girl of nine years, wonderfully like her father, and perfectly devoted
to him. She and her brother Hugo were often to be found in the room in
which he studied and wrote from morning to night, only varying his
sedentary pursuits by the spinning of a huge top that had been made for
him by friends in Gorcum, that he might not suffer too greatly from lack
of accustomed exercise.
Elsje stole softly into the room, so as not to disturb her master, and
glanced round the bare place again and again. Where could the children
be? She had looked everywhere else in their limited quarters; there was
no other room except this one that had not been searched through and
through. She would not disturb her master by a question, and continued
softly moving and looking about, till the sound of a suppressed child's
laugh, close beside her, made her almost jump; for there was nothing to
be seen, save--ah! yes; she saw it all now--there was the great empty
chest that had brought the last load of books from Gorcum. She raised
the lid, and a simultaneous shriek of laughter arose from two pairs of
rosy child-lips. There were little Cornelia and Hugo, curled up like
dormice in the chest, peeping at Elsje, with eyes brimming with
laughter.
She carried them off, laughing herself, and asking them how they managed
to breathe with the heavy lid closed fast down.
"Oh, there is a long crack just under the top of the lid, it doesn't
show from outside; but we could see light, and your shadow came right
over us, and then Hugo laughed, and you heard. We sat there a long time
this afternoon and told ghost stories. It was such fun!"
Elsje put the children to bed, and went thither shortly herself, but all
the night long she was dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. She saw the chest
with the two children inside; and then she saw it again, and instead of
two small figures there was one large one--a tall man's figure crushed
together in the chest, and when he turned his face towards her it was
the face of her master!
The girl was up and about with the dawn; and her mistress coming to help
her, she told her in whispers of the incident of the previous night and
of her dream, and the two women stood staring at each other, with white
faces and glowing eyes, as the idea slowly formulated itself and took
shape.
"It might be done! It might be done!" whispered Madame de Groot at last;
"if he could get in, it might perchance be done. Oh! if heaven should
open us such a way as that!"
That day passed like a dream to all. They waited till dark; till all the
children were sound asleep, and no one from without would trouble them
again, before they even dared to make the experiment. Grotius was a tall
man, as has been said, though he was slender in his proportions. At
another time he would have pronounced it impossible that he should so
fold himself up as to get inside that chest, and let the lid be fastened
down upon him. But when a man sees life-long captivity before him on the
one side, and the hope of escape and freedom on the other, he can
sometimes achieve the impossible. And, at last, after many efforts, the
thing was done; the lid was closed, and the man found that he could
breathe and endure the pressure even for a considerable period.
Day by day, or, rather, night by night, he made these trials till his
limbs in some sort grew accustomed to the strange constriction, and he
was able to bear the cramped posture for a more prolonged time. Madame
de Groot, upon her next journey into Gorcum, spoke jestingly with a
friend as to how her husband would be received were he to turn-up some
day, and Madame Daatselaer answered, in the same jesting spirit, that he
would have a warm and hearty welcome; for the Daatselaers were old and
tried friends, though only of the rank of merchants. They owned a large
warehouse of great repute, and their dwelling-house was at the rear of
the shop, where ribbons and other merchandise were vended to all comers.
It was through the immediate agency of these friends that the books lent
to Grotius by Professor Erpenius were consigned to him in his prison.
The Professor sent them to the Daatselaers, who dispatched the chest by
the boat which plied between Gorcum and the fortress opposite. It was
returned in the same manner to them when the books were done with, for
transmission back to the Professor. Therefore, if Grotius could conceal
himself in the chest for the journey over the water, he would be
consigned to the safe-keeping of friends, who might be trusted to do
everything in their power to facilitate his escape to Antwerp, and so to
France, where he would be safe from the malice of his enemies.
Days flew by, and the plan seemed more and more feasible, albeit fraught
with no small danger of discovery. Madame de Groot's anxiety was almost
greater than that of her husband, and perhaps it was her visible
agitation, occasionally manifesting itself in spite of her great courage
and self-control, which led the prisoner to speak as follows to Elsje,
when he and she were alone one day, his wife having gone once more to
Gorcum, prepared to drop a faint hint to Madame Daatselaer, without,
however, really arousing her suspicions of what was in the wind; for all
knew how much the success of such a scheme depended upon the maintenance
of absolute secrecy.
