The Woman Who Wanted a Smile: Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands

Just 50 years ago, while cannon boomed and church bells rang, an 18-year-old girl with a sweet and melancholy face walked across the ancient square to Amsterdam’s Nieuwe Kerk. A purple mantle was on her shoulders, a diadem in her hair. She was Wilhelmina, Princess of Orange, about to develop into Queen of The Netherlands.

It seemed like a fine, safe time for a princess to assume royal duties. The Czar’s Russia was distant and implausible. The U.S., fighting Spain, was young, uncoordinated and callow. Queen Victoria ruled Britannia, and Britannia ruled the waves. Young ladies learned the simple difference between right & wrong along with embroidery and piano playing. A new century was just around the corner, bright with the promise of Progress.

As it happened, Wilhelmina’s reign was to notice the world shaken by war, poverty, and floods of doubt and confusion. In World War II she was forced to flee her country, and with all the warmth she had suppressed in her younger years, she worked for liberation. War brought her a sense of comradeship with her people that she had never known.

When she returned to her country, she was humble. “I should reach hat in hand,” she said, “asking if someone can put me up for the night.” Her people, who had respected her before, loved her now. But the brave simplicity of the war days and the war aims was gone. The Dutch colonies, on which the nation’s prosperity heavily depended, were in revolt.

Said the traditional Queen proudly: “Een Oranje dringt zijn diensten nimmer op” (An Orange never forces his services on anyone). One of her young advisers said recently: “She hoped too much. She has been disappointed too much.” This week, at 68, after half a century of rule, she leaves the throne in favor of her sturdy daughter, 39-year-old Juliana.