They calmly observed, after this recital, that they were sufficiently justified in forsaking a sovereign who for more than twenty years had forsaken them.  Obeying the law of nature—­desirous of maintaining the rights, charters, and liberties of their fatherland—­determined to escape from slavery to Spaniards—­and making known their decision to the world, they declared the King of Spain deposed from his sovereignty, and proclaimed that they should recognize thenceforth neither his title nor jurisdiction.  Three days afterwards, on the 29th of July, the assembly adopted a formula, by which all persons were to be required to signify their abjuration.

Such were the forms by which the united provinces threw off their allegiance to Spain, and ipso facto established a republic, which was to flourish for two centuries.  This result, however, was not exactly foreseen by the congress which deposed Philip.  The fathers of the commonwealth did not baptize it by the name of Republic.  They did not contemplate a change in their form of government.  They had neither an aristocracy nor a democracy in their thoughts.  Like the actors in our own great national drama, these Netherland patriots were struggling to sustain, not to overthrow; unlike them, they claimed no theoretical freedom for humanity—­promulgated no doctrine of popular sovereignty:  they insisted merely on the fulfilment of actual contracts, signed sealed, and sworn to by many successive sovereigns.  Acting, upon the principle that government should be for the benefit of the governed, and in conformity to the dictates of reason and justice, they examined the facts by those divine lights, and discovered cause to discard their ruler.  They did not object to being ruled.  They were satisfied with their historical institutions, and preferred the mixture of hereditary sovereignty with popular representation, to which they were accustomed.  They did not devise an a priori constitution.  Philip having violated the law of reason and the statutes of the land, was deposed, and a new chief magistrate was to be elected in his stead.  This was popular sovereignty in fact, but not in words.  The deposition and election could be legally justified only by the inherent right of the people to depose and to elect; yet the provinces, in their Declaration of Independence, spoke of the divine right of kings, even while dethroning, by popular right, their own King!

So also, in the instructions given by the states to their envoys charged to justify the abjuration before the Imperial diet held at Augsburg, twelve months later, the highest ground was claimed for the popular right to elect or depose the sovereign, while at the same time, kings were spoken of as “appointed by God.”  It is true that they were described, in the same clause, as “chosen by the people”—­which was, perhaps, as exact a concurrence in the maxim of Vox populi, vox Dei, as the boldest democrat of the day could demand.  In truth, a more democratic