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Bijdragen en Mededelingen betreffende de Geschiedenis der Nederlanden. Deel 104 (1989)

Bijdragen en Mededelingen betreffende de Geschiedenis der Nederlanden. Deel 104

(1989)– [tijdschrift] Bijdragen en Mededeelingen van het Historisch Genootschap–rechtenstatus Auteursrechtelijk beschermd

Vorige Volgende

Mars Bruised: Images of War in the Dutch Republic, 1641-1648*
Craig Harline

Some years ago I was struck by Theodore Rabb's provocative little volume on the seventeenth-century ‘crisis’, particularly his discussion of changing attitudes toward war1. Such change was first evident, he argued, in numerous unflattering depictions of martial values by Rubens, Velázquez, and Callot during the 1620s and 1630s2. Significantly, many of these unkind portrayals were developed in monarchical, traditionally bellicose states, suggesting that the old given of war as inevitable or even virtuous was now under scrutiny. This caused me to wonder how war was portrayed in the Dutch Republic at about the same time. Such an anomalous state would serve as an interesting case study, I mused, for on the one hand the Dutch - inhabitants after all of a Republic - were supposed to have discarded the noble notion of war as virtue, and yet on the other they battled against Spain - often enthusiastically - in one of the longest wars in European history. Indeed, many contemporaries recognized that war was the foundation of the Republic; the seven autonomous members of the United Provinces constituted a military alliance, not a cartel3. Under these conditions, how would Mars fare?

Recently, Simon Schama has demonstrated that, particularly in the realm of visual art, portrayals of Mars and his soldier-apprentices became by mid-century less than heroic4. I therefore turned to examine this question in a different medium: the pamphlets. Two things soon became apparent. First, like Jonathan Israel before me, I noticed that the 1640s - the years of negotiation at Munster - marked the appearance of the first sizeable batch of pamphlets in favor of peace with Spain5. This alone

merited closer attention. But beyond this, the nature of some of the arguments for peace were striking. Though Blok, Poelhekke, Geyl, and Israel, to name a few6, had written about these tracts, they had focused understandably - and rightly - on the political and economic arguments. Certainly politics were at the forefront of pamphlets, but it seemed to me that other ideas, which might be labeled ‘moral’ - thus which discussed the rightness or wrongness of war, whether in general or in reference to the particular war with Spain - ought to be examined closely as well. This essay therefore seeks to illustrate quantitative and qualitative changes in support for peace in pamphlet literature, and to offer some possible explanations for these changes.

A brief preliminary word on this medium of pamphlets is called for7. The overriding theme of ‘little blue books’ was, again, politics, in all of its 17th century forms. These writings first became significant around 1565, and from that date until 1648 perhaps 10,000 pamphlet issues appeared (with roughly 65 to 80 percent of them appearing after 1606)8. Pamphlets were generally written, translated, or edited by the besteducated members of Dutch society, including political officials and especially preachers. Such persons also wrote high-flung treatises meant for small circles, but they directed their pamphlets at a broader audience; and in the Republic the potential - thus literate and interested - readership was large.

There are many clues that the intended audience was in fact often reached, and that there was much enthusiasm for pamphlets. During the truce talks of 1607-1609, the notorious Beehive brought together under one cover nearly 30 recently published pamphlets on the topic9; in the midst of the 1643-1648 talks another such collection appeared10, perhaps even two11. A burgher in the latter states that he would need two

or three summer days in order to name all the new ‘little books’. There are many such examples of interest in pamphlets and of the perception that public discussion mattered in the Dutch Republic12. Hence, these writings - brief, unadorned, unbound, and of a second-rate literary quality - were an important if often growled-about part of the political scene. Pamphlet debates, including the debate over war, were carried out not only in the conference rooms of The Hague or Munster, but to a large extent in public13.

I

Let us first examine the pamphlet sample under consideration and the increase in the number of pamphlets for peace. Besides tracts I had read from earlier decades, I perused for this study roughly 200 titles out of a possible 1,200 to 1,500 published between 1641 and 164814; these 200 represent the bulk of those pamphlets which seemed likely to reveal attitudes toward war, whether expressed directly or indirectly and whether about war with Spain or war as such. Just over 70 of them proved to be of interest15:

Commentary on the Munster peace talks 30
(17 in favor of peace, 13 against)  
Commentary and documents on war or politics in general 13
Formal documents about the Munster peace talks 7
Battle accounts 18
Victory poems 5

Among these, the battle accounts and especially the commentary on Munster deserve the greatest attention.

The quantitative increase of battle accounts is of little importance for this study. Such accounts were hardly new by the 1640s; dozens of them appeared even during the early

stages of the Revolt16. They may have reviewed events in the Dutch-Spanish conflict - as most of the 18 I examined did - or those in Ireland, Leipzig, Portugal, Rocroy, England, Denmark or Sweden. One might argue that the 1640s saw more of them published than ever before, but again this does not seem especially helpful in detecting increased support for peace; indeed, a greater number of battle accounts may mean just the opposite. The higher number may also be due to the growing sophistication in gathering news.

But among the more argumentative tracts, quantitative change in the 1640s is significant indeed. At first glance, this most recent debate over ending the war with Spain seemed much like the previous debates, with many of the same arguments and even some of the very same pamphlets thrown into the fray17. But a closer look revealed an important distinction between the polemic of the 1640s and that which had accompanied the dozen or so previous rounds of negotiation: before 1640, the overwhelming majority of pamphleteers had opposed any kind of agreement with the traditional arch enemy; after 1640, pamphlets in favor of peace for the first time approached in number and passion those against it; the 17 mentioned above represent an unprecedented figure. In earlier major debates over war, such as those of 1607-1609,1620-1621,1629-1630, one or two tracts can be found which favor peace, while the rest urge continuation of the war18.

