Identifying with the ancient Batavians as fierce and liberty-loving ancestors was part of the Dutch republican tradition from the late sixteenth century onwards. The “Batavian myth” gained momentum in the newly established Dutch Republic as an anchor of national identity and legitimacy, with the Batavian uprising against the Roman Empire in the first century CE being hailed as an event foreshadowing the Revolt against Spain.1 Hugo Grotius famously argued in Treatise of the Antiquity of the Batavian now Hollandish Republic (1610) that the Batavians had been the first to embrace true republican liberty, which the States had subsequently safeguarded against the (foreign) pretensions of kings, counts, and military commanders.2 For Grotius and his followers, monarchy was the direct opposite of Batavian or republican liberty. Yet the Batavian myth was also present in writings from the monarchy of Spain. “The Dutch are those Batavians about whom Cornelius Tacitus makes so much mention in his books,” Fernando Alvía de Castro wrote in 1629.3 Far from championing republican liberty, Alvía de Castro embedded the Batavian ancestry in a memorandum for his master, King Philip IV of Spain, about how to finally defeat the Dutch.
This chapter explores the various ways in which authors from the Spanish monarchy used classical analogies to characterize their rebellious enemies.
The use of classical parallels in early modern (colonial) Spanish writing about the “New World” of the Americas has received much attention over the past few decades, with monographs focusing on literary sources, histories, legal and ethnological texts, and soldiers’ writing.5 This body of scholarship has demonstrated the relevance of ancient models for coming to terms with the New World, and has revealed that this process was far from static or one-sided. Classical ideas and motifs travelled back and forth across oceans and enemy lines, carried by printed works and agents that moved between and within Europe, the Americas, and the wider world. Building on these insights, this chapter first outlines the background and implications of the analogy of
1 Second Flanders
The lands south of the Inca empire made a distinctly favorable impression on the first conquistadors when they arrived there in the first half of the sixteenth century, and this still resonated in later sixteenth- and seventeenth-century descriptions. Chile was fertile and fresh, with a temperate climate, and “both in the fruits of the land, and in the ability of the natives, it more closely resembled the lands and peoples of Europe than any other in the Americas.”6 The Jesuit chronicler Diego de Rosales (1601–77) described the Biobío River, which would roughly demarcate the border between Spanish and Mapuche territories, as “equally renowned as the Rhine and the Scheldt in Flanders.”7 Chile’s favorable climate was often connected to the reputed physical strength and resilience of its native inhabitants. It was because of this superiority that the mighty Inca empire had never managed to incorporate the Mapuche territory, a fact often dwelled upon in both Spanish and Dutch sources.8 As the Augustinian chronicler Antonio de Calancha (1584–1654) observed in 1633, Chile had thus been for the Inca empire what the Netherlands were for the Spanish monarchy.9 About a decade later, the Jesuit Alonso de Ovalle (1603–51) marveled at the fact that
Viewed from the vantage point of the Hispanic world, the Arauco War and the war in the Netherlands were two border conflicts that were connected on both practical and intellectual levels. In reality the differences between them were obviously numerous. The Spanish Habsburgs had acquired the rule over the Netherlands through dynastic union, for example, whereas their involvement in Chile was essentially a war of conquest. Yet in every contemporary Spanish text, the Arauco War was characterized as a rebellion (rebelion).11 Authors generally emphasized that the conquistadors had subjected the native Mapuche to royal authority and the Catholic Faith, and that they had subsequently, in the words of the soldier and chronicler Santiago de Tesillo (born 1607), gone “from Christians to apostates, and from vassals to rebels.” The Spanish now needed to guide them back “to the Church as children, and to the king as vassals.”12 This depiction, however far removed from reality, encouraged the association of Chile with the Netherlands. Spanish authors had already been known to express fear of a “new” or “second Flanders” during episodes of unrest or revolt in Spanish dominions in Europe, for example in Aragon in 1591, in Catalonia in 1643, and in Messina in 1673.13 “Flanders” had come to signify a rebellion impossible to suppress, which had turned into a lengthy and costly war, and which was complicated by the distance from the Iberian Peninsula. It was the place where many soldiers lost their lives, or as the seventeenth-century Spanish saying went, “Spain is my nature, Italy my fortune, and Flanders my graveyard.”14
