gates of the Cross and of Saint John, and the intervening curtains, Don
Frederic ordered a midnight assault. The walls had been much shattered,
part of the John's-gate was in ruins; the Spaniards mounted the breach
in great numbers; the city was almost taken by surprise; while the
Commander-in-chief, sure of victory, ordered the whole of his forces
under arms to cut off the population who were to stream panic-struck from
every issue. The attack was unexpected, but the forty or fifty sentinels
defended the walls while they sounded the alarm. The tocsin bells
tolled, and the citizens, whose sleep was not-apt to be heavy during that
perilous winter, soon manned the ramparts again. The daylight came upon
them while the fierce struggle was still at its height. The besieged, as
before, defended themselves with musket and rapier, with melted pitch,
with firebrands, with clubs and stones. Meantime, after morning prayers
in the Spanish camp, the trumpet for a general assault was sounded. A
tremendous onset was made upon the gate of the Cross, and the ravelin was
carried at last. The Spaniards poured into this fort, so long the object
of their attack, expecting instantly to sweep into the city with sword
and fire. As they mounted its wall they became for the first time aware
of the new and stronger fortification which had been secretly constructed
on the inner side. The reason why the ravelin had been at last conceded
was revealed. The half moon, whose existence they had not suspected,
rose before them bristling with cannon. A sharp fire was instantly
opened upon the besiegers, while at the same instant the ravelin, which
the citizens had undermined, blew up with a severe explosion, carrying
into the air all the soldiers who had just entered it so triumphantly.
This was the turning point. The retreat was sounded, and the Spaniards
fled to their camp, leaving at least three hundred dead beneath the
walls. Thus was a second assault, made by an overwhelming force and led
by the most accomplished generals of Spain, signally and gloriously
repelled by the plain burghers of Harlem.
It became now almost evident that the city could be taken neither by
regular approaches nor by sudden attack. It was therefore resolved
that it should be reduced by famine. Still, as the winter wore on, the
immense army without the walls were as great sufferers by that scourge as
the population within. The soldiers fell in heaps before the diseases
engendered by intense cold and insufficient food, for, as usual in such
sieges, these deaths far outnumbered those inflicted by the enemy's hand.
The sufferings inside the city necessarily increased day by day, the
whole population being put on a strict allowance of food. Their supplies
were daily diminishing, and with the approach of the spring and the
thawing of the ice on the lake, there was danger that they would be
entirely cut off. If the possession of the water were lost, they must
yield or starve; and they doubted whether the Prince would be able to
organize a fleet. The gaunt spectre of Famine already rose before them
with a menace which could not be misunderstood. In their misery they
longed for the assaults of the Spaniards, that they might look in the
face of a less formidable foe. They paraded the ramparts daily, with
drums beating, colors flying, taunting the besiegers to renewed attempts.
To inflame the religious animosity of their antagonists, they attired
themselves in the splendid, gold-embroidered vestments of the priests,
which they took from the churches, and moved about in mock procession,
bearing aloft images bedizened in ecclesiastical finery, relics, and
other symbols, sacred in Catholic eyes, which they afterwards hurled from
the ramparts, or broke, with derisive shouts, into a thousand fragments.
It was, however, at that season earnestly debated by the enemy whether or
not to raise the siege. Don Frederic was clearly of opinion that enough
had been done for the honor of the Spanish arms. He was wearied with
seeing his men perish helplessly around him, and considered the prize too
paltry for the lives it must cost. His father thought differently.
Perhaps he recalled the siege of Metz, and the unceasing regret with
which, as he believed, his imperial master had remembered the advice
received from him. At any rate the Duke now sent back Don Bernardino de
Mendoza, whom Don Frederic had despatched to Nimwegen, soliciting his
father's permission to raise the siege, with this reply: "Tell Don
Frederic," said Alva, "that if he be not decided to continue the siege
till the town be taken, I shall no longer consider him my son, whatever
my opinion may formerly have been. Should he fall in the siege, I will
myself take the field to maintain it, and when we have both perished, the
Duchess, my wife, shall come from Spain to do the same."
