11. Cornelius van Baerle's Will

by Alexandre Dumas

　　Rosa had not been mistaken; the judges came on the followingday to the Buytenhof, and proceeded with the trial ofCornelius van Baerle. The examination, however, did not lastlong, it having appeared on evidence that Cornelius had keptat his house that fatal correspondence of the brothers DeWitt with France.He did not deny it.The only point about which there seemed any difficulty waswhether this correspondence had been intrusted to him by hisgodfather, Cornelius de Witt.But as, since the death of those two martyrs, Van Baerle hadno longer any reason for withholding the truth, he not onlydid not deny that the parcel had been delivered to him byCornelius de Witt himself, but he also stated all thecircumstances under which it was done.This confession involved the godson in the crime of thegodfather; manifest complicity being considered to existbetween 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 topolitics, his love of study, of the fine arts, of science,and of flowers. He explained that, since the day whenCornelius de Witt handed to him the parcel at Dort, hehimself had never touched, nor even noticed it.To this it was objected, that in this respect he could notpossibly be speaking the truth, since the papers had beendeposited in a press in which both his hands and his eyesmust have been engaged every day.Cornelius answered that it was indeed so; that, however, henever put his hand into the press but to ascertain whetherhis bulbs were dry, and that he never looked into it but tosee if they were beginning to sprout.To this again it was objected, that his pretendedindifference respecting this deposit was not to bereasonably entertained, as he could not have received suchpapers from the hand of his godfather without being madeacquainted 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 havecommunicated to him anything of the contents of the parcel,well knowing that such a confidence would only have causedanxiety to him who received it.To this it was objected that, if De Witt had wished to actin such a way, he would have added to the parcel, in case ofaccidents, a certificate setting forth that his godson wasan entire stranger to the nature of this correspondence, orat least he would during his trial have written a letter tohim, which might be produced as his justification.Cornelius replied that undoubtedly his godfather could nothave thought that there was any risk for the safety of hisdeposit, hidden as it was in a press which was looked uponas sacred as the tabernacle by the whole household of VanBaerle; and that consequently he had considered thecertificate as useless. As to a letter, he certainly hadsome remembrance that some moments previous to his arrest,whilst he was absorbed in the contemplation of one of therarest of his bulbs, John de Witt's servant entered hisdry-room, and handed to him a paper, but the whole was tohim only like a vague dream; the servant had disappeared,and as to the paper, perhaps it might be found if a propersearch were made.As far as Craeke was concerned, it was impossible to findhim, as he had left Holland.The paper also was not very likely to be found, and no onegave himself the trouble to look for it.Cornelius himself did not much press this point, since, evensupposing that the paper should turn up, it could not haveany direct connection with the correspondence whichconstituted the crime.The judges wished to make it appear as though they wanted tourge Cornelius to make a better defence; they displayed thatbenevolent patience which is generally a sign of themagistrate's being interested for the prisoner, or of aman's having so completely got the better of his adversarythat 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 noblebearing of a martyr and the calm serenity of a righteousman, he said, --"You ask me things, gentlemen, to which I can answer onlythe exact truth. Hear it. The parcel was put into my handsin the way I have described; I vow before God that I was,and am still, ignorant of its contents, and that it was notuntil my arrest that I learned that this deposit was thecorrespondence of the Grand Pensionary with the Marquis deLouvois. And lastly, I vow and protest that I do notunderstand how any one should have known that this parcelwas in my house; and, above all, how I can be deemedcriminal for having received what my illustrious andunfortunate godfather brought to my house."This was Van Baerle's whole defence; after which the judgesbegan to deliberate on the verdict.They considered that every offshoot of civil discord ismischievous, because it revives the contest which it is theinterest 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 phlegmaticin appearance, must in reality be very dangerous, as underthis icy exterior he was sure to conceal an ardent desire