creatures enlisted in her cause. Spaniards and Italians, English and
Irish, went half naked and half starving through the whole inclement
winter, and perished of pestilence in droves, after confronting the
less formidable dangers of battlefield and leaguer. Manfully and
sympathetically did the Earl of Leicester--while whining in absurd
hyperbole over the angry demeanour of his sovereign towards himself-
represent the imperative duty of an English government to succour English
troops.

Alexander Farnese was equally plain-spoken to a sovereign with whom
plain-speaking was a crime. In bold, almost scornful language, the
Prince represented to Philip the sufferings and destitution of the
little band of heroes, by whom that magnificent military enterprise,
the conquest of Antwerp, had just been effected. "God will be weary of
working miracles for us," he cried, "and nothing but miracles can save
the troops from starving." There was no question of paying them their
wages, there was no pretence at keeping them reasonably provided with
lodging and clothing, but he asserted the undeniable proposition that
they "could not pass their lives without eating," and he implored his
sovereign to send at least money enough to buy the soldiers shoes.
To go foodless and barefoot without complaining, on the frozen swamps of
Flanders, in January, was more than was to be expected from Spaniards and
Italians. The country itself was eaten bare. The obedient Provinces had
reaped absolute ruin as the reward of their obedience. Bruges, Ghent,
and the other cities of Brabant and Flanders, once so opulent and
powerful, had become mere dens of thieves and paupers. Agriculture,
commerce, manufactures--all were dead. The condition of Antwerp was most
tragical. The city, which had been so recently the commercial centre of
the earth, was reduced to absolute beggary. Its world-wide traffic was
abruptly terminated, for the mouth of its great river was controlled by