The Story of Mankind [101]
I tell you about the Thirty Years War. But before
this terrible and final outbreak of religious fanaticism, a great
many other things had happened.
Charles V was dead. Germany and Austria had been left
to his brother Ferdinand. All his other possessions, Spain and
the Netherlands and the Indies and America had gone to his
son Philip. Philip was the son of Charles and a Portuguese
princess who had been first cousin to her own husband. The
children that are born of such a union are apt to be rather
queer. The son of Philip, the unfortunate Don Carlos, (murdered
afterwards with his own father's consent,) was crazy.
Philip was not quite crazy, but his zeal for the Church bordered
closely upon religious insanity. He believed that Heaven had
appointed him as one of the saviours of mankind. Therefore,
whosoever was obstinate and refused to share his Majesty's
views, proclaimed himself an enemy of the human race and
must be exterminated lest his example corrupt the souls of
his pious neighbours.
Spain, of course, was a very rich country. All the gold and
silver of the new world flowed into the Castilian and Aragonian
treasuries. But Spain suffered from a curious eco-
nomic disease. Her peasants were hard working men and
even harder working women. But the better classes maintained
a supreme contempt for any form of labour, outside of
employment in the army or navy or the civil service. As for
the Moors, who had been very industrious artisans, they had
been driven out of the country long before. As a result, Spain,
the treasure chest of the world, remained a poor country because
all her money had to be sent abroad in exchange for the
wheat and the other necessities of life which the Spaniards
neglected to raise for themselves.
Philip, ruler of the most powerful nation of the
sixteenth century, depended for his revenue upon the taxes
which were gathered in the busy commercial bee-hive of
the Netherlands. But these Flemings and Dutchmen were
devoted followers of the doctrines of Luther and Calvin
and they had cleansed their churches of all images and holy
paintings and they had informed the Pope that they no
longer regarded him as their shepherd but intended to follow
the dictates of their consciences and the commands of their
newly translated Bible.
This placed the king in a very difficult position. He could
not possibly tolerate the heresies of his Dutch subjects, but
he needed their money. If he allowed them to be Protestants
and took no measures to save their souls he was deficient in
his duty toward God. If he sent the Inquisition to the Netherlands
and burned his subjects at the stake, he would lose the
greater part of his income.
Being a man of uncertain will-power he hesitated a long
time. He tried kindness and sternness and promises and
threats. The Hollanders remained obstinate, and continued to
sing psalms and listen to the sermons of their Lutheran and
Calvinist preachers. Philip in his despair sent his ``man of
iron,'' the Duke of Alba, to bring these hardened sinners to
terms. Alba began by decapitating those leaders who had not
wisely left the country before his arrival. In the year 1572
(the same year that the French Protestant leaders were all
killed during the terrible night of Saint Bartholomew), he
attacked a number of Dutch cities and massacred the inhabitants
as an example for the others. The next year he laid siege
to the town of Leyden, the manufacturing center of Holland.
Meanwhile, the seven small provinces of the northern
Netherlands had formed a defensive union, the so-called union
of Utrecht, and had recognised William of Orange, a German
prince who had been the private secretary of the Emperor
Charles V, as the leader of their army and as commander of
their freebooting sailors, who were known as the Beggars of
the Sea. William, to save Leyden, cut the dykes, created a
shallow inland
this terrible and final outbreak of religious fanaticism, a great
many other things had happened.
Charles V was dead. Germany and Austria had been left
to his brother Ferdinand. All his other possessions, Spain and
the Netherlands and the Indies and America had gone to his
son Philip. Philip was the son of Charles and a Portuguese
princess who had been first cousin to her own husband. The
children that are born of such a union are apt to be rather
queer. The son of Philip, the unfortunate Don Carlos, (murdered
afterwards with his own father's consent,) was crazy.
Philip was not quite crazy, but his zeal for the Church bordered
closely upon religious insanity. He believed that Heaven had
appointed him as one of the saviours of mankind. Therefore,
whosoever was obstinate and refused to share his Majesty's
views, proclaimed himself an enemy of the human race and
must be exterminated lest his example corrupt the souls of
his pious neighbours.
Spain, of course, was a very rich country. All the gold and
silver of the new world flowed into the Castilian and Aragonian
treasuries. But Spain suffered from a curious eco-
nomic disease. Her peasants were hard working men and
even harder working women. But the better classes maintained
a supreme contempt for any form of labour, outside of
employment in the army or navy or the civil service. As for
the Moors, who had been very industrious artisans, they had
been driven out of the country long before. As a result, Spain,
the treasure chest of the world, remained a poor country because
all her money had to be sent abroad in exchange for the
wheat and the other necessities of life which the Spaniards
neglected to raise for themselves.
Philip, ruler of the most powerful nation of the
sixteenth century, depended for his revenue upon the taxes
which were gathered in the busy commercial bee-hive of
the Netherlands. But these Flemings and Dutchmen were
devoted followers of the doctrines of Luther and Calvin
and they had cleansed their churches of all images and holy
paintings and they had informed the Pope that they no
longer regarded him as their shepherd but intended to follow
the dictates of their consciences and the commands of their
newly translated Bible.
This placed the king in a very difficult position. He could
not possibly tolerate the heresies of his Dutch subjects, but
he needed their money. If he allowed them to be Protestants
and took no measures to save their souls he was deficient in
his duty toward God. If he sent the Inquisition to the Netherlands
and burned his subjects at the stake, he would lose the
greater part of his income.
Being a man of uncertain will-power he hesitated a long
time. He tried kindness and sternness and promises and
threats. The Hollanders remained obstinate, and continued to
sing psalms and listen to the sermons of their Lutheran and
Calvinist preachers. Philip in his despair sent his ``man of
iron,'' the Duke of Alba, to bring these hardened sinners to
terms. Alba began by decapitating those leaders who had not
wisely left the country before his arrival. In the year 1572
(the same year that the French Protestant leaders were all
killed during the terrible night of Saint Bartholomew), he
attacked a number of Dutch cities and massacred the inhabitants
as an example for the others. The next year he laid siege
to the town of Leyden, the manufacturing center of Holland.
Meanwhile, the seven small provinces of the northern
Netherlands had formed a defensive union, the so-called union
of Utrecht, and had recognised William of Orange, a German
prince who had been the private secretary of the Emperor
Charles V, as the leader of their army and as commander of
their freebooting sailors, who were known as the Beggars of
the Sea. William, to save Leyden, cut the dykes, created a
shallow inland