Holland: The History of the Netherlands

While a few gentlemen thus boldly came forward, at their own risk, with no funds but their private fortunes, and only aided by an unarmed populace, to declare war against the French emperor, they did not even know the residence of the exiled prince in whose cause they were now so completely compromised. The other towns of Holland were in a state of the greatest incertitude: Rotterdam had not moved; and the intentions of Admiral Kickert, who commanded there, were (mistakenly) supposed to be decidedly hostile to the national cause. Amsterdam had, on the preceding day, been the scene of a popular commotion, which, however, bore no decided character; the rioters having been fired on by the national guard, no leader coming forward, and the proclamation of the magistrates cautiously abstaining from any allusion to the Prince of Orange. A brave officer, Captain Falck, had made use of many strong but inefficient arguments to prevail on the timid corporation to declare for the prince; the presence of a French garrison of sixty men seeming sufficient to preserve their patriotism from any violent excess.

The subsequent events at The Hague furnish an inspiring lesson for all people who would learn that to be free they must be resolute and daring. The only hope of the confederates was from the British government, and the combined armies then acting in the north of Europe. But many days were to be lingered through before troops could be embarked, and make their way from England in the teeth of the easterly winds then prevailing; while a few Cossacks, hovering on the confines of Holland, gave the only evidence of the proximity of the allied forces.

In this crisis, it was most fortunate that the French prefect at The Hague, M. de Stassart, had stolen away on the earliest alarm; and the French garrison of four hundred chasseurs, aided by one hundred well-armed custom-house officers, under the command of General Bouvier des Eclats, caught the contagious fears of the civil functionary. This force had retired to the old palace—a building in the centre of the town, the depot of all the arms and ammunition then at The Hague, and, from its position, capable of some defence. But the general and his garrison soon felt a complete panic from the bold attitude of Count Styrum, who made the most of his little means, and kept up, during the night, a prodigious clatter by his twenty horsemen; sentinels challenging, amid incessant singing and shouting, cries of "Oranje boven!" "Vivat Oranje!" and clamorous patrols of the excited citizens. At an early hour on the 18th, the French general demanded terms, and obtained permission to retire on Gorcum, his garrison being escorted as far as the village of Ryswyk by the twenty cavaliers who composed the whole mounted force of the patriots.

Unceasing efforts were now made to remedy the want of arms and men. A quantity of pikes were rudely made and distributed to the volunteers who crowded in; and numerous fishing-boats were despatched in different directions to inform the British cruisers of the passing events. An individual named Pronck, an inhabitant of Schævening, a village of the coast, rendered great services in this way, from his influence among the sailors and fishermen in the neighborhood.

The confederates spared no exertion to increase the confidence of the people under many contradictory and disheartening contingencies. An officer who had been despatched for advice and information to Baron Bentinck, at Zwolle, who was in communication with the allies, returned with the discouraging news that General Bulow had orders not to pass the Yssel, the allies having decided not to advance into Holland beyond the line of that river. A meeting of the ancient regents of The Hague was convoked by the proclamation of the confederates, and took place at the house of Mr. Van Hogendorp, the ancient residence of the De Witts. The wary magistrates absolutely refused all co-operation in the daring measures of the confederates, who had now the whole responsibility on their heads, with little to cheer them on in their perilous career but their own resolute hearts and the recollection of those days when their ancestors, with odds as fearfully against them, rose up and shivered to atoms the yoke of their oppressors.

Some days of intense anxiety now elapsed; and various incidents occurred to keep up the general excitement. Reinforcements came gradually in; no hostile measure was resorted to by the French troops; yet the want of success, as rapid as was proportioned to the first movements of the revolution, threw a gloom over all. Amsterdam and Rotterdam still held back; but the nomination of Messrs. Van Hogendorp and Vander Duyn van Maasdam to be heads of the government, until the arrival of the Prince of Orange, and a formal abjuration of the emperor Napoleon, inspired new vigor into the public mind. Two nominal armies were formed, and two generals appointed to the command; and it is impossible to resist a smile of mingled amusement and admiration on reading the exact statement of the forces, so pompously and so effectively announced as forming the armies of Utrecht and Gorcum.

The first of these, commanded by Major-General D'Jonge, consisted of three hundred infantry, thirty-two volunteer cavalry, with two eight-pounders. The latter, under the orders of Major-General Sweertz van Landas, was composed of two hundred and fifty of The Hague Orange Guard, thirty Prussian deserters from the French garrison, three hundred volunteers, forty cavalry, with two eight-pounders.

The "army of Gorcum" marched on the 22d on Rotterdam: its arrival was joyfully hailed by the people, who contributed three hundred volunteers to swell its ranks. The "army of Utrecht" advanced on Leyden, and raised the spirits of the people by the display of even so small a force. But still the contrary winds kept back all appearance of succor from England, and the enemy was known to meditate a general attack on the patriot lines from Amsterdam to Dordrecht. The bad state of the roads still retarded the approach of the far-distant armies of the allies; alarms, true and false, were spread on all hands—when the appearance of three hundred Cossacks, detached from the Russian armies beyond the Yssel, prevailed over the hesitation of Amsterdam and the other towns, and they at length declared for the Prince of Orange.

But this somewhat tardy determination seemed to be the signal for various petty events, which at an epoch like that were magnified into transactions of the most fatal import. A reinforcement of one thousand five hundred French troops reached Gorcum from Antwerp: a detachment of twenty-five Dutch, with a piece of cannon, were surprised at one of the outposts of Woerden, which had been previously evacuated by the French, and the recapture of the town was accompanied by some excesses. The numbers and the cruelties of the enemy were greatly exaggerated. Consternation began to spread all over the country. The French, who seemed to have recovered from their panic, had resumed on all sides offensive operations. The garrison of Gorcum made a sortie, repulsed the force under General Van Landas, entered the town of Dordrecht, and levied contributions; but the inhabitants soon expelled them, and the army was enabled to resume its position.

Still the wind continued adverse to arrivals from the English coast; the Cossacks, so often announced, had not yet reached The Hague; and the small unsupported parties in the neighborhood of Amsterdam were in daily danger of being cut off.

In this crisis the confederates were placed in a most critical position. On the eve of failure, and with the certainty, in such a result, of being branded as rebels and zealots, whose rashness had drawn down ruin on themselves, their families, and their country, it required no common share of fortitude to bear up against the danger that threatened them. Aware of its extent, they calmly and resolutely opposed it; and each seemed to vie with the others in energy and firmness.

The anxiety of the public had reached the utmost possible height. Every shifting of the wind was watched with nervous agitation. The road from The Hague to the sea was constantly covered with a crowd of every age and sex. Each sail that came in sight was watched and examined with intense interest; and at length, on the 26th of November, a small boat was seen to approach the shore, and the inquiring glances of the observers soon discovered that it contained an Englishman. This individual, who had come over on a mercantile adventure, landed amid the loudest acclamation, and was conducted by the populace in triumph to the governor's. Dressed in an English volunteer uniform, he showed himself in every part of the town, to the great delight of the people, who hailed him as the precursor and type of an army of deliverers.

