to and fro in the darkness over the muddy roads,
they begged permission to remain all night in Ostend, if it were only in
a guardhouse. But Vere was inexorable, after the duplicity which he
affected to have discovered on the part of the enemy. So the
quartermaster-general and the governor of Sluys, much to the detriment of
their dignity, were forced once more to tramp through the muddy streets.
And obeying their secret instructions, the escort led them round and
round through the most miry and forlorn parts of the town, so that,
sinking knee-deep at every step into sloughs and quicksands, and plunging
about through the mist and sleet of a dreary December's night, they at
last reached the precincts of the Spanish half-moon on the Gullet,
be-draggled from head to foot and in a most dismal and exhausted
condition.

"Ah, the villainous town of Ostend!" exclaimed Serrano, ruefully
contemplating his muddy boots and imploring at least a pipe of tobacco.
He was informed, however, that no such medical drugs were kept in the
fort, but that a draught of good English ale was much at their service.
The beer was brought in four foaming flagons, and, a little refreshed by
this hospitality, the Spaniards were put in a boat and rowed under the
guns of the fort across the Gullet and delivered to their own sentries on
the outposts of Bucquoy's entrenchments. By this time it was midnight, so
that it was necessary for them to remain for the night in the eastern
encampment before reporting themselves at Fort St. Albert.

Thus far Vere's comedy had been eminently successful, and by taking
advantage of the accidental alarm and so adroitly lashing himself into a
fictitious frenzy, the general had gained nearly twenty-four additional
hours of precious time on which he had not reckoned.

Next morning, after Serrano and Antonio had reported to the archduke, it
was decided, notwithstanding the very inhospitable treatment which they
had received, that those commissioners should return to their labours.
Ogle and Fairfax still remained as hostages in camp, and of course
professed entire ignorance of these extraordinary proceedings,
attributing them to some inexplicable misunderstanding. So on Monday,
24th, December, the quartermaster and the governor again repaired to
Ostend with orders to bring about the capitulation of the place as soon
as possible. The same sergeant-major was again appointed by Vere to
escort the strangers, and on asking by what way he should bring them in,
was informed by Sir Francis that it would never do to allow those
gentlemen, whose feet were accustomed to the soft sand of the sea-beach
and downs, to bruise themselves upon the hard paving-stones of Ostend,
but that the softest and muddiest road must be carefully selected for
them. These reasons accordingly were stated with perfect gravity to the
two Spaniards, who, in spite of their solemn remonstrances, were made to
repeat a portion of their experiences and to accept it as an act of
special courtesy from the English general. Thus so much time had been
spent in preliminaries and so much more upon the road that the short
winter's day was drawing to a close before they were again introduced to
the presence of Vere.

They found that fiery personage on this occasion all smiles and
blandishments. The Spaniards were received with most dignified courtesy,
to which they gravely responded; and the general then proceeded to make
excuses for the misunderstanding of the preceding day with its
uncomfortable consequences. Thereupon arose much animated discussion as
to the causes and the nature of the alarm on the east side which had
created such excitement. Much time was ingeniously consumed in this
utterly superfluous discussion; but at last the commissioners of the
archduke insisted on making allusion to the business which had brought
them to the town. "What terms of negotiation do you propose?" they asked
Sir Francis. "His Highness has only to withdraw from before Ostend,"
coolly replied the general, "and leave us, his poor neighbours, in peace
and quietness. This would be the most satisfactory negotiation possible
and the one most easily made."

Serrano and Antonio found it difficult to see the matter in that cheerful
light, and assured Sir Francis that they had not been commissioned by the
archduke to treat for his own withdrawal but for the surrender of the
town. Hereupon high words and fierce discussion very naturally arose, and
at last, when a good deal of time had been spent in the sharp encounter
of wits, Vere proposed an adjournment of the discussion until after
supper; politely expressing the hope that the Spanish gentlemen would be
his guests.

The conversation had been from the beginning in French, as Vere, although
a master of the Spanish language, was desirous that the rest of the
company present should understand everything said at the interview.

The invitation to table was graciously accepted, and the Christmas eve
passed off more merrily than the preceding night had done, so far as
Vere's two guests were concerned. Several distinguished officers were
present at the festive board: Captain Montesquieu de Roquette, Sir Horace
Vere, Captains St. Hilaire, Meetkerke, De Ryck, and others among them. As
it was strict fast for the Catholics that evening--while on the other
hand the English, still reckoning according to the old style, would not
keep Christmas until ten days later--the banquet consisted mainly of eggs
and fish, and the like meagre articles, in compliment to the guests. It
was, however, as well furnished as could be expected in a beleaguered
town, out of whose harbour a winter gale had been for many weeks blowing
and preventing all ingress. There was at least no lack of excellent
Bordeaux wine; while the servants waiting upon the table did not fail to
observe that Governor Serrano was not in all respects a model of the
temperance usually characteristic of his race. They carefully counted and
afterwards related with admiration, not unmingled with horror, that the
veteran Spaniard drank fifty-two goblets of claret, and was emptying his
glass as fast as filled, although by no means neglecting the beer, the
quality of which he had tested the night before at the Half-moon. Yet
there seemed to be no perceptible effect produced upon him, save perhaps
that he grew a shade more grave and dignified with each succeeding
draught. For while the banquet proceeded in this very genial manner
business was by no means neglected; the negotiations for the surrender of
the city being conducted on both sides with a fuddled solemnity very
edifying for the attendants to contemplate.

Vere complained that the archduke was unreasonable, for he claimed
nothing less from his antagonists than their all. The commissioners
replied that all was no more than his own property. It certainly could
not be thought unjust of him to demand his own, and all Flanders was his
by legal donation from his Majesty of Spain. Vere replied that he had
never studied jurisprudence, and was not versed at all in that--science,
but he had always heard in England that possession was nine points of the
law. Now it so happened that they, and not his Highness, were in
possession of Ostend, and it would be unreasonable to expect them to make
a present of it to any one. The besiegers, he urged, had gained much
honour by their steady persistence amid so many dangers; difficulties,
and losses;--but winter had come, the weather was very bad, not a step of
progress had been made, and he was bold enough to express his opinion
that it would be far more sensible on the part of his Highness, after
such deeds of valour, to withdraw his diminished forces out of the
freezing and pestilential swamps before Ostend and go into comfortable
winter-quarters at Ghent or Bruges. Enough had been done for glory, and
it must certainly now be manifest that he had no chance of taking the
city.

Serrano retorted that it was no secret to the besiegers that the garrison
had dwindled to a handful; that it was quite impossible for them to
defend their outer works any longer; that with the loss of the external
boulevard the defence of the place would be impossible, and that, on the
contrary, it was for the republicans to resign themselves to their fate.
They, too, had done enough for glory, and had nothing for it but to
retire into the centre of their ruined little nest, where they must
burrow until the enemy should have leisure to entirely unearth them,
which would be a piece of work very easily and rapidly accomplished.

This was called negotiation; and thus the winter's evening wore away,
until the Spaniards; heavy with fatigue and wine, were without much
difficulty persuaded to seek the couches prepared for them.

Next day the concourse of people around the city was Christmas, wonderful
to behold. The rumour had spread through the provinces, and was on the
wing to all foreign countries, that Ostend had capitulated, and that the
commissioners were at that moment arranging the details. The
cardinal-archduke, in complete Milanese armour, with a splendid
feather-bush waving from his casque and surrounded by his brilliant
body-guard, galloped to and fro outside the entrenchments, expecting
every moment a deputation to come forth, bearing the keys of the town.
The Infanta too, magnificent in ruff and farthingale and brocaded
petticoat, and attended by a cavalcade of ladies of honour in gorgeous
attire, pranced impatiently about, awaiting the dramatic termination of a
leaguer which was becoming wearisome to besieger and besieged. Not even
on the famous second of July of the previous year, when that princess was
pleasing herself with imaginations as to the deportment of Maurice of
Nassau as a captive, had her soul been so full of anticipated triumph as
on this Christmas morning.

Such a festive scene as was now presented in the neighbourhood of Ostend
had not been exhibited for many a long year in Flanders. From the whole
country side came the peasants and burghers, men, women, and children, in
holiday attire. It was like a kermiss or provincial fair. Three thousand
people at least were roaming about in all direction, gaping with wonder
at the fortifications of the besieging army, so soon to be superfluous,
sliding, skating, waltzing on the ice, admiring jugglers, dancing bears,
puppet shows and merry-go-rounds, singing, and carousing upon herrings,
sausages, waffles, with mighty draughts of Flemish ale, manifesting their
exuberant joy that the thorn was nearly extracted from the lion's paw,
and awaiting with delight a blessed relief from that operation. Never was
a merrier Christmas morning in Flanders. There should be an end now to
the forays through the country of those red-coated English pikemen, those
hard-riding, hard-drinking troopers of Germany and, Holland, with the
French and Scotch arquebus men, and terrible Zeeland sailors who had for
years swept out of Ostend, at any convenient opportunity, to harry the
whole province. And great was the joy in Flanders.

Meantime within the city a different scene was enacting. Those dignified
Spaniards--governor Serrano and Don Matteo Antonio--having slept off
their carouse, were prepared after breakfast next morning to resume the
interrupted negotiations. But affairs were now to take an unexpected
turn. In the night the wind had changed, and in the course of the
forenoon three Dutch vessels of war were descried in the offing, and soon
calmly sailed into the mouth of the Gullet. The news was at once brought
to Vere's headquarters. That general's plans had been crowned with
success even sooner than he expected. There was no further object in
continuing the comedy of negotiation, for the ships now arriving seemed
crowded with troops. Sir Francis accordingly threw off the mask, and
assuring his guests with extreme politeness that it had given him great
pleasure to make the acquaintance of such distinguished personages, he
thanked them cordially for their visit, but regretted that it would be no
longer in his power to entertain any propositions of a pacific nature.
The necessary reinforcements, which he had been so long expecting, had at
last reached him, and it would not yet be necessary for him to retire
into his ruined nest. Military honour therefore would not allow him to
detain them any longer. Should he ever be so hard pressed again he felt
sure that so magnanimous a prince as his Highness would extend to him all
due clemency and consideration.

The Spaniards; digesting as they best could the sauce of contumely with
which the gross treachery of the transaction was now seasoned, solemnly
withdrew, disdaining to express their spleen in words of idle menace.

They were escorted back through the lines, and at once made their report
at headquarters. The festival had been dismally interrupted before it was
well begun. The vessels were soon observed by friend and foe making their
way triumphantly up to the town where they soon dropped anchor at the
wharf of the inner Gullet, having only a couple of sailors wounded,
despite all the furious discharges of Bucquoy's batteries. The holiday
makers dispersed, much discomfited, the English hostages returned to the
town, and the archduke shut himself up, growling and furious. His
generals and counsellors, who had recommended the abandonment of his
carefully prepared assault, and acceptance of the perfidious propositions
to negotiate, by which so much golden time had been squandered, were for
several days excluded from his presence.

Meantime the army, disappointed, discontented, half-starved, unpaid,
passed their days and nights as before, in the sloppy trenches, while
deep and earnest were the complaints and the curses which succeeded to
the momentary exultation of Christmas eve. The soldiers were more than
ever embittered against their august commander-in-chief, for they had
just enjoyed a signal opportunity of comparing the luxury and comfortable
magnificence of his Highness and the Infanta, and of contrasting it with
their own misery. Moreover, it had long been exciting much indignation in
the ranks that veteran generals and colonels, in whom all men had
confidence, had been in great numbers superseded in order to make place
for court favourites, utterly without experience or talent. Thus the
veterans; murmuring in the wet trenches. The archduke meanwhile, in his
sullen retirement, brooded over a tragedy to follow the very successful
comedy of his antagonist.

It was not long delayed. The assault which had been postponed in the
latter days of December was to be renewed before the end of the first
week of the new year. Vere, through scouts and deserters, was aware of
the impending storm, and had made his arrangements in accordance with,
the very minute information which he had thus received. The
reinforcements, so opportunely sent by the States, were not
numerous--only six hundred in all--but they were an earnest of fresh
comrades to follow. Meantime they sufficed to fill the gaps in the ranks,
and to enable Vere to keep possession of the external line of
fortifications, including the all-important Porcupine. Moreover, during
the fictitious negotiations, while the general had thus been holding--as
he expressed it--the wolf by both ears, the labor of repairing damages in
dyke, moat, and wall had not been for an instant neglected.

The morning of the 7th January, 1602, opened with a vigorous cannonade
from all the archduke's batteries, east, west, and south. Auditor
Fleeting, counsellor and secretary of the city, aide-de-camp and right
hand of the commander-in-chief, a grim, grizzled, leathern-faced man of
fifty, steady under fire as a veteran arquebuseer, ready with his pen as
a counting-house clerk, and as fertile in resource as the most
experienced campaigner, was ever at the general's side. At his suggestion
several houses had been demolished, to furnish materials in wood and iron
to stop the gaps as soon as made. Especially about the Sand Hill fort and
the Porcupine a plentiful supply was collected, no time having been lost
in throwing up stockades, palisades, and every other possible obstruction
to the expected assailants. Knowing perfectly well where the brunt of the
battle was to be, Vere had placed his brother Sir Horace at the head of
twelve picked companies of diverse nations in the Sand Hill. Four of the
very best companies of the garrison were stationed in the Porcupine, and
ten more of the choicest in Fort Hell's Mouth, under Colonel Meetkerke.
It must be recollected that the first of these three works was the key to
the fortifications of the old or outer town. The other two were very near
it, and were the principal redoubts which defended the most exposed and
vulnerable portion of the new town on the western side. The Sand Hill, as
its name imported, was the only existing relic within the city's verge of
the chain of downs once encircling the whole place. It had however been
cannonaded so steadily during the six months' siege as to have become
almost ironclad--a mass of metal gradually accumulating from the enemy's
guns. With the curtain extending from it towards east and west it
protected the old town quite up to the little ancient brick church, one
of the only two in Ostend.

All day long the cannon thundered--a bombardment such as had never before
been dreamed of in those days, two thousand shots having been distinctly
counted, by the burghers. There was but languid response from the
besieged, who were reserving their strength. At last, to the brief
winter's day succeeded a pitch-dark evening. It was dead low tide at
seven. At that hour the drums suddenly beat alarm along the whole line of
fortifications from the Gullet on the east to the old harbour on the
west, while through the mirky atmosphere sounded the trumpets of the
assault, the shouts of the Spanish and Italian commanders, and the fierce
responsive yells of their troops. Sir Francis, having visited every
portion of the works, and satisfied himself that every man in the
garrison was under arms, and that all his arrangements had been
fulfilled, now sat on horseback, motionless as a statue, within the Sand
Hill. Among the many serious and fictitious attacks now making he waited
calmly for the one great assault, even allowing some of the enemy to
scale the distant counterscarp of the external works towards the south,
which he had by design left insufficiently guarded. It was but a brief
suspense, for in a few moments two thousand men had rushed through the
bed of the old harbour, out of which the tide had ebbed, and were
vigorously assailing the Sand Hill and the whole length of its curtain.
The impenetrable darkness made it impossible to count, but the noise and
the surging fury of the advance rendered it obvious that the critical
moment had arrived. Suddenly a vivid illumination burst forth. Great pine
torches, piles of tar-barrels, and heaps of other inflammable material,
which had been carefully arranged in Fort Porcupine, were now all at once
lighted by Vere's command.

As the lurid blaze flashed far and wide there started out of the gloom
not only the long lines of yellow jerkined pikemen and arquebuseers, with
their storm-hoods and scaling ladders, rushing swiftly towards the forts,
but beyond the broken sea dyke the reserved masses supporting the attack,
drawn up in solid clumps of spears, with their gay standards waving above
them, and with a strong force of cavalry in iron corslet and morion
stationed in the rear to urge on the infantry and prevent their faltering
in the night's work, became visible--phantom-like but perfectly distinct.

At least four thousand men were engaged in this chief attack, and the
light now permitted the besieged to direct their fire from cannon,
demi-cannon, culverin, and snaphance, with fatal effect. The assailants,
thinned, straggling, but undismayed, closed up their ranks, and still
came fiercely on. Never had Spaniards, Walloons, and Italians, manifested
greater contempt of death than on this occasion. They knew that the
archduke and the infanta were waiting breathlessly in Fort St. Albert for
the news of that victory of which the feigned negotiations had defrauded
them at Christmas, and they felt perfectly confident of ending both the
siege and the forty years' war this January night. But they had reckoned
without their wily English host. As they came nearer--van, and at last
reserve--they dropped in great heaps under the steady fire of the
musketry--as Philip Flaming, looking on, exclaimed--like apples when the
autumn wind blows through the orchard. And as the foremost still pressed
nearer and nearer, striving to clamber up the shattered counterscarp and
through every practicable breach, the English, Hollanders, and
Zeelanders, met them in the gap, not only at push of pike, but with their
long daggers and with flaming pitchhoops, and hurled them down to instant
death.

And thus around the Sand Hill, the Porcupine, and Hell's Mouth, the
battle raged nearly two hours long, without an inch of ground being
gained by the assailants. The dead and dying were piled beneath the
walls, while still the reserves, goaded up to the mark by the cavalry,
mounted upon the bodies of their fallen comrades and strove to plant
their ladders. But now the tide was on the flood, the harbour was
filling, and cool Auditor Fleming, whom nothing escaped quietly asked the
general's permission to open the western' sluice. It was obvious, he
observed, that the fury of the attack was over, and that the enemy would
soon be effecting a retreat before the water should have risen too high.
He even pointed out many stragglers attempting to escape through the
already deepening shallows. Vere's consent was at once given, the
flood-gate was opened, and the assailants such as still
survived--panic-struck in a moment, rushed wildly back through the old
harbour towards their camp. It was too late. The waters were out, and the
contending currents whirled the fugitives up and down through the
submerged land, and beyond the broken dyke, until great numbers of them
were miserably drowned in the haven, while others were washed out to sea.
Horses and riders were borne off towards the Zealand coast, and several
of their corpses were picked up days afterwards in the neighbourhood of
Flushing.

Meantime those who had effected a lodgment in the Polder, the Square, and
the other southern forts, found, after the chief assault had failed, that
they had gained nothing by their temporary triumph but the certainty of
being butchered. Retreat was impossible, and no quarter was given. Count
Imbec, a noble of great wealth, offered his weight in gold for his
ransom, but was killed by a private soldier, who preferred his blood,
or doubted his solvency. Durango, marshal of the camp, Don
Alvarez de Suarez, and Don Matteo Antonio, sergeant-major and
quarter-master-general, whose adventures as a hostage within the town
on Christmas eve have so recently been related, were also slain.

On the eastern side Bucquoy's attack was an entire failure. His
arrangements were too slowly made, and before he could bring his men to
the assault the water was so high in the Gullet that they refused to lay
their pontoons and march to certain death. Only at lowest ebb, and with
most exquisite skill in fording, would it have been possible to effect
anything like an earnest demonstration or a surprise. Moreover some of
the garrison, giving themselves out as deserters, stole out of the
Spanish Half-moon, which had been purposely almost denuded of its
defenders, towards the enemy's entrenchments, and offered to lead a body
of Spaniards into that ravelin. Bucquoy fell into the trap, so that the
detachment, after a victory as easily effected as that in the southern
forts, found themselves when the fight was over not the captors but the
caught. A few attempted to escape and were driven into the sea; the rest
were massacred.

Fifteen hundred of the enemy's dead were counted and registered by
Auditor Fleming. The whole number of the slain and drowned was reckoned
as high as two thousand, which was at least, a quarter of the whole
besieging army. And so ended this winter night's assault, by which the
archduke had fondly hoped to avenge himself for Vere's perfidy, and to
terminate the war at a blow. Only sixty of the garrison were killed, and
Sir Horace Vere was wounded.

The winter now set in with severe sleet, and snow, and rain, and furious
tempests lashing the sea over the works of besieger and besieged, and for
weeks together paralyzing all efforts of either army. Eight weary months
the siege had lasted; the men in town and hostile camp, exposed to the
inclemency of the wintry trenches, sinking faster before the pestilence
which now swept impartially through all ranks than the soldiers of the
archduke had fallen at Nieuport, or in the recent assault on the Sand
Hill. Of seven thousand hardly three thousand now remained in the
garrison.

Yet still the weary sausage making and wooden castle building went on
along the Gullet and around the old town. The Bredene dyke crept on inch
by inch, but the steady ships of the republic came and went unharmed by
the batteries with which Bucquoy hoped to shut up the New Harbour. The
archduke's works were pushed up nearer on the west, but, as yet, not one
practical advantage had been gained, and the siege had scarcely advanced
a hair's breadth since the 5th of July of the preceding year, when the
armies had first sat down before the place.

The stormy month of March had come, and Vere, being called to service in
the field for the coming season, transferred the command at Ostend to
Frederic van Dorp, a rugged, hard-headed, ill-favoured, stout-hearted
Zealand colonel, with the face of a bull-dog, and with the tenacious grip
of one.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Constitute themselves at once universal legatees
     Crimes and cruelties such as Christians only could imagine
     Human fat esteemed the sovereignst remedy (for wounds)
     War was the normal and natural condition of mankind




CHAPTER XL. 1602-1603

   Protraction of the siege of Ostend--Spanish invasion of Ireland--
   Prince Maurice again on the march--Siege of Grave--State of the
   archduke's army--Formidable mutiny--State of Europe--Portuguese
   expedition to Java--Foundation there of the first Batavian trading
   settlement--Exploits of Jacob Heemskerk--Capture of a Lisbon
   carrack--Progress of Dutch commerce--Oriental and Germanic republics
   --Commercial embassy from the King of Atsgen in Sumatra to the
   Netherlands--Surrender of Grave--Privateer work of Frederic Spinola
   --Destruction of Spinola's fleet by English and Dutch cruisers--
   Continuation of the siege of Ostend--Fearful hurricane and its
   effects--The attack--Capture of external forts--Encounter between
   Spinola and a Dutch squadron--Execution of prisoners by the
   archduke--Philip Fleming and his diary--Continuation of operations
   before Ostend--Spanish veterans still mutinous--Their capital
   besieged by Van den Berg--Maurice marches to their relief--
   Convention between the prince and the mutineers--Great commercial
   progress of the Dutch--Opposition to international commerce--
   Organization of the Universal East India Company.

It would be desirable to concentrate the chief events of the siege of
Ostend so that they might be presented to the reader's view in a single
mass. But this is impossible. The siege was essentially the war--as
already observed--and it was bidding fair to protract itself to such an
extent that a respect for chronology requires the attention to be
directed for a moment to other topics.

The invasion of Ireland under Aquila, so pompously heralded as almost to
suggest another grand armada, had sailed in the beginning of the winter,
and an army of six thousand men had been landed at Kinsale. Rarely had
there been a better opportunity for the Celt to strike for his
independence. Shane Mac Neil had an army on foot with which he felt
confident of exterminating the Saxon oppressor, even without the
assistance of his peninsular allies; while the queen's army, severely
drawn upon as it had been for the exigencies of Vere and the States,
might be supposed unable to cope with so formidable a combination. Yet
Montjoy made short work of Aquila and Tyrone. The invaders, shut up in
their meagre conquest, became the besieged instead of the assailants.
Tyrone made a feeble attempt to relieve his Spanish allies, but was soon
driven into his swamps, the peasants would not rise; in spite of
proclamations and golden mountains of promise, and Aquila was soon glad
enough to sign a capitulation by which he saved a portion of his army. He
then returned, in transports provided by the English general, a much
discomfited man, to Spain instead of converting Ireland into a province
of the universal empire. He had not rescued Hibernia, as he stoutly
proclaimed at the outset his intention of doing, from the jaws of the
evil demon.

The States, not much wiser after the experience of Nieuport, were again
desirous that Maurice should march into Flanders, relieve Ostend, and
sweep the archduke into the sea. As for Vere, he proposed that a great
army of cavalry and infantry should be sent into Ostend, while another
force equally powerful should take the field as soon as the season
permitted. Where the men were to be levied, and whence the funds for
putting such formidable hosts in motion were to be derived, it was not
easy to say: "'Tis astonishing," said Lewis William, "that the evils
already suffered cannot open his eyes; but after all, 'tis no marvel. An
old and good colonel, as I hold him to be, must go to school before he
can become a general, and we must beware of committing any second folly,
govern ourselves according to our means and the art of war, and leave the
rest to God."

Prince Maurice, however; yielding as usual to the persuasions or
importunities of those less sagacious than himself; and being also much
influenced by the advice of the English queen and the French king, after
reviewing the most splendid army that even he had ever equipped and set
in the field, crossed the Waal at Nymegen, and the Meuse at Mook, and
then moving leisurely along Meuse--side by way of Sambeck, Blitterswyck,
and Maasyk, came past St. Truyden to the neighbourhood of Thienen, in
Brabant. Here he stood, in the heart of the enemy's country, and within a
day's march of Brussels. The sanguine portion of his countrymen and the
more easily alarmed of the enemy already thought it would be an easy
military promenade for the stadholder to march through Brabant and
Flanders to the coast, defeat the Catholic forces before Ostend, raise
the weary siege of that place, dictate peace to the archduke, and return
in triumph to the Hague, before the end of the summer.

But the experienced Maurice too well knew the emptiness of such dreams.
He had a splendid army--eighteen thousand foot and five thousand
horse--of which Lewis William commanded the battalia, Vere the right, and
Count Ernest the left, with a train of two thousand baggage wagons, and a
considerable force of sutlers and camp-followers. He moved so
deliberately, and with such excellent discipline, that his two wings
could with ease be expanded for black-mail or forage over a considerable
extent of country, and again folded together in case of sudden military
necessity. But he had no intention of marching through Brussels, Ghent,
and Bruges, to the Flemish coast. His old antagonist, the Admiral of
Arragon, lay near Thienen in an entrenched camp, with a force of at least
fifteen thousand men, while the archduke, leaving Rivas in command before
Ostend, hovered in the neighbourhood of Brussels, with as many troops as
could be spared from the various Flemish garrisons, ready to support the
admiral.

But Maurice tempted the admiral in vain with the chances of a general
action. That warrior, remembering perhaps too distinctly his disasters at
Nieuport, or feeling conscious that his military genius was more fitly
displayed in burning towns and villages in neutral territory, robbing the
peasantry, plundering gentlemen's castles and murdering the proprietors,
than it was like to be in a pitched battle with the first general of the
age, remained sullenly within his entrenchments. His position was too
strong and his force far too numerous to warrant an attack by the
stadholder upon his works. After satisfying himself, therefore, that
there was no chance of an encounter in Brabant except at immense
disadvantage, Maurice rapidly counter-marched towards the lower Meuse,
and on the 18th July laid siege to Grave. The position and importance of
this city have been thoroughly set before the reader in a former volumes
It is only necessary, therefore, to recal the fact that, besides being a
vital possession for the republic, the place was in law the private
property of the Orange family, having been a portion of the estate of
Count de Buren, afterwards redeemed on payment of a considerable sum of
money by his son-in-law, William the Silent, confirmed to him at the
pacification of Ghent, and only lost to his children by the disgraceful
conduct of Captain Hamart, which had cost that officer his head. Maurice
was determined at least that the place should not now slip through his
fingers, and that the present siege should be a masterpiece. His forts,
of which he had nearly fifty, were each regularly furnished with moat,
drawbridge, and bulwark. His counterscarp and parapet, his galleries,
covered ways and mines, were as elaborate, massive, and artistically
finished as if he were building a city instead of besieging one.
Buzanval, the French envoy, amazed at the spectacle, protested that his
works "were rather worthy of the grand Emperor of the Turks than of, a
little commonwealth, which only existed through the disorder of its
enemies and the assistance of its friends;" but he admitted the utility
of the stadholder's proceedings to be very obvious.

While the prince calmly sat before Grave, awaiting the inexorable hour
for burghers and garrison to surrender, the great Francis Mendoza,
Admiral of Arragon, had been completing the arrangements for his
exchange. A prisoner after the Nieuport battle, he had been assigned by
Maurice, as will be recollected, to his cousin, young Lewis Gunther,
whose brilliant services as commander of the cavalry had so much
contributed to the victory. The amount of ransom for so eminent a captive
could not fail to be large, and accordingly the thrifty Lewis William had
congratulated his brother on being able, although so young, thus to
repair the fortunes of the family by his military industry to a greater
extent than had yet been accomplished by any of the race. Subsequently,
the admiral had been released on parole, the sum of his ransom having
been fixed at nearly one hundred thousand Flemish crowns. By an agreement
now made by the States, with consent of the Nassau family, the prisoner
was definitely released, on condition of effecting the exchange of all
prisoners of the republic, now held in durance by Spain in any part of
the world. This was in lieu of the hundred thousand crowns which were to
be put into the impoverished coffers of Lewis Gunther. It may be
imagined, as the hapless prisoners afterwards poured in--not only from
the peninsula, but from more distant regions, whither they had been sent
by their cruel taskmasters, some to relate their sufferings in the
horrible dungeons of Spain, where they had long been expiating the crime
of defending their fatherland, others to relate their experiences as
chained galley-slaves in the naval service of their bitterest enemies,
many with shorn heads and long beards like Turks, many with crippled
limbs, worn out with chains and blows, and the squalor of disease and
filth--that the hatred for Spain and Rome did not glow any less fiercely
within the republic, nor the hereditary love for the Nassaus, to whose
generosity these poor victims were indebted for their deliverance, become
fainter, in consequence of these revelations. It was at first vehemently
disputed by many that the admiral could be exchanged as a prisoner of
war, in respect to the manifold murders and other crimes which would seem
to authorize his trial and chastisement by the tribunals of the republic.
But it was decided by the States that the sacred aegis of military law
must be held to protect even so bloodstained a criminal as he, and his
release was accordingly effected. Not long afterwards he took his
departure for Spain, where his reception was not enthusiastic.

From this epoch is to be dated a considerable reform in the laws
regulating the exchange of prisoners of war.--[Grotius]

While Maurice was occupied with the siege of Grave, and thus not only
menacing an important position, but spreading, danger and dismay over all
Brabant and Flanders, it was necessary for the archduke to detach so
large a portion of his armies to observe his indefatigable and scientific
enemy, as to much weaken the vigour of the operations before Ostend.
Moreover, the execrable administration of his finances, and the dismal
delays and sufferings of that siege; had brought about another mutiny--on
the whole, the most extensive, formidable, and methodical of all that had
hitherto occurred in the Spanish armies.

By midsummer, at least three thousand five hundred veterans, including a
thousand of excellent cavalry, the very best soldiers in the service, had
seized the city of Hoogstraaten. Here they established themselves
securely, and strengthened the fortifications; levying contributions in
corn, cattle, and every other necessary, besides wine, beer, and
pocket-money, from the whole country round with exemplary regularity. As
usual, disorder assumed the forms of absolute order. Anarchy became the
best organized of governments; and it would have been difficult to find
in the world--outside the Dutch commonwealth--a single community where
justice appeared to be so promptly administered as in this temporary
republic, founded upon rebellion and theft.

For; although a brotherhood of thieves, it rigorously punished such of
its citizens as robbed for their own, not for the public good. The
immense booty swept daily from the granges, castles; and villages of
Flanders was divided with the simplicity of early Christians, while the
success and steadiness of the operations paralyzed their sovereign, and
was of considerable advantage to the States.

Albert endeavoured in vain to negotiate with the rebels. Nuncius
Frangipani went to them in person, but was received with calm derision.
Pious exhortations might turn the keys of Paradise, but gold alone, he
was informed, would unlock the gates of Hoogstraaten. In an evil hour the
cardinal-archduke was tempted to try the effect of sacerdotal thunder.
The ex-archbishop of Toledo could not doubt that the terrors of the
Church would make those brown veterans tremble who could confront so
tranquilly the spring-tides of the North Sea, and the batteries of Vere
and Nassau. So he launched a manifesto, as highly spiced as a pamphlet of
Marnig, and as severe as a sentence of Torquemada. Entirely against the
advice of the States-General of the obedient provinces, he denounced the
mutineers as outlaws and accursed. He called on persons of every degree
to kill any of them in any way, at any time, or in any place, promising
that the slayer of a private soldier should receive a reward of "ten
crowns for each head" brought in, while for a subaltern officer's head
one hundred crowns were offered; for that of a superior officer two
hundred, and for that of the Eletto or chief magistrate, five hundred
crowns. Should the slayer be himself a member of the mutiny, his crime of
rebellion was to be forgiven, and the price of murder duly paid. All
judges, magistrates, and provost-marshals were ordered to make
inventories of the goods, moveable and immoveable, of the mutineers, and
of the clothing and other articles belonging to their wives and children,
all which property was to be brought in and deposited in the hands of the
proper functionaries of the archduke's camp, in order that it might be
duly incorporated into the domains of his Highness.

The mutineers were not frightened. The ban was an anachronism. If those
Spaniards and Italians had learned nothing by their much campaigning in
the land of Calvinism, they had at least unlearned their faith in bell,
book, and candle. It happened, too, that among their numbers were to be
found pamphleteers as ready and as unscrupulous as the scribes of the
archduke.

So there soon came forth and was published to the world, in the name of
the Eletto and council of Hoogstraaten, a formal answer to the ban.

"If scolding and cursing be payment," said the magistrates of the mutiny,
"then we might give a receipt in full for our wages. The ban is
sufficient in this respect; but as these curses give no food for our
bellies nor clothes for our backs, not preventing us, therefore, who have
been fighting so long for the honour and welfare of the archdukes from
starving with cold and hunger, we think a reply necessary in order to
make manifest how much reason these archdukes have for thundering forth
all this choler and fury, by which women and children may be frightened,
but at which no soldier will feel alarm.

"When it is stated," continued the mutineers, "that we have deserted our
banners just as an attempt was making by the archduke to relieve Grave,
we can only reply that the assertion proves how impossible it is to
practise arithmetic with disturbed brains. Passion is a bad
schoolmistress for the memory, but, as good friends, we will recal to the
recollection of your Highness that it was not your Highness, but the
Admiral of Arragon, that commanded the relieving force before that city.

"'Tis very true that we summon your Highnesses, and levy upon your
provinces, in order to obtain means of living; for in what other quarter
should we make application. Your Highnesses give us nothing except
promises; but soldiers are not chameleons, to live on such air. According
to every principle of law, creditors have a lien on the property of their
debtors.

"As to condemning to death as traitors and scoundrels those who don't
desire to be killed, and who have the means of killing such as attempt to
execute the sentence; this is hardly in accordance with the extraordinary
wisdom which has always characterized your Highnesses.

"As, to the confiscation of our goods, both moveable and immoveable, we
would simply make this observation:

"Our moveable goods are our swords alone, and they can only be moved by
ourselves. They are our immoveable goods as well; for should any one but
ourselves undertake to move them, we assure your Highnesses that they
will prove too heavy to be handled.

"As to the official register and deposit ordained of the money, clothing,
and other property belonging to ourselves, our wives and children, the
work may be done without clerks of inventory. Certainly, if the domains
of your Highnesses have no other sources of revenue than the proceeds of
this confiscation, wherewith to feed the ostrich-like digestions of those
about you, 'tis to be feared that ere long they will be in the same
condition as were ours, when we were obliged to come together in
Hoogstraaten to devise means to keep ourselves, our wives, and children
alive. And at that time we were an unbreeched people, like the
Indians--saving your Highnesses' reverence--and the climate here is too
cold for such costume. Your Highnesses, and your relatives the Emperor
and King of Spain, will hardly make your royal heads greasy with the fat
of such property as we possess, 'Twill also be a remarkable spectacle
after you have stripped our wives and children stark naked for the
benefit of your treasury, to see them sent in that condition, within
three days afterwards, out of the country, as the ban ordains.

"You order the ban to be executed against our children and our children's
children, but your Highness never learned this in the Bible, when you
were an archbishop, and when you expounded, or ought to have expounded,
the Holy Scriptures to your flock. What theology teaches your Highness to
vent your wrath upon the innocent?

"Whenever the cause of discontent is taken away, the soldiers will become
obedient and cheerful. All kings and princes may mirror themselves in the
bad government of your Highness, and may see how they fare who try to
carry on a war, while with their own hands they cut the sinews of war.
The great leaders of old--Cyrus, Alexander, Scipio, Caesar--were
accustomed, not to starve, but to enrich their soldiers. What did
Alexander, when in an arid desert they brought, him a helmet full of
water? He threw it on the sand, saying that there was only enough for
him, but not enough for his army.

"Your Highnesses have set ten crowns, and one hundred, and five hundred
crowns upon our heads, but never could find five hundred mites nor ten
mites to keep our souls and bodies together.

"Yet you have found means to live yourselves with pomp and luxury, far
exceeding that of the great Emperor Charles and much surpassing the
magnificence of your Highnesses' brothers, the emperor and the king."

