"My name," said he, "is Henry Bellegarde, and my father was Captain and in part owner of this ship, which circumstances unnecessary to relate induced the English East-India Company to take into their service and charter for the China seas, though of a smaller class than is usually employed by them for that service. Unfortunately, during the early part of our voyage, an epidemic disease broke out, in which we lost a few men and the greater proportion of the officers. The purser, surgeon, the first mate, and several others fell victims to this scourge. The removal of these gentlemen by death inspired Vangroober and the villain Hudson with a project which proved but too successful. They incited the crew to mutiny, by persuading them to seize the ship and commence the more lucrative trade of piracy; and the confederacy was carried on with such secrecy, that, one night, whilst apparently in the greatest security, we were surprised upon deck by a band of armed in surgents, who rushed upon us, and soon effected their murderous purpose. We were only six opposed to a multitude. I saw my father and the friends who supported him killed in our gallant but fruitless resistance, I was immediately afterwards struck down, and fortunately fell close to the companion ladder. Markland, a man who, though deeply implicated in the mutiny, entertained sufficient gratitude for services which I had rendered him, to wish to save my life, flung a cloak over me, and whispered a direction to crawl down to the small state cabin, and conceal myself until he should come to me, I obeyed mechanically, and in the confusion and darkness escaped unseen. The bodies of the slain were hastily thrown overboard, and Mark, land, who was unsuspected of any design to spare me, contrived to make it believed that I had shared the same fate. He joined me in a short time, and with his assistance I descended to the place in which you found me. My wound was deep, but

not dangerous, and almost by a miracle I have been preserved from detection and death."

Inesille, in return, related her story; and Bellegarde, when made acquainted with the division of the ship's company, and the number of foreign prisoners retained on board, instantly saw a chance of recovering the ship from the hands of the pirate. He charged his fair companion to catch, if possible, the names of all the sailors who navigated the vessel; as, aware of many traits in the character of each individual, he should then be able to guess whether he should be likely to find coadjutors in his scheme; a circumstance not improbable, as many would have been drawn into rebellion against their wishes, and these were the men whom Vangroober would choose to retain under his own eye, whilst he surrendered the care of the prize to those on whom he could best depend.

Inesille on the morrow was all eye and ear. Perfectly acquainted with the English language, she made herself mistress of the appellations of her shipmates, and under different pretences asked many questions which led to the knowledge of several interesting particulars. She learned the exact place of the prisoners' confinement, and their numbers: for Vangroober, considering her as quite reconciled to her situation, and secure of the impossibility of any danger from a creature so entirely in his power, was careless of any information which she might obtain. Indeed it would have been of little service without the assistance of Bellegarde. To him she imparted the result of her observations, when the return of night afforded an opportunity for an interview, and he resolved to make an attempt upon the ensuing evening. In her muster-roll of names he felt assured that he should find one friend, a man called Griffith, and they arranged their plan of operations in the following manner. Inesille was to invite Vangroober and Hudson to sup with her in the great cabin, under the pretence of cele

brating her birth-day; and whilst engaged in this revel, Bellegarde proposed to steal through the window of her cabin, to gain the deck, shut down the hatches upon the party below, and thence shape his course according to circumstances; surprise the sentinel who had the custody of the prisoners, or make himself known to such of the crew as he thought most inclined to support him. This enterprise was desperately hazardous; but the exigencies of the time would not admit of hesitation, failure would only accelerate a destiny which they had no other chance of avoiding.

Inesille on the succeeding day found occasion for every mental faculty. Her presence of mind did not desert her in the trial. She gave her invitation to the men she hated in the presence of both, and though each would have gladly dispensed with the company of the other, neither dared to express the secret desire of his heart. Affecting to be very busy in her preparations, she sought employment to conceal her tremors. The feast was to be the most magnificent that the ship could afford, and three of the sailors were ordered to attend upon her whilst she made her arrangements. In clearing the principal cabin, she took care to convey a good supply of offensive weapons to her own. She pitched upon Griffith as her chief assistant, who, more willing than dexterous, dropped a superb China bowl, which she had just filled with a rich mixture of wine and liqueurs, on the floor; it was dashed into a thousand fragments in the fall, and the poor fellow instantly received a cruel blow from the brutal hand of Hudson. Inesille observed his agony, and the glances of indignation which he cast upon the savage when he thought that no one regarded them; and advancing towards him, said: "You have incurred this outrage upon my account; be at the head of the companion-ladder to-night at eleven, and I will reward you for your present sufferings; I have jewels, but I dare not present you 3 ATHENEUM, VOL. 5. 2d series,

with my intended bounty now, since your tyrant would deprive you of the gift." The man thanked her, and promised to be on the spot at the time she mentioned. She found a moment to inform Bellegarde of the appointment which she had so fortunately made, and, calling all her spirits to her aid, dressed for the reception of her guests.