The French soon retreated before the marvellous exaggerations which the coming of this single Englishman gave rise to. The Dutch displayed great ability in the transmission of false intelligence to the enemy. On the 27th Mr. Fagel arrived from England with a letter from the Prince of Orange, announcing his immediate coming; and finally, the disembarkation of two hundred English marines, on the 29th, was followed the next day by the landing of the prince, whose impatience to throw himself into the open arms of his country made him spurn every notion of risk and every reproach for rashness. He was received with indescribable enthusiasm. The generous flame rushed through the whole country. No bounds were set to the affectionate confidence of the nation, and no prince ever gave a nobler example of gratitude. As the people everywhere proclaimed William I. sovereign prince, it was proposed that he should everywhere assume that title. It was, however, after some consideration, decided that no step of this nature should be taken till his most serene highness had visited the capital. On the 1st of December the prince issued a proclamation to his countrymen, in which he states his hopes of becoming, by the blessing of Providence, the means of restoring them to their former state of independence and prosperity. "This," continued he, "is my only object; and I have the satisfaction of assuring you that it is also the object of the combined powers. This is particularly the wish of the prince regent and the British nation; and it will be proved to you by the succor which that powerful people will immediately afford you, and which will, I hope, restore those ancient bonds of alliance and friendship which were a source of prosperity and happiness to both countries." This address being distributed at Amsterdam, a proclamation, signed by the commissioners of the confederate patriots, was published there the same day. It contained the following passages, remarkable as being the first authentic declaration of the sovereignty subsequently conferred on the Prince of Orange: "The uncertainty which formerly existed as to the executive power will no longer paralyze your efforts. It is not William, the sixth stadtholder, whom the nation recalls, without knowing what to hope or expect from him; but William I. who offers himself as sovereign prince of this free country." The following day, the 2d of December, the prince made his entry into Amsterdam. He did not, like some other sovereigns, enter by a breach through the constitutional liberties of his country, in imitation of the conquerors from the Olympic games, who returned to the city by a breach in its walls: he went forward borne on the enthusiastic greetings of his fellow-countrymen, and meeting their confidence by a full measure of magnanimity. On the 3d of December he published an address, from which we shall quote one paragraph: "You desire, Netherlands! that I should be intrusted with a greater share of power than I should have possessed but for my absence. Your confidence, your affection, offer me the sovereignty; and I am called upon to accept it, since the state of my country and the situation of Europe require it. I accede to your wishes. I overlook the difficulties which may attend such a measure; I accept the offer which you have made me; but I accept it only on one condition—that it shall be accompanied by a wise constitution, which shall guarantee your liberties and secure them against every attack. My ancestors sowed the seeds of your independence: the preservation of that independence shall be the constant object of the efforts of myself and those around me."

CHAPTER XXIII

FROM THE INSTALLATION OF WILLIAM I. AS PRINCE SOVEREIGN OF THE NETHERLANDS TO THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO

A.D. 1814—1815

The regeneration of Holland was rapid and complete. Within four months, an army of twenty-five thousand men was raised; and in the midst of financial, judicial, and commercial arrangements, the grand object of the constitution was calmly and seriously debated. A committee, consisting of fourteen persons of the first importance in the several provinces, furnished the result of three months' labors in the plan of a political code, which was immediately printed and published for the consideration of the people at large. Twelve hundred names were next chosen from among the most respectable householders in the different towns and provinces, including persons of every religious persuasion, whether Jews or Christians. A special commission was then formed, who selected from this number six hundred names; and every housekeeper was called on to give his vote for or against their election. A large majority of the six hundred notables thus chosen met at Amsterdam on the 28th of March, 1814. The following day they assembled with an immense concourse of people in the great church, which was splendidly fitted up for the occasion; and then and there the prince, in an impressive speech, solemnly offered the constitution for acceptance or rejection. After a few hours' deliberation, a discharge of artillery announced to the anxious population that the constitution had been accepted. The numbers present were four hundred and eighty-three, and the votes as follows: Ayes, four hundred and fifty-eight; Noes, twenty-five.

There were one hundred and seventeen members absent; several of these were kept away by unavoidable obstacles. The majority among them was considered as dissentients; but it was calculated that if the whole body of six hundred had voted, the adoption of the constitution would have been carried by a majority of five-sixths. The dissentients chiefly objected to the power of declaring war and concluding treaties of peace being vested in the sovereign. Some individuals urged that the Protestant interest was endangered by the admission of persons of every persuasion to all public offices; and the Catholics complained that the state did not sufficiently contribute to the support of their religious establishments.

Such objections as these were to be expected, from individual interest or sectarian prejudices. But they prove that the whole plan was fairly considered and solemnly adopted; that so far from being the dictation of a government, it was the freely chosen charter of the nation at large, offered and sworn to by the prince, whose authority was only exerted in restraining and modifying the overardent generosity and confidence of the people.

Only one day more elapsed before the new sovereign was solemnly inaugurated, and took the oath prescribed by the constitution: "I swear that first and above all things I will maintain the constitution of the United Netherlands, and that I will promote, to the utmost of my power, the independence of the state and the liberty and prosperity of its inhabitants." In the eloquent simplicity of this pledge, the Dutch nation found an ample guarantee for their freedom and happiness. With their characteristic wisdom and moderation, they saw that the obligation it imposed embraced everything they could demand; and they joined in the opinion expressed by the sovereign in his inaugural address, that "no greater degree of liberty could be desired by rational subjects, nor any larger share of power by the sovereign, than that allotted to them respectively by the political code."

While Holland thus resumed its place among free nations, and France was restored to the Bourbons by the abdication of Napoleon, the allied armies had taken possession of and occupied the remainder of the Low Countries, or those provinces distinguished by the name of Belgium (but then still forming departments of the French empire), and the provisional government was vested in Baron Vincent, the Austrian general. This choice seemed to indicate an intention of restoring Austria to her ancient domination over the country. Such was certainly the common opinion among those who had no means of penetrating the secrets of European policy at that important epoch. It was, in fact, quite conformable to the principle of _statu_quo_ante_bellum_, adopted toward France. Baron Vincent himself seemed to have been impressed with the false notion; and there did not exist a doubt throughout Belgium of the re-establishment of the old institutions.

But the intentions of the allied powers were of a nature far different. The necessity of a consolidated state capable of offering a barrier to French aggression on the Flemish frontier was evident to the various powers who had so long suffered from its want. By England particularly, such a field was required for the operations of her armies; and it was also to the interest of that nation that Holland, whose welfare and prosperity are so closely connected with her own, should enjoy the blessings of national independence and civil liberty, guaranteed by internal strength as well as friendly alliances.

The treaty of Paris (30th May, 1814), was the first act which gave an open manifestation of this principle. It was stipulated by its sixth article; that "Holland, placed under the sovereignty of the House of Orange, should receive an increase of territory." In this was explained the primitive notion of the creation of the kingdom of the Netherlands, based on the necessity of augmenting the power of a nation which was destined to turn the balance between France and Germany. The following month witnessed the execution of the treaty of London, which prescribed the precise nature of the projected increase.

It was wholly decided, without subjecting the question to the approbation of Belgium, that that country and Holland should form one United State; and the rules of government in the chief branches of its administration were completely fixed. The Prince of Orange and the plenipotentiaries of the great allied powers covenanted by this treaty: first, that the union of the two portions forming the kingdom of the Netherlands should be as perfect as possible, forming one state, governed in conformity with the fundamental law of Holland, which might be modified by common consent; secondly, that religious liberty, and the equal right of citizens of all persuasions to fill all the employments of the state, should be maintained; thirdly, that the Belgian provinces should be fairly represented in the assembly of the states-general, and that the sessions of the states in time of peace should be held alternately in Belgium and in Holland; fourthly and fifthly, that all the commercial privileges of the country should be common to the citizens at large; that the Dutch colonies should be considered as belonging equally to Belgium; and, finally, that the public debt of the two countries, and the expenses of its interest, should be borne in common.