Thus, and much more, the magistrates of the "Italian republic"--answering
their master's denunciations of vengeance, both in this world and the
next, with a humorous scorn very refreshing in that age of the world to
contemplate. The expanding influence of the Dutch commonwealth was
already making itself felt even in the ranks of its most determined foes.

The mutineers had also made an agreement with the States-General, by
which they had secured permission, in case of need, to retire within the
territory of the republic.

Maurice had written to them from his camp before Grave, and at first they
were disposed to treat him with as little courtesy as they had shown the
Nuncius; for they put the prince's letter on a staff, and fired at it as
a mark, assuring the trumpeter who brought it that they would serve him
in the same manner should he venture thither again. Very soon afterwards,
however, the Eletto and council, reproving the folly of their
subordinates, opened negotiations with the stadholder, who, with the
consent of the States, gave them preliminary permission to take refuge
under the guns of Bergenop-Zoom, should they by chance be hard pressed.

Thus throughout Europe a singular equilibrium of contending forces seemed
established. Before Ostend, where the chief struggle between imperialism
and republicanism had been proceeding for more than a year with equal
vigour, there seemed no possibility of a result. The sands drank up the
blood of the combatants on both sides, month after month, in summer; the
pestilence in town and camp mowed down Catholic and Protestant with
perfect impartiality during the winter, while the remorseless ocean swept
over all in its wrath, obliterating in an hour the patient toil of
months.

In Spain, in England, and Ireland; in Hungary, Germany, Sweden, and
Poland, men wrought industriously day by day and year by year, to destroy
each other, and to efface the products of human industry, and yet no
progress could fairly be registered. The Turk was in Buda, on the right
bank of the Danube, and the Christian in Pest, on the left, while the
crescent; but lately supplanted by the cross, again waved in triumph over
Stuhlweissenberg, capital city of the Magyars. The great Marshal Biron,
foiled in his stupendous treachery, had laid down his head upon the
block; the catastrophe following hard upon the madcap riot of Lord Essex
in the Strand and his tragic end. The troublesome and restless favourites
of Henry and of Elizabeth had closed their stormy career, but the designs
of the great king and the great queen were growing wider and wilder, more
false and more fantastic than ever, as the evening shadows of both were
lengthening.

But it was not in Europe nor in Christendom: alone during that twilight
epoch of declining absolutism, regal and sacerdotal, and the coming
glimmer of freedom, religious and commercial, that the contrast between
the old and new civilizations was exhibiting itself.

The same fishermen and fighting men, whom we have but lately seen sailing
forth from Zeeland and Friesland to confront the dangers of either pole,
were now contending in the Indian seas with the Portuguese monopolists of
the tropics.

A century long, the generosity of the Roman pontiff in bestowing upon
others what was not his property had guaranteed to the nation of Vasco de
Gama one half at least of the valuable possessions which maritime genius,
unflinching valour, and boundless cruelty had won and kept. But the
spirit of change was abroad in the world. Potentates and merchants under
the equator had been sedulously taught that there were no other white men
on the planet but the Portuguese and their conquerors the Spaniards, and
that the Dutch--of whom they had recently heard, and the portrait of
whose great military chieftain they had seen after the news of the
Nieuport battle had made the circuit of the earth--were a mere mob of
pirates and savages inhabiting the obscurest of dens. They were soon,
however, to be enabled to judge for themselves as to the power and the
merits of the various competitors for their trade.

Early in this year Andreas Hurtado de Mendoza with a stately fleet of
galleons and smaller vessels, more than five-and-twenty in all, was on
his way towards the island of Java to inflict summary vengeance upon
those oriental rulers who had dared to trade with men forbidden by his
Catholic Majesty and the Pope.

The city of Bantam was the first spot marked out for destruction, and it
so happened that a Dutch skipper, Wolfert Hermann by name, commanding
five trading vessels, in which were three hundred men, had just arrived
in those seas to continue the illicit commerce which had aroused the ire
of the Portuguese. His whole force both of men and of guns was far
inferior to that of the flag-ship alone of Mendoza. But he resolved to
make manifest to the Indians that the Batavians were not disposed to
relinquish their promising commercial relations with them, nor to turn
their backs upon their newly found friends in the hour of danger. To the
profound astonishment of the Portuguese admiral the Dutchman with his
five little trading ships made an attack on the pompous armada, intending
to avert chastisement from the king of Bantam. It was not possible for
Wolfert to cope at close quarters with his immensely superior adversary,
but his skill and nautical experience enabled him to play at what was
then considered long bowls with extraordinary effect. The greater
lightness and mobility of his vessels made them more than a match, in
this kind of encounter, for the clumsy, top-heavy, and sluggish marine
castles in which Spain and Portugal then went forth to battle on the
ocean. It seems almost like the irony of history, and yet it is the
literal fact, that the Dutch galleot of that day--hardly changed in two
and a half centuries since--"the bull-browed galleot butting through the
stream,"--[Oliver Wendell Holmes]--was then the model clipper,
conspicuous among all ships for its rapid sailing qualities and ease of
handling. So much has the world moved, on sea and shore, since those
simple but heroic days. And thus Wolfert's swift-going galleots circled
round and round the awkward, ponderous, and much-puzzled Portuguese
fleet, until by well-directed shots and skilful manoeuvring they had sunk
several ships, taken two, run others into the shallows, and, at last, put
the whole to confusion. After several days of such fighting, Admiral
Mendoza fairly turned his back upon his insignificant opponent, and
abandoned his projects upon Java. Bearing away for the Island of Amboyna
with the remainder of his fleet, he laid waste several of its villages
and odoriferous spice-fields, while Wolfert and his companions entered
Bantam in triumph, and were hailed as deliverers. And thus on the extreme
western verge of this magnificent island was founded the first trading
settlement of the Batavian republic in the archipelago of the
equator--the foundation-stone of a great commercial empire which was to
encircle the earth. Not many years later, at the distance, of a dozen
leagues from Bantam, a congenial swamp was fortunately discovered in a
land whose volcanic peaks rose two miles into the air, and here a town
duly laid out with canals and bridges, and trim gardens and stagnant
pools, was baptized by the ancient and well-beloved name of Good-Meadow
or Batavia, which it bears to this day.

Meantime Wolfert Hermann was not the only Hollander cruising in those
seas able to convince the Oriental mind that all Europeans save the
Portuguese were not pirates and savages, and that friendly intercourse
with other foreigners might be as profitable as slavery to the Spanish
crown.

Captain Nek made treaties of amity and commerce with the potentates of
Ternate, Tydor, and other Molucca islands. The King of Candy on the
Island of Ceylon, lord of the odoriferous fields of cassia which perfume
those tropical seas, was glad to learn how to exchange the spices of the
equator for the thousand fabrics and products of western civilization
which found their great emporium in Holland. Jacob Heemskerk, too, who
had so lately astonished the world by his exploits and discoveries during
his famous winter in Nova Zembla, was now seeking adventures and carrying
the flag and fame of the republic along the Indian and Chinese coasts.
The King of Johor on the Malayan peninsula entered into friendly
relations with him, being well pleased, like so many of those petty
rulers, to obtain protection against the Portuguese whom he had so long
hated and feared. He informed Heemskerk of the arrival in the straits of
Malacca of an immense Lisbon carrack, laden with pearls and spices,
brocades and precious-stones, on its way to Europe, and suggested an
attack. It is true that the roving Hollander merely commanded a couple of
the smallest galleots, with about a hundred and thirty men in the two.
But when was Jacob Heemskerk ever known to shrink from an
encounter--whether from single-handed combat with a polar bear, or from
leading a forlorn hope against a Spanish fort, or from assailing a
Portuguese armada. The carrack, more than one thousand tons burthen,
carried seventeen guns, and at least eight times as many men as he
commanded. Nevertheless, after a combat of but brief duration Heemskerk
was master of the carrack: He spared the lives of his seven hundred
prisoners, and set them on shore before they should have time to discover
to what a handful of Dutchmen they had surrendered. Then dividing about a
million florins' worth of booty among his men, who doubtless found such
cruising among the spice-islands more attractive than wintering at the
North Pole, he sailed in the carrack for Macao, where he found no
difficulty in convincing the authorities of the celestial empire that the
friendship of the Dutch republic was worth cultivating. There was soon to
be work in other regions for the hardy Hollander--such as was to make the
name of Heemskerk a word to conjure with down to the latest posterity.
Meantime he returned to his own country to take part in the great
industrial movements which were to make this year an epoch in commercial
history.

The conquerors of Mendoza and deliverers of Bantam had however not paused
in their work. From Java they sailed to Banda; and on those volcanic
islands of nutmegs and cloves made, in the name of their commonwealth, a
treaty with its republican antipodes. For there was no king to be found
in that particular archipelago, and the two republics, the Oriental and
the Germanic, dealt with each other with direct and becoming simplicity.
Their convention was in accordance with the commercial ideas of the day,
which assumed monopoly as the true basis of national prosperity. It was
agreed that none but Dutchmen should ever purchase the nutmegs of Banda,
and that neither nation should harbour refugees from the other. Other
articles, however; showed how much farther, the practice of political and
religious liberty had advanced than had any theory of commercial freedom.
It was settled that each nation should judge its own citizens according
to its own laws, that neither should interfere by force with the other in
regard to religious matters, but that God should be judge over them all.
Here at least was progress beyond the system according to which the Holy
Inquisition furnished the only enginry of civilization. The guardianship
assumed by Holland over these children of the sun was at least an
improvement on the tyranny which roasted them alive if they rejected
religious dogmas which they could not comprehend, and which proclaimed
with fire, sword, and gibbet that the Omnipotent especially forbade the
nutmeg trade to all but the subjects, of the most Catholic king.

In Atsgen or Achim, chief city of Sumatra, a treaty was likewise made
with the government of the place, and it was arranged that the king of
Atsgen should send over an embassy to the distant but friendly republic.
Thus he might judge whether the Hollanders were enemies of all the world,
as had been represented to him, or only of Spain; whether their knowledge
of the arts and sciences, and their position among the western nations
entitled them to respect, and made their friendship desirable; or whether
they were only worthy of the contempt which their royal and aristocratic
enemies delighted to heap upon their heads. The envoys sailed from
Sumatra on board the same little fleet which, under the command of
Wolfert Hermann, had already done such signal service, and on their way
to Europe they had an opportunity of seeing how these republican sailors
could deal with their enemies on the ocean.

Off St. Helena an immense Portuguese carrack richly laden and powerfully
armed, was met, attacked, and overpowered by the little merchantmen with
their usual audacity and skill. A magnificent booty was equitably divided
among the captors, the vanquished crew were set safely on shore; and the
Hollanders then pursued their home voyage without further adventures.

The ambassadors; with an Arab interpreter, were duly presented to Prince
Maurice in the lines before the city of Grave. Certainly no more
favourable opportunity could have been offered them for contrasting the
reality of military power, science, national vigour; and wealth, which
made the republic eminent among the nations, with the fiction of a horde
of insignificant and bloodthirsty savages which her enemies had made so
familiar at the antipodes. Not only were the intrenchments bastions,
galleries, batteries, the discipline and equipment of the troops, a
miracle in the eyes of these newly arrived Oriental ambassadors, but they
had awakened the astonishment of Europe, already accustomed to such
spectacles. Evidently the amity of the stadholder and his commonwealth
was a jewel of price, and the King of Achim would have been far more
barbarous than he had ever deemed the Dutchmen to be, had he not well
heeded the lesson which he had sent so far to learn.

The chief of the legation, Abdulzamar, died in Zeeland, and was buried
with honourable obsequies at Middleburg, a monument being raised to his
memory. The other envoys returned to Sumatra, fully determined to
maintain close relations with the republic.

There had been other visitors in Maurice's lines before Grave at about
the same period. Among others, Gaston Spinola, recently created by the
archduke Count of Bruay, had obtained permission to make a visit to a
wounded relative, then a captive in the republican camp, and was
hospitably entertained at the stadholder's table. Maurice, with soldierly
bluntness, ridiculed the floating batteries, the castles on wheels, the
sausages, and other newly-invented machines, employed before Ostend, and
characterized them as rather fit to catch birds with than to capture a
city, defended by mighty armies and fleets.

"If the archduke has set his heart upon it, he had far better try to buy
Ostend," he observed.

"What is your price?" asked the Italian; "will you take 200,000 ducats?"

"Certainly not less than a million and a half," was the reply; so highly
did Maurice rate the position and advantages of the city. He would
venture to prophesy, he added, that the siege of Ostend would last as
long as the siege of Troy.

"Ostend is no Troy," said Spinola with a courtly flourish, "although
there are certainly not wanting an Austrian Agamemnon, a Dutch Hector,
and an Italian Achilles." The last allusion was to the speaker's namesake
and kinsman, the Marquis Anibrose Spinola, of whom much was to be heard
in the world from that time forth.

Meantime, although so little progress had been made at Ostend, Maurice
had thoroughly done his work before Grave. On the 18th September the
place surrendered, after sixty days' siege, upon the terms usually
granted by the stadholder. The garrison was to go out with the honours of
war. Those of the inhabitants who wished to leave were to leave; those
who preferred staying were to stay; rendering due allegiance to the
republic, and abstaining in public from the rites of the Roman Church,
without being exposed, however, to any inquiries as to their religious
opinions, or any interference within their households.

The work went slowly on before Ostend. Much effect had been produced,
however, by the operations of the archduke's little naval force. The
galley of that day, although a child's toy as compared with the wonders
of naval architecture of our own time, was an effective machine enough to
harass fishing and coasting vessels in creeks and estuaries, and along
the shores of Holland and Zeeland during tranquil weather.

The locomotive force of these vessels consisted of galley-slaves, in
which respect the Spaniards had an advantage over other nations; for they
had no scruples in putting prisoners of war into chains and upon the
benches of the rowers. Humanity--"the law of Christian piety," in the
words of the noble Grotius--forbade the Hollanders from reducing their
captives to such horrible slavery, and they were obliged to content
themselves with condemned criminals, and with the few other wretches whom
abject poverty and the impossibility of earning other wages could induce
to accept the service. And as in the maritime warfare of our own day, the
machinery--engines, wheels, and boilers--is the especial aim of the
enemy's artillery, so the chain-gang who rowed in the waist of the
galley, the living enginry, without which the vessel became a useless
tub, was as surely marked out for destruction whenever a sea-fight took
place.

The Hollanders did not very much favour this species of war-craft, both
by reason of the difficulty of procuring the gang, and because to a true
lover of the ocean and of naval warfare the galley was about as clumsy
and amphibious a production as could be hoped of human perverseness. High
where it should be low. Exposed, flat, and fragile, where elevation and
strength were indispensable--encumbered and top-heavy where it should be
level and compact, weak in the waist, broad at stem and stern, awkward in
manoeuvre, helpless in rough weather, sluggish under sail, although
possessing the single advantage of being able to crawl over a smooth sea
when better and faster ships were made stationary by absolute calm, the
galley was no match for the Dutch galleot, either at close quarters or in
a breeze.

Nevertheless for a long time there had been a certain awe produced by the
possibility of some prodigious but unknown qualities in these outlandish
vessels, and already the Hollanders had tried their hand at constructing
them. On a late occasion a galley of considerable size, built at Dort,
had rowed past the Spanish forts on the Scheld, gone up to Antwerp, and
coolly cut out from the very wharves of the city a Spanish galley of the
first class, besides seven war vessels of lesser dimensions, at first
gaining advantage by surprise, and then breaking down all opposition in a
brilliant little fight. The noise of the encounter summoned the citizens
and garrison to the walls, only to witness the triumph achieved by Dutch
audacity, and to see the victors dropping rapidly down the river, laden
with booty and followed by their prizes. Nor was the mortification of
these unwilling spectators diminished when the clear notes of a bugle on
board the Dutch galley brought to their ears the well-known melody of
"Wilhelmus of Nassau," once so dear to every patriotic heart in Antwerp,
and perhaps causing many a renegade cheek on this occasion to tingle with
shame.

Frederic Spinola, a volunteer belonging to the great and wealthy Genoese
family of that name, had been performing a good deal of privateer work
with a small force of galleys which he kept under his command at Sluys.
He had succeeded in inflicting so much damage upon the smaller
merchantmen of the republic, and in maintaining so perpetual a panic in
calm weather among the seafaring multitudes of those regions, that he was
disposed to extend the scale of his operations. On a visit to Spain he
had obtained permission from Government to employ in this service eight
great galleys, recently built on the Guadalquivir for the Royal Navy. He
was to man and equip them at his own expense, and was to be allowed the
whole of the booty that might result from his enterprise. Early in the
autumn he set forth with his eight galleys on the voyage to Flanders,
but, off Cezimbra, on the Portuguese coast, unfortunately fell in with
Sir Robert Mansell, who; with a compact little squadron of English
frigates, was lying in wait for the homeward-bound India fleet on their
entrance to Lisbon. An engagement took place, in which Spinola lost two
of his galleys. His disaster might have been still greater, had not an
immense Indian carrack, laden with the richest merchandize, just then
hove in sight, to attract his conquerors with a hope of better
prize-money than could be expected from the most complete victory over
him and his fleet.

With the remainder of his vessels Spinola crept out of sight while the
English were ransacking the carrack. On the 3rd of October he had entered
the channel with a force which, according to the ideas of that day, was
still formidable. Each of his galleys was of two hundred and fifty slave
power, and carried, beside the chain-gang, four hundred fighting men. His
flag-ship was called the St. Lewis; the names of the other vessels being
the St. Philip, the Morning Star, the St. John, the Hyacinth, and the
Padilla. The Trinity and the Opportunity had been destroyed off Cezimbra.
Now there happened to be cruising just then in the channel, Captain Peter
Mol, master of the Dutch war-ship Tiger, and Captain Lubbertson,
commanding the Pelican. These two espied the Spanish squadron, paddling
at about dusk towards the English coast, and quickly gave notice to
Vice-Admiral John Kant, who in the States' ship Half-moon, with three
other war-galleots, was keeping watch in that neighbourhood. It was dead
calm as the night fell, and the galleys of Spinola, which had crept close
up to the Dover cliffs, were endeavouring to row their way across in the
darkness towards the Flemish coast, in the hope of putting unobserved
into the Gut of Sluys. All went well with Spinola till the moon rose;
but, with the moon, sprang up a steady breeze, so that the galleys lost
all their advantage. Nearly off Gravelines another States' ship, the
Mackerel, came in sight, which forthwith attacked the St: Philip, pouring
a broadside into her by which fifty men were killed. Drawing off from
this assailant, the galley found herself close to the Dutch admiral in
the Half-moon, who, with all sail set, bore straight down upon her,
struck her amidships with a mighty crash, carrying off her mainmast and
her poop, and then, extricating himself with difficulty from the wreck,
sent a tremendous volley of cannon-shot and lesser missiles straight into
the waist where sat the chain-gang. A howl of pain and terror rang
through the air, while oars and benches, arms, legs, and mutilated
bodies, chained inexorably together, floated on the moonlit waves. An
instant later, and another galleot bore down to complete the work,
striking with her iron prow the doomed St. Philip so straightly and
surely that she went down like a stone, carrying with her galley slaves,
sailors, and soldiers, besides all the treasure brought by Spinola for
the use of his fleet.

The Morning Star was the next galley attacked, Captain Sael, in a stout
galleot, driving at her under full sail, with the same accuracy and
solidity of shock as had been displayed in the encounter with the St.
Philip and with the same result. The miserable, top-heavy monster galley
was struck between mainmast and stern, with a blow which carried away the
assailant's own bowsprit and fore-bulwarks, but which--completely
demolished the stem of the galley, and crushed out of existence the
greater portion of the live machinery sitting chained and rowing on the
benches. And again, as the first enemy hauled off from its victim,
Admiral pant came up once more in the Half-moon, steered straight at the
floundering galley, and sent her with one crash to the bottom. It was not
very scientific practice perhaps. It was but simple butting, plain
sailing, good steering, and the firing of cannon at short pistol-shot.
But after all, the work of those unsophisticated Dutch skippers was done
very thoroughly, without flinching, and, as usual, at great odds of men
and guns. Two more of the Spanish galleys were chased into the shallows
near Gravelines, where they went to pieces. Another was wrecked near
Calais. The galley which bore Frederic Spinola himself and his fortunes
succeeded in reaching Dunkirk, whence he made his way discomfited, to
tell the tale of his disaster to the archduke at Brussels. During the
fight the Dutch admiral's boats had been active in picking up such of the
drowning crews, whether galley-slaves or soldiers, as it was possible to
save. But not more than two hundred were thus rescued, while by far the
greater proportion of those on board, probably three thousand in number,
perished, and the whole fleet, by which so much injury was to have been
inflicted on Dutch commerce, was, save one damaged galley, destroyed. Yet
scarcely any lives were lost by the Hollanders, and it is certain that
the whole force in their fleet did not equal the crew of a single one of
the enemy's ships. Neither Spinola nor the archduke seemed likely to make
much out of the contract. Meantime, the Genoese volunteer kept quiet in
Sluy's, brooding over schemes to repair his losses and to renew his
forays on the indomitable Zeelanders.

Another winter had now closed in upon Ostend, while still the siege had
scarcely advanced an inch. During the ten months of Governor Dorp's
administration, four thousand men had died of wounds or malady within the
town, and certainly twice as many in the trenches of the besieging force.
Still the patient Bucquoy went on, day after day, night after night,
month after month, planting his faggots and fascines, creeping forward
almost imperceptibly with his dyke, paying five florins each to the
soldiers who volunteered to bring the materials, and a double ducat to
each man employed in laying them. So close were they under the fire of
the town; that a life was almost laid down for every ducat, but the
Gullet, which it was hoped to close, yawned as wide as ever, and the
problem how to reduce a city, open by sea to the whole world, remained
without solution. On the last day of the year a splendid fleet of
transports arrived in the town, laden with whole droves of beeves and
flocks of sheep, besides wine and bread and beer enough to supply a
considerable city; so that market provisions in the beleaguered town were
cheaper than in any part of Europe.

Thus skilfully did the States-General and Prince Maurice watch from the
outside over Ostend, while the audacious but phlegmatic sea-captains
brought their cargoes unscathed through the Gullet, although Bucquoy's
batteries had now advanced to within seventy yards of the shore.

On the west side, the besiegers were slowly eating their way through the
old harbour towards the heart of the place. Subterranean galleries,
patiently drained of their water, were met by counter-galleries leading
out from the town, and many were the desperate hand-to-hand encounters,
by dim lanterns, or in total darkness, beneath the ocean and beneath the
earth; Hollander, Spaniard, German, Englishman, Walloon, digging and
dying in the fatal trenches, as if there had been no graves at home.
Those insatiable sand-banks seemed ready to absorb all the gold and all
the life of Christendom. But the monotony of that misery it is useless to
chronicle. Hardly an event of these dreary days has been left unrecorded
by faithful diarists and industrious soldiers, but time has swept us far
away from them, and the world has rolled on to fresher fields of carnage
and ruin. All winter long those unwearied, intelligent, fierce, and cruel
creatures toiled and fought in the stagnant waters, and patiently
burrowed in the earth. It seemed that if Ostend were ever lost it would
be because at last entirely bitten away and consumed. When there was no
Ostend left, it might be that the archduke would triumph.

As there was always danger that the movements on the east side might be
at last successful, it was the command of Maurice that the labours to
construct still another harbour should go on in case the Gullet should
become useless, as the old haven had been since the beginning of the
siege. And the working upon that newest harbour was as dangerous to the
Hollanders as Bucquoy's dike-building to the Spaniards, for the pioneers
and sappers were perpetually under fire from the batteries which the
count had at, last successfully established on the extremity of his work.
It was a piteous sight to see those patient delvers lay down their spades
and die, hour after hour, to be succeeded by their brethren only to share
their fate. Yet still the harbour building progressed; for the republic
was determined that the city should be open to the sea so long as the
States had a stiver, or a ship, or a spade.

While this deadly industry went on, the more strictly military operations
were not pretermitted day nor night. The Catholics were unwearied in
watching for a chance of attack, and the Hollanders stood on the ramparts
and in the trenches, straining eyes and ears through the perpetual icy
mists of that black winter to catch the sight and sound of a coming foe.
Especially the by-watches, as they were called, were enough to break down
constitutions of iron; for, all day and night, men were stationed in the
inundated regions, bound on pain of death to stand in the water and watch
for a possible movement of the enemy, until the waves should rise so high
as to make it necessary to swim. Then, until the tide fell again, there
was brief repose.

And so the dreary winter faded away at last into chill and blustering
spring. On the 13th of April a hurricane, such as had not occurred since
the siege began; raged across the ocean, deluging and shattering the
devoted town. The waters rose over dyke and parapet, and the wind swept
from the streets and ramparts every living thing. Not a soldier or sailor
could keep his feet, the chief tower of the church was blown into the
square, chimneys and windows crashed on all sides, and the elements had
their holiday, as if to prove how helpless a thing was man, however
fierce and determined, when the powers of Nature arose in their strength.
It was as if no siege existed, as if no hostile armies had been lying
nearly two years long close to each other, and losing no opportunity to
fly at each other's throats. The strife of wind and ocean gave a respite
to human rage.

It was but a brief respite. At nightfall there was a lull in the tempest,
and the garrison crept again to the ramparts. Instantly the departing
roar of the winds and waters were succeeded by fainter but still more
threatening sounds, and the sentinels and the drums and trumpets to rally
the garrison, when the attack came. The sleepless Spaniards were already
upon them. In the Porcupine fort, a blaze of wickerwork and building
materials suddenly illuminated the gathering gloom of night; and the loud
cries of the assailants, who had succeeded in kindling this fire by their
missiles, proclaimed the fierceness of the attack. Governor Dorp was
himself in the fort, straining every nerve to extinguish the flames, and
to hold this most important position. He was successful. After a brief
but bloody encounter the Spaniards were repulsed with heavy loss. All was
quiet again, and the garrison in the Porcupine were congratulating
themselves on their victory when suddenly the ubiquitous Philip Fleeting
plunged, with a face of horror, into the governor's quarters, informing
him that the attack on the redoubt had been a feint, and that the
Spaniards were at that very moment swarming all over the three external
forts, called the South Square, the West Square, and the Polder. These
points, which have been already described, were most essential to the
protection of the place, as without them the whole counterscarp was in
danger. It was to save those exposed but vital positions that Sir Francis
Vere had resorted to the slippery device of the last Christmas Eve but
one.

Dorp refused to believe the intelligence. The squares were well guarded,
the garrison ever alert. Spaniards were not birds of prey to fly up those
perpendicular heights, and for beings without wings the thing was
impossible. He followed Fleming through the darkness, and was soon
convinced that the impossible was true. The precious squares were in the
hands of the enemy. Nimble as monkeys, those yellow jerkined Italians,
Walloons, and Spaniards--stormhats on their heads and swords in their
teeth--had planted rope-ladders, swung themselves up the walls by
hundreds upon hundreds, while the fight had been going on at the
Porcupine, and were now rushing through the forts grinning defiance,
yelling and chattering with fierce triumph, and beating down all
opposition. It was splendidly done. The discomfited Dorp met small bodies
of his men, panic-struck, reeling out from their stronghold, wounded,
bleeding, shrieking for help and for orders. It seemed as if the
Spaniards had dropped from the clouds. The Dutch commandant did his best
to rally the fugitives, and to encourage those who had remained. All
night long the furious battle raged, every inch of ground being
contested; for both Catholics and Hollanders knew full well that this
triumph was worth more than all that had been gained for the archduke in
eighteen months of siege. Pike to pike, breast to breast, they fought
through the dark April night; the last sobs of the hurricane dying
unheard, the red lanterns flitting to and fro, the fireworks hissing in
every direction of earth and air, the great wicker piles, heaped up with
pitch and rosin, flaming over a scene more like a dance of goblins than a
commonplace Christian massacre. At least fifteen hundred were
killed--besiegers and besieged--during the storming of the forts and the
determined but unsuccessful attempt of the Hollanders to retake them. And
when at last the day had dawned, and the Spaniards could see the full
extent of their victory, they set themselves with--unusual alacrity to
killing such of the wounded and prisoners as were in their hands, while,
at the same time, they turned the guns of their newly acquired works upon
the main counterscarp of the town.

Yet the besieged--discomfited but undismayed lost not a moment in
strengthening their inner works, and in doing their best, day after day,
by sortie, cannonade, and every possible device, to prevent the foe from
obtaining full advantage of his success. The triumph was merely a local
one, and the patient Hollanders soon proved to the enemy that the town
was not gained by carrying the three squares, but that every inch of the
place was to be contested as hotly as those little redoubts had been.
Ostend, after standing nearly two years of siege, was not to be carried
by storm. A goodly slice of it had been pared off that April night, and
was now in possession of the archduke, but this was all. Meantime the
underground work was resumed on both sides.

Frederic Spinola, notwithstanding the stunning defeat sustained by him in
the preceding October, had not lost heart while losing all his ships. On
the contrary, he had been busy during the winter in building other
galleys. Accordingly, one fine morning in May, Counsellor Flooswyk, being
on board a war vessel convoying some empty transports from Ostend,
observed signs of mischief brewing as he sailed past the Gut of Sluys;
and forthwith gave notice of what he had seen to Admiral Joost de Moor,
commanding the blockading squadron. The counsellor was right. Frederic
Spinola meant mischief. It was just before sunrise of a beautiful
summer's day. The waves were smooth--not a breath of wind stirring--and
De Moor, who had four little war-ships of Holland, and was supported
besides by a famous vessel called the Black Galley of Zeeland, under
Captain Jacob Michelzoon, soon observed a movement from Sluys.

Over the flat and glassy surface of the sea, eight galleys of the largest
size were seen crawling slowly, like vast reptiles, towards his ..
position. Four lesser vessels followed in the wake of the great galleys.
The sails of the admiral's little fleet flapped idly against the mast. He
could only placidly await the onset. The Black Galley, however, moved
forward according to her kind; and was soon vigorously attacked by two
galleys of the enemy. With all the force that five hundred rowers could
impart, these two huge vessels ran straight into the Zeeland ship, and
buried their iron prows in her sides. Yet the Black Galley was made of
harder stuff than were those which had gone down in the channel the
previous autumn under the blows of John Kant. Those on board her, at
least, were made of tougher material than were galley-slaves and
land-soldiers. The ramming was certainly not like that of a thousand
horse-power of steam, and there was no very great display of science in
the encounter; yet Captain Jacob Michelzoon, with two enemy's ships thus
stuck to his sides, might well have given himself up for lost. The
disproportion of ships and men was monstrous. Beside the chain-gang, each
of Spinola's ships was manned by two hundred soldiers, while thirty-six
musketeers from the Flushing garrison were the only men-at-arms in De
Moor's whole squadron. But those amphibious Zeelanders and Hollanders,
perfectly at home in the water, expert in handling vessels, and excellent
cannoneers, were more than a match for twenty times their number of
landsmen. It was a very simple-minded, unsophisticated contest. The
attempt to board the Black Galley was met with determined resistance, but
the Zeeland sailors clambered like cats upon the bowsprits of the Spanish
galleys, fighting with cutlass and handspike, while a broadside or two
was delivered with terrible effect into the benches of the chained and
wretched slaves. Captain Michelzoon was killed, but his successor,
Lieutenant Hart, although severely wounded, swore that he would blow up
his ship with his own hands rather than surrender. The decks of all the
vessels ran with blood, but at last the Black Galley succeeded in beating
off her assailants; the Zeelanders, by main force, breaking off the
enemy's bowsprits, so that the two ships of Spinola were glad to sheer
off, leaving their stings buried in the enemy's body.

Next, four galleys attacked the stout little galleot of Captain Logier,
and with a very similar result. Their prows stuck fast in the bulwarks of
the ship, but the boarders soon found themselves the boarded, and, after
a brief contest, again the iron bowsprits snapped like pipe-stems, and
again the floundering and inexperienced Spaniards shrank away from the
terrible encounter which they had provoked. Soon afterwards, Joost de
Moor was assailed by three galleys. He received them, however, with
cannonade and musketry so warmly that they willingly obeyed a summons
from Spinola, and united with the flag-ship in one more tremendous onset
upon the Black Galley of Zeeland. And it might have gone hard with that
devoted ship, already crippled in the previous encounter, had not Captain
Logier fortunately drifted with the current near enough to give her
assistance, while the other sailing ships lay becalmed and idle
spectators. At last Spinola, conspicuous by his armour, and by
magnificent recklessness of danger, fell upon the deck of his galley,
torn to pieces with twenty-four wounds from a stone gun of the Black
Galley, while at nearly the same, moment a gentle breeze began in the
distance to ruffle the surface of the waters. More than a thousand men
had fallen in Spinola's fleet, inclusive of the miserable slaves, who
were tossed overboard as often as wounds made them a cumbrous part of the
machinery, and the galleys, damaged, discomfited, laden with corpses and
dripping with blood, rowed off into Sluys as speedily as they could move,
without waiting until the coming wind should bring all the sailing ships
into the fight, together with such other vessels under Haultain as might
be cruising in the distance. They succeeded in getting into the Gut of
Sluys, and so up to their harbour of refuge. Meantime, baldheaded,
weather-beaten Joost de Moor--farther pursuit being impossible--piped all
hands on deck, where officers and men fell on their knees, shouting in
pious triumph the 34th Psalm: "I will bless the Lord at all times, His
praise shall continually be in my mouth . . . . O magnify the Lord with
me, and let us exalt His name together." So rang forth the notes of
humble thanksgiving across the placid sea. And assuredly those hardy
mariners, having gained a victory with their little vessels over twelve
ships and three thousand men--a numerical force of at least ten times
their number,--such as few but Dutchmen could have achieved; had a right
to give thanks to Him from whom all blessings flow.

Thus ended the career of Frederic Spinola, a wealthy, gallant, high-born,
brilliant youth, who might have earned distinction, and rendered
infinitely better service to the cause of Spain and the archdukes, had he
not persuaded himself that he had a talent for seamanship. Certainly,
never was a more misplaced ambition, a more unlucky career. Not even in
that age of rash adventure, when grandees became admirals and
field-marshals because they were grandees, had such incapacity been shown
by any restless patrician. Frederic Spinola, at the age of thirty-two, a
landsman and a volunteer, thinking to measure himself on blue water with
such veterans as John Rant, Joost de Moor, and the other Dutchmen and
Zeelanders whom it was his fortune to meet, could hardly escape the doom
which so rapidly befell him.

On board the Black Galley Captain Michelznon, eleven of his officers, and
fifteen of his men were killed; Admiral de Moor was slightly wounded, and
had five of his men killed and twenty wounded; Captain Logier was wounded
in the foot, and lost fifteen killed and twelve wounded.

The number of those killed in Spinola's fleet has been placed as high as
fourteen hundred, including two hundred officers and gentlemen of
quality, besides the crowds of galley-slaves thrown overboard. This was
perhaps an exaggeration. The losses were, however, sufficient to put a
complete atop to the enterprise out of which the unfortunate Spinola had
conceived such extravagant hopes of fame and fortune.

The herring-smacks and other coasters, besides the transports passing to
and from Ostend, sailed thenceforth unmolested by any galleys from Sluys.
One unfortunate sloop, however, in moving out from the beleaguered city,
ran upon some shoals before getting out of the Gullet and thus fell a
prize to the besiegers. She was laden with nothing more precious than
twelve wounded soldiers on their way to the hospitals at Flushing. These
prisoners were immediately hanged, at the express command of the
archduke, because they had been taken on the sea where, according to his
highness, there were no laws of war.

The stadholder, against his will--for Maurice was never cruel--felt
himself obliged to teach the cardinal better jurisprudence and better
humanity for the future. In order to show him that there was but one
belligerent law on sea and on land, he ordered two hundred Spanish
prisoners within his lines to draw lots from an urn in which twelve of
the tickets were inscribed with the fatal word gibbet. Eleven of the
twelve thus marked by ill luck were at once executed. The twelfth, a
comely youth, was pardoned at the intercession of a young girl. It is not
stated whether or not she became his wife. It is also a fact worth
mentioning, as illustrating the recklessness engendered by a soldier's
life, that the man who drew the first blank sold it to one of his
comrades and plunged his hand again into the fatal urn. Whether he
succeeded in drawing the gibbet at his second trial has not been
recorded. When these executions had taken place in full view of the
enemy's camp, Maurice formally announced that for every prisoner
thenceforth put to death by the archduke two captives from his own army
should be hanged. These stern reprisals, as usual, put an end to the foul
system of martial murder.

