History of the United Netherlands, 1586a | Page 6

and
Norris would have crossed the river and entered Grave, when the
Spanish companies of Bobadil and other commanders were seen
marching along the quaking bridge.
Three thousand men on each side now met at push of pike on the bank
of the Meuse. The rain-was pouring in torrents, the wind was blowing a
gale, the stream was rapidly rising, and threatening to overwhelm its
shores. By a tacit and mutual consent, both armies paused for a few
moments in full view of each other. After this brief interval they closed
again, breast to breast, in sharp and steady conflict. The ground,
slippery with rain and with blood, which was soon flowing almost as
fast as the rain, afforded an unsteady footing to the combatants. They
staggered like drunken men, fell upon their knees, or upon their backs,
and still, kneeling or rolling prostrate, maintained the deadly conflict.
For the space of an hour and a half the fierce encounter of human

passion outmastered the fury of the elements. Norris and Hohenlo
fought at the head of their columns, like paladins of old. The
Englishman was wounded in the mouth and breast, the Count was seen
to gallop past one thousand musketeers and caliver-men of the enemy,
and to escape unscathed. But as the strength of the soldiers exhausted
itself, the violence of the tempest increased. The floods of rain and the
blasts of the hurricane at last terminated the affray. The Spaniards,
fairly conquered, were compelled to a retreat, lest the rapidly rising
river should sweep away the frail and trembling bridge, over which
they had passed to their unsuccessful assault. The English and
Netherlanders remained masters of the field. The rising flood, too,
which was fast converting the meadows into a lake, was as useful to the
conquerors as it was damaging to the Spaniards.
In the course of the few following days, a large number of boats was
despatched before the very eyes of Parma, from Batenburg into Grave;
Hohenlo, who had "most desperately adventured his person"
throughout the whole affair, entering the town himself.
A force of five hundred men, together with provisions enough to last a
year, was thrown into the city, and the course of the Meuse was,
apparently, secured to the republic. In this important action about one
hundred and fifty Dutch and English were killed, and probably four
hundred Spaniards, including several distinguished officers.
The Earl of Leicester was incredibly elated so soon as the success of
this enterprise was known. "Oh that her Majesty knew," he cried, "how
easy a match now she hath with the King of Spain, and what millions
of aficted people she hath relieved in these, countries. This summer,
this summer, I say, would make an end to her immortal glory." He was
no friend to his countryman, the gallant Sir John Norris--whom,
however, he could not help applauding on this occasion,--but he was in
raptures with Hohenlo. Next to God, he assured the Queen's
government that the victory was owing to the Count. "He is both a
valiant man and a wise man, and the painfullest that ever I knew," he
said; adding--as a secret--that "five hundred Englishmen of the best
Flemish training had flatly and shamefully run away," when the fight
had been renewed by Hohenlo and Norris. He recommended that her
Majesty should, send her picture to the Count, worth two hundred
pounds, which he would value at more than one thousand pounds in

money, and he added that "for her sake the Count had greatly left his
drinking."
As for the Prince of Parma, Leicester looked upon him as conclusively
beaten. He spoke of him as "marvellously appalled" by this overthrow
of his forces; but he assured the government that if the Prince's "choler
should press him to seek revenge," he should soon be driven out of the
country. The Earl would follow him "at an inch," and effectually
frustrate all his undertakings. "If the Spaniard have such a May as he
has had an April," said Lord North, "it will put water in his wine."
Meantime, as St. George's Day was approaching, and as the Earl was
fond of banquets and ceremonies, it was thought desirable to hold a
great triumphal feast at Utrecht. His journey to that city from the Hague
was a triumphal procession. In all the towns through which he passed
he was entertained with military display, pompous harangues,
interludes, dumb shows, and allegories. At Amsterdam--a city which he
compared to Venice for situation and splendour, and where one
thousand ships were constantly lying--he was received with "sundry
great whales and other fishes of hugeness," that gambolled about his
vessel, and convoyed him to the shore. These monsters of the deep
presented him to the burgomaster and magistrates who were awaiting