Moreover, Alexander saw himself growing weaker and weaker. His force had

dwindled to a mere phantom of an army. His soldiers, ill-fed,

half-clothed, unpaid, were fearfully overworked. He was obliged to

concentrate all the troops at his disposal around Antwerp. Diversions

against Ostend, operations in Friesland and Gelderland, although most

desirable, had thus been rendered quite impossible.

"I have recalled my cavalry and infantry from Ostend," he wrote, "and Don

Juan de Manrique has fortunately arrived in Stabroek with a thousand good

German folk. The commissary-general of the cavalry has come in, too, with

a good lot of the troops that had been encamped in the open country.

Nevertheless, we remain wretchedly weak--quite insufficient to attempt

what ought to be done. If the enemy were more in force, or if the French

wished to make trouble, your Majesty would see how important it had been

to provide in time against such contingencies. And although our

neighbours, crestfallen, and rushing upon their own destruction, leave us

in quiet, we are not without plenty of work. It would be of inestimable

advantage to make diversions in Gelderland and Friesland, because, in

that case, the Hollanders, seeing the enemy so near their own borders,

would be obliged to withdraw their assistance from Antwerp. 'Tis pity to

see how few Spaniards your Majesty has left, and how diminished is our

army. Now, also, is the time to expect sickness, and this affair of

Antwerp is obviously stretching out into large proportions. Unless soon

reinforced, we must inevitably go to destruction. I implore your Majesty

to ponder the matter well, and not to defer the remedy."

His Majesty was sure to ponder the matter well, if that had been all.

Philip was good at pondering; but it was equally certain that the remedy

would be deferred. Meantime Alexander and his starving but heroic little

army were left to fight their battles as they could.

His complaints were incessant, most reasonable, but unavailing. With all

the forces he could muster, by withdrawing from the neighbourhood of

Ghent, Brussels, Vilvoorde, and from all the garrisons, every man that

could be spared, he had not strength enough to guard his own posts. To

attempt to win back the important forts recently captured by the rebels

on the Doel, was quite out of the question. The pictures he painted of

his army were indeed most dismal.

The Spaniards were so reduced by sickness that it was pitiful to see

them. The Italians were not in much better condition, nor the Germans.

"As for the Walloons," said he, "they are deserting, as they always do.

In truth, one of my principal dangers is that the French civil wars are

now tempting my soldiers across the frontier; the country there is so

much richer, and offers so much more for the plundering."

During the few weeks which immediately followed them famous descent of

the 'Hope' and the 'Fortune,' there had accordingly been made a variety

of less elaborate, but apparently mischievous, efforts against the

bridge. On the whole, however, the object was rather to deceive and amuse

the royalists, by keeping their attention fixed in that quarter, while a

great attack was, in reality, preparing against the Kowenstyn. That

strong barrier, as repeatedly stated, was even a more formidable obstacle

than the bridge to the communication between the beleagured city and

their allies upon the outside. Its capture and demolition, even at this

late period, would open the navigation to all the fleets of Zeeland.

In the undertaking of the 5th of April all had been accomplished that

human ingenuity could devise; yet the triumph had been snatched away even

at the very moment when it was complete. A determined and vigorous effort

was soon to be made upon the Kowenstyn, in the very face of Parma; for it

now seemed obvious that the true crisis was to come upon that fatal dyke.

The great bulwark was three miles long. It reached from Stabroek in

Brabant, near which village Mansfeld's troops were encamped, across the

inundated country, up to the line of the Scheldt. Thence, along the

river-dyke, and across the bridge to Kalloo and Beveren, where Parma's

forces lay, was a continuous fortified road some three leagues in length;

so that the two divisions of the besieging army, lying four leagues

apart, were all connected by this important line.

Could the Kowenstyn be pierced, the water, now divided by that great

bulwark into two vast lakes, would flow together in one continuous sea.

Moreover the Scheldt, it was thought, would, in that case, return to its

own cannel through Brabant, deserting its present bed, and thus leaving

the famous bridge high and dry. A wide sheet of navigable water would

then roll between Antwerp and the Zeeland coasts, and Parma's bridge, the

result of seven months' labour, would become as useless as a child's

broken toy.

Alexander had thoroughly comprehended the necessity of maintaining the

Kowenstyn. All that it was possible to do with the meagre forces at his

disposal, he had done. He had fringed both its margins, along its whole

length, with a breastwork of closely-driven stakes. He had strengthened

the whole body of the dyke with timber-work and piles. Upon its

river-end, just at the junction with the great Scheldt dyke, a strong

fortress, called the Holy Cross, had been constructed, which was under

the special command of Mondragon. Besides this, three other forts had

been built, at intervals of about a mile, upon the dyke. The one nearest

to Mondragon was placed at the Kowenstyn manor-house, and was called

Saint James. This was entrusted to Camillo Bourbon del Monte, an Italian

officer, who boasted the blood royal of France in his veins, and was

disposed on all occasions to vindicate that proud pedigree by his deeds.

The next fort was Saint George's, sometimes called the Black Sconce. It

had been built by La Motte, but it was now in command of the Spanish

officer, Benites. The third was entitled the Fort of the Palisades,

because it had been necessary to support it by a stockade-work in the

water, there being absolutely not earth enough to hold the structure. It

was placed in the charge of Captain Gamboa. These little castles had been

created, as it were, out of water and upon water, and under a hot fire

from the enemy's forts and fleets, which gave the pioneers no repose.

"'Twas very hard work," said Parma, "our soldiers are so exposed during

their labour, the rebels playing upon them perpetually from their

musket-proof vessels. They fill the submerged land with their boats,

skimming everywhere as they like, while we have none at all. We have been

obliged to build these three forts with neither material nor space;

making land enough for the foundation by bringing thither bundles of

hurdles and of earth. The fatigue and anxiety are incredible. Not a man

can sleep at night; not an officer nor soldier but is perpetually

mounting guard. But they are animated to their hard work by seeing that I

share in it, like one of themselves. We have now got the dyke into good

order, so far as to be able to give them a warm reception, whenever they

choose to come."

Quite at the farther or land end of the Kowenstyn, was another fort,

called the Stabroek, which commanded and raked the whole dyke, and was in

the neighbourhood of Mansfeld's head-quarters.

Placed as were these little citadels upon a slender, and--at brief

distance--invisible thread of land, with the dark waters rolling around

them far and near, they presented an insubstantial dream-like aspect,

seeming rather like castles floating between air and ocean than actual

fortifications--a deceptive mirage rather than reality. There was nothing

imaginary, however, in the work which they were to perform.

A series of attacks, some serious, others fictitious, had been made, from

time to time, upon both bridge and dyke; but Alexander was unable to

inspire his soldiers with his own watchfulness. Upon the 7th of May a

more determined attempt was made upon the Kowenstyn, by the fleet from

Lillo. Hohenlo and Colonel Ysselstein conducted the enterprise. The

sentinels at the point selected--having recently been so often threatened

by an enemy, who most frequently made a rapid retreat, as to have grown

weary and indifferent-were surprised, at dawn of day, and put to the

sword. "If the truth must be told," said Parma, "the sentries were sound

asleep." Five hundred Zeelanders, with a strong party of sappers and

miners, fairly established themselves upon the dyke, between St. George's

and Fort Palisade. The attack, although spirited at its commencement, was

doomed to be unsuccessful. A co-operation, agreed upon by the fleet from

Antwerp, failed through a misunderstanding. Sainte Aldegonde had

stationed certain members of the munition-chamber in the cathedral tower,

with orders to discharge three rockets, when they should perceive a

beacon-fire which he should light in Fort Tholouse. The watchmen mistook

an accidental camp-fire in the neighbourhood for the preconcerted signal,

and sent up the rockets. Hohenlo understanding, accordingly, that the

expedition was on the point of starting from Antwerp, hastened to perform

his portion of the work, and sailed up from Lillo. He did his duty

faithfully and well, and established himself upon the dyke, but found

himself alone and without sufficient force to maintain his position. The

Antwerp fleet never sailed. It was even whispered that the delinquency

was rather intended than accidental; the Antwerpers being supposed

desirous to ascertain the result of Hohenlo's attempt before coming forth

to share his fate. Such was the opinion expressed by Farnese in his

letters to Philip, but it seems probable that he was mistaken. Whatever

the cause, however, the fact of the Zeelanders' discomfiture was certain.

The St. George battery and that of the Palisade were opened at once upon

them, the balls came plunging among the sappers and miners before they

had time to throw up many spade-fulls of earth, and the whole party were

soon dead or driven from the dyke. The survivors effected their retreat

as they best could, leaving four of their ships behind them and three or

four hundred men.

"Forty rebels lay dead on the dyke," said Parma, "and one hundred and

fifty more, at least, were drowned. The enemy confess a much larger loss

than the number I state, but I am not a friend of giving details larger

than my ascertained facts; nor do I know how many were killed in the

boats."

This enterprise was but a prelude, however, to the great undertaking

which had now been thoroughly matured. Upon the 26th May, another and

most determined attack was to be made upon the Kowenstyn, by the

Antwerpers and Hollanders acting in concert. This time, it was to be

hoped, there would be no misconception of signals. "It was a

determination," said Parma, "so daring and desperate that there was no

substantial reason why we should believe they would carry it out; but

they were at last solemnly resolved to die or to effect their purpose."

Two hundred ships in all had been got ready, part of them under Hohenlo

and Justinus de Nassau, to sail up from Zeeland; the others to advance

from Antwerp under Sainte Aldegonde. Their destination was the Kowenstyn

Dyke. Some of the vessels were laden with provisions, others with

gabions, hurdles, branches, sacks of sand and of wool, and with other

materials for the rapid throwing up of fortifications.

It was two o'clock, half an hour before the chill dawn of a May morning,

Sunday, the 26th of the month. The pale sight of a waning moon was

faintly perceptible in the sky. Suddenly the sentinels upon the

Kowenstyn--this time not asleep--descried, as they looked towards Lillo,

four fiery apparitions gliding towards them across the waves. The alarm

was given, and soon afterwards the Spaniards began to muster, somewhat

reluctantly, upon the dyke, filled as they always were with the

mysterious dread which those demon-vessels never failed to inspire.

The fire-ships floated slowly nearer, and at last struck heavily against

the stockade-work. There, covered with tar, pitch, rosin, and gunpowder,

they flamed, flared, and exploded, during a brief period, with much

vigour, and then burned harmlessly out. One of the objects for which they

had been sent--to set fire to the palisade--was not accomplished. The

other was gained; for the enemy, expecting another volcanic shower of

tombstones and plough-coulters, and remembering the recent fate of their

comrades on the bridge, had retired shuddering into the forts. Meantime,

in the glare of these vast torches, a great swarm of gunboats and other

vessels, skimming across the leaden-coloured waters, was seen gradually

approaching the dyke. It was the fleet of Hohenlo and Justinus de Nassau,

who had been sailing and rowing since ten o'clock of the preceding night.

The burning ships lighted them on their way, while it had scared the

Spaniards from their posts.

