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Title: The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1573-74
Author: John Lothrop Motley
Release Date: January, 2004 [EBook #4822]
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[This file was first posted on March 19, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1573-74 ***
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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, PG EDITION, VOLUME 22.
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC
By John Lothrop Motley
1855
ADMINISTRATION OF THE GRAND COMMANDER
PART IV.
1573-74 [CHAPTER I.]
Previous career of Requesens--Philip's passion for detail--Apparent
and real purposes of government--Universal desire for peace--
Correspondence of leading royalists with Orange--Bankruptcy of the
exchequer at Alva's departures--Expensive nature of the war--
Pretence of mildness on the part of the Commander--His private
views--Distress of Mondragon at Middelburg--Crippled condition of
Holland--Orange's secret negotiations with France--St. Aldegonde's
views in captivity--Expedition to relieve Middelburg--Counter
preparations of Orange--Defeat of the expedition--Capitulation of
Mondragon--Plans of Orange and his brothers--An army under Count
Louis crosses the Rhine--Measures taken by Requesens--Manoeuvres of
Avila and of Louis--The two armies in face at Mook--Battle of Mook-
heath--Overthrow and death of Count Louis--The phantom battle--
Character of Louis of Nassau--Painful uncertainty as to his fate--
Periodical mutinies of the Spanish troops characterized--Mutiny
after the battle of Mook--Antwerp attacked and occupied,--Insolent
and oppressive conduct of the mutineers--Offers of Requesens
refused--Mutiny in the citadel--Exploits of Salvatierra--Terms of
composition--Soldiers' feast on the mere--Successful expedition of
Admiral Boisot
The horrors of Alva's administration had caused men to look back with
fondness upon the milder and more vacillating tyranny of the Duchess
Margaret. From the same cause the advent of the Grand Commander was
hailed with pleasure and with a momentary gleam of hope. At any rate,
it was a relief that the man in whom an almost impossible perfection of
cruelty seemed embodied was at last to be withdrawn. it was certain that
his successor, however ambitious of following in Alva's footsteps, would
never be able to rival the intensity and the unswerving directness of
purpose which it had been permitted to the Duke's nature to attain. The
new Governor-General was, doubtless, human, and it had been long since
the Netherlanders imagined anything in common between themselves and the
late Viceroy.
Apart from this hope, however, there was little encouragement to be
derived from anything positively known of the new functionary, or the
policy which he was to represent. Don Luis de Requesens and Cuniga,
Grand Commander of Castile and late Governor of Milan, was a man of
mediocre abilities, who possessed a reputation for moderation and
sagacity which he hardly deserved. His military prowess had been chiefly
displayed in the bloody and barren battle of Lepanto, where his conduct
and counsel were supposed to have contributed, in some measure, to the
victorious result. His administration at Milan had been characterized
as firm and moderate. Nevertheless, his character was regarded with
anything but favorable eyes in the Netherlands. Men told each other of
his broken faith to the Moors in Granada, and of his unpopularity in
Milan, where, notwithstanding his boasted moderation, he had, in reality,
so oppressed the people as to gain their deadly hatred. They complained,
too, that it was an insult to send, as Governor-General of the provinces,
not a prince of the blood, as used to be the case, but a simple
"gentleman of cloak and sword."
Any person, however, who represented the royal authority in the provinces
was under historical disadvantage. He was literally no more than an
actor, hardly even that. It was Philip's policy and pride to direct all
the machinery of his extensive empire, and to pull every string himself.
His puppets, however magnificently attired, moved only in obedience to
his impulse, and spoke no syllable but with his voice. Upon the table in
his cabinet was arranged all the business of his various realms, even to
the most minute particulars.
Plans, petty or vast, affecting the interests of empires and ages,
or bounded within the narrow limits of trivial and evanescent detail,
encumbered his memory and consumed his time. His ambition to do all the
work of his kingdoms was aided by an inconceivable greediness for labor.
He loved the routine of business, as some monarchs have loved war,
as others have loved pleasure. The object, alike paltry and impossible,
of this ambition, bespoke the narrow mind. His estates were regarded by
him as private property; measures affecting the temporal and eternal
interests of millions were regarded as domestic affairs, and the eye of
the master was considered the only one which could duly superintend these
estates and those interests. Much incapacity to govern was revealed in
this inordinate passion to administer. His mind, constantly fatigued by
petty labors, was never enabled to survey his wide domains from the
height of majesty.
In Alva, certainly, he had employed an unquestionable reality; but Alva,
by a fortunate coincidence of character, had seemed his second self. He
was now gone, however, and although the royal purpose had not altered,
the royal circumstances were changed. The moment had arrived when it was
thought that the mask and cothurn might again be assumed with effect;
when a grave and conventional personage might decorously make his
appearance to perform an interlude of clemency and moderation with
satisfactory results. Accordingly, the Great Commander, heralded by
rumors of amnesty, was commissioned to assume the government which Alva
had been permitted to resign.
It had been industriously circulated that a change of policy was
intended. It was even supposed by the more sanguine that the Duke had
retired in disgrace. A show of coldness was manifested towards him on
his return by the King, while Vargas, who had accompanied the Governor,
was peremptorily forbidden to appear within five leagues of the court.
The more discerning, however, perceived much affectation in this apparent
displeasure. Saint Goard, the keen observer of Philip's moods and
measures, wrote to his sovereign that he had narrowly observed the
countenances of both Philip and Alva; that he had informed himself as
thoroughly as possible with regard to the course of policy intended;
that he had arrived at the conclusion that the royal chagrin was but
dissimulation, intended to dispose the Netherlanders to thoughts of an
impossible peace, and that he considered the present merely a breathing
time, in which still more active preparations might be made for crushing
the rebellion. It was now evident to the world that the revolt had
reached a stage in which it could be terminated only by absolute
conquest or concession.
To conquer the people of the provinces, except by extermination,
seemed difficult--to judge by the seven years of execution, sieges
and campaigns, which had now passed without a definite result. It was,
therefore, thought expedient to employ concession. The new Governor
accordingly, in case the Netherlanders would abandon every object for
which they had been so heroically contending, was empowered to concede
a pardon. It was expressly enjoined upon him, however, that no
conciliatory measures should be adopted in which the King's absolute
supremacy, and the total prohibition of every form of worship but the
Roman Catholic, were not assumed as a basis. Now, as the people had been
contending at least ten years long for constitutional rights against
prerogative, and at least seven for liberty of conscience against
papistry, it was easy to foretell how much effect any negotiations
thus commenced were likely to produce.
Yet, no doubt, in the Netherlands there was a most earnest longing for
peace. The Catholic portion of the population were desirous of a
reconciliation with their brethren of the new religion. The universal
vengeance which had descended upon heresy had not struck the heretics
only. It was difficult to find a fireside, Protestant or Catholic, which
had not been made desolate by execution, banishment, or confiscation.
The common people and the grand seigniors were alike weary of the war.
Not only Aerschot and Viglius, but Noircarmes and Berlaymont, were
desirous that peace should be at last compassed upon liberal terms,
and the Prince of Orange fully and unconditionally pardoned. Even the
Spanish commanders had become disgusted with the monotonous butchery
which had stained their swords. Julian Romero; the fierce and
unscrupulous soldier upon whose head rested the guilt of the Naarden
massacre, addressed several letters to William of Orange, full of
courtesy, and good wishes for a speedy termination of the war, and for an
entire reconciliation of the Prince with his sovereign. Noircarmes also
opened a correspondence with the great leader of the revolt; and offered
to do all in his power to restore peace and prosperity to the country.
The Prince answered the courtesy of the Spaniard with equal, but barren,
courtesy; for it was obvious that no definite result could be derived
from such informal negotiations. To Noircarmes he responded in terms of
gentle but grave rebuke, expressing deep regret that a Netherland noble
of such eminence, with so many others of rank and authority, should so
long have supported the King in his tyranny. He, however, expressed his
satisfaction that their eyes, however late, had opened to the enormous
iniquity which had been practised in the country, and he accepted the
offers of friendship as frankly as they had been made. Not long
afterwards, the Prince furnished his correspondent with a proof of his
sincerity, by forwarding to him two letters which had been intercepted;
from certain agents of government to Alva, in which Noircarmes and others
who had so long supported the King against their own country, were spoken
of in terms of menace and distrust. The Prince accordingly warned his
new correspondent that, in spite of all the proofs of uncompromising
loyalty which he had exhibited, he was yet moving upon a dark and
slippery-pathway, and might, even like Egmont and Horn, find a scaffold-
as the end and the reward of his career. So profound was that abyss of
dissimulation which constituted the royal policy, towards the
Netherlands, that the most unscrupulous partisans of government could
only see doubt and danger with regard to their future destiny, and
were sometimes only saved by an opportune death from disgrace and
the hangman's hands.
Such, then, were the sentiments of many eminent personages, even among
the most devoted loyalists. All longed for peace; many even definitely
expected it, upon the arrival of the Great Commander. Moreover, that
functionary discovered, at his first glance into the disorderly state of
the exchequer, that at least a short respite was desirable before
proceeding with the interminable measures of hostility against the
rebellion. If any man had been ever disposed to give Alva credit for
administrative ability, such delusion must have vanished at the spectacle
of confusion and bankruptcy which presented, itself at the termination of
his government. He resolutely declined to give his successor any
information whatever as to his financial position. So far from
furnishing a detailed statement, such as might naturally be expected
upon so momentous an occasion, he informed the Grand Commander that even
a sketch was entirely out of the question, and would require more time
and labor than he could then afford. He took his departure, accordingly,
leaving Requesens in profound ignorance as to his past accounts; an
ignorance in which it is probable that the Duke himself shared to the
fullest extent. His enemies stoutly maintained that, however loosely his
accounts had been kept, he had been very careful to make no mistakes
against himself, and that he had retired full of wealth, if not of honor,
from his long and terrible administration. His own letters, on the
contrary, accused the King of ingratitude, in permitting an old soldier
to ruin himself, not only in health but in fortune, for want of proper
recompense during an arduous administration. At any rate it is very
certain that the rebellion had already been an expensive matter to the
Crown. The army in the Netherlands numbered more than sixty-two thousand
men, eight thousand being Spaniards, the rest Walloons and Germans.
Forty millions of dollars had already been sunk, and it seemed probable
that it would require nearly the whole annual produce of the American
mines to sustain the war. The transatlantic gold and silver, disinterred
from the depths where they had been buried for ages, were employed, not
to expand the current of a healthy, life-giving commerce, but to be
melted into blood. The sweat and the tortures of the King's pagan
subjects in the primeval forests of the New World, were made subsidiary
to the extermination of his Netherland people, and the destruction of an
ancient civilization. To this end had Columbus discovered a hemisphere
for Castile and Aragon, and the new Indies revealed their hidden
treasures?
Forty millions of ducats had been spent. Six and a half millions of
arrearages were due to the army, while its current expenses were six
hundred thousand a month. The military expenses alone of the Netherlands
were accordingly more than seven millions of dollars yearly, and the
mines of the New World produced, during the half century of Philip's
reign, an average of only eleven. Against this constantly increasing
deficit, there was not a stiver in the exchequer, nor the means of
raising one. The tenth penny had been long virtually extinct, and was
soon to be formally abolished. Confiscation had ceased to afford a
permanent revenue, and the estates obstinately refused to grant a dollar.
Such was the condition to which the unrelenting tyranny and the financial
experiments of Alva had reduced the country.
It was, therefore, obvious to Requesens that it would be useful at the
moment to hold out hopes of pardon and reconciliation. He saw, what he
had not at first comprehended, and what few bigoted supporters of
absolutism in any age have ever comprehended, that national enthusiasm,
when profound and general, makes a rebellion more expensive to the despot
than to the insurgents. "Before my arrival," wrote the Grand Commander
to his sovereign, "I did not understand how the rebels could maintain
such considerable fleets, while your Majesty could not support a single
one. It appears, however, that men who are fighting for their lives,
their firesides, their property, and their false religion, for their own
cause, in short, are contented to receive rations only, without receiving
pay." The moral which the new Governor drew from his correct diagnosis
of the prevailing disorder was, not that this national enthusiasm should
be respected, but that it should be deceived. He deceived no one but
himself, however. He censured Noircarmes and Romero for their
intermeddling, but held out hopes of a general pacification. He
repudiated the idea of any reconciliation between the King and the Prince
of Orange, but proposed at the same time a settlement of the revolt.
He had not yet learned that the revolt and William of Orange were one.
Although the Prince himself had repeatedly offered to withdraw for ever
from the country, if his absence would expedite a settlement satisfactory
to the provinces, there was not a patriot in the Netherlands who could
contemplate his departure without despair. Moreover, they all knew
better than did Requesens, the inevitable result of the pacific measures
which had been daily foreshadowed.
The appointment of the Grand Commander was in truth a desperate attempt
to deceive the Netherlanders. He approved distinctly and heartily of
Alva's policy, but wrote to the King that it was desirable to amuse the
people with the idea of another and a milder scheme. He affected to
believe, and perhaps really did believe, that the nation would accept the
destruction of all their institutions, provided that penitent heretics
were allowed to be reconciled to the Mother Church, and obstinate ones
permitted to go into perpetual exile, taking with them a small portion of
their worldly goods. For being willing to make this last and almost
incredible concession, he begged pardon sincerely of the King. If
censurable, he ought not, he thought, to be too severely blamed, for his
loyalty was known. The world was aware how often he had risked his life
for his Majesty, and how gladly and how many more times he was ready to
risk it in future. In his opinion, religion had, after all, but very
little to do with the troubles, and so he confidentially informed his
sovereign. Egmont and Horn had died Catholics, the people did not rise
to assist the Prince's invasion in 1568, and the new religion was only a
lever by which a few artful demagogues had attempted to overthrow the
King's authority.
