CHAPTER IX
FRANCE MOVES
Midway through September and a beautiful day of pure gold the Prince wasriding home through the brown-leaved woods that surrounded his villa.Contrary to his custom, he rode slowly, and constantly checked his fineanimal, for he was thinking deeply, and those moments when he rode toand from his house were almost the only time when he was alone and notunder the necessity of speaking to some one. He had just come from thelast of the private sittings of the States, which had given their formalassent to the gigantic enterprise he meditated. He had now no furtherdifficulty with his own country. The merchants, exasperated by therefusal of King Louis to allow herrings and woven goods from Hollandinto his country, had stifled opposition to the Prince in Amsterdam. Hehad always been sure of the rest of the Provinces, who, after the latepersecutions of Protestants in France, the refusal to allow the Dutch inthat country to retire to Holland, the constant fears they had beenunder since King James commenced rebuilding his navy and King Louiscommenced his aggressions in Cologne, looked to the Prince with thatsame passionate devotion as they had done in '72, and trusted to him tosave them again from dangers little less pressing; for, the last yearpast, Gaspard Fagel had been encouraging this dread of an armed alliancebetween France and England which seemed so near consummation and wouldbe 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 timedrew near that anxiety became a lively torture absolutely unguessed atby those who judged the Prince by his calm, almost cold quiet.Certainly the Spartan boy with the ferret under his cloak showed no moreheroic fortitude than did the Stadtholder during these weeks ofpreparation. Of those who surrounded him perhaps only two, his friendWilliam Bentinck and Gaspard Fagel, understood his position, and eventhese could not share his sufferings, however much they might hisdisquietude.
From the allies whom, during the last two years, he had been marshallinginto a league against Louis, there was little to fear, though itrequired delicate handling not to offend Catholic potentates such as thePope and the Emperor; but from France was fearful and pressing danger,and England, where eventually success or failure must lie, was asuspicious 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 monarchclapt up the Protestant lords and united with Louis in an attack on theUnited Provinces, William would have to face another '72 over again, andwith but little better chance of success than he had then; if Louis madean attack on the frontiers of Brabant or the Spanish Lowlands before thePrince sailed the States would refuse to allow his departure, and themoment in England would be lost, perhaps for ever; if, most terriblealternative of all, he took all the forces of his country, naval andmilitary, to England, and there met with opposition, delays, evendefeat--if James roused and the English bulk were faithful to him andLouis seized the opportunity to pour his troops into defenceless Hollandwhile her ships and men were absent--then the Prince, who loved hiscountry with a deep and intense passion, would have to accuse himself asthe author of her ruin.
Certainly he was jeopardizing the utmost any man could--the dearestthing in the world to him, beside which his own life was not even takeninto consideration--and yet the only other course was to risk this samebeloved liberty of his country, not by violent means, but by inactionand gradual weakening before a stronger power, and this was against allthe teaching of his race, all the experience of his life, his ownimperious temper, and the settled conviction both of his soul and hisintelligence of what was the best, not alone for Holland but for Europe.
As he approached the 'huis ten bosch' he brought his reluctant horse toa slow walk. M. D'Avaux had done what the Prince had long expected,requested a private, informal audience, and William had told him that heshould be walking in the garden at the back of his house that afternoon.As the time for this interview approached the Prince felt a wearinessunutterable at the thought of meeting his enemy; he knew very well whatM. D'Avaux had to say and what his own answers would be, and a smoothpassage at arms with the French Ambassador was the last thing suited tohis 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 myLord Manchester, and this, to one of his reserve, was perhaps the mostdistasteful side of his task; it left him no leisure even for his onediversion of hunting, since it filled all the little time left frombusiness, and begat in him a fatigue that longed for the relaxation ofthe unending strain.
He had an almost feverish love of exercise and fresh air, and as he camewithin sight of the plain front of his house showing at the end of anavenue of magnificent trees he stayed his horse altogether and sat stillin the saddle looking about him; three things that he loved dearly,clear sunshine, pure salt air, and intense quiet beguiled him intoforgetting for a few seconds his deep anxieties.