The boats ran ashore in the mile-long space between forts St. George and

the Palisade, and a party of Zeelanders, Admiral Haultain, governor of

Walcheren, at their head, sprang upon the dyke. Meantime, however, the

royalists, finding that the fire-ships had come to so innocent an end,

had rallied and emerged from their forts. Haultain and his Zeelanders, by

the time they had fairly mounted the dyke, found themselves in the iron

embrace of several hundred Spaniards. After a brief fierce struggle, face

to face, and at push of pike, the patriots reeled backward down the bank,

and took refuge in their boats. Admiral Haultain slipped as he left the

shore, missed a rope's end which was thrown to him, fell into the water,

and, borne down by the weight of his armour, was drowned. The enemy,

pursuing them, sprang to the waist in the ooze on the edge of the dyke,

and continued the contest. The boats opened a hot fire, and there was a

severe skirmish for many minutes, with no certain result. It was,

however, beginning to go hard with the Zeelanders, when, just at the

critical moment, a cheer from the other side of the dyke was heard, and

the Antwerp fleet was seen coming swiftly to the rescue. The Spaniards,

taken between the two bands of assailants, were at a disadvantage, and it

was impossible to prevent the landing of these fresh antagonists. The

Antwerpers sprang ashore. Among the foremost was Sainte Aldegonde, poet,

orator, hymn-book maker, burgomaster, lawyer, polemical divine--now armed

to the teeth and cheering on his men, in the very thickest of the fight.

The diversion was successful, and Sainte Aldegonde gallantly drove the

Spaniards quite off the field. The whole combined force from Antwerp and

Zeeland now effected their landing. Three thousand men occupied all the

space between Fort George and the Palisade.

With Sainte Aldegonde came the unlucky Koppen Loppen, and all that could

be spared of the English and Scotch troops in Antwerp, under Balfour and

Morgan. With Hohenlo and Justinus de Nassau came Reinier Kant, who had

just succeeded Paul Buys as Advocate of Holland. Besides these came two

other men, side by side, perhaps in the same boat, of whom the world was

like to hear much, from that time forward, and whose names are to be most

solemnly linked together, so long as Netherland history shall endure;

one, a fair-faced flaxen-haired boy of eighteen, the other a

square-visaged, heavy-browed man of forty--Prince Maurice and John of

Olden-Barneveldt. The statesman had been foremost to urge the claim of

William the Silent's son upon the stadholderate of Holland and Zeeland,

and had been, as it were, the youth's political guardian. He had himself

borne arms more than once before, having shouldered his matchlock under

Batenburg, and marched on that officer's spirited but disastrous

expedition for the relief of Haarlem. But this was the life of those

Dutch rebels. Quill-driving, law-expounding, speech-making, diplomatic

missions, were intermingled with very practical business in besieged

towns or open fields, with Italian musketeers and Spanish pikemen. And

here, too, young Maurice was taking his first solid lesson in the art of

which he was one day to be so distinguished a professor. It was a sharp

beginning. Upon this ribband of earth, scarce six paces in breadth, with

miles of deep water on both sides--a position recently fortified by the

first general of the age, and held by the famous infantry of Spain and

Italy--there was likely to be no prentice-work.

To assault such a position was in truth, as Alexander had declared it to

be, a most daring and desperate resolution on the part of the States.

"Soldiers, citizens, and all," said Parma, "they are obstinate as dogs to

try their fortune."

With wool-sacks, sand-bags, hurdles, planks, and other materials brought

with them, the patriots now rapidly entrenched themselves in the position

so brilliantly gained; while, without deferring for an instant the great

purpose which they had come to effect, the sappers and miners fastened

upon the ironbound soil of the dyke, tearing it with pick, mattock, and

shovel, digging, delving, and throwing up the earth around them, busy as

human beavers, instinctively engaged in a most congenial task.

But the beavers did not toil unmolested. The large and determined force

of Antwerpers and English, Hollanders and Zeelanders, guarded the

fortifications as they were rapidly rising, and the pioneers as they were

so manfully delving; but the enemy was not idle. From Fort Saint James,

next beyond Saint George, Camillo del Monte led a strong party to the

rescue. There was a tremendous action, foot to foot, breast to breast,

with pike and pistol, sword and dagger. Never since the beginning of the

war had there been harder fighting than now upon that narrow isthmus.

"'Twas an affair of most brave obstinacy on both sides," said Parma, who

rarely used strong language. "Soldiers, citizens, and all--they were like

mad bulldogs." Hollanders, Italians, Scotchmen, Spaniards, Englishmen,

fell thick and fast. The contest was about the entrenchments before they

were completed, and especially around the sappers and miners, in whose

picks and shovels lay the whole fate of Antwerp. Many of the

dyke-breakers were digging their own graves, and rolled, one after

another, into the breach which they were so obstinately creating. Upon

that slender thread of land the hopes of many thousands were hanging. To

tear it asunder, to roll the ocean-waves up to Antwerp, and thus to

snatch the great city triumphantly from the grasp of Philip--to

accomplish this, the three thousand had come forth that May morning. To

prevent it, to hold firmly that great treasure entrusted to them, was the

determination of the Spaniards. And so, closely pent and packed,

discharging their carbines into each other's faces, rolling, coiled

together, down the slimy sides of the dyke into the black waters,

struggling to and fro, while the cannon from the rebel fleet and from the

royal forts mingled their roar with the sharp crack of the musketry,

Catholics and patriots contended for an hour, while still, through all

the confusion and uproar, the miners dug and delved.

At last the patriots were victorious. They made good their entrenchments,

drove the Spaniards, after much slaughter, back to the fort of Saint

George on the one side, and of the Palisade on the other, and cleared the

whole space between the two points. The centre of the dyke was theirs;

the great Kowenstyn, the only key by which the gates of Antwerp could be

unlocked, was in the deliverers' hands. They pursued their victory, and

attacked the Palisade Fort. Gamboa, its commandant, was severely wounded;

many other officers dead or dying; the outworks were in the hands of the

Hollanders; the slender piles on which the fortress rested in the water

were rudely shaken; the victory was almost complete.

And now there was a tremendous cheer of triumph. The beavers had done

their work, the barrier was bitten through and through, the salt water

rushed like a river through the ruptured dyke. A few moments later, and a

Zeeland barge, freighted with provisions, floated triumphantly into the

waters beyond, now no longer an inland sea. The deed was done--the

victory achieved. Nothing more was necessary than to secure it, to tear

the fatal barrier to fragments, to bury it, for its whole length, beneath

the waves. Then, after the isthmus had been utterly submerged, when the

Scheldt was rolled back into its ancient bed, when Parma's famous bridge

had become useless, when the maritime communication between Antwerp and

Holland had been thoroughly established, the Spaniards would have nothing

left for it but to drown like rats in their entrenchments or to abandon

the siege in despair. All this was in the hands of the patriots. The

Kowenstyn was theirs. The Spaniards were driven from the field, the

batteries of their forts silenced. For a long period the rebels were

unmolested, and felt themselves secure.

"We remained thus some three hours," says Captain James, an English

officer who fought in the action, and described it in rough, soldierly

fashion to Walsingham the same day, "thinking all things to be secure."

Yet in the very supreme moment of victory, the leaders, both of the

Hollanders and of the Antwerpers, proved themselves incompetent to their

position. With deep regret it must be admitted, that not only the

reckless Hohenlo, but the all-accomplished Sainte Aldegonde, committed

the gravest error. In the hour of danger, both had comported themselves

with perfect courage and conduct. In the instant of triumph, they gave

way to puerile exultation. With a celerity as censurable as it seems

incredible, both these commanders sprang into the first barge which had

thus floated across the dyke, in order that they might, in person, carry

the news of the victory to Antwerp, and set all the bells ringing and the

bonfires blazing. They took with them Ferrante Spinola, a

mortally-wounded Italian officer of rank, as a trophy of their battle,

and a boatload of beef and flour, as an earnest of the approaching

relief.

While the conquerors were thus gone to enjoy their triumph, the

conquered, though perplexed and silenced, were not yet disposed to accept

their defeat. They were even ignorant that they were conquered. They had

been forced to abandon the field, and the patriots had entrenched

themselves upon the dyke, but neither Fort Saint George nor the Palisade

had been carried, although the latter was in imminent danger.

Old Count Peter Ernest Mansfeld--a grizzled veteran, who had passed his

childhood, youth, manhood, and old age, under fire--commanded at the

land-end of the dyke, in the fortress of Stabroek, in which neighbourhood

his whole division was stationed. Seeing how the day was going, he called

a council of war. The patriots had gained a large section of the dyke. So

much was certain. Could they succeed in utterly demolishing that bulwark

in the course of the day? If so, how were they to be dislodged before

their work was perfected? It was difficult to assault their position.

Three thousand Hollanders, Antwerpers, Englishmen--"mad bulldogs all," as

Parma called them--showing their teeth very mischievously, with one

hundred and sixty Zeeland vessels throwing in their broadsides from both

margins of the dyke, were a formidable company to face.

"Oh for one half hour of Alexander in the field!" sighed one of the

Spanish officers in council. But Alexander was more than four leagues

away, and it was doubtful whether he even knew of the fatal occurrence.

Yet how to send him a messenger. Who could reach him through that valley

of death? Would it not be better to wait till nightfall? Under the cover

of darkness something might be attempted, which in the daylight would be

hopeless. There was much anxiety, and much difference of opinion had been

expressed, when Camillo Capizucca, colonel of the Italian Legion,

obtained a hearing. A man bold in words as in deeds, he vehemently

denounced the pusillanimity which would wait either for Parma or for

nightfall. "What difference will it make," he asked, "whether we defer

our action until either darkness or the General arrives? In each case we

give the enemy time enough to destroy the dyke, and thoroughly to relieve

the city. That done, what good can be accomplished by our arms? Then our

disheartened soldiers will either shrink from a fruitless combat or march

to certain death." Having thus, very warmly but very sagaciously, defined

the position in which all were placed, he proceeded to declare that he

claimed, neither for himself nor for his legion, any superiority over the

rest of the army. He knew not that the Italians were more to be relied

upon than others in the time of danger, but this he did know, that no man

in the world was so devoted as he was to the Prince of Parma. To show

that devotion by waiting with folded arms behind a wall until the Prince

should arrive to extricate his followers, was not in his constitution. He

claimed the right to lead his Italians against the enemy at once--in the

front rank, if others chose to follow; alone, if the rest preferred to

wait till a better leader should arrive.

The words of the Italian colonel sent a thrill through all who heard him.

Next in command under Capizucca was his camp-marshal, an officer who bore

the illustrious name of Piccolomini--father of the Duke Ottavio, of whom

so much was to be heard at a later day throughout the fell scenes of that

portion of the eighty years' tragedy now enacting, which was to be called

the Thirty Years' War of Germany. The camp-marshal warmly seconded the

proposition of his colonel. Mansfeld, pleased with such enthusiasm among

his officers, yielded to their wishes, which were, in truth, his own. Six

companies of the Italian Legion were in his encampment while the

remainder were stationed, far away, upon the bridge, under command of his

son, Count Charles. Early in the morning, before the passage across the

dyke had been closed the veteran condottiere, pricking his ears as he

snuffed the battle from afar, had contrived to send a message to his son.

"Charles, my boy," were his words, "to-day we must either beat them or

burst."

