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MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Vol. 32
THE RISE OF THE DUTCH REPUBLIC, 1579-1580
By John Lothrop Motley
1855
CHAPTER II.
Parma's feint upon Antwerp--He invests Maestricht--Deputation and
letters from the states-general, from Brussels, and from Parma, to
the Walloon provinces--Active negotiations by Orange and by Farnese
--Walloon envoys in Parma's camp before Maestricht--Festivities--The
Treaty of Reconciliation--Rejoicings of the royalist party--Comedy
enacted at the Paris theatres--Religious tumults in Antwerp,
Utrecht, and other cities--Religious Peace enforced by Orange--
Philip Egmont's unsuccessful attempt upon Brussels--Siege of
Maestricht--Failure at the Tongres gate--Mining and countermining--
Partial destruction of the Tongres ravelin--Simultaneous attack upon
the Tongres and Bolls-le-Duo gates--The Spaniards repulsed with
great loss--Gradual encroachments of the besiegers--Bloody contests
--The town taken--Horrible massacre--Triumphal entrance and solemn
thanksgiving--Calumnious attacks upon Orange--Renewed troubles in
Ghent--Imbue and Dathenus--The presence of the Prince solicited--
Coup d'etat of Imbue--Order restored, and Imbue expelled by Orange
The political movements in both directions were to be hastened by the
military operations of the opening season. On the night of the 2nd of
March, 1579, the Prince of Parma made a demonstration against Antwerp.
A body of three thousand Scotch and English, lying at Borgerhout, was
rapidly driven in, and a warm skirmish ensued, directly under the walls
of the city. The Prince of Orange, with the Archduke Matthias, being in
Antwerp at the time, remained on the fortifications; superintending the
action, and Parma was obliged to retire after an hour or two of sharp
fighting, with a loss of four hundred men. This demonstration was,
however, only a feint. His real design was upon Maestricht; before which
important city he appeared in great force, ten days afterwards,
when he was least expected.
Well fortified, surrounded by a broad and deep moat; built upon both
sides of the Meuse, upon the right bank of which river, however, the
portion of the town was so inconsiderable that it was merely called the
village of Wyk, this key to the German gate of the Netherlands was,
unfortunately, in brave but feeble hands. The garrison was hardly one
thousand strong; the trained bands of burghers amounted to twelve hundred
more; while between three and four thousand peasants; who had taken
refuge within the city walls, did excellent service as sappers and
miners. Parma, on the other hand, had appeared before the walls with
twenty thousand men; to which number he received constant reinforcements.
The Bishop of Liege, too, had sent him four thousand pioneers--a most
important service; for mining and countermining was to decide the fate of
Maestricht.
Early in January the royalists had surprised the strong chateau of
Carpen, in the neighbourhood of the city, upon which occasion the
garrison were all hanged by moonlight on the trees in the orchard. The
commandant shared their fate; and it is a curious fact that he had,
precisely a year previously, hanged the royalist captain, Blomaert, on
the same spot, who, with the rope around his neck, had foretold a like
doom to his destroyer.
The Prince of Orange, feeling the danger of Maestricht, lost no time in
warning the states to the necessary measures, imploring them "not to fall
asleep in the shade of a peace negotiation," while meantime Parma threw
two bridges over the Meuse, above and below the city, and then invested
the place so closely that all communication was absolutely suspended.
Letters could pass to and fro only at extreme peril to the messengers,
and all possibility of reinforcing the city at the moment was cut off.
While this eventful siege was proceeding, the negotiations with the
Walloons were ripening. The siege and the conferences went hand in hand.
Besides the secret arrangements already described for the separation of
the Walloon provinces, there had been much earnest and eloquent
remonstrance on the part of the states-general and of Orange--many solemn
embassies and public appeals. As usual, the Pacification of Ghent was
the two-sided shield which hung between the parties to cover or to
justify the blows which each dealt at the other. There is no doubt as to
the real opinion entertained concerning that famous treaty by the royal
party. "Through the peace of Ghent," said Saint Vaast, "all our woes
have been brought upon us." La Motte informed Parma that it was
necessary to pretend a respect for the Pacification, however, on account
of its popularity, but that it was well understood by the leaders of the
Walloon movement, that the intention was to restore the system of Charles
the Fifth. Parma signified his consent to make use of that treaty as a
basis, "provided always it were interpreted healthily, and not dislocated
by cavillations and sinister interpolations, as had been done by the
Prince of Orange." The Malcontent generals of the Walloon troops were
inexpressibly anxious lest the cause of religion should be endangered;
but the arguments by which Parma convinced those military casuists as to
the compatibility of the Ghent peace with sound doctrine have already
been exhibited. The influence of the reconciled nobles was brought to
bear with fatal effect upon the states of Artois, Hainault, and of a
portion of French Flanders. The Gallic element in their blood, and an
intense attachment to the Roman ceremonial, which distinguished the
Walloon population from their Batavian brethren, were used successfully
by the wily Parma to destroy the unity of the revolted Netherlands.
