Chapter 14. The Pigeons of Dort
It was indeed in itself a great honour for Cornelius van Baerle to beconfined in the same prison which had once received the learned masterGrotius.
But on arriving at the prison he met with an honour even greater. Aschance would have it, the cell formerly inhabited by the illustriousBarneveldt happened to be vacant, when the clemency of the Prince ofOrange sent the tulip-fancier Van Baerle there.
The cell had a very bad character at the castle since the time whenGrotius, by means of the device of his wife, made escape from it in thatfamous book-chest which the jailers forgot to examine.
On the other hand, it seemed to Van Baerle an auspicious omen that thisvery cell was assigned to him, for according to his ideas, a jailerought never to have given to a second pigeon the cage from which thefirst 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 useof Madame Grotius, it differed in no respect from the other cells of theprison; only, perhaps, it was a little higher, and had a splendid viewfrom the grated window.
Cornelius felt himself perfectly indifferent as to the place where hehad to lead an existence which was little more than vegetation. Therewere only two things now for which he cared, and the possession of whichwas a happiness enjoyed only in imagination.
A flower, and a woman; both of them, as he conceived, lost to him forever.
Fortunately the good doctor was mistaken. In his prison cell the mostadventurous life which ever fell to the lot of any tulip-fancier wasreserved for him.
One morning, whilst at his window inhaling the fresh air which came fromthe river, and casting a longing look to the windmills of his dearold city Dort, which were looming in the distance behind a forest ofchimneys, he saw flocks of pigeons coming from that quarter to perchfluttering on the pointed gables of Loewestein.
These pigeons, Van Baerle said to himself, are coming from Dort, andconsequently may return there. By fastening a little note to the wing ofone 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 condemnedto a prison for life,--that is to say, to something like twenty-two ortwenty-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 theresources of his kitchen, such as it was for eight slivers (sixpenceEnglish) a day; and, after a month of unsuccessful attempts, he at lastcaught a female bird.
It cost him two more months to catch a male bird; he then shut them uptogether, and having about the beginning of the year 1673 obtained someeggs from them, he released the female, which, leaving the male behindto hatch the eggs in her stead, flew joyously to Dort, with the noteunder her wing.
She returned in the evening. She had preserved the note.
Thus it went on for fifteen days, at first to the disappointment, andthen 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; andimplored any charitable soul who might find it to convey it to her assafely 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 littlesavings, and then on his master's pigeons.
Seeing this, the pigeons emigrated from the roof of Isaac Boxtel to thatof Cornelius van Baerle.
The nurse was a kind-hearted woman, who could not live without somethingto love. She conceived an affection for the pigeons which had thrownthemselves on her hospitality; and when Boxtel's servant reclaimed themwith culinary intentions, having eaten the first fifteen already, andnow wishing to eat the other fifteen, she offered to buy them from himfor a consideration of six stivers per head.
This being just double their value, the man was very glad to close thebargain, and the nurse found herself in undisputed possession of thepigeons of her master's envious neighbour.
In the course of their wanderings, these pigeons with others visitedthe Hague, Loewestein, and Rotterdam, seeking variety, doubtless, in theflavour of their wheat or hempseed.
Chance, or rather God, for we can see the hand of God in everything, hadwilled that Cornelius van Baerle should happen to hit upon one of thesevery pigeons.
Therefore, if the envious wretch had not left Dort to follow hisrival to the Hague in the first place, and then to Gorcum or toLoewestein,--for the two places are separated only by the confluence ofthe Waal and the Meuse,--Van Baerle's letter would have fallen into hishands and not the nurse's: in which event the poor prisoner, likethe raven of the Roman cobbler, would have thrown away his time, histrouble, and, instead of having to relate the series of exciting eventswhich are about to flow from beneath our pen like the varied hues of amany coloured tapestry, we should have naught to describe but a wearywaste 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 thestaircase 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, orso 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 herempty wing; and, knowing Rosa, he expected, if the note had ever reachedher, 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 hisheart at the Hague.
The question now was, whether Rosa, who had made the journey from theHague to Loewestein, and who--Cornelius did not understand how--hadsucceeded even in penetrating into the prison, would also be fortunateenough in penetrating to the prisoner himself.
Whilst Cornelius, debating this point within himself, was building allsorts of castles in the air, and was struggling between hope and fear,the shutter of the grating in the door opened, and Rosa, beaming withjoy, and beautiful in her pretty national costume--but still morebeautiful from the grief which for the last five months had blanched hercheeks--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 cryof 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, receivingthe 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 Stadtholderhas a country-house, one league distant from Leyden, properly speaking akind of large dairy, and my aunt, who was his nurse, has the managementof it. As soon as I received your letter, which, alas! I could not readmyself, 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 hecame, I asked him as a favour to allow my father to exchange his post atthe 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 wouldhave refused my request, but as it is he granted it."
"A
nd 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, MynheerCornelius."
Cornelius tenderly stretched out his hands towards her, but they wereonly able to touch each other with the tips of their fingers through thewire 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.