The Black Tulip | Page 3

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