Such views as these revealed the measures of the new Governor's capacity.
The people had really refused to rise in 1568, not because they were
without sympathy for Orange, but because they were paralyzed by their
fear of Alva. Since those days, however, the new religion had increased
and multiplied everywhere, in the blood which had rained upon it. It was
now difficult to find a Catholic in Holland and Zealand, who was not a
government agent. The Prince had been a moderate Catholic, in the
opening scenes of the rebellion, while he came forward as the champion
of liberty for all forms of Christianity. He had now become a convert to
the new religion without receding an inch from his position in favor of
universal toleration. The new religion was, therefore, not an instrument
devised by a faction, but had expanded into the atmosphere of the
people's daily life. Individuals might be executed for claiming to
breathe it, but it was itself impalpable to the attacks of despotism.
Yet the Grand Commander persuaded himself that religion had little or
nothing to do with the state of the Netherlands. Nothing more was
necessary, he thought; or affected to think, in order to restore
tranquillity, than once more to spread the net of a general amnesty.
The Duke of Alva knew better. That functionary, with whom, before his
departure from the provinces, Requesens had been commanded to confer,
distinctly stated his opinion that there was no use of talking about
pardon. Brutally, but candidly, he maintained that there was nothing to
be done but to continue the process of extermination. It was necessary,
he said, to reduce the country to a dead level of unresisting misery;
before an act of oblivion could be securely laid down as the foundation
of a new and permanent order of society. He had already given his advice
to his Majesty, that every town in the country should be burned to the
ground, except those which could be permanently occupied by the royal
troops. The King, however, in his access of clemency at the appointment
of a new administration, instructed the Grand Commander not to resort to
this measure unless it should become strictly necessary.--Such were the
opposite opinions of the old and new governors with regard to the pardon.
The learned Viglius sided with Alva, although manifestly against his
will. "It is both the Duke's opinion and my own," wrote the Commander,
"that Viglius does not dare to express his real opinion, and that he is
secretly desirous of an arrangement with the rebels." With a good deal
of inconsistency, the Governor was offended, not only with those who
opposed his plans, but with those who favored them. He was angry
with Viglius, who, at least nominally, disapproved of the pardon,
and with Noircarmes, Aerschot, and others, who manifested a wish for
a pacification. Of the chief characteristic ascribed to the people by
Julius Caesar, namely, that they forgot neither favors nor injuries, the
second half only, in the Grand Commander's opinion, had been retained.
Not only did they never forget injuries, but their memory, said he,
was so good, that they recollected many which they had never received.
On the whole, however, in the embarrassed condition of affairs, and while
waiting for further supplies, the Commander was secretly disposed to try
the effect of a pardon. The object was to deceive the people and to gain
time; for there was no intention of conceding liberty of conscience,
of withdrawing foreign troops, or of assembling the states-general.
It was, however, not possible to apply these hypocritical measures of
conciliation immediately. The war was in full career and could not be
arrested even in that wintry season. The patriots held Mondragon closely
besieged in Middelburg, the last point in the Isle of Walcheren which
held for the King. There was a considerable treasure in money and
merchandise shut up in that city; and, moreover, so deserving and
distinguished an officer as Mondragon could not be abandoned to his fate.
At the same time, famine was pressing him sorely, and, by the end of the
year, garrison and townspeople had nothing but rats, mice, dogs, cats,
and such repulsive substitutes for food, to support life withal.
It was necessary to take immediate measures to relieve the place.
On the other hand, the situation of the patriots was not very
encouraging. Their superiority on the sea was unquestionable, for the
Hollanders and Zealanders were the best sailors in the world, and they
asked of their country no payment for their blood, but thanks. The land
forces, however, were usually mercenaries, who were apt to mutiny at the
commencement of an action if, as was too often the case, their wages
could not be paid. Holland was entirely cut in twain by the loss of
Harlem and the leaguer of Leyden, no communication between the dissevered
portions being possible, except with difficulty and danger. The estates,
although they had done much for the cause, and were prepared to do much
more, were too apt to wrangle about economical details. They irritated
the Prince of Orange by huckstering about subsidies to a degree which his
proud and generous nature could hardly brook. He had strong hopes from
France. Louis of Nassau had held secret interviews with the Duke of
Alencon and the Duke of Anjou, now King of Poland, at Blamont. Alencon
had assured him secretly, affectionately, and warmly, that he would be as
sincere a friend to the cause as were his two royal brothers. The Count
had even received one hundred thousand livres in hand, as an earnest of
the favorable intentions of France, and was now busily engaged, at the
instance of the Prince, in levying an army in Germany for the relief of
Leyden and the rest of Holland, while William, on his part, was omitting
nothing, whether by representations to the estates or by secret foreign
missions and correspondence, to further the cause of the suffering
country.
At the same time, the Prince dreaded the effect--of the promised pardon.
He had reason to be distrustful of the general temper of the nation when
a man like Saint Aldegonde, the enlightened patriot and his own tried
friend, was influenced, by the discouraging and dangerous position in
which he found himself, to abandon the high ground upon which they had
both so long and so firmly stood: Saint Aldegonde had been held a strict
prisoner since his capture at Maeslandsluis, at the close of Alva's
administration.--It was, no doubt, a predicament attended with much keen
suffering and positive danger. It had hitherto been the uniform policy
of the government to kill all prisoners, of whatever rank. Accordingly,
some had been drowned, some had been hanged--some beheaded some poisoned
in their dungeons--all had been murdered. This had been Alva's course.
The Grand Commander also highly approved of the system, but the capture
of Count Bossu by the patriots had necessitated a suspension of such
rigor. It was certain that Bossu's head would fall as soon as Saint
Aldegonde's, the Prince having expressly warned the government of this
inevitable result. Notwithstanding that security, however, for his
eventual restoration to liberty, a Netherland rebel in a Spanish prison
could hardly feel himself at ease. There were so many foot-marks into
the cave and not a single one coming forth. Yet it was not singular,
however, that the Prince should read with regret the somewhat insincere
casuistry with which Saint Aldegonde sought to persuade himself and his
fellow-countrymen that a reconciliation with the monarch was desirable,
even upon unworthy terms. He was somewhat shocked that so valiant and
eloquent a supporter of the Reformation should coolly express his opinion
that the King would probably refuse liberty of conscience to the
Netherlanders, but would, no doubt, permit heretics to go into
banishment. "Perhaps, after we have gone into exile," added Saint
Aldegonde, almost with baseness, "God may give us an opportunity of doing
such good service to the King, that he will lend us a more favorable ear,
and, peradventure, permit our return to the country."
Certainly, such language was not becoming the pen which wrote the famous
Compromise. The Prince himself was, however, not to be induced, even by
the captivity and the remonstrances of so valued a friend, to swerve from
the path of duty. He still maintained, in public and private, that the
withdrawal of foreign troops from the provinces, the restoration of the
old constitutional privileges, and the entire freedom of conscience in
religious matters, were the indispensable conditions of any pacification.
It was plain to him that the Spaniards were not ready to grant these
conditions; but he felt confident that he should accomplish the release
of Saint Aldegonde without condescending to an ignominious peace.
The most pressing matter, upon the Great Commander's arrival, was
obviously to relieve the city of Middelburg. Mondragon, after so stanch
a defence, would soon be obliged to capitulate, unless he should promptly
receive supplies. Requesens, accordingly, collected seventy-five ships
at Bergen op Zoom; which were placed nominally under the command of
Admiral de Glimes, but in reality under that of Julian Romero. Another
fleet of thirty vessels had been assembled at Antwerp under Sancho
d'Avila. Both, amply freighted with provisions, were destined to make
their way to Middelburg by the two different passages of the Hondo and
the Eastern Scheld. On the other hand, the Prince of Orange had repaired
to Flushing to superintend the operations of Admiral Boisot, who already;
in obedience to his orders, had got a powerful squadron in readiness at
that place. Late in January, 1574, d'Avila arrived in the neighbourhood
of Flushing, where he awaited the arrival of Romero's fleet. United,
the two Commanders were to make a determined attempt to reinforce the
starving city of Middelburg. At the same time, Governor Requesens made
his appearance in person at Bergen op Zoom to expedite the departure of
the stronger fleet, but it was not the intention of the Prince of Orange
to allow this expedition to save the city. The Spanish generals, however
valiant, were to learn that their genius was not amphibious, and that the
Beggars of the Sea were still invincible on their own element, even if
their brethren of the land had occasionally quailed.
Admiral Boisot's fleet had already moved up the Scheld and taken a
position nearly opposite to Bergen op Zoom. On the 20th of January the
Prince of Orange, embarking from Zierick Zee, came to make them a visit
before the impending action. His galley, conspicuous for its elegant
decorations, was exposed for some time to the artillery of the fort, but
providentially escaped unharmed. He assembled all the officers of his
armada, and, in brief but eloquent language, reminded them how necessary
it was to the salvation of the whole country that they should prevent the
city of Middelburg--the key to the whole of Zealand, already upon the
point of falling into the hands of the patriots--from being now wrested
from their grasp. On the sea, at least, the Hollanders and Zealanders
were at home. The officers and men, with one accord, rent the air with
their cheers. They swore that they would shed every drop of blood in
their veins but they would sustain the Prince and the country; and they
solemnly vowed not only to serve, if necessary, without wages, but to
sacrifice all that they possessed in the world rather than abandon the
cause of their fatherland. Having by his presence and his language
aroused their valor to so high a pitch of enthusiasm, the Prince departed
for Delft, to make arrangements to drive the Spaniards from the siege of
Leyden.
On the 29th of January, the fleet of Romero sailed from Bergen, disposed
in three divisions, each numbering twenty-five vessels of different
sizes. As the Grand Commander stood on the dyke of Schakerloo to witness
the departure, a general salute was fired by the fleet in his honor, but
with most unfortunate augury. The discharge, by some accident, set fire
to the magazines of one of the ships, which blew up with a terrible
explosion, every soul on board perishing. The expedition, nevertheless,
continued its way. Opposite Romerswael, the fleet of Boisot awaited
them, drawn up in battle array. As an indication of the spirit which
animated this hardy race, it may be mentioned that Schot, captain of
the flag-ship, had been left on shore, dying of a pestilential fever.
Admiral Boisot had appointed a Flushinger, Klaaf Klaafzoon, in his place.
Just before the action, however, Schot, "scarcely able to blow a feather
from his mouth," staggered on board his ship, and claimed the command.
There was no disputing a precedency which he had risen from his death-bed
to vindicate. There was, however, a short discussion, as the enemy's
fleet approached, between these rival captains regarding the manner in
which the Spaniards should be received. Klaafzoon was of opinion that
most of the men should go below till after the enemy's first discharge.
Schot insisted that all should remain on deck, ready to grapple with the
Spanish fleet, and to board them without the least delay.
The sentiment of Schot prevailed, and all hands stood on deck, ready with
boarding-pikes and grappling-irons.
The first division of Romero came nearer, and delivered its first
broadside, when Schot and Klaafzoon both fell mortally wounded. Admiral
Boisot lost an eye, and many officers and sailors in the other vessels
were killed or wounded. This was, however, the first and last of the
cannonading. As many of Romero's vessels as could be grappled within
the narrow estuary found themselves locked in close embrace with their
enemies. A murderous hand-to-hand conflict succeeded. Battle-axe,
boarding-pike, pistol, and dagger were the weapons. Every man who
yielded himself a prisoner was instantly stabbed and tossed into the sea
by the remorseless Zealanders. Fighting only to kill, and not to
plunder, they did not even stop to take the gold chains which many
Spaniards wore on their necks. It had, however, been obvious from the
beginning that the Spanish fleet were not likely to achieve that triumph
over the patriots which was necessary before they could relieve
Middelburg. The battle continued a little longer; but after fifteen
ships had been taken and twelve hundred royalists slain, the remainder of
the enemy's fleet retreated into Bergen. Romero himself, whose ship had
grounded, sprang out of a port-hole and swam ashore, followed by such of
his men as were able to imitate him. He landed at the very feet of the
Grand Commander, who, wet and cold, had been standing all day upon the
dyke of Schakerloo, in the midst of a pouring rain, only to witness the
total defeat of his armada at last.
"I told your Excellency," said Romero, coolly, as he climbed, all
dripping, on the bank, "that I was a land-fighter and not a sailor.
If you were to give me the command of a hundred fleets, I believe that
none of them would fare better than this has done." The Governor and his
discomfited, but philosophical lieutenant, then returned to Bergen, and
thence to Brussels, acknowledging that the city of Middelburg must fall,
while Sancho d'Avila, hearing of the disaster which had befallen his
countrymen, brought his fleet, with the greatest expedition, back to
Antwerp. Thus the gallant Mondragon was abandoned to his fate.
That fate could no longer be protracted. The city of Middelburg had
reached and passed the starvation point. Still Mondragon was determined
not to yield at discretion, although very willing to capitulate. The
Prince of Orange, after the victory of Bergen, was desirous of an
unconditional surrender, believing it to be his right, and knowing that
he could not be supposed capable of practising upon Middelburg the
vengeance which had been wreaked on Naarden, Zutfen, and Harlem.
Mondragon, however, swore that he would set fire to the city in twenty
places, and perish with every soldier and burgher in the flames together,
rather than abandon himself to the enemy's mercy. The prince knew that
the brave Spaniard was entirely capable of executing his threat. He
granted honorable conditions, which, on the 18th February, were drawn up
in five articles, and signed. It was agreed that Mondragon and his
troops should leave the place, with their arms, ammunition, and all their
personal property. The citizens who remained were to take oath of
fidelity to the Prince, as stadholder for his Majesty, and were to pay
besides a subsidy of three hundred thousand florins. Mondragon was,
furthermore, to procure the discharge of Saint Aldegonde, and of four
other prisoners of rank, or, failing in the attempt, was to return within
two months, and constitute himself prisoner of war. The Catholic priests
were to take away from the city none of their property but their clothes.
