Indeed and it will.
While William is still bobbing up and down on the uncomfortable North
Sea, the republic, left without a Stadholder, left without the whole
superstructure of its ancient government, is wildly and hilariously
dancing around a high pole. On top of this pole is a hat adorned with a
tricoloured sash. At the foot of the pole stands a board upon which is
painted "Liberty, Fraternity, Equality." The music for the festivities
is provided by the drums and fifes of the French soldiers. The melody
that is being played is the "Marseillaise." Soon the Hollanders shall
provide the music themselves to the tune of some 40,000,000 guilders a
year. And they shall dance a gay little two-step across every
battlefield of Europe.
The worst of the revolution of 1795, from our point of view, was its
absolute sincerity and its great honesty of purpose. The modern
immigrant approaching the shores of the promised land in total ignorance
of what he is about to discover, but with a deep conviction that soon
all will be well, is no more naïve and simple in his unwarranted
optimism that was the good patriot who during the first months of the
year 1796 welcomed the bedraggled French sansculottes as his very dear
deliverers and put his best guestroom at the disposal of some Parisan
tough in red, white, and blue pantaloons. Verily the millennium had
come. Never, until within our own days of amateur sociology and of
self-searching and devotion to the woes of our humbler brethren, has
there been such conscientious desire to lift the world bodily out of its
wicked old groove and put it upon a newer and better road. Whether this
hysterical joy, this unselfish ecstasy, about a new life was founded
upon a sound and tangible basis few people knew and fewer cared. The
sacred fire burned in their breasts and that was enough.
It was no time for a minute analogy of inner sentiments. The world was
all astir with great events ... _allons enfants de la Patrie_, and the
devil take the hindmost.
Meanwhile, since in all enthusiasm, genuine or otherwise, there must be
some method; since the music of brass bands does not fill empty
stomachs, but a baker has to bake bread; since, to come to our point,
the old order of things had been destroyed, but no state can continue
without some sort of order--meanwhile, what was the exact status of this
good land?
The French, as we have said before, had not made war upon the nation but
upon the head thereof. Exit the head; remains the nation. What was the
position of the latter toward their noble deliverers? This was a
question which had to be decided at once. The moment the French soldiers
should overrun the entire country and should become conquerors, the
republic was liable to be treated as so much vanquished territory. The
republic knew of other countries which had suffered a like fate and did
not aspire to follow their example. Wherefore it became imperatively
necessary to "do something." But what?
In The Hague, as a last nucleus of the old government, there remained a
number of the members of the General Estates, deliberating without
purpose, waiting without hope for some indication of the future French
policy. Wait on, Your High and Mightinesses, wait until your
fellow-members, who are now suing for peace, shall return with their
tales of insult and contempt, to tell you their stories of an
overbearing revolutionary general and of ill-clad ruffians, who are
living on the fat of the land and refuse insolently to receive the
honourable missionaries of the Most High Estates.
Of real work, however, of governing, meeting, discussing, voting, there
will be no more for you to do. You may continue to lead an humble
existence until a year later, but for the moment all your former
executive power is centred in a body of which you have never heard
before--in the Revolutionary Committee of Amsterdam.
The Revolutionary Committee in Amsterdam, what was it, whence did it
come, what did it aspire to do? Its name was more formidable than its
appearance. There were none of the approved revolutionary paraphernalia,
no unshaven faces, nor unkempt hair. The soiled linen, once the
distinguishing mark of every true Progressive, was not tolerated in this
honourable company. It is true that wigs were discarded for man's own
natural hair, but otherwise the leaders of this self-appointed
revolutionary executive organ were law-abiding citizens, who patronized
the barber regularly, who believed in the ancestral doctrine of the
Saturday evening, and who had nothing in common with the prototypes of
the French revolution but their belief in the same trinity of Liberty,
Equality, and Fraternity, with perhaps a little less stress upon the
Equality clause.
No, the Revolutionary Committee which stepped so nobly forward at this
critical moment was composed of highly respectable and representative
citizens, members of the best families. They acted because nobody else
acted, but not out of a desire for personal glory. The army of personal
glorifiers was to have its innings at a later date.