We shall now briefly recapitulate some striking points in the materials which were thus meant to be amalgamated. Holland, wrenched from the Spanish yoke by the genius and courage of the early princes of Orange, had formed for two centuries an independent republic, to which the extension of maritime commerce had given immense wealth. The form of government was remarkable. It was composed of seven provinces, mutually independent of each other. These provinces possessed during the Middle Ages constitutions nearly similar to that of England: a sovereign with limited power; representatives of the nobles and commons, whose concurrence with the prince was necessary for the formation of laws; and, finally, the existence of municipal privileges, which each town preserved and extended by means of its proper force. This state of things had known but one alteration—but that a mighty one—the forfeiture of Philip II. at the latter end of the sixteenth century, and the total abolition of monarchical power.

The remaining forms of the government were hardly altered; so that the state was wholly regulated by its ancient usages; and, like some Gothic edifice, its beauty and solidity were perfectly original, and different from the general rules and modern theories of surrounding nations. The country loved its liberty such as it found it, and not in the fashion of any Utopian plan traced by some new-fangled system of political philosophy. Inherently Protestant and commercial, the Dutch abhorred every yoke but that of their own laws, of which they were proud even in their abuse. They held in particular detestation all French customs, in remembrance of the wretchedness they had suffered from French tyranny; they had unbounded confidence in the House of Orange, from long experience of its hereditary virtues. The main strength of Holland was, in fact, in its recollections; but these, perhaps, generated a germ of discontent, in leading it to expect a revival of all the influence it had lost, and was little likely to recover, in the total change of systems and the variations of trade. There nevertheless remained sufficient capital in the country, and the people were sufficiently enlightened, to give just and extensive hope for the future which now dawned on them. The obstacles offered by the Dutch character to the proposed union were chiefly to be found in the dogmatical opinions, consequent on the isolation of the country from all the principles that actuated other states, and particularly that with which it was now joined: while long-cherished sentiments of opposition to the Catholic religion was little likely to lead to feelings of accommodation and sympathy with its new fellow-citizens.

The inhabitants of Belgium, accustomed to foreign domination, were little shocked by the fact of the allied powers having disposed of their fate with consulting their wishes. But they were not so indifferent to the double discovery of finding themselves the subjects of a Dutch and a protestant king. Without entering at large into any invidious discussion on the causes of the natural jealousy which they felt toward Holland, it may suffice to state that such did exist, and in no very moderate degree. The countries had hitherto had but little community of interests with each other; and they formed elements so utterly discordant as to afford but slight hope that they would speedily coalesce. The lower classes of the Belgian population were ignorant as well as superstitious (not that these two qualities are to be considered as inseparable); and if they were averse to the Dutch, they were perhaps not more favorably disposed to the French and Austrians. The majority of the nobles may be said to have leaned more, at this period, to the latter than to either of the other two peoples. But the great majority of the industrious and better informed portions of the middle orders felt differently from the other two, because they had found tangible and positive advantages in their subjection to France, which overpowered every sentiment of political degradation.

We thus see there was little sympathy between the members of the national family. The first glance at the geographical position of Holland and Belgium might lead to a belief that their interests were analogous. But we have traced the anomalies in government and religion in the two countries, which led to totally different pursuits and feelings. Holland had sacrificed manufactures to commerce. The introduction, duty free, of grain from the northern parts of Europe, though checking the progress of agriculture, had not prevented it to flourish marvellously, considering this obstacle to culture; and, faithful to their traditional notions, the Dutch saw the elements of well-being only in that liberty of importation which had made their harbors the marts and magazines of Europe. But the Belgian, to use the expressions of an acute and well-informed writer, "restricted in the thrall of a less liberal religion, is bounded in the narrow circle of his actual locality. Concentrated in his home, he does not look beyond the limits of his native land, which he regards exclusively. Incurious, and stationary in a happy existence, he has no interest in what passes beyond his own doors."

Totally unaccustomed to the free principles of trade, so cherished by the Dutch, the Belgians had found under the protection of the French custom-house laws, an internal commerce and agricultural advantages which composed their peculiar prosperity. They found a consumption for the produce of their well-cultivated lands, at high prices, in the neighboring provinces of France. The webs woven by the Belgian peasantry, and generally all the manufactures of the country, met no rivalry from those of England, which were strictly prohibited; and being commonly superior to those of France, the sale was sure and the profit considerable.

Belgium was as naturally desirous of the state of things as Holland was indifferent to it; but in could only have been accomplished by the destruction of free trade, and the exclusive protection of internal manufactures. Under such discrepancies as we have thus traced in religion, character, and local interests, the two countries were made one; and on the new monarch devolved the hard and delicate task of reconciling each party in the ill-assorted match, and inspiring them with sentiments of mutual moderation.

Under the title of governor-general of the Netherlands (for his intended elevation to the throne and the definitive junction of Holland and Belgium were still publicly unknown), the Prince of Orange repaired to his new state. He arrived at Brussels in the month of August, 1814, and his first effort was to gain the hearts and the confidence of the people, though he saw the nobles and the higher orders of the inferior classes (with the exception of the merchants) intriguing all around him for the re-establishment of the Austrian power. Petitions on this subject were printed and distributed; and the models of those anti-national documents may still be referred to in a work published at the time.[8]

[Footnote 8: History of the Low Countries, by St. Genoist.]

As soon as the moment came for promulgating the decision of the sovereign powers as to the actual extent of the new kingdom—that is to say, in the month of February, 1815—the whole plan was made public; and a commission, consisting of twenty-seven members, Dutch and Belgian, was formed, to consider the modifications necessary in the fundamental law of Holland, in pursuance of the stipulation of the treaty of London. After due deliberation these modifications were formed, and the great political pact was completed for the final acceptance of the king and people.

As a document so important merits particular consideration, in reference to the formation of the new monarchy, we shall briefly condense the reasonings of the most impartial and well-informed classes in the country on the constitution now about to be framed. Every one agreed that some radical change in the whole form of government was necessary, and that its main improvement should be the strengthening of the executive power. That possessed by the former stadtholders of Holland was often found to be too much for the chief of a republic, too little for the head of a monarchy. The assembly of the states-general, as of old constructed, was defective in many points; in none so glaringly as in that condition which required unanimity in questions of peace or war, and in the provision, from which they had no power to swerve, that all the taxes should be uniform. Both these stipulations were, of sheer necessity, continually disregarded; so that the government could be carried on at all only by repeated violations of the constitution. In order to excuse measures dictated by this necessity, each stadtholder was perpetually obliged to form partisans, and he thus became the hereditary head of a faction. His legitimate power was trifling: but his influence was capable of fearful increase; for the principle which allowed him to infringe the constitution, even on occasions of public good, might be easily warped into a pretext for encroachments that had no bounds but his own will.

Besides, the preponderance of the deputies from the commercial towns in the states-general caused the others to become mere ciphers in times of peace; only capable of clogging the march of affairs, and of being, on occasions of civil dissensions, the mere tools of whatever party possessed the greatest tact in turning them to their purpose. Hence a wide field was open to corruption. Uncertainty embarrassed every operation of the government. The Hague became an arena for the conflicting intrigues of every court in Europe. Holland was dragged into almost every war; and thus, gradually weakened from its rank among independent nations, it at length fell an easy prey to the French invaders.