In accordance with this capitulation, Mondragon, and those who wished to
accompany him, left the city on the 21st of February, and were conveyed
to the Flemish shore at Neuz. It will be seen in the sequel that the
Governor neither granted him the release of the five prisoners, nor
permitted him to return, according to his parole. A few days afterwards,
the Prince entered the city, re-organized the magistracy, received the
allegiance of the inhabitants, restored the ancient constitution, and
liberally remitted two-thirds of the sum in which they had been, mulcted.
The Spaniards had thus been successfully driven from the Isle of
Walcheren, leaving the Hollanders and Zealanders masters of the sea-
coast. Since the siege of Alkmaar had been raised, however, the enemy
had remained within the territory of Holland. Leyden was closely
invested, the country in a desperate condition, and all communication
between its different cities nearly suspended. It was comparatively easy
for the Prince of Orange to equip and man his fleets. The genius and
habits of the people made them at home upon the water, and inspired them
with a feeling of superiority to their adversaries. It was not so upon
land. Strong to resist, patient to suffer, the Hollanders, although
terrible in defence; had not the necessary discipline or experience to
meet the veteran legions of Spain, with confidence in the open field.
To raise the siege of Leyden, the main reliance of the Prince was upon
Count Louis, who was again in Germany. In the latter days of Alva's
administration, William had written to his brothers, urging them speedily
to arrange the details of a campaign, of which he forwarded them a
sketch. As soon as a sufficient force had been levied in Germany, an
attempt was to be made upon Maestricht. If that failed, Louis was to
cross the Meuse, in the neighbourhood of Stochem, make his way towards
the Prince's own city of Gertruidenberg, and thence make a junction with
his brother in the neighbourhood of Delft. They were then to take up a
position together between Harlem and Leyden. In that case it seemed
probable that the Spaniards would find themselves obliged to fight at a
great disadvantage, or to abandon the country. "In short," said the
Prince, "if this enterprise be arranged with due diligence and
discretion, I hold it as the only certain means for putting a speedy end
to the war, and for driving these devils of Spaniards out of the country,
before the Duke of Alva has time to raise another army to support them."
In pursuance of this plan, Louis had been actively engaged all the
earlier part of the winter in levying troops and raising supplies.
He had been assisted by the French princes with considerable sums of
money, as an earnest of what he was in future to expect from that source.
He had made an unsuccessful attempt to effect the capture of Requesens,
on his way to take the government of the Netherlands. He had then passed
to the frontier of France, where he had held his important interview with
Catharine de Medici and the Duke of Anjou, then on the point of departure
to ascend the throne of Poland. He had received liberal presents, and
still more liberal promises. Anjou had assured him that he would go
as far as any of the German princes in rendering active and sincere
assistance to the Protestant cause in the Netherlands. The Duc
d'Alencon--soon, in his brother's absence, to succeed to the
chieftainship of the new alliance between the "politiques" and the
Huguenots--had also pressed his hand, whispering in his ear, as he did
so, that the government of France now belonged to him, as it had recently
done to Anjou, and that the Prince might reckon upon his friendship with
entire security.
These fine words, which cost nothing when whispered in secret, were not
destined to fructify into a very rich harvest, for the mutual jealousy
of France and England, lest either should acquire ascendency in the
Netherlands, made both governments prodigal of promises, while the common
fear entertained by them of the power of Spain rendered both languid;
insincere, and mischievous allies. Count John, however; was
indefatigable in arranging the finances of the proposed expedition,
and in levying contributions among his numerous relatives and allies in
Germany, while Louis had profited by the occasion of Anjou's passage into
Poland, to acquire for himself two thousand German and French cavalry,
who had served to escort that Prince, and who, being now thrown out of
employment, were glad to have a job offered them by a general who was
thought to be in funds. Another thousand of cavalry and six thousand
foot were soon assembled from those ever-swarming nurseries of mercenary
warriors, the smaller German states. With these, towards the end of
February; Louis crossed the Rhine in a heavy snow-storm, and bent his
course towards Maestricht. All the three brothers of the Prince
accompanied this little army, besides Duke Christopher, son of the
elector Palatine.
Before the end of the month the army reached the Meuse, and encamped
within four miles of Maestricht; on the opposite side of the river.
The garrison, commanded by Montesdoca, was weak, but the news of the
warlike preparations in Germany had preceded the arrival of Count Louis.
Requesens, feeling the gravity of the occasion, had issued orders for an
immediate levy of eight thousand cavalry in Germany, with a proportionate
number of infantry. At the same time he had directed Don Bernardino de
Mendoza, with some companies of cavalry, then stationed in Breda, to
throw himself without delay into Maestricht. Don Sancho d'Avila was
entrusted with the general care of resisting the hostile expedition.
That general had forthwith collected all the troops which could be spared
from every town where they were stationed, had strengthened the cities of
Antwerp, Ghent, Nimweben, and Valenciennes, where there were known to be
many secret adherents of Orange; and with the remainder of his forces had
put himself in motion, to oppose the entrance of Louis into Brabant, and
his junction with his brother in Holland. Braccamonte had been
despatched to Leyden, in order instantly to draw off the forces which
were besieging the city. Thus Louis had already effected something of
importance by the very hews of his approach.
Meantime the Prince of Orange had raised six thousand infantry, whose
rendezvous was the Isle of Bommel. He was disappointed at the paucity of
the troops which Louis had been able to collect, but he sent messengers
immediately to him; with a statement of his own condition, and with
directions to join him in the Isle of Bommel, as soon as Maestricht
should be reduced. It was, however, not in the destiny of Louis to
reduce Maestricht. His expedition had been marked with disaster from the
beginning. A dark and threatening prophecy had, even before its
commencement, enwrapped Louis, his brethren, and his little army, in a
funeral pall. More than a thousand of his men had deserted before he
reached the Meuse. When he encamped, apposite Maestricht, he found the
river neither frozen nor open, the ice obstructing the navigation, but
being too weak for the weight of an army. While he was thus delayed and
embarrassed, Mendoza arrived in the city with reinforcements. It seemed
already necessary for Louis to abandon his hopes of Maestricht, but he
was at least desirous of crossing the river in that neighbourhood, in
order to effect his junction with the Prince at the earliest possible
moment. While the stream was still encumbered with ice, however, the
enemy removed all the boats. On, the 3rd of March, Avila arrived with a
large body of troops at Maestricht, and on the 18th Mendoza crossed the
river in the night, giving the patriots so severe an 'encamisada', that
seven hundred were killed, at the expense of only seven of his own party.
Harassed, but not dispirited by these disasters, Louis broke up his camp
on the 21st, and took a position farther down the river, at Fauquemont
and Gulpen, castles in the Duchy of Limburg. On the 3rd of April,
Braccamonite arrived at Maestricht, with twenty-five companies of
Spaniards and three of cavalry, while, on the same day Mondragon reached
the scene of action with his sixteen companies of veterans.
It was now obvious to Louis, not only that he should not take Maestricht,
but that his eventual junction with his brother was at least doubtful,
every soldier who could possibly be spared seeming in motion to oppose
his progress. He was, to be sure, not yet outnumbered, but the enemy was
increasing, and his own force diminishing daily. Moreover, the Spaniards
were highly disciplined and experienced troops; while his own soldiers
were mercenaries, already clamorous and insubordinate. On the 8th of
April he again shifted his encaampment, and took his course along the
right bank of the Meuse, between that river and the Rhine, in the
direction of Nimwegen. Avila promptly decided to follow him upon the
opposite bank of the Meuse, intending to throw himself between Louis and
the Prince of Orange, and by a rapid march to give the Count battle,
before he could join his brother. On the 8th of April, at early dawn,
Louis had left the neighbourhood of Maestricht, and on the 13th he
encamped at the village of Mook near the confines of Cleves. Sending
out his scouts, he learned to his vexation, that the enemy had outmarched
him, and were now within cannonshot. On the 13th, Avila had constructed
a bridge of boats, over which he had effected the passage of the Meuse
with his whole army, so that on the Count's arrival at Mook, he found the
enemy facing him, on the same side of the river, and directly in his
path. It was, therefore, obvious that, in this narrow space between the
Waal and the Meuse, where they were now all assembled, Louis must achieve
a victory, unaided, or abandon his expedition, and leave the Hollanders
to despair. He was distressed at the position in which he found himself,
for he had hoped to reduce Maestricht, and to join, his brother in
Holland. Together, they could, at least, have expelled the Spaniards
from that territory, in which case it was probable that a large part of
the population in the different provinces would have risen. According to
present aspects, the destiny of the country, for some time to come, was
likely to hang upon the issue of a battle which he had not planned, and
for which he was not fully prepared. Still he was not the man to be
disheartened; nor had he ever possessed the courage to refuse a battle
when: offered. Upon this occasion it would be difficult to retreat
without disaster and disgrace, but it was equally difficult to achieve
a victory. Thrust, as he was, like a wedge into the very heart of a
hostile country, he was obliged to force his way through, or to remain in
his enemy's power. Moreover, and worst of all, his troops were in a
state of mutiny for their wages. While he talked to them of honor, they
howled to him for money. It was the custom of these mercenaries to
mutiny on the eve of battle--of the Spaniards, after it had been fought.
By the one course, a victory was often lost which might have been
achieved; by the other, when won it was rendered fruitless.
Avila had chosen his place of battle with great skill. On the right bank
of the Meuse, upon a narrow plain which spread from the river to a chain
of hills within cannon-shot on the north, lay the little village of Mook.
The Spanish general knew that his adversary had the superiority in
cavalry, and that within this compressed apace it would not be possible
to derive much advantage from the circumstance.
On the 14th, both armies were drawn up in battle array at earliest dawn,
Louis having strengthened his position by a deep trench, which extended
from Mook, where he had stationed ten companies of infantry, which thus
rested on the village and the river. Next came the bulk of his infantry,
disposed in a single square. On their right was his cavalry, arranged in
four squadrons, as well as the narrow limits of the field would allow. A
small portion of them, for want of apace, were stationed on the hill
side.
Opposite, the forces of Don Sancho were drawn up in somewhat similar
fashion. Twenty-five companies of Spaniards were disposed in four bodies
of pikemen and musketeers; their right resting on the river. On their
left was the cavalry, disposed by Mendoza in the form of a half moon-the
horns garnished by two small bodies of sharpshooters. In the front ranks
of the cavalry were the mounted carabineers of Schenk; behind were the
Spanish dancers. The village of Mook lay between the two armies.
The skirmishing began at early dawn, with an attack upon the trench, and
continued some hours, without bringing on a general engagement. Towards
ten o'clock, Count Louis became impatient. All the trumpets of the
patriots now rang out a challenge to their adversaries, and the Spaniards
were just returning the defiance, and preparing a general onset,
when the Seigneur de Hierges and Baron Chevreaux arrived on the field.
They brought with them a reinforcement of more than a thousand men, and
the intelligence that Valdez was on his way with nearly five thousand
more. As he might be expected on the following morning, a short
deliberation was held as to the expediency of deferring the action.
Count Louis was at the head of six thousand foot and two thousand
cavalry. Avila mustered only four thousand infantry and not quite a
thousand horse. This inferiority would be changed on the morrow into an
overwhelming superiority. Meantime, it was well to remember the
punishment endured by Aremberg at Heiliger Lee, for not waiting till
Meghen's arrival. This prudent counsel was, however, very generally
scouted, and by none more loudly than by Hierges and Chevreaux, who had
brought the intelligence. It was thought that at this juncture nothing
could be more indiscreet than discretion. They had a wary and audacious
general to deal with. While they were waiting for their reinforcements,
he was quite capable of giving them the slip. He might thus effect the
passage of the stream and that union with his brother which--had been
thus far so successfully prevented. This reasoning prevailed, and the
skirmishing at the trench was renewed with redoubled vigour, an
additional: force being sent against it. After a short and fierce
struggle it was carried, and the Spaniards rushed into the village, but
were soon dislodged by a larger detachment of infantry, which Count Louis
sent to the rescue. The battle now became general at this point.
Nearly all the patriot infantry were employed to defend the post; nearly
all the Spanish infantry were ordered to assail it. The Spaniards,
dropping on their knees, according to custom, said a Paternoster and an
Ave Mary, and then rushed, in mass, to the attack. After a short but
sharp conflict, the trench was again carried, and the patriots completely
routed. Upon this, Count Louis charged with all his cavalry upon the
enemy's horse, which had hitherto remained motionless. With the first
shock the mounted arquebusiers of Schenk, constituting the vanguard, were
broken, and fled in all directions. So great was their panic, as Louis
drove them before him, that they never stopped till they had swum or been
drowned in the river; the survivors carrying the news to Grave and to
other cities that the royalists had been completely routed. This was,
however, very far from the truth. The patriot cavalry, mostly
carabineers, wheeled after the first discharge, and retired to reload
their pieces, but before they were ready for another attack, the Spanish
lancers and the German black troopers, who had all remained firm, set
upon them with great spirit: A fierce, bloody, and confused action
succeeded, in which the patriots were completely overthrown.
Count Louis, finding that the day was lost, and his army cut to pieces,
rallied around him a little band of troopers, among whom were his
brother, Count Henry, and Duke Christopher, and together they made a
final and desperate charge. It was the last that was ever seen of them
on earth. They all went down together, in the midst of the fight, and
were never heard of more. The battle terminated, as usual in those
conflicts of mutual hatred, in a horrible butchery, hardly any of the
patriot army being left to tell the tale of their disaster. At least
four thousand were killed, including those who were slain on the field,
those who were suffocated in the marshes or the river, and those who were
burned in the farm-houses where they had taken refuge. It was uncertain
which of those various modes of death had been the lot of Count Louis,
his brother, and his friend. The mystery was never solved. They had,
probably, all died on the field; but, stripped of their clothing, with
their, faces trampled upon by the hoofs of horses, it was not possible to
distinguish them from the less illustrious dead. It was the opinion of,
many that they had been drowned in the river; of others, that they had
been burned.
