The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1572-73 | Page 6

Naarden ceased to exist.
Alva wrote, with his usual complacency in such cases, to his sovereign,
that "they had cut the throats of the burghers and all the garrison, and
that they had not left a mother's son alive." The statement was almost
literally correct, nor was the cant with which these bloodhounds
commented upon their crimes less odious than their guilt. "It was a
permission of God," said the Duke, "that these people should have
undertaken to defend a city, which was so weak that no other persons
would have attempted such a thing." Nor was the reflection of Mendoza
less pious. "The sack of Naarden," said that really brave and
accomplished cavalier, "was a chastisement which must be believed to
have taken place by express permission of a Divine Providence; a

punishment for having been the first of the Holland towns in which
heresy built its nest, whence it has taken flight to all the neighboring
cities."
It is not without reluctance, but still with a stern determination, that the
historian--should faithfully record these transactions. To extenuate
would be base; to exaggerate impossible. It is good that the world
should not forget how much wrong has been endured by a single
harmless nation at the hands of despotism, and in the sacred name of
God. There have been tongues and pens enough to narrate the excesses
of the people, bursting from time to time out of slavery into madness. It
is good, too, that those crimes should be remembered, and freshly
pondered; but it is equally wholesome to study the opposite picture.
Tyranny, ever young and ever old, constantly reproducing herself with
the same stony features, with the same imposing mask which she has
worn through all the ages, can never be too minutely examined,
especially when she paints her own portrait, and when the secret history
of her guilt is furnished by the confessions of her lovers. The perusal of
her traits will not make us love popular liberty the less.
The history of Alva's administration in the Netherlands is one of those
pictures which strike us almost dumb with wonder. Why has the
Almighty suffered such crimes to be perpetrated in His sacred name?
Was it necessary that many generations should wade through this blood
in order to acquire for their descendants the blessings of civil and
religious freedom? Was it necessary that an Alva should ravage a
peaceful nation with sword and flame--that desolation should be spread
over a happy land, in order that the pure and heroic character of a
William of Orange should stand forth more conspicuously, like an
antique statue of spotless marble against a stormy sky?
After the army which the Prince had so unsuccessfully led to the relief
of Mons had been disbanded, he had himself repaired to Holland. He
had come to Kampen shortly before its defection from his cause.
Thence he had been escorted across the Zuyder Zee to Eukhuyzen. He
came to that province, the only one which through good and ill report
remained entirely faithful to him, not as a conqueror but as an
unsuccessful, proscribed man. But there were warm hearts beating
within those cold lagunes, and no conqueror returning from a brilliant
series of victories could have been received with more affectionate

respect than William in that darkest hour of the country's history. He
had but seventy horsemen at his back, all which remained of the twenty
thousand troops which he had a second time levied in Germany, and he
felt that it would be at that period hopeless for him to attempt the
formation of a third army. He had now come thither to share the fate of
Holland, at least, if he could not accomplish her liberation. He went
from city to city, advising with the magistracies and with the
inhabitants, and arranging many matters pertaining both to peace and
war. At Harlem the States of the Provinces, according to his request,
had been assembled. The assembly begged him to lay before them, if it
were possible, any schemes and means which he might have devised
for further resistance to the Duke of Alva. Thus solicited, the Prince, in
a very secret session, unfolded his plans, and satisfied them as to the
future prospects of the cause. His speech has nowhere been preserved.
His strict injunctions as to secrecy, doubtless, prevented or effaced any
record of the session. It is probable, however, that he entered more fully
into the state of his negotiations with England, and into the possibility
of a resumption by Count Louis of his private intercourse with the
French court, than it was safe, publicly, to divulge.
While the Prince had been thus occupied in preparing the stout-hearted
province for the last death-struggle with its foe, that mortal combat was
already