Chapter 11. Cornelius van Baerle's Will
Rosa had not been mistaken; the judges came on the following day to theBuytenhof, and proceeded with the trial of Cornelius van Baerle. Theexamination, however, did not last long, it having appeared on evidencethat Cornelius had kept at his house that fatal correspondence of thebrothers De Witt with France.
He did not deny it.
The only point about which there seemed any difficulty was whether thiscorrespondence had been intrusted to him by his godfather, Cornelius deWitt.
But as, since the death of those two martyrs, Van Baerle had no longerany reason for withholding the truth, he not only did not deny that theparcel had been delivered to him by Cornelius de Witt himself, but healso 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 Wittand Cornelius van Baerle.
The honest doctor did not confine himself to this avowal, but told thewhole truth with regard to his own tastes, habits, and daily life. Hedescribed his indifference to politics, his love of study, of the finearts, of science, and of flowers. He explained that, since the day whenCornelius de Witt handed to him the parcel at Dort, he himself had nevertouched, nor even noticed it.
To this it was objected, that in this respect he could not possibly bespeaking the truth, since the papers had been deposited in a press inwhich both his hands and his eyes must have been engaged every day.
Cornelius answered that it was indeed so; that, however, he never puthis 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 tosprout.
To this again it was objected, that his pretended indifferencerespecting this deposit was not to be reasonably entertained, as hecould not have received such papers from the hand of his godfatherwithout being made acquainted with their important character.
He replied that his godfather Cornelius loved him too well, and, aboveall, that he was too considerate a man to have communicated to himanything of the contents of the parcel, well knowing that such aconfidence would only have caused anxiety to him who received it.
To this it was objected that, if De Witt had wished to act in sucha way, he would have added to the parcel, in case of accidents, acertificate setting forth that his godson was an entire stranger to thenature of this correspondence, or at least he would during histrial have written a letter to him, which might be produced as hisjustification.
Cornelius replied that undoubtedly his godfather could not have thoughtthat there was any risk for the safety of his deposit, hidden as itwas in a press which was looked upon as sacred as the tabernacle by thewhole household of Van Baerle; and that consequently he had consideredthe certificate as useless. As to a letter, he certainly had someremembrance that some moments previous to his arrest, whilst he wasabsorbed in the contemplation of one of the rarest of his bulbs, John deWitt's servant entered his dry-room, and handed to him a paper, but thewhole 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 weremade.
As far as Craeke was concerned, it was impossible to find him, as he hadleft Holland.
The paper also was not very likely to be found, and no one gave himselfthe trouble to look for it.
Cornelius himself did not much press this point, since, even supposingthat the paper should turn up, it could not have any direct connectionwith the correspondence which constituted the crime.
The judges wished to make it appear as though they wanted to urgeCornelius to make a better defence; they displayed that benevolentpatience which is generally a sign of the magistrate's being interestedfor the prisoner, or of a man's having so completely got the better ofhis adversary that he needs no longer any oppressive means to ruin him.
Cornelius did not accept of this hypocritical protection, and in a lastanswer, which he set forth with the noble bearing of a martyr and thecalm serenity of a righteous man, he said,--
"You ask me things, gentlemen, to which I can answer only the exacttruth. Hear it. The parcel was put into my hands in the way I havedescribed; I vow before God that I was, and am still, ignorant of itscontents, and that it was not until my arrest that I learned that thisdeposit was the correspondence of the Grand Pensionary with the Marquisde Louvois. And lastly, I vow and protest that I do not understand howany one should have known that this parcel was in my house; and,above all, how I can be deemed criminal for having received what myillustrious and unfortunate godfather brought to my house."
This was Van Baerle's whole defence; after which the judges began todeliberate 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 putdown.
One of them, who bore the character of a profound observer, laid downas his opinion that this young man, so phlegmatic in appearance, mustin reality be very dangerous, as under this icy exterior he was sure toconceal an ardent desire to avenge his friends, the De Witts.
Another observed that the love of tulips agreed perfectly well with thatof politics, and that it was proved in history that many very dangerousmen were engaged in gardening, just as if it had been their profession,whilst really they occupied themselves with perfectly differentconcerns; witness Tarquin the Elder, who grew poppies at Gabii, and theGreat Conde, who watered his carnations at the dungeon of Vincennes atthe very moment when the former meditated his return to Rome, and thelatter his escape from prison.
The judge summed up with the following dilemma:--
"Either Cornelius van Baerle is a great lover of tulips, or a greatlover of politics; in either case, he has told us a falsehood; first,because his having occupied himself with politics is proved by theletters which were found at his house; and secondly, because his havingoccupied himself with tulips is proved by the bulbs which leave no doubtof the fact. And herein lies the enormity of the case. As Corneliusvan Baerle was concerned in the growing of tulips and in the pursuit ofpolitics at one and the same time, the prisoner is of hybrid character,of an amphibious organisation, working with equal ardour at politics andat tulips, which proves him to belong to the class of men most dangerousto public tranquillity, and shows a certain, or rather a complete,analogy between his character and that of those master minds of whichTarquin the Elder and the Great Conde have been felicitously quoted asexamples."
