Marjorie Bowen

“ William turned now.
“My ambitions are to save my country and the Reformed religion.... When I was a child I desired my birthright.... I could never serve.... I was not schooled in ways of love and gentleness.... You did your duty to me as you conceived it, and taught me much,—for one thing the bitterness of a long humiliation, and the lessons that may be learnt in loneliness. I cannot make a parade of gratitude—I cannot thank you—I cannot forget what will influence all my life; but I understand you as you never understood me—and so I can forgive.”
John de Witt bent his head. ”

“ The Dutch were upheld by every noble feeling patriotism may call forth; they fought for the finest of motives, for the most glorious of ends: the English, ashamed of their leaders, hating the alliance with the French, whose cats’-paws they suspected themselves to be, sullen at the unworthy part they felt themselves to be filling, had no motive to acquit themselves well save mere desire for reprisals on a country that had already once beaten them off the sea.
Michael de Ruyter was alive to this difference of spirit in the two forces about to meet. ”

“ The sun sets behind the flat, misty horizon in a dun and blood-coloured vapour; the camp-fires of the French, which may be seen from the towers of Amsterdam, spring up in the low meadows.
Other lights, softer, more delicate, appear in the windows of the castle.
A ball is to be given in the great rooms looking on to the ramparts.
The sentries keeping watch hear the music of the contre danse falling through the silent air.
M. de Rochfort is expected with his cavalry regiments—has been expected all day. He does not come; the King is a little vexed. ”

“ Sir William answered with the ready courtesy that took all appearance of sincerity from his speech—
“All Europe knows that you are afraid of nothing—yet, for Holland’s sake, you might tremble a little now.”
The cloud did not lift from the Grand Pensionary’s noble face. He put out his hand and rested it on the edge of one of the bookshelves, and his delicate fingers tapped restlessly on the polished wood.
“Diplomacy as well as friendship dictates frankness to me,” he answered in his slow, stately, yet gentle way,—“nor is there much I could conceal from such an observer as yourself, Sir William. ”

“ The Prince rose.
“What of your former rulers?” he asked.
“They can do nothing with the people. M. de Witt is ill—loathed.”
“Mynheer,” answered William, “the States dealt hardly with me—I have been virtually a prisoner all my life—it is strange they should come to me now.”
“It may be, but Your Highness’ voice is the only one that can make itself heard,” said M. Beuningen in a tone of despair. “The people will turn to you.... If in vain ... God have mercy upon us.”
“You credit me with great powers.... Do I not hear it said that the man who pits himself against France must be mad?” ”

“ The King of France considers it a fine amusement to ruin an unoffending country—he thinks it will be easy to crush a petty Prince. You, my lords, doubtless pity me my vain resistance—but you know not what you smile at. The French insult us with outrageous terms. Not Cæsar to the Gauls, nor Alexander to the Persians was more haughty; but we are not as Darius—France will repent this insolence. We will, from this little spark, blow up a war shall see Europe in arms and shake the Continent! No peace, they say ”

“ William preceded them, covered, as Florent was quick to remark, and with the same ceremony as if he already held his father’s offices. He mounted the black horse, waiting for him, and from the saddle looked round the crowded courtyard.
He was already one of the finest riders in the Netherlands, graceful and fearless, and able to manage the fiercest horse after a fashion strange in one of his frail appearance. This was no valueless asset in the eyes of men such as M. de Zuylestein, who regretted the delicate health and reserved demeanour of one who must rely on popularity for his advancement. ”

“ SOLEBAY
The night was fine but cold; the stars had a hard brilliance and flashed like facets of steel in the cloudless sky.
A man was thoughtfully pacing the deck of a great ship.
Now and again he looked shrewdly up at these stars. A strong but moderate wind was filling the sails and the ship was steering rapidly through the darkness towards the east coast of England.
There was a pleasant whistling in the cordage, and a pleasant, steady swish of the water to right and left as the bows cut through the darkened sea. ”

“ The gables and turrets of the Hall of the Knights; the tourelles and pale brick of the Binnenhof, with the bright painted shutters faintly showing, and here and there a light gleaming at a window; and above all the great tower of the Groote Kerk rising through the fog that the sea, ever beating on the shores and dykes of Holland with a persistent and sinister purpose, sends rolling drearily over the land it cannot yet reclaim.
Florent traversed the courts of the Binnenhof, and entered the Spuistraat, where the street-lamps and the lights in the shops cast faint haloes on the mist ”

“ Outside the mist was rolling past like waves, white and curling. The sound of the struggling, large poles could be heard through it; the noise of the wet mast striking the wet deck as it was lowered to pass under the bridge, and the men’s voices, shouting to each other, hoarse, remote.
Florent glanced askance over his shoulder at St. Croix. A man who was despising him, no doubt, as one of a fallen race; anticipating the time when the King of France would be master of Holland—the dictator of Europe. ”

