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diff --git a/965-0.txt b/965-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dec15db --- /dev/null +++ b/965-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10110 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 965 *** + + + + +THE BLACK TULIP + +By Alexandre Dumas (Pere) + + + + +Chapter 1. A Grateful People + + +On the 20th of August, 1672, the city of the Hague, always so lively, +so neat, and so trim that one might believe every day to be Sunday, with +its shady park, with its tall trees, spreading over its Gothic houses, +with its canals like large mirrors, in which its steeples and its almost +Eastern cupolas are reflected,--the city of the Hague, the capital of +the Seven United Provinces, was swelling in all its arteries with a +black and red stream of hurried, panting, and restless citizens, who, +with their knives in their girdles, muskets on their shoulders, or +sticks in their hands, were pushing on to the Buytenhof, a terrible +prison, the grated windows of which are still shown, where, on the +charge of attempted murder preferred against him by the surgeon +Tyckelaer, Cornelius de Witt, the brother of the Grand Pensionary of +Holland was confined. + +If the history of that time, and especially that of the year in the +middle of which our narrative commences, were not indissolubly connected +with the two names just mentioned, the few explanatory pages which we +are about to add might appear quite supererogatory; but we will, from +the very first, apprise the reader--our old friend, to whom we are wont +on the first page to promise amusement, and with whom we always try to +keep our word as well as is in our power--that this explanation is as +indispensable to the right understanding of our story as to that of the +great event itself on which it is based. + +Cornelius de Witt, Ruart de Pulten, that is to say, warden of the dikes, +ex-burgomaster of Dort, his native town, and member of the Assembly +of the States of Holland, was forty-nine years of age, when the Dutch +people, tired of the Republic such as John de Witt, the Grand Pensionary +of Holland, understood it, at once conceived a most violent affection +for the Stadtholderate, which had been abolished for ever in Holland by +the “Perpetual Edict” forced by John de Witt upon the United Provinces. + +As it rarely happens that public opinion, in its whimsical flights, +does not identify a principle with a man, thus the people saw the +personification of the Republic in the two stern figures of the brothers +De Witt, those Romans of Holland, spurning to pander to the fancies +of the mob, and wedding themselves with unbending fidelity to liberty +without licentiousness, and prosperity without the waste of superfluity; +on the other hand, the Stadtholderate recalled to the popular mind the +grave and thoughtful image of the young Prince William of Orange. + +The brothers De Witt humoured Louis XIV., whose moral influence was felt +by the whole of Europe, and the pressure of whose material power Holland +had been made to feel in that marvellous campaign on the Rhine, which, +in the space of three months, had laid the power of the United Provinces +prostrate. + +Louis XIV. had long been the enemy of the Dutch, who insulted or +ridiculed him to their hearts’ content, although it must be said that +they generally used French refugees for the mouthpiece of their spite. +Their national pride held him up as the Mithridates of the Republic. +The brothers De Witt, therefore, had to strive against a double +difficulty,--against the force of national antipathy, and, besides, +against the feeling of weariness which is natural to all vanquished +people, when they hope that a new chief will be able to save them from +ruin and shame. + +This new chief, quite ready to appear on the political stage, and to +measure himself against Louis XIV., however gigantic the fortunes of the +Grand Monarch loomed in the future, was William, Prince of Orange, son +of William II., and grandson, by his mother Henrietta Stuart, of Charles +I. of England. We have mentioned him before as the person by whom the +people expected to see the office of Stadtholder restored. + +This young man was, in 1672, twenty-two years of age. John de Witt, who +was his tutor, had brought him up with the view of making him a good +citizen. Loving his country better than he did his disciple, the master +had, by the Perpetual Edict, extinguished the hope which the young +Prince might have entertained of one day becoming Stadtholder. But God +laughs at the presumption of man, who wants to raise and prostrate the +powers on earth without consulting the King above; and the fickleness +and caprice of the Dutch combined with the terror inspired by Louis +XIV., in repealing the Perpetual Edict, and re-establishing the office +of Stadtholder in favour of William of Orange, for whom the hand of +Providence had traced out ulterior destinies on the hidden map of the +future. + +The Grand Pensionary bowed before the will of his fellow citizens; +Cornelius de Witt, however, was more obstinate, and notwithstanding all +the threats of death from the Orangist rabble, who besieged him in his +house at Dort, he stoutly refused to sign the act by which the office of +Stadtholder was restored. Moved by the tears and entreaties of his wife, +he at last complied, only adding to his signature the two letters V. C. +(Vi Coactus), notifying thereby that he only yielded to force. + +It was a real miracle that on that day he escaped from the doom intended +for him. + +John de Witt derived no advantage from his ready compliance with the +wishes of his fellow citizens. Only a few days after, an attempt +was made to stab him, in which he was severely although not mortally +wounded. + +This by no means suited the views of the Orange faction. The life of +the two brothers being a constant obstacle to their plans, they changed +their tactics, and tried to obtain by calumny what they had not been +able to effect by the aid of the poniard. + +How rarely does it happen that, in the right moment, a great man is +found to head the execution of vast and noble designs; and for that +reason, when such a providential concurrence of circumstances does +occur, history is prompt to record the name of the chosen one, and to +hold him up to the admiration of posterity. But when Satan interposes +in human affairs to cast a shadow upon some happy existence, or to +overthrow a kingdom, it seldom happens that he does not find at his side +some miserable tool, in whose ear he has but to whisper a word to set +him at once about his task. + +The wretched tool who was at hand to be the agent of this dastardly +plot was one Tyckelaer whom we have already mentioned, a surgeon by +profession. + +He lodged an information against Cornelius de Witt, setting forth that +the warden--who, as he had shown by the letters added to his signature, +was fuming at the repeal of the Perpetual Edict--had, from hatred +against William of Orange, hired an assassin to deliver the new Republic +of its new Stadtholder; and he, Tyckelaer was the person thus chosen; +but that, horrified at the bare idea of the act which he was asked to +perpetrate, he had preferred rather to reveal the crime than to commit +it. + +This disclosure was, indeed, well calculated to call forth a furious +outbreak among the Orange faction. The Attorney General caused, on the +16th of August, 1672, Cornelius de Witt to be arrested; and the noble +brother of John de Witt had, like the vilest criminal, to undergo, in +one of the apartments of the town prison, the preparatory degrees of +torture, by means of which his judges expected to force from him the +confession of his alleged plot against William of Orange. + +But Cornelius was not only possessed of a great mind, but also of a +great heart. He belonged to that race of martyrs who, indissolubly +wedded to their political convictions as their ancestors were to their +faith, are able to smile on pain: while being stretched on the rack, he +recited with a firm voice, and scanning the lines according to measure, +the first strophe of the “Justum ac tenacem” of Horace, and, making no +confession, tired not only the strength, but even the fanaticism, of his +executioners. + +The judges, notwithstanding, acquitted Tyckelaer from every charge; at +the same time sentencing Cornelius to be deposed from all his offices +and dignities; to pay all the costs of the trial; and to be banished +from the soil of the Republic for ever. + +This judgment against not only an innocent, but also a great man, +was indeed some gratification to the passions of the people, to whose +interests Cornelius de Witt had always devoted himself: but, as we shall +soon see, it was not enough. + +The Athenians, who indeed have left behind them a pretty tolerable +reputation for ingratitude, have in this respect to yield precedence to +the Dutch. They, at least in the case of Aristides, contented themselves +with banishing him. + +John de Witt, at the first intimation of the charge brought against his +brother, had resigned his office of Grand Pensionary. He too received +a noble recompense for his devotedness to the best interests of his +country, taking with him into the retirement of private life the +hatred of a host of enemies, and the fresh scars of wounds inflicted by +assassins, only too often the sole guerdon obtained by honest people, +who are guilty of having worked for their country, and of having +forgotten their own private interests. + +In the meanwhile William of Orange urged on the course of events by +every means in his power, eagerly waiting for the time when the people, +by whom he was idolised, should have made of the bodies of the brothers +the two steps over which he might ascend to the chair of Stadtholder. + +Thus, then, on the 20th of August, 1672, as we have already stated in +the beginning of this chapter, the whole town was crowding towards the +Buytenhof, to witness the departure of Cornelius de Witt from prison, +as he was going to exile; and to see what traces the torture of the rack +had left on the noble frame of the man who knew his Horace so well. + +Yet all this multitude was not crowding to the Buytenhof with the +innocent view of merely feasting their eyes with the spectacle; there +were many who went there to play an active part in it, and to take upon +themselves an office which they conceived had been badly filled,--that +of the executioner. + +There were, indeed, others with less hostile intentions. All that they +cared for was the spectacle, always so attractive to the mob, whose +instinctive pride is flattered by it,--the sight of greatness hurled +down into the dust. + +“Has not,” they would say, “this Cornelius de Witt been locked up and +broken by the rack? Shall we not see him pale, streaming with blood, +covered with shame?” And was not this a sweet triumph for the burghers +of the Hague, whose envy even beat that of the common rabble; a triumph +in which every honest citizen and townsman might be expected to share? + +“Moreover,” hinted the Orange agitators interspersed through the crowd, +whom they hoped to manage like a sharp-edged and at the same time +crushing instrument,--“moreover, will there not, from the Buytenhof to +the gate of the town, a nice little opportunity present itself to throw +some handfuls of dirt, or a few stones, at this Cornelius de Witt, who +not only conferred the dignity of Stadtholder on the Prince of Orange +merely vi coactus, but who also intended to have him assassinated?” + +“Besides which,” the fierce enemies of France chimed in, “if the work +were done well and bravely at the Hague, Cornelius would certainly not +be allowed to go into exile, where he will renew his intrigues with +France, and live with his big scoundrel of a brother, John, on the gold +of the Marquis de Louvois.” + +Being in such a temper, people generally will run rather than walk; +which was the reason why the inhabitants of the Hague were hurrying so +fast towards the Buytenhof. + +Honest Tyckelaer, with a heart full of spite and malice, and with no +particular plan settled in his mind, was one of the foremost, being +paraded about by the Orange party like a hero of probity, national +honour, and Christian charity. + +This daring miscreant detailed, with all the embellishments and +flourishes suggested by his base mind and his ruffianly imagination, the +attempts which he pretended Cornelius de Witt had made to corrupt him; +the sums of money which were promised, and all the diabolical stratagems +planned beforehand to smooth for him, Tyckelaer, all the difficulties in +the path of murder. + +And every phase of his speech, eagerly listened to by the populace, +called forth enthusiastic cheers for the Prince of Orange, and groans +and imprecations of blind fury against the brothers De Witt. + +The mob even began to vent its rage by inveighing against the iniquitous +judges, who had allowed such a detestable criminal as the villain +Cornelius to get off so cheaply. + +Some of the agitators whispered, “He will be off, he will escape from +us!” + +Others replied, “A vessel is waiting for him at Schevening, a French +craft. Tyckelaer has seen her.” + +“Honest Tyckelaer! Hurrah for Tyckelaer!” the mob cried in chorus. + +“And let us not forget,” a voice exclaimed from the crowd, “that at the +same time with Cornelius his brother John, who is as rascally a traitor +as himself, will likewise make his escape.” + +“And the two rogues will in France make merry with our money, with the +money for our vessels, our arsenals, and our dockyards, which they have +sold to Louis XIV.” + +“Well, then, don’t let us allow them to depart!” advised one of the +patriots who had gained the start of the others. + +“Forward to the prison, to the prison!” echoed the crowd. + +Amid these cries, the citizens ran along faster and faster, cocking +their muskets, brandishing their hatchets, and looking death and +defiance in all directions. + +No violence, however, had as yet been committed; and the file of +horsemen who were guarding the approaches of the Buytenhof remained +cool, unmoved, silent, much more threatening in their impassibility than +all this crowd of burghers, with their cries, their agitation, and their +threats. The men on their horses, indeed, stood like so many statues, +under the eye of their chief, Count Tilly, the captain of the mounted +troops of the Hague, who had his sword drawn, but held it with its point +downwards, in a line with the straps of his stirrup. + +This troop, the only defence of the prison, overawed by its firm +attitude not only the disorderly riotous mass of the populace, but also +the detachment of the burgher guard, which, being placed opposite the +Buytenhof to support the soldiers in keeping order, gave to the rioters +the example of seditious cries, shouting,-- + +“Hurrah for Orange! Down with the traitors!” + +The presence of Tilly and his horsemen, indeed, exercised a salutary +check on these civic warriors; but by degrees they waxed more and more +angry by their own shouts, and as they were not able to understand how +any one could have courage without showing it by cries, they attributed +the silence of the dragoons to pusillanimity, and advanced one step +towards the prison, with all the turbulent mob following in their wake. + +In this moment, Count Tilly rode forth towards them single-handed, +merely lifting his sword and contracting his brow whilst he addressed +them:-- + +“Well, gentlemen of the burgher guard, what are you advancing for, and +what do you wish?” + +The burghers shook their muskets, repeating their cry,-- + +“Hurrah for Orange! Death to the traitors!” + +“‘Hurrah for Orange!’ all well and good!” replied Tilly, “although I +certainly am more partial to happy faces than to gloomy ones. ‘Death +to the traitors!’ as much of it as you like, as long as you show your +wishes only by cries. But, as to putting them to death in good earnest, +I am here to prevent that, and I shall prevent it.” + +Then, turning round to his men, he gave the word of command,-- + +“Soldiers, ready!” + +The troopers obeyed orders with a precision which immediately caused +the burgher guard and the people to fall back, in a degree of confusion +which excited the smile of the cavalry officer. + +“Holloa!” he exclaimed, with that bantering tone which is peculiar to +men of his profession; “be easy, gentlemen, my soldiers will not fire a +shot; but, on the other hand, you will not advance by one step towards +the prison.” + +“And do you know, sir, that we have muskets?” roared the commandant of +the burghers. + +“I must know it, by Jove, you have made them glitter enough before my +eyes; but I beg you to observe also that we on our side have pistols, +that the pistol carries admirably to a distance of fifty yards, and that +you are only twenty-five from us.” + +“Death to the traitors!” cried the exasperated burghers. + +“Go along with you,” growled the officer, “you always cry the same thing +over again. It is very tiresome.” + +With this, he took his post at the head of his troops, whilst the tumult +grew fiercer and fiercer about the Buytenhof. + +And yet the fuming crowd did not know that, at that very moment when +they were tracking the scent of one of their victims, the other, as +if hurrying to meet his fate, passed, at a distance of not more than a +hundred yards, behind the groups of people and the dragoons, to betake +himself to the Buytenhof. + +John de Witt, indeed, had alighted from his coach with his servant, and +quietly walked across the courtyard of the prison. + +Mentioning his name to the turnkey, who however knew him, he said,-- + +“Good morning, Gryphus; I am coming to take away my brother, who, as you +know, is condemned to exile, and to carry him out of the town.” + +Whereupon the jailer, a sort of bear, trained to lock and unlock the +gates of the prison, had greeted him and admitted him into the building, +the doors of which were immediately closed again. + +Ten yards farther on, John de Witt met a lovely young girl, of about +seventeen or eighteen, dressed in the national costume of the Frisian +women, who, with pretty demureness, dropped a curtesy to him. Chucking +her under the chin, he said to her,-- + +“Good morning, my good and fair Rosa; how is my brother?” + +“Oh, Mynheer John!” the young girl replied, “I am not afraid of the harm +which has been done to him. That’s all over now.” + +“But what is it you are afraid of?” + +“I am afraid of the harm which they are going to do to him.” + +“Oh, yes,” said De Witt, “you mean to speak of the people down below, +don’t you?” + +“Do you hear them?” + +“They are indeed in a state of great excitement; but when they see us +perhaps they will grow calmer, as we have never done them anything but +good.” + +“That’s unfortunately no reason, except for the contrary,” muttered the +girl, as, on an imperative sign from her father, she withdrew. + +“Indeed, child, what you say is only too true.” + +Then, in pursuing his way, he said to himself,-- + +“Here is a damsel who very likely does not know how to read, who +consequently has never read anything, and yet with one word she has just +told the whole history of the world.” + +And with the same calm mien, but more melancholy than he had been on +entering the prison, the Grand Pensionary proceeded towards the cell of +his brother. + + + + +Chapter 2. The Two Brothers + + +As the fair Rosa, with foreboding doubt, had foretold, so it happened. +Whilst John de Witt was climbing the narrow winding stairs which led to +the prison of his brother Cornelius, the burghers did their best to have +the troop of Tilly, which was in their way, removed. + +Seeing this disposition, King Mob, who fully appreciated the laudable +intentions of his own beloved militia, shouted most lustily,-- + +“Hurrah for the burghers!” + +As to Count Tilly, who was as prudent as he was firm, he began to parley +with the burghers, under the protection of the cocked pistols of his +dragoons, explaining to the valiant townsmen, that his order from the +States commanded him to guard the prison and its approaches with three +companies. + +“Wherefore such an order? Why guard the prison?” cried the Orangists. + +“Stop,” replied the Count, “there you at once ask me more than I +can tell you. I was told, ‘Guard the prison,’ and I guard it. You, +gentlemen, who are almost military men yourselves, you are aware that an +order must never be gainsaid.” + +“But this order has been given to you that the traitors may be 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 was impossible +to argue against him, the mob answered only by redoubled clamour and +horrible threats, to which the Count opposed the most perfect urbanity. + +“Gentlemen,” he said, “uncock your muskets, one of them may go off by +accident; and if the shot chanced to wound one of my men, we should +knock over a couple of hundreds of yours, for which we should, indeed, +be very sorry, but you even more so; especially as such a thing is +neither contemplated by you nor by myself.” + +“If you did that,” cried the burghers, “we should have a pop at you, +too.” + +“Of course you would; but suppose you killed every man Jack of us, those +whom we should have killed would not, for all that, be less dead.” + +“Then leave the place to us, and you will perform the part of a good +citizen.” + +“First of all,” said the Count, “I am not a citizen, but an officer, +which is a very different thing; and secondly, I am not a Hollander, but +a Frenchman, which is more different still. I have to do with no one but +the States, by whom I am paid; let me see an order from them to leave +the place to you, and I shall only be too glad to wheel off in an +instant, as I am confoundedly bored here.” + +“Yes, yes!” cried a hundred voices; the din of which was immediately +swelled by five hundred others; “let us march to the Town-hall; let us +go and see the deputies! Come along! come along!” + +“That’s it,” Tilly muttered between his teeth, as he saw the most +violent among the crowd turning away; “go and ask for a meanness at +the Town-hall, and you will see whether they will 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 the ear of the +Count, “I hope the deputies will give these madmen a flat refusal; +but, after all, it would do no harm if they would send us some +reinforcement.” + +In the meanwhile, John de Witt, whom we left climbing the stairs, after +the conversation with the jailer Gryphus and his daughter Rosa, had +reached the door of the cell, where on a mattress his brother Cornelius +was resting, after having undergone the preparatory degrees of the +torture. The sentence of banishment having been pronounced, there was no +occasion for inflicting the torture extraordinary. + +Cornelius was stretched on his couch, with broken wrists and crushed +fingers. He had not confessed a crime of which he was not guilty; and +now, after three days of agony, he once more breathed freely, on being +informed that the judges, from whom he had expected death, were only +condemning him to exile. + +Endowed with an iron frame and a stout heart, how would he have +disappointed his enemies if they could only have seen, in the dark cell +of the Buytenhof, his pale face lit up by the smile of the martyr, who +forgets the dross of this earth after having obtained a glimpse of the +bright glory of heaven. + +The warden, indeed, had already recovered his full strength, much more +owing to the force of his own strong will than to actual aid; and he was +calculating how long the formalities of the law would still detain him +in prison. + +This was just at the very moment when the mingled shouts of the +burgher guard and of the mob were raging against the two brothers, and +threatening Captain Tilly, who served as a rampart to them. This noise, +which roared outside of the walls 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 to deem it worth +his while to inquire after its cause; nor did he get up to look out +of the narrow grated window, which gave access to the light and to the +noise of the world without. + +He was so absorbed in his never-ceasing pain that it had almost become a +habit with him. He felt with such delight the bonds which connected his +immortal being with his perishable frame gradually loosening, that it +seemed to him as if his spirit, freed from the trammels of the body, +were hovering above it, like the expiring flame which rises from the +half-extinguished embers. + +He also thought of his brother; and whilst the latter was thus vividly +present to his mind the door opened, and John entered, hurrying to the +bedside of the prisoner, who stretched out his broken limbs and his +hands tied up in bandages towards that glorious brother, whom he now +excelled, not in services rendered to the country, but in the hatred +which the Dutch bore him. + +John tenderly kissed his brother on the forehead, and put his 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 you in such a +state.” + +“And, indeed, I have thought more of you than of myself; and whilst they +were torturing me, I never thought of uttering a complaint, except once, +to say, ‘Poor brother!’ But now that you are here, let us forget all. +You are coming to take me away, are you not?” + +“I am.” + +“I am quite healed; help me to get up, and you shall see how I can +walk.” + +“You will not have to walk far, as I have my coach near the pond, behind +Tilly’s dragoons.” + +“Tilly’s dragoons! What are they near the pond for?” + +“Well,” said the Grand Pensionary with a melancholy smile which was +habitual to him, “the gentlemen at the Town-hall expect that the +people at the Hague would like to see you depart, and there is some +apprehension of a tumult.” + +“Of a tumult?” replied Cornelius, fixing his eyes on his perplexed +brother; “a tumult?” + +“Yes, Cornelius.” + +“Oh! that’s what I heard just now,” said the prisoner, as if speaking to +himself. Then, turning to his brother, he continued,-- + +“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 have made 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 what people will +do in politics, or on the sea when the wind is against them,--I tacked.” + +At this moment the noise in the square below was heard to roar with +increasing fury. Tilly was parleying with the burghers. + +“Well, well,” said Cornelius, “you are a very skilful pilot, John; but I +doubt whether you will as safely guide your brother out of the Buytenhof +in the midst of this gale, and through the raging surf of popular +hatred, as you did the fleet of Van Tromp past the shoals of the Scheldt +to Antwerp.” + +“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 people are! 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 us with their absurd +calumnies, have also made it a reproach against 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, they would have +prevented the defeats of Rees, Orsay, Wesel, and Rheinberg; the Rhine +would not have been crossed, and Holland might still consider herself +invincible in the midst of her marshes and canals.” + +“All this is quite true, my dear Cornelius, but still more certain +it is, that if at this moment our correspondence with the Marquis de +Louvois were discovered, skilful pilot as I am, I should not be able to +save the frail barque which is to carry the brothers De Witt and their +fortunes out of Holland. That correspondence, which might prove to +honest people how dearly I love my country, and what sacrifices I have +offered to make for its liberty and glory, would be ruin to us if it +fell into the hands of the Orange party. I hope you have burned the +letters before you left Dort to join me at the Hague.” + +“My dear brother,” Cornelius answered, “your correspondence with M. de +Louvois affords ample proof of your having been of late the greatest, +most generous, and most able citizen of the Seven United Provinces. I +rejoice in the glory of my country; 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 save our 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 thinks of nothing +but of flowers and of God who made them. You have intrusted 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 he is +strong, he will, when he hears of what has happened to us, boast of +our acquaintance; if he is weak, he will be afraid on account of his +connection with us: if he is strong, he will betray the secret by his +boldness; if he is weak, he will allow it to be forced from him. In +either case he is lost, and so are we. Let us, therefore, fly, fly, as +long as there is still time.” + +Cornelius de Witt, raising himself on his couch, and grasping the +hand of his brother, who shuddered at the touch of his linen bandages, +replied,-- + +“Do not I know my godson? have not I been enabled to read every thought +in Van Baerle’s mind, and every sentiment in his heart? You ask whether +he is strong or weak. He is neither the one nor the other; but that is +not now the question. The principal point is, that he is sure not to +divulge the secret, for the very good reason that he does not know it +himself.” + +John turned round in surprise. + +“You must know, my dear brother, that I have been trained in the school +of that distinguished politician John de Witt; and I repeat to you, +that Van Baerle is not aware of the nature and importance of the deposit +which I have intrusted to him.” + +“Quick then,” cried John, “as there is still time, let us convey to him +directions to burn the parcel.” + +“Through whom?” + +“Through my servant Craeke, who was to have accompanied us on horseback, +and who has entered the prison with me, to assist you downstairs.” + +“Consider well before having those precious documents burnt, John!” + +“I consider, above all things, that the brothers De Witt must +necessarily save their lives, to be able to save their character. If +we are dead, who will defend us? Who will have fully understood our +intentions?” + +“You expect, then, that they would kill us if those papers were found?” + +John, without answering, pointed with his hand to the square, whence, at +that very moment, fierce shouts and savage yells made themselves heard. + +“Yes, yes,” said Cornelius, “I hear these shouts very plainly, 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, raising his 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 on the threshold. + +“Come in, Craeke, and mind well what my brother will tell you.” + +“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 burn it without +a special command to do so.” + +“But will you be able to write, poor old fellow?” John asked, with a +look on the scorched and bruised hands of the unfortunate 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. “The executioners have +indeed pinched me badly enough, but my hand will not tremble once in +tracing the few lines which are requisite.” + +And really Cornelius took the pencil and began to write, when through +the white linen bandages drops of blood oozed out which the pressure of +the fingers against the pencil squeezed 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 it without looking +at it, and without opening it, so that its contents may for ever remain +unknown to yourself. Secrets of this description are death to those +with whom they are deposited. Burn it, and you will have saved John and +Cornelius de Witt. + +“Farewell, and love me. + +“Cornelius de Witt + +“August 20th, 1672.” + +John, with tears in his eyes, wiped off a drop of the noble blood which +had soiled the leaf, and, after having handed the despatch to Craeke +with a last direction, returned to Cornelius, who seemed overcome by +intense pain, and near fainting. + +“Now,” said he, “when honest Craeke sounds his coxswain’s whistle, it +will be a signal of his being clear of the crowd, 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 shrill whistle was heard +through the din and noise of the square of the Buytenhof. + +John gratefully raised his eyes to heaven. + +“And now,” said he, “let us off, Cornelius.” + + + + +Chapter 3. The Pupil of John de Witt + + +Whilst the clamour of the crowd in the square of Buytenhof, which grew +more and more menacing against the two brothers, determined John de +Witt to hasten the departure of his brother Cornelius, a deputation of +burghers had gone to the Town-hall to demand the withdrawal of Tilly’s +horse. + +It was not far from the Buytenhof to Hoogstraet (High Street); and a +stranger, who since the beginning of this scene had watched all its +incidents with intense interest, was seen to wend his way with, or +rather in the wake of, the others towards the Town-hall, to hear as soon +as possible the current news of the hour. + +This stranger was a very young man, of scarcely twenty-two or three, +with nothing about him that bespoke any great energy. He evidently had +his good reasons for not making himself known, as he hid his face in a +handkerchief of fine Frisian linen, with which he incessantly wiped his +brow or his burning lips. + +With an eye keen as that of a bird of prey,--with a long aquiline nose, +a finely cut mouth, which he generally kept open, or rather which was +gaping like the edges of a wound,--this man would have presented to +Lavater, if Lavater had lived at that time, a subject for physiognomical +observations which at the first blush would not have been very +favourable to the person in question. + +“What difference is there between the figure of the conqueror and that +of the pirate?” said the ancients. The difference only between the eagle +and the vulture,--serenity or restlessness. + +And indeed the sallow physiognomy, the thin and sickly body, and the +prowling ways of the stranger, were the very type of a suspecting +master, or an unquiet thief; and a police officer would certainly have +decided in favour of the latter supposition, on account of the great +care which the mysterious person evidently took to hide himself. + +He was plainly dressed, and apparently unarmed; his arm was lean but +wiry, and his hands dry, but of an aristocratic whiteness and delicacy, +and he leaned on the shoulder of an officer, who, with his hand on his +sword, had watched the scenes in the Buytenhof with eager curiosity, +very natural in a military man, until his companion drew him away with +him. + +On arriving at the square of the Hoogstraet, the man with the sallow +face pushed the other behind an open shutter, from which corner he +himself began to survey the balcony of the Town-hall. + +At the savage yells of the mob, the window of the Town-hall opened, and +a man came forth to address the people. + +“Who is that on the balcony?” asked the young man, glancing at the +orator. + +“It is the Deputy Bowelt,” replied the officer. + +“What sort of a man is he? Do you know anything of him?” + +“An honest man; at least I believe so, Monseigneur.” + +Hearing this character given of Bowelt, the young man showed signs +of such a strange disappointment and evident dissatisfaction that the +officer could not but remark it, and therefore added,-- + +“At least people say so, Monseigneur. I cannot say anything about it +myself, as I have no personal acquaintance with Mynheer Bowelt.” + +“An honest man,” repeated he who was addressed as Monseigneur; “do +you mean to say that he is an honest man (brave homme), or a brave one +(homme brave)?” + +“Ah, Monseigneur must excuse me; I would not presume to draw such a fine +distinction in the case of a man whom, I assure your Highness once more, +I know only by sight.” + +“If this Bowelt is an honest man,” his Highness continued, “he will give +to the demand of these furibund petitioners a very queer reception.” + +The nervous quiver of his hand, which moved on the shoulder of his +companion as the fingers of a player on the keys of a harpsichord, +betrayed his burning impatience, so ill concealed at certain times, and +particularly at that moment, under the icy and sombre expression of his +face. + +The chief of the deputation of the burghers was then heard addressing +an interpellation to Mynheer Bowelt, whom he requested to let them know +where the other deputies, his colleagues, were. + +“Gentlemen,” Bowelt repeated for the second time, “I assure you that in +this moment I am here alone with Mynheer d’Asperen, and I cannot take +any resolution on my own responsibility.” + +“The order! we want the order!” cried several thousand voices. + +Mynheer Bowelt wished to speak, but his words were not heard, and he was +only seen moving his arms in all sorts of gestures, which plainly showed +that he felt his position to be desperate. When, at last, he saw that he +could not make himself heard, he turned round towards the open window, +and called Mynheer d’Asperen. + +The latter gentleman now made his appearance on the balcony, where he +was saluted with shouts even more energetic than those with which, ten +minutes before, his colleague had been received. + +This did not prevent him from undertaking the difficult task of +haranguing the mob; but the mob preferred forcing the guard of +the States--which, however, offered no resistance to the sovereign +people--to listening to the speech of Mynheer d’Asperen. + +“Now, then,” the young man coolly remarked, whilst the crowd was rushing +into the principal gate of the Town-hall, “it seems the question will be +discussed indoors, Captain. Come along, and let us hear the debate.” + +“Oh, Monseigneur! Monseigneur! take care!” + +“Of what?” + +“Among these deputies there are many who have had dealings with you, +and it would be sufficient, that one of them should recognize your +Highness.” + +“Yes, that I might be charged with having been the instigator of all +this work, indeed, you are right,” said the young man, blushing for +a moment from regret of having betrayed so much eagerness. “From +this place we shall see them return with or without the order for the +withdrawal of the dragoons, then we may judge which is greater, Mynheer +Bowelt’s honesty or his courage.” + +“But,” replied the officer, looking with astonishment at the personage +whom he addressed as Monseigneur, “but your Highness surely does not +suppose for one instant that the deputies will order Tilly’s horse to +quit their post?” + +“Why not?” the young man quietly retorted. + +“Because doing so would simply be signing the death warrant of Cornelius +and John de Witt.” + +“We shall see,” his Highness replied, with the most perfect coolness; +“God alone knows what is going on within the hearts of men.” + +The officer looked askance at the impassible figure of his companion, +and grew pale: he was an honest man as well as a brave one. + +From the spot where they stood, his Highness and his attendant heard +the tumult and the heavy tramp of the crowd on the staircase of the +Town-hall. The noise thereupon sounded through the windows of the hall, +on the balcony of which Mynheers Bowelt and D’Asperen had presented +themselves. These two gentlemen had retired into the building, very +likely from fear of being forced over the balustrade by the pressure of +the crowd. + +After this, fluctuating shadows in tumultuous confusion were seen +flitting to and fro across the windows: the council hall was filling. + +Suddenly the noise subsided, and as suddenly again it rose with +redoubled intensity, and at last reached such a pitch that the old +building shook to the very roof. + +At length, the living stream poured back through the galleries and +stairs to the arched gateway, from which it was seen issuing like waters +from a spout. + +At the head of the first group, man was flying rather than running, his +face hideously distorted with satanic glee: this man was the surgeon +Tyckelaer. + +“We have it! we have it!” he cried, brandishing a paper in the air. + +“They have got the order!” muttered the officer in amazement. + +“Well, then,” his Highness quietly remarked, “now I know what to believe +with regard to Mynheer Bowelt’s honesty and courage: he has neither the +one nor the other.” + +Then, looking with a steady glance after the crowd which was rushing +along before him, he continued,-- + +“Let us now go to the Buytenhof, Captain; I expect we shall see a very +strange sight there.” + +The officer bowed, and, without making any reply, followed in the steps +of his master. + +There was an immense crowd in the square and about the neighbourhood of +the prison. But the dragoons of Tilly still kept it in check with the +same success and with the same firmness. + +It was not long before the Count heard the increasing din of the +approaching multitude, the first ranks of which rushed on with the +rapidity of a cataract. + +At the same time he observed the paper, which was waving above the +surface of clenched fists and glittering arms. + +“Halloa!” he said, rising in his stirrups, and touching his lieutenant +with the knob of his sword; “I really believe those rascals have got the +order.” + +“Dastardly ruffians they are,” cried the lieutenant. + +It was indeed the order, which the burgher guard received with a roar +of triumph. They immediately sallied forth, with lowered arms and fierce +shouts, to meet Count Tilly’s dragoons. + +But the Count was not the man to allow them to approach within an +inconvenient distance. + +“Stop!” he cried, “stop, and keep off from my horse, or I shall give the +word of command to advance.” + +“Here is the order!” a hundred insolent voices answered at once. + +He took it in amazement, cast a rapid glance on it, and said quite +aloud,-- + +“Those who have signed this order are the real murderers of Cornelius +de Witt. I would rather have my two hands cut off than have written one +single letter of this infamous order.” + +And, pushing back with the hilt of his sword the man who wanted to take +it from him, he added,-- + +“Wait a minute, papers like this are of importance, and are to be kept.” + +Saying this, he folded up the document, and carefully put it in the +pocket of his coat. + +Then, turning round towards his troop, he gave the word of command,-- + +“Tilly’s dragoons, wheel to the right!” + +After this, he added, in an undertone, yet loud enough for his words to +be not altogether lost to those about him,-- + +“And now, ye butchers, do your work!” + +A savage yell, in which all the keen hatred and ferocious triumph +rife in the precincts of the prison simultaneously burst forth, and +accompanied the departure of the dragoons, as they were quietly filing +off. + +The Count tarried behind, facing to the last the infuriated populace, +which advanced at the same rate as the Count retired. + +John de Witt, therefore, had by no means exaggerated the danger, +when, assisting his brother in getting up, he hurried his departure. +Cornelius, leaning on the arm of the Ex-Grand Pensionary, descended the +stairs which led to the courtyard. At the bottom of the staircase he +found little Rosa, trembling all over. + +“Oh, Mynheer John,” she said, “what a misfortune!” + +“What is it, my child?” asked De Witt. + +“They say that they are gone to the Town-hall to fetch the order for +Tilly’s horse to withdraw.” + +“You do not say so!” replied John. “Indeed, my dear child, if the +dragoons are off, we shall be in a very sad plight.” + +“I have some advice to give you,” Rosa said, trembling even more +violently than before. + +“Well, let us hear what you have to say, my child. Why should not God +speak by your mouth?” + +“Now, then, Mynheer John, if I were in your place, I should not go out +through the main street.” + +“And why so, as the dragoons of Tilly are still at their post?” + +“Yes, but their order, as long as it is not revoked, enjoins them to +stop before the prison.” + +“Undoubtedly.” + +“Have you got an order for them to accompany you out of the town?” + +“We have not?” + +“Well, then, in the very moment when you have passed the ranks of the +dragoons you will fall into the hands of the people.” + +“But the burgher guard?” + +“Alas! the burgher guard are the most enraged of all.” + +“What are we to do, then?” + +“If I were in your place, Mynheer John,” the young girl timidly +continued, “I should leave by the postern, which leads into a deserted +by-lane, whilst all the people are waiting in the High Street to see you +come out by the principal entrance. From there I should try to reach the +gate by which you intend to leave the town.” + +“But my brother is not able to walk,” said John. + +“I shall try,” Cornelius said, with an expression of most sublime +fortitude. + +“But have you not got your carriage?” asked the girl. + +“The carriage is down near the great entrance.” + +“Not so,” she replied. “I considered your coachman to be a faithful man, +and I told him to wait for you at the postern.” + +The two brothers looked first at each other, and then at Rosa, with a +glance full of the most tender gratitude. + +“The question is now,” said the Grand Pensionary, “whether Gryphus will +open this door for us.” + +“Indeed, he will do no such thing,” said Rosa. + +“Well, and how then?” + +“I have foreseen his refusal, and just now whilst he was talking from +the window of the porter’s lodge with a dragoon, I took away the key +from his bunch.” + +“And you have got it?” + +“Here it is, Mynheer John.” + +“My child,” said Cornelius, “I have nothing to give you in exchange for +the service you are rendering us but the Bible which you will find in +my room; it is the last gift of an honest man; I hope it will bring you +good luck.” + +“I thank you, Master Cornelius, it shall never leave me,” replied Rosa. + +And then, with a sigh, she said to herself, “What a pity that I do not +know how to read!” + +“The shouts and cries are growing louder and louder,” said John; “there +is not a moment to be lost.” + +“Come along, gentlemen,” said the girl, who now led the two brothers +through an inner lobby to the back of the prison. Guided by her, +they descended a staircase of about a dozen steps; traversed a small +courtyard, which was surrounded by castellated walls; and, the arched +door having been opened for them by Rosa, they emerged into a lonely +street where their carriage was ready to receive them. + +“Quick, quick, my masters! do you hear them?” cried the coachman, in a +deadly fright. + +Yet, after having made Cornelius get into the carriage first, the Grand +Pensionary turned round towards the girl, to whom he said,-- + +“Good-bye, my child! words could never express our gratitude. God will +reward you for having saved the lives of two men.” + +Rosa took the hand which John de Witt proffered to her, and kissed it +with every show of respect. + +“Go! for Heaven’s sake, go!” she said; “it seems they are going to force +the gate.” + +John de Witt hastily got in, sat himself down by the side of his +brother, and, fastening the apron of the carriage, called out to the +coachman,-- + +“To the Tol-Hek!” + +The Tol-Hek was the iron gate leading to the harbor of Schevening, in +which a small vessel was waiting for the two brothers. + +The carriage drove off with the fugitives at the full speed of a pair +of spirited Flemish horses. Rosa followed them with her eyes until they +turned the corner of the street, upon which, closing the door after her, +she went back and threw the key into a cell. + +The noise which had made Rosa suppose that the people were forcing the +prison door was indeed owing to the mob battering against it after the +square had been left by the military. + +Solid as the gate was, and although Gryphus, to do him justice, stoutly +enough refused to open it, yet evidently it could not resist much +longer, and the jailer, growing very pale, put to himself the question +whether it would not be better to open the door than to allow it to be +forced, when he felt some one gently pulling his coat. + +He turned round and saw Rosa. + +“Do you hear these madmen?” he said. + +“I hear them so well, my father, that in your place----” + +“You would open the door?” + +“No, I should allow it to be forced.” + +“But they will kill me!” + +“Yes, if they see you.” + +“How shall they not see me?” + +“Hide yourself.” + +“Where?” + +“In the secret dungeon.” + +“But you, my child?” + +“I shall get into it with you. We shall lock the door and when they have +left the prison, we shall again come forth from our hiding place.” + +“Zounds, you are right, there!” cried Gryphus; “it’s surprising how much +sense there is in such a little head!” + +Then, as the gate began to give way amidst the triumphant shouts of the +mob, she opened a little trap-door, and said,-- + +“Come along, come along, father.” + +“But our prisoners?” + +“God will watch over them, and I shall watch over you.” + +Gryphus followed his daughter, and the trap-door closed over his head, +just as the broken gate gave admittance to the populace. + +The dungeon where Rosa had induced her father to hide himself, and where +for the present we must leave the two, offered to them a perfectly safe +retreat, being known only to those in power, who used to place there +important prisoners of state, to guard against a rescue or a revolt. + +The people rushed into the prison, with the cry-- + +“Death to the traitors! To the gallows with Cornelius de Witt! Death! +death!” + + + + +Chapter 4. The Murderers + + +The young man with his hat slouched over his eyes, still leaning on the +arm of the officer, and still wiping from time to time his brow with his +handkerchief, was watching in a corner of the Buytenhof, in the shade +of the overhanging weather-board of a closed shop, the doings of the +infuriated mob, a spectacle which seemed to draw near its catastrophe. + +“Indeed,” said he to the officer, “indeed, I think you were right, +Van Deken; the order which the deputies have signed is truly the +death-warrant of Master Cornelius. Do you hear these people? They +certainly bear a sad grudge to the two De Witts.” + +“In truth,” replied the officer, “I never heard such shouts.” + +“They seem to have found out the cell of the man. Look, look! is not +that the window of the cell where Cornelius was locked up?” + +A man had seized with both hands and was shaking the iron bars of the +window in the room which Cornelius had left only ten minutes before. + +“Halloa, halloa!” the man called out, “he is gone.” + +“How is that? gone?” asked those of the mob who had not been able to get +into the prison, crowded as it was with the mass of intruders. + +“Gone, gone,” repeated the man in a rage, “the bird has flown.” + +“What does this man say?” asked his Highness, growing quite pale. + +“Oh, Monseigneur, he says a thing which would be very fortunate if it +should turn out true!” + +“Certainly it would be fortunate if it were true,” said the young man; +“unfortunately it cannot be true.” + +“However, look!” said the officer. + +And indeed, some more faces, furious and contorted with rage, showed +themselves at the windows, crying,-- + +“Escaped, gone, they have helped them off!” + +And the people in the street repeated, with fearful imprecations,-- + +“Escaped! gone! After them, and catch them!” + +“Monseigneur, it seems that Mynheer Cornelius has really escaped,” said +the officer. + +“Yes, from prison, perhaps, but not from the town; you will see, Van +Deken, that the poor fellow will find the gate closed against him which +he hoped to find open.” + +“Has an order been given to close the town gates, Monseigneur?” + +“No,--at least I do not think so; who could have given such an order?” + +“Indeed, but what makes your Highness suppose?” + +“There are fatalities,” Monseigneur replied, in an offhand manner; “and +the greatest men have sometimes fallen victims to such fatalities.” + +At these words the officer felt his blood run cold, as somehow or other +he was convinced that the prisoner was lost. + +At this moment the roar of the multitude broke forth like thunder, for +it was