The Three Crowns epub (32 page)

Bentinck called the
doctors into an anteroom.

“It is His Highness’s wish that I remain.”

“You have had the pox?”

Bentinck shook his head.

“You run grave risks.”

“We all must run grave risks for Holland.”

“You can do him no good, and yourself much harm.”

“It is the Prince’s wish that I remain.”

“He would not wish that for his worst enemy.”

“But perhaps he would,” said Bentinck wryly, “for his best friend.”

Hourly the Prince’s
death was expected. In the streets of the cities people said: “He came like a promise that is not to be fulfilled. What will become of us? What of Holland now? We shall be under the French before we know where we are. Louis doesn’t strike now because he is waiting to hear that the Prince is dead. He wouldn’t dare while he still lived.”

“Let us pray for him. What is Holland without Orange.”

In the country the people ran out of their houses every time they heard the sound of travelers on the road.

“Any news … any news of the Prince?”

In the sickroom Bentinck sat by the Prince’s bed, determined that none but himself should look after the invalid. William lay as though dead but Bentinck believed he knew his friend was near and took comfort from the fact.

Bentinck would talk to William even though there was no answer.

“You must fight death, my Prince. All Holland depends on you.” That was the theme of his conversation and there were times when he believed the Prince understood him, for after sixteen days of uncertainty William showed the first signs of improvement. When the doctors expressed their astonishment that he, who had suffered such a violent attack, had a hope of recovery, Bentinck cried: “He is determined to live and when this Prince determines he succeeds.”

Now was the time to prepare the Prince good nourishing food—food which should come to him only through Bentinck’s hand.

William looked at
Bentinck.

“You were with me all the time,” he said.

“Yes, Highness. But you were too sick to know it.”

“I sensed your presence here, Bentinck. It gave me great comfort. It is good to have a friend; and I believe you to be my friend, Bentinck.”

“Your Highness has many friends.”

“Friends to the Prince of Holland,” answered William. “Those who support him because they know he will bring good to them. Only one Bentinck. I believe one should be grateful for one such. Bentinck, I shall never forget you.”

That was all he said, for he was always one to avoid expressing emotion. But the bond was there between them.

Bentinck had risked his life for his Prince. It was something one never forgot as long as one lived.

William began to recover rapidly. Bentinck prepared all his food himself; they talked together of their future, which was Holland’s.

The people were ready to adore their Prince. Not only could he conquer their enemies but the most dreaded sickness, and they believed they could look with confidence to their deliverer.

One morning Bentinck came to his master and told him that he was exhausted and needed a little rest; had he the Prince’s permission to retire to the country for a while? The permission was readily given.

Within the next few days William heard that Bentinck was suffering from the smallpox.

William was more
moved when he heard of Bentinck’s sickness than he had ever been before in his life. He sent his own doctors; he genuinely deplored the fact that he could not go himself and do for his friend what Bentinck had done for him, but the nation’s affairs occupied him and he must concern himself with his duty. Continually he thought of Bentinck; he missed him; there was so much he wanted to discuss with him, and if Bentinck died, he believed it would be one of the greatest tragedies of his life.

But Bentinck did not die. The best doctors, the greatest care in nursing, the constant messages from the Prince, and the great will to survive were on his side. And as William had, eventually he began to recover.

It was a day of great joy when the two friends were together again.

William looked at Bentinck and said, “It pleases me to see you well again. I have need of you.”

That was all; but Bentinck was aware of the deep feeling beneath the words. Their friendship was sealed; it would last for the rest of their lives. William was aware of this too; but being the man he was he expressed his pleasure in a few brusque words.

The months of
anxiety followed. Holland was a small country and her enemies were strong. All the bravery in the world could not stand out against the might of arms and men many times greater than those possessed by Holland. During these months William’s natural characteristics became stronger and unshakable. He believed that he had been chosen to rule—not only Holland. He was predestined to be a King. He had never forgotten Mrs. Tanner’s vision. Always it seemed there must be on this earth a conflict between Catholic and Protestant, and he, a stern Calvinist, was ideally fitted to lead the Protestant Cause. He saw himself as the Protestant leader of Europe, perhaps the world. He must defeat Catholicism; and he believed that it did not matter how he did so as long as he was successful.

