FRANCE MOVES
Midway through September and a beautiful day of pure gold the Prince was
riding home through the brown-leaved woods that surrounded his villa.
Contrary to his custom, he rode slowly, and constantly checked his fine
animal, for he was thinking deeply, and those moments when he rode to
and from his house were almost the only time when he was alone and not
under the necessity of speaking to some one. He had just come from the
last of the private sittings of the States, which had given their formal
assent to the gigantic enterprise he meditated. He had now no further
difficulty with his own country. The merchants, exasperated by the
refusal of King Louis to allow herrings and woven goods from Holland
into his country, had stifled opposition to the Prince in Amsterdam. He
had always been sure of the rest of the Provinces, who, after the late
persecutions of Protestants in France, the refusal to allow the Dutch in
that country to retire to Holland, the constant fears they had been
under since King James commenced rebuilding his navy and King Louis
commenced his aggressions in Cologne, looked to the Prince with that
same passionate devotion as they had done in '72, and trusted to him to
save them again from dangers little less pressing; for, the last year
past, Gaspard Fagel had been encouraging this dread of an armed alliance
between France and England which seemed so near consummation and would
be fatal to the very existence of the United Provinces.
It was from abroad came the difficulties that, for the last six months,
had made the Prince's days almost unbearably anxious; and as the time
drew near that anxiety became a lively torture absolutely unguessed at
by those who judged the Prince by his calm, almost cold quiet.
Certainly the Spartan boy with the ferret under his cloak showed no more
heroic fortitude than did the Stadtholder during these weeks of
preparation. Of those who surrounded him perhaps only two, his friend
William Bentinck and Gaspard Fagel, understood his position, and even
these could not share his sufferings, however much they might his
disquietude.
From the allies whom, during the last two years, he had been marshalling
into a league against Louis, there was little to fear, though it
required delicate handling not to offend Catholic potentates such as the
Pope and the Emperor; but from France was fearful and pressing danger,
and England, where eventually success or failure must lie, was a
suspicious quantity to William, who had been tricked and dealt ill with
(though never deceived) by English politics all his life.
If the certain news of his expedition reached James and that monarch
clapt up the Protestant lords and united with Louis in an attack on the
United Provinces, William would have to face another '72 over again, and
with but little better chance of success than he had then; if Louis made
an attack on the frontiers of Brabant or the Spanish Lowlands before the
Prince sailed the States would refuse to allow his departure, and the
moment in England would be lost, perhaps for ever; if, most terrible
alternative of all, he took all the forces of his country, naval and
military, to England, and there met with opposition, delays, even
defeat--if James roused and the English bulk were faithful to him and
Louis seized the opportunity to pour his troops into defenceless Holland
while her ships and men were absent--then the Prince, who loved his
country with a deep and intense passion, would have to accuse himself as
the author of her ruin.
Certainly he was jeopardizing the utmost any man could--the dearest
thing in the world to him, beside which his own life was not even taken
into consideration--and yet the only other course was to risk this same
beloved liberty of his country, not by violent means, but by inaction
and gradual weakening before a stronger power, and this was against all
the teaching of his race, all the experience of his life, his own
imperious temper, and the settled conviction both of his soul and his
intelligence of what was the best, not alone for Holland but for Europe.
As he approached the 'huis ten bosch' he brought his reluctant horse to
a slow walk. M. D'Avaux had done what the Prince had long expected,
requested a private, informal audience, and William had told him that he
should be walking in the garden at the back of his house that afternoon.
As the time for this interview approached the Prince felt a weariness
unutterable at the thought of meeting his enemy; he knew very well what
M. D'Avaux had to say and what his own answers would be, and a smooth
passage at arms with the French Ambassador was the last thing suited to
his present temper.
Day after day he had to listen to, arbitrate among, encourage, check,
guide, and advise the impetuous, arrogant English gathered at The Hague,
and lately joined by men of importance such as my Lord Shrewsbury and my
Lord Manchester, and this, to one of his reserve, was perhaps the most
distasteful side of his task; it left him no leisure even for his one
diversion of hunting, since it filled all the little time left from
business, and begat in him a fatigue that longed for the relaxation of
the unending strain.
He had an almost feverish love of exercise and fresh air, and as he came
within sight of the plain front of his house showing at the end of an
avenue of magnificent trees he stayed his horse altogether and sat still
in the saddle looking about him; three things that he loved dearly,
clear sunshine, pure salt air, and intense quiet beguiled him into
forgetting for a few seconds his deep anxieties.