The wished-for yet dreaded moment arrived which found Inesille sitting between the two pirates, at a well covered table. She had taken infinite pains in her attire, and now sought with equal diligence to promote the joviality of her companions. The viands were despatched with great glee, and then she dismissed the attendants, and challenged repeated bumpers to her health. She tried to seek courage from the same source: but wine seemed to add liquid flames to the fire already buruing in her breast, and she eagerly swallowed glass after glass of cold water which fortunately stood beside her. Vangroober and Hudson drank off the toasts she gave, with rapture, joined their hoarse voices in chorus to her songs, and abandoned themselves to the mirth of the hour, whilst she, detecting in the midst of the uproar the slightest noise in the adjoining cabin, suffered all the alternations from bounding hope to despairing agony, feelings not unmixed with horror at the part which she was acting, in betraying even those wretches who so justly deserved the punishment of their guilt. It was evident to her that Bellegarde had left the place of his concealment. He was now upon the ladder. What a moment!-She turned her eyes with a strong effort from the door towards which they were but too apt to wander, and with an hysterical burst of laughter, apparently elicited by some rumau jest of Hudson's, filled her glass to the brim with wine, and drained it as the only chance of retaining the power to continue her hateful task. The hatches were shut down; but in the wild inebriation which now prevailed the sequel was

un

heeded, and the agitation which shook her frame disregarded by men, whose brains were beginning to yield to the potent influence of the grape. She rallied again and again in the fearful interval which ensued, talked and laughed incoherently, till at length human nature could support no more -she started from her seat, reeled, and fell. Attributing her swoon to the effects of the wine which her companions imagined she had drunk, they rose, and each claiming her as his right, conténded for the prize. Hudson was just sinking under the nervous arm of Vangroober as the door of the cabin burst open, and both were seized by a band of armed men, with Henry Bellegarde, like a spectre risen from the grave, at their head. Inesille recovered to life and felicity. Griffith had proved faithful to his appointment, and kept guard over the

hatches whilst Bellegarde hastened to liberate the prisoners: a work which he found comparatively easy, the remainder of the crew having followed the example of their officers and drowned their senses in wine. After a short struggle they were all secured, and the ship, no longer a terror and a scourge to industrious mariners, drew near to the shore whence her most beautiful prize had been so rude. ly snatched.

Inesille was restored to her home. Mutuaily indebted to each other, her courage and prudence having enabled Henry Bellegarde to perform a gal lant enterprize with success, and as in the hour of danger fate had formed a most unexpected union between them, they resolved to share the happiness as they had shared the peril of their lives.

Ο NE of the most remarkable political events which rendered the sixteenth century the most splendid in history, appears to me to be the establishment of the liberty of the Netherlands. If the glaring deeds of ambition, and an obnoxious desire to conquer, lay claims to our admiration, how much more should an event in which oppressed humanity contends for her noblest rights, in which extraordinary powers associate them selves with a good cause, and the auxiliaries of resolute despair are victorious over the frightful acts of tyranny in an unequal contest. Great and tranquillizing is the thought, that there still exists one succour against the insolent assumption of kings, that their plans, when most calculated to oppose human freedom, can be brought to nought, that a courageous resistance is able to unnerve the stretched arm of despotism, and an heroic perseverance can at length exhaust its terrible resources. At uo

time was I so forcibly impressed with this truth as when reading the history of that memorable revolt which for ever separated the United Netherlands from the Spanish crown. For this reason I considered it worth an attempt to present that memorial of the strength of citizens to the world, to awaken in the bosom of myreader a cheerful sense of his own importance, to offer a new and unexceptionable example of what men can hazard for the good cause, and how much they can accomplish by being united.

It is not the extraordinary or heroic part of that event which incites me to give a description of it. The annals of the world have preserved to us similar undertakings, which ap pear more bold in their design, and more brilliant in their accomplishment. Many states crumble togeth er with a pompous concussion, others rise on Majestic wings. Neither must the reader here expect the achievements of an eminent colossean hero,

before us.

nor any of those astonishing deeds which the history of ancient times affords to us in such abundance. Those times are gone by; those men are no more! In the lap of human refinement we have allowed those amazing powers to relax, which the circumstances of former ages exercised, and rendered indispensable. With humble admiration we now gaze at those gigantic images, as a decrepit old man beholds the vigorous exercises of youth. Not so with the history The people who appear on this stage were the most peaceable in this part of the globe, and less capable than any of their neighbours of such beroic deeds as give a higher colour to the slightest action. The urgency of circumstances surprised them with the discovery of their own strength, aud forced upon them a transitory greatness, which was not native to them, and which, perhaps, they never again will have. It is therefore the very want of an heroic greatness which renders this event so peculiar and instructive; and, while it is the aim of other historians to exalt genius above fate, I here intend to present my readers with a picture in which necessity created a substitute for genius, and chance made heroes.