The atmosphere had that peculiar mellow quality of soft light found onlyin the Low Countries; the trees were motionless, and their leaves hungclear cut from the graceful branches in burning hues of crimson, gold,and brown; wreaths and twists of fallen leaves lay in the damp coldgrass, and fine brittle twigs scattered over the hard paths where thefrost had made little glittering ridges; the sky was blue, but bluehazed in gold; a large piece of water reflected the polished trunks ofbeeches patched with moss, the twisting red roots of brambles, and thefoxy colour of broken ferns; two swans moved slowly along this lake, andthe water was in sluggish ripples against their dead white breasts;their feet seemed to stir with difficulty, and they left a clear trackbehind, which showed that a thin breath of frost had passed over thewater, dulling the surface.
The man on the horse noticed this, and it brought him back to what wasever rolling in his thoughts. If this sign of an early and severewinter was made good, he would have the less to fear for the UnitedProvinces, since they were almost impossible to invade in the depth ofsnow and ice. This was one reason in his choosing this season for hisexpedition. As he watched the two silent swans and the film of frostthey displaced, his whole face changed with the intensity of histhought; he straightened in the saddle and clutched the reins tightly inhis thickly gloved hands; before the frosts had ceased and the waterswere running free in spring he would deal with France on equal terms orbe dead in the endeavour.
Heated by the wave of inner exaltation that shook him he lightly touchedhis great grey horse and took the avenue at a gallop, drew rein at thevilla steps, and blew a little whistle he carried. When the groom camehe dismounted, and entering the private garden by the door in the wallto the right of the house walked slowly to the covered alley where hehad promised to meet M. D'Avaux.
The garden had the same stillness as the wood; the late chilled roseshung motionless on their stems, the curious agave plants and Italianlaurels were stiff against the wall, a deep border of St. Michael'sdaisies showed a hard colour of purple about the three steps of thesundial and the flat basin where the fat carp shook golden gleams underthe curling withering water-lily leaves.
As the Prince turned into the walk at the end of the garden, shadedoverhead with ilex trees and edged with a glossy border of box, he sawthe Frenchman pacing the sunless path.
William touched his hat and the Ambassador bowed. The Prince's sharpglance 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 theair of a compliment.
William looked at him again; he detested all Frenchmen, and since theday when, a grave child of eleven and a state prisoner, he had satsternly in his coach in the Voorhout, and refused to yield precedence toM. D'Estrees, he had especially h
ated the French envoys to the States,who had always been, in the truest sense, his enemies; the only thingthat softened him to M. D'Avaux was that diplomat's cleverness. ThePrince, who loved a worthy antagonist, admired him for his real wit andskill in the long and bitter game that had been played between them;nevertheless, there was, in the full bright glance he cast on him, aquality that his antagonist did not mistake.
"I fear," added the Ambassador, "that I do not find Your Highness verywell 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 toit."
They were walking up and down the long walk; the thick gold sunshineslipped through the ilex branches and flickered on the Frenchman's blacksatins and the Prince's heavy fur-edged cloak. M. D'Avaux held his hatin 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 havehad so few opportunities of assuring you in what esteem my masterholdeth Your Highness----"
William made no reply.
"These are no idle words," continued M. D'Avaux, fingering the blackcurls of his peruke on his breast. "Despite all unfortunatedifferences, His Majesty hath, as all Europe, a great admiration for thecourage, 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; "forin consequence of the feeling of His Majesty to Your Highness I amspeaking to you now instead of to the States."
"Ah," said William. He switched at the box hedge with his shortriding-whip. "Do you not, Monsieur, consider myself and the States asone?"
"History, Monseigneur, showeth that the House of Orange and the UnitedProvinces have not always been of the same sentiments and design."
"They are so, however, now, Monsieur," answered the Prince dryly; "andwhatever 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 thathe was absolute with the States and more confident than ever of hispower over them; he was nettled into a colder tone.
"Yet I think that Your Highness would rather hear me than let me take mymessage 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 theclear-lit garden. They walked slowly towards the sundial and the carpbasin, M. D'Avaux prodding the hard gravel with his cane and the Princewith 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 mostextraordinary reports in your gazettes and pamphlets."