Many decades before Diego de Rosales in 1674 coined the association with this traumatic Flanders, Santiago de Tesillo already referred to Chile as “the new Flanders,” where the wars seemed “irremediable.”15 The report of the censor in another of Tesillo’s pamphlets referred to “that new Flanders,” which was
It was not just the Spanish who saw Chile as a “second Flanders.” In the Dutch imagination a special affiliation existed with peoples across the Atlantic who, like them, had suffered the yoke of Spanish dominion. Benjamin Schmidt has pointed out that Chile occupied a special position in this cultural geography. In the early 1600s a Dutch sailor reported an uprising of the “valiant warriors” of Chile who “raised their cups to avenging the tyranny and slavery under which Spain would have them suffer.” Reports like this presented the native Chileans as a militant people who bravely continued to fight for their freedom and who would be pleased to learn of the Dutch war against the Spanish, “as they were enemies of the same.”19 Some Dutch authors even extended the notion of their Batavian ancestry to the native peoples of the Americas. In his history of Brazil Caspar Barlaeus (1584–1648) suggested a vague affiliation between the American and Teutonic races, and inferred a descent of these Americans from the ancient Batavians. Grotius spelled out the Batavian-American connection even more clearly. Based on presumed common customs and imagined linguistic affinities, he argued that sea-faring Germanic peoples had migrated to North America, perhaps by way of Iceland and Greenland.20
Never has a king subjected
Such fierce people proud of freedom,
Nor has alien nation boasted
E’er of having trod their borders.22
The Dutch translation, moreover, was tailored to a domestic audience. Several cantos that celebrated Spanish bravery were removed, and the Dutch editor added special praise for the love of “patria” among the Chileans. These exemplary warriors were zealous enough to avenge the death of their fathers in carrying on a war which by 1619 had already lasted over seventy years.23
2 Anatomy of a Rebel
From the perspective of the Spanish empire, the Arauco War had been the first conflict in the New World which no amount of war effort seemed able to bring to a satisfying conclusion. This confronted authors, administrators, and soldiers with pressing questions. Who were the native Chileans and what motivated them to resist Spanish dominion so fiercely? Why had a mighty power such as the Spanish empire not been able to subdue what was in Spain’s eyes but a small nation of pagan natives? The imagined connection between Chile and the Netherlands aided in approaching some of these quandaries. The translation of the Arauco War into an “Old World” conflict embedded it in
Despite their varied identities, all these minority opponents were ascribed a common set of characteristics, which were similar to how Tacitus had described the Batavians. In Tacitus’s writings the Batavians appear as a fierce and brave people, who were accustomed to self-rule and did not suffer oppression by foreigners; according to Tacitus, the self-proclaimed reason for Julius Civilis to start his rebellion was that the Batavians were now “treated like slaves.”27 Because the Batavians valued their freedom above everything else, they were prone to conspire against anyone who tried to impose dominion over them. Spanish authors used Tacitus as a source when they compared the Dutch to the ancient Batavians. The agent and counsellor Fernando Alvía de Castro, who in his unpublished Political Discourses Against the Dutch had called the Dutch “those Batavians,” vowed to present his advice “only with authorities of Cornelius Tacitus, the inexhaustible ocean of politics.”28 Alvía explained
Spanish authors projected these “Batavian” characteristics not just on the Dutch, but also on the Mapuche. Firstly, in every Spanish text the Mapuche are described as brave and resilient. Even Santiago de Tesillo had to admit that although they were “undoubtedly barbarians,” they were also “undoubtedly brave.”31 Other authors distinguished their martial spirit and their great endurance in the face of personal discomfort.32 According to Diego de Rosales, the valor and warlike nature of the Mapuche were unrivalled. No Spanish governor or general should underestimate them, for “even among the great captains of Flanders, who have seen them fight, they have caused admiration.”33
