No More Learning

After
a bloody engagement of eight hours, a desperate attack on the part of
the Imperial cavalry, and a vigorous resistance by the Swedish infantry,
the latter remained in possession of the field. 2,000 Austrians were
killed upon the spot, and Hatzfeldt himself, with 3,000 men, taken
prisoners. Thus, on the same day, did the Emperor lose his best general
and his last army.

This decisive victory at Jancowitz, at once exposed all the Austrian
territory to the enemy. Ferdinand hastily fled to Vienna, to provide
for its defence, and to save his family and his treasures. In a very
short time, the victorious Swedes poured, like an inundation, upon
Moravia and Austria. After they had subdued nearly the whole of
Moravia, invested Brunn, and taken all the strongholds as far as the
Danube, and carried the intrenchments at the Wolf's Bridge, near Vienna,
they at last appeared in sight of that capital, while the care which
they had taken to fortify their conquests, showed that their visit was
not likely to be a short one. After a long and destructive circuit
through every province of Germany, the stream of war had at last rolled
backwards to its source, and the roar of the Swedish artillery now
reminded the terrified inhabitants of those balls which, twenty-seven
years before, the Bohemian rebels had fired into Vienna. The same
theatre of war brought again similar actors on the scene. Torstensohn
invited Ragotsky, the successor of Bethlen Gabor, to his assistance, as
the Bohemian rebels had solicited that of his predecessor; Upper Hungary
was already inundated by his troops, and his union with the Swedes was
daily apprehended. The Elector of Saxony, driven to despair by the
Swedes taking up their quarters within his territories, and abandoned by
the Emperor, who, after the defeat at Jankowitz, was unable to defend
himself, at length adopted the last and only expedient which remained,
and concluded a truce with Sweden, which was renewed from year to year,
till the general peace. The Emperor thus lost a friend, while a new
enemy was appearing at his very gates, his armies dispersed, and his
allies in other quarters of Germany defeated. The French army had
effaced the disgrace of their defeat at Deutlingen by a brilliant
campaign, and had kept the whole force of Bavaria employed upon the
Rhine and in Suabia. Reinforced with fresh troops from France, which
the great Turenne, already distinguished by his victories in Italy,
brought to the assistance of the Duke of Enghien, they appeared on the
3rd of August, 1644, before Friburg, which Mercy had lately taken, and
now covered, with his whole army strongly intrenched. But against the
steady firmness of the Bavarians, all the impetuous valour of the French
was exerted in vain, and after a fruitless sacrifice of 6,000 men, the
Duke of Enghien was compelled to retreat. Mazarin shed tears over this
great loss, which Conde, who had no feeling for anything but glory,
disregarded. "A single night in Paris," said he, "gives birth to more
men than this action has destroyed. " The Bavarians, however, were so
disabled by this murderous battle, that, far from being in a condition
to relieve Austria from the menaced dangers, they were too weak even to
defend the banks of the Rhine. Spires, Worms, and Manheim capitulated;
the strong fortress of Philipsburg was forced to surrender by famine;
and, by a timely submission, Mentz hastened to disarm the conquerors.

Austria and Moravia, however, were now freed from Torstensohn, by a
similar means of deliverance, as in the beginning of the war had saved
them from the Bohemians. Ragotzky, at the head of 25,000 men, had
advanced into the neighbourhood of the Swedish quarters upon the Danube.
But these wild undisciplined hordes, instead of seconding the operations
of Torstensohn by any vigorous enterprise, only ravaged the country, and
increased the distress which, even before their arrival, had begun to be
felt in the Swedish camp. To extort tribute from the Emperor, and money
and plunder from his subjects, was the sole object that had allured
Ragotzky, or his predecessor, Bethlen Gabor, into the field; and both
departed as soon as they had gained their end. To get rid of him,
Ferdinand granted the barbarian whatever he asked, and, by a small
sacrifice, freed his states of this formidable enemy.

In the mean time, the main body of the Swedes had been greatly weakened
by a tedious encampment before Brunn. Torstensohn, who commanded in
person, for four entire months employed in vain all his knowledge of
military tactics; the obstinacy of the resistance was equal to that of
the assault; while despair roused the courage of Souches, the
commandant, a Swedish deserter, who had no hope of pardon. The ravages
caused by pestilence, arising from famine, want of cleanliness, and the
use of unripe fruit, during their tedious and unhealthy encampment, with
the sudden retreat of the Prince of Transylvania, at last compelled the
Swedish leader to raise the siege. As all the passes upon the Danube
were occupied, and his army greatly weakened by famine and sickness, he
at last relinquished his intended plan of operations against Austria and
Moravia, and contented himself with securing a key to these provinces,
by leaving behind him Swedish garrisons in the conquered fortresses. He
then directed his march into Bohemia, whither he was followed by the
Imperialists, under the Archduke Leopold. Such of the lost places as
had not been retaken by the latter, were recovered, after his departure,
by the Austrian General Bucheim; so that, in the course of the following
year, the Austrian frontier was again cleared of the enemy, and Vienna
escaped with mere alarm. In Bohemia and Silesia too, the Swedes
maintained themselves only with a very variable fortune; they traversed
both countries, without being able to hold their ground in either. But
if the designs of Torstensohn were not crowned with all the success
which they were promised at the commencement, they were, nevertheless,
productive of the most important consequences to the Swedish party.
Denmark had been compelled to a peace, Saxony to a truce. The Emperor,
in the deliberations for a peace, offered greater concessions; France
became more manageable; and Sweden itself bolder and more confident in
its bearing towards these two crowns. Having thus nobly performed his
duty, the author of these advantages retired, adorned with laurels, into
the tranquillity of private life, and endeavoured to restore his
shattered health.