"I do not obtain my information from gazettes and pamphlets, YourHighness," answered the Ambassador firmly, "but from more reliablesources."
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 thathe stirred gently with his whip as he spoke. M. D'Avaux looked sharplyat his haughty aquiline profile, and answered with a quickening of thebreath--
"His Majesty cannot forget what you said at your table a year ago,Monseigneur. You said, Your Highness, when you heard that His Majestyhad seized and dismantled Orange on the claim of the House ofLongueville, that you would teach him what it was to insult a Prince ofOrange, and you refused to retract or explain the words."
"His Majesty," replied William, "hath neither retracted nor explainedthe 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 lowvoice, "and again until I obtain satisfaction."
He saw that M. D'Avaux had made the allusion to humiliate him, andthough there was no sign of it in his countenance the shaft had told,for the insulting seizure of his personal princely apanage, for which hehad been powerless to avenge himself, had been the hardest to bear ofall 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 YourHighness 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 somegrandeur, "that my master is interested in----"
"How doth that touch the States?"
"It toucheth Your Highness, for we believe that you make preparations tolead an armament against His Britannic Majesty."
William lowered his eyes almost disdainfully.
"I perceive," he said, "that you do get your information from thegazettes after all----"
"No," answered M. D'Avaux softly. "I will tell Your Highness where Iget 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 givinginformation 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 LordSunderland," replied M. D'Avaux, "and he took no heed of them--we havereason to believe that they never reached the King."
William answered dryly--
"None of this is very interesting, Monsieur. You have had theassurances of M. Van Citters in London, of M. Castagnana, King Jameshimself is content, M. D'Albeville is content, and it is not for Franceto take this part of interfering on the information of cast-offservants."
"I have had other news from Rome," said M. D'Avaux coldly, "of theintrigues of Your Highness with the Vatican. Your Highness, methinks,knoweth something of some letters which went in to the Pope in a basketof 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 thatgoeth to England is under the control of M. de Sunderland--who is yourvery good friend."
The Prince faintly smiled.
"I thought M. de Sunderland was believed the very good friend ofFrance."
"He may," said M. D'Avaux, rather hotly, "deceive M. Barillon, but hedoth not deceive me."
"It is unfortunate," remarked the Prince, "that you are not Ambassadorto London. I think your abilities wasted here, Monsieur."
"I thank Your Highness." He bowed grandly. "Such as my talents are, Ifind scope for them at The Hague--I only regret that my confrere is nolonger M. Skelton."
He said this knowing that Mr. Skelton was detested by the Prince, whohad made his residence in Holland unendurable to him. The dislike wasreturned by the Englishman, who was the close ally of M. D'Avaux in theattempt to expose and ruin the plans of William. William, however, hadtriumphed in ousting Skelton from The Hague, and his successor,D'Albeville, was, as M. D'Avaux knew to his vexation, a mean creaturethat 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 thisaudience, which was not, I think, to discuss t
hese puerile rumours."
The Frenchman flushed; he had always found the Prince difficult to cometo conclusions with. William had a short, flashing way of scorn, aninscrutable calm, that even now, when, in his certain knowledge of thePrince's intended enterprise, M. D'Avaux felt he had the upper hand, wasdifficult to face.
M. D'Avaux felt himself, as always, confused and heated; he believedthat the Prince was laughing at him and at France, and a wave of angershook him both against the supine James who would not be roused, and hisown government who would not credit half the information he sent home.He tried that dry directness which his opponent employed with sucheffect.
"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 askedby you, Monsieur."
M. D'Avaux thrust his cane into the crevices of the stone pedestal ofthe 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 asto your measures since the beginning of the year."
William kept his eyes fixed on the carp sluggishly moving round thefountain basin.
"It would interest me, M. D'Avaux," he said, "to hear what you havediscovered of these measures of mine."