To prevent the recurrence of such evils as those, and to establish a kingdom on the solid basis of a monarchy, unequivocal in its essence yet restrained in its prerogative, the constitution we are now examining was established. According to the report of the commissioners who framed it, "It is founded on the manners and habits of the nation, on its public economy and its old institutions, with a disregard for the ephemeral constitutions of the age. It is not a mere abstraction, more or less ingenious, but a law adapted to the state of the country in the nineteenth century. It did not reconstruct what was worn out by time; but it revived all that was worth preserving. In such a system of laws and institutions well adapted to each other, the members of the commission belonging to the Belgian provinces recognized the basis of their ancient charters, and the principles of their former liberty. They found no difficulty in adapting this law, so as to make it common to the two nations, united by ties which had been broken only for their own misfortune and that of Europe, and which it was once more the interest of Europe to render indissoluble."

The news of the elevation of William I. to the throne was received in the Dutch provinces with great joy, in as far as it concerned him personally; but a joy considerably tempered by doubt and jealousy, as regarded their junction with a country sufficiently large to counterbalance Holland, oppose interests to interests, and people to people. National pride and oversanguine expectations prevented a calm judgment on the existing state of Europe, and on the impossibility of Holland, in its ancient limits, maintaining the influence which it was hoped it would acquire.

In Belgium the formation of the new monarchy excited the most lively sensation. The clergy and the nobility were considerably agitated and not slightly alarmed; the latter fearing the resentment of the king for their avowed predilection in favor of Austria, and perceiving the destruction of every hope of aristocratical domination. The more elevated of the middle clases also saw an end to their exclusive occupation of magisterial and municipal employments. The manufacturers, great and small, saw the ruin of monopoly staring them in the face. The whole people took fright at the weight of the Dutch debt, which was considerably greater than that of Belgium. No one seemed to look beyond the present moment. The advantage of colonial possessions seemed remote and questionable to those who possessed no maritime commerce; and the pride of national independence was foreign to the feelings of those who had never yet tasted its blessings.

It was in this state of public feeling that intelligence was received in March, 1815, of the reappearance in France of the emperor Napoleon. At the head of three hundred men he had taken the resolution, without parallel even among the grandest of his own powerful conceptions, of invading a country containing thirty millions of people, girded by the protecting armies of coalesced Europe, and imbued, beyond all doubt, with an almost general objection to the former despot who now put his foot on its shores, with imperial pretensions only founded on the memory of his bygone glory. His march to Paris was a miracle; and the vigor of his subsequent measures redeems the ambitious imbecility with which he had hurried on the catastrophe of his previous fall.

The flight of Louis XVIII. from Paris was the sure signal to the kingdom of the Netherlands, in which he took refuge, that it was about to become the scene of another contest for the life or death of despotism. Had the invasion of Belgium, which now took place, been led on by one of the Bourbon family, it is probable that the priesthood, the people, and even the nobility, would have given it not merely a negative support. But the name of Napoleon was a bugbear for every class; and the efforts of the King and government, which met with most enthusiastic support in the northern provinces, were seconded with zeal and courage by the rest of the kingdom.

The national force was soon in the field, under the command of the Prince of Orange, the king's eldest son, and heir-apparent to the throne for which he now prepared to fight. His brother, Prince Frederick, commanded a division under him. The English army, under the duke of Wellington, occupied Brussels and the various cantonments in its neighborhood; and the Prussians, commanded by Prince Blucher, were in readiness to co-operate with their allies on the first movement of the invaders.

Napoleon, hurrying from Paris to strike some rapid and decisive blow, passed the Sambre on the 15th of June, at the head of the French army, one hundred and fifty thousand strong, driving the Prussians before him beyond Charleroi and back on the plain of Fleurus with some loss. On the 16th was fought the bloody battle of Ligny, in which the Prussians sustained a decided defeat; but they retreated in good order on the little river Lys, followed by Marshal Grouchy with thirty thousand men detached by Napoleon in their pursuit. On the same day the British advanced position at Quatre Bras, and the _corps_d'armée_ commanded by the Prince of Orange, were fiercely attacked by Marshal Ney; a battalion of Belgian infantry and a brigade of horse artillery having been engaged in a skirmish the preceding evening at Frasnes with the French advanced troops.

The affair of Quatre Bras was sustained with admirable firmness by the allied English and Netherland forces, against an enemy infinitely superior in number, and commanded by one of the best generals in France. The Prince of Orange, with only nine thousand men, maintained his position till three o'clock in the afternoon, despite the continual attacks of Marshal Ney, who commanded the left of the French army, consisting of forty-three thousand men. But the interest of this combat, and the details of the loss in killed and wounded, are so merged in the succeeding battle, which took place on the 18th, that they form in most minds a combination of exploits which the interval of a day can scarcely be considered to have separated.

The 17th was occupied by a retrograde movement of the allied army, directed by the duke of Wellington, for the purpose of taking its stand on the position he had previously fixed on for the pitched battle, the decisive nature of which his determined foresight had anticipated. Several affairs between the French and English cavalry took place during this movement; and it is pretty well established that the enemy, flushed with the victory over Blucher of the preceding day, were deceived by this short retreat of Wellington, and formed a very mistaken notion of its real object, or of the desperate reception destined for the morrow's attack.

The battle of Waterloo has been over and over described and profoundly felt, until its records may be said to exist in the very hearts and memories of the nations. The fiery valor of the assault, and the unshakable firmness of the resistance, are perhaps without parallel in the annals of war. The immense stake depending on the result, the grandeur of Napoleon's isolated efforts against the flower of the European forces, and the awful responsibility resting on the head of their great leader, give to this conflict a romantic sublimity, unshared by all the manoeuvring of science in a hundred commonplace combats of other wars. It forms an epoch in the history of battles. It is to the full as memorable, as an individual event, as it is for the consequences which followed it. It was fought by no rules, and gained by no tactics. It was a fair stand-up fight on level ground, where downright manly courage was alone to decide the issue. This derogates in nothing from the splendid talents and deep knowledge of the rival commanders. Their reputation for all the intricate qualities of generalship rests on the broad base of previous victories. This day was to be won by strength of nerve and steadiness of heart; and a moral grandeur is thrown over its result by the reflection that human skill had little to do where so much was left to Providence.

We abstain from entering on details of the battle. It is enough to state that throughout the day the troops of the Netherlands sustained the character for courage which so many centuries had established. Various opinions have gone forth as to the conduct of the Belgian troops on this memorable occasion. Isolated instances were possibly found, among a mass of several thousands, of that nervous weakness which neither the noblest incitements nor the finest examples can conquer. Old associations and feelings not effaced might have slackened the efforts of a few, directed against former comrades or personal friends whom the stern necessity of politics had placed in opposing ranks. Raw troops might here and there have shrunk from attacks the most desperate on record; but that the great principle of public duty, on grounds purely national, pervaded the army, is to be found in the official reports of its loss; two thousand and fifty-eight men killed and one thousand nine hundred and thirty-six wounded prove indelibly that the troops of the Netherlands had their full share in the honor of the day. The victory was cemented by the blood of the Prince of Orange, who stood the brunt of the fight with his gallant soldiers. His conduct was conformable to the character of his whole race, and to his own reputation during a long series of service with the British army in the Spanish peninsula. He stood bravely at the head of his troops during the murderous conflict; or, like Wellington, in whose school he was formed and whose example was beside him, rode from rank to rank and column to column, inspiring his men by the proofs of his untiring courage.

Several anecdotes are related of the prince's conduct throughout the day. One is remarkable as affording an example of those pithy epigrams of the battlefield with which history abounds, accompanied by an act that speaks a fine knowledge of the soldier's heart. On occasion of one peculiarly desperate charge, the prince, hurried on by his ardor, was actually in the midst of the French, and was in the greatest danger; when a Belgian battalion rushed forward, and, after a fierce struggle, repulsed the enemy and disengaged the prince. In the impulse of his admiration and gratitude, he tore from his breast one of those decorations gained by his own conduct on some preceding occasion, and flung it among the battalion, calling out, "Take it, take it, my lads! you have all earned it!" This decoration was immediately grappled for, and tied to the regimental standard, amid loud shouts of "Long live the prince!" and vows to defend the trophy, in the very utterance of which many a brave fellow received the stroke of death.