Throughout the year the war continued to be exclusively the siege of
Ostend. Yet the fierce operations, recently recorded, having been
succeeded by a period of comparative languor, Governor Dorp at last
obtained permission to depart to repair his broken health. He was
succeeded in command of the forces within the town by Charles Van der
Noot, colonel of the Zeeland regiment which had suffered so much in the
first act of the battle of Nieuport. Previously to this exchange,
however, a day of solemn thanksgiving and prayer was set apart on the
anniversary of the beginning of the siege. Since the 5th of July, 1601,
two years had been spent by the whole power of the enemy in the attempt
to reduce this miserable village, and the whole result thus far had been
the capture of three little external forts. There seemed cause for
thanksgiving.

Philip Fleming, too, obtained a four weeks' holiday--the first in eleven
years--and went with his family outside the pestiferous and beleaguered
town. He was soon to return to his multifarious duties as auditor,
secretary, and chronicler of the city, and unattached aide-de-camp to the
commander-in-chief, whoever that might be; and to perform his duty with
the same patient courage and sagacity that had marked him from the
beginning. "An unlucky cannon-ball of the enemy," as he observes, did
some damage at this period to his diary, but it happened at a moment when
comparatively little was doing, so that the chasm was of less
consequence.

"And so I, Philip Fleming, auditor to the Council of War," he says with
homely pathos, "have been so continually employed as not to have obtained
leave in all these years to refresh, for a few days outside this town, my
troubled spirit after such perpetual work, intolerable cares, and
slavery, having had no other pleasure allotted me than with daily
sadness, weeping eyes, and heavy yearnings to tread the ramparts, and,
like a poor slave laden with fetters, to look at so many others sailing
out of the harbour in order to feast their souls in other provinces with
green fields and the goodly works of God. And thus it has been until it
has nearly gone out of my memory how the fruits of the earth, growing
trees, and dumb beasts appear to mortal eye."

He then, with whimsical indignation, alludes to a certain author who
pleaded in excuse for the shortcomings of the history of the siege the
damage done to his manuscripts by a cannon-ball. "Where the liar dreamt
of or invented his cannon-ball," he says, "I cannot tell, inasmuch as he
never saw the city of Ostend in his life; but the said cannon-ball, to my
great sorrow, did come one afternoon through my office, shot from the
enemy's great battery, which very much damaged not his memoirs but mine;
taking off the legs and arms at the same time of three poor invalid
soldiers seated in the sun before my door and killing them on the spot,
and just missing my wife, then great with child, who stood by me with
faithfulness through all the sufferings of the bloody siege and presented
me twice during its continuance, by the help of Almighty God, with young
Amazons or daughters of war."

And so honest Philip Fleming went out for a little time to look at the
green trees and the dumb creatures feeding in the Dutch pastures.
Meantime the two armies--outside and within Ostend--went moiling on in
their monotonous work; steadily returning at intervals, as if by
instinct, to repair the ruin which a superior power would often inflict
in a half-hour on the results of laborious weeks.

In the open field the military operations were very trifling, the wager
of battle being by common consent fought out on the sands of Ostend, and
the necessities for attack and defence absorbing, the resources of each
combatant. France, England, and Spain were holding a perpetual diplomatic
tournament to which our eyes must presently turn, and the Sublime Realm
of the Ottoman and the holy Roman Empire were in the customary
equilibrium of their eternal strife.

The mutiny of the veterans continued; the "Italian republic" giving the
archduke almost as much trouble, despite his ban and edicts and outlawry,
as the Dutch commonwealth itself. For more than a twelvemonth the best
troops of the Spanish army had been thus established as a separate
empire, levying black-mail on the obedient provinces, hanging such of
their old officers as dared to remonstrate, and obeying their elected
chief magistrates with exemplary docility.

They had become a force of five thousand strong, cavalry and infantry
together, all steady, experienced veterans--the best and bravest soldiers
of Europe. The least of them demanded two thousand florins as owed to him
by the King of Spain and the archduke. The burghers of Bois-le-Duc and
other neighbouring towns in the obedient provinces kept watch and ward,
not knowing how soon the Spaniards might be upon them to reward them for
their obedience. Not a peasant with provisions was permitted by the
mutineers to enter Bois-le-Duc, while the priests were summoned to pay
one year's income of all their property on pain of being burned alive.
"Very much amazed are the poor priests at these proceedings," said Ernest
Nassau, "and there is a terrible quantity of the vile race within and
around the city. I hope one day to have the plucking of some of their
feathers myself."

The mutiny governed itself as a strict military democracy, and had caused
an official seal to be engraved, representing seven snakes entwined in
one, each thrusting forth a dangerous tongue, with the motto--

             "tutto in ore
      E sua Eccelenza in nostro favore."

"His Excellency" meant Maurice of Nassau, with whom formal articles of
compact had been arranged. It had become necessary for the archduke,
notwithstanding the steady drain of the siege of Ostend, to detach a
considerable army against this republic and to besiege them in their
capital of Hoogstraaten. With seven thousand foot and three thousand
cavalry Frederic Van den Berg took the field against them in the latter
part of July. Maurice, with nine thousand five hundred infantry and three
thousand horse, lay near Gertruydenberg. When united with the rebel
"squadron," two thousand five hundred strong, he would dispose of a force
of fifteen thousand veterans, and he moved at once to relieve the
besieged mutineers. His cousin Frederic, however, had no desire to
measure himself with the stadholder at such odds, and stole away from him
in the dark without beat of drum. Maurice entered Hoogstraaten, was
received with rapture by the Spanish and Italian veterans, and excited
the astonishment of all by the coolness with which he entered into the
cage of these dangerous serpents--as they called themselves--handling
them, caressing them, and being fondled by them in return. But the
veterans knew a soldier when they saw one, and their hearts warmed to the
prince--heretic though he were--more than they had ever done to the
unfrocked bishop who, after starving them for years, had doomed them to
destruction in this world and the next.

The stadholder was feasted and honoured by the mutineers during his brief
visit to Hoogatraaten, and concluded with them a convention, according to
which that town was to be restored to him, while they were to take
temporary possession of the city of Grave. They were likewise to assist,
with all their strength, in his military operations until they should
make peace on their own terms with the archduke. For two weeks after such
treaty they were not to fight against the States, and meantime, though
fighting on the republican side, they were to act as an independent corps
and in no wise to be merged in the stadholder's forces. So much and no
more had resulted from the archduke's excommunication of the best part of
his army. He had made a present of those troops to the enemy. He had also
been employing a considerable portion of his remaining forces in
campaigning against their own comrades. While at Grave, the mutineers, or
the "squadron" as they were now called, were to be permitted to practise
their own religious rites, without offering however, any interference
with the regular Protestant worship of the place. When they should give
up Grave, Hoogstraaten was to be restored to them if still in possession
of the States and they were to enter into no negotiations with the
archduke except with full knowledge of the stadholder.

There were no further military, operations of moment during the rest of
the year.

Much, more important, however, than siege, battle, or mutiny, to human
civilization, were the steady movements of the Dutch skippers and
merchants at this period. The ears of Europe were stunned with the
clatter of destruction going on all over Christendom, and seeming the
only reasonable occupation of Christians; but the little republic; while
fighting so heroically against the concentrated powers of despotism in
the West, was most industriously building up a great empire in the East.
In the new era just dawning, production was to become almost as
honourable and potent, a principle as destruction.

The voyages among the spicy regions of the equator--so recently wrested
from their Catholic and Faithful Majesties by Dutch citizens who did not
believe in Borgia--and the little treaties made with petty princes and
commonwealths, who for the first time ware learning that there were other
white men in the world beside the Portuguese, had already led to
considerable results. Before the close of, the previous year that great
commercial corporation had been founded--an empire within an empire; a
republic beneath a republic--a counting-house company which was to
organize armies, conquer kingdoms, build forts and cities, make war and
peace, disseminate and exchange among the nations of the earth the
various products of civilization, more perfectly than any agency hitherto
known, and bring the farthest disjoined branches of the human family into
closer, connection than had ever existed before. That it was a monopoly,
offensive to true commercial principles, illiberal, unjust, tyrannical;
ignorant of the very rudiments of mercantile philosophy; is plain enough.
For the sages of the world were but as clowns, at that period, in
economic science.

Was not the great financier of the age; Maximilian de Bethune, at that
very moment exhausting his intellect in devices for the prevention of all
international commerce even in Europe? "The kingdom of France," he
groaned, "is stuffed full of the manufactures of our neighbours, and it
is incredible what a curse to us are these wares. The import of all
foreign goods has now been forbidden under very great penalties." As a
necessary corollary to this madhouse legislation an edict was issued,
prohibiting the export of gold and silver from France, on pain, not only
of confiscation of those precious metals, but of the whole fortune of
such as engaged in or winked at the traffic. The king took a public oath
never to exempt the culprits from the punishment thus imposed, and, as
the thrifty Sully had obtained from the great king a private grant of all
those confiscations, and as he judiciously promised twenty-five per cent.
thereof to the informer, no doubt he filled his own purse while
impoverishing the exchequer.

The United States, not enjoying the blessings, of a paternal government,
against which they had been fighting almost half a century, could not be
expected to rival the stupendous folly of such political economy,
although certainly not emancipated from all the delusions of the age.

Nor are we to forget how very recently, and even dimly, the idea of
freedom in commerce has dawned upon nations, the freest of all in polity
and religion. Certainly the vices and shortcomings of the commercial
system now inaugurated by the republic may be justly charged in great
part to the epoch, while her vast share in the expanding and upward
movement which civilization, under the auspices of self-government;
self-help, political freedom, free thought, and unshackled science, was
then to undertake--never more perhaps to be permanently checked--must be
justly ascribed to herself.

It was considered accordingly that the existence of so many private
companies and copartnerships trading to the East was injurious to the
interests of commerce. Merchants arriving at the different Indian ports
would often find that their own countrymen had been too quick for them,
and that other fleets had got the wind out of their sails, that the
eastern markets had been stripped, and that prices had gone up to a
ruinous height, while on the other hand, in the Dutch cities, nutmegs and
cinnamon, brocades and indigo, were as plentiful as red herrings. It was
hardly to be expected at that day to find this very triumph of successful
traffic considered otherwise than as a grave misfortune, demanding
interference on the part of the only free Government then existing in the
world. That already free competition and individual enterprise, had made
such progress in enriching the Hollanders and the Javanese respectively
with a superfluity of useful or agreeable things, brought from the
farthest ends of the earth, seemed to the eyes of that day a condition of
things likely to end in a general catastrophe. With a simplicity, amazing
only to those who are inclined to be vain of a superior wisdom--not their
own but that of their wisest contemporaries--one of the chief reasons for
establishing the East India Company was stated to be the necessity of
providing against low prices of Oriental productions in Europe.

But national instinct is often wiser than what is supposed to be high
national statesmanship, and there can be no doubt that the true
foundation of the East India Company was the simple recognition of an
iron necessity. Every merchant in Holland knew full well that the
Portuguese and Spaniards could never be driven out of their commercial
strongholds under the equator, except by a concentration of the private
strength and wealth, of the mercantile community. The Government had
enough on its hands in disputing, inch by inch, at so prodigious an
expenditure of blood and treasure, the meagre territory with which nature
had endowed the little commonwealth. Private organisation, self-help;
union of individual purses and individual brains, were to conquer an
empire at the antipodes if it were to be won at all. By so doing, the
wealth of the nation and its power to maintain the great conflict with
the spirit of the past might be indefinitely increased, and the resources
of Spanish despotism proportionally diminished. It was not to be expected
of Jacob Heemskerk, Wolfert Hermann, or Joris van Spilberg, indomitable
skippers though they were, that each, acting on his own responsibility or
on that of his supercargo, would succeed every day in conquering a whole
Spanish fleet and dividing a million or two of prize-money among a few
dozen sailors. Better things even than this might be done by wholesome
and practical concentration on a more extended scale.

So the States-General granted a patent or charter to one great company
with what, for the time, was an enormous paid-up capital, in order that
the India trade might be made secure and the Spaniards steadily
confronted in what they had considered their most impregnable
possessions. All former trading companies were invited to merge
themselves in the Universal East India Company, which, for twenty-one
years, should alone have the right to trade to the east of the Cape of
Good Hope and to sail through the Straits of Magellan.

The charter had been signed on 20th March, 1602, and was mainly to the
following effect.

The company was to pay twenty-five thousand florins to the States-General
for its privilege. The whole capital was to be six million six hundred
thousand florins. The chamber of Amsterdam was to have one half of the
whole interest, the chamber of Zeeland one fourth; the chambers of the
Meuse, namely, Delft, Rotterdam, and the north quarter; that is to say,
Hoorn and Enkhuizen, each a sixteenth. All the chambers were to be
governed by the directors then serving, who however were to be allowed to
die out, down to the number of twenty for Amsterdam, twelve for Zeeland,
and seven for each of the other chambers. To fill a vacancy occurring
among the directors, the remaining members of the board were to nominate
three candidates, from whom the estates of the province should choose
one. Each director was obliged, to have an interest in the company
amounting to at least six thousand florins, except the directors for
Hoorn and Enkhuizen, of whom only three thousand should be required. The
general assembly of these chambers should consist of seventeen directors,
eight for Amsterdam, four for Zeeland, two for the Meuse, and two for the
north quarter; the seventeenth being added by turns from the chambers of
Zeeland, the Meuse, and the north quarter. This assembly was to be held
six years at Amsterdam, and then two years in Zeeland. The ships were
always to return to the port from which they had sailed. All the
inhabitants of the provinces had the right, within a certain time, to
take shares in the company. Any province or city subscribing for forty
thousand florins or upwards might appoint an agent to look after its
affairs.

The Company might make treaties with the Indian powers, in the name of
the States-General of the United Netherlands or of the supreme
authorities of the same, might build fortresses; appoint generals, and
levy troops, provided such troops took oaths of fidelity to the States,
or to the supreme authority, and to the Company. No ships, artillery, or
other munitions of war belonging to the Company were to be used in
service of the country without permission of the Company. The admiralty
was to have a certain proportion of the prizes conquered from the enemy.

The directors should not be liable in property or person for the debts of
the Company. The generals of fleets returning home were to make reports
on the state of India to the States.

Notification; of the union of all India companies with this great
corporation was duly sent to the fleets cruising in those regions, where
it arrived in the course of the year 1603.

Meantime the first fleet of the Company, consisting of fourteen vessels
under command of Admiral Wybrand van Warwyk, sailed before the end of
1602, and was followed towards the close of 1603 by thirteen other ships,
under Stephen van der Hagen?

The equipment of these two fleets cost two million two hundred thousand
florins.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Bestowing upon others what was not his property
     Four weeks' holiday--the first in eleven years
     Idea of freedom in commerce has dawned upon nations
     Impossible it is to practise arithmetic with disturbed brains
     Passion is a bad schoolmistress for the memory
     Prisoners were immediately hanged
     Unlearned their faith in bell, book, and candle
     World has rolled on to fresher fields of carnage and ruin




CHAPTER XLI. 1603-1604

   Death of Queen Elizabeth--Condition of Spain--Legations to James I.
   --Union of England and Scotland--Characteristics of the new monarch
   --The English Court and Government--Piratical practices of the
   English--Audience of the States' envoy with king James--Queen
   Elizabeth's scheme far remodelling Europe--Ambassador extraordinary
   from Henry IV. to James--De Rosny's strictures on the English
   people--Private interview of De Rosny with the States' envoy--De
   Rosny's audience of the king--Objects of his mission--Insinuations
   of the Duke of Northumberland--Invitation of the embassy to
   Greenwich--Promise of James to protect the Netherlands against
   Spain--Misgivings of Barneveld--Conference at Arundel House--Its
   unsatisfactory termination--Contempt of De Rosny for the English
   counsellors--Political aspect of Europe--De Rosny's disclosure to
   the king of the secret object of his mission--Agreement of James to
   the proposals of De Rosny--Ratification of the treaty of alliance--
   Return of De Rosny and suite to France--Arrival of the Spanish
   ambassador.

On the 24th of March, 1603, Queen Elizabeth died at Richmond, having
nearly completed her seventieth year. The two halves of the little island
of Britain were at last politically adjoined to each other by the
personal union of the two crowns.

A foreigner, son of the woman executed by Elizabeth, succeeded to
Elizabeth's throne. It was most natural that the Dutch republic and the
French king, the archdukes and his Catholic Majesty, should be filled
with anxiety as to the probable effect of this change of individuals upon
the fortunes of the war.

For this Dutch war of independence was the one absorbing and controlling
interest in Christendom. Upon that vast, central, and, as men thought,
baleful constellation the fates of humanity, were dependent. Around it
lesser political events were forced to gravitate, and, in accordance to
their relation to it, were bright or obscure. It was inevitable that
those whose vocation it was to ponder the aspects of the political
firmament, the sages and high-priests who assumed to direct human action
and to foretell human destiny, should now be more than ever perplexed.

Spain, since the accession of Philip III. to his father's throne,
although rapidly declining in vital energy, had not yet disclosed its
decrepitude to the world. Its boundless ambition survived as a political
tradition rather than a real passion, while contemporaries still trembled
at the vision of universal monarchy in which the successor of Charlemagne
and of Charles V. was supposed to indulge.

Meantime, no feebler nor more insignificant mortal existed on earth than
this dreaded sovereign.

Scarcely a hairdresser or lemonade-dealer in all Spain was less cognizant
of the political affairs of the kingdom than was its monarch, for
Philip's first care upon assuming the crown was virtually to abdicate in
favour of the man soon afterwards known as the Duke of Lerma.

It is therefore only by courtesy and for convenience that history
recognizes his existence at all, as surely no human being in the reign of
Philip III. requires less mention than Philip III. himself.

I reserve for a subsequent chapter such rapid glances at the interior
condition of that kingdom with which it seemed the destiny of the Dutch
republic to be perpetually at war, as may be necessary to illustrate the
leading characteristics of the third Philip's reign.

Meantime, as the great queen was no more, who was always too sagacious to
doubt that the Dutch cause was her own--however disposed she might be to
browbeat the Dutchmen--it seemed possible to Spain that the republic
might at last be deprived of its only remaining ally. Tassis was
despatched as chief of a legation, precursory to a more stately embassy
to be confided to the Duke of Frias. The archdukes sent the prince of
Arenberg, while from the United States came young Henry of Nassau,
associated with John of Olden-Barneveld, Falk, Brederode, and other
prominent statesmen of the commonwealth. Ministers from Denmark and
Sweden, from the palatinate and from numerous other powers, small and
great, were also collected to greet the rising sun in united Britain,
while the awkward Scotchman, who was now called upon to play that
prominent part in the world's tragi-comedy which had been so long and so
majestically sustained by the "Virgin Queen," already began to tremble at
the plaudits and the bustle which announced how much was expected of the
new performer.

There was indeed a new sovereign upon the throne. That most regal spirit
which had well expressed so many of the highest characteristics of the
nation had fled. Mankind, has long been familiar with the dark, closing
hours of the illustrious reign. The great queen, moody, despairing,
dying, wrapt in profoundest thought, with eyes fixed upon the ground or
already gazing into infinity, was besought by the counsellors around her
to name the man to whom she chose that the crown should devolve.

"Not to a Rough," said Elizabeth, sententiously and grimly.

When the King of France was named, she shook her head. When Philip III.
was suggested, she made a still more significant sign of dissent. When
the King of Scots was mentioned, she nodded her approval, and again
relapsed into silent meditation.

She died, and James was King of Great Britain and Ireland. Cecil had
become his prime minister long before the queen's eyes were closed. The
hard-featured, rickety, fidgety, shambling, learned, most preposterous
Scotchman hastened to take possession of the throne. Never--could there
have been a more unfit place or unfit hour for such a man.

England, although so small in dimensions, so meager in population, so
deficient, compared to the leading nations of Europe, in material and
financial strength, had already her great future swelling in her heart.
Intellectually and morally she was taking the lead among the nations.
Even at that day she had produced much which neither she herself nor any
other nation seemed destined to surpass.

Yet this most redoubtable folk only numbered about three millions,
one-tenth of them inhabiting London. With the Scots and Irish added they
amounted to less than five millions of souls, hardly a third as many as
the homogeneous and martial people of that dangerous neighbour France.

Ireland was always rebellious; a mere conquered province, hating her
tyrant England's laws, religion, and people; loving Spain, and believing
herself closely allied by blood as well as sympathy to that most Catholic
land.

Scotland, on the accession of James, hastened to take possession of
England. Never in history had two races detested each other more
fervently. The leeches and locusts of the north, as they were universally
designated in England, would soon have been swept forth from the country,
or have left it of their own accord, had not the king employed all that
he had of royal authority or of eloquent persuasion to retain them on the
soil. Of union, save the personal union of the sceptre, there was no
thought. As in Ireland there was hatred to England and adoration for
Spain; so in Scotland, France was beloved quite as much as England was
abhorred. Who could have foretold, or even hoped, that atoms so mutually
repulsive would ever have coalesced into a sympathetic and indissoluble
whole?

Even the virtues of James were his worst enemies. As generous as the day,
he gave away with reckless profusion anything and everything that he
could lay his hands upon. It was soon to appear that the great queen's
most unlovely characteristic, her avarice; was a more blessed quality to
the nation she ruled than the ridiculous prodigality of James.

Two thousand gowns, of the most, expensive material, adorned with gold,
pearls, and other bravery--for Elizabeth was very generous to
herself--were found in the queen's wardrobe, after death. These
magnificent and costly robes, not one of which had she vouchsafed to
bestow upon or to bequeath to any of her ladies of honour, were now
presented by her successor to a needy Scotch lord, who certainly did not
intend to adorn his own person therewith. "The hat was ever held out,"
said a splenetic observer, "and it was filled in overflowing measure by
the new monarch."

In a very short period he had given away--mainly to Scotchmen--at least
two millions of crowns, in various articles of personal property. Yet
England was very poor.

The empire, if so it could be called, hardly boasted a regular revenue of
more than two millions of dollars a year; less than that of a fortunate
individual or two, in our own epoch, both in Europe and America; and not
one-fifth part of the contemporary income of France. The hundred thousand
dollars of Scotland's annual budget did not suffice to pay its expenses,
and Ireland was a constant charge upon the imperial exchequer.

It is astounding, however, to reflect upon the pomp, extravagance, and
inordinate pride which characterized the government and the court.

The expenses of James's household were at least five hundred thousand
crowns, or about one quarter of the whole revenue of the empire. Henry
IV., with all his extravagance, did not spend more than one-tenth of the
public income of France upon himself and his court.

Certainly if England were destined to grow great it would be in despite
of its new monarch. Hating the People, most intolerant in religion,
believing intensely in royal prerogative, thoroughly convinced of his
regal as well as his personal infallibility, loathing that inductive
method of thought which was already leading the English nation so proudly
on the road of intellectual advancement, shrinking from the love of free
inquiry, of free action, of daring adventure, which was to be the real
informing spirit of the great British nation; abhorring the
Puritans--that is to say, one-third of his subjects--in whose harsh, but
lofty nature he felt instinctively that popular freedom was
enfolded--even as the overshadowing tree in the rigid husk--and sending
them forth into the far distant wilderness to wrestle with wild beasts
and with savages more ferocious than beasts; fearing and hating the
Catholics as the sworn enemies of his realm; his race, and himself,
trampling on them as much as he dared, forcing them into hypocrisy to
save themselves from persecution or at least pecuniary ruin--if they
would worship God according to their conscience; at deadly feud,
therefore, on religious grounds, with much more than half his
subjects--Puritans or Papists--and yet himself a Puritan in dogma and a
Papist in Church government, if only the king could be pope; not knowing,
indeed, whether a Puritan, or a Jesuit whom he called a Papist-Puritan,
should be deemed the more disgusting or dangerous animal; already
preparing for his unfortunate successor a path to the scaffold by
employing all the pedantry, both theological and philosophical at his
command to bring parliaments into contempt, and to place the royal
prerogative on a level with Divinity; at the head of a most martial,
dauntless, and practical nation, trembling, with unfortunate physical
timidity, at the sight of a drawn sword; ever scribbling or haranguing in
Latin, French, or broad Scotch, when the world was arming, it must always
be a special wonder that one who might have been a respectable; even a
useful, pedagogue, should by the caprice of destiny have been permitted,
exactly at that epoch to be one of the most contemptible and mischievous
of kings.

But he had a most effective and energetic minister. Even as in Spain and
in France at the same period, the administration of government was
essentially in-one pair of hands.

Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, ever since the termination of the
splendid triumvirate of his father and Walsingham, had been in reality
supreme. The proud and terrible hunchback, who never forgave, nor forgot
to destroy, his enemies, had now triumphed over the last passion of the
doting queen. Essex had gone to perdition.

Son of the great minister who had brought the mother of James to the
scaffold, Salisbury had already extorted forgiveness for that execution
from the feeble king. Before Elizabeth was in her grave, he was already
as much the favourite of her successor as of herself, governing Scotland
as well as England, and being Prime Minister of Great Britain before
Great Britain existed.

Lord High Treasurer and First Secretary of State, he was now all in all
in the council. The other great lords, highborn and highly titled as they
were and served at their banquets by hosts of lackeys on their
knees--Nottinghams, Northamptons, Suffolks--were, after all, ciphers or
at best, mere pensioners of Spain. For all the venality of Europe was not
confined to the Continent. Spain spent at least one hundred and fifty
thousand crowns annually among the leading courtiers of James while his
wife, Anne of Denmark, a Papist at heart, whose private boudoir was
filled with pictures and images of the Madonna and the saints, had
already received one hundred thousand dollars in solid cash from the
Spanish court, besides much jewelry, and other valuable things. To
negotiate with Government in England was to bribe, even as at Paris or
Madrid. Gold was the only passkey to justice, to preferment, or to power.

Yet the foreign subsidies to the English court were, after all, of but
little avail at that epoch. No man had influence but Cecil, and he was
too proud, too rich, too powerful to be bribed.  Alone with clean fingers
among courtiers and ministers, he had, however, accumulated a larger
fortune than any. His annual income was estimated at two hundred thousand
crowns, and he had a vast floating capital, always well employed. Among
other investments, he had placed half a million on interest in Holland,'
and it was to be expected, therefore, that he should favour the cause of
the republic, rebellious and upstart though it were.

The pigmy, as the late queen had been fond of nicknaming him, was the
only giant in the Government. Those crooked shoulders held up, without
flinching, the whole burden of the State. Pale, handsome, anxious,
suffering, and intellectual of visage, with his indomitable spirit, ready
eloquence, and nervous energy, he easily asserted supremacy over all the
intriguers, foreign and domestic, the stipendiariea, the generals, the
admirals, the politicians, at court, as well as over the Scotch Solomon
who sat on the throne.

But most certainly, it was for the public good of Britain, that Europe
should be pacified. It is very true that the piratical interest would
suffer, and this was a very considerable and influential branch of
business. So long as war existed anywhere, the corsairs of England sailed
with the utmost effrontery from English ports, to prey upon the commerce
of friend and foe alike. After a career of successful plunder, it was not
difficult for the rovers to return to their native land, and, with the
proceeds of their industry, to buy themselves positions of importance,
both social and political. It was not the custom to consider too
curiously the source of the wealth. If it was sufficient to dazzle the
eyes of the vulgar, it was pretty certain to prove the respectability of
the owner.

It was in vain that the envoys of the Dutch and Venetian republics sought
redress for the enormous damage inflicted on their commerce by English
pirates, and invoked the protection of public law. It was always easy for
learned juris-consuls to prove such depredations to be consistent with
international usage and with sound morality. Even at that period,
although England was in population and in wealth so insignificant, it
possessed a lofty, insular contempt for the opinions and the doctrines of
other nations, and expected, with perfect calmness, that her own
principles should be not only admitted, but spontaneously adored.

Yet the piratical interest was no longer the controlling one. That city
on the Thames, which already numbered more than three hundred thousand
inhabitants, had discovered that more wealth was to be accumulated by her
bustling shopkeepers in the paths of legitimate industry than by a horde
of rovers over the seas, however adventurous and however protected by
Government.

As for France, she was already defending herself against piracy by what
at the period seemed a masterpiece of internal improvement. The Seine,
the Loire, and the Rhone were soon to be united in one chain of
communication. Thus merchandise might be water-borne from the channel to
the Mediterranean, without risking the five or six months' voyage by sea
then required from Havre to Marseilles, and exposure along the whole
coast to attack from the corsairs of England Spain and Barbary.

The envoys of the States-General had a brief audience of the new
sovereign, in which little more than phrases of compliment were
pronounced.

"We are here," said Barneveld, "between grief and joy. We have lost her
whose benefits to us we can never describe in words, but we have found a
successor who is heir not only to her kingdom but to all her virtues."
And with this exordium the great Advocate plunged at once into the depths
of his subject, so far as was possible in an address of ceremony. He
besought the king not to permit Spain, standing on the neck of the
provinces, to grasp from that elevation at other empires. He reminded
James of his duty to save those of his own religion from the clutch of a
sanguinary superstition, to drive away those lurking satellites of the
Roman pontiff who considered Britain their lawful prey. He implored him
to complete the work so worthily begun by Elizabeth. If all those bound
by one interest should now, he urged, unite their efforts, the Spaniard,
deprived not only of the Netherlands, but, if he were not wise in time,
banished from the ocean and stripped of all his transmarine possessions,
would be obliged to consent to a peace founded on the only secure basis,
equality of strength. The envoy concluded by beseeching the king for
assistance to Ostend, now besieged for two years long.

But James manifested small disposition to melt in the fervour of the
Advocate's eloquence. He answered with a few cold commonplaces. Benignant
but extremely cautious, he professed goodwill enough to the States but
quite as much for Spain, a power with which, he observed, he had never
quarrelled, and from which he had received the most friendly offices. The
archdukes, too, he asserted, had never been hostile to the realm, but
only to the Queen of England. In brief, he was new to English affairs,
required time to look about him, but would not disguise that his genius
was literary, studious, and tranquil, and much more inclined to peace
than to war.

In truth, James had cause to look very sharply about him. It required an
acute brain and steady nerves to understand and to control the whirl of
parties and the conflict of interests and intrigues, the chameleon
shiftings of character and colour, at this memorable epoch of transition
in the realm which he had just inherited. There was a Scotch party,
favourable on the whole to France; there was a Spanish party, there was
an English party, and, more busy than all, there was a party--not Scotch,
nor French, nor English, nor Spanish--that un-dying party in all
commonwealths or kingdoms which ever fights for itself and for the
spoils.

France and Spain had made peace with each other at Vervins five years
before, and had been at war ever since.

Nothing could be plainer nor more cynical than the language exchanged
between the French monarch and the representative of Spain. That Philip
III.--as the Spanish Government by a convenient fiction was always
called--was the head and front of the great Savoy-Biron conspiracy to
take Henry's life and dismember his kingdom, was hardly a stage secret.
Yet diplomatic relations were still preserved between the two countries,
and wonderful diplomatic interviews had certainly been taking place in
Paris.

Ambassador Tassis had walked with lofty port into Henry's cabinet,
disdaining to salute any of the princes of the blood or high
functionaries of state in the apartments through which he passed, and
with insolent defiance had called Henry to account for his dealing with
the Dutch rebels.

"Sire, the king my master finds it very strange," he said, "that you
still continue to assist his rebels in Holland, and that you shoot at his
troops on their way to the Netherlands. If you don't abstain from such
infractions of his rights he prefers open war to being cheated by such a
pretended peace. Hereupon I demand your reply."

"Mr. Ambassador," replied the king, "I find it still more strange that
your master is so impudent as to dare to make such complaints--he who is
daily making attempts upon my life and upon this State. Even if I do
assist the Hollanders, what wrong is that to him? It is an organized
commonwealth, powerful, neighbourly, acknowledging no subjection to him.
But your master is stirring up rebellion in my own kingdom, addressing
himself to the princes of my blood and my most notable officers, so that
I have been obliged to cut off the head of one of the most beloved of
them all. By these unchristian proceedings he has obliged me to take
sides with the Hollanders, whom I know to be devoted to me; nor have I
done anything for them except to pay the debts I owed them. I know
perfectly well that the king your master is the head of this conspiracy,
and that the troops of Naples were meditating an attack upon my kingdom.
I have two letters written by the hand of your master to Marshal Biron,
telling him to trust Fuentes as if it were himself, and it is notorious
that Fuentes has projected and managed all the attempts to assassinate
me. Do you, think you have a child to deal with? The late King of Spain
knew me pretty well. If this one thinks himself wiser I shall let him see
who I am. Do you want peace or war? I am ready for either."

The ambassador, whose head had thus been so vigorously washed--as Henry
expressed it in recounting the interview afterwards to the Dutch envoy,
Dr. Aerssens--stammered some unintelligible excuses, and humbly begged
his Majesty not to be offended. He then retired quite crest-fallen, and
took leave most politely of everybody as he went, down even to the very
grooms of the chambers.

"You must show your teeth to the Spaniard," said Henry to Aerssens, "if
you wish for a quiet life."

Here was unsophisticated diplomacy; for the politic Henry, who could
forgive assassins and conspirators, crowned or otherwise, when it suited
his purpose to be lenient, knew that it was on this occasion very prudent
to use the gift of language, not in order to conceal, but to express his
thoughts.

"I left the king as red as a turkey-cock," said Tassis, as soon as he got
home that morning, "and I was another turkey-cock. We have been talking a
little bit of truth to each other."

In truth, it was impossible, as the world was then constituted, that
France and Spain, in spite of many secret sympathies, should not be
enemies; that France, England, and the Dutch commonwealth, although
cordially disliking each other, should not be allies.

Even before the death of Elizabeth a very remarkable interview had taken
place at Dover, in which the queen had secretly disclosed the great
thoughts with which that most imperial brain was filled just before its
boundless activity was to cease for ever.

She had wished for a personal interview with the French king, whose wit
and valour she had always heartily admired, Henry, on his part, while
unmercifully ridiculing that preterhuman vanity which he fed with
fantastic adulation, never failed to do justice to her genius, and had
been for a moment disposed to cross the channel, or even to hold council
with her on board ship midway between the two countries. It was however
found impracticable to arrange any such meeting, and the gossips of the
day hinted that the great Henry, whose delight was in battle, and who had
never been known to shrink from danger on dry land, was appalled at the
idea of sea-sickness, and even dreaded the chance of being kidnapped by
the English pirates.

The corsairs who drove so profitable a business at that period by
plundering the merchantmen of their enemy, of their Dutch and French
allies, and of their own nation, would assuredly have been pleased with
such a prize.

The queen had confided to De Bethune that she had some thing to say to
the king which she could never reveal to other ears than his, but when
the proposed visit of Henry was abandoned, it was decided that his
confidential minister should slip across the channel before Elizabeth
returned to her palace at Greenwich.

De Bethune accordingly came incognito from Calais to Dover, in which port
he had a long and most confidential interview with the queen. Then and
there the woman, nearly seventy years of age, who governed despotically
the half of a small island, while the other half was in the possession of
a man whose mother she had slain, and of a people who hated the English
more than they hated the Spaniards or the French--a queen with some three
millions of loyal but most turbulent subjects in one island, and with
about half-a-million ferocious rebels in another requiring usually an
army of twenty thousand disciplined soldiers to keep them in a kind of
subjugation, with a revenue fluctuating between eight hundred thousand
pounds sterling, and the half of that sum, and with a navy of a hundred
privateersmen--disclosed to the French envoy a vast plan for regulating
the polity and the religion of the civilized world, and for remodelling
the map of Europe.

There should be three religions, said Elizabeth--not counting the
dispensation from Mecca, about which Turk and Hun might be permitted to
continue their struggle on the crepuscular limits of civilization.
Everywhere else there should be toleration only for the churches of
Peter, of Luther, and of Calvin. The house of Austria was to be
humbled--the one branch driven back to Spain and kept there, the other
branch to be deprived of the imperial crown, which was to be disposed of
as in times past by the votes of the princely electors. There should be
two republics--the Swiss and the Dutch--each of those commonwealths to be
protected by France and England, and each to receive considerable parings
out of the possessions of Spain and the empire.

Finally, all Christendom was to be divided off into a certain number of
powers, almost exactly equal to each other; the weighing, measuring, and
counting, necessary to obtain this international equilibrium, being of
course the duty of the king and queen when they should sit some day
together at table.

Thus there were five points; sovereigns and politicians having always a
fondness for a neat summary in five or six points. Number one, to remodel
the electoral system of the holy Roman empire. Number two, to establish
the republic of the United Provinces. Number three, to do as much for
Switzerland. Number four, to partition Europe. Number five, to reduce all
religions to three. Nothing could be more majestic, no plan fuller
fraught with tranquillity for the rulers of mankind and their subjects.
Thrice happy the people, having thus a couple of heads with crowns upon
them and brains within them to prescribe what was to be done in this
world and believed as to the next!

The illustrious successor of that great queen now stretches her benignant
sceptre over two hundred millions of subjects, and the political revenues
of her empire are more than a hundredfold those of Elizabeth; yet it
would hardly now be thought great statesmanship or sound imperial policy
for a British sovereign even to imagine the possibility of the five
points which filled the royal English mind at Dover.

