History of The Reign of Philip The Second King of Spain History of the Reign of Philip the Second, King of Spain Part 11

Eleven practicable breaches had been opened, and St. Remy a.s.sured the admiral that he could not engage to hold out four-and-twenty hours longer.[221]

[Sidenote: STORMING OF ST. QUENTIN.]

The duke of Savoy also saw that the time had come to bring the siege to a close by a general a.s.sault. The twenty-seventh of August was the day a.s.signed for it. On that preceding he fired three mines, which shook down some fragments of the wall, but did less execution than was expected. On the morning of the twenty-seventh, his whole force was under arms. The duke divided it into as many corps as there were breaches, placing these corps under his best and bravest officers. He proposed to direct the a.s.sault in person.

Coligni made his preparations also with consummate coolness. He posted a body of troops at each of the breaches, while he and his brother Dandelot took charge of the two which, still more exposed than the others, might be considered as the post of danger. He had the satisfaction to find, in this hour of trial, that the men, as well as their officers, seemed to be animated with his own heroic spirit.

Before proceeding to storm the place, the duke of Savoy opened a brisk cannonade, in order to clear away the barricades of timber, and other temporary defences, which had been thrown across the breaches. The fire continued for several hours, and it was not till afternoon that the signal was given for the a.s.sault. The troops rushed forward,--Spaniards, Flemings, English, and Germans,--spurred on by feelings of national rivalry. A body of eight thousand brave Englishmen had joined the standard of Philip in the early part of the campaign;[222] and they now eagerly coveted the opportunity for distinction which had been denied them at the battle of St. Quentin, where the fortune of the day was chiefly decided by cavalry. But no troops felt so keen a spur to their achievements as the Spaniards, fighting as they were under the eye of their sovereign, who from a neighboring eminence was spectator of the combat.

The obstacles were not formidable in the path of the a.s.sailants, who soon clambered over the fragments of masonry and other rubbish which lay scattered below the ramparts, and, in the face of a steady fire of musketry, presented themselves before the breaches. The brave men stationed to defend them were in sufficient strength to occupy the open s.p.a.ces; their elevated position gave them some advantage over the a.s.sailants, and they stood to their posts with the resolution of men prepared to die rather than surrender. A fierce conflict now ensued along the whole extent of the ramparts; and the French, sustained by a dauntless spirit, bore themselves as stoutly in the fight as if they had been in training for it of late, instead of being enfeebled by scanty subsistence and excessive toil. After a severe struggle, which lasted nearly an hour, the Spaniards were driven back at all points. Not a breach was won; and, broken and dispirited, the a.s.sailants were compelled to retire on their former position.

After this mortifying repulse, the duke did not give them a long time to breathe, before he again renewed the a.s.sault. This time he directed the main attack against a tower where the resistance had been weakest. In fact, Coligni had there placed the troops on whom he had least reliance, trusting to the greater strength of the works. But a strong heart is worth all the defences in the world. After a sharp but short struggle, the a.s.sailants succeeded in carrying the tower. The faint-hearted troops gave way; and the Spaniards, throwing themselves on the rampart, remained masters of one of the breaches. A footing once gained, the a.s.sailants poured impetuously into the opening, Spaniards, Germans, and English streaming like a torrent along the ramparts, and attacking the defenders on their flank. Coligni, meanwhile, and his brother Dandelot, had rushed, with a few followers, to the spot, in the hope, if possible, to arrest the impending ruin. But they were badly supported. Overwhelmed by numbers, they were trodden down, disarmed, and made prisoners. Still the garrison, at the remaining breaches, continued to make a desperate stand. But, with one corps pressing them on flank, and another in front, they were speedily cut to pieces, or disabled and taken. In half an hour resistance had ceased along the ramparts. The town was in possession of the Spaniards.[223]

A scene of riot and wild uproar followed, such as made the late conflict seem tame in comparison. The victorious troops spread over the town in quest of plunder, perpetrating those deeds of ruthless violence, usual, even in this enlightened age, in a city taken by storm. The wretched inhabitants fled before them; the old and the helpless, the women and children, taking refuge in garrets, cellars, and any other corner where they could hide themselves from their pursuers. Nothing was to be heard but the groans of the wounded and the dying, the cries of women and children,--"so pitiful," says one present, "that they would grieve any Christian heart,"[224]--mingled, with the shouts of the victors, who, intoxicated with liquor, and loaded with booty, now madly set fire to several of the buildings, which soon added the dangers of conflagration to the other horrors of the scene. In a short time, the town would have been reduced to ashes, and the place which Philip had won at so much cost would have been lost to him by the excesses of his own soldiers.