The most difficult - and most important - task is to explain this seemingly sudden change. I was naturally curious about the extent to which attitudes against war per se may have played a role. But there is no denying that political and economic considerations - thus non-‘moral’ issues - best explain the unprecedented support for peace, considerations which have been well-studied by other historians19.

The economic motivations for peace are more ambiguous than the political. It is difficult to affirm, for instance, André Corvisier's thesis that many in the Republic argued for peace around 1650 because they belonged to social groups which stood to benefit economically from a halt to war. It was the prosperity of the Dutch, he asserted, which explains why they suddenly became so opposed to war, and why public esteem

for arms declined20. A pro-peace pamphleteer in fact had a merchant argue that if war ended, greater wealth would result: ‘now there are no profits, there is nothing to gain, neither overseas, nor among the people here at home’21. Other peace pamphlets agreed, but this was by no means an established fact. Even those in favor of peace acknowledged that great riches could be made through war22. And this was the view that prevailed among contemporaries23.

In the Republic there was an important perception throughout much of the period that the war increased profits; foreign nations, which looked at the Dutch with envy or irritation, were of the same opinion24. Israel's detailed work shows that the main arguments used by those opposed to peace were economic25. Geoffrey Parker has argued that in general those who profited from war were bankers, the towns of Holland - again, where pamphleteering and the greatest political support for peace were centered - and some major shareholders in distant trading ventures. In the broad picture, commerce lost more than it gained through war until after 162726. Hence, some of those who supported peace after 1640 may have believed that they were taking a bite out of their own prosperity; in any case, it was hard for contemporaries to resist the impression that war was a boon to the Dutch27. Economic self-interest among pro-peace pamphleteers was therefore not an important component of the desire for peace.

A more important explanation for the sudden drive toward peace is that of political expediency. To begin with, there was a feeling around 1640 that Spain was now vulnerable because of revolts in Portugal, Catalonia, and of course the Republic; every possible concession should be extracted while it was possible to do so28. One pamphleteer of 1647 wrote that

a child, even a blindman, can see, that the continuation of war will ruin the Spaniard; he must
make peace - despite unfavorable, even shameful conditions - in order to keep his head above water29.

The anti-peace party also recognized Spanish weakness, though it urged another approach (concessions at the bargaining table with such a treacherous enemy were empty; the Republic should extract concessions forcefully, and renew attacks against Spain in the West Indies, the Atlantic, and the Mediterranean30.

Besides the perception of Spanish weakness, another important motive for peace was the problem of France. The Dutch were allied with the French, and France did not yet want to grant the luxury of peace to Spain; they wished to continue the fighting until the Spanish were driven from the southern Netherlands31. But the Dutch peace party urged the States General to conclude an agreement separately from the French, reasoning that it was better to conclude the war now, while the South was still intact, and hence have the weak Spaniards as a neighbor rather than a strong France.

It can't be denied that one's rest and peace depend on the goodness or badness of one's neighbor; no one can remain any longer in peace than his neigbor pleases32.

(The anti-peace party, on the other hand, wanted to continue fighting and recover the Spanish Netherlands, partly for reasons of religion33.)

In short, there is no doubt about the importance of political and economic factors when considering the question of why more pamphlets appeared in favor of peace than ever before34. But these alone fail to tell the entire story.

II

Having recognized the political and economic machinations, it remains to analyze further some of the new, or newly emphasized, non-political and non-economic arguments for peace in pamphlet literature. My purpose is not to suggest that these ideas were dominant. In fact, I repeat that pro-peace pamphlets at most only equalled antipeace pamphlets, and those readers who came to support peace may have been persuaded by ideas which I do not discuss in this essay. The ideas reviewed here are significant not because of their number, but because they had not been used - or had not been emphasized - in earlier pamphlets.

The advantage of using pamphlets in such a study is that they reflect what pamphleteers believed would make inroads among a potentially broad audience; thus, they represent the next best thing to a seventeenth-century public opinion poll (though they have some serious shortcomings in this regard)35. But the disadvantage, given the political overtones, is that one can never be sure which ‘moral arguments’ were genuine convictions and which were mere fodder in the war of words. Even those sentiments which apparently transcended politics - evident in titles such as ‘Sigh for Peace’, ‘In Praise of Peace’, ‘Gagging of the Peace-Haters’, ‘Poem of Peace’ or ‘The Curse of War and the Blessing of Peace’36 - may have advanced concrete ends.

And yet the rightly-suspicious twentieth-century mind can bring itself to admit that high principles and political motives are not in every case mutually exclusive. Pamphleteers certainly latched onto every argument they could, whether political or moral, to bolster the end they desired - the ‘moral’ ideas rarely stood alone. But the way some used these latter arguments might be likened to the straw which broke the camel's back. This is not true of all pamphlets; most merely mentioned the benefits of peace, and many tossed off high-sounding ideas rather routinely. But some elaborated upon war and peace, and seemed especially convincing in their ‘moral’ arguments. I have therefore selected a few tracts from among this group - those which seemed to be the best, most detailed, examples of new attitudes or emphases surrounding three old themes: the glory vs. the horror, the idea that war was ultimately out of human hands, and especially the multi-faceted notion of the just war.

The idea of glory in war was very much alive in the 17th century37, though again the opposite - misery - was being portrayed more than ever before; more, for instance, than during the 16th century when Erasmus and More seemed quite alone38. The Republic was one of the areas where martial values were rooted less deeply39, and yet ideas about the glory of war were more ambiguous than one might expect from a nation which liked to put on the air that Montesquieu would articulate during the 18th century: ‘the spirit of monarchy is war and the enlargement of dominion; peace and moderation

are the spirit of a Republic’40. At times, the Republic was uncomfortably, as Simon Schama has put it, ‘between Mars and Mercury’41.

