A.D. 1830.

This siege, although it took place at a distance of fifteen years from its cause, was the result of one of the many political errors of the treaty of Vienna. Nothing could be more unwise and short-sighted than to expect a peaceful union between Belgium and Holland, and particularly of so strict a nature as that union in some of its features was composed. Although near neighbours, the Belgians and the Dutch are widely different: different in language, institutions, blood, and traditions. The union likewise, instead of being cemented by conciliation, was rendered galling by oppressive enactments; the monarch reigning over both countries was the king of Holland, and the proceedings of the courts of law were commanded to be carried on in the language of that country, so that Belgium appeared more like a conquered province than a willing partner in a union brought about for the benefit of both. If the union of England with Scotland had been carried on upon the principle of the one we are speaking of, the animosities and heart-burnings would never have subsided; we have had two invasions or rebellions, as it is, in which that country has taken part against us, although we form part of the same island. The Belgians have more of the character of the French or the Germans than of the Dutch; they are as industrious, ingenious, and mercantile as the Dutch; but they are more chivalric in their traditions; which feeling is kept alive by their splendid mediÆval monuments, by their noble history, and by the Catholic religion; and, however science, and the progress of general knowledge, may soften down the asperities which separate neighbouring peoples, no nation, capable of good, willingly parts from its traditions. In short, the Belgians were not a people to sink willingly into a secondary state, particularly under the Dutch, with whom they felt themselves perfectly able to dispute the question, and were ripe for insurrection, if so it can be called, when the French revolution of 1830 set the minds of all Europeans labouring under real or fancied wrong in a state of ferment. The Belgians rose en masse; one place after another fell into the hands of the provisional government; Prince Frederick was shamefully and unaccountably repulsed from Brussels; and little remained to the house of Nassau, except the splendidly fortified city of Antwerp.

Disheartened and disgusted by the failure of his brother, the prince of Orange—who acted for his father, King William—hastened to Antwerp. He threw himself with honest energy into the cause, in the hope of maintaining the sway of his house over Belgium, and, at the same time, of serving the Belgians and responding to their views. He affected to act for himself, and offered to become their independent ruler; but it was evident that he was governed by orders from the Hague, and that the command of the army was still in the hands of his brother Frederick and General ChassÉ. An ill-timed royal proclamation and summons of the Dutch to arms, which designated the southern provinces rebels, completed the want of confidence in the prince, and rendered all his efforts nugatory—even his proclamation to place himself at the head of the movement. The provisional government contemptuously rejected all acknowledgment of authority in the Dutch—they, the people, were, they said, at the head of their own movement, and they wanted no other. Treated with scorn by the Belgians, crossed in his views of conciliation by his father, and his authority disputed by General ChassÉ, the prince, with a bleeding heart, was compelled to abandon all hope, and bade adieu to the Belgian provinces in a short but affecting address. ChassÉ placed Antwerp in a state of siege on the 24th of October.

On the 22nd of October, the patriots, forming an irregular body of about five thousand men, with sixteen guns, had commenced a simultaneous movement upon the line occupied by the royal troops, who were about seven thousand strong, with forty pieces of artillery. On the 25th the insurgent army arrived under the walls of Antwerp, and some hard fighting took place in the suburbs. The strength of the place would, however, have set them at defiance; but, on the following day, the populace, by a sudden movement within the city, overpowered and disarmed some of the Dutch posts. On the 27th this internal contest was renewed: the populace succeeded in carrying one of the gates; it was immediately thrown open, and the insurgent army poured into the city, accompanied by a commissioner of the provisional government, who had been sent from Brussels to instal the new authorities. General ChassÉ, instead of risking his diminished garrison in street-warfare, retired into the citadel, the guns of which gave him the command of the town. The insurgents were not ignorant of this, and a convention was agreed to, by which both parties bound themselves to remain quiet. Scarcely, however, had the convention been signed, when the insurgents, in open violation of it, attacked the important post of the arsenal, forcing one of its gates by cannon-shot. This act of treachery left General ChassÉ no alternative; he was bound to do his duty, and defend his men. The citadel and the frigates in the harbour opened a cannonade upon the town. “An awful and simultaneous roar of artillery now fell on the ears of the affrighted inhabitants. In an instant the citadel, forts, and fleet hurled forth their converging thunder. An iron deluge rained upon the city-walls, and clattered among the buildings. Showers of shells, bombs, and carcases were heard, cracking, bursting, and bellowing around the venerable towers of St. Michael; the uproar of their explosion being multiplied by the echoes of the cathedral. Walls, roofs, and floors fell, crushed beneath the resistless weight of projectiles, which sought their victims in the very cellars, confounding mangled bodies and ruined edifices in one mutilated and confused heap. Ere long, dark columns of smoke and jets of flame were seen to rise. The arsenal and entrepÔt were fired. The obscurity of the night soon gave way to a red and glaring lustre, that converted the dark vault of heaven into a fiery canopy, whose lurid reflection announced the fearful catastrophe to the distance of many leagues.