The king had now entered the city in person. He had never been present at the storming of a place, and the dreadful spectacle which he witnessed touched his heart. Measures were instantly taken to extinguish the flames, and orders were issued that no one, under pain of death, should offer any violence to the old and infirm, to the women and children, to the ministers of religion, to religious edifices, or, above all, to the relics of the blessed St. Quentin. Several hundred of the poor people, it is said, presented themselves before Philip, and claimed his protection. By his command they were conducted, under a strong escort, to a place of safety.[225]

It was not possible, however, to prevent the pillage of the town. It would have been as easy to s.n.a.t.c.h the carca.s.s from the tiger that was rending it. The pillage of a place taken by storm was regarded as the perquisite of the soldier, on which he counted as regularly as on his pay. Those who distinguished themselves most, in this ruthless work, were the German mercenaries. Their brutal rapacity filled even their confederates with indignation. The latter seem to have been particularly disgusted with the unscrupulous manner in which the _schwarzreiters_ appropriated not only their own share of the plunder, but that of both English and Spaniards.[226]

[Sidenote: SUCCESSES OF THE SPANIARDS.]

Thus fell the ancient town of St. Quentin, after a defence which reflects equal honor on the courage of the garrison, and on the conduct of their commander. With its fortifications wretchedly out of repair, its supplies of arms altogether inadequate, the number of its garrison at no time exceeding a thousand, it still held out for near a month against a powerful army, fighting under the eyes of its sovereign, and led by one of the best captains of Europe.[227]

Philip, having taken measures to restore the fortifications of St.

Quentin, placed it under the protection of a Spanish garrison, and marched against the neighboring town of Catelet. It was a strong place, but its defenders, unlike their valiant countrymen at St. Quentin, after a brief show of resistance, capitulated on the sixth of September. This was followed by the surrender of Ham, once renowned through Picardy for the strength of its defences. Philip then led his victorious battalions against Noyon and Chaulny, which last town was sacked by the soldiers.

The French were filled with consternation, as one strong place after another, on the frontier, fell into the hands of an enemy who seemed as if he were planting his foot permanently on their soil. That Philip did not profit by his success to push his conquests still further, is to be attributed not to remissness on his part, but to the conduct, or rather the composition, of his army, made up, as it was, of troops, who, selling their swords to the highest bidder, cared little for the banner under which they fought. Drawn from different countries, the soldiers, gathered into one camp, soon showed all their national rivalries and animosities. The English quarrelled with the Germans, and neither could brook the insolent bearing of the Spaniards. The Germans complained that their arrears were not paid,--a complaint probably well founded, as, notwithstanding his large resources, Philip, on an emergency, found the difficulty in raising funds, which every prince in that day felt, when there was no such thing known as a well-arranged system of taxation.

Tempted by the superior offers of Henry the Second, the _schwarzreiters_ left the standard of Philip in great numbers, to join that of his rival.

The English were equally discontented. They had brought from home the aversion for the Spaniards which had been festering there since the queen's marriage. The st.u.r.dy islanders were not at all pleased with serving under Philip. They were fighting, not the battles of England, they said, but of Spain. Every new conquest was adding to the power of a monarch far too powerful already. They had done enough, and insisted on being allowed to return to their own country. The king, who dreaded nothing so much as a rupture between his English and his Spanish subjects, to which he saw the state of things rapidly tending, was fain to consent.

By this departure of the English force, and the secession of the Germans, Philip's strength was so much impaired, that he was in no condition to make conquests, hardly to keep the field. The season was now far advanced, for it was the end of October. Having, therefore, garrisoned the conquered places, and put them in the best posture of defence, he removed his camp to Brussels, and soon after put his army into winter-quarters.[228]

Thus ended the first campaign of Philip the Second; the first, and, with the exception of the following, the only campaign in which he was personally present. It had been eminently successful. Besides the important places which he had gained on the frontier of Picardy, he had won a signal victory in the field.