[Meteren, v. 91. Bor, vii. 491, 492. Hoofd, Bentivoglio, ubi
sup. The Walloon historian, occasionally cited in these pages, has
a more summary manner of accounting for the fate of these
distinguished personages. According to his statement, the leaders
of the Protestant forces dined and made merry at a convent in the
neighbourhood upon Good Friday, five days before the battle, using
the sacramental chalices at the banquet, and mixing consecrated
wafers with their wine. As a punishment for this sacrilege, the
army was utterly overthrown, and the Devil himself flew away with
the chieftains, body and soul.]
There was a vague tale that Louis, bleeding but not killed, had struggled
forth from the heap of corpses where he had been thrown, had crept to
the, river-side, and, while washing his wounds, had been surprised and
butchered by a party of rustics. The story was not generally credited,
but no man knew, or was destined to learn, the truth.
A dark and fatal termination to this last enterprise of Count Louis had
been anticipated by many. In that superstitious age, when emperors and
princes daily investigated the future, by alchemy, by astrology, and by
books of fate, filled with formula; as gravely and precisely set forth as
algebraical equations; when men of every class, from monarch to peasant,
implicitly believed in supernatural portents and prophecies, it was not
singular that a somewhat striking appearance, observed in the sky some
weeks previously to the battle of Mookerheyde, should have inspired many
persons with a shuddering sense of impending evil.
Early in February five soldiers of the burgher guard at Utrecht, being on
their midnight watch, beheld in the sky above them the representation of
a furious battle. The sky was extremely dark, except directly over:
their heads; where, for a space equal in extent to the length of the
city, and in breadth to that of an ordinary chamber, two armies, in
battle array, were seen advancing upon each other. The one moved rapidly
up from the north-west, with banners waving; spears flashing, trumpets
sounding; accompanied by heavy artillery and by squadrons of cavalry.
The other came slowly forward from the southeast; as if from an
entrenched camp, to encounter their assailants. There was a fierce
action for a few moments, the shouts of the combatants, the heavy
discharge of cannon, the rattle of musketry; the tramp of heavy-aimed
foot soldiers, the rush of cavalry, being distinctly heard. The
firmament trembled with the shock of the contending hosts, and was lurid
with the rapid discharges of their artillery. After a short, fierce
engagement, the north-western army was beaten back in disorder, but
rallied again, after a breathing-time, formed again into solid column,
and again advanced. Their foes, arrayed, as the witnesses affirmed, in a
square and closely serried grove of spears' and muskets, again awaited
the attack. Once more the aerial cohorts closed upon each other, all the
signs and sounds of a desperate encounter being distinctly recognised by
the eager witnesses. The struggle seemed but short. The lances of the
south-eastern army seemed to snap "like hemp-stalks," while their firm
columns all went down together in mass, beneath the onset of their
enemies. The overthrow was complete, victors and vanquished had faded,
the clear blue space, surrounded by black clouds, was empty, when
suddenly its whole extent, where the conflict had so lately raged, was
streaked with blood, flowing athwart the sky in broad crimson streams;
nor was it till the five witnesses had fully watched and pondered over
these portents that the vision entirely vanished.
So impressed were the grave magistrates of Utrecht with the account given
next day by the sentinels, that a formal examination of the circumstances
was made, the deposition of each witness, under oath, duly recorded, and
a vast deal of consultation of soothsayers' books and other auguries
employed to elucidate the mystery. It was universally considered typical
of the anticipated battle between Count Louis and the Spaniards. When,
therefore, it was known that the patriots, moving from the south-east,
had arrived at Mookerheyde, and that their adversaries, crossing the
Meuse at Grave, had advanced upon them from the north-west, the result of
the battle was considered inevitable; the phantom battle of Utrecht its
infallible precursor.
Thus perished Louis of Nassau in the flower of his manhood, in the midst
of a career already crowded with events such as might suffice for a
century of ordinary existence. It is difficult to find in history a more
frank and loyal character. His life was noble; the elements of the
heroic and the genial so mixed in him that the imagination contemplates
him, after three centuries, with an almost affectionate interest. He was
not a great man. He was far from possessing the subtle genius or the
expansive views of his brother; but, called as he was to play a prominent
part in one of the most complicated and imposing dramas ever enacted by
man, he, nevertheless, always acquitted himself with honor. His direct,
fearless and energetic nature commanded alike the respect of friend and
foe. As a politician, a soldier, and a diplomatist, he was busy, bold,
and true. He, accomplished by sincerity what many thought could only be
compassed by trickery. Dealing often with the most adroit and most
treacherous of princes and statesmen, he frequently carried his point,
and he never stooped to flattery. From the time when, attended by his
"twelve disciples," he assumed the most prominent part in the
negotiations with Margaret of Parma, through all the various scenes of
the revolution, through, all the conferences with Spaniards, Italians,
Huguenots. Malcontents, Flemish councillors, or German princes, he was
the consistent and unflinching supporter of religious liberty and
constitutional law. The battle of Heiliger Lee and the capture of Mons
were his most signal triumphs, but the fruits of both were annihilated by
subsequent disaster. His headlong courage was his chief foible. The
French accused him of losing the battle of Moncontour by his impatience
to engage; yet they acknowledged that to his masterly conduct it was
owing that their retreat was effected in so successful, and even so
brilliant a manner. He was censured for rashness and precipitancy in
this last and fatal enterprise, but the reproach seems entirely without
foundation. The expedition as already stated, had been deliberately
arranged, with the full co-operation of his brother, and had been
preparing several months. That he was able to set no larger force on
foot than that which he led into Gueldres was not his fault. But for the
floating ice which barred his passage of the Meuse, he would have
surprised Maestricht; but for the mutiny, which rendered his mercenary
soldiers cowards, he might have defeated Avila at Mookerheyde. Had he
done so he would have joined his brother in the Isle of Bommel in
triumph; the Spaniards would, probably, have been expelled from Holland,
and Leyden saved the horrors of that memorable siege which she was soon
called, upon to endure. These results were not in his destiny.
Providence had decreed that he should perish in the midst of his
usefulness; that the Prince, in his death,'should lose the right hand
which had been so swift to execute his various plans, and the faithful
fraternal heart which had always responded so readily to every throb of
his own.
In figure, he was below the middle height, but martial and noble in his
bearing. The expression of his countenance was lively; his manner frank
and engaging. All who knew him personally loved him, and he was the idol
of his gallant brethren: His mother always addressed him as her dearly
beloved, her heart's-cherished Louis. "You must come soon to me," she
wrote in the last year of his life, "for I have many matters to ask your
advice upon; and I thank you beforehand, for you have loved me as your
mother all the days of your life; for which may God Almighty have you in
his holy keeping."
It was the doom of this high-born, true-hearted dame to be called upon to
weep oftener for her children than is the usual lot of mothers. Count
Adolphus had already perished in his youth on the field of Heiliger Lee,
and now Louis and his young brother Henry, who had scarcely attained his
twenty-sixth year, and whose short life had been passed in that faithful
service to the cause of freedom which was the instinct of his race, had
both found a bloody and an unknown grave. Count John, who had already
done so much for the cause, was fortunately spared to do much more.
Although of the expedition, and expecting to participate in the battle,
he had, at the urgent solicitation of all the leaders, left the army for
a brief, season, in order to obtain at Cologne a supply of money, for the
mutinous troops: He had started upon this mission two days before the
action in which he, too, would otherwise have been sacrificed. The young
Duke Christopher, "optimm indolis et magnee spei adolescens," who had
perished on the same field, was sincerely mourned by the lovers of
freedom. His father, the Elector, found his consolation in the
Scriptures, and in the reflection that his son had died in the bed of
honor, fighting for the cause of God. "'T was better thus," said that
stern Calvinist, whose dearest wish was to "Calvinize the world," than to
have passed his time in idleness, "which is the Devil's pillow."
Vague rumors of the catastrophe had spread far and wide. It was soon
certain that Louis had been defeated, but, for a long time, conflicting
reports were in circulation as to the fate of the leaders. The Prince of
Orange, meanwhile, passed days of intense anxiety, expecting hourly to
hear from his brothers, listening to dark rumors, which he refused to
credit and could not contradict, and writing letters, day after day, long
after the eyes which should have read the friendly missives were closed.
The victory of the King's army at Mookerheyde had been rendered
comparatively barren by the mutiny which broke forth the day after the
battle. Three years' pay were due to the Spanish troops, and it was not
surprising that upon this occasion one of those periodic rebellions
should break forth, by which the royal cause was frequently so much
weakened, and the royal governors so intolerably perplexed. These
mutinies were of almost regular occurrence, and attended by as regular a
series of phenomena. The Spanish troops, living so far from their own
country, but surrounded by their women, and constantly increasing swarms
of children, constituted a locomotive city of considerable population,
permanently established on a foreign soil. It was a city walled in by
bayonets, and still further isolated from the people around by the
impassable moat of mutual hatred. It was a city obeying the articles of
war, governed by despotic authority, and yet occasionally revealing, in
full force, the irrepressible democratic element. At periods which could
almost be calculated, the military populace were wont to rise upon the
privileged classes, to deprive them of office and liberty, and to set up
in their place commanders of their own election. A governor-in-chief, a
sergeant-major, a board of councillors and various other functionaries,
were chosen by acclamation and universal suffrage. The Eletto, or chief
officer thus appointed, was clothed with supreme power, but forbidden to
exercise it. He was surrounded by councillors, who watched his every
motion, read all his correspondence, and assisted at all his conferences,
while the councillors were themselves narrowly watched by the commonalty.
These movements were, however, in general, marked by the most exemplary
order. Anarchy became a system of government; rebellion enacted and
enforced the strictest rules of discipline; theft, drunkenness, violence
to women, were severely punished. As soon as the mutiny broke forth, the
first object was to take possession of the nearest city, where the Eletto
was usually established in the town-house, and the soldiery quartered
upon the citizens. Nothing in the shape of food or lodging was too good
for these marauders. Men who had lived for years on camp rations--coarse
knaves who had held the plough till compelled to handle the musket, now
slept in fine linen, and demanded from the trembling burghers the
daintiest viands. They ate the land bare, like a swarm of locusts.
"Chickens and partridges," says the thrifty chronicler of Antwerp,
"capons and pheasants, hares and rabbits, two kinds of wines;--for
sauces, capers and olives, citrons and oranges, spices and sweetmeats;
wheaten bread for their dogs, and even wine, to wash the feet of their
horses;"--such was the entertainment demanded and obtained by the
mutinous troops. They were very willing both to enjoy the luxury of this
forage, and to induce the citizens, from weariness of affording compelled
hospitality, to submit to a taxation by which the military claims might
be liquidated.
A city thus occupied was at the mercy of a foreign soldiery, which had
renounced all authority but that of self-imposed laws. The King's
officers were degraded, perhaps murdered; while those chosen to supply
their places had only a nominal control. The Eletto, day by day,
proclaimed from the balcony of the town-house the latest rules and
regulations. If satisfactory, there was a clamor of applause; if
objectionable, they were rejected with a tempest of hisses, with
discharges of musketry; The Eletto did not govern: he was a dictator who
could not dictate, but could only register decrees. If too honest, too
firm, or too dull for his place, he was deprived of his office and
sometimes of his life. Another was chosen in his room, often to be
succeeded by a series of others, destined to the same fate. Such were
the main characteristics of those formidable mutinies, the result of the
unthriftiness and dishonesty by which the soldiery engaged in these
interminable hostilities were deprived of their dearly earned wages. The
expense of the war was bad enough at best, but when it is remembered that
of three or four dollars sent from Spain, or contributed by the provinces
for the support of the army, hardly one reached the pockets of the
soldier, the frightful expenditure which took place may be imagined. It
was not surprising that so much peculation should engender revolt.
The mutiny which broke out after the defeat of Count Louis was marked
with the most pronounced and inflammatory of these symptoms. Three
years' pay was due, to the Spaniards, who, having just achieved a signal
victory, were-disposed to reap its fruits, by fair means or by force.
On receiving nothing but promises, in answer to their clamorous demands,
they mutinied to a man, and crossed the Meuse to Grave, whence, after
accomplishing the usual elections, they took their course to Antwerp.
Being in such strong force, they determined to strike at the capital.
Rumour flew before them. Champagny, brother of Granvelle, and royal
governor of the city, wrote in haste to apprise Requesens of the
approaching danger. The Grand Commander, attended only by Vitelli,
repaired. instantly to Antwerp. Champagny advised throwing up a
breastwork with bales of merchandize, upon the esplanade, between the
citadel and the town, for it was at this point, where the connection
between the fortifications of the castle and those of the city had never
been thoroughly completed, that the invasion might be expected.
Requesens hesitated. He trembled at a conflict with his own soldiery.
If successful, he could only be so by trampling upon the flower of his
army. If defeated, what would become of the King's authority, with
rebellious troops triumphant in rebellious provinces? Sorely perplexed,
the Commander, could think of no expedient. Not knowing what to do, he
did nothing. In the meantime, Champagny, who felt himself odious to the
soldiery, retreated to the Newtown, and barricaded himself, with a few
followers, in the house of the Baltic merchants.