"My good girl, is it true what thy mistress says of thee, that this
whole plan is one of thine own making?"
"Not of my making, master, but rather as a thing revealed to me in a
dream. I seemed to see the chest, and when it was opened there was my
master within. I told the dream to my mistress, and the rest seemed to
follow of itself."
"And if the plan be carried out when next that chest is returned, who
will accompany it across the water?"
Elsje paused in thought. Sometimes she had gone with it on former
occasions, sometimes her mistress. There had been no peril in the
transit then. It had mattered nothing who went; but now things would be
quite different. She looked her master questioningly in the face. He
returned her glance.
"I have been thinking much on that point," he said; "it will be a
memorable journey for those concerned. There be moments when I misdoubt
me if my wife hath the needful firmness. It is not courage that she
lacks, nor firmness of purpose; but can she pass the many barriers, the
many posts of peril, the many prying eyes within and without, and so
command her face that her anxiety be not seen? The sorrows and anxieties
of these last years have told upon her. And if she betray too great
solicitude for this chest of books, why in a moment we may be undone!"
Elsje stood looking very thoughtful. She saw at once the danger of
self-betrayal; the danger that would be far more quickly noted in the
prisoner's wife than in his servant. Her gaze was lifted to her
master's face.
"Shall I be the one to go?" she asked.
"Wouldst thou not be afraid, my child?"
"What punishment could they give to me were the plot to be discovered?"
she asked.
"Legally none," answered Grotius, whose training in the law gave him
full knowledge on all such subjects; "but, my girl, I myself am guilty
of no crime--yet see what has befallen me. I cannot tell what might be
thy fate were this thing discovered during the perilous transit."
For a moment Elsje stood motionless, thinking deeply. Then she lifted
her head, and her eyes shone brightly.
"No matter for that," she said, "whatever comes of it I will be the one
to go. If they must punish another innocent person, let the victim be me
rather than my dear mistress!"
Grotius took her hand, and the tears stood in his eyes. Elsje rattled on
as though to hinder him from speaking the words that for the moment
stuck in his throat.
"It will be better so every way," she said, "for see--the men must come
in hither to get the chest, and so it must seem that you, master, are
sick and in bed, else would they look to see you here at work. We must
draw the curtains close; but leave your clothes visible by the bedside,
and my mistress must seem to be attending upon you. So it will be best
every way for me to go with the box; and the soldiers all know me, and
we have our quips and jests together. I will talk to them all the while,
as my mistress could scarce do without rousing suspicion, so they will
not note if the weight of the chest be something greater than usual."
"Thou art a brave girl; thou hast a great heart and a ready wit," said
the prisoner with emotion in his voice, "may God reward thee for thy
devotion to a family in distress; for we may never be able to do so."
"I want no reward," answered Elsje stoutly, "save to know that I have
helped those I love, and who once befriended me."
The next day was Sunday, and a wild March gale was raging round the
castle, lashing the waves of the river into foam. The rain dashed
against the windows as they sat with their books of devotion, as usual,
through the earlier hours of the day. Grotius had read and offered
prayer as was his wont, when suddenly little Cornelia turned her face
towards the barred window, and her eyes seemed full of a strange light.
"To-morrow, Papa must be off to Gorcum, whatever the weather may be,"
she said; and then, slipping off her chair, took the little ones away
with her for the usual midday repast.
Husband and wife looked at each other aghast. The strangeness of the
coincidence seemed to them most remarkable.
"Let us take it for a direction from heaven," said Grotius. "Out of the
mouth of babes and sucklings--the child knew nothing, yet something was
revealed to her spirit."
Later in the day Elsje came breathless with the news that the Commandant
of the fortress was just leaving it for a few days' absence. He had
received his captaincy, and was to go to Heusden to receive his company.
All things seemed pointing in one direction; and early on Monday
morning, Madame de Groot asked leave of Madame Deventer to send back the
chest of books to Gorcum.
"My husband is not well; he is wearing himself out with so much study.
