CHAPTER XIV
THE VANGUARD OF THE WORLD
Again the trees were yellowing in the splendid park at Loo; again theautumn sun fell tenderly over the Palace and the stiff beds of lateroses.
William of England and Monsieur Heinsius were standing by the sundial,which was the centre of formal walks and exact parterres.
They were discussing the progress of that endeavour the King had sethimself nearly a year ago, when he learnt of Louis's breaking of thePartition Treaty--a year of toil, of patience, of skill, of tact, ofsacrifice on the part of William; and it had met with success. Even theEnglish Parliament had not been able to resist his exquisite management.Meanwhile he was quietly forming the Grand Alliance and feeling his wayto hurl the inevitable challenge at France.
He was leaning now on a thick polished malacca cane, with a gold andivory handle, from which swung two heavy crimson tassels, and listeningto the Grand Pensionary of Holland, who had been in everything theperfect friend, the perfect servant.
"We can do no more," M. Heinsius was saying; "the States are inreadiness. We must wait for England."
"I have been doing that," answered William, "all my life." And hesighed a little, though not with discouragement. There had of late beenevery sign that the temper of the English was changing. They began tomurmur at the Parliament and its constant thwarting of the King. Louishad been, as usual, insolent in his triumph, and British pride began torise at French insults. William had waited with infinite patience,worked with infinite skill. He still waited and still worked, but witha sure hope of success. Louis, in the infatuation of his success, mighteasily commit some arrogant action that would inflame the people ofEngland beyond the control of any faction-ridden Commons.
William took out his crystal and gold filigree watch and set it by thesundial. The sky, the trees, the walks and groves, the stately lines ofthe Palace, were all radiant in an amber-coloured light. The breeze waswarm as mid-summer, and lifted the leaves with a pleasant sound. TheKing raised his eyes to the peaceful autumn beauty, and there was a lookin them that was never absent when he was in his own country--anunconscious expression of the deep passion he felt for his own land, forthe very air of it, the very grass and trees and clouds.
Presently he and M. Heinsius went into the house. Some German princeswere to dine with the King. All his Dutch friends were there also (saveonly Portland), and it seemed like the old days again when theStadtholder would escape for a few days' hunt to Guelders--when he wasyoung and everything was yet to do.
Albemarle, lately invested with the garter, and radiant under hissplendours and in the satisfaction of great abilities finding scope, hadnewly come from London, and during the meal William questioned him onthe state of parties there. His answers were satisfactory: the men ofKent had lately sent a stern memorial to the Parliament, requesting themto give up their internal quarrels and aid the King in helping hisallies in a fitting manner to resist French dominion in Europe.
The King spoke affectionately and gratefully to Albemarle; then leantback in his chair, and was, after his habit, silent.
His reserve had grown on him more and more of late; he scarcely spoke atall save to his intimates, and saw only those when he was obliged.
Towards the end of the long dinner he roused himself, and, leaningtowards M. Heinsius, who sat on his right, said a curious thing.
It was--"Do you think Monsieur de Witt would be proud of his pupil now?"
M. Heinsius could find no answer.
"He was about the age I am now when he met his end," continued William,in a quiet tone. "After all, he had a happier life than I have had ...Monsieur de Witt! How long ago it seemeth!"
He filled his glass, and lifted it as if he drank a silent toast. Helooked down the rich table and the splendid guests and up at theportrait of his wife above the dark chimney-piece.
A full ray of dusky sunlight struck across the canvas and gave thepainted face something of the glow and bloom of life. The large browneyes seemed to sparkle, the red lips to move, the white breast to heave.The King was still looking straight at this picture when a messengerentered.
At a glance William saw that his dispatches were from England andFrance. He set the wine down, and broke open that from London.
M. Heinsius, intently watching him, saw his countenance change, aviolent flush rise to his cheek, and his hands tremble.
He pulled his hat over his eyes to cover his emotion, and nervously toreopen the French dispatch. M. Heinsius saw that this was in the hand ofmy Lord Manchester, English Ambassador in Paris.
When the King had read it he was composed again, but even paler thanusual. He folded both the letters up and placed them in the huge flappocket of his coat; then he cast his dimmed but still eagle eye roundthe table.
"Gentlemen," he said, in a firm voice, "His late Majesty King James isdead at St. Germains."
He pushed back his chair a little and drew a quick breath.
"And King Louis hath shamelessly outraged us by proclaiming his son, thepretended Prince of Wales, as King of Great Britain."
For a moment the company could not grasp the import of this news: it wastoo monstrous.
"His Christian Majesty hath been foolish before," added William, withgrim meaning; "never, I think, as foolish as this."
"By God!" cried M. Heinsius, "there will be no further difficulty withEngland now!"
The silence broke into murmurs and exclamations. The King took nonotice of them; he was thinking of the meaning of this in Europe. Louishad now broken the Treaty of Ryswyck as he had the Partition Treaties.The result would be instant and inevitable war. Even the peace party inthe English Commons could not hang back now...
He turned suddenly to Albemarle.
"Send at once to London that M. Poussin is to leave as quickly as M.Barillon did in '88." He laughed shortly. "This will be the secondtime I have turned a French Ambassador out of London! And Manchestershall be recalled at once." He rose. "Gentlemen," he said, addressingthe eager Dutch and Germans, "this meaneth our third war with France;and this time I think it will be conclusive, and we, not France, be leftthe vanguard of the world."