Jan van Nieuwenaar had always been nationalistic. In some respects, it was as if he should have been born in 1670 rather than 1770. He was much more at home amongst his fellow nobles than the rabble who occupied the lower house today. Indeed, his enemies, especially the republicans, called him ‘
Stadtholder’ behind his back. He was aware of it, though it was not a slander to him. It was a symbol of the glory days of the United Netherlands. Something that should not have been forgotten.
He frowned at the family coat of arms mounted above the door across from his desk. His family had been
stadtholders back from the early days of the Republic. All had put their lives and fortunes on the line to preserve their freedoms. It was people like Willem whose weakness had made his ancestors’ sacrifices forfeit.
But now, the spectre of glory had returned. A Dutch renaissance was at hand. A return to the glory days of the United Provinces. To begin with, the monopoly in Japan had long lay fallow. The Japanese were primitives, and easily cowed. Concessions would be quite easy to acquire.
Why should the British and French be the only ones permitted to gain trading rights at the barrel of a gun? Algeria, Egypt, India. The list went on and on. Previously, British threats kept Willem from action. Now, he had no excuse. The British were embroiled in China, without the reserves to respond to a Dutch action. The time was right. Never again would such an opportunity present itself. If Willem decided to be stubborn, Jan van Nieuwenaar would have the fleet sailing regardless, God pity he who stood in his way. Britain would make futile protests. But, without the resources to back up their words, the arrogant English would be forced to accept this
fait accompli.
The very thought of Britain brought forth rage in van Nieuwenaar. It was Britain whose ineptness in fighting the French that destroyed the Dutch Republic’s power. They were far too busy ensuring their possession of other nations’ colonies. Instead of fighting side by side, the English went off treasure hunting whilst brave Dutchmen fell in heaps trying to hold their brave nation together. That was something van Nieuwenaar would never forgive.
An expensive clock sat on his desk, ticking down the time until the
Staten-Generaal met for the afternoon. Those blind sheep would follow him, all the way to glory, whether they liked it or not. The hands marched on. Just as the Netherlands was going to.