The Battle of St. Quintin

 

The contrast between Charles's conduct and that of the pope at this juncture was so obvious, that it struck even the most careless observers; nor was the comparison which they made to the advantage of Paul.

The former, a conqueror, born to reign, long accustomed to the splendor which accompanies supreme power, and to those busy and interesting scenes in which an active ambition had engaged him, quitted the world at a period of life not far advanced, that he might close the evening of his days in tranquility, and secure some interval for sober thought and serious recollection. The latter a priest, who had passed the early part of his life in the shade of the schools, and in the study of the speculative sciences, who was seemingly so detached from the world, that he had shut himself up for many years in the solitude of a cloister, and who was not raised to the papal throne until he had reached the extremity of old age, discovered at once all the impetuosity of youthful ambition, and formed extensive schemes, in order to accomplish which he scrupled not to scatter the seeds of discord, and to kindle the flames of war, in every corner of Europe. But Paul, regardless of the opinion or censures of mankind, held on his own course with his wonted arrogance and violence. These, although they seemed already to have exceeded all bounds, rose to a still greater height, upon the arrival of the duke of Guise in Italy.

That which the two princes of Lorrain foresaw and desired had happened. The duke of Guise was entrusted with the command of the army appointed to march to the pope's assistance. It consisted of twenty thousand men, of the best troops in the service of France. So high was the duke's reputation, and such the general expectation of beholding some extraordinary exertion of his courage and abilities in a war into which he had precipitated his country, chiefly with the design of obtaining a field where he might display his own talents, that many of the French nobility who had no command in the troops employed, accompanied him as volunteers. This army passed the Alps in an inclement season, and advanced towards Rome without any opposition from the Spaniards, who, as they were not strong enough to act in different parts, had collected all their forces in one body on the frontiers of Naples, for the defence of that kingdom.

Emboldened by the approach of the French, the pope let loose all the fury of his resentment against Philip, which, notwithstanding the natural violence of his temper, prudential considerations had hitherto obliged him to keep under some restraint. He named commissioners [Feb. 12]  whom he empowered to pass judgment in the suit, which the consistorial advo­cate had commenced against Philip, in order to prove that he had forfeited the crown of Naples, by taking arms against the holy see, of which he was a vassal. He recalled all the nuncios [April 9] residing in the courts of Charles V, of Philip, or any of their allies. This was leveled chiefly against cardinal Pole, the papal legate in the court of England, whose great merit, in having contributed so successfully to reconcile that kingdom to the church of Rome, together with the expectation of farther services, which he might perform, was not sufficient to screen him from the resentment that he had incurred by his zealous endeavors to establish peace between the house of Austria and France. He commanded an addition to be made to the anathemas annually denounced against the enemies of the church on Maundy Thursday, whereby he inflicted the censure of excommunication on the authors of the late invasion of the ecclesiastical territories, whatever their rank or dignity might be; and in consequence of this, the usual prayers for the emperor were omitted next day in the pope's chapel.

But while the pope indulged himself in those wild and childish sallies of rage, either he neglected, or found that it exceeded his power, to take such measures as would have rendered his resentment really formidable and fatal to his enemies. For when the duke of Guise entered Rome, where he was received with a triumphal pomp, which would have been more suitable if he had been returning; after having terminated the war with glory, than when he was going to begin it with a doubtful chance of success, he found none of the preparations for war in such forwardness as cardinal Caraffa had promised, or he had expected. The papal troops were far inferior in number to the quota stipulated; no magazines sufficient for their subsistence were formed; nor was money for paying them provided. The Venetians agreeably to that cautious maxim which the misfortunes of their state had first led them to adopt, and which was now become a fundamental principle in their policy, declared their resolution to preserve an exact neutrality, without taking any part in the quarrels of princes, so far superior to themselves in power. The other Italian states were either openly united in league with Philip, or secretly wished success to his arms against a pontiff, whose inconsiderate ambition had rendered Italy once more the seat of war.

The duke of Guise perceived that the whole weight of the war would devolve on the French troops under his command; and became sensible, though too late, how imprudent it is to rely, in the execution of great enterprises, on the aid of feeble allies. Pushed on, however, by the pope's impatience for action, as well as by his own desire of performing some part of what he had so confidently undertaken, he marched towards Naples [April 13], and began his operations. But the success of these fell far short of his former reputation, of what the world expected, and of what he himself had promised. He opened the campaign with the siege of Chitella, a town of some importance on the Neapolitan frontier. But the obstinacy with which the Spanish governor defended it, baffled all the impetuous efforts of the French valor, and obliged the duke of Guise, after a siege of three weeks, to retire from the town with disgrace. He endeavored to wipe off that stain, by advancing boldly towards the duke of Alva's camp, and offering him battle.

