The Loves of Charles II (134 page)

Charles was now very anxious. He did not believe that his subjects would continue to support the war. He knew that he must act. Louis had taken possession of large tracts of Holland and had even set up a Court at Utrecht;
but Charles saw very clearly that, once he had beaten the Dutch, Louis would look for fresh conquests and that he would try to make his pensioner Charles, his slave.

He therefore planned to make a separate peace with Holland, doing all in his power to make them accept terms which would not displease Louis.

William of Orange was, after all, his nephew, and it was wrong, he declared, that there should be strife between them.

He decided to send two emissaries to Holland to sound young William; and he chose Arlington, one of the most able members of the Cabal, and the ebullient Buckingham of whom he still had great hopes. Moreover he wished to compensate poor George for his churlish refusal to allow him to take the troop abroad as its commander-in-chief.

He felt sure that twenty-year-old William would be ready enough to make peace on his terms. He did not ask a great deal; he wanted recognition of England’s claim to be saluted by all ships of any other nation; he wanted a subsidy of £200,000 for the cost of the war, he would ask for the control of the ports Sluys, Flushing, and Brill; a subsidy for herring fishing; new arrangements regarding English and Dutch trade in the East Indies; time enough for the English planters in Surinam to sell their effects and retire; and as William was his nephew he would help him to enjoy favorable conditions in his own country.

Buckingham, ever ready to undertake some new venture, was delighted to convey these terms to Orange.

He landed in Holland, the benign peacemaker, and he and Arlington were greeted with expressions of joy by the people, for these two were the Protestant members of the Cabal, and the Dutch had hopes that they were in truth on their side. Monmouth joined them, and all knew that the King’s natural son was a staunch Protestant even if only because his uncle, the heir presumptive to the throne, was suspected of Catholicism.

But the Princess-Dowager, Amalia, who was William’s grandmother and had always been a power in the land, did not trust the English emissaries, and she made this clear.

Arlington’s exuberance was quelled; Monmouth was silent; but Buckingham sought to assure her of their goodwill.

“We are good Hollanders, Your Highness,” he told the Princess.

She answered: “We would not ask so much of you, my lord Duke. We would only expect you to be good Englishmen.”

“Ah!” cried the irrepressible Buckingham. “We are not only good Englishmen but good Dutchmen. We do not use Holland like a mistress but like a wife.”

“Truly,” said the Princess, “I think you use Holland just as you do your wife.”

Buckingham could say nothing to that; he knew that she had heard that when he brought his mistress, Anna Shrewsbury, to his wife, and that poor wronged lady had protested that there was not room for her and Anna under the same roof, he had replied: “
I
had thought that, Madam. Therefore I have ordered your carriage.”

He felt therefore that he could not hope for a quick capitulation by the Princess, so he sought out young William over whom he imagined he would have an easy victory.

He remembered that it was in his apartments that William had become drunk during his stay in London. He remembered how difficult it had been to make the young man drink, for his opinions of wine seemed to be the same as those he had of gambling and the play; but he had managed it, and what fun it had been to see the solemn young Hollander smash the windows to get at the maids of honor! No! He did not foresee any great difficulty with young William.

“I rejoice to see Your Highness is in such good health,” cried Buckingham, and went on to tell William that the King of France had seen the terms set out by the King of England and agreed that, as Holland was a conquered country, they were fair indeed. “It is because of your uncle’s fondness for his sister who was your mother. His Majesty remembers that he promised his sister to keep an eye upon you. It is for this reason that, even though your country is a conquered one, His Majesty of England will insist that you shall be acclaimed King of Holland.”

This young man was quite different from the youth who had tried to storm the dormitory of the maids of honor. His cold face was alight with determination to drive the conquerors from his ravaged country.

He said coolly: “I prefer to remain Stadtholder, a condition which the States have bestowed upon me; and I—and all Dutchmen—do not consider we are a conquered people.”

“Your Highness would suffer not at all. You would be proclaimed King and accepted as such by France and England.”

“I believe myself bound in conscience and honor not to prefer my interests to my obligations.” The two Dutch statesmen who had accompanied him, Beverling and Van Beuning, nodded gravely, and William went on: “The English should be our allies against the French. Our countries are of one religion. What good would England reap were Holland to be made merely a province of France, myself a puppet—as I should certainly be—the French King’s puppet? Picture it, my friends. Holland ruled by Louis
through me. What is Louis looking for? Conquest. Why, having secured my country he might conceivably turn to yours.”

“By God,” murmured Buckingham, “there is truth in what His Highness says.” The volatile Duke was immediately swayed to the side of the Dutchman. He saw a Catholic menace over England. He wanted to make new terms there and then which would make England and Holland allies against the French.

“But His Highness forgets,” said Arlington, “that his country is already conquered.”

“We in Holland do not accept that,” said William hastily.

“You have called a halt to Louis,” said Buckingham, “by flooding your land. But with the winter frosts it may well be laid open.”

William said firmly: “You do not know us Dutchmen. We are in great danger, but there is one way never to see our country lost and that is to die in the last dyke.”

There was no more to be said to such a fanatical idealist as this young Prince. It was vain to tell him that his ideals were part of his youth. William of Orange believed he had been selected to save his country.

