第 13 页

Yet, notwithstanding all this, Van Baerle mounted thescaffold not the less resolutely, proud of having been thefriend of that illustrious John, and godson of that nobleCornelius de Witt, whom the ruffians, who were now crowdingto witness his own doom, had torn to pieces and burnt threedays before.

He knelt down, said his prayers, and observed, not without afeeling of sincere joy, that, laying his head on the block,and keeping his eyes open, he would be able to his lastmoment to see the grated window of the Buytenhof.

At length the fatal moment arrived, and Cornelius placed hischin on the cold damp block. But at this moment his eyesclosed involuntarily, to receive more resolutely theterrible avalanche which was about to fall on his head, andto engulf his life.

A gleam like that of lightning passed across the scaffold:it was the executioner raising his sword.

Van Baerle bade farewell to the great black tulip, certainof awaking in another world full of light and glorioustints.

Three times he felt, with a shudder, the cold current of airfrom the knife near his neck, but what a surprise! he feltneither pain nor shock.

He saw no change in the colour of the sky, or of the worldaround him.

Then suddenly Van Baerle felt gentle hands raising him, andsoon stood on his feet again, although trembling a little.

He looked around him. There was some one by his side,reading a large parchment, sealed with a huge seal of redwax.

And the same sun, yellow and pale, as it behooves a Dutchsun to be, was shining in the skies; and the same gratedwindow looked down upon him from the Buytenhof; and the samerabble, no longer yelling, but completely thunderstruck,were staring at him from the streets below.

Van Baerle began to be sensible to what was going on aroundhim.

His Highness, William, Prince of Orange, very likely afraidthat Van Baerle's blood would turn the scale of judgmentagainst him, had compassionately taken into considerationhis good character, and the apparent proofs of hisinnocence.

His Highness, accordingly, had granted him his life.

Cornelius at first hoped that the pardon would be complete,and that he would be restored to his full liberty and to hisflower borders at Dort.

But Cornelius was mistaken. To use an expression of Madamede Sevigne, who wrote about the same time, "there was apostscript to the letter;" and the most important part ofthe letter was contained in the postscript.

In this postscript, William of Orange, Stadtholder ofHolland, condemned Cornelius van Baerle to imprisonment forlife. He was not sufficiently guilty to suffer death, but hewas too much so to be set at liberty.

Cornelius heard this clause, but, the first feeling ofvexation and disappointment over, he said to himself, --

"Never mind, all this is not lost yet; there is some good inthis perpetual imprisonment; Rosa will be there, and also mythree bulbs of the black tulip are there."

But Cornelius forgot that the Seven Provinces had sevenprisons, one for each, and that the board of the prisoner isanywhere else less expensive than at the Hague, which is acapital.

His Highness, who, as it seems, did not possess the means tofeed Van Baerle at the Hague, sent him to undergo hisperpetual imprisonment at the fortress of Loewestein, verynear Dort, but, alas! also very far from it; for Loewestein,as the geographers tell us, is situated at the point of theislet which is formed by the confluence of the Waal and theMeuse, opposite Gorcum.

Van Baerle was sufficiently versed in the history of hiscountry to know that the celebrated Grotius was confined inthat castle after the death of Barneveldt; and that theStates, in their generosity to the illustrious publicist,jurist, historian, poet, and divine, had granted to him forhis daily maintenance the sum of twenty-four stivers.

"I," said Van Baerle to himself, "I am worth much less thanGrotius. They will hardly give me twelve stivers, and Ishall live miserably; but never mind, at all events I shalllive."

Then suddenly a terrible thought struck him.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "how damp and misty that part of thecountry is, and the soil so bad for the tulips! And thenRosa will not be at Loewestein!"

Chapter 13

What was going on all this Time in the Mind of one of the Spectators

Whilst Cornelius was engaged with his own thoughts, a coachhad driven up to the scaffold. This vehicle was for theprisoner. He was invited to enter it, and he obeyed.

His last look was towards the Buytenhof. He hoped to see atthe window the face of Rosa, brightening up again.

But the coach was drawn by good horses, who soon carried VanBaerle away from among the shouts which the rabble roared inhonour of the most magnanimous Stadtholder, mixing with it aspice of abuse against the brothers De Witt and the godsonof Cornelius, who had just now been saved from death.