On the 26th of April, the mutinous troops in perfect order, marched into
the city, effecting their entrance precisely at the weak point where they
had been expected. Numbering at least three thousand, they encamped on
the esplanade, where Requesens appeared before them alone on horseback,
and made them an oration. They listened with composure, but answered
briefly and with one accord, "Dineros y non palabras," dollars not
speeches. Requesens promised profusely, but the time was past for
promises. Hard Silver dollars would alone content an army which, after
three years of bloodshed and starvation, had at last taken the law into
their own hands. Requesens withdrew to consult the Broad Council of the
city. He was without money himself, but he demanded four hundred
thousand crowns of the city. This was at first refused, but the troops
knew the strength of their position, for these mutinies were never
repressed, and rarely punished. On this occasion the Commander was
afraid to employ force, and the burghers, after the army had been
quartered upon them for a time, would gladly pay a heavy ransom to be rid
of their odious and expensive guests. The mutineers foreseeing that the
work might last a few weeks, and determined to proceed leisurely; took
possession of the great square. The Eletto, with his staff of
councillors, was quartered in the town-house, while the soldiers
distributed themselves among the houses of the most opulent citizens,
no one escaping a billet who was rich enough to receive such company:
bishop or burgomaster, margrave or merchant. The most famous kitchens
were naturally the most eagerly sought, and sumptuous apartments,
luxurious dishes, delicate wines, were daily demanded. The burghers
dared not refuse.
The six hundred Walloons, who had been previously quartered in the city,
were expelled, and for many days, the mutiny reigned paramount. Day
after day the magistracy, the heads of guilds, all the representatives of
the citizens were assembled in the Broad Council. The Governor-General
insisted on his demand of four hundred thousand crowns, representing,
with great justice, that the mutineers would remain in the city until
they had eaten and drunk to that amount, and that there would still be
the arrearages; for which the city would be obliged to raise the funds.
On the 9th of May, the authorities made an offer, which was duly
communicated to the Eletto. That functionary stood forth on a window-
sill of the town-house, and addressed the soldiery. He informed them
that the Grand Commander proposed to pay ten months' arrears in cash,
five months in silks and woollen cloths, and the balance in promises, to
be fulfilled within a few days. The terms were not considered
satisfactory, and were received with groans of derision. The Eletto, on
the contrary, declared them very liberal, and reminded the soldiers of
the perilous condition in which they stood, guilty to a man of high
treason, with a rope around every neck. It was well worth their while to
accept the offer made them, together with the absolute pardon for the
past, by which it was accompanied. For himself, he washed his hands of
the consequences if the offer were rejected. The soldiers answered by
deposing the Eletto and choosing another in his room.
Three days after, a mutiny broke out in the citadel--an unexampled
occurrence. The rebels ordered Sancho d'Avila, the commandant, to
deliver the keys of the fortress. He refused to surrender them but with
his life. They then contented themselves with compelling his lieutenant
to leave the citadel, and with sending their Eletto to confer with the
Grand Commander, as well as with the Eletto of the army. After
accomplishing his mission, he returned, accompanied by Chiappin Vitelli,
as envoy of the Governor-General. No sooner, however, had the Eletto set
foot on the drawbridge than he was attacked by Ensign Salvatierra of the
Spanish garrison, who stabbed him to the heart and threw him into the
moat. The ensign, who was renowned in the army for his ferocious
courage, and who wore embroidered upon his trunk hose the inscription,
"El castigador de los Flamencos," then rushed upon the Sergeant-major of
the mutineers, despatched him in the same way, and tossed him likewise
into the moat. These preliminaries being settled, a satisfactory
arrangement was negotiated between Vitelli and the rebellious garrison.
Pardon for the past, and payment upon the same terms as those offered in
the city, were accepted, and the mutiny of the citadel was quelled. It
was, however, necessary that Salvatierra should conceal himself for a
long time, to escape being torn to pieces by the incensed soldiery.
Meantime, affairs in the city were more difficult to adjust. The
mutineers raised an altar of chests and bales upon the public square,
and celebrated mass under the open sky, solemnly swearing to be true to
each other to the last. The scenes of carousing and merry-making were
renewed at the expense of the citizens, who were again exposed to nightly
alarms from the boisterous mirth and ceaseless mischief-making of the
soldiers. Before the end of the month; the Broad Council, exhausted by
the incubus which had afflicted them so many weeks, acceded to the demand
of Requesens. The four hundred thousand crowns were furnished, the Grand
Commander accepting them as a loan, and giving in return bonds duly
signed and countersigned, together with a mortgage upon all the royal
domains. The citizens received the documents, as a matter of form, but
they had handled such securities before, and valued them but slightly.
The mutineers now agreed to settle with the Governor-General, on
condition of receiving all their wages, either in cash or cloth, together
with a solemn promise of pardon for all their acts of insubordination.
This pledge was formally rendered with appropriate religious ceremonies,
by Requesens, in the cathedral. The payments were made directly
afterwards, and a great banquet was held on the same day, by the whole
mass of the soldiery, to celebrate the event. The feast took place on
the place of the Meer, and was a scene of furious revelry. The soldiers,
more thoughtless than children, had arrayed themselves in extemporaneous
costumes, cut from the cloth which they had at last received in payment
of their sufferings and their blood. Broadcloths, silks, satins, and
gold-embroidered brocades, worthy of a queen's wardrobe, were hung in
fantastic drapery around the sinewy forms and bronzed faces of the
soldiery, who, the day before, had been clothed in rags. The mirth was
fast and furious; and scarce was the banquet finished before every drum-
head became a gaming-table, around which gathered groups eager to
sacrifice in a moment their dearly-bought gold.
The fortunate or the prudent had not yet succeeded in entirely plundering
their companions, when the distant booming of cannon was heard from the
river. Instantly, accoutred as they were in their holiday and fantastic
costumes, the soldiers, no longer mutinous, were summoned from banquet
and gaming-table, and were ordered forth upon the dykes. The patriot
Admiral Boisot, who had so recently defeated the fleet of Bergen, under
the eyes of the Grand Commander, had unexpectedly sailed up the Scheld,
determined to destroy the, fleet of Antwerp, which upon that occasion had
escaped. Between, the forts of Lillo and Callao, he met with twenty-two
vessels under the command of Vice-Admiral Haemstede. After a short and
sharp action, he was completely victorious. Fourteen of the enemy's
ships were burned or sunk, with all their crews, and Admiral Haemstede
was taken prisoner. The soldiers opened a warm fire of musketry upon
Boisot from the dyke, to which he responded with his cannon. The
distance of the combatants, however, made the action unimportant; and the
patriots retired down the river, after achieving a complete victory. The
Grand Commander was farther than ever from obtaining that foothold on the
sea, which as he had informed his sovereign, was the only means by which
the Netherlands could be reduced.
1574 [CHAPTER II.]
First siege of Leyden--Commencement of the second--Description of
the city--Preparations for defence--Letters of Orange--Act of
amnesty issued by Requesens--Its conditions--Its reception by the
Hollanders--Correspondence of the Glippers--Sorties and fierce
combats beneath the walls of Leyden--Position of the Prince--His
project of relief Magnanimity of the people--Breaking of the dykes--
Emotions in the city and the besieging camp--Letter of the Estates
of Holland--Dangerous illness of the Prince--The "wild Zealanders"--
Admiral Boisot commences his voyage--Sanguinary combat on the Land--
Scheiding--Occupation of that dyke and of the Green Way--Pauses and
Progress of the flotilla--The Prince visits the fleet--Horrible
sufferings in the city--Speech of Van der Werf--Heroism of the
inhabitants--The Admiral's letters--The storm--Advance of Boisot--
Lammen fortress----An anxious night--Midnight retreat of the
Spaniards--The Admiral enters the city--Thanksgiving in the great
church The Prince in Leyden--Parting words of Valdez--Mutiny--Leyden
University founded--The charter--Inauguration ceremonies.
The invasion of Louis of Nassau had, as already stated, effected the
raising of the first siege of Leyden. That leaguer had lasted from the
31st of October, 1573, to the 21st of March, 1574, when the soldiers were
summoned away to defend the frontier. By an extraordinary and culpable
carelessness, the citizens, neglecting the advice of the Prince, had not
taken advantage of the breathing time thus afforded them to victual the
city and strengthen the garrison. They seemed to reckon more confidently
upon the success of Count Louis than he had even done himself; for it was
very probable that, in case of his defeat, the siege would be instantly
resumed. This natural result was not long in following the battle of
Mookerheyde.
On the 26th of May, Valdez reappeared before the place, at the head of
eight thousand Walloons and Germans, and Leyden was now destined to pass
through a fiery ordeal. This city was one of the most beautiful in the
Netherlands. Placed in the midst of broad and fruitful pastures, which
had been reclaimed by the hand of industry from the bottom of the sea; it
was fringed with smiling villages, blooming gardens, fruitful Orchards.
The ancient and, at last, decrepit Rhine, flowing languidly towards its
sandy death-bed, had been multiplied into innumerable artificial
currents, by which the city was completely interlaced. These watery
streets were shaded by lime trees, poplars, and willows, and crossed by
one hundred and forty-five bridges, mostly of hammered stone. The houses
were elegant, the squares and streets spacious, airy and clean, the
churches and public edifices imposing, while the whole aspect, of the
place suggested thrift, industry, and comfort. Upon an artificial
elevation, in the centre of the city, rose a ruined tower of unknown
antiquity. By some it was considered to be of Roman origin, while others
preferred to regard it as a work of the Anglo-Saxon Hengist, raised to
commemorate his conquest of England.
[Guicciardini, Descript. Holl, et Zelandire. Bor, vii. 502.
Bentivoglio, viii. 151
"Putatur Engistus Britanno
Orbe redus posuisse victor," etc., etc.
according to the celebrated poem of John Yon der Does, the
accomplished and valiant Commandant of the city. The tower, which
is doubtless a Roman one, presents, at the present day, almost
precisely the same appearance as that described by the
contemporaneous historians of the siege. The verses of the
Commandant show the opinion, that the Anglo-Saxon conquerors of
Britain went from Holland, to have been a common one in the
sixteenth century.]
Surrounded by fruit trees, and overgrown in the centre with oaks, it
afforded, from its mouldering battlements, a charming prospect over a
wide expanse of level country, with the spires of neighbouring cities
rising in every direction. It was from this commanding height, during
the long and terrible summer days which were approaching, that many an
eye was to be strained anxiously seaward, watching if yet the ocean had
begun to roll over the land.
Valdez lost no time in securing himself in the possession of
Maeslandsluis, Vlaardingen, and the Hague. Five hundred English, under
command of Colonel Edward Chester, abandoned the fortress of Valkenburg,
and fled towards Leyden. Refused admittance by the citizens, who now,
with reason, distrusted them, they surrendered to Valdez, and were
afterwards sent back to England. In the course of a few days, Leyden was
thoroughly invested, no less than sixty-two redoubts, some of them having
remained undestroyed from the previous siege, now girdling the city,
while the besiegers already numbered nearly eight thousand, a force to be
daily increased. On the other hand, there were no troops in the town,
save a small corps of "freebooters," and five companies of the burgher
guard. John Van der Does, Seigneur of Nordwyck, a gentleman of
distinguished family, but still more distinguished for his learning, his
poetical genius, and his valor, had accepted the office of military
commandant.
The main reliance of the city, under God, was on the stout hearts of its
inhabitants within the walls, and on, the sleepless energy of William the
Silent without. The Prince, hastening to comfort and encourage the
citizens, although he had been justly irritated by their negligence in
having omitted to provide more sufficiently against the emergency while
there had yet been time, now reminded them that they were not about to
contend for themselves alone, but that the fate of their country and of
unborn generations would, in all human probability, depend on the issue
about to be tried. Eternal glory would be their portion if they
manifested a courage worthy of their race and of the sacred cause of
religion and liberty. He implored them to hold out at least three
months, assuring them that he would, within that time, devise the means
of their deliverance. The citizens responded, courageously and
confidently, to these missives, and assured the Prince of their firm
confidence in their own fortitude and his exertions.
And truly they had a right to rely on that calm and unflinching soul, as
on a rock of adamant. All alone, without a being near him to consult,
his right arm struck from him by the death of Louis, with no brother left
to him but the untiring and faithful John, he prepared without delay for
the new task imposed upon him. France, since the defeat and death of
Louis, and the busy intrigues which had followed the accession of Henry
III., had but small sympathy for the Netherlands. The English
government, relieved from the fear of France; was more cold and haughty
than ever. An Englishman employed by Requesens to assassinate the
Prince of Orange, had been arrested in Zealand, who impudently pretended
that he had undertaken to perform the same office for Count John, with
the full consent and privity of Queen Elizabeth. The provinces of
Holland and Zealand were stanch and true, but the inequality of the
contest between a few brave men, upon that handsbreadth of territory,
and the powerful Spanish Empire, seemed to render the issue hopeless.
Moreover, it was now thought expedient to publish the amnesty which had
been so long in preparation, and this time the trap was more liberally
baited. The pardon, which had: passed the seals upon the 8th of March,
was formally issue: by the Grand Commander on the 6th of June. By the
terms of this document the King invited all his erring and repentant
subjects, to return to his arms; and to accept a full forgiveness for
their past offences, upon the sole condition that they should once more
throw themselves upon the bosom of the Mother Church. There were but few
exceptions to the amnesty, a small number of individuals, all mentioned
by name, being alone excluded; but although these terms were ample,
the act was liable to a few stern objections. It was easier now for the
Hollanders to go to their graves than to mass, for the contest, in its
progress, had now entirely assumed the aspect of a religious war.
Instead of a limited number of heretics in a state which, although
constitutional was Catholic, there was now hardly a Papist to be found
among the natives. To accept the pardon then was to concede the victory,
and the Hollanders had not yet discovered that they were conquered. They
were resolved, too, not only to be conquered, but annihilated, before the
Roman Church should be re-established on their soil, to the entire
exclusion of the Reformed worship. They responded with steadfast
enthusiasm to the sentiment expressed by the Prince of Orange, after the
second siege of Leyden had been commenced; "As long as there is a living
man left in the country, we will contend for our liberty and our
religion." The single condition of the amnesty assumed, in a phrase;
what Spain had fruitlessly striven to establish by a hundred battles,
and the Hollanders had not faced their enemy on land and sea for seven
years to succumb to a phrase at last.
