Читать книгу History of the Reign of Philip the Second, King of Spain, Vols. 1 and 2 - William Hickling Prescott - Страница 18

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 assault. The twenty-seventh of August was the day assigned 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 assault 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 assault. 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 assailants, 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 spaces; their elevated position gave them some advantage over the assailants, 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 assailants 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 assault. 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 assailants 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 assailants 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 snatch the carcass 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]

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 sturdy 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 passed 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.