But Henry was as much convinced as Elizabeth of the necessity and the
possibility of establishing the five points, and De Bethune had been
astonished at the exact similarity of the conclusion which those two
sovereign intellects had reached, even before they had been placed in
communion with each other. The death of the queen had not caused any
change in the far-reaching designs of which the king now remained the
sole executor, and his first thought, on the accession of James, was
accordingly to despatch De Bethune, now created Marquis de Rosny, as
ambassador extraordinary to England, in order that the new sovereign
might be secretly but thoroughly instructed as to the scheme for
remodelling Christendom.

As Rosny was also charged with the duty of formally congratulating King
James, he proceeded upon his journey with remarkable pomp. He was
accompanied by two hundred gentlemen of quality, specially attached to
his embassy--young city fops, as he himself described them, who were out
of their element whenever they left the pavement of Paris--and by an
equal number of valets, grooms, and cooks. Such a retinue was
indispensable to enable an ambassador to transact the public business and
to maintain the public dignity in those days; unproductive consumption
being accounted most sagacious and noble.

Before reaching the English shore the marquis was involved in trouble.
Accepting the offer of the English vice-admiral lying off Calais, he
embarked with his suite in two English vessels, much to the
dissatisfaction of De Vic, vice-admiral of France, who was anxious to
convey the French ambassador in the war-ships of his country. There had
been suspicion afloat as to the good understanding between England and
Spain, caused by the great courtesy recently shown to the Count of
Arenberg, and there was intense irritation among all the seafaring people
of France on account of the exploits of the English corsairs upon their
coast. Rosny thought it best to begin his embassy by an act of
conciliation, but soon had cause to repent his decision.

In mid-channel they were met by De Vic's vessels with the French banner
displayed, at which sight the English commander was so wroth that he
forthwith ordered a broadside to be poured into the audacious
foreigner;--swearing with mighty oaths that none but the English flag
should be shown in those waters. And thus, while conveying a French
ambassador and three hundred Frenchmen on a sacred mission to the British
sovereign, this redoubtable mariner of England prepared to do battle with
the ships of France. It was with much difficulty and some prevarication
that Rosny appeased the strife, representing that the French flag had
only been raised in order that it might be dipped, in honour of the
French ambassador, as the ships passed each other. The full-shotted
broadside was fired from fifty guns, but the English commander consented,
at De Rosny's representations, that it should be discharged wide of the
mark.

A few shots, however, struck the side of one of the French vessels, and
at the same time, as Cardinal Richelieu afterwards remarked, pierced the
heart of every patriotic Frenchman.

The ambassador made a sign, which De Vic understood; to lower his flag
and to refrain from answering the fire. Thus a battle between allies,
amid the most amazing circumstances, was avoided, but it may well be
imagined how long and how deeply the poison of the insult festered.

Such an incident could hardly predispose the ambassador in favour of the
nation he was about to visit, or strengthen his hope of laying, not only
the foundation of a perpetual friendship between the two crowns, but of
effecting the palingenesis of Europe. Yet no doubt Sully--as the world
has so long learned to call him--was actuated by lofty sentiments in many
respects in advance of his age. Although a brilliant and successful
campaigner in his youth, he detested war, and looked down with contempt
at political systems which had not yet invented anything better than
gunpowder for the arbitrament of international disputes. Instead of war
being an occasional method of obtaining peace, it pained him to think
that peace seemed only a process for arriving at war. Surely it was no
epigram in those days, but the simplest statement of commonplace fact,
that war was the normal condition of Christians. Alas will it be
maintained that in the two and a half centuries which have since elapsed
the world has made much progress in a higher direction? Is there yet any
appeal among the most civilized nations except to the logic of the
largest battalions and the eloquence of the biggest guns?

De Rosny came to be the harbinger of a political millennium, and he
heartily despised war. The schemes, nevertheless, which were as much his
own as his master's, and which he was instructed to lay before the
English monarch as exclusively his own, would have required thirty years
of successful and tremendous warfare before they could have a beginning
of development.

It is not surprising that so philosophical a mind as his, while still
inclining to pacific designs, should have been led by what met his eyes
and ears to some rather severe generalizations.

"It is certain that the English hate us," he said, "and with a hatred so
strong and so general that one is tempted to place it among the natural
dispositions of this people. Yet it is rather the effect of their pride
and their presumption; since there is no nation in Europe more haughty,
more disdainful, more besotted with the idea of its own excellence. If
you were to take their word for it, mind and reason are only found with
them; they adore all their opinions and despise those of all other
nations; and it never occurs to them to listen to others, or to doubt
themselves. . . . Examine what are called with them maxims of state;
you will find nothing but the laws of pride itself, adopted through
arrogance or through indolence."

"Placed by nature amidst the tempestuous and variable ocean," he wrote to
his sovereign, "they are as shifting, as impetuous, as changeable as its
waves. So self-contradictory and so inconsistent are their actions almost
in the same instant as to make it impossible that they should proceed
from the same persons and the same mind. Agitated and urged by their
pride and arrogance alone, they take all their imaginations and
extravagances for truths and realities; the objects of their desires and
affections for inevitable events; not balancing and measuring those
desires with the actual condition of things, nor with the character of
the people with whom they have to deal."

When the ambassador arrived in London he was lodged at Arundel palace. He
at once became the cynosure of all indigenous parties and of adventurous
politicians from every part of Europe; few knowing how to shape their
course since the great familiar lustre had disappeared from the English
sky.

Rosny found the Scotch lords sufficiently favourable to France; the
English Catholic grandees, with all the Howards and the lord high admiral
at their head, excessively inclined to Spain, and a great English party
detesting both Spain and France with equal fervour and well enough
disposed to the United Provinces, not as hating that commonwealth less
but the two great powers more.

The ambassador had arrived with the five points, not in his portfolio but
in his heart, and they might after all be concentrated in one
phrase--Down with Austria, up with the Dutch republic. On his first
interview with Cecil, who came to arrange for his audience with the king,
he found the secretary much disposed to conciliate both Spain and the
empire, and to leave the provinces to shift for themselves.

He spoke of Ostend as of a town not worth the pains taken to preserve it,
and of the India trade as an advantage of which a true policy required
that the United Provinces should be deprived.  Already the fine
commercial instinct of England had scented a most formidable rival on the
ocean.

As for the king, he had as yet declared himself for no party, while all
parties were disputing among each other for mastery over him. James found
himself, in truth, as much, astray in English politics as he was a
foreigner upon English earth. Suspecting every one, afraid of every one,
he was in mortal awe, most of all, of his wife, who being the daughter of
one Protestant sovereign and wife of another, and queen of a united realm
dependent for its very existence on antagonism to Spain and Rome, was
naturally inclined to Spanish politics and the Catholic faith.

The turbulent and intriguing Anne of Denmark was not at the moment in
London, but James was daily expecting and De Bethune dreading her
arrival.

The ambassador knew very well that, although the king talked big in her
absence about the forms which he intended to prescribe for her conduct,
he would take orders from her as soon as she arrived, refuse her nothing,
conceal nothing from her, and tremble before her as usual.

The king was not specially prejudiced in favour of the French monarch or
his ambassador, for he had been told that Henry had occasionally spoken
of him as captain of arts and doctor of arms, and that both the Marquis
de Rosny and his brother were known to have used highly disrespectful
language concerning him.

Before his audience, De Rosny received a private visit from Barneveld and
the deputies of the States-General, and was informed that since his
arrival they had been treated with more civility by the king. Previously
he had refused to see them after the first official reception, had not
been willing to grant Count Henry of Nassau a private audience, and had
spoken publicly of the States as seditious rebels.

Oh the 21st June Barneveld had a long private interview with the
ambassador at Arundel palace, when he exerted all his eloquence to prove
the absolute necessity of an offensive and defensive alliance between
France and the United Provinces if the independence of the republic were
ever to be achieved. Unless a French army took the field at once, Ostend
would certainly fall, he urged, and resistance to the Spaniards would
soon afterwards cease.

It is not probable that the Advocate felt in his heart so much despair as
his words indicated, but he was most anxious that Henry should openly
declare himself the protector of the young commonwealth, and not
indisposed perhaps to exaggerate the dangers, grave as they were without
doubt, by which its existence was menaced.

The ambassador however begged the Hollander to renounce any such hopes,
assuring him that the king had no intention of publicly and singly taking
upon his shoulders the whole burden of war with Spain, the fruits of
which would not be his to gather. Certainly before there had been time
thoroughly to study the character and inclinations of the British monarch
it would be impossible for De Rosny to hold out any encouragement in this
regard. He then asked Barneveld what he had been able to discover during
his residence in London as to the personal sentiments of James.

The Advocate replied that at first the king, yielding to his own natural
tendencies, and to the advice of his counsellors, had refused the Dutch
deputies every hope, but that subsequently reflecting, as it would seem,
that peace would cost England very dear if English inaction should cause
the Hollanders to fall again under the dominion of the Catholic king, or
to find their only deliverance in the protection of France, and beginning
to feel more acutely how much England had herself to fear from a power
like Spain, he had seemed to awake out of a profound sleep, and promised
to take these important affairs into consideration.

Subsequently he had fallen into a dreary abyss of indecision, where he
still remained. It was certain however that he would form no resolution
without the concurrence of the King of France, whose ambassador he had
been so impatiently expecting, and whose proposition to him of a double
marriage between their respective children had given him much
satisfaction.

De Rosny felt sure that the Dutch statesmen were far too adroit to put
entire confidence in anything said by James, whether favourable or
detrimental to their cause. He conjured Barneveld therefore, by the
welfare of his country, to conceal nothing from him in regard to the most
secret resolutions that might have been taken by the States in the event
of their being abandoned by England, or in case of their being
embarrassed by a sudden demand on the part of that power for the
cautionary towns offered to Elizabeth.

Barneveld, thus pressed, and considering the ambassador as the
confidential counsellor of a sovereign who was the republic's only
friend, no longer hesitated. Making a merit to himself of imparting an
important secret, he said that the state-council of the commonwealth had
resolved to elude at any cost the restoration of the cautionary towns.

The interview was then abruptly terminated by the arrival of the Venetian
envoy.

The 22nd of June arrived. The marquis had ordered mourning suits for his
whole embassy and retinue, by particular command of his sovereign, who
wished to pay this public tribute to the memory of the great queen.

To his surprise and somewhat to his indignation, he was however informed
that no one, stranger or native, Scotchman or Englishman, had been
permitted to present himself to the king in black, that his appearance
there in mourning would be considered almost an affront, and that it was
a strictly enforced rule at court to abstain from any mention of
Elizabeth, and to affect an entire oblivion of her reign.

At the last moment, and only because convinced that he might otherwise
cause the impending negotiations utterly to fail, the ambassador
consented to attire himself, the hundred and twenty gentlemen selected
from his diplomatic family to accompany him on this occasion, and all his
servants, in gala costume. The royal guards, with the Earl of Derby at
their head, came early in the afternoon to Arundel House to escort him to
the Thames, and were drawn up on the quay as the marquis and his
followers embarked in the splendid royal barges provided to convey them
to Greenwich.

On arriving at their destination they were met at the landing by the Earl
of Northumberland, and escorted with great pomp and through an infinite
multitude of spectators to the palace. Such was the crowd, without and
within, of courtiers and common people, that it was a long time before
the marquis, preceded by his hundred and twenty gentlemen, reached the
hall of audience.

At last he arrived at the foot of the throne, when James arose and
descended eagerly two steps of the dais in order to greet the ambassador.
He would have descended them all had not one of the counsellors plucked
him by the sleeve, whispering that he had gone quite far enough.

"And if I honour this ambassador," cried James, in a loud voice, "more
than is usual, I don't intend that it shall serve as a precedent for
others. I esteem and love him particularly, because of the affection
which I know he cherishes for me, of his firmness in our religion, and of
his fidelity to his master."

Much more that was personally flattering to the marquis was said thus
emphatically by James. To all this the ambassador replied, not by a set
discourse, but only by a few words of compliment, expressing his
sovereign's regrets at the death of Queen Elizabeth, and his joy at the
accession of the new sovereign. He then delivered his letters of
credence, and the complimentary conversation continued; the king
declaring that he had not left behind him in Scotland his passion for the
monarch of France, and that even had he found England at war with that
country on his accession he would have instantly concluded a peace with a
prince whom he so much venerated.

Thus talking, the king caused his guest to ascend with him to the
uppermost steps of the dais, babbling on very rapidly and skipping
abruptly from one subject to another. De Rosny took occasion to express
his personal esteem and devotion, and was assured by the king in reply
that the slanders in regard to him which had reached the royal ears had
utterly failed of their effect. It was obvious that they were the
invention of Spanish intriguers who wished to help that nation to
universal monarchy. Then he launched forth into general and cordial abuse
of Spain, much to the satisfaction of Count Henry of Nassau, who stood
near enough to hear a good deal of the conversation, and of the other
Dutch deputies who were moving about, quite unknown, in the crowd. He
denounced very vigorously the malignity of the Spaniards in lighting
fires everywhere in their neighbours' possessions, protested that he
would always oppose their wicked designs, but spoke contemptuously of
their present king as too feeble of mind and body ever to comprehend or
to carry out the projects of his predecessors.

Among other gossip, James asked the envoy if he went to hear the
Protestant preaching in London. Being answered in the affirmative, he
expressed surprise, having been told, he said, that it was Rosny's
intention to repudiate his religion as De Sancy had done, in order to
secure his fortunes. The marquis protested that such a thought had never
entered his head, but intimated that the reports might come from his
familiar intercourse with the papal nuncius and many French
ecclesiastics. The king asked if, when speaking with the nuncius, he
called the pope his Holiness, as by so doing he would greatly offend God,
in whom alone was holiness. Rosny replied that he commonly used the style
prevalent at court, governing himself according to the rules adopted in
regard to pretenders to crowns and kingdoms which they thought belonged
to them, but the possession of which was in other hands, conceding to
them, in order not to offend them, the titles which they claimed.

James shook his head portentously, and changed the subject.

The general tone of the royal-conversation was agreeable enough to the
ambassador, who eagerly alluded to the perfidious conduct of a Government
which, ever since concluding the peace of Vervins with Henry, had been
doing its best to promote sedition and territorial dismemberment in his
kingdom, and to assist all his open and his secret enemies.

James assented very emphatically, and the marquis felt convinced that a
resentment against Spain, expressed so publicly and so violently by
James, could hardly fail to, be sincere. He began seriously to, hope that
his negotiations would be successful, and was for soaring at once into
the regions of high politics, when the king suddenly began to talk of
hunting.

"And so you sent half the stag I sent you; to Count Arenberg," said
James; "but he is very angry about it; thinking that you did so to show
how much more I make of you than I do of him. And so I do; for I know the
difference between your king, my brother; and his masters who have sent
me an ambassador who can neither walk nor talk, and who asked me to give
him audience in a garden because he cannot go upstairs."

The king then alluded to Tassis, chief courier of his Catholic Majesty
and special envoy from Spain, asking whether the marquis had seen him on
his passage through France.

"Spain sends me a postillion-ambassador," said he, "that he may travel
the faster and attend to business by post."

It was obvious that James took a sincere satisfaction in abusing
everything relating to that country from its sovereign and the Duke of
Lerma downwards; but he knew very well that Velasco, constable of
Castile, had been already designated as ambassador, and would soon be on
his way to England.

De Rosny on the termination of his audience, was escorted in great state
by the Earl of Northumberland to the barges.

A few days later, the ambassador had another private audience, in which
the king expressed himself with apparent candour concerning the balance
of power.

Christendom, in his opinion, should belong in three equal shares to the
families of Stuart, Bourbon, and Habsburg; but personal ambition and the
force of events had given to the house of Austria more than its fair
third. Sound policy therefore required a combination between France and
England, in order to reduce their copartner within proper limits. This
was satisfactory as far as it went, and the ambassador complimented the
king on his wide views of policy and his lofty sentiments in regard to
human rights.

Warming with the subject, James held language very similar to that which
De Rosny and his master had used in their secret conferences, and took
the ground unequivocally that the secret war levied by Spain against
France and England, as exemplified in the Biron conspiracy, the assault
on Geneva, the aid of the Duke of Savoy, and in the perpetual fostering
of Jesuit intrigues, plots of assassination, and other conspiracies in
the British islands, justified a secret war on the part of Henry and
himself against Philip.

The ambassador would have been more deeply impressed with the royal
language had he felt more confidence in the royal character.

Highly applauding the sentiments expressed, and desiring to excite still
further the resentment of James against Spain, he painted a vivid picture
of the progress of that aggressive power in the past century. She had
devoured Flanders, Burgundy, Granada, Navarre, Portugal, the German
Empire, Milan, Naples, and all the Indies. If she had not swallowed
likewise both France and England those two crowns were indebted for their
preservation, after the firmness of Elizabeth and Henry, to the fortunate
incident of the revolt of the Netherlands.

De Rosny then proceeded to expound the necessity under which James would
soon find himself of carrying on open war with Spain, and of the
expediency of making preparations for the great struggle without loss of
time.

He therefore begged the king to concert with him some satisfactory
measure for the preservation of the United Provinces.

"But," said James, "what better assistance could we give the
Netherlanders than to divide their territory between the States and
Spain; agreeing at the same time to drive the Spaniard out altogether, if
he violates the conditions which we should guarantee."

This conclusion was not very satisfactory to De Rosny, who saw in the
bold language of the king--followed thus by the indication of a policy
that might last to the Greek Kalends, and permit Ostend, Dutch Flanders,
and even the republic to fall--nothing but that mixture of timidity,
conceit, and procrastination which marked the royal character. He pointed
out to him accordingly that Spanish statesmanship could beat the world in
the art of delay, and of plucking the fruits of delay, and that when the
United Provinces had been once subjugated, the turn of England would
come. It would be then too late for him to hope to preserve himself by
such measures as, taken now, would be most salutary.

A few days later the king invited De Rosny and the two hundred members of
his embassy to dine at Greenwich, and the excursion down the Thames took
place with the usual pomp.

The two hundred dined with the gentlemen of the court; while at the
king's table, on an elevated platform in the same hall, were no guests
but De Rosny, and the special envoy of France, Count Beaumont.

The furniture and decorations of the table were sumptuous, and the
attendants, to the surprise of the Frenchmen, went on their knees
whenever they offered wine or dishes to the king. The conversation at
first was on general topics, such as the heat of the weather, which
happened to be remarkable, the pleasures of the chase, and the merits of
the sermon which, as it was Sunday, De Rosny had been invited to hear
before dinner in the royal chapel.

Soon afterwards, however, some allusion being made to the late queen,
James spoke of her with contempt. He went so far as to say that, for a
long time before her death, he had governed the councils, of England; all
her ministers obeying and serving him much better than they did herself.
He then called for wine, and, stretching out his glass towards his two.
guests, drank to the health of the king and queen and royal family of
France.

De Rosny, replied by proposing the health of his august host, not
forgetting the queen and their children, upon which the king, putting his
lips close to the ambassador's ear, remarked that his next toast should
be in honour of the matrimonial union which was proposed between the
families of Britain and France.

This was the first allusion made by James to the alliance; and the
occasion did not strike the marquis as particularly appropriate to such a
topic. He however replied in a whisper that he was rejoiced to hear this
language from the king, having always believed that there would be no
hesitation on his part between King Henry and the monarch of Spain, who,
as he was aware, had made a similar proposition. James, expressing
surprise that his guest was so well informed, avowed that he had in fact
received the same offer of the Infanta for his son as had been made to
his Christian Majesty for the Dauphin. What more convenient counters in
the great game of state than an infant prince and princess in each of the
three royal families to which Europe belonged! To how many grave
political combinations were these unfortunate infants to give rise, and
how distant the period when great nations might no longer be tied to the
pinafores of children in the nursery!

After this little confidential interlude, James expressed in loud voice,
so that all might hear, his determination never to permit the subjugation
of the Netherlands by Spain. Measures should be taken the very next day,
he promised, in concert with the ambassador, as to the aid to be given to
the States. Upon the faith of this declaration De Rosny took from his
pocket the plan of a treaty, and forthwith, in the presence of all the
ministers, placed it in the hands of the king, who meantime had risen
from table. The ambassador also took this occasion to speak publicly of
the English piracies upon French commerce while the two nations were at
peace. The king, in reply, expressed his dissatisfaction at these
depredations and at the English admiral who attempted to defend what had
been done.

He then took leave of his guests, and went off to bed, where it was his
custom to pass his afternoons.

It was certain that the Constable of Castile was now to arrive very soon,
and the marquis had, meantime, obtained information on which he relied,
that this ambassador would come charged with very advantageous offers to
the English court. Accounts had been got ready in council, of all the
moneys due to England by France and by the States, and it was thought
that these sums, payment of which was to be at once insisted upon,
together with the Spanish dollars set afloat in London, would prove
sufficient to buy up all resistance to the Spanish alliance.

Such being the nature of the information furnished to De Rosny, he did
not look forward with very high hopes to the issue of the conference
indicated by King James at the Greenwich dinner. As, after all, he would
have to deal once more with Cecil, the master-spirit of the Spanish
party, it did not seem very probable that the king's whispered
professions of affection for France, his very loud denunciations of
Spanish ambition, and his promises of support to the struggling
provinces, would be brought into any substantial form for human
nourishment. Whispers and big words, touching of glasses at splendid
banquets, and proposing of royal toasts, would not go far to help those
soldiers in Ostend, a few miles away, fighting two years long already for
a square half-mile of barren sand, in which seemed centred the world's
hopes of freedom.

Barneveld was inclined to take an even more gloomy view than that
entertained by the French ambassador. He had, in truth, no reason to be
sanguine. The honest republican envoys had brought no babies to offer in
marriage. Their little commonwealth had only the merit of exchanging
buffets forty years long with a power which, after subjugating the
Netherlands, would have liked to annihilate France and England too, and
which, during that period, had done its best to destroy and dismember
both. It had only struggled as no nation in the world's history had ever
done, for the great principle upon which the power and happiness of
England were ever to depend. It was therefore not to be expected that its
representatives should be received with the distinction conferred upon
royal envoys. Barneveld and his colleagues accordingly were not invited,
with two hundred noble hangers-on, to come down the Thames in gorgeous
array, and dine at Greenwich palace; but they were permitted to mix in
the gaping crowd of spectators, to see the fine folk, and to hear a few
words at a distance which fell from august lips. This was not very
satisfactory, as Barneveld could rarely gain admittance to James or his
ministers. De Rosny, however, was always glad to confer with him, and was
certainly capable of rendering justice both to his genius and to the
sacredness of his cause. The Advocate, in a long conference with the
ambassador, thought it politic to paint the situation of the republic in
even more sombre colours than seemed to De Rosny justifiable. He was,
indeed, the more struck with Barneveld's present despondency, because, at
a previous conference, a few days before, he had spoken almost with
contempt of the Spaniards, expressing the opinion that the mutinous and
disorganized condition of the archduke's army rendered the conquest of
Ostend improbable, and hinted at a plan, of which the world as yet knew
nothing, which would save that place, or at any rate would secure such an
advantage for the States as to more than counterbalance its possible
loss? This very sanguine demeanour had rather puzzled those who had
conferred with the Advocate, although they were ere long destined to
understand his allusions, and it was certainly a contrast to his present
gloom. He assured De Rosny that the Hollanders were becoming desperate,
and that they were capable of abandoning their country in mass, and
seeking an asylum beyond the seas? The menace was borrowed from the
famous project conceived by William the Silent in darker days, and seemed
to the ambassador a present anachronism.

Obviously it was thought desirable to force the French policy to extreme
lengths, and Barneveld accordingly proposed that Henry should take the
burthen upon his shoulders of an open war with Spain, in the almost
certain event that England would make peace with that power. De Rosny
calmly intimated to the Advocate that this was asking something entirely
beyond his power to grant, as the special object of his mission was to
form a plan of concerted action with England.

The cautionary towns being next mentioned, Barneveld stated that a demand
had been made upon Envoy Caron by Cecil for the delivery of those places
to the English Government, as England had resolved to make peace with
Spain.

The Advocate confided, however, to De Rosny that the States would
interpose difficulties, and that it would be long before the towns were
delivered. This important information was given under the seal of
strictest secrecy, and was coupled with an inference that a war between
the republic and Britain would be the probable result, in which case the
States relied upon the alliance with France. The ambassador replied that
in this untoward event the republic would have the sympathy of his royal
master, but that it would be out of the question for him to go to war
with Spain and England at the same time.

On the same afternoon there was a conference at Arundel House between the
Dutch deputies, the English counsellors, and De Rosny, when Barneveld
drew a most dismal picture of the situation; taking the ground that now
or never was the time for driving the Spaniards entirely out of the
Netherlands. Cecil said in a general way that his Majesty felt a deep
interest in the cause of the provinces, and the French ambassador
summoned the Advocate, now that he was assured of the sympathy of two
great kings, to furnish some plan by which that sympathy might be turned
to account. Barneveld, thinking figures more eloquent than rhetoric,
replied that the States, besides garrisons, had fifteen thousand infantry
and three thousand cavalry in the field, and fifty warships in
commission, with artillery and munitions in proportion, and that it would
be advisable for France and England to furnish an equal force, military
and naval, to the common cause.

De Rosny smiled at the extravagance of the proposition. Cecil, again
taking refuge in commonplaces, observed that his master was disposed to
keep the peace with all his neighbours, but that, having due regard to
the circumstances, he was willing to draw a line between the wishes of
the States and his own, and would grant them a certain amount of succour
underhand.

Thereupon the Dutch deputies withdrew to confer. De Rosny, who had no
faith in Cecil's sincerity--the suggestion being essentially the one
which he had himself desired--went meantime a little deeper into the
subject, and soon found that England, according to the Secretary of
State, had no idea of ruining herself for the sake of the provinces, or
of entering into any positive engagements in their behalf. In case Spain
should make a direct attack upon the two kings who were to constitute
themselves protectors of Dutch liberty, it might be necessary to take up
arms. The admission was on the whole superfluous, it not being probable
that Britain, even under a Stuart, would be converted to the doctrine of
non-resistance. Yet in this case it was suggested by Cecil that the chief
reliance of his Government would be on the debts owed by the Dutch and
French respectively, which would then be forthwith collected.

De Rosny was now convinced that Cecil was trifling with him, and
evidently intending to break off all practical negotiations. He concealed
his annoyance, however, as well as he could, and simply intimated that
the first business of importance was to arrange for the relief of Ostend;
that eventualities, such as the possible attack by Spain upon France and
England, might for the moment be deferred, but that if England thought it
a safe policy to ruin Henry by throwing on his shoulders the whole
burthen of a war with the common enemy, she would discover and deeply
regret her fatal mistake. The time was a very ill-chosen one to summon
France to pay old debts, and his Christian Majesty had given his
ambassador no instructions contemplating such a liquidation.

It was the intention to discharge the sum annually, little by little, but
if England desired to exhaust the king by these peremptory demands, it
was an odious conduct, and very different from any that France had ever
pursued.

The English counsellors were not abashed by this rebuke, but became, on
the contrary, very indignant, avowing that if anything more was demanded
of them, England would entirely abandon the United Provinces. "Cecil made
himself known to me in this conference," said De Rosny, "for exactly what
he was. He made use only of double meanings and vague propositions;
feeling that reason was not on his side. He was forced to blush at his
own self-contradictions, when, with a single word, I made him feel the
absurdity of his language. Now, endeavouring to intimidate me, he
exaggerated the strength of England, and again he enlarged upon the
pretended offers made by Spain to that nation."

The secretary, desirous to sow discord between the Dutch deputies and the
ambassador, then observed that France ought to pay to England L50,000
upon the nail, which sum would be at once appropriated to the necessities
of the States. "But what most enraged me," said De Rosny, "was to see
these ministers, who had come to me to state the intentions of their
king, thus impudently substitute their own; for I knew that he had
commanded them to do the very contrary to that which they did."

The conference ended with a suggestion by Cecil, that as France would
only undertake a war in conjunction with England, and as England would
only consent to this if paid by France and the States, the best thing for
the two kings to do would be to do nothing, but to continue to live in
friendship together, without troubling themselves about foreign
complications.

This was the purpose towards which the English counsellors had been
steadily tending, and these last words of Cecil seemed to the ambassador
the only sincere ones spoken by him in the whole conference.

"If I kept silence," said the ambassador, "it was not because I
acquiesced in their reasoning. On the contrary, the manner in which they
had just revealed themselves, and avowed themselves in a certain sort
liars and impostors, had given me the most profound contempt for them. I
thought, however, that by heating myself and contending with them so far
from causing them to abandon a resolution which they had taken in
concert--I might even bring about a total rupture. On the other hand,
matters remaining as they were, and a friendship existing between the two
kings, which might perhaps be cemented by a double marriage, a more
favourable occasion might present itself for negotiation. I did not yet
despair of the success of my mission, because I believed that the king
had no part in the designs which his counsellors wished to carry out."

That the counsellors, then struggling for dominion over the new king and
his kingdom, understood the character of their sovereign better than did
the ambassador, future events were likely enough to prove. That they
preferred peace to war, and the friendship of Spain to an alliance,
offensive and defensive, with France in favour of a republic which they
detested, is certain. It is difficult, however, to understand why they
were "liars and impostors" because, in a conference with the
representative of France, they endeavoured to make their own opinions of
public policy valid rather than content themselves simply with being the
errand-bearers of the new king, whom they believed incapable of being
stirred to an honourable action.

The whole political atmosphere of Europe was mephitic with falsehood, and
certainly the gales which blew from the English court at the accession of
James were not fragrant, but De Rosny had himself come over from France
under false pretences. He had been charged by his master to represent
Henry's childish scheme, which he thought so gigantic, for the
regeneration of Europe, as a project of his own, which he was determined
to bring to execution, even at the risk of infidelity to his sovereign,
and the first element in that whole policy was to carry on war underhand
against a power with which his master had just sworn to preserve peace.
In that age at least it was not safe for politicians to call each other
hard names.

The very next day De Rosny had a long private interview with James at
Greenwich. Being urged to speak without reserve, the ambassador depicted
the privy counsellors to the king as false to his instructions, traitors
to the best interests of their country, the humble servants of Spain, and
most desirous to make their royal master the slave of that power, under
the name of its ally. He expressed the opinion, accordingly, that James
would do better in obeying only the promptings of his own superior
wisdom, rather than the suggestions of the intriguers about him. The
adroit De Rosny thus softly insinuated to the flattered monarch that the
designs of France were the fresh emanations of his own royal intellect.
It was the whim of James to imagine himself extremely like Henry of
Bourbon in character, and he affected to take the wittiest, bravest, most
adventurous, and most adroit knight-errant that ever won and wore a crown
as his perpetual model.

It was delightful, therefore, to find himself in company with his royal
brother; making and unmaking kings; destroying empires, altering the
whole face of Christendom, and, better than all, settling then and for
ever the theology of the whole world, without the trouble of moving from
his easy chair, or of incurring any personal danger.

He entered at once, with the natural tendency to suspicion of a timid
man, into the views presented by De Rosny as to the perfidy of his
counsellors. He changed colour; and was visibly moved, as the ambassador
gave his version of the recent conference with Cecil and the other
ministers, and, being thus artfully stimulated, he was, prepared to
receive with much eagerness the portentous communications now to be made.

The ambassador, however, caused him to season his admiration until he had
taken a most solemn oath, by the sacrament of the Eucharist, never to
reveal a syllable of what he was about to hear. This done, and the royal
curiosity excited almost beyond endurance, De Rosny began to, unfold the
stupendous schemes which had been, concerted between Elizabeth and Henry
at Dover, and which formed the secret object of his present embassy.
Feeling that the king was most malleable in the theological part of his
structure, the wily envoy struck his first blows in that direction;
telling him that his own interest in the religious, condition of Europe,
and especially in the firm establishment of the Protestant faith, far
surpassed in his mind all considerations of fortune, country, or even of
fidelity to his sovereign. Thus far, political considerations had kept
Henry from joining in the great Catholic League, but it was possible that
a change might occur in his system, and the Protestant form of worship,
abandoned by its ancient protector, might disappear entirely from France
and from Europe. De Rosny had, therefore, felt the necessity of a new
patron for the reformed religion in this great emergency, and had
naturally fixed his eyes on the puissant and sagacious prince who now
occupied, the British throne. Now was the time, he urged, for James to
immortalize his name by becoming the arbiter of the destiny of Europe. It
would always seem his own design, although Henry was equally interested
in it with himself. The plan was vast but simple, and perfectly easy of
execution. There would be no difficulty in constructing an all-powerful
league of sovereigns for the destruction of the house of Austria, the
foundation-stones of which would of course be France, Great Britain, and
the United Provinces. The double marriage between the Bourbon and Stuart
families would indissolubly unite the two kingdoms, while interest and
gratitude; a common hatred and a common love, would bind the republic as
firmly to the union. Denmark and Sweden were certainly to be relied upon,
as well as all other Protestant princes. The ambitious and restless Duke
of Savoy would be gained by the offer of Lombardy and a kingly crown,
notwithstanding his matrimonial connection with Spain. As for the German
princes, they would come greedily into the arrangement, as the league,
rich in the spoils of the Austrian house, would have Hungary, Bohemia,
Silesia, Moravia, the archduchies, and other splendid provinces to divide
among them.

The pope would be bought up by a present, in fee-simple, of Naples, and
other comfortable bits of property, of which he was now only feudal lord.
Sicily would be an excellent sop for the haughty republic of Venice. The
Franche Comte; Alsace, Tirol, were naturally to be annexed to
Switzerland; Liege and the heritage of the Duke of Cleves and Juliers to
the Dutch commonwealth.

The King of France, who, according to De Rosny's solemn assertions, was
entirely ignorant of the whole scheme, would, however, be sure to embrace
it very heartily when James should propose it to him, and would be far
too disinterested to wish to keep any of the booty for himself. A similar
self-denial was, of course, expected of James, the two great kings
satisfying themselves with the proud consciousness of having saved
society, rescued the world from the sceptre of an Austrian universal
monarchy, and regenerated European civilization for all future time.

The monarch listened with ravished ears, interposed here and there a
question or a doubt, but devoured every detail of the scheme, as the
ambassador slowly placed it before him.

De Rosny showed that the Spanish faction was not in reality so powerful
as the league which would be constructed for its overthrow. It was not so
much a religious as a political frontier which separated the nations. He
undertook to prove this, but, after all, was obliged to demonstrate that
the defection of Henry from the Protestant cause had deprived him of his
natural allies, and given him no true friends in exchange for the old
ones.

Essentially the Catholics were ranged upon one side, and the Protestants
on the other, but both religions were necessary to Henry the Huguenot:
The bold free-thinker adroitly balanced himself upon each creed. In
making use of a stern and conscientious Calvinist, like Maximilian de
Bethune, in his first assault upon the theological professor who now
stood in Elizabeth's place, he showed the exquisite tact which never
failed him. Toleration for the two religions which had political power,
perfect intolerance for all others; despotic forms of polity, except for
two little republics which were to be smothered with protection and never
left out of leading strings, a thorough recasting of governments and
races, a palingenesis of Europe, a nominal partition of its hegemony
between France and England, which was to be in reality absorbed by
France, and the annihilation of Austrian power east and west, these were
the vast ideas with which that teeming Bourbon brain was filled. It is
the instinct both of poetic and of servile minds to associate a sentiment
of grandeur with such fantastic dreams, but usually on condition that the
dreamer wears a crown. When the regenerator of society appears with a
wisp of straw upon his head, unappreciative society is apt to send him
back to his cell. There, at least, his capacity for mischief is limited.

If to do be as grand as to imagine what it were good to do, then the
Dutchmen in Hell's Mouth and the Porcupine fighting Universal Monarchy
inch by inch and pike to pike, or trying conclusions with the ice-bears
of Nova Zembla, or capturing whole Portuguese fleets in the Moluccas,
were effecting as great changes in the world, and doing perhaps as much
for the advancement of civilization, as James of the two Britains and
Henry of France and Navarre in those his less heroic days, were likely to
accomplish. History has long known the results.

The ambassador did his work admirably. The king embraced him in a
transport of enthusiasm, vowed by all that was most sacred to accept the
project in all its details, and exacted from the ambassador in his turn
an oath on the Eucharist never to reveal, except to his master, the
mighty secrets of their conference.

The interview had lasted four hours. When it was concluded, James
summoned Cecil, and in presence of the ambassador and of some of the
counsellors, lectured him soundly on his presumption in disobeying the
royal commands in his recent negotiations with De Rosny. He then
announced his decision to ally himself strictly with France against Spain
in consequence of the revelations just made to him, and of course to
espouse the cause of the United Provinces. Telling the crest-fallen
Secretary of State to make the proper official communications on the
subject to the ambassadors of my lords the States-General,--thus giving
the envoys from the republic for the first time that pompous designation,
the king turned once more to the marquis with the exclamation, "Well, Mr.
Ambassador, this time I hope that you are satisfied with me?"