On the one hand, banners captured from the Spanish hung like military trophies from the rafters of the Great Hall of the Binnenhof, the meeting place of the States General. But on the other hand the walls of the council chamber of the States of Holland were decorated with a bewildered-looking Mars and a glorious Maid of Peace42. On the one hand, the nobility had only one vote in the States of Holland, as against the 18 of the respective towns; on the other hand, all but one of the eight Dutch delegates to Munster were noblemen43. Furthermore, it was apparent that the provinces expected their Prince of Orange to carry out the traditional noble pursuit. An account of 1618 describes a parade sponsored by some of the burghers of Amsterdam44. At the head of the procession came a craft which celebrated none other than Mars, ‘girded with armor and weapons from head to toe’. Serving Mars was ‘His Excellency, the Prince of Orange’. Behind this craft followed seven others, each representing a province, and all were bound together by a symbolic orange cord; Mars and Orange held the Republic together. A pamphlet from the early 1640s holds up the Prince of Orange as a military hero45. Another soon afterward complains that should peace be concluded, ‘the Prince would have no opportunity to instruct his son, the young prince, in matters of war46.

There were also statements on nobility and war apart from any reference to the House of Orange. A pro-war pamphleteer wrote in 1621 that war

has always been in the world; one rises, the other falls; war makes common people noble through courageous deeds. And it's much better to be the first noble of a family than the last ...

He ridiculed Erasmus' arguments for peace, and held up war as the proper arena for nobles; he became almost sentimental in harking back to the old Germanic tradition which required that a young warrior behead someone in combat before he was allowed to marry47. Certainly other sources and even some pamphlets condemn the element of glory in war, before the 1640s, enough to distinguish the Republic from monarchical nations48. But the idea of glory was an old one in European thought, and was still promoted by some in the Republic by the time of the Munster peace talks. Conversely, the theme of horror was paid lip-service in pamphlets before 1640, but rarely elaborated upon.

A more common and agreed-upon theme evident in pamphlets over the decades was that war, in the end, was out of human hands. A nation could stave off God's wrath by living in righteousness, but since war broke out so frequently, no one was apparently ever righteous enough. All-too-common war was the result of sin and its outcome was up to God. Indeed, God was at the center of all events, especially the dramatic49. The birth of a deformed child, a comet in the heavens, an earthquake, a fire, and naturally the outbreak of war, all suggested that someone or some nation was sinning. ‘No one seeks to do right, thus God sends us plagues so that we will learn’50. If a nation triumphed or prospered in war, it was because of God's blessing.

It was neither our power, nor resistance, which defeated the enemy, but the hand of the Lord. Men and horses may prepare themselves for the battle, but the crushing of the enemy comes from the Lord51.

Many of the Dutch put their own nation somewhere in between sinful and righteous. They had enjoyed miraculous victories (a sign of goodness) but continued to be plagued by war (a sign of sin). Nevertheless, when they were good, they were very good. ‘God has constituted our nation as one of the wonders of the world - war, which ruins every other land, has made our lands prosperous and rich’52. The wondrous victory of Piet Heyn was a great blessing from God; the pamphleteer who recounted the glorious event now urged his reader to continue in goodness and to praise God, and then other such victories would certainly follow53. Hence, God ultimately determined the outcome in war; the role of humans was secondary.

Finally, there was that most important idea in pamphlets of the just war. War was not only inevitable - because of sin - but at times it was even necessary. As Michael Howard has written, war has probably been lamented in every society, but when seen as an evil it was still a necessary evil54. The best that could be hoped for was the refinement of rules until that ultimate oxymoron of civilized warfare was achieved55.

The Dutch version of just war - thus against Spain - was prominent in pamphlets and changed little over the decades. Essentially, the Spanish kings had violated political privileges which they had sworn to uphold, or the war was a struggle between true and false religion. Not only was the war defended, but any kind of peace with the traditional enemy was usually - in public - adamantly opposed. Agitators against a truce admitted that peace was preferable to war. ‘It is not unknown to us that peace is desirable and praiseworthy, and that the end of war must be peace; so barbarous or bloodthirsty we are not’56. They also admitted that ‘finances were exhausted’, that the inhabitants were ‘tired of war’, that business was dead57. But they refused to accept the terms proposed by Spain. Those who wished for peace did so without understanding, for even if terms became favorable the Spaniards could not be trusted to keep their word, since Catholic doctrine allowed one in good conscience to break promises made to heretics58. A tract from the 1640s explains,

Peace is honorable, godly, and Christian ... But remember my children that your forefathers knew best the nature of your inherited enemy, and have always maintained that one can never enter into an honorable, godly, and Christian peace with Spain until this enemy's cruel nature toward us has changed59.

Another pamphleteer added, ‘Continued war is better than a deceitful peace’60. Still another mourned,

People no longer believe the words of our forefathers; instead, many consider them a bunch of madmen for allowing themselves in the name of religion to be burned and chased from their lands ... and for planting in their children such hatred for the Spaniards; ... people are no longer so inclined61.

The Morning Cry (1610), a history of the treacheries of Spain, went through 16 editions before 165062. The author explained that the work was composed so that the events of the past would be remembered, and so that Dutch children would never be heard to say, ‘The devil is not as black as he is portrayed, the Spanish are not as tyrannical as they are made out to be, and so on’. He urged the reader not to be deceived by the recent and apparently friendly approaches of Spanish diplomats for peace. ‘Are your finances

exhausted’? asked one pamphleteer of the States of Holland; ‘Your subjects still have blood and wealth enough, even abundantly, if you desire them’63.

The anti-Spanish rhetoric developed into a now-famous Black Legend64: Spain was devious; Spaniards were naturally cruel; the Most Catholic Kings were working to reestablish Catholicism - one tract claimed that there were already ‘100 times more’ priests, Jesuits, nuns and ‘other instruments’ of the papal throne than there were Protestant clergy in the Republic65 - and so on. Anti-peace pamphleteers developed arguments based on military, political, and economic expediencies as well, but the justness of the war and the nature of the enemy were major polemical weapons. Those who advocated peace were deceived by the sweetness of the word, acted out of selfinterest, out of ignorance of Spain's natural political and religious treachery, or worst of all, out of sympathy - these were

enemies through-and-through of our state and Religion, bought with money, spaniardized spirits, Papists, Libertines, free-spirits, David-Jorists, Remonstrants and similar enemies of the common welfare, and other refuse66.

