Maria had not mounted the stairs so joyously for weeks as she did
to-day. She would have sung, had it been seemly, though she felt a
little anxious; for perhaps her husband would not think she had done
right to invite, on her own authority, a stranger, especially a sick
stranger, who was a friend of Spain, to be their guest.
As she passed the dining-room, she heard the gentlemen consulting
together. Then Peter began to speak. She noticed the pleasant depth of
his voice, and said to herself that Henrica would like to hear it. A few
minutes after she entered the apartment, to greet her husband’s guests,
who were also hers. Joyous excitement and the rapid walk through the air
of the May evening, which, though the day had been warm, was still cool,
had flushed her cheeks and, as she modestly crossed the threshold with
a respectful greeting, which nevertheless plainly revealed the pleasure
afforded by the visit of such guests, she looked so winning and lovely,
that not a single person present remained unmoved by the sight. The
older Herr Van der Does clapped Peter on the shoulder and then struck
the palm of his hand with his fist, as if to say: “I won’t question
that!” Janus Dousa whispered gaily to Van Hout, who was a good Latin
scholar:
“Oculi sunt in amore duces.”
Captain Allertssohn started up and raised his hand to his hat with
a military salute; Van Bronkhorst, the Prince’s Commissioner, gave
expression to his feelings in a courtly bow, Doctor Bontius smiled
contentedly, like a person who has successfully accomplished a hazardous
enterprise, and Peter proudly and happily strove to attract his wife’s
attention to himself. But this was not to be, for as soon as Maria
perceived that she was the mark for so many glances, she lowered her
eyes with a deep blush, and then said far more firmly than would have
been expected from her timid manner:
“Welcome, gentlemen! My greeting comes late, but I would have gladly
offered it earlier.”
“I can bear witness to that,” cried Doctor Bontius, rising and shaking
hands with Maria more cordially than ever before. Then he motioned
towards Peter, and exclaimed to the assembled guests: “Will you excuse
the burgomaster for a moment?”
As soon as he stood apart with the husband and wife at the door, he
began:
“You have invited a new visitor to the house, Frau Van der Werff; I
won’t drink another drop of Malmsey, if I’m mistaken.”
“How do you know?” asked Maria gaily. “I see it in your face.”
“And the young lady shall be cordially welcome to me,” added Peter.
“Then you know?” asked Maria.
“The doctor did not conceal his conjecture from me.”
“Why yes, the sick girl will be glad to come to us, and to-morrow--”
“No, I’ll send for her to-day,” interrupted Peter. “To-day? But dear
me! It’s so late; perhaps she is asleep, the gentlemen are here, and our
spare bed--” exclaimed Maria, glancing disapprovingly and irresolutely
from the physician to her husband.
“Calm yourself; child,” replied Peter. “The doctor has ordered a covered
litter from St. Catharine’s hospital, Jan and one of the city-guard will
carry her, and Barbara has nothing more to do in the kitchen and is now
preparing her own chamber for her.”
“And,” chimed in the physician, “perhaps the sick girl may find sleep
here. Besides, it will be far more agreeable to her pride to be carried
through the streets unseen, under cover of the darkness.”
“Yes, yes,” said Maria sadly, “that may be so; but I had been
thinking--People ought not to do anything too hastily.”
“Will you be glad to receive the young lady as a guest?” asked Peter.
“Why, certainly.”
“Then we won’t do things by halves, but show her all the kindness in our
power. There is Barbara beckoning; the litter has come, Doctor. Guide
the nocturnal procession in God’s name, but don’t keep us waiting too
long.”
The burgomaster returned to his seat, and Bontius left the room.
Maria followed him. In the entry, he laid his hand on her arm and asked:
“Will you know next time, what I expect from you?”
“No,” replied the burgomaster’s wife, in a tone which sounded gay,
though it revealed the disappointment she felt; “no--but you have
taught me that you are a man who understands how to spoil one’s best
pleasures.”
“I will procure you others,” replied the doctor laughing and descended
the stairs. He was Peter’s oldest friend, and had made many objections
to the burgomaster’s marriage with a girl so many years his junior, in
these evil times, but to-day he showed himself satisfied with Van der
Werff’s choice.