Moreover, the King offered good terms. The monarch, feeling safe on the
religious point, was willing to make liberal promises upon the political
questions. In truth, the great grievance of which the Walloons
complained was the insolence and intolerable outrages of the foreign
soldiers. This, they said, had alone made them malcontent. It was;
therefore, obviously the cue of Parma to promise the immediate departure
of the troops. This could be done the more easily, as he had no
intention of keeping the promise.
Meantime the efforts of Orange, and of the states-general, where his
influence was still paramount, were unceasing to counteract the policy of
Parma. A deputation was appointed by the generality to visit the estates
of the Walloon provinces. Another was sent by the authorities of
Brussels. The Marquis of Havre, with several colleagues on behalf of
the states-general, waited upon the Viscount of Ghent, by whom they were
received with extreme insolence. He glared upon them, without moving,
as they were admitted to his presence; "looking like a dead man, from
whom the soul had entirely departed." Recovering afterwards from this
stony trance of indignation, he demanded a sight of their instructions.
This they courteously refused, as they were accredited not to him, but
to the states of Artois. At this he fell into a violent passion, and
threatened them with signal chastisement for daring to come thither with
so treasonable a purpose. In short, according to their own expression;
he treated them "as if they had been rogues and vagabonds." The Marquis
of Havre, high-born though he was, had been sufficiently used to such
conduct. The man who had successively served and betrayed every party,
who had been the obsequious friend and the avowed enemy of Don John
within the same fortnight, and who had been able to swallow and inwardly
digest many an insult from that fiery warrior, was even fain to brook the
insolence of Robert Melun.
The papers which the deputation had brought were finally laid before
the states of Artois, and received replies as prompt and bitter as the
addresses were earnest and eloquent. The Walloons, when summoned to hold
to that aegis of national unity, the Ghent peace, replied that it was not
they, but the heretic portion of the states-general, who were for dashing
it to the ground. The Ghent treaty was never intended to impair the
supremacy of the Catholic religion, said those provinces, which were
already on the point of separating for ever from the rest. The Ghent
treaty was intended expressly to destroy the inquisition and the
placards, answered the national-party. Moreover, the "very marrow of
that treaty" was the-departure of the foreign soldiers, who were even
then overrunning the land. The Walloons answered that Alexander had
expressly conceded the withdrawal of the troops. "Believe not the
fluting and the piping of the crafty foe," urged the patriots. "Promises
are made profusely enough--but only to lure you to perdition. Your
enemies allow you to slake your hunger and thirst with this idle hope of
the troops' departure, but you are still in fetters, although the chain
be of Spanish pinchbeck, which you mistake for gold." "'Tis not we,"
cried the Walloons, "who wish to separate from the generality; 'tis the
generality which separates from us. We had rather die the death than not
maintain the union. In the very same breath, however, they boasted of
the excellent terms which the monarch was offering, and of their strong
inclination to accept them." "Kings, struggling to recover a lost
authority, always promise golden mountains and every sort of miracles,"
replied the patriots; but the warning was uttered in vain.
Meantime the deputation from the city of Brussels arrived on the 28th of
March at Mons, in Hainault, where they were received with great courtesy
by Count de Lalain, governor of the province. The enthusiasm with which
he had espoused the cause of Queen Margaret and her brother Anjou had
cooled, but the Count received the Brussels envoys with a kindness in
marked contrast with the brutality of Melun. He made many fine speeches
--protesting his attachment to, the union, for which he was ready to shed
the last drop of his blood--entertained the deputies at dinner, proposed
toasts to the prosperity of the united provinces, and dismissed his
guests at last with many flowery professions. After dancing attendance
for a few days, however, upon the estates of the Walloon provinces, both
sets of deputies were warned to take their instant departure as mischief-
makers and rebels. They returned, accordingly, to Brussels, bringing the
written answers which the estates had vouchsafed to send.
The states-general, too, inspired by William of Orange, addressed a
solemn appeal to their sister provinces, thus about to abjure the bonds
of relationship for ever. It seemed right, once for all, to grapple with
the Ghent Pacification for the last time, and to strike a final blow in
defence of that large statesmanlike interpretation, which alone could
make the treaty live. This was done eloquently and logically. The
Walloons were reminded that at the epoch of the Ghent peace the number of
Reformers outside of Holland and Zealand was supposed small. Now the new
religion had spread its roots through the whole land, and innumerable
multitudes desired its exercise. If Holland and Zealand chose to
reestablish the Catholic worship within their borders, they could
manifestly do so without violating the treaty of Ghent. Why then was
it not competent to other provinces, with equal allegiance to the treaty,
to sanction the Reformed religion within their limits?
