The Revolt of The Netherlands, book 1 | Page 7

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