Maria returned to the guests, filled and offered glasses of wine to
the gentlemen, and then went to her sister-in-law’s room, to help her
prepare everything for the sick girl as well as possible. She did not do
so unwillingly, but it seemed as if she would have gone to the work with
far greater pleasure early the next morning.
Barbara’s spacious chamber looked out upon the court-yard. No sound
could be heard there of the conversation going on between the gentlemen
in the dining-room, yet it was by no means quiet among these men who,
though animated by the same purpose, differed widely about the ways and
means of bringing it to a successful issue.
There they sat, the brave sons of a little nation, the stately leaders
of a small community, poor in numbers and means of defence, which had
undertaken to bid defiance to the mightiest power and finest armies of
its age. They knew that the storm-clouds, which had been threatening for
weeks on the horizon, would rise faster and faster, mass together,
and burst in a furious tempest over Leyden, for Herr Van der Werff had
summoned them to his house because a letter addressed to himself and
Commissioner Van Bronkhorst by the Prince, contained tidings, that the
Governor of King Philip of Spain had ordered Senor del Campo Valdez
to besiege Leyden a second time and reduce it to subjection. They were
aware, that William of Orange could not raise an army to divert the
hostile troops from their aim or relieve the city before the lapse of
several months; they had experienced how little aid was to be expected
from the Queen of England and the Protestant Princes of Germany, while
the horrible fate of Haarlem, a neighboring and more powerful city,
rose as a menacing example before their eyes. But they were conscious of
serving a good cause, relied upon the faith, courage and statesmanship
of Orange, were ready to die rather than allow themselves to be enslaved
body and soul by the Spanish tyrant. Their belief in God’s justice was
deep and earnest, and each individual possessed a joyous confidence in
his own resolute, manly strength.
In truth, the men who sat around the table, so daintily decked with
flowers by a woman’s hand, understood how to empty the large fluted
goblets so nimbly, that jug after jug of Peter’s Malmsey and Rhine wine
were brought up from the cellar, the men who made breaches in the round
pies and huge joints of meat, juicier and more nourishing than any
country except theirs can furnish--did not look as if pallid fear had
brought them together.
The hat is the sign of liberty, and the free man keeps his hat on. So
some of the burgomaster’s guests sat at the board with covered heads,
and how admirably the high plaited cap of dark-red velvet, with its rich
ornaments of plumes, suited the fresh old face of the senior Seigneur of
Nordwyk and the clever countenance of his nephew Janus Dousa; how well
the broad-brimmed hat with blue and orange ostrich-feathers--the colors
of the House of Orange--became the waving locks of the young Seigneur
of Warmond, Jan Van Duivenvoorde. How strongly marked and healthful were
the faces of the other men assembled here! Few countenances lacked ruddy
color, and strong vitality, clear intellect, immovable will and firm
resolution flashed from many blue eyes around the table. Even the
black-robed magistrates, whose plaited ruffs and high white collars
were very becoming, did not look as if the dust of documents had injured
their health. The moustaches and beards on the lips of each, gave them
also a manly appearance. They were all joyously ready to sacrifice
themselves and their property for a great spiritual prize, yet looked as
if they had a firm foothold in the midst of life; their hale, sensible
faces showed no traces of enthusiasm; only the young Seigneur of
Warmond’s eyes sparkled with a touch of this feeling, while Janus
Dousa’s glance often seemed turned within, to seek things hidden in
his own heart; and at such moments his sharply-cut, irregular features
possessed a strange charm.
The broad, stout figure of Commissioner Van Bronkhorst occupied a
great deal of room. His body was by no means agile, but from the
round, closely shaven head looked forth a pair of prominent eyes, that
expressed unyielding resolution.
