As the fair Rosa, with foreboding doubt, had foretold, so ithappened. Whilst John de Witt was climbing the narrowwinding stairs which led to the prison of his brotherCornelius, the burghers did their best to have the troop ofTilly, which was in their way, removed.
Seeing this disposition, King Mob, who fully appreciated thelaudable intentions of his own beloved militia, shouted mostlustily, --"Hurrah for the burghers!"As to Count Tilly, who was as prudent as he was firm, hebegan to parley with the burghers, under the protection ofthe cocked pistols of his dragoons, explaining to thevaliant townsmen, that his order from the States commandedhim to guard the prison and its approaches with threecompanies.
"Wherefore such an order? Why guard the prison?" cried theOrangists.
"Stop," replied the Count, "there you at once ask me morethan I can tell you. I was told, 'Guard the prison,' and Iguard it. You, gentlemen, who are almost military menyourselves, you are aware that an order must never begainsaid.""But this order has been given to you that the traitors maybe enabled to leave the town.""Very possibly, as the traitors are condemned to exile,"replied Tilly.
"But who has given this order?""The States, to be sure!""The States are traitors.""I don't know anything about that!""And you are a traitor yourself!""I?""Yes, you.""Well, as to that, let us understand each other gentlemen.
Whom should I betray? The States? Why, I cannot betray them,whilst, being in their pay, I faithfully obey their orders."As the Count was so indisputably in the right that it wasimpossible to argue against him, the mob answered only byredoubled clamour and horrible threats, to which the Countopposed the most perfect urbanity.
"Gentlemen," he said, "uncock your muskets, one of them maygo off by accident; and if the shot chanced to wound one ofmy men, we should knock over a couple of hundreds of yours,for which we should, indeed, be very sorry, but you evenmore so; especially as such a thing is neither contemplatedby you nor by myself.""If you did that," cried the burghers, "we should have a popat you, too.""Of course you would; but suppose you killed every man Jackof us, those whom we should have killed would not, for allthat, be less dead.""Then leave the place to us, and you will perform the partof a good citizen.""First of all," said the Count, "I am not a citizen, but anofficer, which is a very different thing; and secondly, I amnot a Hollander, but a Frenchman, which is more differentstill. I have to do with no one but the States, by whom I ampaid; let me see an order from them to leave the place toyou, and I shall only be too glad to wheel off in aninstant, as I am confoundedly bored here.""Yes, yes!" cried a hundred voices; the din of which wasimmediately swelled by five hundred others; "let us march tothe Town-hall; let us go and see the deputies! Come along!
come along!""That's it," Tilly muttered between his teeth, as he saw themost violent among the crowd turning away; "go and ask for ameanness at the Town-hall, and you will see whether theywill grant it; go, my fine fellows, go!"The worthy officer relied on the honour of the magistrates,who, on their side, relied on his honour as a soldier.
"I say, Captain," the first lieutenant whispered into theear of the Count, "I hope the deputies will give thesemadmen a flat refusal; but, after all, it would do no harmif they would send us some reinforcement."In the meanwhile, John de Witt, whom we left climbing thestairs, after the conversation with the jailer Gryphus andhis daughter Rosa, had reached the door of the cell, whereon a mattress his brother Cornelius was resting, afterhaving undergone the preparatory degrees of the torture. Thesentence of banishment having been pronounced, there was nooccasion for inflicting the torture extraordinary.
Cornelius was stretched on his couch, with broken wrists andcrushed fingers. He had not confessed a crime of which hewas not guilty; and now, after three days of agony, he oncemore breathed freely, on being informed that the judges,from whom he had expected death, were only condemning him toexile.
Endowed with an iron frame and a stout heart, how would hehave disappointed his enemies if they could only have seen,in the dark cell of the Buytenhof, his pale face lit up bythe smile of the martyr, who forgets the dross of this earthafter having obtained a glimpse of the bright glory ofheaven.
The warden, indeed, had already recovered his full strength,much more owing to the force of his own strong will than toactual aid; and he was calculating how long the formalitiesof the law would still detain him in prison.
This was just at the very moment when the mingled shouts ofthe burgher guard and of the mob were raging against the twobrothers, and threatening Captain Tilly, who served as arampart to them. This noise, which roared outside of thewalls of the prison, as the surf dashing against the rocks,now reached the ears of the prisoner.