toavenge his friends, the De Witts.Another observed that the love of tulips agreed perfectlywell with that of politics, and that it was proved inhistory that many very dangerous men were engaged ingardening, just as if it had been their profession, whilstreally they occupied themselves with perfectly differentconcerns; witness Tarquin the Elder, who grew poppies atGabii, and the Great Conde, who watered his carnations atthe dungeon of Vincennes at the very moment when the formermeditated his return to Rome, and the latter his escape fromprison.The judge summed up with the following dilemma: --"Either Cornelius van Baerle is a great lover of tulips, ora great lover of politics; in either case, he has told us afalsehood; first, because his having occupied himself withpolitics is proved by the letters which were found at hishouse; and secondly, because his having occupied himselfwith tulips is proved by the bulbs which leave no doubt ofthe fact. And herein lies the enormity of the case. AsCornelius van Baerle was concerned in the growing of tulipsand in the pursuit of politics at one and the same time, theprisoner is of hybrid character, of an amphibiousorganisation, working with equal ardour at politics and attulips, which proves him to belong to the class of men mostdangerous to public tranquillity, and shows a certain, orrather a complete, analogy between his character and that ofthose master minds of which Tarquin the Elder and the GreatConde have been felicitously quoted as examples."The upshot of all these reasonings was, that his Highnessthe Prince Stadtholder of Holland would feel infinitelyobliged to the magistracy of the Hague if they simplifiedfor him the government of the Seven Provinces by destroyingeven the least germ of conspiracy against his authority.This argument capped all the others, and, in order so muchthe more effectually to destroy the germ of conspiracy,sentence of death was unanimously pronounced againstCornelius van Baerle, as being arraigned, and convicted, forhaving, under the innocent appearance of a tulip-fancier,participated in the detestable intrigues and abominableplots of the brothers De Witt against Dutch nationality andin their secret relations with their French enemy.A supplementary clause was tacked to the sentence, to theeffect that "the aforesaid Cornelius van Baerle should beled from the prison of the Buytenhof to the scaffold in theyard of the same name, where the public executioner wouldcut off his head."As this deliberation was a most serious affair, it lasted afull half-hour, during which the prisoner was remanded tohis cell.There the Recorder of the States came to read the sentenceto him.Master Gryphus was detained in bed by the fever caused bythe fracture of his arm. His keys passed into the hands ofone of his assistants. Behind this turnkey, who introducedthe Recorder, Rosa, the fair Frisian maid, had slipped intothe recess of the door, with a handkerchief to her mouth tostifle her sobs.Cornelius listened to the sentence with an expression ratherof surprise than sadness.After the sentence was read, the Recorder asked him whetherhe had anything to answer."Indeed, I have not," he replied. "Only I confess that,among all the causes of death against which a cautious manmay guard, I should never have supposed this to becomprised."On this answer, the Recorder saluted Van Baerle with allthat consideration which such functionaries generally bestowupon great criminals of every sort.But whilst he was about to withdraw, Cornelius asked, "Bythe bye, Mr. Recorder, what day is the thing -- you knowwhat I mean -- to take place?""Why, to-day," answered the Recorder, a little surprised bythe self-possession of the condemned man.A sob was heard behind the door, and Cornelius turned roundto look from whom it came; but Rosa, who had foreseen thismovement, had fallen back."And," continued Cornelius, "what hour is appointed?""Twelve o'clock, sir.""Indeed," said Cornelius, "I think I heard the clock striketen about twenty minutes ago; I have not much time tospare.""Indeed you have not, if you wish to make your peace withGod," said the Recorder, bowing to the ground. "You may askfor any clergyman you please."Saying these words he went out backwards, and the assistantturnkey was going to follow him, and to lock the door ofCornelius's cell, when a white and trembling arm interposedbetween him and the heavy door.Cornelius saw nothing but the golden brocade cap, tippedwith lace, such as the Frisian girls wore; he heard nothingbut some one whispering into the ear of the turnkey. But thelatter put his heavy keys into the white hand which wasstretched out to receive them, and, descending some steps,sat down on the staircase which was thus guarded above byhimself, 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 heavingbreast."Oh, sir, sir!" she said, but