Such language was unequivocal, and hostilities were resumed as fiercely
as before. The besieged welcomed them with rapture, and, as usual, made
daily the most desperate sallies. In one outbreak the Harlemers, under
cover of a thick fog, marched up to the enemy's chief battery, and
attempted to spike the guns before his face. They were all slain at the
cannon's mouth, whither patriotism, not vainglory, had led them, and lay
dead around the battery, with their hammers and spikes in their hands.
The same spirit was daily manifested. As the spring advanced; the kine
went daily out of the gates to their peaceful pasture, notwithstanding,
all the turmoil within and around; nor was it possible for the Spaniards
to capture a single one of these creatures, without paying at least a
dozen soldiers as its price. "These citizens," wrote Don Frederic, "do
as much as the best soldiers in the world could do."
The frost broke up by the end of February. Count Bossu, who had been
building a fleet of small vessels in Amsterdam, soon afterwards succeeded
in entering the lake with a few gun-boats, through a breach which he had
made in the Overtoom, about half a league from that city. The possession
of the lake was already imperilled. The Prince, however, had not been
idle, and he, too, was soon ready to send his flotilla to the mere.
At the same time, the city of Amsterdam was in almost as hazardous a
position as Harlem. As the one on the lake, so did the other depend upon
its dyke for its supplies. Should that great artificial road which led
to Muyden and Utrecht be cut asunder, Amsterdam might be starved as soon
as Harlem. "Since I came into the world," wrote Alva, "I have never,
been in such anxiety. If they should succeed in cutting off the
communication along the dykes, we should have to raise the siege of
Harlem, to surrender, hands crossed, or to starve." Orange was fully
aware of the position of both places, but he was, as usual, sadly
deficient in men and means. He wrote imploringly to his friends in
England, in France, in Germany. He urged his brother Louis to bring a
few soldiers, if it were humanly possible. "The whole country longs for
you," he wrote to Louis, "as if you were the archangel Gabriel."
The Prince, however, did all that it was possible for man, so hampered,
to do. He was himself, while anxiously writing, hoping, and waiting for
supplies of troops from Germany or France, doing his best with such
volunteers as he could raise. He was still established at Sassenheim, on
the south of the city, while Sonoy with his slender forces was encamped
on the north. He now sent that general with as large a party as he could
muster to attack the Diemerdyk. His men entrenched themselves as
strongly as they could between the Diemer and the Y, at the same time
opening the sluices and breaking through the dyke. During the absence of
their commander, who had gone to Edam for reinforcements, they were
attacked by a large force from Amsterdam. A fierce amphibious contest
took place, partly in boats, partly on the slippery causeway, partly in
the water, resembling in character the frequent combats between the
ancient Batavians and Romans during the wars of Civilis. The patriots
were eventually overpowered.
Sonoy, who was on his way to their rescue, was frustrated in his design
by the unexpected faint-heartedness of the volunteers whom he had
enlisted at Edam. Braving a thousand perils, he advanced, almost
unattended, in his little vessel, but only to witness the overthrow and
expulsion of his band. It was too late for him singly to attempt to
rally the retreating troops. They had fought well, but had been forced
to yield before superior numbers, one individual of the little army
having performed prodigies of valor. John Haring, of Horn, had planted
himself entirely alone upon the dyke, where it was so narrow between the
Y on the one side and the Diemer Lake on the other, that two men could
hardly stand abreast. Here, armed with sword and shield, he had actually
opposed and held in check one thousand of the enemy, during a period long
enough to enable his own men, if they, had been willing, to rally, and
effectively to repel the attack. It was too late, the battle was too far
lost to be restored; but still the brave soldier held the post, till, by
his devotion, he had enabled all those of his compatriots who still
remained in the entrenchments to make good their retreat. He then
plunged into the sea, and, untouched by spear or bullet, effected his
escape. Had he been a Greek or a Roman, an Horatius or a Chabrias, his
name would have been famous in history--his statue erected in the market-
place; for the bold Dutchman on his dyke had manifested as much valor in
a sacred cause as the most classic heroes of antiquity.
