upon their spears. Thus
entrapped some chose the one course, some the other. A few, to escape the
fury of the fire and the brutality of the Spaniards, stabbed themselves
with their own swords. Others embraced, and then killed each other, the
enemies from below looking on, as at a theatrical exhibition; now hissing
and now applauding, as the death struggles were more or less to their
taste. In a few minutes all the fugitives were dead. Nearly three
thousand of the patriots were slain in this combat, including those
burned or butchered after the battle was over. The Sieur de Louverwal was
taken prisoner, and soon afterwards beheaded in Brussels; but the
greatest misfortune sustained by the liberal party upon this occasion was
the death of Antony de Lalaing, Count of Hoogstraaten. This brave and
generous nobleman, the tried friend of the Prince of Orange, and his
colleague during the memorable scenes at Antwerp, was wounded in the foot
during the action, by an accidental discharge of his own pistol. The
injury, although apparently slight, caused his death in a few days. There
seemed a strange coincidence in his good and evil fortunes. A casual
wound in the hand from his own pistol while he was on his way to
Brussels, to greet Alva upon his first arrival, had saved him from the
scaffold. And now in his first pitched battle with the Duke, this
seemingly trifling injury in the foot was destined to terminate his
existence. Another peculiar circumstance had marked the event. At a gay
supper in the course of this campaign, Hoogstraaten had teased Count
Louis, in a rough, soldierly way, with his disaster at Jemmingen. He had
affected to believe that the retreat upon that occasion had been
unnecessary. "We have been now many days in the Netherlands;" said he,
"and we have seen nothing of the Spaniards but their backs."--"And when
the Duke does break loose," replied Louis, somewhat nettled, "I warrant
you will see their faces soon enough, and remember them for the rest of
your life." The half-jesting remark was thus destined to become a gloomy
prophecy.

This was the only important action daring the campaign. Its perfect
success did not warp Alva's purpose, and, notwithstanding the murmurs of
many of his officers, he remained firm in his resolution. After the
termination of the battle on the Geta, and the Duke's obstinate refusal
to pursue his advantage, the Baron de Chevreau dashed his pistol to the
ground, in his presence, exclai