Parma, on his part, publicly invited the states-general, by letter, to
sustain the Ghent treaty by accepting the terms offered to the Walloons,
and by restoring the system of the Emperor Charles, of very lofty memory.
To this superfluous invitation the states-general replied, on the 19th of
March, that it had been the system of the Emperor Charles; of lofty
memory, to maintain the supremacy of Catholicism and of Majesty in the
Netherlands by burning Netherlanders--a custom which the states, with
common accord, had thought it desirable to do away with.
In various fervently-written appeals by Orange, by the states-general,
and by other bodies, the wavering provinces were warned against
seduction. They were reminded that the Prince of Parma was using this
minor negotiation "as a second string to his bow;" that nothing could be
more puerile than to suppose the Spaniards capable, after securing
Maestricht, of sending away their troops thus "deserting the bride in the
midst of the honeymoon." They expressed astonishment at being invited to
abandon the great and general treaty which had been made upon the theatre
of the whole world by the intervention of the principal princes of
Christendom, in order to partake in underhand negotiation with the
commissioners of Parma-men, "who, it would not be denied, were felons and
traitors." They warned their brethren not to embark on the enemy's ships
in the dark, for that, while chaffering as to the price of the voyage,
they would find that the false pilots had hoisted sail and borne them
away in the night. In vain would they then seek to reach the shore
again. The example of La Motte and others, "bird-limed with Spanish
gold," should be salutary for all-men who were now driven forward with a
whip, laughed to scorn by their new masters, and forced to drink the
bitter draught of humiliation along with the sweet poison of bribery.
They were warned to study well the intercepted letters of Curiel, in
order fully to fathom the deep designs and secret contempt of the enemy.
Such having been the result of the negotiations between the states-
general and the Walloon provinces, a strong deputation now went forth
from those provinces, towards the end of April, to hold a final colloquy
with Parma, then already busied with the investment of Maestricht. They
were met upon the road with great ceremony, and escorted into the
presence of Farnese with drum, trumpet, and flaunting banners.
He received them with stately affability, in a magnificently decorated
pavilion, carelessly inviting them to a repast, which he called an
afternoon's lunch, but which proved a most sumptuous and splendidly
appointed entertainment. This "trifling foolish banquet" finished, the
deputies were escorted, with great military parade, to the lodgings which
had been provided for them in a neighbouring village. During the period
of their visit, all the chief officers of the army and the household were
directed to entertain the Walloons with showy festivals, dinners,
suppers, dances, and carousals of all kinds. At one of the most
brilliant of these revels--a magnificent ball, to which all the matrons
and maids of the whole country round had been bidden--the Prince of Parma
himself unexpectedly made his appearance. He gently rebuked the
entertainers for indulging in such splendid hospitality without,
at least, permitting him to partake of it. Charmingly affable to the
ladies assembled in the ball-room, courteous, but slightly reserved,
towards the Walloon envoys, he excited the admiration of all by the
splendid decorum of his manners. As he moved through the halls,
modulating his steps in grave cadence to the music, the dignity and grace
of his deportment seemed truly majestic; but when he actually danced a
measure himself the enthusiasm was at its height. They should, indeed,
be rustics, cried the Walloon envoys in a breath, not to give the hand
of fellowship at once to a Prince so condescending and amiable. The
exclamation seemed to embody the general wish, and to foreshadow a speedy
conclusion.
Very soon afterwards a preliminary accord was signed between the King's
government and the Walloon provinces. The provisions on his Majesty's
part were sufficiently liberal. The religious question furnishing no
obstacle, it was comparatively easy for Philip to appear benignant. It
was stipulated that the provincial privileges should be respected; that a
member of the King's own family, legitimately born, should always be
Governor-General, and that the foreign troops should be immediately
withdrawn. The official exchange and ratification of this treaty were
delayed till the 4th of the following September, but the news that, the
reconciliation had been definitely settled soon spread through the
country. The Catholics were elated, the patriots dismayed. Orange-the
"Prince of Darkness," as the Walloons of the day were fond of calling
him--still unwilling to despair, reluctant to accept this dismemberment,
which he foresaw was to be a perpetual one, of his beloved country,
addressed the most passionate and solemn adjurations to the Walloon
provinces, and to their military chieftains. He offered all his children
as hostages for his good faith in keeping sacredly any covenant which his
Catholic countrymen might be willing to close with him. It was in vain.
The step was irretrievably taken; religious bigotry, patrician jealousy,
and wholesale bribery, had severed the Netherlands in twain for ever.
The friends of Romanism, the enemies of civil and religious liberty,
exulted from one end of Christendom to the other, and it was recognized
that Parma had, indeed, achieved a victory which although bloodless, was
as important to the cause of absolutism as any which even his sword was
likely to achieve.