Moreover, the pardon came from the wrong direction. The malefactor
gravely extended forgiveness to his victims. Although the Hollanders
had not yet disembarrassed their minds of the supernatural theory of
government, and felt still the reverence of habit for regal divinity,
they naturally considered themselves outraged by the trick now played
before them. The man who had violated all his oaths, trampled upon all
their constitutional liberties, burned and sacked their cities,
confiscated their wealth, hanged, beheaded, burned, and buried alive
their innocent brethren, now came forward, not to implore, but to offer
forgiveness. Not in sackcloth, but in royal robes; not with ashes, but
with a diadem upon his head, did the murderer present himself vicariously
upon the scene of his crimes. It may be supposed that, even in the
sixteenth century, there were many minds which would revolt at such
blasphemy. Furthermore, even had the people of Holland been weak enough
to accept the pardon, it was impossible to believe that the promise would
be fulfilled. It was sufficiently known how much faith was likely to be
kept with heretics, notwithstanding that the act was fortified by a papal
Bull, dated on the 30th of April, by which Gregory XIII. promised
forgiveness to those Netherland sinners who duly repented and sought
absolution for their crimes, even although they had sinned more than
seven times seven.
For a moment the Prince had feared lest the pardon might produce some
effect upon men wearied by interminable suffering, but the event proved
him wrong. It was received with universal and absolute contempt. No man
came forward to take advantage of its conditions, save one brewer in
Utrecht, and the son of a refugee peddler from Leyden. With these
exceptions, the only ones recorded, Holland remained deaf to the royal
voice. The city of Leyden was equally cold to the messages of mercy,
which were especially addressed to its population by Valdez and his
agents. Certain Netherlanders, belonging to the King's party, and
familiarly called "Glippers," despatched from the camp many letters to
their rebellious acquaintances in the city. In these epistles the
citizens of Leyden were urgently and even pathetically exhorted to
submission by their loyal brethren, and were implored "to take pity upon
their poor old fathers, their daughters, and their wives." But the
burghers of Leyden thought that the best pity which they could show to
those poor old fathers, daughters, and wives, was to keep them from the
clutches of the Spanish soldiery; so they made no answer to the Glippers,
save by this single line, which they wrote on a sheet of paper, and
forwarded, like a letter, to Valdez:
"Fistula dulce canit, volucrem cum decipit auceps."
According to the advice early given by the Prince of Orange, the citizens
had taken an account of their provisions of all kinds, including the live
stock. By the end of June, the city was placed on a strict allowance of
food, all the provisions being purchased by the authorities at an
equitable price. Half a pound of meat and half a pound of bread was
allotted to a full grown man, and to the rest, a due proportion. The
city being strictly invested, no communication, save by carrier pigeons,
and by a few swift and skilful messengers called jumpers, was possible.
Sorties and fierce combats were, however, of daily occurrence, and a
handsome bounty was offered to any man who brought into the city gates
the head of a Spaniard. The reward was paid many times, but the
population was becoming so excited and so apt, that the authorities felt
it dangerous to permit the continuance of these conflicts. Lest the
city, little by little, should lose its few disciplined defenders, it was
now proclaimed, by sound of church bell, that in future no man should
leave the gates.
The Prince had his head-quarters at Delft and at Rotterdam. Between
those two cities, an important fortress, called Polderwaert, secured him
in the control of the alluvial quadrangle, watered on two sides by the
Yssel and the Meuse. On the 29th June, the Spaniards, feeling its value,
had made an unsuccessful effort to carry this fort by storm. They had
been beaten off, with the loss of several hundred men, the Prince
remaining in possession of the position, from which alone he could hope
to relieve Leyden. He still held in his hand the keys with which he
could unlock the ocean gates and let the waters in upon the land, and he
had long been convinced that nothing could save the city but to break the
dykes. Leyden was not upon the sea, but he could send the sea to.
Leyden, although an army fit to encounter the besieging force under
Valdez could not be levied. The battle of Mookerheyde had, for the,
present, quite settled the question, of land relief, but it was possible
to besiege the besiegers, with the waves of the ocean. The Spaniards
occupied the coast from the Hague to Vlaardingen, but the dykes along the
Meuse and Yssel were in possession of the Prince. He determined, that
these should be pierced, while, at the same time, the great sluices at
Rotterdam, Schiedam, and Delftshaven should be opened. The damage to the
fields, villages, and growing crops would be enormous, but he felt that
no other course could rescue Leyden, and with it the whole of Holland
from destruction. His clear expositions and impassioned eloquence at
last overcame all resistance. By the middle of July the estates
consented to his plan, and its execution was immediately undertaken.
"Better a drowned land than a lost land," cried the patriots, with
enthusiasm, as they devoted their fertile fields to desolation. The
enterprise for restoring their territory, for a season, to the waves,
from which it had been so patiently rescued, was conducted with as much
regularity as if it had been a profitable undertaking. A capital was
formally subscribed, for which a certain number of bonds were issued,
payable at a long date. In addition to this preliminary fund, a monthly
allowance of forty-five guldens was voted by the estates, until the work
should be completed, and a large sum was contributed by the ladies of the
land, who freely furnished their plate, jewellery, and costly furniture
to the furtherance of the scheme.
Meantime, Valdez, on the 30th July; issued most urgent and ample offers
of pardon to the citizens, if they would consent to open their gates and
accept the King's authority, but his Overtures were received with silent
contempt, notwithstanding that the population was already approaching the
starvation point. Although not yet fully informed of the active measures
taken by the Prince, yet they still chose to rely upon his energy and
their own fortitude, rather than upon the honied words which had formerly
been heard at the gates of Harlem and of Naarden. On the 3rd of August,
the Prince; accompanied by Paul Buys, chief of the commission appointed
to execute the enterprise, went in person along the Yssel; as far as
Kappelle, and superintended the rupture of the dykes in sixteen places.
The gates at Schiedam and Rotterdam were, opened, and the ocean began to
pour over the land. While waiting for the waters to rise, provisions
were rapidly, collected, according to an edict of the Prince, in all the
principal towns of the neighbourhood, and some two hundred vessels, of
various sizes, had also been got ready at Rotterdam, Delftshaven, and
other ports.
The citizens of Leyden were, however, already becoming impatient, for
their bread was gone, and of its substitute malt cake, they had but
slender provision. On the 12th of August they received a letter from the
Prince, encouraging them to resistance, and assuring them of a speedy
relief, and on the 21st they addressed a despatch to him in reply,
stating that they had now fulfilled their original promise, for they had
held out two months with food, and another month without food. If not
soon assisted, human strength could do no more; their malt cake would
last but four days, and after that was gone, there was nothing left but
starvation. Upon the same day, however, they received a letter, dictated
by the Prince, who now lay in bed at Rotterdam with a violent fever,
assuring them that the dykes were all pierced, and that the water was
rising upon the "Land-Scheiding," the great outer barrier which separated
the city from the sea. He said nothing however of his own illness, which
would have cast a deep shadow over the joy which now broke forth among
the burghers.
The letter was read publicly in the market-place, and to increase the
cheerfulness, burgomaster Van der Werf, knowing the sensibility of his
countrymen to music, ordered the city musicians to perambulate the
streets, playing lively melodies and martial airs. Salvos of cannon were
likewise fired, and the starving city for a brief space put on the aspect
of a holiday, much to the astonishment of the besieging forces, who were
not yet aware of the Prince's efforts. They perceived very soon,
however, as the water everywhere about Leyden had risen to the depth of
ten inches, that they stood in a perilous position. It was no trifling
danger to be thus attacked by the waves of the ocean, which seemed about
to obey with docility the command of William the Silent. Valdez became
anxious and uncomfortable at the strange aspect of affairs, for the
besieging army was now in its turn beleaguered, and by a stronger power
than man's. He consulted with the most experienced of his officers, with
the country people, with the most distinguished among the Glippers, and
derived encouragement from their views concerning the Prince's plan.
They pronounced it utterly futile and hopeless: The Glippers knew the
country well, and ridiculed the desperate project in unmeasured terms.
Even in the city itself, a dull distrust had succeeded to the first vivid
gleam of hope, while the few royalists among the population boldly
taunted their fellow-citizens to their faces with the absurd vision of
relief which they had so fondly welcomed. "Go up to the tower, ye
Beggars," was the frequent and taunting cry, "go up to the tower, and
tell us if ye can see the ocean coming over the dry land to your relief"
--and day after day they did go, up to the ancient tower of Hengist, with
heavy heart and anxious eye, watching, hoping, praying, fearing, and at
last almost despairing of relief by God or man. On the 27th they
addressed a desponding letter to the estates, complaining that the city
had been forgotten in, its utmost need, and on the same day a prompt and
warm-hearted reply was received, in which the citizens were assured that
every human effort was to be made for their relief. "Rather," said the
estates, "will we see our whole land and all our possessions perish in
the waves, than forsake thee, Leyden. We know full well, moreover, that
with Leyden, all Holland must perish also." They excused themselves for
not having more frequently written, upon the, ground that the whole
management of the measures for their relief had been entrusted to the
Prince, by whom alone all the details had been administered, and all the
correspondence conducted.
The fever of the Prince had, meanwhile, reached its height. He lay at
Rotterdam, utterly prostrate in body, and with mind agitated nearly to
delirium, by the perpetual and almost unassisted schemes which he was
constructing. Relief, not only for Leyden, but for the whole country,
now apparently sinking into the abyss, was the vision which he pursued as
he tossed upon his restless couch. Never was illness more unseasonable.
His attendants were in despair, for it was necessary that his mind should
for a time be spared the agitation of business. The physicians who
attended him agreed, as to his disorder, only in this, that it was the
result of mental fatigue and melancholy, and could be cured only by
removing all distressing and perplexing subjects from his thoughts, but
all the physicians in the world could not have succeeded in turning his
attention for an instant from the great cause of his country. Leyden
lay, as it were, anxious and despairing at his feet, and it was
impossible for him to close his ears to her cry. Therefore, from his
sick bed he continued to dictate; words of counsel and encouragement to
the city; to Admiral Boisot, commanding, the fleet, minute directions and
precautions. Towards the end of August a vague report had found its way
into his sick chamber that Leyden had fallen, and although he refused to
credit the tale, yet it served to harass his mind, and to heighten fever.
Cornelius Van Mierop, Receiver General of Holland, had occasion to visit
him at Rotterdam, and strange to relate, found the house almost deserted.
Penetrating, unattended, to the Prince's bed-chamber, he found him lying
quite alone. Inquiring what had become, of all his attendants, he was
answered by the Prince, in a very feeble voice, that he had sent them all
away. The Receiver-General seems, from this, to have rather hastily
arrived at the conclusion that the Prince's disorder was the pest, and
that his servants and friends had all deserted him from cowardice.
This was very far from being the case. His private secretary and his
maitre d'hotel watched, day and night, by his couch, and the best
physicians of the city were in constant attendance. By a singular
accident; all had been despatched on different errands, at the express
desire of their master, but there had never been a suspicion that his
disorder was the pest, or pestilential. Nerves of steel, and a frame of
adamant could alone have resisted the constant anxiety and the consuming
fatigue to which he had so long been exposed. His illness had been
aggravated by the, rumor of Leyden's fall, a fiction which Cornelius
Mierop was now enabled flatly to contradict. The Prince began to mend
from that hour. By the end of the first week of September, he wrote
along letter to his brother, assuring him of his convalescence, and
expressing, as usual; a calm confidence in the divine decrees--"God will
ordain for me," said he, "all which is necessary for my good and my
salvation. He will load me with no more afflictions than the fragility
of this nature can sustain."
The preparations for the relief of Leyden, which, notwithstanding his
exertions, had grown slack during his sickness, were now vigorously
resumed. On the 1st of September, Admiral Boisot arrived out of Zealand
with a small number of vessels, and with eight hundred veteran sailors.
A wild and ferocious crew were those eight hundred Zealanders. Scarred,
hacked, and even maimed, in the unceasing conflicts in which their lives
had passed; wearing crescents in their caps, with the inscription,
"Rather Turkish than Popish;" renowned far and wide, as much for their
ferocity as for their nautical skill; the appearance of these wildest of
the "Sea-beggars" was both eccentric and terrific. They were known never
to give nor to take quarter, for they went to mortal combat only, and had
sworn to spare neither noble nor simple, neither king, kaiser, nor pope,
should they fall into their power.
More than two hundred-vessels had been assembled, carrying generally ten
pieces of cannon, with from ten to eighteen oars, and manned with twenty-
five hundred veterans, experienced both on land and water. The work was
now undertaken in earnest. The distance from Leyden to the outer dyke,
over whose ruins the ocean had already been admitted, was nearly fifteen
miles. This reclaimed territory, however, was not maintained against the
sea by these external barriers alone. The flotilla made its way with
ease to the Land-Scheiding, a strong dyke within five miles of Leyden,
but here its progress was arrested. The approach to the city was
surrounded by many strong ramparts, one within the other, by which it was
defended against its ancient enemy, the ocean, precisely like the
circumvallations by means of which it was now assailed by its more recent
enemy, the Spaniard. To enable the fleet, however, to sail over the
land; it was necessary to break through this two fold series of defences.
Between the Land-Scheiding and Leyden were several dykes, which kept out
the water; upon the level, were many villages, together with a chain of
sixty-two forts, which completely occupied the land. All these Villages
and fortresses were held by the veteran, troops of the King; the
besieging force, being about four times as strong as that which was
coming to the rescue.
The Prince had given orders that the Land-Scheiding, which was still one-
and-a-half foot above water, should be taken possession of; at every
hazard. On the night of the 10th and 11th of September this was
accomplished; by surprise; and in a masterly manner. The few Spaniards
who had been stationed upon the dyke were all, despatched or driven off,
and the patriots fortified themselves upon it, without the loss of a man.
