n
countries, came to witness the extraordinary spectacle, and foreign
generals repaired to the camp of Maurice to take practical lessons in the
new art of war.

Old Peter Ernest Mansfeld, who was nominal governor of the Spanish
Netherlands since the death of Farnese, rubbed his eyes and stared aghast
when the completeness of the preparations for reducing the city at last
broke in upon his mind. Count Fuentes was the true and confidential
regent however until the destined successor to Parma should arrive; but
Fuentes, although he had considerable genius for assassination, as will
hereafter appear, and was an experienced and able commander of the
old-fashioned school, was no match for Maurice in the scientific
combinations on which the new system was founded.

In vain did the superannuated Peter call aloud upon his sofa and
governor, Count Charles, to assist him in this dire dilemma. That
artillery general had gone with a handful of Germans, Walloons; and other
obedient Netherlanders--too few to accomplish anything abroad, too many
to be spared from the provinces--to besiege Noyon in France. But what
signified the winning or losing of such a place as Noyon at exactly the
moment when the Prince of Bearne, assisted by the able generalship of the
Archbishop of Bourges, had just executed those famous flanking movements
in the churches of St. Denis and Chartres, by which the world-empire had
been effectually shattered, and Philip and the Pope completely
out-manoeuvred.

Better that the five thousand fighters under Charles Mansfeld had been
around Gertruydenberg. His aged father did what he could. As many men as
could be spared from the garrison of Antwerp and its neighbourhood were
collected; but the Spaniards were reluctant to march, except under old
Mondragon. That hero, who had done much of the hardest work, and had
fought in most of the battles of the century, was nearly as old as the
century. Being now turned of ninety, he thought best to keep house in
Antwerp Castle: Accordingly twelve thousand foot and three thousand horse
took the field under the more youthful Peter Ernest? But Peter Ernest,
when his son was not there to superintend his operations, was nothing but
a testy octogenarian, while the two together were not equal to the little
finger of Farnese, whom Philip would have displaced, had he not
fortunately died.

"Nothing is to be expected out of this place but toads and poison," wrote
Ybarra in infinite disg