CHAPTER I. “ILLIAM HENRY, Prince of Orange, was a member of the House of Nassau-the antiquity of which is traced by some historians as far back as the days of Julius Cæsar. Others are content to stop at Count Otho, in the 12th century, whom they regard as founder of the family, because, through his wife, he obtained large possessions in the Low Countries. The immediate ancestors of William Henry are renowned as fathers of the Dutch Republic, and from them he inherited patriotic virtues. He was born in Holland on the 14th of November, 1650-the posthumous son of William II., who had in 1641 married Mary, the eldest daughter of Charles I. of England. He created the fondest hopes, and medals were struck to commemorate his auspicious birth. "Though the orange-tree be fallen down," so ran the Dutch legend in allusion to his father's death, "this noble sprig has been preserved, by Divine care, in the bosom of Mary. Thus the father arises after his death like a phenix in his son. May he grow, may he flourish, and in virtue excel the greatest princes, to the glory and safety of his country." At the age of ten, the youth lost his mother, who died within her native shores in 1660, when on a visit to her brother Charles. The affectionate care of his grandmother could not make up for these bereavements, and this child of sorrow had the further misfortune to be deprived of the hereditary Stadtholdership bestowed on his ancestors by the States General. With the death of his mother came the loss, for a time, of the Principality of Orange, which was unscrupulously seized by Louis XIV., who demolished the fortifications of the town. William's education fell into the hands of the Barneveldt party, headed by the two De Witts, who sought to break down his spirit, and refused him a range of education befitting his rank. Having been brought up in the Stadtholder's Palace at the Hague-which then, as now, uniquely combined, in streams and woods, the quiet rusticity of a village, with the bustle and magnificence of a metropolis - he received a notice to quit his ancestral abode in his seventeenth year, and only retained the favourite residence, by declaring that nothing but force should tear him from its hearth stone. First made Captain and Admiral-General, and then forced by public acclamation into the position of Chief Magistrate when he was but twenty-two-at a time of tremendous peril-he had to bear the yoke in his youth. Nothing indeed could have saved his dominions just then but the magnanimity inspired by memories of his country's heroic struggles with Spain: that magnanimity he expressed in the well-known words, "There is one method which will save me from the sight of my country's ruin: I will die in the last ditch." The man whom I have thus described had from infancy suffered from bad health. Asthma and consumption likely to be increased by the damp atmosphere and EARLY DAYS OF WILLIAM. 3 the unhealthy fogs which float about the Dutch dykesrendered it necessary for him to be propped up in bed, when cruel headaches did not make repose impossible; and soon after reaching manhood, he had to endure a severe attack of that virulent disease-small-pox. Such circumstances did not improve a melancholy temperament. Not naturally unamiable, William, like his countrymen, was grave and taciturn; and amongst his original endowments we notice a judgment unaccompanied by imagination, but with a quick perception and a keen forecast, which made him sensitively alive to the responsibilities and issues of his own career. He saw himself entering a thorny road, which might conduct to prosperity or end in defeat; at any rate, he resolved it should not lead to disgrace. In such circumstances and with such a character, we are not surprised to find him pronounced cold, reserved, and phlegmatic. His lofty forehead, piercing eyes, aquiline nose, and compressed lips, indicated energy of mind and force of will; but attenuated features, delicate limbs, and feeble gait, betrayed the frailty of the framework which encased his soul. People of his disposition at times reveal the existence of tender sensibilities. They form friendships limited in extent, but intense in degree. Nor do sallies of humour fail to sparkle in their sombre lives. William's almost romantic love for Bentinck, who watched him in illness, is generally known. Less noticed is the Prince's power of repartee. One day as he walked in the pleasant gardens of the Hague, the Grand Pensionary praised one of the parterres. "Yes," replied His Highness, "this garden is very fine, but there is too much white in it." The lilies were abundant, but the Pensionary-whose name, De Witt, meant white-perceived at once that William was thinking more of him and of his influence |