The Revolt of The Netherlands, book 1 | Page 9

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. On the same soil where now the Netherlanders were to
resist their Spanish tyrants, their forefathers, the Batavi and Belgee,
fifteen centuries before, combated against their Roman oppressors.
Like the former, submitting reluctantly to a haughty master, and
misgoverned by rapacious satraps, they broke off their chain with like
resolution, and tried their fortune in a similar unequal combat. The
same pride of conquest, the same national grandeur, marked the
Spaniard of the sixteenth century and the Roman of the first; the same
valor and discipline distinguished the armies of both, their battle array
inspired the same terror. There as here we see stratagem in combat with
superior force, and firmness, strengthened by unanimity, wearying out
a mighty power weakened by division; then as now private hatred
armed a whole nation; a single man, born for his times, revealed to his
fellow-slaves the dangerous Secret of their power, and brought their
mute grief to a bloody announcement. "Confess, Batavians," cries
Claudius Civilis to his countrymen in the sacred grove, "we are no
longer treated, as formerly, by these Romans as allies, but rather as
slaves. We are handed over to their prefects and centurions, who, when
satiated with our plunder and with our blood, make way for others, who,
under different names, renew the same outrages. If even at last Rome
deigns to send us a legate, he oppresses us with an ostentatious and
costly retinue, and with still more intolerable pride. The levies are
again at hand which tear forever children from their parents, brothers
from brothers. Now, Batavians, is our time. Never did Rome lie so
prostrate as now. Let not their names of legions terrify you. There is
nothing in their camps but old men and plunder. Our infantry and
horsemen are strong; Germany is allied to us by blood, and Gaul is
ready to throw off its yoke. Let Syria serve them, and Asia and the East,

who are used to bow before kings; many still live who were born
among us before tribute was paid to the Romans. The gods are ever
with the brave." Solemn religious rites hallowed this conspiracy, like
the League of the Gueux; like that, it craftily wrapped itself in the veil
of submissiveness, in the majesty of a great name. The cohorts of
Civilis swear allegiance on the Rhine to Vespasian in Syria, as the
League did to Philip II. The same arena furnished the same plan of
defence, the same refuge to despair. Both confided their wavering
fortunes to a friendly element; in the same distress Civilis preserves his
island, as fifteen centuries after him William of Orange did the town of
Leyden--through an artificial inundation. The valor of the Batavi
disclosed the impotency of the world's ruler, as the noble courage of
their descendants revealed to the whole of Europe the decay of Spanish
greatness. The same fecundity of genius in the generals of both times
gave to the war a similarly obstinate continuance, and nearly as
doubtful an issue; one difference, nevertheless, distinguishes them: the
Romans and Batavians fought humanely, for they did not fight for
religion.
[1] More modern historians, with access to the records of the Spanish
Inquisition and the private communications between Phillip II. and his
various appointees to power in the Netherlands, rebut Shiller's kind but
naive thought. To the contrary, Phillip II. was most critical of his
envoys lack of severity. See in particular the "Rise of the Dutch
Republic" and the other works