If the books are sent away I can persuade him to remain in bed and take
some needful repose. I got him to pack them up last night; but if they
stay in his sight, he will assuredly remember something more he wants to
study, and nothing I can say will then persuade him to keep in bed."
Madame Deventer was a kind-hearted woman, and sorry for the prisoner's
wife. She gave ready consent to the request, and said she would send
some soldiers shortly to take the chest away.
The crucial moment had come. Grotius, dressed in the thinnest linen
under-garments--for there was not space for much clothing--took his
place in the chest. A book, padded with a cloth, served as a sort of
pillow, a few books and papers were placed in such interstices as were
left by the curves of his body; and his wife took a solemn farewell of
him before she shut down the lid and snapped the key in the lock, giving
it in deep silence to Elsje.
Outside the storm still raged and howled, but the tumult of their souls
seemed greater; yet Elsje stood with a careless smile on her face as the
soldiers entered the room, and Madame de Groot bent over the fire,
stirring something in a saucepan, and telling her husband that she would
soon have his soup ready, and she hoped he would enjoy it more than his
breakfast. The curtains of the alcove bed were drawn, and the ordinary
clothes of the prisoner lay upon a chair near it.
"My word, but it is a heavy boxful this time!" exclaimed the men, as
they laid hold of the chest.
"To be sure," cried Elsje; "what would you have? They are Arminian
books, and those are mighty solid, I can tell you. You had best have a
care how you treat them when you get to the water. Arminian books have
sunk many a good bark ere now, before it has got into harbour!"
The men laughed at the innuendo of the girl's words. It was in truth
their adherence to the Arminian side of the great Arminian and
Calvinist controversy which had shipwrecked the lives of Grotius and so
many others. Elsje chattered gaily to them as they dragged and lifted
the heavy chest down the stairs and through the thirteen ponderous
doors. She kept them laughing by her droll remarks, and the little
anecdotes she retailed for them whenever a halt was called. At last it
stood without the last of the doors, and the soldiers paused and wiped
their brows.
"Is the chest to be examined before it goes on board?"
Elsje's heart thumped against her ribs. This was the crucial moment. At
first when the box had gone in and out its contents had been carefully
examined; but as nothing save the books had ever been found there the
practice had been given up latterly. But there was never any actual
certainty.
Elsje dangled the key from her girdle, and swung it carelessly round and
round.
"It always used to be done," she said, "but methinks my lord Commandant
love not the smell of Arminian books; perchance it smacks too much of
brimstone to please him! For of late he has not troubled. But I care
not, only pray you make haste. I have marketing to do in Gorcum, and
what if all the best things are sold ere I get there, and my poor master
lying sick?"
[Illustration: "Is the chest to be examined before it goes on board?"
_Page 48._]
"Ask the will of madame," said somebody; and the messenger went and
returned, whilst Elsje stood almost sick with apprehension, though she
never ceased laughing and talking the while.
"Madame says it may pass," came the answer back, "since her lord
troubles not now, she will not delay the transit."
"Perhaps she fears lest some little Arminian imp should spring out upon
her!" quoth Elsje merrily; and away they went with their load towards
the boat.
It was indeed a rough passage that lay before them; and the girl's heart
was in her mouth many times ere she got her precious chest safe on
board, and securely lashed to keep it from slipping overboard. They
laughed at her solicitude; but she always had a ready retort; and a
young officer of the garrison, crossing at the same time, was so taken
by her rosy face and bright eyes that he sat himself down upon the chest
and drummed upon it with his feet, as he chatted with the little servant
girl.
"Why do you wave your kerchief?" he asked, as the boat began her rough
voyage across the tumbling waters.
"To tell yon children at that window that I am safe afloat. They feared
the boat might not go in such a storm. And, fair sir, be pleased to
leave kicking of that box, and come away to this better seat; for there
is some precious porcelain inside, and if it be broken, I shall get the
blame, for I packed it."
But Elsje's signal was for the straining eyes of her mistress far more
than for those of the children. All was well thus far, and the worst of
the peril was over; but--but there was still the landing on the other
side.
"Take my box first," she pleaded, as they approached the wharf.
"That lumbersome thing?--that can wait till the last," answered the
skipper, rather surlily; "'tis as heavy as if it held a man."