A short time afterward, and just half an hour before that terrible charge of the whole line, which decided the victory, the prince was struck by a musket-ball in the left shoulder. He was carried from the field, and conveyed that evening to Brussels, in the same cart with one of his wounded aides-de-camp, supported by another, and displaying throughout as much indifference to pain as he had previously shown contempt of danger.

The battle of Waterloo consolidated the kingdom of the Netherlands. The wound of the Prince of Orange was perhaps one of the most fortunate that was ever received by an individual, or sympathized in by a nation. To a warlike people, wavering in their allegiance, this evidence of the prince's valor acted like a talisman against disaffection. The organization of the kingdom was immediately proceeded on. The commission, charged with the revision of the fundamental law, and the modification required by the increase of territory, presented its report on the 31st of July. The inauguration of the king took place at Brussels on the 21st of September, in presence of the states-general: and the ceremony received additional interest from the appearance of the sovereign supported by his two sons who had so valiantly fought for the rights he now swore to maintain; the heir to the crown yet bearing his wounded arm in a scarf, and showing in his countenance the marks of recent suffering.

The constitution was finally accepted by the nation, and the principles of the government were stipulated and fixed in one grand view—that of the union, and, consequently, the force of the new state.

It has been asked by a profound and sagacious inquirer, or at least the question is put forth on undoubted authority in his name, "Why did England create for herself a difficulty, and what will be by and by a natural enemy, in uniting Holland and Belgium, in place of managing those two immense resources to her commerce by keeping them separate? For Holland, without manufactures, was the natural mart for those of England, while Belgium under an English prince had been the route for constantly inundating France and Germany."

So asked Napoleon, and England may answer and justify her conduct so impugned, on principles consistent with the general wishes and the common good of Europe. The discussion of the question is foreign to our purpose, which is to trace the circumstances, not to argue on the policy, that led to the formation of the Netherlands as they now exist. But it appears that the different integral parts of the nation were amalgamated from deep-formed designs for their mutual benefit. Belgium was not given to Holland, as the already-cited article of the treaty of Paris might at first sight seem to imply; nor was Holland allotted to Belgium. But they were grafted together, with all the force of legislative wisdom; not that one might be dominant and the other oppressed, but that both should bend to form an arch of common strength, able to resist the weight of such invasions as had perpetually periled, and often crushed, their separate independence.

SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER

A.D. 1815—1899

In the preceding chapters we have seen the history of Holland carried down to the treaty which joined together what are now known as the separate countries of Holland and Belgium. And it is at this point that the interest of the subject for the historian practically ceases. The historian differs from the annalist in this—that he selects for treatment those passages in the career of nations which possess a dramatic form and unity, and therefore convey lessons for moral guidance, or for constituting a basis for reasonable prognostications of the future. But there are in the events of the world many tracts of country (as we might term them) which have no special character or apparent significance, and which therefore, though they may extend over many years in time, are dismissed with bare mention in the pages of the historian; just as, in travelling by rail, the tourist will keep his face at the window only when the scenery warrants it; at other times composing himself to other occupations.

The scenery of Dutch history has episodes as stirring and instructive as those of any civilized people since history began; but it reached its dramatic and moral apogee when the independence of the United Netherlands was acknowledged by Spain. The Netherlands then reached their loftiest pinnacle of power and prosperity; their colonial possessions were vast and rich; their reputation as guardians of liberty and the rights of man was foremost in the world. But further than this they could not go; and the moment when a people ceases to advance may generally be regarded as the moment when, relatively speaking at least, it begins to go backward. The Dutch could in no sense become the masters of Europe; not only was their domain too small, but it was geographically at a disadvantage with the powerful and populous nations neighboring it, and it was compelled ever to fight for its existence against the attacks of nature itself. The stormy waves of the North Sea were ever moaning and threatening at the gates, and ever and anon a breach would be made, and the labor of generations annulled. Holland could never enter upon a career of conquest, like France or Russia; neither could she assume the great part which Britain has played; for although the character of the Dutchmen is in many respects as strong and sound as that of the English, and in some ways its superior, yet the Dutch had not been dowered with a sea-defended isle for their habitation, which might enable them to carry out enterprises abroad without the distraction and weakness involved in maintaining adequate guards at home. They were mighty in self-defence and in resistance against tyranny; and they were unsurpassed in those virtues and qualities which go to make a nation rich and orderly; but aggression could not be for them. They took advantage of their season of power to confirm themselves in the ownership of lands in the extreme East and in the West, which should be a continual source of revenue; but they could do no more; and they wasted not a little treasure and strength in preserving what they had gained, or a part of it, from the grasp of others. But this was the sum of their possibility; they could not presume to dictate terms to the world; and the consequence was that they gradually ceased to be a considered factor in the European problem. In some respects, their territorial insignificance, while it prevented them from aggressive action, preserved them from aggression; their domain was not worth conquering, and again its conquest could not be accomplished by any nation without making others uneasy and jealous. They became, like Switzerland, and unlike Poland and Hungary, a neutral region, which it was for the interest of Europe at large to let alone. None cared to meddle with them; and, on the other hand, they had native virtue and force enough to resist being absorbed into other peoples; the character of the Dutch is as distinct to-day as ever it had been. Their language, their literature, their art, and their personal traits, are unimpaired. They are, in their own degree, remarkably prosperous and comfortable; and they have the good sense to be content with their condition. They are liberal and progressive, and yet conservative; they are even with modern ideas as regards education and civilization, and yet the tourist within their boundaries continually finds himself reminded of their past. The costumes and the customs of the mass of the people have undergone singularly little change; they mind their own affairs, and are wisely indifferent to the affairs of others. Both as importers and as exporters they are useful to the world, and if the prophecies of those who foretell a general clash of the European powers should be fulfilled, it is likely that the Dutch will be onlookers merely, or perhaps profit by the misfortunes of their neighbors to increase their own well-being.

As we have seen in the foregoing pages, Belgium did not unite with the Hollanders in their revolt of the sixteenth century; but appertained to Burgundy, and was afterward made a domain of France. But after Napoleon had been overthrown at Waterloo, the nations who had been so long harried and terrorized by him were not satisfied with banishing the ex-conqueror to his island exile, but wished to present any possibility of another Napoleon arising to renew the wars which had devastated and impoverished them. Consequently they agreed to make a kingdom which might act as a buffer between France and the rest of Europe; and to this end they decreed that Belgium and Holland should be one. But in doing this, the statesmen or politicians concerned failed to take into account certain factors and facts which must inevitably, in the course of time, undermine their arrangements. Nations cannot be arbitrarily manufactured to suit the convenience of others. There is a chemistry in nationalities which has laws of its own, and will not be ignored. Between the Hollanders and the Belgians there existed not merely a negative lack of homogeneity, but a positive incompatibility. The Hollanders had for generations been fighters and men of enterprise; the Belgians had been the appanage of more powerful neighbors. The Hollanders were Protestants; the Belgians were adherents of the Papacy. The former were seafarers; the latter, farmers. The sympathies or affiliations of the Dutch were with the English and the Germans; those of the Belgians were with the French. Moreover, the Dutch were inclined to act oppressively toward the Belgians, and this disposition was made the more irksome by the fact that King William was a dull, stupid, narrow and very obstinate sovereign, who thought that to have a request made of him was reason sufficient for resisting it.