The brightly-lighted table, around which such guests had gathered,
presented a gay, magnificent spectacle. The yellow leather of the
doublets worn by Junker von Warmond, Colonel Mulder, and Captain
Allertssohn, the colored silk scarfs that adorned them, and the scarlet
coat of brave Dirk Smaling contrasted admirably with the deep black
robes of Pastor Verstroot, the burgomaster, the city clerk, and their
associates! The violet of the commissioner’s dress and the dark hues of
the fur-bordered surcoats worn by the elder Herr Van der Does and
Herr Van Montfort blended pleasantly and harmonized the light and dark
shades. Everything sorrowful seemed to have been banished far from
this brilliant, vigorous round table, so words flowed freely and voices
sounded full and strong enough.
Danger was close at hand. The Spanish vanguard might appear before
Leyden any day. Many preparations were made. English auxiliaries were
to garrison the fortifications of Alfen and defend the Gouda lock. The
defensive works of Valkenburg had been strengthened and entrusted to
other British troops, the city soldiers, the militia and volunteers were
admirably drilled. They did not wish to admit foreign troops within the
walls, for during the first siege they had proved far more troublesome
than useful, and there was little reason to fear that a city guarded by
water, walls and trees would be taken by storm.
What most excited the gentlemen was the news Van Hout had brought. Rich
Herr Baersdorp, one of the four burgomasters, who had the largest grain
business in Leyden, had undertaken to purchase considerable quantities
of bread-stuffs in the name of the city. Several ship loads of wheat
and rye had been delivered by him the day before, but he was still in
arrears with three-quarters of what was ordered. He openly said that
he had as yet given no positive orders for it, because owing to the
prospect of a good harvest, a fall in the price of grain was expected
in the exchanges of Rotterdam and Amsterdam, and he would still have
several weeks time before the commencement of the new blockade.
Van Hout was full of indignation, especially as two out of the four
burgomasters sided with their colleague Baersdorp.
The elder Herr von Nordwyk agreed with him, exclaiming:
“With all due respect to your dignity, Herr Peter, your three companions
in office belong to the ranks of bad friends, who would willingly be
exchanged for open enemies.”
“Herr von Noyelles,” said Colonel Mulder, “has written about them to the
Prince, the good and truthful words, that they ought to be sent to the
gallows.”
“And they will suit them,” cried Captain Allertssohn, “so long as
hangmen’s nooses and traitors’ necks are made for each other.”
“Traitors--no,” said Van der Werff resolutely. “Call them cowards, call
them selfish and base-minded--but not one of them is a Judas.”
“Right, Meister Peter, that they certainly are not, and perhaps even
cowardice has nothing to do with their conduct,” added Herr von Nordwyk.
“Whoever has eyes to see and ears to hear, knows the views of the
gentlemen belonging to the old city families, who are reared from
infancy as future magistrates; and I speak not only of Leyden, but the
residents of Gouda and Delft, Rotterdam and Dortrecht. Among a hundred,
sixty would bear the Spanish yoke, even do violence to conscience, if
only their liberties and rights were guaranteed. The cities must rule
and they themselves in them; that is all they desire. Whether people
preach sermons or read mass in the church, whether a Spaniard or a
Hollander rules, is a matter of secondary importance to them. I except
the present company, for you would not be here, gentlemen, if your views
were similar to those of the men of whom I speak.”
“Thanks for those words,” said Dirk Smaling, “but with all due honor to
your opinion, you have painted matters in too dark colors. May I ask if
the nobles do not also cling to their rights and liberties?”
“Certainly, Herr Dirk; but they are commonly of longer date than yours,”
replied Van Bronkhorst. “The nobleman needs a ruler. He is a lustreless
star, if the sun that lends him light is lacking. I, and with me all the
nobles who have sworn fealty to him, now believe that our sun must
and can be no other person than the Prince of Orange, who is one of
ourselves, knows, loves, and understands us; not Philip, who has no
comprehension of what is passing within and around us, is a foreigner
and detests us. We will uphold William with our fortunes and our lives
for, as I have already said, we need a sun, that is, a monarch--but the
cities think they have power to shine and wish to be admired as bright
stars themselves. True, they feel that, in these troublous times, the
country needs a leader, and that they can find no better, wiser and more
faithful one than Orange; but if it comes to pass--and may God grant
it--that the Spanish yoke is broken, the noble William’s rule will seem
wearisome, because they enjoy playing sovereign themselves. In short:
the cities endure a ruler, the nobles gather round him and need him.
