And so another proof was added—­if proofs were still necessary of Spanish prowess.  The Netherlanders may be pardoned if their foes seemed to them supernatural, and almost invulnerable.  How else could these enormous successes be accounted for?  How else could thousands fall before the Spanish swords, while hardly a single Spanish corpse told of effectual resistance?  At Jemmingen, Alva had lost seven soldiers, and slain seven thousand; in the Antwerp Fury, two hundred Spaniards, at most, had fallen, while eight thousand burghers and states’ troops had been butchered; and now at Gemblours, six, seven, eight, ten—­Heaven knew how many—­thousand had been exterminated, and hardly a single Spaniard had been slain!  Undoubtedly, the first reason for this result was the superiority of the Spanish soldiers.  They were the boldest, the best disciplined, the most experienced in the world.  Their audacity, promptness, and ferocity made them almost invincible.  In this particular action, at least half the army of Don John was composed of Spanish or Spanish-Italian veterans.  Moreover, they were commanded by the most renowned captains of the age—­by Don John himself, and Alexander of Parma, sustained by such veterans as Mondragon, the hero of the memorable submarine expeditions; Mendoza, the accomplished cavalry officer, diplomatist, and historian; and Mansfeld, of whom Don John had himself written to the King that his Majesty had not another officer of such account in all the Netherlands.  Such officers as these, besides Gonzaga, Camillo Monte, Mucio Pagano, at the head of such troops as fought that day under the banner of the Cross, might go far in accounting for this last and most tremendous victory of the Inquisition.  On the other hand, although Bossu and Champagny were with the states’ army, yet their hearts were hardly with the cause.  Both had long been loyal, and had earned many laurels against the rebels, while Champagny was still devoutly a Papist, and wavered painfully between his hatred to heresy and to Spain.  Egmont and De Heze were raw, unpractised lads, in whom genius did not come to supply the place of experience.  The Commander, De Goignies, was a veteran, but a veteran who had never gained much glory, and the chiefs of the cavalry, infantry, and artillery, were absent at the Brussels wedding.  The news of this additional massacre inflicted upon a nation, for which Berghen and Montigny had laid down their lives, was the nuptial benediction for Berghen’s heiress; for it was to the chief wedding guests upon, that occasion that the disaster was justly attributed.  The rank and file of the states’ army were mainly mercenaries, with whom the hope of plunder was the prevailing motive; the chief commanders were absent; while those officers who were with the troops were neither heartily friendly to their own flag nor sufficiently experienced to make it respected.

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