But the campaign was not so memorable for military results as in a moral view. It showed the nations of Europe that the Spanish sceptre had pa.s.sed into the hands of a prince who was as watchful as his predecessor had been over the interests of the state; and who, if he were not so actively ambitious as Charles the Fifth, would be as little likely to brook any insult from his neighbors. The victory of St. Quentin, occurring at the commencement of his reign, reminded men of the victory won at Pavia by his father, at a similar period of his career, and, like that, furnished a brilliant augury for the future. Philip, little given to any visible expression of his feelings, testified his joy at the success of his arms, by afterwards raising the magnificent pile of the Escorial, in honor of the blessed martyr St. Lawrence, on whose day the battle was fought, and to whose interposition with Heaven he attributed the victory.

CHAPTER VIII.

WAR WITH FRANCE.

Extraordinary Efforts of France.--Calais surprised by Guise.--The French invade Flanders.--b.l.o.o.d.y Battle of Gravelines.--Negotiations for Peace.--Mary's Death.--Accession of Elizabeth.--Treaty of Cateau-Cambresis.

1557-1559.

The state of affairs in France justified Philip's conclusions in respect to the loyalty of the people. No sooner did Henry the Second receive tidings of the fatal battle of St. Quentin, than he despatched couriers in all directions, summoning his chivalry to gather round his banner, and calling on the towns for aid in his extremity. The n.o.bles and cavaliers promptly responded to the call, flocking in with their retainers; and not only the large towns, but those of inferior size, cheerfully submitted to be heavily taxed for the public service. Paris n.o.bly set the example. She did not exhaust her zeal in processions of the clergy, headed by the queen and the royal family, carrying with them relics from the different churches. All the citizens capable of bearing arms enrolled themselves for the defence of the capital; and large appropriations were made for strengthening Montmartre, and for defraying the expenses of the war.[229]

[Sidenote: CALAIS SURPRISED BY GUISE.]

With these and other resources at his command, Henry was speedily enabled to subsidize a large body of Swiss and German mercenaries. The native troops serving abroad were ordered home. The veteran Marshal Termes came, with a large corps, from Tuscany, and the duke of Guise returned, with the remnant of his battalions, from Rome. This popular commander was welcomed with enthusiasm. The nation seemed to look to him as to the deliverer of the country. His late campaign in the kingdom of Naples was celebrated as if it had been a brilliant career of victory.

He was made lieutenant-general of the army, and the oldest captains were proud to take service under so renowned a chief.

The government was not slow to profit by the extraordinary resources thus placed at its disposal. Though in the depth of winter, it was resolved to undertake some enterprise that should retrieve the disasters of the late campaign, and raise the drooping spirits of the nation. The object proposed was the recovery of Calais, that strong place, which for more than two centuries had remained in possession of the English.

The French had ever been keenly sensible to the indignity of an enemy thus planting his foot immovably, as it were, on their soil. They had looked to the recovery of Calais with the same feelings with which the Spanish Moslems, when driven into Africa, looked to the recovery of their ancient possessions in Granada. They showed how constantly this was in their thoughts, by a common saying respecting any commander whom they held lightly, that he was "not a man to drive the English out of France."[230] The feelings they entertained, however, were rather those of desire than of expectation. The place was so strong, so well garrisoned, and so accessible to the English, that it seemed impregnable. These same circ.u.mstances, and the long possession of the place, had inspired the English, on the other hand, with no less confidence, as was pretty well intimated by an inscription on the bronze gates of the town,--"When the French besiege Calais, lead and iron will swim like cork."[231] This confidence, as it often happens, proved their ruin.

The bishop of Acqs, the French envoy to England, on returning home, a short time before this, had pa.s.sed through Calais, and gave a strange report of the decay of the works, and the small number of the garrison, in short, of the defenceless condition of the place. Guise, however, as cautious as he was brave, was unwilling to undertake so hazardous an enterprise without more precise information. When satisfied of the fact, he entered on the project with his characteristic ardor. The plan adopted was said to have been originally suggested by Coligni. In order to deceive the enemy, the duke sent the largest division of the army, under Nevers, in the direction of Luxemburg. He then marched with the remainder into Picardy, as if to menace one of the places conquered by the Spaniards. Soon afterwards the two corps united, and Guise, at the head of his whole force, by a rapid march, presented himself before the walls of Calais.

