for himself among both the writers and the statesmen of the day, it is
not to be wondered at that he was much sought after. One chronicle
tells us that "many noble ladies ventured as far as modesty would permit
to signify their affections for him."
Sidney himself thought it his _duty_ to marry, and in the fall of 1583
took to wife the daughter of his old friend, Sir Francis Walsingham. The
queen objected bitterly, being selfish enough to want her courtier's
whole attention; but she finally relented. She afterwards stood
godmother to Sidney's only child--a daughter--who was named for herself.
Sidney's married life was a very happy one. Frances Walsingham made him
a good wife, and he was very tenderly attached to her.
Always jealous for his native country, Sidney now became much aroused by
the continued success of Spain in the New World. The then recent
discoveries in America, and the consequent advancement of the power of
Philip II., were a menace to the political prestige of England. Sidney
had been quick to perceive this, and had been stirred to a keen interest
in English colonization in the New World. He rightly believed that the
surest means of retarding the growth of the power of Spain was to plant
in the New World colonies of English-speaking people. Disappointed in
his desire to join in the warfare in the Netherlands against King
Philip, he conceived a great scheme for crippling that monarch's power
in America and on the high seas, and he threw himself into the project
with his whole heart.
It is interesting to know that in his colonization schemes Sidney was
intimately associated with such men as Martin Frobisher, Sir Humphrey
Gilbert, Sir Walter Raleigh, and Sir Francis Drake.
His connection with Sir Francis Drake came near involving him in serious
trouble, but ultimately ended by procuring him the commission he had so
long desired. Tired of a life of inactivity, anxious to foil the Spanish
in the New World, and sick to death of the busy idleness of the court,
Sidney at length determined to go with Drake to a new world and a new
career. Accordingly, he made ready, and actually went as far as
Plymouth, where he was to take ship, when he was overtaken by a
messenger bearing "grace in one hand and thunder in the other," and the
queen's command that he return to court.
The _grace_ was that he was to have his long-desired commission in the
Netherlands, if he would but return. Her Majesty had evidently learned
that she would have to compromise with her spirited subject.
Sidney did return, and received the commission promised. The queen
signed a patent making him governor of Flushing and Rammekins in the
Netherlands. Leicester she made commander-in-chief of the forces she had
at last agreed to send to the aid of the oppressed Dutch.
Sidney was not one-and-thirty years of age when he received his
appointment. He went into the project with all the fire of his youth and
chivalry. At last he was free from court fetters; at last he could play
a man's part in life. All the dreams of his boyhood now waked again. No
mimic warfare of joust and tournament for him now! With naked sword he
was to face the enemies of a weak and oppressed people.
When Sidney landed at Flushing, he had yet to learn that war demands
more courage than is needed in merely facing the foe--the courage to
endure delays, hardships, injustice, and all the cruel accompaniments of
a campaign. He learned his lesson well and shortly, for when he was
weighed in the balance, he was not found wanting in a single quality
that belongs to the hero.
Flushing, which had been assigned to English control, was at the mouth
of the Scheldt River, and on the opposite bank stood the Castle of
Rammekins. These were important points, as they commanded the entrance
from the sea. The people of the town hailed Sidney as a deliverer and
protector, for they were worn with the long struggle against the
Spanish, and were wellnigh disheartened. The defences of the place were
in wretched condition, and the town itself in a most unhealthy state, so
Sir Philip set to work at once to put the place in a more sanitary
condition and to strengthen its fortifications.
Shortly after Sidney had begun to get ready for real war, his uncle, the
Earl of Leicester, arrived in the Netherlands with the main body of the
troops sent by her Majesty, and made a spectacular tour through several
leading cities. He took up his position at the Hague, where he
immediately began to live in almost royal state, spending the funds sent
from England, wasting the resources of the people he had ostensibly come
to help, and making no move against the Spanish, who were daily gaining
ground.
If Sidney had hoped that, in changing her mind about assisting the
Netherlands, Queen Elizabeth had changed some of her personal
characteristics too, he was very quickly undeceived. The supply of men
and money sent by her Majesty was entirely inadequate to existing
necessities; and having shipped her small quota of troops, the queen
apparently washed her hands of them.
With his superior officer, Leicester, wasting time and the resources of
the troops, in dissipation, and the queen careless of their straits,
Sidney was reduced almost to despair. Yet if he had come to hope little,
he worked as if the whole responsibility of the cause rested on his
shoulders. He not only put the places of his own command in as good
condition as was possible, but he went from one city to another,
assisting and advising. He made journey after journey to the Hague to
rouse Leicester to a more active policy, and at one time went even into
Germany to implore help for the wretched country. All this time he was
writing to Leicester, to the queen, to her advisers, the most passionate
letters. He set forth the condition of affairs in language that stripped
truth of all dissembling, and implored her Majesty and her officers to
let him do the work for which he had been sent. Like the king of the
forest in the narrow confines of a cage, Sidney's fierce soul raged
against the orders that kept his sword idle while the Spanish were
wasting the land. There is not a more pathetically tragic figure in
history than that of the heroic Sidney in the power of the unworthy
Queen of England and of the doubly unworthy Earl of Leicester.