"You shall hear, Monseigneur." The Frenchman spoke as one spurred andgoaded. "For one thing, I know that you obtained four million guildenfrom the States for repairing the fortifications of Brabant--that thismoney 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 properuse; you have farmed out the revenues of the Admiralty, and this, withyour own great fortune, maketh Your Highness master of a hugetreasure--apart from the money you are constantly raising among theFrench and English refugees. For what purpose is all this wealthintended?"
"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 Princecoldly. "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 Highnesspersuaded the States to build forty new ships of war, and secretly addedtwelve by your own authority--why these ships were sent publicly toremote stations and secretly brought back--why a great army is encampedat Nymwegen--why M. Bentinck is so continually closeted with the Electorand Your Highness with the States, the German Princes, the Landgrave ofHesse and M. Castagnana--why seven thousand Swedish mercenaries havebeen hired, and a huge number of Dutch soldiers and sailors secretlyraised and privately drilled?"
The Prince turned his back to the sundial, so that he faced theAmbassador; his hands, clasped behind him, held his riding-whip; hisface was inscrutable.
"Well, what else?" he asked dryly.
"Only this, that Your Highness and your creatures may deceive the Kingof England into thinking it is against Denmark and the Corsairs that allthese preparations are being made, but you cannot so deceive the King ofFrance."
"And yet," returned the Prince, "I thought His Majesty gave but a coldattention to your alarms."
This, accompanied by a pointed smile, told M. D'Avaux that William wasquite well aware that it had not been so easy to rouse Louis to a senseof his danger. The Frenchman bit his lip; he had a master-stroke inreserve.
"Your Highness is a very able Prince," he said, on an oblique line ofattack, "but my master pays well and is well served. I know who, underso many different names and pretences, purchaseth and hireth transportboats in so many different ports; I know who ordereth the bakers ofAmsterdam to make biscuit, the saddlers to make bridles and saddles--whyall the artillery is leaving the towns and coming down to thecoasts--why magazines of hay are waiting in all the seaports, and whyEnglish 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 wasso immovable that the wild thought occurred to M. D'Avaux--is it reallyDenmark 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 amnot by nature timorous."
"I warn Your Highness," repeated the Ambassador. "I remind you that youare not a sovereign Prince."
"I rule a sovereign state, Monsieur."
"The first magistrate of a republic, Monseigneur, cannot behave as aking. Since Your Highness will give me no satisfaction, I shall go tothe 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 appealfrom Your Highness to the States----"
"What then?"
The Frenchman moved a little farther back, still in a courtier'sattitude, with his hat in his hand, looking intently at the Prince, whostood on the steps of the sundial with the violet daisies brushing hiscloak and boots.
"Mr. Skelton hath prevailed on M. de Louvois to command me to say to theStates that there is such friendship between His Majesty and King Jamesthat any attack on Britain would be regarded in the same light as anattack on France. That," added M. D'Avaux softly, "may make the Statessee 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?" heremarked.
"I shall deliver my message to-morrow," said M. D'Avaux, "and then YourHighness will see if the States are prepared for an attack--an instantattack on their frontiers--if they are prepared to allow you and theirwhole strength to leave a country which France is menacing. You savedthe Provinces in '72--without you they could not save themselvesnow----"
"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 Iwas 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 betraymore concern unless he had some counter-stroke to this of the threat tothe States.
He answered with dignity--
"Then I need trouble Your Highness no further."
"Very well," answered William. "I am sorry that you have wasted yourtime, 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; forthe Prince's words were an obvious assertion of the fact that he wouldnot 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 thatsimplicity which was his natural manner, but generally credited to himfor 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 bythe back entrance. And so straight to his private room, where a littlecompany, consisting of M. Fagel, M.
Bentinck, M. Dyckfelt, the envoy ofM. Castagnana, Governor of the Spanish Netherlands, the envoy of theElector of Hanover, a Prince of Lunenburgh, and the Landgrave of Hessewere awaiting him.
They all rose at his entrance. He came swiftly and breathlessly to thetable, flung off his hat, and said--
"Gentlemen, M. D'Avaux knoweth everything--that villain D'Albeville hathbetrayed us. There is a bomb to be dropped to-morrow that is like toblast us all."
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