The upshot of all these reasonings was, that his Highness the PrinceStadtholder of Holland would feel infinitely obliged to the magistracyof the Hague if they simplified for him the government of the SevenProvinces by destroying even the least germ of conspiracy against hisauthority.
This argument capped all the others, and, in order so much the moreeffectually to destroy the germ of conspiracy, sentence of death wasunanimously pronounced against Cornelius van Baerle, as beingarraigned, and convicted, for having, under the innocent appearance ofa tulip-fancier, participated in the detestable intrigues and abominableplots of the brothers De Witt against Dutch nationality and in theirsecret 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 theBuytenhof to the scaffold in the yard of the same name, where the publicexecutioner would cut off his head."
As this deliberation was a most serious affair, it lasted a fullhalf-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 fractureof his arm. His keys passed into the hands of one of his assistants.Behind this turnkey, who introduced the Recorder, Rosa, the fair Frisianmaid, had slipped into the recess of the door, with a handkerchief toher mouth to stifle her sobs.
Cornelius listened to the sentence with an expression rather of surprisethan sadnes
s.
After the sentence was read, the Recorder asked him whether he hadanything to answer.
"Indeed, I have not," he replied. "Only I confess that, among all thecauses of death against which a cautious man may guard, I should neverhave supposed this to be comprised."
On this answer, the Recorder saluted Van Baerle with all thatconsideration which such functionaries generally bestow upon greatcriminals 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 theself-possession of the condemned man.
A sob was heard behind the door, and Cornelius turned round to look fromwhom 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 abouttwenty minutes ago; I have not much time to spare."
"Indeed you have not, if you wish to make your peace with God," saidthe Recorder, bowing to the ground. "You may ask for any clergyman youplease."
Saying these words he went out backwards, and the assistant turnkey wasgoing to follow him, and to lock the door of Cornelius's cell, when awhite and trembling arm interposed between him and the heavy door.
Cornelius saw nothing but the golden brocade cap, tipped with lace, suchas the Frisian girls wore; he heard nothing but some one whispering intothe ear of the turnkey. But the latter put his heavy keys into thewhite hand which was stretched out to receive them, and, descendingsome steps, sat down on the staircase which was thus guarded aboveby himself, and below by the dog. The head-dress turned round, andCornelius beheld the face of Rosa, blanched with grief, and herbeautiful 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 maytell you that my time on earth is short."
"I come to ask a favour of you," said Rosa, extending her arms partlytowards him and partly towards heaven.
"Don't weep so, Rosa," said the prisoner, "for your tears go much moreto my heart than my approaching fate, and you know, the less guilty aprisoner 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 tellme 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 toevery one, and you are not the only one whom he has bullied."
"He is punished, my dear Rosa, more than punished, by the accident thathas befallen him, and I forgive him."
"I thank you, sir," said Rosa. "And now tell me--oh, tell me--can I doanything 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 Sybaritestill 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 wishfor a clergyman. The last thought which occupies my mind, however hasreference to the glory of the Almighty, and, indeed, my dear, I shouldask you to help me in carrying out this last thought."
"Oh, Mynheer Cornelius, speak, speak!" exclaimed Rosa, still bathed intears.
"Give me your hand, and promise me not to laugh, my dear child."
"Laugh," exclaimed Rosa, frantic with grief, "laugh at this moment! doyou not see my tears?"
"Rosa, you are no stranger to me. I have not seen much of you, but thatlittle is enough to make me appreciate your character. I have never seena woman more fair or more pure than you are, and if from this moment Itake no more notice of you, forgive me; it is only because, on leavingthis world, I do not wish to have any further regret."
Rosa felt a shudder creeping over her frame, for, whilst the prisonerpronounced these words, the belfry clock of the Buytenhof struck eleven.
Cornelius understood her. "Yes, yes, let us make haste," he said, "youare right, Rosa."
Then, taking the paper with the three suckers from his breast, where hehad 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 atime when I did not know that there was anything else to be loved. Don'tblush, Rosa, nor turn away; and even if I were making you a declarationof love, alas! poor dear, it would be of no more consequence. Down therein the yard, there is an instrument of steel, which in sixty minuteswill put an end to my boldness. Well, Rosa, I loved flowers dearly, andI have found, or at least I believe so, the secret of the great blacktulip, which it has been considered impossible to grow, and for which,as you know, or may not know, a prize of a hundred thousand guildershas been offered by the Horticultural Society of Haarlem. These hundredthousand guilders--and Heaven knows I do not regret them--these hundredthousand guilders I have here in this paper, for they are won by thethree bulbs wrapped up in it, which you may take, Rosa, as I make you apresent of them."
