[CHAPTER XXI]
WHERE MODERN FLANDERS SHINES—OSTENDE AND “LA PLAGE”
Our last stopping place in Flanders was the one that many tourists visit first, the gay watering place of Ostende. Here a little fleet of fast Channel steamers convey the traveller to Dover in four or five hours, while an excellent service of through express trains connect the Dover end of the water route with London, and the Ostende end with Brussels, Berlin and half the capitals of Europe. Our stay in Flanders, however, was drawing to a close, and we were headed for Liverpool, where the new Aquitania was waiting to bear us home.
The tourist who expects in Ostende to find much that is reminiscent of the Flanders of the sixteenth century, of which so much has been said in the other chapters of this book, will be disappointed. To be sure, it is not a young city, being mentioned in the chronicles of Flanders as far back as the eleventh century. In the Eighty Years’ War between Spain and her revolted Dutch colonies Ostende was for a long time held by the Dutch, who beat off two severe attacks by the Spaniards in 1583 and 1586, the former led by the all but invincible Farnese, Prince of Parma. In the year 1600 the Battle of the Dunes took place at Nieuport, in which the troops of the Archduke Albert were defeated by a Dutch army under Maurice, Prince of Nassau. This victory, while it gave great encouragement to the enemies of Spain by demonstrating that the renowned Spanish soldiers were not invincible, was otherwise barren of results, and in 1601 the Archdukes determined to besiege Ostende, which was the last stronghold of the Dutch in Flanders.
Prior to the war with Philip II Ostende had been little more than an obscure fishing-village, but since it had been fortified by the Dutch, and had so successfully maintained itself against all assaults, the place was fast becoming a “thorn in the foot” to the government of the Archdukes. Queen Elizabeth, whose defeats of Philip’s armadas had made England mistress of the seas, was determined that Spain should not regain so important a strategic base, and had kept an English garrison there under an English commander. Since Albert’s accession the town had been greatly strengthened by new ramparts, bastions and fortifications of every type, then known in the engineering art of warfare. To protect Flanders against this hostile fortress in its very midst the Archdukes were obliged to erect eighteen forts around Ostende and keep them constantly garrisoned and supplied. This cost ninety thousand crowns a month and kept the rich province in a state of perpetual war. Towns in the vicinity were compelled to pay tribute in order to escape pillage, and commerce—then, as always, dependent upon peace—languished.
The Estates of Flanders under these direful conditions offered the Archdukes three hundred thousand florins a month as long as the siege to rid them of this menacing stronghold might last, and three hundred thousand florins additional as a bonus to be paid in instalments—a third when the city was invested, a third when a breach was made in the fortifications, and the balance when the place was taken. These terms are curiously similar to those employed in drawing building loans at the present day and show that the Flemings had lost none of their ancient caution.
On July 5th, 1601, the Archduke Albert arrived before Ostende and formally began its investment. The Infanta Isabella came with him, and often shared camp life with her husband during the weary months that followed. The siege from the very first developed into a contest of engineers and military strategists on the taking and the defence of fortified places the like of which had never before been known in Europe. In fact nearly all Europe was directly engaged in the conflict. On the Archdukes’ side were Spaniards, Italians and Walloons; on the ramparts of the defenders were lined up side by side English, Dutch, French, German and Scotch forces. The fortress was commanded by Sir Francis Vere. The operations of the siege consisted of mining and counter-mining, the erection and destruction of batteries, storming of outlying works—all the devices of attack and defence known to the military science of the day. Never before had the world seen such cannons and engines of destruction. The siege became Homeric, epic, a seventeenth-century Siege of Troy.
The great difficulty of the besiegers was their inability to cut off the town from receiving new provisions and supplies, and a constant stream of reinforcements, by sea. The Dutch, English and French ships came and went almost at will. All the summer and fall of 1601 the siege dragged on, and through the cold winter that followed. In 1602 Sir Francis Vere and a large part of the garrison were relieved and a new commander and garrison installed without the Archdukes being able to prevent the manœuvre. In 1603 Ambrose, the Marquis Spinola, a young scion of a rich Genoese family, offered to take charge of the siege of Ostende and to capture the city. As the Archduke Albert had made a complete failure of the job, and was unpopular besides among his troops, whom he had not been able to pay with any regularity, he welcomed this offer and Spinola assumed the command. His wealth enabled him to pay and feed his soldiers, while his youth and ambition made him a wary and energetic commander. Day and night he took part in person in supervising the mines, assaults, trenches and erection of new positions. Gradually, under his vigorous leadership, the besiegers began to burrow their way into the town. Maurice of Nassau, unable to pierce Spinola’s network of entrenchments around the town created a diversion by besieging and capturing Sluys. In spite of this, however, Spinola clung doggedly to his prey and on September 13th, 1603, Sand Hill, after a resistance of three years, was captured. Seven days later the Governor, who now controlled nothing but the heart of the town, capitulated and on September 22nd, the garrison marched out with all the honours of war. Hardly a soul of the former population of Ostende remained at the time of its capture, and it is said that the Archduchess Isabella “wept at the sight of the mound of earth, all that remained of the city which she had been so anxious to capture.” It was estimated that the place, which had been little more than a village, cost the besiegers one hundred thousand lives and the defenders sixty thousand. The siege had lasted three years, two months and seventeen days, but the “thorn” had at last been extracted.