and he relied upon God for the result.  In his own words, “he trusted ever that the great God of armies was with him, and would fight in the midst of his forces.”  If so long as Alva remained in his impregnable camp, it was impossible to attack him, or to throw reinforcements into Mons. The Prince soon found, too, that Alva was far too wise to hazard his position by a superfluous combat.  The Duke knew that the cavalry of the Prince was superior to his own.  He expressed himself entirely unwilling to play into the Prince’s hands, instead of winning the game which was no longer doubtful.  The Huguenot soldiers within Mons were in despair and mutiny; Louis of Nassau lay in his bed consuming with a dangerous fever; Genlis was a prisoner, and his army cut to pieces; Coligny was murdered, and Protestant France paralyzed; the troops of Orange, enlisted but for three months, were already rebellious, and sure to break into open insubordination when the consequences of the Paris massacre should become entirely clear to them; and there were, therefore, even more cogent reasons than in 1568, why Alva should remain perfectly still, and see his enemy’s cause founder before his eyes.  The valiant Archbishop of Cologne was most eager for the fray.  He rode daily at the Duke’s side, with harness on his back and pistols in his holsters, armed and attired like one of his own troopers, and urging the Duke, with vehemence, to a pitched battle with the Prince.  The Duke commended, but did not yield to, the prelate’s enthusiasm.  “’Tis a fine figure of a man, with his corslet and pistols,” he wrote to Philip, “and he shows great affection for your Majesty’s service.”

The issue of the campaign was inevitable.  On the 11th September, Don Frederic, with a force of four thousand picked men, established himself at Saint Florian, a village near the Havre gate of the city, while the Prince had encamped at Hermigny, within half a league of the same place, whence he attempted to introduce reinforcements into the town.  On the night of the 11th and 12th, Don Frederic hazarded an encamisada upon the enemy’s camp, which proved eminently successful, and had nearly resulted in the capture of the Prince himself.  A chosen band of six hundred arquebussers, attired, as was customary in these nocturnal expeditions, with their shirts outside their armor, that they might recognize each other in the darkness, were led by Julian Romero, within the lines of the enemy.  The sentinels were cut down, the whole army surprised, and for a moment powerless, while, for two hours long, from one o’clock in the morning until three, the Spaniards butchered their foes, hardly aroused from their sleep, ignorant by how small a force they had been thus suddenly surprised, and unable in the confusion to distinguish between friend and foe.  The boldest, led by Julian in person, made at once for the Prince’s tent.  His guards and himself were in profound sleep, but a small spaniel, who always passed the night upon