If on any occasion it be permitted to interweave a higher Providence with human affairs, it must be allowed in this history; for the event was contrary to reason and universal experience. Philip the Second, the mightiest sovereign of his time, whose preponderating power threatened to absorb the whole of Europe, whose treasures exceeded the united riches of all the Christian kings, whose fleet pervaded all seas; a monarch whose numerous armies were adequate to his dangerous designs-armies which were made hardy by sanguinary wars and a Roman discipline, inspired by an unconquerable national pride, and inflamed by the remembrance of past victories-an army thirsting for honour and spoil, and moving as a machine under the daring genius of its leader!--that dreaded potentate was

resolutely and obstinately bent on an undertaking which occupied the restless labour of his long reign. All these terrible resources of his turned on one object, which, however, he is compelled to abandon in the evening of his life. Philip the Second at war with a powerless nation, and unable to finish the combat!—And against what nation? Here a peaceable people, consisting of fishermen and shepherds, living in an obscure corner of Europe, which with much labour and difficulty is defended from the overflowing of the sea-the medium at once of their trade, their subsistence, and their torment ;-a people who had a free poverty only, for their highest blessing, for their fame, and for their virtue.

The Reformation, whose gladdening morn now broke forth over Europe, shed a fruitful ray on this favoured land. The free citizen joyfully received the light, from which oppressed and melancholy slaves hide their eyes. A cheerful briskness, which generally follows abundance and freedom, stimulates the people to examine the authority of old opinions, and to break their disgraceful chains. The heavy chastizing rod of despotism hangs over them. An arbitary power threatens to demolish the pillars of their fortune; the guardians of their laws become their tyrants. Simple in their politics as in their manners, they dare to put forth an obsolete compact, and to sue the master of both Indies for a natural right. A name decides the estimated of an act. In Madrid they called that rebellion, which in Brussels was considered as a lawful appeal. The grievances of Brabant required an experienced mediator: but Philip the Second employed an executioner, and the signal for war was given. An unexampled tyranny seized on life and property. The despairing citizen, to whom the choice was left between two modes of death, chooses the nobler one-to die on the field of battle. A prosperous and adventurous people love peace but when they become poor, they become war

like; they then cease to tremble about life, when all is wanting that makes life desirable.

The rage for rebellion extends itself through the most distant provinces; trade and commerce are de pressed; the ships disappear from the harbours, the manufacturers from their establishments, and the husbandmen from the desolate fields. Thousands emigrate to foreign countries, thousands of victims bleed on the scaffold, and yet a new multitude approaches. Heavenly must that doctrine be, for which men die so cheerfully! But the last finishing mean is still wanting the bold enlightened mind, which would seize this great and critical moment of political clamour, and mature what chance had given birth to. The peaceable William devotes himself, a second Brutus, in the great cause of liberty. Superior to anxious selfishness, he renounced his kingly office, voluntarily descending to a state of poverty, and contenting himself with being a citizen of the world. The just cause is hazarded on the chances of war. But newly raised soldiers and a peaceable peasantry are not able to resist the advance of a well disciplined army. Twice did he advance, with his despairing legions, against the tyrant, and twice did they forsake him, but his courage forsook him not. Philip the Second sends as many succours as the greediness of his mediator made beggars. Fugitives, whom the country rejects, seek a home on the sea, and find, in the ships of their former enemies sufficient to satisfy their hunger and revenge. Pirates are changed into naval heroes, and a marine is formed of piratical vessels; a republic ascends out of morasses. Seven provinces at once break their chains. A youthful state thus becomes mighty by its union, its water floods and its despair. A solemn declaration of the nation dethrones the tyrant, and the name of Spain is blotted out from all their laws and regulations. A deed was now accomplished which could not be forgiven; and the republic be

comes terrible, for it cannot recede, But factions interrupt its union; even that dreadful element, the sea, conspired with its oppressor, and threatened it, in its infancy, with an early grave. The republic sensible that its resources would be exhausted in opposing a superior force, throws it self in a supplicating attitude before the mightiest thrones in Europe, wishing to deliver up a sovereignty which, of itself, it is no longer able to protect. At length, after repeated solicitations, for the commencement of that republic was so despicable that even the covetousness of other kings despised its young pretensions, it forces its dangerous crown on the head of a foreigner. New hopes invigorate its sinking courage: but destiny has given it a traitor, in that adopted father; and, in the critical moment when the enemy is storming its gates, Charles of Anjou conspires against that liberty which he was called to protect. The man at the helm of the state falls by the hand of an assassin; the fate of the republic seems to be sealed, and all its guardian angels to have flown away, when William of Orange resigned his crown. But though the vessel is tossed about in the storm, its swelling sails want not the assist ance of the helm. Philip the Second sees the object of the struggle lost, which has cost him his imperial honour, and perhaps the pride of his own conscience. Uncertain of the result, freedom obstinately contends with despotism; bloody battles are fought, a splendid succession of heroic deeds follow each other in the field. Flanders and Brabant were the school which educated generals for the succeeding century. A long and destructive war wastes the open fields; the conquerors and the conquered lie bleeding with mortal wounds, while the sea-girt state invited industry to emigrate, and raised the edifice of its greatness on the ruins of its neighbour. Forty years did this war last; the happy termination of which did not enliven the dying eyes of Philip, who rooted out a paradise from Eu