alth and their plague; poverty with freedom their
highest blessing, their glory, their virtue. There, a harmless, moral,
commercial people, revelling in the abundant fruits of thriving
industry, and jealous of the maintenance of laws which had proved their
benefactors. In the happy leisure of affluence they forsake the narrow
circle of immediate wants and learn to thirst after higher and nobler
gratifications. The new views of truth, whose benignant dawn now broke
over Europe, cast a fertilizing beam on this favored clime, and the free
burgher admitted with joy the light which oppressed and miserable slaves
shut out. A spirit of independence, which is the ordinary companion of
prosperity and freedom, lured this people on to examine the authority of
antiquated opinions and to break an ignominious chain. But the stern
rod of despotism was held suspended over them; arbitrary power
threatened to tear away the foundation of their happiness; the guardian
of their laws became their tyrant. Simple in their statecraft no less
than in their manners, they dared to appeal to ancient treaties and to
remind the lord of both Indies of the rights of nature. A name decides
the whole issue of things. In Madrid that was called rebellion which in
Brussels was simply styled a lawful remonstrance. The complaints of
Brabant required a prudent mediator; Philip II. sent an executioner.
The signal for war was given. An unparalleled tyranny assailed both
property and life. The despairing citizens, to whom the choice of
deaths was all that was left, chose the nobler one on the battle-field.
A wealthy and luxurious nation loves peace, but becomes warlike as soon
as it becomes poor. Then it ceases to tremble for a life which is
deprived of everything that had made it desirable. In an instant the
contagion of rebellion seizes at once the most distant provinces; trade
and commerce are at a standstill, the ships disappear from the harbors,
the artisan abandons his workshop, the rustic his uncultivated fields.
Thousands fled to distant lands, a thousand victims fell on the bloody
field, and fresh thousands pressed on. Divine, indeed, must that
doctrine be for which men could die so joyfully. All that was wanting
was the last finishing hand, the enlightened, enterprising spirit, to
seize on this great political crisis and to mould the offspring of
chance into the ripe creation of wisdom. William the Silent, like a
second Brutus, devoted himself to the grea