entlemen and yeomen,
processions of Sheriffs and Bailiffs in scarlet gowns, musters of
zealous Protestants with orange flags and ribands, salutes, bonfires,
illuminations, music, balls, dinners, gutters running with ale and
conduits spouting claret. [2]

Still more cordial was the rejoicing among the Dutch, when they learned
that the first minister of their Commonwealth had been raised to a
throne. On the very day of his accession he had written to assure the
States General that the change in his situation had made no change in
the affection which he bore to his native land, and that his new dignity
would, he hoped, enable him to discharge his old duties more efficiently
than ever. That oligarchical party, which had always been hostile to the
doctrines of Calvin and to the House of Orange, muttered faintly that
His Majesty ought to resign the Stadtholdership. But all such mutterings
were drowned by the acclamations of a people proud of the genius and
success of their great countryman. A day of thanksgiving was appointed.
In all the cities of the Seven Provinces the public joy manifested
itself by festivities of which the expense was chiefly defrayed by
voluntary gifts. Every class assisted. The poorest labourer could help
to set up an arch of triumph, or to bring sedge to a bonfire. Even the
ruined Huguenots of France could contribute the aid of their ingenuity.
One art which they had carried with them into banishment was the art of
making fireworks; and they now, in honour of the victorious champion of
their faith, lighted up the canals of Amsterdam with showers of splendid
constellations. [3]

To superficial observers it might well seem that William was, at this
time, one of the most enviable of human beings. He was in truth one of
the most anxious and unhappy. He well knew that the difficulties of his
task were only beginning. Already that dawn which had lately been so
bright was overcast; and many signs portended a dark and stormy day.

It was observed that two important classes took little or no part in
the festivities by which, all over England, the inauguration of the
new government was celebrated. Very seldom could either a priest or
a soldier be seen in the assemblages which gathered round the market
crosses where the King and Queen were proclaimed. The professional pride
both of the clergy and of the army had been deeply wounded. The doctrine
of nonresistance had been dear to the Anglican divines. It was the