The joy of the Catholic party in Paris manifested itself in a variety of
ways. At the principal theatre an uncouth pantomime was exhibited, in
which his Catholic Majesty was introduced upon the stage, leading by a
halter a sleek cow, typifying the Netherlands. The animal by a sudden
effort, broke the cord, and capered wildly about. Alexander of Parma
hastened to fasten the fragments together, while sundry personages,
representing the states-general, seized her by the horns, some leaping
upon her back, others calling upon the bystanders to assist in holding
the restive beast. The Emperor, the King of France, and the Queen of
England--which last personage was observed now to smile upon one party,
now to affect deep sympathy with the other--remained stationary; but the
Duke of Alencon rushed upon the stage, and caught the cow by the tail.
The Prince of Orange and Hans Casimir then appeared with a bucket, and
set themselves busily to milk her, when Alexander again seized the
halter. The cow gave a plunge, upset the pail, prostrated Casimir with
one kick and Orange with another, and then followed Parma with docility
as be led her back to Philip. This seems not very "admirable fooling,"
but it was highly relished by the polite Parisians of the sixteenth
century, and has been thought worthy of record by classical historians.
The Walloon accord was an auspicious prelude, in the eyes of the friends
of absolutism, to the negotiations which were opened in the month of May,
at Cologne. Before sketching, as rapidly as possible, those celebrated
but barren conferences, it is necessary, for the sake of unity in the
narrative, to cast a glance at certain synchronical events in different
parts of the Netherlands.
The success attained by the Catholic party in the Walloon negotiations
had caused a corresponding bitterness in the hearts of the Reformers
throughout the country. As usual, bitterness had begot bitterness;
intolerance engendered intolerance. On the 28th of May, 1579, as the
Catholics of Antwerp were celebrating the Ommegang--the same festival
which had been the exciting cause of the memorable tumults of the year
sixty-five--the irritation of the populace could not be repressed. The
mob rose in its wrath to put down these demonstrations--which, taken in
connection with recent events, seemed ill-timed and insolent--of a
religion whose votaries then formed but a small minority of the Antwerp
citizens. There was a great tumult. Two persons were killed. The
Archduke Matthias, who was himself in the Cathedral of Notre Dame
assisting at the ceremony, was in danger of his life. The well known cry
of "paapen uit" (out with the papists) resounded through the streets, and
the priests and monks were all hustled out of town amid a tempest of
execrations. Orange did his utmost to quell the mutiny, nor were his
efforts fruitless--for the uproar, although seditious and disgraceful,
was hardly sanguinary. Next day the Prince summoned the magistracy,
the Monday council, the guild officers, with all the chief municipal
functionaries, and expressed his indignation in decided terms. He
protested that if such tumults, originating in that very spirit of
intolerance which he most deplored, could not be repressed for the
future, he was determined to resign his offices, and no longer to affect
authority in a city where his counsels were derided. The magistrates,
alarmed at his threats, and sympathizing with his anger, implored him not
to desert them, protesting that if he should resign his offices, they
would instantly lay down their, own. An ordinance was then drawn up and
immediately, proclaimed at the Town House, permitting the Catholics to
re-enter the city, and to enjoy the privileges of religious worship. At
the same time, it was announced that a new draft of a religious peace
would be forthwith issued for the adoption of every city.
A similar tumult, arising from the same cause, at Utrecht, was attended
with the like result. On the other hand, the city of Brussels was
astonished by a feeble and unsuccessful attempts at treason, made by a
youth who bore an illustrious name. Philip, Count of Egmont, eldest son
of the unfortunate Lamoral, had command of a regiment in the service of
the states. He had, besides, a small body of cavalry in immediate
attendance upon his person. He had for some time felt inclined--like the
Lalains, Meluns, La Mottes, and others to reconcile himself with the
Crown, and he wisely thought that the terms accorded to him would be more
liberal if he could bring the capital of Brabant with him as a peace
offering to his Majesty. His residence was in Brussels. His regiment
was stationed outside the gates, but in the immediate neighbourhood of
the city. On the morning of the 4th of June he despatched his troopers--
as had been frequently his custom--on various errands into the country.
On their return, after having summoned the regiment, they easily mastered
and butchered the guard at the gate through which they had re-entered,
supplying their place with men from their own ranks. The Egmont regiment
then came marching through the gate in good order--Count Philip at their
head--and proceeded to station themselves upon the Grande Place in the
centre of the city. All this was at dawn of day. The burghers, who
looked forth from their houses, were astounded and perplexed by this
movement at so unwonted an hour, and hastened to seize their weapons.