By the retreat of Torstensohn, the Emperor was relieved from all fears
of an irruption on the side of Bohemia. But a new danger soon
threatened the Austrian frontier from Suabia and Bavaria. Turenne, who
had separated from Conde, and taken the direction of Suabia, had, in the
year 1645, been totally defeated by Mercy, near Mergentheim; and the
victorious Bavarians, under their brave leader, poured into Hesse. But
the Duke of Enghien hastened with considerable succours from Alsace,
Koenigsmark from Moravia, and the Hessians from the Rhine, to recruit
the defeated army, and the Bavarians were in turn compelled to retire to
the extreme limits of Suabia. Here they posted themselves at the
village of Allersheim, near Nordlingen, in order to cover the Bavarian
frontier. But no obstacle could check the impetuosity of the Duke of
Enghien. In person, he led on his troops against the enemy's
entrenchments, and a battle took place, which the heroic resistance of
the Bavarians rendered most obstinate and bloody; till at last the death
of the great Mercy, the skill of Turenne, and the iron firmness of the
Hessians, decided the day in favour of the allies. But even this second
barbarous sacrifice of life had little effect either on the course of
the war, or on the negociations for peace. The French army, exhausted
by this bloody engagement, was still farther weakened by the departure
of the Hessians, and the Bavarians being reinforced by the Archduke
Leopold, Turenne was again obliged hastily to recross the Rhine.

The retreat of the French, enabled the enemy to turn his whole force
upon the Swedes in Bohemia. Gustavus Wrangel, no unworthy successor of
Banner and Torstensohn, had, in 1646, been appointed Commander-in-chief
of the Swedish army, which, besides Koenigsmark's flying corps and the
numerous garrisons disposed throughout the empire, amounted to about
8,000 horse, and 15,000 foot. The Archduke, after reinforcing his army,
which already amounted to 24,000 men, with twelve Bavarian regiments of
cavalry, and eighteen regiments of infantry, moved against Wrangel, in
the hope of being able to overwhelm him by his superior force before
Koenigsmark could join him, or the French effect a diversion in his
favour. Wrangel, however, did not await him, but hastened through Upper
Saxony to the Weser, where he took Hoester and Paderborn. From thence
he marched into Hesse, in order to join Turenne, and at his camp at
Wetzlar, was joined by the flying corps of Koenigsmark. But Turenne,
fettered by the instructions of Mazarin, who had seen with jealousy the
warlike prowess and increasing power of the Swedes, excused himself on
the plea of a pressing necessity to defend the frontier of France on the
side of the Netherlands, in consequence of the Flemings having failed to
make the promised diversion. But as Wrangel continued to press his just
demand, and a longer opposition might have excited distrust on the part
of the Swedes, or induce them to conclude a private treaty with Austria,
Turenne at last obtained the wished for permission to join the Swedish
army.

The junction took place at Giessen, and they now felt themselves strong
enough to meet the enemy. The latter had followed the Swedes into
Hesse, in order to intercept their commissariat, and to prevent their
union with Turenne. In both designs they had been unsuccessful; and the
Imperialists now saw themselves cut off from the Maine, and exposed to
great scarcity and want from the loss of their magazines. Wrangel took
advantage of their weakness, to execute a plan by which he hoped to give
a new turn to the war. He, too, had adopted the maxim of his
predecessor, to carry the war into the Austrian States. But discouraged
by the ill success of Torstensohn's enterprise, he hoped to gain his end
with more certainty by another way. He determined to follow the course
of the Danube, and to break into the Austrian territories through the
midst of Bavaria. A similar design had been formerly conceived by
Gustavus Adolphus, which he had been prevented carrying into effect by
the approach of Wallenstein's army, and the danger of Saxony. Duke
Bernard moving in his footsteps, and more fortunate than Gustavus, had
spread his victorious banners between the Iser and the Inn; but the near
approach of the enemy, vastly superior in force, obliged him to halt in
his victorious career, and lead back his troops. Wrangel now hoped to
accomplish the object in which his predecessors had failed, the more so,
as the Imperial and Bavarian army was far in his rear upon the Lahn, and
could only reach Bavaria by a long march through Franconia and the Upper
Palatinate. He moved hastily upon the Danube, defeated a Bavarian corps
near Donauwerth, and passed that river, as well as the Lech, unopposed.
But by wasting his time in the unsuccessful siege of Augsburg, he gave
opportunity to the Imperialists, not only to relieve that city, but also
to repulse him as far as Lauingen. No sooner, however, had they turned
towards Suabia, with a view to remove the war from Bavaria, than,
seizing the opportunity, he repassed the Lech, and guarded the passage
of it against the Imperialists themselves. Bavaria now lay open and
defenceless before him; the French and Swedes quickly overran it; and
the soldiery indemnified themselves for all dangers by frightful
outrages, robberies, and extortions. The arrival of the Imperial
troops, who at last succeeded in passing the Lech at Thierhaupten, only
increased the misery of this country, which friend and foe
indiscriminately plundered.

And now, for the first time during the whole course of this war, the
courage of Maximilian, which for eight-and-twenty years had stood
unshaken amidst fearful dangers, began to waver. Ferdinand II. , his
school-companion at Ingoldstadt, and the friend of his youth, was no
more; and with the death of his friend and benefactor, the strong tie
was dissolved which had linked the Elector to the House of Austria. To
the father, habit, inclination, and gratitude had attached him; the son
was a stranger to his heart, and political interests alone could
preserve his fidelity to the latter prince.

Accordingly, the motives which the artifices of France now put in
operation, in order to detach him from the Austrian alliance, and to
induce him to lay down his arms, were drawn entirely from political
considerations. It was not without a selfish object that Mazarin had so
far overcome his jealousy of the growing power of the Swedes, as to
allow the French to accompany them into Bavaria. His intention was to
expose Bavaria to all the horrors of war, in the hope that the
persevering fortitude of Maximilian might be subdued by necessity and
despair, and the Emperor deprived of his first and last ally.
Brandenburg had, under its great sovereign, embraced the neutrality;
Saxony had been forced to accede to it; the war with France prevented
the Spaniards from taking any part in that of Germany; the peace with
Sweden had removed Denmark from the theatre of war; and Poland had been
disarmed by a long truce. If they could succeed in detaching the
Elector of Bavaria also from the Austrian alliance, the Emperor would be
without a friend in Germany and left to the mercy of the allied powers.