In the few days following De Rosny busied himself in drawing up a plan of
a treaty embodying all that had been agreed upon between Henry and
himself, and which he had just so faithfully rehearsed to James. He felt
now some inconvenience from his own artfulness, and was in a measure
caught in his own trap. Had he brought over a treaty in his pocket, James
would have signed it on the spot, so eager was he for the regeneration of
Europe. It was necessary, however, to continue the comedy a little
longer, and the ambassador, having thought it necessary to express many
doubts whether his master could be induced to join in the plot, and to
approve what was really his own most cherished plan, could now do no more
than promise to use all his powers of persuasion unto that end.

The project of a convention, which James swore most solemnly to sign,
whether it were sent to him in six weeks or six months, was accordingly
rapidly reduced to writing and approved. It embodied, of course, most of
the provisions discussed in the last secret interview at Greenwich. The
most practical portion of it undoubtedly related to the United Provinces,
and to the nature of assistance to be at once afforded to that
commonwealth, the only ally of the two kingdoms expressly mentioned in
the treaty. England was to furnish troops, the number of which was not
specified, and France was to pay for them, partly out of her own funds,
partly out of the amount due by her to England. It was, however,
understood, that this secret assistance should not be considered to
infringe the treaty of peace which already existed between Henry and the
Catholic king. Due and detailed arrangements were made as to the manner
in which the allies were to assist each other, in case Spain, not
relishing this kind of neutrality, should think proper openly to attack
either great Britain or France, or both.

Unquestionably the Dutch republic was the only portion of Europe likely
to be substantially affected by these secret arrangements; for, after
all, it had not been found very easy to embody the splendid visions of
Henry, which had so dazzled the imagination of James in the dry clauses
of a protocol.

It was also characteristic enough of the crowned conspirators, that the
clause relating to the United Provinces provided that the allies would
either assist them in the attainment of their independence, or--if it
should be considered expedient to restore them to the domination of Spain
or the empire--would take such precautions and lay down such conditions
as would procure perfect tranquillity for them, and remove from the two
allied kings the fear of a too absolute government by the house of
Austria in those provinces.

It would be difficult to imagine a more impotent conclusion. Those Dutch
rebels had not been fighting for tranquillity. The tranquillity of the
rock amid raging waves--according to the device of the father of the
republic--they had indeed maintained; but to exchange their turbulent and
tragic existence, ever illumined by the great hope of freedom, for repose
under one despot guaranteed to them by two others, was certainly not
their aim. They lacked the breadth of vision enjoyed by the regenerators
who sat upon mountain-tops.

They were fain to toil on in their own way. Perhaps, however, the future
might show as large results from their work as from the schemes of those
who were to begin the humiliation of the Austrian house by converting its
ancient rebels into tranquil subjects.

The Marquis of Rosny, having distributed 60,000 crowns among the leading
politicians and distinguished personages at the English court, with ample
promises of future largess if they remained true to his master, took an
affectionate farewell of King James, and returned with his noble two
hundred to recount his triumphs to the impatient Henry. The treaty was
soon afterwards duly signed and ratified by the high contracting parties.
It was, however, for future history to register its results on the fate
of pope, emperor, kings, potentates, and commonwealths, and to show the
changes it would work in the geography, religion, and polity of the
world.

The deputies from the States-General, satisfied with the practical
assistance promised them, soon afterwards took their departure with
comparative cheerfulness, having previously obtained the royal consent to
raise recruits in Scotland. Meantime the great Constable of Castile,
ambassador from his Catholic Majesty, had arrived in London, and was
wroth at all that he saw and all that he suspected. He, too, began to
scatter golden arguments with a lavish hand among the great lords and
statesmen of Britain, but found that the financier of France had, on the
whole; got before him in the business, and was skilfully maintaining his
precedence from the other side of the channel.

But the end of these great diplomatic manoeuvres had not yet come.




CHAPTER XLII.

   Siege of Ostend--The Marquis Spinola made commander-in-chief of the
   besieging army--Discontent of the troops--General aspect of the
   operations--Gradual encroachment of the enemy.

The scene again shifts to Ostend. The Spanish cabinet, wearied of the
slow progress of the siege, and not entirely satisfied with the generals,
now concluded almost without consent of the archdukes, one of the most
extraordinary jobs ever made, even in those jobbing days. The Marquis
Spinola, elder brother of the ill-fated Frederic, and head of the
illustrious Genoese family of that name, undertook to furnish a large sum
of money which the wealth of his house and its connection with the great
money-lenders of Genoa enabled him to raise, on condition that he should
have supreme command of the operations against Ostend and of the foreign
armies in the Netherlands. He was not a soldier, but he entered into a
contract, by his own personal exertions both on the exchange and in the
field, to reduce the city which had now resisted all the efforts of the
archduke for more than two years. Certainly this was an experiment not
often hazarded in warfare. The defence of Ostend was in the hands of the
best and moat seasoned fighting-men in Europe. The operations were under
the constant supervision of the foremost captain of the age; for Maurice,
in consultation with the States-General, received almost daily reports
from the garrison, and regularly furnished advice and instructions as to
their proceedings. He was moreover ever ready to take the field for a
relieving campaign. Nothing was known of Spinola save that he was a
high-born and very wealthy patrician who had reached his thirty-fourth
year without achieving personal distinction of any kind, and who, during
the previous summer, like so many other nobles from all parts of Europe,
had thought it worth his while to drawl through a campaign or two in the
Low Countries. It was the mode to do this, and it was rather a stigma
upon any young man of family not to have been an occasional looker on at
that perpetual military game. His brother Frederic, as already narrated;
had tried his chance for fame and fortune in the naval service, and had
lost his life in the adventure without achieving the one or the other.
This was not a happy augury for the head of the family. Frederic had made
an indifferent speculation. What could the brother hope by taking the
field against Maurice of Nassau and Lewis William and the Baxes and
Meetkerkes? Nevertheless the archduke eagerly accepted his services,
while the Infanta, fully confident of his success before he had ordered a
gun to be fired, protested that if Spinola did not take Ostend nobody
would ever take it. There was also, strangely enough, a general feeling
through the republican ranks that the long-expected man had come.

Thus a raw volunteer, a man who had never drilled a hundred men, who had
never held an officer's commission in any army in the world, became, as
by the waving of a wand, a field-marshal and commander-in-chief at a most
critical moment in history, in the most conspicuous position in
Christendom, and in a great war, now narrowed down to a single spot of
earth, on which the eyes of the world were fixed, and the daily accounts
from which were longed for with palpitating anxiety. What but failure and
disaster could be expected from such astounding policy? Every soldier in
the Catholic forces--from grizzled veterans of half a century who had
commanded armies and achieved victories when this dainty young Italian
was in his cradle, down to the simple musketeer or rider who had been
campaigning for his daily bread ever since he could carry a piece or
mount a horse was furious with discontent or outraged pride.

Very naturally too, it was said that the position of the archdukes had
become preposterous. It was obvious, notwithstanding the pilgrimages of
the Infanta to our Lady of Hall, to implore not only the fall of Ostend,
but the birth of a successor to their sovereignty, that her marriage
would for ever remain barren. Spain was already acting upon this theory,
it was said, for the contract with Spinola was made, not at Brussels, but
at Madrid, and a foreign army of Spaniards and Italians, under the
supreme command of a Genoese adventurer, was now to occupy indefinitely
that Flanders which had been proclaimed an independent nation, and duly
bequeathed by its deceased proprietor to his daughter.

Ambrose Spinola, son of Philip, Marquis of Venafri, and his wife,
Polyxena Grimaldi, was not appalled by the murmurs of hardly suppressed
anger or public criticism. A handsome, aristocratic personage, with an
intellectual, sad, but sympathetic face, fair hair and beard, and
imposing but attractive presence--the young volunteer, at the beginning
of October, made his first visit of inspection in the lines before
Ostend. After studying the situation of affairs very thoroughly, he
decided that the operations on the Gullet or eastern side, including
Bucquoy's dike, with Pompey Targone's perambulatory castles and floating
batteries, were of secondary importance. He doubted the probability of
closing up a harbour, now open to the whole world and protected by the
fleets of the first naval power of Europe, with wickerwork, sausages, and
bridges upon barrels. His attention was at once concentrated on the
western side, and he was satisfied that only by hard fighting and steady
delving could he hope to master the place. To gain Ostend he would be
obliged to devour it piecemeal as he went on.

Whatever else might be said of the new commander-in-chief, it was soon
apparent that, although a volunteer and a patrician, he was no milksop.
If he had been accustomed all his life to beds of down, he was as ready
now to lie in the trenches, with a cannon for his pillow, as the most
ironclad veteran in the ranks. He seemed to require neither sleep nor
food, and his reckless habit of exposing himself to unnecessary danger
was the subject of frequent animadversion on the part both of the
archdukes and of the Spanish Government.

It was however in his case a wise temerity. The veterans whom he
commanded needed no encouragement to daring deeds, but they required
conviction as to the valour and zeal of their new commander, and this was
afforded them in overflowing measure.

It is difficult to decide, after such a lapse of years, as to how much of
the long series of daily details out of which this famous siege was
compounded deserves to be recorded. It is not probable that for military
history many of the incidents have retained vital importance. The world
rang, at the beginning of the operations, with the skill and inventive
talent of Targone, Giustiniani, and other Italian engineers, artificers,
and pyrotechnists, and there were great expectations conceived of the
effects to be produced by their audacious and original devices. But time
wore on. Pompey's famous floating battery would not float, his moving
monster battery would not move. With the one; the subtle Italian had
intended to close up the Gullet to the States' fleets. It was to rest on
the bottom at low water at the harbour's mouth, to rise majestically with
the flood, and to be ever ready with a formidable broadside of fifty
pounders against all comers. But the wild waves and tempests of the North
Sea soon swept the ponderous toy into space, before it had fired a gun.
The gigantic chariot, on which a moveable fort was constructed, was still
more portentous upon paper than the battery. It was directed against that
republican work, defending the Gullet, which was called in derision the
Spanish Half-moon. It was to be drawn by forty horses, and armed with no
man knew how many great guns, with a mast a hundred and fifty feet high
in the centre of the fort, up and down which played pulleys raising and
lowering a drawbridge long enough to span the Gullet.

It was further provided with anchors, which were to be tossed over the
parapet of the doomed redoubt, while the assailants, thus grappled to the
enemy's work, were to dash over the bridge after having silenced the
opposing fire by means of their own peripatetic battery.

Unfortunately for the fame of Pompey, one of his many wheels was crushed
on the first attempt to drag the chariot to the scene of anticipated
triumph, the whole structure remained embedded in the sand, very much
askew; nor did all the mules and horses that could be harnessed to it
ever succeed in removing it an inch out of a position, which was anything
but triumphant.

It seemed probable enough therefore that, so far as depended on the
operations from the eastern side, the siege of Ostend, which had now
lasted two years and three months, might be protracted for two years and
three months longer. Indeed, Spinola at once perceived that if the
archduke was ever to be put in possession of the place for which he had
professed himself ready to wait eighteen years, it would be well to leave
Bucquoy and Targone to build dykes and chariots and bury them on the east
at their leisure, while more energy was brought to bear upon the line of
fortifications of the west than had hitherto been employed. There had
been shooting enough, bloodshed enough, suffering enough, but it was
amazing to see the slight progress made. The occupation of what were
called the external Squares has been described. This constituted the
whole result of the twenty-seven months' work.

The town itself--the small and very insignificant kernel which lay
enclosed in such a complicated series of wrappings and layers of
defences--seemed as far off as if it were suspended in the sky. The old
haven or canal, no longer navigable for ships, still served as an
admirable moat which the assailants had not yet succeeded in laying
entirely dry. It protected the counterscarp, and was itself protected by
an exterior aeries of works, while behind the counterscarp was still
another ditch, not so broad nor deep as the canal, but a formidable
obstacle even after the counterscarp should be gained. There were nearly
fifty forts and redoubts in these lines, of sufficient importance to have
names which in those days became household words, not only in the
Netherlands, but in Europe; the siege of Ostend being the one military
event of Christendom, so long as it lasted. These names are of course as
much forgotten now as those of the bastions before Nineveh. A very few of
them will suffice to indicate the general aspect of the operations. On
the extreme southwest of Ostend had been in peaceful times a polder--the
general term to designate a pasture out of which the sea-water had been
pumped--and the forts in that quarter were accordingly called by that
name, as Polder Half-moon, Polder Ravelin, or great and little Polder
Bulwark, as the case might be. Farther on towards the west, the
north-west, and the north, and therefore towards the beach, were the West
Ravelin, West Bulwark, Moses's Table, the Porcupine, the Hell's Mouth,
the old church, and last and most important of all, the Sand Hill. The
last-named work was protected by the Porcupine and Hell's Mouth, was the
key to the whole series of fortifications, and was connected by a curtain
with the old church, which was in the heart of the old town.

Spinola had assumed command in October, but the winter was already
closing in with its usual tempests and floods before there had been time
for him to produce much effect. It seemed plain enough to the besieged
that the object of the enemy would be to work his way through the Polder,
and so gradually round to the Porcupine and the Sand Hill. Precisely in
what directions his subterraneous passages might be tending, in what
particular spot of the thin crust upon which they all stood an explosion
might at any moment be expected, it was of course impossible to know.
They were sure that the process of mining was steadily progressing, and
Maurice sent orders to countermine under every bulwark, and to secretly
isolate every bastion, so that it would be necessary for Spinola to make
his way, fort by fort, and inch by inch.

Thus they struggled drearily about under ground, friend and foe, often as
much bewildered as wanderers in the catacombs. To a dismal winter
succeeded a ferocious spring. Both in February and March were westerly
storms, such as had not been recorded even on that tempest-swept coast
for twenty years, and so much damage was inflicted on the precious Sand
Hill and its curtain, that, had the enemy been aware of its plight, it is
probable that one determined assault might have put him in possession of
the place. But Ostend was in charge of a most watchful governor, Peter
van Gieselles, who had succeeded Charles van der Noot at the close of the
year 1603. A plain, lantern jawed, Dutch colonel; with close-cropped
hair, a long peaked beard, and an eye that looked as if it had never been
shut; always dressed in a shabby old jerkin with tarnished flowers upon
it, he took command with a stout but heavy heart, saying that the place
should never be surrendered by him, but that he should never live to see
the close of the siege. He lost no time in repairing the damages of the
tempest, being ready to fight the west wind, the North Sea, and Spinola
at any moment, singly or conjoined. He rebuilt the curtain of the Sand
Hill, added fresh batteries to the Porcupine and Hell's Mouth, and amused
and distracted the enemy with almost daily sorties and feints. His
soldiers passed their days and nights up to the knees in mud and sludge
and sea-water, but they saw that their commander never spared himself,
and having a superfluity of food and drink, owing to the watchful care of
the States-General, who sent in fleets laden with provisions faster than
they could be consumed, they were cheerful and content.

On the 12th March there was a determined effort to carry the lesser
Polder Bulwark. After a fierce and bloody action, the place was taken by
storm, and the first success in the game was registered for Spinola. The
little fort was crammed full of dead, but such of the defenders as
survived were at last driven out of it, and forced to take refuge in the
next work. Day after day the same bloody business was renewed, a mere
monotony of assaults, repulses, sallies, in which hardly an inch of
ground was gained on either side, except at the cost of a great pile of
corpses. "Men will never know, nor can mortal pen ever describe," said
one who saw it all, "the ferocity and the pertinacity of both besiegers
and besieged." On the 15th of March, Colonel Catrice, an accomplished
Walloon officer of engineers, commanding the approaches against the
Polder, was killed. On the 21st March, as Peter Orieselles was taking his
scrambling dinner in company with Philip Fleming, there was a report that
the enemy was out again in force. A good deal of progress had been made
during the previous weeks on the south-west and west, and more was
suspected than was actually known. It was felt that the foe was steadily
nibbling his way up to the counterscarp. Moreover, such was the emulation
among the Germans, Walloons, Italians, and Spaniards for precedence in
working across the canal, that a general assault and universal explosion
were considered at any instant possible. The governor sent Fleming to see
if all was right in the Porcupine, while he himself went to see if a new
battery, which he had just established to check the approaches of the
enemy towards the Polder Half-moon and Ravelin in a point very near the
counterscarp, was doing its duty. Being, as usual, anxious to reconnoitre
with his own eyes, he jumped upon the rampart. But there were
sharp-shooters in the enemy's trenches, and they were familiar with the
governor's rusty old doublet and haggard old face. Hardly had he climbed
upon the breastwork when a ball pierced his heart, and he fell dead
without a groan. There was a shout of triumph from the outside, while the
tidings soon spread sadness through the garrison, for all loved and
venerated the man. Philip Fleming, so soon as he learned the heavy news,
lost no time in unavailing regrets, but instantly sent a courier to
Prince Maurice; meantime summoning a council of superior officers, by
whom Colonel John van Loon was provisionally appointed commandant.

A stately, handsome man, a good officer, but without extensive
experience, he felt himself hardly equal to the immense responsibility of
the post, but yielding to the persuasions of his comrades, proceeded to
do his best. His first care was to secure the all-important Porcupine,
towards which the enemy had been slowly crawling with his galleries and
trenches. Four days after he had accepted the command he was anxiously
surveying that fortification, and endeavouring to obtain a view of the
enemy's works, when a cannon-ball struck him on the right leg, so that he
died the next day. Plainly the post of commandant of Ostend was no
sinecure. He was temporarily succeeded by Sergeant-Major Jacques de
Bievry, but the tumults and confusion incident upon this perpetual change
of head were becoming alarming. The enemy gave the garrison no rest night
nor day, and it had long become evident that the young volunteer, whose
name was so potent on the Genoa Exchange, was not a man of straw nor a
dawdler, however the superseded veterans might grumble. At any rate the
troops on either side were like to have their fill of work.

On the 2nd April the Polder Ravelin was carried by storm. It was a most
bloody action. Never were a few square feet of earth more recklessly
assailed, more resolutely maintained. The garrison did not surrender the
place, but they all laid down their lives in its defence. Scarcely an
individual of them all escaped, and the foe, who paid dearly with heaps
of dead and wounded for his prize, confessed that such serious work as
this had scarce been known before in any part of that great
slaughter-house, Flanders.

A few days later, Colonel Bievry, provisional commandant, was desperately
wounded in a sortie, and was carried off to Zeeland. The States-General
now appointed Jacques van der Meer, Baron of Berendrecht, to the post of
honour and of danger. A noble of Flanders, always devoted to the
republican cause; an experienced middle-aged officer, vigilant,
energetic, nervous; a slight wiry man, with a wizened little face, large
bright eyes, a meagre yellow beard, and thin sandy hair flowing down upon
his well-starched ruff, the new governor soon showed himself inferior to
none of his predecessors in audacity and alertness. It is difficult to
imagine a more irritating position in many respects than that of
commander in such an extraordinary leaguer. It was not a formal siege.
Famine, which ever impends over an invested place, and sickens the soul
with its nameless horrors, was not the great enemy to contend against
here. Nor was there the hideous alternative between starving through
obstinate resistance or massacre on submission, which had been the lot of
so many Dutch garrisons in the earlier stages of the war. Retreat by sea
was ever open to the Ostend garrison, and there was always an ample
supply of the best provisions and of all munitions of war. But they had
been unceasingly exposed to two tremendous enemies. During each winter
and spring the ocean often smote their bastions and bulwarks in an hour
of wrath till they fell together like children's toys, and it was always
at work, night and day, steadily lapping at the fragile foundations on
which all their structures stood. Nor was it easy to give the requisite
attention to the devouring sea, because all the materials that could be
accumulated seemed necessary to repair the hourly damages inflicted by
their other restless foe.

Thus the day seemed to draw gradually but inexorably nearer when the
place would be, not captured, but consumed. There was nothing for it, so
long as the States were determined to hold the spot, but to meet the
besieger at every point, above or below the earth, and sell every inch of
that little morsel of space at the highest price that brave men could
impose.

So Berendrecht, as vigilant and devoted as even Peter Gieselles had ever
been, now succeeded to the care of the Polders and the Porcupines, and
the Hell's Mouths; and all the other forts, whose quaint designations had
served, as usually is the case among soldiers, to amuse the honest
patriots in the midst of their toils and danger. On the 18th April, the
enemy assailed the great western Ravelin, and after a sanguinary
hand-to-hand action, in which great numbers of officers and soldiers were
lost on both sides, he carried the fort; the Spaniards, Italians,
Germans, and Walloons vieing with each other in deeds of extraordinary
daring, and overcoming at last the resistance of the garrison.

This was an important success. The foe had now worked his way with
galleries and ditches along the whole length of the counterscarp till he
was nearly up with the Porcupine, and it was obvious that in a few days
he would be master of the counterscarp itself.

A less resolute commander, at the head of less devoted troops, might have
felt that when that inevitable event should arrive all that honour
demanded would have been done, and that Spinola was entitled to his city.
Berendrecht simply decided that if the old counterscarp could no longer
be held it was time to build a new counterscarp. This, too, had been for
some time the intention of Prince Maurice. A plan for this work had
already been sent into the place, and a distinguished English engineer,
Ralph Dexter by name, arrived with some able assistants to carry it into
execution. It having been estimated that the labour would take three
weeks of time, without more ado the inner line was carefully drawn,
cutting off with great nicety and precision about one half the whole
place. Within this narrowed circle the same obstinate resistance was to
be offered as before, and the bastions and redoubts of the new
entrenchment were to be baptized with the same uncouth names which two
long years of terrible struggle had made so precious. The work was very
laborious; for the line was drawn straight through the town, and whole
streets had to be demolished and the houses to their very foundations
shovelled away. Moreover the men were forced to toil with spade in one
hand and matchlock in the other, ever ready to ascend from the ancient
dilapidated cellars in order to mount the deadly breach at any point in
the whole circumference of the place.

It became absolutely necessary therefore to send a sufficient force of
common workmen into the town to lighten the labours of the soldiers.
Moreover the thought, although whistled to the wind, would repeatedly
recur, that, after all, there must be a limit to these operations, and
that at last there would remain no longer any earth in which to find a
refuge.

The work of the new entrenchment went slowly on, but it was steadily
done. Meantime they were comforted by hearing that the stadholder had
taken the field in Flanders, at the head of a considerable force, and
they lived in daily expectation of relief. It will be necessary, at the
proper moment, to indicate the nature of Prince Maurice's operations. For
the present, it is better that the reader should confine his attention
within the walls of Ostend.

By the 11th May, the enemy had effected a lodgment in a corner of the
Porcupine, and already from that point might threaten the new
counterscarp before it should be completed. At the same time he had
gnawed through to the West Bulwark, and was busily mining under the
Porcupine itself. In this fort friend and foe now lay together, packed
like herrings, and profited by their proximity to each other to vary the
monotony of pike and anaphance with an occasional encounter of epistolary
wit.

Thus Spanish letters, tied to sticks, and tossed over into the next
entrenchment, were replied to by others, composed in four languages by
the literary man of Ostend, Auditor Fleming, and shot into the enemy's
trenches on cross-bow bolts.

On the 29th May, a long prepared mine was sprung beneath the Porcupine.
It did its work effectively, and the 29 May assailants did theirs no less
admirably, crowding into the breach with headlong ferocity, and after a
long and sanguinary struggle with immense lose on both sides, carrying
the precious and long-coveted work by storm. Inch by inch the defenders
were thus slowly forced back toward their new entrenchment. On the same
day, however, they inflicted a most bloody defeat upon the enemy in an
attempt to carry the great Polder. He withdrew, leaving heaps of slain,
so that the account current for the day would have balanced itself, but
that the Porcupine, having changed hands, now bristled most formidably
against its ancient masters. The daily 'slaughter had become sickening to
behold. There were three thousand effective men in the garrison. More
could have been sent in to supply the steady depletion in the ranks, but
there was no room for more. There was scarce space enough for the living
to stand to their work, or for the dead to lie in their graves. And this
was an advantage which could not fail to tell. Of necessity the besiegers
would always very far outnumber the garrison, so that the final success
of their repeated assaults became daily more and more possible.

Yet on the 2nd June the enemy met not only with another signal defeat,
but also with a most bitter surprise. On that day the mine which he had
been so long and so laboriously constructing beneath the great Polder
Bulwark was sprung with magnificent effect. A breach, forty feet wide,
was made in this last stronghold of the old defences, and the soldiers
leaped into the crater almost before it had ceased to blaze, expecting by
one decisive storm to make themselves masters at last of all the
fortifications, and therefore of the town itself. But as emerging from
the mine, they sprang exulting upon the shattered bulwark, a
transformation more like a sudden change in some holiday pantomime than a
new fact in this three years' most tragic siege presented itself to their
astonished eyes. They had carried the last defence of the old
counterscarp, and behold--a new one, which they had never dreamed of,
bristling before their eyes, with a flanking battery turned directly upon
them. The musketeers and pikemen, protected by their new works, now
thronged towards the assailants; giving them so hearty a welcome that
they reeled back, discomfited, after a brief but severe struggle, from
the spot of their anticipated triumph, leaving their dead and dying in
the breach.

Four days later, Berendrecht, with a picked party of English troops,
stole out for a reconnaissance, not wishing to trust other eyes than his
own in the imminent peril of the place.

The expedition was successful. A few prisoners were taken, and valuable
information was obtained, but these advantages were counterbalanced by a
severe disaster. The vigilant and devoted little governor, before
effecting his entrance into the sally port, was picked off by a
sharpshooter, and died the next day. This seemed the necessary fate of
the commandants of Ostend, where the operations seemed more like a
pitched battle lasting three years than an ordinary siege. Gieselles, Van
Loon, Bievry, and now Berendrecht, had successively fallen at the post of
duty since the beginning of the year. Not one of them was more sincerely
deplored than Berendrecht. His place was supplied by Colonel Uytenhoove,
a stalwart, hirsute, hard-fighting Dutchman, the descendant of an ancient
race, and seasoned in many a hard campaign.

The enemy now being occupied in escarping and furnishing with batteries
the positions he had gained, with the obvious intention of attacking the
new counterscarp, it was resolved to prepare for the possible loss of
this line of fortifications by establishing another and still narrower
one within it.

Half the little place had been shorn away by the first change. Of the
half which was still in possession of the besieged about one-third was
now set off, and in this little corner of earth, close against the new
harbour, was set up their last refuge. They called the new citadel Little
Troy, and announced, with pardonable bombast, that they would hold out
there as long as the ancient Trojans had defended Ilium. With perfect
serenity the engineers set about their task with line, rule, and level,
measuring out the bulwarks and bastions, the miniature salients,
half-moons, and ditches, as neatly and methodically as if there were no
ceaseless cannonade in their ears, and as if the workmen were not at
every moment summoned to repel assaults upon the outward wall. They sent
careful drawings of Little Troy to Maurice and the States, and received
every encouragement to persevere, together with promises of ultimate
relief.

But there was one serious impediment to the contemplated construction of
the new earth-works. They had no earth. Nearly everything solid had been
already scooped away in the perpetual delving. The sea-dykes had been
robbed of their material, so that the coming winter might find besiegers
and besieged all washed together into the German Ocean, and it was hard
digging and grubbing among the scanty cellarages of the dilapidated
houses. But there were plenty of graves, filled with the results of three
years' hard fighting. And now, not only were all the cemeteries within
the precincts shovelled and carted in mass to the inner fortifications,
but rewards being offered of ten stivers for each dead body, great heaps
of disinterred soldiers were piled into the new ramparts. Thus these
warriors, after laying down their lives for the cause of freedom, were
made to do duty after death. Whether it were just or no thus to disturb
the repose--if repose it could be called--of the dead that they might
once more protect the living, it can scarcely be doubted that they took
ample revenge on the already sufficiently polluted atmosphere.

On the 17th June the foe sprang a mine under the western bulwark; close
to a countermine exploded by the garrison the day before. The assailants
thronged as merrily as usual to the breach, and were met with customary
resolution by the besieged; Governor Uytenhoove, clad in complete armour,
leading his troops. The enemy, after an hour's combat, was repulsed with
heavy loss, but the governor fell in the midst of the fight. Instantly he
was seized by the legs by a party of his own men, some English
desperadoes among the number, who, shouting that the colonel was dead,
were about to render him the last offices by plundering his body. The
ubiquitous Fleming, observing the scene, flew to the rescue and, with the
assistance of a few officers, drove off these energetic friends, and
taking off the governor's casque, discovered that he still breathed. That
he would soon have ceased to do so, had he been dragged much farther in
his harness over that jagged and precipitous pile of rubbish, was
certain. He was desperately wounded, and of course incapacitated for his
post. Thus, in that year, before the summer solstice, a fifth commandant
had fallen.

On the same day, simultaneously with this repulse in the West Bulwark,
the enemy made himself at last completely master of the Polder. Here,
too, was a savage hand-to-hand combat with broadswords and pikes, and
when the pikes were broken, with great clubs and stakes pulled from the
fascines; but the besiegers were victorious, and the defenders sullenly
withdrew with their wounded to the inner entrenchments.

On the 27th June, Daniel de Hartaing, Lord of Marquette, was sent by the
States-General to take command in Ostend. The colonel of the Walloon
regiment which had rendered such good service on the famous field of
Nieuport, the new governor, with his broad, brown, cheerful face, and his
Milan armour, was a familiar figure enough to the campaigners on both
sides in Flanders or Germany.

The stoutest heart might have sunk at the spectacle which the condition
of the town presented at his first inspection. The States-General were
resolved to hold the place, at all hazards, and Marquette had come to do
their bidding, but it was difficult to find anything that could be called
a town. The great heaps of rubbish, which had once been the outer walls,
were almost entirely in the possession of the foe, who had lodged himself
in all that remained of the defiant Porcupine, the Hell's Mouth, and
other redoubts, and now pointed from them at least fifty great guns
against their inner walls. The old town, with its fortifications, was
completely honeycombed, riddled, knocked to pieces, and, although the
Sand Hill still held out, it was plain enough that its days were numbered
unless help should soon arrive. In truth, it required a clear head and a
practised eye to discover among those confused masses of prostrate
masonry, piles of brick, upturned graves, and mounds of sand and rubbish,
anything like order and regularity. Yet amid the chaos there was really
form and meaning to those who could read aright, and Marquette saw, as
well in the engineers' lines as in the indomitable spirit that looked out
of the grim faces of the garrison, that Ostend, so long as anything of it
existed in nature, could be held for the republic. Their brethren had not
been firmer, when keeping their merry Christmas, seven years before,
under the North Pole, upon a pudding made of the gunner's cartridge
paste, or the Knights of the Invincible Lion in the horrid solitudes of
Tierra del Fuego, than were the defenders of this sandbank.

Whether the place were worth the cost or not, it was for my lords the
States-General to decide, not for Governor Marquette. And the decision of
those "high and mighty" magistrates, to whom even Maurice of Nassau bowed
without a murmur, although often against his judgment, had been plainly
enough announced.

And so shiploads of deals and joists, bricks, nails, and fascines, with
requisite building materials, were sent daily in from Zeeland, in order
that Little Troy might be completed; and, with God's help, said the
garrison, the republic shall hold its own.

And now there were two months more of mining and countermining, of
assaults and repulses, of cannonading and hand-to-hand fights with pikes
and clubs. Nearer and nearer, day by day, and inch by inch, the foe had
crawled up to the verge of their last refuge, and the walls of Little
Troy, founded upon fresh earth and dead men's bones, and shifting sands,
were beginning to quake under the guns of the inexorable volunteer from
Genoa. Yet on the 27th August there was great rejoicing in the
beleaguered town. Cannon thundered salutes, bonfires blazed, trumpets
rang jubilant blasts, and, if the church-bells sounded no merry peals, it
was because the only church in the place had been cut off in the last
slicing away by the engineers. Hymns of thanksgiving ascended to heaven,
and the whole garrison fell on their knees, praying fervently to Almighty
God, with devout and grateful hearts. It was not an ignoble spectacle to
see those veterans kneeling where there was scarce room to kneel, amid
ruin and desolation, to praise the Lord for his mercies. But to explain
this general thanksgiving it is now necessary for a moment to go back.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Began to scatter golden arguments with a lavish hand
     Certain number of powers, almost exactly equal to each other
     Conceit, and procrastination which marked the royal character
     Do you want peace or war? I am ready for either
     Eloquence of the biggest guns
     Even the virtues of James were his worst enemies
     Gold was the only passkey to justice
     If to do be as grand as to imagine what it were good to do
     It is certain that the English hate us (Sully)
     Logic of the largest battalions
     Made peace--and had been at war ever since
     Nations tied to the pinafores of children in the nursery
     Natural tendency to suspicion of a timid man
     Not safe for politicians to call each other hard names
     One of the most contemptible and mischievous of kings (James I)
     Peace founded on the only secure basis, equality of strength
     Peace seemed only a process for arriving at war
     Repose under one despot guaranteed to them by two others
     Requires less mention than Philip III himself
     Rules adopted in regard to pretenders to crowns
     Served at their banquets by hosts of lackeys on their knees
     Take all their imaginations and extravagances for truths
     The expenses of James's household
     The pigmy, as the late queen had been fond of nicknaming him
     To negotiate with Government in England was to bribe
     Unproductive consumption being accounted most sagacious
     War was the normal condition of Christians
     We have been talking a little bit of truth to each other
     What was to be done in this world and believed as to the next
     You must show your teeth to the Spaniard




CHAPTER XLIII. 1604-1605

   Policy of the King of France--Operations of Prince Maurice--Plans
   for a Flemish Campaign--Passage into Flanders--Fort St. Catharine--
   Flight of its garrison, and occupation by Maurice--Surrender of
   Ysendyke and Aardenburg--Skirmish at Stamper's Hook--Siege of Sluys
   by Prince Maurice--Ineffectual attempt of Spinola to relieve the
   town--Its capitulation and restoration to the States--Death of Lewis
   Gunther of Nassau--Operations at Ostend--Surrender of the garrison--
   Desolation of the scene after its evacuation.

The States-General had begun to forget the severe lesson taught them in
the Nieuport campaign. Being determined to hold Ostend, they became very
impatient, in the early part of the present year, that Maurice should
once more invade Flanders, at the head of a relieving army, and drive the
archdukes from before the town.

They were much influenced in this policy by the persistent advice of the
French king. To the importunities of their envoy at Paris, Henry had,
during the past eighteen months, replied by urging the States to invade
Flanders and seize its ports. When they had thus something to place as
pledges in his hands, he might accede to their clamour and declare war
against Spain. But he scarcely concealed his intention, in such case, to
annex both the obedient and the United Netherlands to his own dominions.
Meantime, before getting into the saddle, he chose to be guaranteed
against loss. "Assure my lords the States that I love them," he said,
"and shall always do my best for them." His affection for the territory
of my lords was even warmer than the sentiments he entertained for
themselves. Moreover, he grudged the preliminary expenses which would be
necessary even should he ultimately make himself sovereign of the whole
country. Rosny assured the envoy that he was mistaken in expecting a
declaration of war against Spain. "Not that he does not think it useful
and necessary," said the minister, "but he wishes to have war and peace
both at once--peace because he wishes to make no retrenchments in his
pleasures of women, dogs, and buildings, and so war would be very
inopportune. In three months he would be obliged to turn tail for want of
means (to use his own words), although I would furnish him funds enough,
if he would make the use of them that he ought."

The Queen of England, who, with all her parsimony and false pretences,
never doubted in her heart that perpetual hostility to Spain was the
chief bulwark of her throne, and that the republic was fighting her
battles as well as its own, had been ready to make such a lively war in
conjunction with France as would drive the Spaniard out of all the
Netherlands. But Henry was not to be moved. "I know that if I should take
her at her word," said he, "she would at once begin to screw me for
money. She has one object, I another." Villeroy had said plainly to
Aerssens, in regard to the prevalent system of Englishmen, Spaniards, and
Frenchmen being at war with each other, while the Governments might be
nominally at peace, "Let us take off our masks. If the Spaniard has
designs against our State, has he not cause? He knows the aid we are
giving you, and resents it. If we should abstain, he would leave us in
peace. If the Queen of England expects to draw us into a league, she is
mistaken. Look to yourselves and be on your guard. Richardot is
intriguing with Cecil. You give the queen securities, fortresses, seats
in your council. The king asks nothing but communication of your
projects."