The atmosphere had that peculiar mellow quality of soft light found only
in the Low Countries; the trees were motionless, and their leaves hung
clear cut from the graceful branches in burning hues of crimson, gold,
and brown; wreaths and twists of fallen leaves lay in the damp cold
grass, and fine brittle twigs scattered over the hard paths where the
frost had made little glittering ridges; the sky was blue, but blue
hazed in gold; a large piece of water reflected the polished trunks of
beeches patched with moss, the twisting red roots of brambles, and the
foxy colour of broken ferns; two swans moved slowly along this lake, and
the water was in sluggish ripples against their dead white breasts;
their feet seemed to stir with difficulty, and they left a clear track
behind, which showed that a thin breath of frost had passed over the
water, dulling the surface.
The man on the horse noticed this, and it brought him back to what was
ever rolling in his thoughts. If this sign of an early and severe
winter was made good, he would have the less to fear for the United
Provinces, since they were almost impossible to invade in the depth of
snow and ice. This was one reason in his choosing this season for his
expedition. As he watched the two silent swans and the film of frost
they displaced, his whole face changed with the intensity of his
thought; he straightened in the saddle and clutched the reins tightly in
his thickly gloved hands; before the frosts had ceased and the waters
were running free in spring he would deal with France on equal terms or
be dead in the endeavour.
Heated by the wave of inner exaltation that shook him he lightly touched
his great grey horse and took the avenue at a gallop, drew rein at the
villa steps, and blew a little whistle he carried. When the groom came
he dismounted, and entering the private garden by the door in the wall
to the right of the house walked slowly to the covered alley where he
had promised to meet M. D'Avaux.
The garden had the same stillness as the wood; the late chilled roses
hung motionless on their stems, the curious agave plants and Italian
laurels were stiff against the wall, a deep border of St. Michael's
daisies showed a hard colour of purple about the three steps of the
sundial and the flat basin where the fat carp shook golden gleams under
the curling withering water-lily leaves.
As the Prince turned into the walk at the end of the garden, shaded
overhead with ilex trees and edged with a glossy border of box, he saw
the Frenchman pacing the sunless path.
William touched his hat and the Ambassador bowed. The Prince's sharp
glance detected that he was something out of countenance.
"I wonder, M. D'Avaux, what you can have to say to me."
"Yet Your Highness is well able to guess," de Avaux answered, with the
air of a compliment.
William looked at him again; he detested all Frenchmen, and since the
day when, a grave child of eleven and a state prisoner, he had sat
sternly in his coach in the Voorhout, and refused to yield precedence to
M. D'Estrees, he had especially hated the French envoys to the States,
who had always been, in the truest sense, his enemies; the only thing
that softened him to M. D'Avaux was that diplomat's cleverness. The
Prince, who loved a worthy antagonist, admired him for his real wit and
skill in the long and bitter game that had been played between them;
nevertheless, there was, in the full bright glance he cast on him, a
quality that his antagonist did not mistake.
"I fear," added the Ambassador, "that I do not find Your Highness very
well disposed towards me."
"This is matter of business, is it not, Monsieur?" answered the Prince.
"When you have opened your subject I will discover my disposition to
it."
They were walking up and down the long walk; the thick gold sunshine
slipped through the ilex branches and flickered on the Frenchman's black
satins and the Prince's heavy fur-edged cloak. M. D'Avaux held his hat
in his hand, but the Prince still wore his brown beaver.
"I am very sorry," said the Frenchman, in his quiet, pleasant manner,
but with obvious indication of the concern he was under, "that I have
had so few opportunities of assuring you in what esteem my master
holdeth Your Highness----"
William made no reply.
"These are no idle words," continued M. D'Avaux, fingering the black
curls of his peruke on his breast. "Despite all unfortunate
differences, His Majesty hath, as all Europe, a great admiration for the
courage, wisdom, and address of Your Highness----"
"Is it not rather late for these compliments, M. D'Avaux?"
"There is an object in them, Monseigneur," answered the Ambassador; "for
in consequence of the feeling of His Majesty to Your Highness I am
speaking to you now instead of to the States."
"Ah," said William. He switched at the box hedge with his short
riding-whip. "Do you not, Monsieur, consider myself and the States as
one?"
