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<h1> THE BLACK TULIP </h1>
<h2> By Alexandre Dumas </h2>
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<h2> Chapter 1. A Grateful People </h2>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>It was a real miracle that on that day he escaped from the doom intended
for him.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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?</p>
<p>"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?"</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Some of the agitators whispered, "He will be off, he will escape from us!"</p>
<p>Others replied, "A vessel is waiting for him at Schevening, a French
craft. Tyckelaer has seen her."</p>
<p>"Honest Tyckelaer! Hurrah for Tyckelaer!" the mob cried in chorus.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"Well, then, don't let us allow them to depart!" advised one of the
patriots who had gained the start of the others.</p>
<p>"Forward to the prison, to the prison!" echoed the crowd.</p>
<p>Amid these cries, the citizens ran along faster and faster, cocking their
muskets, brandishing their hatchets, and looking death and defiance in all
directions.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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,—</p>
<p>"Hurrah for Orange! Down with the traitors!"</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>In this moment, Count Tilly rode forth towards them single-handed, merely
lifting his sword and contracting his brow whilst he addressed them:—</p>
<p>"Well, gentlemen of the burgher guard, what are you advancing for, and
what do you wish?"</p>
<p>The burghers shook their muskets, repeating their cry,—</p>
<p>"Hurrah for Orange! Death to the traitors!"</p>
<p>"'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."</p>
<p>Then, turning round to his men, he gave the word of command,—</p>
<p>"Soldiers, ready!"</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"And do you know, sir, that we have muskets?" roared the commandant of the
burghers.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"Death to the traitors!" cried the exasperated burghers.</p>
<p>"Go along with you," growled the officer, "you always cry the same thing
over again. It is very tiresome."</p>
<p>With this, he took his post at the head of his troops, whilst the tumult
grew fiercer and fiercer about the Buytenhof.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>John de Witt, indeed, had alighted from his coach with his servant, and
quietly walked across the courtyard of the prison.</p>
<p>Mentioning his name to the turnkey, who however knew him, he said,—</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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,—</p>
<p>"Good morning, my good and fair Rosa; how is my brother?"</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"But what is it you are afraid of?"</p>
<p>"I am afraid of the harm which they are going to do to him."</p>
<p>"Oh, yes," said De Witt, "you mean to speak of the people down below,
don't you?"</p>
<p>"Do you hear them?"</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"That's unfortunately no reason, except for the contrary," muttered the
girl, as, on an imperative sign from her father, she withdrew.</p>
<p>"Indeed, child, what you say is only too true."</p>
<p>Then, in pursuing his way, he said to himself,—</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
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