But that prudent commander, sensible of all the advantages of standing on the defensive before an invading enemy, declined an engagement, and kept within his entrenchments; and adhering to his plan with the steadiness of a Castilian, eluded, with great address, all the duke of Guise's stratagems to draw him into action. By this time sickness began to waste the French army; violent dissensions had arisen between the duke of Guise and the commander of the pope's forces; the Spaniards renewed their incursions into the ecclesiastical state; the pope, when he found, instead of the conquests and triumphs which he had fondly expected, that he could not secure his own territories from depredation, murmured, complained, and began to talk of peace. The duke of Guise, mortified to the last degree with having acted such an inglorious part, not only solicited his court either to reinforce his army, or to recall him, but urged Paul to fulfill his engagements; and called on cardinal Caraffa, sometimes with reproaches, sometimes with threats, to make good those magnificent promises, from a rash confidence in which he had advised his master to renounce the truce of Vaucelles, and to join in league with the pope.

But while the French affairs in Italy were in this wretched situation, an unexpected event happened in the Low-Countries, which called the duke of Guise from a station wherein he could acquire no honor, to the most dignified and important charge which could be committed to a subject. As soon as the French had discovered their purpose of violating the truce of Vaucelles, not only by sending an army into Italy, but by attempting to surprise some of the frontier towns in Flanders, Philip, though willing to have avoided a rupture, determined to prosecute the war with such spirit, as should make his enemies sensible that his father had not erred, when he judged him to be so capable of government, that he had given up the reins into his hands.

As he knew that Henry had been at great expense in fitting out the army under the duke of Guise, and that his treasury was hardly able to answer the exorbitant and endless demands of a distant war, he foresaw that all his operations in the Low-Countries must, of consequence, prove feeble, and be considered only as secondary to those in Italy. For that reason, he prudently resolved to make his principal effort in that place where he expected the French to be weakest, and to bend his chief force against that quarter where they would feel a blow most sensibly. With this view, be assembled in the Low-Countries an army of about fifty thousand men, the Flemings serving him on this occasion with that active zeal which subjects are wont to exert in obeying the first commands of a new sovereign. But Philip, cautious and provident, even at this early period of life, did not rest all his hopes of success on that formidable force alone.

He had been laboring for some time to engage the English to espouse his quarrel; and though it was manifestly the interest of that kingdom to maintain a strict neutrality, and the people themselves were sensible of the advantages which they derived from it; though he knew how odious his name was to the English, and how averse they would he to co-operate with him in any measure, be nevertheless did not despair of accomplishing his point. He relied on the affection with which the queen doated on him, which was so violent, that even his coldness and neglect had not extinguished it; he knew her implicit reverence for his opinion, and her fond desire of gratifying him in every particular.

That he might work on these with greater facility and more certain success, he set out for England. The queen, who, during her husband's absence, had languished in perpetual dejection, resumed fresh spirits on his arrival; and, without paying the least attention either to the interest or to the inclinations of her people, entered warmly into all his schemes. In vain did her privy-council remonstrate against the imprudence as well as danger of involving the nation in an unnecessary war; in vain did they put her in mind of the solemn treaties of peace subsisting between England and France, which the conduct of that nation had afforded her no pretext to violate. Mary, soothed by Philip's caresses, or intimidated by the threats which his ascendant over her emboldened him at some times to throw out, was deaf to everything that could be urged in opposition to his sentiments, and insisted with the greatest vehemence on an immediate declaration of war against France.

The council, though all Philip's address and Mary's authority were employed to gain or overawe them, after struggling long, yielded at last, not from conviction, but merely from deference to the wilt of their sovereign. War was declared against France [June 20], the only one perhaps against that kingdom into which the English ever entered with reluctance. As Mary knew the aversion of the nation to this measure, she durst not call a parliament in order to raise money for carrying on the war. She supplied this want, however, by a stretch of royal prerogative, not unusual in that age; and levied large sums on her subjects by her own authority. This enabled her to assemble a sufficient body of troops, and to send eight thousand men under the conduct of the earl of Pembroke to join Philip's army.

Philip, who was not ambitious of military glory, gave the command of his army to Emanuel Philibert, duke of Savoy, and fixed his own residence at Cambray, that he might be at hand to receive the earliest intelligence of his motions, and to aid him with his councils. The duke opened the campaign with a masterly stroke of address, which justified Philip's choice, and discovered such a superiority of genius over the French generals, as almost insured success in his subsequent operations. He appointed the general rendezvous of his troops at a place considerably distant from the country which he destined to be the scene of action; and having kept the enemy in suspense for a good time with regard to his intentions, he at last deceived them so effectually by the variety of his marches and counter­marches, as led them to conclude that he meant to bend all his force against the province of Champagne, and would attempt to penetrate into the kingdom on that side. In consequence of this opinion, they drew all their strength towards that quarter, and reinforcing the garrisons there, left the towns on other parts of the frontier destitute of troops sufficient to defend them.