now quite certain that Cornelius de Witt was no longer in the +prison. + + + +Cornelius and John, after driving along the pond, had taken the main +street, which leads to the Tol-Hek, giving directions to the coachman to +slacken his pace, in order not to excite any suspicion. + +But when, on having proceeded half-way down that street, the man felt +that he had left the prison and death behind, and before him there was +life and liberty, he neglected every precaution, and set his horses off +at a gallop. + +All at once he stopped. + +“What is the matter?” asked John, putting his head out of the coach +window. + +“Oh, my masters!” cried the coachman, “it is----” + +Terror choked the voice of the honest fellow. + +“Well, say what you have to say!” urged the Grand Pensionary. + +“The gate is closed, that’s what it is.” + +“How is this? It is not usual to close the gate by day.” + +“Just look!” + +John de Witt leaned out of the window, and indeed saw that the man was +right. + +“Never mind, but drive on,” said John, “I have with me the order for the +commutation of the punishment, the gate-keeper will let us through.” + +The carriage moved along, but it was evident that the driver was no +longer urging his horses with the same degree of confidence. + +Moreover, as John de Witt put his head out of the carriage window, he +was seen and recognized by a brewer, who, being behind his companions, +was just shutting his door in all haste to join them at the Buytenhof. +He uttered a cry of surprise, and ran after two other men before him, +whom he overtook about a hundred yards farther on, and told them what he +had seen. The three men then stopped, looking after the carriage, being +however not yet quite sure as to whom it contained. + +The carriage in the meanwhile arrived at the Tol-Hek. + +“Open!” cried the coachman. + +“Open!” echoed the gatekeeper, from the threshold of his lodge; “it’s +all very well to say ‘Open!’ but what am I to do it with?” + +“With the key, to be sure!” said the coachman. + +“With the key! Oh, yes! but if you have not got it?” + +“How is that? Have not you got the key?” asked the coachman. + +“No, I haven’t.” + +“What has become of it?” + +“Well, they have taken it from me.” + +“Who?” + +“Some one, I dare say, who had a mind that no one should leave the +town.” + +“My good man,” said the Grand Pensionary, putting out his head from the +window, and risking all for gaining all; “my good man, it is for me, +John de Witt, and for my brother Cornelius, who I am taking away into +exile.” + +“Oh, Mynheer de Witt! I am indeed very much grieved,” said the +gatekeeper, rushing towards the carriage; “but, upon my sacred word, the +key has been taken from me.” + +“When?” + +“This morning.” + +“By whom?” + +“By a pale and thin young man, of about twenty-two.” + +“And wherefore did you give it up to him?” + +“Because he showed me an order, signed and sealed.” + +“By whom?” + +“By the gentlemen of the Town-hall.” + +“Well, then,” said Cornelius calmly, “our doom seems to be fixed.” + +“Do you know whether the same precaution has been taken at the other +gates?” + +“I do not.” + +“Now then,” said John to the coachman, “God commands man to do all that +is in his power to preserve his life; go, and drive to another gate.” + +And whilst the servant was turning round the vehicle the Grand +Pensionary said to the gatekeeper,-- + +“Take our thanks for your good intentions; the will must count for the +deed; you had the will to save us, and that, in the eyes of the Lord, is +as if you had succeeded in doing so.” + +“Alas!” said the gatekeeper, “do you see down there?” + +“Drive at a gallop through that group,” John called out to the coachman, +“and take the street on the left; it is our only chance.” + +The group which John alluded to had, for its nucleus, those three men +whom we left looking after the carriage, and who, in the meanwhile, had +been joined by seven or eight others. + +These new-comers evidently meant mischief with regard to the carriage. + +When they saw the horses galloping down upon them, they placed +themselves across the street, brandishing cudgels in their hands, and +calling out,-- + +“Stop! stop!” + +The coachman, on his side, lashed his horses into increased speed, until +the coach and the men encountered. + +The brothers De Witt, enclosed within the body of the carriage, were not +able to see anything; but they felt a severe shock, occasioned by the +rearing of the horses. The whole vehicle for a moment shook and stopped; +but immediately after, passing over something round and elastic, which +seemed to be the body of a prostrate man set off again amidst a volley +of the fiercest oaths. + +“Alas!” said Cornelius, “I am afraid we have hurt some one.” + +“Gallop! gallop!” called John. + +But, notwithstanding this order, the coachman suddenly came to a stop. + +“Now, then, what is the matter again?” asked John. + +“Look there!” said the coachman. + +John looked. The whole mass of the populace from the Buytenhof appeared +at the extremity of the street along which the carriage was to proceed, +and its stream moved roaring and rapid, as if lashed on by a hurricane. + +“Stop and get off,” said John to the coachman; “it is useless to go any +farther; we are lost!” + +“Here they are! here they are!” five hundred voices were crying at the +same time. + +“Yes, here they are, the traitors, the murderers, the assassins!” + answered the men who were running after the carriage to the people who +were coming to meet it. The former carried in their arms the bruised +body of one of their companions, who, trying to seize the reins of the +horses, had been trodden down by them. + +This was the object over which the two brothers had felt their carriage +pass. + +The coachman stopped, but, however strongly his master urged him, he +refused to get off and save himself. + +In an instant the carriage was hemmed in between those who followed and +those who met it. It rose above the mass of moving heads like a floating +island. But in another instant it came to a dead stop. A blacksmith had +with his hammer struck down one of the horses, which fell in the traces. + +At this moment, the shutter of a window opened, and disclosed the sallow +face and the dark eyes of the young man, who with intense interest +watched the scene which was preparing. Behind him appeared the head of +the officer, almost as pale as himself. + +“Good heavens, Monseigneur, what is going on there?” whispered the +officer. + +“Something very terrible, to a certainty,” replied the other. + +“Don’t you see, Monseigneur, they are dragging the Grand Pensionary from +the carriage, they strike him, they tear him to pieces!” + +“Indeed, these people must certainly be prompted by a most violent +indignation,” said the young man, with the same impassible tone which +he had preserved all along. + +“And here is Cornelius, whom they now likewise drag out of the +carriage,--Cornelius, who is already quite broken and mangled by the +torture. Only look, look!” + +“Indeed, it is Cornelius, and no mistake.” + +The officer uttered a feeble cry, and turned his head away; the brother +of the Grand Pensionary, before having set foot on the ground, whilst +still on the bottom step of the carriage, was struck down with an iron +bar which broke his skull. He rose once more, but immediately fell +again. + +Some fellows then seized him by the feet, and dragged him into the +crowd, into the middle of which one might have followed his bloody +track, and he was soon closed in among the savage yells of malignant +exultation. + +The young man--a thing which would have been thought impossible--grew +even paler than before, and his eyes were for a moment veiled behind the +lids. + +The officer saw this sign of compassion, and, wishing to avail himself +of this softened tone of his feelings, continued,-- + +“Come, come, Monseigneur, for here they are also going to murder the +Grand Pensionary.” + +But the young man had already opened his eyes again. + +“To be sure,” he said. “These people are really implacable. It does no +one good to offend them.” + +“Monseigneur,” said the officer, “may not one save this poor man, who +has been your Highness’s instructor? If there be any means, name it, and +if I should perish in the attempt----” + +William of Orange--for he it was--knit his brows in a very forbidding +manner, restrained the glance of gloomy malice which glistened in his +half-closed eye, and answered,-- + +“Captain Van Deken, I request you to go and look after my troops, that +they may be armed for any emergency.” + +“But am I to leave your Highness here, alone, in the presence of all +these murderers?” + +“Go, and don’t you trouble yourself about me more than I do myself,” the +Prince gruffly replied. + +The officer started off with a speed which was much less owing to his +sense of military obedience than to his pleasure at being relieved from +the necessity of witnessing the shocking spectacle of the murder of the +other brother. + +He had scarcely left the room, when John--who, with an almost superhuman +effort, had reached the stone steps of a house nearly opposite that +where his former pupil concealed himself--began to stagger under the +blows which were inflicted on him from all sides, calling out,-- + +“My brother! where is my brother?” + +One of the ruffians knocked off his hat with a blow of his clenched +fist. + +Another showed to him his bloody hands; for this fellow had ripped open +Cornelius and disembowelled him, and was now hastening to the spot in +order not to lose the opportunity of serving the Grand Pensionary in the +same manner, whilst they were dragging the dead body of Cornelius to the +gibbet. + +John uttered a cry of agony and grief, and put one of his hands before +his eyes. + +“Oh, you close your eyes, do you?” said one of the soldiers of the +burgher guard; “well, I shall open them for you.” + +And saying this he stabbed him with his pike in the face, and the blood +spurted forth. + +“My brother!” cried John de Witt, trying to see through the stream of +blood which blinded him, what had become of Cornelius; “my brother, my +brother!” + +“Go and run after him!” bellowed another murderer, putting his musket to +his temples and pulling the trigger. + +But the gun did not go off. + +The fellow then turned his musket round, and, taking it by the barrel +with both hands, struck John de Witt down with the butt-end. John +staggered and fell down at his feet, but, raising himself with a last +effort, he once more called out,-- + +“My brother!” with a voice so full of anguish that the young man +opposite closed the shutter. + +There remained little more to see; a third murderer fired a pistol with +the muzzle to his face; and this time the shot took effect, blowing out +his brains. John de Witt fell to rise no more. + +On this, every one of the miscreants, emboldened by his fall, wanted to +fire his gun at him, or strike him with blows of the sledge-hammer, +or stab him with a knife or swords, every one wanted to draw a drop of +blood from the fallen hero, and tear off a shred from his garments. + +And after having mangled, and torn, and completely stripped the +two brothers, the mob dragged their naked and bloody bodies to an +extemporised gibbet, where amateur executioners hung them up by the +feet. + +Then came the most dastardly scoundrels of all, who not having dared to +strike the living flesh, cut the dead in pieces, and then went about +the town selling small slices of the bodies of John and Cornelius at ten +sous a piece. + +We cannot take upon ourselves to say whether, through the almost +imperceptible chink of the shutter, the young man witnessed the +conclusion of this shocking scene; but at the very moment when they were +hanging the two martyrs on the gibbet he passed through the terrible +mob, which was too much absorbed in the task, so grateful to its taste, +to take any notice of him, and thus he reached unobserved the Tol-Hek, +which was still closed. + +“Ah! sir,” said the gatekeeper, “do you bring me the key?” + +“Yes, my man, here it is.” + +“It is most unfortunate that you did not bring me that key only one +quarter of an hour sooner,” said the gatekeeper, with a sigh. + +“And why that?” asked the other. + +“Because I might have opened the gate to Mynheers de Witt; whereas, +finding the gate locked, they were obliged to retrace their steps.” + +“Gate! gate!” cried a voice which seemed to be that of a man in a hurry. + +The Prince, turning round, observed Captain Van Deken. + +“Is that you, Captain?” he said. “You are not yet out of the Hague? This +is executing my orders very slowly.” + +“Monseigneur,” replied the Captain, “this is the third gate at which I +have presented myself; the other two were closed.” + +“Well, this good man will open this one for you; do it, my friend.” + +The last words were addressed to the gatekeeper, who stood quite +thunderstruck on hearing Captain Van Deken addressing by the title of +Monseigneur this pale young man, to whom he himself had spoken in such a +familiar way. + +As it were to make up for his fault, he hastened to open the gate, which +swung creaking on its hinges. + +“Will Monseigneur avail himself of my horse?” asked the Captain. + +“I thank you, Captain, I shall use my own steed, which is waiting for me +close at hand.” + +And taking from his pocket a golden whistle, such as was generally used +at that time for summoning the servants, he sounded it with a shrill +and prolonged call, on which an equerry on horseback speedily made his +appearance, leading another horse by the bridle. + +William, without touching the stirrup, vaulted into the saddle of the +led horse, and, setting his spurs into its flanks, started off for the +Leyden road. Having reached it, he turned round and beckoned to the +Captain who was far behind, to ride by his side. + +“Do you know,” he then said, without stopping, “that those rascals have +killed John de Witt as well as his brother?” + +“Alas! Monseigneur,” the Captain answered sadly, “I should like it much +better if these two difficulties were still in your Highness’s way of +becoming de facto Stadtholder of Holland.” + +“Certainly, it would have been better,” said William, “if what did +happen had not happened. But it cannot be helped now, and we have had +nothing to do with it. Let us push on, Captain, that we may arrive at +Alphen before the message which the States-General are sure to send to +me to the camp.” + +The Captain bowed, allowed the Prince to ride ahead and, for the +remainder of the journey, kept at the same respectful distance as he had +done before his Highness called him to his side. + +“How I should wish,” William of Orange malignantly muttered to himself, +with a dark frown and setting the spurs to his horse, “to see the figure +which Louis will cut when he is apprised of the manner in which his dear +friends De Witt have been served! Oh thou Sun! thou Sun! as truly as +I am called William the Silent, thou Sun, thou hadst best look to thy +rays!” + +And the young Prince, the relentless rival of the Great King, sped away +upon his fiery steed,--this future Stadtholder who had been but the day +before very uncertainly established in his new power, but for whom the +burghers of the Hague had built a staircase with the bodies of John and +Cornelius, two princes as noble as he in the eyes of God and man. + + + + +Chapter 5. The Tulip-fancier and his Neighbour + + +Whilst the burghers of the Hague were tearing in pieces the bodies of +John and Cornelius de Witt, and whilst William of Orange, after having +made sure that his two antagonists were really dead, was galloping over +the Leyden road, followed by Captain van Deken, whom he found a little +too compassionate to honour him any longer with his confidence, Craeke, +the faithful servant, mounted on a good horse, and little suspecting +what terrible events had taken place since his departure, proceeded +along the high road lined with trees, until he was clear of the town and +the neighbouring villages. + +Being once safe, he left his horse at a livery stable in order not +to arouse suspicion, and tranquilly continued his journey on the +canal-boats, which conveyed him by easy stages to Dort, pursuing their +way under skilful guidance by the shortest possible routes through +the windings of the river, which held in its watery embrace so many +enchanting little islands, edged with willows and rushes, and abounding +in luxurious vegetation, whereon flocks of fat sheep browsed in peaceful +sleepiness. Craeke from afar off recognised Dort, the smiling city, +at the foot of a hill dotted with windmills. He saw the fine red brick +houses, mortared in white lines, standing on the edge of the water, and +their balconies, open towards the river, decked out with silk tapestry +embroidered with gold flowers, the wonderful manufacture of India and +China; and near these brilliant stuffs, large lines set to catch the +voracious eels, which are attracted towards the houses by the garbage +thrown every day from the kitchens into the river. + +Craeke, standing on the deck of the boat, saw, across the moving sails +of the windmills, on the slope of the hill, the red and pink house which +was the goal of his errand. The outlines of its roof were merging in the +yellow foliage of a curtain of poplar trees, the whole habitation having +for background a dark grove of gigantic elms. The mansion was situated +in such a way that the sun, falling on it as into a funnel, dried up, +warmed, and fertilised the mist which the verdant screen could not +prevent the river wind from carrying there every morning and evening. + +Having disembarked unobserved amid the usual bustle of the city, +Craeke at once directed his steps towards the house which we have just +described, and which--white, trim, and tidy, even more cleanly scoured +and more carefully waxed in the hidden corners than in the places which +were exposed to view--enclosed a truly happy mortal. + +This happy mortal, rara avis, was Dr. van Baerle, the godson of +Cornelius de Witt. He had inhabited the same house ever since his +childhood, for it was the house in which his father and grandfather, old +established princely merchants of the princely city of Dort, were born. + +Mynheer van Baerle the father had amassed in the Indian trade three or +four hundred thousand guilders, which Mynheer van Baerle the son, at the +death of his dear and worthy parents, found still quite new, although +one set of them bore the date of coinage of 1640, and the other that +of 1610, a fact which proved that they were guilders of Van Baerle the +father and of Van Baerle the grandfather; but we will inform the reader +at once that these three or four hundred thousand guilders were only the +pocket money, or sort of purse, for Cornelius van Baerle, the hero of +this story, as his landed property in the province yielded him an income +of about ten thousand guilders a year. + +When the worthy citizen, the father of Cornelius, passed from time into +eternity, three months after having buried his wife, who seemed to have +departed first to smooth for him the path of death as she had smoothed +for him the path of life, he said to his son, as he embraced him for the +last time,-- + +“Eat, drink, and spend your money, if you wish to know what life really +is, for as to toiling from morn to evening on a wooden stool, or a +leathern chair, in a counting-house or a laboratory, that certainly is +not living. Your time to die will also come; and if you are not then so +fortunate as to have a son, you will let my name grow extinct, and my +guilders, which no one has ever fingered but my father, myself, and +the coiner, will have the surprise of passing to an unknown master. And +least of all, imitate the example of your godfather, Cornelius de Witt, +who has plunged into politics, the most ungrateful of all careers, and +who will certainly come to an untimely end.” + +Having given utterance to this paternal advice, the worthy Mynheer van +Baerle died, to the intense grief of his son Cornelius, who cared very +little for the guilders, and very much for his father. + +Cornelius then remained alone in his large house. In vain his godfather +offered to him a place in the public service,--in vain did he try +to give him a taste for glory,--although Cornelius, to gratify his +godfather, did embark with De Ruyter upon “The Seven Provinces,” the +flagship of a fleet of one hundred and thirty-nine sail, with which +the famous admiral set out to contend singlehanded against the combined +forces of France and England. When, guided by the pilot Leger, he had +come within musket-shot of the “Prince,” with the Duke of York (the +English king’s brother) aboard, upon which De Ruyter, his mentor, made +so sharp and well directed an attack that the Duke, perceiving that his +vessel would soon have to strike, made the best of his way aboard the +“Saint Michael”; when he had seen the “Saint Michael,” riddled and +shattered by the Dutch broadside, drift out of the line; when he had +witnessed the sinking of the “Earl of Sandwich,” and the death by fire +or drowning of four hundred sailors; when he realized that the result of +all this destruction--after twenty ships had been blown to pieces, three +thousand men killed and five thousand injured--was that nothing was +decided, that both sides claimed the victory, that the fighting would +soon begin again, and that just one more name, that of Southwold Bay, +had been added to the list of battles; when he had estimated how much +time is lost simply in shutting his eyes and ears by a man who likes +to use his reflective powers even while his fellow creatures are +cannonading one another;--Cornelius bade farewell to De Ruyter, to the +Ruart de Pulten, and to glory, kissed the knees of the Grand Pensionary, +for whom he entertained the deepest veneration, and retired to his house +at Dort, rich in his well-earned repose, his twenty-eight years, an iron +constitution and keen perceptions, and his capital of more than four +hundred thousands of florins and income of ten thousand, convinced that +a man is always endowed by Heaven with too much for his own happiness, +and just enough to make him miserable. + +Consequently, and to indulge his own idea of happiness, Cornelius began +to be interested in the study of plants and insects, collected and +classified the Flora of all the Dutch islands, arranged the whole +entomology of the province, on which he wrote a treatise, with plates +drawn by his own hands; and at last, being at a loss what to do with +his time, and especially with his money, which went on accumulating at a +most alarming rate, he took it into his head to select for himself, from +all the follies of his country and of his age, one of the most elegant +and expensive,--he became a tulip-fancier. + +It was the time when the Dutch and the Portuguese, rivalling each other +in this branch of horticulture, had begun to worship that flower, and +to make more of a cult of it than ever naturalists dared to make of the +human race for fear of arousing the jealousy of God. + +Soon people from Dort to Mons began to talk of Mynheer van Baerle’s +tulips; and his beds, pits, drying-rooms, and drawers of bulbs +were visited, as the galleries and libraries of Alexandria were by +illustrious Roman travellers. + +Van Baerle began by expending his yearly revenue in laying the +groundwork of his collection, after which he broke in upon his new +guilders to bring it to perfection. His exertions, indeed, were crowned +with a most magnificent result: he produced three new tulips, which he +called the “Jane,” after his mother; the “Van Baerle,” after his father; +and the “Cornelius,” after his godfather; the other names have escaped +us, but the fanciers will be sure to find them in the catalogues of the +times. + +In the beginning of the year 1672, Cornelius de Witt came to Dort for +three months, to live at his old family mansion; for not only was he +born in that city, but his family had been resident there for centuries. + +Cornelius, at that period, as William of Orange said, began to enjoy the +most perfect unpopularity. To his fellow citizens, the good burghers of +Dort, however, he did not appear in the light of a criminal who deserved +to be hung. It is true, they did not particularly like his somewhat +austere republicanism, but they were proud of his valour; and when he +made his entrance into their town, the cup of honour was offered to him, +readily enough, in the name of the city. + +After having thanked his fellow citizens, Cornelius proceeded to his old +paternal house, and gave directions for some repairs, which he wished to +have executed before the arrival of his wife and children; and thence +he wended his way to the house of his godson, who perhaps was the only +person in Dort as yet unacquainted with the presence of Cornelius in the +town. + +In the same degree as Cornelius de Witt had excited the hatred of the +people by sowing those evil seeds which are called political passions, +Van Baerle had gained the affections of his fellow citizens by +completely shunning the pursuit of politics, absorbed as he was in the +peaceful pursuit of cultivating tulips. + +Van Baerle was truly beloved by his servants and labourers; nor had +he any conception that there was in this world a man who wished ill to +another. + +And yet it must be said, to the disgrace of mankind, that Cornelius +van Baerle, without being aware of the fact, had a much more ferocious, +fierce, and implacable enemy than the Grand Pensionary and his brother +had among the Orange party, who were most hostile to the devoted +brothers, who had never been sundered by the least misunderstanding +during their lives, and by their mutual devotion in the face of death +made sure the existence of their brotherly affection beyond the grave. + +At the time when Cornelius van Baerle began to devote himself to +tulip-growing, expending on this hobby his yearly revenue and the +guilders of his father, there was at Dort, living next door to him, a +citizen of the name of Isaac Boxtel who from the age when he was able to +think for himself had indulged the same fancy, and who was in ecstasies +at the mere mention of the word “tulban,” which (as we are assured +by the “Floriste Francaise,” the most highly considered authority in +matters relating to this flower) is the first word in the Cingalese +tongue which was ever used to designate that masterpiece of floriculture +which is now called the tulip. + +Boxtel had not the good fortune of being rich, like Van Baerle. He +had therefore, with great care and patience, and by dint of strenuous +exertions, laid out near his house at Dort a garden fit for the culture +of his cherished flower; he had mixed the soil according to the most +approved prescriptions, and given to his hotbeds just as much heat and +fresh air as the strictest rules of horticulture exact. + +Isaac knew the temperature of his frames to the twentieth part of a +degree. He knew the strength of the current of air, and tempered it so +as to adapt it to the wave of the stems of his flowers. His productions +also began to meet with the favour of the public. They were beautiful, +nay, distinguished. Several fanciers had come to see Boxtel’s tulips. +At last he had even started amongst all the Linnaeuses and Tourneforts a +tulip which bore his name, and which, after having travelled all through +France, had found its way into Spain, and penetrated as far as Portugal; +and the King, Don Alfonso VI.--who, being expelled from Lisbon, had +retired to the island of Terceira, where he amused himself, not, +like the great Condé, with watering his carnations, but with growing +tulips--had, on seeing the Boxtel tulip, exclaimed, “Not so bad, by any +means!” + +All at once, Cornelius van Baerle, who, after all his learned pursuits, +had been seized with the tulipomania, made some changes in his house +at Dort, which, as we have stated, was next door to that of Boxtel. He +raised a certain building in his court-yard by a story, which shutting +out the sun, took half a degree of warmth from Boxtel’s garden, and, on +the other hand, added half a degree of cold in winter; not to mention +that it cut the wind, and disturbed all the horticultural calculations +and arrangements of his neighbour. + +After all, this mishap appeared to Boxtel of no great consequence. Van +Baerle was but a painter, a sort of fool who tried to reproduce and +disfigure on canvas the wonders of nature. The painter, he thought, had +raised his studio by a story to get better light, and thus far he had +only been in the right. Mynheer van Baerle was a painter, as Mynheer +Boxtel was a tulip-grower; he wanted somewhat more sun for his +paintings, and he took half a degree from his neighbour’s tulips. + +The law was for Van Baerle, and Boxtel had to abide by it. + +Besides, Isaac had made the discovery that too much sun was injurious to +tulips, and that this flower grew quicker, and had a better colouring, +with the temperate warmth of morning, than with the powerful heat of the +midday sun. He therefore felt almost grateful to Cornelius van Baerle +for having given him a screen gratis. + +Maybe this was not quite in accordance with the true state of things in +general, and of Isaac Boxtel’s feelings in particular. It is certainly +astonishing what rich comfort great minds, in the midst of momentous +catastrophes, will derive from the consolations of philosophy. + +But alas! What was the agony of the unfortunate Boxtel on seeing the +windows of the new story set out with bulbs and seedlings of tulips for +the border, and tulips in pots; in short, with everything pertaining to +the pursuits of a tulip-monomaniac! + +There were bundles of labels, cupboards, and drawers with compartments, +and wire guards for the cupboards, to allow free access to the air +whilst keeping out slugs, mice, dormice, and rats, all of them very +curious fanciers of tulips at two thousand francs a bulb. + +Boxtel was quite amazed when he saw all this apparatus, but he was not +as yet aware of the full extent of his misfortune. Van Baerle was known +to be fond of everything that pleases the eye. He studied Nature in all +her aspects for the benefit of his paintings, which were as minutely +finished as those of Gerard Dow, his master, and of Mieris, his +friend. Was it not possible, that, having to paint the interior of a +tulip-grower’s, he had collected in his new studio all the accessories +of decoration? + +Yet, although thus consoling himself with illusory suppositions, Boxtel +was not able to resist the burning curiosity which was devouring him. +In the evening, therefore, he placed a ladder against the partition +wall between their gardens, and, looking into that of his neighbour Van +Baerle, he convinced himself that the soil of a large square bed, which +had formerly been occupied by different plants, was removed, and the +ground disposed in beds of loam mixed with river mud (a combination +which is particularly favourable to the tulip), and the whole surrounded +by a border of turf to keep the soil in its place. Besides this, +sufficient shade to temper the noonday heat; aspect south-southwest; +water in abundant supply, and at hand; in short, every requirement to +insure not only success but also progress. There could not be a doubt +that Van Baerle had become a tulip-grower. + +Boxtel at once pictured to himself this learned man, with a capital +of four hundred thousand and a yearly income of ten thousand guilders, +devoting all his intellectual and financial resources to the cultivation +of the tulip. He foresaw his neighbour’s success, and he felt such a +pang at the mere idea of this success that his hands dropped powerless, +his knees trembled, and he fell in despair from the ladder. + +And thus it was not for the sake of painted tulips, but for real ones, +that Van Baerle took from him half a degree of warmth. And thus Van +Baerle was to have the most admirably fitted aspect, and, besides, a +large, airy, and well ventilated chamber where to preserve his bulbs +and seedlings; while he, Boxtel, had been obliged to give up for this +purpose his bedroom, and, lest his sleeping in the same apartment might +injure his bulbs and seedlings, had taken up his abode in a miserable +garret. + +Boxtel, then, was to have next door to him a rival and successful +competitor; and his rival, instead of being some unknown, obscure +gardener, was the godson of Mynheer Cornelius de Witt, that is to say, a +celebrity. + +Boxtel, as the reader may see, was not possessed of the spirit of +Porus, who, on being conquered by Alexander, consoled himself with the +celebrity of his conqueror. + +And now if Van Baerle produced a new tulip, and named it the John de +Witt, after having named one the Cornelius? It was indeed enough to +choke one with rage. + +Thus Boxtel, with jealous foreboding, became the prophet of his own +misfortune. And, after having made this melancholy discovery, he passed +the most wretched night imaginable. + + + + +Chapter 6. The Hatred of a Tulip-fancier + + +From that moment Boxtel’s interest in tulips was no longer a stimulus to +his exertions, but a deadening anxiety. Henceforth all his thoughts ran +only upon the injury which his neighbour would cause him, and thus his +favourite occupation was changed into a constant source of misery to +him. + +Van Baerle, as may easily be imagined, had no sooner begun to apply his +natural ingenuity to his new fancy, than he succeeded in growing the +finest tulips. Indeed, he knew better than any one else at Haarlem or +Leyden--the two towns which boast the best soil and the most congenial +climate--how to vary the colours, to modify the shape, and to produce +new species. + +He belonged to that natural, humorous school who took for their motto in +the seventeenth century the aphorism uttered by one of their number in +1653,--“To despise flowers is to offend God.” + +From that premise the school of tulip-fanciers, the most exclusive of +all schools, worked out the following syllogism in the same year:-- + +“To despise flowers is to offend God. + +“The more beautiful the flower is, the more does one offend God in +despising it. + +“The tulip is the most beautiful of all flowers. + +“Therefore, he who despises the tulip offends God beyond measure.” + +By reasoning of this kind, it can be seen that the four or five thousand +tulip-growers of Holland, France, and Portugal, leaving out those of +Ceylon and China and the Indies, might, if so disposed, put the whole +world under the ban, and condemn as schismatics and heretics and +deserving of death the several hundred millions of mankind whose hopes +of salvation were not centred upon the tulip. + +We cannot doubt that in such a cause Boxtel, though he was Van Baerle’s +deadly foe, would have marched under the same banner with him. + +Mynheer van Baerle and his tulips, therefore, were in the mouth of +everybody; so much so, that Boxtel’s name disappeared for ever from the +list of the notable tulip-growers in Holland, and those of Dort were now +represented by Cornelius van Baerle, the modest and inoffensive savant. + +Engaging, heart and soul, in his pursuits of sowing, planting, and +gathering, Van Baerle, caressed by the whole fraternity of tulip-growers +in Europe, entertained nor the least suspicion that there was at his +very door a pretender whose throne he had usurped. + +He went on in his career, and consequently in his triumphs; and in +the course of two years he covered his borders with such marvellous +productions as no mortal man, following in the tracks of the Creator, +except perhaps Shakespeare and Rubens, have equalled in point of +numbers. + +And also, if Dante had wished for a new type to be added to his +characters of the Inferno, he might have chosen Boxtel during the period +of Van Baerle’s successes. Whilst Cornelius was weeding, manuring, +watering his beds, whilst, kneeling on the turf border, he analysed +every vein of the flowering tulips, and meditated on the modifications +which might be effected by crosses of colour or otherwise, Boxtel, +concealed behind a small sycamore which he had trained at the top of the +partition wall in the shape of a fan, watched, with his eyes starting +from their sockets and with foaming mouth, every step and every gesture +of his neighbour; and whenever he thought he saw him look happy, or +descried a smile on his lips, or a flash of contentment glistening in +his eyes, he poured out towards him such a volley of maledictions +and furious threats as to make it indeed a matter of wonder that +this venomous breath of envy and hatred did not carry a blight on the +innocent flowers which had excited it. + +When the evil spirit has once taken hold of the heart of man, it urges +him on, without letting him stop. Thus Boxtel soon was no longer content +with seeing Van Baerle. He wanted to see his flowers, too; he had +the feelings of an artist, the master-piece of a rival engrossed his +interest. + +He therefore bought a telescope, which enabled him to watch as +accurately as did the owner himself every progressive development of +the flower, from the moment when, in the first year, its pale seed-leaf +begins to peep from the ground, to that glorious one, when, after five +years, its petals at last reveal the hidden treasures of its chalice. +How often had the miserable, jealous man to observe in Van Baerle’s beds +tulips which dazzled him by their beauty, and almost choked him by their +perfection! + +And then, after the first blush of the admiration which he could not +help feeling, he began to be tortured by the pangs of envy, by that slow +fever which creeps over the heart and changes it into a nest of vipers, +each devouring the other and ever born anew. How often did Boxtel, in +the midst of tortures which no pen is able fully to describe,--how +often did he feel an inclination to jump down into the garden during the +night, to destroy the plants, to tear the bulbs with his teeth, and to +sacrifice to his wrath the owner himself, if he should venture to stand +up for the defence of his tulips! + +But to kill a tulip was a horrible crime in the eyes of a genuine +tulip-fancier; as to killing a man, it would not have mattered so very +much. + +Yet Van Baerle made such progress in the noble science of growing +tulips, which he seemed to master with the true instinct of genius, that +Boxtel at last was maddened to such a degree as to think of throwing +stones and sticks into the flower-stands of his neighbour. But, +remembering that he would be sure to be found out, and that he would not +only be punished by law, but also dishonoured for ever in the face of +all the tulip-growers of Europe, he had recourse to stratagem, and, to +gratify his hatred, tried to devise a plan by means of which he might +gain his ends without being compromised himself. + +He considered a long time, and at last his meditations were crowned with +success. + +One evening he tied two cats together by their hind legs with a string +about six feet in length, and threw them from the wall into the midst of +that noble, that princely, that royal bed, which contained not only the +“Cornelius de Witt,” but also the “Beauty of Brabant,” milk-white, +edged with purple and pink, the “Marble of Rotterdam,” colour of flax, +blossoms feathered red and flesh colour, the “Wonder of Haarlem,” the +“Colombin obscur,” and the “Columbin clair terni.” + +The frightened cats, having alighted on the ground, first tried to fly +each in a different direction, until the string by which they were tied +together was tightly stretched across the bed; then, however, feeling +that they were not able to get off, they began to pull to and fro, and +to wheel about with hideous caterwaulings, mowing down with their string +the flowers among which they were struggling, until, after a furious +strife of about a quarter of an hour, the string broke and the +combatants vanished. + +Boxtel, hidden behind his sycamore, could not see anything, as it was +pitch-dark; but the piercing cries of the cats told the whole tale, and +his heart overflowing with gall now throbbed with triumphant joy. + +Boxtel was so eager to ascertain the extent of the injury, that he +remained at his post until morning to feast his eyes on the sad state in +which the two cats had left the flower-beds of his neighbour. The mists +of the morning chilled his frame, but he did not feel the cold, the hope +of revenge keeping his blood at fever heat. The chagrin of his rival was +to pay for all the inconvenience which he incurred himself. + +At the earliest dawn the door of the white house opened, and Van Baerle +made his appearance, approaching the flower-beds with the smile of a +man who has passed the night comfortably in his bed, and has had happy +dreams. + +All at once he perceived furrows and little mounds of earth on the beds +which only the evening before had been as smooth as a mirror, all at +once he perceived the symmetrical rows of his tulips to be completely +disordered, like the pikes of a battalion in the midst of which a shell +has fallen. + +He ran up to them with blanched cheek. + +Boxtel trembled with joy. Fifteen or twenty tulips, torn and crushed, +were lying about, some of them bent, others completely broken and +already withering, the sap oozing from their bleeding bulbs: how gladly +would Van Baerle have redeemed that precious sap with his own blood! + +But what were his surprise and his delight! what was the disappointment +of his rival! Not one of the four tulips which the latter had meant to +destroy was injured at all. They raised proudly their noble heads above +the corpses of their slain companions. This was enough to console Van +Baerle, and enough to fan the rage of the horticultural murderer, who +tore his hair at the sight of the effects of the crime which he had +committed in vain. + +Van Baerle could not imagine the cause of the mishap, which, +fortunately, was of far less consequence than it might have been. On +making inquiries, he learned that the whole night had been disturbed +by terrible caterwaulings. He besides found traces of the cats, +their footmarks and hairs left behind on the battle-field; to guard, +therefore, in future against a similar outrage, he gave orders that +henceforth one of the under gardeners should sleep in the garden in a +sentry-box near the flower-beds. + +Boxtel heard him give the order, and saw the sentry-box put up that +very day; but he deemed himself lucky in not having been suspected, and, +being more than ever incensed against the successful horticulturist, he +resolved to bide his time. + +Just then the Tulip Society of Haarlem offered a prize for the discovery +(we dare not say the manufacture) of a large black tulip without a +spot of colour, a thing which had not yet been accomplished, and was +considered impossible, as at that time there did not exist a flower of +that species approaching even to a dark nut brown. It was, therefore, +generally said that the founders of the prize might just as well have +offered two millions as a hundred thousand guilders, since no one would +be able to gain it. + +The tulip-growing world, however, was thrown by it into a state of most +active commotion. Some fanciers caught at the idea without believing it +practicable, but such is the power of imagination among florists, that +although considering the undertaking as certain to fail, all their +thoughts were engrossed by that great black tulip, which was looked upon +to be as chimerical as the black swan of Horace or the white raven of +French tradition. + +Van Baerle was one of the tulip-growers who were struck with the idea; +Boxtel thought of it in the light of a speculation. Van Baerle, as soon +as the idea had once taken root in his clear and ingenious mind, began +slowly the necessary planting and cross-breeding to reduce the tulips +which he had grown already from red to brown, and from brown to dark +brown. + +By the next year he had obtained flowers of a perfect nut-brown, and +Boxtel espied them in the border, whereas he had himself as yet only +succeeded in producing the light brown. + +It might perhaps be interesting to explain to the gentle reader the +beautiful chain of theories which go to prove that the tulip borrows its +colors from the elements; perhaps we should give him pleasure if we were +to maintain and establish that nothing is impossible for a florist who +avails himself with judgment and discretion and patience of the sun’s +heat, the clear water, the juices of the earth, and the cool breezes. +But this is not a treatise upon tulips in general; it is the story of +one particular tulip which we have undertaken to write, and to that we +limit ourselves, however alluring the subject which is so closely allied +to ours. + +Boxtel, once more worsted by the superiority of his hated rival, was +now completely disgusted with tulip-growing, and, being driven half mad, +devoted himself entirely to observation. + +The house of his rival was quite open to view; a garden exposed to the +sun; cabinets with glass walls, shelves, cupboards, boxes, and ticketed +pigeon-holes, which could easily be surveyed by the telescope. Boxtel +allowed his bulbs to rot in the pits, his seedlings to dry up in their +cases, and his tulips to wither in the borders and henceforward occupied +himself with nothing else but the doings at Van Baerle’s. He breathed +through the stalks of Van Baerle’s tulips, quenched his thirst with the +water he sprinkled upon them, and feasted on the fine soft earth which +his neighbour scattered upon his cherished bulbs. + +But the most curious part of the operations was not performed in the +garden. + +It might be one o’clock in the morning when Van Baerle went up to his +laboratory, into the glazed cabinet whither Boxtel’s telescope had such +an easy access; and here, as soon as the lamp illuminated the walls and +windows, Boxtel saw the inventive genius of his rival at work. + +He beheld him sifting his seeds, and soaking them in liquids which were +destined to modify or to deepen their colours. He knew what Cornelius +meant when heating certain grains, then moistening them, then combining +them with others by a sort of grafting,--a minute and marvellously +delicate manipulation,--and when he shut up in darkness those which were +expected to furnish the black colour, exposed to the sun or to the +lamp those which were to produce red, and placed between the endless +reflections of two water-mirrors those intended for white, the pure +representation of the limpid element. + +This innocent magic, the fruit at the same time of child-like musings +and of manly genius--this patient untiring labour, of which Boxtel knew +himself to be incapable--made him, gnawed as he was with envy, centre +all his life, all his thoughts, and all his hopes in his telescope. + +For, strange to say, the love and interest of horticulture had not +deadened in Isaac his fierce envy and thirst of revenge. Sometimes, +whilst covering Van Baerle with his telescope, he deluded himself into a +belief that he was levelling a never-failing musket at him; and then he +would seek with his finger for the trigger to fire the shot which was +to have killed his neighbour. But it is time that we should connect with +this epoch of the operations of the one, and the espionage of the other, +the visit which Cornelius de Witt came to pay to his native town. + + + + +Chapter 7. The Happy Man makes Acquaintance with Misfortune + + +Cornelius de Witt, after having attended to his family affairs, reached +the house of his godson, Cornelius van Baerle, one evening in the month +of January, 1672. + +De Witt, although being very little of a horticulturist or of an +artist, went over the whole mansion, from the studio to the green-house, +inspecting everything, from the pictures down to the tulips. He thanked +his godson for having joined him on the deck of the admiral’s ship “The +Seven Provinces,” during the battle of Southwold Bay, and for having +given his name to a magnificent tulip; and whilst he thus, with the +kindness and affability of a father to a son, visited Van Baerle’s +treasures, the crowd gathered with curiosity, and even respect, before +the door of the happy man. + +All this hubbub excited the attention of Boxtel, who was just taking his +meal by his fireside. He inquired what it meant, and, on being informed +of the cause of all this stir, climbed up to his post of observation, +where in spite of the cold, he took his stand, with the telescope to his +eye. + +This telescope had not been of great service to him since the autumn of +1671. The tulips, like true daughters of the East, averse to cold, do +not abide in the open ground in winter. They need the shelter of the +house, the soft bed on the shelves, and the congenial warmth of the +stove. Van Baerle, therefore, passed the whole winter in his laboratory, +in the midst of his books and pictures. He went only rarely to the room +where he kept his bulbs, unless it were to allow some occasional rays +of the sun to enter, by opening one of the movable sashes of the glass +front. + +On the evening of which we are speaking, after the two Corneliuses had +visited together all the apartments of the house, whilst a train of +domestics followed their steps, De Witt said in a low voice to Van +Baerle,-- + +“My dear son, send these people away, and let us be alone for some +minutes.” + +The younger Cornelius, bowing assent, said aloud,-- + +“Would you now, sir, please to see my dry-room?” + +The dry-room, this pantheon, this sanctum sanctorum of the +tulip-fancier, was, as Delphi of old, interdicted to the profane +uninitiated. + +Never had any of his servants been bold enough to set his foot there. +Cornelius admitted only the inoffensive broom of an old Frisian +housekeeper, who had been his nurse, and who from the time when he +had devoted himself to the culture of tulips ventured no longer to put +onions in his stews, for fear of pulling to pieces and mincing the idol +of her foster child. + +At the mere mention of the dry-room, therefore, the servants who were +carrying the lights respectfully fell back. Cornelius, taking the +candlestick from the hands of the foremost, conducted his godfather into +that room, which was no other than that very cabinet with a glass front +into which Boxtel was continually prying with his telescope. + +The envious spy was watching more intently than ever. + +First of all he saw the walls and windows lit up. + +Then two dark figures appeared. + +One of them, tall, majestic, stern, sat down near the table on which Van +Baerle had placed the taper. + +In this figure, Boxtel recognised the pale features of Cornelius de +Witt, whose long hair, parted in front, fell over his shoulders. + +De Witt, after having said some few words to Cornelius, the meaning of +which the prying neighbour could not read in the movement of his lips, +took from his breast pocket a white parcel, carefully sealed, which +Boxtel, judging from the manner in which Cornelius received it, and +placed it in one of the presses, supposed to contain papers of the +greatest importance. + +His first thought was that this precious deposit enclosed some newly +imported bulbs from Bengal or Ceylon; but he soon reflected that +Cornelius de Witt was very little addicted to tulip-growing, and that +he only occupied himself with the affairs of man, a pursuit by far less +peaceful and agreeable than that of the florist. He therefore came to +the conclusion that the parcel contained simply some papers, and that +these papers were relating to politics. + +But why should papers of political import be intrusted to Van Baerle, +who not only was, but also boasted of being, an entire stranger to +the science of government, which, in his opinion, was more occult than +alchemy itself? + +It was undoubtedly a deposit which Cornelius de Witt, already threatened +by the unpopularity with which his countrymen were going to honour him, +was placing in the hands of his godson; a contrivance so much the more +cleverly devised, as it certainly was not at all likely that it should +be searched for at the house of one who had always stood aloof from +every sort of intrigue. + +And, besides, if the parcel had been made up of bulbs, Boxtel knew his +neighbour too well not to expect that Van Baerle would not have lost one +moment in satisfying his curiosity and feasting his eyes on the present +which he had received. + +But, on the contrary, Cornelius had received the parcel from the hands +of his godfather with every mark of respect, and put it by with the same +respectful manner in a drawer, stowing it away so that it should not +take up too much of the room which was reserved to his bulbs. + +The parcel thus being secreted, Cornelius de Witt got up, pressed the +hand of his godson, and turned towards the door, Van Baerle seizing the +candlestick, and lighting him on his way down to the street, which was +still crowded with people who wished to see their great fellow citizen +getting into his coach. + +Boxtel had not been mistaken in his supposition. The deposit intrusted +to Van Baerle, and carefully locked up by him, was nothing more nor less +than John de Witt’s correspondence with the Marquis de Louvois, the war +minister of the King of France; only the godfather forbore giving to his +godson the least intimation concerning the political importance of the +secret, merely desiring him not to deliver the parcel to any one but to +himself, or to whomsoever he should send to claim it in his name. + +And Van Baerle, as we have seen, locked it up with his most precious +bulbs, to think no more of it, after his godfather had left him; very +unlike Boxtel, who looked upon this parcel as a clever pilot does on the +distant and scarcely perceptible cloud which is increasing on its way +and which is fraught with a storm. + +Little dreaming of the jealous hatred of his neighbour, Van Baerle +had proceeded step by step towards gaining the prize offered by the +Horticultural Society of Haarlem. He had progressed from hazel-nut shade +to that of roasted coffee, and on the very day when the frightful events +took place at the Hague which we have related in the preceding chapters, +we find him, about one o’clock in the day, gathering from the border the +young suckers raised from tulips of the colour of roasted coffee; and +which, being expected to flower for the first time in the spring of +1675, would undoubtedly produce the large black tulip required by the +Haarlem Society. + +On the 20th of August, 1672, at one o’clock, Cornelius was therefore in +his dry-room, with his feet resting on the foot-bar of the table, and +his elbows on the cover, looking with intense delight on three suckers +which he had just detached from the mother bulb, pure, perfect, +and entire, and from which was to grow that wonderful produce of +horticulture which would render the name of Cornelius van Baerle for +ever illustrious. + +“I shall find the black tulip,” said Cornelius to himself, whilst +detaching the suckers. “I shall obtain the hundred thousand guilders +offered by the Society. I shall distribute them among the poor of Dort; +and thus the hatred which every rich man has to encounter in times of +civil wars will be soothed down, and I shall be able, without fearing +any harm either from Republicans or Orangists, to keep as heretofore my +borders in splendid condition. I need no more be afraid lest on the day +of a riot the shopkeepers of the town and the sailors of the port should +come and tear out my bulbs, to boil them as onions for their families, +as they have sometimes quietly threatened when they happened to remember +my having paid two or three hundred guilders for one bulb. It is +therefore settled I shall give the hundred thousand guilders of the +Haarlem prize to the poor. And yet----” + +Here Cornelius stopped and heaved a sigh. “And yet,” he continued, +“it would have been so very delightful to spend the hundred thousand +guilders on the enlargement of my tulip-bed or even on a journey to the +East, the country of beautiful flowers. But, alas! these are no thoughts +for the present times, when muskets, standards, proclamations, and +beating of drums are the order of the day.” + +Van Baerle raised his eyes to heaven and sighed again. Then turning his +glance towards his bulbs,--objects of much greater importance to him +than all those muskets, standards, drums, and proclamations, which he +conceived only to be fit to disturb the minds of honest people,--he +said:-- + +“These are, indeed, beautiful bulbs; how smooth they are, how well +formed; there is that air of melancholy about them which promises to +produce a flower of the colour of ebony. On their skin you cannot +even distinguish the circulating veins with the naked eye. Certainly, +certainly, not a light spot will disfigure the tulip which I have called +into existence. And by what name shall we call this offspring of my +sleepless nights, of my labour and my thought? Tulipa nigra Barlœnsis? + +“Yes Barlœnsis: a fine name. All the tulip-fanciers--that is to say, +all the intelligent people of Europe--will feel a thrill of excitement +when the rumour spreads to the four quarters of the globe: The +grand black tulip is found! ‘How is it called?’ the fanciers will +ask.--‘Tulipa nigra Barlœnsis!’--‘Why Barlœnsis?’--‘After its grower, +Van Baerle,’ will be the answer.--‘And who is this Van Baerle?’--‘It is +the same who has already produced five new tulips: the Jane, the John +de Witt, the Cornelius de Witt, etc.’ Well, that is what I call my +ambition. It will cause tears to no one. And people will talk of +my Tulipa nigra Barlœnsis when perhaps my godfather, this sublime +politician, is only known from the tulip to which I have given his name. + +“Oh! these darling bulbs! + +“When my tulip has flowered,” Baerle continued in his soliloquy, “and +when tranquillity is restored in Holland, I shall give to the poor only +fifty thousand guilders, which, after all, is a goodly sum for a man who +is under no obligation whatever. Then, with the remaining fifty thousand +guilders, I shall make experiments. With them I shall succeed in +imparting scent to the tulip. Ah! if I succeed in giving it the odour of +the rose or the carnation, or, what would be still better, a completely +new scent; if I restored to this queen of flowers its natural +distinctive perfume, which she has lost in passing from her Eastern to +her European throne, and which she must have in the Indian peninsula at +Goa, Bombay, and Madras, and especially in that island which in olden +times, as is asserted, was the terrestrial paradise, and which is called +Ceylon,--oh, what glory! I must say, I would then rather be Cornelius +van Baerle than Alexander, Cæsar, or Maximilian. + +“Oh the admirable bulbs!” + +Thus Cornelius indulged in the delights of contemplation, and was +carried away by the sweetest dreams. + +Suddenly the bell of his cabinet was rung much more violently than +usual. + +Cornelius, startled, laid his hands on his bulbs, and turned round. + +“Who is here?” he asked. + +“Sir,” answered the servant, “it is a messenger from the Hague.” + +“A messenger from the Hague! What does he want?” + +“Sir, it is Craeke.” + +“Craeke! the confidential servant of Mynheer John de Witt? Good, let him +wait.” + +“I cannot wait,” said a voice in the lobby. + +And at the same time forcing his way in, Craeke rushed into the +dry-room. + +This abrupt entrance was such an infringement on the established rules +of the household of Cornelius van Baerle, that the latter, at the sight +of Craeke, almost convulsively moved his hand which covered the bulbs, +so that two of them fell on the floor, one of them rolling under a small +table, and the other into the fireplace. + +“Zounds!” said Cornelius, eagerly picking up his precious bulbs, “what’s +the matter?” + +“The matter, sir!” said Craeke, laying a paper on the large table, on +which the third bulb was lying,--“the matter is, that you are requested +to read this paper without losing one moment.” + +And Craeke, who thought he had remarked in the streets of Dort symptoms +of a tumult similar to that which he had witnessed before his departure +from the Hague, ran off without even looking behind him. + +“All right! all right! my dear Craeke,” said Cornelius, stretching his +arm under the table for the bulb; “your paper shall be read, indeed it +shall.” + +Then, examining the bulb which he held in the hollow of his hand, he +said: “Well, here is one of them uninjured. That confounded Craeke! thus +to rush into my dry-room; let us now look after the other.” + +And without laying down the bulb which he already held, Baerle went to +the fireplace, knelt down and stirred with the tip of his finger the +ashes, which fortunately were quite cold. + +He at once felt the other bulb. + +“Well, here it is,” he said; and, looking at it with almost fatherly +affection, he exclaimed, “Uninjured as the first!” + +At this very instant, and whilst Cornelius, still on his knees, was +examining his pets, the door of the dry-room was so violently shaken, +and opened in such a brusque manner, that Cornelius felt rising in his +cheeks and his ears the glow of that evil counsellor which is called +wrath. + +“Now, what is it again,” he demanded; “are people going mad here?” + +“Oh, sir! sir!” cried the servant, rushing into the dry-room with a much +paler face and with a much more frightened mien than Craeke had shown. + +“Well!” asked Cornelius, foreboding some mischief from the double breach +of the strict rule of his house. + +“Oh, sir, fly! fly quick!” cried the servant. + +“Fly! and what for?” + +“Sir, the house is full of the guards of the States.” + +“What do they want?” + +“They want you.” + +“What for?” + +“To arrest you.” + +“Arrest me? arrest me, do you say?” + +“Yes, sir, and they are headed by a magistrate.” + +“What’s the meaning of all this?” said Van Baerle, grasping in his hands +the two bulbs, and directing his terrified glance towards the staircase. + +“They are coming up! they are coming up!” cried the servant. + +“Oh, my dear child, my worthy master!” cried the old housekeeper, who +now likewise made her appearance in the dry-room, “take your gold, your +jewelry, and fly, fly!” + +“But how shall I make my escape, nurse?” said Van Baerle. + +“Jump out of the window.” + +“Twenty-five feet from the ground!” + +“But you will fall on six feet of soft soil!” + +“Yes, but I should fall on my tulips.” + +“Never mind, jump out.” + +Cornelius took the third bulb, approached the window and opened it, but +seeing what havoc he would necessarily cause in his borders, and, more +than this, what a height he would have to jump, he called out, “Never!” + and fell back a step. + +At this moment they saw across the banister of the staircase the points +of the halberds of the soldiers rising. + +The housekeeper raised her hands to heaven. + +As to Cornelius van Baerle, it must be stated to his honour, not as a +man, but as a tulip-fancier, his only thought was for his inestimable +bulbs. + +Looking about for a paper in which to wrap them up, he noticed the +fly-leaf from the Bible, which Craeke had laid upon the table, took it +without in his confusion remembering whence it came, folded in it the +three bulbs, secreted them in his bosom, and waited. + +At this very moment the soldiers, preceded by a magistrate, entered the +room. + +“Are you Dr. Cornelius van Baerle?” demanded the magistrate (who, +although knowing the young man very well, put his question according to +the forms of justice, which gave his proceedings a much more dignified +air). + +“I am that person, Master van Spennen,” answered Cornelius, politely, to +his judge, “and you know it very well.” + +“Then give up to us the seditious papers which you secrete in your +house.” + +“The seditious papers!” repeated Cornelius, quite dumfounded at the +imputation. + +“Now don’t look astonished, if you please.” + +“I vow to you, Master van Spennen,” Cornelius replied, “that I am +completely at a loss to understand what you want.” + +“Then I shall put you in the way, Doctor,” said the judge; “give up to +us the papers which the traitor Cornelius de Witt deposited with you in +the month of January last.” + +A sudden light came into the mind of Cornelius. + +“Halloa!” said Van Spennen, “you begin now to remember, don’t you?” + +“Indeed I do, but you spoke of seditious papers, and I have none of that +sort.” + +“You deny it then?” + +“Certainly I do.” + +The magistrate turned round and took a rapid survey of the whole +cabinet. + +“Where is the apartment you call your dry-room?” he asked. + +“The very same where you now are, Master van Spennen.” + +The magistrate cast a glance at a small note at the top of his papers. + +“All right,” he said, like a man who is sure of his ground. + +Then, turning round towards Cornelius, he continued, “Will you give up +those papers to me?” + +“But I cannot, Master van Spennen; those papers do not belong to me; +they have been deposited with me as a trust, and a trust is sacred.” + +“Dr. Cornelius,” said the judge, “in the name of the States, I order you +to open this drawer, and to give up to me the papers which it contains.” + +Saying this, the judge pointed with his finger to the third drawer of +the press, near the fireplace. + +In this very drawer, indeed the papers deposited by the Warden of the +Dikes with his godson were lying; a proof that the police had received +very exact information. + +“Ah! you will not,” said Van Spennen, when he saw Cornelius standing +immovable and bewildered, “then I shall open the drawer myself.” + +And, pulling out the drawer to its full length, the magistrate at first +alighted on about twenty bulbs, carefully arranged and ticketed, and +then on the paper parcel, which had remained in exactly the same state +as it was when delivered by the unfortunate Cornelius de Witt to his +godson. + +The magistrate broke the seals, tore off the envelope, cast an eager +glance on the first leaves which met his eye and then exclaimed, in a +terrible voice,-- + +“Well, justice has been rightly informed after all!” + +“How,” said Cornelius, “how is this?” + +“Don’t pretend to be ignorant, Mynheer van Baerle,” answered the +magistrate. “Follow me.” + +“How’s that! follow you?” cried the Doctor. + +“Yes, sir, for in the name of the States I arrest you.” + +Arrests were not as yet made in the name of William of Orange; he had +not been Stadtholder long enough for that. + +“Arrest me!” cried Cornelius; “but what have I done?” + +“That’s no affair of mine, Doctor; you will explain all that before your +judges.” + +“Where?” + +“At the Hague.” + +Cornelius, in mute stupefaction, embraced his old nurse, who was in +a swoon; shook hands with his servants, who were bathed in tears, and +followed the magistrate, who put him in a coach as a prisoner of state +and had him driven at full gallop to the Hague. + + + + +Chapter 8. An Invasion + + +The incident just related was, as the reader has guessed before this, +the diabolical work of Mynheer Isaac Boxtel. + +It will be remembered that, with the help of his telescope, not even the +least detail of the private meeting between Cornelius de Witt and Van +Baerle had escaped him. He had, indeed, heard nothing, but he had seen +everything, and had rightly concluded that the papers intrusted by the +Warden to the Doctor must have been of great importance, as he saw Van +Baerle so carefully secreting the parcel in the drawer where he used to +keep his most precious bulbs. + +The upshot of all this was that when Boxtel, who watched the course of +political events much more attentively than his neighbour Cornelius was +used to do, heard the news of the brothers De Witt being arrested on a +charge of high treason against the States, he thought within his heart +that very likely he needed only to say one word, and the godson would be +arrested as well as the godfather. + +Yet, full of happiness as was Boxtel’s heart at the chance, he at first +shrank with horror from the idea of informing against a man whom this +information might lead to the scaffold. + +But there is this terrible thing in evil thoughts, that evil minds soon +grow familiar with them. + +Besides this, Mynheer Isaac Boxtel encouraged himself with the following +sophism:-- + +“Cornelius de Witt is a bad citizen, as he is charged with high treason, +and arrested. + +“I, on the contrary, am a good citizen, as I am not charged with +anything in the world, as I am as free as the air of heaven. + +“If, therefore, Cornelius de Witt is a bad citizen,--of which there +can be no doubt, as he is charged with high treason, and arrested,--his +accomplice, Cornelius van Baerle, is no less a bad citizen than himself. + +“And, as I am a good citizen, and as it is the duty of every good +citizen to inform against the bad ones, it is my duty to inform against +Cornelius van Baerle.” + +Specious as this mode of reasoning might sound, it would not perhaps +have taken so complete a hold of Boxtel, nor would he perhaps have +yielded to the mere desire of vengeance which was gnawing at his heart, +had not the demon of envy been joined with that of cupidity. + +Boxtel was quite aware of the progress which Van Baerle had made towards +producing the grand black tulip. + +Dr. Cornelius, notwithstanding all his modesty, had not been able to +hide from his most intimate friends that he was all but certain to win, +in the year of grace 1673, the prize of a hundred thousand guilders +offered by the Horticultural Society of Haarlem. + +It was just this certainty of Cornelius van Baerle that caused the fever +which raged in the heart of Isaac Boxtel. + +If Cornelius should be arrested there would necessarily be a great upset +in his house, and during the night after his arrest no one would think +of keeping watch over the tulips in his garden. + +Now in that night Boxtel would climb over the wall and, as he knew the +position of the bulb which was to produce the grand black tulip, he +would filch it; and instead of flowering for Cornelius, it would flower +for him, Isaac; he also, instead of Van Baerle, would have the prize +of a hundred thousand guilders, not to speak of the sublime honour of +calling the new flower Tulipa nigra Boxtellensis,--a result which would +satisfy not only his vengeance, but also his cupidity and his ambition. + +Awake, he thought of nothing but the grand black tulip; asleep, he +dreamed of it. + +At last, on the 19th of August, about two o’clock in the afternoon, +the temptation grew so strong, that Mynheer Isaac was no longer able to +resist it. + +Accordingly, he wrote an anonymous information, the minute exactness of +which made up for its want of authenticity, and posted his letter. + +Never did a venomous paper, slipped into the jaws of the bronze lions at +Venice, produce a more prompt and terrible effect. + +On the same evening the letter reached the principal magistrate, who +without a moment’s delay convoked his colleagues early for the next +morning. On the following morning, therefore, they assembled, and +decided on Van Baerle’s arrest, placing the order for its execution in +the hands of Master van Spennen, who, as we have seen, performed his +duty like a true Hollander, and who arrested the Doctor at the very hour +when the Orange party at the Hague were roasting the bleeding shreds of +flesh torn from the corpses of Cornelius and John de Witt. + +But, whether from a feeling of shame or from craven weakness, Isaac +Boxtel did not venture that day to point his telescope either at the +garden, or at the laboratory, or at the dry-room. + +He knew too well what was about to happen in the house of the poor +doctor to feel any desire to look into it. He did not even get up when +his only servant--who envied the lot of the servants of Cornelius just +as bitterly as Boxtel did that of their master--entered his bedroom. He +said to the man,-- + +“I shall not get up to-day, I am ill.” + +About nine o’clock he heard a great noise in the street which made him +tremble, at this moment he was paler than a real invalid, and shook more +violently than a man in the height of fever. + +His servant entered the room; Boxtel hid himself under the counterpane. + +“Oh, sir!” cried the servant, not without some inkling that, whilst +deploring the mishap which had befallen Van Baerle, he was announcing +agreeable news to his master,--“oh, sir! you do not know, then, what is +happening at this moment?” + +“How can I know it?” answered Boxtel, with an almost unintelligible +voice. + +“Well, Mynheer Boxtel, at this moment your neighbour Cornelius van +Baerle is arrested for high treason.” + +“Nonsense!” Boxtel muttered, with a faltering voice; “the thing is +impossible.” + +“Faith, sir, at any rate that’s what people say; and, besides, I have +seen Judge van Spennen with the archers entering the house.” + +“Well, if you have seen it with your own eyes, that’s a different case +altogether.” + +“At all events,” said the servant, “I shall go and inquire once more. Be +you quiet, sir, I shall let you know all about it.” + +Boxtel contented himself with signifying his approval of the zeal of his +servant by dumb show. + +The man went out, and returned in half an hour. + +“Oh, sir, all that I told you is indeed quite true.” + +“How so?” + +“Mynheer van Baerle is arrested, and has been put into a carriage, and +they are driving him to the Hague.” + +“To the Hague!” + +“Yes, to the Hague, and if what people say is true, it won’t do him much +good.” + +“And what do they say?” Boxtel asked. + +“Faith, sir, they say--but it is not quite sure--that by this hour the +burghers must be murdering Mynheer Cornelius and Mynheer John de Witt.” + +“Oh,” muttered, or rather growled Boxtel, closing his eyes from the +dreadful picture which presented itself to his imagination. + +“Why, to be sure,” said the servant to himself, whilst leaving the room, +“Mynheer Isaac Boxtel must be very sick not to have jumped from his bed +on hearing such good news.” + +And, in reality, Isaac Boxtel was very sick, like a man who has murdered +another. + +But he had murdered his man with a double object; the first was +attained, the second was still to be attained. + +Night closed in. It was the night which Boxtel had looked forward to. + +As soon as it was dark he got up. + +He then climbed into his sycamore. + +He had calculated correctly; no one thought of keeping watch over the +garden; the house and the servants were all in the utmost confusion. + +He heard the clock strike--ten, eleven, twelve. + +At midnight, with a beating heart, trembling hands, and a livid +countenance, he descended from the tree, took a ladder, leaned it +against the wall, mounted it to the last step but one, and listened. + +All was perfectly quiet, not a sound broke the silence of the night; one +solitary light, that of the housekeeper, was burning in the house. + +This silence and this darkness emboldened Boxtel; he got astride the +wall, stopped for an instant, and, after having ascertained that there +was nothing to fear, he put his ladder from his own garden into that of +Cornelius, and descended. + +Then, knowing to an inch where the bulbs which were to produce the black +tulip were planted, he ran towards the spot, following, however, the +gravelled walks in order not to be betrayed by his footprints, and, +on arriving at the precise spot, he proceeded, with the eagerness of a +tiger, to plunge his hand into the soft ground. + +He found nothing, and thought he was mistaken. + +In the meanwhile, the cold sweat stood on his brow. + +He felt about close by it,--nothing. + +He felt about on the right, and on the left,--nothing. + +He felt about in front and at the back,--nothing. + +He was nearly mad, when at last he satisfied himself that on that very +morning the earth had been disturbed. + +In fact, whilst Boxtel was lying in bed, Cornelius had gone down to his +garden, had taken up the mother bulb, and, as we have seen, divided it +into three. + +Boxtel could not bring himself to leave the place. He dug up with his +hands more than ten square feet of ground. + +At last no doubt remained of his misfortune. Mad with rage, he returned +to his ladder, mounted the wall, drew up the ladder, flung it into his +own garden, and jumped after it. + +All at once, a last ray of hope presented itself to his mind: the +seedling bulbs might be in the dry-room; it was therefore only requisite +to make his entry there as he had done into the garden. + +There he would find them, and, moreover, it was not at all difficult, as +the sashes of the dry-room might be raised like those of a greenhouse. +Cornelius had opened them on that morning, and no one had thought of +closing them again. + +Everything, therefore, depended upon whether he could procure a ladder +of sufficient length,--one of twenty-five feet instead of ten. + +Boxtel had noticed in the street where he lived a house which was being +repaired, and against which a very tall ladder was placed. + +This ladder would do admirably, unless the workmen had taken it away. + +He ran to the house: the ladder was there. Boxtel took it, carried it +with great exertion to his garden, and with even greater difficulty +raised it against the wall of Van Baerle’s house, where it just reached +to the window. + +Boxtel put a lighted dark lantern into his pocket, mounted the ladder, +and slipped into the dry-room. + +On reaching this sanctuary of the florist he stopped, supporting himself +against the table; his legs failed him, his heart beat as if it would +choke him. Here it was even worse than in the garden; there Boxtel was +only a trespasser, here he was a thief. + +However, he took courage again: he had not gone so far to turn back with +empty hands. + +But in vain did he search the whole room, open and shut all the drawers, +even that privileged one where the parcel which had been so fatal to +Cornelius had been deposited; he found ticketed, as in a botanical +garden, the “Jane,” the “John de Witt,” the hazel-nut, and the +roasted-coffee coloured tulip; but of the black tulip, or rather the +seedling bulbs within which it was still sleeping, not a trace was +found. + +And yet, on looking over the register of seeds and bulbs, which Van +Baerle kept in duplicate, if possible even with greater exactitude and +care than the first commercial houses of Amsterdam their ledgers, Boxtel +read these lines:-- + +“To-day, 20th of August, 1672, I have taken up the mother bulb of the +grand black tulip, which I have divided into three perfect suckers.” + +“Oh these bulbs, these bulbs!” howled Boxtel, turning over everything in +the dry-room, “where could he have concealed them?” + +Then, suddenly striking his forehead in his frenzy, he called out, “Oh +wretch that I am! Oh thrice fool Boxtel! Would any one be separated from +his bulbs? Would any one leave them at Dort, when one goes to the Hague? +Could one live far from one’s bulbs, when they enclose the grand black +tulip? He had time to get hold of them, the scoundrel, he has them about +him, he has taken them to the Hague!” + +It was like a flash of lightning which showed to Boxtel the abyss of a +uselessly committed crime. + +Boxtel sank quite paralyzed on that very table, and on that very spot +where, some hours before, the unfortunate Van Baerle had so leisurely, +and with such intense delight, contemplated his darling bulbs. + +“Well, then, after all,” said the envious Boxtel,--raising his livid +face from his hands in which it had been buried--“if he has them, he can +keep them only as long as he lives, and----” + +The rest of this detestable thought was expressed by a hideous smile. + +“The bulbs are at the Hague,” he said, “therefore, I can no longer live +at Dort: away, then, for them, to the Hague! to the Hague!” + +And Boxtel, without taking any notice of the treasures about him, so +entirely were his thoughts absorbed by another inestimable treasure, let +himself out by the window, glided down the ladder, carried it back to +the place whence he had taken it, and, like a beast of prey, returned +growling to his house. + + + + +Chapter 9. The Family Cell + + +It was about midnight when poor Van Baerle was locked up in the prison +of the Buytenhof. + +What Rosa foresaw had come to pass. On finding the cell of Cornelius +de Witt empty, the wrath of the people ran very high, and had Gryphus +fallen into the hands of those madmen he would certainly have had to pay +with his life for the prisoner. + +But this fury had vented itself most fully on the two brothers when +they were overtaken by the murderers, thanks to the precaution which +William--the man of precautions--had taken in having the gates of the +city closed. + +A momentary lull had therefore set in whilst the prison was empty, and +Rosa availed herself of this favourable moment to come forth from her +hiding place, which she also induced her father to leave. + +The prison was therefore completely deserted. Why should people remain +in the jail whilst murder was going on at the Tol-Hek? + +Gryphus came forth trembling behind the courageous Rosa. They went to +close the great gate, at least as well as it would close, considering +that it was half demolished. It was easy to see that a hurricane of +mighty fury had vented itself upon it. + +About four o’clock a return of the noise was heard, but of no +threatening character to Gryphus and his daughter. The people were only +dragging in the two corpses, which they came back to gibbet at the usual +place of execution. + +Rosa hid herself this time also, but only that she might not see the +ghastly spectacle. + +At midnight, people again knocked at the gate of the jail, or rather +at the barricade which served in its stead: it was Cornelius van Baerle +whom they were bringing. + +When the jailer received this new inmate, and saw from the warrant the +name and station of his prisoner, he muttered with his turnkey smile,-- + +“Godson of Cornelius de Witt! Well, young man, we have the family cell +here, and we will give it to you.” + +And quite enchanted with his joke, the ferocious Orangeman took his +cresset and his keys to conduct Cornelius to the cell, which on that +very morning Cornelius de Witt had left to go into exile, or what in +revolutionary times is meant instead by those sublime philosophers who +lay it down as an axiom of high policy, “It is the dead only who do not +return.” + +On the way which the despairing florist had to traverse to reach that +cell he heard nothing but the barking of a dog, and saw nothing but the +face of a young girl. + +The dog rushed forth from a niche in the wall, shaking his heavy +chain, and sniffing all round Cornelius in order so much the better to +recognise him in case he should be ordered to pounce upon him. + +The young girl, whilst the prisoner was mounting the staircase, appeared +at the narrow door of her chamber, which opened on that very flight of +steps; and, holding the lamp in her right hand, she at the same time +lit up her pretty blooming face, surrounded by a profusion of rich +wavy golden locks, whilst with her left she held her white night-dress +closely over her breast, having been roused from her first slumber by +the unexpected arrival of Van Baerle. + +It would have made a fine picture, worthy of Rembrandt, the gloomy +winding stairs illuminated by the reddish glare of the cresset of +Gryphus, with his scowling jailer’s countenance at the top, the +melancholy figure of Cornelius bending over the banister to look down +upon the sweet face of Rosa, standing, as it were, in the bright frame +of the door of her chamber, with embarrassed mien at being thus seen by +a stranger. + +And at the bottom, quite in the shade, where the details are absorbed +in the obscurity, the mastiff, with his eyes glistening like carbuncles, +and shaking his chain, on which the double light from the lamp of Rosa +and the lantern of Gryphus threw a brilliant glitter. + +The sublime master would, however, have been altogether unable to +render the sorrow expressed in the face of Rosa, when she saw this pale, +handsome young man slowly climbing the stairs, and thought of the full +import of the words, which her father had just spoken, “You will have +the family cell.” + +This vision lasted but a moment,--much less time than we have taken to +describe it. Gryphus then proceeded on his way, Cornelius was forced to +follow him, and five minutes afterwards he entered his prison, of which +it is unnecessary to say more, as the reader is already acquainted with +it. + +Gryphus pointed with his finger to the bed on which the martyr had +suffered so much, who on that day had rendered his soul to God. Then, +taking up his cresset, he quitted the cell. + +Thus left alone, Cornelius threw himself on his bed, but he slept not, +he kept his eye fixed on the narrow window, barred with iron, which +looked on the Buytenhof; and in this way saw from behind the trees that +first pale beam of light which morning sheds on the earth as a white +mantle. + +Now and then during the night horses had galloped at a smart pace over +the Buytenhof, the heavy tramp of the patrols had resounded from the +pavement, and the slow matches of the arquebuses, flaring in the east +wind, had thrown up at intervals a sudden glare as far as to the panes +of his window. + +But when the rising sun began to gild the coping stones at the gable +ends of the houses, Cornelius, eager to know whether there was any +living creature about him, approached the window, and cast a sad look +round the circular yard before him. + +At the end of the yard a dark mass, tinted with a dingy blue by the +morning dawn, rose before him, its dark outlines standing out in +contrast to the houses already illuminated by the pale light of early +morning. + +Cornelius recognised the gibbet. + +On it were suspended two shapeless trunks, which indeed were no more +than bleeding skeletons. + +The good people of the Hague had chopped off the flesh of its victims, +but faithfully carried the remainder to the gibbet, to have a pretext +for a double inscription written on a huge placard, on which Cornelius; +with the keen sight of a young man of twenty-eight, was able to read the +following lines, daubed by the coarse brush of a sign-painter:-- + +“Here are hanging the great rogue of the name of John de Witt, and the +little rogue Cornelius de Witt, his brother, two enemies of the people, +but great friends of the king of France.” + +Cornelius uttered a cry of horror, and in the agony of his frantic +terror knocked with his hands and feet at the door so violently and +continuously, that Gryphus, with his huge bunch of keys in his hand, ran +furiously up. + +The jailer opened the door, with terrible imprecations against the +prisoner who disturbed him at an hour which Master Gryphus was not +accustomed to be aroused. + +“Well, now, by my soul, he is mad, this new De Witt,” he cried, “but all +those De Witts have the devil in them.” + +“Master, master,” cried Cornelius, seizing the jailer by the arm and +dragging him towards the window,--“master, what have I read down there?” + +“Where down there?” + +“On that placard.” + +And, trembling, pale, and gasping for breath, he pointed to the gibbet +at the other side of the yard, with the cynical inscription surmounting +it. + +Gryphus broke out into a laugh. + +“Eh! eh!” he answered, “so, you have read it. Well, my good sir, that’s +what people will get for corresponding with the enemies of his Highness +the Prince of Orange.” + +“The brothers De Witt are murdered!” Cornelius muttered, with the cold +sweat on his brow, and sank on his bed, his arms hanging by his side, +and his eyes closed. + +“The brothers De Witt have been judged by the people,” said Gryphus; +“you call that murdered, do you? well, I call it executed.” + +And seeing that the prisoner was not only quiet, but entirely prostrate +and senseless, he rushed from the cell, violently slamming the door, and +noisily drawing the bolts. + +Recovering his consciousness, Cornelius found himself alone, and +recognised the room where he was,--“the family cell,” as Gryphus had +called it,--as the fatal passage leading to ignominious death. + +And as he was a philosopher, and, more than that, as he was a Christian, +he began to pray for the soul of his godfather, then for that of the +Grand Pensionary, and at last submitted with resignation to all the +sufferings which God might ordain for him. + +Then turning again to the concerns of earth, and having satisfied +himself that he was alone in his dungeon, he drew from his breast the +three bulbs of the black tulip, and concealed them behind a block of +stone, on which the traditional water-jug of the prison was standing, in +the darkest corner of his cell. + +Useless labour of so many years! such sweet hopes crushed! His discovery +was, after all, to lead to naught, just as his own career was to be cut +short. Here, in his prison, there was not a trace of vegetation, not an +atom of soil, not a ray of sunshine. + +At this thought Cornelius fell into a gloomy despair, from which he was +only aroused by an extraordinary circumstance. + +What was this circumstance? + +We shall inform the reader in our next chapter. + + + + +Chapter 10. The Jailer’s Daughter + + +On the same evening Gryphus, as he brought the prisoner his mess, +slipped on the damp flags whilst opening the door of the cell, and fell, +in the attempt to steady himself, on his hand; but as it was turned the +wrong way, he broke his arm just above the wrist. + +Cornelius rushed forward towards the jailer, but Gryphus, who was not +yet aware of the serious nature of his injury, called out to him,-- + +“It is nothing: don’t you stir.” + +He then tried to support himself on his arm, but the bone gave way; then +only he felt the pain, and uttered a cry. + +When he became aware that his arm was broken, this man, so harsh to +others, fell swooning on the threshold, where he remained motionless and +cold, as if dead. + +During all this time the door of the cell stood open and Cornelius found +himself almost free. But the thought never entered his mind of profiting +by this accident; he had seen from the manner in which the arm was bent, +and from the noise it made in bending, that the bone was fractured, and +that the patient must be in great pain; and now he thought of nothing +else but of administering relief to the sufferer, however little +benevolent the man had shown himself during their short interview. + +At the noise of Gryphus’s fall, and at the cry which escaped him, a +hasty step was heard on the staircase, and immediately after a lovely +apparition presented itself to the eyes of Cornelius. + +It was the beautiful young Frisian, who, seeing her father stretched on +the ground, and the prisoner bending over him, uttered a faint cry, as +in the first fright she thought Gryphus, whose brutality she well knew, +had fallen in consequence of a struggle between him and the prisoner. + +Cornelius understood what was passing in the mind of the girl, at the +very moment when the suspicion arose in her heart. + +But one moment told her the true state of the case and, ashamed of her +first thoughts, she cast her beautiful eyes, wet with tears, on the +young man, and said to him,-- + +“I beg your pardon, and thank you, sir; the first for what I have +thought, and the second for what you are doing.” + +Cornelius blushed, and said, “I am but doing my duty as a Christian in +helping my neighbour.” + +“Yes, and affording him your help this evening, you have forgotten the +abuse which he heaped on you this morning. Oh, sir! this is more than +humanity,--this is indeed Christian charity.” + +Cornelius cast his eyes on the beautiful girl, quite astonished to hear +from the mouth of one so humble such a noble and feeling speech. + +But he had no time to express his surprise. Gryphus recovered from his +swoon, opened his eyes, and as his brutality was returning with his +senses, he growled “That’s it, a fellow is in a hurry to bring to a +prisoner his supper, and falls and breaks his arm, and is left lying on +the ground.” + +“Hush, my father,” said Rosa, “you are unjust to this gentleman, whom I +found endeavouring to give you his aid.” + +“His aid?” Gryphus replied, with a doubtful air. + +“It is quite true, master! I am quite ready to help you still more.” + +“You!” said Gryphus, “are you a medical man?” + +“It was formerly my profession.” + +“And so you would be able to set my arm?” + +“Perfectly.” + +“And what would you need to do it? let us hear.” + +“Two splinters of wood, and some linen for a bandage.” + +“Do you hear, Rosa?” said Gryphus, “the prisoner is going to set my arm, +that’s a saving; come, assist me to get up, I feel as heavy as lead.” + +Rosa lent the sufferer her shoulder; he put his unhurt arm around her +neck, and making an effort, got on his legs, whilst Cornelius, to save +him a walk, pushed a chair towards him. + +Gryphus sat down; then, turning towards his daughter, he said,-- + +“Well, didn’t you hear? go and fetch what is wanted.” + +Rosa went down, and immediately after returned with two staves of a +small barrel and a large roll of linen bandage. + +Cornelius had made use of the intervening moments to take off the man’s +coat, and to tuck up his shirt sleeve. + +“Is this what you require, sir?” asked Rosa. + +“Yes, mademoiselle,” answered Cornelius, looking at the things she had +brought,--“yes, that’s right. Now push this table, whilst I support the +arm of your father.” + +Rosa pushed the table, Cornelius placed the broken arm on it so as +to make it flat, and with perfect skill set the bone, adjusted the +splinters, and fastened the bandages. + +At the last touch, the jailer fainted a second time. + +“Go and fetch vinegar, mademoiselle,” said Cornelius; “we will bathe his +temples, and he will recover.” + +But, instead of acting up to the doctor’s prescription, Rosa, after +having satisfied herself that her father was still unconscious, +approached Cornelius and said,-- + +“Service for service, sir.” + +“What do you mean, my pretty child?” said Cornelius. + +“I mean to say, sir, that the judge who is to examine you to-morrow has +inquired to-day for the room in which you are confined, and, on being +told that you are occupying the cell of Mynheer Cornelius de Witt, +laughed in a very strange and very disagreeable manner, which makes me +fear that no good awaits you.” + +“But,” asked Cornelius, “what harm can they do to me?” + +“Look at that gibbet.” + +“But I am not guilty,” said Cornelius. + +“Were they guilty whom you see down there gibbeted, mangled, and torn to +pieces?” + +“That’s true,” said Cornelius, gravely. + +“And besides,” continued Rosa, “the people want to find you guilty. But +whether innocent or guilty, your trial begins to-morrow, and the day +after you will be condemned. Matters are settled very quickly in these +times.” + +“Well, and what do you conclude from all this?” + +“I conclude that I am alone, that I am weak, that my father is lying in +a swoon, that the dog is muzzled, and that consequently there is nothing +to prevent your making your escape. Fly, then; that’s what I mean.” + +“What do you say?” + +“I say that I was not able to save Mynheer Cornelius or Mynheer John +de Witt, and that I should like to save you. Only be quick; there, my +father is regaining his breath, one minute more, and he will open his +eyes, and it will be too late. Do you hesitate?” + +In fact, Cornelius stood immovable, looking at Rosa, yet looking at her +as if he did not hear her. + +“Don’t you understand me?” said the young girl, with some impatience. + +“Yes, I do,” said Cornelius, “but----” + +“But?” + +“I will not, they would accuse you.” + +“Never mind,” said Rosa, blushing, “never mind that.” + +“You are very good, my dear child,” replied Cornelius, “but I stay.” + +“You stay, oh, sir! oh, sir! don’t you understand that you will be +condemned to death, executed on the scaffold, perhaps assassinated +and torn to pieces, just like Mynheer John and Mynheer Cornelius. For +heaven’s sake, don’t think of me, but fly from this place. Take care, it +bears ill luck to the De Witts!” + +“Halloa!” cried the jailer, recovering his senses, “who is talking of +those rogues, those wretches, those villains, the De Witts?” + +“Don’t be angry, my good man,” said Cornelius, with his good-tempered +smile, “the worst thing for a fracture is excitement, by which the blood +is heated.” + +Thereupon, he said in an undertone to Rosa-- + +“My child, I am innocent, and I shall await my trial with tranquillity +and an easy mind.” + +“Hush,” said Rosa. + +“Why hush?” + +“My father must not suppose that we have been talking to each other.” + +“What harm would that do?” + +“What harm? He would never allow me to come here any more,” said Rosa. + +Cornelius received this innocent confidence with a smile; he felt as if +a ray of good fortune were shining on his path. + +“Now, then, what are you chattering there together about?” said Gryphus, +rising and supporting his right arm with his left. + +“Nothing,” said Rosa; “the doctor is explaining to me what diet you are +to keep.” + +“Diet, diet for me? Well, my fine girl, I shall put you on diet too.” + +“On what diet, my father?” + +“Never to go to the cells of the prisoners, and, if ever you should +happen to go, to leave them as soon as possible. Come, off with me, lead +the way, and be quick.” + +Rosa and Cornelius exchanged glances. + +That of Rosa tried to express,-- + +“There, you see?” + +That of Cornelius said,-- + +“Let it be as the Lord wills.” + + + + +Chapter 11. Cornelius van Baerle’s Will + + +Rosa had not been mistaken; the judges came on the following day to the +Buytenhof, and proceeded with the trial of Cornelius van Baerle. The +examination, however, did not last long, it having appeared on evidence +that Cornelius had kept at his house that fatal correspondence of the +brothers De Witt with France. + +He did not deny it. + +The only point about which there seemed any difficulty was whether this +correspondence had been intrusted to him by his godfather, Cornelius de +Witt. + +But as, since the death of those two martyrs, Van Baerle had no longer +any reason for withholding the truth, he not only did not deny that the +parcel had been delivered to him by Cornelius de Witt himself, but he +also stated all the circumstances under which it was done. + +This confession involved the godson in the crime of the godfather; +manifest complicity being considered to exist between Cornelius de Witt +and Cornelius van Baerle. + +The honest doctor did not confine himself to this avowal, but told the +whole truth with regard to his own tastes, habits, and daily life. He +described his indifference to politics, his love of study, of the fine +arts, of science, and of flowers. He explained that, since the day when +Cornelius de Witt handed to him the parcel at Dort, he himself had never +touched, nor even noticed it. + +To this it was objected, that in this respect he could not possibly be +speaking the truth, since the papers had been deposited in a press in +which both his hands and his eyes must have been engaged every day. + +Cornelius answered that it was indeed so; that, however, he never put +his hand into the press but to ascertain whether his bulbs were dry, +and that he never looked into it but to see if they were beginning to +sprout. + +To this again it was objected, that his pretended indifference +respecting this deposit was not to be reasonably entertained, as he +could not have received such papers from the hand of his godfather +without being made acquainted with their important character. + +He replied that his godfather Cornelius loved him too well, and, above +all, that he was too considerate a man to have communicated to him +anything of the contents of the parcel, well knowing that such a +confidence would only have caused anxiety to him who received it. + +To this it was objected that, if De Witt had wished to act in such +a way, he would have added to the parcel, in case of accidents, a +certificate setting forth that his godson was an entire stranger to the +nature of this correspondence, or at least he would during his +trial have written a letter to him, which might be produced as his +justification. + +Cornelius replied that undoubtedly his godfather could not have thought +that there was any risk for the safety of his deposit, hidden as it +was in a press which was looked upon as sacred as the tabernacle by the +whole household of Van Baerle; and that consequently he had considered +the certificate as useless. As to a letter, he certainly had some +remembrance that some moments previous to his arrest, whilst he was +absorbed in the contemplation of one of the rarest of his bulbs, John de +Witt’s servant entered his dry-room, and handed to him a paper, but the +whole was to him only like a vague dream; the servant had disappeared, +and as to the paper, perhaps it might be found if a proper search were +made. + +As far as Craeke was concerned, it was impossible to find him, as he had +left Holland. + +The paper also was not very likely to be found, and no one gave himself +the trouble to look for it. + +Cornelius himself did not much press this point, since, even supposing +that the paper should turn up, it could not have any direct connection +with the correspondence which constituted the crime. + +The judges wished to make it appear as though they wanted to urge +Cornelius to make a better defence; they displayed that benevolent +patience which is generally a sign of the magistrate’s being interested +for the prisoner, or of a man’s having so completely got the better of +his adversary that he needs no longer any oppressive means to ruin him. + +Cornelius did not accept of this hypocritical protection, and in a last +answer, which he set forth with the noble bearing of a martyr and the +calm serenity of a righteous man, he said,-- + +“You ask me things, gentlemen, to which I can answer only the exact +truth. Hear it. The parcel was put into my hands in the way I have +described; I vow before God that I was, and am still, ignorant of its +contents, and that it was not until my arrest that I learned that this +deposit was the correspondence of the Grand Pensionary with the Marquis +de Louvois. And lastly, I vow and protest that I do not understand how +any one should have known that this parcel was in my house; and, +above all, how I can be deemed criminal for having received what my +illustrious and unfortunate godfather brought to my house.” + +This was Van Baerle’s whole defence; after which the judges began to +deliberate on the verdict. + +They considered that every offshoot of civil discord is mischievous, +because it revives the contest which it is the interest of all to put +down. + +One of them, who bore the character of a profound observer, laid down +as his opinion that this young man, so phlegmatic in appearance, must +in reality be very dangerous, as under this icy exterior he was sure to +conceal an ardent desire to avenge his friends, the De Witts. + +Another observed that the love of tulips agreed perfectly well with that +of politics, and that it was proved in history that many very dangerous +men were engaged in gardening, just as if it had been their profession, +whilst really they occupied themselves with perfectly different +concerns; witness Tarquin the Elder, who grew poppies at Gabii, and the +Great Condé, who watered his carnations at the dungeon of Vincennes at +the very moment when the former meditated his return