This siege, although it took place at a distance of fifteen years
from its cause, was the result of one of the many political errors of
the treaty of Vienna. Nothing could be more unwise and short-sighted
than to expect a peaceful union between Belgium and Holland, and
particularly of so strict a nature as that union in some of its
features was composed. Although near neighbours, the Belgians and
the Dutch are widely different: different in language, institutions,
blood, and traditions. The union likewise, instead of being cemented
by conciliation, was rendered galling by oppressive enactments; the
monarch reigning over both countries was the king of Holland, and the
proceedings of the courts of law were commanded to be carried on in
the language of that country, so that Belgium appeared more like a
conquered province than a willing partner in a union brought about
for the benefit of both. If the union of England with Scotland had
been carried on upon the principle of the one we are speaking of, the
animosities and heart-burnings would never have subsided; we have had
two invasions or rebellions, as it is, in which that country has taken
part against us, although we form part of the same island. The Belgians
have more of the character of the French or the Germans than of the
Dutch; they are as industrious, ingenious, and mercantile as the Dutch;
but they are more chivalric in their traditions; which feeling is kept
alive by their splendid mediæval monuments, by their noble history,
and by the Catholic religion; and, however science, and the progress
of general knowledge, may soften down the asperities which separate
neighbouring peoples, no nation, capable of good, willingly parts
from its traditions. In short, the Belgians were not a people to sink
willingly into a secondary state, particularly under the Dutch, with
whom they felt themselves perfectly able to dispute the question, and
were ripe for insurrection, if so it can be called, when the French
revolution of 1830 set the minds of all Europeans labouring under
real or fancied wrong in a state of ferment. The Belgians rose _en
masse_; one place after another fell into the hands of the provisional
government; Prince Frederick was shamefully and unaccountably repulsed
from Brussels; and little remained to the house of Nassau, except the
splendidly fortified city of Antwerp.
Disheartened and disgusted by the failure of his brother, the prince of
Orange--who acted for his father, King William--hastened to Antwerp.
He threw himself with honest energy into the cause, in the hope of
maintaining the sway of his house over Belgium, and, at the same time,
of serving the Belgians and responding to their views. He affected to
act for himself, and offered to become their independent ruler; but it
was evident that he was governed by orders from the Hague, and that the
command of the army was still in the hands of his brother Frederick
and General Chassé. An ill-timed royal proclamation and summons of
the Dutch to arms, which designated the southern provinces _rebels_,
completed the want of confidence in the prince, and rendered all his
efforts nugatory--even his proclamation to place himself at the head
of the movement. The provisional government contemptuously rejected
all acknowledgment of authority in the Dutch--they, the people, were,
they said, at the head of their own movement, and they wanted no
other. Treated with scorn by the Belgians, crossed in his views of
conciliation by his father, and his authority disputed by General
Chassé, the prince, with a bleeding heart, was compelled to abandon all
hope, and bade adieu to the Belgian provinces in a short but affecting
address. Chassé placed Antwerp in a state of siege on the 24th of
October.
On the 22nd of October, the patriots, forming an irregular body
of about five thousand men, with sixteen guns, had commenced a
simultaneous movement upon the line occupied by the royal troops, who
were about seven thousand strong, with forty pieces of artillery. On
the 25th the insurgent army arrived under the walls of Antwerp, and
some hard fighting took place in the suburbs. The strength of the place
would, however, have set them at defiance; but, on the following day,
the populace, by a sudden movement within the city, overpowered and
disarmed some of the Dutch posts. On the 27th this internal contest was
renewed: the populace succeeded in carrying one of the gates; it was
immediately thrown open, and the insurgent army poured into the city,
accompanied by a commissioner of the provisional government, who had
been sent from Brussels to instal the new authorities. General Chassé,
instead of risking his diminished garrison in street-warfare, retired
into the citadel, the guns of which gave him the command of the town.