These three themes undergo some important change during the 1640s. Let us examine first the question of glory vs. horror in war, and the increased attention to the latter. At least two battle accounts from the 1640s reflect this new emphasis on the horrors of war. Previous accounts - at least those about the Dutch-Spanish conflict - were about victories only, highlighted strategy, tactics, and fortification, and after all that remembered to give the credit to God67. The elements of glory and inevitability were usually implied - through the focus on noble commanders and great deeds - rather than discussed in any detail. For the most part, these points do not change significantly. Accounts from the 1640s continue cooly to recount the number of deaths or prisoners, how many rivers were forged in a single day by a particular army, how many mines were placed under the walls of city A or B; if they mention anything at all about ordinary soldiers or the civilian population it is only in passing.

The troops then showed themselves before Lille, fighting gallantly against the forces of that city, then they set fire to the environs, after which they turned upon the city of Menen, which they took. From there they went to Courtrai, ...68

and so on, so that one is left to wonder about those whose homes were ablaze or who were the victims of the inevitable plunder. A tract describing the battle at Rocroy does mention the peasants in that region; some Spanish foot soldiers, hoping to save themselves by scattering in the nearby woods, were fallen upon by ‘10,000’ peasants lying in wait; these peasants were ‘embittered’ and gave quarter to none, since earlier the Spanish had set fire to all the surrounding villages, killing many women and children in the process69. But this is only a sidenote; the casualness pervading this and other accounts reflects longstanding attitudes about the inevitability of war, and - among some - of a business-like approach to it.

That the tone of two such tracts is less casual, that they take pause to consider the sorrows of war, suggests that some authors were uncomfortable with standard attitudes of glory, inevitability and routine. One, published in 1644 and written by an author of high station70, characteristically gives thanks for the marvelous victory of Prince Frederick Henry at Sas van Ghent; but heavy verses precede the description of events.

 
Mars is different from other carousers,
 
His reveling makes laughter die,
 
Laughter becomes less than nothing at all,
 
One counts only the tears.
 
...
 
To dread, to moan, and to flee,
 
Are the regal fruits of war,
 
The lamb suffers for the evil of the wolf,
 
And the dove for the deed of the eagle,
 
What is bare is sheared still barer,
 
Men pluck where no feathers remain,
 
Men seek from the land man (who now quivers),
 
Goods long since plundered from his empty domain.
 
But who can stem this flood of disaster?
 
...
 
All this sorrow I truly lament,
 
But I rejoice in the victory of the Sas van Ghent71.

These last three lines reflect the old attitude: war brings sorrow, but what can be done about it? One must exult in victory while one can. Nevertheless, the very appearance of the verses also suggests that sorrow was at least more prominent in this author's mind than that of others before him.

The second and more remarkable account is The Terror of Brabant and Flanders ... (Middelburg, 1645)72, written by Cornelius Beuckelaer, field preacher to Prince Frederick Henry of Orange. Like many other chroniclers, Beuckelaer gives a day-to-day record of events; in this case, we read of the Dutch army in Flanders during the few months leading up to the siege of Hulst. Also like many others, Beuckelaer ended up praising God for the marvelous victory of the Dutch forces. But uniquely, Beuckelaer left behind more than a passing report about the plight of ordinary people and soldiers. Along the way to his predictable words of triumph - which come toward the end and change the entire tone of what went before - we get an extraordinary picture of his deep compassion for the victims of war, again suggesting that war, in his view, was hardly glorious or casual, and that he was situated between support for the efforts of his prince and compassion for people who suffered from those efforts.

We get a taste of his concern early on; rather than merely note the usual flight of peasants from villages in the army's path, he described conditions in some detail. Stacked in the church of Meerendere, for instance, were all the goods left behind by the inhabitants; but besides the goods, they also found a ‘naked, dead woman, who, it was said, had died of hunger’. Three days later, Beuckelaer recounted his own heroics in saving a blind and deaf old man from a burning home; the man had not heard the crackling of the straw nor seen the fire, and became trapped. Beuckelaer and a few man rescued him ‘at their peril’.

But most striking is the passage about events in the village of Selderoode. There, on one of the army's first nights in the field, he saw standing in the graveyard of the church

countless women and children from this and the surrounding area. They were weeping bitterly; it was a sad spectacle to behold and a pitiful sound to hear. We encouraged them to take shelter in the church ... but they refused, fearing (they said) that the French would burn the church with them inside it ... I tried persuading them with every argument I could muster ... and promised them they would be unharmed, and that later a bugler or drummer would escort them to safety in Ghent. Understanding that I was a preacher, they believed me, after which they all moved like lambs toward the church, pleading with us to let no one enter while they were there. I can hardly express how I felt when those women surrounded me, wetting my hands with their kisses and
tears; my heart broke, tears streamed down my face from witnessing all this grief, and from hearing the sorrowful wailings of those helpless women and young children73.

Such detailed description of the reactions of ordinary people was unprecedented in Dutch chronicles.

Beuckelaer's outpouring of feeling is accompanied - and rendered more significant - by an absence of religious criticism toward the peasants of Catholic Flanders; not one word is mentioned of their ‘false’ religion. When a few soldiers, struck by the beauty of the Flemish landscape, asked some peasants why so many picturesque villages dotted the countryside, these latter answered that ‘there were so many villages, so there would be many good papists’ (emphasis original). Beuckelaer told the story without further comment, and in a light vein. Moreover, he found the numerous shrines and chapels along the way to be quite charming; never did he record any disparaging remarks about what many Calvinists would have scorned as objects of idol-worship. Only when the account of the siege itself began - again, near the end of the pamphlet - did Beuckelaer use emotional language to compare the army to the forces of the children of Israel, and imply that God was on the side of the Dutch.