But over and above all these causes for disintegration of the new kingdom lay facts of the broadest significance and application. The arbiters of 1815 did not sufficiently apprehend the meaning of the French Revolution. The wars of Napoleon had made them forget it; his power had seemed so much more formidable and positive that the deeper forces which had brought about the events of the last decade of the eighteenth century were ignored. But they still continued profoundly active, and were destined ere long to announce themselves anew. They were in truth the generative forces of the nineteenth century.

They have not yet spent themselves; but as we look back upon the events of the past eighty or ninety years, we perceive what vast differences there are between what we were in Napoleon's day and what we are now. A long period of intrigue and misrule, of wars and revolutions, has been followed by material, mental and social changes affecting every class of the people, and especially that class which had hitherto been almost entirely unconsidered. The wars of this century have been of another character than those of the past; they have not involved basic principles of human association, but have been the result of attempts to gain comparatively trifling political advantages, or else were the almost inevitable consequence of adjustments of national relations. Several small new kingdoms have appeared; but their presence has not essentially altered the political aspect of Europe. It is the conquests of mind that have been, in this century, far more important than the struggles of arms. Steam, as applied to locomotion on sea and land, and to manufactures, has brought about modifications in social and industrial conditions that cannot be exaggerated. Steamboats and railroads have not only given a different face to commerce and industry, but they have united the world in bonds of mutual knowledge and sympathy, which cannot fail to profoundly affect the political relations of mankind. Isolation is ignorance; as soon as men begin to discover, by actual intercourse, the similarities and dissimilarities of their several conditions, these will begin to show improvements. To be assured that people in one part of the world are better off than those in another, will tend inevitably to bring about ameliorations for the latter. The domain of evil will be continually restricted, and that of good enlarged. In the dissemination of intelligence and the spread of sympathy, the telegraph, and other applications of electricity, have enormously aided the work of steam. Every individual of civilized mankind may now be cognizant, at any moment, of what is taking place at any point of the earth's surface to which the appliances of civilization have penetrated. This unprecedented spread of common acquaintanceship of the world has been supplemented by discoveries of science in many other directions. We know more of the moon to-day than Europe did of this planet a few centuries ago. The industrial arts are now prosecuted by machinery with a productiveness which enables one man to do the work formerly performed by hundreds, and which more than keeps up the supply with the demand. Conquests of natural forces are constantly making, and each one of them adds to the comfort and enlightenment of man. Men, practically, live a dozen lives such as those of the past in their single span of seventy years; and we are even finding means of prolonging the Scriptural limit of mortal existence physically as well as mentally.

But is all this due to that great moral and social earthquake to which we give the name of the French Revolution? Yes; for that upheaval, like the plow of some titanic husbandman, brought to the surface elements of good and use which had been lying fallow for unnumbered ages. It brought into view the People, as against mere rulers and aristocrats, who had hitherto lived upon what the People produced, without working themselves, and without caring for anything except to conserve things as they were. Human progress will never be advanced by oligarchies, no matter how gentle and well-disposed. We see their results to-day in Spain and in Turkey, which are still mediæval, or worse, in their condition and methods. It is the brains of the common people that have wrought the mighty change; their personal interests demand that they go forward, and their fresh and unencumbered minds show them the way. The great scientists, the inventors, the philanthropists, the reformers, are all of the common people; the statesmen who have really governed the world in this century have sprung from the common stock. The French Revolution destroyed the dominance of old ideas, and with them the forms in which they were embodied. Political, personal and religious freedom are now matters of course; but a hundred years ago they were almost unheard of, save in the dreams of optimists and fanatics. The rights of labor have been vindicated; and the right of every human being to the benefit of what he produces has been claimed and established. Along with this improvement has come, of course, a train of evils and abuses, due to our ignorance of how best to manage and apply our new privileges and advantages; but such evils are transient, and the conditions which created them will suffice, ere long, to remove them. The conflict between labor and capital is not permanent; it will yield to better knowledge of the true demands of political economy. The indifference or corruption of law makers and dispensers will disappear when men realize that personal selfishness is self-destructive, and that only care for the commonweal can bring about prosperity for the individual. The democracy is still in its swaddling clothes, and its outward aspect is in many ways ugly and unwelcome, and we sigh for the elegance and composure of old days; but these discomforts are a necessary accompaniment of growth, and will vanish when the growing pains are past. The Press is the mirror of the aspirations, the virtues and the faults of the new mankind; its power is stupendous and constantly increasing; many are beginning to dread it as a possible agent of ill; but in truth its real power can only be for good, since the mass of mankind, however wedded to selfishness as individuals, are united in desiring honesty and good in the general trend of things; and it is to the generality, and not to the particular, that the Press, to be successful, must appeal. It is the great critic and the great recorder; and in the face of such criticism and record abuses cannot long maintain themselves. Men will be free, first of external tyrannies, and then of that more subtle but not less dangerous tyranny which they impose upon themselves. As might have been expected, extremists have arisen who sought to find a short road to perfection, and they have met with disappointment. The dreams of the socialists have not been realized; men will not work for one another unless they are at the same time working for themselves. The communist and the nihilist are yet further from the true ideal; there will always remain in human society certain persons who rule, and others who obey. There must always, in all affairs, be a head to direct as well as hands to execute. Men are born unequal in intelligence and ability; and it will never be possible to reduce leaders to the level of followers. The form of society must take its model from the human form, in which one part is subordinate to another, yet all work together in harmony. Only time—and probably no very long time—is required to bring a recognition of these facts. Meanwhile, the very violence of the revolts against even the suspicion of oppression are but symptoms of the vigorous vitality which, in former centuries, seemed to have no existence at all. On the other hand, industrial co-operation seems to promise successful development; it involves immense economies, and consequent profit to producers. The middleman has his uses, and especially is he a convenience; but it is easy to pay too dear for conveniences; and there seems no reason why the producer should not, as time goes on, become constantly better equipped for dealing direct with the consumer, to the manifest advantage of both.

All these and many other triumphs of civilization, which we see now in objective form, were present in potency at the beginning of this century, though, as we have said, they were not duly taken into account by the framers of the agreement which sought to make Holland and Belgium one flesh. Had the sun not yet risen upon the human horizon, the attempt might have had a quasi success; but the light was penetrating the darkened places, and men were no longer willing to accept subjection as their inevitable doom. It might be conducive to the comfort of the rest of Europe that Batavian and Belgian should dwell together under one political roof; but it did not suit the parties themselves; and therefore they soon began to make their incompatibility known. But nothing was heard beyond the grumblings of half-awakened discontent until, in 1830, the new revolution in Paris sent a sympathetic thrill through all the dissatisfied of Europe. A generation had now passed since the first great upheaval, and men had had time to digest the lesson which it conveyed, and to draw various more or less reasonable inferences as to future possibilities. It had been determined that, broadly speaking, what the people heartily wanted, the people might have; and the disturbances in Paris indicated that the people were prepared to resent any attempt on the part of their rulers to bring back the old abuses. When the Pentarchy, in 1815, had made its division of the spoils of Napoleon, the Bourbons were reseated on the throne which Louis XIV. had made famous; but Louis XVIII. was but a degenerate representative of the glories that had been. He adopted a reactionary policy against the Napoleonic (or imperialist), the republican and the Protestant elements in France; and outrages and oppressions occurred. As a consequence, secret societies were formed to counteract the ultra-royalist policy. When Louis died, it was hoped that his successor, Charles X., might introduce improvements; but on the contrary he only made matters worse. The consequence was the gradual growth of a liberal party, seeking a monarchy based on the support of the great middle class of the population. In 1827 Charles disbanded the National Guard; and in the following year the liberals elected a majority in the Chamber. Charles foolishly attempted to meet this step by making the prince de Polignac his minister, who stood for all that the people had in abhorrence. The prince issued ordinances declaring the late elections illegal, narrowing down the rights of suffrage to the large landowners, and forbidding all liberty to the press. Hereupon the populace of Paris erected barricades and took up arms; and in the "Three Days" from the 27th to the 29th of July, 1830, they defeated the forces of the king, and after capturing the Hotel de Ville and the Louvre, sent him into exile, and made the venerable and faithful Lafayette commander of the National Guard. But the revolutionists showed forbearance; and instead of beheading Charles, as they might have done, they let him go, and punished the ministers by imprisonment only. This put an end to the older line of the Bourbons in France, and the representative of the younger branch, Louis Philippe ("Philippe Egalite"), was set on the throne, in the hope that he would be willing to carry out the people's will.