"History, Monseigneur, showeth that the House of Orange and the United
Provinces have not always been of the same sentiments and design."
"They are so, however, now, Monsieur," answered the Prince dryly; "and
whatever your business, you may put it before myself or the States,
whichever you choose."
M. D'Avaux bit his lip; he read in William's curt words a reminder that
he was absolute with the States and more confident than ever of his
power over them; he was nettled into a colder tone.
"Yet I think that Your Highness would rather hear me than let me take my
message to Their High Mightinesses."
William coughed. His cloak was fur-lined, but he constantly shivered;
the shade, even of a September day, was hateful to him.
"Come into the sun," he said, and turned out of the alley into the
clear-lit garden. They walked slowly towards the sundial and the carp
basin, M. D'Avaux prodding the hard gravel with his cane and the Prince
with his switch under his arm.
"Well, your business," said William calmly.
"Monseigneur," replied M. D'Avaux, with sincerity and some earnestness,
"I think that you are embarked on a dangerous enterprise."
"The French say so," answered the Prince. "I have been told of the most
extraordinary reports in your gazettes and pamphlets."
"I do not obtain my information from gazettes and pamphlets, Your
Highness," answered the Ambassador firmly, "but from more reliable
sources."
William paused by the carp pond and the bed of violet daisies.
"What is your information?" he asked.
"The last which Your Highness would wish in the hands of France."
"You seem to think, Monsieur," said William, with the shadow of a smile,
"that I am an enemy of His Majesty."
He was not looking at the Frenchman, but down at the bed of daisies that
he stirred gently with his whip as he spoke. M. D'Avaux looked sharply
at his haughty aquiline profile, and answered with a quickening of the
breath--
"His Majesty cannot forget what you said at your table a year ago,
Monseigneur. You said, Your Highness, when you heard that His Majesty
had seized and dismantled Orange on the claim of the House of
Longueville, that you would teach him what it was to insult a Prince of
Orange, and you refused to retract or explain the words."
"His Majesty," replied William, "hath neither retracted nor explained
the deed."
"Your Highness has often repeated those words."
The Prince lifted his brilliant eyes.
"I shall repeat them again, Monsieur," he said, in his strained low
voice, "and again until I obtain satisfaction."
He saw that M. D'Avaux had made the allusion to humiliate him, and
though there was no sign of it in his countenance the shaft had told,
for the insulting seizure of his personal princely apanage, for which he
had been powerless to avenge himself, had been the hardest to bear of
all the insolences of France, and the revenues had been a real loss.
"You see," bowed M. D'Avaux, "that we have some reason to believe Your
Highness the enemy of France."
The Prince continued to look at him steadily.
"His Christian Majesty is very interested in my affairs," he said.
"It is the affairs of King James," returned the Frenchman, with some
grandeur, "that my master is interested in----"
"How doth that touch the States?"
"It toucheth Your Highness, for we believe that you make preparations to
lead an armament against His Britannic Majesty."
William lowered his eyes almost disdainfully.
"I perceive," he said, "that you do get your information from the
gazettes after all----"
"No," answered M. D'Avaux softly. "I will tell Your Highness where I
get my information. You know of one Verace, of Geneva?"
The Prince's whip still stirred leisurely among the daisies.
"He was steward once to the Princess and dismissed."
"As early as August, Monseigneur, this Verace wrote to M. Skelton giving
information of the intrigues of Your Highness, the Princess, and M.
Bentinck."
He watched the effect of his shaft, but the Prince was unmoved.
"You might as well quote the gazettes, Monsieur," he said.
"These letters, Your Highness, were sent by M. Skelton to my Lord
Sunderland," replied M. D'Avaux, "and he took no heed of them--we have
reason to believe that they never reached the King."
William answered dryly--
"None of this is very interesting, Monsieur. You have had the
assurances of M. Van Citters in London, of M. Castagnana, King James
himself is content, M. D'Albeville is content, and it is not for France
to take this part of interfering on the information of cast-off
servants."
"I have had other news from Rome," said M. D'Avaux coldly, "of the
intrigues of Your Highness with the Vatican. Your Highness, methinks,
knoweth something of some letters which went in to the Pope in a basket
of wax fruit."
William gave him a quick glance.
"Take these advices to the court of England, which they concern,
Monsieur."