sobs choked her utterance."My good girl," Cornelius replied with emotion, "what do youwish? I may tell you that my time on earth is short.""I come to ask a favour of you," said Rosa, extending herarms partly towards him and partly towards heaven."Don't weep so, Rosa," said the prisoner, "for your tears gomuch more to my heart than my approaching fate, and youknow, the less guilty a prisoner is, the more it is his dutyto die calmly, and even joyfully, as he dies a martyr. Come,there's a dear, don't cry any more, and tell me what youwant, 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, heis so to every one, and you are not the only one whom he hasbullied.""He is punished, my dear Rosa, more than punished, by theaccident that has befallen him, and I forgive him.""I thank you, sir," said Rosa. "And now tell me -- oh, tellme -- can I do anything for you?""You can dry your beautiful eyes, my dear child," answeredCornelius, 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 greatSybarite 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 inHis works, and praised Him in His decrees. I am at peacewith Him and do not wish for a clergyman. The last thoughtwhich occupies my mind, however has reference to the gloryof the Almighty, and, indeed, my dear, I should ask you tohelp me in carrying out this last thought.""Oh, Mynheer Cornelius, speak, speak!" exclaimed Rosa, stillbathed in tears."Give me your hand, and promise me not to laugh, my dearchild.""Laugh," exclaimed Rosa, frantic with grief, "laugh at thismoment! do you not see my tears?""Rosa, you are no stranger to me. I have not seen much ofyou, but that little is enough to make me appreciate yourcharacter. I have never seen a woman more fair or more purethan you are, and if from this moment I take no more noticeof you, forgive me; it is only because, on leaving thisworld, I do not wish to have any further regret."Rosa felt a shudder creeping over her frame, for, whilst theprisoner pronounced these words, the belfry clock of theBuytenhof struck eleven.Cornelius understood her. "Yes, yes, let us make haste," hesaid, "you are right, Rosa."Then, taking the paper with the three suckers from hisbreast, where he had again put it, since he had no longerany fear of being searched, he said: "My dear girl, I havebeen very fond of flowers. That was at a time when I did notknow that there was anything else to be loved. Don't blush,Rosa, nor turn away; and even if I were making you adeclaration of love, alas! poor dear, it would be of no moreconsequence. Down there in the yard, there is an instrumentof steel, which in sixty minutes will put an end to myboldness. Well, Rosa, I loved flowers dearly, and I havefound, or at least I believe so, the secret of the greatblack tulip, which it has been considered impossible togrow, and for which, as you know, or may not know, a prizeof a hundred thousand guilders has been offered by theHorticultural Society of Haarlem. These hundred thousandguilders -- and Heaven knows I do not regret them -- thesehundred thousand guilders I have here in this paper, forthey are won by the three bulbs wrapped up in it, which youmay take, Rosa, as I make you a present of them.""Mynheer Cornelius!""Yes, yes, Rosa, you may take them; you are not wronging anyone, my child. I am alone in this world; my parents aredead; I never had a sister or a brother. I have never had athought of loving any one with what is called love, and ifany one has loved me, I have not known it. However, you seewell, Rosa, that I am abandoned by everybody, as in this sadhour 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 hundredthousand guilders will be a nice marriage portion, with yourpretty face; you shall have them, Rosa, dear Rosa, and I asknothing in return but your promise that you will marry afine young man, whom you love, and who will love you, asdearly 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 manageit. Go to Dort and ask Butruysheim, my gardener, for soilfrom my border number six, fill a deep box with it, andplant in it these three bulbs. They will flower next May,that is to say, in seven months; and, when you see theflower forming on the stem, be careful at night to protectthem from the wind, and by day to screen them from the sun.They will flower black, I am quite sure of it. You are thento apprise the President of the Haarlem Society. He willcause the color of the flower to be proved before acommittee and these hundred thousand guilders will be paidto you."Rosa heaved a deep sigh."And now," continued Cornelius, -- wiping away a tear whichwas glistening in his eye, and which was shed much more forthat marvellous black tulip which he was not to see than forthe life which he was about to lose, -- "I have no wishleft, except that the tulip should be called RosaBarlaensis, that is to say, that its name should