Secondly, Spanish authors depicted the Mapuche resistance as conspiracies organized by a general assembly of warriors.34 Dominant accounts of their political organization portrayed the Mapuche as having developed a basic yet effective system of decision-making. It was clear that they would not submit to the permanent authority of a king, but if the preservation of their freedom was at stake, the Mapuche were able to unite behind a temporary leader elected by an assembly of commoners. Once this leader and the assembly had decided on a proper course, they selected “the means that appear most effective for the
The Indians were disgruntled and united into secret gatherings in order to shake off the yoke which the Spanish had imposed upon them. And because they considered themselves free by nature and they had never been subjected to a king, lord or any other form of dominion, they took this [dominion] by a foreign nation very badly.39
Finally and most importantly, what distinguished the native Chileans in the eyes of both the Spanish and the Dutch was their all-overriding love of liberty. This went hand in hand with their inability to suffer a yoke of (foreign) dominion. “They despise subjection,” Tesillo wrote, “as much as they love freedom.”40 In de words of Diego de Salinas, the Mapuche “put all their happiness and reputation in defending their liberty, without yoke or other dominion.”41 This was love of liberty of the kind Grotius had ascribed to the Batavians: it signified a refusal or inability to accept monarchical rule, and a yearning to rule the patria without being subjected to foreign dominion. José de Acosta argued in his Natural and Moral History of the Indies (1590) that of all the native inhabitants of the Americas, the Chileans are the best example of a people that “do not suffer kings or absolute lords.”42 Alonso de Ovalle explained that this was the very reason the Mapuche had always resisted the Inca, for “they never wanted to
This liberty-loving spirit provided excellent literary opportunities. The soldier-poet Alonso de Ercilla praised the brave “Araucanians” in moving verses that were often quoted by subsequent authors, including Diego de Rosales.44 Ovalle even dramatically imagined the speech a Mapuche leader could have delivered before going to battle, to energize his comrades and remind them of what they held most dear:
Are you not all sons and descendants of those brave captains and soldiers who won so many battles, risking and disregarding their lives for the defense of the same fatherland and liberty that we defend? […] We all have to die, and in this equality in fortune there is no other advantage than that of a glorious death, for the beloved liberty of the fatherland, our children and descendants. Remember […] that in your veins runs the blood you have inherited from those who have never allowed the shameful yoke of servitude to be placed on their necks.45
3 War or Peace?
The “Batavian” model was thus present in Spanish discourse both on the “first” and the “second Flanders” because of the identification of the Dutch as Batavians, and the established parallel between the Dutch and Chilean wars. In the Dutch imagination, the “special relationship” with the fellow-suffering Chileans came with a moral obligation and political motivation to seek an actual alliance, and in 1641, an expedition was mounted to establish contact with the people south of the River Biobio.46 Although the expedition ended in failure and the alliance never materialized, Benjamin Schmidt has pointed out that the Araucanian reputation persisted in the Dutch Republic during the seventeenth century. From the perspective of the Spanish, the Batavian frame was instrumental in situating these unfamiliar opponents, and explaining the difficulty in subduing them. For most authors who wrote about Chile these
A parallel which contemporary authors did not tend to discuss is that both the war in the Netherlands and the Arauco War were interrupted by several stretches of peace and truce. Both in Flanders and in Chile, negotiations or parlamentos were frequently held parallel to the fighting. Many of these talks were unsuccessful, but some led to treaties such as the Twelve Years’ Truce of 1609–21 in the Netherlands or the short-lived truce in Arauco in 1611. This meant that Spanish administrators, soldiers, and counsellors, including the chroniclers of the Arauco War, regularly reflected upon the potential harm or benefit of a truce, or debated the shape it should take. Diego de Rosales, for example, was present at peace talks with the Mapuche as a counsellor and interpreter around 1640.47 An important argument in favor of a truce was that the cause of the Catholic faith might be better served in peacetime. Also during the war in Netherlands, theologians who acted as counsellors pointed out that, for the sake of the religion, the King should not allow a desperate