"I have heard tell how a criminal was once carried from prison in a
box," remarked a soldier's wife laughingly, "and, methinks, if one has
so escaped another might. Let us peep inside, maiden!"
Elsje laughed, bending to tie her shoe-string.
"What, and let the Professor's books be all scattered this way and that,
and perhaps fall into the water! He would never send my master another
chest; and, methinks, without books he would die."
"I'll get a gimlet and bore a hole in the Arminian!" laughed the
soldier, whose wife had first spoken.
"Ay do!" cried Elsje; "get a gimlet long enough to reach the top of the
castle. I will stand by and watch you as you bore!"
"Out of the way there!" cried the skipper and his son, as the boat swung
towards the wharf; and in a moment all was bustle and confusion. The
soldier helped his wife ashore, the young officer made a bow to Elsje
and sprung over the side; there was hurry and bustle, and a welcome
confusion; and the girl stood beside her precious chest, and at last, by
the promise of an exorbitant fee, got the skipper and his son to
transport the chest at once to the Daatselaers' house, on a barrow.
She walked a little ahead in her excitement; but was recalled by a surly
question from the old man.
"Do you hear that, girl--do you hear what my son says? You have got
something alive in that box!"
"Ah, to be sure, to be sure," she cried, laughing, "it is the Arminian
books; they are often like that, because they say the devil helped to
write them. Why, when I was a little girl I knew an old woman who lived
all by herself in a wood; and she had a big book, and they said the
devil had given it to her; and if she wanted a ride, she just got
astride of it and it flew with her wherever she wanted to go! That's
what my mistress says about some of these big books. There's magic in
them, and she wants to be rid of them."
The men looked awed; but superstition was rife in those days, and their
one aim now was to be rid of the uncanny load. It was wheeled, and then
lifted into the back room of the house, and Elsje paid and dismissed the
bearers with perfect calmness.
The next minute she had glided into the shop where Madame Daatselaer was
serving customers, and whispered something in her ear.
Leaving everything, but with a face as white as paper, the worthy woman
hastened after Elsje, who rapped on the lid, but got no reply; for a
moment her fortitude gave way, and she cried aloud in her anguish:
"My master!--my poor master--he is dead--stifled!"
"Ah!" cried Madame Daatselaer in bewildered dismay, "better a live
husband in a prison than a dead one at liberty; my poor friend, my poor
friend!"
But a sharp rap on the trunk from the inside reassured them.
"I am not dead," gasped Grotius, "but I was not sure of your voices.
Open and let me have some air!"
Elsje unlocked the chest, whilst her friend locked the door of the room,
and Grotius raised himself slowly as from a coffin.
"Praised be God for this deliverance!" he cried, as Elsje brought a
cloak in which to wrap him, for he was cramped and numbed by cold, and
the constraint of his posture. "God be praised for His mercy; and how
can I thank you enough, good friend, for receiving me thus into your
house!"
"If only it bring not my husband to prison in your place," cried Madame
Daatselaer, whose face was deadly pale.
"Nay, nay, sooner than that I will return to my prison in yon chest as I
came forth!" answered Grotius.
But Madame Daatselaer rallied her courage and spoke quickly.
"Nay, nay, that shall never be since thou art here. But thou art no
common person, and all the world talks of thee, and will soon be talking
of thy escape. But before that we will have you safe from pursuit. My
husband will see to that. And now I must hide you in the attics till
dark, when we can make farther plans."
Elsje's work was done. Her master took her hands in his, and kissed her
on the brow.
"Farewell, my brave maiden. May God reward you and keep you always safe
from harm. There will be many heartfelt prayers offered that no ill
shall befall you through your devotion to me and mine. And now go--tell
the story to my dear wife; and so soon as I be safe in France she and
the children shall join me, and in our home there will always be a place
for thee; if thou dost not find another and a better home for thyself."
Elsje's tears fell as she said farewell to her master; but her heart was
full of joy as she returned to the castle with the story for her
mistress. And soon they knew that Grotius had effected his escape to
France, and that all peril was at an end.
The Commandant, it is true, raged at the women when he found how his
prisoner had escaped him; but nothing was done to them, and they were
shortly released.
