Yet the contest between those Seven meagre Provinces upon the sand-banks of the North Sea, and—­the great Spanish Empire, seemed at the moment with which we are now occupied a sufficiently desperate one.  Throw a glance upon the map of Europe.  Look at the broad magnificent Spanish Peninsula, stretching across eight degrees of latitude and ten of longitude, commanding the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, with a genial climate, warmed in winter by the vast furnace of Africa, and protected from the scorching heats of summer by shady mountain and forest, and temperate breezes from either ocean.  A generous southern territory, flowing with wine and oil, and all the richest gifts of a bountiful nature-splendid cities—­the new and daily expanding Madrid, rich in the trophies of the most artistic period of the modern world—­Cadiz, as populous at that day as London, seated by the straits where the ancient and modern systems of traffic were blending like the mingling of the two oceans—­Granada, the ancient wealthy seat of the fallen Moors—­Toledo, Valladolid, and Lisbon, chief city of the recently-conquered kingdom of Portugal, counting, with its suburbs, a larger population than any city, excepting Paris, in Europe, the mother of distant colonies, and the capital of the rapidly-developing traffic with both the Indies—­these were some of the treasures of Spain herself.  But she possessed Sicily also, the better portion of Italy, and important dependencies in Africa, while the famous maritime discoveries of the age had all enured to her aggrandizement.  The world seemed suddenly to have expanded its wings from East to West, only to bear the fortunate Spanish Empire to the most dizzy heights of wealth and power.  The most accomplished generals, the most disciplined and daring infantry the world has ever known, the best-equipped and most extensive navy, royal and mercantile, of the age, were at the absolute command of the sovereign.  Such was Spain.

Turn now to the north-western corner of Europe.  A morsel of territory, attached by a slight sand-hook to the continent, and half-submerged by the stormy waters of the German Ocean—­this was Holland.  A rude climate, with long, dark, rigorous, winters, and brief summers, a territory, the mere wash of three great rivers, which had fertilized happier portions of Europe only to desolate and overwhelm this less-favoured land, a soil so ungrateful, that if the whole of its four hundred thousand acres of arable land had been sowed with grain, it could not feed the labourers alone, and a population largely estimated at one million of souls—­these were the characteristics of the Province which already had begun to give its name to the new commonwealth.  The isles of Zeeland—­entangled in the coils of deep slow-moving rivers, or combating the ocean without—­and the ancient episcopate of Utrecht, formed the only other Provinces that had quite shaken off the foreign yoke.  In Friesland, the important city of Groningen was still held for the King, while Bois-le-Duc, Zutphen, besides other places in Gelderland and North Brabant, also in possession of the royalists, made the position of those provinces precarious.