military position to deteriorate. If the Spanish were to continue the war effort without being able to raise enough money to do this effectively, they ran the risk of also losing the provinces that were still obedient, and “the day we lose the loyal provinces, the Catholic religion will be lost in them.”48 In the case of Chile, especially the counsellors who were trained as theologians pleaded for a ceasefire, mostly because this would allow missionaries to act more effectively in Mapuche territory. Both in Flanders and Chile theologian-counsellors assured the king that accepting the continuation of some paganism or heresy was not incompatible with his duties regarding the Faith: doing his utmost for the Catholic cause would clear his conscience.49
The most frequently discussed concern and argument for a peaceful settlement in both wars was their long duration. What was the point in continuing if the experience of many years of warfare had yielded so little gain? Defending the 1607 armistice with the Dutch Republic, the soldier-banker Ambrogio
It is now seventy years that we have been fighting this war in one way or another and the royal coffers have been spared no cost, yet we see how little yield and how much damage there has been in the loss of many men and cities; and there is no prudent hope that with many more years and with many more men and with many more millions it will be brought to an end.52
It was only prudent to at least try another, more promising, approach, “and to abandon the one we have followed so far with little benefit and much damage.”53 Over three decades later, Diego de Salinas observed that the wars in Chile “have dragged on so much that they have lasted about a hundred years,” and the result of all this investment and loss of life was that “the Indians have remained free and masters of the best lands in the Americas, and the Spanish have conquered no more than a disastrous graveyard for their lives.”54 These considerations were vital, because as Tesillo argued, “the examples of the past predict the events of the future: nothing can deceive us, because time is an honest counsellor.”55
The idea of the nature of the Mapuche and the Dutch as rebels with a “Batavian” spirit was at the heart of considering ways to end both wars, in particular their great love of liberty and inability to suffer foreign rule. In the case of the Netherlands, according to Alvía de Castro, the conflict needed to be resolved as swiftly as possible, for “the Dutch will grow stronger every day” and “the more time is wasted discoursing about it, the more the Batavian liberty will corrupt
Because they have not been subjected in the sixty years of warfare that happened before nor in the sixty years of warfare that happened next, they will not subject themselves for many centuries […], because the Indians are warlike, […] they are offended by the Spanish and they do not forget their grievances. They fight for liberty and for their homeland, and they have more to gain by war than by peace, because with war they keep themselves free, masters of their own lands, without servitude nor subjection, and they have none who harm them. And so by way of war they will never be subjected.58
4 Conclusion
As Wyger Velema has demonstrated throughout his oeuvre, ancient models were crucial for early modern republican writers to help clarify and legitimate the republican form of government in a world where they were surrounded by much larger monarchies.59 For the Dutch Republic, the Batavian model naturally figured as the local variant of an ancient republican past. The ideal of Batavian liberty and virtue persisted well into the eighteenth century
In Spanish discourse the Batavian myth was inverted and adjusted, and it helped frame rebellions in the Spanish empire on both sides of the Atlantic. Here it inevitably touched on questions about the nature of liberty and its relationship to monarchy. Santiago de Tesillo hinted at this when he suggested that as far as he was concerned, true liberty was possible only in the next life, and man could attain it exclusively by practicing prudence, justice, and obedience to God and the king.61 This was directly opposite to the Dutch and Mapuche conception of liberty, which emphasized self-rule and rejected foreign dominion as a form of slavery. Both by Spanish authors and by the Dutch themselves, the ancient Batavian nation as well as the contemporary Mapuche were represented as self-governing in the purest form: they were ruled by a general assembly of armed men, upon whom the elected leader was never allowed to impose his will and act like a monarch.62 This emphasis resonates with what Quentin Skinner has characterized as neo-Roman republicanism, which depended on a Roman distinction between liberty and slavery and emphasized a nation’s capacity for self-government.63
