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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cruelty seemed embodied was at last to be withdrawn.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.