The Rise of the Dutch Republic, Introduction I | Page 9

of Europe.
It is melancholy, at a later moment, to find the brave Batavians

distinguished in the memorable expedition of Germanicus to crush the
liberties of their German kindred. They are forever associated with the
sublime but misty image of the great Hermann, the hero, educated in
Rome, and aware of the colossal power of the empire, who yet, by his
genius, valor, and political adroitness, preserved for Germany her
nationality, her purer religion, and perhaps even that noble language
which her late- flowering literature has rendered so illustrious--but they
are associated as enemies, not as friends.
Galba, succeeding to the purple upon the suicide of Nero, dismissed the
Batavian life-guards to whom he owed his elevation. He is murdered,
Otho and Vitellius contend for the succession, while all eyes are turned
upon the eight Batavian regiments. In their hands the scales of empire
seem to rest. They declare for Vitellius, and the civil war begins. Otho
is defeated; Vitellius acknowledged by Senate and people. Fearing, like
his predecessors, the imperious turbulence of the Batavian legions, he,
too, sends them into Germany. It was the signal for a long and
extensive revolt, which had well nigh overturned the Roman power in
Gaul and Lower Germany.

IV.
Claudius Civilis was a Batavian of noble race, who had served
twenty-five years in the Roman armies. His Teutonic name has
perished, for, like most savages who become denizens of a civilized
state, he had assumed an appellation in the tongue of his superiors. He
was a soldier of fortune, and had fought wherever the Roman eagles
flew. After a quarter of a century's service he was sent in chains to
Rome, and his brother executed, both falsely charged with conspiracy.
Such were the triumphs adjudged to Batavian auxiliaries. He escaped
with life, and was disposed to consecrate what remained of it to a
nobler cause. Civilis was no barbarian. Like the German hero Arminius,
he had received a Roman education, and had learned the degraded
condition of Rome. He knew the infamous vices of her rulers; he
retained an unconquerable love for liberty and for his own race. Desire
to avenge his own wrongs was mingled with loftier motives in his
breast. He knew that the sceptre was in the gift of the Batavian soldiery.
Galba had been murdered, Otho had destroyed himself, and Vitellius,
whose weekly gluttony cost the empire more gold than would have fed

the whole Batavian population and converted their whole island-morass
into fertile pastures, was contending for the purple with Vespasian,
once an obscure adventurer like Civilis himself, and even his friend and
companion in arms. It seemed a time to strike a blow for freedom.
By his courage, eloquence, and talent for political combinations, Civilis
effected a general confederation of all the Netherland tribes, both Celtic
and German. For a brief moment there was a united people, a Batavian
commonwealth. He found another source of strength in German
superstition. On the banks of the Lippe, near its confluence with the
Rhine, dwelt the Virgin Velleda, a Bructerian weird woman, who
exercised vast influence over the warriors of her nation. Dwelling alone
in a lofty tower, shrouded in a wild forest, she was revered as an oracle.
Her answers to the demands of her worshippers concerning future
events were delivered only to a chosen few. To Civilis, who had
formed a close friendship with her, she promised success, and the
downfall of the Roman world. Inspired by her prophecies, many tribes
of Germany sent large subsidies to the Batavian chief.
The details of the revolt have been carefully preserved by Tacitus, and
form one of his grandest and most elaborate pictures. The spectacle of a
brave nation, inspired by the soul of one great man and rising against
an overwhelming despotism, will always speak to the heart, from
generation to generation. The battles, the sieges, the defeats, the
indomitable spirit of Civilis, still flaming most brightly when the
clouds were darkest around him, have been described by the great
historian in his most powerful manner. The high-born Roman has
thought the noble barbarian's portrait a subject worthy his genius.
The struggle was an unsuccessful one. After many victories and many
overthrows, Civilis was left alone. The Gallic tribes fell off, and sued
for peace. Vespasian, victorious over Vitellius, proved too powerful for
his old comrade. Even the Batavians became weary of the hopeless
contest, while fortune, after much capricious hovering, settled at last
upon the Roman side. The imperial commander Cerialis seized the
moment when the cause of the Batavian hero was most desperate to
send emissaries among his tribe, and even to tamper with the
mysterious woman whose prophecies had so inflamed his imagination.
These intrigues had their effect. The fidelity of the people was sapped;
the prophetess