Egmont sent a detachment to take possession of the palace. He was too
late. Colonel Van der Tympel, commandant of the city, had been beforehand
with him, had got his troops under arms, and now secured the rebellious
detachment. Meantime, the alarm had spread. Armed burghers came from
every house, and barricades were hastily thrown up across every one of
the narrow streets leading to the square. Every issue was closed. Not a
man of Egmont's adherents--if he indeed had adherents among the townsmen
--dared to show his face. The young traitor and his whole regiment,
drawn up on the Grande Place, were completely entrapped. He had not
taken Brussels, but assuredly Brussels had taken him. All day long he
was kept in his self-elected prison and pillory, bursting with rage and
shame. His soldiers, who were without meat or drink, became insolent and
uproarious, and he was doomed also to hear the bitter and well-merited
taunts of the towns-people. A thousand stinging gibes, suggested by his
name and the locality, were mercilessly launched upon him. He was asked
if he came thither to seek his father's head. He was reminded that the
morrow was the anniversary of that father's murder upon that very spot--
by those with whom the son would now make his treasonable peace. He was
bidden to tear up but a few stones from the pavement beneath his feet,
that the hero's blood might cry out against him from the very ground.
Tears of shame and fury sprang from the young man's eyes as he listened
to these biting sarcasms, but the night closed upon that memorable
square, and still the Count was a prisoner. Eleven years before, the
summer stars had looked down upon a more dense array of armed men within
that place. The preparations for the pompous and dramatic execution,
which on the morrow was to startle all Europe, had been carried out in
the midst of a hushed and overawed population; and now, on the very
anniversary of the midnight in which that scaffold had risen, should not
the grand spectre of the victim have started from the grave to chide his
traitorous son?
Thus for a whole day and night was the baffled conspirator compelled to
remain in the ignominious position which he had selected for himself. On
the morning of the 5th of June he was permitted to depart, by a somewhat
inexplicable indulgence, together with all his followers. He rode out of
the gate at early dawn, contemptible and crest-fallen, at the head of his
regiment of traitors, and shortly afterwards--pillaging and levying black
mail as he went--made his way to Montigny's quarters.
It might have seemed natural, after such an exhibition, that Philip
Egmont should accept his character of renegade, and confess his intention
of reconciling himself with the murderers of his father. On the
contrary, he addressed a letter to the magistracy of Brussels, denying
with vehemence "any intention of joining the party of the pernicious
Spaniards," warmly protesting his zeal and affection for the states, and
denouncing the "perverse inventors of these calumnies against him as the
worst enemies of the poor afflicted country." The magistrates replied by
expressing their inability to comprehend how the Count, who had suffered
villainous wrongs from the Spaniards, such as he could never sufficiently
deplore or avenge, should ever be willing to enslave himself, to those
tyrants. Nevertheless, exactly at the moment of this correspondence,
Egmont was in close negotiation with Spain, having fifteen days before
the date of his letter to the Brussels senate, conveyed to Parma his
resolution to "embrace the cause of his Majesty and the ancient
religion"--an intention which he vaunted himself to have proved "by
cutting the throats of three companies of states' soldiers at Nivelle,
Grandmont, and Ninove." Parma had already written to communicate the
intelligence to the King, and to beg encouragement for the Count. In
September, the monarch wrote a letter to Egmont, full of gratitude and
promises, to which the Count replied by expressing lively gratification
that his Majesty was pleased with his little services, by avowing
profound attachment to Church and King, and by asking eagerly for money,
together with the government of Alost. He soon became singularly
importunate for rewards and promotion, demanding, among other posts, the
command of the "band of ordnance," which had been his father's. Parma,
in reply, was prodigal of promises, reminding the young noble "that he
was serving a sovereign who well knew how to reward the distinguished
exploits of his subjects." Such was the language of Philip the Second
and his Governor to the son of the headless hero of Saint Quentin; such
was the fawning obsequiousness with which Egmont could kiss that royal
hand reeking with his father's blood.
Meanwhile the siege of Maestricht had been advancing with steady
precision. To military minds of that epoch--perhaps of later ages--this
achievement of Parma seemed a masterpiece of art. The city commanded the
Upper Meuse, and was the gate into Germany. It contained thirty-four
thousand inhabitants. An army, numbering almost as many Souls, was
brought against it; and the number of deaths by which its capture was at
last effected, was probably equal to that of a moiety of the population.
To the technical mind, the siege no doubt seemed a beautiful creation of
human intelligence. To the honest student of history, to the lover of
human progress, such a manifestation of intellect seems a sufficiently
sad exhibition. Given, a city with strong walls and towers, a slender
garrison and a devoted population on one side; a consummate chieftain on
the other, with an army of veterans at his back, no interruption to fear,
and a long season to work in; it would not seem to an unsophisticated
mind a very lofty exploit for the soldier to carry the city at the end of
four months' hard labor.
The investment of Maestricht was commenced upon the 12th of March, 1579.