Old Peter Ernest felt that the long-expected, long-deferred assault was

to be made that morning in full force, and that it was necessary for the

royalists, on both bridge and dyke, to hold their own. Piccolomini now

drew up three hundred of his Italians, picked veterans all, and led them

in marching order to Mansfeld. That general at the same moment, received

another small but unexpected reinforcement. A portion of the Spanish

Legion, which had long been that of Pedro Pacchi, lay at the extreme

verge of the Stabroek encampment, several miles away. Aroused by the

distant cannonading, and suspecting what had occurred, Don Juan d'Aquila,

the colonel in command, marched without a moment's delay to Mansfeld's

head-quarters, at the head of all the force he could muster--about two

hundred strong. With him came Cardona, Gonzales de Castro, Toralva, and

other distinguished officers. As they arrived, Capizucca was just setting

forth for the field. There arose a dispute for precedence between the

Italians and the Spaniards. Capizucca had first demanded the privilege of

leading what seemed a forlorn hope, and was unwilling to yield his claim

to the new comer. On the other hand, the Spaniards were not disposed to

follow where they felt entitled to lead. The quarrel was growing warm,

when Aquila, seizing his Italian rival by the hand, protested that it was

not a moment for friends to wrangle for precedence.

"Shoulder to shoulder," said he, "let us go into this business, and let

our blows rather fall on our enemies' heads than upon each other's." This

terminated the altercation. The Italians and Spaniards--in battle array

as they were--all dropped on their knees, offered a brief prayer to the

Holy Virgin, and then, in the best possible spirits, set forth along the

dyke. Next to fort Stabroek--whence they issued--was the Palisade Fort,

nearly a mile removed, which the patriots had nearly carried, and between

which and St. George, another mile farther on, their whole force was

established.

The troops under Capizucca and Aquila soon reached the Palisade, and

attacked the besiegers, while the garrison, cheered by the unexpected

relief, made a vigorous sortie. There was a brief sharp contest, in which

many were killed on both sides; but at last the patriots fell back upon

their own entrenchments, and the fort was saved. Its name was instantly

changed to Fort Victory, and the royalists then prepared to charge the

fortified camp of the rebels, in the centre of which the dyke-cutting

operations were still in progress. At the same moment, from the opposite

end of the bulwark, a cry was heard along the whole line of the dyke.

From Fort Holy Cross, at the Scheldt end, the welcome intelligence was

suddenly communicated--as if by a magnetic impulse--that Alexander was in

the field!

It was true. Having been up half the night, as usual, keeping watch along

his bridge, where he was ever expecting a fatal attack, he had retired

for a few hours' rest in his camp at Beveren. Aroused at day-break by the

roar of the cannon, he had hastily thrown on his armour, mounted his

horse, and, at the head of two hundred pikemen, set forth for the scene

of action. Detained on the bridge by a detachment of the Antwerp fleet,

which had been ordered to make a diversion in that quarter, he had, after

beating off their vessels with his boat-artillery, and charging Count

Charles Mansfeld to heed well the brief injunction of old Peter Ernest,

made all the haste he could to the Kowenstyn. Arriving at Fort Holy

Cross, he learned from Mondragon how the day was going. Three thousand

rebels, he learned, were established on the dyke, Fort Palisade was

tottering, a fleet from both sides was cannonading the Spanish

entrenchments, the salt water was flowing across the breach already made.

His seven months' work, it seemed, had come to nought. The navigation was

already open from the sea to Antwerp, the Lowenstyn was in the rebels'

hands. But Alexander was not prone to premature despair. "I arrived,"

said he to Philip in a letter written on the same evening, "at the very

nick of time." A less hopeful person might have thought that he had

arrived several hours too late. Having brought with him every man that

could be spared from Beveren and from the bridge, he now ordered Camillo

del Monte to transport some additional pieces of artillery from Holy

Cross and from Saint James to Fort Saint Georg. At the same time a sharp

cannonade was to be maintained upon the rebel fleet from all the forts.

Mondragon, with a hundred musketeers and pikemen, was sent forward

likewise as expeditiously as possible to Saint George. No one could be

more alert. The battered veteran, hero of some of the most remarkable

military adventures that history has ever recorded,' fought his way on

foot, in the midst of the fray, like a young ensign who had his first

laurels to win. And, in truth, the day was not one for cunning

manoeuvres, directed, at a distance, by a skillful tactician. It was a

brisk close contest, hand to hand and eye to eye--a Homeric encounter, in

which the chieftains were to prove a right to command by their personal

prowess. Alexander, descending suddenly--dramatically, as it were--when

the battle seemed lost--like a deity from the clouds-was to justify, by

the strength of his arm, the enthusiasm which his name always awakened.

Having, at a glance, taken in the whole situation, he made his brief

arrangements, going from rank to rank, and disposing his troops in the

most effective manner. He said but few words, but his voice had always a

telling effect.

"The man who refuses, this day, to follow me," he said, "has never had

regard to his own honour, nor has God's cause or the King's ever been

dear to his heart."

His disheartened Spaniards and Italians--roused as by a magic

trumpet--eagerly demanded to be led against the rebels. And now from each

end of the dyke, the royalists were advancing toward the central position

occupied by the patriots. While Capizucca and Aquila were occupied at

Fort Victory, Parma was steadily cutting his way from Holy Cross to Saint

George. On foot, armed with sword and shield, and in coat of mail, and

marching at the head of his men along the dyke, surrounded by Bevilacqua,

Bentivoglio, Manriquez, Sforza, and other officers of historic name and

distinguished courage, now upon the summit of the causeway, now on its

shelving banks, now breast-high in the waters, through which lay the

perilous path, contending at every inch with the scattered bands of the

patriots, who slowly retired to their entrenched camp, and with the

Antwerp and Zeeland vessels, whose balls tore through the royalist ranks,

the General at last reached Saint George. On the preservation of that

post depended the whole fortune of the day, for Parma had already

received the welcome intelligence that the Palisade--now Fort

Victory--had been regained. He instantly ordered an outer breast-work of

wool-sacks and sand-bags to be thrown up in front of Saint George, and

planted a battery to play point-blank at the enemy's entrenchments. Here

the final issue was to be made.

The patriots and Spaniards were thus all enclosed in the mile-long space

between St. George and the Palisade. Upon that narrow strip of earth,

scarce six paces in width, more than five thousand men met in mortal

combat--a narrow arena for so many gladiators, hemmed in on both sides by

the sea. The patriots had, with solemn ceremony, before starting upon

their enterprise, vowed to destroy the dyke and relieve Antwerp, or to

perish in the attempt. They were true to their vow. Not the ancient

Batavians or Nervii had ever manifested more tenacity against the Roman

legions than did their descendants against the far-famed Spanish infantry

upon this fatal day. The fight on the Kowenstyn was to be long remembered

in the military annals of Spain and Holland. Never, since the curtain

first rose upon the great Netherland tragedy, had there been a fiercer

encounter. Flinching was impossible. There was scant room for the play of

pike and dagger, and, close packed as were the combatants, the dead could

hardly fall to the ground. It was a mile-long series of separate mortal

duels, and the oozy dyke was soon slippery with blood.

From both sides, under Capizucca and Aquila on the one band, and under

Alexander on the other, the entrenchments of the patriots were at last

assaulted, and as the royalists fell thick and fast beneath the

breast-work which they were storming, their comrades clambered upon their

bodies, and attempted, from such vantage-ground, to effect an entrance.

Three times the invaders were beaten back with heavy loss, and after each

repulse the attack was renewed with fresh vigour, while within the

entrenchments the pioneers still plied the pick and shovel, undismayed by

the uproar around them.

A fourth assault, vigorously made, was cheerfully repelled by the

Antwerpers and Hollanders, clustering behind their breast-works, and

looking steadily into their enemies' eyes. Captain Heraugiere--of whom

more was to be heard one day--had led two hundred men into action, and

now found himself at the head of only thirteen. The loss had been as

severe among many other patriot companies, as well as in the Spanish

ranks, and again the pikemen of Spain and Italy faltered before the iron

visages and cordial blows of the Hollanders.

This work had lasted a good hour and a half, when at last, on the fifth

assault, a wild and mysterious apparition renewed the enthusiasm of the

Spaniards. The figure of the dead commander of the old Spanish Legion,

Don Pedro Pacchi, who had fallen a few months before at the siege of

Dendermonde was seen charging in front of his regiment, clad in his

well-known armour, and using the gestures which had been habitual with

him in life. No satisfactory explanation was ever made of this singular

delusion, but it was general throughout the ranks, and in that

superstitious age was as effective as truth. The wavering Spaniards

rallied once more under the guidance of their phantom leader, and again

charged the breast-work of the patriots. Toralva, mounting upon the back

of one of his soldiers, was first to vault into the entrenchments. At the

next instant he lay desperately wounded on the ground, but was close

followed by Capizucca, sustained by a determined band. The entrenchment

was carried, but the furious conflict still continued. At nearly the same

moment, however, several of the patriot vessels were observed to cast off

their moorings, and to be drifting away from the dyke. A large number of

the rest had been disabled by the hot fire, which by Alexander's

judicious orders had been directed upon the fleet. The ebbing tide left

no choice to the commander of the others but to retreat or to remain and

fall into the enemy's hands, should he gain the day. Had they risked the

dangerous alternative, it might have ensured the triumph of the whole

enterprise, while their actual decision proved most disastrous in the

end.

"We have conquered," cried Alexander, stretching his arm towards the

receding waters. "The sea deserts the impious heretics. Strike from them

now their last hope, and cut off their retreat to the departing ships."

The Spaniards were not slow to perceive their advantage, while the

courage of the patriots at last began to ebb with the tide. The day was

lost. In the hour of transitory triumph the leaders of the expedition had

turned their backs on their followers, and now, after so much heroism had

been exhibited, fortune too had averted her face. The grim resistance

changed to desperate panic, and a mad chase began along the blood-stained

dyke. Some were slain with spear and bullet, others were hunted into the

sea, many were smothered in the ooze along the edge of the embankment.

The fugitives, making their way to the retreating vessels, were pursued

by the Spaniards, who swam after them, with their swords in their teeth,

and engaged them in mortal combat in the midst of the waves.

"And so we cut all their throats," said Parma, "the rebels on every side

remaining at our mercy, and I having no doubt that my soldiers would

avenge the loss of their friends."

The English and the Scotch, under Balfour and Morgan, were the very last

to abandon the position which they had held so manfully seven hours long.

Honest Captain James, who fought to the last, and described the action

the same night in the fewest possible words, was of opinion that the

fleet had moved away only to obtain a better position. "They put off to

have more room to play on the enemy," said he; "but the Hollanders and

Zeelanders, seeing the enemy come on so hotly, and thinking our galleys

would leave them, abandoned their string. The Scots, seeing them to

retire, left their string. The enemy pursued very hotly; the Englishmen

stood to repulse, and are put most to the sword. In this shameful retreat

there were slain or drowned to the number of two thousand." The blunt

Englishman was justly indignant that an enterprise, so nearly successful,

had been ruined by the desertion of its chiefs. "We had cut the dyke in

three places," said he; "but left it most shamefully for want of

commandment."

Poor Koppen Loppen--whose blunders on former occasions had caused so much

disaster--was now fortunate enough to expiate them by a soldier's death.

Admiral Haultain had, as we have seen, been drowned at the commencement

of the action. Justinus de Nassau, at its close, was more successful in

his retreat to the ships. He, too, sprang into the water when the

overthrow was absolute; but, alighting in some shallows, was able to

conceal himself among weeds and waterlilies till he had divested himself

of his armour, when he made his escape by swimming to a boat, which

conveyed him to Lillo. Roelke van Deest, an officer of some note, was so

horribly wounded in the face, that he was obliged to wear a mask for the

remainder of his life.