"Your Highness is very well aware that all the foreign intelligence that
goeth to England is under the control of M. de Sunderland--who is your
very good friend."
The Prince faintly smiled.
"I thought M. de Sunderland was believed the very good friend of
France."
"He may," said M. D'Avaux, rather hotly, "deceive M. Barillon, but he
doth not deceive me."
"It is unfortunate," remarked the Prince, "that you are not Ambassador
to London. I think your abilities wasted here, Monsieur."
"I thank Your Highness." He bowed grandly. "Such as my talents are, I
find scope for them at The Hague--I only regret that my confrere is no
longer M. Skelton."
He said this knowing that Mr. Skelton was detested by the Prince, who
had made his residence in Holland unendurable to him. The dislike was
returned by the Englishman, who was the close ally of M. D'Avaux in the
attempt to expose and ruin the plans of William. William, however, had
triumphed in ousting Skelton from The Hague, and his successor,
D'Albeville, was, as M. D'Avaux knew to his vexation, a mean creature
that no one could long depend on.
"Mr. Skelton," said the Prince, "is no doubt extremely useful in Paris.
And I must ask you, Monsieur, to let me know the true object of this
audience, which was not, I think, to discuss these puerile rumours."
The Frenchman flushed; he had always found the Prince difficult to come
to conclusions with. William had a short, flashing way of scorn, an
inscrutable calm, that even now, when, in his certain knowledge of the
Prince's intended enterprise, M. D'Avaux felt he had the upper hand, was
difficult to face.
M. D'Avaux felt himself, as always, confused and heated; he believed
that the Prince was laughing at him and at France, and a wave of anger
shook him both against the supine James who would not be roused, and his
own government who would not credit half the information he sent home.
He tried that dry directness which his opponent employed with such
effect.
"Your Highness will scarcely deny that you intend a descent on England?"
"I should," answered William, "be a fool if I did not deny it when asked
by you, Monsieur."
M. D'Avaux thrust his cane into the crevices of the stone pedestal of
the sundial.
"Whatever Your Highness may say--I know."
"Ah!" answered William, "but can you prove?"
"To the satisfaction of my own intelligence, Monseigneur," said M.
D'Avaux vigorously. "You cannot suppose that I have been unobservant as
to your measures since the beginning of the year."
William kept his eyes fixed on the carp sluggishly moving round the
fountain basin.
"It would interest me, M. D'Avaux," he said, "to hear what you have
discovered of these measures of mine."
"You shall hear, Monseigneur." The Frenchman spoke as one spurred and
goaded. "For one thing, I know that you obtained four million guilden
from the States for repairing the fortifications of Brabant--that this
money was to be payable in four years, and you have raised it in one.
Your Highness hath the money, and the forts are untouched."
William was silent.
"Another public fund of equal value you have diverted from its proper
use; you have farmed out the revenues of the Admiralty, and this, with
your own great fortune, maketh Your Highness master of a huge
treasure--apart from the money you are constantly raising among the
French and English refugees. For what purpose is all this wealth
intended?"
"You say you know," replied William, without looking up. "And, my faith,
what kind of an answer can you expect from me?"
"Your Highness can give no good reason."
"None of any sort, to you, on any part of my conduct," said the Prince
coldly. "You already overstep your province."
Pale, but firm, M. D'Avaux stood his ground.
"I do not overstep my duty to my master if I ask why Your Highness
persuaded the States to build forty new ships of war, and secretly added
twelve by your own authority--why these ships were sent publicly to
remote stations and secretly brought back--why a great army is encamped
at Nymwegen--why M. Bentinck is so continually closeted with the Elector
and Your Highness with the States, the German Princes, the Landgrave of
Hesse and M. Castagnana--why seven thousand Swedish mercenaries have
been hired, and a huge number of Dutch soldiers and sailors secretly
raised and privately drilled?"
The Prince turned his back to the sundial, so that he faced the
Ambassador; his hands, clasped behind him, held his riding-whip; his
face was inscrutable.
"Well, what else?" he asked dryly.
"Only this, that Your Highness and your creatures may deceive the King
of England into thinking it is against Denmark and the Corsairs that all
these preparations are being made, but you cannot so deceive the King of
France."
"And yet," returned the Prince, "I thought His Majesty gave but a cold
attention to your alarms."
This, accompanied by a pointed smile, told M. D'Avaux that William was
quite well aware that it had not been so easy to rouse Louis to a sense
of his danger. The Frenchman bit his lip; he had a master-stroke in
reserve.