But, threatening as it sounded, Cornelius appeared not todream it worth his while to inquire after its cause; nor didhe get up to look out of the narrow grated window, whichgave access to the light and to the noise of the worldwithout.
He was so absorbed in his never-ceasing pain that it hadalmost become a habit with him. He felt with such delightthe bonds which connected his immortal being with hisperishable frame gradually loosening, that it seemed to himas if his spirit, freed from the trammels of the body, werehovering above it, like the expiring flame which rises fromthe half-extinguished embers.
He also thought of his brother; and whilst the latter wasthus vividly present to his mind the door opened, and Johnentered, hurrying to the bedside of the prisoner, whostretched out his broken limbs and his hands tied up inbandages towards that glorious brother, whom he nowexcelled, not in services rendered to the country, but inthe hatred which the Dutch bore him.
John tenderly kissed his brother on the forehead, and puthis sore hands gently back on the mattress.
"Cornelius, my poor brother, you are suffering great pain,are you not?""I am suffering no longer, since I see you, my brother.""Oh, my poor dear Cornelius! I feel most wretched to see youin such a state.""And, indeed, I have thought more of you than of myself; andwhilst they were torturing me, I never thought of uttering acomplaint, except once, to say, 'Poor brother!' But now thatyou are here, let us forget all. You are coming to take meaway, are you not?""I am.""I am quite healed; help me to get up, and you shall see howI can walk.""You will not have to walk far, as I have my coach near thepond, behind Tilly's dragoons.""Tilly's dragoons! What are they near the pond for?""Well," said the Grand Pensionary with a melancholy smilewhich was habitual to him, "the gentlemen at the Town-hallexpect that the people at the Hague would like to see youdepart, and there is some apprehension of a tumult.""Of a tumult?" replied Cornelius, fixing his eyes on hisperplexed brother; "a tumult?""Yes, Cornelius.""Oh! that's what I heard just now," said the prisoner, as ifspeaking to himself. Then, turning to his brother, hecontinued, --"Are there many persons down before the prison.""Yes, my brother, there are.""But then, to come here to me ---- ""Well?""How is it that they have allowed you to pass?""You know well that we are not very popular, Cornelius,"said the Grand Pensionary, with gloomy bitterness. "I havemade my way through all sorts of bystreets and alleys.""You hid yourself, John?""I wished to reach you without loss of time, and I did whatpeople will do in politics, or on the sea when the wind isagainst them, -- I tacked."At this moment the noise in the square below was heard toroar with increasing fury. Tilly was parleying with theburghers.
"Well, well," said Cornelius, "you are a very skilful pilot,John; but I doubt whether you will as safely guide yourbrother out of the Buytenhof in the midst of this gale, andthrough the raging surf of popular hatred, as you did thefleet of Van Tromp past the shoals of the Scheldt toAntwerp.""With the help of God, Cornelius, we'll at least try,"answered John; "but, first of all, a word with you.""Speak!"The shouts began anew.
"Hark, hark!" continued Cornelius, "how angry those peopleare! Is it against you, or against me?""I should say it is against us both, Cornelius. I told you,my dear brother, that the Orange party, while assailing uswith their absurd calumnies, have also made it a reproachagainst us that we have negotiated with France.""What blockheads they are!""But, indeed, they reproach us with it.""And yet, if these negotiations had been successful, theywould have prevented the defeats of Rees, Orsay, Wesel, andRheinberg; the Rhine would not have been crossed, andHolland might still consider herself invincible in the midstof her marshes and canals.""All this is quite true, my dear Cornelius, but still morecertain it is, that if at this moment our correspondencewith the Marquis de Louvois were discovered, skilful pilotas I am, I should not be able to save the frail barque whichis to carry the brothers De Witt and their fortunes out ofHolland. That correspondence, which might prove to honestpeople how dearly I love my country, and what sacrifices Ihave offered to make for its liberty and glory, would beruin to us if it fell into the hands of the Orange party. Ihope you have burned the letters before you left Dort tojoin me at the Hague.""My dear brother," Cornelius answered, "your correspondencewith M. de Louvois affords ample proof of your having beenof late the greatest, most generous, and most able citizenof the Seven United Provinces. I rejoice in the glory of mycountry; and particularly do I rejoice in your glory, John.
I have taken good care not to burn that correspondence.""Then we are lost, as far as this life is concerned,"quietly said the Grand Pensionary, approaching the window.