The insurgents were not ignorant of this, and a convention was agreed
to, by which both parties bound themselves to remain quiet. Scarcely,
however, had the convention been signed, when the insurgents, in open
violation of it, attacked the important post of the arsenal, forcing
one of its gates by cannon-shot. This act of treachery left General
Chassé no alternative; he was bound to do his duty, and defend his
men. The citadel and the frigates in the harbour opened a cannonade
upon the town. “An awful and simultaneous roar of artillery now fell
on the ears of the affrighted inhabitants. In an instant the citadel,
forts, and fleet hurled forth their converging thunder. An iron deluge
rained upon the city-walls, and clattered among the buildings. Showers
of shells, bombs, and carcases were heard, cracking, bursting, and
bellowing around the venerable towers of St. Michael; the uproar of
their explosion being multiplied by the echoes of the cathedral.
Walls, roofs, and floors fell, crushed beneath the resistless weight
of projectiles, which sought their victims in the very cellars,
confounding mangled bodies and ruined edifices in one mutilated and
confused heap. Ere long, dark columns of smoke and jets of flame were
seen to rise. The arsenal and entrepôt were fired. The obscurity of
the night soon gave way to a red and glaring lustre, that converted
the dark vault of heaven into a fiery canopy, whose lurid reflection
announced the fearful catastrophe to the distance of many leagues.
“The terror and stupefaction of the inhabitants baffles description.
Some concealed themselves in their vaults and cellars; others rushed
wildly through the streets, shrieking and bewildered. Such as had
horses or vehicles, no matter of what kind, gathered together their
valuables, and hastily fled into the country. Others, intent only on
saving life, darted through the gates on foot, and sought refuge in the
neighbouring fields. Old men, fair women, and young children,--rich
and poor, the hale and the sick, were seen flying in frantic disorder.
The flames having gained the prison, there was no time to remove
its inmates. The doors were therefore thrown open, and nearly two
hundred convicts were let loose; _but none had the heart to plunder_.
Terror, confusion, and despair reigned paramount. Weeping women and
children clung for succour to men who could afford them no relief or
consolation. Some died of fright, others lost their senses. Groans,
screams, and prayers were heard between the pauses of the thunder,
intermingled with maledictions on the destroyer, and curses on the
revolution. In a few hours, however, all that had power to move, or
were not transfixed with terror, had fled into the country. The roads
were covered with fugitives of all ages and sexes, who, with tearful
eyes, turned to gaze on their devoted homes. The darkness of the
night, awfully relieved by the red glare of the flames, the hissing
and roaring of the destructive element, the thunder of the cannon, the
rattling of shot and falling of timbers, the frantic screams of women
and children, and the groans of the wounded and dying,--all united to
fix an impression of horror on the mind, not to be effaced by time or
space.”[22]
The siege of Antwerp being such an event as was happily rare, during
the last forty years, it has excited much attention, and we have given
the above extract to meet the expectations of our readers; but we
cannot help suspecting that the historian has sacrificed something to
a little _fine writing_ (in itself not good). We have reason to think
the damage did not amount to near so much as such a portentous account
would imply. The bombarding produced its horrors, no doubt; but we must
not forget that this scene fell far short of others of the same kind;
man’s brutal passions did not disfigure it--the soldier’s murderous
sword, guided by revenge, lust, or cupidity, was not there.
The inhabitants and insurgents, terrified at the unexpected severity
of General Chassé, sent a deputation at dawn to treat with him, and
it was agreed that affairs should remain exactly as they were, until
the general question should be definitively settled. Chassé has been
generally and deservedly blamed for having inflicted such a punishment
upon a large, wealthy, commercial city like Antwerp, for the frantic
extravagances of an excited populace: the bombardment, perhaps, did not
in one case injure the parties who had provoked his anger.
The kingdom of the United Netherlands had been created by Britain,
Austria, Russia, Prussia, and France, and when it was found that the
parties could not cohere, they felt called upon to look after the work
of their own hands. Belgium had nobly obtained its own independence; to
have coerced a reunion would most likely have brought on a serious war,
several of the powers having, too plainly, views of a self-interested
nature. Belgium was, therefore, by general consent, erected into
an independent kingdom, under Prince Leopold of Saxe-Cobourg; the
Dutch immediately withdrew their troops from that country, and the
inhabitants of Antwerp were relieved from the presence of a foreign
garrison in their citadel.