creative statesmanship was no less worthy of homage than his indisputable
genius for destruction.

His scheme was nothing more than the substitution of an arbitrary system
of taxation by the Crown, for the legal and constitutional right of the
provinces to tax themselves. It was not a very original thought, but it
was certainly a bold one. For although a country so prostrate might
suffer the imposition of any fresh amount of tyranny, yet it was doubtful
whether she had sufficient strength remaining to bear the weight after it
had been imposed. It was certain, moreover, that the new system would
create a more general outcry than any which had been elicited even by the
religious persecution. There were many inhabitants who were earnest and
sincere Catholics, and who therefore considered themselves safe from the
hangman's hands, while there were none who could hope to escape the gripe
of the new tax-gatherers. Yet the Governor was not the man to be daunted
by the probable unpopularity of the measure. Courage he possessed in
more than mortal proportion. He seemed to have set himself to the task
of ascertaining the exact capacity of the country for wretchedness. He
was resolved accurately to gauge its width and its depth; to know how
much of physical and moral misery might be accumulated within its limits,
before it should be full to overflowing. Every man, woman, and child in
the country had been solemnly condemned to death; and arbitrary
executions, in pursuance of that sentence, had been daily taking place.
Millions of property had been confiscated; while the most fortunate and
industrious, as well as the bravest of the Netherlanders, were wandering
penniless in distant lands. Still the blows, however recklessly
distributed, had not struck every head. The inhabitants had been
decimated, not annihilated, and the productive energy of the country,
which for centuries had possessed so much vitality, was even yet not
totally extinct. In the wreck of their social happiness, in the utter