e
never thoroughly alive.

At this epoch the provincial liberties, so far as they could maintain
themselves against Spanish despotism, were practical and substantial. The
government was a representative one, in which all those who had the
inclination possessed, in one mode or another, a voice. Although the
various members of the confederacy were locally and practically republics
or self-governed little commonwealths, the general government which they,
established was, in form, monarchical. The powers conferred upon Orange
constituted him a sovereign ad interim, for while the authority of the
Spanish monarch remained suspended, the Prince was invested, not only
with the whole executive and appointing power, but even with a very large
share in the legislative functions of the state.

The whole system was rather practical than theoretical, without any
accurate distribution of political powers. In living, energetic
communities, where the blood of the body politic circulates swiftly,
there is an inevitable tendency of the different organs to sympathize and
commingle more closely than a priori philosophy would allow. It is
usually more desirable than practicable to keep the executive,
legislative, and judicial departments entirely independent of each other.

Certainly, the Prince of Orange did not at that moment indulge in
speculations concerning the nature and origin of government. The Congress
of Delft had just clothed him with almost regal authority. In his hands
were the powers of war and peace, joint control of the magistracies and
courts of justice, absolute supremacy over the army and the fleets. It is
true that these attributes had been conferred upon him ad interim, but it
depended only upon himself to make the sovereignty personal and
permanent. He was so thoroughly absorbed in his work, however, that he
did not even see the diadem which he put aside. It was small matter to
him whether they called him stadholder or guardian, prince or king. He
was the father of his country and its defender. The people, from highest
to lowest, called him "Father William," and the title was enough for him.
The question with him was not what men should call him, but how he should
best accomplish his task.

So little was he inspired by the sentiment of self-elevation, that he was
anxiously seeking for a fitting person--strong, wise, and willing
enough--to exercise the sovereignty which was thrust upon himself, but
which he desired t