Parma, overjoyed at his victory, embraced Capizucca before the whole

army, with warm expressions of admiration for his conduct. Both the

Italian colonel and his Spanish rival Aquila were earnestly recommended

to Philip for reward and promotion. The wounded Toralva was carried to

Alexander's own quarters, and placed in Alexander's own bed, where he

remained till his recovery, and was then presented--a distinction which

he much valued--with the armour which the Prince had worn on the day of

the battle. Parma himself, so soon as the action was concluded, went with

his chief officers straight from the field to the little village-church

of Stabroek, where he fell upon his knees and offered up fervent thanks

for his victory. He next set about repairing the ruptured dyke, damaged

in many places but not hopelessly ruined, and for this purpose the bodies

of the rebels, among other materials, were cast by hundreds into the

ditches which their own hands had dug.

Thus ended the eight hours' fight on the Kowenstyn. "The feast lasted

from seven to eight hours," said Parma, "with the most brave obstinacy on

both sides that has been seen for many a long day." A thousand royalists

were killed and twice as many patriots, and the issue of the conflict was

most uncertain up to the very last.

"Our loss is greater than I wish it was," wrote Alexander to Philip: "It

was a very close thing, and I have never been more anxious in my life as

to the result for your Majesty's service. The whole fate of the battle

was hanging all the time by a thread." More than ever were reinforcements

necessary, and it was only by a miracle that the victory had at last been

gained with such slender resources. "'Tis a large, long, laborious,

expensive, and most perilous war," said Parma, when urging the claims of

Capizucca and Aquila, "for we have to fight every minute; and there are

no castles and other rewards, so that if soldiers are not to have

promotion, they will lose their spirit." Thirty-two of the rebel vessels

grounded, and fell into the hands of the Spaniards, who took from them

many excellent pieces of artillery. The result was most conclusive and

most disheartening for the patriots.

Meantime--as we have seen--Hohenlo and Sainte Aldegonde had reached

Antwerp in breathless haste to announce their triumph. They had been met

on the quay by groups of excited citizens, who eagerly questioned the two

generals arriving thus covered with laurels from the field of battle, and

drank with delight all the details of the victory. The poor dying Spinola

was exhibited in triumph, the boat-load of breadstuffs received with

satisfaction, and vast preparations were made to receive, on wharves and

in storehouses, the plentiful supplies about to arrive. Beacons and

bonfires were lighted, the bells from all the steeples rang their

merriest peals, cannon thundered in triumph not only in Antwerp itself,

but subsequently at Amsterdam and other more distant cities. In due time

a magnificent banquet was spread in the town-house to greet the

conquering Hohenlo. Immense gratification was expressed by those of the

reformed religion; dire threats were uttered against the Catholics. Some

were for hanging them all out of hand, others for throwing them into the

Scheldt; the most moderate proposed packing them all out of town so soon

as the siege should be raised--an event which could not now be delayed

many days longer.

Hohenlo, placed on high at the head of the banquet-table, assumed the

very god of war. Beside and near him sat the loveliest dames of Antwerp,

rewarding his bravery with their brightest smiles. The Count drained huge

goblets to their health, to the success of the patriots, and to the

confusion of the royalists, while, as he still drank and feasted, the

trumpet, kettle-drum, and cymbal, and merry peal of bell without, did

honour to his triumph. So gay and gallant was the victor, that he

announced another banquet on the following day, still further to

celebrate the happy release of Antwerp, and invited the fair ladies

around him again to grace the board. It is recorded that the gentlewoman

next him responded with a sigh, that, if her presentiments were just, the

morrow would scarcely be so joyful as the present day had been, and that

she doubted whether the triumph were not premature.

Hardly had she spoken when sinister sounds were heard in the streets. The

first few stragglers, survivors of the deadly fight, had arrived with the

fatal news that all was lost, the dyke regained, the Spaniards

victorious, the whole band of patriots cut to pieces. A few

frightfully-wounded and dying sufferers were brought into the

banqueting-hall. Hohenlo sprang from the feast--interrupted in so ghastly

a manner--pursued by shouts and hisses. Howls of execration, saluted him

in the streets, and he was obliged to conceal himself for a time, to

escape the fury of the populace.

On the other hand, Parma was, not unnaturally, overjoyed at the

successful issue to the combat, and expressed himself on the subject in

language of (for him) unusual exultation. "To-day, Sunday, 26th of June,"

said he, in a letter to Philip, despatched by special courier on the very

same night, "the Lord has been pleased to grant to your Majesty a great

and most signal victory. In this conjuncture of so great importance it

may be easily conceived that the best results that can be desired will be

obtained if your Majesty is now ready to do what is needful. I

congratulate your Majesty very many times on this occasion, and I desire

to render infinite thanks to Divine Providence."

He afterwards proceeded, in a rapid and hurried manner, to give his

Majesty the outlines of the battle, mentioning, with great encomium,

Capizucca and Aquila, Mondragon and Vasto, with many other officers, and

recommending them for reward and promotion; praising, in short, heartily

and earnestly, all who had contributed to the victory, except himself, to

whose personal exertions it was chiefly due. "As for good odd Mansfeld,"

said he, "he bore himself like the man he is, and he deserves that your

Majesty should send him a particular mark of your royal approbation,

writing to him yourself pleasantly in Spanish, which is that which will

be most highly esteemed by him." Alexander hinted also that Philip would

do well to bestow upon Mansfeld the countship of Biart, as a reward for

his long years of faithful service!

This action on the Kowenstyn terminated the effective resistance of

Antwerp. A few days before, the monster-vessel, in the construction of

which so much time and money had been consumed, had at last been set

afloat. She had been called the War's End, and, so far as Antwerp was

concerned, the fates that presided over her birth seemed to have been

paltering in a double sense when the ominous name was conferred. She was

larger than anything previously known in naval architecture; she had four

masts and three helms. Her bulwarks were ten feet thick; her tops were

musket-proof. She had twenty guns of largest size, besides many other

pieces of artillery of lesser calibre, the lower tier of which was almost

at the water's level. She was to carry one thousand men, and she was so

supported on corks and barrels as to be sure to float under any

circumstances. Thus she was a great swimming fortress which could not be

sunk, and was impervious to shot. Unluckily, however, in spite of her

four masts and three helms, she would neither sail nor steer, and she

proved but a great, unmanageable and very ridiculous tub, fully

justifying all the sarcasms that had been launched upon her during the

period of her construction, which had been almost as long as the siege

itself.

The Spaniards called her the Bugaboo--a monster to scare children withal.

The patriots christened her the Elephant, the Antwerp Folly, the Lost

Penny, with many similar appellations. A small army might have been

maintained for a month, they said, on the money she had cost, or the

whole city kept in bread for three months. At last, late in May, a few

days before the battle of the Kowenstyn, she set forth from Antwerp,

across the submerged land, upon her expedition to sweep all the Spanish

forts out of existence, and to bring the war to its end. She came to her

own end very briefly, for, after drifting helplessly about for an hour,

she stuck fast in the sand in the neighbourhood of Ordam, while the crew

and soldiers made their escape, and came back to the city to share in the

ridicule which, from first to last, had attached itself to the

monster-ship.

Two days after the Kowenstyn affair, Alexander sent an expedition under

Count Charles Mansfeld to take possession of the great Bugaboo. The boat,

in which were Count Charles, Count Aremberg, his brother de Barbancon,

and other noble volunteers, met with an accident: a keg of gun powder

accidentally exploding, blowing Aremberg into the water, whence he

escaped unharmed by swimming, and frightfully damaging Mansfeld in the

face. This indirect mischief--the only injury ever inflicted by the War's

End upon the enemy--did not prevent the rest of the party in the boats

from taking possession of the ship, and bringing her in triumph to the

Prince of Parma. After being thoroughly examined and heartily laughed at

by the Spaniards, she was broken up--her cannon, munitions, and other

valuable materials, being taken from her--and then there was an end of

the War's End.

This useless expenditure-against the judgment and entreaties of many

leading personages--was but a type of the difficulties with which Sainte

Aldegonde had been obliged to contend from the first day of the siege to

the last. Every one in the city had felt himself called on to express an

opinion as to the proper measures for defence. Diversity of humours,

popular license, anarchy, did not constitute the best government for a

city beleagured by Alexander Farnese. We have seen the deadly injury

inflicted upon the cause at the outset by the brutality of the butchers,

and the manful struggle which Sainte Aldegonde had maintained against

their cupidity and that of their friends. He had dealt with the thousand

difficulties which rose up around him from day to day, but his best

intentions were perpetually misconstrued, his most strenuous exertions

steadily foiled. It was a city where there was much love of money, and

where commerce--always timid by nature, particularly when controlled by

alien residents--was often the cause of almost abject cowardice.

From time to time there had been threatening demonstrations made against

the burgomaster, who, by protracting the resistance of Antwerp, was

bringing about the absolute destruction of a worldwide trade, and the

downfall of the most opulent capital in Christendom. There were also many

popular riots--very easily inflamed by the Catholic portion of the

inhabitants--for bread. "Bread, bread, or peace!" was hoarsely shouted by

ill-looking mischievous crowds, that dogged the steps and besieged the

doors of Sainte Aldegonde; but the burgomaster had done his best by

eloquence of tongue and personal courage, both against mobs and against

the enemy, to inspire the mass of his fellow-citizens with his own

generous spirit. He had relied for a long time on the negotiation with

France, and it would be difficult to exaggerate the disastrous effects

produced by the treachery of the Valois court. The historian Le Petit, a

resident of Antwerp at the time of the siege, had been despatched on

secret mission to Paris, and had communicated to the States' deputies

Sainte Aldegonde's earnest adjurations that they should obtain, if

possible, before it should be too late, an auxiliary force and a

pecuniary subsidy. An immediate assistance, even if slight, might be

sufficient to prevent Antwerp and its sister cities from falling into the

hands of the enemy. On that messenger's return, the burgomaster, much

encouraged by his report, had made many eloquent speeches in the senate,

and for a long time sustained the sinking spirits of the citizens.

The irritating termination to the triumph actually achieved against the

bridge, and the tragical result to the great enterprise against the

Kowenstyn, had now thoroughly broken the heart of Antwerp. For the last

catastrophe Sainte Aldegonde himself was highly censurable, although the

chief portion of the blame rested on the head of Hohenlo. Nevertheless

the States of Holland were yet true to the cause of the Union and of

liberty. Notwithstanding their heavy expenditures, and their own loss of

men, they urged warmly and earnestly the continuance of the resistance,

and promised, within at latest three months' time, to raise an army of

twelve thousand foot and seven thousand horse, with which they pledged

themselves to relieve the city, or to perish in the endeavour. At the

same time, the legation, which had been sent to England to offer the

sovereignty to Queen Elizabeth, sent encouraging despatches to Antwerp,

assuring the authorities that arrangements for an auxiliary force had

been effected; while Elizabeth herself wrote earnestly upon the subject

with her own hand.

"I am informed," said that Princess, "that through the closing of the

Scheldt you are likely to enter into a treaty with the Prince of Parma,

the issue of which is very much to be doubted, so far as the maintenance

of your privileges is concerned. Remembering the warm friendship which

has ever existed between this crown and the house of Burgundy, in the

realms of which you are an important member, and considering that my

subjects engaged in commerce have always met with more privilege and

comity in the Netherlands than in any other country, I have resolved to

send you at once, assistance, comfort, and aid. The details of the plan

will be stated by your envoys; but be assured that by me you will never

be forsaken or neglected."