More than a year was wasted by the luxurious earl, Sidney the while
chafing at his idleness, and the Spanish gaining post after post. Time
and again, Sidney pleaded with Leicester to give him adequate troops and
leave to act, but the troops were not given; and when, on his own
responsibility, Sidney undertook to besiege Steenbergen, he was
forbidden to prosecute the plan.
It was not until he had spent nearly two years of hard work and
discouragement in the Netherlands that Sir Philip was at last allowed to
proceed against the enemy in active warfare.
A most unwilling permission being wrung from Leicester, Sidney joined
forces with Lord Willoughby and Count Maurice and proceeded against the
town of Axel, which was then in the hands of the Spaniards.
A moonless night was chosen for the expedition, and the advance was made
stealthily and swiftly. While the attacking forces approached the
sleeping town, Sir Philip spoke so earnestly to the men that one who was
with him afterwards said, "he did so link our minds that we did desire
rather to die in that service than to live in the contrary."
Axel was surrounded by a wall and a moat, and was regarded as
impregnable to all save overwhelming forces; but Sidney depended more on
the spirit of his men than on mere numbers, and he pressed hardily
forward. When the moat was reached, he plunged boldly in, and was soon
followed by some fifty others. A few moments more, and they had gained
the opposite bank and were scaling, as best they could, the wall of
Axel. A little while of breathless suspense, and then their dark forms
were outlined against the sky on the top of the wall, only to disappear
quickly on the other side. Presently there were cries of surprise and
terror and sounds of sharp fighting, then the drawbridge was lowered and
the great gate opened to admit the crush of men who rushed to the
assistance of Sir Philip and his valiant little band.
The scene inside told its own story. Sir Philip had surprised and slain
the guard and opened the gate to his men. Instantly the startled city
flew to arms, but it was too late. Over half the twelve hundred men who
garrisoned the town were put to the sword, a great quantity of riches
was captured, and a large amount of property destroyed. Besides this,
four neighboring citadels were attacked and forced to surrender. Sir
Philip then garrisoned the town with English soldiers, and cut the
dikes, flooding a vast tract of country to hamper the movements of the
Spanish.
When it was all over, Leicester wrote proudly to the queen, "My nephew,
Sidney, is to be thanked for the bravest deed yet done by the English in
the Low Countries."
But stanch old Sir Henry died a few weeks before his "darling Philip"
thus won his first laurels in war, and Lady Sidney passed away shortly
after the news of her boy's heroism reached her.
One would think that the knowledge of that heroism would have touched
the fickle queen to do, at least, simple justice to the young officer
who had stormed Axel; but unfortunately it did not. Not only could
Sidney not persuade her Majesty to give him the necessary troops and
money for better defences, but he could not move her to pay the wretched
soldiers their hire. The wages of his men were already months in
arrears, and the soldiers were daily threatening mutiny. So the time
dragged on, and nothing of importance was accomplished for several more
weary months.
Leicester had had as little patience with his nephew as the queen
herself, "bearing a hand over him as a forward young man;" but after
Sidney proved his sword at Axel, his uncle treated him with more
respect, and was at last brought to take counsel of him.
A few months after Sidney's capture of Axel, Leicester reviewed her
Majesty's troops at Arnhem; and it was then that Sir Philip at last
persuaded him to strike a decisive blow at the Spanish. Having actually
obtained his uncle's permission to fight, Sidney lost no time in
unsheathing his sword. Five days after the review at Arnhem, he and his
brother Robert and the young Earl of Essex, with a small force, stormed
and carried the fortress of Doesburg, each one of the three fighting
brilliantly.
The Earl of Essex was son to Sir Philip's old friend, and brother to
Penelope Devereux, and was that Essex whom Elizabeth caused to be
beheaded some years after.
As another result of Sidney's importunities, Leicester laid siege to
Zutphen, which was a very important post, and the strongest city in
Gelderland. A week was spent in throwing up intrenchments about the city
and making ready for an attack. Sidney, together with the Count of
Nassau and Sir John Norris, was put in command of a body of cavalry and
directed to hold Gilbert Hill,--a rise of ground less than a mile from
the east gate of Zutphen.