Now, let us try to tell what this committee did and how the old order of
things was changed into a new one. After all, it was a very simple
affair. A modern newspaper correspondent would have thought it just
about good for two thousand words.
[Illustration: WARSHIP ENTERING THE PORT OF AMSTERDAM]
On Friday, the 16th of January, the day on which the French took the
town of Utrecht, a certain Wiselius, amateur author, writer of
innumerable epics and lyrics, but otherwise an inoffensive lawyer and a
member of the secret Patriotic Club, went to his office and composed an
"Appeal to the People." In this appeal the people were called upon to
"throw off the yoke of tyranny and to liberate themselves." On the
morning of the 17th this proclamation, hastily printed, was spread
throughout the town and was eagerly read by the aforementioned people
who were waiting for something to happen. During the afternoon of the
same day this amount of floating literature received a sudden and most
unexpected addition. General Daendels, the man of the hour, commander of
a battalion of Batavian exiles, while pushing on toward Amsterdam, had
discovered a print-shop in the little village of Leerdam, and, in
rivalry with Wiselius, he had set himself down to contrive another
"Appeal to the People." After a two hours' walk, his circulars had
reached the capital and had breathed the genuine and unmistakable
revolutionary atmosphere into the good town of Amsterdam. Here is a
sample: "Batavians, the representatives of the French people demand of
the Dutch nation that it shall free itself forthwith from slavery. They
do not wish to come to the low countries as conquerors. They do not wish
to force upon the old Dutch Republic the assignats which conquered
territory must accept. (A fine bait, for this paper was money as
valuable as Confederate greenbacks.) They come hither driven solely by
the love of Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality, and they want to make
the republic a friend and ally of France--an ally proud of her
independence and her free sovereignty." When the Amsterdam Revolutionary
Committee noticed the commotion made by these two proclamations,
especially by the second one, it decided to act at once. Among the
initiated inner circle the word was passed around that early the next
morning, at the stroke of nine, a "Revolution" would take place. But
before the arrival of the momentous hour many unexpected things
happened. Let us try and explain them in due order.
On the afternoon of the 17th General Daendels had received a visit from
an old friend, who was called Dr. Krayenhoff--an interesting type,
possible only in the curious eighteenth century. Originally destined for
the study of jurisprudence, he had drifted into medicine, had taken up
the new plaything called electricity, and as an electrical specialist
had made quite a reputation. From popular lectures upon electricity and
the natural sciences in general he had drifted into politics, had easily
become a leading member of the progressive part of the Patriots, and on
account of his recognized executive ability had soon found himself one
of the leaders of the party. He was a man of pleasant manners, rare
personal courage, the combination of scientific, political, and military
man which so often during the revolutionary days seemed destined to play
a leading rôle. His former fellow-student, Daendels, who had been away
from the country for more than eight years, had eagerly welcomed this
ambulant source of information, and had asked Krayenhoff what chances of
success the revolution would have in Amsterdam. The two old friends had
a lengthy conversation, the result of which was that Krayenhoff declared
himself willing to return to Amsterdam to carry an official message from
Daendels to the town government and see what could be done. The town
government was known to consist of weak brethren, and a little pressure
and some threatening words might do a lot. There was only one obstacle
to the plan of Daendels to march directly upon the capital. The strong
fortification of Nieuwersluis was still in the hands of the troops of
the old government. These might like to fight and block the way. But the
commander of this post showed himself a man of excellent common sense.
When Citizen Krayenhoff, on his way north, passed by this well-armed
stronghold, the commander came out to meet him, and not only declared
his eager intention of abandoning the fort but obligingly offered Mr.
Krayenhoff a few of his buglers to act as parliamentaries on his
expedition to Amsterdam.
[Illustration: DAENDELS]
Accordingly, on the morning of the 18th of January, Krayenhoff and his
buglers appeared before the walls of the town, and in the name of the
Franco-Batavian General Daendels proceeded to deliver their highly
important message to their Mightinesses the burgomasters and aldermen.