The negotiations with Queen Elizabeth--most important for the

Netherlands, for England, and for the destinies of Europe--which

succeeded the futile diplomatic transactions with France, will be laid

before the reader in a subsequent chapter. It is proper that they should

be massed by themselves, so that the eye can comprehend at a single

glance their whole progress and aspect, as revealed both by public and

official, and by secret and hitherto unpublished records. Meantime, so

far as regards Antwerp, those negotiations had been too deliberately

conducted for the hasty and impatient temper of the citizens.

The spirit of the commercial metropolis, long flagging, seemed at last

broken. Despair was taking possession of all hearts. The common people

did nothing but complain, the magistrates did nothing but wrangle. In the

broad council the debates and dissensions were discouraging and endless.

Six of the eight militia-colonels were for holding out at all hazards,

while a majority of the eighty captains were for capitulation. The

populace was tumultuous and threatening, demanding peace and bread at any

price. Holland sent promises in abundance, and Holland was sincere; but

there had been much disappointment, and there was now infinite

bitterness. It seemed obvious that a crisis was fast approaching,

and--unless immediate aid should come from Holland or from England--that

a surrender was inevitable. La None, after five years' imprisonment, had

at last been exchanged against Count Philip Egmont. That noble, chief of

an ancient house, cousin of the Queen of France, was mortified at being

ransomed against a simple Huguenot gentleman--even though that gentleman

was the illustrious "iron-armed" La Noue--but he preferred to sacrifice

his dignity for the sake of his liberty. He was still more annoyed that

one hundred thousand crowns as security were exacted from La Noue--for

which the King of Navarre became bondsman--that he would never again bear

arms in the Netherlands except in obedience to the French monarch, while

no such pledges were required of himself. La None visited the Prince of

Parma at Antwerp, to take leave, and was received with the courtesy due

to his high character and great distinction. Alexander took pleasure in

showing him all his fortifications, and explaining to him the whole

system of the siege, and La Noue was filled with honest amazement. He

declared afterwards that the works were superb and impregnable; and that

if he had been on the outside at the head of twelve thousand troops, he

should have felt obliged to renounce the idea of relieving the city.

"Antwerp cannot escape you," confessed the veteran Huguenot, "but must

soon fall into your hands. And when you enter, I would counsel you to

hang up your sword at its gate, and let its capture be the crowning

trophy in your list of victories."

"You are right," answered Parma, "and many of my friends have given me

the same advice; but how am I to retire, engaged as I am for life in the

service of my King?"

Such was the opinion of La None, a man whose love for the reformed

religion and for civil liberty can be as little doubted as his competency

to form an opinion upon great military subjects. As little could he be

suspected just coming as he did from an infamous prison, whence he had

been at one time invited by Philip II. to emerge, on condition of

allowing his eyes to be put out--of any partiality for that monarch or

his representative.

Moreover, although the States of Holland and the English government were

earnestly desirous of relieving the city, and were encouraging the

patriots with well-founded promises, the Zeeland authorities were

lukewarm. The officers of the Zeeland navy, from which so much was

expected, were at last discouraged. They drew up, signed, and delivered

to Admiral Justinus de Nassau, a formal opinion to the effect that the

Scheldt had now so many dry and dangerous places, and that the tranquil

summer-nights--so different from those long, stormy ones of winter--were

so short as to allow of no attempt by water likely to be successful to

relieve the city.

Here certainly was much to discourage, and Sainte Aldegonde was at length

discouraged. He felt that the last hope of saving Antwerp was gone, and

with it all possibility of maintaining the existence of a United

Netherland commonwealth. The Walloon Provinces were lost already; Ghent,

Brussels, Mechlin, had also capitulated, and, with the fall of Antwerp,

Flanders and Brabant must fall. There would be no barrier left even to

save Holland itself. Despair entered the heart of the burgomaster, and he

listened too soon to its treacherous voice. Yet while he thought a free

national state no longer a possibility, he imagined it practicable to

secure religious liberty by negotiation with Philip II. He abandoned with

a sigh one of the two great objects for which he had struggled side by

side with Orange for twenty years, but he thought it possible to secure

the other. His purpose was now to obtain a favourable capitulation for

Antwerp, and at the same time to bring about the submission of Holland,

Zeeland, and the other United Provinces, to the King of Spain. Here

certainly was a great change of face on the part of one so conspicuous,

and hitherto so consistent, in the ranks of Netherland patriots, and it

is therefore necessary, in order thoroughly to estimate both the man and

the crisis, to follow carefully his steps through the secret path of

negotiation into which he now entered, and in which the Antwerp drama was

to find its conclusion. In these transactions, the chief actors are, on

the one side, the Prince of Parma, as representative of absolutism and

the Papacy; on the other, Sainte Aldegonde, who had passed his life as

the champion of the Reformation.

No doubt the pressure upon the burgomaster was very great. Tumults were

of daily occurrence. Crowds of rioters beset his door with cries of

denunciations and demands for bread. A large and turbulent mob upon one

occasion took possession of the horse-market, and treated him with

personal indignity and violence, when he undertook to disperse them. On

the other hand, Parma had been holding out hopes of pardon with more

reasonable conditions than could well be expected, and had, with a good

deal of art, taken advantage of several trivial circumstances to inspire

the burghers with confidence in his good-will. Thus, an infirm old lady

in the city happened to imagine herself so dependent upon asses milk as

to have sent her purveyor out of the city, at the peril of his life, to

procure a supply from the neighbourhood. The young man was captured,

brought to Alexander, from whose hands he very naturally expected the

punishment of a spy. The prince, however, presented him, not only with

his liberty, but with a she-ass; and loaded the animal with partridges

and capons, as a present for the invalid. The magistrates, hearing of the

incident, and not choosing to be outdone in courtesy, sent back a

waggon-load of old wine and remarkable confectionary as an offering to

Alexander, and with this interchange of dainties led the way to the

amenities of diplomacy.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Courage and semblance of cheerfulness, with despair in his heart

Demanding peace and bread at any price

Not a friend of giving details larger than my ascertained facts

HISTORY OF THE UNITED NETHERLANDS

From the Death of William the Silent to the Twelve Year's Truce--1609

By John Lothrop Motley

History United Netherlands, v41, 1584

Alexander Farnese, The Duke of Parma

CHAPTER V., Part 3.

Sainte Aldegonde discouraged--His Critical Position--His

Negotiations with the Enemy--Correspondence with Richardot--

Commotion in the City--Interview of Marnix with Parma--Suspicious

Conduct of Marnix--Deputation to the Prince--Oration of Marnix--

Private Views of Parma--Capitulation of Antwerp--Mistakes of Marnix

--Philip on the Religious Question--Triumphal Entrance of Alexander--

Rebuilding of the Citadel--Gratification of Philip--Note on Sainte

Aldegonde

Sainte Aldegonde's position had become a painful one. The net had been

drawn closely about the city. The bridge seemed impregnable, the great

Kowenstyn was irrecoverably in the hands of the enemy, and now all the

lesser forts in the immediate vicinity of Antwerp-Borght, Hoboken,

Cantecroix, Stralen, Berghen, and the rest--had likewise fallen into his

grasp. An account of grain, taken on the 1st of June, gave an average of

a pound a-head for a month long, or half a pound for two months. This was

not the famine-point, according to the standard which had once been

established in Leyden; but the courage of the burghers had been rapidly

oozing away, under the pressure of their recent disappointments. It

seemed obvious to the burgomaster, that the time for yielding had

arrived.

"I had maintained the city," he said, "for a long period, without any

excessive tumult or great effusion of blood--a city where there was such

a multitude of inhabitants, mostly merchants or artisans deprived of all

their traffic, stripped of their manufactures, destitute of all

commodities and means of living. I had done this in the midst of a great

diversity of humours and opinions, a vast popular license, a confused

anarchy, among a great number of commanders, most of them inexperienced

in war; with very little authority of my own, with slender forces of

ships, soldiers, and sailors; with alight appearance of support from king

or prince without, or of military garrison within; and under all these

circumstances I exerted myself to do my uttermost duty in preserving the

city, both in regard to its internal government, and by force of arms by

land and sea, without sparing myself in any labour or peril.

"I know very well that there are many persons, who, finding themselves

quite at their ease, and far away from the hard blows that are passing,

are pleased to exhibit their wisdom by sitting in judgment upon others,

founding their decision only upon the results. But I demand to be judged

by equity and reason, when passion has been set aside. I claim that my

honour shall be protected against my calumniators; for all should

remember that I am not the first man, nor shall I be the last, that has

been blamed unjustly. All persons employed in public affairs are subject

to such hazards, but I submit myself to Him who knows all hearts, and who

governs all. I take Him to witness that in the affair of Antwerp, as in

all my other actions since my earliest youth, I have most sincerely

sought His glory and the welfare of His poor people, without regard to

my own private interests."

For it is not alone the fate of Antwerp that is here to be recorded. The

fame of Sainte Aldegonde was now seriously compromised. The character of

a great man must always be closely scanned and scrutinised; protected, if

needful, against calumny, but always unflinchingly held up to the light.

Names illustrious by genius and virtue are History's most precious

treasures, faithfully to be guarded by her, jealously to be watched; but

it is always a misfortune when her eyes are deceived by a glitter which

is not genuine.

Sainte Aldegonde was a man of unquestionable genius. His character had

ever been beyond the reproach of self-seeking or ignoble ambition. He had

multiplied himself into a thousand forms to serve the cause of the United

Netherland States, and the services so rendered had been brilliant and

frequent. A great change in his conduct and policy was now approaching,

and it is therefore the more necessary to examine closely at this epoch

his attitude and his character.

Early in June, Richardot, president of the council of Artois, addressed a

letter to Sainte Aldegonde, by command of Alexander of Parma, suggesting

a secret interview between the burgomaster and the Prince.

On the 8th of June, Sainte Aldegonde replied, in favourable terms, as to

the interview; but observed, that, as he was an official personage, it

was necessary for him to communicate the project to the magistracy of the

city. He expressed likewise the hope that Parma would embrace the present

opportunity for making a general treaty with all the Provinces. A special

accord with Antwerp, leaving out Holland and Zeeland, would, he said,

lead to the utter desolation of that city, and to the destruction of its

commerce and manufactures, while the occasion now presented itself to the

Prince of "winning praise and immortal glory by bringing back all the

country to a voluntary and prompt obedience to his Majesty." He proposed,

that, instead of his coming alone, there should be a number of deputies

sent from Antwerp to confer with Alexander.

On the 11th June, Richardot replied by expressing, his own regrets and

those of the Prince, that the interview could not have been with the

burgomaster alone, but acknowledging the weight of his reasons, and

acquiescing in the proposition to send a larger deputation. Three days

afterwards, Sainte Aldegonde, on private consultation with some

confidential personages, changed his ground; announced his preference for

a private interview, under four eyes, with Parma; and requested that a

passport might be sent. The passport was accordingly forwarded the same

day, with an expression of Alexander's gratification, and with the offer,

on the part of Richardot, to come himself to Antwerp as hostage during

the absence of the burgomaster in Parma's camp at Beveren.

Sainte Aldegonde was accordingly about to start on the following day

(16th of June), but meantime the affair had got wind. A secret interview,

thus projected, was regarded by the citizens as extremely suspicious.

There was much bitter insinuation against the burgomaster--many violent

demonstrations. "Aldegonde, they say, is going to see Parma," said one of

the burghers, "which gives much dissatisfaction, because, 'tis feared

that he will make a treaty according to the appetite and pleasure of his

Highness, having been gained over to the royal cause by money. He says

that it would be a misfortune to send a large number of burghers. Last

Sunday (16th June) there was a meeting of the broad council. The

preachers came into the assembly and so animated the citizens by

demonstrations of their religion, that all rushed from the council-house,

crying with loud voices that they did not desire peace but war."