As the day dawned the Spaniards saw the fatal error which they had
committed in leaving thus bulwark so feebly defended, and from two
villages which stood close to the dyke, the troops now rushed
inconsiderable force to recover what they had lost. A hot action
succeeded, but the patriots had too securely established themselves.
They completely defeated the enemy, who retired, leaving hundreds of
dead on the field, and the patriots in complete possession of the Land-
scheiding. This first action was sanguinary and desperate. It gave a
earnest of what these people, who came to relieve; their brethren, by
sacrificing their, property and their lives; were determined to effect.
It gave a revolting proof, too, of the intense hatred which nerved their
arms. A Zealander; having struck down a Spaniard on the dyke, knelt on
his bleeding enemy, tore his heart from his bosom; fastened his teeth in
it for an instant, and then threw it to a dog, with the exclamation,
"'Tis too bitter." The Spanish heart was, however, rescued, and kept for
years, with the marks of the soldier's teeth upon it, a sad testimonial
of the ferocity engendered by this war for national existence.
The great dyke having been thus occupied, no time was lost in breaking it
through in several places, a work which was accomplished under the very
eyes of the enemy. The fleet sailed through the gaps, but, after their
passage had been effected in good order, the Admiral found, to his
surprise, that it was not the only rampart to be carried. The Prince had
been informed, by those who claimed to know, the country, that, when once
the Land-scheiding had been passed, the water would flood the country.
as far as Leyden, but the "Green-way," another long dyke three-quarters
of a mile farther inward, now rose at least a foot above the water, to
oppose their further progress. Fortunately, by, a second and still more
culpable carelessness, this dyke had been left by the Spaniards in as
unprotected a state as the first had been, Promptly and audaciously
Admiral Boisot took possession of this barrier also, levelled it in many
places, and brought his flotilla, in triumph, over its ruins. Again,
however, he was doomed to disappointment. A large mere, called the
Freshwater Lake, was known to extend itself directly in his path about
midway between the Land-scheiding and the city. To this piece of water,
into which he expected to have instantly floated, his only passage lay
through one deep canal. The sea which had thus far borne him on, now
diffusing itself over a very wide surface, and under the influence of an
adverse wind, had become too shallow for his ships. The canal alone was
deep enough, but it led directly towards a bridge, strongly occupied by
the enemy. Hostile troops, moreover, to the amount of three thousand
occupied both sides of the canal. The bold Boisot, nevertheless,
determined to force his passage, if possible. Selecting a few of his
strongest vessels, his heaviest artillery, and his bravest sailors, he
led the van himself, in a desperate attempt to make his way to the mere.
He opened a hot fire upon the bridge, then converted into a fortress,
while his men engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a succession of
skirmishers from the troops along the canal. After losing a few men,
and ascertaining the impregnable position of the enemy, he was obliged
to withdraw, defeated, and almost despairing.
A week had elapsed since the great dyke had been pierced, and the
flotilla now lay motionless--in shallow water, having accomplished less
than two miles. The wind, too, was easterly, causing the sea rather to
sink than to rise. Everything wore a gloomy aspect, when, fortunately,
on the 18th, the wind shifted to the north-west, and for three days blew
a gale. The waters rose rapidly, and before the second day was closed
the armada was afloat again. Some fugitives from Zoetermeer village now
arrived, and informed the Admiral that, by making a detour to the right,
he could completely circumvent the bridge and the mere. They guided him,
accordingly, to a comparatively low dyke, which led between the villages
of Zoetermeer and Benthuyzen: A strong force of Spaniards was stationed
in each place, but, seized with a panic, instead of sallying to defend
the barrier, they fled inwardly towards Leyden, and halted at the village
of North Aa. It was natural that they should be amazed. Nothing is more
appalling to the imagination than the rising ocean tide, when man feels
himself within its power; and here were the waters, hourly deepening and
closing around them, devouring the earth beneath their feet, while on the
waves rode a flotilla, manned by a determined race; whose courage and
ferocity were known throughout the world. The Spanish soldiers, brave as
they were on land, were not sailors, and in the naval contests which had
taken place between them and the Hollanders had been almost invariably
defeated. It was not surprising, in these amphibious skirmishes, where
discipline was of little avail, and habitual audacity faltered at the
vague dangers which encompassed them, that the foreign troops should lose
their presence of mind.
Three barriers, one within the other, had now been passed, and the
flotilla, advancing with the advancing waves, and driving the enemy
steadily before it, was drawing nearer to the beleaguered city. As one
circle after another was passed, the besieging army found itself
compressed within a constantly contracting field. The "Ark of Delft," an
enormous vessel, with shot-proof bulwarks, and moved by paddle-wheels
turned by a crank, now arrived at Zoetermeer, and was soon followed by
the whole fleet. After a brief delay, sufficient to allow the few
remaining villagers to escape, both Zoetermeer and Benthuyzen, with the
fortifications, were set on fire, and abandoned to their fate. The blaze
lighted up the desolate and watery waste around, and was seen at Leyden,
where it was hailed as the beacon of hope. Without further impediment,
the armada proceeded to North Aa; the enemy retreating from this position
also, and flying to Zoeterwoude, a strongly fortified village but a mile
and three quarters from the city walls. It was now swarming with troops,
for the bulk of the besieging army had gradually been driven into a
narrow circle of forts, within the immediate neighbourhood of Leyden.
Besides Zoeterwoude, the two posts where they were principally
established were Lammen and Leyderdorp, each within three hundred rods of
the town. At Leyderdorp were the head-quarters of Valdez; Colonel Borgia
commanded in the very strong fortress of Lammen.
The fleet was, however, delayed at North Aa by another barrier, called
the "Kirk-way." The waters, too, spreading once more over a wider space,
and diminishing under an east wind, which had again arisen, no longer
permitted their progress, so that very soon the whole armada was stranded
anew. The, waters fell to the depth of nine inches; while the vessels
required eighteen and twenty. Day after day the fleet lay motionless
upon. the shallow sea. Orange, rising from his sick bed as soon as he
could stand, now came on board the fleet. His presence diffused
universal joy; his words inspired his desponding army with fresh hope.
He rebuked the impatient spirits who, weary of their compulsory idleness,
had shown symptoms of ill-timed ferocity, and those eight hundred mad
Zealanders, so frantic in their hatred to the foreigners, who had so long
profaned their land, were as docile as children to the Prince. He
reconnoitred the whole ground, and issued orders for the immediate
destruction of the Kirkway, the last important barrier which separated
the fleet from Leyden. Then, after a long conference with Admiral
Boisot, he returned to Delft.
Meantime, the besieged city was at its last gasp. The burghers had been
in a state of uncertainty for many days; being aware that the fleet had
set forth for their relief, but knowing full well the thousand obstacles
which it, had to surmount. They had guessed its progress by the
illumination from, the blazing villages; they had heard its salvos of
artillery, on its arrival at North Aa; but since then, all had been dark
and mournful again, hope and fear, in sickening alternation, distracting
every breast. They knew that the wind was unfavorable, and at the dawn
of each day every eye was turned wistfully to the vanes of the, steeples.
So long as the easterly breeze prevailed, they felt, as they anxiously
stood on towers and housetops; that they must look in vain for the
welcome ocean. Yet, while thus patiently waiting, they were literally
starving; for even the misery endured at Harlem had not reached that
depth and intensity of agony to which Leyden was now reduced. Bread,
malt-cake, horseflesh, had entirely disappeared; dogs, cats, rats, and
other vermin, were esteemed luxuries: A small number of cows, kept as
long as possible, for their milk, still remained; but a few were killed
from day to day; and distributed in minute proportions, hardly sufficient
to support life among the famishing population. Starving wretches
swarmed daily around the shambles where these cattle were slaughtered,
contending for any morsel which might fall, and lapping eagerly the blood
as it ran along the pavement; while the hides; chopped and boiled, were
greedily devoured. Women and children, all day long, were seen searching
gutters and dunghills for morsels of food, which they disputed fiercely
with the famishing dogs. The green leaves were stripped from the trees,
every living herb was converted into human food, but these expedients
could not avert starvation. The daily mortality was frightful infants
starved to death on the maternal breasts, which famine had parched and
withered; mothers dropped dead in the streets, with their dead children
in their arms. In many a house the watchmen, in their rounds, found a
whole family of corpses, father, mother, and children, side by side, for
a disorder called the plague, naturally engendered of hardship and
famine, now came, as if in kindness, to abridge the agony of the people.
The pestilence stalked at noonday through the city, and the doomed
inhabitants fell like grass beneath its scythe. From six thousand to
eight thousand human beings sank before this scourge alone, yet the
people resolutely held out--women and men mutually encouraging each other
to resist the entrance of their foreign foe--an evil more horrible than
pest or famine.
The missives from Valdez, who saw more vividly than the besieged could
do, the uncertainty of his own position, now poured daily into the city,
the enemy becoming more prodigal of his vows, as he felt that the ocean
might yet save the victims from his grasp. The inhabitants, in their
ignorance, had gradually abandoned their hopes of relief, but they
spurned the summons to surrender. Leyden was sublime in its despair. A
few murmurs were, however, occasionally heard at the steadfastness of the
magistrates, and a dead body was placed at the door of the burgomaster,
as a silent witness against his inflexibility. A party of the more
faint-hearted even assailed the heroic Adrian Van der Werf with threats
and reproaches as he passed through the streets. A crowd had gathered
around him, as he reached a triangular place in the centre of the town,
into which many of the principal streets emptied themselves, and upon one
side of which stood the church of Saint Pancras, with its high brick
tower surmounted by two pointed turrets, and with two ancient lime trees
at its entrance. There stood the burgomaster, a tall, haggard, imposing
figure, with dark visage, and a tranquil but commanding eye. He waved
his broadleaved felt hat for silence, and then exclaimed, in language
which has been almost literally preserved, What would ye, my friends?
Why do ye murmur that we do not break our vows and surrender the city to
the Spaniards? a fate more horrible than the agony which she now endures.
I tell you I have made an oath to hold the city, and may God give me
strength to keep my oath! I can die but once; whether by your hands, the
enemy's, or by the hand of God. My own fate is indifferent to me, not so
that of the city intrusted to my care. I know that we shall starve if
not soon relieved; but starvation is preferable to the dishonored death
which is the only alternative. Your menaces move me not; my life is at
your disposal; here is my sword, plunge it into my breast, and divide my
flesh among you. Take my body to appease your hunger, but expect no
surrender, so long as I remain alive.
The words of the stout burgomaster inspired a new courage in the hearts
of those who heard him, and a shout of applause and defiance arose from
the famishing but enthusiastic crowd. They left the place, after
exchanging new vows of fidelity with their magistrate, and again ascended
tower and battlement to watch for the coming fleet. From the ramparts
they hurled renewed defiance at the enemy. "Ye call us rat-eaters and
dog-eaters," they cried, "and it is true. So long, then, as ye hear dog
bark or cat mew within the walls, ye may know that the city holds out.
And when all has perished but ourselves, be sure that we will each devour
our left arms, retaining our right to defend our women, our liberty, and
our religion, against the foreign tyrant. Should God, in his wrath, doom
us to destruction, and deny us all relief, even then will we maintain
ourselves for ever against your entrance. When the last hour has come,
with our own hands we will set fire to the city and perish, men, women,
and children together in the flames, rather than suffer our homes to be
polluted and our liberties to be crushed." Such words of defiance,
thundered daily from the battlements, sufficiently informed Valdez as to
his chance of conquering the city, either by force or fraud, but at the
same time, he felt comparatively relieved by the inactivity of Boisot's
fleet, which still lay stranded at North Aa. "As well," shouted the
Spaniards, derisively, to the citizens, "as well can the Prince of Orange
pluck the stars from the sky as bring the ocean to the walls of Leyden
for your relief."
On the 28th of September, a dove flew into the city, bringing a letter
from Admiral Boisot. In this despatch, the position of the fleet at
North Aa was described in encouraging terms, and the inhabitants were
assured that, in a very few days at furthest, the long-expected relief
would enter their gates. The letter was read publicly upon the market-
place, and the bells were rung for joy. Nevertheless, on the morrow, the
vanes pointed to the east, the waters, so far from rising, continued to
sink, and Admiral Boisot was almost in despair. He wrote to the Prince,
that if the spring-tide, now to be expected, should not, together with a
strong and favorable wind, come immediately to their relief, it would be
in pain to attempt anything further, and that the expedition would, of
necessity, be abandoned. The tempest came to their relief. A violent
equinoctial gale, on the night of the 1st and 2nd of October, came
storming from the north-west, shifting after a few hours full eight
points, and then blowing still more violently from the south-west. The
waters of the North Sea were piled in vast masses upon the southern coast
of Holland, and then dashed furiously landward, the ocean rising over the
earth, and sweeping with unrestrained power across the ruined dykes.
In the course of twenty-four hours, the fleet at North Aa, instead of
nine inches, had more than two feet of water. No time was lost. The
Kirk-way, which had been broken through according to the Prince's
instructions, was now completely overflowed, and the fleet sailed at
midnight, in the midst of the storm and darkness. A few sentinel vessels
of the enemy challenged them as they steadily rowed towards Zoeterwoude.
The answer was a flash from Boisot's cannon; lighting up the black waste
of waters. There was a fierce naval midnight battle; a strange spectacle
among the branches of those quiet orchards, and with the chimney stacks
of half-submerged farmhouses rising around the contending vessels.
The neighboring village of Zoeterwoude shook with the discharges of the
Zealanders' cannon, and the Spaniards assembled in that fortress knew
that the rebel Admiral was at last, afloat and on his course. The
enemy's vessels were soon sunk, their crews hurled into the waves.