When the English were nearly ready to attack, news was brought to
Leicester that large quantities of provisions were being transported to
the besieged city by the Spanish, and that an attempt would be made to
smuggle them in.
On receipt of the news, Leicester ordered Sir John Norris and Sir
William Stanley to take five hundred men and cut off the convoys as they
approached.
Sir Philip was not included in the commission, but he was so eager to
act that he joined Norris and Stanley of his own accord. He was fully
armed as he rode up to the troops, but meeting one of his friends
without leg-armour, he rashly cast off his own cuisses, that he might
run equal risk.
The Spanish convoys were expected to arrive in the night, but a gray,
foggy morning dawned before the tramp of their horses' feet was heard.
Nearer and nearer it came to the waiting five hundred,--when suddenly
the fog lifted and the little band of English found themselves face to
face with a splendidly equipped Spanish force of over five times their
own number. They had not dreamed that the wagon-train would be so
accompanied.
The sun rose clear--fatally clear for that gallant little band of
Britons. The guns of the city were trained on them; they were in easy
shot of the Spanish in front and the Spanish behind--surprised, tricked,
surrounded. And there was no mist to puzzle the enemy's terrible aim!
But English chivalry stood the test that day, and English swords rang
true.
Young Essex, a boy of twenty, made the first dash, crying to his men as
he went,
"For the honor of England, good fellows, follow me!" They followed him,
and for a while, at least, beat back the enemy with their curtle-axes.
Lord Willoughby, and many another gallant cavalier, carved his way to
fame that day.
But Sidney was the hero of Zutphen--Sidney "of the delicate form and
golden hair." One might almost fancy him the matchless Bayard come
again, or the very incarnate spirit of battle, so splendidly did his
genius and courage rise in the storm of carnage. None might hope to
equal him or match his many deeds that day. Once, seeing Willoughby
surrounded and far over among the enemy, Sidney, with a few followers,
fought through to him and accomplished his rescue. Twice he charged the
Spanish, pressing them back and hacking them down in his path.
At the crisis of the second charge, his horse was shot under him; but he
quickly mounted another. Then in one last glorious dash, he cut his way
straight through the Spanish masses, and he did not stop while there was
a foe to be beaten out of his path. But when he had blazed his solitary
way entirely through the ranks of the enemy, and was faced with empty
trenches beyond, he turned his horse to press back again. As he wheeled
back, a musket-ball struck him in the thigh and gave him a mortal wound.
The horse he was riding was not trained to battle, and, taking fright at
the din about him, became utterly unmanageable to Sidney's weakening
grasp. The terror-stricken animal struggled out of the press and dashed,
with his almost fainting rider, back to Leicester's distant camp.
As some of the soldiers rushed to him to help him down, Sidney was
seized with the terrible thirst of the wounded, and begged for a drink
of water. He was about to press the flagon to his parched lips when he
saw the eyes of a wounded foot-soldier turned agonizingly toward it.
Without tasting it, he at once handed it to the dying man, with the
words,--
"Thy necessity is greater than mine."
But Sidney's necessity was great--so great that the skill of man could
not avail to save him; and after a long, agonizing illness, he expired
at Arnhem in the arms of his heart-broken wife.
So lived and died Sir Philip Sidney, the last and most perfect flower of
knighthood,--failing in his efforts to revive the old passing chivalry,
but, all unconsciously, achieving more than his cherished ideal in
teaching men how to live and die nobly in the changed order of things.
SIDNEY IN TOURNAMENT
Call back the gorgeous past!
The lists are set, the trumpets sound,
Bright eyes, sweet judges, throned around;
And stately on the glittering ground
The old chivalric life!
"Forward!" The signal word is given;
Beneath the shock the greensward shakes;
The lusty cheer, the gleaming spear,
The snow-plume's falling flakes,
The fiery joy of strife!
Thus, when, from out a changeful heaven
O'er waves in eddying tumult driven
A stormy smile is cast,
Alike the gladsome anger takes
The sunshine and the blast!
Who is the victor of the day?
Thou of the delicate form, and golden hair,
And manhood glorious in its midst of May;
Thou who upon thy shield of argent bearest
The bold device, "The loftiest is the fairest!"
As bending low thy stainless crest,
"The vestal throned by the west"
Accords the old Provencal crown
Which blends her own with thy renown;
Arcadian Sidney, nursling of the muse,
Flower of fair chivalry, whose bloom was fed
With daintiest Castaly's most silver dews,
Alas! how soon thy amaranth leaves were shed;
Born, what the Ausonian minstrel _dream'd to be_,
Time's knightly epic pass'd from earth with thee!
EDWARD BULWER LYTTON
"_The knight's bones are dust,_
_And his good sword rust;_
_His soul is with the saints, I trust._"