Other clues reveal that Beuckelaer reluctantly accepted the less tragic consequences of war, and in this sense he was also quite traditional. He viewed ‘controlled’ marauding by the troops as a necessary inconvenience. He casually remarked, ‘En route, the houses were plundered; one soldier taking a horse, another taking a cow and pigs, and others chickens, doves, or utensils’. But again, his sympathy is implicit in his detailed description of how ordinary people responded. The army approached one village which appeared richer than most. Suddenly peasants in the woods began shooting at the unwelcome soldiers, and bodies fell on both sides. Despite this resistance, the soldiers marched forward and found abundant bread and beer in the peasant homes. In some, ‘there were four, five, or six barrels of beer’. Thirsty from their march, the soldiers drank their fill and then poured beer into jugs and flasks which they hung on their belts. On another occasion,

a few of our soldiers entered a peasant home, and found a fire burning under the stove. Pots and pans hung over the fire, and next to them were beef, fowl, cabbage, parsnips, turnips, and a large pot of cooked peas (being the normal trimmings of a peasant wedding). They also found plenty
of good, strong beer. Realizing that they had walked into a wedding feast, and seeing that the bride, groom, and guests had fled, these hungry uninvited guests, after driving away the host and discussing the matter, decided to eat the entire meal themselves74.

Eventually the Prince gave orders that henceforth each man was to remain in his rank; ‘His Highness had learned that many soldiers, in place of marching, did nothing but plunder the homes of the peasants’. In several instances Beuckelaer criticized the carelessness of the soldiers, as when they scattered papers around a castle, purposely or accidentally started fires, or broke into homes in villages that had been promised safety. But apparently Beuckelaer could not completely object to ‘ordinary’ plundering, only ‘excessive’ and ‘uncivilized’ plundering. In this regard, Beuckelaer saw the soldiers more as adolescents - even victims themselves - than as God's instruments.

Throughout the pamphlet, then, the preacher's concern for the innocent is evident. In the end Beuckelaer still saw war and its accompanying tragedies and burdens as unavoidable. Moreover, he praised the ultimate victory of the prince. But which affected him more - the taking of Hulst or the tragedy in the cemetery at Selderoode - is difficult to say. Perhaps at most he was influenced to hope that the inevitable grief of war might be lessened, and thus among those who hoped for ‘civilized’ warfare.

Also on the old but previously insignificant theme of the horror of war were numerous commentaries on the peace talks, where statements are more direct and hence perhaps even trickier to interpret. In Praise of Peace (Amsterdam, 1645)75 is a good example of elaborate, formal verse on the subject. The author, Caspar Wachtendorp, makes only incidental reference to the Spanish war, but he probably realized that the tract could be useful as propaganda.

His description of war's origins and attributes is instructive. Born a half-grown man, War developed a ravishing appetite:

 
Milk and sweetness did he refuse,
 
Neither porridge nor butter would he choose,
 
He preferred from the start blood and flesh instead,
 
And with entrails and marrow was he likewise fed76.

War's outstanding physical characteristics were hair of stiff copper, flesh like ivory, a heart of stone, skin of bark, and teeth of steel. War delighted in visiting hell, and returned reluctantly to earth. He was vengeful, sharp, insatiable, impatient, immoral, stubborn, thieving, and destructive, casting costly palaces under his feet, killing young and old; for sport he swam in human blood.

Peace, on the other hand, was everything War was not. She was clothed in white wool, was nourished with honey, and bathed in sweet milk; nectar and milk flowed constantly from her breasts. Peace guarded heaven's gate, and on earth was the surest preserver of kingdoms and thrones. She was humble, kind, wise, faithful, chaste, healthy, and beautiful to look upon.

 
In short, peace is the very soul of life,
 
The best lot of all in this world tom by strife.

He also put words into the mouths of various groups who would benefit from an end to war: nobles, soldiers, merchants, shippers, craftsmen, the rich, the poor, and every nation of Europe. Some tangible benefits are mentioned, but the emphasis is on an end to their suffering. The author was even sympathetic to the plight of ordinary soldiers, those who bore the brunt of war; they were never at rest, never without need, never without fear of death. He urged all these groups to peace, though in a pessimistic tone:

 
How long shall men be forced to flee their lands?
 
To see their homes and castles wrecked by greedy hands?
 
Why must we continue to lose our lifelong brides?
 
Why must each young virgin become the soldier's prize?
 
Why may not each one of us die in his own bed?
 
And leave our goods to loved ones, after we are dead77?

The questions go unanswered, and Wachtendorp can only plea:

 
Let us live on Earth, together in rest and peace,
 
Earth, where we are banished, until our sorrows cease,
 
We'll then return to dwell in heaven, of Fatherlands the best,
 
For never on this wretched Earth can we hope to obtain rest78.

The last lines certainly imply that the author viewed war as inevitable; but the tract is important in that it has little that can be called political - even when discussing the benefits of peace to the various nations of Europe - stresses the desirability of peace in general, and ignores the issue of just and unjust wars. This is no small development in a country where support for peace had for generations been viewed as collusion with the enemy. In fact, most pamphleteers who advocated peace belabored the point about the justness of the war with Spain before they carefully went on to explain why peace should be concluded79.

Further criticism of the glory of war can be found in one of the most popular and entertaining tracts of the 1640s, the Munster Chat (S.l., 1646)80. This pamphlet is much broader than the Praise of Peace, as it handles a wide variety of political, economic, and moral arguments81. The (unknown) author tells a friend of a conversation he heard while relaxing in a tavern. Casual conversation grew into a debate over peace, and came to involve more than 20 people and at least as many interests.