Ferdinand III. saw his danger, and left no means untried to avert it.
But the Elector of Bavaria was unfortunately led to believe that the
Spaniards alone were disinclined to peace, and that nothing, but Spanish
influence, had induced the Emperor so long to resist a cessation of
hostilities. Maximilian detested the Spaniards, and could never forgive
their having opposed his application for the Palatine Electorate. Could
it then be supposed that, in order to gratify this hated power, he would
see his people sacrificed, his country laid waste, and himself ruined,
when, by a cessation of hostilities, he could at once emancipate himself
from all these distresses, procure for his people the repose of which
they stood so much in need, and perhaps accelerate the arrival of a
general peace? All doubts disappeared; and, convinced of the necessity
of this step, he thought he should sufficiently discharge his
obligations to the Emperor, if he invited him also to share in the
benefit of the truce.

The deputies of the three crowns, and of Bavaria, met at Ulm, to adjust
the conditions. But it was soon evident, from the instructions of the
Austrian ambassadors that it was not the intention of the Emperor to
second the conclusion of a truce, but if possible to prevent it. It was
obviously necessary to make the terms acceptable to the Swedes, who had
the advantage, and had more to hope than to fear from the continuance of
the war. They were the conquerors; and yet the Emperor presumed to
dictate to them. In the first transports of their indignation, the
Swedish ambassadors were on the point of leaving the congress, and the
French were obliged to have recourse to threats in order to detain them.

The good intentions of the Elector of Bavaria, to include the Emperor in
the benefit of the truce, having been thus rendered unavailing, he felt
himself justified in providing for his own safety. However hard were
the conditions on which the truce was to be purchased, he did not
hesitate to accept it on any terms. He agreed to the Swedes extending
their quarters in Suabia and Franconia, and to his own being restricted
to Bavaria and the Palatinate. The conquests which he had made in
Suabia were ceded to the allies, who, on their part, restored to him
what they had taken from Bavaria. Cologne and Hesse Cassel were also
included in the truce. After the conclusion of this treaty, upon the
14th March, 1647, the French and Swedes left Bavaria, and in order not
to interfere with each other, took up different quarters; the former in
Wuertemberg, the latter in Upper Suabia, in the neighbourhood of the
Lake of Constance. On the extreme north of this lake, and on the most
southern frontier of Suabia, the Austrian town of Bregentz, by its steep
and narrow passes, seemed to defy attack; and in this persuasion, the
whole peasantry of the surrounding villages had with their property
taken refuge in this natural fortress. The rich booty, which the store
of provisions it contained, gave reason to expect, and the advantage of
possessing a pass into the Tyrol, Switzerland and Italy, induced the
Swedish general to venture an attack upon this supposed impregnable post
and town, in which he succeeded. Meantime, Turenne, according to
agreement, marched into Wuertemberg, where he forced the Landgrave of
Darmstadt and the Elector of Mentz to imitate the example of Bavaria,
and to embrace the neutrality.

And now, at last, France seemed to have attained the great object of its
policy, that of depriving the Emperor of the support of the League, and
of his Protestant allies, and of dictating to him, sword in hand, the
conditions of peace. Of all his once formidable power, an army, not
exceeding 12,000, was all that remained to him; and this force he was
driven to the necessity of entrusting to the command of a Calvinist, the
Hessian deserter Melander, as the casualties of war had stripped him of
his best generals. But as this war had been remarkable for the sudden
changes of fortune it displayed; and as every calculation of state
policy had been frequently baffled by some unforeseen event, in this
case also the issue disappointed expectation; and after a brief crisis,
the fallen power of Austria rose again to a formidable strength. The
jealousy which France entertained of Sweden, prevented it from
permitting the total ruin of the Emperor, or allowing the Swedes to
obtain such a preponderance in Germany, as might have been destructive
to France herself. Accordingly, the French minister declined to take
advantage of the distresses of Austria; and the army of Turenne,
separating from that of Wrangel, retired to the frontiers of the
Netherlands. Wrangel, indeed, after moving from Suabia into Franconia,
taking Schweinfurt, and incorporating the imperial garrison of that
place with his own army, attempted to make his way into Bohemia, and
laid siege to Egra, the key of that kingdom. To relieve this fortress,
the Emperor put his last army in motion, and placed himself at its head.
But obliged to take a long circuit, in order to spare the lands of Von
Schlick, the president of the council of war, he protracted his march;
and on his arrival, Egra was already taken. Both armies were now in
sight of each other; and a decisive battle was momentarily expected, as
both were suffering from want, and the two camps were only separated
from each other by the space of the entrenchments. But the
Imperialists, although superior in numbers, contented themselves with
keeping close to the enemy, and harassing them by skirmishes, by
fatiguing marches and famine, until the negociations which had been
opened with Bavaria were brought to a bearing.

The neutrality of Bavaria, was a wound under which the Imperial court
writhed impatiently; and after in vain attempting to prevent it, Austria
now determined, if possible, to turn it to advantage. Several officers
of the Bavarian army had been offended by this step of their master,
which at once reduced them to inaction, and imposed a burdensome
restraint on their restless disposition. Even the brave John de Werth
was at the head of the malcontents, and encouraged by the Emperor, he
formed a plot to seduce the whole army from their allegiance to the
Elector, and lead it over to the Emperor. Ferdinand did not blush to
patronize this act of treachery against his father's most trusty ally.
He formally issued a proclamation to the Bavarian troops, in which he
recalled them to himself, reminded them that they were the troops of the
empire, which the Elector had merely commanded in name of the Emperor.
Fortunately for Maximilian, he detected the conspiracy in time enough to
anticipate and prevent it by the most rapid and effective measures.