This desire was a healthy and a reasonable one; but, unfortunately, the

Antwerpers had not always been so vigorous or so united in their

resistance to Parma. At present, however, they were very furious, so soon

as the secret purpose of Sainte Aldegonde became generally known. The

proposed capitulation, which great mobs had been for weeks long savagely

demanding at the hands of the burgomaster, was now ascribed to the

burgomaster's unblushing corruption. He had obviously, they thought, been

purchased by Spanish ducats to do what he had hitherto been so steadily

refusing. A certain Van Werne had gone from Antwerp into Holland a few

days before upon his own private affairs, with a safe-conduct from Parma.

Sainte Aldegonde had not communicated to him the project then on foot,

but he had permitted him to seek a secret interview with Count Mansfeld.

If that were granted, Van Werne was to hint that in case the Provinces

could promise themselves a religious peace it would be possible, in the

opinion of Sainte Aldegonde, to induce Holland and Zealand and all the

rest of the United Provinces, to return to their obedience. Van Werne, on

his return to Antwerp, divulged these secret negotiations, and so put a

stop to Sainte Aldegonde's scheme of going alone to Parma. "This has

given a bad suspicion to the people," wrote the burgomaster to Richardot,

"so much so that I fear to have trouble. The broad council has been in

session, but I don't know what has taken place there, and I do not dare

to ask."

Sainte Aldegonde's motive, as avowed by himself, for seeking a private

interview, was because he had received no answer to the main point in his

first letter, as to the proposition for a general accord. In order

therefore to make the deliberations more rapid, he had been disposed to

discuss that preliminary question in secret. "But now," said he to

Richardot, "as the affair had been too much divulged, as well by diverse

reports and writings sown about, very inopportunely, as by the arrival of

M. Van Werne, I have not found it practicable to set out upon my road,

without communication with the members of the government. This has been

done, however, not in the way of consultation, but as the announcement of

a thing already resolved upon."

He proceeded to state, that great difficulties had arisen, exactly as he

had foreseen. The magistrates would not hear of a general accord, and it

was therefore necessary that a delay should be interposed before it would

be possible for him to come. He begged Richardot to persuade Alexander,

that he was not trifling with him. "It is not," said he, "from lightness,

or any other passion, that I am retarding this affair. I will do all in

my power to obtain leave to make a journey to the camp of his Highness,

at whatever price it may cost and I hope before long to arrive at my

object. If I fail, it must be ascribed to the humours of the people; for

my anxiety to restore all the Provinces to obedience to his Majesty is

extreme."

Richardot, in reply, the next day, expressed regret, without

astonishment, on the part of Alexander and himself, at the intelligence

thus received. People had such difference of humour, he said, and all men

were not equally capable of reason. Nevertheless the citizens were warned

not to misconstrue Parma's gentleness, because he was determined to die,

with his whole army, rather than not take Antwerp. "As for the King,"

said Richardot, "he will lay down all his crowns sooner than abandon this

enterprise." Van Werne was represented as free from blame, and sincerely

desirous of peace. Richardot had only stated to him, in general terms,

that letters had been received from Sainte Aldegonde, expressing an

opinion in favour of peace. As for the royalists, they were quite

innocent of the reports and writings that had so inopportunely been

circulated in the city. It was desirable, however, that the negotiation

should not too long be deferred, for otherwise Antwerp might perish,

before a general accord with Holland and Zeeland could be made. He begged

Sainte Aldegonde to banish all anxiety as to Parma's sentiments towards

himself or the community. "Put yourself, Sir, quite at your ease," said

he. "His Highness is in no respects dissatisfied with you, nor prone to

conceive any indignation against this poor people." He assured the

burgomaster that he was not suspected of lightness, nor of a wish to

delay matters, but he expressed solicitude with regard to the threatening

demonstrations which had been made against him in Antwerp. "For," said

he, "popular governments are full of a thousand hazards, and it would be

infinitely painful to me, if you should come to harm."

Thus it would appear that it was Sainte Aldegonde who was chiefly anxious

to effect the reconciliation of Holland and Zeeland with the King. The

initiative of this project to include all the United Provinces in one

scheme with the reduction of Antwerp came originally from him, and was

opposed, at the outset, by the magistrates of that city, by the Prince of

Parma and his councillors, and, by the States of Holland and Zeeland. The

demonstrations on the part of the preachers, the municipal authorities,

and the burghers, against Sainte Aldegonde and his plan for a secret

interview, so soon as it was divulged, made it impossible to carry that

project into effect.

"Aldegonde, who governs Antwerp," wrote Parma to Philip, "was

endeavouring, eight days ago, to bring about some kind of negotiation for

an accord. He manifested a desire to come hither for the sake of a

personal interview with me, which I permitted. It was to have taken place

last Sunday, 16th of this month, but by reason of a certain popular

tumult, which arose out of these circumstances, it has been necessary to

defer the meeting."

There was much disappointment felt by the royalist at this unsatisfactory

result. "These bravadoes and impertinent demonstrations on the part of

some of your people," wrote Richardot, ten days later, "will be the

destruction of the whole country, and will convert the Prince's

gentleness into anger. 'Tis these good and zealous patriots, trusting to

a little favourable breeze that blew for a few days past, who have been

the cause of all this disturbance, and who are ruining their miserable

country--miserable, I say, for having produced such abortions as

themselves."

Notwithstanding what had passed, however, Richardot intimated that

Alexander was still ready to negotiate. "And if you, Sir," he concluded,

in his letter to Aldegonde, "concerning whom many of our friends have at

present a sinister opinion, as if your object was to circumvent us, are

willing to proceed roundly and frankly, as I myself firmly believe that

you will do, we may yet hope for a favourable issue."

Thus the burgomaster was already the object of suspicion to both parties.

The Antwerpers denounced him as having been purchased by Spanish gold;

the royalists accused him of intending to overreach the King. It was not

probable therefore that all were correct in their conjectures.

At last it was arranged that deputies should be appointed by the broad

council to commence a negotiation with Parma. Sainte Aldegonde informed

Richardot, that he would (5th July, 1585) accompany them, if his affairs

should permit. He protested his sincerity and frankness throughout the

whole affair. "They try to calumniate me," he said, "as much on one side

as on the other, but I will overcome by my innocence all the malice of my

slanderers. If his Highness should be pleased to grant us some liberty

for our religion, I dare to promise such faithful service as will give

very great satisfaction."

Four days later, Sainte Aldegonde himself, together with M. de Duffel, M.

de Schoonhoven, and Adrian Hesselt, came to Parma's camp at Beveren, as

deputies on the part of the Antwerp authorities. They were courteously

received by the Prince, and remained three days as his guests. During the

period of this visit, the terms of a capitulation were thoroughly

discussed, between Alexander and his councillors upon one part, and the

four deputies on the other. The envoys endeavoured, with all the

arguments at their command, to obtain the consent of the Prince to three

preliminary points which they laid down as indispensable. Religious

liberty must be granted, the citadel must not be reconstructed, a foreign

garrison must not be admitted; they said. As it was the firm intention of

the King, however, not to make the slightest concession on any one of

these points, the discussion was not a very profitable one. Besides the

public interviews at which all the negotiators were present, there was a

private conference between Parma and Sainte Aldegonde which lasted more

than four hours, in which each did his best to enforce his opinions upon

the other. The burgomaster endeavoured to persuade the Prince with all

the eloquence for which he was so renowned, that the hearts not of the

Antwerpers only, but of the Hollanders and Zeelanders, were easily to be

won at that moment. Give them religious liberty, and attempt to govern

them by gentleness rather than by Spanish garrisons, and the road was

plain to a complete reconciliation of all the Provinces with his Majesty.

Alexander, who knew his master to be inexorable upon these three points,

was courteous but peremptory in his statements. He recommended that the

rebels should take into consideration their own declining strength, the

inexhaustible resources of the King, the impossibility of obtaining

succour from France, and the perplexing dilatoriness of England, rather

than waste their time in idle expectations of a change in the Spanish

policy. He also intimated, obliquely but very plainly, to Sainte

Aldegonde, that his own fortune would be made, and that he had everything

to hope from his Majesty's bounty, if he were now willing to make himself

useful in carrying into effect the royal plans.

The Prince urged these views with so much eloquence, that he seemed, in

his own words, to have been directly inspired by the Lord for this

special occasion! Sainte Aldegonde, too, was signally impressed by

Alexander's language, and thoroughly fascinated-magnetized, as it

were--by his character. He subsequently declared, that he had often

conversed familiarly with many eloquent personages, but that he had never

known a man more powerful or persuasive than the Prince of Parma. He

could honestly say of him--as Hasdrubal had said of Scipio--that Farnese

was even more admirable when seen face to face, than he had seemed when

one only heard of his glorious achievements.

"The burgomaster and three deputies," wrote Parma to Philip, "were here

until the 12th July. We discussed (30th July, 1585) the points and form

of a capitulation, and they have gone back thoroughly satisfied. Sainte

Aldegonde especially was much pleased with the long interview which he

had with me, alone, and which lasted more than three hours. I told him,

as well as my weakness and suffering from the tertian fever permitted,

all that God inspired me to say on our behalf."

Nevertheless, if Sainte Aldegonde and his colleagues went away thoroughly

satisfied, they had reason, soon after their return, to become thoroughly

dejected. The magistrates and burghers would not listen to a proposition

to abandon the three points, however strongly urged to do so by arguments

drawn from the necessity of the situation, and by representations of

Parma's benignity. As for the burgomaster, he became the target for

calumny, so soon as his three hours' private interview became known; and

the citizens loudly declared that his head ought to be cut off, and sent

in a bag, as a present, to Philip, in order that the traitor might meet

the sovereign with whom he sought a reconciliation, face to face, as soon

as possible.

The deputies, immediately after their return, made their report to the

magistrates, as likewise to the colonels and captains, and to the deans

of guilds. Next day, although it was Sunday, there was a session of the

broad council, and Sainte Aldegonde made a long address, in which--as he

stated in a letter to Richardot--he related everything that had passed in

his private conversation with Alexander. An answer was promised to Parma

on the following Tuesday, but the burgomaster spoke very discouragingly

as to the probability of an accord.

"The joy with which our return was greeted," he said, "was followed by a

general disappointment and sadness, so soon as the result was known. The

want of a religious toleration, as well as the refusal to concede on the

other two points, has not a little altered the hearts of all, even of the

Catholics. A citadel and a garrison are considered ruin and desolation to

a great commercial city. I have done what I can to urge the acceptance of

such conditions as the Prince is willing to give, and have spoken in

general terms of his benign intentions. The citizens still desire peace.

Had his Highness been willing to take both religions under his

protection, he might have won all hearts, and very soon all the other

Provinces would have returned to their obedience, while the clemency and

magnanimity of his Majesty would thus have been rendered admirable

throughout the world."

The power to form an accurate conception as to the nature of Philip and

of other personages with whom he was dealing, and as to the general signs

of his times, seems to have been wanting in the character of the gifted

Aldegonde. He had been dazzled by the personal presence of Parma, and he

now spoke of Philip II., as if his tyranny over the Netherlands--which

for twenty years had been one horrible and uniform whole--were the

accidental result of circumstances, not the necessary expression of his

individual character, and might be easily changed at will--as if Nero, at

a moment's warning, might transform himself into Trajan. It is true that

the innermost soul of the Spanish king could by no possibility be

displayed to any contemporary, as it reveals itself, after three

centuries, to those who study the record of his most secret thoughts;

but, at any rate, it would seem that his career had been sufficiently

consistent, to manifest the amount of "clemency and magnanimity" which he

might be expected to exercise.