They joined their lord and master in his new home, and from thence one
day, not so long after, Elsje van Houwening was married to a faithful
servant of the family, who had also shared their captivity in the
fortress of Loevenstein; and had been so well taught by his master the
rudiments of law and of Latin, that he rose in time to be a thriving
advocate.
But of nothing was he ever so proud as of the bravery and address of his
wife in her girlhood, when she had been the instrument by which the
celebrated escape of Grotius had been effected from the grim fortress of
Loevenstein.
GRIZEL COCHRANE
Father and daughter stood facing each other in the gloomy prison of the
Tolbooth: the girl's face was tense with emotion, and the man's eyes
seemed to devour her with their gaze; for Sir John Cochrane believed
that he was looking his last upon his favourite child.
He was not a man of great parts, nor one who can be regarded as in any
sort a hero. He was more rash than brave, and his ill-judged support of
the claims of the luckless Duke of Monmouth had brought him to his
present doleful position--that of a prisoner in the hands of a deeply
offended and implacable monarch, expecting each day to hear that his
death-warrant had arrived from London.
Sir John had been one of the leaders of the insurrection in Scotland,
which had been even more of a fiasco than the one conducted by Lord Grey
in the West of England, where a temporary success at the outset had
cheered and encouraged the adherents of the champion of Protestantism.
King James II., savage of temper and bitterly angry with all those
concerned in this rebellion, had sent the terrible Jeffreys to the
Western Assizes, which henceforth were to be known as the Bloody
Assizes; and here, in Edinburgh, lay another illustrious victim,
awaiting the king's warrant, which would doom him to the scaffold.
Whatever might have been his faults and errors in his public life, Sir
John was a tender and loving husband and father. His wife, a delicate
invalid, shattered by grief and anxiety, was unable to leave her room;
but Grizel had come. Grizel had paid visits before this to her captive
father, and each one was more sorrowful than the last, since the end
must now be drawing very near.
"Methinks, my child," said the father hoarsely, "that this will be our
last meeting on earth. They told me to-day that the death-warrant would,
in all likelihood, be here in three days' time from this."
A quiver passed over Grizel's face; yet her voice was calm.
"Can our grandfather do nothing?" she asked.
Now Sir John's father was Lord Dundonald, a man of wealth and influence,
and the question was a natural one to put.
"He is doing his utmost," answered Sir John, "I have had tidings of
that. He has got the King's Confessor on his side, and they hope to gain
the ear of His Majesty. But I fear me it will be all too late. If the
warrant could be delayed, pardon might perchance reach in time; but as
things now stand I fear to cherish hope. Let the will of God be done, my
child. We must believe that He knows best."
A sudden light had flashed into Grizel's eyes, it illumined her whole
face.
"Thou dost speak truth, my father," she said. "God, indeed, does know
best; and let His will be done. But is it His will that one should
perish whom even an earthly sovereign has pardoned, and who has never
offended against Him?"
Sir John looked at her with a questioning gaze.
"God's ways, my daughter, are not as our ways, and His thoughts are past
finding out. Let us brace our spirits for what may lie before us, and
resign ourselves to that which He shall send. Kiss me once again, and
bid me good-bye. It will not be for ever. This life is but a span, and
we shall meet on the shores of eternity."
She flung her arms about his neck, and pressed her lips to his.
"Farewell, sweet father, farewell," she cried, with a little catch in
her voice. "Farewell, but not good-bye. Something within me tells me
that we shall meet again--in this life."
He looked into her strangely shining eyes, noted the resolute expression
of her beautiful mouth, and asked almost anxiously:
"What dost thou mean, my child? What hast thou in that busy head of
thine? Thou must run no risk for me; for thou art the stay and prop at
home. Thou must be son, daughter, and husband--all to thy poor
mother--when I am taken."
Steps were heard approaching. Grizel drew herself away, and looked once
more into her father's face:
"Son and daughter--that will I be in all sooth, dear sir; but
husband!--nay that will not be needed, methinks----"
"Grizel, what dost thou mean? What----"
The key was turning in the lock. She put her hands upon her father's
shoulders and kissed him once again.
"Fear nothing," she said, "I am a Cochrane." And with those words on her
lips she turned and left him, following her grim guide, the gaoler, till
she stood outside in the street once more.