This reprieve suggested to the worthy spectators remarkssuch as the following: --

"It's very fortunate that we used such speed in havingjustice done to that great villain John, and to that littlerogue Cornelius, otherwise his Highness might have snatchedthem from us, just as he has done this fellow."

Among all the spectators whom Van Baerle's execution hadattracted to the Buytenhof, and whom the sudden turn ofaffairs had disagreeably surprised, undoubtedly the one mostdisappointed was a certain respectably dressed burgher, whofrom early morning had made such a good use of his feet andelbows that he at last was separated from the scaffold onlyby the file of soldiers which surrounded it.

Many had shown themselves eager to see the perfidious bloodof the guilty Cornelius flow, but not one had shown such akeen anxiety as the individual just alluded to.

The most furious had come to the Buytenhof at daybreak, tosecure a better place; but he, outdoing even them, hadpassed the night at the threshold of the prison, fromwhence, as we have already said, he had advanced to the veryforemost rank, unguibus et rostro, -- that is to say,coaxing some, and kicking the others.

And when the executioner had conducted the prisoner to thescaffold, the burgher, who had mounted on the stone of thepump the better to see and be seen, made to the executionera sign which meant, --

"It's a bargain, isn't it?"

The executioner answered by another sign, which was meant tosay, --

"Be quiet, it's all right."

This burgher was no other than Mynheer Isaac Boxtel, whosince the arrest of Cornelius had come to the Hague to tryif he could not get hold of the three bulbs of the blacktulip.

Boxtel had at first tried to gain over Gryphus to hisinterest, but the jailer had not only the snarlingfierceness, but likewise the fidelity, of a dog. He hadtherefore bristled up at Boxtel's hatred, whom he hadsuspected to be a warm friend of the prisoner, makingtrifling inquiries to contrive with the more certainty somemeans of escape for him.

Thus to the very first proposals which Boxtel made toGryphus to filch the bulbs which Cornelius van Baerle mustbe supposed to conceal, if not in his breast, at least insome corner of his cell, the surly jailer had only answeredby kicking Mynheer Isaac out, and setting the dog at him.

The piece which the mastiff had torn from his hose did notdiscourage Boxtel. He came back to the charge, but this timeGryphus was in bed, feverish, and with a broken arm. Hetherefore was not able to admit the petitioner, who thenaddressed himself to Rosa, offering to buy her a head-dressof pure gold if she would get the bulbs for him. On this,the generous girl, although not yet knowing the value of theobject of the robbery, which was to be so well remunerated,had directed the tempter to the executioner, as the heir ofthe prisoner.

In the meanwhile the sentence had been pronounced. ThusIsaac had no more time to bribe any one. He therefore clungto the idea which Rosa had suggested: he went to theexecutioner.

Isaac had not the least doubt that Cornelius would die withthe bulbs on his heart.

But there were two things which Boxtel did not calculateupon: --

Rosa, that is to say, love;

William of Orange, that is to say, clemency.

But for Rosa and William, the calculations of the enviousneighbour would have been correct.

But for William, Cornelius would have died.

But for Rosa, Cornelius would have died with his bulbs onhis heart.

Mynheer Boxtel went to the headsman, to whom he gave himselfout as a great friend of the condemned man; and from whom hebought all the clothes of the dead man that was to be, forone hundred guilders; rather an exorbitant sum, as heengaged to leave all the trinkets of gold and silver to theexecutioner.

But what was the sum of a hundred guilders to a man who wasall but sure to buy with it the prize of the HaarlemSociety?

It was money lent at a thousand per cent., which, as nobodywill deny, was a very handsome investment.

The headsman, on the other hand, had scarcely anything to doto earn his hundred guilders. He needed only, as soon as theexecution was over, to allow Mynheer Boxtel to ascend thescaffold with his servants, to remove the inanimate remainsof his friend.

The thing was, moreover, quite customary among the "faithfulbrethren," when one of their masters died a public death inthe yard of the Buytenhof.

A fanatic like Cornelius might very easily have foundanother fanatic who would give a hundred guilders for hisremains.

The executioner also readily acquiesced in the proposal,making only one condition, -- that of being paid in advance.

Boxtel, like the people who enter a show at a fair, might bedisappointed, and refuse to pay on going out.

Boxtel paid in advance, and waited.