combineyours and mine; and as, of course, you do not understandLatin, and might therefore forget this name, try to get forme pencil and paper, that I may write it down for you."Rosa sobbed afresh, and handed to him a book, bound inshagreen, which bore the initials C. W."What is this?" asked the prisoner."Alas!" replied Rosa, "it is the Bible of your poorgodfather, Cornelius de Witt. From it he derived strength toendure the torture, and to bear his sentence withoutflinching. I found it in this cell, after the death of themartyr, and have preserved it as a relic. To-day I broughtit to you, for it seemed to me that this book must possessin itself a divine power. Write in it what you have towrite, Mynheer Cornelius; and though, unfortunately, I amnot able to read, I will take care that what you write shallbe 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 hisbrother, and which he had forgotten to take away with him.Cornelius took it, and on the second fly leaf (for it willbe remembered that the first was torn out), drawing near hisend like his godfather, he wrote with a no less firm hand:--"On this day, the 23d of August, 1672, being on the point ofrendering, although innocent, my soul to God on thescaffold, I bequeath to Rosa Gryphus the only worldly goodswhich remain to me of all that I have possessed in thisworld, the rest having been confiscated; I bequeath, I say,to Rosa Gryphus three bulbs, which I am convinced mustproduce, in the next May, the Grand Black Tulip for which aprize of a hundred thousand guilders has been offered by theHaarlem Society, requesting that she may be paid the samesum in my stead, as my sole heiress, under the onlycondition of her marrying a respectable young man of aboutmy age, who loves her, and whom she loves, and of her givingthe black tulip, which will constitute a new species, thename of Rosa Barlaensis, that is to say, hers and minecombined."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 cannotread."Cornelius then read to Rosa the testament that he had justmade.The agony of the poor girl almost overpowered her."Do you accept my conditions?" asked the prisoner, with amelancholy smile, kissing the trembling hands of theafflicted 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 cannotkeep.""Which? I should have thought that all was settled betweenus.""You give me the hundred thousand guilders as a marriageportion, don't you?"And under the condition of my marrying a man whom I love?""Certainly.""Well, then, sir, this money cannot belong to me. I shallnever love any one; neither shall I marry."And, after having with difficulty uttered these words, Rosaalmost swooned away in the violence of her grief.Cornelius, frightened at seeing her so pale and sinking, wasgoing to take her in his arms, when a heavy step, followedby other dismal sounds, was heard on the staircase, amidstthe 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 andbecame almost senseless."I have only to say, that I wish you to preserve these bulbsas a most precious treasure, and carefully to treat themaccording to the directions I have given you. Do it for mysake, and now farewell, Rosa.""Yes, yes," she said, without raising her head, "I will doanything you bid me, except marrying," she added, in a lowvoice, "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 hadheard was caused by the Recorder, who was coming for theprisoner. He was followed by the executioner, by thesoldiers who were to form the guard round the scaffold, andby some curious hangers-on of the prison.Cornelius, without showing any weakness, but likewisewithout any bravado, received them rather as friends than aspersecutors, and quietly submitted to all those preparationswhich these men were obliged to make in performance of theirduty.Then, casting a glance into the yard through the narrowiron-barred window of his cell, he perceived the scaffold,and, at twenty paces distant from it, the gibbet, fromwhich, by order of the Stadtholder, the outraged remains ofthe two brothers De Witt had been taken down.When the moment came to descend in order to follow theguards, Cornelius sought with his eyes the angelic look ofRosa, but he saw, behind the swords and halberds, only aform lying outstretched near a wooden bench, and a deathlikeface half covered with long golden locks.But Rosa, whilst falling down senseless, still obeying herfriend, had pressed her hand on her velvet bodice and,forgetting everything in the world besides, instinctivelygrasped the precious deposit which Cornelius had intrustedto her care.Leaving the cell, the young man could still see in theconvulsively clinched fingers of Rosa the yellowish leaffrom that Bible on which Cornelius de Witt had with suchdifficulty and pain written these few lines, which, if VanBaerle had read them, would undoubtedly have been the savingof a man and a tulip.