been displayed during his previous career, however vacillating.  No more ignoble yet more dangerous creature had yet been loosed upon the devoted soil of the Netherlands.  Not one of the personages who had hitherto figured in the long drama of the revolt had enacted so sorry a part.  Ambitious but trivial, enterprising but cowardly, an intriguer and a dupe, without religious convictions or political principles, save that he was willing to accept any creed or any system which might advance his own schemes, he was the most unfit protector for a people who, whether wrong or right; were at least in earnest, and who were accustomed to regard truth as one of the virtues.  He was certainly not deficient in self-esteem.  With a figure which was insignificant, and a countenance which was repulsive, he had hoped to efface the impression made upon Elizabeth’s imagination by the handsomest man in Europe.  With a commonplace capacity, and with a narrow political education, he intended to circumvent the most profound statesman of his age.  And there, upon the pier at Flushing, he stood between them both; between the magnificent Leicester, whom he had thought to outshine, and the silent Prince of Orange, whom he was determined to outwit.  Posterity has long been aware how far he succeeded in the one and the other attempt.

The Duke’s arrival was greeted with the roar of artillery, the ringing of bells, and the acclamations of a large concourse of the inhabitants; suitable speeches were made by the magistrates of the town, the deputies of Zealand, and other functionaries, and a stately banquet was provided, so remarkable “for its sugar-work and other delicacies, as to entirely astonish the French and English lords who partook thereof.”  The Duke visited Middelburg, where he was received with great state, and to the authorities of which he expressed his gratification at finding two such stately cities situate so close to each other on one little island.

On the 17th of February, he set sail for Antwerp.  A fleet of fifty-four vessels, covered with flags and streamers, conveyed him and his retinue, together with the large deputation which had welcomed him at Flushing, to the great commercial metropolis.  He stepped on shore at Kiel within a bowshot of the city—­for, like other Dukes of Brabant, he was not to enter Antwerp until he had taken the oaths to respect the constitution—­and the ceremony of inauguration was to take place outside the walls.  A large platform had been erected for this purpose, commanding a view of the stately city, with its bristling fortifications and shady groves.  A throne, covered with velvet and gold, was prepared, and here the Duke took his seat, surrounded by a brilliant throng, including many of the most distinguished personages in Europe.