tempted them to wish that he would go into a fury again. His
affection was as impetuous as his wrath. Where he loved, he loved with
the whole energy of his strong mind. When death separated him from what
he loved, the few who witnessed his agonies trembled for his reason and
his life. To a very small circle of intimate friends, on whose fidelity
and secrecy he could absolutely depend, he was a different man from the
reserved and stoical William whom the multitude supposed to be destitute
of human feelings. He was kind, cordial, open, even convivial and
jocose, would sit at table many hours, and would bear his full share
in festive conversation. Highest in his favour stood a gentleman of
his household named Bentinck, sprung from a noble Batavian race, and
destined to be the founder of one of the great patrician houses of
England. The fidelity of Bentinck had been tried by no common test. It
was while the United Provinces were struggling for existence against the
French power that the young Prince on whom all their hopes were fixed
was seized by the small pox. That disease had been fatal to many members
of his family, and at first wore, in his case, a peculiarly malignant
aspect. The public consternation was great. The streets of the Hague
were crowded from daybreak to sunset by persons anxiously asking how his
Highness was. At length his complaint took a favourable turn. His escape
was attributed partly to his own singular equanimity, and partly to the
intrepid and indefatigable friendship of Bentinck. From the hands of
Bentinck alone William took food and medicine. By Bentinck alone William
was lifted from his bed and laid down in it. "Whether Bentinck slept or
not while I was ill," said William to Temple, with great tenderness,
"I know not. But this I know, that, through sixteen days and nights,
I never once called for anything but that Bentinck was instantly at my
side." Before the faithful servant had entirely performed his task, he
had himself caught the contagion. Still, however, he bore up against
drowsiness and fever till his master was pronounced convalescent. Then,
at length, Bentinck asked leave to go home. It was time: for his limbs
would no longer support him. He was in great danger, but recovered, and,
as soon as he left his bed, hastened to the army, where, during many
sharp campaigns, he was ever found, as he had been in peril of a
different kind, close to William's side.

Such was the origin of a friendsh