All this was interesting to the Belgians, and they profited by the example. They regarded William as another Charles, and deemed themselves justified in revolting against his rule. They declared that they were no longer subject to his control, and issue was joined on that point. But the Powers were not ready to permit the dissolution of their anxiously constructed edifice; and they met together with a view to arranging some secure modus vivendi. The issue of their deliberations took the form of proposing that the duchy of Luxemburg, at the southeast corner of Belgium, should be ceded to Holland on the north. This suggestion was favorably received by the Hollanders, but was not so agreeable to the Belgians; and an assembly at Brussels devised and adopted a liberal constitution, and invited Leopold of Saxe-Coburg to occupy their throne. Leopold was at this time about forty years of age; he was the youngest son of Francis, duke of Saxe-Coburg; he had married, in 1816, the daughter of George IV. of England, the princess Charlotte, and had, a few months before the Belgians' proposal, been offered and had refused the crown of Greece. But the Belgian throne was more to his liking; and after taking measures to sound the Powers on the subject, and to assure himself of their good will, he accepted the proffer, and was crowned under the title of Leopold I. His reign lasted thirty-four years, and was comparatively uneventful and prosperous.

But the Dutch refused to tolerate this change of sovereignty without a struggle; William raised an army and suddenly threw it into Belgium; and the chanees are that he would have made short work of Belgian resistance had the two been permitted to fight out their quarrel undisturbed. This, however, could not happen; since the independence of Belgium had been recognized by England, Austria, Russia, and Prussia; and the triumphal march of the Dutch was arrested by a French army which happened to be in the place where they could be most effective in the circumstances. The Dutch had occupied Antwerp, a town on the borderland of Belgium and Holland. It had been in the possession of the French in 1794, but had been taken from them at the Restoration in 1814. The French now laid siege to it, being under the command of Gérard, while the Dutch were led by Chassè. The citadel was taken in 1832, and the resistance of the Dutch to the decree of Europe was practically at an end, though William the Obstinate refused for several years to accept the fact. The duchy of Luxemburg had sided with the Belgians all along, as might have been anticipated from its position and natural affiliations; and though no immediate action was taken relative to its ownership till 1839, it remained during the interval in Belgian hands. Matters remained in this ambiguous condition for some time; but though the Dutch might grumble, they could not fight. At length the treaty of 1839 was signed in London, on the 19th of April, according to the terms of which part of the duchy of Luxemburg was retained by the Belgians, and part was ruled by the king of Holland as grand duke. In other respects, the status quo ante was preserved, and the partition of Holland and Belgium was confirmed, as it has ever since remained. The history of Belgium thenceforward has been almost wholly devoid of incidents; the little nation may quite too apothegm as applying to themselves, "Short are the annals of a happy people!" Their insignificance and their geographical position secure them against all disturbance. They live in their tiny quarters with economy and industry; the most densely populous community in Europe, and one of the most prosperous. Around their borders rises the sullen murmur of threatening armies and hostile dynasties; but Belgium is free from menace, and their sunshine of peace is without a cloud. It is of course conceivable that in the great struggle which seems impending, the Belgian nation may suddenly vanish from the map, and become but a memory in the minds of a future generation; but their end, if it come, is likely to be in the nature of a euthanasia, and so far as they are physically concerned, they will survive their political annihilation. The only ripples which have varied the smooth surface of their career since the treaty, have been disputes between the liberal and clerical parties on questions of education, and disturbances and occasional riots instigated by socialists over industrial questions. Leopold, dying at the age of seventy-six, was succeeded by his son as Leopold II., and his reign continued during the remainder of the century.

The treaty of 1839, in addition to its provisions already mentioned, gave Limburg, on the Prussian border, to the Dutch, and opened the Scheldt under heavy tolls. In October of the year following the treaty, William I. abdicated the throne of Holland in favor of his son. He had not enjoyed his reign, and he retired in an ill humor, which was not without some excuse. His career had been a worthy one; he had been a soldier in the field from his twenty-first year till the battle of Wagram in 1809, when he was near forty; after that he dwelt in retirement in Berlin until he was called to the throne of the Netherlands. At that time he had exchanged his German possessions for the grand duchy of Luxemburg; and was therefore naturally reluctant to be deprived of the latter. The old soldier survived his abdication only a few years, dying in 1843 at Berlin.

William II. was a soldier like his father. He had gained distinction under Wellington in the Spanish campaign, and in the struggle against Napoleon during the Hundred Days he commanded the Dutch contingent. He married Anne, sister of Alexander I. of Russia, in 1816, and at the outbreak of the revolution of 1830 he was sent to Belgium to bring about an arrangement. On the 16th of October of that year he took the step, which was repudiated by his rigid old father, of acknowledging Belgian independence; but he subsequently commanded the Dutch army against the Belgians, and was forced to yield to the French in August, 1832. After his accession, he behaved with firmness and liberality, and died in 1849 leaving a good reputation behind him.

Meanwhile, the new revolution of 1848 was approaching. Insensibly, the states of Europe had ranged themselves under two principles. There were on one side the states governed by constitutions, including Great Britain, France, Holland, Belgium, Switzerland, Sweden and, Norway, Denmark, and, for the time being, Spain and Portugal. On the other side were Russia, Prussia, Austria, the Italian States, and some of those of Germany, who held that the right of rule and the making of laws belonged absolutely to certain dynasties, which were, indeed, morally bound to consult the interests of their populations, yet were not responsible to their subjects for the manner in which they might choose to do it. In the last mentioned states there existed a chronic strife between the people and their rulers. It was an irrepressible conflict, and its crisis was reached in 1848.

It was in France that things first came to a head. Louis Philippe and his minister, Guizot, tried to render the government gradually independent of the nation, in imitation of the absolutist empires; and the uneasiness caused by this policy was emphasized by the scarcity that prevailed during the years 1846 and 1847. The Liberals began to demand electoral reform; but the king, on opening the Chambers, intimated that he was convinced that no reform was needed. Angry debates ensued, and finally the opposition arranged for a great banquet in the Champs Elysee on February 22, 1848, in support of the reform movement. This gathering, however, was forbidden by Guizot. The order was regarded as arbitrary, and the Republicans seized the opportunity. Barricades appeared in Paris, the king was forced to abdicate, and took refuge with his family in England. France was thereupon declared to be a Republic, and the government was intrusted to Lamartine and others. There was now great danger of excesses similar to those of the first great revolution; but the elements of violence were kept under by the opposition of the middle and higher classes. The communistic clubs were overawed by the National Guards, and on April 16th the Communistic party was defeated. General Cavaignac, who had been made dictator during the struggle, laid down his office after the battle which began on the 23d of June between the rabble of idle mechanics, eighty thousand in number, and the national forces had been decided in favor of the latter, who slew no less than sixteen thousand of the enemy. Cavaignac was now appointed chief of the Executive Commission with the title of President of the Council. A reaction favoring a monarchy was indicated; but meanwhile a new constitution provided for a quadriennial presidency, with a single legislature of seven hundred and fifty members. Louis Napoleon, the nephew of the great emperor, was chosen by a majority vote for the office in December of 1848. Four years later he was declared emperor under the title of Napoleon III.