This disgraceful conduct of the Emperor might have justified a reprisal,
but Maximilian was too old a statesman to listen to the voice of
passion, where policy alone ought to be heard. He had not derived from
the truce the advantages he expected. Far from tending to accelerate a
general peace, it had a pernicious influence upon the negociations at
Munster and Osnaburg, and had made the allies bolder in their demands.
The French and Swedes had indeed removed from Bavaria; but, by the loss
of his quarters in the Suabian circle, he found himself compelled either
to exhaust his own territories by the subsistence of his troops, or at
once to disband them, and to throw aside the shield and spear, at the
very moment when the sword alone seemed to be the arbiter of right.
Before embracing either of these certain evils, he determined to try a
third step, the unfavourable issue of which was at least not so certain,
viz. , to renounce the truce and resume the war.

This resolution, and the assistance which he immediately despatched to
the Emperor in Bohemia, threatened materially to injure the Swedes, and
Wrangel was compelled in haste to evacuate that kingdom. He retired
through Thuringia into Westphalia and Lunenburg, in the hope of forming
a junction with the French army under Turenne, while the Imperial and
Bavarian army followed him to the Weser, under Melander and Gronsfeld.
His ruin was inevitable, if the enemy should overtake him before his
junction with Turenne; but the same consideration which had just saved
the Emperor, now proved the salvation of the Swedes. Even amidst all
the fury of the conquest, cold calculations of prudence guided the
course of the war, and the vigilance of the different courts increased,
as the prospect of peace approached. The Elector of Bavaria could not
allow the Emperor to obtain so decisive a preponderance as, by the
sudden alteration of affairs, might delay the chances of a general
peace. Every change of fortune was important now, when a pacification
was so ardently desired by all, and when the disturbance of the balance
of power among the contracting parties might at once annihilate the work
of years, destroy the fruit of long and tedious negociations, and
indefinitely protract the repose of Europe. If France sought to
restrain the Swedish crown within due bounds, and measured out her
assistance according to her successes and defeats, the Elector of
Bavaria silently undertook the same task with the Emperor his ally, and
determined, by prudently dealing out his aid, to hold the fate of
Austria in his own hands. And now that the power of the Emperor
threatened once more to attain a dangerous superiority, Maximilian at
once ceased to pursue the Swedes. He was also afraid of reprisals from
France, who had threatened to direct Turenne's whole force against him
if he allowed his troops to cross the Weser.

Melander, prevented by the Bavarians from further pursuing Wrangel,
crossed by Jena and Erfurt into Hesse, and now appeared as a dangerous
enemy in the country which he had formerly defended. If it was the
desire of revenge upon his former sovereign, which led him to choose
Hesse for the scene of his ravage, he certainly had his full
gratification. Under this scourge, the miseries of that unfortunate
state reached their height. But he had soon reason to regret that, in
the choice of his quarters, he had listened to the dictates of revenge
rather than of prudence. In this exhausted country, his army was
oppressed by want, while Wrangel was recruiting his strength, and
remounting his cavalry in Lunenburg. Too weak to maintain his wretched
quarters against the Swedish general, when he opened the campaign in the
winter of 1648, and marched against Hesse, he was obliged to retire with
disgrace, and take refuge on the banks of the Danube.

France had once more disappointed the expectations of Sweden; and the
army of Turenne, disregarding the remonstrances of Wrangel, had remained
upon the Rhine. The Swedish leader revenged himself, by drawing into
his service the cavalry of Weimar, which had abandoned the standard of
France, though, by this step, he farther increased the jealousy of that
power. Turenne received permission to join the Swedes; and the last
campaign of this eventful war was now opened by the united armies.
Driving Melander before them along the Danube, they threw supplies into
Egra, which was besieged by the Imperialists, and defeated the Imperial
and Bavarian armies on the Danube, which ventured to oppose them at
Susmarshausen, where Melander was mortally wounded. After this
overthrow, the Bavarian general, Gronsfeld, placed himself on the
farther side of the Lech, in order to guard Bavaria from the enemy.

But Gronsfeld was not more fortunate than Tilly, who, in this same
position, had sacrificed his life for Bavaria. Wrangel and Turenne
chose the same spot for passing the river, which was so gloriously
marked by the victory of Gustavus Adolphus, and accomplished it by the
same means, too, which had favoured their predecessor. Bavaria was now
a second time overrun, and the breach of the truce punished by the
severest treatment of its inhabitants. Maximilian sought shelter in
Salzburgh, while the Swedes crossed the Iser, and forced their way as
far as the Inn. A violent and continued rain, which in a few days
swelled this inconsiderable stream into a broad river, saved Austria
once more from the threatened danger. The enemy ten times attempted to
form a bridge of boats over the Inn, and as often it was destroyed by
the current. Never, during the whole course of the war, had the
Imperialists been in so great consternation as at present, when the
enemy were in the centre of Bavaria, and when they had no longer a
general left who could be matched against a Turenne, a Wrangel, and a
Koenigsmark. At last the brave Piccolomini arrived from the
Netherlands, to assume the command of the feeble wreck of the
Imperialists. By their own ravages in Bohemia, the allies had rendered
their subsistence in that country impracticable, and were at last driven
by scarcity to retreat into the Upper Palatinate, where the news of the
peace put a period to their activity.

Koenigsmark, with his flying corps, advanced towards Bohemia, where
Ernest Odowalsky, a disbanded captain, who, after being disabled in the
imperial service, had been dismissed without a pension, laid before him
a plan for surprising the lesser side of the city of Prague.
Koenigsmark successfully accomplished the bold enterprise, and acquired
the reputation of closing the thirty years' war by the last brilliant
achievement. This decisive stroke, which vanquished the Emperor's
irresolution, cost the Swedes only the loss of a single man. But the
old town, the larger half of Prague, which is divided into two parts by
the Moldau, by its vigorous resistance wearied out the efforts of the
Palatine, Charles Gustavus, the successor of Christina on the throne,
who had arrived from Sweden with fresh troops, and had assembled the
whole Swedish force in Bohemia and Silesia before its walls. The
approach of winter at last drove the besiegers into their quarters, and
in the mean time, the intelligence arrived that a peace had been signed
at Munster, on the 24th October.