"Had his Majesty," wrote Sainte Aldegonde, "been willing, since the year

sixty-six, to pursue a course of toleration, the memory of his reign

would have been sacred to all posterity, with an immortal praise of

sapience, benignity, and sovereign felicity."

This might be true, but nevertheless a tolerating Philip, in the year

1585, ought to have seemed to Sainte Aldegonde an impossible idea.

"The emperors," continued the burgomaster, "who immediately succeeded

Tiberius were the cause of the wisdom which displayed itself in the good

Trajan--also a Spaniard--and in Antoninus, Verus, and the rest: If you

think that this city, by the banishment of a certain number of persons,

will be content to abandon the profession of the reformed faith, you are

much mistaken. You will see, with time, that the exile of this religion

will be accompanied by a depopulation and a sorrowful ruin and desolation

of this flourishing city. But this will be as it pleases God. Meantime I

shall not fail to make all possible exertions to induce the citizens to

consent to a reconciliation with his Majesty. The broad council will soon

give their answer, and then we shall send a deputation. We shall invite

Holland and Zeeland to join with us, but there is little hope of their

consent."

Certainly there was little hope of their consent. Sainte Aldegonde was

now occupied in bringing about the capitulation of Antwerp, without any

provision for religious liberty--a concession which Parma had most

distinctly refused--and it was not probable that Holland and Zeeland,

after twenty years of hard fighting, and with an immediate prospect of

assistance from England--could now be induced to resign the great object

of the contest without further struggle.

It was not until a month had elapsed that the authorities of Antwerp sent

their propositions to the Prince of Parma. On the 12th August, however,

Sainte Aldegonde, accompanied by the same three gentlemen who had been

employed on the first mission, and by seventeen others besides, proceeded

with safe-conduct to the camp at Beveren. Here they were received with

great urbanity, and hospitably entertained by Alexander, who received

their formal draft of articles for a capitulation, and referred it to be

reported upon to Richardot, Pamel, and Vanden Burgh. Meantime there were

many long speeches and several conferences, sometimes between all the

twenty-one envoys and the Prince together; on other occasions, more

secret ones, at which only Aldegonde and one or two of his colleagues

were present. It had been obvious, from the date of the first interview,

in the preceding month, that the negotiation would be of no avail until

the government of Antwerp was prepared to abandon all the conditions

which they had originally announced as indispensable. Alexander had not

much disposition and no authority whatever to make concessions.

"So far as I can understand," Parma had written on the 30th July, "they

are very far from a conclusion. They have most exorbitant ideas, talking

of some kind of liberty of conscience, besides refusing on any account to

accept of garrisons, and having many reasons to allege on such subjects."

The discussions, therefore, after the deputies had at last arrived,

though courteously conducted, could scarcely be satisfactory to both

parties. "The articles were thoroughly deliberated upon," wrote

Alexander, "by all the deputies, nor did I fail to have private

conferences with Aldegonde, that most skilful and practised lawyer and

politician, as well as with two or three of the others. I did all in my

power to bring them to a thorough recognition of their errors, and to

produce a confidence in his Majesty's clemency, in order that they might

concede what was needful for the interests of the Catholic religion and

the security of the city. They heard all I had to say without

exasperating themselves, and without interposing any strong objections,

except in the matter of religion, and, still more, in the matter of the

citadel and the garrison. Aldegonde took much pains to persuade me that

it would be ruinous for a great, opulent, commercial city to submit to a

foreign military force. Even if compelled by necessity to submit now, the

inhabitants would soon be compelled by the same necessity to abandon the

place entirely, and to leave in ruins one of the most splendid and

powerful cities in the world, and in this opinion Catholics and heretics

unanimously concurred. The deputies protested, with one accord, that so

pernicious and abominable a thing as a citadel and garrison could not

even be proposed to their constituents. I answered, that, so long as the

rebellion of Holland and Zeeland lasted, it would be necessary for your

Majesty to make sure of Antwerp, by one or the other of those means, but

promised that the city should be relieved of the incumbrance so soon as

those islands should be reduced.

"Sainte Aldegonde was not discouraged by this statement, but in the hope

of convincing others, or with the wish of showing that he had tried his

best, desired that I would hear him before the council of state. I

granted the request, and Sainte Aldegonde then made another long and very

elegant oration, intended to divert me from my resolution."

It must be confessed--if the reports, which have come down to us of that

long and elegant oration be correct--that the enthusiasm of the

burgomaster for Alexander was rapidly degenerating into idolatry.

"We are not here, O invincible Prince," he said, "that we may excuse, by

an anxious legation, the long defence which we have made of our homes.

Who could have feared any danger to the most powerful city in the

Netherlands from so moderate a besieging force? You would yourself have

rather wished for, than approved of, a greater facility on our part, for

the brave cannot love the timid. We knew the number of your troops, we

had discovered the famine in your camp, we were aware of the paucity of

your ships, we had heard of the quarrels in your army, we were expecting

daily to hear of a general mutiny among your soldiers. Were we to believe

that with ten or eleven thousand men you would be able to block up the

city by land and water, to reduce the open country of Brabant, to cut off

all aid as well from the neighbouring towns as from the powerful

provinces of Holland and Zeeland, to oppose, without a navy, the whole

strength of our fleets, directed against the dyke? Truly, if you had been

at the head of fifty thousand soldiers, and every soldier had possessed

one hundred hands, it would have seemed impossible for you to meet so

many emergencies in so many places, and under so many distractions. What

you have done we now believe possible to do, only because we see that it

has been done. You have subjugated the Scheldt, and forced it to bear its

bridge, notwithstanding the strength of its current, the fury of the

ocean-tides, the tremendous power of the icebergs, the perpetual

conflicts with our fleets. We destroyed your bridge, with great slaughter

of your troops. Rendered more courageous by that slaughter, you restored

that mighty work. We assaulted the great dyke, pierced it through and

through, and opened a path for our ships. You drove us off when victors,

repaired the ruined bulwark, and again closed to us the avenue of relief.

What machine was there that we did not employ? what miracles of fire did

we not invent? what fleets and floating cidadels did we not put in

motion? All that genius, audacity, and art, could teach us we have

executed, calling to our assistance water, earth, heaven, and hell

itself. Yet with all these efforts, with all this enginry, we have not

only failed to drive you from our walls, but we have seen you gaining

victories over other cities at the same time. You have done a thing, O

Prince, than which there is nothing greater either in ancient or modern

story. It has often occurred, while a general was besieging one city that

he lost another situate farther off. But you, while besieging Antwerp,

have reduced simultaneously Dendermonde, Ghent, Nymegen, Brussels, and

Mechlin."

All this, and much more, with florid rhetoric, the burgomaster pronounced

in honour of Farnese, and the eulogy was entirely deserved. It was hardly

becoming, however, for such lips, at such a moment, to sound the praise

of him whose victory had just decided the downfall of religious liberty,

and of the national independence of the Netherlands. His colleagues

certainly must have winced, as they listened to commendations so lavishly

bestowed upon the representative of Philip, and it is not surprising that

Sainte Aldegonde's growing unpopularity should, from that hour, have

rapidly increased. To abandon the whole object of the siege, when

resistance seemed hopeless, was perhaps pardonable, but to offer such

lip-homage to the conqueror was surely transgressing the bounds of

decorum.

His conclusion, too, might to Alexander seem as insolent as the whole

tenor of his address had been humble; for, after pronouncing this solemn

eulogy upon the conqueror, he calmly proposed that the prize of the

contest should be transferred to the conquered.

"So long as liberty of religion, and immunity from citadel and garrison

can be relied upon," he said, "so long will Antwerp remain the most

splendid and flourishing city in Christendom; but desolation will ensue

if the contrary policy is to prevail."

But it was very certain that liberty of religion, as well as immunity

from citadel and garrison, were quite out of the question. Philip and

Parma had long been inexorably resolved upon all the three points.

"After the burgomaster had finished his oration," wrote Alexander to his

sovereign, "I discussed the matter with him in private, very distinctly

and minutely."

The religious point was soon given up, Sainte Aldegonde finding it waste

of breath to say anything more about freedom of conscience. A suggestion

was however made on the subject of the garrison, which the prince

accepted, because it contained a condition which it would be easy to

evade.

"Aldegonde proposed," said Parma, "that a garrison might be admissible if

I made my entrance into the city merely with infantry and cavalry of

nations which were acceptable--Walloons, namely, and Germans--and in no

greater numbers than sufficient for a body-guard. I accepted, because, in

substance, this would amount to a garrison, and because, also, after the

magistrates shall have been changed, I shall have no difficulty in making

myself master of the people, continuing the garrison, and rebuilding the

citadel."

The Prince proceeded to give his reasons why he was willing to accept the

capitulation on what he considered so favourable terms to the besieged.

Autumn was approaching. Already the fury of the storms had driven vessels

clean over the dykes; the rebels in Holland and Zeeland were preparing

their fleets--augmented by many new ships of war and fire-machines--for

another desperate attack upon the Palisades, in which there was great

possibility of their succeeding; an auxiliary force from England was soon

expected; so that, in view of all these circumstances, he had resolved to

throw himself at his Majesty's feet and implore his clemency. "If this

people of Antwerp, as the head, is gained," said he, "there will be

tranquillity in all the members."

These reasons were certainly conclusive; nor is it easy to believe, that,

under the circumstances thus succinctly stated by Alexander, it would

have been impossible for the patriots to hold out until the promised

succour from Holland and from England should arrive. In point of fact,

the bridge could not have stood the winter which actually ensued; for it

was the repeatedly expressed opinion of the Spanish officers in Antwerp,

that the icebergs which then filled the Scheldt must inevitably have

shattered twenty bridges to fragments, had there been so many. It

certainly was superfluous for the Prince to make excuses to Philip for

accepting the proposed capitulation. All the prizes of victory had been

thoroughly secured, unless pillage, massacre, and rape, which had been

the regular accompaniments of Alva's victories, were to be reckoned among

the indispensable trophies of a Spanish triumph.

Nevertheless, the dearth in the city had been well concealed from the

enemy; for, three days after the surrender, not a loaf of bread was to be

had for any money in all Antwerp, and Alexander declared that he would

never have granted such easy conditions had he been aware of the real

condition of affairs.

The articles of capitulation agreed upon between Parma and the deputies

were brought before the broad council on the 9th August. There was much

opposition to them, as many magistrates and other influential personages

entertained sanguine expectations from the English negotiation, and were

beginning to rely with confidence upon the promises of Queen Elizabeth.

The debate was waxing warm, when some of the councillors, looking out of

window of the great hall, perceived that a violent mob had collected in

the streets. Furious cries for bread were uttered, and some

meagre-looking individuals were thrust forward to indicate the famine

which was prevailing, and the necessity of concluding the treaty without

further delay. Thus the municipal government was perpetually exposed to

democratic violence, excited by diametrically opposite influences.

Sometimes the burgomaster was denounced for having sold himself and his

country to the Spaniards, and was assailed with execrations for being

willing to conclude a sudden and disgraceful peace. At other moments he

was accused of forging letters containing promises of succour from the

Queen of England and from the authorities of Holland, in order to

protract the lingering tortures of the war. Upon this occasion the

peace-mob carried its point. The councillors, looking out of window,

rushed into the hall with direful accounts of the popular ferocity; the

magistrates and colonels who had been warmest in opposition suddenly

changed their tone, and the whole body of the broad council accepted the

articles of capitulation by a unanimous vote.