In the city, besides the population, there were two thousand peasants,
both men and women, a garrison of one thousand soldiers; and a trained
burgher guard; numbering about twelve hundred. The name of the military
commandant was Melchior. Sebastian Tappin, a Lorraine officer of much
experience and bravery, was next in command, and was, in truth, the
principal director of the operations. He had been despatched thither by
the Prince of Orange, to serve under La None, who was to have commanded
in Maestricht, but had been unable to enter the city. Feeling that the
siege was to be a close one, and knowing how much depended upon the
issue, Sebastian lost no time in making every needful preparation for
coming events. The walls were strengthened everywhere; shafts were sunk,
preparatory to the countermining operations which were soon to become
necessary; the moat was deepened and cleared, and the forts near the
gates were put in thorough repair. On the other hand, Alexander had
encircled the city, and had thrown two bridges, well fortified, across
the river. There were six gates to the town, each provided with
ravelins, and there was a doubt in what direction the first attack should
be made. Opinions wavered between the gate of Bois-le-Duc, next the
river, and that of Tongres on the south-western side, but it was finally
decided to attempt the gate of Tongres.
Over against that point the platforms were accordingly constructed, and
after a heavy cannonade from forty-six great guns continued for several
days, it was thought, by the 25th of March, that an impression had been
made upon the city. A portion of the brick curtain had crumbled, but
through the breach was seen a massive terreplein, well moated, which,
after six thousand shots already delivered on the outer wall--still
remained uninjured. It was recognized that the gate of Tongres was not
the most assailable, but rather the strongest portion of the defences,
and Alexander therefore determined to shift his batteries to the gate of
Bois-le-Duc. At the same time, the attempt upon that of Tongres was to
be varied, but not abandoned. Four thousand miners, who had passed half
their lives in burrowing for coal in that anthracite region, had been
furnished by the Bishop of Liege, and this force was now set to their
subterranean work. A mine having been opened at a distance, the
besiegers slowly worked their way towards the Tongres gate, while at the
same time the more ostensible operations were in the opposite direction.
The besieged had their miners also, for the peasants in the city had been
used to work with mattock and pickaxe. The women, too, enrolled
themselves into companies, chose their officers--or "mine-mistresses," as
they were called--and did good service daily in the caverns of the earth.
Thus a whole army of gnomes were noiselessly at work to destroy and
defend the beleaguered city. The mine advanced towards the gate; the
besieged delved deeper, and intersected it with a transverse excavation,
and the contending forces met daily, in deadly encounter, within these
sepulchral gangways. Many stratagems were, mutually employed. The
citizens secretly constructed a dam across the Spanish mine, and then
deluged their foe with hogsheads of boiling water. Hundreds were thus
scalded to death. They heaped branches and light fagots in the hostile
mine, set fire to the pile, and blew thick volumes of smoke along the
passage with organ-bellows brought from the churches for the purpose.
Many were thus suffocated. The discomfited besiegers abandoned the mine
where they had met with such able countermining, and sunk another shaft,
at midnight, in secret, at a long distance from the Tongres gate. Still
towards that point, however, they burrowed in the darkness; guiding
themselves to their destination with magnet, plumbline and level, as the
mariner crosses the trackless ocean with compass and chart. They worked
their way, unobstructed, till they arrived at their subterranean port,
directly beneath the doomed ravelin. Here they constructed a spacious
chamber, supporting it with columns, and making all their architectural
arrangements with as much precision and elegance as if their object had
been purely esthetic. Coffers full of powder, to an enormous amount,
were then placed in every direction across the floor, the train was laid,
and Parma informed that all was ready. Alexander, having already arrayed
the troops destined for the assault, then proceeded in person to the
mouth of the shaft, and gave orders to spring the mine. The explosion
was prodigious; a part of the tower fell with the concussion, and the
moat was choked with heaps of rubbish. The assailants sprang across the
passage thus afforded, and mastered the ruined portion of the fort. They
were met in the breach, however, by the unflinching defenders of the
city, and, after a fierce combat of some hours, were obliged to retire;
remaining masters, however, of the moat, and of the ruined portion of the
ravelin. This was upon the 3rd of April.
Five days afterwards, a general assault was ordered. A new mine having
been already constructed towards the Tongres ravelin, and a faithful
cannonade having been kept up for a fortnight against the Bois-le-Duc
gate, it was thought advisable to attack at both points at once. On the
8th of April, accordingly, after uniting in prayer, and listening to a
speech from Alexander Farnese, the great mass of the Spanish army
advanced to the breach. The moat had been rendered practicable in many
places by the heaps of rubbish with which it had been encumbered, and by
the fagots and earth with which it had been filled by the besiegers. The
action at the Bois-le-Duc gate was exceedingly warm. The tried veterans
of Spain, Italy, and Burgundy, were met face to face by the burghers of
Maestricht, together with their wives and children. All were armed to
the teeth, and fought with what seemed superhuman valor. The women,
fierce as tigresses defending their young, swarmed to the walls, and
fought in the foremost rank. They threw pails of boiling water on the
besiegers, they hurled firebrands in their faces; they quoited blazing
pitch-hoops with, unerring dexterity about their necks. The rustics too,
armed with their ponderous flails, worked as cheerfully at this bloody
harvesting as if thrashing their corn at home. Heartily did they winnow
the ranks of the royalists who came to butcher them, and thick and fast
fell the invaders, fighting bravely, but baffled by these novel weapons
used by peasant and woman, coming to the aid of the sword; spear, and
musket of trained soldiery. More than a thousand had fallen at the Bois-
le-Duc gate, and still fresh besiegers mounted the breach, only to be
beaten back, or to add to the mangled heap of the slain. At the Tongres
gate, meanwhile, the assault had fared no better. A herald had been
despatched thither in hot haste, to shout at the top of his lungs,
"Santiago! Santiago! the Lombards have the gate of Bois-le-Duc!"
