Little need be said of two of the expeditions, which were failures. Hoogstraten had scarcely crossed the frontier, towards the end of April, when he was met by Alva's trusty lieutenant, Sancho Davila, and beaten, with considerable loss. Villers and some others of the rebel lords, made prisoners, escaped the sword of the enemy in the field, to fall by that of the executioner in Brussels. Hoogstraten, with the remnant of his forces, made good his retreat, and effected a junction with the prince of Orange.[1097]
Cocqueville met with a worse fate. A detachment of French troops was sent against him by Charles the Ninth, who thus requited the service of the same kind he had lately received from the duke of Alva. On the approach of their countrymen, the Huguenots basely laid down their arms. Cocqueville and his principal officers were surrounded, made prisoners, and perished ignominiously on the scaffold.[1098]
The enterprise of Louis of Nassau was attended with different results. Yet after he had penetrated into Groningen, he was sorely embarrassed by the mutinous spirit of the German mercenaries. The province was defended by Count Aremberg, its governor, a brave old officer, who had studied the art of war under Charles the Fifth; one of those models of chivalry on whom the men of a younger generation are ambitious to form themselves. He had been employed on many distinguished services; and there were few men at the court of Brussels who enjoyed higher consideration under both Philip and his father. The strength of his forces lay in his Spanish infantry. He was deficient in cavalry, but was soon to be reinforced by a body of horse under Count Megen, who was a day's march in his rear.
Aremberg soon came in sight of Louis, who was less troubled by the presence of his enemy than by the disorderly conduct of his German soldiers, clamorous for their pay. Doubtful of his men, Louis declined to give battle to a foe so far superior to him in everything but numbers. He accordingly established himself in an uncommonly strong position, which the nature of the ground fortunately afforded. In his rear, protected by a thick wood, stood the convent of Heyligerlee, which gave its name to the battle. In front the land sloped towards an extensive morass. His infantry, on the left, was partly screened by a hill from the enemy's fire; and on the right he stationed his cavalry, under the command of his brother Adolphus, who was to fall on the enemy's flank, should they be hardy enough to give battle.[{351}]
BATTLE OF HEYLIGERLEE.
But Aremberg was too well acquainted with the difficulties of the ground to risk an engagement, at least till he was strengthened by the reinforcement under Megen. Unfortunately, the Spanish infantry, accustomed to victory, and feeling a contempt for the disorderly levies opposed to them, loudly called to be led against the heretics. In vain their more prudent general persisted in his plan. They chafed at the delay, refusing to a Flemish commander the obedience which they might probably have paid to one of their own nation. They openly accused him of treachery, and of having an understanding with his countrymen in the enemy's camp. Stung by their reproaches, Aremberg had the imprudence to do what more than one brave man has been led to do, both before and since; he surrendered his own judgment to the importunities of his soldiers. Crying out that "they should soon see if he were a traitor!"[1099] he put himself at the head of his little army, and marched against the enemy. His artillery, meanwhile, which he had posted on his right, opened a brisk fire on Louis's left wing, where, owing to the nature of the ground, it did little execution.
Under cover of this fire the main body of the Spanish infantry moved forward; but, as their commander had foreseen, the men soon became entangled in the morass; their ranks were thrown into disorder; and when at length, after long and painful efforts, they emerged on the firm ground, they were more spent with toil than they would have been after a hard day's march. Thus jaded, and sadly in disarray, they were at once assailed in front by an enemy who, conscious of his own advantage, was all fresh and hot for action. Notwithstanding their distressed condition, Aremberg's soldiers maintained their ground for some time, like men unaccustomed to defeat. At length, Louis ordered the cavalry on his right to charge Aremberg's flank. This unexpected movement, occurring at a critical moment, decided the day. Assailed in front and in flank, hemmed in by the fatal morass in the rear, the Spaniards were thrown into utter confusion. In vain their gallant leader, proof against danger, though not against the taunts of his followers, endeavored to rally them. His horse was killed under him; and as he was mounting another, he received a shot from a foot-soldier, and fell mortally wounded from his saddle.[1100] The rout now became general. Some took to the morass, and fell into the hands of the victors. Some succeeded in cutting their way through the ranks of their assailants, while many more lost their lives in the attempt. The ground was covered with the wounded and the dead. The victory was complete.
Sixteen hundred of the enemy were left on that fatal field. In the imagination of the exile thirsting for vengeance, it might serve in some degree to balance the bloody roll of victims whom the pitiless duke had sent to their account. Nine pieces of artillery, with a large quantity of ammunition and military stores, a rich service of plate belonging to Aremberg, and a considerable sum of money lately received by him to pay the arrears of the soldiers, fell into the hands of the patriots. Yet as serious a loss as any inflicted[{352}] on the Spaniards was that of their brave commander. His corpse, disfigured by wounds, was recognized, amid a heap of the slain, by the insignia of the Golden Fleece, which he wore round his neck, and which Louis sent to the prince, his brother, as a proud trophy of his victory.[1101] The joy of the conquerors was dimmed by one mournful event, the death of Count Adolphus of Nassau, who fell bravely fighting at the head of his troops, one of the first victims in the war of the revolution. He was a younger brother of William, only twenty-seven years of age. But he had already given promise of those heroic qualities which proved him worthy of the generous race from which he sprung.[1102]
The battle was fought on the twenty-third of May, 1568. On the day following, Count Megen arrived with a reinforcement; too late to secure the victory, but not, as it proved, too late to snatch the fruits of it from the victors. By a rapid movement, he succeeded in throwing himself into the town of Groningen, and thus saved that important place from falling into the hands of the patriots.[1103]
The tidings of the battle of Heyligerlee caused a great sensation through the country. While it raised the hopes of the malecontents, it filled the duke of Alva with indignation,—the greater as he perceived that the loss of the battle was to be referred mainly to the misconduct of his own soldiers. He saw with alarm the disastrous effect likely to be produced by so brilliant a success on the part of the rebels, in the very beginning of the struggle. The hardy men of Friesland would rise to assert their independence. The prince of Orange, with his German levies, would unite with his victorious brother, and, aided by the inhabitants, would be in condition to make formidable head against any force that Alva could muster. It was an important crisis, and called for prompt and decisive action. The duke, with his usual energy, determined to employ no agent here, but to take the affair into his own hands, concentrate his forces, and march in person against the enemy.