History of the Reign of Philip the Second, King of Spain, Vols. 1 and 2

by William Hickling Prescott

The French had ever been keenly sensible to the indignity of an enemy thus planting his foot immovably, as it were, on their soil. They had looked to the recovery of Calais with the same feelings with which the Spanish Moslems, when driven into Africa, looked to the recovery of their ancient possessions in Granada. They showed how constantly this was in their thoughts, by a common saying respecting any commander whom they held lightly, that he was "not a man to drive the English out of France."[230] The feelings they entertained, however, were rather those of desire than of expectation. The place was so strong, so well garrisoned, and so accessible to the English, that it seemed impregnable. These same circumstances, and the long possession of the place, had inspired the English, on the other hand, with no less confidence, as was pretty well intimated by an inscription on the bronze gates of the town,—"When the French besiege Calais, lead and iron will swim like cork."[231] This confidence, as it often happens, proved their ruin.

The bishop of Acqs, the French envoy to England, on returning home, a short time before this, had passed through Calais, and gave a strange report of the decay of the works, and the small number of the garrison, in short, of the defenceless condition of the place. Guise, however, as cautious as he was brave, was unwilling to undertake so hazardous an enterprise without more precise information. When satisfied of the fact, he entered on the project with his characteristic ardor. The plan adopted was said to have been originally suggested by Coligni. In order to deceive the enemy, the duke sent the largest division of the army, under Nevers, in the direction of Luxemburg. He then marched with the remainder into Picardy, as if to menace one of the places conquered by the Spaniards. Soon afterwards the two corps united, and Guise, at the head of his whole force, by a rapid march, presented himself before the walls of Calais.

The town was defended by a strong citadel, and by two forts. One of these, commanding the approach by water, the duke stormed and captured on the second of January, 1558. The other, which overlooked the land, he carried on the following day. Possessed of these two forts, he felt secure from any annoyance by the enemy, either by land or by water. He then turned his powerful battering-train against the citadel, keeping up a furious cannonade by day and by night. On the fifth, as soon as a breach was opened, the[{104}] victorious troops poured in, and, overpowering the garrison, planted the French colors on the walls. The earl of Wentworth, who commanded in Calais, unable, with his scanty garrison, to maintain the place now that the defences were in the hands of the enemy, capitulated on the eighth. The fall of Calais was succeeded by that of Guisnes and of Hames. Thus, in a few days the English were stripped of every rood of the territory which they had held in France since the time of Edward the Third.

The fall of Calais caused the deepest sensation on both sides of the Channel. The English, astounded by the event, loudly inveighed against the treachery of the commander. They should rather have blamed the treachery of their own government, who had so grossly neglected to provide for the defence of the place. Philip, suspecting the designs of the French, had intimated his suspicions to the English government, and had offered to strengthen the garrison by a reinforcement of his own troops. But his allies, perhaps distrusting his motives, despised his counsel, or at least failed to profit by it.[232] After the place was taken, he made another offer to send a strong force to recover it, provided the English would support him with a sufficient fleet. This also, perhaps from the same feeling of distrust, though on the plea of inability to meet the expense, was declined, and the opportunity for the recovery of Calais was lost for ever.[233]

Yet, in truth, it was no great loss to the nation. Like more than one, probably, of the colonial possessions of England at the present day, Calais cost every year more than it was worth. Its chief value was the facility it afforded for the invasion of France. Yet such a facility for war with their neighbors, always too popular with the English before the time of Philip the Second, was of questionable value. The real injury from the loss of Calais was the wound which it inflicted on the national honor.

The exultation of the French was boundless. It could not well have been greater, if the duke of Guise had crossed the Channel and taken London itself. The brilliant and rapid manner in which the exploit had been performed, the gallantry with which the young general had exposed his own person in the assault, the generosity with which he had divided his share of the booty among the soldiers, all struck the lively imagination of the French; and he became more than ever the idol of the people.

Yet, during the remainder of the campaign, his arms were not crowned with such distinguished success. In May he marched against the strong town of Thionville, in Luxemburg. After a siege of twenty days, the place surrendered. Having taken one or two other towns of less importance, the French army wasted nearly three weeks in a state of inaction, unless, indeed, we take into account the activity caused by intestine troubles of the army itself. It is difficult to criticize fairly the conduct of a commander of that age, when his levies were made up so largely of foreign mercenaries, who felt so little attachment to the service in which they were engaged, that they were ready to quarrel with it on the slightest occasion. Among these the German schwarzreiters were the most conspicuous, manifesting too often a degree of insolence and insubordination that made them hardly less dangerous as friends than as enemies. The importance they attached to their own services made them exorbitant in their demands of pay. When this, as was too frequently the case, was in arrears, they took the matter into their own hands, by pillaging the friendly country in which they were quartered, or by breaking out into open mutiny. A German baron, on one occasion, went so far as to level his pistol at the head of the duke of Guise. So widely did this[{105}] mutinous spirit extend, that it was only by singular coolness and address that this popular chieftain could bring these adventurers into anything like subjection to his authority. As it was, the loss of time caused by these troubles was attended with most disastrous consequences.

THE FRENCH INVADE FLANDERS.

The duke had left Calais garrisoned by a strong force, under Marshal Termes. He had since ordered that veteran to take command of a body of fifteen hundred horse and five thousand foot, drawn partly from the garrison itself, and to march into West Flanders. Guise proposed to join him there with his own troops, when they would furnish such occupation to the Spaniards as would effectually prevent them from a second invasion of Picardy.

The plan was well designed, and the marshal faithfully executed his part of it. Taking the road by St. Omer, he entered Flanders in the neighborhood of Dunkirk, laid siege to that flourishing town, stormed and gave it up to pillage. He then penetrated as far as Nieuport, when the fatigue and the great heat of the weather brought on an attack of gout, which entirely disabled him. The officer on whom the command devolved allowed the men to spread themselves over the country, where they perpetrated such acts of rapacity and violence as were not sanctioned even by the code of that unscrupulous age. The wretched inhabitants, driven from their homes, called loudly on Count Egmont, their governor, to protect them. The duke of Savoy lay with his army, at this time, at Maubeuge, in the province of Namur; but he sent orders to Egmont to muster such forces as he could raise in the neighboring country, and to intercept the retreat of the French, until the duke could come to his support and chastise the enemy.