while the same stratagem was employed to persuade the invaders on the
other side of the town that their comrades had forced the gate of
Tongres. The soldiers, animated by this fiction, and advancing with fury
against the famous ravelin; which had been but partly destroyed, were
received with a broadside from the great guns of the unshattered portion,
and by a rattling discharge of musketry from the walls. They wavered a
little. At the same instant the new mine--which was to have been sprung
between the ravelin and the gate, but which had been secretly
countermined by the townspeople, exploded with a horrible concussion,
at a moment least expected by the besiegers. Five hundred royalists were
blown into the air. Ortiz, a Spanish captain of engineers, who had been
inspecting the excavations, was thrown up bodily from the subterranean
depth. He fell back again instantly into the same cavern, and was buried
by the returning shower of earth which had spouted from the mine. Forty-
five years afterwards, in digging for the foundations of a new wall, his
skeleton was found. Clad in complete armor, the helmet and cuirass still
sound, with his gold chain around his neck, and his mattock and pickaxe
at his feet, the soldier lay unmutilated, seeming almost capable of
resuming his part in the same war which--even after his half century's
sleep--was still ravaging the land.
Five hundred of the Spaniards, perished by the explosion, but none of the
defenders were injured, for they, had been prepared. Recovering from the
momentary panic, the besiegers again rushed to the attack. The battle
raged. Six hundred and seventy officers, commissioned or non-
commissioned, had already fallen, more than half mortally wounded. Four
thousand royalists, horribly mutilated, lay on the ground. It was time
that the day's work should be finished, for Maastricht was not to be
carried upon that occasion. The best and bravest of the surviving
officers besought Parma to put an end to the carnage by recalling the
troops; but the gladiator heart of the commander was heated, not
softened, by the savage spectacle. "Go back to the breach," he cried,
"and tell the soldiers that Alexander is coming to lead them into the
city in triumph, or to perish with his comrades." He rushed forward
with the fury which had marked him when he boarded Mustapha's galley at
Lepanto; but all the generals who were near him threw themselves upon his
path, and implored him to desist from such insensate rashness. Their
expostulations would have probably been in vain, had not his confidential
friend, Serbelloni, interposed with something like paternal authority,
reminding him of the strict commands contained in his Majesty's recent
letters, that the Governor-General, to whom so much was entrusted, should
refrain, on pain of the royal displeasure, from exposing his life like a
common fighter.
Alexander reluctantly gave the signal of recal at last, and accepted the
defeat. For the future he determined to rely more upon the sapper and
miner, and less upon the superiority of veterans to townsmen and rustics
in open fight. Sure to carry the city at last, according to line and
rule, determined to pass the whole summer beneath the walls, rather
than abandon his purpose, he calmly proceeded to complete his
circumvallations. A chain of eleven forts upon the left, and five upon
the right side of the Meuse, the whole connected by a continuous wall,
afforded him perfect security against interruptions, and allowed him to
continue the siege at leisure. His numerous army was well housed and
amply supplied, and he had built a strong and populous city in order to
destroy another. Relief was impossible. But a few thousand men were now
required to defend Farnese's improvised town, while the bulk of his army
could be marched at any moment against an advancing foe. A force of
seven thousand, painfully collected by the Prince of Orange, moved
towards the place, under command of Hohenlo and John of Nassau, but
struck with wonder at what they saw, the leaders recognized the
hopelessness of attempting relief. Maestricht was surrounded by
a second Maestricht.
The efforts of Orange were now necessarily directed towards obtaining,
if possible, a truce of a few weeks from the negotiators at Cologne.
Parma was too crafty, however, to allow Terranova to consent, and as the
Duke disclaimed any power over the direct question of peace and war, the
siege proceeded. The gates of Bois-le-Duc and Tongres having thus far
resisted the force brought against them, the scene was changed to the
gate of Brussels. This adjoined that of Tongres, was farthest from the
river, and faced westwardly towards the open country. Here the besieged
had constructed an additional ravelin, which they had christened, in
derision, "Parma," and against which the batteries of Parma were now
brought to bear. Alexander erected a platform of great extent and
strength directly opposite the new work, and after a severe and constant
cannonade from this elevation, followed by a bloody action, the "Parma"
fort was carried. One thousand, at least, of the defenders fell, as,
forced gradually from one defence to another, they saw the triple walls
of their ravelin crumble successively before their eyes. The tower was
absolutely annihilated before they abandoned its ruins, and retired
within their last defences. Alexander being now master of the fosa and
the defences of the Brussels gate, drew up a large force on both aides of
that portal, along the margin of the moat, and began mining beneath the
inner wall of the city.