The message solemnly promised that there would be no shedding of blood,
no destroying of property, no violence to the person; but it insisted
in very precise terms upon an immediate revolution. All things would
happen in order and with decency, but revolution there must be.
This summons to the town government was the sign for the Patriotic Club
to make its first public appearance. Six of the most influential leaders
of the party, headed by Rutger Jan Schimmelpenninck, incarnation of
civic virtue and prudence, quietly walked to the town hall, where in the
name of the people they demanded that the town government be delivered
into their own hands. They assured the much frightened worthies of the
town hall of their great personal esteem, and repeated the solemn
promise that no violence of any sort would occur unless the militia be
called out against them.
[Illustration: FRENCH TROOPS ENTERING AMSTERDAM]
The gentlemen of city hall assured the Revolutionary Committee that
violence was the very last thing which they had in mind. But of course
this whole proceeding was very sudden. Would the honourable
Revolutionary Committee kindly return at nine of that same evening, and
then they would find everything arranged to their complete satisfaction.
_Ita que acta._ At half-past nine of the same evening the Revolutionary
Committee returned to the town hall and found everything as desired.
Krayenhoff, who was made military commander of the city, climbed on the
stoop of the building and by the light of a torch held by one of his new
soldiers he read to the assembled multitude a solemn proclamation
which informed all present that a revolution had taken place, and that
early the next morning the official exchange of the high government
would take place. After which the assembled multitude discreetly
applauded and went home and to bed. The Revolutionary Committee,
however, made ready for a night of literary activity and retired to the
well-known inn, the Cherry Tree, to do a lot of writing. Soon paper and
ink covered the tables and the work of composing proclamations was in
full swing; but ere many hours had passed, who should walk in but our
old friend Major-General Daendels. That afternoon while making a tour of
inspection with a few French Hussars he had found the city gates of
Amsterdam wide open and unguarded. Glad of the chance to sleep in a real
bed, he had entered the town, had asked for the best hotel, and behold!
our hero had been directed to the self-same Cherry Tree. His Hussars
were made comfortable in the stable and he himself was asked to light a
pipe and join his brethren in their arduous task of providing the
literary background for a revolution.
The next morning, fresh and early, the French detachment drove up to
form a guard of honour for the plain citizens who within another hour
would be the official rulers of the city. When the clock of the New
Church struck the hour of ten, the representatives of the people of
Amsterdam entered the famous hall, where the town government had met in
extraordinary session. Both parties exhibited the most perfect manners.
The Patriots were received with the utmost politeness. They, from their
side, assumed an attitude of much-distracted bailiffs who have come to
perform a necessary but highly uncongenial duty. They assured the
honourable town council again and again that no harm would befall them.
But since (early the night before) "the Batavian people had resumed the
exercise of their ancient sovereign rights," the old self-instituted
authorities had been automatically removed and had returned to that
class of private citizens from which several centuries before their
ancestors had one day risen. The burgomaster and aldermen could not deny
this fundamental piece of historical logic. They gathered up their
papers, made a polite bow, and disappeared. The people assembled in the
open place in front of the city hall paid no attention. Henceforth the
regents could only have an interest as a historical curiosity. A new
time had come. It was established upstairs, on the first floor, and
another proclamation had been written. This first official document of
the new era was then read from the balcony of the hall to the people
below:
"Liberty, Fraternity, Equality. Fellow-Batavians: The old order of
things has ceased to be. The new order of things will start with the
following list of provisional representatives of the people of
Amsterdam. (Follows a list of twenty-one names.) People of the Batavian
Republic, what say ye?"
The people, patient audience in all such political entertainments, said
what was expected of them. The twenty-one new dignitaries, thus duly
installed, then took their seats upon the unfamiliar green cushions of
the aldermanic chairs and went over to the order of the day. The former
subjects, present citizens, still assembled in the streets, went home to
tell the folks that there had been a revolution, and that, on the 20th
of January of the first year of the Batavian liberty, the good town of
Amsterdam had thrown off the yoke of tyranny and the people had become
free. And at ten o'clock curfew rang and everybody went to sleep.