History of the United Netherlands, 1590b | Page 6

the Navarrese prince
without any assistance from them.
A cannon-shot away, the grim puritan nobles who had come forth from
their mountain fastnesses to do battle for king and law and for the
rights of conscience against the Holy League--men seasoned in a
hundred battle- fields, clad all in iron, with no dainty ornaments nor

holiday luxury of warfare--knelt on the ground, smiting their mailed
breasts with iron hands, invoking blessings on themselves and curses
and confusion on their enemies in the coming conflict, and chanting a
stern psalm of homage to the God of battles and of wrath. And Henry
of France and Navarre, descendant of Lewis the Holy and of Hugh the
Great, beloved chief of the Calvinist cavaliers, knelt among his heretic
brethren, and prayed and chanted with them. But not the staunchest
Huguenot of them all, not Duplessis, nor D'Aubigne, nor De la Noue
with the iron arm, was more devoted on that day to crown and country
than were such papist supporters of the rightful heir as had sworn to
conquer the insolent foreigner on the soil of France or die.
When this brief prelude was over, Henry made an address to his
soldiers, but its language has not been preserved. It is known, however,
that he wore that day his famous snow-white plume, and that he
ordered his soldiers, should his banner go down in the conflict, to
follow wherever and as long as that plume should be seen waving on
any part of the field. He had taken a position by which his troops had
the sun and wind in their backs, so that the smoke rolled toward the
enemy and the light shone in their eyes. The combat began with the
play of artillery, which soon became so warm that Egmont, whose
cavalry--suffering and galled--soon became impatient, ordered a charge.
It was a most brilliant one. The heavy troopers of Flanders and
Hainault, following their spirited chieftain, dashed upon old Marshal
Biron, routing his cavalry, charging clean up to the Huguenot guns and
sabring the cannoneers. The shock was square, solid, irresistible, and
was followed up by the German riders under Eric of Brunswick, who
charged upon the battalia of the royal army, where the king
commanded in person.
There was a panic. The whole royal cavalry wavered, the supporting
infantry recoiled, the day seemed lost before the battle was well begun.
Yells of "Victory! Victory! up with the Holy League, down with the
heretic Bearnese," resounded through the Catholic squadrons. The king
and Marshal Biron, who were near each other, were furious with rage,
but already doubtful of the result. They exerted themselves to rally the
troops under their immediate command, and to reform the shattered
ranks.
The German riders and French lancers under Brunswick and

Bassompierre had, however, not done their work as thoroughly as
Egmont had done. The ground was so miry and soft that in the brief
space which separated the hostile lines they had not power to urge their
horses to full speed. Throwing away their useless lances, they came on
at a feeble canter, sword in hand, and were unable to make a very
vigorous impression on the more heavily armed troopers opposed to
them. Meeting with a firm resistance to their career, they wheeled,
faltered a little and fell a short distance back. Many of the riders being
of the reformed religion, refused moreover to fire upon the Huguenots,
and discharged their carbines in the air.
The king, whose glance on the battle-field was like inspiration, saw the
blot and charged upon them in person with his whole battalia of cavalry.
The veteran Biron followed hard upon the snow-white plume. The
scene was changed, victory succeeded to impending defeat, and the
enemy was routed. The riders and cuirassiers, broken into a struggling
heap of confusion, strewed the ground with their dead bodies, or carried
dismay into the ranks of the infantry as they strove to escape.
Brunswick went down in the melee, mortally wounded as it was
believed. Egmont renewing the charge at the head of his victorious
Belgian troopers, fell dead with a musket-ball through his heart. The
shattered German and Walloon cavalry, now pricked forward by the
lances of their companions, under the passionate commands of
Mayenne and Aumale, now fading back before the furious charges of
the Huguenots, were completely overthrown and cut to pieces.
Seven times did Henry of Navarre in person lead his troopers to the
charge; but suddenly, in the midst of the din of battle and the cheers of
victory, a message of despair went from lip to lip throughout the royal
lines. The king had disappeared. He was killed, and the hopes of
Protestantism and of France were fallen for ever with him. The white
standard of his battalia