Meantime, the garrison had been reduced to four hundred soldiers, nearly
all of whom were wounded: wearied and driven to despair, these soldiers
were willing to treat. The townspeople, however, answered the
proposition with a shout of fury, and protested that they would destroy
the garrison with their own hands if such an insinuation were repeated.
Sebastian Tappin, too, encouraged them with the hope of speedy relief,
and held out to them the wretched consequences of trusting to the mercy
of their foes. The garrison took heart again, while that of the burghers
and their wives had, never faltered. Their main hope now was in a
fortification which they had been constructing inside the Brussels gate
--a demilune of considerable strength. Behind it was a breastwork of
turf and masonry, to serve as a last bulwark when every other defence
should be forced. The whole had been surrounded by a foss thirty feet in
depth, and the besiegers, as they mounted upon the breaches which they
had at last effected in the outer curtain, near the Brussels gate, saw
for the first time this new fortification.
The general condition of the defences, and the disposition of the
inhabitants, had been revealed to Alexander by a deserter from the town.
Against this last fortress the last efforts of the foe were now directed.
Alexander ordered a bridge to be thrown across the city moat. As it was
sixty feet wide and as many deep, and lay directly beneath the guns of
the new demilune, the enterprise was sufficiently hazardous. Alexander
led the way in person, with a mallet in one hand and a mattockin the
other. Two men fell dead instantly, one on his right hand and his left,
while he calmly commenced, in his own person, the driving of the first
piles for the bridge. His soldiers fell fast around him. Count
Berlaymont was shot dead, many officers of distinction were killed or
wounded, but no soldier dared recoil while their chieftain wrought amid
the bullets like a common pioneer. Alexander, unharmed, as by a miracle,
never left the spot till the bridge had been constructed, and till ten
great guns had been carried across it, and pointed against the demilune.
The battery was opened, the mines previously excavated were sprung, a
part of the demilune was blown into the air, and the assailants sprang
into the breach. Again a furious hand-to-hand conflict succeeded; again,
after an obstinate resistance, the townspeople were forced to yield.
Slowly abandoning the shattered fort, they retired behind the breastwork
in its rear--their innermost and last defence. To this barrier they
clung as to a spar in shipwreck, and here at last they stood at bay,
prepared dearly to sell their lives.
The breastwork, being still strong, was not attempted upon that day. The
assailants were recalled, and in the mean time a herald was sent by
Parma, highly applauding the courage of the defenders, and begging them
to surrender at discretion. They answered the messenger with words of
haughty defiance, and, rushing in a mass to the breastwork, began with
spade, pickax, and trowel, to add to its strength. Here all the able-
bodied men of the town took up their permanent position, and here they
ate, drank, and slept upon their posts, while their food was brought to
them by the women and children.
A little letter, "written in a fine neat handwriting," now mysteriously
arrived in the city, encouraging them in the name of the Archduke and the
Prince of Orange, and assuring them of relief within fourteen days. A
brief animation was thus produced, attended by a corresponding languor
upon the part of the besiegers, for Alexander had been lying ill with a
fever since the day when the demilune had been carried. From his sick
bed he rebuked his officers severely that a temporary breastwork, huddled
together by boors and burghers in the midst of a siege, should prove an
insurmountable obstacle to men who had carried everything before them.
The morrow was the festival of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, and it was
meet that so sacred a day should be hallowed by a Christian and Apostolic
victory. Saint Peter would be there with, his keys to open the gate;
Saint Paul would lead them to battle with his invincible sword. Orders
were given accordingly, and the assault was assigned for the following
morning.
Meantime, the guards were strengthened and commanded to be more than
usually watchful. The injunction had a remarkable effect. At the dead
of night, a soldier of the watch was going his rounds on the outside of
the breastwork, listening, if perchance he might catch, as was not
unusual, a portion of the conversation among the beleaguered burghers
within. Prying about on every side, he at last discovered a chink in the
wall, the result, doubtless, of the last cannonade, and hitherto
overlooked. He enlarged the gap with his fingers, and finally made an
opening wide enough to admit his person. He crept boldly through, and
looked around in the clear starlight. The sentinels were all slumbering
at their posts. He advanced stealthily in the dusky streets. Not a
watchman was going his rounds. Soldiers, burghers, children, women,
exhausted by incessant fatigue, were all asleep. Not a footfall was
heard; not a whisper broke the silence; it seemed a city of the dead.
The soldier crept back through the crevice, and hastened to apprise his
superiors of his adventure.