"Mynheer Cornelius!"
"Yes, yes, Rosa, you may take them; you are not wronging any one, mychild. I am alone in this world; my parents are dead; I never had asister or a brother. I have never had a thought of loving any one withwhat 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, asin this sad hour you alone are with me in my prison, consoling andassisting me."
"But, sir, a hundred thousand guilders!"
"Well, let us talk seriously, my dear child: those hundred thousandguilders will be a nice marriage portion, with your pretty face; youshall have them, Rosa, dear Rosa, and I ask nothing in return but yourpromise that you will marry a fine young man, whom you love, and whowill love you, as dearly as I loved my flowers. Don't interrupt me, Rosadear, 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 toDort and ask Butruysheim, my gardener, for soil from my border numbersix, fill a deep box with it, and plant in it these three bulbs. Theywill flower next May, that is to say, in seven months; and, when you seethe flower forming on the stem, be careful at night to protect themfrom the wind, and by day to screen them from the sun. They will flowerblack, I am quite sure of it. You are then to apprise the President ofthe Haarlem Society. He will cause the color of the flower to be provedbefore a committee and these hundred thousand guilders will be paid toyou."
Rosa heaved a deep sigh.
"And now," continued Cornelius,--wiping away a tear which was glisteningin his eye, and which was shed much more for that marvellous blacktulip which he was not to see than for the life which he was about tolose,--"I have no wish left, except that the tulip should be called RosaBarlaensis, that is to say, that its name should combine yours and mine;and as, of course, you do not understand Latin, and might thereforeforget this name, try to get for me pencil and paper, that I may writeit down for you."
Rosa sobbed afresh, and handed to him a book, bound in shagreen, whichbore the initials C. W.
"What is this?" asked the prisoner.
"Alas!" replied Rosa, "it is the Bible of your poor godfather, Corneliusde Witt. From it he derived strength to endure the torture, and to bearhis sentence without flinching. I found it in this cell, after the deathof the martyr, and have preserved it as a relic. To-day I brought it toyou, for it seemed to me that this book must possess in itself a divinepower. Write in it what you have to write, Mynheer Corneli
us; andthough, unfortunately, I am not able to read, I will take care that whatyou 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, andwhich he had forgotten to take away with him.
Cornelius took it, and on the second fly leaf (for it will be rememberedthat 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 RosaGryphus the only worldly goods which remain to me of all that I havepossessed in this world, the rest having been confiscated; I bequeath, Isay, 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 hundredthousand guilders has been offered by the Haarlem Society, requestingthat she may be paid the same sum in my stead, as my sole heiress, underthe only condition of her marrying a respectable young man of aboutmy age, who loves her, and whom she loves, and of her giving the blacktulip, which will constitute a new species, the name of Rosa Barlaensis,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 melancholysmile, 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'tyou?
"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 anyone; neither shall I marry."
And, after having with difficulty uttered these words, Rosa almostswooned away in the violence of her grief.
Cornelius, frightened at seeing her so pale and sinking, was goingto take her in his arms, when a heavy step, followed by other dismalsounds, was heard on the staircase, amidst the continued barking of thedog.
"They are coming to fetch you. Oh God! Oh God!" cried Rosa, wringing herhands. "And have you nothing more to tell me?"
She fell on her knees with her face buried in her hands and becamealmost senseless.
"I have only to say, that I wish you to preserve these bulbs as amost precious treasure, and carefully to treat them according to thedirections 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 youbid me, except marrying," she added, in a low voice, "for that, oh! thatis 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 causedby the Recorder, who was coming for the prisoner. He was followed bythe executioner, by the soldiers who were to form the guard round thescaffold, and by some curious hangers-on of the prison.
Cornelius, without showing any weakness, but likewise without anybravado, received them rather as friends than as persecutors, andquietly submitted to all those preparations which these men were obligedto make in performance of their duty.
Then, casting a glance into the yard through the narrow iron-barredwindow of his cell, he perceived the scaffold, and, at twenty pacesdistant 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, Corneliussought with his eyes the angelic look of Rosa, but he saw, behind theswords 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, hadpressed her hand on her velvet bodice and, forgetting everything inthe world besides, instinctively grasped the precious deposit whichCornelius had intrusted to her care.
Leaving the cell, the young man could still see in the convulsivelyclinched fingers of Rosa the yellowish leaf from that Bible on whichCornelius de Witt had with such difficulty and pain written these fewlines, which, if Van Baerle had read them, would undoubtedly have beenthe saving of a man and a tulip.