The revolutionary movement spread to other countries of Europe, with varying results. In Hungary, Kossuth in the Diet demanded of the emperor-king a national government. Prince Metternich, prime minister, attempted to resist the demand with military force, but an insurrection in Vienna drove him into exile, and the Hungarians gained a temporary advantage, and were granted a constitution. The Slavs met at Prague, at the instigation of Polocky, and held a congress; but it was broken up by the impatience of the inhabitants, and a success of the imperialists was followed by the rising of the southern Slavs in favor of the emperor. A battle took place in Hungary on September 11, 1848, but the imperialists under Jellachich were routed and driven toward the Austrian frontier. The war became wider in its scope; the insurrectionists at first met with success; but in spite of their desperate valor the Hungarian forces were finally overthrown by the aid of a Russian army; and their leader, Goergy, was compelled to surrender to the Russians on August 13, 1849. It was thought that the Czar might annex Hungary; but he handed it back to Francis Joseph, who, by way of vengeance, permitted the most hideous cruelties.

In Germany, the issue had no definite feature. The people demanded freedom of the Press and a German parliament, and the various princes seemed acquiescent; but when it was proposed that Prussia should become Germany, there was opposition on all sides; a Diet of the Confederation was held, but Frederick William IV., king of Prussia, refused to accept the title of hereditary emperor which was offered him. Austria and Prussia came into opposition; two rival congresses were sitting at the same time in 1850; and war between the two states was only averted by the interference of Russia. Czar Nicholas, then virtually dictator of Europe, ordered Prussia's troops back, and the Convention of Olmutz, in November, seemed to put a final end to Prussia's hopes of German hegemony.

All the local despotisms of Italy collapsed before the breath of revolution; but the country then found itself face to face with Austria. Charles Albert of Sardinia had the courage to head the revolt; but was defeated, and abdicated in favor of his son Victor Emmanuel. Venice was taken after a severe siege by the Austrians; and King Bomba managed to repossess himself of Naples, after a terrible massacre. Sicily was subdued. In the Papal States, Pio Nono was deposed; but after a time a reaction set in, the provisional government under Mazzini was overthrown, and the French occupied Rome and recalled the Pope.

The question as to the Danish or German ownership of the duchies of Schleswig-Holstein had already been agitated, and they became acute at this time; but the spirit of the new revolution had no direct bearing upon the matter. By the end of the first half of the nineteenth century, Europe was outwardly quiet once more.

And what part had Holland taken in these proceedings? A very small one. The phlegmatic Dutchmen found themselves fairly well off, and were nowise tempted to embark in troubles for sentiment's sake. The constitution given them in 1814 was revised, with the consent of the king, and the changes, which involved various political reforms, went into effect on April 17, 1848. William II. died just eleven months afterward, and was succeeded by his son William III., at that time a man of two-and-thirty. He favored the reforms granted by his father, and showed himself to be in harmony with such sober ideas of progress as belonged to the nation over which he ruled. His aim in all things was peace, and the development of the resources of the country; he understood his people, and they placed confidence in him, and Holland steadily grew in wealth and comfort. In 1853, after the establishment by the papacy of Catholic bishoprics had been allowed, there was a period of some excitement; for Roman Catholicism had found a stern and unconquerable foe in the Dutch; when it had come with the bloody tyranny of Spain. But those evil days were past, and the Dutch, who had pledged themselves to welcome religious freedom in their dominions, were disposed to let bygones be bygones, and to permit such of their countrymen as preferred the Catholic ceremonial to have their way. It was evident that no danger existed of Holland's becoming subject to the papacy; and, indeed, the immediate political sequel of the establishment of the bishoprics was the election of a moderate, liberal, Protestant cabinet, which thoroughly represented the country, and which represented its tone thereafter, with such modifications as new circumstances might suggest. The Dutch were philosophic, and were victims to no vague and costly ambitions. They felt that they had given sufficient proofs of their quality in the past; the glory which they had won as champions of liberty could never fade; and now they merited the repose which we have learned to associate with our conception of the Dutch character. Their nature seems to partake of the scenic traits of their country; its picturesque, solid serenity, its unemotional levels, its flavor of the antique: and yet beneath that composure we feel the strength and steadfastness which can say to the ocean, Thus far and no further, and can build their immaculate towns, and erect their peaceful windmills, and navigate their placid canals, and smoke their fragrant pipes on land which, by natural right, should be the bottom of the sea. Holland is a perennial type of human courage and industry, common sense and moderation. As we contemplate them to-day, it requires an effort of the imagination to picture them as the descendants of a race of heroes who defied and overcame the strongest and most cruel Power on earth in their day, and then taught the rest of Europe how to unite success in commerce with justice and honor. But the heroism is still there, and, should need arise, we need not doubt that it would once more be manifested.

Because Holland is so quiet, some rash critics fancy that she may be termed effete. But this is far from the truth. The absence of military burdens, rendered needless by the intelligent selfishness, if not the conscience, of the rest of Europe, implies no decadence of masculine spirit in the Dutch. In no department of enterprise, commercial ability, or intellectual energy are they inferior to any of their contemporaries, or to their own great progenitors. "Holland," says Professor Thorold Rogers, "is the origin of scientific medicine and rational therapeutics. From Holland came the first optical instruments, the best mathematicians, the most intelligent philosophers, as well as the boldest and most original thinkers. Amsterdam and Rotterdam held the printing presses of Europe in the early days of the republic; the Elzevirs were the first publishers of cheap editions, and thereby aided in disseminating the new learning. From Holland came the new agriculture, which has done so much for social life, horticulture and floriculture. The Dutch taught modern Europe navigation. They were the first to explore the unknown seas, and many an island and cape which their captains discovered has been renamed after some one who got his knowledge by their research, and appropriated the fruit of his predecessor's labors. They have been as much plundered in the world of letters as they have been in commerce and politics. Holland taught the Western nations finance—perhaps no great boon. But they also taught commercial honor, the last and hardest lesson which nations learn. They inculcated free trade, a lesson nearly as hard to learn, if not harder, since the conspiracy against private right is watchful, incessant, and, as some would make us believe, respectable. They raised a constant and for a long time ineffectual protest against the barbarous custom of privateering, and the dangerous doctrine of contraband of war, a doctrine which, if carried out logically, would allow belligerents to interdict the trade of the world. The Dutch are the real founders of what people call international law, or the rights of nations. They made mistakes, but they made fewer than their neighbors made. The benefits which they conferred were incomparably greater than the errors they committed. There is nothing more striking than the fact that, after a brief and discreditable episode, the states were an asylum for the persecuted. The Jews, who were condemned because they were thrifty, plundered because they were rich, and harassed because they clung tenaciously to their ancient faith and customs, found an asylum in Holland; and some of them perhaps, after they originated and adopted, with the pliability of their race, a Teutonic alias, have not been sufficiently grateful to the country which sheltered them. The Jansenists, expelled from France, found a refuge in Utrecht, and more than a refuge, a recognition, when recognition was a dangerous offence.