ity, may
find an audience, is a desideratum in English literature, this essay to
point out the heroic proportions of William; enough so, if may be, to
lend eagerness to those who read, so they may be decoyed into perusing
Motley's noble histories. I would help a reader of this essay to see
the theater and actors, and to that end lift this curtain.

Philip having, on August 26, 1559, sailed from Flushing, Spainward,
William's lifework properly began. At this date, his attitude has not
developed, but stands as a block of marble a sculptor has chiseled
enough to show a statue is intended, but not sufficiently to disclose
the sculptor's purpose. One thing alone was definite and unalterable,
to combat the introduction of the Inquisition and the extermination of
the Protestant Netherlanders by aid from the Spanish soldiery. The
first checkmate given Philip's nefarious scheme was when the
States-General compelled his removal of the troops, though at this time
William was still Catholic in religion and a loyal subject of Philip,
being in no sense a revolutionist. He was easily the first citizen of
the Netherlands; twenty-six years of age; not matured, but maturing;
not faultless, but in process of being fashioned for a distinguished
career of patriotism and catholicity. Our full selves bloom slowly.
Our life is no mushroom, but a tree, and a tree requires long
growth-periods. Orange was so. A grave, moral, and patriotic purpose
in itself suffices to shape a career of grandeur and service. Had he
been told he would die a Protestant and a rebel, he would have been
instant to deny the charge, and this through no duplicity, but from
lack of knowledge of his own soul temper, coupled with an inability to
forecast a stormy future. We can not walk by sight in action and
politics any more than in religion--a thing the prince found out as the
turbulent years passed. He has been vehemently accused of duplicity.
He has been depicted as hypocrite and plotter against his rightful
sovereign. I find no marks of this on him. That he had ambition is
not to be argued; but ambition is no sin if worthily directed. He did
things not consonant with our ethics, belonging, in that sense, to his
age, an age of diplomatic duplicity. He did not tell all he knew. He
had in his pay the king's private secretary, and received a copy of any
letter the king wrote; and when at last the secretary's treason was
discovered, he paid the penalty of hi