“ Two other high Dutch vessels, looming up out of the noise and darkness of battle, silenced the starboard guns of the English flagship with a close-range volley; her poop was swept bare with a cannonade from de Ruyter, and her disabled rigging and rent canvas swayed through the smoke that belched on her from all sides.
For the second time the English standard fell.
De Ruyter strove to press his advantage, and sent out two frigates to sink or burn The Saint Michael; but her pilot and captain brilliantly managed the wounded vessel, and, wreck as she was, steered her out of the line of battle. ”

“ He tried to fling his velvet mantle over himself, but could not.
A great giddiness came over him; he opened the door and stumbled into the quiet hall.
At the bottom of the stairs stood Anna de Witt in a white gown, her fair hair shining in the glimmer of the lamp she held.
“Oh!” she cried brokenly. “O—oh!” and ran forward.
John de Witt was blood from head to foot; his collar soaked from the wound in his throat, his hands red and torn, his shirt stained, his forehead bruised, and the hair clotted with the slow drippings from the gash in his head. ”

“ M. Heenvliet had withdrawn, for the moment he was alone, but there came no change into the perfect calm of his face and bearing.
An observer might have well thought that he felt no emotion, and concluded that to feel no emotion at such a moment was indeed to show himself incapable of being roused by any feeling ever.
The Groote Kerk struck seven.
William left the window and went to the table glittering with glass and silver, the sheen of china, and the sparkle of the candles in the gold and crimson wines.
The parrot gave a low scream and eyed him in friendly fashion. ”

“ The Prince stood in a slightly awkward fashion, holding his hat across his chest; he fixed the speaker with his luminous eyes in a bewildered manner.
The girl glanced over him; took in his velvet mantle, his fringed gloves, his square-toed shoes with the stiff satin bows.
“M. Triglandt is a friend of the Stadtholder,” she said half defiantly; “and you look to me like one of M. de Witt’s men.”
“Is he alone?” asked William abruptly.
“Yes. The doctor has been and gone; he says he cannot live the night. I have been sitting with him.” ”

“ Every detail of the beautiful ship, and of the magnificently dressed men who stood gathered about her mast, shining gold and silver, velvets, satin, sword-hilts and pistols, eager faces, and bare yellow or brown heads (for they were all uncovered out of respect to Mynheer Cornelius de Witt) , was sparkling visibly in the gay sunshine.
Admiral de Ruyter set his feet far apart, and again clasped his gauntleted hands behind him.
“Gentlemen of my fleet,” he said, and his quick eyes roved along the line of faces, “we are in the presence of the enemy. It is my intention to give battle. ”

“ Binnenhof and Buitenhof were both dark save for this one light in John de Witt’s window.
The stars shone through a fine vapour; the glow of the lamps round the Vyverberg was half obscured by the thick leaves of the wych elms and the limes, which sent up a luscious fragrance to the open window.
John de Witt stood quite still. The black velvet and falling lace collar threw into relief his romantic good looks; the candid and melancholy features that were strangely unlined and simple in expression for one whose years had been so laboriously full. ”

“ He himself walked up and down; stopping now and then to look out of the window on to the night, where the darkness lifted slowly.
Florent hardly raised his eyes from the desk; the scratching of his quill and the Prince’s light step were the only sounds.
At last William threw himself into the deep chair by the hearth, and sat there so still that Florent thought him asleep. But looking up from his finished task he saw that the Prince’s eyes were open and shining with a bright lustre. As Florent gazed at him he moved, and glanced at the black clock between the candles on the mantelpiece. ”

“ As he watched, the little party turned towards the house, Sir William in his blue-and-gold velvet ruffled with ribbon, his heavy curls falling round his handsome face, walking beside the Grand Pensionary, who had no relief to his black garments save his broad linen collar, and between them the little figure of Agneta in her white gown and prim cap, holding herself soberly, while before them moved the sister of Wendela de Witt, self-contained, plainly dressed, with the fading, changing, sunlight flickering over her dark dress. ”

“ In the old Palace of the Princes of Orange, that had been the dwelling of the Counts of Holland when the Hague was merely their hunting estate, and now for twenty years the meeting-place for the Government of John de Witt, Their High Mightinesses, the States, were assembled.
The sunshine filled the great chamber, showing the tapestry on the walls, the marble chimney-pieces, the painted ceiling, in the full dazzle of their gorgeous colours.
In the centre, within a space enclosed by a balustrade, sat the nobles and the Deputies of eighteen towns. ”

“ There is an emotion that bears the name of no one feeling because it is composed of all—it is the passion that shakes a crowd when it is witness of any great event; this seized the people of Dordt.
They shouted, laughed, wrung each other’s hands, rushed in a mass to float the Orange flag from the belfry of their great church, drank the Prince’s health and confusion to the French, and swarmed and pushed round the door of the Peacock Inn, where the councillors were still imprisoned. ”