The town was defended by a strong citadel, and by two forts. One of these, commanding the approach by water, the duke stormed and captured on the second of January, 1558. The other, which overlooked the land, he carried on the following day. Possessed of these two forts, he felt secure from any annoyance by the enemy, either by land or by water. He then turned his powerful battering-train against the citadel, keeping up a furious cannonade by day and by night. On the fifth, as soon as a breach was opened, the victorious troops poured in, and, overpowering the garrison, planted the French colors on the walls. The earl of Wentworth, who commanded in Calais, unable, with his scanty garrison, to maintain the place now that the defences were in the hands of the enemy, capitulated on the eighth. The fall of Calais was succeeded by that of Guisnes and of Hames. Thus, in a few days the English were stripped of every rood of the territory which they had held in France since the time of Edward the Third.

The fall of Calais caused the deepest sensation on both sides of the Channel. The English, astounded by the event, loudly inveighed against the treachery of the commander. They should rather have blamed the treachery of their own government, who had so grossly neglected to provide for the defence of the place. Philip, suspecting the designs of the French, had intimated his suspicions to the English government, and had offered to strengthen the garrison by a reinforcement of his own troops. But his allies, perhaps distrusting his motives, despised his counsel, or at least failed to profit by it.[232] After the place was taken, he made another offer to send a strong force to recover it, provided the English would support him with a sufficient fleet. This also, perhaps from the same feeling of distrust, though on the plea of inability to meet the expense, was declined, and the opportunity for the recovery of Calais was lost for ever.[233]

Yet, in truth, it was no great loss to the nation. Like more than one, probably, of the colonial possessions of England at the present day, Calais cost every year more than it was worth. Its chief value was the facility it afforded for the invasion of France. Yet such a facility for war with their neighbors, always too popular with the English before the time of Philip the Second, was of questionable value. The real injury from the loss of Calais was the wound which it inflicted on the national honor.

The exultation of the French was boundless. It could not well have been greater, if the duke of Guise had crossed the Channel and taken London itself. The brilliant and rapid manner in which the exploit had been performed, the gallantry with which the young general had exposed his own person in the a.s.sault, the generosity with which he had divided his share of the booty among the soldiers, all struck the lively imagination of the French; and he became more than ever the idol of the people.

Yet, during the remainder of the campaign, his arms were not crowned with such distinguished success. In May he marched against the strong town of Thionville, in Luxemburg. After a siege of twenty days, the place surrendered. Having taken one or two other towns of less importance, the French army wasted nearly three weeks in a state of inaction, unless, indeed, we take into account the activity caused by intestine troubles of the army itself. It is difficult to criticize fairly the conduct of a commander of that age, when his levies were made up so largely of foreign mercenaries, who felt so little attachment to the service in which they were engaged, that they were ready to quarrel with it on the slightest occasion. Among these the German _schwarzreiters_ were the most conspicuous, manifesting too often a degree of insolence and insubordination that made them hardly less dangerous as friends than as enemies. The importance they attached to their own services made them exorbitant in their demands of pay. When this, as was too frequently the case, was in arrears, they took the matter into their own hands, by pillaging the friendly country in which they were quartered, or by breaking out into open mutiny. A German baron, on one occasion, went so far as to level his pistol at the head of the duke of Guise. So widely did this mutinous spirit extend, that it was only by singular coolness and address that this popular chieftain could bring these adventurers into anything like subjection to his authority. As it was, the loss of time caused by these troubles was attended with most disastrous consequences.

[Sidenote: THE FRENCH INVADE FLANDERS.]

The duke had left Calais garrisoned by a strong force, under Marshal Termes. He had since ordered that veteran to take command of a body of fifteen hundred horse and five thousand foot, drawn partly from the garrison itself, and to march into West Flanders. Guise proposed to join him there with his own troops, when they would furnish such occupation to the Spaniards as would effectually prevent them from a second invasion of Picardy.

The plan was well designed, and the marshal faithfully executed his part of it. Taking the road by St. Omer, he entered Flanders in the neighborhood of Dunkirk, laid siege to that flouris.h.i.+ng town, stormed and gave it up to pillage. He then penetrated as far as Nieuport, when the fatigue and the great heat of the weather brought on an attack of gout, which entirely disabled him. The officer on whom the command devolved allowed the men to spread themselves over the country, where they perpetrated such acts of rapacity and violence as were not sanctioned even by the code of that unscrupulous age. The wretched inhabitants, driven from their homes, called loudly on Count Egmont, their governor, to protect them. The duke of Savoy lay with his army, at this time, at Maubeuge, in the province of Namur; but he sent orders to Egmont to muster such forces as he could raise in the neighboring country, and to intercept the retreat of the French, until the duke could come to his support and chastise the enemy.