On went the fleet, sweeping over the broad waters which lay between
Zoeterwoude and Zwieten. As they approached some shallows, which led
into the great mere, the Zealanders dashed into the sea, and with sheer
strength shouldered every vessel through. Two obstacles lay still in
their path--the forts of Zoeterwoude and Lammen, distant from the city
five hundred and two hundred and fifty yards respectively. Strong
redoubts, both well supplied with troops and artillery, they were likely
to give a rough reception to the light flotilla, but the panic; which had
hitherto driven their foes before the advancing patriots; had reached
Zoeterwoude. Hardly was the fleet in sight when the Spaniards in the
early morning, poured out from the fortress, and fled precipitately to
the left, along a road which led in a westerly direction towards the
Hague. Their narrow path was rapidly vanishing in the waves, and
hundreds sank beneath the constantly deepening and treacherous flood.
The wild Zealanders, too, sprang from their vessels upon the crumbling
dyke and drove their retreating foes into the sea. They hurled their
harpoons at them, with an accuracy acquired in many a polar chase; they
plunged into the waves in the keen pursuit, attacking them with boat-hook
and dagger. The numbers who thus fell beneath these corsairs, who
neither gave nor took quarter, were never counted, but probably not less
than a thousand perished. The rest effected their escape to the Hague.
The first fortress was thus seized, dismantled, set on fire, and passed,
and a few strokes of the oars brought the whole fleet close to Lammen.
This last obstacle rose formidable and frowning directly across their
path. Swarming as it was with soldiers, and bristling with artillery,
it seemed to defy the armada either to carry it by storm or to pass under
its guns into the city. It appeared that the enterprise was, after all,
to founder within sight of the long expecting and expected haven. Boisot
anchored his fleet within a respectful distance, and spent what remained
of the day in carefully reconnoitring the fort, which seemed only too
strong. In conjunction with Leyderdorp, the head-quarters of Valdez, a
mile and a half distant on the right, and within a mile of the city, it
seemed so insuperable an impediment that Boisot wrote in despondent tone
to the Prince of Orange. He announced his intention of carrying the
fort, if it were possible, on the following morning, but if obliged to
retreat, he observed, with something like despair, that there would be
nothing for it but to wait for another gale of wind. If the waters
should rise sufficiently to enable them to make a wide detour, it might
be possible, if, in the meantime, Leyden did not starve or surrender, to
enter its gates from the opposite side.
Meantime, the citizens had grown wild with expectation. A dove had been
despatched by Boisot, informing them of his precise position, and a
number of citizens accompanied the burgomaster, at nightfall, toward the
tower of Hengist. Yonder, cried the magistrate, stretching out his hand
towards Lammen, "yonder, behind that fort, are bread and meat, and
brethren in thousands. Shall all this be destroyed by the Spanish guns,
or shall we rush to the rescue of our friends?"--"We will tear the
fortress to fragments with our teeth and nails," was the reply, "before
the relief, so long expected, shall be wrested from us." It was resolved
that a sortie, in conjunction with the operations of Boisot, should be
made against Lammen with the earliest dawn. Night descended upon the
scene, a pitch dark night, full of anxiety to the Spaniards, to the
armada, to Leyden. Strange sights and sounds occurred at different
moments to bewilder the anxious sentinels. A long procession of lights
issuing from the fort was seen to flit across the black face of the
waters, in the dead of night, and the whole of the city wall, between the
Cow-gate and the Tower of Burgundy, fell with a loud crash. The horror-
struck citizens thought that the Spaniards were upon them at last; the
Spaniards imagined the noise to indicate, a desperate sortie of the
citizens. Everything was vague and mysterious.
Day dawned, at length, after the feverish, night, and, the Admiral
prepared for the assault. Within the fortress reigned a death-like
stillness, which inspired a sickening suspicion. Had the city, indeed,
been carried in the night; had the massacre already commenced; had all
this labor and audacity been expended in vain? Suddenly a man was
descried, wading breast-high through the water from Lammen towards the
fleet, while at the same time, one solitary boy was seen to wave his cap
from the summit of the fort. After a moment of doubt, the happy mystery
was solved. The Spaniards had fled, panic struck, during the darkness.
Their position would still have enabled them, with firmness, to frustrate
the enterprise of the patriots, but the hand of God, which had sent the
ocean and the tempest to the deliverance of Leyden, had struck her
enemies with terror likewise. The lights which had been seen moving
during the night were the lanterns of the retreating Spaniards, and the
boy who was now waving his triumphant signal from the battlements had
alone witnessed the spectacle. So confident was he in the conclusion to
which it led him, that he had volunteered at daybreak to go thither all
alone. The magistrates, fearing a trap, hesitated for a moment to
believe the truth, which soon, however, became quite evident. Valdez,
flying himself from Leyderdorp, had ordered Colonel Borgia to retire with
all his troops from Lammen. Thus, the Spaniards had retreated at the
very moment that an extraordinary accident had laid bare a whole side of
the city for their entrance. The noise of the wall, as it fell, only
inspired them with fresh alarm for they believed that the citizens had
sallied forth in the darkness, to aid the advancing flood in the work of
destruction. All obstacles being now removed, the fleet of Boisot swept
by Lammen, and entered the city on the morning of the 3rd of October.
Leyden was relieved.
The quays were lined with the famishing population, as the fleet rowed
through the canals, every human being who could stand, coming forth to
greet the preservers of the city. Bread was thrown from every vessel
among the crowd. The poor creatures who, for two months had tasted no
wholesome human food, and who had literally been living within the jaws
of death, snatched eagerly the blessed gift, at last too liberally
bestowed. Many choked themselves to death, in the greediness with which
they devoured their bread; others became ill with the effects of plenty
thus suddenly succeeding starvation; but these were isolated cases, a
repetition of which was prevented. The Admiral, stepping ashore, was
welcomed by the magistracy, and a solemn procession was immediately
formed. Magistrates and citizens, wild Zealanders, emaciated burgher
guards, sailors, soldiers, women, children, nearly every living person
within the walls, all repaired without delay to the great church, stout
Admiral Boisot leading the way. The starving and heroic city, which had
been so firm in its resistance to an earthly king, now bent itself in
humble gratitude before the King of kings. After prayers, the whole vast
congregation joined in the thanksgiving hymn. Thousands of voices raised
the-song, but few were able to carry it to its conclusion, for the
universal emotion, deepened by the music, became too full for utterance.
The hymn was abruptly suspended, while the multitude wept like children.
This scene of honest pathos terminated; the necessary measures for
distributing the food and for relieving the sick were taken by the
magistracy. A note dispatched to the Prince of Orange, was received by
him at two o'clock, as he sat in church at Delft. It was of a somewhat
different purport from that of the letter which he had received early in
the same day from Boisot; the letter in which the admiral had, informed
him that the success of the enterprise depended; after-all, upon the
desperate assault upon a nearly impregnable fort. The joy of the Prince
may be easily imagined, and so soon as the sermon was concluded; he
handed the letter just received to the minister, to be read to the
congregation. Thus, all participated in his joy, and united with him in
thanksgiving.
The next day, notwithstanding the urgent entreaties of his friends, who
were anxious lest his life should be endangered by breathing, in his
scarcely convalescent state; the air of the city where so many thousands
had been dying of the pestilence, the Prince repaired to Leyden. He, at
least, had never doubted his own or his country's fortitude. They could,
therefore, most sincerely congratulate each other, now that the victory
had been achieved. "If we are doomed to perish," he had said a little
before the commencement of the siege, "in the name of God, be it so! At
any rate, we shall have the honor to have done what no nation ever, did
before us, that of having defended and maintained ourselves, unaided, in
so small a country, against the tremendous efforts of such powerful
enemies. So long as the poor inhabitants here, though deserted by all
the world, hold firm, it will still cost the Spaniards the half of Spain,
in money and in men, before they can make an end of us."
The termination of the terrible siege of Leyden was a convincing proof to
the Spaniards that they had not yet made an end of the Hollanders. It
furnished, also, a sufficient presumption that until they had made an end
of them, even unto the last Hollander, there would never be an end of the
struggle in which they were engaged. It was a slender consolation to the
Governor-General, that his troops had been vanquished, not by the enemy,
but by the ocean. An enemy whom the ocean obeyed with such docility
might well be deemed invincible by man. In the head-quarters of Valdez,
at Leyderdorp, many plans of Leyden and the neighbourhood were found
lying in confusion about the room. Upon the table was a hurried farewell
of that General to the scenes of his, discomfiture, written in a Latin
worthy of Juan Vargas: "Vale civitas, valete castelli parvi, qui relicti
estis propter aquam et non per vim inimicorum!" In his precipitate
retreat before the advancing rebels, the Commander had but just found
time for this elegant effusion, and, for his parting instructions to
Colonel Borgia that the fortress of Lammen was to be forthwith abandoned.
These having been reduced to writing, Valdez had fled so speedily as to
give rise to much censure and more scandal. He was even accused of
having been bribed by the Hollanders to desert his post, a tale which
many repeated, and a few believed. On the 4th of October, the day
following that on which the relief of the city was effected, the wind
shifted to the north-east, and again blew a tempest. It was as if the
waters, having now done their work, had been rolled back to the ocean by
an Omnipotent hand, for in the course of a few days, the land was bare
again, and the work of reconstructing the dykes commenced.
After a brief interval of repose, Leyden had regained its former
position. The Prince, with advice of the estates, had granted the city,
as a reward for its sufferings, a ten days' annual fair, without tolls or
taxes, and as a further manifestation of the gratitude entertained by
the people of Holland and Zealand for the heroism of the citizens, it was
resolved that an academy or university should be forthwith established
within their walls. The University of Leyden, afterwards so illustrious,
was thus founded in the very darkest period of the country's struggle.
The university was endowed with a handsome revenue, principally derived
from the ancient abbey of Egmont, and was provided with a number of
professors, selected for their genius, learning, and piety among all the
most distinguished scholars of the Netherlands. The document by which
the institution was founded was certainly a masterpiece of ponderous
irony, for as the fiction of the King's sovereignty was still maintained,
Philip was gravely made to establish the university, as a reward to
Leyden for rebellion to himself. "Considering," said this wonderful
charter, "that during these present wearisome wars within our provinces
of Holland and Zealand, all good instruction of youth in the sciences and
liberal arts is likely to come into entire oblivion. . . . . Considering
the differences of religion--considering that we are inclined to gratify
our city of Leyden, with its burghers, on account of the heavy burthens
sustained by them during this war with such faithfulness--we have
resolved, after ripely deliberating with our dear cousin, William, Prince
of Orange, stadholder, to erect a free public school and university,"
etc., etc., etc. So ran the document establishing this famous academy,
all needful regulations for the government and police of the institution
being entrusted by Philip to his "above-mentioned dear cousin of Orange."
The university having been founded, endowed, and supplied with its,
teachers, it was solemnly consecrated in the following winter, and it is
agreeable to contemplate this scene of harmless pedantry, interposed, as
it was, between the acts of the longest and dreariest tragedy of modern
time. On the 5th of February, 1575, the city of Leyden, so lately the
victim of famine and pestilence, had crowned itself with flowers. At
seven in the morning, after a solemn religious celebration in the Church
of St. Peter, a grand procession was formed. It was preceded by a
military escort, consisting of the burgher militia and the five companies
of infantry stationed in the city. Then came, drawn by four horses, a
splendid triumphal chariot, on which sat a female figure, arrayed in
snow-white garments. This was the Holy Gospel. She was attended by the
Four Evangelists, who walked on foot at each side of her chariot. Next
followed Justice, with sword and scales, mounted; blindfold, upon a
unicorn, while those learned doctors, Julian, Papinian, Ulpian, and
Tribonian, rode on either side, attended by two lackeys and four men at
arms. After these came Medicine, on horseback, holding in one hand a
treatise of the healing art, in the other a garland of drugs. The
curative goddess rode between the four eminent physicians, Hippocrates,
Galen, Dioscorides, and Theophrastus, and was attended by two footmen and
four pike-bearers. Last of the allegorical personages came Minerva,
prancing in complete steel, with lance in rest, and bearing her Medusa
shield. Aristotle and Plato, Cicero and Virgil, all on horseback, with
attendants in antique armor at their back, surrounded the daughter of
Jupiter, while the city band, discoursing eloquent music from hautboy and
viol, came upon the heels of the allegory. Then followed the mace-
bearers and other officials, escorting the orator of the day, the newly-
appointed professors and doctors, the magistrates and dignitaries, and
the body of the citizens generally completing the procession.
Marshalled in this order, through triumphal arches, and over a pavement
strewed with flowers, the procession moved slowly up and down the
different streets, and along the quiet canals of the city. As it reached
the Nuns' Bridge, a barge of triumph, gorgeously decorated, came floating
slowly down the sluggish Rhine. Upon its deck, under a canopy enwreathed
with laurels and oranges, and adorned with tapestry, sat Apollo, attended
by the Nine Muses, all in classical costume; at the helm stood Neptune
with his trident. The Muses executed some beautiful concerted pieces;
Apollo twanged his lute. Having reached the landing-place, this
deputation from Parnassus stepped on shore, and stood awaiting the
arrival of the procession. Each professor, as he advanced, was gravely
embraced and kissed by Apollo and all the Nine Muses in turn, who greeted
their arrival besides with the recitation of an elegant Latin poem. This
classical ceremony terminated, the whole procession marched together to
the cloister of Saint Barbara, the place prepared for the new university,
where they listened to an eloquent oration by the Rev. Caspar Kolhas,
after which they partook of a magnificent banquet. With this memorable
feast, in the place where famine had so lately reigned, the ceremonies
were concluded.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
Crescents in their caps: Rather Turkish than Popish
Ever-swarming nurseries of mercenary warriors
Weep oftener for her children than is the usual lot of mothers
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1573-74 ***
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