History of the United Netherlands, 1605-07 | Page 3

through the drowned land of Cadzand, with the promised
support of a body of infantry under Frederic Van den Berg, from
Damm, had stolen noiselessly by the forts of that island unchallenged
and unseen, had effected with petards a small breach through the
western gate of the city, and with a large number of his followers,
creeping two and two through the gap, had found himself for a time
master of Sluys.
The profound silence of the place had however somewhat discouraged
the intruders. The whole population were as sound asleep as was the
excellent commandant, but the stillness in the deserted streets
suggested an ambush, and they moved stealthily forward, feeling their
way with caution towards the centre of the town.
It so happened, moreover, that the sacristan had forgotten to wind up
the great town clock. The agreement with the party first entering and
making their way to the opposite end of the city, had been that at the
striking of a certain hour after midnight they should attack
simultaneously and with a great outcry all the guardhouses, so that the
garrison might be simultaneously butchered. The clock never struck,
the signal was never given, and Du Terrail and his immediate comrades
remained near the western gate, suspicious and much perplexed. The
delay was fatal. The guard, the whole garrison, and the townspeople
flew to arms, and half- naked, but equipped with pike and musket, and
led on by Van der Noot in person, fell upon the intruders. A panic took
the place of previous audacity in the breasts of Du Terrail's followers.
Thinking only of escape, they found the gap by which they had crept
into the town much less convenient as a means of egress in the face of
an infuriated multitude. Five hundred of them were put to death in a
very few minutes. Almost as many were drowned or suffocated in the
marshes, as they attempted to return by the road over which they had
come. A few stragglers June, of the fifteen hundred were all that were
left to tell the tale.
It would seem scarcely worth while to chronicle such trivial incidents
in this great war--the all-absorbing drama of Christendom--were it not
that they were for the moment the whole war. It might be thought that
hostilities were approaching their natural termination, and that the war
was dying of extreme old age, when the Quixotic pranks of a Du
Terrail occupied so large a part of European attention.

The winter had passed, another spring had come and gone, and Maurice
had in vain attempted to obtain sufficient means from the States to take
the field in force. Henry, looking on from the outside, was becoming
more and more exasperated with the dilatoriness which prevented the
republic from profiting by the golden moments of Spinola's enforced
absence. Yet the best that could be done seemed to be to take measures
for defensive operations.
Spinola never reached Brussels until the beginning of June, yet, during
all the good campaigning weather which had been fleeting away, not a
blow had been struck, nor a wholesome counsel taken by the stadholder
or the States. It was midsummer before the armies were in the field.
The plans of the Catholic general however then rapidly developed
themselves. Having assembled as large a force as had ever been under
his command, he now divided it into two nearly equal portions.
Bucquoy, with ten thousand foot, twelve hundred cavalry, and twelve
guns, arrived on the 18th July at Nook, on the Meuse. Spinola, with
eleven thousand infantry, two thousand horse, and eight guns, crossed
the Rhine at the old redoubts of Ruhrort, and on the same 18th July
took position at Goor, in Overyssel. The first plan of the
commander-in-chief was to retrace exactly his campaign of the
previous year, even as he had with so much frankness stated to Henry.
But the republic, although deserted by her former friends, and looked
upon askance by the monarch of Britain, and by the most Christian
king, had this year a most efficient ally in the weather. Jupiter Pluvius
had descended from on high to the rescue of the struggling
commonwealth, and his decrees were omnipotent as to the course of the
campaign. The seasons that year seemed all fused into one. It was
difficult to tell on midsummer day whether it were midwinter, spring,
or autumn. The rain came down day after day, week after week, as if
the contending armies and the very country which was to be invaded
and defended were to be all washed out of existence together. Friesland
resolved itself into a vast quagmire; the roads became fluid, the rivers
lakes. Spinola turned his face from the east, and proceeded to carry out
a second plan which he