to Rome, and the +latter his escape from prison. + +The judge summed up with the following dilemma:-- + +“Either Cornelius van Baerle is a great lover of tulips, or a great +lover of politics; in either case, he has told us a falsehood; first, +because his having occupied himself with politics is proved by the +letters which were found at his house; and secondly, because his having +occupied himself with tulips is proved by the bulbs which leave no doubt +of the fact. And herein lies the enormity of the case. As Cornelius +van Baerle was concerned in the growing of tulips and in the pursuit of +politics at one and the same time, the prisoner is of hybrid character, +of an amphibious organisation, working with equal ardour at politics and +at tulips, which proves him to belong to the class of men most dangerous +to public tranquillity, and shows a certain, or rather a complete, +analogy between his character and that of those master minds of which +Tarquin the Elder and the Great Condé have been felicitously quoted as +examples.” + +The upshot of all these reasonings was, that his Highness the Prince +Stadtholder of Holland would feel infinitely obliged to the magistracy +of the Hague if they simplified for him the government of the Seven +Provinces by destroying even the least germ of conspiracy against his +authority. + +This argument capped all the others, and, in order so much the more +effectually to destroy the germ of conspiracy, sentence of death was +unanimously pronounced against Cornelius van Baerle, as being +arraigned, and convicted, for having, under the innocent appearance of +a tulip-fancier, participated in the detestable intrigues and abominable +plots of the brothers De Witt against Dutch nationality and in their +secret relations with their French enemy. + +A supplementary clause was tacked to the sentence, to the effect that +“the aforesaid Cornelius van Baerle should be led from the prison of the +Buytenhof to the scaffold in the yard of the same name, where the public +executioner would cut off his head.” + +As this deliberation was a most serious affair, it lasted a full +half-hour, during which the prisoner was remanded to his cell. + +There the Recorder of the States came to read the sentence to him. + +Master Gryphus was detained in bed by the fever caused by the fracture +of his arm. His keys passed into the hands of one of his assistants. +Behind this turnkey, who introduced the Recorder, Rosa, the fair Frisian +maid, had slipped into the recess of the door, with a handkerchief to +her mouth to stifle her sobs. + +Cornelius listened to the sentence with an expression rather of surprise +than sadness. + +After the sentence was read, the Recorder asked him whether he had +anything to answer. + +“Indeed, I have not,” he replied. “Only I confess that, among all the +causes of death against which a cautious man may guard, I should never +have supposed this to be comprised.” + +On this answer, the Recorder saluted Van Baerle with all that +consideration which such functionaries generally bestow upon great +criminals of every sort. + +But whilst he was about to withdraw, Cornelius asked, “By the bye, Mr. +Recorder, what day is the thing--you know what I mean--to take place?” + +“Why, to-day,” answered the Recorder, a little surprised by the +self-possession of the condemned man. + +A sob was heard behind the door, and Cornelius turned round to look from +whom it came; but Rosa, who had foreseen this movement, had fallen back. + +“And,” continued Cornelius, “what hour is appointed?” + +“Twelve o’clock, sir.” + +“Indeed,” said Cornelius, “I think I heard the clock strike ten about +twenty minutes ago; I have not much time to spare.” + +“Indeed you have not, if you wish to make your peace with God,” said +the Recorder, bowing to the ground. “You may ask for any clergyman you +please.” + +Saying these words he went out backwards, and the assistant turnkey was +going to follow him, and to lock the door of Cornelius’s cell, when a +white and trembling arm interposed between him and the heavy door. + +Cornelius saw nothing but the golden brocade cap, tipped with lace, such +as the Frisian girls wore; he heard nothing but some one whispering into +the ear of the turnkey. But the latter put his heavy keys into the +white hand which was stretched out to receive them, and, descending +some steps, sat down on the staircase which was thus guarded above +by himself, and below by the dog. The head-dress turned round, and +Cornelius beheld the face of Rosa, blanched with grief, and her +beautiful eyes streaming with tears. + +She went up to Cornelius, crossing her arms on her heaving breast. + +“Oh, sir, sir!” she said, but sobs choked her utterance. + +“My good girl,” Cornelius replied with emotion, “what do you wish? I may +tell you that my time on earth is short.” + +“I come to ask a favour of you,” said Rosa, extending her arms partly +towards him and partly towards heaven. + +“Don’t weep so, Rosa,” said the prisoner, “for your tears go much more +to my heart than my approaching fate, and you know, the less guilty a +prisoner is, the more it is his duty to die calmly, and even joyfully, +as he dies a martyr. Come, there’s a dear, don’t cry any more, and tell +me what you want, my pretty Rosa.” + +She fell on her knees. “Forgive my father,” she said. + +“Your father, your father!” said Cornelius, astonished. + +“Yes, he has been so harsh to you; but it is his nature, he is so to +every one, and you are not the only one whom he has bullied.” + +“He is punished, my dear Rosa, more than punished, by the accident that +has befallen him, and I forgive him.” + +“I thank you, sir,” said Rosa. “And now tell me--oh, tell me--can I do +anything for you?” + +“You can dry your beautiful eyes, my dear child,” answered Cornelius, +with a good-tempered smile. + +“But what can I do for you,--for you I mean?” + +“A man who has only one hour longer to live must be a great Sybarite +still to want anything, my dear Rosa.” + +“The clergyman whom they have proposed to you?” + +“I have worshipped God all my life, I have worshipped Him in His works, +and praised Him in His decrees. I am at peace with Him and do not wish +for a clergyman. The last thought which occupies my mind, however has +reference to the glory of the Almighty, and, indeed, my dear, I should +ask you to help me in carrying out this last thought.” + +“Oh, Mynheer Cornelius, speak, speak!” exclaimed Rosa, still bathed in +tears. + +“Give me your hand, and promise me not to laugh, my dear child.” + +“Laugh,” exclaimed Rosa, frantic with grief, “laugh at this moment! do +you not see my tears?” + +“Rosa, you are no stranger to me. I have not seen much of you, but that +little is enough to make me appreciate your character. I have never seen +a woman more fair or more pure than you are, and if from this moment I +take no more notice of you, forgive me; it is only because, on leaving +this world, I do not wish to have any further regret.” + +Rosa felt a shudder creeping over her frame, for, whilst the prisoner +pronounced these words, the belfry clock of the Buytenhof struck eleven. + +Cornelius understood her. “Yes, yes, let us make haste,” he said, “you +are right, Rosa.” + +Then, taking the paper with the three suckers from his breast, where he +had again put it, since he had no longer any fear of being searched, +he said: “My dear girl, I have been very fond of flowers. That was at a +time when I did not know that there was anything else to be loved. Don’t +blush, Rosa, nor turn away; and even if I were making you a declaration +of love, alas! poor dear, it would be of no more consequence. Down there +in the yard, there is an instrument of steel, which in sixty minutes +will put an end to my boldness. Well, Rosa, I loved flowers dearly, and +I have found, or at least I believe so, the secret of the great black +tulip, which it has been considered impossible to grow, and for which, +as you know, or may not know, a prize of a hundred thousand guilders +has been offered by the Horticultural Society of Haarlem. These hundred +thousand guilders--and Heaven knows I do not regret them--these hundred +thousand guilders I have here in this paper, for they are won by the +three bulbs wrapped up in it, which you may take, Rosa, as I make you a +present of them.” + +“Mynheer Cornelius!” + +“Yes, yes, Rosa, you may take them; you are not wronging any one, my +child. I am alone in this world; my parents are dead; I never had a +sister or a brother. I have never had a thought of loving any one with +what is called love, and if any one has loved me, I have not known it. +However, you see well, Rosa, that I am abandoned by everybody, as +in this sad hour you alone are with me in my prison, consoling and +assisting me.” + +“But, sir, a hundred thousand guilders!” + +“Well, let us talk seriously, my dear child: those hundred thousand +guilders will be a nice marriage portion, with your pretty face; you +shall have them, Rosa, dear Rosa, and I ask nothing in return but your +promise that you will marry a fine young man, whom you love, and who +will love you, as dearly as I loved my flowers. Don’t interrupt me, Rosa +dear, I have only a few minutes more.” + +The poor girl was nearly choking with her sobs. + +Cornelius took her by the hand. + +“Listen to me,” he continued: “I’ll tell you how to manage it. Go to +Dort and ask Butruysheim, my gardener, for soil from my border number +six, fill a deep box with it, and plant in it these three bulbs. They +will flower next May, that is to say, in seven months; and, when you see +the flower forming on the stem, be careful at night to protect them +from the wind, and by day to screen them from the sun. They will flower +black, I am quite sure of it. You are then to apprise the President of +the Haarlem Society. He will cause the color of the flower to be proved +before a committee and these hundred thousand guilders will be paid to +you.” + +Rosa heaved a deep sigh. + +“And now,” continued Cornelius,--wiping away a tear which was glistening +in his eye, and which was shed much more for that marvellous black +tulip which he was not to see than for the life which he was about to +lose,--“I have no wish left, except that the tulip should be called Rosa +Barlœnsis, that is to say, that its name should combine yours and mine; +and as, of course, you do not understand Latin, and might therefore +forget this name, try to get for me pencil and paper, that I may write +it down for you.” + +Rosa sobbed afresh, and handed to him a book, bound in shagreen, which +bore the initials C. W. + +“What is this?” asked the prisoner. + +“Alas!” replied Rosa, “it is the Bible of your poor godfather, Cornelius +de Witt. From it he derived strength to endure the torture, and to bear +his sentence without flinching. I found it in this cell, after the death +of the martyr, and have preserved it as a relic. To-day I brought it to +you, for it seemed to me that this book must possess in itself a divine +power. Write in it what you have to write, Mynheer Cornelius; and +though, unfortunately, I am not able to read, I will take care that what +you write shall be accomplished.” + +Cornelius took the Bible, and kissed it reverently. + +“With what shall I write?” asked Cornelius. + +“There is a pencil in the Bible,” said Rosa. + +This was the pencil which John de Witt had lent to his brother, and +which he had forgotten to take away with him. + +Cornelius took it, and on the second fly leaf (for it will be remembered +that the first was torn out), drawing near his end like his godfather, +he wrote with a no less firm hand:-- + +“On this day, the 23d of August, 1672, being on the point of rendering, +although innocent, my soul to God on the scaffold, I bequeath to Rosa +Gryphus the only worldly goods which remain to me of all that I have +possessed in this world, the rest having been confiscated; I bequeath, I +say, to Rosa Gryphus three bulbs, which I am convinced must produce, +in the next May, the Grand Black Tulip for which a prize of a hundred +thousand guilders has been offered by the Haarlem Society, requesting +that she may be paid the same sum in my stead, as my sole heiress, under +the only condition of her marrying a respectable young man of about +my age, who loves her, and whom she loves, and of her giving the black +tulip, which will constitute a new species, the name of Rosa Barlœnsis, +that is to say, hers and mine combined. + +“So may God grant me mercy, and to her health and long life! + +“Cornelius van Baerle.” + +The prisoner then, giving the Bible to Rosa, said,-- + +“Read.” + +“Alas!” she answered, “I have already told you I cannot read.” + +Cornelius then read to Rosa the testament that he had just made. + +The agony of the poor girl almost overpowered her. + +“Do you accept my conditions?” asked the prisoner, with a melancholy +smile, kissing the trembling hands of the afflicted girl. + +“Oh, I don’t know, sir,” she stammered. + +“You don’t know, child, and why not?” + +“Because there is one condition which I am afraid I cannot keep.” + +“Which? I should have thought that all was settled between us.” + +“You give me the hundred thousand guilders as a marriage portion, don’t +you?” + +“Yes.” + +“And under the condition of my marrying a man whom I love?” + +“Certainly.” + +“Well, then, sir, this money cannot belong to me. I shall never love any +one; neither shall I marry.” + +And, after having with difficulty uttered these words, Rosa almost +swooned away in the violence of her grief. + +Cornelius, frightened at seeing her so pale and sinking, was going +to take her in his arms, when a heavy step, followed by other dismal +sounds, was heard on the staircase, amidst the continued barking of the +dog. + +“They are coming to fetch you. Oh God! Oh God!” cried Rosa, wringing her +hands. “And have you nothing more to tell me?” + +She fell on her knees with her face buried in her hands and became +almost senseless. + +“I have only to say, that I wish you to preserve these bulbs as a +most precious treasure, and carefully to treat them according to the +directions I have given you. Do it for my sake, and now farewell, Rosa.” + +“Yes, yes,” she said, without raising her head, “I will do anything you +bid me, except marrying,” she added, in a low voice, “for that, oh! that +is impossible for me.” + +She then put the cherished treasure next her beating heart. + +The noise on the staircase which Cornelius and Rosa had heard was caused +by the Recorder, who was coming for the prisoner. He was followed by +the executioner, by the soldiers who were to form the guard round the +scaffold, and by some curious hangers-on of the prison. + +Cornelius, without showing any weakness, but likewise without any +bravado, received them rather as friends than as persecutors, and +quietly submitted to all those preparations which these men were obliged +to make in performance of their duty. + +Then, casting a glance into the yard through the narrow iron-barred +window of his cell, he perceived the scaffold, and, at twenty paces +distant from it, the gibbet, from which, by order of the Stadtholder, +the outraged remains of the two brothers De Witt had been taken down. + +When the moment came to descend in order to follow the guards, Cornelius +sought with his eyes the angelic look of Rosa, but he saw, behind the +swords and halberds, only a form lying outstretched near a wooden bench, +and a deathlike face half covered with long golden locks. + +But Rosa, whilst falling down senseless, still obeying her friend, had +pressed her hand on her velvet bodice and, forgetting everything in +the world besides, instinctively grasped the precious deposit which +Cornelius had intrusted to her care. + +Leaving the cell, the young man could still see in the convulsively +clinched fingers of Rosa the yellowish leaf from that Bible on which +Cornelius de Witt had with such difficulty and pain written these few +lines, which, if Van Baerle had read them, would undoubtedly have been +the saving of a man and a tulip. + + + + +Chapter 12. The Execution + + +Cornelius had not three hundred paces to walk outside the prison to +reach the foot of the scaffold. At the bottom of the staircase, the dog +quietly looked at him whilst he was passing; Cornelius even fancied +he saw in the eyes of the monster a certain expression as it were of +compassion. + +The dog perhaps knew the condemned prisoners, and only bit those who +left as free men. + +The shorter the way from the door of the prison to the foot of the +scaffold, the more fully, of course, it was crowded with curious people. + +These were the same who, not satisfied with the blood which they had +shed three days before, were now craving for a new victim. + +And scarcely had Cornelius made his appearance than a fierce groan ran +through the whole street, spreading all over the yard, and re-echoing +from the streets which led to the scaffold, and which were likewise +crowded with spectators. + +The scaffold indeed looked like an islet at the confluence of several +rivers. + +In the midst of these threats, groans, and yells, Cornelius, very likely +in order not to hear them, had buried himself in his own thoughts. + +And what did he think of in his last melancholy journey? + +Neither of his enemies, nor of his judges, nor of his executioners. + +He thought of the beautiful tulips which he would see from heaven above, +at Ceylon, or Bengal, or elsewhere, when he would be able to look with +pity on this earth, where John and Cornelius de Witt had been murdered +for having thought too much of politics, and where Cornelius van Baerle +was about to be murdered for having thought too much of tulips. + +“It is only one stroke of the axe,” said the philosopher to himself, +“and my beautiful dream will begin to be realised.” + +Only there was still a chance, just as it had happened before to M. de +Chalais, to M. de Thou, and other slovenly executed people, that the +headsman might inflict more than one stroke, that is to say, more than +one martyrdom, on the poor tulip-fancier. + +Yet, notwithstanding all this, Van Baerle mounted the scaffold not the +less resolutely, proud of having been the friend of that illustrious +John, and godson of that noble Cornelius de Witt, whom the ruffians, who +were now crowding to witness his own doom, had torn to pieces and burnt +three days before. + +He knelt down, said his prayers, and observed, not without a feeling of +sincere joy, that, laying his head on the block, and keeping his eyes +open, he would be able to his last moment to see the grated window of +the Buytenhof. + +At length the fatal moment arrived, and Cornelius placed his chin on the +cold damp block. But at this moment his eyes closed involuntarily, to +receive more resolutely the terrible avalanche which was about to fall +on his head, and to 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, certain of awaking in +another world full of light and glorious tints. + +Three times he felt, with a shudder, the cold current of air from the +knife near his neck, but what a surprise! he felt neither pain nor +shock. + +He saw no change in the colour of the sky, or of the world around him. + +Then suddenly Van Baerle felt gentle hands raising him, and soon 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 red wax. + +And the same sun, yellow and pale, as it behooves a Dutch sun to be, was +shining in the skies; and the same grated window looked down upon +him from the Buytenhof; and the same rabble, 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 around him. + +His Highness, William, Prince of Orange, very likely afraid that +Van Baerle’s blood would turn the scale of judgment against him, had +compassionately taken into consideration his good character, and the +apparent proofs of his innocence. + +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 his flower borders at Dort. + +But Cornelius was mistaken. To use an expression of Madame de Sévigné, +who wrote about the same time, “there was a postscript to the letter;” + and the most important part of the letter was contained in the +postscript. + +In this postscript, William of Orange, Stadtholder of Holland, condemned +Cornelius van Baerle to imprisonment for life. He was not sufficiently +guilty to suffer death, but he was too much so to be set at liberty. + +Cornelius heard this clause, but, the first feeling of vexation and +disappointment over, he said to himself,-- + +“Never mind, all this is not lost yet; there is some good in this +perpetual imprisonment; Rosa will be there, and also my three bulbs of +the black tulip are there.” + +But Cornelius forgot that the Seven Provinces had seven prisons, one for +each, and that the board of the prisoner is anywhere else less expensive +than at the Hague, which is a capital. + +His Highness, who, as it seems, did not possess the means to feed Van +Baerle at the Hague, sent him to undergo his perpetual imprisonment at +the fortress of Loewestein, very near Dort, but, alas! also very far +from it; for Loewestein, as the geographers tell us, is situated at the +point of the islet which is formed by the confluence of the Waal and the +Meuse, opposite Gorcum. + +Van Baerle was sufficiently versed in the history of his country to know +that the celebrated Grotius was confined in that castle after the +death of Barneveldt; and that the States, in their generosity to the +illustrious publicist, jurist, historian, poet, and divine, had granted +to him for his daily maintenance the sum of twenty-four stivers. + +“I,” said Van Baerle to himself, “I am worth much less than Grotius. +They will hardly give me twelve stivers, and I shall live miserably; but +never mind, at all events I shall live.” + +Then suddenly a terrible thought struck him. + +“Ah!” he exclaimed, “how damp and misty that part of the country is, +and the soil so bad for the tulips! And then Rosa 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 coach had driven +up to the scaffold. This vehicle was for the prisoner. He was invited to +enter it, and he obeyed. + +His last look was towards the Buytenhof. He hoped to see at the window +the face of Rosa, brightening up again. + +But the coach was drawn by good horses, who soon carried Van Baerle +away from among the shouts which the rabble roared in honour of the most +magnanimous Stadtholder, mixing with it a spice of abuse against the +brothers De Witt and the godson of Cornelius, who had just now been +saved from death. + +This reprieve suggested to the worthy spectators remarks such as the +following:-- + +“It’s very fortunate that we used such speed in having justice done to +that great villain John, and to that little rogue Cornelius, otherwise +his Highness might have snatched them from us, just as he has done this +fellow.” + +Among all the spectators whom Van Baerle’s execution had attracted to +the Buytenhof, and whom the sudden turn of affairs had disagreeably +surprised, undoubtedly the one most disappointed was a certain +respectably dressed burgher, who from early morning had made such a +good use of his feet and elbows that he at last was separated from the +scaffold only by the file of soldiers which surrounded it. + +Many had shown themselves eager to see the perfidious blood of the +guilty Cornelius flow, but not one had shown such a keen anxiety as the +individual just alluded to. + +The most furious had come to the Buytenhof at daybreak, to secure a +better place; but he, outdoing even them, had passed the night at the +threshold of the prison, from whence, as we have already said, he had +advanced to the very foremost rank, unguibus et rostro,--that is to say, +coaxing some, and kicking the others. + +And when the executioner had conducted the prisoner to the scaffold, the +burgher, who had mounted on the stone of the pump the better to see and +be seen, made to the executioner a sign which meant,-- + +“It’s a bargain, isn’t it?” + +The executioner answered by another sign, which was meant to say,-- + +“Be quiet, it’s all right.” + +This burgher was no other than Mynheer Isaac Boxtel, who since the +arrest of Cornelius had come to the Hague to try if he could not get +hold of the three bulbs of the black tulip. + +Boxtel had at first tried to gain over Gryphus to his interest, but the +jailer had not only the snarling fierceness, but likewise the fidelity, +of a dog. He had therefore bristled up at Boxtel’s hatred, whom he had +suspected to be a warm friend of the prisoner, making trifling inquiries +to contrive with the more certainty some means of escape for him. + +Thus to the very first proposals which Boxtel made to Gryphus to filch +the bulbs which Cornelius van Baerle must be supposed to conceal, if not +in his breast, at least in some corner of his cell, the surly jailer had +only answered by kicking Mynheer Isaac out, and setting the dog at him. + +The piece which the mastiff had torn from his hose did not discourage +Boxtel. He came back to the charge, but this time Gryphus was in bed, +feverish, and with a broken arm. He therefore was not able to admit the +petitioner, who then addressed himself to Rosa, offering to buy her a +head-dress of pure gold if she would get the bulbs for him. On this, the +generous girl, although not yet knowing the value of the object of the +robbery, which was to be so well remunerated, had directed the tempter +to the executioner, as the heir of the prisoner. + +In the meanwhile the sentence had been pronounced. Thus Isaac had no +more time to bribe any one. He therefore clung to the idea which Rosa +had suggested: he went to the executioner. + +Isaac had not the least doubt that Cornelius would die with the bulbs on +his heart. + +But there were two things which Boxtel did not calculate upon:-- + +Rosa, that is to say, love; + +William of Orange, that is to say, clemency. + +But for Rosa and William, the calculations of the envious neighbour +would have been correct. + +But for William, Cornelius would have died. + +But for Rosa, Cornelius would have died with his bulbs on his heart. + +Mynheer Boxtel went to the headsman, to whom he gave himself out as +a great friend of the condemned man; and from whom he bought all the +clothes of the dead man that was to be, for one hundred guilders; rather +an exorbitant sum, as he engaged to leave all the trinkets of gold and +silver to the executioner. + +But what was the sum of a hundred guilders to a man who was all but sure +to buy with it the prize of the Haarlem Society? + +It was money lent at a thousand per cent., which, as nobody will deny, +was a very handsome investment. + +The headsman, on the other hand, had scarcely anything to do to earn his +hundred guilders. He needed only, as soon as the execution was over, to +allow Mynheer Boxtel to ascend the scaffold with his servants, to remove +the inanimate remains of his friend. + +The thing was, moreover, quite customary among the “faithful brethren,” + when one of their masters died a public death in the yard of the +Buytenhof. + +A fanatic like Cornelius might very easily have found another fanatic +who would give a hundred guilders for his remains. + +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 be +disappointed, 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, and the executioner; and +with what intense interest he surveyed the movements of Van Baerle. How +would he place himself on the block? how would he fall? and would he +not, in falling, crush those inestimable bulbs? had not he at least +taken care to enclose them in a golden box,--as gold is the hardest of +all metals? + +Every trifling delay irritated him. Why did that stupid executioner thus +lose time in brandishing his sword over the head 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 his pocket,--when he heard +the pardon of the Stadtholder publicly read out,--then Boxtel was no +more like a human being; the rage and malice of the tiger, of the hyena, +and of the serpent glistened in his eyes, and vented itself in his yell +and his movements. Had he been able to get at Van Baerle, he would have +pounced upon him and strangled him. + +And so, then, Cornelius was to live, and was to go with him to +Loewestein, and thither to his prison he would take with him his bulbs; +and perhaps he would even find a garden where the black tulip would +flower for him. + +Boxtel, quite overcome by his frenzy, fell from the stone upon some +Orangemen, who, like him, were sorely vexed at the turn which affairs +had taken. They, mistaking the frantic cries of Mynheer Isaac for +demonstrations of joy, began to belabour him with kicks and cuffs, such +as could not have been administered in better style by any prize-fighter +on the other side of the Channel. + +Blows were, however, nothing to him. He wanted to run after the 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 a distance of some yards, and only rose again, +bruised and begrimed, after the whole rabble of the Hague, with their +muddy feet, had passed over him. + +One would think that this was enough for one day, but Mynheer Boxtel did +not seem to think so, as, in addition to having his clothes torn, his +back bruised, and his hands scratched, he inflicted upon himself the +further punishment of tearing out his hair by handfuls, as an offering +to that goddess of envy who, as mythology teaches us, wears a head-dress +of serpents. + + + + +Chapter 14. The Pigeons of Dort + + +It was indeed in itself a great honour for Cornelius van Baerle to be +confined in the same prison which had once received the learned master +Grotius. + +But on arriving at the prison he met with an honour even greater. As +chance would have it, the cell formerly inhabited by the illustrious +Barneveldt happened to be vacant, when the clemency of the Prince of +Orange sent the tulip-fancier Van Baerle there. + +The cell had a very bad character at the castle since the time when +Grotius, by means of the device of his wife, made escape from it in that +famous book-chest which the jailers forgot to examine. + +On the other hand, it seemed to Van Baerle an auspicious omen that this +very cell was assigned to him, for according to his ideas, a jailer +ought never to have given to a second pigeon the cage from which the +first had so easily flown. + +The cell had an historical character. We will only state here that, +with the exception of an alcove which was contrived there for the use +of Madame Grotius, it differed in no respect from the other cells of the +prison; only, perhaps, it was a little higher, and had a splendid view +from the grated window. + +Cornelius felt himself perfectly indifferent as to the place where he +had to lead an existence which was little more than vegetation. There +were only two things now for which he cared, and the possession of which +was a happiness enjoyed only in imagination. + +A flower, and a woman; both of them, as he conceived, lost to him for +ever. + +Fortunately the good doctor was mistaken. In his prison cell the most +adventurous life which ever fell to the lot of any tulip-fancier was +reserved for him. + +One morning, whilst at his window inhaling the fresh air which came from +the river, and casting a longing look to the windmills of his dear +old city Dort, which were looming in the distance behind a forest of +chimneys, he saw flocks of pigeons coming from that quarter to perch +fluttering on the pointed gables of Loewestein. + +These pigeons, Van Baerle said to himself, are coming from Dort, and +consequently may return there. By fastening a little note to the wing of +one of these pigeons, one might have a chance to send a message there. +Then, after a few moments’ 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, to something like twenty-two or +twenty-three thousand days of captivity. + +Van Baerle, from whose thoughts the three bulbs were never absent, +made a snare for catching the pigeons, baiting the birds with all the +resources of his kitchen, such as it was for eight slivers (sixpence +English) a day; and, after a month of unsuccessful attempts, he at last +caught a female bird. + +It cost him two more months to catch a male bird; he then shut them up +together, and having about the beginning of the year 1673 obtained some +eggs from them, he released the female, which, leaving the male behind +to hatch the eggs in her stead, flew joyously to Dort, with the note +under her wing. + +She returned in the evening. She had preserved the note. + +Thus it went on for fifteen days, at first to the disappointment, and +then to the great grief, of Van Baerle. + +On the sixteenth day, at last, she came back without it. + +Van Baerle had addressed it to his nurse, the old Frisian woman; and +implored any charitable soul who might find it to convey it to her as +safely and as speedily as possible. + +In this letter there was a little note enclosed for Rosa. + +Van Baerle’s nurse had received the letter in the following way. + +Leaving Dort, Mynheer Isaac Boxtel had abandoned, not only his house, +his servants, his observatory, and his telescope, but also his pigeons. + +The servant, having been left without wages, first lived on his little +savings, and then on his master’s pigeons. + +Seeing this, the pigeons emigrated from the roof of Isaac Boxtel to that +of Cornelius van Baerle. + +The nurse was a kind-hearted woman, who could not live without something +to love. She conceived an affection for the pigeons which had thrown +themselves on her hospitality; and when Boxtel’s servant reclaimed them +with culinary intentions, having eaten the first fifteen already, and +now wishing to eat the other fifteen, she offered to buy them from him +for a consideration of six stivers per head. + +This being just double their value, the man was very glad to close the +bargain, and the nurse found herself in undisputed possession of the +pigeons of her master’s envious neighbour. + +In the course of their wanderings, these pigeons with others visited +the Hague, Loewestein, and Rotterdam, seeking variety, doubtless, in the +flavour of their wheat or hempseed. + +Chance, or rather God, for we can see the hand of God in everything, had +willed that Cornelius van Baerle should happen to hit upon one of these +very pigeons. + +Therefore, if the envious wretch had not left Dort to follow his +rival to the Hague in the first place, and then to Gorcum or to +Loewestein,--for the two places are separated only by the confluence of +the Waal and the Meuse,--Van Baerle’s letter would have fallen into his +hands and not the nurse’s: in which event the poor prisoner, like +the raven of the Roman cobbler, would have thrown away his time, his +trouble, and, instead of having to relate the series of exciting events +which are about to flow from beneath our pen like the varied hues of a +many coloured tapestry, we should have naught to describe but a weary +waste of days, dull and melancholy and gloomy as night’s dark mantle. + +The note, as we have said, had reached Van Baerle’s nurse. + +And also it came to pass, that one evening in the beginning of February, +just when the stars were beginning to twinkle, Cornelius heard on the +staircase of the little turret a voice which thrilled through him. + +He put his hand on his heart, and listened. + +It was the sweet harmonious voice of Rosa. + +Let us confess it, Cornelius was not so stupefied with surprise, or +so beyond himself with joy, as he would have been but for the pigeon, +which, in answer to his letter, had brought back hope to him under her +empty wing; and, knowing Rosa, he expected, if the note had ever reached +her, to hear of her whom he loved, and also of his three darling bulbs. + +He rose, listened once more, and bent forward towards the door. + +Yes, they were indeed the accents which had fallen so sweetly on his +heart at the Hague. + +The question now was, whether Rosa, who had made the journey from the +Hague to Loewestein, and who--Cornelius did not understand how--had +succeeded even in penetrating into the prison, would also be fortunate +enough in penetrating to the prisoner himself. + +Whilst Cornelius, debating this point within himself, was building all +sorts of castles in the air, and was struggling between hope and fear, +the shutter of the grating in the door opened, and Rosa, beaming with +joy, and beautiful in her pretty national costume--but still more +beautiful from the grief which for the last five months had blanched her +cheeks--pressed her little face against the wire grating of the window, +saying to him,-- + +“Oh, sir, sir! here I am!” + +Cornelius stretched out his arms, and, looking to heaven, uttered a cry +of joy,-- + +“Oh, Rosa, Rosa!” + +“Hush! let us speak low: my father follows on my heels,” said the girl. + +“Your father?” + +“Yes, he is in the courtyard at the bottom of the staircase, receiving +the instructions of the Governor; he will presently come up.” + +“The instructions of the Governor?” + +“Listen to me, I’ll try to tell you all in a few words. The Stadtholder +has a country-house, one league distant from Leyden, properly speaking a +kind of large dairy, and my aunt, who was his nurse, has the management +of it. As soon as I received your letter, which, alas! I could not read +myself, but which your housekeeper read to me, I hastened to my aunt; +there I remained until the Prince should come to the dairy; and when he +came, I asked him as a favour to allow my father to exchange his post at +the prison of the Hague with the jailer of the fortress of Loewestein. +The Prince could not have suspected my object; had he known it, he would +have refused my request, but as it is he granted it.” + +“And so you are here?” + +“As you see.” + +“And thus I shall see you every day?” + +“As often as I can manage it.” + +“Oh, Rosa, my beautiful Rosa, do you love me a little?” + +“A little?” she said, “you make no great pretensions, Mynheer +Cornelius.” + +Cornelius tenderly stretched out his hands towards her, but they were +only able to touch each other with the tips of their fingers through the +wire grating. + +“Here is my father,” said she. + +Rosa then abruptly drew back from the door, and ran to meet old Gryphus, +who made his appearance at the top of the staircase. + + + + +Chapter 15. The Little Grated Window + + +Gryphus was followed by the mastiff. + +The turnkey took the animal round the jail, so that, if needs be, he +might recognize the prisoners. + +“Father,” said Rosa, “here is the famous prison from which Mynheer +Grotius escaped. You know Mynheer Grotius?” + +“Oh, yes, that rogue Grotius, a friend of that villain Barneveldt, +whom I saw executed when I was a child. Ah! so Grotius; and that’s the +chamber from which he escaped. Well, I’ll answer for it that no one +shall escape after him in my time.” + +And thus opening the door, he began in the dark to talk to the prisoner. + +The dog, on his part, went up to the prisoner, and, growling, smelled +about his legs just as though to ask him what right he had still to be +alive, after having left the prison in the company of the Recorder and +the executioner. + +But the fair Rosa called him to her side. + +“Well, my master,” said Gryphus, holding up his lantern to throw a +little light around, “you see in me your new jailer. I am head turnkey, +and have all the cells under my care. I am not vicious, but I’m not to +be trifled with, as far as discipline goes.” + +“My good Master Gryphus, I know you perfectly well,” said the prisoner, +approaching within the circle of light cast around by the lantern. + +“Halloa! that’s you, Mynheer van Baerle,” said Gryphus. “That’s you; +well, I declare, it’s astonishing how people do meet.” + +“Oh, yes; and it’s really a great pleasure to me, good Master Gryphus, +to see that your arm is doing well, as you are able to hold your lantern +with it.” + +Gryphus knitted his brow. “Now, that’s just it,” he said, “people always +make blunders in politics. His Highness has granted you your life; I’m +sure I should never have done so.” + +“Don’t say so,” replied Cornelius; “why not?” + +“Because you are the very man to conspire again. You learned people have +dealings with the devil.” + +“Nonsense, Master Gryphus. Are you dissatisfied with the manner in +which I have set your arm, or with the price that I asked you?” said +Cornelius, laughing. + +“On the contrary,” growled the jailer, “you have set it only too well. +There is some witchcraft in this. After six weeks, I was able to use +it as if nothing had happened, so much so, that the doctor of the +Buytenhof, who knows his trade well, wanted to break it again, to set it +in the regular way, and promised me that I should have my blessed three +months for my money before I should be able to move it.” + +“And you did not want that?” + +“I said, ‘Nay, as long as I can make the sign of the cross with that +arm’ (Gryphus was a Roman Catholic), ‘I laugh at the devil.’” + +“But if you laugh at the devil, Master Gryphus, you ought with so much +more reason to laugh at learned people.” + +“Ah, learned people, learned people! Why, I would rather have to guard +ten soldiers than one scholar. The soldiers smoke, guzzle, and get +drunk; they are gentle as lambs if you only give them brandy or Moselle, +but scholars, and drink, smoke, and fuddle--ah, yes, that’s altogether +different. They keep sober, spend nothing, and have their heads always +clear to make conspiracies. But I tell you, at the very outset, it won’t +be such an easy matter for you to conspire. First of all, you will +have no books, no paper, and no conjuring book. It’s books that helped +Mynheer Grotius to get off.” + +“I assure you, Master Gryphus,” replied Van Baerle, “that if I have +entertained the idea of escaping, I most decidedly have it no longer.” + +“Well, well,” said Gryphus, “just look sharp: that’s what I shall do +also. But, for all that, I say his Highness has made a great mistake.” + +“Not to have cut off my head? thank you, Master Gryphus.” + +“Just so, look whether the Mynheer de Witt don’t keep very quiet now.” + +“That’s very shocking what you say now, Master Gryphus,” cried Van +Baerle, turning away his head to conceal his disgust. “You forget that +one of those unfortunate gentlemen was my friend, and the other my +second father.” + +“Yes, but I also remember that the one, as well as the other, was a +conspirator. And, moreover, I am speaking from Christian charity.” + +“Oh, indeed! explain that a little to me, my good Master Gryphus. I do +not quite understand it.” + +“Well, then, if you had remained on the block of Master Harbruck----” + +“What?” + +“You would not suffer any longer; whereas, I will not disguise it from +you, I shall lead you a sad life of it.” + +“Thank you for the promise, Master Gryphus.” + +And whilst the prisoner smiled ironically at the old jailer, Rosa, from +the outside, answered by a bright smile, which carried sweet consolation +to the heart of Van Baerle. + +Gryphus stepped towards the window. + +It was still light enough to see, although indistinctly, through the +gray haze of the evening, the vast expanse of the horizon. + +“What view has one from here?” asked Gryphus. + +“Why, a very fine and pleasant one,” said Cornelius, looking at Rosa. + +“Yes, yes, too much of a view, too much.” + +And at this moment the two pigeons, scared by the sight and especially +by the voice of the stranger, left their nest, and disappeared, quite +frightened in the evening mist. + +“Halloa! what’s this?” cried Gryphus. + +“My pigeons,” answered Cornelius. + +“Your pigeons,” cried the jailer, “your pigeons! has a prisoner anything +of his own?” + +“Why, then,” said Cornelius, “the pigeons which a merciful Father in +Heaven has lent to me.” + +“So, here we have a breach of the rules already,” replied Gryphus. +“Pigeons! ah, young man, young man! I’ll tell you one thing, that before +to-morrow is over, your pigeons will boil in my pot.” + +“First of all you should catch them, Master Gryphus. You won’t allow +these pigeons to be mine! Well, I vow they are even less yours than +mine.” + +“Omittance is no acquittance,” growled the jailer, “and I shall +certainly wring their necks before twenty-four hours are over: you may +be sure of that.” + +Whilst giving utterance to this ill-natured promise, Gryphus put his +head out of the window to examine the nest. This gave Van Baerle time to +run to the door, and squeeze the hand of Rosa, who whispered to him,-- + +“At nine o’clock this evening.” + +Gryphus, quite taken up with the desire of catching the pigeons next +day, as he had promised he would do, saw and heard nothing of this short +interlude; and, after having closed the window, he took the arm of his +daughter, left the cell, turned the key twice, drew the bolts, and went +off to make the same kind promise to the other prisoners. + +He had scarcely withdrawn, when Cornelius went to the door to listen to +the sound of his footsteps, and, as soon as they had died away, he ran +to the window, and completely demolished the nest of the pigeons. + +Rather than expose them to the tender mercies of his bullying jailer, +he drove away for ever those gentle messengers to whom he owed the +happiness of having seen Rosa again. + +This visit of the jailer, his brutal threats, and the gloomy prospect of +the harshness with which, as he had before experienced, Gryphus watched +his prisoners,--all this was unable to extinguish in Cornelius the sweet +thoughts, and especially the sweet hope, which the presence of Rosa had +reawakened in his heart. + +He waited eagerly to hear the clock of the tower of Loewestein strike +nine. + +The last chime was still vibrating through the air, when Cornelius heard +on the staircase the light step and the rustle of the flowing dress of +the fair Frisian maid, and soon after a light appeared at the little +grated window in the door, on which the prisoner fixed his earnest gaze. + +The shutter opened on the outside. + +“Here I am,” said Rosa, out of breath from running up the stairs, “here +I am.” + +“Oh, my good Rosa.” + +“You are then glad to see me?” + +“Can you ask? But how did you contrive to get here? tell me.” + +“Now listen to me. My father falls asleep every evening almost +immediately after his supper; I then make him lie down, a little +stupefied with his gin. Don’t say anything about it, because, thanks +to this nap, I shall be able to come every evening and chat for an hour +with you.” + +“Oh, I thank you, Rosa, dear Rosa.” + +Saying these words, Cornelius put his face so near the little window +that Rosa withdrew hers. + +“I have brought back to you your bulbs.” + +Cornelius’s heart leaped with joy. He had not yet dared to ask Rosa what +she had done with the precious treasure which he had intrusted to her. + +“Oh, you have preserved them, then?” + +“Did you not give them to me as a thing which was dear to you?” + +“Yes, but as I have given them to you, it seems to me that they belong +to you.” + +“They would have belonged to me after your death, but, fortunately, you +are alive now. Oh how I blessed his Highness in my heart! If God grants +to him all the happiness that I have wished him, certainly Prince +William will be the happiest man on earth. When I looked at the Bible +of your godfather Cornelius, I was resolved to bring back to you your +bulbs, only I did not know how to accomplish it. I had, however, already +formed the plan of going to the Stadtholder, to ask from him for my +father the appointment of jailer of Loewestein, when your housekeeper +brought me your letter. Oh, how we wept together! But your letter only +confirmed me the more in my resolution. I then left for Leyden, and the +rest you know.” + +“What, my dear Rosa, you thought, even before receiving my letter, of +coming to meet me again?” + +“If I thought of it,” said Rosa, allowing her love to get the better of +her bashfulness, “I thought of nothing else.” + +And, saying these words, Rosa looked so exceedingly pretty, that for +the second time Cornelius placed his forehead and lips against the wire +grating; of course, we must presume with the laudable desire to thank +the young lady. + +Rosa, however, drew back as before. + +“In truth,” she said, with that coquetry which somehow or other is in +the heart of every young girl, “I have often been sorry that I am not +able to read, but never so much so as when your housekeeper brought me +your letter. I kept the paper in my hands, which spoke to other people, +and which was dumb to poor stupid me.” + +“So you have often regretted not being able to read,” said Cornelius. “I +should just like to know on what occasions.” + +“Troth,” she said, laughing, “to read all the letters which were written +to me.” + +“Oh, you received letters, Rosa?” + +“By hundreds.” + +“But who wrote to you?” + +“Who! why, in the first place, all the students who passed over the +Buytenhof, all the officers who went to parade, all the clerks, and even +the merchants who saw me at my little window.” + +“And what did you do with all these notes, my dear Rosa?” + +“Formerly,” she answered, “I got some friend to read them to me, which +was capital fun, but since a certain time--well, what use is it to +attend to all this nonsense?