"Your Highness is a very able Prince," he said, on an oblique line of
attack, "but my master pays well and is well served. I know who, under
so many different names and pretences, purchaseth and hireth transport
boats in so many different ports; I know who ordereth the bakers of
Amsterdam to make biscuit, the saddlers to make bridles and saddles--why
all the artillery is leaving the towns and coming down to the
coasts--why magazines of hay are waiting in all the seaports, and why
English noblemen are living furtively at The Hague."
He paused and looked narrowly at the Stadtholder, who, he was confident,
must be taken aback at this knowledge of his plans; but the Prince was
so immovable that the wild thought occurred to M. D'Avaux--is it really
Denmark or his own country, as King James contends?
"I cannot conceive why you come to me with this," said William.
"To warn you, Monseigneur."
"Of what?" flashed the Prince.
"Of France," answered M. D'Avaux impressively.
William drew a deep breath.
"You should know better than to seek to frighten me, M. D'Avaux. I am
not by nature timorous."
"I warn Your Highness," repeated the Ambassador. "I remind you that you
are not a sovereign Prince."
"I rule a sovereign state, Monsieur."
"The first magistrate of a republic, Monseigneur, cannot behave as a
king. Since Your Highness will give me no satisfaction, I shall go to
the States."
"You will do as you wish," answered William; "but you are, nevertheless,
perfectly well aware that I rule the States."
M. D'Avaux bowed.
"Give me credit for that discernment--the card I play is not an appeal
from Your Highness to the States----"
"What then?"
The Frenchman moved a little farther back, still in a courtier's
attitude, with his hat in his hand, looking intently at the Prince, who
stood on the steps of the sundial with the violet daisies brushing his
cloak and boots.
"Mr. Skelton hath prevailed on M. de Louvois to command me to say to the
States that there is such friendship between His Majesty and King James
that any attack on Britain would be regarded in the same light as an
attack on France. That," added M. D'Avaux softly, "may make the States
see their interests as different from those of Your Highness."
William gave not the least sign of surprise or confusion.
"So it is Mr. Skelton's advice to endeavour to frighten the States?" he
remarked.
"I shall deliver my message to-morrow," said M. D'Avaux, "and then Your
Highness will see if the States are prepared for an attack--an instant
attack on their frontiers--if they are prepared to allow you and their
whole strength to leave a country which France is menacing. You saved
the Provinces in '72--without you they could not save themselves
now----"
"You must follow out your instructions, Monsieur," said the Prince.
He stepped down from the sundial and looked narrowly at the Ambassador.
"You have nothing more to say?" he added.
"Nothing, Monseigneur, unless Your Highness can give me the assurances I
was bid to ask----"
"What would be the use of that, Monsieur, when you know, as you say,"
returned the Stadtholder.
M. D'Avaux was slightly baffled; he thought that the Prince must betray
more concern unless he had some counter-stroke to this of the threat to
the States.
He answered with dignity--
"Then I need trouble Your Highness no further."
"Very well," answered William. "I am sorry that you have wasted your
time, Monsieur; but I always was of a tolerably positive disposition,
and difficult to turn."
"All Europe knoweth that," answered M. D'Avaux, with a little flush; for
the Prince's words were an obvious assertion of the fact that he would
not alter his plans for any French threats--an obvious challenge.
They walked down the hard gravel path between the beds of late roses.
At the garden gate the Prince parted from M. D'Avaux with that
simplicity which was his natural manner, but generally credited to him
for guile.
"I am obliged to you for this courtesy," he said. "Au revoir,
Monsieur."
"I thank Your Highness," answered M. D'Avaux, with a grand bow.
The Prince closed the gate on him, and went instantly into the house by
the back entrance. And so straight to his private room, where a little
company, consisting of M. Fagel, M. Bentinck, M. Dyckfelt, the envoy of
M. Castagnana, Governor of the Spanish Netherlands, the envoy of the
Elector of Hanover, a Prince of Lunenburgh, and the Landgrave of Hesse
were awaiting him.
They all rose at his entrance. He came swiftly and breathlessly to the
table, flung off his hat, and said--
"Gentlemen, M. D'Avaux knoweth everything--that villain D'Albeville hath
betrayed us. There is a bomb to be dropped to-morrow that is like to
blast us all."