It should not surprise us that the Dutch projected a Batavian variant of neo-Roman republicanism on the native Chileans, as self-ruling warriors threatened with subjection to the slavery of the Spanish monarchy. The sense of shared identity derived from the ancient past underlined the idea of a natural alliance and strengthened the claim to potentially lucrative ties. But why did writers in the monarchical tradition employ this neo-Roman republican vocabulary when reflecting on the Dutch and the Mapuche, and thus appear
The case of Chile as “Flandes indiano” speaks to a broader tradition within imperial political discourse of comparing European conflicts to colonial ones. A prominent example is the analogy established after 1793 between the French war in the Vendée and the slave revolution in Saint-Domingue. Not only did the Vendée exert a lasting influence over the contemporaneous understanding of colonial events but, over time, the analogy also came to have concrete impact on French strategies for “pacifying” the Haitian Revolution.65 In the case of the deliberations of Spanish agents who were involved in both the Arauco War and the war in the Netherlands, the Batavian model helped shape arguments in favor of peace on both sides of the Atlantic. Although these debates engaged with principles of obedience, conscience, and religion, reasoning was deeply pragmatic. If logic dictates that people with such an indomitable and liberty-loving character can never be subjected, what is the use in trying? In the end, the gloomiest of the Spanish predictions turned out to be correct. The peace treaty of Münster acknowledged the Dutch Republic to be a free and independent state, and the Araucanía was never durably pacified. Thus from the perspective of the Spanish empire, imagining the Mapuche as “Batavians of the New World” might have explained the nature and tenacity of their “rebellion,” but the analogy did not appear to yield any solutions towards winning the war. Rather, it provided arguments that helped accept defeat.
Notes
Ivo Schöffer, “The Batavian Myth during the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,” in Britain and the Netherlands: Some Political Mythologies, ed. by J. S. Bromley and E. H. Kossmann (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1974), 78–101; Sergio González Sánchez, “Roman-Barbarian Interactions and the Creation of Dutch National Identity: The Many Faces of a Myth,” in The Edges of the Roman World, ed. by Staša Babić and Vladimir Mihajlović (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2014), 5–18; David Onnekink, “The Body Politic,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Dutch Golden Age, ed. by Geert Janssen and Helmer Helmers (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018), 120–21.
Martin van Gelderen, The Political Thought of the Dutch Revolt 1555–1590 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 206–07; Arthur Weststeijn, Commercial Republicanism in the Dutch Golden Age. The Political Thought of Johan and Pieter de la Court (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 42.
Fernando Alvía de Castro, “Oraciones y discursos políticos contra los Olandeses,” Arxiu Històric de la Ciutat de Barcelona, MsA.72, f. 5.
It should be noted that the Spanish rhetoric of Mapuche liberty stands in sharp contrast with practices of indigenous enslavement, which were widespread in colonial Chilean society. The insistence on the bellicose and rebellious nature of the Mapuche is, moreover, reminiscent of the ethnonyms that were often purposefully given to Americans by colonial powers in order to turn them into natural enemies who were subject to slavery. Classical models are only one of several contexts within which the Spanish characterizations of the Mapuche can be understood, but they are central to the analogy of “Flandes indiano”. See Nancy Van Deusen, “Indigenous Slavery’s Archive in Seventeenth-Century Chile,” Hispanic American Historical Review 101, no. 1 (2021): 1–33.
David Quint, Epic and Empire: Politics and Generic Form from Virgil to Milton (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993); Sabine MacCormack, On the Wings of Time: Rome, the Incas, Spain, and Peru (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007); David Lupher, Romans in a New World: Classical Models in Sixteenth-century Spanish America (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2003); Miguel Martínez, Front Lines: Soldiers’ Writing in the Early Modern Hispanic World (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016).
Johannes de Laet, Nieuwe wereldt, ofte beschrijvinghe van West-Indien (Leiden: Elsevier, 1625), 357. De Laet based this description on the work of Antonio de Herrera y Tordesillas.