According to the author, the discussion began among a ‘town father’, a common burgher, and a merchant on the customary questions of Spain's untrustworthiness and whether war was good or bad for business. The regent characteristically expressed his distrust of Spain, and the others did the same. But Spanish treachery notwithstanding, the burgher - who recognized that some in the Republic made great profits through the war - argued that in general ‘war has ruined all business, and should therefore be halted’. Several ‘poorly clothed persons’ yelled out their agreement. One, however, obviously drunk, asked ‘half-singing, ‘what booty can be had when there is peace”? The remark brought onto the scene a new character in war pamphlets, a person simply labeled a ‘moral’ man. Sitting quietly in the corner, he had shown no signs of wanting to become involved in the debate, but this last comment was insufferable and brought him to his feet,

War is one of the three great plagues, even the mother of the other two, namely, pestilence and famine ... God is a God of peace, and heaven the only true place of peace. On the contrary, hell is nothing but a constant war, the devil the author of war. Let soldiers stop to ponder what sorts of persons their patrons are, and for what riches they fight. What riches are obtained in war? These riches!’ he said, pointing to a man with only one arm, and who appeared to have more lice than money on his person, ‘and if anyone becomes rich through war, remember that a hundred others must first be made poor’82

He concluded by accusing certain Reformed Christians (Dutch Calvinists) of making the body rich but the spirit poor. A

certain firebrand, stirring the fire with his tongs, said, ‘War is still a glorious work; the true occupation of Kings and Princes; by weapons one wins honor and immortal fame’. A distinguished person in the circle asked, ‘What on earth is immortal ...? And what glory can so many thousand common soldiers hope to imagine? What advantage can they hope to obtain for their souls when they are snatched from their bodies, without knowing why? How many soldiers have been deceived, vainly imagining that because they wear boots and spurs they will ascend directly to heaven83’?!

Here again is evidence that the idea of glory was far from dead in the Republic, and this ‘distinguished’ man was trying to snuff it out. More discussion followed, devoted largely to political and economic questions. But the conversation concluded with a final emotional appeal from the regent:

Everyone ... cries for and desires peace ... Shall we, for the ambition and greed of a few, who make themselves fat by war, or for the covetousness of France and Sweden, let so many millions of people who grieve day and night, all pleading for peace, wallow any longer in sorrow?

A great acclaim went up from the crowd. Firebrand wished to say more, but the harbor clock sounded; all drank to the success of the peace talks, and each went to catch his boat.

Many of the pamphlet's 24 pages are filled with questions of expediency, but the ‘moral’ person and others like him intervene at crucial points. The hardships of war had long been recognized and mentioned, but now they were being expressed as never before. It is true that the leaders of the Republic were by this date leaning toward peace, but the Munster Chat was not apparently official propaganda - it was even banned by the States General soon after being published. It is also true that far from everyone agreed with it; soon afterward, the Answer to the Munster Chat84 appeared, which - while traditionally acknowledging the general principle that peace was better than war - carefully refuted each argument laid down in the fictitious tavern and urged the Dutch to continue fighting.

Another entertaining tract against Mars was the Hollandish Sybil (Amsterdam, 1646)85. This pamphlet supports a truce with Spain, despite opposition from the Re-

public's chief ally, France. The tract is based largely on arguments of expediency, but the author also took the opportunity to detail some ideas against war in general; indeed the pamphlet begins with these very points.

The setting is a faraway kingdom, which the author claimed to have visited recently in a dream. Arriving there, he was met by the servant of a great lord. After they had walked some time, there suddenly came into view an impregnable castle surrounded by a stream of blood. The author then recognized the lord of the castle: Mars. He was accompanied by his lieutenant, Monsieur Morbus, by another officer, Hans Honger, and by numerous doctors. He asked of his guide, ‘is that Mars, sworn enemy of the doctors of medicine’? ‘Enemy’? replied the guide, ‘they are his best friends’!?

Next, the guide brought the visitor to a river bank crowded with people. The multitude had been transported to the bank by the fury of Mars. They now awaited passage to the other side of the river - representing the next life - on the famous ferry of Charon. At the boarding site was

such a throng, such bustle, and such wailing, that I thought I would faint. Imagine the crowd at the new bridge in the evening when the clock sounds; that is a mouse by a mountain compared to the crowd of Charon.

He turned and was able to see two newcomers approaching. One, riding a noble steed, bore a coat of arms and a purse full of money, ‘for he had plundered a village’. Next to him walked a peasant, clothed in a dirty, coarse sack. Arriving at the site, both noble and peasant were stripped naked. ‘The peasant, who before had thought himself so lowly’, began to ridicule the Captain, who was as naked as he. The proud Captain sought revenge, and ‘reached for his sword and pistol, but they were gone’. Comprehending his new state, the peasant said,

Now will I gladly board this ship, for I see that this Captain, who has caused us so much pain and done us so much evil, must also take this journey; he cannot take his riches, his glory, his honor, and abundance along with him, and I will be rid of my poverty and sorrow.

The Captain, thinking he was being taken to a work house in the East Indies, did not wish to go. ‘But the peasant, through his indigence and sorrowful days, had already pondered this last journey, and jumped willingly on board’. He was then given authority to bind the Captain, as the Captain had once bound him, and to bring him aboard by force.

The Captain, dazed by these events, finally realized where he was and begged for more time so that he might tell his wife of a hidden treasure. But news came that his wife had already forgotten him and given herself to another, and that one of his companions in war had already seized the secret booty,

spitting in your face, because you beat him once with a stick; your lackeys have drunk your wine, and performed all imaginable acts of cruelty upon your corpse; one pissed in your ear, saying
‘that is for never calling me by my right name, and calling me instead Coquin, Knave, Rogue, Devil, and the like’.