After this, the reader may imagine how excited Boxtel was;with what anxiety he watched the guards, the Recorder, andthe executioner; and with what intense interest he surveyedthe movements of Van Baerle. How would he place himself onthe block? how would he fall? and would he not, in falling,crush those inestimable bulbs? had not he at least takencare to enclose them in a golden box, -- as gold is thehardest of all metals?

Every trifling delay irritated him. Why did that stupidexecutioner thus lose time in brandishing his sword over thehead of Cornelius, instead of cutting that head off?

But when he saw the Recorder take the hand of the condemned,and raise him, whilst drawing forth the parchment from hispocket, -- when he heard the pardon of the Stadtholderpublicly read out, -- then Boxtel was no more like a humanbeing; the rage and malice of the tiger, of the hyena, andof the serpent glistened in his eyes, and vented itself inhis yell and his movements. Had he been able to get at VanBaerle, he would have pounced upon him and strangled him.

And so, then, Cornelius was to live, and was to go with himto Loewestein, and thither to his prison he would take withhim his bulbs; and perhaps he would even find a garden wherethe black tulip would flower for him.

Boxtel, quite overcome by his frenzy, fell from the stoneupon some Orangemen, who, like him, were sorely vexed at theturn which affairs had taken. They, mistaking the franticcries of Mynheer Isaac for demonstrations of joy, began tobelabour him with kicks and cuffs, such as could not havebeen administered in better style by any prize-fighter onthe other side of the Channel.

Blows were, however, nothing to him. He wanted to run afterthe coach which was carrying away Cornelius with his bulbs.But in his hurry he overlooked a paving-stone in his way,stumbled, lost his centre of gravity, rolled over to adistance of some yards, and only rose again, bruised andbegrimed, after the whole rabble of the Hague, with theirmuddy feet, had passed over him.

One would think that this was enough for one day, butMynheer Boxtel did not seem to think so, as, in addition tohaving his clothes torn, his back bruised, and his handsscratched, he inflicted upon himself the further punishmentof tearing out his hair by handfuls, as an offering to thatgoddess of envy who, as mythology teaches us, wears ahead-dress of serpents.

Chapter 14

The Pigeons of Dort

It was indeed in itself a great honour for Cornelius vanBaerle to be confined in the same prison which had oncereceived the learned master Grotius.

But on arriving at the prison he met with an honour evengreater. As chance would have it, the cell formerlyinhabited by the illustrious Barneveldt happened to bevacant, when the clemency of the Prince of Orange sent thetulip-fancier Van Baerle there.

The cell had a very bad character at the castle since thetime when Grotius, by means of the device of his wife, madeescape from it in that famous book-chest which the jailersforgot to examine.

On the other hand, it seemed to Van Baerle an auspiciousomen that this very cell was assigned to him, for accordingto his ideas, a jailer ought never to have given to a secondpigeon the cage from which the first had so easily flown.

The cell had an historical character. We will only statehere that, with the exception of an alcove which wascontrived there for the use of Madame Grotius, it differedin no respect from the other cells of the prison; only,perhaps, it was a little higher, and had a splendid viewfrom the grated window.

Cornelius felt himself perfectly indifferent as to the placewhere he had to lead an existence which was little more thanvegetation. There were only two things now for which hecared, and the possession of which was a happiness enjoyedonly in imagination.

A flower, and a woman; both of them, as he conceived, lostto him for ever.

Fortunately the good doctor was mistaken. In his prison cellthe most adventurous life which ever fell to the lot of anytulip-fancier was reserved for him.

One morning, whilst at his window inhaling the fresh airwhich came from the river, and casting a longing look to thewindmills of his dear old city Dort, which were looming inthe distance behind a forest of chimneys, he saw flocks ofpigeons coming from that quarter to perch fluttering on thepointed gables of Loewestein.

These pigeons, Van Baerle said to himself, are coming fromDort, and consequently may return there. By fastening alittle note to the wing of one of these pigeons, one mighthave a chance to send a message there. Then, after a fewmoments' consideration, he exclaimed, --

"I will do it."

A man grows very patient who is twenty-eight years of age,and condemned to a prison for life, -- that is to say, tosomething like twenty-two or twenty-three thousand days ofcaptivity.

Van Baerle, from whose thoughts the three bulbs were neverabsent, made a snare for catching the pigeons, baiting thebirds with all the resources of his kitchen, such as it wasfor eight slivers (sixpence English) a day; and, after amonth of unsuccessful attempts, he at last caught a femalebird.