two years occupied in passing from one end of the earth to the other and
back again might well seem a miracle.

The republic was among the wealthiest and the most powerful of organized
States. Her population might be estimated at three millions and a half,
about equal to that of England at the same period. But she was richer
than England. Nowhere in the world was so large a production in
proportion to the numbers of a people. Nowhere were so few unproductive
consumers. Every one was at work. Vagabonds, idlers, and do-nothings,
such as must be in every community, were caught up by the authorities and
made to earn their bread. The devil's pillow, idleness, was smoothed for
no portion of the population.

There were no beggars, few paupers, no insolently luxurious and
ostentatiously idle class. The modesty, thrift, and simple elegance of
the housekeeping, even among the wealthy, was noted by travellers with
surprise. It will be remembered with how much amused wonder, followed by
something like contempt, the, magnificent household of Spinola, during
his embassy at the Hague, was surveyed by the honest burghers of Holland.
The authorities showed their wisdom in permitting the absurd exhibition,
as an example of what should be shunned, in spite of grave remonstrances
from many of the citizens. Drunken Helotism is not the only form of
erring humanity capable of reading lessons to a republic.

There had been monasteries, convents, ecclesiastical establishments of
all kinds in the country, before the great war between Holland and the
Inquisition. These had, as a matter of course, been confiscated as the
strife went on. The buildings, farms, and funds, once the property of
the Church, had not, however, been seized upon, as in other Protestant
lands, by rapacious monarchs, and distributed among great nobles