up at once to support him.  On the contrary the English general advised that the cavalry should fall back to the infantry, in order to avoid a premature movement.  Lewis strongly objected to this arrangement, on the ground that the mere semblance of retreat, thus upon the eve of battle, would discourage all the troops.  But he was over-ruled, for Maurice had expressly enjoined upon his cousin that morning to defer in all things to the orders of Vere.  These eight squadrons of horse accordingly shifted their position, and were now placed close to the edge of the sea, on the left flank of the vanguard, which Vere had drawn up across the beach and in the downs.  On the edge of the downs, on the narrow slip of hard sand above high-water mark, and on Vere’s right, Maurice had placed a battery of six demi-cannon.

Behind the advance was the battalia, or centre, under command of that famous fighter, George Everard Solms, consisting of Germans, Swiss, French, and Walloons.  The “New Beggars,” as the Walloons were called, who had so recently surrendered the forts of Crevecoeur and St. Andrew, and gone over from the archduke’s service to the army of the States, were included in this division, and were as eager to do credit to their new chief as were the mutineers in the archduke’s army to merit the approbation of their sovereign.

The rearguard under Tempel was made up, like the other divisions, of the blended nationalities of German, Briton, Hollander, and Walloon, and, like the others, was garnished at each flank with heavy cavalry.

The Spanish army, after coming nearly within cannon-shot of their adversary, paused.  It was plain that the States’ troops were not in so great a panic as the more sanguine advisers of the archduke had hoped.  They were not cowering among the shipping, preparing to escape.  Still less had any portion of them already effected their retreat in those vessels, a few of which had so excited the enemy’s ardour when they came in sight.  It was obvious that a great struggle, in which the forces were very evenly balanced, was now to be fought out upon those sands.  It was a splendid tournament—­a great duel for life and death between the champions of the Papacy and of Protestantism, of the Republic and of absolutism, that was to be fought out that midsummer’s day.  The lists were closed.  The trumpet signal for the fray would soon be blown.

The archduke, in Milanese armour, on a wonderfully beautiful snow-white Spanish stallion, moved in the centre of his army.  He wore no helmet, that his men might the more readily recognize him as he rode gallantly to and fro, marshalling, encouraging, exhorting the troops.  Never before had he manifested such decided military talent, combined with unquestionable personal valour, as he had done since this campaign began.  Friend and foe agreed that day that Albert fought like a lion.  He was at first well seconded by Mendoza, who led the van, and by Villars, La Bourlotte,