at Utrecht, and whose just reputation had drawn to that
University multitudes of students from every part of Protestant
Europe.2 When the night came, fireworks were exhibited on the
great tank which washes the walls of the Palace of the
Federation. That tank was now as hard as marble; and the Dutch
boasted that nothing had ever been seen, even on the terrace of
Versailles, more brilliant than the effect produced by the
innumerable cascades of flame which were reflected in the smooth
mirror of ice.3 The English Lords congratulated their master on
his immense popularity. "Yes," said he; "but I am not the
favourite. The shouting was nothing to what it would have been if
Mary had been with me."

A few hours after the triumphal entry, the King attended a
sitting of the States General. His last appearance among them had
been on the day on which he embarked for England. He had then,
amidst the broken words and loud weeping of those grave Senators,
thanked them for the kindness with which they had watched over
his childhood, trained his young mind, and supported his
authority in his riper years; and he had solemnly commended his
beloved wife to their care. He now came back among them the King
of three kingdoms, the head of the greatest coalition that Europe
had seen during a hundred and eighty years; and nothing was heard
in the hall but applause and congratulations.4

But this time the streets of the Hague were overflowing with the
equipages and retinues of princes and ambassadors who came
flocking to the great Congress. First appeared the ambitious and
ostentatious Frederic, Elector of Brandenburg, who, a few years
later, took the title of King of Prussia. Then arrived the young