Diego de Rosales, Historia general del reino de Chile, Flandes indiano, vol. I, ed. by Benjamin Mackenna (Valparaiso: Mercurio, 1877), 265.
Laet, Nieuwe wereldt, 364.
Álvaro Baraibar Echeverria, “Chile como un ‘Flandes indiano’ en las crónicas de los siglos XVI y XVII,” Revista chilena de literatura 85 (2013): 165.
Alonso de Ovalle, Historica relacion del Reyno de Chile y de las missiones y ministerios que exercita en él la Compañía de Jesus (Rome: Francesco Cavalli, 1646), 83–84. Ovalle based his account of the Mapuche history prior to the arrival of the Spanish on Garcilaso de la Vega’s Royal Commentaries of the Incas (1616).
For example Antonio de Herrera, Historia general de los hechos de los castellanos en las islas y Tierra Firme del Mar Oceano, vol. VIII (Madrid: Imprenta Real, 1615), 193.
Santiago de Tesillo, Epítome chileno o ideas contra la paz (Lima: Jorge Lopez de Herrera, 1648), f. 12r-v (quotes); f. 22v.
Baraibar, “Chile como un ‘Flandes indiano’,” 160.
Ibid., 161.
Tesillo, Epítome chileno, f. 17v.
Santiago de Tesillo, Restauración del Estado de Arauco y otros progresos militares conseguidos por las armas de S.M. (Lima: Juan de Quevedo, 1665), aprobación.
Diego de Salinas y Córdoba, Crónica franciscana de las provincias del Perú, ed. by Lino Gómez Canedo (Washington: Academy of American Franciscan History, 1957), 1100.
Rosales, Historia general, vol. I, 18–19.
Olivier van Noort quoted in Benjamin Schmidt, Innocence Abroad: The Dutch Imagination and the New World, 1570–1670 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 205; Laet, Nieuwe wereldt, 364.
Grotius’s claims were based on presumed common customs and imagined linguistic affinities. They were challenged by fellow scholar Johannes de Laet, which led to a neo-Latin pamphlet war. Benjamin Schmidt, Innocence Abroad, 388 and idem, “Space, Time, Travel: Hugo de Groot, Johannes de Laet, and the Advancement of Geographic Learning,” LIAS 25, no. 2 (1998): 177–99.
For Ercilla, see Martínez, Front Lines, 29–31.
Alonso de Ercilla y Zúñiga, The Araucaniad, trans. Charles Lancaster and Paul Manchester (Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 1945), 37.
Alonso de Ercilla y Zúñiga, Historiale beschrijvinghe der goudtrijcke landen in Chile ende Arauco, ende andere provincien in Chile ghelegen, trans. by Isaac Jansz. Bijl (Rotterdam: Jan van Waesberghe, 1619).
Salinas y Córdoba, Crónica franciscana, 1100.
See Francisco Gracia-Alonso, “The Invention of Numantia and Emporion: Archaeology and the Regeneration of Spanish and Catalan Nationalisms after the Crisis of 1898,” in In Search of Pre-Classical Antiquity: Rediscovering Ancient Peoples in Mediterranean Europe (19th and 20th c.), ed. by Antonio de Francesco (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 64–95; and Barbara Simerka, Discourses of Empire: Counter-Epic Literature in Early Modern Spain (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2011), 77–78.
Tesillo, Epítome chileno, f. 13v.
Tacitus, Histories 4:14. See also Fernando Martínez Luna, Een ondraaglijk juk. Nederlandse beeldvorming van Spanje en de Spanjaarden ten tijde van de Opstand, 1566–1609 (Hilversum: Verloren, 2018), 31.
Alvía de Castro, “Oraciones y discursos,” f. 1v and see above, note 3.
Ibid., f. 7v, 41v.
Weststeijn, Commercial Republicanism, 42.
Tesillo, Epítome chileno, f. 3v-4.