The colossal labour of concluding this solemn, and ever memorable and
sacred treaty, which is known by the name of the peace of Westphalia;
the endless obstacles which were to be surmounted; the contending
interests which it was necessary to reconcile; the concatenation of
circumstances which must have co-operated to bring to a favourable
termination this tedious, but precious and permanent work of policy; the
difficulties which beset the very opening of the negociations, and
maintaining them, when opened, during the ever-fluctuating vicissitudes
of the war; finally, arranging the conditions of peace, and still more,
the carrying them into effect; what were the conditions of this peace;
what each contending power gained or lost, by the toils and sufferings
of a thirty years' war; what modification it wrought upon the general
system of European policy;--these are matters which must be relinquished
to another pen. The history of the peace of Westphalia constitutes a
whole, as important as the history of the war itself. A mere abridgment
of it, would reduce to a mere skeleton one of the most interesting and
characteristic monuments of human policy and passions, and deprive it of
every feature calculated to fix the attention of the public, for which I
write, and of which I now respectfully take my leave.




[Note From the first PG etext of this work:
Separate sources indicate that at the beginning of this war there were
about 15 million people in Germany, and at the end of the war there were
about 4 million. If this is not surprising enough, war broke out again
only 10 years after the conclusion of this war. ]






THE WORKS

OF

FREDERICK SCHILLER



Translated from the German



Illustrated





PREFACE TO THE EDITION.



The present is the best collected edition of the important works of
Schiller which is accessible to readers in the English language.
Detached poems or dramas have been translated at various times since
the first publication of the original works; and in several instances
these versions have been incorporated into this collection. Schiller
was not less efficiently qualified by nature for an historian than for
a dramatist. He was formed to excel in all departments of literature,
and the admirable lucidity of style and soundness and impartiality of
judgment displayed in his historical writings will not easily be
surpassed, and will always recommend them as popular expositions of the
periods of which they treat.

Since the publication of the first English edition many corrections and
improvements have been made, with a view to rendering it as acceptable
as possible to English readers; and, notwithstanding the disadvantages
of a translation, the publishers feel sure that Schiller will be
heartily acceptable to English readers, and that the influence of his
writings will continue to increase.

THE HISTORY OF THE REVOLT OF THE NETHERLANDS was translated by Lieut.
E. B. Eastwick, and originally published abroad for students' use. But
this translation was too strictly literal for general readers. It has
been carefully revised, and some portions have been entirely rewritten
by the Rev. A. J. W. Morrison, who also has so ably translated the
HISTORY OF THE THIRTY YEARS WAR.

THE CAMP OF WALLENSTEIN was translated by Mr. James Churchill, and first
appeared in "Frazer's Magazine. " It is an exceedingly happy version of
what has always been deemed the most untranslatable of Schiller's works.

THE PICCOLOMINI and DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN are the admirable version of
S. T. Coleridge, completed by the addition of all those passages which
he has omitted, and by a restoration of Schiller's own arrangement of
the acts and scenes. It is said, in defence of the variations which
exist between the German original and the version given by Coleridge,
that he translated from a prompter's copy in manuscript, before the
drama had been printed, and that Schiller himself subsequently altered
it, by omitting some passages, adding others, and even engrafting
several of Coleridge's adaptations.

WILHELM TELL is translated by Theodore Martin, Esq. , whose well-known
position as a writer, and whose special acquaintance with German
literature make any recommendation superfluous.

DON CARLOS is translated by R. D. Boylan, Esq. , and, in the opinion of
competent judges, the version is eminently successful. Mr. Theodore
Martin kindly gave some assistance, and, it is but justice to state,
has enhanced the value of the work by his judicious suggestions.

The translation of MARY STUART is that by the late Joseph Mellish,
who appears to have been on terms of intimate friendship with Schiller.
His version was made from the prompter's copy, before the play was
published, and, like Coleridge's Wallenstein, contains many passages not
found in the printed edition. These are distinguished by brackets. On
the other hand, Mr. Mellish omitted many passages which now form part of
the printed drama, all of which are now added. The translation, as a
whole, stands out from similar works of the time (1800) in almost as
marked a degree as Coleridge's Wallenstein, and some passages exhibit
powers of a high order; a few, however, especially in the earlier
scenes, seemed capable of improvement, and these have been revised,
but, in deference to the translator, with a sparing hand.

THE MAID OF ORLEANS is contributed by Miss Anna Swanwick, whose
translation of Faust has since become well known. It has been.
carefully revised, and is now, for the first time, published complete.

THE BRIDE OF MESSINA, which has been regarded as the poetical
masterpiece of Schiller, and, perhaps of all his works, presents the
greatest difficulties to the translator, is rendered by A. Lodge, Esq. ,
M. A.
This version, on its first publication in England, a few years
ago, was received with deserved eulogy by distinguished critics. To the
present edition has been prefixed Schiller's Essay on the Use of the
Chorus in Tragedy, in which the author's favorite theory of the "Ideal
of Art" is enforced with great ingenuity and eloquence.





THE HISTORY

OF THE

REVOLT OF THE NETHERLANDS.



CONTENTS.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

INTRODUCTION

BOOK I. ----Earlier History of The Netherlands up to the Sixteenth Century

BOOK II. ---Cardinal Granvella

BOOK III. --Conspiracy of the Nobles

BOOK IV. ---The Iconoclasts
Trial and Execution of Counts Egmont and Horn
Siege of Antwerp by the Prince of Parma, in the Years 1584 and 1585




THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

Many years ago, when I read the History of the Belgian Revolution in
Watson's excellent work, I was seized with an enthusiasm which political
events but rarely excite. On further reflection I felt that this
enthusiastic feeling had arisen less from the book itself than from the
ardent workings of my own imagination, which had imparted to the
recorded materials the particular form that so fascinated me. These
imaginations, therefore, I felt a wish to fix, to multiply, and to
strengthen; these exalted sentiments I was anxious to extend by
communicating them to others. This was my principal motive for
commencing the present history, my only vocation to write it. The
execution of this design carried me farther than in the beginning I had
expected. A closer acquaintance with my materials enabled me to
discover defects previously unnoticed, long waste tracts to be filled
up, apparent contradictions to be reconciled, and isolated facts to be
brought into connection with the rest of the subject. Not so much with
the view of enriching my history with new facts as of seeking a key to
old ones, I betook myself to the original sources, and thus what was
originally intended to be only a general outline expanded under my hands
into an elaborate history. The first part, which concludes with the
Duchess of Parma's departure from the Netherlands, must be looked upon
only as the introduction to the history of the Revolution itself, which
did not come to an open outbreak till the government of her successor.
I have bestowed the more care and attention upon this introductory
period the more the generality of writers who had previously treated of
it seemed to me deficient in these very qualities. Moreover, it is in
my opinion the more important as being the root and source of all the
subsequent events. If, then, the first volume should appear to any as
barren in important incident, dwelling prolixly on trifles, or, rather,
should seem at first sight profuse of reflections, and in general
tediously minute, it must be remembered that it was precisely out of
small beginnings that the Revolution was gradually developed; and that
all the great results which follow sprang out of a countless number of
trifling and little circumstances.

A nation like the one before us invariably takes its first steps with
doubts and uncertainty, to move afterwards only the more rapidly for its
previous hesitation. I proposed, therefore, to follow the same method
in describing this rebellion. The longer the reader delays on the
introduction the more familiar he becomes with the actors in this
history, and the scene in which they took a part, so much the more
rapidly and unerringly shall I be able to lead him through the
subsequent periods, where the accumulation of materials will forbid
a slowness of step or minuteness of attention.

As for the authorities of our history there is not so much cause to
complain of their paucity as of their extreme abundance, since it is
indispensable to read them all to obtain that clear view of the whole
subject to which the perusal of a part, however large, is always
prejudicial. From the unequal, partial, and often contradictory
narratives of the same occurrences it is often extremely difficult to
seize the truth, which in all is alike partly concealed and to be found
complete in none. In this first volume, besides de Thou, Strada, Reyd,
Grotius, Meteren, Burgundius, Meursius, Bentivoglio, and some moderns,
the Memoirs of Counsellor Hopper, the life and correspondence of his
friend Viglius, the records of the trials of the Counts of Hoorne and
Egmont, the defence of the Prince of Orange, and some few others have
been my guides. I must here acknowledge my obligations to a work
compiled with much industry and critical acumen, and written with
singular truthfulness and impartiality. I allude to the general history
of the United Netherlands which was published in Holland during the
present century. Besides many original documents which I could not
otherwise have had access to, it has abstracted all that is valuable in
the excellent works of Bos, Hooft, Brandt, Le Clerc, which either were
impossible for me to procure or were not available to my use, as being
written in Dutch, which I do not understand. An otherwise ordinary
writer, Richard Dinoth, has also been of service to me by the many
extracts he gives from the pamphlets of the day, which have been long
lost. I have in vain endeavored to procure the correspondence of
Cardinal Granvella, which also would no doubt have thrown much light
upon the history of these times. The lately published work on the
Spanish Inquisition by my excellent countryman, Professor Spittler of
Gottingen, reached me too late for its sagacious and important contents
to be available for my purpose.

The more I am convinced of the importance of the French history, the
more I lament that it was not in my power to study, as I could have
wished, its copious annals in the original sources and contemporary
documents, and to reproduce it abstracted of the form in which it was
transmitted to me by the more intelligent of my predecessors, and
thereby emancipate myself from the influence which every talented author
exercises more or less upon his readers. But to effect this the work of
a few years must have become the labor of a life. My aim in making this
attempt will be more than attained if it should convince a portion of
the reading public of the possibility of writing a history with historic
truth without making a trial of patience to the reader; and if it should
extort from another portion the confession that history can borrow from
a cognate art without thereby, of necessity, becoming a romance.

WEIMAR, Michaelmas Fair, 1788.




INTRODUCTION.

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
oppressed humanity struggled for its noblest rights, 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.

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
irrefragible 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 marvellous 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 enervate 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 surprised them and forced a
transitory greatness upon them, which they never could have possessed
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 line--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 reign, 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, revelling 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 oppressed 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 rights 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 seizes at once the most distant provinces; trade
and commerce are at a standstill, the ships disappear from the harbors,
the artisan abandons his workshop, the rustic his uncultivated fields.
Thousands fled to distant lands, a thousand victims fell on the bloody
field, and fresh thousands pressed 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 mould 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
obectionable 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 reinforcements 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 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 measures 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.

This improbable turn of affairs seems to border on a miracle; many
circumstances, however, combined to break the power of Philip, and to
favor the progress of the infant state. Had the whole weight of his
power fallen on the United Provinces there had been no hope for their
religion or their liberty. His own ambition, by tempting him to divide
his strength, came to the aid of their weakness. The expensive policy
of maintaining traitors in every cabinet of Europe; the support of the
League in France; the revolt of the Moors in Granada; the conquest of
Portugal, and the magnificent fabric of the Escurial, drained at last
his apparently inexhaustible treasury, and prevented his acting in the
field with spirit and energy. The German and Italian troops, whom the
hope of gain alone allured to his banner, mutinied when he could no
longer pay them, and faithlessly abandoned their leaders in the decisive
moment of action. These terrible instruments of oppression now turned
their dangerous power against their employer, and wreaked their
vindictive rage on the provinces which remained faithful to him.
The unfortunate armament against England, on which, like a desperate
gamester, he had staked the whole strength of his kingdom, completed his
ruin; with the armada sank the wealth of the two Indies, and the flower
of Spanish chivalry.

