The Revolt of The Netherlands, book 1 | Page 4

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