Arlington, Buckingham, and Monmouth joined Louis’ encampment at Heeswick. New terms were submitted to Dutch William; again they were rejected.

Then news came that the states of Brandenburg, Lüneburg, and Minster, determined to stem the conquests of Catholic Louis, were about to join William of Orange in his fight against the invaders. Louis, having found the war had brought him little gain at great expense, decided to withdraw, and marched his armies back to Paris, and there was nothing for the English diplomats to do but return to England.

Louise was contented.

Buckingham had failed miserably. He had wasted a great deal of money—the account he put in for his expenses amounted to four thousand seven hundred and fifty-four pounds and a penny—and he had brought nothing but ridicule to his country.

With Arlington he was accused by the people of England of making this disastrous war with the Dutch.

Louise was not the only one in England who had decided to bring about the downfall of the Duke.

Charles could at last be proud of Monmouth. Whatever he had done at home, he had acquitted himself well abroad.

Charles liked to hear the account of how his son had fought at Brussels
Gate. Beside him had marched Captain John Churchill, and it had been hard to say which of the two young men—Churchill or Monmouth—had been the braver.

“Only one man could pass at a time,” Charles was told by one who had witnessed the action. “We marched, swords in hand, to a barricade of the enemy’s. There was Monsieur d’Artagnan with his musqueteers, and very bravely these men carried themselves. Monsieur d’Artagnan did his best to persuade the Duke not to risk his life by attempting to lead his men through that passage, but my lord Duke would have none of his advice. Monsieur d’Artagnan was killed, but the Duke led his men with such bravery and such contempt for death as had rarely been seen. Many will tell Your Majesty that they never saw a braver or more brisk action.”

Jemmy came home, marching through the streets of London to Whitehall, and the people came out in their hundreds to see him pass.

He had grown older but no less handsome. There was a flush under his skin which made his eyes seem brighter and more lustrous. The women at the windows threw flowers to Monmouth, and the cry in the streets was: “Brave Jemmy’s come marching home.”

This was what he wanted. This acclaim. This glory.

And Charles saw with some anxiety that they were very ready to give it to this handsome boy—partly because he was handsome, partly because he was brave, but largely because the Duke of York was a Catholic and they had sworn that never again should a Catholic sit on the throne of England. Jemmy seemed more serious now, and Charles hoped his son might have realized it was better to jettison those dangerous ideas of his.

Jemmy had a new mistress—Eleanor Needham—who obsessed him. He was eager to found two packs of foxhounds at Charlton. His son—named Charles—was born, and the King himself with the Duke of York were godparents.

This was a happier way for a young man to conduct himself, thought the King. And the looks he bestowed on young Monmouth were very affectionate.

There were rumors throughout England that the Duke of York was about to remarry, and that the Princess chosen for him was Mary Beatrice, sister of the reigning Duke of Modena. The girl was young—she was fourteen—beautiful, and seemed capable of bearing children. There was one thing against her: She was a Catholic.

This marriage had caused Louise a great deal of anxiety. Since she had left for England, Louis had given her three main tasks. She was to work for
an alliance with France against Holland, make Charles give a public profession of the Catholic Faith, and bring about a match between the Duke of York and a Princess of Louis’ choice.

Louis’ choice was the widow of the Duc de Guise, who was worthy, being Elizabeth d’Orléans before her marriage, second daughter of Gaston, brother of Louis XIII. Louise had stressed to Charles and James the advantage of this match, but she was clever enough to know that she must not work too openly for France.

The Duke of York, in remorse on the death of his wife, had given up his mistress, Arabella Churchill, but he had almost immediately formed an attachment with Catharine Sedley, Sir Charles Sedley’s daughter. Catharine was no beauty but, as his brother had said, it was as though James’ mistresses were chosen for him by his priest as a penance. But James had perversely decided that although he would forgo beauty in a mistress, he would not in a wife, and that Madame de Guise, no longer young and beautiful, would not suit him. So failing a French wife, Louise was ready to support the choice of Mary Beatrice since she was a Catholic, and a Catholic Duchess of York would certainly be no hindrance to one of her main duties—the bringing about of that open profession of the King’s acceptance of the Catholic Faith.

Louise felt therefore that, although she had failed to persuade the King and his brother to take Madame de Guise, she had not altogether displeased the King of France by throwing in her support for the marriage with Mary Beatrice, particularly as there was a great deal of opposition throughout the country to a Catholic alliance for the Duke.

A new wave of anti-Catholic feeling was spreading over England. It was long since fires had burned at Smithfield, but there were people still living who remembered echoes of those days.

“No popery!” shouted the people in the streets.

Louise had as yet failed to obtain any promise from Charles as to when he would declare himself a Catholic. He had, however, abolished certain laws against the Catholics. He wanted toleration in religious matters, he declared. But many of his subjects were demanding to know whether he had forgotten what happened to English sailors who fell into the hands of the Inquisition. Had he forgotten the diabolical plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament in his grandfather’s reign? The King, it was said, was too easygoing; and that with his brother a Catholic, and the French mistress at his ear, he was ready to pay any price for peace.