Ovalle, Historica relacion, 86, 88; Salinas y Córdoba, Crónica franciscana, 1100, 1094.
Diego de Rosales, Historia general del reino de Chile, Flandes indiano, vol. III, ed. by Benjamin Mackenna (Valparaiso: Mercurio, 1878), 248.
For example Ovalle, Historica relacion, 85 and Tesillo, Epítome chileno, f. 9v.
Ovalle, Historica relacion, 85–86 (quote).
Herrera, Historia general, vol. 8, 199.
Ibid., 197.
Laet, Nieuwe wereldt, 364. See also Schmidt, Innocence Abroad, 206.
Rosales, Historia general, vol. I, 476.
Tesillo, Epítome chileno, f. 9v. See also Tesillo, Restauración del Estado de Arauco, f. 3.
Salinas y Córdoba, Crónica franciscana, 1100.
José de Acosta, Historia natural y moral de las Indias, vol. 2 (Madrid: Ramon Anglés, 1894), 172.
Ovalle, Historica relacion, 85.
Rosales, Historia general, vol. I, 478.
Ovalle, Historica relacion, 87–88.
See Hendrik den Heijer, Goud en indianen: het journaal van Hendrick Brouwers expeditie naar Chili in 1643 (Zutphen: Walburg Pers, 2015); Benjamin Schmidt, “Exotic Allies: The Dutch-Chilean Encounter and the (Failed) Conquest of America,” Renaissance Quarterly 52, no. 3 (1999): 441–73.
See the notes by Benjamin Vicuña Mackenna in Rosales, Historia general, vol. III, 159.
“Voto Obispo de Segovia,” in Consulta Consejo de Estado, 1 August 1628, Archivo General de Simancas (AGS) Estado Leg. 2042, f. 97.
See also Diego de Rosales, Historia general del reino de Chile, Flandes indiano, vol. II, ed. Benjamin Mackenna (Valparaiso: Mercurio, 1878), 527.
Summary of a letter from Spínola dated 19 May 1607, in Consulta Consejo de Estado, 6 June 1607, AGS Estado Leg. 2138, f. 73.
“Voto Don Fernando de Girón,” in Consulta Consejo de Estado, 1 August 1628, AGS Estado Leg. 2042, f. 97.
Rosales, Historia general, vol. II, 523.
Ibid., 524. See also 527.
Salinas y Córdoba, Crónica franciscana, 1100.
Tesillo, Epítome chileno, f. 11v.
Alvía de Castro, “Oraciones y discursos,” f. 41 and 41v.
“Voto del Duque de Lerma sobre la tregua con Holanda,” 2 October 1635, AGS Estado Leg. 2050, f. 87.
Rosales, Historia general, vol. II, 618.
See Wyger Velema and Arthur Weststeijn, “Introduction: Classical Republicanism and Ancient Republican Models,” in Ancient Models in the Early Modern Republican Imagination, ed. by Wyger Velema and Arthur Weststeijn (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 7–8, 13.
Wyger Velema, Enlightenment and Conservatism in the Dutch Republic: The Political Thought of Elie Luzac (1721–1796) (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1993), 168.
Tesillo, Epítome chileno, f. 15v.
Eco Haitsma Mulier, “De Bataafse mythe opnieuw bekeken,” BMGN-Low Countries Historical Review 111, no. 3 (1996): 355, 359–63.
Quentin Skinner, Liberty before Liberalism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2018 [1998]), 25–32.
Nicolette Mout, “Justus Lipsius Between War and Peace. His Public Letter on Spanish Foreign Policy and the Respective Merits of War, Peace or Truce (1595),” in Public Opinion and Changing Identities in the Early Modern Netherlands: Essays in Honour of Alastair Duke, ed. by Judith Pollmann and Andrew Spicer (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 141–62.
See Malick W. Ghachem, “The Colonial Vendée,” in The World of the Haitian Revolution, ed. by David Patrick Geggus and Norman Fiering (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009), 158–59.