--since a certain time I have burnt them.” + +“Since a certain time!” exclaimed Cornelius, with a look beaming with +love and joy. + +Rosa cast down her eyes, blushing. In her sweet confusion, she did +not observe the lips of Cornelius, which, alas! only met the cold +wire-grating. Yet, in spite of this obstacle, they communicated to the +lips of the young girl the glowing breath of the most tender kiss. + +At this sudden outburst of tenderness, Rosa grew very pale,--perhaps +paler than she had been on the day of the execution. She uttered a +plaintive sob, closed her fine eyes, and fled, trying in vain to still +the beating of her heart. + +And thus Cornelius was again alone. + +Rosa had fled so precipitately, that she completely forgot to return to +Cornelius the three bulbs of the Black Tulip. + + + + +Chapter 16. Master and Pupil + + +The worthy Master Gryphus, as the reader may have seen, was far from +sharing the kindly feeling of his daughter for the godson of Cornelius +de Witt. + +There being only five prisoners at Loewestein, the post of turnkey was +not a very onerous one, but rather a sort of sinecure, given after a +long period of service. + +But the worthy jailer, in his zeal, had magnified with all the power +of his imagination the importance of his office. To him Cornelius had +swelled to the gigantic proportions of a criminal of the first order. He +looked upon him, therefore, as the most dangerous of all his prisoners. +He watched all his steps, and always spoke to him with an angry +countenance; punishing him for what he called his dreadful rebellion +against such a clement prince as the Stadtholder. + +Three times a day he entered Van Baerle’s cell, expecting to find +him trespassing; but Cornelius had ceased to correspond, since his +correspondent was at hand. It is even probable that, if Cornelius had +obtained his full liberty, with permission to go wherever he liked, the +prison, with Rosa and his bulbs, would have appeared to him preferable +to any other habitation in the world without Rosa and his bulbs. + +Rosa, in fact, had promised to come and see him every evening, and from +the first evening she had kept her word. + +On the following evening she went up as before, with the same +mysteriousness and the same precaution. Only she had this time resolved +within herself not to approach too near the grating. In order, however, +to engage Van Baerle in a conversation from the very first which would +seriously occupy his attention, she tendered to him through the grating +the three bulbs, which were still wrapped up in the same paper. + +But to the great astonishment of Rosa, Van Baerle pushed back her white +hand with the tips of his fingers. + +The young man had been considering about the matter. + +“Listen to me,” he said. “I think we should risk too much by embarking +our whole fortune in one ship. Only think, my dear Rosa, that the +question is to carry out an enterprise which until now has been +considered impossible, namely, that of making the great black tulip +flower. Let us, therefore, take every possible precaution, so that in +case of a failure we may not have anything to reproach ourselves with. I +will now tell you the way I have traced out for us.” + +Rosa was all attention to what he would say, much more on account of the +importance which the unfortunate tulip-fancier attached to it, than that +she felt interested in the matter herself. + +“I will explain to you, Rosa,” he said. “I dare say you have in this +fortress a small garden, or some courtyard, or, if not that, at least +some terrace.” + +“We have a very fine garden,” said Rosa, “it runs along the edge of the +Waal, and is full of fine old trees.” + +“Could you bring me some soil from the garden, that I may judge?” + +“I will do so to-morrow.” + +“Take some from a sunny spot, and some from a shady, so that I may judge +of its properties in a dry and in a moist state.” + +“Be assured I shall.” + +“After having chosen the soil, and, if it be necessary, modified it, we +will divide our three bulbs; you will take one and plant it, on the day +that I will tell you, in the soil chosen by me. It is sure to flower, if +you tend it according to my directions.” + +“I will not lose sight of it for a minute.” + +“You will give me another, which I will try to grow here in my cell, and +which will help me to beguile those long weary hours when I cannot see +you. I confess to you I have very little hope for the latter one, and +I look beforehand on this unfortunate bulb as sacrificed to my +selfishness. However, the sun sometimes visits me. I will, besides, try +to convert everything into an artificial help, even the heat and the +ashes of my pipe, and lastly, we, or rather you, will keep in reserve +the third sucker as our last resource, in case our first two experiments +should prove a failure. In this manner, my dear Rosa, it is impossible +that we should not succeed in gaining the hundred thousand guilders +for your marriage portion; and how dearly shall we enjoy that supreme +happiness of seeing our work brought to a successful issue!” + +“I know it all now,” said Rosa. “I will bring you the soil to-morrow, +and you will choose it for your bulb and for mine. As to that in which +yours is to grow, I shall have several journeys to convey it to you, as +I cannot bring much at a time.” + +“There is no hurry for it, dear Rosa; our tulips need not be put into +the ground for a month at least. So you see we have plenty of time +before us. Only I hope that, in planting your bulb, you will strictly +follow all my instructions.” + +“I promise you I will.” + +“And when you have once planted it, you will communicate to me all +the circumstances which may interest our nursling; such as change of +weather, footprints on the walks, or footprints in the borders. You will +listen at night whether our garden is not resorted to by cats. A couple +of those untoward animals laid waste two of my borders at Dort.” + +“I will listen.” + +“On moonlight nights have you ever looked at your garden, my dear +child?” + +“The window of my sleeping-room overlooks it.” + +“Well, on moonlight nights you will observe whether any rats come out +from the holes in the wall. The rats are most mischievous by their +gnawing everything; and I have heard unfortunate tulip-growers complain +most bitterly of Noah for having put a couple of rats in the ark.” + +“I will observe, and if there are cats or rats----” + +“You will apprise me of it,--that’s right. And, moreover,” Van Baerle, +having become mistrustful in his captivity, continued, “there is an +animal much more to be feared than even the cat or the rat.” + +“What animal?” + +“Man. You comprehend, my dear Rosa, a man may steal a guilder, and risk +the prison for such a trifle, and, consequently, it is much more likely +that some one might steal a hundred thousand guilders.” + +“No one ever enters the garden but myself.” + +“Thank you, thank you, my dear Rosa. All the joy of my life has still to +come from you.” + +And as the lips of Van Baerle approached the grating with the same ardor +as the day before, and as, moreover, the hour for retiring had struck, +Rosa drew back her head, and stretched out her hand. + +In this pretty little hand, of which the coquettish damsel was +particularly proud, was the bulb. + +Cornelius kissed most tenderly the tips of her fingers. Did he do so +because the hand kept one of the bulbs of the great black tulip, or +because this hand was Rosa’s? We shall leave this point to the decision +of wiser heads than ours. + +Rosa withdrew with the other two suckers, pressing them to her heart. + +Did she press them to her heart because they were the bulbs of the great +black tulip, or because she had them from Cornelius? + +This point, we believe, might be more readily decided than the other. + +However that may have been, from that moment life became sweet, and +again full of interest to the prisoner. + +Rosa, as we have seen, had returned to him one of the suckers. + +Every evening she brought to him, handful by handful, a quantity of +soil from that part of the garden which he had found to be the best, and +which, indeed, was excellent. + +A large jug, which Cornelius had skilfully broken, did service as a +flower-pot. He half filled it, and mixed the earth of the garden with +a small portion of dried river mud, a mixture which formed an excellent +soil. + +Then, at the beginning of April, he planted his first sucker in that +jug. + +Not a day passed on which Rosa did not come to have her chat with +Cornelius. + +The tulips, concerning whose cultivation Rosa was taught all the +mysteries of the art, formed the principal topic of the conversation; +but, interesting as the subject was, people cannot always talk about +tulips. + +They therefore began to chat also about other things, and the +tulip-fancier found out to his great astonishment what a vast range of +subjects a conversation may comprise. + +Only Rosa had made it a habit to keep her pretty face invariably six +inches distant from the grating, having perhaps become distrustful of +herself. + +There was one thing especially which gave Cornelius almost as much +anxiety as his bulbs--a subject to which he always returned--the +dependence of Rosa on her father. + +Indeed, Van Baerle’s happiness depended on the whim of this man. He +might one day find Loewestein dull, or the air of the place unhealthy, +or the gin bad, and leave the fortress, and take his daughter with him, +when Cornelius and Rosa would again be separated. + +“Of what use would the carrier pigeons then be?” said Cornelius to Rosa, +“as you, my dear girl, would not be able to read what I should write to +you, nor to write to me your thoughts in return.” + +“Well,” answered Rosa, who in her heart was as much afraid of a +separation as Cornelius himself, “we have one hour every evening, let us +make good use of it.” + +“I don’t think we make such a bad use of it as it is.” + +“Let us employ it even better,” said Rosa, smiling. “Teach me to read +and write. I shall make the best of your lessons, believe me; and, in +this way, we shall never be separated any more, except by our own will.” + +“Oh, then, we have an eternity before us,” said Cornelius. + +Rosa smiled, and quietly shrugged her shoulders. + +“Will you remain for ever in prison?” she said, “and after having +granted you your life, will not his Highness also grant you your +liberty? And will you not then recover your fortune, and be a rich man, +and then, when you are driving in your own coach, riding your own horse, +will you still look at poor Rosa, the daughter of a jailer, scarcely +better than a hangman?” + +Cornelius tried to contradict her, and certainly he would have done so +with all his heart, and with all the sincerity of a soul full of love. + +She, however, smilingly interrupted him, saying, “How is your tulip +going on?” + +To speak to Cornelius of his tulip was an expedient resorted to by her +to make him forget everything, even Rosa herself. + +“Very well, indeed,” he said, “the coat is growing black, the sprouting +has commenced, the veins of the bulb are swelling, in eight days hence, +and perhaps sooner, we may distinguish the first buds of the leaves +protruding. And yours Rosa?” + +“Oh, I have done things on a large scale, and according to your +directions.” + +“Now, let me hear, Rosa, what you have done,” said Cornelius, with as +tender an anxiety as he had lately shown to herself. + +“Well,” she said, smiling, for in her own heart she could not help +studying this double love of the prisoner for herself and for the black +tulip, “I have done things on a large scale; I have prepared a bed as +you described it to me, on a clear spot, far from trees and walls, in a +soil slightly mixed with sand, rather moist than dry without a fragment +of stone or pebble.” + +“Well done, Rosa, well done.” + +“I am now only waiting for your further orders to put in the bulb, you +know that I must be behindhand with you, as I have in my favour all the +chances of good air, of the sun, and abundance of moisture.” + +“All true, all true,” exclaimed Cornelius, clapping his hands with +joy, “you are a good pupil, Rosa, and you are sure to gain your hundred +thousand guilders.” + +“Don’t forget,” said Rosa, smiling, “that your pupil, as you call me, +has still other things to learn besides the cultivation of tulips.” + +“Yes, yes, and I am as anxious as you are, Rosa, that you should learn +to read.” + +“When shall we begin?” + +“At once.” + +“No, to-morrow.” + +“Why to-morrow?” + +“Because to-day our hour is expired, and I must leave you.” + +“Already? But what shall we read?” + +“Oh,” said Rosa, “I have a book,--a book which I hope will bring us +luck.” + +“To-morrow, then.” + +“Yes, to-morrow.” + +On the following evening Rosa returned with the Bible of Cornelius de +Witt. + + + + +Chapter 17. The First Bulb + + +On the following evening, as we have said, Rosa returned with the Bible +of Cornelius de Witt. + +Then began between the master and the pupil one of those charming scenes +which are the delight of the novelist who has to describe them. + +The grated window, the only opening through which the two lovers were +able to communicate, was too high for conveniently reading a book, +although it had been quite convenient for them to read each other’s +faces. + +Rosa therefore had to press the open book against the grating edgewise, +holding above it in her right hand the lamp, but Cornelius hit upon the +lucky idea of fixing it to the bars, so as to afford her a little +rest. Rosa was then enabled to follow with her finger the letters +and syllables, which she was to spell for Cornelius, who with a straw +pointed out the letters to his attentive pupil through the holes of the +grating. + +The light of the lamp illuminated the rich complexion of Rosa, her blue +liquid eyes, and her golden hair under her head-dress of gold brocade, +with her fingers held up, and showing in the blood, as it flowed +downwards in the veins that pale pink hue which shines before the light +owing to the living transparency of the flesh tint. + +Rosa’s intellect rapidly developed itself under the animating influence +of Cornelius, and when the difficulties seemed too arduous, the sympathy +of two loving hearts seemed to smooth them away. + +And Rosa, after having returned to her room, repeated in her solitude +the reading lessons, and at the same time recalled all the delight which +she had felt whilst receiving them. + +One evening she came half an hour later than usual. This was too +extraordinary an instance not to call forth at once Cornelius’s +inquiries after its cause. + +“Oh! do not be angry with me,” she said, “it is not my fault. My father +has renewed an acquaintance with an old crony who used to visit him at +the Hague, and to ask him to let him see the prison. He is a good sort +of fellow, fond of his bottle, tells funny stories, and moreover is very +free with his money, so as always to be ready to stand a treat.” + +“You don’t know anything further of him?” asked Cornelius, surprised. + +“No,” she answered; “it’s only for about a fortnight that my father has +taken such a fancy to this friend who is so assiduous in visiting him.” + +“Ah, so,” said Cornelius, shaking his head uneasily as every new +incident seemed to him to forebode some catastrophe; “very likely some +spy, one of those who are sent into jails to watch both prisoners and +their keepers.” + +“I don’t believe that,” said Rosa, smiling; “if that worthy person is +spying after any one, it is certainly not after my father.” + +“After whom, then?” + +“Me, for instance.” + +“You?” + +“Why not?” said Rosa, smiling. + +“Ah, that’s true,” Cornelius observed, with a sigh. “You will not always +have suitors in vain; this man may become your husband.” + +“I don’t say anything to the contrary.” + +“What cause have you to entertain such a happy prospect?” + +“Rather say, this fear, Mynheer Cornelius.” + +“Thank you, Rosa, you are right; well, I will say then, this fear?” + +“I have only this reason----” + +“Tell me, I am anxious to hear.” + +“This man came several times before to the Buytenhof, at the Hague. I +remember now, it was just about the time when you were confined there. +When I left, he left too; when I came here, he came after me. At the +Hague his pretext was that he wanted to see you.” + +“See me?” + +“Yes, it must have undoubtedly been only a pretext for now, when he +could plead the same reason, as you are my father’s prisoner again, he +does not care any longer for you; quite the contrary,--I heard him say +to my father only yesterday that he did not know you.” + +“Go on, Rosa, pray do, that I may guess who that man is, and what he +wants.” + +“Are you quite sure, Mynheer Cornelius, that none of your friends can +interest himself for you?” + +“I have no friends, Rosa; I have only my old nurse, whom you know, +and who knows you. Alas, poor Sue! she would come herself, and use no +roundabout ways. She would at once say to your father, or to you, ‘My +good sir, or my good miss, my child is here; see how grieved I am; let +me see him only for one hour, and I’ll pray for you as long as I live.’ +No, no,” continued Cornelius; “with the exception of my poor old Sue, I +have no friends in this world.” + +“Then I come back to what I thought before; and the more so as last +evening at sunset, whilst I was arranging the border where I am to +plant your bulb, I saw a shadow gliding between the alder trees and the +aspens. I did not appear to see him, but it was this man. He concealed +himself and saw me digging the ground, and certainly it was me whom he +followed, and me whom he was spying after. I could not move my rake, or +touch one atom of soil, without his noticing it.” + +“Oh, yes, yes, he is in love with you,” said Cornelius. “Is he young? Is +he handsome?” + +Saying this he looked anxiously at Rosa, eagerly waiting for her answer. + +“Young? handsome?” cried Rosa, bursting into a laugh. “He is hideous to +look at; crooked, nearly fifty years of age, and never dares to look me +in the face, or to speak, except in an undertone.” + +“And his name?” + +“Jacob Gisels.” + +“I don’t know him.” + +“Then you see that, at all events, he does not come after you.” + +“At any rate, if he loves you, Rosa, which is very likely, as to see you +is to love you, at least you don’t love him.” + +“To be sure I don’t.” + +“Then you wish me to keep my mind easy?” + +“I should certainly ask you to do so.” + +“Well, then, now as you begin to know how to read you will read all +that I write to you of the pangs of jealousy and of absence, won’t you, +Rosa?” + +“I shall read it, if you write with good big letters.” + +Then, as the turn which the conversation took began to make Rosa uneasy, +she asked,-- + +“By the bye, how is your tulip going on?” + +“Oh, Rosa, only imagine my joy, this morning I looked at it in the sun, +and after having moved the soil aside which covers the bulb, I saw the +first sprouting of the leaves. This small germ has caused me a much +greater emotion than the order of his Highness which turned aside the +sword already raised at the Buytenhof.” + +“You hope, then?” said Rosa, smiling. + +“Yes, yes, I hope.” + +“And I, in my turn, when shall I plant my bulb?” + +“Oh, the first favourable day I will tell you; but, whatever you do, let +nobody help you, and don’t confide your secret to any one in the world; +do you see, a connoisseur by merely looking at the bulb would be able to +distinguish its value; and so, my dearest Rosa, be careful in locking up +the third sucker which remains to you.” + +“It is still wrapped up in the same paper in which you put it, and just +as you gave it me. I have laid it at the bottom of my chest under my +point lace, which keeps it dry, without pressing upon it. But good +night, my poor captive gentleman.” + +“How? already?” + +“It must be, it must be.” + +“Coming so late and going so soon.” + +“My father might grow impatient not seeing me return, and that precious +lover might suspect a rival.” + +Here she listened uneasily. + +“What is it?” asked Van Baerle. “I thought I heard something.” + +“What, then?” + +“Something like a step, creaking on the staircase.” + +“Surely,” said the prisoner, “that cannot be Master Gryphus, he is +always heard at a distance.” + +“No, it is not my father, I am quite sure, but----” + +“But?” + +“But it might be Mynheer Jacob.” + +Rosa rushed toward the staircase, and a door was really heard rapidly to +close before the young damsel had got down the first ten steps. + +Cornelius was very uneasy about it, but it was after all only a prelude +to greater anxieties. + +The flowing day passed without any remarkable incident. Gryphus made his +three visits, and discovered nothing. He never came at the same hours +as he hoped thus to discover the secrets of the prisoner. Van Baerle, +therefore, had devised a contrivance, a sort of pulley, by means of +which he was able to lower or to raise his jug below the ledge of tiles +and stone before his window. The strings by which this was effected he +had found means to cover with that moss which generally grows on tiles, +or in the crannies of the walls. + +Gryphus suspected nothing, and the device succeeded for eight days. One +morning, however, when Cornelius, absorbed in the contemplation of his +bulb, from which a germ of vegetation was already peeping forth, had not +heard old Gryphus coming upstairs as a gale of wind was blowing which +shook the whole tower, the door suddenly opened. + +Gryphus, perceiving an unknown and consequently a forbidden object in +the hands of his prisoner, pounced upon it with the same rapidity as the +hawk on its prey. + +As ill luck would have it, his coarse, hard hand, the same which he had +broken, and which Cornelius van Baerle had set so well, grasped at once +in the midst of the jug, on the spot where the bulb was lying in the +soil. + +“What have you got here?” he roared. “Ah! have I caught you?” and with +this he grabbed in the soil. + +“I? nothing, nothing,” cried Cornelius, trembling. + +“Ah! have I caught you? a jug and earth in it There is some criminal +secret at the bottom of all this.” + +“Oh, my good Master Gryphus,” said Van Baerle, imploringly, and anxious +as the partridge robbed of her young by the reaper. + +In fact, Gryphus was beginning to dig the soil with his crooked fingers. + +“Take care, sir, take care,” said Cornelius, growing quite pale. + +“Care of what? Zounds! of what?” roared the jailer. + +“Take care, I say, you will crush it, Master Gryphus.” + +And with a rapid and almost frantic movement he snatched the jug from +the hands of Gryphus, and hid it like a treasure under his arms. + +But Gryphus, obstinate, like an old man, and more and more convinced +that he was discovering here a conspiracy against the Prince of Orange, +rushed up to his prisoner, raising his stick; seeing, however, the +impassible resolution of the captive to protect his flower-pot he was +convinced that Cornelius trembled much less for his head than for his +jug. + +He therefore tried to wrest it from him by force. + +“Halloa!” said the jailer, furious, “here, you see, you are rebelling.” + +“Leave me my tulip,” cried Van Baerle. + +“Ah, yes, tulip,” replied the old man, “we know well the shifts of +prisoners.” + +“But I vow to you----” + +“Let go,” repeated Gryphus, stamping his foot, “let go, or I shall call +the guard.” + +“Call whoever you like, but you shall not have this flower except with +my life.” + +Gryphus, exasperated, plunged his finger a second time into the soil, +and now he drew out the bulb, which certainly looked quite black; and +whilst Van Baerle, quite happy to have saved the vessel, did not suspect +that the adversary had possessed himself of its precious contents, +Gryphus hurled the softened bulb with all his force on the flags, where +almost immediately after it was crushed to atoms under his heavy shoe. + +Van Baerle saw the work of destruction, got a glimpse of the juicy +remains of his darling bulb, and, guessing the cause of the ferocious +joy of Gryphus, uttered a cry of agony, which would have melted +the heart even of that ruthless jailer who some years before killed +Pelisson’s spider. + +The idea of striking down this spiteful bully passed like lightning +through the brain of the tulip-fancier. The blood rushed to his brow, +and seemed like fire in his eyes, which blinded him, and he raised +in his two hands the heavy jug with all the now useless earth which +remained in it. One instant more, and he would have flung it on the bald +head of old Gryphus. + +But a cry stopped him; a cry of agony, uttered by poor Rosa, who, +trembling and pale, with her arms raised to heaven, made her appearance +behind the grated window, and thus interposed between her father and her +friend. + +Gryphus then understood the danger with which he had been threatened, +and he broke out in a volley of the most terrible abuse. + +“Indeed,” said Cornelius to him, “you must be a very mean and spiteful +fellow to rob a poor prisoner of his only consolation, a tulip bulb.” + +“For shame, my father,” Rosa chimed in, “it is indeed a crime you have +committed here.” + +“Ah, is that you, my little chatter-box?” the old man cried, boiling +with rage and turning towards her; “don’t you meddle with what don’t +concern you, but go down as quickly as possible.” + +“Unfortunate me,” continued Cornelius, overwhelmed with grief. + +“After all, it is but a tulip,” Gryphus resumed, as he began to be a +little ashamed of himself. “You may have as many tulips as you like: I +have three hundred of them in my loft.” + +“To the devil with your tulips!” cried Cornelius; “you are worthy of +each other: had I a hundred thousand millions of them, I would gladly +give them for the one which you have just destroyed.” + +“Oh, so!” Gryphus said, in a tone of triumph; “now there we have it. +It was not your tulip you cared for. There was in that false bulb some +witchcraft, perhaps some means of correspondence with conspirators +against his Highness who has granted you your life. I always said they +were wrong in not cutting your head off.” + +“Father, father!” cried Rosa. + +“Yes, yes! it is better as it is now,” repeated Gryphus, growing warm; +“I have destroyed it, and I’ll do the same again, as often as you repeat +the trick. Didn’t I tell you, my fine fellow, that I would make your +life a hard one?” + +“A curse on you!” Cornelius exclaimed, quite beyond himself with +despair, as he gathered, with his trembling fingers, the remnants of +that bulb on which he had rested so many joys and so many hopes. + +“We shall plant the other to-morrow, my dear Mynheer Cornelius,” + said Rosa, in a low voice, who understood the intense grief of the +unfortunate tulip-fancier, and who, with the pure sacred love of her +innocent heart, poured these kind words, like a drop of balm, on the +bleeding wounds of Cornelius. + + + + +Chapter 18. Rosa’s Lover + + +Rosa had scarcely pronounced these consolatory words when a voice was +heard from the staircase asking Gryphus how matters were going on. + +“Do you hear, father?” said Rosa. + +“What?” + +“Master Jacob calls you, he is uneasy.” + +“There was such a noise,” said Gryphus; “wouldn’t you have thought he +would murder me, this doctor? They are always very troublesome fellows, +these scholars.” + +Then, pointing with his finger towards the staircase, he said to Rosa: +“Just lead the way, Miss.” + +After this he locked the door and called out: “I shall be with you +directly, friend Jacob.” + +Poor Cornelius, thus left alone with his bitter grief, muttered to +himself,-- + +“Ah, you old hangman! it is me you have trodden under foot; you have +murdered me; I shall not survive it.” + +And certainly the unfortunate prisoner would have fallen ill but for the +counterpoise which Providence had granted to his grief, and which was +called Rosa. + +In the evening she came back. Her first words announced to Cornelius +that henceforth her father would make no objection to his cultivating +flowers. + +“And how do you know that?” the prisoner asked, with a doleful look. + +“I know it because he has said so.” + +“To deceive me, perhaps.” + +“No, he repents.” + +“Ah yes! but too late.” + +“This repentance is not of himself.” + +“And who put it into him?” + +“If you only knew how his friend scolded him!” + +“Ah, Master Jacob; he does not leave you, then, that Master Jacob?” + +“At any rate, he leaves us as little as he can help.” + +Saying this, she smiled in such a way that the little cloud of jealousy +which had darkened the brow of Cornelius speedily vanished. + +“How was it?” asked the prisoner. + +“Well, being asked by his friend, my father told at supper the whole +story of the tulip, or rather of the bulb, and of his own fine exploit +of crushing it.” + +Cornelius heaved a sigh, which might have been called a groan. + +“Had you only seen Master Jacob at that moment!” continued Rosa. “I +really thought he would set fire to the castle; his eyes were like two +flaming torches, his hair stood on end, and he clinched his fist for a +moment; I thought he would have strangled my father.” + +“‘You have done that,’ he cried, ‘you have crushed the bulb?’ + +“‘Indeed I have.’ + +“‘It is infamous,’ said Master Jacob, ‘it is odious! You have committed +a great crime!’ + +“My father was quite dumbfounded. + +“‘Are you mad, too?’ he asked his friend.” + +“Oh, what a worthy man is this Master Jacob!” muttered Cornelius,--“an +honest soul, an excellent heart that he is.” + +“The truth is, that it is impossible to treat a man more rudely than he +did my father; he was really quite in despair, repeating over and over +again,-- + +“‘Crushed, crushed the bulb! my God, my God! crushed!’ + +“Then, turning toward me, he asked, ‘But it was not the only one that he +had?’” + +“Did he ask that?” inquired Cornelius, with some anxiety. + +“‘You think it was not the only one?’ said my father. ‘Very well, we +shall search for the others.’ + +“‘You will search for the others?’ cried Jacob, taking my father by +the collar; but he immediately loosed him. Then, turning towards me, he +continued, asking ‘And what did that poor young man say?’ + +“I did not know what to answer, as you had so strictly enjoined me never +to allow any one to guess the interest which you are taking in the bulb. +Fortunately, my father saved me from the difficulty by chiming in,-- + +“‘What did he say? Didn’t he fume and fret?’ + +“I interrupted him, saying, ‘Was it not natural that he should be +furious, you were so unjust and brutal, father?’ + +“‘Well, now, are you mad?’ cried my father; ‘what immense misfortune is +it to crush a tulip bulb? You may buy a hundred of them in the market of +Gorcum.’ + +“‘Perhaps some less precious one than that was!’ I quite incautiously +replied.” + +“And what did Jacob say or do at these words?” asked Cornelius. + +“At these words, if I must say it, his eyes seemed to flash like +lightning.” + +“But,” said Cornelius, “that was not all; I am sure he said something in +his turn.” + +“‘So, then, my pretty Rosa,’ he said, with a voice as sweet a +honey,--‘so you think that bulb to have been a precious one?’ + +“I saw that I had made a blunder. + +“‘What do I know?’ I said, negligently; ‘do I understand anything +of tulips? I only know--as unfortunately it is our lot to live with +prisoners--that for them any pastime is of value. This poor Mynheer van +Baerle amused himself with this bulb. Well, I think it very cruel to +take from him the only thing that he could have amused himself with.’ + +“‘But, first of all,’ said my father, ‘we ought to know how he has +contrived to procure this bulb.’ + +“I turned my eyes away to avoid my father’s look; but I met those of +Jacob. + +“It was as if he had tried to read my thoughts at the bottom of my +heart. + +“Some little show of anger sometimes saves an answer. I shrugged my +shoulders, turned my back, and advanced towards the door. + +“But I was kept by something which I heard, although it was uttered in a +very low voice only. + +“Jacob said to my father,-- + +“‘It would not be so difficult to ascertain that.’ + +“‘How so?’ + +“‘You need only search his person: and if he has the other bulbs, we +shall find them, as there usually are three suckers!’” + +“Three suckers!” cried Cornelius. “Did you say that I have three?” + +“The word certainly struck me just as much as it does you. I turned +round. They were both of them so deeply engaged in their conversation +that they did not observe my movement. + +“‘But,’ said my father, ‘perhaps he has not got his bulbs about him?’ + +“‘Then take him down, under some pretext or other and I will search his +cell in the meanwhile.’” + +“Halloa, halloa!” said Cornelius. “But this Mr. Jacob of yours is a +villain, it seems.” + +“I am afraid he is.” + +“Tell me, Rosa,” continued Cornelius, with a pensive air. + +“What?” + +“Did you not tell me that on the day when you prepared your borders this +man followed you?” + +“So he did.” + +“That he glided like a shadow behind the elder trees?” + +“Certainly.” + +“That not one of your movements escaped him?” + +“Not one, indeed.” + +“Rosa,” said Cornelius, growing quite pale. + +“Well?” + +“It was not you he was after.” + +“Who else, then?” + +“It is not you that he was in love with!” + +“But with whom else?” + +“He was after my bulb, and is in love with my tulip!” + +“You don’t say so! And yet it is very possible,” said Rosa. + +“Will you make sure of it?” + +“In what manner?” + +“Oh, it would be very easy!” + +“Tell me.” + +“Go to-morrow into the garden; manage matters so that Jacob may know, as +he did the first time, that you are going there, and that he may follow +you. Feign to put the bulb into the ground; leave the garden, but look +through the keyhole of the door and watch him.” + +“Well, and what then?” + +“What then? We shall do as he does.” + +“Oh!” said Rosa, with a sigh, “you are very fond of your bulbs.” + +“To tell the truth,” said the prisoner, sighing likewise, “since your +father crushed that unfortunate bulb, I feel as if part of my own self +had been paralyzed.” + +“Now just hear me,” said Rosa; “will you try something else?” + +“What?” + +“Will you accept the proposition of my father?” + +“Which proposition?” + +“Did not he offer to you tulip bulbs by hundreds?” + +“Indeed he did.” + +“Accept two or three, and, along with them, you may grow the third +sucker.” + +“Yes, that would do very well,” said Cornelius, knitting his brow; “if +your father were alone, but there is that Master Jacob, who watches all +our ways.” + +“Well, that is true; but only think! you are depriving yourself, as I +can easily see, of a very great pleasure.” + +She pronounced these words with a smile, which was not altogether +without a tinge of irony. + +Cornelius reflected for a moment; he evidently was struggling against +some vehement desire. + +“No!” he cried at last, with the stoicism of a Roman of old, “it would +be a weakness, it would be a folly, it would be a meanness! If I thus +give up the only and last resource which we possess to the uncertain +chances of the bad passions of anger and envy, I should never deserve to +be forgiven. No, Rosa, no; to-morrow we shall come to a conclusion as to +the spot to be chosen for your tulip; you will plant it according to my +instructions; and as to the third sucker,”--Cornelius here heaved a deep +sigh,--“watch over it as a miser over his first or last piece of gold; +as the mother over her child; as the wounded over the last drop of blood +in his veins; watch over it, Rosa! Some voice within me tells me that it +will be our saving, that it will be a source of good to us.” + +“Be easy, Mynheer Cornelius,” said Rosa, with a sweet mixture of +melancholy and gravity, “be easy; your wishes are commands to me.” + +“And even,” continued Van Baerle, warming more and more with his +subject, “if you should perceive that your steps are watched, and +that your speech has excited the suspicion of your father and of that +detestable Master Jacob,--well, Rosa, don’t hesitate for one moment to +sacrifice me, who am only still living through you,--me, who have no one +in the world but you; sacrifice me,--don’t come to see me any more.” + +Rosa felt her heart sink within her, and her eyes were filling with +tears. + +“Alas!” she said. + +“What is it?” asked Cornelius. + +“I see one thing.” + +“What do you see?” + +“I see,” said she, bursting out in sobs, “I see that you love your +tulips with such love as to have no more room in your heart left for +other affections.” + +Saying this, she fled. + +Cornelius, after this, passed one of the worst nights he ever had in his +life. + +Rosa was vexed with him, and with good reason. Perhaps she would never +return to see the prisoner, and then he would have no more news, either +of Rosa or of his tulips. + +We have to confess, to the disgrace of our hero and of floriculture, +that of his two affections he felt most strongly inclined to regret the +loss of Rosa; and when, at about three in the morning, he fell asleep +overcome with fatigue, and harassed with remorse, the grand black tulip +yielded precedence in his dreams to the sweet blue eyes of the fair maid +of Friesland. + + + + +Chapter 19. The Maid and the Flower + + +But poor Rosa, in her secluded chamber, could not have known of whom or +of what Cornelius was dreaming. + +From what he had said she was more ready to believe that he dreamed of +the black tulip than of her; and yet Rosa was mistaken. + +But as there was no one to tell her so, and as the words of Cornelius’s +thoughtless speech had fallen upon her heart like drops of poison, she +did not dream, but she wept. + +The fact was, that, as Rosa was a high-spirited creature, of no mean +perception and a noble heart, she took a very clear and judicious view +of her own social position, if not of her moral and physical qualities. + +Cornelius was a scholar, and was wealthy,--at least he had been +before the confiscation of his property; Cornelius belonged to the +merchant-bourgeoisie, who were prouder of their richly emblazoned +shop signs than the hereditary nobility of their heraldic bearings. +Therefore, although he might find Rosa a pleasant companion for the +dreary hours of his captivity, when it came to a question of bestowing +his heart it was almost certain that he would bestow it upon a +tulip,--that is to say, upon the proudest and noblest of flowers, rather +than upon poor Rosa, the jailer’s lowly child. + +Thus Rosa understood Cornelius’s preference of the tulip to herself, but +was only so much the more unhappy therefor. + +During the whole of this terrible night the poor girl did not close an +eye, and before she rose in the morning she had come to the resolution +of making her appearance at the grated window no more. + +But as she knew with what ardent desire Cornelius looked forward to the +news about his tulip; and as, notwithstanding her determination not to +see any more a man her pity for whose fate was fast growing into love, +she did not, on the other hand, wish to drive him to despair, she +resolved to continue by herself the reading and writing lessons; and, +fortunately, she had made sufficient progress to dispense with the help +of a master when the master was not to be Cornelius. + +Rosa therefore applied herself most diligently to reading poor Cornelius +de Witt’s Bible, on the second fly leaf of which the last will of +Cornelius van Baerle was written. + +“Alas!” she muttered, when perusing again this document, which she never +finished without a tear, the pearl of love, rolling from her limpid +eyes on her pale cheeks--“alas! at that time I thought for one moment he +loved me.” + +Poor Rosa! she was mistaken. Never had the love of the prisoner been +more sincere than at the time at which we are now arrived, when in the +contest between the black tulip and Rosa the tulip had had to yield to +her the first and foremost place in Cornelius’s heart. + +But Rosa was not aware of it. + +Having finished reading, she took her pen, and began with as laudable +diligence the by far more difficult task of writing. + +As, however, Rosa was already able to write a legible hand when +Cornelius so uncautiously opened his heart, she did not despair of +progressing quickly enough to write, after eight days at the latest, to +the prisoner an account of his tulip. + +She had not forgotten one word of the directions given to her by +Cornelius, whose speeches she treasured in her heart, even when they did +not take the shape of directions. + +He, on his part, awoke deeper in love than ever. The tulip, indeed, +was still a luminous and prominent object in his mind; but he no longer +looked upon it as a treasure to which he ought to sacrifice everything, +and even Rosa, but as a marvellous combination of nature and art with +which he would have been happy to adorn the bosom of his beloved one. + +Yet during the whole of that day he was haunted with a vague uneasiness, +at the bottom of which was the fear lest Rosa should not come in the +evening to pay him her usual visit. This thought took more and more hold +of him, until at the approach of evening his whole mind was absorbed in +it. + +How his heart beat when darkness closed in! The words which he had said +to Rosa on the evening before and which had so deeply afflicted her, now +came back to his mind more vividly than ever, and he asked himself +how he could have told his gentle comforter to sacrifice him to his +tulip,--that is to say, to give up seeing him, if need be,--whereas to +him the sight of Rosa had become a condition of life. + +In Cornelius’s cell one heard the chimes of the clock of the fortress. +It struck seven, it struck eight, it struck nine. Never did the metal +voice vibrate more forcibly through the heart of any man than did the +last stroke, marking the ninth hour, through the heart of Cornelius. + +All was then silent again. Cornelius put his hand on his heart, to +repress as it were its violent palpitation, and listened. + +The noise of her footstep, the rustling of her gown on the staircase, +were so familiar to his ear, that she had no sooner mounted one step +than he used to say to himself,-- + +“Here comes Rosa.” + +This evening none of those little noises broke the silence of the lobby, +the clock struck nine, and a quarter; the half-hour, then a quarter to +ten, and at last its deep tone announced, not only to the inmates of +the fortress, but also to all the inhabitants of Loewestein, that it was +ten. + +This was the hour at which Rosa generally used to leave Cornelius. The +hour had struck, but Rosa had not come. + +Thus then his foreboding had not deceived him; Rosa, being vexed, shut +herself up in her room and left him to himself. + +“Alas!” he thought, “I have deserved all this. She will come no more, +and she is right in staying away; in her place I should do just the +same.” + +Yet notwithstanding all this, Cornelius listened, waited, and hoped +until midnight, then he threw himself upon the bed, with his clothes on. + +It was a long and sad night for him, and the day brought no hope to the +prisoner. + +At eight in the morning, the door of his cell opened; but Cornelius did +not even turn his head; he had heard the heavy step of Gryphus in the +lobby, but this step had perfectly satisfied the prisoner that his +jailer was coming alone. + +Thus Cornelius did not even look at Gryphus. + +And yet he would have been so glad to draw him out, and to inquire about +Rosa. He even very nearly made this inquiry, strange as it would needs +have appeared to her father. To tell the truth, there was in all this +some selfish hope to hear from Gryphus that his daughter was ill. + +Except on extraordinary occasions, Rosa never came during the day. +Cornelius therefore did not really expect her as long as the day lasted. +Yet his sudden starts, his listening at the door, his rapid glances at +every little noise towards the grated window, showed clearly that the +prisoner entertained some latent hope that Rosa would, somehow or other, +break her rule. + +At the second visit of Gryphus, Cornelius, contrary to all his former +habits, asked the old jailer, with the most winning voice, about +her health; but Gryphus contented himself with giving the laconical +answer,-- + +“All’s well.” + +At the third visit of the day, Cornelius changed his former inquiry:-- + +“I hope nobody is ill at Loewestein?” + +“Nobody,” replied, even more laconically, the jailer, shutting the door +before the nose of the prisoner. + +Gryphus, being little used to this sort of civility on the part of +Cornelius, began to suspect that his prisoner was about to try and bribe +him. + +Cornelius was now alone once more; it was seven o’clock in the evening, +and the anxiety of yesterday returned with increased intensity. + +But another time the hours passed away without bringing the sweet vision +which lighted up, through the grated window, the cell of poor Cornelius, +and which, in retiring, left light enough in his heart to last until it +came back again. + +Van Baerle passed the night in an agony of despair. On the following +day Gryphus appeared to him even more hideous, brutal, and hateful than +usual; in his mind, or rather in his heart, there had been some hope +that it was the old man who prevented his daughter from coming. + +In his wrath he would have strangled Gryphus, but would not this have +separated him for ever from Rosa? + +The evening closing in, his despair changed into melancholy, which +was the more gloomy as, involuntarily, Van Baerle mixed up with it the +thought of his poor tulip. It was now just that week in April which the +most experienced gardeners point out as the precise time when tulips +ought to be planted. He had said to Rosa,-- + +“I shall tell you the day when you are to put the bulb in the ground.” + +He had intended to fix, at the vainly hoped for interview, the +following day as the time for that momentous operation. The weather was +propitious; the air, though still damp, began to be tempered by those +pale rays of the April sun which, being the first, appear so congenial, +although so pale. How if Rosa allowed the right moment for planting the +bulb to pass by,--if, in addition to the grief of seeing her no more, +he should have to deplore the misfortune of seeing his tulip fail on +account of its having been planted too late, or of its not having been +planted at all! + +These two vexations combined might well make him leave off eating and +drinking. + +This was the case on the fourth day. + +It was pitiful to see Cornelius, dumb with grief, and pale from utter +prostration, stretch out his head through the iron bars of his window, +at the risk of not being able to draw it back again, to try and get a +glimpse of the garden on the left spoken of by Rosa, who had told him +that its parapet overlooked the river. He hoped that perhaps he might +see, in the light of the April sun, Rosa or the tulip, the two lost +objects of his love. + +In the evening, Gryphus took away the breakfast and dinner of Cornelius, +who had scarcely touched them. + +On the following day he did not touch them at all, and Gryphus carried +the dishes away just as he had brought them. + +Cornelius had remained in bed the whole day. + +“Well,” said Gryphus, coming down from the last visit, “I think we shall +soon get rid of our scholar.” + +Rosa was startled. + +“Nonsense!” said Jacob. “What do you mean?” + +“He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t eat, he doesn’t leave his bed. He will get +out of it, like Mynheer Grotius, in a chest, only the chest will be a +coffin.” + +Rosa grew pale as death. + +“Ah!” she said to herself, “he is uneasy about his tulip.” + +And, rising with a heavy heart, she returned to her chamber, where she +took a pen and paper, and during the whole of that night busied herself +with tracing letters. + +On the following morning, when Cornelius got up to drag himself to the +window, he perceived a paper which had been slipped under the door. + +He pounced upon it, opened it, and read the following words, in a +handwriting which he could scarcely have recognized as that of Rosa, so +much had she improved during her short absence of seven days,-- + +“Be easy; your tulip is going on well.” + +Although these few words of Rosa’s somewhat soothed the grief of +Cornelius, yet he felt not the less the irony which was at the bottom +of them. Rosa, then, was not ill, she was offended; she had not been +forcibly prevented from coming, but had voluntarily stayed away. Thus +Rosa, being at liberty, found in her own will the force not to come and +see him, who was dying with grief at not having seen her. + +Cornelius had paper and a pencil which Rosa had brought to him. He +guessed that she expected an answer, but that she would not come before +the evening to fetch it. He therefore wrote on a piece of paper, similar +to that which he had received,-- + +“It was not my anxiety about the tulip that has made me ill, but the +grief at not seeing you.” + +After Gryphus had made his last visit of the day, and darkness had set +in, he slipped the paper under the door, and listened with the most +intense attention, but he neither heard Rosa’s footsteps nor the +rustling of her gown. + +He only heard a voice as feeble as a breath, and gentle like a caress, +which whispered through the grated little window in the door the word,-- + +“To-morrow!” + +Now to-morrow was the eighth day. For eight days Cornelius and Rosa had +not seen each other. + + + + +Chapter 20. The Events which took place during those Eight Days + + +On the following evening, at the usual hour, Van Baerle heard some one +scratch at the grated little window, just as Rosa had been in the habit +of doing in the heyday of their friendship. + +Cornelius being, as may easily be imagined, not far off from the door, +perceived Rosa, who at last was waiting again for him with her lamp in +her hand. + +Seeing him so sad and pale, she was startled, and said,-- + +“You are ill, Mynheer Cornelius?” + +“Yes, I am,” he answered, as indeed he was suffering in mind and in +body. + +“I saw that you did not eat,” said Rosa; “my father told me that you +remained in bed all day. I then wrote to calm your uneasiness concerning +the fate of the most precious object of your anxiety.” + +“And I,” said Cornelius, “I have answered. Seeing your return, my dear +Rosa, I thought you had received my letter.” + +“It is true; I have received it.” + +“You cannot this time excuse yourself with not being able to read. +Not only do you read very fluently, but also you have made marvellous +progress in writing.” + +“Indeed, I have not only received, but also read your note. Accordingly +I am come to see whether there might not be some remedy to restore you +to health.” + +“Restore me to health?” cried Cornelius; “but have you any good news to +communicate to me?” + +Saying this, the poor prisoner looked at Rosa, his eyes sparkling with +hope. + +Whether she did not, or would not, understand this look, Rosa answered +gravely,-- + +“I have only to speak to you about your tulip, which, as I well know, is +the object uppermost in your mind.” + +Rosa pronounced those few words in a freezing tone, which cut deeply +into the heart of Cornelius. He did not suspect what lay hidden under +this appearance of indifference with which the poor girl affected to +speak of her rival, the black tulip. + +“Oh!” muttered Cornelius, “again! again! Have I not told you, Rosa, that +I thought but of you? that it was you alone whom I regretted, you whom +I missed, you whose absence I felt more than the loss of liberty and of +life itself?” + +Rosa smiled with a melancholy air. + +“Ah!” she said, “your tulip has been in such danger.” + +Cornelius trembled involuntarily, and showed himself clearly to be +caught in the trap, if ever the remark was meant as such. + +“Danger!” he cried, quite alarmed; “what danger?” + +Rosa looked at him with gentle compassion; she felt that what she wished +was beyond the power of this man, and that he must be taken as he was, +with his little foible. + +“Yes,” she said, “you have guessed the truth; that suitor and amorous +swain, Jacob, did not come on my account.” + +“And what did he come for?” Cornelius anxiously asked. + +“He came for the sake of the tulip.” + +“Alas!” said Cornelius, growing even paler at this piece of information +than he had been when Rosa, a fortnight before, had told him that Jacob +was coming for her sake. + +Rosa saw this alarm, and Cornelius guessed, from the expression of her +face, in what direction her thoughts were running. + +“Oh, pardon me, Rosa!” he said, “I know you, and I am well aware of the +kindness and sincerity of your heart. To you God has given the thought +and strength for defending yourself; but to my poor tulip, when it is in +danger, God has given nothing of the sort.” + +Rosa, without replying to this excuse of the prisoner, continued,-- + +“From the moment when I first knew that you were uneasy on account of +the man who followed me, and in whom I had recognized Jacob, I was even +more uneasy myself. On the day, therefore, after that on which I saw you +last, and on which you said--” + +Cornelius interrupted her. + +“Once more, pardon me, Rosa!” he cried. “I was wrong in saying to +you what I said. I have asked your pardon for that unfortunate speech +before. I ask it again: shall I always ask it in vain?” + +“On the following day,” Rosa continued, “remembering what you had told +me about the stratagem which I was to employ to ascertain whether that +odious man was after the tulip, or after me----” + +“Yes, yes, odious. Tell me,” he said, “do you hate that man?” + +“I do hate him,” said Rosa, “as he is the cause of all the unhappiness I +have suffered these eight days.” + +“You, too, have been unhappy, Rosa? I thank you a thousand times for +this kind confession.” + +“Well, on the day after that unfortunate one, I went down into the +garden and proceeded towards the border where I was to plant your tulip, +looking round all the while to see whether I was again followed as I was +last time.” + +“And then?” Cornelius asked. + +“And then the same shadow glided between the gate and the wall, and once +more disappeared behind the elder-trees.” + +“You feigned not to see him, didn’t you?” Cornelius asked, remembering +all the details of the advice which he had given to Rosa. + +“Yes, and I stooped over the border, in which I dug with a spade, as if +I was going to put the bulb in.” + +“And he,--what