But in the very same proportion that the Spanish power declined the
republic rose in fresh vigor. The ravages which the fanaticism of the
new religion, the tyranny of the Inquisition, the furious rapacity of
the soldiery, and the miseries of a long war unbroken by any interval of
peace, made in the provinces of Brabant, Flanders, and Hainault, at once
the arsenals and the magazines of this expensive contest, naturally
rendered it every year more difficult to support and recruit the royal
armies. The Catholic Netherlands had already lost a million of
citizens, and the trodden fields maintained their husbandmen no longer.
Spain itself had but few more men to spare. That country, surprised by
a sudden affluence which brought idleness with it, had lost much of its
population, and could not long support the continual drafts of men which
were required both for the New World and the Netherlands. Of these
conscripts few ever saw their country again; and these few having left
it as youths returned to it infirm and old. Gold, which had become more
common, made soldiers proportionately dearer; the growing charm of
effeminacy enhanced the price of the opposite virtues. Wholly different
was the posture of affairs with the rebels. The thousands whom the
cruelty of the viceroy expelled from the southern Netherlands, the
Huguenots whom the wars of persecution drove from France, as well as
every one whom constraint of conscience exiled from the other parts of
Europe, all alike flocked to unite themselves with the Belgian
insurgents. The whole Christian world was their recruiting ground.
The fanaticism both of the persecutor and the persecuted worked in their
behalf. The enthusiasm of a doctrine newly embraced, revenge, want, and
hopeless misery drew to their standard adventurers from every part of
Europe. All whom the new doctrine had won, all who had suffered, or had
still cause of fear from despotism, linked their own fortunes with those
of the new republic. Every injury inflicted by a tyrant gave a right of
citizenship in Holland. Men pressed towards a country where liberty
raised her spirit-stirring banner, where respect and security were
insured to a fugitive religion, and even revenge on the oppressor. If
we consider the conflux in the present day of people to Holland, seeking
by their entrance upon her territory to be reinvested in their rights as
men, what must it have been at a time when the rest of Europe groaned
under a heavy bondage, when Amsterdam was nearly the only free port for
all opinions? Many hundred families sought a refuge for their wealth in
a land which the ocean and domestic concord powerfully combined to
protect. The republican army maintained its full complement without the
plough being stripped of hands to work it. Amid the clash of arms trade
and industry flourished, and the peaceful citizen enjoyed in
anticipation the fruits of liberty which foreign blood was to purchase
for them. At the very time when the republic of Holland was struggling
for existence she extended her dominions beyond the ocean, and was
quietly occupied in erecting her East Indian Empire.

Moreover, Spain maintained this expensive war with dead, unfructifying
gold, that never returned into the hand which gave it away, while it
raised to her the price of every necessary. The treasuries of the
republic were industry and commerce. Time lessened the one whilst it
multiplied the other, and exactly in the same proportion that the
resources of the Spanish government became exhausted by the long
continuance of the war the republic began to reap a richer harvest. Its
field was sown sparingly with the choice seed which bore fruit, though
late, yet a hundredfold; but the tree from which Philip gathered fruit
was a fallen trunk which never again became verdant.

Philip's adverse destiny decreed that all the treasures which he
lavished for the oppression of the Provinces should contribute to enrich
them. The continual outlay of Spanish gold had diffused riches and
luxury throughout Europe; but the increasing wants of Europe were
supplied chiefly by the Netherlanders, who were masters of the commerce
of the known world, and who by their dealings fixed the price of all
merchandise. Even during the war Philip could not prohibit his own
subjects from trading with the republic; nay, he could not even desire
it. He himself furnished the rebels with the means of defraying the
expenses of their own defence; for the very war which was to ruin them
increased the sale of their goods. The enormous suns expended on his
fleets and armies flowed for the most part into the exchequer of the
republic, which was more or less connected with the commercial places of
Flanders and Brabant. Whatever Philip attempted against the rebels
operated indirectly to their advantage.

The sluggish progress of this war did the king as much injury as it
benefited the rebels. His army was composed for the most part of the
remains of those victorious troops which had gathered their laurels
under Charles V. Old and long services entitled them to repose; many of
them, whom the war had enriched, impatiently longed for their homes,
where they might end in ease a life of hardship. Their former zeal,
their heroic spirit, and their discipline relaxed in the same proportion
as they thought they had fully satisfied their honor and their duty, and
as they began to reap at last the reward of so many battles. Besides,
the troops which had been accustomed by their irresistible impetuosity
to vanquish all opponents were necessarily wearied out by a war which
was carried on not so much against men as against the elements; which
exercised their patience more than it gratified their love of glory; and
where there was less of danger than of difficulty and want to contend
with. Neither personal courage nor long military experience was of
avail in a country whose peculiar features gave the most dastardly the
advantage. Lastly, a single discomfiture on foreign ground did them
more injury than any victories gained over an enemy at home could profit
them. With the rebels the case was exactly the reverse. In so
protracted a war, in which no decisive battle took place, the weaker
party must naturally learn at last the art of defence from the stronger;
slight defeats accustomed him to danger; slight victories animated his
confidence.

At the beginning of the war the republican army scarcely dared to show
itself in the field; the long continuance of the struggle practised and
hardened it. As the royal armies grew wearied of victory, the
confidence of the rebels rose with their improved discipline and
experience. At last, at the end of half a century, master and pupil
separated, unsubdued, and equal in the fight.

Again, throughout the war the rebels acted with more concord and
unanimity than the royalists. Before the former had lost their first
leader the government of the Netherlands had passed through as many as
five hands. The Duchess of Parma's indecision soon imparted itself to
the cabinet of Madrid, which in a short time tried in succession almost
every system of policy. Duke Alva's inflexible sternness, the mildness
of his successor Requescens, Don John of Austria's insidious cunning,
and the active and imperious mind of the Prince of Parma gave as many
opposite directions to the war, while the plan of rebellion remained the
same in a single head, who, as he saw it clearly, pursued it with vigor.
The king's greatest misfortune was that right principles of action
generally missed the right moment of application. In the commencement
of the troubles, when the advantage was as yet clearly on the king's
side, when prompt resolution and manly firmness might have crushed the
rebellion in the cradle, the reigns of government were allowed to hang
loose in the hands of a woman. After the outbreak had come to an open
revolt, and when the strength of the factious and the power of the king
stood more equally balanced, and when a skilful flexible prudence could
alone have averted the impending civil war, the government devolved on a
man who was eminently deficient in this necessary qualification. So
watchful an observer as William the Silent failed not to improve every
advantage which the faulty policy of his adversary presented, and with
quiet silent industry he slowly but surely pushed on the great
enterprise to its accomplishment.