Egmont, indignant at the wrongs of his countrymen, and burning with the desire of revenge, showed the greatest alacrity in obeying these orders.

Volunteers came in from all sides, and he soon found himself at the head of an army consisting of ten or twelve thousand foot and two thousand horse. With these he crossed the borders at once, and sent forward a detachment to occupy the great road by which De Termes had penetrated into Flanders.

The French commander, advised too late of these movements, saw that it was necessary to abandon at once his present quarters, and secure, if possible, his retreat. Guise was at a distance, occupied with the troubles of his own camp. The Flemings had possession of the route by which the marshal had entered the country. One other lay open to him along the sea-sh.o.r.e, in the neighborhood of Gravelines, where the Aa pours its waters into the ocean. By taking advantage of the ebb, the river might be forded, and a direct road to Calais would be presented.

Termes saw that no time was to be lost. He caused himself to be removed from his sick-bed to a litter, and began his retreat at once. On leaving Dunkirk, he fired the town, where the houses were all that remained to the wretched inhabitants of their property. His march was impeded by his artillery, by his baggage, and especially by the booty which he was conveying back from the plundered provinces. He however succeeded in crossing the Aa at low water, and gained the sands on the opposite side.

But the enemy was there before him.[234]

Egmont, on getting tidings of the marshal's movements, had crossed the river higher up, where the stream was narrower. Disenc.u.mbering himself of artillery, and even of baggage, in order to move the lighter, he made a rapid march to the sea-side, and reached it in time to intercept the enemy. There was no choice left for Termes but to fight his way through the Spaniards or surrender.

Ill as he was, the marshal mounted his horse, and addressed a few words to his troops. Pointing in the direction of the blazing ruins of Dunkirk, he told them that they could not return there. Then turning towards Calais, "There is your home," he said, "and you must beat the enemy before you can gain it." He determined, however, not to begin the action, but to secure his position as strongly as he could, and wait the a.s.sault of the Spaniards.

He placed his infantry in the centre, and flanked it on either side by his cavalry. In the front he established his artillery, consisting of six or seven falconets,--field-pieces of smaller size. He threw a considerable body of Gascon pikemen in the rear, to act as a reserve wherever their presence should be required. The river Aa, which flowed behind his troops, formed also a good protection in that quarter. His left wing he covered by a barricade made of the baggage and artillery wagons. His right, which rested on the ocean, seemed secure from any annoyance on that side.

Count Egmont, seeing the French thus preparing to give battle, quickly made his own dispositions. He formed his cavalry into three divisions.

The centre he proposed to lead in person. It was made up chiefly of the heavy men-at-arms and some Flemish horse. On the right he placed his light cavalry, and on the left wing rode the Spanish. His infantry he drew up in such a manner as to support the several divisions of horse.

Having completed his arrangements, he gave orders to the centre and the right wing to charge, and rode at full gallop against the enemy.

Though somewhat annoyed by the heavy guns in their advance, the battalions came on in good order, and fell with such fury on the French left and centre, that horse and foot were borne down by the violence of the shock. But the French gentlemen who formed the cavalry were of the same high mettle as those who fought at St. Quentin. Though borne down for a moment, they were not overpowered; and, after a desperate struggle, they succeeded in rallying and in driving back the a.s.sailants.

Egmont returned to the charge, but was forced back with greater loss than before. The French, following up their advantage, compelled the a.s.sailants to retreat on their own lines. The guns, at the same time, opening on the exposed flank of the retreating troopers, did them considerable mischief. Egmont's horse was killed under him, and he had nearly been run over by his own followers. In the mean while, the Gascon reserve, armed with their long spears, pushed on to the support of the cavalry, and filled the air with their shouts of "Victory!"[235]

The field seemed to be already lost; when the left wing of Spanish horse, which had not yet come into action, seeing the disorderly state of the French, as they were pressing on, charged them briskly on the flank. This had the effect to check the tide of pursuit, and give the fugitives time to rally. Egmont, meanwhile, was mounted on a fresh horse, and, throwing himself into the midst of his followers, endeavored to reanimate their courage and reform their disordered ranks. Then, cheering them on by his voice and example, he cried out, "We are conquerors! Those who love glory and their fatherland, follow me!"[236]