Of those important political events which make the sixteenth century
to take rank among the brightest of the world's epochs, the foundation
of the freedom of the Netherlands appears to me one of the most
remarkable. If the glittering exploits of ambition and the pernicious
lust of power claim our admiration, how much more so should an event
in which opprest humanity struggled for its noblest right, where with
the good cause unwonted powers were united, and the resources of
resolute despair triumphed in unequal contest over the terrible arts
of tyranny.
[Footnote 20: From the introduction to the "History of the Revolt of
the Netherlands." Translated by A. J. W. Morrison. This work was
translated by J. Horne in 1807, and again by E. B. Eastwick in 1844.]
Great and encouraging is the reflection that there is a resource left
us against the arrogant usurpations of despotic power; that its
best-contrived plans against the liberty of mankind may be frustrated;
that resolute opposition can weaken even the outstretched arm of
tyranny; and that heroic perseverance can eventually exhaust its
fearful resources.
Never did this truth affect me so sensibly as in tracing the history
of that memorable rebellion which forever severed the United
Netherlands from the Spanish crown. Therefore I thought it not unworth
the while to attempt to exhibit to the world this grand memorial of
social union, in the hope that it may awaken in the breast of my
reader a spirit-stirring consciousness of his own powers, and give a
new and irrefragable example of what in a good cause men may both dare
and venture, and what by union they may accomplish. It is not the
extraordinary or heroic features of this event that induce me to
describe it. The annals of the world record perhaps many similar
enterprises, which may have been even bolder in the conception, and
more brilliant in the execution. Some states have fallen after a
nobler struggle, others have risen with more exalted strides. Nor are
we here to look for eminent heroes, colossal talents, or those
marvelous exploits which the history of past times presents in such
rich abundance. Those times are gone, such men are no more. In the
soft lap of refinement, we have suffered the energetic powers to
become enervated which those ages called into action and rendered
indispensable. With admiring awe, we wonder at these gigantic images
of the past, as a feeble old man gazes on the athletic sports of
youth.
Not so, however, in the history before us. The people here presented
to our notice were the most peaceful in our quarter of the globe, and
less capable than their neighbors of that heroic spirit which stamps a
lofty character even on the most insignificant actions. The pressure
of circumstances with its peculiar influence surprized them and forced
a transitory greatness upon them, which they never could have possest,
and perhaps will never possess again. It is, indeed, exactly this want
of heroic grandeur which renders this event peculiarly instructive;
and while others aim at showing the superiority of genius over
chance, I shall here paint a scene where necessity creates genius, and
accident makes heroes.
If, in any case, it be allowable to recognize the intervention of
Providence in human affairs, it is certainly so in the present
history, its course appears so contradictory to reason and experience.
Philip II, the most powerful sovereign of his time--whose dreaded
supremacy menaced the independence of Europe--whose treasures
surpassed the collective wealth of all the monarchs of Christendom
besides--whose ambitious projects were backed by numerous and
well-disciplined armies--whose troops, hardened by long and bloody
wars, and confident in past victories and in the irresistible prowess
of this nation, were eager for any enterprise that promised glory and
spoil, and ready to second with prompt obedience the daring genius of
their leaders--this dreaded potentate here appears before us
obstinately pursuing one favorite project, devoting to it the untiring
efforts of a long reign, and bringing all these terrible resources to
bear upon it; but forced, in the evening of his days, to abandon
it--here we see the mighty Philip II engaging in combat with a few
weak and powerless adversaries, and retiring from it at last with
disgrace.
And with what adversaries? Here, a peaceful tribe of fishermen and
shepherds, in an almost forgotten corner of Europe, which with
difficulty they had rescued from the ocean; the sea their profession,
and at once their wealth and their plague; poverty with freedom their
highest blessing, their glory, their virtue. There, a harmless, moral
commercial people, reveling in the abundant fruits of thriving
industry, and jealous of the maintenance of laws which had proved
their benefactors. In the happy leisure of affluence, they forsake the
narrow circle of immediate wants, and learn to thirst after higher and
nobler gratifications. The new views of truth whose benignant dawn now
broke over Europe cast a fertilizing beam on this favored clime, and
the free burgher admitted with joy the light which opprest and
miserable slaves shut out. A spirit of independence, which is the
ordinary companion of prosperity and freedom, lured this people on to
examine the authority of antiquated opinions and to break an
ignominious chain. But the stern rod of despotism was held suspended
over them; arbitrary power threatened to tear away the foundation of
their happiness; the guardian of their laws became their tyrant.