The duke of Savoy, as soon as he perceived that this feint had its full effect, turned suddenly to the right, advanced by rapid marches into Picardy, and sending his cavalry, in which he was extremely strong, before him, invested St. Quintin. This was a town deemed in that age of considerable strength, and of great importance, as there were few fortified cities between it and Paris. The fortifications, however, had been much neglected; the garrison, weakened by draughts sent towards Champagne, did not amount to a fifth part of the number requisite for its defence; and the governor, though a brave officer, was neither of rank nor authority equal to the command in a place of so much consequence, besieged by such a formidable army.

A few days must have put the duke of Savoy in possession of the town, if the admiral de Coligny, who thought it concerned his honor to attempt saving a place of such importance to his country, and which lay within his jurisdiction as governor of Picardy, had not taken the gallant resolution of throwing himself into it, with such a body of men as he could collect on a sudden. This resolution he executed with great intrepidity, and, if the nature of the enterprise be considered, with no contemptible success; for though one half of his small body of troops were cut off, he, with the other, broke through the enemy, and entered the town. The unexpected arrival of an officer of such high rank and reputation, and who had exposed himself to such danger in order to join them, inspired the desponding garrison with courage. Everything that the admiral's great skill and experience in the art of war could suggest, for annoying the enemy, or defending the town, was attempted; and the citizens, as well as the garrison, seconding his zeal with equal ardor, seemed to be determined that they would hold out to the last, and sacri­fice themselves in order to save their country.

The duke of Savoy, whom the English, under the earl of Pembroke, joined about this time, pushed on the siege with the greatest vigour. An army so numerous, and so well supplied with everything requisite, carried on its approaches with great advantage against a garrison which was still so feeble that it durst seldom venture to disturb or retard the enemy's operations by sallies. The admiral, sensible of the approaching danger, and unable to avert it, acquainted his uncle the constable Montmorency, who had the command of the French army, with his situation, and pointed out to him a method by which he might throw relief into the town.

The constable solicitous to save a town, the loss of which would open a passage for the enemy into the heart of France; and eager to extricate his nephew out of that perilous situation, in which zeal for the public had engaged him; resolved, though aware of the danger, to attempt what he desired. With this view, he marched from La Feré towards St. Quintin at the head of his army, which was not by one half so numerous as that of the enemy, and having given the command of a body of chosen men to Coligny's brother Dandelot, who was colonel-general of the French infantry, he ordered him to force his way into the town by that avenue which the admiral had represented as most practicable, while he himself, with the main army, would give the alarm to the enemy's camp on the opposite side, and endeavor to draw all their attention towards that quarter. Dandelot executed his orders with greater intrepidity than conduct. [Aug. 10.] He rushed on with such headlong impetuosity, that, though it broke the first body of the enemy which stood in their way, it threw his own soldiers into the utmost confusion; and as they were attacked in that situation by fresh troops which closed in upon them on every side, the greater part of them were cut in pieces. Dandelot with about five hundred of the most adventurous and most fortunate, making good his entrance into the town.

Meanwhile the constable, in executing his part of the plan, advanced so near the camp of the besiegers, as rendered it impossible to retreat with safety in the face of an enemy so much superior in number. The duke of Savoy instantly perceived Montmorency's error, and prepared, with the presence of mind and abilities of a great general, to avail himself of it. He drew up his army in order of battle, with the greatest expedition, and watching the moment when the French began to file off towards La Feré, he detached all his cavalry, under the command of the count of Egmont, to fall on their rear, while he himself, at the head of his infantry, advanced to support him. The French at first retired in perfect order, and with a good countenance; but when they saw Egmont draw near with hit formidable body of cavalry, the shock of which they were conscious that they could not withstand, the prospect of imminent danger, added to distrust of their general, whose imprudence every soldier now perceived, struck them with general consternation.

They began insensibly to quicken their pace, and those in the rear pressed so violently on such as were before them, that in a short time their march resembled a flight rather than a retreat. Egmont, observing their confusion, charged them with the greatest fury, and in a moment all their men at arms, the pride and strength of the French troops in that age, gave way and fled with precipitation. The infantry, however, whom the constable, by his presence and authority, kept to their colors, still continued to retreat in good order, until the enemy brought some pieces of cannon to bear upon their centre, which threw them into such confusion, that the Flemish cavalry, renewing their attack, broke in, and the rout became universal. About four thousand of the French fell in the field, and among these the duke of Anguien, a prince of the blood, together with six hundred gentlemen.

The constable, as soon as he perceived the fortune of the day to be irretrievable, rushed into the thickest of the enemy, with a resolution not to survive the calamity which his ill conduct had brought upon his country; but having received a dangerous wound, and being wasted with the loss of blood, he was surrounded by some Flemish officers, to whom he was known, who protected him from the violence of the soldiers, and obliged him to surrender. Besides the constable, the dukes of Montpensier and Longueville, the marechal St. Andre, many officers of distinction, three hundred gentlemen, and near four thousand private soldiers, were taken prisoners. All the colors belonging to the infantry, all the ammunition, and all the cannon, two pieces excepted, fell into the enemy's hands. The victorious army did not lose above fourscore men.

 

The Peace of the Pope.