The window was instantly thrown open, and the decision publicly

announced. The populace, wild with delight, rushed through the streets,

tearing down the arms of the Duke of Anjou, which had remained above the

public edifices since the period of that personage's temporary residence

in the Netherlands, and substituting, with wonderful celerity, the

escutcheon of Philip the Second. Thus suddenly could an Antwerp mob pass

from democratic insolence to intense loyalty.

The articles, on the whole, were as liberal as could have been expected.

The only hope for Antwerp and for a great commonwealth of all the

Netherlands was in holding out, even to the last gasp, until England and

Holland, now united, had time to relieve the city. This was,

unquestionably, possible. Had Antwerp possessed the spirit of Leyden, had

William of Orange been alive, that Spanish escutcheon, now raised with

such indecent haste, might have never been seen again on the outside wall

of any Netherland edifice. Belgium would have become at once a

constituent portion of a great independent national realm, instead of

languishing until our own century, the dependency of a distant and a

foreign metropolis. Nevertheless, as the Antwerpers were not disposed to

make themselves martyrs, it was something that they escaped the nameless

horrors which had often alighted upon cities subjected to an enraged

soldiery. It redounds to the eternal honour of Alexander Farnese--when

the fate of Naarden and Haarlem and Maestricht, in the days of Alva, and

of Antwerp itself in the horrible "Spanish fury," is remembered--that

there were no scenes of violence and outrage in the populous and wealthy

city, which was at length at his mercy after having defied him so long.

Civil and religious liberty were trampled in the dust, commerce and

manufactures were destroyed, the most valuable portion of the citizens

sent into hopeless exile, but the remaining inhabitants were not

butchered in cold blood.

The treaty was signed on the 17th August. Antwerp was to return to its

obedience. There was to be an entire amnesty and oblivion for the past,

without a single exception. Royalist absentees were to be reinstated in

their possessions. Monasteries, churches, and the King's domains were to

be restored to their former proprietors. The inhabitants of the city were

to practise nothing but the Catholic religion. Those who refused to

conform were allowed to remain two years for the purpose of winding up

their affairs and selling out their property, provided that during that

period they lived "without scandal towards the ancient religion"--a very

vague and unsatisfactory condition. All prisoners were to be released

excepting Teligny. Four hundred thousand florins were to be paid by the

authorities as a fine. The patriot garrison was to leave the city with

arms and baggage and all the honours of war.

This capitulation gave more satisfaction to the hungry portion of the

Antwerpers than to the patriot party of the Netherlands. Sainte Aldegonde

was vehemently and unsparingly denounced as a venal traitor. It is

certain, whatever his motives, that his attitude had completely changed.

For it was not Antwerp alone that he had reconciled or was endeavouring

to reconcile with the King of Spain, but Holland and Zeeland as well, and

all the other independent Provinces. The ancient champion of the patriot

army, the earliest signer of the 'Compromise,' the bosom friend of

William the Silent, the author of the 'Wilhelmus' national song, now

avowed his conviction, in a published defence of his conduct against the

calumnious attacks upon it, "that it was impossible, with a clear

conscience, for subjects, under any circumstances, to take up arms

against Philip, their king." Certainly if he had always entertained that

opinion he must have suffered many pangs of remorse during his twenty

years of active and illustrious rebellion. He now made himself secretly

active in promoting the schemes of Parma and in counteracting the

negotiation with England. He flattered himself, with an infatuation which

it is difficult to comprehend, that it would be possible to obtain

religious liberty for the revolting Provinces, although he had consented

to its sacrifice in Antwerp. It is true that he had not the privilege of

reading Philip's secret letters to Parma, but what was there in the

character of the King--what intimation had ever been given by the

Governor-General--to induce a belief in even the possibility of such a

concession?

Whatever Sainte Aldegonde's opinions, it is certain that Philip had no

intention of changing his own policy. He at first suspected the

burgomaster of a wish to protract the negotiations for a perfidious

purpose.

"Necessity has forced Antwerp," he wrote on the 17th of August--the very

day on which the capitulation was actually signed--"to enter into

negotiation. I understand the artifice of Aldegonde in seeking to prolong

and make difficult the whole affair, under pretext of treating for the

reduction of Holland and Zeeland at the same time. It was therefore very

adroit in you to defeat this joint scheme at once, and urge the Antwerp

matter by itself, at the same time not shutting the door on the others.

With the prudence and dexterity with which this business has thus far

been managed I am thoroughly satisfied."

The King also expressed his gratification at hearing from Parma that the

demand for religious liberty in the Netherlands would soon be abandoned.

"In spite of the vehemence," he said, "which they manifest in the

religious matter, desiring some kind of liberty, they will in the end, as

you say they will, content themselves with what the other cities, which

have returned to obedience, have obtained. This must be done in all cases

without flinching, and without permitting any modification."

What "had been obtained" by Brussels, Mechlin, Ghent, was well known. The

heretics had obtained the choice of renouncing their religion or of going

into perpetual exile, and this was to be the case "without flinching" in

Holland and Zeeland, if those provinces chose to return to obedience. Yet

Sainte Aldegonde deluded himself with the thought of a religious peace.

In another and very important letter of the same date Philip laid down

his policy very distinctly. The Prince of Parma, by no means such a bigot

as his master, had hinted at the possibility of tolerating the reformed

religion in the places recovered from the rebels, sub silentio, for a

period not defined, and long enough for the heretics to awake from their

errors.

"You have got an expression of opinion, I see," wrote the King to

Alexander, "of some grave men of wisdom and conscience, that the

limitation of time, during which the heretics may live without scandal,

may be left undefined; but I feel very keenly the danger of such a

proposition. With regard to Holland and Zeeland, or any other provinces

or towns, the first step must be for them to receive and maintain alone

the exercise of the Catholic religion, and to subject themselves to the

Roman church, without tolerating the exercise of any other religion, in

city, village, farm-house, or building thereto destined in the fields, or

in any place whatsoever; and in this regulation there is to be no flaw,

no change, no concession by convention or otherwise of a religious peace,

or anything of the sort. They are all to embrace the Roman Catholic

religion, and the exercise of that is alone to be permitted."

This certainly was distinct enough, and nothing had been ever said in

public to induce a belief in any modification of the principles on which

Philip had uniformly acted. That monarch considered himself born to

suppress heresy, and he had certainly been carrying out this work during

his whole lifetime.

The King was willing, however, as Alexander had intimated in his

negotiations with Antwerp, and previously in the capitulation of

Brussels, Ghent, and other places, that there should be an absence of

investigation into the private chambers of the heretics, during the

period allotted them for choosing between the Papacy and exile.

"It may be permitted," said Philip, "to abstain from inquiring as to what

the heretics are doing within their own doors, in a private way, without

scandal, or any public exhibition of their rites during a fixed time. But

this connivance, and the abstaining from executing the heretics, or from

chastising them, even although they may be living very circumspectly, is

to be expressed in very vague terms."

Being most anxious to provide against a second crop of heretics to

succeed the first, which he was determined to uproot, he took pains to

enjoin with his own hand upon Parma the necessity of putting in Catholic

schoolmasters and mistresses to the exclusion of reformed teachers into

all the seminaries of the recovered Provinces, in order that all the boys

and girls might grow up in thorough orthodoxy.

Yet this was the man from whom Sainte Aldegonde imagined the possibility

of obtaining a religious peace.

Ten days after the capitulation, Parma made his triumphal entrance into

Antwerp; but, according to his agreement, he spared the citizens the

presence of the Spanish and Italian soldiers, the military procession

being composed of the Germans and Walloons. Escorted by his body-guard,

and surrounded by a knot of magnates and veterans, among whom the Duke of

Arschot, the Prince of Chimay, the Counts Mansfeld, Egmont, and Aremberg,

were conspicuous, Alexander proceeded towards the captured city. He was

met at the Keyser Gate by a triumphal chariot of gorgeous workmanship, in

which sat the fair nymph Antwerpia, magnificently bedizened, and

accompanied by a group of beautiful maidens. Antwerpia welcomed the

conqueror with a kiss, recited a poem in his honour, and bestowed upon

him the keys of the city, one of which was in gold. This the Prince

immediately fastened to the chain around his neck, from which was

suspended the lamb of the golden fleece, with which order he had just

been, amid great pomp and ceremony, invested.

On the public square called the Mere, the Genoese merchants had erected

two rostral columns, each surmounted by a colossal image, representing

respectively Alexander of Macedon and Alexander of Parma. Before the

house of Portugal was an enormous phoenix, expanding her wings quite

across the street; while, in other parts of the town, the procession was

met by ships of war, elephants, dromedaries, whales, dragons, and other

triumphal phenomena. In the market-place were seven statues in copper,

personifying the seven planets, together with an eighth representing

Bacchus; and perhaps there were good mythological reasons why the god of

wine, together with so large a portion of our solar system, should be

done in copper by Jacob Jongeling, to honour the triumph of Alexander,

although the key to the enigma has been lost.

The cathedral had been thoroughly fumigated with frankincense, and

besprinkled with holy water, to purify the sacred precincts from their

recent pollution by the reformed rites; and the Protestant pulpits which

had been placed there, had been soundly beaten with rods, and then burned

to ashes. The procession entered within its walls, where a magnificent Te

Deum was performed, and then, after much cannon-firing, bell-ringing,

torch-light exhibition, and other pyrotechnics, the Prince made his way

at last to the palace provided for him. The glittering display, by which

the royalists celebrated their triumph, lasted three days' long, the city

being thronged from all the country round with eager and frivolous

spectators, who were never wearied with examining the wonders of the

bridge and the forts, and with gazing at the tragic memorials which still

remained of the fight on the Kowenstyn.

During this interval, the Spanish and Italian soldiery, not willing to be

outdone in demonstrations of respect to their chief, nor defrauded of

their rightful claim to a holiday amused themselves with preparing a

demonstration of a novel character. The bridge, which, as it was well

known, was to be destroyed within a very few days, was adorned with

triumphal arches, and decked with trees and flowering plants; its roadway

was strewed with branches; and the palisades, parapets, and forts, were

garnished with wreaths, emblems, and poetical inscriptions in honour of

the Prince. The soldiers themselves, attired in verdurous garments of

foliage and flower-work, their swart faces adorned with roses and lilies,

paraded the bridge and the dyke in fantastic procession with clash of

cymbal and flourish of trumpet, dancing, singing, and discharging their

carbines, in all the delirium of triumph. Nor was a suitable termination

to the festival wanting, for Alexander, pleased with the genial character

of these demonstrations, repaired himself to the bridge, where he was

received with shouts of rapture by his army, thus whimsically converted

into a horde of fauns and satyrs. Afterwards, a magnificent banquet was

served to the soldiers upon the bridge. The whole extent of its surface,

from the Flemish to the Brabant shore--the scene so lately of deadly

combat, and of the midnight havoc caused by infernal enginery--was

changed, as if by the stroke of a wand, into a picture of sylvan and

Arcadian merry-making, and spread with tables laden with delicate viands.

Here sat that host of war--bronzed figures, banqueting at their ease,

their heads crowned with flowers, while the highest magnates of the army,

humouring them in their masquerade, served them with dainties, and filled

their goblets with wine.