The first thing to be done was to dispose of the prisoners, whose number embarrassed the conquerors. Philip dismissed all those of the common file, on the condition that they should not bear arms for six months against the Spaniards. The condition did no great detriment to the French service, as the men, on their return, were sent to garrison some distant towns, and their places in the army filled by the troops whom they had relieved. The cavaliers and persons of condition were lodged in fortresses, where they could be securely detained till the amount of their respective ransoms was determined. These ransoms formed an important part of the booty of the conqueror. How important, may be inferred from the sum offered by the constable on his own account and that of his son,--no less, it is said, than a hundred and sixty-five thousand gold crowns.[217] The soldier of that day, when the penalty was loss of fortune as well as of freedom, must be confessed to have fought on harder conditions than at present.
A council of war was next called, to decide on further operations. When Charles the Fifth received tidings of the victory of St. Quentin, the first thing he asked, as we are told, was "whether Philip were at Paris."[218] Had Charles been in command, he would doubtless have followed up the blow by presenting himself at once before the French capital. But Philip was not of that sanguine temper which overlooks, or at least overleaps, the obstacles in its way. Charles calculated the chances of success; Philip, those of failure. Charles's character opened the way to more brilliant achievements, but exposed him also to severer reverses. His enterprising spirit was more favorable to building up a great empire; the cautious temper of Philip was better fitted to preserve it. Philip came in the right time; and his circumspect policy was probably better suited to his position, as well as to his character, than the bolder policy of the emperor.
When the duke of Savoy urged, as it is said, the expediency of profiting by the present panic to march at once on the French capital, Philip looked at the dangers of such a step. Several strong fortresses of the enemy would be left in his rear. Rivers must be crossed, presenting lines of defence which could easily be maintained against a force even superior to his own. Paris was covered by formidable works, and forty thousand citizens could be enrolled, at the shortest notice, for its protection. It was not wise to urge the foe to extremity, to force a brave and loyal people, like the French, to rise _en masse_, as they would do for the defence of their capital. The emperor, his father, had once invaded France with a powerful army, and laid siege to Marseilles. The issue of that invasion was known to everybody. "The Spaniards," it was tauntingly said, "had come into the country feasting on turkeys; they were glad to escape from it feeding on roots!"[219] Philip determined, therefore, to abide by his original plan of operations, and profit by the late success of his arms to press the siege of St. Quentin with his whole force.--It would not be easy for any one, at this distance of time, to pronounce on the wisdom of his decision. But subsequent events tend considerably to strengthen our confidence in it.