This unsuccessful attempt to cut off the communication between Amsterdam
and the country strengthened the hopes of Alva. Several hundreds of the
patriots were killed or captured, and among the slain was Antony Oliver,
the painter, through whose agency Louis of Nassau had been introduced
into Mons. His head was cut off by two ensigns in Alva's service, who
received the price which had been set upon it of two thousand caroli.
It was then labelled with its owner's name, and thrown into the city of
Harlem. At the same time a new gibbet was erected in the Spanish camp
before the city, in a conspicuous situation, upon which all the prisoners
were hanged, some by the neck, some by the heels, in full view of their
countrymen. As usual, this especial act of cruelty excited the emulation
of the citizens. Two of the old board of magistrates, belonging to the
Spanish party, were still imprisoned at Harlem; together with seven other
persons, among whom was a priest and a boy of twelve years. They were
now condemned to the gallows. The wife of one of the ex-burgomasters
and his daughter, who was a beguin, went by his side as he was led to
execution, piously exhorting him to sustain with courage the execrations
of the populace and his ignominious doom. The rabble, irritated by such
boldness, were not satisfied with wreaking their vengeance on the
principal victims, but after the execution had taken place they hunted
the wife and daughter into the water, where they both perished. It is
right to record these instances of cruelty, sometimes perpetrated by the
patriots as well as by their oppressors--a cruelty rendered almost
inevitable by the incredible barbarity of the foreign invader. It was a
war of wolfish malignity. In the words of Mendoza, every man within and
without Harlem "seemed inspired by a spirit of special and personal
vengeance." The innocent blood poured out in Mechlin, Zutphen, Naarden,
and upon a thousand scaffolds, had been crying too long from the ground.
The Hollanders must have been more or less than men not to be sometimes
betrayed into acts which justice and reason must denounce. [No! It was as
evil for one side as the other. D.W.]
The singular mood which has been recorded of a high-spirited officer of
the garrison, Captain Corey, illustrated the horror with which such
scenes of carnage were regarded by noble natures. Of a gentle
disposition originally, but inflamed almost to insanity by a
contemplation of Spanish cruelty, he had taken up the profession of arms,
to which he had a natural repugnance. Brave to recklessness, he led his
men on every daring outbreak, on every perilous midnight adventure.
Armed only with his rapier, without defensive armor, he was ever found
where the battle raged most fiercely, and numerous were the victims who
fell before his sword. On returning, however, from such excursions,
he invariably shut himself in his quarters, took to his bed, and lay for
days, sick with remorse, and bitterly lamenting all that bloodshed in
which he had so deeply participated, and which a cruel fate seemed to
render necessary. As the gentle mood subsided, his frenzy would return,
and again he would rush to the field, to seek new havoc and fresh victims
for his rage.
The combats before the walls were of almost daily occurrence. On the
25th March, one thousand of the besieged made a brilliant sally, drove in
all the outposts of the enemy, burned three hundred tents, and captured
seven cannon, nine standards, and many wagon-loads of provisions, all
which they succeeded in bringing with them into the city.--Having thus
reinforced themselves, in a manner not often practised by the citizens of
a beleaguered town, in the very face of thirty thousand veterans--having
killed eight hundred of the enemy, which was nearly one for every man
engaged, while they lost but four of their own party--the Harlemers, on
their return, erected a trophy of funereal but exulting aspect. A mound
of earth was constructed upon the ramparts, in the form of a colossal
grave, in full view of the enemy's camp, and upon it were planted the
cannon and standards so gallantly won in the skirmish, with the taunting
inscription floating from the centre of the mound "Harlem is the
graveyard of the Spaniards."
Such were the characteristics of this famous siege during the winter and
early spring. Alva might well write to his sovereign, that "it was a war
such as never before was seen or heard of in any land on earth." Yet the
Duke had known near sixty years of warfare. He informed Philip that
"never was a place defended with such skill and bravery as Harlem, either
by rebels or by men fighting for their lawful Prince." Certainly his son
had discovered his mistake in asserting that the city would yield in a
week; while the father, after nearly six years' experience, had found
this "people of butter" less malleable than even those "iron people" whom
he boasted of having tamed. It was seen that neither the skies of Greece
or Italy, nor the sublime scenery of Switzerland, were necessary to
arouse the spirit of defiance to foreign oppression--a spirit which beat
as proudly among the wintry mists and the level meadows of Holland as it
had ever done under sunnier atmospheres and in more romantic lands.