In the meantime, more people had arrived at the boarding site, including many women and their young daughters.

These, too, had received the kiss of death; some had been half dead, and had begged soldiers to relieve them with a bullet; others, out of desperation, took their own lives.

Seeing that the peasant was having a difficult time overpowering the Captain, the women rushed to help, and together threw the Captain on board.

After reaching the opposite bank, all were judged and then assigned their eternal place. The peasant's fate is a mystery; one assumes that his heavenly lot, unlike his earthly one, was favorable. The Captain was sent to the furriers guild, since he and his soldiers had so lusted after furs. But in this new life he was the fur itself, and several peasant women beat him eternally into proper shape. Jan van Rijckstadt - a Dutch rendition of Richelieu - was a sausage maker, selling mostly blood-sausages. All those whose blood he had tapped in the past life came to eat his sausages daily, paying him not with money but with judgments. One woman cried out,

You have caused the death of thousands, have chased me from my child, from my lands, and from my belongings, and have caused me to live in sorrow and poverty in my old age.

When Jan replied that he did it for the glory of his King and Kingdom, the woman responded, ‘What is glorious, what is righteous’?

 

This pamphlet emphasizes the folly of war for the sake of glory; it implies that a few prominent Frenchmen were responsible for all the sorrows. The author was unquestionably trying to make the French seem dastardly in order to urge the dissolution of the alliance; part of that effort involved pointing out the unhealthy concept of glory, which he felt was inherent in the French state. Besides the chiding of glory, we are also moving to the view that war is caused by certain men and not by God.

One might well argue that the expressions of revulsion contained in these selections were mere propaganda, since calls for peace in the Republic generally were not the desperate cries of a battered, war-weary people begging for rest at whatever cost. Holland - where pamphlet literature was centered - had been unscarred by battle since 1581; the most serious threat of invasion thereafter occurred in 162986. In contrast to Germany, the heart of the United Provinces did not support peace because of carnage and bloodshed on the doorstep. Even in areas where the battles were fought, the character of the war had, after the early stages, become relatively ‘civilized’, both

among Spanish and Dutch troops87. Hence, one does not sense among the Dutch the same relief that swept over Germany or the Spanish Netherlands when peace was finally proclaimed. In the Republic, Zeeland and Leiden did not celebrate at all88, while in Munster we read of wild bell-ringing into the night, repeated volleys from cannon, music in the town square, all manner of rejoicing among the citizens89, and in Brussels of celebrations lasting three days90. This might suggest that debate was therefore carried out in a largely ‘rational’ context, with arguments couched in solid political or economic terms. But - and to their credit - this does not mean that the Dutch were indifferent to or unaware of the horrors of war91; those who traveled undoubtedly witnessed the effects of war in nearby regions, and because the population was generally well informed, many surely read about atrocities that occurred elsewhere92. That significant revulsion developed in the undamaged nerve-center of the Republic indicates that it was possible to detest war even when it was distant. As George Clark wrote three decades ago, in the 17th century two emotional reactions to war were ‘endlessly reiterated’: what was glorious, and what was pitiful93. But he might have added that the pitiful was being portrayed more than ever before, in Europe in general, and certainly in the Dutch Republic.

We now move to three tracts which present novel views in regard to the themes of the ‘just’ war and of God's hand in war. The short Prayer for Peace, Throughout all Saddened Christendom (The Hague, 1647)94, probably the work of a preacher, argues against the crusading element in the ‘just’ war - thus, the need to reconquer the southern provinces for Calvinism. This author was not the first to reject the religious crusade, but such was not commonly done in earlier pamphlets. He essentially wanted to know when God would hear the prayers of sincere Christians everywhere who hoped for peace.

 
See! the houses are devoured,
 
Your creatures torn asunder ...
 
Maids and women violated,
 
Children witness plunder.
 
...
 
O God! Turn now every Christian heart,
 
Remove from us forever the sorrow and the smart,
 
From Germany and Ireland, and from England, too,
 
Take away the suffering and give them peace anew.
 
...
 
Cast down lightning, smoke, and thunder,
 
Work a mighty miracle in Munster,
 
Drive away war, that monster-beast,
 
Let our lands breathe, give us all peace95.

The traditional attitude that God's will is the key in matters of war is apparent; man has control over war only in that he can repent. But the author felt many had repented, and truly desired peace. More significantly, he was not interested in the political considerations surrounding the negotiations, nor was it his hope that only the theologically correct Calvinist countries be preserved; he merely wanted to know, when will peace come?

Two tracts from 1647 contain the most telling changes in attitudes toward Spain and toward the role of God. The Gagging of the Peace-Haters (Leiden, 1647)96 was a response to a pamphlet which had argued against peace with many of the traditional political and ‘just’ arguments reviewed earlier. The discussion is for the most part within the traditional framework; whether the war was just or unjust, without excess, and proper; thus far, such had been the case. But an honorable peace could be had - it was ‘vox populi and vox dei. And after 80 years of war, it is certainly high time’.

It is regretful that so many continue to display an aversion to the beloved voice of God and the people, that so many faint when their eyes behold the heavenly countenance of peace. What types are these? Esprits de guerre, who seek profit or glory in war.

Such people were like the evil spirits who, on seeing the

great Prince of Peace, cried out, ‘Why do you come before it is time (before the measure of our glory and greediness is filled)? Have you come to bring order against our cruelty, against our thievery, our murdering, our burning, our marauding, against our financial confusion’?