“ But Verhoef caught Tichelaer back.
“These traitors must die on the gibbet!” he cried. “Spare them till then.”
Again the hideousness of his death presented itself overwhelmingly to de Witt; he drew back against the plaster walls, sick at heart.
“Are you all less than men?” he demanded. “Give me a sword——”
He made a futile effort to snatch one from the crowd ringing him round.
“Traitor!” shouted Tichelaer.
“Do you dare use that word to me?” answered John de Witt. “Had all done their duty as I did not a town had been lost——Give me a sword,” he added. ”

“ The last rays of the sun that peep over the tiger-lilies and [465] sweet-peas at the dead face of Florent Van Mander shine also in the harness of the Stadtholder and his suite, as they ride along the smooth road, between the canals, the locks where the water-lilies rest, the deep, thick-grown meadows where the cattle graze, the little homes with the coloured shutters, the thatched windmills, the poplars and alders, the low fields where the storks sit, through the silent twilight towards the Hague. ”

“ William was annoyed. He never loved the mob in any form or mood; he was utterly indifferent to popularity, which he rated too keenly at its true value.
He felt no gratitude to these people for their enthusiasm. They had suffered John de Witt for twenty years; despite their flag-waving and their shouting they suffered him still; therefore he sat silent, reining in his horse on the causeway of the canal and waiting for the crowd to pass.
But the beauty of the animal and the richness of the rider’s dress did not escape the attention of the Orangists. ”

“ He could see, rising opposite against the clear sky, the turrets of the Abbey, their weathervanes turning in the cold sea-wind, and the boughs of the elms decked scantily with their last leaves.
William glanced again at the book. It lay open at the fly-leaf that bore his arms, the lion rampant against the billets, and underneath his motto—
“Je sera Nassau, moi, je maintaindrai.” ”

“ The horse William rode was magnificent, of a Flemish breed, a stone grey and shining like polished granite; he wore the least possible harness, and his full, intelligent eyes were uncovered; he arched his neck and trod daintily into the sand that shifted under his hoofs.
The fisherman stared stolidly at the horse, then lifted his eyes to the rider.
He beheld a slight young man in a brown greatcoat and a rough beaver with a black feather, black velvet breeches and waistcoat, top-boots, and a plain cravat of Frisian needlework. ”

“ John de Witt rose in agitation.
“I think of your safety ... let us get out of the Hague——”
“Not banished, and dishonoured,” said Cornelius firmly; “and ruined too. They have taken all my offices and dignities from me, and ordered me to pay the costs of the trial. Shall I go to my children a useless, degraded man?”
“Ah, Cornelius, but you cherish a vain dream when you imagine that the Grand Council can or will do you justice. I wish to save your life—for that is all that we can save.” ”

“ He saw a slight man with a hooked nose, a thin mouth, and a stooping figure, dressed richly but carelessly in prune-coloured velvet. He held his hands behind him, and regarded his visitor with large, intelligent brown eyes.
“You are from M. Fagel?”
“Yes, Mynheer.”
Florent felt weary and unreasonably depressed. The incongruity with his feelings of the neat farmhouse parlour, furnished with curtains and hangings of blue-and-white checked stuff, its bright pictures and highly polished furniture, its white glazed hearth and tiled floor, gave him unreasonable annoyance. ”

“ Florent, motionless in the outer shadows, stared at him in an enthralled amazement.
“Mynheer, you used to tell me that my ancestors had been [450] heroes—that God had appointed them to guard His faith.... I want to do as they did.... I want to save the country and the Reformed religion.... The odds are fearful ... no one understands, not even Bentinck.”
The suppressed emotion of years strove to express itself; but long silence had put it well-nigh beyond expression. William, speaking to the man to whom he had given his rare love, had to force the very soul of him into words. ”

“ Well, I served it, I have fallen, I have failed—I have been repaid with hate where I worked for love—but I will never be the tool of the Prince who has destroyed my work, nor help the people set a yoke again upon their necks.”
“Mynheer, you talk rashly—we are as free as ever we were.”
John de Witt’s eyes flashed.
“You deceive yourself. You have put at the head of the State a young man with a temper as imperious as any of his House—a Stewart for pride, a Nassau for firmness. Were we free in the days of Prince Maurice? We shall not be free under this youth. ”

“ He has become of late impatient if every hour does not bring a fresh triumph....
My lord Monmouth steps the minuet as well as he wrestles or runs; he dances till the moon sets.
There is much talk of the coming conquest, of the balls to be held in the Orange Saloon, and in the winter on the ice—a novelty!
His Majesty will return to Saint Germains after his entry into the Hague; but he will come back in the winter for these new festivities.
Tales are told of the wealth of Amsterdam. Her meanest streets make the proudest walks of London and of Paris appear paltry; her houses are like palaces. ”

“ A heavy mist of sun-filled vapour lay over the camp at Bodegraven.
The vivid green meadows lay flat to the dun-coloured sky. A white cottage with painted shutters, a vine-covered porch, and a garden full of sweet-peas and roses, poppies and herbs, stood by a clump of alders amid the tents and pickets.
Above it floated the Orange flag. In one of its small rooms the young Stadtholder sat, his elbow on the table, his brow in his hand.
M. de Zuylestein and William Bentinck stood by the open window ”