Mendoza had accomplished his mission to Spain, and had returned with
supplies of money within six weeks from the date of his departure. Owing
to his representations and Alva's entreaties, Philip had, moreover,
ordered Requesens, governor of Milan, to send forward to the Netherlands
three veteran Spanish regiments, which were now more required at Harlem
than in Italy. While the land force had thus been strengthened, the
fleet upon the lake had also been largely increased. The Prince of
Orange had, on the other hand, provided more than a hundred sail of
various descriptions, so that the whole surface of the mere was now alive
with ships. Seafights and skirmishes took place almost daily, and it was
obvious that the life and death struggle was now to be fought upon the
water. So long as the Hollanders could hold or dispute the possession of
the lake, it was still possible to succor Harlem from time to time.
Should the Spaniards overcome the Prince's fleet, the city must
inevitably starve.
At last, on the 28th of May, a decisive engagement of the fleets took
place. The vessels grappled with each other, and there was a long,
fierce, hand-to-hand combat. Under Bossu were one hundred vessels; under
Martin Brand, admiral of the patriot fleet, nearly one hundred and fifty,
but of lesser dimensions. Batenhurg commanded the troops on board the
Dutch vessels. After a protracted conflict, in which several thousands
were killed, the victory was decided in favor of the Spaniards. Twenty-
two of the Prince's vessels being captured, and the rest totally routed,
Bossu swept across the lake in triumph. The forts belonging to the
patriots were immediately taken, and the Harlemers, with their friends,
entirely excluded from the lake.
This was the beginning of the end. Despair took possession of the city.
The whole population had been long subsisting upon an allowance of a
pound of bread to each man, and half-a-pound for each woman; but the
bread was now exhausted, the famine had already begun, and with the loss
of the lake starvation was close at their doors. They sent urgent
entreaties to, the Prince to attempt something in their behalf. Three
weeks more they assigned as the longest term during which they could
possibly hold out. He sent them word by carrier pigeons to endure yet a
little time, for he was assembling a force, and would still succeed in
furnishing them with supplies. Meantime, through the month of June the
sufferings of the inhabitants increased hourly. Ordinary food had long
since vanished. The population now subsisted on linseed and rape-seed;
as these supplies were exhausted they devoured cats, dogs, rats, and
mice, and when at last these unclean animals had been all consumed, they
boiled the hides of horses and oxen; they ate shoe-leather; they plucked
the nettles and grass from the graveyards, and the weeds which grew
between the stones of the pavement, that with such food they might still
support life a little longer, till the promised succor should arrive.
Men, women, and children fell dead by scores in the streets, perishing of
pure starvation, and the survivors had hardly the heart or the strength
to bury them out of their sight. They who yet lived seemed to flit like
shadows to and fro, envying those whose sufferings had already been
terminated by death.
Thus wore away the month of June. On the 1st of July the burghers
consented to a parley. Deputies were sent to confer with the besiegers,
but the negotiations were abruptly terminated, for no terms of compromise
were admitted by Don Frederic. On the 3rd a tremendous cannonade was re-
opened upon the city. One thousand and eight balls were discharged--the
most which had ever been thrown in one day, since the commencement of the
siege. The walls were severely shattered, but the assault was not
ordered, because the besiegers were assured that it was physically
impossible for the inhabitants to hold out many days longer. A last
letter, written in blood, was now despatched to the Prince of Orange,
stating the forlorn condition to which they were reduced. At the same
time, with the derision of despair, they flung into the hostile camp the
few loaves of bread which yet remained within the city walls. A day or
two later, a second and third parley were held, with no more satisfactory
result than had attended the first. A black flag was now hoisted on the
cathedral tower, the signal of despair to friend and foe, but a pigeon
soon afterwards flew into the town with a letter from the Prince, begging
them to maintain themselves two days longer, because succor was
approaching.