“The terror and stupefaction of the inhabitants baffles description. Some concealed themselves in their vaults and cellars; others rushed wildly through the streets, shrieking and bewildered. Such as had horses or vehicles, no matter of what kind, gathered together their valuables, and hastily fled into the country. Others, intent only on saving life, darted through the gates on foot, and sought refuge in the neighbouring fields. Old men, fair women, and young children,—rich and poor, the hale and the sick, were seen flying in frantic disorder. The flames having gained the prison, there was no time to remove its inmates. The doors were therefore thrown open, and nearly two hundred convicts were let loose; but none had the heart to plunder. Terror, confusion, and despair reigned paramount. Weeping women and children clung for succour to men who could afford them no relief or consolation. Some died of fright, others lost their senses. Groans, screams, and prayers were heard between the pauses of the thunder, intermingled with maledictions on the destroyer, and curses on the revolution. In a few hours, however, all that had power to move, or were not transfixed with terror, had fled into the country. The roads were covered with fugitives of all ages and sexes, who, with tearful eyes, turned to gaze on their devoted homes. The darkness of the night, awfully relieved by the red glare of the flames, the hissing and roaring of the destructive element, the thunder of the cannon, the rattling of shot and falling of timbers, the frantic screams of women and children, and the groans of the wounded and dying,—all united to fix an impression of horror on the mind, not to be effaced by time or space.”22

The siege of Antwerp being such an event as was happily rare, during the last forty years, it has excited much attention, and we have given the above extract to meet the expectations of our readers; but we cannot help suspecting that the historian has sacrificed something to a little fine writing (in itself not good). We have reason to think the damage did not amount to near so much as such a portentous account would imply. The bombarding produced its horrors, no doubt; but we must not forget that this scene fell far short of others of the same kind; man’s brutal passions did not disfigure it—the soldier’s murderous sword, guided by revenge, lust, or cupidity, was not there.

The inhabitants and insurgents, terrified at the unexpected severity of General ChassÉ, sent a deputation at dawn to treat with him, and it was agreed that affairs should remain exactly as they were, until the general question should be definitively settled. ChassÉ has been generally and deservedly blamed for having inflicted such a punishment upon a large, wealthy, commercial city like Antwerp, for the frantic extravagances of an excited populace: the bombardment, perhaps, did not in one case injure the parties who had provoked his anger.

The kingdom of the United Netherlands had been created by Britain, Austria, Russia, Prussia, and France, and when it was found that the parties could not cohere, they felt called upon to look after the work of their own hands. Belgium had nobly obtained its own independence; to have coerced a reunion would most likely have brought on a serious war, several of the powers having, too plainly, views of a self-interested nature. Belgium was, therefore, by general consent, erected into an independent kingdom, under Prince Leopold of Saxe-Cobourg; the Dutch immediately withdrew their troops from that country, and the inhabitants of Antwerp were relieved from the presence of a foreign garrison in their citadel.