The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1877-06-20
Dea,h of william The 1n.rd.


REPORTS about the state of the King,
health were constantly becoming NOR,
and more alarming His medical advi
sers, both English and Dutch, were
the end of their resources. He had con
suited by letter all the most eminent
/ physicians of Europe; aud as he was APP
| prehensve that they might return fatter
ing answers if they knew who he was, ht
had written under feigned names
To Fagon he had described himself rs
Paris priest. Fagon replied, somewhat
/ biuntly, that such SYMPTOMS could have
only one meaning, and that the only al
wee which he had to give to the sick man
was to prepare himself for death. Hav.
ing obtained.this plain answer, William
consulted Fagon again without DISCUS
and obtained some prescriptions which
were thought to have a little retarded
the approach of the inevitable hour.
But the great kings days were number
ed Headaches and shivering fits re-
turned on him almost daily He still
rode, and even hunted; but he had no
longer that firm seat, or that perfect
command of the bride, for which
he had been renowned Still, all his
care was Tor the future. The fill
al respect and tenderness of Albermarle
had been almost necessary of life to
him. But it was of importance that
Heinsius should be fully informed both
as tn the whole plan of the next campaign
and as to the state of the preparations.
Albemarle was in full possession of the
kings views on these subjects. lie was
therefore sent to the Hague Heinsius
was at that time suffering from indisposi-
ton, which was indeed trifie when com
pared with the maladies under which
William was sinking. But in the nature
of William there was none of that selfish
ness which Is the too common vice OF IN
valids On the 10th of February he sent
to Heinsius a letter, in which he did not
even allude to his own sutferings and in
firmities. Il am he said, &" infinitely
concerned to learn that your health Is
not vet quite re-established. Nh God
be pleased to grant you a speedy recove-
nv. l am unalterably your good friend
William" These were the last lines of
that long correspondence.
On the Goth of February, William was
ambling on a favorite horse, named Sor-
rel, through the Park of Hampton. He
urged his horse to strike into a gallop just
at the spot where a mole had been at
work. Sorrel stumbled on the mole hill
and went down on his knees. The king
fell off and broke his collar bone. The
bone was set, and he returned to kensing-
ton in his coach. The jolting of the rough
roads of that time made it necessary to
reduce the fracture again. To a young
and vigorous man such an accident would
have been a trife. But the frame of
William was not in condition to bear
even the slightest shock. He felt that his
time was short, and grieved, with a grief
such as only noble spirits feel, to think
that he must leave his work but half
finished
x K !; x
The King, meanwhile, was sinking fast.
Albemarle had arrived at Kensington
from the Hague, exhausted by rapid
travelling His master kindly bid him
90 to rest for some hours, and then sum
moned him to make his report. That
report was in all respects satisfactory.
The States general were in the best
temper; the troops, the provisions and
the magazines were in the best order.
Everything was in readiness tor an early
campaign. William received the intel
| ligence with the calmness of man
whose work was done He was under
no delusion as to his danger. Il am
fast drawing" he said, "to my end. y
His end was worthy of his life. His in
| tellect was not for a moment clouded.
His fortitude was the more admirable
| because he was not willing to die. He
had lately said to one of those whom he
loved: "You know that | never feared
death there have been times when ]
should have wished it; but, now that
this great new prospect is opening before
me, | do wish to stay here little longer.
Yet no weakness, no querulousness dis
graced the close of that noble career. To
the physicians the King returned hi;
thanks graciously and gently. 81 know
that you have done all that skill anC
learning could do for me, but the case Is
beyond your art, and | submit" From
the words which escaped him he seemed
to be frequently engaged in mental pray
err Burnett and Tension remained
many hours in the sick room. He pro
fessed to them his firm belief in the
truth of the Christian religion, and re
ceived the sacrament from their hand:
with great seriousness. The antecham
bers were crowded all night with Lords
and Privy Councillors He ordered sew
eral of them to be called in, and exertet
himself to take leave of them with few
kind and cheerful words Among tn,
English who were admitted TO his bed
side were Devonshire and Ormond. Blu
there were in the crowd those who felt a:
no Englishman could feef-friends of hi
youth who had been true to him, and Il
whom he had been true through all vicis
STUDIES of fortune; who had served hin
with unalterable fidelity when his Secre
taries of State, his Treasury and his AID
mirality had betrayed him; who hat
never on any field of battle, or in an,
atmosphere tainted with loathsome anC
deadly disease, shrunk from placing thei
own lives in jeopardy to save his, ant
whose truth he had, at the cost of his owl
popularity, rewarded with bounteous mu
nificence. He strained his feeble vote,
to thank Auverquerque for the affec
tionate and loyal services of thirty years
To Albemarle he gave the keys of hi
closet, and of his private drawers
"You know" he said, "what to d
with them" BY this time he coul,
scarcely respire. Scan this" he said t
the physicians, '1ast long? He was toll
that the end was approaching. He swal
lowed a cordial and asked for Bentinck
Those were his last articulate words
Bentinck instantly came to the bedside
bent down and placed his ear close to tn
: Kings mouth. The lips of the dyir
ian moved; but nothing could be heard
The King took the hand of his earlies
friend, and pressed it fenderiy to hi
: heart. In that moment, no doubt, al
that cast slight, passing cloud over thei
long and pure friendship was forgotten
1t was now Letgeen and in the morr
80 He closed his ewes and rrasped fo