His ability to remain calm, to give no hint of anger was one of his great gifts, he realized; he must cultivate it. He would hide his thoughts from all; so that when he said one thing he might well mean another. If necessary he would lie for the Cause.

Mrs. Tanner had prophesied three crowns. Could these be England, Scotland, and Ireland? His eyes were on England, for neither the King nor the Duke of York seemed now to be able to beget heirs. Mary of York would very probably succeed her father if he did not have a son; and if William married Mary, because of his claim through his Stuart mother, he could become King of England.

When he had been offered Mary he had said that his fortunes were not such as to enable him to think of a wife, but times had changed. Without support it might well be that Holland would become a protectorate of France; but if he married Mary, England would be obliged to stand by Holland. Had he been rash to make such a reply when Mary had been offered him? He did not think so. His reply while it had angered James had made others respect him. It was as well for them to believe themselves to be more anxious for the match than he was. But when Mary was offered again … and it was certain that she would be, his reply would be lukewarm instead of cold.

William was brave; he had proved himself to be a shrewd and subtle leader, but the forces against him were too strong, and his ministers suggested that the peace terms which were being offered from France should be accepted.

Now he showed himself in all his strength. He had declared he would fight to the last dyke, he told them, and he meant it. If Holland were not to fall under the French domination she must not give way.

“There is not a man in Holland who does not desire peace,” he was told.

“There is one,” he retorted. “I know him well, for he is the Prince of Orange.”

They admired him; they respected him; they looked up to him, and remembered his noble ancestor. And when he stood before them, his expression cold and stern, they could believe that if there was one man who could achieve the impossible, that man was William of Orange.

“I saw an old man this morning,” he told his ministers. “He was rowing his little boat against the eddy of a sluice on the canal. Every time he was about to reach his destination the eddy carried him back. I watched him repeat this four times. Every time it happened he took up his oars again. Do you see what I mean, my friends? I am like that old man in the boat and I shall never be beaten as long as I can return to my oars.”

So in spite of efforts for peace, the war continued.

There were victories
and defeats; neither side was the victor. Louis was tired of the conflict and Charles attempted to negotiate a peace.

William received Louis’s envoys, prepared, he said, at least to listen to what terms he had to offer.

When he heard that Louis wanted to suggest a French marriage for the Prince, William considered this.

Who was the lady? he asked.

Louis’s own daughter, was the reply. She was very beautiful and her mother was Louise de la Vallière. The King delighted in her and it showed the extent of his esteem for the Prince that he should offer him this favorite girl.

William was furious. “She is a bastard,” he said coldly. “You should return to the King of France without delay and tell him that the Princes of Orange do not wed kings’ bastards.”

This refusal and the terms in which it was made, infuriated Louis when he heard it. He vowed that it was an insult he could never forget and consequently would never forgive the insolent Orange.

William was now
more than ever eager for the English marriage. He could not forget the insult Louis had given him by suggesting that he might accept his illegitimate daughter, and only marriage with a Princess of very high rank and with dazzling prospects could give balm to his wounded vanity. He was thinking more frequently of the Princess Mary, eldest daughter of the Duke of York. He was as eager for that marriage as he had been several years before when he had gone to England and been involved in the disgraceful scene outside the chambers of the maids of honor.

He decided to send for Sir William Temple who was in Holland at this time for the Congress of Nimeguen. Sir William had shown himself a friend to Holland and it seemed to William that he was the man to be trusted with this matter.

Sir William was a cautious man who rarely took any action without making sure that it was absolutely safe to do so, and although he was a reliable ally he was an unimaginative one. William felt a bond between them and it was for this reason that he decided to call him at this stage.

Sir William was known to favor Dutch interests, an attitude in which he persisted even though it resulted in a loss of popularity in England, so the Prince was certain that he would be in favor of a marriage between him and Mary.

When Sir William arrived at the Palace of Hounslaerdyck whither the Prince had summoned him, William came straight to the point.

“Marriage,” began the Prince, “is a state which a man in my position must consider at some time, and it would seem to me that time has come. I have had proposals from various sources. One from the King of France.” He paused and glanced sideways at Sir William. Would he have discovered that Louis had offered him a bastard? Sir William gave no sign and the Prince enlightened him no further. “In spite of this,” he went on, “if I decided to marry it would be to England that I should look.”