In short, all the comfort that Aerssens had been able to derive from his
experiences at the French court in the autumn of 1602, was that the
republic could not be too suspicious both of England and France. Rosny
especially he considered the most dangerous of all the politicians in
France. His daughter was married to the Prince of Espinoy, whose 50,000
livres a year would be safer the more the archduke was strengthened. "But
for this he would be stiffer," said Aerssens. Nevertheless there were
strong motives at work, pressing France towards the support of the
States. There were strong political reasons, therefore, why they should
carry the war into Flanders, in conformity with the wishes of the king.

The stadholder, after much argument, yielded as usual to the authority of
the magistrates, without being convinced as to the sagacity of their
plans. It was arranged that an army should make a descent upon the
Flemish coast in the early spring, and make a demonstration upon Sluys.
The effect of this movement, it was thought, would be to draw the enemy
out of his entrenchments, in which case it would be in the power of
Maurice to put an end at once to the siege. It is unquestionable that the
better alternative, in the judgment of the prince, was to take
possession; if possible, of Sluys itself. His preparations were, however,
made with a view to either event, and by the middle of April he had
collected at Willemstad a force of fifteen thousand foot and three
thousand horse. As on the former memorable expedition, he now again
insisted that a considerable deputation of the States and of the States'
council should accompany the army. His brother Henry, and his cousins
Lewis William, Lewis Gunther, and Ernest Casimir, were likewise with him,
as well as the Prince of Anhalt and other distinguished personages.

On the 25th April the army, having crossed the mouth of the West Scheld,
from Zeeland, in numberless vessels of all sizes and degrees, effected
their debarkation on the island of Cadzand.

In the course of two days they had taken possession of the little town,
and all the forts of that island, having made their entrance through what
was called the Black Channel. Had they steered boldly through the Swint
or Sluys channel at once, it is probable that they might have proceeded
straight up to Sluy's, and taken the place by surprise. Maurice's
habitual caution was, perhaps, on this occasion, a disadvantage to him,
but he would have violated the rules of war, and what seemed the dictates
of common sense, had he not secured a basis of operations, and a
possibility of retreat, before plunging with his army into the heart of a
hostile country. The republic still shuddered at the possible catastrophe
of four years before, when circumstances had forced him to take the
heroic but dangerous resolution of sending off his ships from Nieuport.
Before he had completed his arrangements for supplies on the island of
Cadzand, he learned from scouts and reconnoitring parties that Spinola
had sent a thousand infantry, besides five hundred cavalry, under
Trivulzio, to guard the passage across the Swint. Maurice was thus on the
wrong side of the great channel by which Sluy's communicated with the
sea?

The town of Sluy's and its situation have been described in a former
chapter. As a port, it was in those days considered a commodious and
important one, capable of holding five hundred ships. As a town, it was
not so insignificant as geographical and historical changes have since
made it, and was certainly far superior to Ostend, even if Ostend had not
been almost battered out of existence. It had spacious streets and
squares, and excellent fortifications in perfectly good condition. It was
situate in a watery labyrinth, many slender streams from the interior and
several saltwater creeks being complicated around it, and then flowing
leisurely, in one deep sluggish channel, to the sea. The wrath of
Leicester, when all his efforts to relieve the place had been baffled by
the superior skill of Alexander Farnese, has been depicted, and during
the seventeen years which had elapsed since its capture, the republic had
not ceased to deplore that disaster. Obviously if the present expedition
could end in the restoration of Sluy's to its rightful owners, it would
be a remarkable success, even if Ostend should fall. Sluy's and its
adjacent domains formed a natural portion of the Zeeland archipelago, the
geographical counterpart of Flushing. With both branches of the stately
Scheld in its control, the republic would command the coast, and might
even dispense with Ostend, which, in the judgment of Maurice, was an
isolated and therefore not a desirable military possession. The
States-General were of a different opinion. They much desired to obtain
Sluy's, but they would not listen to the abandonment of Ostend. It was
expected of the stadholder, therefore, that he should seize the one and
protect the other. The task was a difficult one. A less mathematical
brain than that of Maurice of Nassau would have reeled at the problem to
be solved. To master such a plexus of canals, estuaries, and dykes, of
passages through swamps, of fords at low water which were obliterated by
flood-tide; to take possession of a series of redoubts built on the only
firm points of land, with nothing but quaking morass over which to
manoeuvre troops or plant batteries against them, would be a difficult
study, even upon paper. To accomplish it in the presence of a vigilant
and anxious foe seemed bewildering enough.

At first it was the intention of the stadholder, disappointed at learning
the occupation of the Swint, to content himself with fortifying Cadzand,
in view of future operations at some more favourable moment? So meagre a
result would certainly not have given great satisfaction to the States,
nor added much to the military reputation of Maurice. While he hesitated
between plunging without a clue into the watery maze around him, and
returning discomfited from the expedition on which such high hopes had
been built, a Flemish boor presented himself. He offered to guide the
army around the east and south of Sluy's, and to point out passages where
it would be possible to cross the waters, which, through the care of
Spinola, now seemed to forbid access to the place. Maurice lingered no
longer. On the 28th April, led by the friendly boor, he advanced towards
Oostburg. Next morning a small force of the enemy's infantry and cavalry
was seen, showing that there must be foothold in that direction. He sent
out a few companies to skirmish with those troops, who fled after a very
brief action, and, in flying, showed their pursuers the road. Maurice
marched in force, straight through the waters, on the track of the
retreating foe. They endeavoured to rally at the fort of Coxie, which
stood upon and commanded a dyke, but the republicans were too quick for
them, and "drove them out of the place." The stadholder, thus obtaining an
unexpected passage into Flanders, conceived strong hopes of success,
despite the broken nature of the ground. Continuing to feel his way
cautiously through the wilderness of quagmire, he soon came upon a very
formidable obstacle. The well-built and well-equipped redoubt of St.
Catharine rose frowning before him, overshadowing his path, and
completely prohibiting all further progress. Plainly it would be
necessary to reduce this work at once, unless he were willing to abandon
his enterprise. He sent back to Cadzand for artillery, but it was
flood-tide, the waters were out, and it was not till late in the
afternoon that nine pieces arrived. The stadholder ordered a cannonade,
less with the hope of producing an impression by such inadequate means on
so strong a work, than with the intention of showing the enemy that he
had brought field-guns with him, and was not merely on an accidental
foray. At the same time, having learned that the garrison, which was
commanded by Trivulzio, was composed of only a few regular troops, and a
large force of guerillas, he gave notice that such combatants were not
entitled to quarter, and that if captured they would be all put to the
sword. The reply to this threat was not evacuation but defiance.
Especially a volunteer ensign mounted upon a rampart, and danced about,
waving his flag gaily in the face of the assailants. Maurice bitterly
remarked to his staff that such a man alone was enough to hold the fort.
As it was obvious that the place would require a siege in form, and that
it would be almost impossible to establish batteries upon that quaking
soil, where there was no dry land for cavalry or artillery to move,
Maurice ordered the nine guns to be carried back to Cadzand that night,
betaking himself, much disappointed, in the same direction. Yet it so
happened that the cannoneers, floundering through the bogs, made such an
outcry--especially when one of their guns became so bemired that it was
difficult for them to escape the disgrace of losing it--that the
garrison, hearing a great tumult, which they could not understand, fell
into one of those panics to which raw and irregular troops are liable.
Nothing would convince them that fresh artillery had not arrived, that
the terrible stadholder with an immense force was not creating invincible
batteries, and that they should be all butchered in cold blood, according
to proclamation, before the dawn of day. They therefore evacuated the
place under cover of the night, so that this absurd accident absolutely
placed Maurice in possession of the very fort--without striking a
blow--which he was about to abandon in despair, and which formed the
first great obstacle to his advance.

Having occupied St. Catharine's, he moved forward to Ysendyke, a strongly
fortified place three leagues to the eastward of Sluys and invested it in
form. Meantime a great danger was impending over him. A force of
well-disciplined troops, to the number of two thousand, dropped down in
boats from Sluy's to Cadzand, for the purpose of surprising the force
left to guard that important place.

The expedition was partially successful. Six hundred landed; beating down
all opposition. But a few Scotch companies held firm, and by hard
fighting were able at last to drive the invaders back to their sloops,
many of which were sunk in the affray, with all on board. The rest
ignominiously retreated. Had the enterprise been as well executed as it
was safely planned, it would have gone hard with the stadholder and his
army. It is difficult to see in what way he could have extricated himself
from such a dilemma, being thus cut off from his supplies and his fleet,
and therefore from all possibility of carrying out his design or
effecting his escape to Zeeland. Certainly thus far, fortune had favoured
his bold adventure.

He now sent his own trumpeter, Master Hans, to summon Ysendyke to a
surrender. The answer was a bullet which went through the head of
unfortunate Master Hans. Maurice, enraged at this barbarous violation of
the laws of war, drew his lines closer. Next day the garrison, numbering
six hundred, mostly Italians, capitulated, and gave up the musketeer who
had murdered the trumpeter.

Two days later the army appeared before Aardenburg, a well-fortified town
four miles south of Sluys. It surrendered disgracefully, without striking
a blow. The place was a most important position for the investment of
Sluys. Four or five miles further towards the west, two nearly parallel
streams, both navigable, called the Sweet and the Salt, ran from Dam to
Sluys. It was a necessary but most delicate operation, to tie up these
two important arteries. An expedition despatched in this direction came
upon Trivulzio with a strong force of cavalry, posted at a pass called
Stamper's Hook, which controlled the first of these streams. The
narrowness of the pathway gave the advantage to the Italian commander. A
warm action took place, in which the republican cavalry were worsted, and
Paul Bax severely wounded. Maurice coming up with the infantry at a
moment when the prospect was very black, turned defeat into victory and
completely routed the enemy, who fled from the precious position with a
loss of five hundred killed and three hundred prisoners, eleven officers
among them. The Sweet was now in the stadholder's possession.

Next day he marched against the Salt, at a pass where fourteen hundred
Spaniards were stationed. Making very ostentatious preparations for an
attack upon this position, he suddenly fell backwards down the stream to
a point which he had discovered to be fordable at low water, and marched
his whole army through the stream while the skirmishing was going on a
few miles farther up. The Spaniards, discovering their error, and fearing
to be cut off, scampered hastily away to Dam. Both streams were now in
the control of the republican army, while the single fort of St. Joris
was all that was now interposed between Maurice and the much-coveted
Swint. This redoubt, armed with nine guns, and provided with a competent,
garrison, was surrendered on the 23rd May.

The Swint, or great sea-channel of Sluys, being now completely in the
possession of the stadholder, he deliberately proceeded to lay out his
lines, to make his entrenched camp, and to invest his city with the
beautiful neatness which ever characterized his sieges. A groan came from
the learned Lipsius, as he looked from the orthodox shades of Louvain
upon the progress of the heretic prince.

"Would that I were happier," he cried, "but things are not going on in
Flanders as I could wish. How easy it would have been to save Sluys,
which we are now trying so hard to do, had we turned our attention
thither in time! But now we have permitted the enemy to entrench and
fortify himself, and we are the less excusable because we know to our
cost how felicitously he fights with the spade, and that he builds works
like an ancient Roman. . . . Should we lose Sluys, which God forbid,
how much strength and encouragement will be acquired by the foe, and by
all who secretly or openly favour him! Our neighbours are all straining
their eyes, as from a watch-tower, eager to see the result of all these
doings. But what if they too should begin to move? Where should we be? I
pray God to have mercy on the Netherlanders, whom He has been so many
years chastising with heavy whips."

It was very true. The man with the spade had been allowed to work too
long at his felicitous vocation. There had been a successful effort made
to introduce reinforcements to the garrison. Troops, to the number of
fifteen hundred, had been added to those already shut up there, but the
attempts to send in supplies were not so fortunate. Maurice had
completely invested the town before the end of May, having undisputed
possession of the harbour and of all the neighbouring country. He was
himself encamped on the west side of the Swint; Charles van der Noot
lying on the south. The submerged meadows, stretching all around in the
vicinity of the haven, he had planted thickly with gunboats. Scarcely a
bird or a fish could go into or out of the place. Thus the stadholder
exhibited to the Spaniards who, fifteen miles off towards the west, had
been pounding and burrowing three years long before Ostend without
success, what he understood by a siege.

On the 22nd of May a day of solemn prayer and fasting was, by command of
Maurice, celebrated throughout the besieging camp. In order that the day
should be strictly kept in penance, mortification, and thanksgiving, it
was ordered, on severe penalties, that neither the commissaries nor
sutlers should dispense any food whatever, throughout the twenty-four
hours. Thus the commander-in-chief of the republic prepared his troops
for the work before them.

In the very last days of May the experiment was once more vigorously
tried to send in supplies. A thousand galley-slaves, the remnant of
Frederic Spinola's unlucky naval forces, whose services were not likely
very soon to be required at sea, were sent out into the drowned land,
accompanied by five hundred infantry. Simultaneously Count Berlaymont, at
the head of four thousand men, conveying a large supply of provisions and
munitions, started from Dam. Maurice, apprised of the adventure, sallied
forth with two thousand troops to meet them. Near Stamper's Hook he came
upon a detachment of Berlaymont's force, routed them, and took a couple
of hundred prisoners. Learning from them that Berlaymont himself, with
the principal part of his force, had passed farther on, he started off in
pursuit; but, unfortunately taking a different path through the watery
wilderness from the one selected by the flying foe, he was not able to
prevent his retreat by a circuitous route to Dam. From the prisoners,
especially from the galley-slaves, who had no reason for disguising the
condition of the place, he now learned that there were plenty of troops
in Sluys, but that there was already a great lack of provisions. They had
lost rather than gained by their success in introducing reinforcements
without supplies. Upon this information Maurice now resolved to sit
quietly down and starve out the garrison. If Spinola, in consequence,
should raise the siege of Ostend, in order to relieve a better town, he
was prepared to give him battle. If the marquis held fast to his special
work, Sluys was sure to surrender. This being the position of affairs,
the deputies of the States-General took their leave of the stadholder,
and returned to the Hague.

Two months passed. It was midsummer, and the famine in the beleaguered
town had become horrible. The same hideous spectacle was exhibited as on
all occasions where thousands of human beings are penned together without
food. They ate dogs, cats, and rats, the weeds from the churchyards, old
saddles, and old shoes, and, when all was gone, they began to eat each
other. The small children diminished rapidly in numbers, while beacons
and signals of distress were fired day and night, that the obdurate
Spinola, only a few miles off, might at last move to their relief.

The archdukes too were beginning to doubt whether the bargain were a good
one. To give a strong, new, well-fortified city, with the best of
harbours, in exchange for a heap of rubbish which had once been Ostend,
seemed unthrifty enough. Moreover, they had not got Ostend, while sure to
lose Sluys. At least the cardinal could no longer afford to dispense with
the service of his beat corps of veterans who had demanded their wages so
insolently, and who had laughed at his offer of excommunication by way of
payment so heartily. Flinging away his pride, he accordingly made a
treaty with the mutinous "squadron" at Grave, granting an entire pardon
for all their offences, and promising full payment of their arrears.
Until funds should be collected sufficient for this purpose, they were to
receive twelve stivers a day each foot-soldier, and twenty-four stivers
each cavalryman, and were to have the city of Roermond in pledge. The
treaty was negotiated by Guerrera, commandant of Ghent citadel, and by
the Archbishop of Roermond, while three distinguished hostages were
placed in the keeping of the mutineers until the contract should be
faithfully executed: Guerrera himself, Count Fontenoy, son of Marquis
d'Havre, and Avalos, commander of a Spanish legion. Thus, after making a
present of the services of these veterans for a twelvemonth to the
stadholder, and after employing a very important portion of his remaining
forces in a vain attempt to reduce their revolt, the archduke had now
been fain to purchase their submission by conceding all their demands. It
would have been better economy perhaps to come to this conclusion at an
earlier day.

It would likewise have been more judicious, according to the lamentations
of Justus Lipsius, had the necessity of saving Sluys been thought of in
time. Now that it was thoroughly enclosed, so that a mouse could scarce
creep through the lines, the archduke was feverish to send in a thousand
wagon loads of provisions. Spinola, although in reality
commander-in-chief of a Spanish army, and not strictly subject to the
orders of the Flemish sovereigns, obeyed the appeal of the archduke, but
he obeyed most reluctantly. Two-thirds of Ostend had been effaced, and it
was hard to turn even for a moment from the spot until all should have
been destroyed.

Leaving Rivas and Bucquoy to guard the entrenchments, and to keep
steadily to the work, Spinola took the field with a large force of all
arms, including the late mutineers and the troops of Count Trivulzio. On
the 8th August he appeared in the neighbourhood of the Salt and Sweet
streams, and exchanged a few cannon-shots with the republicans. Next day
he made a desperate assault with three thousand men and some companies of
cavalry, upon Lewis William's quarters, where he had reason to believe
the lines were weakest. He received from that most vigilant commander a
hearty welcome, however, and after a long skirmish was obliged to
withdraw, carrying off his dead and wounded, together with a few
cart-horses which had been found grazing outside the trenches. Not
satisfied with these trophies or such results, he remained several days
inactive, and then suddenly whirled around Aardenburg with his whole
army, directly southward of Sluys, seized the forts of St. Catharine and
St. Philip, which had been left with very small garrisons, and then made
a furious attempt to break the lines at Oostburg, hoping to cross the
fords at that place, and thus push his way into the isle of Cadzand. The
resistance to his progress was obstinate, the result for a time doubtful.
After severe fighting however he crossed the waters of Oostburg in the
face of the enemy. Maurice meantime had collected all his strength at the
vital position of Cadzand, hoping to deal, or at least to parry, a mortal
blow.

On the 17th, on Cadzand dyke, between two redoubts, Spinola again met
Lewis William, who had been transferred to that important position. A
severe struggle ensued. The Spaniards were in superior force, and Lewis
William, commanding the advance only of the States troops, was hard
pressed. Moving always in the thickest of the fight, he would probably
have that day laid down his life, as so many of his race had done before
in the cause of the republic, had not Colonel van Dorp come to his
rescue, and so laid about him with a great broad sword, that the dyke was
kept until Maurice arrived with Eytzinga's Frisian regiment and other
reserves. Van Dorp then fell covered with wounds. Here was the decisive
combat. The two commanders-in-chief met face to face for the first time,
and could Spinola have gained the position of Cadzand the fate of Maurice
must have been sealed. But all his efforts were vain. The stadholder, by
coolness and promptness, saved the day, and inflicted a bloody repulse
upon the Catholics. Spinola had displayed excellent generalship, but it
is not surprising that the young volunteer should have failed upon his
first great field day to defeat Maurice of Nassau and his cousin Lewis
William. He withdrew discomfited at last, leaving several hundred dead
upon the field, definitely renouncing all hope of relieving Sluys, and
retiring by way of Dam to his camp before Ostend. Next day the town
capitulated.

The garrison were allowed to depart with the honours of war, and the same
terms were accorded to the inhabitants, both in secular and religious
matters, as were usual when Maurice re-occupied any portion of the
republic. Between three and four thousand creatures, looking rather like
ghosts from the churchyards than living soldiers, marched out, with drums
beating, colours displayed, matches lighted, and bullet in mouth. Sixty
of them fell dead before the dismal procession had passed out of the
gates. Besides these troops were nearly fifteen hundred galley-slaves,
even more like shadows than the rest, as they had been regularly sent
forth during the latter days of the siege to browse upon soutenelle in
the submerged meadows, or to drown or starve if unable to find a
sufficient supply of that weed. These unfortunate victims of Mahometan
and Christian tyranny were nearly all Turks, and by the care of the Dutch
Government were sent back by sea to their homes. A few of them entered
the service of the States.

The evacuation of Sluys by Governor Serrano and his garrison was upon the
20th August. Next day the stadholder took possession, bestowing the
nominal government of the place upon his brother Frederic Henry. The
atmosphere, naturally enough, was pestiferous, and young Count Lewis
Gunther of Nassau, who had so brilliantly led the cavalry on the famous
day of Nieuport, died of fever soon after entering the town infinitely
regretted by every one who wished well to the republic.

Thus an important portion of Zeeland was restored, to its natural owners.
A seaport which in those days was an excellent one, and more than a
compensation for the isolated fishing village already beleaguered for
upwards of three years, had been captured in three months. The
States-General congratulated their stadholder on such prompt and
efficient work, while the garrison of Ostend, first learning the
authentic news seven days afterwards, although at a distance of only
fourteen miles, had cause to go upon their knees and sing praises to the
Most High.

The question now arose as to the relief of Ostend. Maurice was decidedly
opposed to any such scheme. He had got a better Ostend in Slays, and he
saw no motive for spending money and blood in any further attempt to gain
possession of a ruin, which, even if conquered, could only with extreme
difficulty be held. The States were of a diametrically opposite opinion.
They insisted that the stadholder, so soon he could complete his
preparations, should march straight upon Spinola's works and break up the
siege, even at the risk of a general action. They were willing once more
to take the terrible chance of a defeat in Flanders. Maurice, with a
heavy heart, bowed to their decision, showing by his conduct the very
spirit of a republican soldier, obeying the civil magistrate, even when
that obedience was like to bring disaster upon the commonwealth. But much
was to be done before he could undertake this new adventure.

Meantime the garrison in Ostend were at their last gasp. On being asked
by the States-General whether it was possible to hold out for twenty days
longer, Marquette called a council of officers, who decided that they
would do their best, but that it was impossible to fix a day or hour when
resistance must cease. Obviously, however, the siege was in its extreme
old age. The inevitable end was approaching.

Before the middle of September the enemy was thoroughly established in
possession of the new Hell's Mouth, the new Porcupine, and all the other
bastions of the new entrenchment. On the 13th of that month the last
supreme effort was made, and the Sand Hill, that all-important redoubt,
which during these three dismal years had triumphantly resisted every
assault, was at last carried by storm. The enemy had now gained
possession of the whole town except Little Troy. The new harbour would be
theirs in a few hours, and as for Troy itself, those hastily and flimsily
constructed ramparts were not likely to justify the vaunts uttered when
they were thrown up nor to hold out many minutes before the whole
artillery of Spinola. Plainly on this last morsel of the fatal sandbank
the word surrender must be spoken, unless the advancing trumpets of
Maurice should now be heard. But there was no such welcome sound in the
air. The weather was so persistently rainy and stormy that the roads
became impassable, and Maurice, although ready and intending to march
towards Spinola to offer him battle, was unable for some days to move.
Meantime a council, summoned by Marquette, of all the officers, decided
that Ostend must be abandoned now that Ostend had ceased to exist.

On the 20th September the Accord was signed with Spinola. The garrison
were to march out with their arms. They were to carry off four cannon but
no powder. All clerical persons were to leave the place, with their goods
and chattels. All prisoners taken on both sides during the siege were to
be released. Burghers, sutlers, and others, to go whither they would,
undisturbed. And thus the archdukes, after three years and seventy-seven
days of siege, obtained their prize. Three thousand men, in good health,
marched out of little Troy with the honours of war. The officers were
entertained by Spinola and his comrades at a magnificent banquet, in
recognition of the unexampled heroism with which the town had been
defended. Subsequently the whole force marched to the headquarters of the
States' army in and about Sluys. They were received by Prince Maurice,
who stood bareheaded and surrounded by his most distinguished officers;
to greet them and to shake them warmly by the hand. Surely no defeated
garrison ever deserved more respect from friend or foe.

The Archduke Albert and the Infants Isabella entered the place in
triumph, if triumph it could be called. It would be difficult to imagine
a more desolate scene. The artillery of the first years of the
seventeenth century was not the terrible enginry of destruction that it
has become in the last third of the nineteenth, but a cannonade,
continued so steadily and so long, had done its work. There were no
churches, no houses, no redoubts, no bastions, no walls, nothing but a
vague and confused mass of ruin. Spinola conducted his imperial guests
along the edge of extinct volcanoes, amid upturned cemeteries, through
quagmires which once were moats, over huge mounds of sand, and vast
shapeless masses of bricks and masonry, which had been forts. He
endeavoured to point out places where mines had been exploded, where
ravelins had been stormed, where the assailants had been successful, and
where they had been bloodily repulsed. But it was all loathsome, hideous
rubbish. There were no human habitations, no hovels, no casemates. The
inhabitants had burrowed at last in the earth, like the dumb creatures of
the swamps and forests. In every direction the dykes had burst, and the
sullen wash of the liberated waves, bearing hither and thither the
floating wreck of fascines and machinery, of planks and building
materials, sounded far and wide over what should have been dry land. The
great ship channel, with the unconquered Half-moon upon one side and the
incomplete batteries and platforms of Bucquoy on the other, still
defiantly opened its passage to the sea, and the retiring fleets of the
garrison were white in the offing. All around was the grey expanse of
stormy ocean, without a cape or a headland to break its monotony, as the
surges rolled mournfully in upon a desolation more dreary than their own.
The atmosphere was mirky and surcharged with rain, for the wild
equinoctial storm which had held Maurice spell-bound had been raging over
land and sea for many days. At every step the unburied skulls of brave
soldiers who had died in the cause of freedom grinned their welcome to
the conquerors. Isabella wept at the sight. She had cause to weep. Upon
that miserable sandbank more than a hundred thousand men had laid down
their lives by her decree, in order that she and her husband might at
last take possession of a most barren prize. This insignificant fragment
of a sovereignty which her wicked old father had presented to her on his
deathbed--a sovereignty which he had no more moral right or actual power
to confer than if it had been in the planet Saturn--had at last been
appropriated at the cost of all this misery. It was of no great value,
although its acquisition had caused the expenditure of at least eight
millions of florins, divided in nearly equal proportions between the two
belligerents. It was in vain that great immunities were offered to those
who would remain, or who would consent to settle in the foul Golgotha.
The original population left the place in mass. No human creatures were
left save the wife of a freebooter and her paramour, a journeyman
blacksmith. This unsavoury couple, to whom entrance into the purer
atmosphere of Zeeland was denied, thenceforth shared with the carrion
crows the amenities of Ostend.




CHAPTER XLIV.

   Equation between the contending powers--Treaty of peace between King
   James and the archdukes and the King of Spain--Position of the
   Provinces--States envoy in England to be styled ambassador--Protest
   of the Spanish ambassador--Effect of James's peace-treaty on the
   people of England--Public rejoicings for the victory at Sluys--
   Spinola appointed commander-in-chief of the Spanish forces--
   Preparations for a campaign against the States--Seizure of Dutch
   cruisers--International discord--Destruction of Sarmiento's fleet by
   Admiral Haultain--Projected enterprise against Antwerp--Descent of
   Spinola on the Netherland frontier--Oldenzaal and Lingen taken--
   Movements of Prince Maurice--Encounter of the two armies--Panic of
   the Netherlanders--Consequent loss and disgrace--Wachtendonk and
   Cracow taken by Spinola--Spinola's reception in Spain--Effect of his
   victories--Results of the struggle between Freedom and Absolutism--
   Affairs in the East--Amboyna taken by Van der Hagen--Contest for
   possession of the Clove Islands--Commercial treaty between the
   States and the King of Ternate--Hostilities between the Kings of
   Ternate and Tydor--Expulsion of the Portuguese from the Moluccas--
   Du Terrail's attempted assault on Bergen-op-Zoom--Attack on the
   Dunkirk pirate fleet--Practice of executing prisoners captured at
   sea.

I have invited the reader's attention to the details of this famous siege
because it was not an episode, but almost the sum total, of the great war
during the period occupied by its events. The equation between the
contending forces indicated the necessity of peace. That equation seemed
for the time to have established itself over all Europe. France had long
since withdrawn from the actual strife, and kept its idle thunders in a
concealed although ever threatening hand. In the East the Pacha of Buda
had become Pacha of Pest. Even Gran was soon to fall before the Turk,
whose advancing horse-tails might thus almost be descried from the walls
of Vienna. Stephen Botschkay meantime had made himself master of
Transylvania, concluded peace with Ahmet, and laughed at the Emperor
Rudolph for denouncing him as a rebel.

Between Spain and England a far different result had been reached than
the one foreshadowed in the portentous colloquies between King James and
Maximilian de Bethune. Those conferences have been purposely described
with some minuteness, in order that the difference often existing between
vast projects and diametrically opposed and very insignificant
conclusions might once more be exhibited.

In the summer of 1603 it had been firmly but mysteriously arranged
between the monarchs of France and Great Britain that the House of
Austria should be crushed, its territories parcelled out at the
discretion of those two potentates, the imperial crown taken from the
Habsburgs, the Spaniards driven out of the Netherlands, an alliance
offensive and defensive made with the Dutch republic, while the East and
West Indies were, to be wrested by main force of the allies, from Spain,
whose subjects were thenceforth to be for ever excluded from those
lucrative regions. As for the Jesuits, who were to James as loathsome as
were the Puritans to Elizabeth, the British sovereign had implored the
ambassador of his royal brother, almost with tears, never to allow that
pestilential brood to regain an entrance into his dominions.

In the summer of 1604 King James made a treaty of peace and amity with
the archdukes and with the monarch of Spain, thus extending his friendly
relations with the doomed house of Austria. The republic of the
Netherlands was left to fight her battles alone; her imaginary allies
looking down upon her struggle with benevolent indifference. As for the
Indies, not a syllable of allusion in the treaty was permitted by Spain
to that sacred subject; the ambassador informing the British Government
that he gave them access to twelve kingdoms and two seas, while Spain
acquired by the treaty access only to two kingdoms and one sea. The new
world, however, east or west, from the Antilles to the Moluccas, was the
private and indefeasible property of his Catholic Majesty. On religious
matters, it was agreed that English residents in Spain should not be
compelled to go to mass, but that they should kneel in the street to the
Host unless they could get out of the ways. In regard to the Netherlands,
it was agreed by the two contracting powers that one should never assist
the rebels or enemies of the other. With regard to the cities and
fortresses of Brill, Flushing, Rammekens, and other cautionary places,
where English garrisons were maintained, and which King James was bound
according to the contracts of Queen Elizabeth never to restore except to
those who had pledged them to the English crown--the king would uphold
those contracts. He would, however, endeavour to make an arrangement with
the States by which they should agree within a certain period to make
their peace with Spain. Should they refuse or fail, he would then
consider himself liberated from these previous engagements and free to
act concerning those cities in an honourable and reasonable manner, as
became a friendly king? Meantime the garrisons should not in any way
assist the Hollanders in their hostilities with Spain. English subjects
were forbidden to carry into Spain or the obedient Netherlands any
property or merchandize belonging to the Hollanders, or to make use of
Dutch vessels in their trade with Spain. Both parties agreed to do their
best to bring about a pacification in the Netherlands.

No irony certainly could be more exquisite that this last-named article.
This was the end of that magnificent conception, the great Anglo-French
League against the house of Austria. King James would combine his efforts
with King Philip to pacify the Netherlands. The wolf and the watchdog
would unite to bring back the erring flock to the fold. Meantime James
would keep the cautionary towns in his clutches, not permitting their
garrisons or any of his subjects to assist the rebels on sea or shore. As
for the Jesuits, their triumphant re-appearance in France, and the
demolition of the pyramid raised to their dishonour on the site of the
house where John Castel, who had stabbed Henry IV., had resided, were
events about to mark the opening year. Plainly enough Secretary Cecil had
out-generalled the French party.

The secret treaty of Hampton Court, the result of the efforts of Rosny
and Olden-Barneveld in July of the previous year, was not likely to be of
much service in protecting the republic. James meant to let the dead
treaties bury their dead, to live in peace with all the world, and to
marry his sons and daughters to Spanish Infantes and Infantas. Meantime,
although he had sheathed the sword which Elizabeth had drawn against the
common enemy, and had no idea of fighting or spending money for the
States, he was willing that their diplomatic agent should be called
ambassador. The faithful and much experienced Noel de Caron coveted that
distinction, and moved thereby the spleen of Henry's envoy at the Hague,
Buzanval, who probably would not have objected to the title himself.
"'Twill be a folly," he said, "for him to present himself on the pavement
as a prancing steed, and then be treated like a poor hack. He has been
too long employed to put himself in such a plight. But there are lunatics
everywhere and of all ages."

Never had the Advocate seemed so much discouraged. Ostend had fallen, and
the defection of the British sovereign was an off-set for the conquest of
Sluys. He was more urgent with the French Government for assistance than
he had ever been before. "A million florins a year from France," he said
"joined to two millions raised in the provinces, would enable them to
carry on the war. The ship was in good condition," he added, "and fit for
a long navigation without danger of shipwreck if there were only biscuit
enough on board." Otherwise she was lost. Before that time came he should
quit the helm which he had been holding the more resolutely since the
peace of Vervins because the king had told him, when concluding it, that
if three years' respite should be given him he would enter into the game
afresh, and take again upon his shoulders the burthen which inevitable
necessity had made him throw down. "But," added Olden-Barneveld,
bitterly, "there is little hope of it now, after his neglect of the many
admirable occasions during the siege of Ostend."

So soon as the Spanish ambassador learned that Caron was to be accepted
into the same diplomatic rank as his own, he made an infinite
disturbance, protested moat loudly and passionately to the king at the
indignity done to his master by this concession to the representative of
a crew of traitors and rebels, and demanded in the name of the treaty
just concluded that Caron should be excluded in such capacity from all
access to court.

As James was nearly forty years of age, as the Hollanders had been rebels
ever since he was born, and as the King of Spain had exercised no
sovereignty over them within his memory, this was naturally asking too
much of him in the name of his new-born alliance with Spain. So he
assumed a position of great dignity, notwithstanding the Constable's
clamour, and declared his purpose to give audience to the agents of the
States by whatever title they presented themselves before him. In so
doing he followed the example, he said, of others who (a strange
admission on his part) were as wise as himself. It was not for him to
censure the crimes and faults of the States, if such they had committed.
He had not been the cause of their revolt from Spanish authority, and it
was quite sufficient that he had stipulated to maintain neutrality
between the two belligerents's. And with this the ambassador of his
Catholic Majesty, having obtained the substance of a very advantageous
treaty, was fain to abandon opposition to the shadowy title by which
James sought to indemnify the republic for his perfidy.

The treaty of peace with Spain gave no pleasure to the English public.
There was immense enthusiasm in London at the almost simultaneous fall of
Sluys, but it was impossible for the court to bring about a popular
demonstration of sympathy with the abandonment of the old ally and the
new-born affection for the ancient enemy. "I can assure your
mightinesses," wrote Caron, "that no promulgation was ever received in
London with more sadness. No mortal has shown the least satisfaction in
words or deeds, but, on the contrary, people have cried out openly, 'God
save our good neighbours the States of Holland and Zeeland, and grant
them victory!' On Sunday, almost all the preachers gave thanks from their
pulpits for the victory which their good neighbours had gained at Sluys,
but would not say a word about the peace. The people were admonished to
make bonfires, but you may be very sure not a bonfire was to be seen.
But, in honour of the victory, all the vessels in St. Catharine's Docks
fired salutes at which the Spaniards were like to burst with spite. The
English clap their hands and throw their caps in the air when they hear
anything published favourable to us, but, it must be confessed, they are
now taking very dismal views of affairs. 'Vox populi vox Dei.'"

The rejoicing in Paris was scarcely less enthusiastic or apparently less
sincere than in London. "The news of the surrender of Sluys," wrote
Aerasens, "is received with so much joy by small and great that one would
have said it was their own exploit. His Majesty has made such
demonstrations in his actions and discourse that he has not only been
advised by his council to dissemble in the matter, but has undergone
reproaches from the pope's nuncius of having made a league with your
Mightinesses to the prejudice of the King of Spain. His Majesty wishes
your Mightinesses prosperity with all his heart, yea so that he would
rather lose his right arm than see your Mightinesses in danger. Be
assured that he means roundly, and we should pray God for his long life;
for I don't see that we can expect anything from these regions after his
death."

It was ere long to be seen, however, roundly as the king meant it, that
the republic was to come into grave peril without causing him to lose his
right arm, or even to wag his finger, save in reproach of their
Mightinesses.

The republic, being thus left to fight its battles alone, girded its
loins anew for the conflict. During the remainder of the year 1604,
however, there were no military operations of consequence. Both
belligerents needed a brief repose.

The siege of Ostend had not been a siege. It was a long pitched battle
between the new system and the old, between absolutism and the spirit of
religious, political and mercantile freedom. Absolutism had gained the
lists on which the long duel had been fought, but the republic had
meantime exchanged that war-blasted spot for a valuable and commodious
position.

It was certainly an advantage, as hostilities were necessarily to have
continued somewhere during all that period, that all the bloodshed and
desolation had been concentrated upon one insignificant locality, and one
more contiguous to the enemy's possessions than to those of the united
States. It was very doubtful, however, whether all that money and blood
might not have been expended in some other manner more beneficial to the
cause of the archdukes. At least it could hardly be maintained that they
took anything by the capitulation of Ostend but the most barren and
worthless of trophies. Eleven old guns, partly broken, and a small
quantity of ammunition, were all the spoils of war found in the city
after its surrender.