did he do during all this time?” + +“I saw his eyes glisten through the branches of the tree like those of a +tiger.” + +“There you see, there you see!” cried Cornelius. + +“Then, after having finished my make-believe work, I retired.” + +“But only behind the garden door, I dare say, so that you might see +through the keyhole what he was going to do when you had left?” + +“He waited for a moment, very likely to make sure of my not coming back, +after which he sneaked forth from his hiding-place, and approached the +border by a long round-about; at last, having reached his goal, that is +to say, the spot where the ground was newly turned, he stopped with a +careless air, looking about in all directions, and scanning every corner +of the garden, every window of the neighbouring houses, and even the +sky; after which, thinking himself quite alone, quite isolated, and out +of everybody’s sight, he pounced upon the border, plunged both his +hands into the soft soil, took a handful of the mould, which he gently +frittered between his fingers to see whether the bulb was in it, and +repeated the same thing twice or three times, until at last he perceived +that he was outwitted. Then, keeping down the agitation which was raging +in his breast, he took up the rake, smoothed the ground, so as to leave +it on his retiring in the same state as he had found it, and, quite +abashed and rueful, walked back to the door, affecting the unconcerned +air of an ordinary visitor of the garden.” + +“Oh, the wretch!” muttered Cornelius, wiping the cold sweat from his +brow. “Oh, the wretch! I guessed his intentions. But the bulb, Rosa; +what have you done with it? It is already rather late to plant it.” + +“The bulb? It has been in the ground for these six days.” + +“Where? and how?” cried Cornelius. “Good Heaven, what imprudence! What +is it? In what sort of soil is it? In what aspect? Good or bad? Is there +no risk of having it filched by that detestable Jacob?” + +“There is no danger of its being stolen,” said Rosa, “unless Jacob will +force the door of my chamber.” + +“Oh! then it is with you in your bedroom?” said Cornelius, somewhat +relieved. “But in what soil? in what vessel? You don’t let it grow, I +hope, in water like those good ladies of Haarlem and Dort, who imagine +that water could replace the earth?” + +“You may make yourself comfortable on that score,” said Rosa, smiling; +“your bulb is not growing in water.” + +“I breathe again.” + +“It is in a good, sound stone pot, just about the size of the jug in +which you had planted yours. The soil is composed of three parts of +common mould, taken from the best spot of the garden, and one of the +sweepings of the road. I have heard you and that detestable Jacob, +as you call him, so often talk about what is the soil best fitted +for growing tulips, that I know it as well as the first gardener of +Haarlem.” + +“And now what is the aspect, Rosa?” + +“At present it has the sun all day long,--that is to say when the sun +shines. But when it once peeps out of the ground, I shall do as you have +done here, dear Mynheer Cornelius: I shall put it out of my window on +the eastern side from eight in the morning until eleven and in my window +towards the west from three to five in the afternoon.” + +“That’s it! that’s it!” cried Cornelius; “and you are a perfect +gardener, my pretty Rosa. But I am afraid the nursing of my tulip will +take up all your time.” + +“Yes, it will,” said Rosa; “but never mind. Your tulip is my daughter. +I shall devote to it the same time as I should to a child of mine, if I +were a mother. Only by becoming its mother,” Rosa added, smilingly, “can +I cease to be its rival.” + +“My kind and pretty Rosa!” muttered Cornelius casting on her a glance in +which there was much more of the lover than of the gardener, and which +afforded Rosa some consolation. + +Then, after a silence of some moments, during which Cornelius had +grasped through the openings of the grating for the receding hand of +Rosa, he said,-- + +“Do you mean to say that the bulb has now been in the ground for six +days?” + +“Yes, six days, Mynheer Cornelius,” she answered. + +“And it does not yet show leaf?” + +“No, but I think it will to-morrow.” + +“Well, then, to-morrow you will bring me news about it, and about +yourself, won’t you, Rosa? I care very much for the daughter, as you +called it just now, but I care even much more for the mother.” + +“To-morrow?” said Rosa, looking at Cornelius askance. “I don’t know +whether I shall be able to come to-morrow.” + +“Good heavens!” said Cornelius, “why can’t you come to-morrow?” + +“Mynheer Cornelius, I have lots of things to do.” + +“And I have only one,” muttered Cornelius. + +“Yes,” said Rosa, “to love your tulip.” + +“To love you, Rosa.” + +Rosa shook her head, after which followed a pause. + +“Well,”--Cornelius at last broke the silence,--“well, Rosa, everything +changes in the realm of nature; the flowers of spring are succeeded by +other flowers; and the bees, which so tenderly caressed the violets +and the wall-flowers, will flutter with just as much love about the +honey-suckles, the rose, the jessamine, and the carnation.” + +“What does all this mean?” asked Rosa. + +“You have abandoned me, Miss Rosa, to seek your pleasure elsewhere. +You have done well, and I will not complain. What claim have I to your +fidelity?” + +“My fidelity!” Rosa exclaimed, with her eyes full of tears, and without +caring any longer to hide from Cornelius this dew of pearls dropping on +her cheeks, “my fidelity! have I not been faithful to you?” + +“Do you call it faithful to desert me, and to leave me here to die?” + +“But, Mynheer Cornelius,” said Rosa, “am I not doing everything for you +that could give you pleasure? have I not devoted myself to your tulip?” + +“You are bitter, Rosa, you reproach me with the only unalloyed pleasure +which I have had in this world.” + +“I reproach you with nothing, Mynheer Cornelius, except, perhaps, +with the intense grief which I felt when people came to tell me at the +Buytenhof that you were about to be put to death.” + +“You are displeased, Rosa, my sweet girl, with my loving flowers.” + +“I am not displeased with your loving them, Mynheer Cornelius, only it +makes me sad to think that you love them better than you do me.” + +“Oh, my dear, dear Rosa! look how my hands tremble; look at my pale +cheek, hear how my heart beats. It is for you, my love, not for +the black tulip. Destroy the bulb, destroy the germ of that flower, +extinguish the gentle light of that innocent and delightful dream, to +which I have accustomed myself; but love me, Rosa, love me; for I feel +deeply that I love but you.” + +“Yes, after the black tulip,” sighed Rosa, who at last no longer +coyly withdrew her warm hands from the grating, as Cornelius most +affectionately kissed them. + +“Above and before everything in this world, Rosa.” + +“May I believe you?” + +“As you believe in your own existence.” + +“Well, then, be it so; but loving me does not bind you too much.” + +“Unfortunately, it does not bind me more than I am bound; but it binds +you, Rosa, you.” + +“To what?” + +“First of all, not to marry.” + +She smiled. + +“That’s your way,” she said; “you are tyrants all of you. You worship a +certain beauty, you think of nothing but her. Then you are condemned to +death, and whilst walking to the scaffold, you devote to her your last +sigh; and now you expect poor me to sacrifice to you all my dreams and +my happiness.” + +“But who is the beauty you are talking of, Rosa?” said Cornelius, trying +in vain to remember a woman to whom Rosa might possibly be alluding. + +“The dark beauty with a slender waist, small feet, and a noble head; in +short, I am speaking of your flower.” + +Cornelius smiled. + +“That is an imaginary lady love, at all events; whereas, without +counting that amorous Jacob, you by your own account are surrounded with +all sorts of swains eager to make love to you. Do you remember Rosa, +what you told me of the students, officers, and clerks of the Hague? Are +there no clerks, officers, or students at Loewestein?” + +“Indeed there are, and lots of them.” + +“Who write letters?” + +“They do write.” + +“And now, as you know how to read----” + +Here Cornelius heaved a sigh at the thought, that, poor captive as he +was, to him alone Rosa owed the faculty of reading the love-letters +which she received. + +“As to that,” said Rosa, “I think that in reading the notes addressed to +me, and passing the different swains in review who send them to me, I am +only following your instructions.” + +“How so? My instructions?” + +“Indeed, your instructions, sir,” said Rosa, sighing in her turn; “have +you forgotten the will written by your hand on the Bible of Cornelius de +Witt? I have not forgotten it; for now, as I know how to read, I read it +every day over and over again. In that will you bid me to love and marry +a handsome young man of twenty-six or eight years. I am on the look-out +for that young man, and as the whole of my day is taken up with your +tulip, you must needs leave me the evenings to find him.” + +“But, Rosa, the will was made in the expectation of death, and, thanks +to Heaven, I am still alive.” + +“Well, then, I shall not be after the handsome young man, and I shall +come to see you.” + +“That’s it, Rosa, come! come!” + +“Under one condition.” + +“Granted beforehand!” + +“That the black tulip shall not be mentioned for the next three days.” + +“It shall never be mentioned any more, if you wish it, Rosa.” + +“No, no,” the damsel said, laughing, “I will not ask for +impossibilities.” + +And, saying this, she brought her fresh cheek, as if unconsciously, +so near the iron grating, that Cornelius was able to touch it with his +lips. + +Rosa uttered a little scream, which, however, was full of love, and +disappeared. + + + + +Chapter 21. The Second Bulb + + +The night was a happy one, and the whole of the next day happier still. + +During the last few days, the prison had been heavy, dark, and lowering, +as it were, with all its weight on the unfortunate captive. Its walls +were black, its air chilling, the iron bars seemed to exclude every ray +of light. + +But when Cornelius awoke next morning, a beam of the morning sun +was playing about those iron bars; pigeons were hovering about with +outspread wings, whilst others were lovingly cooing on the roof or near +the still closed window. + +Cornelius ran to that window and opened it; it seemed to him as if new +life, and joy, and liberty itself were entering with this sunbeam into +his cell, which, so dreary of late, was now cheered and irradiated by +the light of love. + +When Gryphus, therefore, came to see his prisoner in the morning, he no +longer found him morose and lying in bed, but standing at the window, +and singing a little ditty. + +“Halloa!” exclaimed the jailer. + +“How are you this morning?” asked Cornelius. + +Gryphus looked at him with a scowl. + +“And how is the dog, and Master Jacob, and our pretty Rosa?” + +Gryphus ground his teeth, saying-- + +“Here is your breakfast.” + +“Thank you, friend Cerberus,” said the prisoner; “you are just in time; +I am very hungry.” + +“Oh! you are hungry, are you?” said Gryphus. + +“And why not?” asked Van Baerle. + +“The conspiracy seems to thrive,” remarked Gryphus. + +“What conspiracy?” + +“Very well, I know what I know, Master Scholar; just be quiet, we shall +be on our guard.” + +“Be on your guard, friend Gryphus; be on your guard as long as you +please; my conspiracy, as well as my person, is entirely at your +service.” + +“We’ll see that at noon.” + +Saying this, Gryphus went out. + +“At noon?” repeated Cornelius; “what does that mean? Well, let us wait +until the clock strikes twelve, and we shall see.” + +It was very easy for Cornelius to wait for twelve at midday, as he was +already waiting for nine at night. + +It struck twelve, and there were heard on the staircase not only the +steps of Gryphus, but also those of three or four soldiers, who were +coming up with him. + +The door opened. Gryphus entered, led his men in, and shut the door +after them. + +“There, now search!” + +They searched not only the pockets of Cornelius, but even his person; +yet they found nothing. + +They then searched the sheets, the mattress, and the straw mattress of +his bed; and again they found nothing. + +Now, Cornelius rejoiced that he had not taken the third sucker under his +own care. Gryphus would have been sure to ferret it out in the search, +and would then have treated it as he did the first. + +And certainly never did prisoner look with greater complacency at a +search made in his cell than Cornelius. + +Gryphus retired with the pencil and the two or three leaves of white +paper which Rosa had given to Van Baerle, this was the only trophy +brought back from the expedition. + +At six Gryphus came back again, but alone; Cornelius tried to propitiate +him, but Gryphus growled, showed a large tooth like a tusk, which he had +in the corner of his mouth, and went out backwards, like a man who is +afraid of being attacked from behind. + +Cornelius burst out laughing, to which Gryphus answered through the +grating,-- + +“Let him laugh that wins.” + +The winner that day was Cornelius; Rosa came at nine. + +She was without a lantern. She needed no longer a light, as she could +now read. Moreover, the light might betray her, as Jacob was dogging +her steps more than ever. And lastly, the light would have shown her +blushes. + +Of what did the young people speak that evening? Of those matters of +which lovers speak at the house doors in France, or from a balcony into +the street in Spain, or down from a terrace into a garden in the East. + +They spoke of those things which give wings to the hours; they spoke of +everything except the black tulip. + +At last, when the clock struck ten, they parted as usual. + +Cornelius was happy, as thoroughly happy as a tulip-fancier would be to +whom one has not spoken of his tulip. + +He found Rosa pretty, good, graceful, and charming. + +But why did Rosa object to the tulip being spoken of? + +This was indeed a great defect in Rosa. + +Cornelius confessed to himself, sighing, that woman was not perfect. + +Part of the night he thought of this imperfection; that is to say, so +long as he was awake he thought of Rosa. + +After having fallen asleep, he dreamed of her. + +But the Rosa of his dreams was by far more perfect than the Rosa of real +life. Not only did the Rosa of his dreams speak of the tulip, but also +brought to him a black one in a china vase. + +Cornelius then awoke, trembling with joy, and muttering,-- + +“Rosa, Rosa, I love you.” + +And as it was already day, he thought it right not to fall asleep again, +and he continued following up the line of thought in which his mind was +engaged when he awoke. + +Ah! if Rosa had only conversed about the tulip, Cornelius would +have preferred her to Queen Semiramis, to Queen Cleopatra, to Queen +Elizabeth, to Queen Anne of Austria; that is to say, to the greatest or +most beautiful queens whom the world has seen. + +But Rosa had forbidden it under pain of not returning; Rosa had +forbidden the least mention of the tulip for three days. That meant +seventy-two hours given to the lover to be sure; but it was seventy-two +hours stolen from the horticulturist. + +There was one consolation: of the seventy-two hours during which +Rosa would not allow the tulip to be mentioned, thirty-six had passed +already; and the remaining thirty-six would pass quickly enough: +eighteen with waiting for the evening’s interview, and eighteen with +rejoicing in its remembrance. + +Rosa came at the same hour, and Cornelius submitted most heroically to +the pangs which the compulsory silence concerning the tulip gave him. + +His fair visitor, however, was well aware that, to command on the one +point, people must yield on another; she therefore no longer drew back +her hands from the grating, and even allowed Cornelius tenderly to kiss +her beautiful golden tresses. + +Poor girl! she had no idea that these playful little lovers’ tricks were +much more dangerous than speaking of the tulip was; but she became aware +of the fact as she returned with a beating heart, with glowing cheeks, +dry lips, and moist eyes. + +And on the following evening, after the first exchange of salutations, +she retired a step, looking at him with a glance, the expression of +which would have rejoiced his heart could he but have seen it. + +“Well,” she said, “she is up.” + +“She is up! Who? What?” asked Cornelius, who did not venture on a +belief that Rosa would, of her own accord, have abridged the term of his +probation. + +“She? Well, my daughter, the tulip,” said Rosa. + +“What!” cried Cornelius, “you give me permission, then?” + +“I do,” said Rosa, with the tone of an affectionate mother who grants a +pleasure to her child. + +“Ah, Rosa!” said Cornelius, putting his lips to the grating with the +hope of touching a cheek, a hand, a forehead,--anything, in short. + +He touched something much better,--two warm and half open lips. + +Rosa uttered a slight scream. + +Cornelius understood that he must make haste to continue the +conversation. He guessed that this unexpected kiss had frightened Rosa. + +“Is it growing up straight?” + +“Straight as a rocket,” said Rosa. + +“How high?” + +“At least two inches.” + +“Oh, Rosa, take good care of it, and we shall soon see it grow quickly.” + +“Can I take more care of it?” said she. “Indeed, I think of nothing else +but the tulip.” + +“Of nothing else, Rosa? Why, now I shall grow jealous in my turn.” + +“Oh, you know that to think of the tulip is to think of you; I never +lose sight of it. I see it from my bed, on awaking it is the first +object that meets my eyes, and on falling asleep the last on which they +rest. During the day I sit and work by its side, for I have never left +my chamber since I put it there.” + +“You are right Rosa, it is your dowry, you know.” + +“Yes, and with it I may marry a young man of twenty-six or twenty-eight +years, whom I shall be in love with.” + +“Don’t talk in that way, you naughty girl.” + +That evening Cornelius was one of the happiest of men. Rosa allowed him +to press her hand in his, and to keep it as long as he would, besides +which he might talk of his tulip as much as he liked. + +From that hour every day marked some progress in the growth of the tulip +and in the affection of the two young people. + +At one time it was that the leaves had expanded, and at another that the +flower itself had formed. + +Great was the joy of Cornelius at this news, and his questions succeeded +one another with a rapidity which gave proof of their importance. + +“Formed!” exclaimed Cornelius, “is it really formed?” + +“It is,” repeated Rosa. + +Cornelius trembled with joy, so much so that he was obliged to hold by +the grating. + +“Good heavens!” he exclaimed. + +Then, turning again to Rosa, he continued his questions. + +“Is the oval regular? the cylinder full? and are the points very green?” + +“The oval is almost one inch long, and tapers like a needle, the +cylinder swells at the sides, and the points are ready to open.” + +Two days after Rosa announced that they were open. + +“Open, Rosa!” cried Cornelius. “Is the involucrum open? but then one may +see and already distinguish----” + +Here the prisoner paused, anxiously taking breath. + +“Yes,” answered Rosa, “one may already distinguish a thread of different +colour, as thin as a hair.” + +“And its colour?” asked Cornelius, trembling. + +“Oh,” answered Rosa, “it is very dark!” + +“Brown?” + +“Darker than that.” + +“Darker, my good Rosa, darker? Thank you. Dark as----” + +“Dark as the ink with which I wrote to you.” + +Cornelius uttered a cry of mad joy. + +Then, suddenly stopping and clasping his hands, he said,-- + +“Oh, there is not an angel in heaven that may be compared to you, Rosa!” + +“Indeed!” said Rosa, smiling at his enthusiasm. + +“Rosa, you have worked with such ardour,--you have done so much for me! +Rosa, my tulip is about to flower, and it will flower black! Rosa, Rosa, +you are the most perfect being on earth!” + +“After the tulip, though.” + +“Ah! be quiet, you malicious little creature, be quiet! For shame! +Do not spoil my pleasure. But tell me, Rosa,--as the tulip is so far +advanced, it will flower in two or three days, at the latest?” + +“To-morrow, or the day after.” + +“Ah! and I shall not see it,” cried Cornelius, starting back, “I shall +not kiss it, as a wonderful work of the Almighty, as I kiss your hand +and your cheek, Rosa, when by chance they are near the grating.” + +Rosa drew near, not by accident, but intentionally, and Cornelius kissed +her tenderly. + +“Faith, I shall cull it, if you wish it.” + +“Oh, no, no, Rosa! when it is open, place it carefully in the shade, +and immediately send a message to Haarlem, to the President of the +Horticultural Society, that the grand black tulip is in flower. I know +well it is far to Haarlem, but with money you will find a messenger. +Have you any money, Rosa?” + +Rosa smiled. + +“Oh, yes!” she said. + +“Enough?” said Cornelius. + +“I have three hundred guilders.” + +“Oh, if you have three hundred guilders, you must not send a messenger, +Rosa, but you must go to Haarlem yourself.” + +“But what in the meantime is to become of the flower?” + +“Oh, the flower! you must take it with you. You understand that you must +not separate from it for an instant.” + +“But whilst I am not separating from it, I am separating from you, +Mynheer Cornelius.” + +“Ah! that’s true, my sweet Rosa. Oh, my God! how wicked men are! What +have I done to offend them, and why have they deprived me of my liberty? +You are right, Rosa, I cannot live without you. Well, you will send some +one to Haarlem,--that’s settled; really, the matter is wonderful enough +for the President to put himself to some trouble. He will come himself +to Loewestein to see the tulip.” + +Then, suddenly checking himself, he said, with a faltering voice,-- + +“Rosa, Rosa, if after all it should not flower black!” + +“Oh, surely, surely, you will know to-morrow, or the day after.” + +“And to wait until evening to know it, Rosa! I shall die with +impatience. Could we not agree about a signal?” + +“I shall do better than that.” + +“What will you do?” + +“If it opens at night, I shall come and tell you myself. If it is day, +I shall pass your door, and slip you a note either under the door, +or through the grating, during the time between my father’s first and +second inspection.” + +“Yes, Rosa, let it be so. One word of yours, announcing this news to me, +will be a double happiness.” + +“There, ten o’clock strikes,” said Rosa, “I must now leave you.” + +“Yes, yes,” said Cornelius, “go, Rosa, go!” + +Rosa withdrew, almost melancholy, for Cornelius had all but sent her +away. + +It is true that he did so in order that she might watch over his black +tulip. + + + + +Chapter 22. The Opening of the Flower + + +The night passed away very sweetly for Cornelius, although in great +agitation. Every instant he fancied he heard the gentle voice of Rosa +calling him. He then started up, went to the door, and looked through +the grating, but no one was behind it, and the lobby was empty. + +Rosa, no doubt, would be watching too, but, happier than he, she watched +over the tulip; she had before her eyes that noble flower, that wonder +of wonders, which not only was unknown, but was not even thought +possible until then. + +What would the world say when it heard that the black tulip was found, +that it existed and that it was the prisoner Van Baerle who had found +it? + +How Cornelius would have spurned the offer of his liberty in exchange +for his tulip! + +Day came, without any news; the tulip was not yet in flower. + +The day passed as the night. Night came, and with it Rosa, joyous and +cheerful as a bird. + +“Well?” asked Cornelius. + +“Well, all is going on prosperously. This night, without any doubt, our +tulip will be in flower.” + +“And will it flower black?” + +“Black as jet.” + +“Without a speck of any other colour.” + +“Without one speck.” + +“Good Heavens! my dear Rosa, I have been dreaming all night, in the +first place of you,” (Rosa made a sign of incredulity,) “and then of +what we must do.” + +“Well?” + +“Well, and I will tell you now what I have decided on. The tulip once +being in flower, and it being quite certain that it is perfectly black, +you must find a messenger.” + +“If it is no more than that, I have a messenger quite ready.” + +“Is he safe?” + +“One for whom I will answer,--he is one of my lovers.” + +“I hope not Jacob.” + +“No, be quiet, it is the ferryman of Loewestein, a smart young man of +twenty-five.” + +“By Jove!” + +“Be quiet,” said Rosa, smiling, “he is still under age, as you have +yourself fixed it from twenty-six to twenty-eight.” + +“In fine, do you think you may rely on this young man?” + +“As on myself; he would throw himself into the Waal or the Meuse if I +bade him.” + +“Well, Rosa, this lad may be at Haarlem in ten hours; you will give me +paper and pencil, and, perhaps better still, pen and ink, and I will +write, or rather, on second thoughts, you will, for if I did, being a +poor prisoner, people might, like your father, see a conspiracy in it. +You will write to the President of the Horticultural Society, and I am +sure he will come.” + +“But if he tarries?” + +“Well, let us suppose that he tarries one day, or even two; but it is +impossible. A tulip-fancier like him will not tarry one hour, not one +minute, not one second, to set out to see the eighth wonder of the +world. But, as I said, if he tarried one or even two days, the tulip +will still be in its full splendour. The flower once being seen by the +President, and the protocol being drawn up, all is in order; you will +only keep a duplicate of the protocol, and intrust the tulip to him. +Ah! if we had been able to carry it ourselves, Rosa, it would never have +left my hands but to pass into yours; but this is a dream, which we must +not entertain,” continued Cornelius with a sigh, “the eyes of strangers +will see it flower to the last. And above all, Rosa, before the +President has seen it, let it not be seen by any one. Alas! if any one +saw the black tulip, it would be stolen.” + +“Oh!” + +“Did you not tell me yourself of what you apprehended from your lover +Jacob? People will steal one guilder, why not a hundred thousand?” + +“I shall watch; be quiet.” + +“But if it opened whilst you were here?” + +“The whimsical little thing would indeed be quite capable of playing +such a trick,” said Rosa. + +“And if on your return you find it open?” + +“Well?” + +“Oh, Rosa, whenever it opens, remember that not a moment must be lost in +apprising the President.” + +“And in apprising you. Yes, I understand.” + +Rosa sighed, yet without any bitter feeling, but rather like a woman who +begins to understand a foible, and to accustom herself to it. + +“I return to your tulip, Mynheer van Baerle, and as soon as it opens +I will give you news, which being done the messenger will set out +immediately.” + +“Rosa, Rosa, I don’t know to what wonder under the sun I shall compare +you.” + +“Compare me to the black tulip, and I promise you I shall feel very much +flattered. Good night, then, till we meet again, Mynheer Cornelius.” + +“Oh, say ‘Good night, my friend.’” + +“Good night, my friend,” said Rosa, a little consoled. + +“Say, ‘My very dear friend.’” + +“Oh, my friend--” + +“Very dear friend, I entreat you, say ‘very dear,’ Rosa, very dear.” + +“Very dear, yes, very dear,” said Rosa, with a beating heart, beyond +herself with happiness. + +“And now that you have said ‘very dear,’ dear Rosa, say also ‘most +happy’: say ‘happier and more blessed than ever man was under the sun.’ +I only lack one thing, Rosa.” + +“And that is?” + +“Your cheek,--your fresh cheek, your soft, rosy cheek. Oh, Rosa, give it +me of your own free will, and not by chance. Ah!” + +The prisoner’s prayer ended in a sigh of ecstasy; his lips met those of +the maiden,--not by chance, nor by stratagem, but as Saint-Preux’s was +to meet the lips of Julie a hundred years later. + +Rosa made her escape. + +Cornelius stood with his heart upon his lips, and his face glued to the +wicket in the door. + +He was fairly choking with happiness and joy. He opened his window, and +gazed long, with swelling heart, at the cloudless vault of heaven, and +the moon, which shone like silver upon the two-fold stream flowing from +far beyond the hills. He filled his lungs with the pure, sweet air, +while his brain dwelt upon thoughts of happiness, and his heart +overflowed with gratitude and religious fervour. + +“Oh Thou art always watching from on high, my God,” he cried, half +prostrate, his glowing eyes fixed upon the stars: “forgive me that I +almost doubted Thy existence during these latter days, for Thou didst +hide Thy face behind the clouds, and wert for a moment lost to my sight, +O Thou merciful God, Thou pitying Father everlasting! But to-day, this +evening, and to-night, again I see Thee in all Thy wondrous glory in the +mirror of Thy heavenly abode, and more clearly still in the mirror of my +grateful heart.” + +He was well again, the poor invalid; the wretched captive was free once +more. + +During part of the night Cornelius, with his heart full of joy and +delight, remained at his window, gazing at the stars, and listening for +every sound. + +Then casting a glance from time to time towards the lobby,-- + +“Down there,” he said, “is Rosa, watching like myself, and waiting +from minute to minute; down there, under Rosa’s eyes, is the mysterious +flower, which lives, which expands, which opens, perhaps Rosa holds in +this moment the stem of the tulip between her delicate fingers. Touch it +gently, Rosa. Perhaps she touches with her lips its expanding chalice. +Touch it cautiously, Rosa, your lips are burning. Yes, perhaps at this +moment the two objects of my dearest love caress each other under the +eye of Heaven.” + +At this moment, a star blazed in the southern sky, and shot through the +whole horizon, falling down, as it were, on the fortress of Loewestein. + +Cornelius felt a thrill run through his frame. + +“Ah!” he said, “here is Heaven sending a soul to my flower.” + +And as if he had guessed correctly, nearly at that very moment the +prisoner heard in the lobby a step light as that of a sylph, and the +rustling of a gown, and a well-known voice, which said to him,-- + +“Cornelius, my friend, my very dear friend, and very happy friend, come, +come quickly.” + +Cornelius darted with one spring from the window to the door, his lips +met those of Rosa, who told him, with a kiss,-- + +“It is open, it is black, here it is.” + +“How! here it is?” exclaimed Cornelius. + +“Yes, yes, we ought indeed to run some little risk to give a great joy; +here it is, take it.” + +And with one hand she raised to the level of the grating a dark lantern, +which she had lit in the meanwhile, whilst with the other she held to +the same height the miraculous tulip. + +Cornelius uttered a cry, and was nearly fainting. + +“Oh!” muttered he, “my God, my God, Thou dost reward me for my innocence +and my captivity, as Thou hast allowed two such flowers to grow at the +grated window of my prison!” + +The tulip was beautiful, splendid, magnificent; its stem was more than +eighteen inches high; it rose from out of four green leaves, which were +as smooth and straight as iron lance-heads; the whole of the flower was +as black and shining as jet. + +“Rosa,” said Cornelius, almost gasping, “Rosa, there is not one moment +to lose in writing the letter.” + +“It is written, my dearest Cornelius,” said Rosa. + +“Is it, indeed?” + +“Whilst the tulip opened I wrote it myself, for I did not wish to lose a +moment. Here is the letter, and tell me whether you approve of it.” + +Cornelius took the letter, and read, in a handwriting which was much +improved even since the last little note he had received from Rosa, as +follows:-- + +“Mynheer President,--The black tulip is about to open, perhaps in ten +minutes. As soon as it is open, I shall send a messenger to you, with +the request that you will come and fetch it in person from the fortress +at Loewestein. I am the daughter of the jailer, Gryphus, almost as much +of a captive as the prisoners of my father. I cannot, therefore, bring +to you this wonderful flower. This is the reason why I beg you to come +and fetch it yourself. + +“It is my wish that it should be called Rosa Barlœnsis. + +“It has opened; it is perfectly black; come, Mynheer President, come. + +“I have the honour to be your humble servant, + +“Rosa Gryphus. + +“That’s it, dear Rosa, that’s it. Your letter is admirable! I could not +have written it with such beautiful simplicity. You will give to the +committee all the information that will be required of you. They will +then know how the tulip has been grown, how much care and anxiety, and +how many sleepless nights, it has cost. But for the present not a minute +must be lost. The messenger! the messenger!” + +“What’s the name of the President?” + +“Give me the letter, I will direct it. Oh, he is very well known: it is +Mynheer van Systens, the burgomaster of Haarlem; give it to me, Rosa, +give it to me.” + +And with a trembling hand Cornelius wrote the address,-- + +“To Mynheer Peter van Systens, Burgomaster, and President of the +Horticultural Society of Haarlem.” + +“And now, Rosa, go, go,” said Cornelius, “and let us implore the +protection of God, who has so kindly watched over us until now.” + + + + +Chapter 23. The Rival + + +And in fact the poor young people were in great need of protection. + +They had never been so near the destruction of their hopes as at this +moment, when they thought themselves certain of their fulfilment. + +The reader cannot but have recognized in Jacob our old friend, or rather +enemy, Isaac Boxtel, and has guessed, no doubt, that this worthy had +followed from the Buytenhof to Loewestein the object of his love and the +object of his hatred,--the black tulip and Cornelius van Baerle. + +What no one but a tulip-fancier, and an envious tulip-fancier, could +have discovered,--the existence of the bulbs and the endeavours of the +prisoner,--jealousy had enabled Boxtel, if not to discover, at least to +guess. + +We have seen him, more successful under the name of Jacob than under +that of Isaac, gain the friendship of Gryphus, which for several months +he cultivated by means of the best Genièvre ever distilled from the +Texel to Antwerp, and he lulled the suspicion of the jealous turnkey +by holding out to him the flattering prospect of his designing to marry +Rosa. + +Besides thus offering a bait to the ambition of the father, he managed, +at the same time, to interest his zeal as a jailer, picturing to him +in the blackest colours the learned prisoner whom Gryphus had in his +keeping, and who, as the sham Jacob had it, was in league with Satan, to +the detriment of his Highness the Prince of Orange. + +At first he had also made some way with Rosa; not, indeed, in her +affections, but inasmuch as, by talking to her of marriage and of love, +he had evaded all the suspicions which he might otherwise have excited. + +We have seen how his imprudence in following Rosa into the garden had +unmasked him in the eyes of the young damsel, and how the instinctive +fears of Cornelius had put the two lovers on their guard against him. + +The reader will remember that the first cause of uneasiness was given to +the prisoner by the rage of Jacob when Gryphus crushed the first bulb. +In that moment Boxtel’s exasperation was the more fierce, as, though +suspecting that Cornelius possessed a second bulb, he by no means felt +sure of it. + +From that moment he began to dodge the steps of Rosa, not only following +her to the garden, but also to the lobbies. + +Only as this time he followed her in the night, and bare-footed, he was +neither seen nor heard except once, when Rosa thought she saw something +like a shadow on the staircase. + +Her discovery, however, was made too late, as Boxtel had heard from the +mouth of the prisoner himself that a second bulb existed. + +Taken in by the stratagem of Rosa, who had feigned to put it in the +ground, and entertaining no doubt that this little farce had been played +in order to force him to betray himself, he redoubled his precaution, +and employed every means suggested by his crafty nature to watch the +others without being watched himself. + +He saw Rosa conveying a large flower-pot of white earthenware from her +father’s kitchen to her bedroom. He saw Rosa washing in pails of water +her pretty little hands, begrimed as they were with the mould which she +had handled, to give her tulip the best soil possible. + +And at last he hired, just opposite Rosa’s window, a little attic, +distant enough not to allow him to be recognized with the naked eye, +but sufficiently near to enable him, with the help of his telescope, +to watch everything that was going on at the Loewestein in Rosa’s room, +just as at Dort he had watched the dry-room of Cornelius. + +He had not been installed more than three days in his attic before all +his doubts were removed. + +From morning to sunset the flower-pot was in the window, and, like those +charming female figures of Mieris and Metzys, Rosa appeared at that +window as in a frame, formed by the first budding sprays of the wild +vine and the honeysuckle encircling her window. + +Rosa watched the flower-pot with an interest which betrayed to Boxtel +the real value of the object enclosed in it. + +This object could not be anything else but the second bulb, that is to +say, the quintessence of all the hopes of the prisoner. + +When the nights threatened to be too cold, Rosa took in the flower-pot. + +Well, it was then quite evident she was following the instructions of +Cornelius, who was afraid of the bulb being killed by frost. + +When the sun became too hot, Rosa likewise took in the pot from eleven +in the morning until two in the afternoon. + +Another proof: Cornelius was afraid lest the soil should become too dry. + +But when the first leaves peeped out of the earth Boxtel was fully +convinced; and his telescope left him no longer in any uncertainty +before they had grown one inch in height. + +Cornelius possessed two bulbs, and the second was intrusted to the love +and care of Rosa. + +For it may well be imagined that the tender secret of the two lovers had +not escaped the prying curiosity of Boxtel. + +The question, therefore, was how to wrest the second bulb from the care +of Rosa. + +Certainly this was no easy task. + +Rosa watched over her tulip as a mother over her child, or a dove over +her eggs. + +Rosa never left her room during the day, and, more than that, strange to +say, she never left it in the evening. + +For seven days Boxtel in vain watched Rosa; she was always at her post. + +This happened during those seven days which made Cornelius so unhappy, +depriving him at the same time of all news of Rosa and of his tulip. + +Would the coolness between Rosa and Cornelius last for ever? + +This would have made the theft much more difficult than Mynheer Isaac +had at first expected. + +We say the theft, for Isaac had simply made up his mind to steal the +tulip; and as it grew in the most profound secrecy, and as, moreover, +his word, being that of a renowned tulip-grower, would any day be taken +against that of an unknown girl without any knowledge of horticulture, +or against that of a prisoner convicted of high treason, he confidently +hoped that, having once got possession of the bulb, he would be certain +to obtain the prize; and then the tulip, instead of being called Tulipa +nigra Barlœnsis, would go down to posterity under the name of Tulipa +nigra Boxtellensis or Boxtellea. + +Mynheer Isaac had not yet quite decided which of these two names he +would give to the tulip, but, as both meant the same thing, this was, +after all, not the important point. + +The point was to steal the tulip. But in order that Boxtel might steal +the tulip, it was necessary that Rosa should leave her room. + +Great therefore was his joy when he saw the usual evening meetings of +the lovers resumed. + +He first of all took advantage of Rosa’s absence to make himself fully +acquainted with all the peculiarities of the door of her chamber. The +lock was a double one and in good order, but Rosa always took the key +with her. + +Boxtel at first entertained an idea of stealing the key, but it soon +occurred to him, not only that it would be exceedingly difficult to +abstract it from her pocket, but also that, when she perceived her +loss, she would not leave her room until the lock was changed, and then +Boxtel’s first theft would be useless. + +He thought it, therefore, better to employ a different expedient. He +collected as many keys as he could, and tried all of them during one of +those delightful hours which Rosa and Cornelius passed together at the +grating of the cell. + +Two of the keys entered the lock, and one of them turned round once, but +not the second time. + +There was, therefore, only a little to be done to this key. + +Boxtel covered it with a slight coat of wax, and when he thus renewed +the experiment, the obstacle which prevented the key from being turned a +second time left its impression on the wax. + +It cost Boxtel two days more to bring his key to perfection, with the +aid of a small file. + +Rosa’s door thus opened without noise and without difficulty, and Boxtel +found himself in her room alone with the tulip. + +The first guilty act of Boxtel had been to climb over a wall in order to +dig up the tulip; the second, to introduce himself into the dry-room of +Cornelius, through an open window; and the third, to enter Rosa’s room +by means of a false key. + +Thus envy urged Boxtel on with rapid steps in the career of crime. + +Boxtel, as we have said, was alone with the tulip. + +A common thief would have taken the pot under his arm, and carried it +off. + +But Boxtel was not a common thief, and he reflected. + +It was not yet certain, although very probable, that the tulip would +flower black; if, therefore, he stole it now, he not only might be +committing a useless crime, but also the theft might be discovered in +the time which must elapse until the flower should open. + +He therefore--as being in possession of the key, he might enter Rosa’s +chamber whenever he liked--thought it better to wait and to take it +either an hour before or after opening, and to start on the instant to +Haarlem, where the tulip would be before the judges of the committee +before any one else could put in a reclamation. + +Should any one then reclaim it, Boxtel would in his turn charge him or +her with theft. + +This was a deep-laid scheme, and quite worthy of its author. + +Thus, every evening during that delightful hour which the two lovers +passed together at the grated window, Boxtel entered Rosa’s chamber to +watch the progress which the black tulip had made towards flowering. + +On the evening at which we have arrived he was going to enter according +to custom; but the two lovers, as we have seen, only exchanged a few +words before Cornelius sent Rosa back to watch over the tulip. + +Seeing Rosa enter her room ten minutes after she had left it, Boxtel +guessed that the tulip had opened, or was about to open. + +During that night, therefore, the great blow was to be struck. Boxtel +presented himself before Gryphus with a double supply of Genièvre, that +is to say, with a bottle in each pocket. + +Gryphus being once fuddled, Boxtel was very nearly master of the house. + +At eleven o’clock Gryphus was dead drunk. At two in the morning Boxtel +saw Rosa leaving the chamber; but evidently she held in her arms +something which she carried with great care. + +He did not doubt that this was the black tulip which was in flower. + +But what was she going to do with it? Would she set out that instant to +Haarlem with it? + +It was not possible that a young girl should undertake such a journey +alone during the night. + +Was she only going to show the tulip to Cornelius? This was more likely. + +He followed Rosa in his stocking feet, walking on tiptoe. + +He saw her approach the grated window. He heard her calling Cornelius. +By the light of the dark lantern he saw the tulip open, and black as the +night in which he was hidden. + +He heard the plan concerted between Cornelius and Rosa to send a +messenger to Haarlem. He saw the lips of the lovers meet, and then heard +Cornelius send Rosa away. + +He saw Rosa extinguish the light and return to her chamber. Ten minutes +after, he saw her leave the room again, and lock it twice. + +Boxtel, who saw all this whilst hiding himself on the landing-place +of the staircase above, descended step by step from his story as Rosa +descended from hers; so that, when she touched with her light foot the +lowest step of the staircase, Boxtel touched with a still lighter hand +the lock of Rosa’s chamber. + +And in that hand, it must be understood, he held the false key which +opened Rosa’s door as easily as did the real one. + +And this is why, in the beginning of the chapter, we said that the poor +young people were in great need of the protection of God. + + + + + +Chapter 24. The Black Tulip changes Masters + + +Cornelius remained standing on the spot where Rosa had left him. He was +quite overpowered with the weight of his twofold happiness. + +Half an hour passed away. Already did the first rays of the sun enter +through the iron grating of the prison, when Cornelius was suddenly +startled at the noise of steps which came up the staircase, and of cries +which approached nearer and nearer. + +Almost at the same instant he saw before him the pale and distracted +face of Rosa. + +He started, and turned pale with fright. + +“Cornelius, Cornelius!” she screamed, gasping for breath. + +“Good Heaven! what is it?” asked the prisoner. + +“Cornelius! the tulip----” + +“Well?” + +“How shall I tell you?” + +“Speak, speak, Rosa!” + +“Some one has taken--stolen it from us.” + +“Stolen--taken?” said Cornelius. + +“Yes,” said Rosa, leaning against the door to support herself; “yes, +taken, stolen!” + +And saying this, she felt her limbs failing her, and she fell on her +knees. + +“But how? Tell me, explain to me.” + +“Oh, it is not my fault, my friend.” + +Poor Rosa! she no longer dared to call him “My beloved one.” + +“You have then left it alone,” said Cornelius, ruefully. + +“One minute only, to instruct our messenger, who lives scarcely fifty +yards off, on the banks of the Waal.” + +“And during that time, notwithstanding all my injunctions, you left the +key behind, unfortunate child!” + +“No, no, no! this is what I cannot understand. The key was never out of +my hands; I clinched it as if I were afraid it would take wings.” + +“But how did it happen, then?” + +“That’s what I cannot make out. I had given the letter to my messenger; +he started before I left his house; I came home, and my door was locked, +everything in my room was as I had left it, except the tulip,--that was +gone. Some one must have had a key for my room, or have got a false one +made on purpose.” + +She was nearly choking with sobs, and was unable to continue. + +Cornelius, immovable and full of consternation, heard almost without +understanding, and only muttered,-- + +“Stolen, stolen, and I am lost!” + +“O Cornelius, forgive me, forgive me, it will kill me!” + +Seeing Rosa’s distress, Cornelius seized the iron bars of the grating, +and furiously shaking them, called out,-- + +“Rosa, Rosa, we have been robbed, it is true, but shall we allow +ourselves to be dejected for all that? No, no; the misfortune is great, +but it may perhaps be remedied. Rosa, we know the thief!” + +“Alas! what can I say about it?” + +“But I say that it is no one else but that infamous Jacob. Shall we +allow him to carry to Haarlem the fruit of our labour, the fruit of our +sleepless nights, the child of our love? Rosa, we must pursue, we must +overtake him!” + +“But how can we do all this, my friend, without letting my father know +we were in communication with each other? How should I, a poor girl, +with so little knowledge of the world and its ways, be able to attain +this end, which perhaps you could not attain yourself?” + +“Rosa, Rosa, open this door to me, and you will see whether I will not +find the thief,--whether I will not make him confess his crime and beg +for mercy.” + +“Alas!” cried Rosa, sobbing, “can I open the door for you? have I the +keys? If I had had them, would not you have been free long ago?” + +“Your father has them,--your wicked father, who has already crushed the +first bulb of my tulip. Oh, the wretch! he is an accomplice of Jacob!” + +“Don’t speak so loud, for Heaven’s sake!” + +“Oh, Rosa, if you don’t open the door to me,” Cornelius cried in his +rage, “I shall force these bars, and kill everything I find in the +prison.” + +“Be merciful, be merciful, my friend!” + +“I tell you, Rosa, that I shall demolish this prison, stone for stone!” + and the unfortunate man, whose strength was increased tenfold by his +rage, began to shake the door with a great noise, little heeding that +the thunder of his voice was re-echoing through the spiral staircase. + +Rosa, in her fright, made vain attempts to check this furious outbreak. + +“I tell you that I shall kill that infamous Gryphus?” roared Cornelius. +“I tell you I shall shed his blood as he did that of my black tulip.” + +The wretched prisoner began really to rave. + +“Well, then, yes,” said Rosa, all in a tremble. “Yes, yes, only be +quiet. Yes, yes, I will take his keys, I will open the door for you! +Yes, only be quiet, my own dear Cornelius.” + +She did not finish her speech, as a growl by her side interrupted her. + +“My father!” cried Rosa. + +“Gryphus!” roared Van Baerle. “Oh, you villain!” + +Old Gryphus, in the midst of all the noise, had ascended the staircase +without being heard. + +He rudely seized his daughter by the wrist. + +“So you will take my keys?” he said, in a voice choked with rage. “Ah! +this dastardly fellow, this monster, this gallows-bird of a conspirator, +is your own dear Cornelius, is he? Ah! Missy has communications with +prisoners of state. Ah! won’t I teach you--won’t I?” + +Rosa clasped her hands in despair. + +“Ah!” Gryphus continued, passing from the madness of anger to the cool +irony of a man who has got the better of his enemy,--“Ah, you innocent +tulip-fancier, you gentle scholar; you will kill me, and drink my blood! +Very well! very well! And you have my daughter for an accomplice. Am +I, forsooth, in a den of thieves,--in a cave of brigands? Yes, but the +Governor shall know all to-morrow, and his Highness the Stadtholder +the day after. We know the law,--we shall give a second edition of the +Buytenhof, Master Scholar, and a good one this time. Yes, yes, just gnaw +your paws like a bear in his cage, and you, my fine little lady, devour +your dear Cornelius with your eyes. I tell you, my lambkins, you shall +not much longer have the felicity of conspiring together. Away with you, +unnatural daughter! And as to you, Master Scholar, we shall see each +other again. Just be quiet,--we shall.” + +Rosa, beyond herself with terror and despair, kissed her hands to her +friend; then, suddenly struck with a bright thought, she rushed toward +the staircase, saying,-- + +“All is not yet lost, Cornelius. Rely on me, my Cornelius.” + +Her father followed her, growling. + +As to poor Cornelius, he gradually loosened his hold of the bars, which +his fingers still grasped convulsively. His head was heavy, his eyes +almost started from their sockets, and he fell heavily on the floor of +his cell, muttering,-- + +“Stolen! it has been stolen from me!” + +During this time Boxtel had left the fortress by the door which Rosa +herself had opened. He carried the black tulip wrapped up in a cloak, +and, throwing himself into a coach, which was waiting for him at Gorcum, +he drove off, without, as may well be imagined, having informed his +friend Gryphus of his sudden departure. + +And now, as we have seen him enter his coach, we shall with the consent +of the reader, follow him to the end of his journey. + +He proceeded but slowly, as the black tulip could not bear travelling +post-haste. + +But Boxtel, fearing that he might not arrive early enough, procured at +Delft a box, lined all round with fresh moss, in which he packed the +tulip. The flower was so lightly pressed upon all sides, with a supply +of air from above, that the coach could now travel full speed without +any possibility of injury to the tulip. + +He arrived next morning at Haarlem, fatigued but triumphant; and, to +do away with every trace of the theft, he transplanted the tulip, and, +breaking the original flower-pot, threw the pieces into the canal. After +which he wrote the President of the Horticultural Society a letter, in +which he announced to him that he had just arrived at Haarlem with +a perfectly black tulip; and, with his flower all safe, took up his +quarters at a good hotel in the town, and there he waited. + + + + +Chapter 25. The President van Systens + + +Rosa, on leaving Cornelius, had fixed on her plan, which was no other +than to restore to Cornelius the stolen tulip, or never to see him +again. + +She had seen the despair of the prisoner, and she knew that it was +derived from a double source, and that it was incurable. + +On the one hand, separation became inevitable,--Gryphus having at +the same time surprised the secret of their love and of their secret +meetings. + +On the other hand, all the hopes on the fulfilment of which Cornelius +van Baerle had rested his ambition for the last seven years were now +crushed. + +Rosa was one of those women who are dejected by trifles, but who in +great emergencies are supplied by the misfortune itself with the energy +for combating or with the resources for remedying it. + +She went to her room, and cast a last glance about her to see whether +she had not been mistaken, and whether the tulip was not stowed away in +some corner where it had escaped her notice. But she sought in vain, the +tulip was still missing; the tulip was indeed stolen. + +Rosa made up a little parcel of things indispensable for a journey; took +her three hundred guilders,--that is to say, all her fortune,--fetched +the third bulb from among her lace, where she had laid it up, and +carefully hid it in her bosom; after which she locked her door twice to +disguise her flight as long as possible, and, leaving the prison by +the same door which an hour before had let out Boxtel, she went to a +stable-keeper to hire a carriage. + +The man had only a two-wheel chaise, and this was the vehicle which +Boxtel had hired since last evening, and in which he was now driving +along the road to Delft; for the road from Loewestein to Haarlem, owing +to the many canals, rivers, and rivulets intersecting the country, is +exceedingly circuitous. + +Not being able to procure a vehicle, Rosa was obliged to take a horse, +with which the stable-keeper readily intrusted her, knowing her to be +the daughter of the jailer of the fortress. + +Rosa hoped to overtake her messenger, a kind-hearted and honest lad, +whom she would take with her, and who might at the same time serve her +as a guide and a protector. + +And in fact she had not proceeded more than a league before she saw +him hastening along one of the side paths of a very pretty road by the +river. Setting her horse off at a canter, she soon came up with him. + +The honest lad was not aware of the important character of his message; +nevertheless, he used as much speed as if he had known it; and in less +than an hour he had already gone a league and a half. + +Rosa took from him the note, which had now become useless, and explained +to him what she wanted him to do for her. The boatman placed himself +entirely at her disposal, promising to keep pace with the horse if Rosa +would allow him to take hold of either the croup or the bridle of her +horse. The two travellers had been on their way for five hours, and made +more than eight leagues, and yet Gryphus had not the least suspicion of +his daughter having left the fortress. + +The jailer, who was of a very spiteful and cruel disposition, chuckled +within himself at the idea of having struck such terror into his +daughter’s heart. + +But whilst he was congratulating himself on having such a nice story to +tell to his boon companion, Jacob, that worthy was on his road to Delft; +and, thanks to the swiftness of the horse, had already the start of Rosa +and her companion by four leagues. + +And whilst the affectionate father was rejoicing at the thought of +his daughter weeping in her room, Rosa was making the best of her way +towards Haarlem. + +Thus the prisoner alone was where Gryphus thought him to be. + +Rosa was so little with her father since she took care of the tulip, +that at his dinner hour, that is to say, at twelve o’clock, he was +reminded for the first time by his appetite that his daughter was +fretting rather too long. + +He sent one of the under-turnkeys to call her; and, when the man came +back to tell him that he had called and sought her in vain, he resolved +to go and call her himself. + +He first went to her room, but, loud as he knocked, Rosa answered not. + +The locksmith of the fortress was sent for; he opened the door, but +Gryphus no more found Rosa than she had found the tulip. + +At that very moment she entered Rotterdam. + +Gryphus therefore had just as little chance of finding her in the +kitchen as in her room, and just as little in the garden as in the +kitchen. + +The reader may imagine the anger of the jailer when, after having made +inquiries about the neighbourhood, he heard that his daughter had hired +a horse, and, like an adventuress, set out on a journey without saying +where she was going. + +Gryphus again went up in his fury to Van Baerle, abused him, threatened +him, knocked all the miserable furniture of his cell about, and promised +him all sorts of misery, even starvation and flogging. + +Cornelius, without even hearing what his jailer said, allowed himself to +be ill-treated, abused, and threatened, remaining all the while sullen, +immovable, dead to every emotion and fear. + +After having sought for Rosa in every direction, Gryphus looked out for +Jacob, and, as he could not find him either, he began to suspect from +that moment that Jacob had run away with her. + +The damsel, meanwhile, after having stopped for two hours at Rotterdam, +had started again on her journey. On that evening she slept at Delft, +and on the following morning she reached Haarlem, four hours after +Boxtel had arrived there. + +Rosa, first of all, caused herself to be led before Mynheer van Systens, +the President of the Horticultural Society of Haarlem. + +She found that worthy gentleman in a situation which, to do justice to +our story, we must not pass over in our description. + +The President was drawing up a report to the committee of the society. + +This report was written on large-sized paper, in the finest handwriting +of the President. + +Rosa was announced simply as Rosa Gryphus; but as her name, well as it +might sound, was unknown to the President, she was refused admittance. + +Rosa, however, was by no means abashed, having vowed in her heart, +in pursuing her cause, not to allow herself to be put down either by +refusal, or abuse, or even brutality. + +“Announce to the President,” she said to the servant, “that I want to +speak to him about the black tulip.” + +These words seemed to be an “Open Sesame,” for she soon found herself +in the office of the President, Van Systens, who gallantly rose from his +chair to meet her. + +He was a spare little man, resembling the stem of a flower, his head +forming its chalice, and his two limp arms representing the double leaf +of the tulip; the resemblance was rendered complete by his waddling gait +which made him even more like that flower when it bends under a breeze. + +“Well, miss,” he said, “you are coming, I am told, about the affair of +the black tulip.” + +To the President of the Horticultural Society the Tulipa nigra was a +first-rate power, which, in its character as queen of the tulips, might +send ambassadors. + +“Yes, sir,” answered Rosa; “I come at least to speak of it.” + +“Is it doing well, then?” asked Van Systens, with a smile of tender +veneration. + +“Alas! sir, I don’t know,” said Rosa. + +“How is that? could any misfortune have happened to it?” + +“A very great one, sir; yet not to it, but to me.” + +“What?” + +“It has been stolen from me.” + +“Stolen! the black tulip?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Do you know the thief?” + +“I have my suspicions, but I must not yet accuse any one.” + +“But the matter may very easily be ascertained.” + +“How is that?” + +“As it has been stolen from you, the thief cannot be far off.” + +“Why not?” + +“Because I have seen the black tulip only two hours ago.” + +“You have seen the black tulip!” cried Rosa, rushing up to Mynheer van +Systens. + +“As I see you, miss.” + +“But where?” + +“Well, with your master, of course.” + +“With my master?” + +“Yes, are you not in the service of Master Isaac Boxtel?” + +“I?” + +“Yes, you.” + +“But for whom do you take me, sir?” + +“And for whom do you take me?” + +“I hope, sir, I take you for what you are,--that is to say, for the +honorable Mynheer van Systens, Burgomaster of Haarlem, and President of +the Horticultural Society.” + +“And what is it you told me just now?” + +“I told you, sir, that my tulip has been stolen.” + +“Then your tulip is that of Mynheer Boxtel. Well, my child, you express +yourself very badly. The tulip has been stolen, not from you, but from +Mynheer Boxtel.” + +“I repeat to you, sir, that I do not know who this Mynheer Boxtel is, +and that I have now heard his name pronounced for the first time.” + +“You do not know who Mynheer Boxtel is, and you also had a black tulip?” + +“But is there any other besides mine?” asked Rosa, trembling. + +“Yes,--that of Mynheer Boxtel.” + +“How is it?” + +“Black, of course.” + +“Without speck?” + +“Without a single speck, or even point.” + +“And you have this tulip,--you have it deposited here?” + +“No, but it will be, as it has to be exhibited before the committee +previous to the prize being awarded.” + +“Oh, sir!” cried Rosa, “this Boxtel--this Isaac Boxtel--who calls +himself the owner of the black tulip----” + +“And who is its owner?” + +“Is he not a very thin man?” + +“Bald?” + +“Yes.” + +“With sunken eyes?” + +“I think he has.” + +“Restless, stooping, and bowlegged?” + +“In truth, you draw Master Boxtel’s portrait feature by feature.” + +“And the tulip, sir? Is it not in a pot of white and blue earthenware, +with yellowish flowers in a basket on three sides?” + +“Oh, as to that I am not quite sure; I looked more at the flower than at +the pot.” + +“Oh, sir! that’s my tulip, which has been stolen from me. I came here to +reclaim it before you and from you.” + +“Oh! oh!” said Van Systens, looking at Rosa. “What! you are here +to claim the tulip of Master Boxtel? Well, I must say, you are cool +enough.” + +“Honoured sir,” a little put out by this apostrophe, “I do not say that +I am coming to claim the tulip of Master Boxtel, but to reclaim my own.” + +“Yours?” + +“Yes, the one which I have myself planted and nursed.” + +“Well, then, go and find out Master Boxtel, at the White Swan Inn, and +you can then settle matters with him; as for me, considering that the +cause seems to me as difficult to judge as that which was brought before +King Solomon, and that I do not pretend to be as wise as he was, I shall +content myself with making my report, establishing the existence of the +black tulip, and ordering the hundred thousand guilders to be paid to +its grower. Good-bye, my child.” + +“Oh, sir, sir!” said Rosa, imploringly. + +“Only, my child,” continued Van Systens, “as you are young and pretty, +and as there may be still some good in you, I’ll give you some good +advice. Be prudent in this matter, for we have a court of justice and +a prison here at Haarlem, and, moreover, we are exceedingly ticklish +as far as the honour of our tulips is concerned. Go, my child, go, +remember, Master Isaac Boxtel at the White Swan Inn.” + +And Mynheer van Systens, taking up his fine pen, resumed his report, +which had been interrupted by Rosa’s visit. + + + + +Chapter 26. A Member of the Horticultural Society + + +Rosa, beyond herself and nearly mad with joy and fear at the idea of the +black tulip being found again, started for the White Swan, followed by +the boatman, a stout lad from Frisia, who was strong enough to knock +down a dozen Boxtels single-handed. + +He had been made acquainted in the course of the journey with the state +of affairs, and was not afraid of any encounter; only he had orders, in +such a case, to spare the tulip. + +But on arriving in the great market-place Rosa at once stopped, a sudden +thought had struck her, just as Homer’s Minerva seizes Achilles by the +hair at the moment when he is about to be carried away by his anger. + +“Good Heaven!” she muttered to herself, “I have made a grievous blunder; +it may be I have ruined Cornelius, the tulip, and myself. I have given +the alarm, and perhaps awakened suspicion. I am but a woman; these men +may league themselves against me, and then I shall be lost. If I am lost +that matters nothing,--but Cornelius and the tulip!” + +She reflected for a moment. + +“If I go to that Boxtel, and do not know him; if that Boxtel is not my +Jacob, but another fancier, who has also discovered the black tulip; or +if my tulip has been stolen by some one else, or has already passed into +the hands of a third person;--if I do not recognize the man, only the +tulip, how shall I prove that it belongs to me? On the other hand, if +I recognise this Boxtel as Jacob, who knows what will come out of it? +whilst we are contesting with each other, the tulip will die.” + +In the meanwhile, a great noise was heard, like the distant roar of the +sea, at the other extremity of the market-place. People were running +about, doors opening and shutting, Rosa alone was unconscious of all +this hubbub among the multitude. + +“We must return to the President,” she muttered. + +“Well, then, let us return,” said the boatman. + +They took a small street, which led them straight to the mansion of +Mynheer van Systens, who with his best pen in his finest hand continued +to draw up his report. + +Everywhere on her way Rosa heard people speaking only of the black +tulip, and the prize of a hundred thousand guilders. The news had spread +like wildfire through the town. + +Rosa had not a little difficulty is penetrating a second time into the +office of Mynheer van Systens, who, however, was again moved by the +magic name of the black tulip. + +But when he recognised Rosa, whom in his own mind he had set down as +mad, or even worse, he grew angry, and wanted to send her away. + +Rosa, however, clasped her hands, and said with that tone of honest +truth which generally finds its way to the hearts of men,-- + +“For Heaven’s sake, sir, do not turn me away; listen to what I have to +tell you, and if it be not possible for you to do me justice, at least +you will not one day have to reproach yourself before God for having +made yourself the accomplice of a bad action.” + +Van Systens stamped his foot with impatience; it was the second time +that Rosa interrupted him in the midst of a composition which stimulated +his vanity, both as a burgomaster and as President of the Horticultural +Society. + +“But my report!” he cried,--“my report on the black tulip!” + +“Mynheer van Systens,” Rosa continued, with the firmness of innocence +and truth, “your report on the black tulip will, if you don’t hear me, +be based on crime or on falsehood. I implore you, sir, let this Master +Boxtel, whom I assert to be Master Jacob, be brought here before you and +me, and I swear that I will leave him in undisturbed possession of the +tulip if I do not recognise the flower and its holder.” + +“Well, I declare, here is a proposal,” said Van Systens. + +“What do you mean?” + +“I ask you what can be proved by your recognising them?” + +“After all,” said Rosa, in her despair, “you are an honest man, sir; how +would you feel if one day you found out that you had given the prize to +a man for something which he not only had not produced, but which he had +even stolen?” + +Rosa’s speech seemed to have brought a certain conviction into the heart +of Van Systens, and he was going to answer her in a gentler tone, when +at once a great noise was heard in the street, and loud cheers shook the +house. + +“What is this?” cried the burgomaster; “what is this? Is it possible? +have I heard aright?” + +And he rushed towards his anteroom, without any longer heeding Rosa, +whom he left in his cabinet. + +Scarcely had he reached his anteroom when he cried out aloud on seeing +his staircase invaded, up to the very landing-place, by the multitude, +which was accompanying, or rather following, a young man, simply clad in +a violet-coloured velvet, embroidered with silver; who, with a certain +aristocratic slowness, ascended the white stone steps of the house. + +In his wake followed two officers, one of the navy, and the other of the +cavalry. + +Van Systens, having found his way through the frightened domestics, +began to bow, almost to prostrate himself before his visitor, who had +been the cause of all this stir. + +“Monseigneur,” he called out, “Monseigneur! What distinguished honour is +your Highness bestowing for ever on my humble house by your visit?” + +“Dear Mynheer van Systens,” said William of Orange, with a serenity +which, with him, took the place of a smile, “I am a true Hollander, I +am fond of the water, of beer, and of flowers, sometimes even of that +cheese the flavour of which seems so grateful to the French; the flower +which I prefer to all others is, of course, the tulip. I heard at Leyden +that the city of Haarlem at last possessed the black tulip; and, after +having satisfied myself of the truth of news which seemed so incredible, +I have come to know all about it from the President of the Horticultural +Society.” + +“Oh, Monseigneur, Monseigneur!” said Van Systens, “what glory to the +society if its endeavours are pleasing to your Highness!” + +“Have you got the flower here?” said the Prince, who, very likely, +already regretted having made such a long speech. + +“I am sorry to say we have not.” + +“And where is it?” + +“With its owner.” + +“Who is he?” + +“An honest tulip-grower of Dort.” + +“His name?” + +“Boxtel.” + +“His quarters?” + +“At the White Swan; I shall send for him, and if in the meanwhile your +Highness will do me the honour of stepping into my drawing-room, he will +be sure--knowing that your Highness is here--to lose no time in bringing +his tulip.” + +“Very well, send for him.” + +“Yes, your Highness, but----” + +“What is it?” + +“Oh, nothing of any consequence, Monseigneur.” + +“Everything is of consequence, Mynheer van Systens.” + +“Well, then, Monseigneur, if it must be said, a little difficulty has +presented itself.” + +“What difficulty?” + +“This tulip has already been claimed by usurpers. It’s true that it is +worth a hundred thousand guilders.” + +“Indeed!” + +“Yes, Monseigneur, by usurpers, by forgers.” + +“This is a crime, Mynheer van Systens.” + +“So it is, your Highness.” + +“And have you any proofs of their guilt?” + +“No, Monseigneur, the guilty woman----” + +“The guilty woman, Sir?” + +“I ought to say, the woman who claims the tulip, Monseigneur, is here in +the room close by.” + +“And what do you think of her?” + +“I think, Monseigneur, that the bait of a hundred thousand guilders may +have tempted her.” + +“And so she claims the tulip?” + +“Yes Monseigneur.” + +“And what proof does she offer?” + +“I was just going to question her when your Highness came in.” + +“Question her, Mynheer van Systens, question her. I am the first +magistrate of the country; I will hear the case and administer justice.” + +“I have found my King Solomon,” said Van Systens, bowing, and showing +the way to the Prince. + +His Highness was just going to walk ahead, but, suddenly recollecting +himself he said-- + +“Go before me, and call me plain Mynheer.” + +The two then entered the cabinet. + +Rosa was still standing at the same place, leaning on the window, and +looking through the panes into the garden. + +“Ah! a Frisian girl,” said the Prince, as he observed Rosa’s gold +brocade headdress and red petticoat. + +At the noise of their footsteps she turned round, but scarcely saw the +Prince, who seated himself in the darkest corner of the apartment. + +All her attention, as may be easily imagined, was fixed on that +important person who was called Van Systens, so that she had no time to +notice the humble stranger who was following the master of the house, +and who, for aught she knew, might be somebody or nobody. + +The humble stranger took a book down from the shelf, and made Van +Systens a sign to commence the examination forthwith. + +Van Systens, likewise at the invitation of the young man in the violet +coat, sat down in his turn, and, quite happy and proud of the importance +thus cast upon him, began,-- + +“My child, you promise to tell me the truth and the entire truth +concerning this tulip?” + +“I promise.” + +“Well, then, speak before this gentleman; this gentleman is one of the +members of the Horticultural Society.” + +“What am I to tell you, sir,” said Rosa, “beside that which I have told +you already.” + +“Well, then, what is it?” + +“I repeat the question I have addressed to you before.” + +“Which?” + +“That you will order Mynheer Boxtel to come here with his tulip. If I do +not recognise it as mine I will frankly tell it; but if I do recognise +it I will reclaim it, even if I go before his Highness the Stadtholder +himself, with my proofs in my hands.” + +“You have, then, some proofs, my child?” + +“God, who knows my good right, will assist me to some.” + +Van Systens exchanged a look with the Prince, who, since the first words +of Rosa, seemed to try to remember her, as if it were not for the first +time that this sweet voice rang in his ears. + +An officer went off to fetch Boxtel, and Van Systens in the meanwhile +continued his examination. + +“And with what do you support your assertion that you are the real owner +of the black tulip?” + +“With the very simple fact of my having planted and grown it in my own +chamber.” + +“In your chamber? Where was your chamber?” + +“At Loewestein.” + +“You are from Loewestein?” + +“I am the daughter of the jailer of the fortress.” + +The Prince made a little movement, as much as to say, “Well, that’s it, +I remember now.” + +And, all the while feigning to be engaged with his book, he watched Rosa +with even more attention than he had before. + +“And you are fond of flowers?” continued Mynheer van Systens. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Then you are an experienced florist, I dare say?” + +Rosa hesitated a moment; then with a tone which came from the depth of +her heart, she said,-- + +“Gentlemen, I am speaking to men of honor.” + +There was such an expression of truth in the tone of her voice, that +Van Systens and the Prince answered simultaneously by an affirmative +movement of their heads. + +“Well, then, I am not an experienced florist; I am only a poor girl, one +of the people, who, three months ago, knew neither how to read nor how +to write. No, the black tulip has not been found by myself.” + +“But by whom else?” + +“By a poor prisoner of Loewestein.” + +“By a prisoner of Loewestein?” repeated the Prince. + +The tone of his voice startled Rosa, who was sure she had heard it +before. + +“By a prisoner of state, then,” continued the Prince, “as there are none +else there.” + +Having said this he began to read again, at least in appearance. + +“Yes,” said Rosa, with a faltering voice, “yes, by a prisoner of state.” + +Van Systens trembled as he heard such a confession made in the presence +of such a witness. + +“Continue,” said William dryly, to the President of the Horticultural +Society. + +“Ah, sir,” said Rosa, addressing the person whom she thought to be her +real judge, “I am going to incriminate myself very seriously.” + +“Certainly,” said Van Systens, “the prisoner of state ought to be kept +in close confinement at Loewestein.” + +“Alas! sir.” + +“And from what you tell me you took advantage of your position, as +daughter of the jailer, to communicate with a prisoner of state about +the cultivation of flowers.” + +“So it is, sir,” Rosa murmured in dismay; “yes, I am bound to confess, I +saw him every day.” + +“Unfortunate girl!” exclaimed Van Systens. + +The Prince, observing the fright of Rosa and the pallor of the +President, raised his head, and said, in his clear and decided tone,-- + +“This cannot signify anything to the members of the Horticultural +Society; they have to judge on the black tulip, and have no cognizance +to take of political offences. Go on, young woman, go on.” + +Van Systens, by means of an eloquent glance, offered, in the name of the +tulip, his thanks to the new member of the Horticultural Society. + +Rosa, reassured by this sort of encouragement which the stranger was +giving her, related all that had happened for the last three months, +all that she had done, and all that she had suffered. She described the +cruelty of Gryphus; the destruction of the first bulb; the grief of +the prisoner; the precautions taken to insure the success of the +second bulb; the patience of the prisoner and his anxiety during their +separation; how he was about to starve himself because he had no longer +any news of his tulip; his joy when she went to see him again; and, +lastly, their despair when they found that the tulip which had come into +flower was stolen just one hour after it had opened. + +All this was detailed with an accent of truth which, although producing +no change in the impassible mien of the Prince, did not fail to take +effect on Van Systens. + +“But,” said the Prince, “it cannot be long since you knew the prisoner.” + +Rosa opened her large eyes and looked at the stranger, who drew back +into the dark corner, as if he wished to escape her observation. + +“Why, sir?” she asked him. + +“Because it is not yet four months since the jailer Gryphus and his +daughter were removed to Loewestein.” + +“That is true, sir.” + +“Otherwise, you must have solicited the transfer of your father, in +order to be able to follow some prisoner who may have been transported +from the Hague to Loewestein.” + +“Sir,” said Rosa, blushing. + +“Finish what you have to say,” said William. + +“I confess I knew the prisoner at the Hague.” + +“Happy prisoner!” said William, smiling. + +At this moment the officer who had been sent for Boxtel returned, and +announced to the Prince that the person whom he had been to fetch was +following on his heels with his tulip. + + + + +Chapter 27. The Third Bulb + + +Boxtel’s return was scarcely announced, when he entered in person the +drawing-room of Mynheer van Systens, followed by two men, who carried in +a box their precious burden and deposited it on a table. + +The Prince, on being informed, left the cabinet, passed into the +drawing-room, admired the flower, and silently resumed his seat in the +dark corner, where he had himself placed his chair. + +Rosa, trembling, pale and terrified, expected to be invited in her turn +to see the tulip. + +She now heard the voice of Boxtel. + +“It is he!” she exclaimed. + +The Prince made her a sign to go and look through the open door into the +drawing-room. + +“It is my tulip,” cried Rosa, “I recognise it. Oh, my poor Cornelius!” + +And saying this she burst into tears. + +The Prince rose from his seat, went to the door, where he stood for some +time with the full light falling upon his figure. + +As Rosa’s eyes now rested upon him, she felt more than ever convinced +that this was not the first time she had seen the stranger. + +“Master Boxtel,” said the Prince, “come in here, if you please.” + +Boxtel eagerly approached, and, finding himself face to face with +William of Orange, started back. + +“His Highness!” he called out. + +“His Highness!” Rosa repeated in dismay. + +Hearing this exclamation on his left, Boxtel turned round, and perceived +Rosa. + +At this sight the whole frame of the thief shook as if under the +influence of a galvanic shock. + +“Ah!” muttered the Prince to himself, “he is confused.” + +But Boxtel, making a violent effort to control his feelings, was already +himself again. + +“Master Boxtel,” said William, “you seem to have discovered the secret +of growing the black tulip?” + +“Yes, your Highness,” answered Boxtel, in a voice which still betrayed +some confusion. + +It is true his agitation might have been attributable to the emotion +which the man must have felt on suddenly recognising the Prince. + +“But,” continued the Stadtholder, “here is a young damsel who also +pretends to have found it.” + +Boxtel, with a disdainful smile, shrugged his shoulders. + +William watched all his movements with evident interest and curiosity. + +“Then you don’t know this young girl?” said the Prince. + +“No, your Highness!” + +“And you, child, do you know Master Boxtel?” + +“No, I don’t know Master Boxtel, but I know Master Jacob.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“I mean to say that at Loewestein the man who here calls himself Isaac +Boxtel went by the name of Master Jacob.” + +“What do you say to that, Master Boxtel?” + +“I say that this damsel lies, your Highness.” + +“You deny, therefore, having ever been at Loewestein?” + +Boxtel hesitated; the fixed and searching glance of the proud eye of the +Prince prevented him from lying. + +“I cannot deny having been at Loewestein, your Highness, but I deny +having stolen the tulip.” + +“You have stolen it, and that from my room,” cried Rosa, with +indignation. + +“I deny it.” + +“Now listen to me. Do you deny having followed me into the garden, on +the day when I prepared the border where I was to plant it? Do you deny +having followed me into the garden when I pretended to plant it? Do you +deny that, on that evening, you rushed after my departure to the spot +where you hoped to find the bulb? Do you deny having dug in the ground +with your hands--but, thank God! in vain, as it was a stratagem to +discover your intentions. Say, do you deny all this?” + +Boxtel did not deem it fit to answer these several charges, but, turning +to the Prince, continued,-- + +“I have now for twenty years grown tulips at Dort. I have even acquired +some reputation in this art; one of my hybrids is entered in the +catalogue under the name of an illustrious personage. I have dedicated +it to the King of Portugal. The truth in the matter is as I shall now +tell your Highness. This damsel knew that I had produced the black +tulip, and, in concert with a lover of hers in the fortress of +Loewestein, she formed the plan of ruining me by appropriating to +herself the prize of a hundred thousand guilders, which, with the help +of your Highness’s justice, I hope to gain.” + +“Yah!” cried Rosa, beyond herself with anger. + +“Silence!” said the Prince. + +Then, turning to Boxtel, he said,-- + +“And who is that prisoner to whom you allude as the lover of this young +woman?” + +Rosa nearly swooned, for Cornelius was designated as a dangerous +prisoner, and recommended by the Prince to the especial surveillance of +the jailer. + +Nothing could have been more agreeable to Boxtel than this question. + +“This prisoner,” he said, “is a man whose name in itself will prove to +your Highness what trust you may place in his probity. He is a prisoner +of state, who was once condemned to death.” + +“And his name?” + +Rosa hid her face in her hands with a movement of despair. + +“His name is Cornelius van Baerle,” said Boxtel, “and he is godson of +that villain Cornelius de Witt.” + +The Prince gave a start, his generally quiet eye flashed, and a +death-like paleness spread over his impassible features. + +He went up to Rosa, and with his finger, gave her a sign to remove her +hands from her face. + +Rosa obeyed, as if under mesmeric influence, without having seen the +sign. + +“It was, then to follow this man that you came to me at Leyden to +solicit for the transfer of your father?” + +Rosa hung down her head, and, nearly choking, said,-- + +“Yes, your Highness.” + +“Go on,” said the Prince to Boxtel. + +“I have nothing more to say,” Isaac continued. “Your Highness knows all. +But there is one thing which I did not intend to say, because I did not +wish to make this girl blush for her ingratitude. I came to Loewestein +because I had business there. On this occasion I made the acquaintance +of old Gryphus, and, falling in love with his daughter, made an offer +of marriage to her; and, not being rich, I committed the imprudence of +mentioning to them my prospect of gaining a hundred thousand guilders, +in proof of which I showed to them the black tulip. Her lover having +himself made a show at Dort of cultivating tulips to hide his political +intrigues, they now plotted together for my ruin. On the eve of the day +when the flower was expected to open, the tulip was taken away by this +young woman. She carried it to her room, from which I had the good luck +to recover it at the very moment when she had the impudence to despatch +a messenger to announce to the members of the Horticultural Society +that she had produced the grand black tulip. But she did not stop there. +There is no doubt that, during the few hours which she kept the flower +in her room, she showed it to some persons whom she may now call as +witnesses. But, fortunately, your Highness has now been warned against +this impostor and her witnesses.” + +“Oh, my God, my God! what infamous falsehoods!” said Rosa, bursting +into tears, and throwing herself at the feet of the Stadtholder, who, +although thinking her guilty, felt pity for her dreadful agony. + +“You have done very wrong, my child,” he said, “and your lover shall be +punished for having thus badly advised you. For you are so young, and +have such an honest look, that I am inclined to believe the mischief to +have been his doing, and not yours.” + +“Monseigneur! Monseigneur!” cried Rosa, “Cornelius is not guilty.” + +William started. + +“Not guilty of having advised you? that’s what you want to say, is it +not?” + +“What I wish to say, your Highness, is that Cornelius is as little +guilty of the second crime imputed to him as he was of the first.” + +“Of the first? And do you know what was his first crime? Do you know +of what he was accused and convicted? Of having, as an accomplice of +Cornelius de Witt, concealed the correspondence of the Grand Pensionary +and the Marquis de Louvois.” + +“Well, sir, he was ignorant of this correspondence being deposited with +him; completely ignorant. I am as certain as of my life, that, if it +were not so, he would have told me; for how could that pure mind have +harboured a secret without revealing it to me? No, no, your Highness, I +repeat it, and even at the risk of incurring your displeasure, Cornelius +is no more guilty of the first crime than of the second; and of the +second no more than of the first. Oh, would to Heaven that you knew my +Cornelius; Monseigneur!” + +“He is a De Witt!” cried Boxtel. “His Highness knows only too much of +him, having once granted him his life.” + +“Silence!” said the Prince; “all these affairs of state, as I have +already said, are completely out of the province of the Horticultural +Society of Haarlem.” + +Then, knitting his brow, he added,-- + +“As to the tulip, make yourself easy, Master Boxtel, you shall have +justice done to you.” + +Boxtel bowed with a heart full of joy, and received the congratulations +of the President. + +“You, my child,” William of Orange continued, “you were going to commit +a crime. I will not punish you; but the real evil-doer shall pay the +penalty for both. A man of his name may be a conspirator, and even a +traitor, but he ought not to be a thief.” + +“A thief!” cried Rosa. “Cornelius a thief? Pray, your Highness, do not +say such a word, it would kill him, if he knew it. If theft there has +been, I swear to you, Sir, no one else but this man has committed it.” + +“Prove it,” Boxtel coolly remarked. + +“I shall prove it. With God’s help I shall.” + +Then, turning towards Boxtel, she asked,-- + +“The tulip is yours?” + +“It is.” + +“How many bulbs were there of it?” + +Boxtel hesitated for a moment, but after a short consideration he came +to the conclusion that she would not ask this question if there were +none besides the two bulbs of which he had known already. He therefore +answered,-- + +“Three.” + +“What has become of these bulbs?” + +“Oh! what has become of them? Well, one has failed; the second has +produced the black tulip.” + +“And the third?” + +“The third!” + +“The third,--where is it?” + +“I have it at home,” said Boxtel, quite confused. + +“At home? Where? At Loewestein, or at Dort?” + +“At Dort,” said Boxtel. + +“You lie!” cried Rosa. “Monseigneur,” she continued, whilst turning +round to the Prince, “I will tell you the true story of these three +bulbs. The first was crushed by my father in the prisoner’s cell, and +this man is quite aware of it, for he himself wanted to get hold of it, +and, being balked in his hope, he very nearly fell out with my father, +who had been the cause of his disappointment. The second bulb, planted +by me, has produced the black tulip, and the third and last”--saying +this, she drew it from her bosom--“here it is, in the very same paper in +which it was wrapped up together with the two others. When about to be +led to the scaffold, Cornelius van Baerle gave me all the three. Take +it, Monseigneur, take it.” + +And Rosa, unfolding the paper, offered the bulb to the Prince, who took +it from her hands and examined it. + +“But, Monseigneur, this young woman may have stolen the bulb, as she did +the tulip,” Boxtel said, with a faltering voice, and evidently alarmed +at the attention with which the Prince examined the bulb; and even more +at the movements of Rosa, who was reading some lines written on the +paper which remained in her hands. + +Her eyes suddenly lighted up; she read, with breathless anxiety, the +mysterious paper over and over again; and at last, uttering a cry, held +it out to the Prince and said, “Read, Monseigneur, for Heaven’s sake, +read!” + +William handed the third bulb to Van Systens, took the paper, and read. + +No sooner had he looked at it than he began to stagger; his hand +trembled, and very nearly let the paper fall to the ground; and the +expression of pain and compassion in his features was really frightful +to see. + +It was that fly-leaf, taken from the Bible, which Cornelius de Witt had +sent to Dort by Craeke, the servant of his brother John, to request +Van Baerle to burn the correspondence of the Grand Pensionary with the +Marquis de Louvois. + +This request, as the reader may remember, was couched in the following +terms:-- + +“My Dear Godson,-- + +“Burn the parcel which I have intrusted to you. Burn it without looking +at it, and without opening it, so that its contents may for ever remain +unknown to yourself. Secrets of this description are death to those +with whom they are deposited. Burn it, and you will have saved John and +Cornelius de Witt. + +“Farewell, and love me. + +“Cornelius de Witt. + +“August 20, 1672.” + +This slip of paper offered the proofs both of Van Baerle’s innocence and +of his claim to the property of the tulip. + +Rosa and the Stadtholder exchanged one look only. + +That of Rosa was meant to express, “Here, you see yourself.” + +That of the Stadtholder signified, “Be quiet, and wait.” + +The Prince wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and slowly folded up +the paper, whilst his thoughts were wandering in that labyrinth without +a goal and without a guide, which is called remorse and shame for the +past. + +Soon, however, raising his head with an effort, he said, in his usual +voice,-- + +“Go, Mr. Boxtel; justice shall be done, I promise you.” + +Then, turning to the President, he added,-- + +“You, my dear Mynheer van Systens, take charge of this young woman and +of the tulip. Good-bye.” + +All bowed, and the Prince left, among the deafening cheers of the crowd +outside. + +Boxtel returned to his inn, rather puzzled and uneasy, tormented by +misgivings about that paper which William had received from the hand of +Rosa, and which his Highness had read, folded up, and so carefully put +in his pocket. What was the meaning of all this? + +Rosa went up to the tulip, tenderly kissed its leaves and, with a heart +full of happiness and confidence in the ways of God, broke out in the +words,-- + +“Thou knowest best for what end Thou madest my good Cornelius teach me +to read.” + + + + +Chapter 28. The Hymn of the Flowers + + +Whilst the events we have described in our last chapter were taking +place, the unfortunate Van Baerle, forgotten in his cell in the fortress +of Loewestein, suffered at the hands of Gryphus all that a prisoner can +suffer when his jailer has formed the determination of playing the part +of hangman. + +Gryphus, not having received any tidings of Rosa or of Jacob, persuaded +himself that all that had happened was the devil’s work, and that Dr. +Cornelius van Baerle had been sent on earth by Satan. + +The result of it was, that, one fine morning, the third after the +disappearance of Jacob and Rosa, he went up to the cell of Cornelius in +even a greater rage than usual. + +The latter, leaning with his elbows on the window-sill and supporting +his head with his two hands, whilst his eyes wandered over the distant +hazy horizon where the windmills of Dort were turning their sails, was +breathing the fresh air, in order to be able to keep down his tears and +to fortify himself in his philosophy. + +The pigeons were still there, but hope was not there; there was no +future to look forward to. + +Alas! Rosa, being watched, was no longer able to come. Could she not +write? and if so, could she convey her letters to him? + +No, no. He had seen during the two preceding days too much fury and +malignity in the eyes of old Gryphus to expect that his vigilance would +relax, even for one moment. Moreover, had not she to suffer even worse +torments than those of seclusion and separation? Did this brutal, +blaspheming, drunken bully take revenge on his daughter, like the +ruthless fathers of the Greek drama? And when the Genièvre had heated +his brain, would it not give to his arm, which had been only too well +set by Cornelius, even double force? + +The idea that Rosa might perhaps be ill-treated nearly drove Cornelius +mad. + +He then felt his own powerlessness. He asked himself whether God was +just in inflicting so much tribulation on two innocent creatures. And +certainly in these moments he began to doubt the wisdom of Providence. +It is one of the curses of misfortune that it thus begets doubt. + +Van Baerle had proposed to write to Rosa, but where was she? + +He also would have wished to write to the Hague to be beforehand with +Gryphus, who, he had no doubt, would by denouncing him do his best to +bring new storms on his head. + +But how should he write? Gryphus had taken the paper and pencil from +him, and even if he had both, he could hardly expect Gryphus to despatch +his letter. + +Then Cornelius revolved in his mind all those stratagems resorted to by +unfortunate prisoners. + +He had thought of an attempt to escape, a thing which never entered his +head whilst he could see Rosa every day; but the more he thought of it, +the more clearly he saw the impracticability of such an attempt. He was +one of those choice spirits who abhor everything that is common, and who +often lose a good chance through not taking the way of the vulgar, that +high road of mediocrity which leads to everything. + +“How is it possible,” said Cornelius to himself, “that I should escape +from Loewestein, as Grotius has done the same thing before me? Has not +every precaution been taken since? Are not the windows barred? Are not +the doors of double and even of treble strength, and the sentinels ten +times more watchful? And have not I, besides all this, an Argus so much +the more dangerous as he has the keen eyes of hatred? Finally, is there +not one fact which takes away all my spirit, I mean Rosa’s absence? But +suppose I should waste ten years of my life in making a file to file off +my bars, or in braiding cords to let myself down from the window, or +in sticking wings on my shoulders to fly, like Dædalus? But luck is +against me now. The file would get dull, the rope would break, or my +wings would melt in the sun; I should surely kill myself, I should +be picked up maimed and crippled; I should be labelled, and put on +exhibition in the museum at the Hague between the blood-stained doublet +of William the Taciturn and the female walrus captured at Stavesen, and +the only result of my enterprise will have been to procure me a place +among the curiosities of Holland. + +“But no; and it is much better so. Some fine day Gryphus will commit +some atrocity. I am losing my patience, since I have lost the joy and +company of Rosa, and especially since I have lost my tulip. Undoubtedly, +some day or other Gryphus will attack me in a manner painful to my +self-respect, or to my love, or even threaten my personal safety. I +don’t know how it is, but since my imprisonment I feel a strange and +almost irresistible pugnacity. Well, I shall get at the throat of that +old villain, and strangle him.” + +Cornelius at these words stopped for a moment, biting his lips and +staring out before him; then, eagerly returning to an idea which seemed +to possess a strange fascination for him, he continued,-- + +“Well, and once having strangled him, why should I not take his keys +from him, why not go down the stairs as if I had done the most virtuous +action, why not go and fetch Rosa from her room, why not tell her all, +and jump from her window into the Waal? I am expert enough as a swimmer +to save both of us. Rosa,--but, oh Heaven, Gryphus is her father! +Whatever may be her affection for me, she will never approve of my +having strangled her father, brutal and malicious as he has been. + +“I shall have to enter into an argument with her; and in the midst of my +speech some wretched turnkey who has found Gryphus with the death-rattle +in his throat, or perhaps actually dead, will come along and put his +hand on my shoulder. Then I shall see the Buytenhof again, and the gleam +of that infernal sword,--which will not stop half-way a second time, but +will make acquaintance with the nape of my neck. + +“It will not do, Cornelius, my fine fellow,--it is a bad plan. But, +then, what is to become of me, and how shall I find Rosa again?” + +Such were the cogitations of Cornelius three days after the sad scene +of separation from Rosa, at the moment when we find him standing at the +window. + +And at that very moment Gryphus entered. + +He held in his hand a huge stick, his eyes glistening with spiteful +thoughts, a malignant smile played round his lips, and the whole of +his carriage, and even all his movements, betokened bad and malicious +intentions. + +Cornelius heard him enter, and guessed that it was he, but did not turn +round, as he knew well that Rosa was not coming after him. + +There is nothing more galling to angry people than the coolness of those +on whom they wish to vent their spleen. + +The expense being once incurred, one does not like to lose it; one’s +passion is roused, and one’s blood boiling, so it would be labour lost +not to have at least a nice little row. + +Gryphus, therefore, on seeing that Cornelius did not stir, tried to +attract his attention by a loud-- + +“Umph, umph!” + +Cornelius was humming between his teeth the “Hymn of Flowers,”--a sad +but very charming song,-- + + +“We are the daughters of the secret fire Of the fire which runs through +the veins of the earth; We are the daughters of Aurora and of the dew; +We are the daughters of the air; We are the daughters of the water; But +we are, above all, the daughters of heaven.” + + +This song, the placid melancholy of which was still heightened by its +calm and sweet melody, exasperated Gryphus. + +He struck his stick on the stone pavement of the cell, and called out,-- + +“Halloa! my warbling gentleman, don’t you hear me?” + +Cornelius turned round, merely saying, “Good morning,” and then began +his song again:-- + + +“Men defile us and kill us while loving us, We hang to the earth by a +thread; This thread is our root, that is to say, our life, But we raise +on high our arms towards heaven.” + + +“Ah, you accursed sorcerer! you are making game of me, I believe,” + roared Gryphus. + +Cornelius continued:-- + + +“For heaven is our home, Our true home, as from thence comes our soul, +As thither our soul returns,--Our soul, that is to say, our perfume.” + + +Gryphus went up to the prisoner and said,-- + +“But you don’t see that I have taken means to get you under, and to +force you to confess your crimes.” + +“Are you mad, my dear Master Gryphus?” asked Cornelius. + +And, as he now for the first time observed the frenzied features, the +flashing eyes, and foaming mouth of the old jailer, he said,-- + +“Bless the man, he is more than mad, he is furious.” + +Gryphus flourished his stick above his head, but Van Baerle moved not, +and remained standing with his arms akimbo. + +“It seems your intention to threaten me, Master Gryphus.” + +“Yes, indeed, I threaten you,” cried the jailer. + +“And with what?” + +“First of all, look at what I have in my hand.” + +“I think that’s a stick,” said Cornelius calmly, “but I don’t suppose +you will threaten me with that.” + +“Oh, you don’t suppose! why not?” + +“Because any jailer who strikes a prisoner is liable to two +penalties,--the first laid down in Article 9 of the regulations at +Loewestein:-- + +“‘Any jailer, inspector, or turnkey who lays hands upon any prisoner of +State will be dismissed.’” + +“Yes, who lays hands,” said Gryphus, mad with rage, “but there is not a +word about a stick in the regulation.” + +“And the second,” continued Cornelius, “which is not written in the +regulation, but which is to be found elsewhere:-- + +“‘Whosoever takes up the stick will be thrashed by the stick.’” + +Gryphus, growing more and more exasperated by the calm and sententious +tone of Cornelius, brandished his cudgel, but at the moment when he +raised it Cornelius rushed at him, snatched it from his hands, and put +it under his own arm. + +Gryphus fairly bellowed with rage. + +“Hush, hush, my good man,” said Cornelius, “don’t do anything to lose +your place.” + +“Ah, you sorcerer! I’ll pinch you worse,” roared Gryphus. + +“I wish you may.” + +“Don’t you see my hand is empty?” + +“Yes, I see it, and I am glad of it.” + +“You know that it is not generally so when I come upstairs in the +morning.” + +“It’s true, you generally bring me the worst soup, and the most +miserable rations one can imagine. But that’s not a punishment to me; I +eat only bread, and the worse the bread is to your taste, the better it +is to mine.” + +“How so?” + +“Oh, it’s a very simple thing.” + +“Well, tell it me,” said Gryphus. + +“Very willingly. I know that in giving me bad bread you think you do me +harm.” + +“Certainly; I don’t give it you to please you, you brigand.” + +“Well, then, I, who am a sorcerer, as you know, change your bad into +excellent bread, which I relish more than