"No, on the contrary, John, we shall at the same time saveour lives and regain our popularity.""But what have you done with these letters?""I have intrusted them to the care of Cornelius van Baerle,my godson, whom you know, and who lives at Dort.""Poor honest Van Baerle! who knows so much, and yet thinksof nothing but of flowers and of God who made them. You haveintrusted him with this fatal secret; it will be his ruin,poor soul!""His ruin?""Yes, for he will either be strong or he will be weak. If heis strong, he will, when he hears of what has happened tous, boast of our acquaintance; if he is weak, he will beafraid on account of his connection with us: if he isstrong, he will betray the secret by his boldness; if he isweak, he will allow it to be forced from him. In either casehe is lost, and so are we. Let us, therefore, fly, fly, aslong as there is still time."Cornelius de Witt, raising himself on his couch, andgrasping the hand of his brother, who shuddered at the touchof his linen bandages, replied, --"Do not I know my godson? have not I been enabled to readevery thought in Van Baerle's mind, and every sentiment inhis heart? You ask whether he is strong or weak. He isneither the one nor the other; but that is not now thequestion. The principal point is, that he is sure not todivulge the secret, for the very good reason that he doesnot know it himself."John turned round in surprise.
"You must know, my dear brother, that I have been trained inthe school of that distinguished politician John de Witt;and I repeat to you, that Van Baerle is not aware of thenature and importance of the deposit which I have intrustedto him.""Quick then," cried John, "as there is still time, let usconvey to him directions to burn the parcel.""Through whom?""Through my servant Craeke, who was to have accompanied uson horseback, and who has entered the prison with me, toassist you downstairs.""Consider well before having those precious documents burnt,John!""I consider, above all things, that the brothers De Wittmust necessarily save their lives, to be able to save theircharacter. If we are dead, who will defend us? Who will havefully understood our intentions?""You expect, then, that they would kill us if those paperswere found?"John, without answering, pointed with his hand to thesquare, whence, at that very moment, fierce shouts andsavage yells made themselves heard.
"Yes, yes," said Cornelius, "I hear these shouts veryplainly, but what is their meaning?"John opened the window.
"Death to the traitors!" howled the populace.
"Do you hear now, Cornelius?""To the traitors! that means us!" said the prisoner, raisinghis eyes to heaven and shrugging his shoulders.
"Yes, it means us," repeated John.
"Where is Craeke?""At the door of your cell, I suppose.""Let him enter then."John opened the door; the faithful servant was waiting onthe threshold.
"Come in, Craeke, and mind well what my brother will tellyou.""No, John; it will not suffice to send a verbal message;unfortunately, I shall be obliged to write.""And why that?""Because Van Baerle will neither give up the parcel nor burnit without a special command to do so.""But will you be able to write, poor old fellow?" Johnasked, with a look on the scorched and bruised hands of theunfortunate sufferer.
"If I had pen and ink you would soon see," said Cornelius.
"Here is a pencil, at any rate.""Have you any paper? for they have left me nothing.""Here, take this Bible, and tear out the fly-leaf.""Very well, that will do.""But your writing will be illegible.""Just leave me alone for that," said Cornelius. "Theexecutioners have indeed pinched me badly enough, but myhand will not tremble once in tracing the few lines whichare requisite."And really Cornelius took the pencil and began to write,when through the white linen bandages drops of blood oozedout which the pressure of the fingers against the pencilsqueezed from the raw flesh.
A cold sweat stood on the brow of the Grand Pensionary.
Cornelius wrote: --"My dear Godson, --"Burn the parcel which I have intrusted to you. Burn itwithout looking at it, and without opening it, so that itscontents may for ever remain unknown to yourself. Secrets ofthis description are death to those with whom they aredeposited. Burn it, and you will have saved John andCornelius de Witt.
"Farewell, and love me.
"Cornelius de Witt"August 20th, 1672."John, with tears in his eyes, wiped off a drop of the nobleblood which had soiled the leaf, and, after having handedthe despatch to Craeke with a last direction, returned toCornelius, who seemed overcome by intense pain, and nearfainting.
"Now," said he, "when honest Craeke sounds his coxswain'swhistle, it will be a signal of his being clear of thecrowd, and of his having reached the other side of the pond.
And then it will be our turn to depart."Five minutes had not elapsed, before a long and shrillwhistle was heard through the din and noise of the square ofthe Buytenhof.
John gratefully raised his eyes to heaven.
"And now," said he, "let us off, Cornelius."