Simple in their statecraft no less than in their manners, they dared
to appeal to ancient treaties, and to remind the lord of both Indies
of the right of nature. A name decides the whole issue of things. In
Madrid that was called rebellion which in Brussels was simply styled a
lawful remonstrance. The complaints of Brabant required a prudent
mediator, Philip II sent an executioner. The signal for war was given.
An unparalleled tyranny assailed both property and life. The
despairing citizens, to whom the choice of deaths was all that was
left, chose the nobler one on the battle-field. A wealthy and
luxurious nation loves peace, but becomes warlike as soon as it
becomes poor. Then it ceases to tremble for a life which is deprived
of everything that had made it desirable. In an instant, the contagion
of rebellion seized at once the most distant provinces; trade and
commerce are at a standstill, the ships disappear from the harbors,
the artizan abandons his workshop, the rustic his uncultivated fields.
Thousands fled to distant lands, a thousand victims fell on the bloody
field, and fresh thousands prest on. Divine, indeed, must that
doctrine be for which men could die so joyfully. All that was wanting
was the last finishing hand, the enlightened, enterprising spirit, to
seize on this great political crisis, and to mold the offspring of
chance into the ripe creation of wisdom. William the Silent, like a
second Brutus, devoted himself to the great cause of liberty. Superior
to all selfishness, he resigned honorable offices which entailed on
him objectionable duties, and magnanimously divesting himself of all
his princely dignities, he descended to a state of voluntary poverty,
and became but a citizen of the world. The cause of justice was staked
upon the hazardous game of battle; but the newly raised levies of
mercenaries and peaceful husbandmen were unable to withstand the
terrible onset of an experienced force. Twice did the brave William
lead his dispirited troops against the tyrant, twice was he abandoned
by them, but not by his courage.
Philip II sent as many reenforcements as the dreadful importunity of
his viceroy demanded. Fugitives, whom their country rejected, sought a
new home on the ocean, and turned to the ships of their enemy to
satisfy the cravings both of vengeance and of want. Naval heroes were
now formed out of corsairs, and a marine collected out of piratical
vessels: out of morasses arose a republic. Seven provinces threw off
the yoke at the same time, to form a new, youthful state, powerful by
its waters and its union and despair. A solemn decree of the whole
nation deposed the tyrant, and the Spanish name was erased from all
its laws.
For such acts no forgiveness remained; the republic became formidable,
only because it was impossible for her to retrace her steps. But
factions distracted her within; without, her terrible element, the sea
itself, leaguing with her oppressors, threatened her very infancy with
a premature grave. She felt herself succumb to the superior force of
the enemy, and cast herself a suppliant before the most powerful
thrones of Europe, begging them to accept a dominion which she herself
could no longer protect. At last, but with difficulty--so despised at
first was this state, that even the rapacity of foreign monarchs
spurned her opening bloom--a stranger deigned to accept their
importunate offer of a dangerous crown. New hopes began to revive her
sinking courage; but in this new father of his country destiny gave
her a traitor, and in the critical emergency, when the implacable foe
was in full force before her very gates, Charles of Anjou invaded the
liberties which he had been called to protect. In the midst of the
tempest, too, the assassin's hand tore the steersman from the helm,
and with William of Orange the career of the infant republic was
seemingly at an end, and all her guardian angels fled. But the ship
continued to scud along before the storm, and the swelling canvas
carried her safe without the pilot's help.
Philip II missed the fruits of a deed which cost him his royal honor,
and perhaps, also, his self-respect. Liberty struggled on still with
despotism, in obstinate and dubious contest; sanguinary battles were
fought; a brilliant array of heroes succeeded each other on the field
of glory; and Flanders and Brabant were the schools which educated
generals for the coming century. A long, devastating war laid waste
the open country; victor and vanquished alike waded through blood;
while the rising republic of the waters gave a welcome to fugitive
industry, and out of the ruins of despotism erected the noble edifice
of its own greatness. For forty years lasted the war whose happy
termination was not to bless the dying eye of Philip; which destroyed
one paradise in Europe, to form a new one out of its shattered
fragments; which destroyed the choicest flower of military youth, and
while it enriched more than a quarter of the globe, impoverished the
possessor of the golden Peru. This monarch, who could expend nine
hundred tons of gold without oppressing his subjects, and by
tyrannical measure extorted far more, heaped moreover on his exhausted
people a debt of one hundred and forty millions of ducats. An
implacable hatred of liberty swallowed up all these treasures, and
consumed on the fruitless task the labor of a royal life. But the
Reformation throve amidst the devastations of the sword, and over the
blood of her citizens the banner of the new republic floated
victorious.