No real good will be accomplished until noble, burgher and peasant
cheerfully yield to him, and unite to battle under his leadership for
the highest blessings of life.”
“Right,” said Van flout. “The well-disposed nobility may well serve as
an example to the governing classes here and in the other cities, but
the people, the poor hard-working people, know what is coming and,
thank God, have not yet lost a hearty love for what you call the highest
blessings of life. They wish to be and remain Hollanders, curse the
Spanish butchers with eloquent hatred, desire to serve God according
to the yearning of their own souls, and believe what their own hearts
dictate-and these men call the Prince their Father William. Wait a
little! As soon as trouble oppresses us, the poor and lowly will stand
firm, if the rich and great waver and deny the good cause.”
“They are to be trusted,” said Van der Werff, “firmly trusted.”
“And because I know them,” cried Van Hout, “we shall conquer, with God’s
assistance, come what may.” Janus Dousa had been looking into his glass.
Now he raised his head and with a hasty gesture, said:
“Strange that those who toil for existence with their hands, and whose
uncultured brains only move when their daily needs require it, are most
ready to sacrifice the little they possess, for spiritual blessings.”
“Yes,” said the pastor, “the kingdom of heaven stands open to the
simple-hearted. It is strange that the poor and unlearned value
religion, liberty and their native land far more than the perishable
gifts of this world, the golden calf around which the generations
throng.”
“My companions are not flattered to-day,” replied Dirk Smaling; “but
I beg you to remember in our favor, that we are playing a great and
dangerous game, and property-holders must supply the lion’s share of the
stake.”
“By no means,” retorted Van Hout, “the highest stake for which the die
will be cast is life, and this has the same value to rich and poor.
Those who will hold back--I think I know them--have no plain motto or
sign, but a proud escutcheon over their doors. Let us wait.”
“Yes, let us wait,” said Van der Werff; “but there are more important
matters to be considered now. Day after to-morrow will be Ascension
Day, when the bells will ring for the great fair. More than one foreign
trader and traveller has passed through the gates yesterday and the
day before. Shall we order the booths to be set up, or have the fair
deferred until some other time? If the enemy hastens his march, there
will be great confusion, and we shall perhaps throw a rich prize into
his hands. Pray give me your opinion, gentlemen.”
“The traders ought to be protected from loss and the fair postponed,”
said Dirk Smaling.
“No,” replied Van Hout, “for if this prohibition is issued, we shall
deprive the small merchants of considerable profit and prematurely damp
their courage.”
“Let them have their festival,” cried Janus Dousa. “We mustn’t do coming
trouble the favor of spoiling the happy present on its account. If you
want to act wisely, follow the advice of Horace.”
“The Bible also teaches that ‘sufficient unto the day is the evil
thereof,’” added the pastor, and Captain Allertssohn exclaimed:
“On my life, yes! My soldiers, the city-guard and volunteers must have
their parade. Marching in full uniform, with all their weapons, while
beautiful eyes smile upon them, the old wave greetings, and children run
before with exultant shouts, a man learns to feel himself a soldier for
the first time.”
So it was determined to let the fair be held. While other questions were
being eagerly discussed, Henrica found a loving welcome in Barbara’s
pleasant room. When she had fallen asleep, Maria went back to her
guests, but did not again approach the table; for the gentlemen’s cheeks
were flushed and they were no longer speaking in regular order, but each
was talking about whatever he chose. The burgomaster was discussing with
Van Hout and Van Bronkhorst the means of procuring a supply of grain for
the city, Janus Dousa and Herr von Warmond were speaking of the poem the
city clerk had repeated at the last meeting of the poets’ club, Herr Van
der Does senior and the pastor were arguing about the new rules of
the church, and stout Captain Allertssohn, before whom stood a huge
drinking-horn drained to the dregs, had leaned his forehead on Colonel
Mulder’s shoulder and, as usual when he felt particularly happy over his
wine, was shedding tears.