#redladydeath

The Nose:

Starting off with a childhood anecdote, I really find it funny that William, then a child of 9/10 years, laughed when a confused Liselotte von der Pfalz, who knew him from various play dates, but had never met his mother before, timidly asked him who "the lady with the ugly nose" standing close by was, and he broke into laughter, telling her: "But that is the Princess Royal, my mother!" As my grandmother would say, God punishes the smaller sins on earth, and guess who ended up with an even larger distinctly-shaped nose as an adult...

The Bentinck Family Disaster:

In August 1679, Hans Willem Bentinck, his wife Anne and their brand new baby daughter went to visit his family home at Diepenheim- only for Anne to fall dangerously ill of a contagious fever that soon also infected Bentinck's mother and one of his sisters.

It can't have been easy for Bentinck trying to keep sane as his wife was presumed at death's door, his mother and sister were sick as well, while also having to try and take care that the baby wouldn't catch the infection, either.

Luckily, he had one of his sisters, who had not caught the fever, to help him organise the household and the care for the sick; not-so-luckily, he also had an extremely emotionally needy best friend, who took to worrying himself sick while also demanding Bentinck's affection and attention.

Home alone as Mary was off to take the waters at Aachen, William just really wanted to hang out with his best friend, but Bentinck, who naturally prioritised taking care of his sick family and his child, refused.

William could coax him to agree to a short meeting though, which inspired him to write him this letter on 15 August 1679:

It is impossible to tell you with what pain I parted from you this morning, or how distressed I was at leaving you in such a state or what anxiety I am in at the moment. I could not live without you and if ever I felt I loved you it is today. I beg you to come here as soon as your wife is out of danger. I cannot tell you how much your absence grieves me. If you cannot come here tomorrow evening I will come to see you, as I cannot bear to be separated from you any longer when you are in such trouble. [Translation: Robb, Nesca Adeline, William of Orange. A Personal Portrait (Vol. 2), p. 139]

In the end, Wiliam did not do as threatened and invite himself over, though the emotionally charged letters about missing Bentinck so, so much continued. He renewed his threat to go see Bentinck at Diepenheim three weeks later, when the latter was happy to report that his wife was improving slowly, and was, once again firmly told to please, please stay away.

Naturally, none of the Bentincks would have wanted to entertain their head of state while half the household was in recovery after a fever with one family member aalmost having died of it and the household being largely run on an improvised schedule by Hans Willem and one of his sisters.

William, again, did not get the memo. He pouted that he was:

[...] extremely disappointed after spending all last night on the road and waiting till this hour and now perhaps having to spend part of tonight in the calèche before reaching Soestdijk, and having done all this only in the hope of seeing you and your wife and now to find myself deprived of it. [Translation: Robb, Nesca Adeline, William of Orange. A Personal Portrait (Vol. 2), p. 140]

...And this is only half of the guilt trip. He continued to lay it on thickly by telling Bentinck he would be

[...] in despair if I won't see you tomorrow. I beg you to assure Madame your wife of the pain that I have at not being able to see her and that there is, you aside, no other man in the world who partakes more in that which she suffers than I, and do so always in everything where you are concerned. [Translation: mine, from: Letter from William III to Hans Willem Bentinck, 10 September 1679, Correspondentie van Willem III en van Hans Willem Bentinck, p. 10 f.]

While not only absolutely tone-deaf and acutely focussed on his own emotional needs while his best friend was afraid of losing the love of his life, it strikes me as interesting how naturally William invited himself over.

To me, it bespeaks a desire of having a family like the Bentincks', with parents and siblings, but while one can respect a found family narrative, the man really, really needed to take a step back. I don't know how Bentinck managed to stand this kind of behaviour for almost 40 years.

The (Presumed) Concussion:

Returning from the campaign in Ireland in 1691, the last leg of the journey back to London proved a tad adventurous when his carriage overturned near Gravesend. Both Marlborough and Bentinck, who had been in the carriage with him, were thrown on top of William, and escaped with minor injuries; William wrenched his shoulder, and Marlborough, who had screamed that his back must be broken, escaped with a concussion.

I would cast doubt on whether William was not concussed, either, though: when they reached Whitehall at 11 PM the same night in another coach, he impatiently jumped out, ran across the palace shouting "where is the Queen?" until he reached Mary's rooms, and kissed her twice in front of the assembled a- and bemused courtiers, who had never seen anything like it before.

What'd also be interesting to know is whether Mary was sitting or standing up, because in the latter case, he would have had to jump up to even manage to surprise-kiss her, due to their extreme height difference (which was such that Wiliam could not physically offer Mary his arm when they were walking together; he walked on her arm instead).

The Doctor:

Apparently, William was a terrible patient which was unfortunate for his health and the doctors he employed. One of them, John Radcliffe, fell temporarily out of favour for an exasperated slip of the tongue when he noticed that his patient, at the time struggling with swellings in both legs, had done absolutely nothing about them, despite having experienced some discomfort for a very long time, which however had not bothered him enough to do anything about it.

While Radcliffe was temporarily given the cold shoulder for telling William "I would not have your Majesty's two legs for your three kingdoms," a Dutch physician called Govard Bidloo was the only one able to handle William somewhat.

It seems that Wiliam cared more for Bidloo's company than his advice, because he ignored most of the latter or talked back to him saying that a man beyond the age of 30 or 40 years of age was his own best physician.

My absolute 'highlight' is that apparently Bidloo had to physically put his monarch into winter clothes, because William would absolutely refuse to dress according to the weather.

The day William died, Bidloo held him in his arms for a long time, until William, waking up from a spell of sleep or unconsciousness, noted "you can bear me up no longer" in a show of concern for his friend, and had someone else hold him up. That has to have been the only time William ever showed concern for the exasperated Bidloo, who had had a really tough time trying to keep his multimorbid monarch alive.

The Toddler:

From William acting like a toddler, let's move on to William and actual toddlers.

The man was extremely good with small children. The Lord Buckhusrt-episode is almost as well known as his affectionate care for his nephew William, Duke of Gloucester, and I still think that there is a charming sincerity to the image of William running through the palace corridors pulling a toddler on a cart who had just told him off for not being on time for tea.