From the previous tracts, we know that by 1647 none of these exclamations were brand new. But then the author put forward some rarely heard ideas. In answer to the frequent assertion that peace could prove deceptively harmful, the author pointed out that war presented the same dangers; he would rather risk deceit in peace than in war. He continued, ‘Peace in itself is better than any number of victories. We can have no peace with God, unless we also have peace with mankind’. This sentiment had been articulated by Erasmus more than a century earlier, but rarely echoed since then. Admittedly, other considerations loom large in this pamphlet; the author advanced 19 reasons for peace, many of them political (including the idea that they should not be afraid to desert France - if France and Spain were to go at each other, this could benefit the Republic). But there is no question of his desire for peace, even at the cost of the Republic's advantage, and that was unique:

Like the traveler at sea who, after weathering raging tempests, experiences great joy at the sight of land again, so we have cause to rejoice that after such a long and bloody storm we sail before the beauteous harbor of peace and rest ... God ... grant us peace in our days.

This attitude alone would have sufficed to make the author's opinion significant, but he took another step by rejecting conventional attitudes toward Spain. Peace will triumph,

over those who have wished to instill in us an uncompromising hate for the Spanish. This goes against not only Christian but Pagan virtues, for Cicero said, ‘We need pay no heed to those who argue that one must bear mortal hatred for the enemy, imagining that such is the attitude of a magnanimous, powerful man. For there is nothing more praiseworthy, nothing that better moulds a renowned man, than PLACABILITY AND CLEMENCY97’.

Maybe a handful of people still lived during the 1640s who could remember the bitter early days of the Revolt, but old and young were taught that Spain was the untrustworthy, eternal enemy. In this pamphlet is a view that Spaniards were not inherently bad. After all, at least one Spaniard held a sympathetic view of the Dutch - witness Velázquez's Surrender at Breda98. In any event, this tract contains some of the most convincing evidence yet of growing antipathy to war per se.

An Examination of a Certain Tract, entitled, ‘The Troubled Entrails of the Netherlands’ ... etc. (S.l., 1647)99, is a refutation of a ‘bloodthirsty’ pamphlet100 which had argued that peace with Spain was a road to ruin, which you and your posterity will regret’. The Examination sought to prevent the poisoning of the land with the ‘hatred of peace, which is the cause of the decline of kingdoms, principalities, lands, and cities’. Like the previous tract discussed, this one liberally mixes political and moral arguments, but one of those moral arguments represents a final novel view.

It has to do with the roles of religion and God in war. This author went even further than the composer of Prayer for Peace. Not only did he hope for peace among all Christians, but he chided those who asserted that maintenance of the Reformed religion would cause Dutch weapons and business to prosper. This author argued that ‘sorry examples have taught us otherwise’. ‘Wasn't the Reformed religion adhered to in the Palatinate’, and what happened there when the weapons were taken up?

Her prince was hunted, her cities invaded, her villages burned, her inhabitants slaughtered and scattered, her wives and daughters violated. Behold the blessing, behold the fruits of war that men instigate out of [religious] ‘necessity’.

And what about the Protestant loss to Richelieu at La Rochelle?

Therefore, my friend, you will not convince me nor any other good patriot who can see past the end of his nose. For we know all too well that warfare and war are not punishments for our sins, and that they only bring lamentation and extreme sorrow, as we had in the beginning of our history, in Zutphen, Naerden, Oudewater, and Haerlem ...101.

In these last-named struggles the inhabitants had been compelled to take up weapons for the protection of their ‘lands, cities, wives and children’. God blessed them because they sought to establish freedom of conscience and not the

Reformed religion ... The prosperity of weapons comes not from religion, for the French do not fight for the Reformed religion (as do [their allies] the Swedes, who are Lutheran) but their weapons prosper ... [Let us pray] for peace in all Christendom.

We now have the idea in the Republic that the responsibility for war lies with human beings, not with God; God pours out his blessings when there is peace, mankind curses itself by engaging in war. With this author, war was not at all a necessary evil or inevitable. After recognizing that human beings exercised control over war it was a short step to analyzing the causes of past conflict and to be alert to defusing potential

conflict in the present. Theories on the avoidance of war were indeed advanced during the eighteenth century - but of course with little practical success. Which brings us to the nub of the question.

Sentiment against war per se obviously did not put an end to war. ‘Just’ wars continued to be waged; the Dutch themselves were at war again within a decade and were involved in several other major campaigns before 1700. Even the glorious element persisted (i.e., Napoleon), though it was watered down. Hence, of what consequence was the bruising of Mars when he was still armed to the teeth? In the absence of polls, it is impossible to be precise about the influence of ideas; certainly the ideas discussed here were not universally supported, but it is significant that they were at least now part of the debate - in other words, perhaps only the heel of Mars was bruised, but that in itself was noteworthy. Poelhekke wrote about war in this time: ‘Waging war was seen as a normal, if not necessarily permanent activity ... It was a pressing, ethical problem in only a very few exceptional instances’102.I wish to stress here the second half of the statement; to some in the Republic during the 1640s the war with Spain did present ethical difficulties; in order to assess whether such sentiment became widespread and deeply-rooted, one would have to investigate attitudes during subsequent wars in which the Dutch were involved. Perhaps the best that contemporaries could hope for - even if ethical ideas caught hold - was that the declaration of war would weigh more heavily than it had in the past on the consciences of those empowered to declare it, and therefore that war might become less frequent; or also, that war would become still more ‘tame’ - that acts of cruelty, especially against civilians, would be reduced. As Gutmann and others have shown, this was generally the case as the 17th century wore on103.

Hence, while recognizing political and economic factors in the drive for peace in the 1640s, and remembering that war remained an institution throughout the 17th century, the growing elements in the Republic of disgust and of new ethical attitudes about war should not be discounted. Dutch pamphleteers relied heavily upon practical arguments to promote peace, but they mobilized more convincingly than ever before certain moral and religious arguments as well. The compassion of a Calvinist preacher in a Catholic Flemish graveyard, the suffering of an imaginary peasant and his eventual triumph over a cruel soldier, the anger of a ‘moral’ man in a tavern crowd, the prayer for peace of an unknown dominie, and the rejection of Spain's ‘natural’ brutality and deceit transcended cold political and economic logic, and were significant developments in Dutch political culture.


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