The Prince had indeed been doing all which, under the circumstances, was
possible. He assembled the citizens of Delft in the market-place, and
announced his intention of marching in person to the relief of the city,
in the face of the besieging army, if any troops could be obtained.
Soldiers there were none; but there was the deepest sympathy for Harlem
throughout its sister cities, Delft, Rotterdam, Gouda. A numerous
mass of burghers, many of them persons of station, all people of
respectability, volunteered to march to the rescue. The Prince highly
disapproved of this miscellaneous army, whose steadfastness he could not
trust. As a soldier, he knew that for such a momentous enterprise,
enthusiasm could not supply the place of experience. Nevertheless, as no
regular troops could be had, and as the emergency allowed no delay, he
drew up a commission, appointing Paulus Buys to be governor during his
absence, and provisional stadholder, should he fall in the expedition.
Four thousand armed volunteers, with six hundred mounted troopers, under
Carlo de Noot, had been assembled, and the Prince now placed himself at
their head. There was, however, a universal cry of remonstrance from the
magistracies and burghers of all the towns, and from the troops
themselves, at this project. They would not consent that a life so
precious, so indispensable to the existence of Holland, should be
needlessly hazarded. It was important to succor Harlem, but the Prince
was of more value than many cities. He at last reluctantly consented,
therefore, to abandon the command of the expedition to Baron Batenburg,
the less willingly from the want of confidence which he could not help
feeling in the character of the forces. On the 8th of July, at dusk,
the expedition set forth from Sassenheim. It numbered nearly five
thousand men, who had with them four hundred wagon-loads of provisions
and seven field-pieces. Among the volunteers, Oldenbarneveld; afterwards
so illustrious in the history of the Republic; marched in the ranks, with
his musket on his shoulder. Such was a sample of the spirit which
pervaded the population of the province.
Batenburg came to a halt in the woods of Nordwyk, on the south aide of
the city, where he remained till midnight. All seemed still in the
enemy's camp. After prayers, he gave orders to push forward, hoping to
steal through the lines of his sleeping adversaries and accomplish the
relief by surprise. He was destined to be bitterly disappointed. His
plans and his numbers were thoroughly known to the Spaniards, two doves,
bearing letters which contained the details of the intended expedition,
having been shot and brought into Don Frederic's camp.
The citizens, it appeared, had broken through the curtain work on the
side where Batenburg was expected, in order that a sally might be made in
co-operation with the relieving force, as soon as it should appear.
Signal fires had been agreed upon, by which the besieged were to be
made aware of the approach of their friends. The Spanish Commander
accordingly ordered a mass of green branches, pitch, and straw, to be
lighted opposite to the gap in the city wall. Behind it he stationed
five thousand picked troops. Five thousand more, with a force of
cavalry, were placed in the neighbourhood of the downs, with orders to
attack the patriot army on the left. Six regiments, under Romero, were
ordered to move eastward, and assail their right. The dense mass of
smoke concealed the beacon lights displayed by Batenburg from the
observation of the townspeople, and hid the five thousand Spaniards from
the advancing Hollanders. As Batenburg emerged from the wood, he found
himself attacked by a force superior to his own, while a few minutes
later he was entirely enveloped by overwhelming numbers. The whole
Spanish army was, indeed; under arms, and had been expecting him for two
days. The unfortunate citizens alone were ignorant of his arrival. The
noise of the conflict they supposed to be a false alarm created by the
Spaniards, to draw them into their camp; and they declined a challenge
which they were in no condition to accept.
Batenburg was soon slain, and his troops utterly routed. The number
killed was variously estimated at from six hundred to two and even three
thousand. It is, at any rate, certain that the whole force was entirely
destroyed or dispersed, and the attempt to relieve the city completely
frustrated. The death of Batenburg was the less regretted, because he
was accused, probably with great injustice, of having been intoxicated at
the time of action, and therefore incapable of properly, conducting the
enterprise entrusted to him.