The Marquis Spinola went to Spain. On passing through Paris he was
received with immense enthusiasm by Henry IV., whose friendship for the
States, and whose desperate designs against the house of Austria, did not
prevent him from warmly congratulating the great Spanish general on his
victory. It was a victory, said Henry, which he could himself have never
achieved, and, in recognition of so great a triumph, he presented Spinola
with a beautiful Thracian horse, valued at twelve hundred ducats.
Arriving in Spain, the conqueror found himself at once the object of the
open applause and the scarcely concealed hatred of the courtiers and
politicians. He ardently desired to receive as his guerdon the rank of
grandee of Spain. He met with a refusal. To keep his hat on his head in
presence of the sovereign was the highest possible reward. Should that be
bestowed upon him now, urged Lerma, what possible recompense could be
imagined for the great services which all felt confident that he was
about to render in the future? He must continue to remove his hat in the
monarch's company. Meantime, if he wished the title of prince, with
considerable revenues attached to his principality, this was at his
disposal. It must be confessed that in a monarchy where the sentiment of
honour was supposed to be the foundation of the whole structure there is
something chivalrous and stimulating to the imagination in this
preference by the great general of a shadowy but rare distinction to more
substantial acquisitions. Nevertheless, as the grandeeship was refused,
it is not recorded that he was displeased with the principality. Meantime
there was a very busy intrigue to deprive him of the command-in-chief of
the Catholic forces in Flanders, and one so nearly successful that Mexia,
governor of Antwerp citadel, was actually appointed in Spinola's stead.
It was only after long and anxious conferences at Valladolid with the
king and the Duke of Lerma, and after repeated statements in letters from
the archdukes that all their hopes of victory depended on retaining the
Genoese commander-in-chief, that the matter was finally arranged. Mexia
received an annual pension of eight thousand ducats, and to Spinola was
assigned five hundred ducats monthly, as commander-in-chief under the
archduke, with an equal salary as agent for the king's affairs in
Flanders.

Early in the spring he returned to Brussels, having made fresh
preparations for the new campaign in which he was to measure himself
before the world against Maurice of Nassau.

Spinola had removed the thorn from the Belgic lion's foot: "Ostendae
erasit fatalis Spinola spinam." And although it may be doubted whether
the relief was as thorough as had been hoped, yet a freedom of movement
had unquestionably been gained. There was now at least what for a long
time had not existed, a possibility for imagining some new and perhaps
more effective course of campaigning.  The young Genoese
commander-in-chief returned from Spain early in May, with the Golden
Fleece around his neck, and with full powers from the Catholic king to
lay out his work, subject only to the approbation of the archduke. It was
not probable that Albert, who now thoroughly admired and leaned upon the
man of whom he had for a time been disposed to be jealous, would
interfere with his liberty of action. There had also been--thanks to
Spinola's influence with the cabinet at Madrid and the merchants of
Genoa--much more energy in recruiting and in providing the necessary
sinews of war. Moreover it had been resolved to make the experiment of
sending some of the new levies by sea, instead of subjecting them all to
the long and painful overland march through Spain, Italy, and Germany. A
terzo of infantry was on its way from Naples, and two more were expected
from Milan, but it was decided that the Spanish troops should be embarked
on board a fleet of transports, mainly German and English, and thus
carried to the shores of the obedient Netherlands.

The States-General got wind of these intentions, and set Vice-Admiral
Haultain upon the watch to defeat the scheme. That well-seasoned mariner
accordingly, with a sufficient fleet of war-galleots, cruised thenceforth
with great assiduity in the chops of the channel. Already the late treaty
between Spain and England had borne fruits of bitterness to the republic.
The Spanish policy had for the time completely triumphed in the council
of James. It was not surprising therefore that the partisans of that
policy should occasionally indulge in manifestations of malevolence
towards the upstart little commonwealth which had presumed to enter into
commercial rivalry with the British realm, and to assert a place among
the nations of the earth. An order had just been issued by the English
Government that none of its subjects should engage in the naval service
of any foreign power. This decree was a kind of corollary to the Spanish
treaty, was levelled directly against the Hollanders, and became the
pretext of intolerable arrogance, both towards their merchantmen and
their lesser war-vessels. Admiral Monson, an especial partisan of Spain,
was indefatigable in exercising the right he claimed of visiting foreign
vessels off the English coast, in search of English sailors violating the
proclamation of neutrality. On repeated occasions prizes taken by Dutch
cruisers from the Spaniards, and making their way with small prize crews
to the ports of the republic, were overhauled, visited, and seized by the
English admiral, who brought the vessels into the harbours of his own
country, liberated the crews, and handed ships and cargoes over to the
Spanish ambassador. Thus prizes fairly gained by nautical skill and hard
fighting, off Spain, Portugal, Brazil, or even more distant parts of the
world, were confiscated almost in sight of port, in utter disregard of
public law or international decency. The States-General remonstrated with
bitterness. Their remonstrances were answered by copious arguments,
proving, of course, to the entire satisfaction of the party who had done
the wrong, that no practice could be more completely in harmony with
reason and justice. Meantime the Spanish ambassador sold the prizes, and
appropriated the proceeds towards carrying on the war against the
republic; the Dutch sailors, thus set ashore against their will and
against law on the neutral coast of England, being left to get home as
they could, or to starve if they could do no better. As for the States,
they had the legal arguments of their late ally to console them for the
loss of their ships.

Simultaneously with these events considerable levies of troops were made
in England by the archduke, in spite of all the efforts of the Dutch
ambassador to prevent this one-sided; neutrality, while at the other ends
of the world mercantile jealousy in both the Indies was fast combining
with other causes already rife to increase the international discord. Out
of all this fuel it was fated that a blaze of hatred between the two
leading powers of the new era, the United Kingdom and the United
Republic, should one day burst forth, which was to be fanned by passion,
prejudice, and a mistaken sentiment of patriotism and self-interest on
both sides, and which not all the bloodshed of more than one fierce war
could quench. The traces of this savage sentiment are burnt deeply into
the literature, language, and traditions of both countries; and it is
strange enough that the epoch at which chronic wrangling and
international coolness changed into furious antipathy between the two
great Protestant powers of Europe--for great they already both were,
despite the paucity of their population and resources, as compared with
nations which were less influenced by the spirit of the age or had less
aptness in obeying its impulse--should be dated from the famous year of
Guy Fawkes.

Meantime the Spanish troops, embarked in eight merchant ships and a few
pinnaces, were slowly approaching their destination. They had been
instructed, in case they found it impracticable to enter a Flemish port,
to make for the hospitable shores of England, the Spanish ambassador and
those whom he had bribed at the court of James having already provided
for their protection. Off Dover Admiral Haultain got sight of Sarmiento's
little fleet. He made short work with it. Faithfully carrying out the
strenuous orders of the States-General, he captured some of the ships,
burned one, and ran others aground after a very brief resistance. Some of
the soldiers and crews were picked up by English vessels cruising in the
neighbourhood and narrowly watching the conflict. A few stragglers
escaped by swimming, but by far, the greater proportion of the
newly-arrived troops were taken prisoners, tied together two and two, and
then, at a given signal from the admiral's ship, tossed into the sea.

Not Peter Titelmann, nor Julian Romero, nor the Duke of Alva himself,
ever manifested greater alacrity in wholesale murder than was shown by
this admiral of the young republic in fulfilling the savage decrees of
the States-General.

Thus at least one-half of the legion perished. The pursuit of the ships
was continued within English waters, when the guns of Dover Castle opened
vigorously upon the recent allies of England, in order to protect her
newly-found friends in their sore distress. Doubtless in the fervour of
the work the Dutch admiral had violated the neutral coast of England, so
that the cannonade from the castle waw technically justified. It was
however a biting satire upon the proposed Protestant league against Spain
and universal monarchy in behalf of the Dutch republic, that England was
already doing her best to save a Spanish legion and to sink a Dutch
fleet. The infraction of English sovereignty was unquestionable if judged
by the more scrupulous theory of modern days, but it was well remarked by
the States-General, in answer to the remonstrances of James's Government,
that the Dutch admiral, knowing that the pirates of Dunkirk roamed at
will through English waters in search of their prey, might have hoped for
some indulgence of a similar character to the ships of the republic.

Thus nearly the whole of the Spanish legion perished. The soldiers who
escaped to the English coast passed the winter miserably in huts, which
they were allowed to construct on the sands, but nearly all, including
the lieutenant-colonel commanding, Pedro Cubiera, died of famine or of
wounds.  A few small vessels of the expedition succeeded in reaching the
Flemish coast, and landing a slight portion of the terzo.

The campaign of 1605 opened but languidly. The strain upon the resources
of the Netherlands, thus unaided, was becoming severe, although there is
no doubt that, as the India traffic slowly developed itself, the
productive force of the commonwealth visibly increased, while the thrifty
habits of its citizens, and their comparative abstinence from
unproductive consumption, still enabled it to bear the tremendous burthen
of the war. A new branch of domestic industry had grown out of the India
trade, great quantities of raw silk being now annually imported from the
East into Holland, to be wrought into brocades, tapestries, damasks,
velvets, satins, and other luxurious fabrics for European consumption.

It is a curious phenomenon in the history of industry that while at this
epoch Holland was the chief seat of silk manufactures, the great
financier of Henry IV. was congratulating his sovereign and himself that
natural causes had for ever prevented the culture or manufacture of silk
in France. If such an industry were possible, he was sure that the
decline of martial spirit in France and an eternal dearth of good French
soldiers would be inevitable, and he even urged that the importation of
such luxurious fabrics should be sternly prohibited, in order to preserve
the moral health of the people. The practical Hollanders were more
inclined to leave silk farthingales and brocaded petticoats to be dealt
with by thunderers from the pulpit or indignant fathers of families.
Meantime the States-General felt instinctively that the little
commonwealth grew richer, the more useful or agreeable things its
burghers could call into existence out of nothingness, to be exchanged
for the powder and bullets, timber and cordage, requisite for its eternal
fight with universal monarchy, and that the richer the burghers grew the
more capable they were of paying their taxes. It was not the fault of the
States that the insane ambition of Spain and the archdukes compelled them
to exhaust themselves annually by the most unproductive consumption that
man is ever likely to devise, that of scientifically slaughtering his
brethren, because to practise economy in that regard would be to cease to
exist, or to accept the most intolerable form of slavery.

The forces put into the field in the spring of 1605 were but meagre.
There was also, as usual, much difference of opinion between Maurice and
Barneveld as to the most judicious manner of employing them, and as usual
the docile stadholder submitted his better judgment to the States. It can
hardly be too much insisted upon that the high-born Maurice always
deported himself in fact, and as it were unconsciously, as the citizen
soldier of a little republic, even while personally invested with many of
the attributes of exalted rank, and even while regarded by many of his
leading fellow-citizens as the legitimate and predestined sovereign of
the newly-born state.

Early in the spring a great enterprise against Antwerp was projected. It
failed utterly. Maurice, at Bergen-op-Zoom, despatched seven thousand
troops up the Scheld, under command of Ernest Casimir. The flotilla was a
long time getting under weigh, and instead of effecting a surprise, the
army, on reaching the walls of Antwerp, found the burghers and garrison
not in the least astonished, but on the contrary entirely prepared.
Ernest returned after a few insignificant skirmishes, having accomplished
nothing.

Maurice next spent a few days in reducing the castle of Wouda, not far
from Bergen, and then, transporting his army once more to the isle of
Cadzand, he established his headquarters at Watervliet, near Ysendyke.
Spinola followed him, having thrown a bridge across the Scheld. Maurice
was disposed to reduce a fort, well called Patience, lying over against
the isle of Walcheren. Spinola took up a position by which he defended
the place as with an impenetrable buckler. A game of skill now began.
between these two adepts in the art of war, for already the volunteer had
taken rank among the highest professors of the new school. It was the
object of Maurice, who knew himself on the whole outnumbered, to divine
his adversary's intentions. Spinola was supposed to be aiming at Sluys,
at Grave, at Bergen-op-Zoom, possibly even at some more remote city, like
Rheinberg, while rumours as to his designs, flying directly from his
camp, were as thick as birds in the air. They were let loose on purpose
by the artful Genoese, who all the time had a distinct and definite plan
which was not yet suspected. The dilatoriness of the campaign was
exasperating. It might be thought that the war was to last another half
century, from the excessive inertness of both parties. The armies had all
gone into winter quarters in the previous November, Spinola had spent
nearly six months in Spain, midsummer had came and gone, and still
Maurice was at Watervliet, guessing at his adversary's first move. On the
whole, he had inclined to suspect a design upon Rheinberg, and had
accordingly sent his brother Henry with a detachment to strengthen the
garrison of that place. On the 1st of August however he learned that
Spinola had crossed the Meuse and the Rhine, with ten thousand foot and
three thousand horse, and that leaving Count Bucquoy with six thousand
foot and one thousand five hundred horse in the neighbourhood of the
Rhine, to guard a couple of redoubts which had been constructed for a
basis at Kaiserswerth, he was marching with all possible despatch towards
Friesland and Groningen.

The Catholic general had concealed his design in a masterly manner. He
had detained Maurice in the isle of Cadzand, the States still dreaming of
a victorious invasion on their part of obedient Flanders, and the
stadholder hesitating to quit his position of inactive observation, lest
the moment his back was turned the rapid Spinola might whirl down upon
Sluys, that most precious and skilfully acquired possession of the
republic, when lo! his formidable antagonist was marching in force upon
what the prince well knew to be her most important and least guarded
frontier.

On the 8th August the Catholic general was before Olden-zaal which he
took in three days, and then advanced to Lingen. Should that place
fall--and the city was known to be most inadequately garrisoned and
supplied--it would be easy for the foe to reduce Coeworden, and so seize
the famous pass over the Bourtanger Morass, march straight to
Embden--then in a state of municipal revolution on account of the chronic
feuds between its counts and the population, and therefore an easy
prey--after which all Friesland and Groningen would be at his mercy, and
his road open to Holland and Utrecht; in short, into the very bowels of
the republic.

On the 4th August Maurice broke up his camp in Flanders, and leaving five
thousand men under Colonel Van der Noot, to guard the positions there,
advanced rapidly to Deventer, with the intention of saving Lingen. It was
too late. That very important place had been culpably neglected. The
garrison consisted of but one cannoneer, and he had but one arm. A
burgher guard, numbering about three hundred, made such resistance as
they could, and the one-armed warrior fired a shot or two from a rusty
old demi-cannon. Such opposition to the accomplished Italian was
naturally not very effective. On the 18th August the place capitulated.
Maurice, arriving at Deventer, and being now strengthened by his cousin
Lewis William with such garrison troops as could be collected, learned
the mortifying news with sentiments almost akin to despair. It was now to
be a race for Coeworden, and the fleet-footed Spinola was a day's march
at least in advance of his competitor. The key to the fatal morass would
soon be in his hands. To the inexpressible joy of the stadholder, the
Genoese seemed suddenly struck with blindness. The prize was almost in
his hands and he threw away all his advantages. Instead of darting at
once upon Coeworden he paused for nearly a month, during which period he
seemed intoxicated with a success so rapidly achieved, and especially
with his adroitness in outwitting the great stadholder. On the 14th
September he made a retrograde movement towards the Rhine, leaving two
thousand five hundred men in Lingen. Maurice, giving profound thanks to
God for his enemy's infatuation, passed by Lingen, and having now, with
his cousin's reinforcements, a force of nine thousand foot and three
thousand horse, threw himself into Coeworden, strengthened and garrisoned
that vital fortress which Spinola would perhaps have taken as easily as
he had done Lingen, made all the neighbouring positions secure, and then
fell back towards Wesel on the Rhine, in order to watch his antagonist.
Spinola had established his headquarters at Ruhrort, a place where the
river Ruhr empties into the Rhine. He had yielded to the remonstrances of
the Archbishop of Cologne, to whom Kaiserwerth belonged, and had
abandoned the forts which Bucquoy, under his directions, had constructed
at that place.

The two armies now gazed at each other, at a respectful distance, for a
fortnight longer, neither commander apparently having any very definite
purpose. At last, Maurice having well reconnoitred his enemy, perceived a
weak point in his extended lines. A considerable force of Italian
cavalry, with some infantry, was stationed at the village of Mulheim, on
the Ruhr, and apparently out of convenient supporting distance from
Spinola's main army. The stadholder determined to deliver a sudden blow
upon this tender spot, break through the lines, and bring on a general
action by surprise. Assembling his well-seasoned and veteran troopers in
force, he divided them into two formidable bands, one under the charge of
his young brother Frederic Henry, the other under that most brilliant of
cavalry officers, Marcellus Bax, hero of Turnhout and many another
well-fought field.

The river Ruhr was a wide but desultory stream, easily fordable in many
places. On the opposite bank to Mulheim was the Castle of Brock, and some
hills of considerable elevation. Bax was ordered to cross the river and
seize the castle and the heights, Count Henry to attack the enemy's camp
in front, while Maurice himself, following rapidly with the advance of
infantry and wagons, was to sustain the assault.

Marcellus Bax, rapid and dashing as usual, crossed the Ruhr, captured
Broek Castle with ease, and stood ready to prevent the retreat of the
Spaniards. Taken by surprise in front, they would naturally seek refuge
on the other side of the river. That stream was not difficult for
infantry, but as the banks were steep, cavalry could not easily extricate
themselves from the water, except at certain prepared landings. Bax
waited however for some time in vain for the flying Spaniards. It was not
destined that the stadholder should effect many surprises that year. The
troopers under Frederic Henry had made their approaches through an
intricate path, often missing their way, and in far more leisurely
fashion than was intended, so that outlying scouts had brought in
information of the coming attack. As Count Henry approached the village,
Trivulzio's cavalry was found drawn up in battle array, formidable in
numbers, and most fully prepared for their visitors from Wesel. The party
most astonished was that which came to surprise. In an instant one of
those uncontrollable panics broke out to which even veterans are as
subject as to dysentery or scurvy. The best cavalry of Maurice's army
turned their backs at the very sight of the foe, and galloped off much
faster than they had come.

Meantime, Marcellus Bax was assaulted, not only by his late handful of
antagonists, who had now rallied, but by troops from Mulheim, who began
to wade across the stream. At that moment he was cheered by the sight of
Count Henry coming on with a very few of his troopers who had stood to
their colours. A simultaneous charge from both banks at the enemy
floundering in the river was attempted. It might have been brilliantly
successful, but the panic had crossed the river faster than the Spaniards
could do, and the whole splendid picked cavalry force of the republic,
commanded by the youngest son of William the Silent, and by the favourite
cavalry commander of her armies, was, after a hot but brief action, in
disgraceful and unreasonable flight. The stadholder reached the bank of
that fatal stream only to witness this maddening spectacle, instead of
the swift and brilliant triumph which he was justified in expecting. He
did his best to stem the retreating tide. He called upon the veterans, by
the memory of Turnhout and Nieuport, and so many other victories, to
pause and redeem their name before it was too late. He taunted them with
their frequent demands to be led to battle, and their expressed
impatience at enforced idleness. He denounced them as valiant only for
plundering defenceless peasants, and as cowards against armed men; as
trusting more to their horses' heels than to their own right hands. He
invoked curses upon them for deserting his young brother, who,
conspicuous among them by his gilded armour, the orange-plumes upon his
calque, and the bright orange-scarf across his shoulders, was now sorely
pressed in the struggling throng.

It was all in vain. Could Maurice have thrown himself into the field, he
might, as in the crisis of the republic's fate at Nieuport, have once
more converted ruin into victory by the magic of his presence. But the
river was between him and the battle, and he was an enforced spectator of
his country's disgrace.

For a few brief moments his demeanour, his taunts, and his supplications
had checked the flight of his troops.

A stand was made by a portion of the cavalry and a few detached but
fierce combats took place. Count Frederic Henry was in imminent danger.
Leading a mere handful of his immediate retainers, he threw himself into
the thickest of the fight, with the characteristic audacity of his house.
A Spanish trooper aimed his carbine full at his face. It missed fire, and
Henry, having emptied his own pistol, was seized by the floating scarf
upon his breast by more than one enemy. There was a brief struggle, and
death or capture seemed certain; when an unknown hand laid his nearest
antagonist low, and enabled him to escape from over powering numbers. The
soldier, whose devotion thus saved the career of the youngest
Orange-Nassau destined to be so long and so brilliant, from being cut off
so prematurely, was never again heard of, and doubtless perished in the
fray.

Meantime the brief sparkle of valour on the part of the States' troops
had already vanished. The adroit Spinola, hurrying personally to the
front, had caused such a clangor from all the drums and trumpets in Broek
and its neighbourhood to be made as to persuade the restive cavalry that
the whole force of the enemy was already upon them. The day was obviously
lost, and Maurice, with a heavy heart, now him self gave the signal to
retreat. Drawing up the greater part of his infantry in solid mass upon
the banks to protect the passage, he sent a force to the opposite side,
Horace Vere being the first to wade the stream.  All that was then
possible to do was accomplished, and the panic flight converted into
orderly retreat, but it was a day of disaster and disgrace for the
republic.

About five hundred of the best States' cavalry were left dead on the
field, but the stain upon his almost unsullied flag was more cutting to
the stadholder's heart than the death of his veterans. The material
results were in truth almost even. The famous cavalry general, Count
Trivulzio, with at least three hundred Spaniards, fell in the combat, but
the glory of having defeated the best cavalry of Europe in a stricken
field and under the very eyes of the stadholder would have been
sufficient compensation to Spinola for much greater losses.

Maurice withdrew towards Wesel, sullen but not desponding. His forces
were meagre, and although he had been out-generalled, out-marched, and
defeated in the open field, at least the Genoese had not planted the blow
which he had meditated in the very heart of the republic.

Autumn was now far advanced, and dripping with rain. The roads and fields
were fast becoming impassable sloughs, and no further large operations
could be expected in this campaign. Yet the stadholder's cup was not
full, and he was destined to witness two more triumphs of his rival, now
fast becoming famous, before this year of disasters should close. On the
27th October, Spinola took the city of Wachtendonk, after ten days'
siege, and on the 5th of November the strong place of Cracow.

Maurice was forced to see these positions captured almost under his eyes,
being now quite powerless to afford relief. His troops had dwindled by
sickness and necessary detachments for garrison-work to a comparatively,
insignificant force, and very soon afterwards both armies went into
winter quarters.

The States were excessively disappointed at the results of the year's
work, and deep if not loud were the reproaches cast upon the stadholder.
Certainly his military reputation had not been augmented by this
campaign. He had lost many places, and had not gained an inch of ground
anywhere. Already the lustre of Sluys, of Nieuport, and Turnhout were
growing dim, for Maurice had so accustomed the republic to victories that
his own past triumphs seemed now his greatest enemies. Moreover he had
founded a school out of which apt pupils had already graduated, and it
would seem that the Genoese volunteer had rapidly profited by his
teachings as only a man endowed with exquisite military genius could have
done.

Yet, after all, it seems certain that, with the stadholder's limited
means, and with the awful consequences to the country of a total defeat
in the open field, the Fabian tactics, which he had now deliberately
adopted, were the most reasonable. The invader of foreign domains, the
suppressor of great revolts, can indulge in the expensive luxury of
procrastination only at imminent peril. For the defence, it is always
possible to conquer by delay, and it was perfectly understood between
Spinola and his ablest advisers at the Spanish court that the blows must
be struck thick and fast, and at the most vulnerable places, or that the
victory would be lost.

Time was the ally not of the Spanish invaders, who came from afar, but of
the Dutch burghers, who remained at home. "Jam aut Nunquam," was the
motto upon the Italian's banners.

In proportion to the depression in the republic at the results of this
year's campaigning was the elation at the Spanish court. Bad news and
false news had preceded the authentic intelligence of Spinola's
victories. The English envoy had received unquestionable information that
the Catholic general had sustained an overwhelming defeat at the close of
the campaign, with a loss of three thousand five hundred men.

The tale was implicitly believed by king and cabinet, so that when, very
soon afterwards, the couriers arrived bringing official accounts of the
victory gained over the veteran cavalry of the States in the very
presence of the stadholder, followed by the crowning triumph of
Wachtendonk, the demonstrations of joy were all the more vivacious in
consequence of the previous gloom. Spinola himself followed hard upon the
latest messengers, and was received with ovations. Never, since the days
of Alexander Farnese, had a general at the Spanish court been more
cordially caressed or hated. Had Philip the Prudent been still upon the
throne, he would have felt it his duty to make immediate arrangements for
poisoning him. Certainly his plans and his popularity would have been
undermined in the most artistic manner.

But Philip III., more dangerous to rabbits than to generals, left the
Genoese to settle the plans of his next campaign with Lerma and his
parasites.

The subtle Spinola, having, in his despatches, ascribed the chief merit
of the victories to Louis Velasco, a Spaniard, while his own original
conception of transferring the war to Friesland was attributed by him
with magnificent effrontery to Lerma and to the king--who were probably
quite ignorant of the existence of that remote province--succeeded in
maintaining his favourable position at court, and was allowed, by what
was called the war-council, to manage matters nearly at his pleasure.

It is difficult however to understand how so much clamour should have
been made over such paltry triumphs. All Europe rang with a cavalry fight
in which less than a thousand saddles on both sides had been emptied,
leading to no result, and with the capture of a couple of insignificant
towns, of which not one man in a thousand had ever heard.

Spinola had doubtless shown genius of a subtle and inventive order, and
his fortunate audacity in measuring himself, while a mere apprentice,
against the first military leader living had been crowned with wonderful
success. He had nailed the stadholder fast to the island of Cadzand,
while he was perfecting his arrangements and building boats on the Rhine;
he had propounded riddles which Maurice had spent three of the best
campaigning months in idle efforts to guess, and when he at last moved,
he had swept to his mark with the swiftness and precision of a bird of
prey. Yet the greatest of all qualities in a military commander, that of
deriving substantial fruits from victory instead of barren trophies, he
had not manifested. If it had been a great stroke of art to seize reach
Deventer, it was an enormous blunder, worthy of a journeyman soldier, to
fail to seize the Bourtange marshes, and drive his sword into the fiery
vitals of the republic, thus placed at his mercy.

Meantime, while there had been all these rejoicings and tribulations at
the great doings on the Rhine and the shortcoming in Friesland, the real
operations of the war had been at the antipodes.

It is not a very unusual phenomenon in history that the events, upon
whose daily development the contemporary world hangs with most
palpitating interest, are far inferior in permanent influence upon the
general movement of humanity to a series of distant and apparently
commonplace transactions.

Empires are built up or undermined by the ceaseless industry of obscure
multitudes often slightly observed, or but dimly comprehended.

Battles and sieges, dreadful marches, eloquent debates, intricate
diplomacy--from time to time but only perhaps at rare intervals--have
decided or modified the destiny of nations, while very often the clash of
arms, the din of rhetoric, the whiz of political spindles, produce
nothing valuable for human consumption, and made the world no richer.

If the age of heroic and religious passion was rapidly fading away before
the gradual uprising of a politico-mercantile civilization--as it
certainly was--the most vital events, those in which the fate of coming
generations was most deeply involved, were those inspired by the spirit
of commercial-enterprise.

Nor can it be denied that there is often a genial and poetic essence even
among things practical or of almost vulgar exterior. In those early
expeditions of the Hollanders to the flaming lands of the equator there
is a rhythm and romance of historical movement not less significant than
in their unexampled defence of fatherland and of the world's liberty
against the great despotism of the age.

Universal monarchy was baffled by the little republic, not within its own
populous cities only, or upon its own barren sands. The long combat
between Freedom and Absolutism had now become as wide as the world. The
greatest European states had been dragged by the iron chain of necessity
into a conflict from which they often struggled to escape, and on every
ocean, and on almost every foot of soil, where the footsteps of mankind
had as yet been imprinted, the fierce encounters were every day renewed.
In the east and the west, throughout that great vague new world, of which
geographers had hardly yet made a sketch, which comprised both the
Americas and something called the East Indies, and which Spain claimed as
her private property, those humbly born and energetic adventurers were
rapidly creating a symmetrical system out of most dismal chaos.

The King of Spain warned all nations from trespassing upon those outlying
possessions.

His edicts had not however prevented the English in moderate numbers, and
the Hollanders in steadily increasing swarms, from enlarging and making
profitable use of these new domains of the world's commerce.

The days were coming when the People was to have more to say than the
pope in regard to the disposition and arrangements of certain large
districts of this planet. While the world-empire, which still excited so
much dismay, was yielding to constant corrosion, another empire, created
by well-directed toil and unflinching courage, was steadily rising out of
the depths. It has often been thought amazing that the little republic
should so long and so triumphantly withstand the enormous forces brought
forward for her destruction. It was not, however, so very surprising.
Foremost among nations, and in advance of the age, the republic had found
the strength which comes from the spirit of association. On a wider scale
than ever before known, large masses of men, with their pecuniary means,
had been intelligently banded together to advance material interests.
When it is remembered that, in addition to this force, the whole
commonwealth was inspired by the divine influence of liberty, her power
will no longer seem so wonderful.

A sinister event in the Isle of Ceylon had opened the series of
transactions in the East, and had cast a gloom over the public sentiment
at home. The enterprising voyager, Sebald de Weerdt, one of the famous
brotherhood of the Invincible Lion which had wintered in the straits of
Magellan, had been murdered through the treachery of the King of Candy.
His countrymen had not taken vengeance on his assassins. They were
perhaps too fearful of losing their growing trade in those lucrative
regions to take a becoming stand in that emergency. They were also not as
yet sufficiently powerful there.

The East India Company had sent out in May of this year its third fleet
of eleven large ships, besides some smaller vessels, under the general
superintendence of Matelieff de Jonghe, one of the directors. The
investments for the voyage amounted to more than nineteen hundred
thousand florins.

Meantime the preceding adventurers under Stephen van der Hagen, who had
sailed at the end of 1603, had been doing much thorough work. A firm
league had been made with one of the chief potentates of Malabar,
enabling them to build forts and establish colonies in perpetual menace
of Goa, the great oriental capital of the Portuguese. The return of the
ambassadors sent out from Astgen to Holland had filled not only the
island of Sumatra but the Moluccas, and all the adjacent regions, with
praises of the power, wealth, and high civilization of that distant
republic so long depicted by rivals as a nest of uncouth and sanguinary
savages. The fleet now proceeded to Amboyna, a stronghold of the
Spanish-Portuguese, and the seat of a most lucrative trade.

On the arrival of those foreign well-armed ships under the guns of the
fortress, the governor sent to demand, with Castilian arrogance, who the
intruders were, and by whose authority and with what intent they presumed
to show themselves in those waters. The reply was that they came in the
name and by the authority of their High Mightinesses the States-General,
and their stadholder the Prince of Orange; that they were sworn enemies
of the King of Spain and all his subjects, and that as to their intent,
this would soon be made apparent. Whereupon, without much more ado, they
began a bombardment of the fort, which mounted thirty-six guns. The
governor, as often happened in those regions, being less valiant against
determined European foes than towards the feebler oriental races on which
he had been accustomed to trample, succumbed with hardly an effort at
resistance. The castle and town and whole island were surrendered to the
fleet, and thenceforth became virtually a colony of the republic with
which, nominally, treaties of alliance and defence were, negotiated.
Thence the fleet, after due possession had been taken of these new
domains, sailed partly to Bands and partly to two small but most
important islands of the Moluccas.

In that multitude of islands which make up the Eastern Archipelago there
were but five at that period where grew the clove--Ternate, Tydor,
Motiel, Makian, and Bacia.

Pepper and ginger, even nutmegs, cassia, and mace, were but vulgar drugs,
precious as they were already to the world and the world's commerce,
compared with this most magnificent spice.

It is wonderful to reflect upon the strange composition of man. The world
had lived in former ages very comfortably without cloves. But by the
beginning of the seventeenth century that odoriferous pistil had been the
cause of so many pitched battles and obstinate wars, of so much
vituperation, negotiation, and intriguing, that the world's destiny
seemed to have almost become dependent upon the growth of a particular
gillyflower. Out of its sweetness had grown such bitterness among great
nations as not torrents of blood could wash away. A commonplace condiment
enough it seems to us now, easily to be dispensed with, and not worth
purchasing at a thousand human lives or so the cargo, but it was once the
great prize to be struggled for by civilized nations. From that fervid
earth, warmed from within by volcanic heat, and basking ever beneath the
equatorial sun, arose vapours as deadly to human life as the fruits were
exciting and delicious to human senses. Yet the atmosphere of pestiferous
fragrance had attracted, rather than repelled. The poisonous delights of
the climate, added to the perpetual and various warfare for its
productions, spread a strange fascination around those fatal isles.

Especially Ternate and Tydor were objects of unending strife. Chinese,
Malays, Persians, Arabs, had struggled centuries long for their
possession; those races successively or simultaneously ruling these and
adjacent portions of the Archipelago. The great geographical discoveries
at the close of the fifteenth century had however changed the aspect of
India and of the world. The Portuguese adventurers found two rival
kings--in the two precious islands, and by ingeniously protecting one of
these potentates and poisoning the other, soon made themselves masters of
the field. The clove trade was now entirely in the hands of the strangers
from the antipodes. Goa became the great mart of the lucrative traffic,
and thither came Chinese, Arabs, Moors, and other oriental traders to be
supplied from the Portuguese monopoly: Two-thirds of the spices however
found their way directly to Europe.

Naturally enough, the Spaniards soon penetrated into these seas, and
claimed their portion of the spice trade. They insisted that the coveted
islands were included in their portion of the great Borgian grant. As
there had hardly yet been time to make a trigonometrical survey of an
unknown world, so generously divided by the pope, there was no way of
settling disputed boundary questions save by apostolic blows. These were
exchanged with much earnestness, year after year, between Spaniards,
Portuguese, and all who came in their way. Especially the unfortunate
natives, and their kings most of all, came in for a full share. At last
Charles V. sold out his share of the spice islands to his Portuguese
rival and co-proprietor, for three hundred and fifty thousand ducats. The
emperor's very active pursuits caused him to require ready money more
than cloves. Yet John III. had made an excellent bargain, and the
monopoly thenceforth brought him in at least two hundred thousand ducats
annually. Goa became more flourishing, the natives more wretched, the
Portuguese more detested than ever. Occasionally one of the royal line of
victims would consent to put a diadem upon his head, but the coronation
was usually the prelude to a dungeon or death. The treaties of alliance,
which these unlucky potentates had formed with their powerful invaders,
were, as so often is the case, mere deeds to convey themselves and their
subjects into slavery.

Spain and Portugal becoming one, the slender weapon of defence which
these weak but subtle Orientals sometimes employed with success--the
international and commercial jealousy between their two oppressors--was
taken away. It was therefore with joy that Zaida, who sat on the throne
of Ternate at the end of the sixteenth century, saw the sails of a Dutch
fleet arriving in his harbours. Very soon negotiations were opened, and
the distant republic undertook to protect the Mahometan king against his
Catholic master. The new friendship was founded upon trade monopoly, of
course, but at that period at least the islanders were treated with
justice and humanity by their republican allies. The Dutch undertook to
liberate their friends from bondage, while the King of Ternate, panting
under Portuguese oppression, swore to have no traffic, no dealings of any
kind, with any other nation than Holland; not even with the English. The
Dutch, they declared, were the liberators of themselves, of their
friends, and of the seas.

The international hatred, already germinating between England and
Holland, shot forth in these flaming regions like a tropical plant. It
was carefully nurtured and tended by both peoples. Freedom of commerce,
freedom of the seas, meant that none but the Dutch East India Company--so
soon as the Portuguese and Spaniards were driven out--should trade in
cloves and nutmegs. Decrees to that effect were soon issued, under very
heavy penalties, by the States-General to the citizens of the republic
and to the world at large. It was natural therefore that the English
traders should hail the appearance of the Dutch fleets with much less
enthusiasm than was shown by the King of Ternate.