But why did not Philip II. himself appear in the Netherlands? Why did
he prefer to employ every other means, however improbable, rather than
make trial of the only remedy which could insure success? To curb the
overgrown power and insolence of the nobility there was no expedient
more natural than the presence of their master. Before royalty itself
all secondary dignities must necessarily have sunk in the shade, all
other splendor be dimmed. Instead of the truth being left to flow
slowly and obscurely through impure channels to the distant throne, so
that procrastinated measures of redress gave time to ripen ebullitions
of the moment into acts of deliberation, his own penetrating glance
would at once have been able to separate truth from error; and cold
policy alone, not to speak of his humanity, would have saved the land a
million citizens. The nearer to their source the more weighty would his
edicts have been; the thicker they fell on their objects the weaker and
the more dispirited would have become the efforts of the rebels. It
costs infinitely more to do an evil to an enemy in his presence than in
his absence. At first the rebellion appeared to tremble at its own
name, and long sheltered itself under the ingenious pretext of defending
the cause of its sovereign against the arbitrary assumptions of his own
viceroy. Philip's appearance in Brussels would have put an end at once
to this juggling. In that case, the rebels would have been compelled to
act up to their pretence, or to cast aside the mask, and so, by
appearing in their true shape, condemn themselves. And what a relief
for the Netherlands if the king's presence had only spared them those
evils which were inflicted upon them without his knowledge, and contrary
to his will. [1] What gain, too, even if it had only enabled him to
watch over the expenditure of the vast sums which, illegally raised on
the plea of meeting the exigencies of the war, disappeared in the
plundering hands of his deputies.

What the latter were compelled to extort by the unnatural expedient of
terror, the nation would have been disposed to grant to the sovereign
majesty. That which made his ministers detested would have rendered the
monarch feared; for the abuse of hereditary power is less painfully
oppressive than the abuse of delegated authority. His presence would
have saved his exchequer thousands had he been nothing more than an
economical despot; and even had he been less, the awe of his person
would have preserved a territory which was lost through hatred and
contempt for his instruments.

In the same manner, as the oppression of the people of the Netherlands
excited the sympathy of all who valued their own rights, it might have
been expected that their disobedience and defection would have been a
call to all princes to maintain their own prerogatives in the case of
their neighbors. But jealousy of Spain got the better of political
sympathies, and the first powers of Europe arranged themselves more or
less openly on the side of freedom.

Although bound to the house of Spain by the ties of relationship, the
Emperor Maximilian II. gave it just cause for its charge against him
of secretly favoring the rebels. By the offer of his mediation he
implicitly acknowledged the partial justice of their complaints, and
thereby encouraged them to a resolute perseverance in their demands.
Under an emperor sincerely devoted to the interests of the Spanish
house, William of Orange could scarcely have drawn so many troops and so
much money from Germany. France, without openly and formally breaking
the peace, placed a prince of the blood at the head of the Netherlandish
rebels; and it was with French gold and French troops that the
operations of the latter were chiefly conducted. [2] Elizabeth of
England, too, did but exercise a just retaliation and revenge in
protecting the rebels against their legitimate sovereign; and although
her meagre and sparing aid availed no farther than to ward off utter
ruin from the republic, still even this was infinitely valuable at a
moment when nothing but hope could have supported their exhausted
courage. With both these powers Philip at the time was at peace, but
both betrayed him. Between the weak and the strong honesty often ceases
to appear a virtue; the delicate ties which bind equals are seldom
observed towards him whom all men fear. Philip had banished truth from
political intercourse; he himself had dissolved all morality between
kings, and had made artifice the divinity of cabinets. Without once
enjoying the advantages of his preponderating greatness, he had,
throughout life, to contend with the jealousy which it awakened in
others. Europe made him atone for the possible abuses of a power of
which in fact he never had the full possession.

If against the disparity between the two combatants, which, at first
sight, is so astounding, we weigh all the incidental circumstances which
were adverse to Spain, but favorable to the Netherlands, that which is
supernatural in this event will disappear, while that which is
extraordinary will still remain--and a just standard will be furnished
by which to estimate the real merit of these republicans in working out
their freedom. It must not, however, be thought that so accurate a
calculation of the opposing forces could have preceded the undertaking
itself, or that, on entering this unknown sea, they already knew the
shore on which they would ultimately be landed. The work did not
present itself to the mind of its originator in the exact form which it
assumed when completed, any more than the mind of Luther foresaw the
eternal separation of creeds when he began to oppose the sale of
indulgences. What a difference between the modest procession of those
suitors in Brussels, who prayed for a more humane treatment as a favor,
and the dreaded majesty of a free state, which treated with kings as
equals, and in less than a century disposed of the throne of its former
tyrant. The unseen hand of fate gave to the discharged arrow a higher
flight, and quite a different direction from that which it first
received from the bowstring. In the womb of happy Brabant that liberty
had its birth which, torn from its mother in its earliest infancy, was
to gladden the so despised Holland. But the enterprise must not be less
thought of because its issue differed from the first design. Man works
up, smooths, and fashions the rough stone which the times bring to him;
the moment and the instant may belong to him, but accident develops the
history of the world. If the passions which co-operated actively in
bringing about this event were only not unworthy of the great work to
which they were unconsciously subservient--if only the powers which
aided in its accomplishment were intrinsically noble, if only the single
actions out of whose great concatenation it wonderfully arose were
beautiful then is the event grand, interesting, and fruitful for us, and
we are at liberty to wonder at the bold offspring of chance, or rather
offer up our admiration to a higher intelligence.

The history of the world, like the laws of nature, is consistent with
itself, and simple as the soul of man. Like conditions produce like
phenomena.