the best cake; and then I have +the double pleasure of eating something that gratifies my palate, and of +doing something that puts you in a rage.” + +Gryphus answered with a growl. + +“Oh! you confess, then, that you are a sorcerer.” + +“Indeed, I am one. I don’t say it before all the world, because they +might burn me for it, but as we are alone, I don’t mind telling you.” + +“Well, well, well,” answered Gryphus. “But if a sorcerer can change +black bread into white, won’t he die of hunger if he has no bread at +all?” + +“What’s that?” said Cornelius. + +“Consequently, I shall not bring you any bread at all, and we shall see +how it will be after eight days.” + +Cornelius grew pale. + +“And,” continued Gryphus, “we’ll begin this very day. As you are such a +clever sorcerer, why, you had better change the furniture of your room +into bread; as to myself, I shall pocket the eighteen sous which are +paid to me for your board.” + +“But that’s murder,” cried Cornelius, carried away by the first impulse +of the very natural terror with which this horrible mode of death +inspired him. + +“Well,” Gryphus went on, in his jeering way, “as you are a sorcerer, you +will live, notwithstanding.” + +Cornelius put on a smiling face again, and said,-- + +“Have you not seen me make the pigeons come here from Dort?” + +“Well?” said Gryphus. + +“Well, a pigeon is a very dainty morsel, and a man who eats one every +day would not starve, I think.” + +“And how about the fire?” said Gryphus. + +“Fire! but you know that I’m in league with the devil. Do you think the +devil will leave me without fire? Why, fire is his proper element.” + +“A man, however healthy his appetite may be, would not eat a pigeon +every day. Wagers have been laid to do so, and those who made them gave +them up.” + +“Well, but when I am tired of pigeons, I shall make the fish of the Waal +and of the Meuse come up to me.” + +Gryphus opened his large eyes, quite bewildered. + +“I am rather fond of fish,” continued Cornelius; “you never let me have +any. Well, I shall turn your starving me to advantage, and regale myself +with fish.” + +Gryphus nearly fainted with anger and with fright, but he soon rallied, +and said, putting his hand in his pocket,-- + +“Well, as you force me to it,” and with these words he drew forth a +clasp-knife and opened it. + +“Halloa! a knife?” said Cornelius, preparing to defend himself with his +stick. + + + + +Chapter 29. In which Van Baerle, before leaving Loewestein, settles +Accounts with Gryphus + + +The two remained silent for some minutes, Gryphus on the offensive, and +Van Baerle on the defensive. + +Then, as the situation might be prolonged to an indefinite length, +Cornelius, anxious to know something more of the causes which had so +fiercely exasperated his jailer, spoke first by putting the question,-- + +“Well, what do you want, after all?” + +“I’ll tell you what I want,” answered Gryphus; “I want you to restore to +me my daughter Rosa.” + +“Your daughter?” cried Van Baerle. + +“Yes, my daughter Rosa, whom you have taken from me by your devilish +magic. Now, will you tell me where she is?” + +And the attitude of Gryphus became more and more threatening. + +“Rosa is not at Loewestein?” cried Cornelius. + +“You know well she is not. Once more, will you restore her to me?” + +“I see,” said Cornelius, “this is a trap you are laying for me.” + +“Now, for the last time, will you tell me where my daughter is?” + +“Guess it, you rogue, if you don’t know it.” + +“Only wait, only wait,” growled Gryphus, white with rage, and with +quivering lips, as his brain began to turn. “Ah, you will not tell me +anything? Well, I’ll unlock your teeth!” + +He advanced a step towards Cornelius, and said, showing him the weapon +which he held in his hands,-- + +“Do you see this knife? Well, I have killed more than fifty black cocks +with it, and I vow I’ll kill their master, the devil, as well as them.” + +“But, you blockhead,” said Cornelius, “will you really kill me?” + +“I shall open your heart to see in it the place where you hide my +daughter.” + +Saying this, Gryphus in his frenzy rushed towards Cornelius, who had +barely time to retreat behind his table to avoid the first thrust; but +as Gryphus continued, with horrid threats, to brandish his huge knife, +and as, although out of the reach of his weapon, yet, as long as it +remained in the madman’s hand, the ruffian might fling it at him, +Cornelius lost no time, and availing himself of the stick, which he held +tight under his arm, dealt the jailer a vigorous blow on the wrist of +that hand which held the knife. + +The knife fell to the ground, and Cornelius put his foot on it. + +Then, as Gryphus seemed bent upon engaging in a struggle which the pain +in his wrist, and shame for having allowed himself to be disarmed, would +have made desperate, Cornelius took a decisive step, belaboring his +jailer with the most heroic self-possession, and selecting the exact +spot for every blow of the terrible cudgel. + +It was not long before Gryphus begged for mercy. But before begging for +mercy, he had lustily roared for help, and his cries had roused all the +functionaries of the prison. Two turnkeys, an inspector, and three or +four guards, made their appearance all at once, and found Cornelius +still using the stick, with the knife under his foot. + +At the sight of these witnesses, who could not know all the +circumstances which had provoked and might justify his offence, +Cornelius felt that he was irretrievably lost. + +In fact, appearances were sadly against him. + +In one moment Cornelius was disarmed, and Gryphus raised and supported; +and, bellowing with rage and pain, he was able to count on his back +and shoulders the bruises which were beginning to swell like the hills +dotting the slopes of a mountain ridge. + +A protocol of the violence practiced by the prisoner against his jailer +was immediately drawn up, and as it was made on the depositions of +Gryphus, it certainly could not be said to be too tame; the prisoner +being charged with neither more nor less than with an attempt to murder, +for a long time premeditated, with open rebellion. + +Whilst the charge was made out against Cornelius, Gryphus, whose +presence was no longer necessary after having made his depositions, +was taken down by his turnkeys to his lodge, groaning and covered with +bruises. + +During this time, the guards who had seized Cornelius busied themselves +in charitably informing their prisoner of the usages and customs of +Loewestein, which however he knew as well as they did. The regulations +had been read to him at the moment of his entering the prison, and +certain articles in them remained fixed in his memory. + +Among other things they told him that this regulation had been carried +out to its full extent in the case of a prisoner named Mathias, who +in 1668, that is to say, five years before, had committed a much less +violent act of rebellion than that of which Cornelius was guilty. He had +found his soup too hot, and thrown it at the head of the chief turnkey, +who in consequence of this ablution had been put to the inconvenience of +having his skin come off as he wiped his face. + +Mathias was taken within twelve hours from his cell, then led to the +jailer’s lodge, where he was registered as leaving Loewestein, then +taken to the Esplanade, from which there is a very fine prospect over +a wide expanse of country. There they fettered his hands, bandaged his +eyes, and let him say his prayers. + +Hereupon he was invited to go down on his knees, and the guards of +Loewestein, twelve in number, at a sign from a sergeant, very cleverly +lodged a musket-ball each in his body. + +In consequence of this proceeding, Mathias incontinently did then and +there die. + +Cornelius listened with the greatest attention to this delightful +recital, and then said,-- + +“Ah! ah! within twelve hours, you say?” + +“Yes, the twelfth hour had not even struck, if I remember right,” said +the guard who had told him the story. + +“Thank you,” said Cornelius. + +The guard still had the smile on his face with which he accompanied and +as it were accentuated his tale, when footsteps and a jingling of spurs +were heard ascending the stair-case. + +The guards fell back to allow an officer to pass, who entered the cell +of Cornelius at the moment when the clerk of Loewestein was still making +out his report. + +“Is this No. 11?” he asked. + +“Yes, Captain,” answered a non-commissioned officer. + +“Then this is the cell of the prisoner Cornelius van Baerle?” + +“Exactly, Captain.” + +“Where is the prisoner?” + +“Here I am, sir,” answered Cornelius, growing rather pale, +notwithstanding all his courage. + +“You are Dr. Cornelius van Baerle?” asked he, this time addressing the +prisoner himself. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Then follow me.” + +“Oh! oh!” said Cornelius, whose heart felt oppressed by the first dread +of death. “What quick work they make here in the fortress of Loewestein. +And the rascal talked to me of twelve hours!” + +“Ah! what did I tell you?” whispered the communicative guard in the ear +of the culprit. + +“A lie.” + +“How so?” + +“You promised me twelve hours.” + +“Ah, yes, but here comes to you an aide-de-camp of his Highness, even +one of his most intimate companions Van Deken. Zounds! they did not +grant such an honour to poor Mathias.” + +“Come, come!” said Cornelius, drawing a long breath. “Come, I’ll show +to these people that an honest burgher, godson of Cornelius de Witt, can +without flinching receive as many musket-balls as that Mathias.” + +Saying this, he passed proudly before the clerk, who, being interrupted +in his work, ventured to say to the officer,-- + +“But, Captain van Deken, the protocol is not yet finished.” + +“It is not worth while finishing it,” answered the officer. + +“All right,” replied the clerk, philosophically putting up his paper and +pen into a greasy and well-worn writing-case. + +“It was written,” thought poor Cornelius, “that I should not in this +world give my name either to a child to a flower, or to a book,--the +three things by which a man’s memory is perpetuated.” + +Repressing his melancholy thoughts, he followed the officer with a +resolute heart, and carrying his head erect. + +Cornelius counted the steps which led to the Esplanade, regretting that +he had not asked the guard how many there were of them, which the man, +in his official complaisance, would not have failed to tell him. + +What the poor prisoner was most afraid of during this walk, which he +considered as leading him to the end of the journey of life, was to see +Gryphus and not to see Rosa. What savage satisfaction would glisten in +the eyes of the father, and what sorrow dim those of the daughter! + +How Gryphus would glory in his punishment! Punishment? Rather savage +vengeance for an eminently righteous deed, which Cornelius had the +satisfaction of having performed as a bounden duty. + +But Rosa, poor girl! must he die without a glimpse of her, without an +opportunity to give her one last kiss, or even to say one last word of +farewell? + +And, worst of all, must he die without any intelligence of the black +tulip, and regain his consciousness in heaven with no idea in what +direction he should look to find it? + +In truth, to restrain his tears at such a crisis the poor wretch’s +heart must have been encased in more of the aes triplex--“the triple +brass”--than Horace bestows upon the sailor who first visited the +terrifying Acroceraunian shoals. + +In vain did Cornelius look to the right and to the left; he saw no sign +either of Rosa or Gryphus. + +On reaching the Esplanade, he bravely looked about for the guards +who were to be his executioners, and in reality saw a dozen soldiers +assembled. But they were not standing in line, or carrying muskets, but +talking together so gayly that Cornelius felt almost shocked. + +All at once, Gryphus, limping, staggering, and supporting himself on a +crooked stick, came forth from the jailer’s lodge; his old eyes, gray +as those of a cat, were lit up by a gleam in which all his hatred was +concentrated. He then began to pour forth such a torrent of disgusting +imprecations against Cornelius, that the latter, addressing the officer, +said,-- + +“I do not think it very becoming sir, that I should be thus insulted by +this man, especially at a moment like this.” + +“Well! hear me,” said the officer, laughing, “it is quite natural that +this worthy fellow should bear you a grudge,--you seem to have given it +him very soundly.” + +“But, sir, it was only in self-defence.” + +“Never mind,” said the Captain, shrugging his shoulders like a true +philosopher, “let him talk; what does it matter to you now?” + +The cold sweat stood on the brow of Cornelius at this answer, which he +looked upon somewhat in the light of brutal irony, especially as coming +from an officer of whom he had heard it said that he was attached to the +person of the Prince. + +The unfortunate tulip-fancier then felt that he had no more resources, +and no more friends, and resigned himself to his fate. + +“God’s will be done,” he muttered, bowing his head; then, turning +towards the officer, who seemed complacently to wait until he had +finished his meditations he asked,-- + +“Please, sir, tell me now, where am I to go?” + +The officer pointed to a carriage, drawn by four horses, which reminded +him very strongly of that which, under similar circumstances, had before +attracted his attention at Buytenhof. + +“Enter,” said the officer. + +“Ah!” muttered Cornelius to himself, “it seems they are not going to +treat me to the honours of the Esplanade.” + +He uttered these words loud enough for the chatty guard, who was at his +heels, to overhear him. + +That kind soul very likely thought it his duty to give Cornelius some +new information; for, approaching the door of the carriage, whilst the +officer, with one foot on the step, was still giving some orders, he +whispered to Van Baerle,-- + +“Condémned prisoners have sometimes been taken to their own town to be +made an example of, and have then been executed before the door of their +own house. It’s all according to circumstances.” + +Cornelius thanked him by signs, and then said to himself,-- + +“Well, here is a fellow who never misses giving consolation whenever an +opportunity presents itself. In truth, my friend, I’m very much obliged +to you. Goodbye.” + +The carriage drove away. + +“Ah! you villain, you brigand,” roared Gryphus, clinching his fists at +the victim who was escaping from his clutches, “is it not a shame that +this fellow gets off without having restored my daughter to me?” + +“If they take me to Dort,” thought Cornelius, “I shall see, in passing +my house, whether my poor borders have been much spoiled.” + + + + +Chapter 30. Wherein the Reader begins to guess the Kind of Execution +that was awaiting Van Baerle + + +The carriage rolled on during the whole day; it passed on the right of +Dort, went through Rotterdam, and reached Delft. At five o’clock in the +evening, at least twenty leagues had been travelled. + +Cornelius addressed some questions to the officer, who was at the same +time his guard and his companion; but, cautious as were his inquiries, +he had the disappointment of receiving no answer. + +Cornelius regretted that he had no longer by his side the chatty +soldier, who would talk without being questioned. + +That obliging person would undoubtedly have given him as pleasant +details and exact explanations concerning this third strange part of his +adventures as he had done concerning the first two. + +The travellers passed the night in the carriage. On the following +morning at dawn Cornelius found himself beyond Leyden, having the North +Sea on his left, and the Zuyder Zee on his right. + +Three hours after, he entered Haarlem. + +Cornelius was not aware of what had passed at Haarlem, and we shall +leave him in ignorance of it until the course of events enlightens him. + +But the reader has a right to know all about it even before our hero, +and therefore we shall not make him wait. + +We have seen that Rosa and the tulip, like two orphan sisters, had +been left by Prince William of Orange at the house of the President van +Systens. + +Rosa did not hear again from the Stadtholder until the evening of that +day on which she had seen him face to face. + +Toward evening, an officer called at Van Systen’s house. He came from +his Highness, with a request for Rosa to appear at the Town Hall. + +There, in the large Council Room into which she was ushered, she found +the Prince writing. + +He was alone, with a large Frisian greyhound at his feet, which looked +at him with a steady glance, as if the faithful animal were wishing to +do what no man could do,--read the thoughts of his master in his face. + +William continued his writing for a moment; then, raising his eyes, and +seeing Rosa standing near the door, he said, without laying down his +pen,-- + +“Come here, my child.” + +Rosa advanced a few steps towards the table. + +“Sit down,” he said. + +Rosa obeyed, for the Prince was fixing his eyes upon her, but he had +scarcely turned them again to his paper when she bashfully retired to +the door. + +The Prince finished his letter. + +During this time, the greyhound went up to Rosa, surveyed her and began +to caress her. + +“Ah, ah!” said William to his dog, “it’s easy to see that she is a +countrywoman of yours, and that you recognise her.” + +Then, turning towards Rosa, and fixing on her his scrutinising, and at +the same time impenetrable glance, he said,-- + +“Now, my child.” + +The Prince was scarcely twenty-three, and Rosa eighteen or twenty. He +might therefore perhaps better have said, My sister. + +“My child,” he said, with that strangely commanding accent which chilled +all those who approached him, “we are alone; let us speak together.” + +Rosa began to tremble, and yet there was nothing but kindness in the +expression of the Prince’s face. + +“Monseigneur,” she stammered. + +“You have a father at Loewestein?” + +“Yes, your Highness.” + +“You do not love him?” + +“I do not; at least, not as a daughter ought to do, Monseigneur.” + +“It is not right not to love one’s father, but it is right not to tell a +falsehood.” + +Rosa cast her eyes to the ground. + +“What is the reason of your not loving your father?” + +“He is wicked.” + +“In what way does he show his wickedness?” + +“He ill-treats the prisoners.” + +“All of them?” + +“All.” + +“But don’t you bear him a grudge for ill-treating some one in +particular?” + +“My father ill-treats in particular Mynheer van Baerle, who----” + +“Who is your lover?” + +Rosa started back a step. + +“Whom I love, Monseigneur,” she answered proudly. + +“Since when?” asked the Prince. + +“Since the day when I first saw him.” + +“And when was that?” + +“The day after that on which the Grand Pensionary John and his brother +Cornelius met with such an awful death.” + +The Prince compressed his lips, and knit his brow and his eyelids +dropped so as to hide his eyes for an instant. After a momentary +silence, he resumed the conversation. + +“But to what can it lead to love a man who is doomed to live and die in +prison?” + +“It will lead, if he lives and dies in prison, to my aiding him in life +and in death.” + +“And would you accept the lot of being the wife of a prisoner?” + +“As the wife of Mynheer van Baerle, I should, under any circumstances, +be the proudest and happiest woman in the world; but----” + +“But what?” + +“I dare not say, Monseigneur.” + +“There is something like hope in your tone; what do you hope?” + +She raised her moist and beautiful eyes, and looked at William with a +glance full of meaning, which was calculated to stir up in the recesses +of his heart the clemency which was slumbering there. + +“Ah, I understand you,” he said. + +Rosa, with a smile, clasped her hands. + +“You hope in me?” said the Prince. + +“Yes, Monseigneur.” + +“Umph!” + +The Prince sealed the letter which he had just written, and summoned one +of his officers, to whom he said,-- + +“Captain van Deken, carry this despatch to Loewestein; you will read +the orders which I give to the Governor, and execute them as far as they +regard you.” + +The officer bowed, and a few minutes afterwards the gallop of a horse +was heard resounding in the vaulted archway. + +“My child,” continued the Prince, “the feast of the tulip will be on +Sunday next, that is to say, the day after to-morrow. Make yourself +smart with these five hundred guilders, as I wish that day to be a great +day for you.” + +“How does your Highness wish me to be dressed?” faltered Rosa. + +“Take the costume of a Frisian bride.” said William; “it will suit you +very well indeed.” + + + + +Chapter 31. Haarlem + + +Haarlem, whither, three days ago, we conducted our gentle reader, and +whither we request him to follow us once more in the footsteps of the +prisoner, is a pleasant city, which justly prides itself on being one of +the most shady in all the Netherlands. + +While other towns boast of the magnificence of their arsenals and +dock-yards, and the splendour of their shops and markets, Haarlem’s +claims to fame rest upon her superiority to all other provincial cities +in the number and beauty of her spreading elms, graceful poplars, and, +more than all, upon her pleasant walks, shaded by the lovely arches of +magnificent oaks, lindens, and chestnuts. + +Haarlem,--just as her neighbour, Leyden, became the centre of science, +and her queen, Amsterdam, that of commerce,--Haarlem preferred to be the +agricultural, or, more strictly speaking, the horticultural metropolis. + +In fact, girt about as she was, breezy and exposed to the sun’s hot +rays, she seemed to offer to gardeners so many more guarantees of +success than other places, with their heavy sea air, and their scorching +heat. + +On this account all the serene souls who loved the earth and its fruits +had gradually gathered together at Haarlem, just as all the nervous, +uneasy spirits, whose ambition was for travel and commerce, had +settled in Rotterdam and Amsterdam, and all the politicians and selfish +worldlings at the Hague. + +We have observed that Leyden overflowed with scholars. In like manner +Haarlem was devoted to the gentle pursuits of peace,--to music and +painting, orchards and avenues, groves and parks. Haarlem went wild +about flowers, and tulips received their full share of worship. + +Haarlem offered prizes for tulip-growing; and this fact brings us in the +most natural manner to that celebration which the city intended to hold +on May 15th, 1673 in honour of the great black tulip, immaculate and +perfect, which should gain for its discoverer one hundred thousand +guilders! + +Haarlem, having placed on exhibition its favourite, having advertised +its love of flowers in general and of tulips in particular, at a period +when the souls of men were filled with war and sedition,--Haarlem, +having enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of admiring the very purest ideal +of tulips in full bloom,--Haarlem, this tiny town, full of trees and +of sunshine, of light and shade, had determined that the ceremony of +bestowing the prize should be a fete which should live for ever in the +memory of men. + +So much the more reason was there, too, in her determination, in that +Holland is the home of fetes; never did sluggish natures manifest more +eager energy of the singing and dancing sort than those of the good +republicans of the Seven Provinces when amusement was the order of the +day. + +Study the pictures of the two Teniers. + +It is certain that sluggish folk are of all men the most earnest in +tiring themselves, not when they are at work, but at play. + +Thus Haarlem was thrice given over to rejoicing, for a three-fold +celebration was to take place. + +In the first place, the black tulip had been produced; secondly, the +Prince William of Orange, as a true Hollander, had promised to be +present at the ceremony of its inauguration; and, thirdly, it was a +point of honour with the States to show to the French, at the conclusion +of such a disastrous war as that of 1672, that the flooring of the +Batavian Republic was solid enough for its people to dance on it, with +the accompaniment of the cannon of their fleets. + +The Horticultural Society of Haarlem had shown itself worthy of its fame +by giving a hundred thousand guilders for the bulb of a tulip. The town, +which did not wish to be outdone, voted a like sum, which was placed in +the hands of that notable body to solemnise the auspicious event. + +And indeed on the Sunday fixed for this ceremony there was such a stir +among the people, and such an enthusiasm among the townsfolk, that +even a Frenchman, who laughs at everything at all times, could not +have helped admiring the character of those honest Hollanders, who +were equally ready to spend their money for the construction of a +man-of-war--that is to say, for the support of national honour--as they +were to reward the growth of a new flower, destined to bloom for one +day, and to serve during that day to divert the ladies, the learned, and +the curious. + +At the head of the notables and of the Horticultural Committee shone +Mynheer van Systens, dressed in his richest habiliments. + +The worthy man had done his best to imitate his favourite flower in the +sombre and stern elegance of his garments; and we are bound to record, +to his honour, that he had perfectly succeeded in his object. + +Dark crimson velvet, dark purple silk, and jet-black cloth, with linen +of dazzling whiteness, composed the festive dress of the President, who +marched at the head of his Committee carrying an enormous nosegay, like +that which a hundred and twenty-one years later, Monsieur de Robespierre +displayed at the festival of “The Supreme Being.” + +There was, however, a little difference between the two; very different +from the French tribune, whose heart was so full of hatred and ambitious +vindictiveness, was the honest President, who carried in his bosom a +heart as innocent as the flowers which he held in his hand. + +Behind the Committee, who were as gay as a meadow, and as fragrant as +a garden in spring, marched the learned societies of the town, the +magistrates, the military, the nobles and the boors. + +The people, even among the respected republicans of the Seven Provinces, +had no place assigned to them in the procession; they merely lined the +streets. + +This is the place for the multitude, which with true philosophic spirit, +waits until the triumphal pageants have passed, to know what to say of +them, and sometimes also to know what to do. + +This time, however, there was no question either of the triumph of +Pompey or of Cæsar; neither of the defeat of Mithridates, nor of the +conquest of Gaul. The procession was as placid as the passing of a flock +of lambs, and as inoffensive as a flight of birds sweeping through the +air. + +Haarlem had no other triumphers, except its gardeners. Worshipping +flowers, Haarlem idolised the florist. + +In the centre of this pacific and fragrant cortege the black tulip +was seen, carried on a litter, which was covered with white velvet and +fringed with gold. + +The handles of the litter were supported by four men, who were from time +to time relieved by fresh relays,--even as the bearers of Mother Cybele +used to take turn and turn about at Rome in the ancient days, when she +was brought from Etruria to the Eternal City, amid the blare of trumpets +and the worship of a whole nation. + +This public exhibition of the tulip was an act of adoration rendered +by an entire nation, unlettered and unrefined, to the refinement and +culture of its illustrious and devout leaders, whose blood had stained +the foul pavement of the Buytenhof, reserving the right at a future day +to inscribe the names of its victims upon the highest stone of the Dutch +Pantheon. + +It was arranged that the Prince Stadtholder himself should give the +prize of a hundred thousand guilders, which interested the people at +large, and it was thought that perhaps he would make a speech which +interested more particularly his friends and enemies. + +For in the most insignificant words of men of political importance their +friends and their opponents always endeavour to detect, and hence think +they can interpret, something of their true thoughts. + +As if your true politician’s hat were not a bushel under which he always +hides his light! + +At length the great and long-expected day--May 15, 1673--arrived; and +all Haarlem, swelled by her neighbours, was gathered in the beautiful +tree-lined streets, determined on this occasion not to waste its +applause upon military heroes, or those who had won notable victories +in the field of science, but to reserve their applause for those who had +overcome Nature, and had forced the inexhaustible mother to be delivered +of what had theretofore been regarded as impossible,--a completely black +tulip. + +Nothing however, is more fickle than such a resolution of the people. +When a crowd is once in the humour to cheer, it is just the same as when +it begins to hiss. It never knows when to stop. + +It therefore, in the first place, cheered Van Systens and his nosegay, +then the corporation, then followed a cheer for the people; and, at +last, and for once with great justice, there was one for the excellent +music with which the gentlemen of the town councils generously treated +the assemblage at every halt. + +Every eye was looking eagerly for the heroine of the festival,--that is +to say, the black tulip,--and for its hero in the person of the one who +had grown it. + +In case this hero should make his appearance after the address we have +seen worthy Van Systens at work on so conscientiously, he would not fail +to make as much of a sensation as the Stadtholder himself. + +But the interest of the day’s proceedings for us is centred neither in +the learned discourse of our friend Van Systens, however eloquent it +might be, nor in the young dandies, resplendent in their Sunday clothes, +and munching their heavy cakes; nor in the poor young peasants, gnawing +smoked eels as if they were sticks of vanilla sweetmeat; neither is our +interest in the lovely Dutch girls, with red cheeks and ivory bosoms; +nor in the fat, round mynheers, who had never left their homes before; +nor in the sallow, thin travellers from Ceylon or Java; nor in the +thirsty crowds, who quenched their thirst with pickled cucumbers;--no, +so far as we are concerned, the real interest of the situation, the +fascinating, dramatic interest, is not to be found here. + +Our interest is in a smiling, sparkling face to be seen amid the members +of the Horticultural Committee; in the person with a flower in his belt, +combed and brushed, and all clad in scarlet,--a colour which makes his +black hair and yellow skin stand out in violent contrast. + +This hero, radiant with rapturous joy, who had the distinguished honour +of making the people forget the speech of Van Systens, and even the +presence of the Stadtholder, was Isaac Boxtel, who saw, carried on his +right before him, the black tulip, his pretended daughter; and on his +left, in a large purse, the hundred thousand guilders in glittering gold +pieces, towards which he was constantly squinting, fearful of losing +sight of them for one moment. + +Now and then Boxtel quickened his step to rub elbows for a moment with +Van Systens. He borrowed a little importance from everybody to make a +kind of false importance for himself, as he had stolen Rosa’s tulip to +effect his own glory, and thereby make his fortune. + +Another quarter of an hour and the Prince will arrive and the procession +will halt for the last time; after the tulip is placed on its throne, +the Prince, yielding precedence to this rival for the popular adoration, +will take a magnificently emblazoned parchment, on which is written the +name of the grower; and his Highness, in a loud and audible tone, will +proclaim him to be the discoverer of a wonder; that Holland, by the +instrumentality of him, Boxtel, has forced Nature to produce a black +flower, which shall henceforth be called Tulipa nigra Boxtellea. + +From time to time, however, Boxtel withdrew his eyes for a moment from +the tulip and the purse, timidly looking among the crowd, for more than +anything he dreaded to descry there the pale face of the pretty Frisian +girl. + +She would have been a spectre spoiling the joy of the festival for him, +just as Banquo’s ghost did that of Macbeth. + +And yet, if the truth must be told, this wretch, who had stolen what was +the boast of man, and the dowry of a woman, did not consider himself as +a thief. He had so intently watched this tulip, followed it so +eagerly from the drawer in Cornelius’s dry-room to the scaffold of the +Buytenhof, and from the scaffold to the fortress of Loewestein; he had +seen it bud and grow in Rosa’s window, and so often warmed the air round +it with his breath, that he felt as if no one had a better right to call +himself its producer than he had; and any one who would now take the +black tulip from him would have appeared to him as a thief. + +Yet he did not perceive Rosa; his joy therefore was not spoiled. + +In the centre of a circle of magnificent trees, which were decorated +with garlands and inscriptions, the procession halted, amidst the sounds +of lively music, and the young damsels of Haarlem made their appearance +to escort the tulip to the raised seat which it was to occupy on +the platform, by the side of the gilded chair of his Highness the +Stadtholder. + +And the proud tulip, raised on its pedestal, soon overlooked the +assembled crowd of people, who clapped their hands, and made the old +town of Haarlem re-echo with their tremendous cheers. + + + + +Chapter 32. A Last Request + + +At this solemn moment, and whilst the cheers still resounded, a carriage +was driving along the road on the outskirts of the green on which the +scene occurred; it pursued its way slowly, on account of the flocks +of children who were pushed out of the avenue by the crowd of men and +women. + +This carriage, covered with dust, and creaking on its axles, the result +of a long journey, enclosed the unfortunate Van Baerle, who was just +beginning to get a glimpse through the open window of the scene which we +have tried--with poor success, no doubt--to present to the eyes of the +reader. + +The crowd and the noise and the display of artificial and natural +magnificence were as dazzling to the prisoner as a ray of light flashing +suddenly into his dungeon. + +Notwithstanding the little readiness which his companion had shown in +answering his questions concerning his fate, he ventured once more to +ask the meaning of all this bustle, which at first sight seemed to be +utterly disconnected with his own affairs. + +“What is all this, pray, Mynheer Lieutenant?” he asked of his conductor. + +“As you may see, sir,” replied the officer, “it is a feast.” + +“Ah, a feast,” said Cornelius, in the sad tone of indifference of a man +to whom no joy remains in this world. + +Then, after some moments, silence, during which the carriage had +proceeded a few yards, he asked once more,-- + +“The feast of the patron saint of Haarlem? as I see so many flowers.” + +“It is, indeed, a feast in which flowers play a principal part.” + +“Oh, the sweet scents! oh, the beautiful colours!” cried Cornelius. + +“Stop, that the gentleman may see,” said the officer, with that frank +kindliness which is peculiar to military men, to the soldier who was +acting as postilion. + +“Oh, thank you, Sir, for your kindness,” replied Van Baerle, in a +melancholy tone; “the joy of others pains me; please spare me this +pang.” + +“Just as you wish. Drive on! I ordered the driver to stop because +I thought it would please you, as you are said to love flowers, and +especially that the feast of which is celebrated to-day.” + +“And what flower is that?” + +“The tulip.” + +“The tulip!” cried Van Baerle, “is to-day the feast of tulips?” + +“Yes, sir; but as this spectacle displeases you, let us drive on.” + +The officer was about to give the order to proceed, but Cornelius +stopped him, a painful thought having struck him. He asked, with +faltering voice,-- + +“Is the prize given to-day, sir?” + +“Yes, the prize for the black tulip.” + +Cornelius’s cheek flushed, his whole frame trembled, and the cold sweat +stood on his brow. + +“Alas! sir,” he said, “all these good people will be as unfortunate +as myself, for they will not see the solemnity which they have come to +witness, or at least they will see it incompletely.” + +“What is it you mean to say?” + +“I mean to say,” replied Cornelius, throwing himself back in the +carriage, “that the black tulip will not be found, except by one whom I +know.” + +“In this case,” said the officer, “the person whom you know has found +it, for the thing which the whole of Haarlem is looking at at this +moment is neither more nor less than the black tulip.” + +“The black tulip!” replied Van Baerle, thrusting half his body out of +the carriage window. “Where is it? where is it?” + +“Down there on the throne,--don’t you see?” + +“I do see it.” + +“Come along, sir,” said the officer. “Now we must drive off.” + +“Oh, have pity, have mercy, sir!” said Van Baerle, “don’t take me away! +Let me look once more! Is what I see down there the black tulip? Quite +black? Is it possible? Oh, sir, have you seen it? It must have specks, +it must be imperfect, it must only be dyed black. Ah! if I were there, +I should see it at once. Let me alight, let me see it close, I beg of +you.” + +“Are you mad, Sir? How could I allow such a thing?” + +“I implore you.” + +“But you forget that you are a prisoner.” + +“It is true I am a prisoner, but I am a man of honour, and I promise you +on my word that I will not run away, I will not attempt to escape,--only +let me see the flower.” + +“But my orders, Sir, my orders.” And the officer again made the driver a +sign to proceed. + +Cornelius stopped him once more. + +“Oh, be forbearing, be generous! my whole life depends upon your pity. +Alas! perhaps it will not be much longer. You don’t know, sir, what I +suffer. You don’t know the struggle going on in my heart and mind. For +after all,” Cornelius cried in despair, “if this were my tulip, if it +were the one which has been stolen from Rosa! Oh, I must alight, sir! I +must see the flower! You may kill me afterwards if you like, but I will +see it, I must see it.” + +“Be quiet, unfortunate man, and come quickly back into the carriage, for +here is the escort of his Highness the Stadtholder, and if the Prince +observed any disturbance, or heard any noise, it would be ruin to me, as +well as to you.” + +Van Baerle, more afraid for his companion than himself, threw himself +back into the carriage, but he could only keep quiet for half a minute, +and the first twenty horsemen had scarcely passed when he again leaned +out of the carriage window, gesticulating imploringly towards the +Stadtholder at the very moment when he passed. + +William, impassible and quiet as usual, was proceeding to the green to +fulfil his duty as chairman. He held in his hand the roll of parchment, +which, on this festive day, had become his baton. + +Seeing the man gesticulate with imploring mien, and perhaps also +recognising the officer who accompanied him, his Highness ordered his +carriage to stop. + +In an instant his snorting steeds stood still, at a distance of about +six yards from the carriage in which Van Baerle was caged. + +“What is this?” the Prince asked the officer, who at the first order +of the Stadtholder had jumped out of the carriage, and was respectfully +approaching him. + +“Monseigneur,” he cried, “this is the prisoner of state whom I have +fetched from Loewestein, and whom I have brought to Haarlem according to +your Highness’s command.” + +“What does he want?” + +“He entreats for permission to stop here for minute.” + +“To see the black tulip, Monseigneur,” said Van Baerle, clasping his +hands, “and when I have seen it, when I have seen what I desire to know, +I am quite ready to die, if die I must; but in dying I shall bless your +Highness’s mercy for having allowed me to witness the glorification of +my work.” + +It was, indeed, a curious spectacle to see these two men at the windows +of their several carriages; the one surrounded by his guards, and all +powerful, the other a prisoner and miserable; the one going to mount a +throne, the other believing himself to be on his way to the scaffold. + +William, looking with his cold glance on Cornelius, listened to his +anxious and urgent request. + +Then addressing himself to the officer, he said,-- + +“Is this person the mutinous prisoner who has attempted to kill his +jailer at Loewestein?” + +Cornelius heaved a sigh and hung his head. His good-tempered honest face +turned pale and red at the same instant. These words of the all-powerful +Prince, who by some secret messenger unavailable to other mortals had +already been apprised of his crime, seemed to him to forebode not only +his doom, but also the refusal of his last request. + +He did not try to make a struggle, or to defend himself; and he +presented to the Prince the affecting spectacle of despairing innocence, +like that of a child,--a spectacle which was fully understood and felt +by the great mind and the great heart of him who observed it. + +“Allow the prisoner to alight, and let him see the black tulip; it is +well worth being seen once.” + +“Thank you, Monseigneur, thank you,” said Cornelius, nearly swooning +with joy, and staggering on the steps of his carriage; had not the +officer supported him, our poor friend would have made his thanks to his +Highness prostrate on his knees with his forehead in the dust. + +After having granted this permission, the Prince proceeded on his way +over the green amidst the most enthusiastic acclamations. + +He soon arrived at the platform, and the thunder of cannon shook the +air. + + + + +Chapter 33. Conclusion + + +Van Baerle, led by four guards, who pushed their way through the crowd, +sidled up to the black tulip, towards which his gaze was attracted with +increasing interest the nearer he approached to it. + +He saw it at last, that unique flower, which he was to see once and no +more. He saw it at the distance of six paces, and was delighted with its +perfection and gracefulness; he saw it surrounded by young and beautiful +girls, who formed, as it were, a guard of honour for this queen of +excellence and purity. And yet, the more he ascertained with his own +eyes the perfection of the flower, the more wretched and miserable he +felt. He looked all around for some one to whom he might address +only one question, but his eyes everywhere met strange faces, and the +attention of all was directed towards the chair of state, on which the +Stadtholder had seated himself. + +William rose, casting a tranquil glance over the enthusiastic crowd, +and his keen eyes rested by turns on the three extremities of a triangle +formed opposite to him by three persons of very different interests and +feelings. + +At one of the angles, Boxtel, trembling with impatience, and quite +absorbed in watching the Prince, the guilders, the black tulip, and the +crowd. + +At the other, Cornelius, panting for breath, silent, and his attention, +his eyes, his life, his heart, his love, quite concentrated on the black +tulip. + +And thirdly, standing on a raised step among the maidens of Haarlem, +a beautiful Frisian girl, dressed in fine scarlet woollen cloth, +embroidered with silver, and covered with a lace veil, which fell in +rich folds from her head-dress of gold brocade; in one word, Rosa, +who, faint and with swimming eyes, was leaning on the arm of one of the +officers of William. + +The Prince then slowly unfolded the parchment, and said, with a calm +clear voice, which, although low, made itself perfectly heard amidst +the respectful silence, which all at once arrested the breath of fifty +thousand spectators:-- + +“You know what has brought us here? + +“A prize of one hundred thousand guilders has been promised to whosoever +should grow the black tulip. + +“The black tulip has been grown; here it is before your eyes, coming +up to all the conditions required by the programme of the Horticultural +Society of Haarlem. + +“The history of its production, and the name of its grower, will be +inscribed in the book of honour of the city. + +“Let the person approach to whom the black tulip belongs.” + +In pronouncing these words, the Prince, to judge of the effect they +produced, surveyed with his eagle eye the three extremities of the +triangle. + +He saw Boxtel rushing forward. He saw Cornelius make an involuntary +movement; and lastly he saw the officer who was taking care of Rosa +lead, or rather push her forward towards him. + +At the sight of Rosa, a double cry arose on the right and left of the +Prince. + +Boxtel, thunderstruck, and Cornelius, in joyful amazement, both +exclaimed,-- + +“Rosa! Rosa!” + +“This tulip is yours, is it not, my child?” said the Prince. + +“Yes, Monseigneur,” stammered Rosa, whose striking beauty excited a +general murmur of applause. + +“Oh!” muttered Cornelius, “she has then belied me, when she said this +flower was stolen from her. Oh! that’s why she left Loewestein. Alas! +am I then forgotten, betrayed by her whom I thought my best friend on +earth?” + +“Oh!” sighed Boxtel, “I am lost.” + +“This tulip,” continued the Prince, “will therefore bear the name of its +producer, and figure in the catalogue under the title, Tulipa nigra Rosa +Barlœnsis, because of the name Van Baerle, which will henceforth be the +name of this damsel.” + +And at the same time William took Rosa’s hand, and placed it in that of +a young man, who rushed forth, pale and beyond himself with joy, to the +foot of the throne saluting alternately the Prince and his bride; and +who with a grateful look to heaven, returned his thanks to the Giver of +all this happiness. + +At the same moment there fell at the feet of the President van Systens +another man, struck down by a very different emotion. + +Boxtel, crushed by the failure of his hopes, lay senseless on the +ground. + +When they raised him, and examined his pulse and his heart, he was quite +dead. + +This incident did not much disturb the festival, as neither the Prince +nor the President seemed to mind it much. + +Cornelius started back in dismay, when in the thief, in the pretended +Jacob, he recognised his neighbour, Isaac Boxtel, whom, in the innocence +of his heart, he had not for one instant suspected of such a wicked +action. + +Then, to the sound of trumpets, the procession marched back without any +change in its order, except that Boxtel was now dead, and that Cornelius +and Rosa were walking triumphantly side by side and hand in hand. + +On their arriving at the Hôtel de Ville, the Prince, pointing with +his finger to the purse with the hundred thousand guilders, said to +Cornelius,-- + +“It is difficult to say by whom this money is gained, by you or by Rosa; +for if you have found the black tulip, she has nursed it and brought it +into flower. It would therefore be unjust to consider it as her dowry; +it is the gift of the town of Haarlem to the tulip.” + +Cornelius wondered what the Prince was driving at. The latter +continued,-- + +“I give to Rosa the sum of a hundred thousand guilders, which she has +fairly earned, and which she can offer to you. They are the reward of +her love, her courage, and her honesty. As to you, Sir--thanks to Rosa +again, who has furnished the proofs of your innocence----” + +And, saying these words, the Prince handed to Cornelius that fly-leaf of +the Bible on which was written the letter of Cornelius de Witt, and in +which the third bulb had been wrapped,-- + +“As to you, it has come to light that you were imprisoned for a crime +which you had not committed. This means, that you are not only free, +but that your property will be restored to you; as the property of an +innocent man cannot be confiscated. Cornelius van Baerle, you are the +godson of Cornelius de Witt and the friend of his brother John. Remain +worthy of the name you have received from one of them, and of the +friendship you have enjoyed with the other. The two De Witts, wrongly +judged and wrongly punished in a moment of popular error, were two great +citizens, of whom Holland is now proud.” + +The Prince, after these last words, which contrary to his custom, he +pronounced with a voice full of emotion, gave his hands to the lovers to +kiss, whilst they were kneeling before him. + +Then heaving a sigh, he said,-- + +“Alas! you are very happy, who, dreaming only of what perhaps is the +true glory of Holland, and forms especially her true happiness, do not +attempt to acquire for her anything beyond new colours of tulips.” + +And, casting a glance towards that point of the compass where France +lay, as if he saw new clouds gathering there, he entered his carriage +and drove off. + + ***** + +Cornelius started on the same day for Dort with Rosa, who sent her +lover’s old housekeeper as a messenger to her father, to apprise him of +all that had taken place. + +Those who, thanks to our description, have learned the character of old +Gryphus, will comprehend that it was hard for him to become reconciled +to his son-in-law. He had not yet forgotten the blows which he had +received in that famous encounter. To judge from the weals which he +counted, their number, he said, amounted to forty-one; but at last, in +order, as he declared, not to be less generous than his Highness the +Stadtholder, he consented to make his peace. + +Appointed to watch over the tulips, the old man made the rudest keeper +of flowers in the whole of the Seven Provinces. + +It was indeed a sight to see him watching the obnoxious moths and +butterflies, killing slugs, and driving away the hungry bees. + +As he had heard Boxtel’s story, and was furious at having been the +dupe of the pretended Jacob, he destroyed the sycamore behind which +the envious Isaac had spied into the garden; for the plot of ground +belonging to him had been bought by Cornelius, and taken into his own +garden. + +Rosa, growing not only in beauty, but in wisdom also, after two years +of her married life, could read and write so well that she was able to +undertake by herself the education of two beautiful children which she +had borne in 1674 and 1675, both in May, the month of flowers. + +As a matter of course, one was a boy, the other a girl, the former being +called Cornelius, the other Rosa. + +Van Baerle remained faithfully attached to Rosa and to his tulips. +The whole of his life was devoted to the happiness of his wife and +the culture of flowers, in the latter of which occupations he was so +successful that a great number of his varieties found a place in the +catalogue of Holland. + +The two principal ornaments of his drawing-room were those two leaves +from the Bible of Cornelius de Witt, in large golden frames; one of them +containing the letter in which his godfather enjoined him to burn the +correspondence of the Marquis de Louvois, and the other his own will, +in which he bequeathed to Rosa his bulbs under condition that she should +marry a young man of from twenty-six to twenty-eight years, who loved +her and whom she loved, a condition which was scrupulously fulfilled, +although, or rather because, Cornelius did not die. + +And to ward off any envious attempts of another Isaac Boxtel, he wrote +over his door the lines which Grotius had, on the day of his flight, +scratched on the walls of his prison:-- + +“Sometimes one has suffered so much that he has the right never to be +able to say, ‘I am too happy.’” + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 965 *** |