7: VII.
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A crisis, both for Burgundy and the Netherlands, succeeds. Within the
provinces there is an elastic rebound, as soon as the pressure is removed
from them by the tyrant's death. A sudden spasm of liberty gives the
whole people gigantic strength. In an instant they recover all, and more
than all, the rights which they had lost. The cities of Holland,
Flanders, and other provinces call a convention at Ghent. Laying aside
their musty feuds, men of all parties-Hooks and Kabbeljaws, patricians
and people, move forward in phalanx to recover their national
constitutions. On the other hand, Louis the Eleventh seizes Burgundy,
claiming the territory for his crown, the heiress for his son. The
situation is critical for the Lady Mary. As usual in such cases, appeals
are made to the faithful commons. A prodigality of oaths and pledges is
showered upon the people, that their loyalty may be refreshed and grow
green. The congress meets at Ghent. The Lady Mary professes much,
but she will keep her vow. The deputies are called upon to rally the
country around the duchess, and to resist the fraud and force of Louis.
The congress is willing to maintain the cause of its young mistress.
The members declare, at the same time, very roundly, "that the provinces
have been much impoverished and oppressed by the enormous taxation
imposed upon them by the ruinous wars waged by Duke Charles from the
beginning to the end of his life." They rather require "to be relieved
than additionally encumbered." They add that, "for many years past,
there has been a constant violation of the provincial and municipal
charters, and that they should be happy to see them restored."
The result of the deliberations is the formal grant by Duchess Mary of
the "Groot Privilegie," or Great Privilege, the Magna Charta of Holland.
Although this instrument was afterwards violated, and indeed abolished,
it became the foundation of the republic. It was a recapitulation and
recognition of ancient rights, not an acquisition of new privileges.
It was a restoration, not a revolution. Its principal points deserve
attention from those interested in the political progress of mankind.
"The duchess shall not marry without consent of the estates of her
provinces. All offices in her gift shall be conferred on natives only.
No man shall fill two offices. No office shall be farmed. The 'Great
Council and Supreme Court of Holland' is re-established. Causes shall be
brought before it on appeal from the ordinary courts. It shall have no
original jurisdiction of matters within the cognizance of the provincial
and municipal tribunals. The estates and cities are guaranteed in their
right not to be summoned to justice beyond the limits of their territory.
The cities, in common with all the provinces of the Netherlands, may hold
diets as often ten and at such places as they choose. No new taxes shall
be imposed but by consent of the provincial estates. Neither the duchess
nor her descendants shall begin either an offensive or defensive war
without consent of the estates. In case a war be illegally undertaken,
the estates are not bound to contribute to its maintenance. In all
public and legal documents, the Netherland language shall be employed.
The commands of the duchess shall be invalid, if conflicting with the
privileges of a city.
"The seat of the Supreme Council is transferred from Mechlin to the
Hague. No money shall be coined, nor its value raised or lowered, but by
consent of the estates. Cities are not to be compelled to contribute to
requests which they have not voted. The sovereign shall come in person
before the estates, to make his request for supplies."
Here was good work. The land was rescued at a blow from the helpless
condition to which it had been reduced. This summary annihilation of all
the despotic arrangements of Charles was enough to raise him from his
tomb. The law, the sword, the purse, were all taken from the hand of the
sovereign and placed within the control of parliament. Such sweeping
reforms, if maintained, would restore health to the body politic. They
gave, moreover, an earnest of what was one day to arrive. Certainly, for
the fifteenth century, the "Great Privilege" was a reasonably liberal
constitution. Where else upon earth, at that day, was there half so much
liberty as was thus guaranteed? The congress of the Netherlands,
according to their Magna Charta, had power to levy all taxes, to regulate
commerce and manufactures, to declare war, to coin money, to raise armies
and navies. The executive was required to ask for money in person, could
appoint only natives to office, recognized the right of disobedience in
his subjects, if his commands should conflict with law, and acknowledged
himself bound by decisions of courts of justice. The cities appointed
their own magistrates, held diets at their own pleasure, made their local
by-laws and saw to their execution. Original cognizance of legal matters
belonged to the municipal courts, appellate jurisdiction to the supreme
tribunal, in which the judges were appointed by the sovereign. The
liberty of the citizen against arbitrary imprisonment was amply provided
for. The 'jus de non evocando', the habeas corpus of Holland,
was re-established.
Truly, here was a fundamental law which largely, roundly, and reasonably
recognized the existence of a people with hearts, heads, and hands of
their own. It was a vast step in advance of natural servitude, the dogma
of the dark ages. It was a noble and temperate vindication of natural
liberty, the doctrine of more enlightened days. To no people in the
world more than to the stout burghers of Flanders and Holland belongs the
honor of having battled audaciously and perennially in behalf of human
rights.
Similar privileges to the great charter of Holland are granted to many
other provinces; especially to Flanders, ever ready to stand forward in
fierce vindication of freedom. For a season all is peace and joy; but
the duchess is young, weak, and a woman. There is no lack of intriguing
politicians, reactionary councillors. There is a cunning old king in the
distance, lying in wait; seeking what he can devour. A mission goes from
the estates to France. The well-known tragedy of Imbrecourt and Hugonet
occurs. Envoys from the states, they dare to accept secret instructions
from the duchess to enter into private negotiations with the French
monarch, against their colleagues—against the great charter—against
their country. Sly Louis betrays them, thinking that policy the more
expedient. They are seized in Ghent, rapidly tried, and as rapidly
beheaded by the enraged burghers. All the entreaties of the Lady Mary,
who, dressed in mourning garments, with dishevelled hair, unloosed
girdle, and streaming eyes; appears at the town-house and afterwards in
the market place, humbly to intercede for her servants, are fruitless
There is no help for the juggling diplomatists. The punishment was
sharp. Was it more severe and sudden than that which betrayed monarchs
usually inflict? Would the Flemings, at that critical moment, have
deserved their freedom had they not taken swift and signal vengeance for
this first infraction of their newly recognized rights? Had it not been
weakness to spare the traitors who had thus stained the childhood of the
national joy at liberty regained?
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