On the other hand, the King of Tydor, persisting in his oriental hatred
towards the rival potentate in the other island, allowed the Portuguese
to build additional citadels, and generally to strengthen their positions
within his dominions. Thus when Cornelius Sebastian, with his division of
Ver Hagen's fleet, arrived in the Moluccas in the summer of 1605, he
found plenty of work prepared for him. The peace recently concluded by
James with Philip and the archdukes placed England in a position of
neutrality in the war now waging in the clove islands between Spain and
the republic's East India Company. The English in those regions were not
slow to avail themselves of the advantage. The Portuguese of Tydor
received from neutral sympathy a copious supply of powder and of
pamphlets. The one explosive material enabled them to make a more
effective defence of their citadel against the Dutch fleet; the other
revealed to the Portuguese and their Mussulman allies that "the
Netherlanders could not exist without English protection, that they were
the scum of nations, and that if they should get possession of this clove
monopoly, their insolence would become intolerable." Samples of polite
literature such as these, printed but not published, flew about in
volleys. It was an age of pamphleteering, and neither the English nor the
Dutch were behind their contemporaries in the science of attack and
self-defence. Nevertheless Cornelius Sebastian was not deterred by paper
pellets, nor by the guns of the citadel, from carrying out his purpose.
It was arranged with King Zaida that the islanders of Ternate should make
a demonstration against Tydor, being set across the strait in Dutch
vessels. Sebastian, however, having little faith in oriental tenacity,
entrusted the real work of storming the fortress to his own soldiers and
sailors. On a fine morning in May the assault was delivered in
magnificent style. The resistance was obstinate; many of the assailants
fell, and Captain Mol, whom we have once before seen as master of the
Tiger, sinking the galleys of Frederic Spinola off the Gat of Sluys,
found himself at the head of only seven men within the interior defences
of the citadel. A Spanish soldier, Torre by name, rushed upon him with a
spear. Avoiding the blow, Mol grappled with his antagonist, and both
rolled to the ground. A fortunate carbine-shot from one of the Dutch
captain's comrades went through the Spaniard's head. Meantime the little
band, so insignificant in numbers, was driven out of the citadel. Mol
fell to the ground with a shattered leg, and reproached his companions,
who sought to remove him, for neglecting their work in order to save his
life. Let them take the fort, he implored them, and when that was done
they might find leisure to pick him up if they chose. While he was
speaking the principal tower of the fortress blew up, and sixty of the
garrison were launched into the air. A well-directed shot had set fire to
the magazine. The assault was renewed with fresh numbers, and the Dutch
were soon masters of the place. Never was a stronghold more audaciously
or more successfully stormed. The garrison surrendered. The women and
children, fearing to be at the mercy of those who had been depicted to
them as cannibals, had already made their escape, and were scrambling
like squirrels among the volcanic cliffs. Famine soon compelled them to
come down, however, when they experienced sufficiently kind treatment,
but were all deported in Dutch vessels to the Philippine islands. The
conquerors not only spared the life of the King of Tydor, but permitted
him to retain his crown. At his request the citadel was razed to the
ground. It would have been better perhaps to let it stand, and it was
possible that in the heart of the vanquished potentate some vengeance was
lurking which might bear evil fruit at a later day. Meantime the
Portuguese were driven entirely out of the Moluccas, save the island of
Timos, where they still retained a not very important citadel.

The East India Company was now in possession of the whole field. The
Moluccas and the clove trade were its own, and the Dutch republic had
made manifest to the world that more potent instruments had now been
devised for parcelling out the new world than papal decrees, although
signed by the immaculate hand of a Borgia.

During the main operations already sketched in the Netherlands, and
during those vastly more important oriental movements to which the
reader's attention has just been called, a detached event or two deserves
notice.

Twice during the summer campaign of this year Du Terrail, an enterprising
French refugee in the service of the archdukes, had attempted to surprise
the important city of Bergen-op-Zoom. On the 21st August the intended
assault had been discovered in time to prevent any very serious conflict
on, either side. On the 20th September the experiment was renewed at an
hour after midnight. Du Terrail, having arranged the attack at three
different points, had succeeded in forcing his way across the moat and
through one of the gates. The trumpets of the foremost Spaniards already
sounded in, the streets. It was pouring with rain; the town was pitch
dark. But the energetic Paul Bax was governor of the place, a man who was
awake at any hour of the twenty-four, and who could see in the darkest
night. He had already informed himself of the enemy's project, and had
strengthened his garrison by a large intermixture of the most trustworthy
burgher guards, so that the advance of Du Terrail at the southern gate
was already confronted by a determined band. A fierce battle began in the
darkness. Meantime Paul Bax, galloping through the city, had aroused the
whole population for the defence. At the Steinberg gate, where the chief
assault had been prepared, Bax had caused great fires of straw and pitch
barrels to be lighted, so that the invaders, instead of finding, as they
expected, a profound gloom through the streets, saw themselves
approaching a brilliantly illuminated city, fully prepared to give their
uninvited guests a warm reception. The garrison, the townspeople, even
the women, thronged to the ramparts, saluting the Spaniards with a rain
of bullets, paving-stones, and pitch hoops, and with a storm of gibes and
taunts. They were asked why they allowed their cardinal thus to send them
to the cattle market, and whether Our Lady of Hall, to whom Isabella was
so fond of making pilgrimages, did not live rather too far off to be of
much use just then to her or to them. Catholics and Protestants all stood
shoulder to shoulder that night to defend their firesides against the
foreign foe, while mothers laid their sleeping children on the ground
that they might fill their cradles with powder and ball, which they
industriously brought to the soldiers. The less energetic women fell upon
their knees in the street, and prayed aloud through the anxious night.
The attack was splendidly repulsed. As morning dawned the enemy withdrew,
leaving one hundred dead outside the walls or in the town, and carrying
off thirty-eight wagon loads of wounded. Du Terrail made no further
attempts that summer, although the list of his surprises was not yet
full. He was a good engineer, and a daring partisan officer. He was also
inspired by an especial animosity to the States-General, who had refused
the offer of his services before he made application to the archdukes.

At sea there was no very important movement in European waters, save that
Lambert Heinrichzoon, commonly called Pretty Lambert, a Rotterdam
skipper, whom we have seen the sea-fights with Frederic Spinola, of the
Dunkirk pirate fleet, Adrian Dirkzoon. It was a desperate fight.--Pretty
Lambent, sustained at a distance by Rear-Admiral Gerbrantzon, laid
himself yard-arm to yard-arm alongside the pirate vessel, boarded her,
and after beating down all resistance made prisoners such of the crew as
remained alive, and carried them into Rotterdam. Next day they were
hanged, to the number of sixty. A small number were pardoned on account
of their youth, and a few individuals who effected their escape when led
to the gallows, were not pursued. The fact that the townspeople almost
connived at the escape of these desperadoes showed that there had been a
surfeit of hangings in Rotterdam. It is moreover not easy to distinguish
with exactness the lines which in those days separated regular sea
belligerents, privateers, and pirates from each other. It had been laid
down by the archdukes that there was no military law at sea, and that
sick soldiers captured on the water should be hanged. Accordingly they
were hanged. Admiral Fazardo, of the Spanish royal navy, not only
captured all the enemy's merchant vessels which came in his way, but
hanged, drowned, and burned alive every man found on board. Admiral
Haultain, of the republican navy, had just been occupied in drowning a
whole regiment of Spanish soldiers, captured in English and German
transports. The complaints brought against the English cruisers by the
Hollanders for capturing and confiscating their vessels, and banging,
maiming, and torturing their crews--not only when England was neutral,
but even when she was the ally of the republic--had been a standing topic
for diplomatic discussion, and almost a standing joke. Why, therefore,
these Dunkirk sea-rovers should not on the same principle be allowed to
rush forth from their very convenient den to plunder friend and foe, burn
ships, and butcher the sailors at pleasure, seems difficult to
understand. To expect from the inhabitants of this robbers' cave--this
"church on the downs"--a code of maritime law so much purer and sterner
than the system adopted by the English, the Spaniards, and the Dutch, was
hardly reasonable. Certainly the Dunkirkers, who were mainly
Netherlanders--rebels to the republic and partisans of the Spanish
crown--did their best to destroy the herring fishery and to cut the
throats of the fishermen, but perhaps they received the halter more often
than other mariners who had quite as thoroughly deserved it. And this at
last appeared the prevailing opinion in Rotterdam.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Abstinence from unproductive consumption
     Defeated garrison ever deserved more respect from friend or foe
     His own past triumphs seemed now his greatest enemies
     Hundred thousand men had laid down their lives by her decree
     John Castel, who had stabbed Henry IV.
     Looking down upon her struggle with benevolent indifference
     No retrenchments in his pleasures of women, dogs, and buildings
     Sick soldiers captured on the water should be hanged
     The small children diminished rapidly in numbers
     When all was gone, they began to eat each other




CHAPTER XLV. 1605-1607

   Preparations for the campaign of 1606--Diminution of Maurice's
   popularity--Quarrel between the pope and the Venetian republic--
   Surprise of Sluys by Du Terrail--Dilatoriness of the republic's
   operations--Movements of Spinola--Influence of the weather on the
   military transactions of the year--Endeavours of Spinola to obtain
   possession of the Waal and Yssel--Surrender of Lochem to Spinola--
   Siege of Groll--Siege and loss of Rheinberg--Mutiny in the Catholic
   army--Recovery of Lochem by Maurice--Attempted recovery of Groll--
   Sudden appearance of the enemy--Withdrawal of the besieging army
   Close of the campaign--End of the war of independence--Motives of
   the Prince in his actions before Groll--Cruise of Admiral Haultain
   to the coast of Spain and Portugal--His encounter with the war--
   ships of Fazardo--Courageous conduct of the vice-admiral--Deaths of
   Justus Lipsius, Hohenlo, and Count John of Nassau.

After the close of the campaign of 1605 Spinola had gone once more to
Spain. On his passage through Paris he had again been received with
distinguished favour by that warm ally of the Dutch republic, Henry IV.,
and on being questioned by that monarch as to his plans for the next
campaign had replied that he intended once more to cross the Rhine, and
invade Friesland. Henry, convinced that the Genoese would of course not
tell him the truth on such an occasion, wrote accordingly to the
States-General that they might feel safe as to their eastern frontier.
Whatever else might happen, Friesland and the regions adjacent would be
safe next year from attack. The immediate future was to show whether the
subtle Italian had not compassed as neat a deception by telling the truth
as coarser politicians could do by falsehood.

Spinola found the royal finances in most dismal condition. Three hundred
thousand dollars a month were the least estimate of the necessary
expenses for carrying on the Netherland war, a sum which could not
possibly be spared by Lerma, Uceda, the Marquis of the Seven Churches,
and other financiers then industriously occupied in draining dry the
exchequer for their own uses. Once more the general aided his sovereign
with purse and credit, as well as with his sword. Once more the exchange
at Genoa was glutted with the acceptances of Marquis Spinola. Here at
least was a man of a nature not quite so depraved as that of the
parasites bred out of the corruption of a noble but dying commonwealth,
and doubtless it was with gentle contempt that the great favourite and
his friends looked at the military and financial enthusiasm of the
volunteer. It was so much more sagacious to make a princely fortune than
to sacrifice one already inherited, in the service of one's country.

Spinola being thus ready not only to fight but to help to pay for the
fighting, found his plans of campaigns received with great benignity by
the king and his ministers. Meantime there was much delay. The enormous
labours thus devolved upon one pair of shoulders by the do-nothing king
and a mayor of the palace whose soul was absorbed by his own private
robberies, were almost too much for human strength. On his return to the
Netherlands Spinola fell dangerously ill in Genoa.

Meantime, during his absence and the enforced idleness of the Catholic
armies, there was an opportunity for the republicans to act with
promptness and vigour. They displayed neither quality. Never had there
been so much sluggishness as in the preparations for the campaign of
1606. The States' exchequer was lower than it had been for years. The
republic was without friends. Left to fight their battle for national
existence alone, the Hollanders found themselves perpetually subjected to
hostile censure from their late allies, and to friendly advice still more
intolerable. There were many brave Englishmen and Frenchmen sharing in
the fatigues of the Dutch war of independence, but the governments of
Henry and of James were as protective, as severely virtuous, as
offensive, and, in their secret intrigues with the other belligerent, as
mischievous as it was possible for the best-intentioned neutrals to be.

The fame and the popularity of the stadholder had been diminished by the
results of the past campaign. The States-General were disappointed,
dissatisfied, and inclined to censure very unreasonably the public
servant who had always obeyed their decrees with docility. While Henry
IV. was rapidly transferring his admiration from Maurice to Spinola, the
disagreements at home between the Advocate and the Stadholder were
becoming portentous.

There was a want of means and of soldiers for the new campaign. Certain
causes were operating in Europe to the disadvantage of both belligerents.
In the south, Venice had almost drawn her sword against the pope in her
settled resolution to put down the Jesuits and to clip the wings of the
church party, before, with bequests and donations, votive churches and
magnificent monasteries, four-fifths of the domains of the republic
should fall into mortmain, as was already the case in Brabant.

Naturally there was a contest between the ex-Huguenot, now eldest son of
the Church, and the most Catholic king, as to who should soonest defend
the pope. Henry offered thorough protection to his Holiness, but only
under condition that he should have a monopoly of that protection. He
lifted his sword, but meantime it was doubtful whether the blow was to
descend upon Venice or upon Spain. The Spanish levies, on their way to
the Netherlands, were detained in Italy by this new exigency. The
States-General offered the sister republic their maritime assistance, and
notwithstanding their own immense difficulties, stood ready to send a
fleet to the Mediterranean. The offer was gratefully declined, and the
quarrel with the pope arranged, but the incident laid the foundation of a
lasting friendship between the only two important republics then
existing. The issue of the Gunpowder Plot, at the close of the preceding
year, had confirmed James in his distaste for Jesuits, and had effected
that which all the eloquence of the States-General and their ambassador
had failed to accomplish, the prohibition of Spanish enlistments in his
kingdom. Guido Fawkes had served under the archduke in Flanders.

Here then were delays additional to that caused by Spinola's illness. On
the other hand, the levies of the republic were for a season paralysed by
the altercation, soon afterwards adjusted, between Henry IV. and the Duke
of Bouillon, brother-in-law of the stadholder and of the Palatine, and by
the petty war between the Duke and Hanseatic city of Brunswick, in which
Ernest of Nassau was for a time employed.

During this period of almost suspended animation the war gave no signs of
life, except in a few spasmodic efforts on the part of the irrepressible
Du Terrail. Early in the spring, not satisfied with his double and
disastrous repulse before Bergen-op-Zoom, that partisan now determined to
surprise Sluy's. That an attack was impending became known to the
governor of that city, the experienced Colonel Van der Noot. Not
dreaming, however, that any mortal--even the most audacious of Frenchmen
and adventurers--would ever think of carrying a city like Sluy's by
surprise, defended as it was by a splendid citadel and by a whole chain
of forts and water-batteries, and capable of withstanding three months
long, as it had so recently done, a siege in form by the acknowledged
master of the beleaguering science, the methodical governor event calmly
to bed one fine night in June. His slumbers were disturbed before morning
by the sound of trumpets sounding Spanish melodies in the streets, and by
a great uproar and shouting. Springing out of bed, he rushed
half-dressed to the rescue. Less vigilant than Paul Bax had been the year
before in Bergen, he found that Du Terrail had really effected a
surprise. At the head of twelve hundred Walloons and Irishmen, that
enterprising officer had waded through the drowned land of Cadzand, with
the promised support of a body of infantry under Frederic Van den Berg,
from Damm, had stolen noiselessly by the forts of that island
unchallenged and unseen, had effected with petards a small breach through
the western gate of the city, and with a large number of his followers,
creeping two and two through the gap, had found himself for a time master
of Sluys.

The profound silence of the place had however somewhat discouraged the
intruders. The whole population were as sound asleep as was the excellent
commandant, but the stillness in the deserted streets suggested an
ambush, and they moved stealthily forward, feeling their way with caution
towards the centre of the town.

It so happened, moreover, that the sacristan had forgotten to wind up the
great town clock. The agreement with the party first entering and making
their way to the opposite end of the city, had been that at the striking
of a certain hour after midnight they should attack simultaneously and
with a great outcry all the guardhouses, so that the garrison might be
simultaneously butchered. The clock never struck, the signal was never
given, and Du Terrail and his immediate comrades remained near the
western gate, suspicious and much perplexed. The delay was fatal. The
guard, the whole garrison, and the townspeople flew to arms, and
half-naked, but equipped with pike and musket, and led on by Van der Noot
in person, fell upon the intruders. A panic took the place of previous
audacity in the breasts of Du Terrail's followers. Thinking only of
escape, they found the gap by which they had crept into the town much
less convenient as a means of egress in the face of an infuriated
multitude. Five hundred of them were put to death in a very few minutes.
Almost as many were drowned or suffocated in the marshes, as they
attempted to return by the road over which they had come. A few
stragglers June, of the fifteen hundred were all that were left to tell
the tale.

It would seem scarcely worth while to chronicle such trivial incidents in
this great war--the all-absorbing drama of Christendom--were it not that
they were for the moment the whole war. It might be thought that
hostilities were approaching their natural termination, and that the war
was dying of extreme old age, when the Quixotic pranks of a Du Terrail
occupied so large a part of European attention.

The winter had passed, another spring had come and gone, and Maurice had
in vain attempted to obtain sufficient means from the States to take the
field in force. Henry, looking on from the outside, was becoming more and
more exasperated with the dilatoriness which prevented the republic from
profiting by the golden moments of Spinola's enforced absence. Yet the
best that could be done seemed to be to take measures for defensive
operations.

Spinola never reached Brussels until the beginning of June, yet, during
all the good campaigning weather which had been fleeting away, not a blow
had been struck, nor a wholesome counsel taken by the stadholder or the
States. It was midsummer before the armies were in the field. The plans
of the Catholic general however then rapidly developed themselves. Having
assembled as large a force as had ever been under his command, he now
divided it into two nearly equal portions. Bucquoy, with ten thousand
foot, twelve hundred cavalry, and twelve guns, arrived on the 18th July
at Nook, on the Meuse. Spinola, with eleven thousand infantry, two
thousand horse, and eight guns, crossed the Rhine at the old redoubts of
Ruhrort, and on the same 18th July took position at Goor, in Overyssel.
The first plan of the commander-in-chief was to retrace exactly his
campaign of the previous year, even as he had with so much frankness
stated to Henry. But the republic, although deserted by her former
friends, and looked upon askance by the monarch of Britain, and by the
most Christian king, had this year a most efficient ally in the weather.
Jupiter Pluvius had descended from on high to the rescue of the
struggling commonwealth, and his decrees were omnipotent as to the course
of the campaign. The seasons that year seemed all fused into one. It was
difficult to tell on midsummer day whether it were midwinter, spring, or
autumn. The rain came down day after day, week after week, as if the
contending armies and the very country which was to be invaded and
defended were to be all washed out of existence together. Friesland
resolved itself into a vast quagmire; the roads became fluid, the rivers
lakes. Spinola turned his face from the east, and proceeded to carry out
a second plan which he had long meditated, and even a more effective one,
in the west.

The Waal and the Yssel formed two sides of a great quadrilateral; and
furnished for the natural fortress, thus enclosed, two vast and admirable
moats. Within lay Good-meadow and Foul-meadow--Bet-uwe and Vel-uwe--one,
the ancient Batavian island which from time immemorial had given its name
to the commonwealth, the other, the once dismal swamp which toil and
intelligence had in the course of centuries transformed into the wealthy
and flowery land of Gueldres.

Beyond, but in immediate proximity, lay the ancient episcopal city and
province of Utrecht, over which lay the road to the adjacent Holland and
Zeeland. The very heart of the republic would be laid bare to the
conqueror's sword if he could once force the passage, and obtain the
control of these two protecting streams. With Utrecht as his base, and
all Brabant and Flanders--obedient provinces--at his back, Spinola might
accomplish more in one season than Alva, Don John, and Alexander Farnese
had compassed in forty years, and destroy at a blow what was still called
the Netherland rebellion. The passage of the rivers once effected, the
two enveloping wings would fold themselves together, and the conquest
would be made.

Thus reasoned the brilliant young general, and his projects, although
far-reaching, did not seem wild. The first steps were, however, the most
important as well as the most difficult, and he had to reckon with a wary
and experienced antagonist. Maurice had at last collected and reviewed at
Arnhem an army of nearly fifteen thousand men, and was now watching
closely from Doesburg and Deventer every movement of the foe.

Having been forced to a defensive campaign, in which he was not likely at
best to gain many additional laurels, he was the more determined to lay
down his own life, and sacrifice every man he could bring into the field,
before Spinola should march into the cherished domains of Utrecht and
Holland. Meantime the rain, which had already exerted so much influence
on the military movements of the year, still maintained the supremacy
over human plans. The Yssel and the Waal, always deep, broad, sluggish,
but dangerous rivers--the Rhine in its old age--were swollen into
enormous proportions, their currents flowing for the time with the vigour
of their far away youth.

Maurice had confided the defence of the Waal to Warner Du Bois, under
whose orders he placed a force of about seven thousand men, and whose
business it was to prevent Bucquoy's passage. His own task was to baffle
Spinola.

Bucquoy's ambition was to cross the Waal at a point as near as possible
to the fork of that stream with the true Rhine, seize the important city
of Nymegen, and then give the hand to Spinola, so soon as he should be on
the other side of the Yssel. At the village of Spardorp or Kekerdom, he
employed Pompeio Giustiniani to make a desperate effort, having secured a
large number of barges in which he embarked his troops. As the boatmen
neared the opposite bank, however, they perceived that Warner Du Bois had
made effective preparations for their reception. They lost heart, and, on
pretence that the current of the river was too rapid to allow them to
reach the point proposed for their landing, gradually dropped down the
stream, and, in spite of the remonstrances of the commanders, pushed
their way back to the shore which they had left. From that time forth,
the States' troops, in efficient numbers, fringed the inner side of the
Waal, along the whole length of the Batavian island, while armed vessels
of the republic patrolled the stream itself. In vain Count Bucquoy
watched an opportunity, either by surprise or by main strength, to effect
a crossing. The Waal remained as impassable as if it were a dividing
ocean.

On the other side of the quadrilateral, Maurice's dispositions were as
effective as those of his lieutenant on the Waal. The left shore of the
Yssel, along its whole length, from Arnhem and Doesburg quite up to Zwoll
and Campen, where the river empties itself into the Zuyder Zee, was now
sprinkled thickly with forts, hastily thrown up, but strong enough to
serve the temporary purpose of the stadholder. In vain the fleet-footed
and audacious Spinola moved stealthily or fiercely to and fro, from one
point to another, seeking an opening through which to creep, or a weak
spot where he might dash himself against the chain. The whole line was
securely guarded. The swollen river, the redoubts, and the musketeers of
Maurice, protected the heart of the republic from the impending danger.

Wearied of this fruitless pacing up and down, Spinola, while apparently
intending an assault upon Deventer, and thus attracting his adversary's
attention to that important city, suddenly swerved to the right, and came
down upon Lochem. The little town, with its very slender garrison,
surrendered at once. It was not a great conquest, but it might possibly
be of use in the campaign. It was taken before the stadholder could move
a step to its assistance, even had he deemed it prudent to leave
Yssel-side for an hour. The summer was passing away, the rain was still
descending, and it was the 1st of August before Spinola left Lochem. He
then made a rapid movement to the north, between Zwoll and Hasselt,
endeavouring to cross the Blackwater, and seize Geelmuyden, on the Zuyder
Zee. Had he succeeded, he might have turned Maurice's position. But the
works in that direction had been entrusted to an experienced campaigner,
Warmelo, sheriff of Zalant, who received the impetuous Spinola and his
lieutenant, Count Solre, so warmly, that they reeled backwards at last,
after repeated assaults and great loss of men, and never more attempted
to cross the Yssel.

Obviously, the campaign had failed. Utrecht and Holland were as far out
of the Catholic general's reach as the stars in the sky, but at least,
with his large armies, he could earn a few trophies, barren or
productive, as it might prove, before winter, uniting with the deluge,
should drive him from the field.

On the 3rd August, he laid siege to Groll (or Groenlo), a fortified town
of secondary importance in the country of Zutphen, and, squandering his
men with much recklessness, in his determination not to be baffled,
reduced the place in eleven days. Here he paused for a breathing spell,
and then, renouncing all his schemes upon the inner defences of the
republic, withdrew once more to the Rhine and laid siege to Rheinberg.

This frontier place had been tossed to and fro so often between the
contending parties in the perpetual warfare, that its inhabitants must
have learned to consider themselves rather as a convenient circulating
medium for military operations than as burghers who had any part in the
ordinary business of life. It had old-fashioned defences of stones which,
during the recent occupation by the States, had been much improved, and
had been strengthened with earthworks.

Before it was besieged, Maurice sent his brother Frederic Henry, with
some picked companies, into the place, so that the garrison amounted to
three thousand effective men.

The Prince de Soubise, brother of the Duc de Rohan, and other French
volunteers of quality, also threw themselves into the place, in order to
take lessons in the latest methods of attack and defence. It was now
admitted that no more accomplished pupil of the stadholder in the
beleaguering art had appeared in Europe than his present formidable
adversary. On this occasion, however, there was no great display of
science. Maurice obstinately refused to move to the relief of the place,
despite all the efforts of a deputation of the States-General who visited
his camp in September, urging him strenuously to take the chances of a
stricken field.

Nothing could induce the stadholder, who held an observing position at
Wesel, with his back against the precious watery quadrilateral, to risk
the defence of those most vital lines of the Yssel and the Waal. While
attempting to save Rheinberg, he felt it possible that he might lose
Nymegen, or even Utrecht. The swift but wily Genoese was not to be
trifled with or lost sight of an instant. The road to Holland might still
be opened, and the destiny of the republic might hang on the consequences
of a single false move. That destiny, under God, was in his hands alone,
and no chance of winning laurels, even from his greatest rival's head,
could induce him to shrink from the path of duty, however obscure it
might seem. There were a few brilliant assaults and sorties, as in all
sieges, the French volunteers especially distinguishing themselves; but
the place fell at the end of forty days. The garrison marched out with
the honours of war. In the modern practice, armies were rarely captured
in strongholds, nor were the defenders, together with the population,
butchered.

The loss, after a six weeks' siege, of Rheinberg, which six years before,
with far inferior fortifications, had held out a much longer time against
the States, was felt as a bitter disappointment throughout the republic.
Frederic Henry, on leaving the place, made a feeble and unsuccessful
demonstration against Yenlo, by which the general dissatisfaction was not
diminished. Soon afterwards, the war became more languid than ever. News
arrived of a great crisis on the Genoa exchange. A multitude of
merchants, involved in pecuniary transactions with Spinola, fell with one
tremendous crash. The funds of the Catholic commander-in-chief were
already exhausted, his acceptances could no longer be negotiated.

His credit was becoming almost as bad as the king's own. The inevitable
consequence of the want of cash and credit followed. Mutiny, for the
first time in Spinola's administration, raised its head once more, and
stalked about defiant. Six hundred veterans marched to Breda, and offered
their services to Justinus of Nassau. The proposal was accepted. Other
bands, established their quarters in different places, chose their
Elettos and lesser officers, and enacted the scenes which have been so
often depicted in these pages. The splendid army of Spinola melted like
April snow. By the last week of October there hardly seemed a Catholic
army in the field. The commander-in-chief had scattered such companies as
could still be relied upon in the villages of the friendly
arch-episcopate of Cologne, and had obtained, not by murders and
blackmail--according to the recent practice of the Admiral of Arragon, at
whose grim name the whole country-side still shuddered--but from the
friendship of the leading inhabitants and by honest loans, a sufficient
sum to put bread into the mouths of the troops still remaining faithful
to him.

The opportunity had at last arrived for the stadholder to strike a blow
before the season closed. Bankruptcy and mutiny had reduced his enemy to
impotence in the very season of his greatest probable success. On the
24th October Maurice came before Lochem, which he recaptured in five
days. Next in the order of Spinola's victories was Groll, which the
stadholder at once besieged. He had almost fifteen thousand infantry and
three thousand horse. A career of brief triumph before winter should
close in upon those damping fields, seemed now assured. But the rain,
which during nearly the whole campaign had been his potent ally, had of
late been playing him false. The swollen Yssel, during a brief period of
dry weather, had sunk so low in certain shallows as not to be navigable
for his transports, and after his trains of artillery and munitions had
been dragged wearily overland as far as Groll, the deluge had returned in
such force, that physical necessity as well as considerations of humanity
compelled him to defer his entrenching operations until the weather
should moderate. As there seemed no further danger to be apprehended from
the broken, mutinous, and dispersed forces of the enemy, the siege
operations were conducted in a leisurely manner. What was the
astonishment, therefore, among the soldiers, when a rumour flew about the
camp in the early days of November that the indomitable Spinola was again
advancing upon them! It was perfectly true. With extraordinary
perseverance he had gathered up six or seven thousand infantry and twelve
companies of horse--all the remnants of the splendid armies with which he
had taken the field at midsummer--and was now marching to the relief of
Groll, besieged as it was by a force at least doubly as numerous as his
own. It was represented to the stadholder, however, that an impassable
morass lay between him and the enemy, and that there would therefore be
time enough to complete his entrenchments before Spinola could put his
foolhardy attempt into execution. But the Catholic general, marching
faster than rumour itself, had crossed the impracticable swamp almost
before a spadeful of earth had been turned in the republican camp. His
advance was in sight even while the incredulous were sneering at the
absurdity of his supposed project. Informed by scouts of the weakest
point in the stadholder's extended lines, Spinola was directing himself
thither with beautiful precision. Maurice hastily contracted both his
wings, and concentrated himself in the village of Lebel. At last the
moment had come for a decisive struggle. There could be little doubt of
the result. All the advantage was with the republican army. The Catholics
had arrived in front of the enemy fatigued by forced marches through
quagmires, in horrible weather, over roads deemed impassable. The States'
troops were fresh, posted on ground of their own choosing, and partially
entrenched. To the astonishment, even to the horror of the most eager
portion of the army, the stadholder deliberately, and despite the groans
of his soldiers, refused the combat, and gave immediate orders for
raising the siege and abandoning the field.

On the 12th of November he broke up his camp and withdrew to a village
called Zelem. On the same day the marquis, having relieved the city,
without paying the expected price, retired in another direction, and
established what was left of his army in the province of Munster. The
campaign was closed.  And thus the great war which had run its stormy
course for nearly forty years, dribbled out of existence, sinking away
that rainy November in the dismal fens of Zutphen. The long struggle for
independence had come, almost unperceived, to an end.

Peace had not arrived, but the work of the armies was over for many a
long year. Freedom and independence were secured. A deed or two, never to
be forgotten by Netherland hearts, was yet to be done on the ocean,
before the long and intricate negotiations for peace should begin, and
the weary people permit themselves to rejoice; but the prize was already
won.

Meantime, the conduct of Prince Maurice in these last days of the
campaign was the subject of biting censure by friend and foe. The
military fame of Spinola throughout Europe grew apace; and the fame of
his great rival seemed to shrink in the same proportion.

Henry of France was especially indignant at what he considered the
shortcomings of the republic and of its chief. Already, before the close
of the summer, the agent Aerssens had written from Paris that his Majesty
was very much displeased with Spinola's prosperity, ascribing it to the
want of good councils on the part of the States' Government that so fine
an army should lie idle so long, without making an attempt to relieve the
beleaguered places, so that Spinola felt assured of taking anything as
soon as he made his appearance. "Your Mightinesses cannot believe,"
continued the agent, "what a trophy is made by the Spanish ministers out
of these little exploits, and they have so much address at this court,
that if such things continue they may produce still greater results."

In December he wrote that the king was so malcontent concerning the siege
of Groll as to make it impossible to answer him with arguments, that he
openly expressed regret at not having employed the money lent to the
States upon strengthening his own frontiers, so distrustful was he of
their capacity for managing affairs, and that he mentioned with disgust
statements received from his ambassador at Brussels and from the Duc de
Rohan, to the effect that Spinola had between five and six thousand men
only at the relief of Groll, against twelve thousand in the stadholder's
army.

The motives of the deeds and the omissions of the prince at this supreme
moment must be pondered with great caution. The States-General had
doubtless been inclined for vigorous movements, and Olden-Barneveld, with
some of his colleagues, had visited the camp late in September to urge
the relief of Rheinberg. Maurice was in daily correspondence with the
Government, and regularly demanded their advice, by which, on many former
occasions, he had bound himself, even when it was in conflict with his
own better judgment.

But throughout this campaign, the responsibility was entirely, almost
ostentatiously, thrown by the States-General upon their
commander-in-chief, and, as already indicated, their preparations in the
spring and early summer had been entirely inadequate. Should he lose the
army with which he had so quietly but completely checked Spinola in all
his really important moves during the summer and autumn, he might despair
of putting another very soon into the field. That his force in that
November week before Groll was numerically far superior to the enemy is
certain, but he had lost confidence in his cavalry since their bad
behaviour at Mulheim the previous year, and a very large proportion of
his infantry was on the sick-list at the moment of Spinola's approach.
"Lest the continual bad weather should entirely consume the army," he
said, "we are resolved, within a day or two after we have removed the
sick who are here in great numbers, to break up, unless the enemy should
give us occasion to make some attempt upon him."

Maurice was the servant of a small republic, contending single-handed
against an empire still considered the most formidable power in the
world. His cue was not necessarily to fight on all occasions; for delay
often fights better than an army against a foreign invader. When a battle
and a victory were absolutely necessary we have seen the magnificent
calmness which at Nieuport secured triumph under the shadow of death. Had
he accepted Spinola's challenge in November, he would probably have
defeated him and have taken Groll. He might not, however, have
annihilated his adversary, who, even when worsted, would perhaps have
effected his escape. The city was of small value to the republic. The
principal advantage of a victory would have been increased military
renown for himself. Viewed in this light, there is something almost
sublime in the phlegmatic and perfectly republican composure with which
he disdained laurels, easily enough, as it would stem, to have been
acquired, and denied his soldiers the bloodshed and the suffering for
which they were clamouring.

And yet, after thoroughly weighing and measuring all these circumstances,
it is natural to regret that he did not on that occasion rise upon
Spinola and smite him to the earth. The Lord had delivered him into his
hands. The chances of his own defeat were small, its probable
consequences, should it occur, insignificant. It is hardly conceivable
that he could have been so completely overthrown as to allow the Catholic
commander to do in November what he had tried all summer in vain to
accomplish, cross the Yssel and the Waal, with the dregs of his army, and
invade Holland and Zeeland in midwinter, over the prostrate bodies of
Maurice and all his forces. On the other hand, that the stadholder would
have sent the enemy reeling back to his bogs, with hardly the semblance
of an army at his heels, was almost certain: The effect of such a blow
upon impending negotiations, and especially upon the impressible
imagination of Henry and the pedantic shrewdness of James, would have
been very valuable. It was not surprising that the successful soldier who
sat on the French throne, and who had been ever ready to wager life and
crown on the results of a stricken field, should be loud in his
expressions of disapprobation and disgust. Yet no man knew better than
the sagacious Gascon that fighting to win a crown, and to save a
republic, were two essentially different things.

In the early summer of this year Admiral Haultain, whom we lately saw
occupied with tossing Sarmiento's Spanish legion into the sea off the
harbour of Dover, had been despatched to the Spanish coast on a still
more important errand. The outward bound Portuguese merchantmen and the
home returning fleets from America, which had been absent nearly two
years, might be fallen in with at any moment, in the latitude of 36-38
deg. The admiral, having received orders, therefore, to cruise carefully
in those regions, sailed for the shores of Portugal with a squadron of
twenty-four war-ships. His expedition was not very successful. He picked
up a prize or two here and there, and his presence on the coast prevented
the merchant-fleet from sailing out of Lisbon for the East Indies, the
merchandise already on board being disembarked and the voyage postponed
to a more favourable opportunity.

He saw nothing, however, of the long-expected ships from the golden West
Indies--as Mexico, Peru, and Brazil were then indiscriminately
called--and after parting company with six of his own ships, which were
dispersed and damaged in a gale, and himself suffering from a dearth of
provisions, he was forced to return without much gain or glory.

In the month of September he was once more despatched on the same
service. He had nineteen war-galleots of the first class, and two yachts,
well equipped and manned. Vice-admiral of the fleet was Regnier Klaaszoon
(or Nicholson), of Amsterdam, a name which should always be held fresh in
remembrance, not only by mariners and Netherlanders, but by all men whose
pulses can beat in sympathy with practical heroism.

The admiral coasted deliberately along the shores of Spain and Portugal.
It seemed impossible that the golden fleets, which, as it was
ascertained, had not yet arrived, could now escape the vigilance of the
Dutch cruisers. An occasional merchant-ship or small war-galley was met
from time to time and chased into the harbours. A landing was here and
there effected and a few villages burned. But these were not the prizes
nor the trophies sought. On the 19th September a storm off the Portuguese
coast scattered the fleet; six of the best and largest ships being
permanently lost sight of and separated from the rest. With the other
thirteen Haultain now cruised off Cape St. Vincent directly across the
ordinary path of the homeward-bound treasure ships.

On the 6th October many sails were descried in the distance, and the
longing eyes of the Hollanders were at last gratified with what was
supposed to be the great West India commercial squadrons. The delusion
was brief. Instead of innocent and richly Freighted merchantmen, the new
comers soon proved to be the war-ships of Admiral Dan Luis de Fazardo,
eighteen great galleons and eight galleys strong, besides lesser
vessels--the most formidable fleet that for years had floated in those
waters. There had been time for Admiral Haultain to hold but a very brief
consultation