Peter felt animated with new life. A fresh store of courage and
enthusiasm filled his breast, for he constantly received a new supply
from the stout-hearted woman by his side.
Under the pressure of the terrible responsibility he endured, and urged
by his fellow-magistrates, he had consented, at the meeting of the
council, to write to Valdez and ask him to give free passage to
embassadors, who were to entreat the estates and the Prince of Orange to
release the tortured city from her oath.
Valdez made every effort to induce the burgomaster to enter into farther
negotiations, but the latter remained firm, and no petition for release
from the sacred duty of resistance left the city. The two Van der Does,
Van Hout, Junker von Warmond, and other resolute men, who had already,
in the great assembly, denounced any intercourse with the enemy, now
valiantly supported him against his fellow-magistrates and the council,
that with the exception of seven of its members, persistently and
vehemently urged the commencement of negotiations.
Adrian rapidly recovered, but Doctor Bontius’s prediction was terribly
fulfilled, for famine and pestilence vied with each other in horrible
fury, and destroyed almost half of all the inhabitants of the
flourishing city. Intense was the gloom, dark the sky, yet even amidst
the cruel woe there was many an hour in which bright sunshine illumined
souls, and hope unfurled her green banner. The citizens of Leyden rose
from their couches more joyously, than a bride roused by the singing
of her companions on her wedding-day, when on the morning of September
eleventh loud and long-continued cannonading was heard from the
distance, and the sky became suffused with a crimson glow. The villages
southwest of the city were burning. Every house, every barn that sunk
into ashes, burying the property of honest men, was a bonfire to the
despairing citizens.
The Beggars were approaching!
Yonder, where the cannon thundered and the horizon glowed, lay the
Land-scheiding, the bulwark which for centuries had guarded the plains
surrounding Leyden from the assaults of the waves, and now barred the
way of the fleet bringing assistance.
“Fall, protecting walls, rise, tempest, swallow thy prey, raging sea,
destroy the property of the husbandman, ruin our fields and meadows, but
drown the foe or drive him hence.” So sang Janus Dousa, so rang a voice
in Peter’s soul, so prayed Maria, and with her thousands of men and
women.
But the glow in the horizon died away, the firing ceased. A second day
elapsed, a third and fourth, but no messenger arrived, no Beggar ship
appeared, and the sea seemed to be calm; but another terrible power
increased, moving with mysterious, stealthy, irresistible might; Death,
with his pale companions, Despair and Famine.
The dead were borne secretly to their graves under cover of the darkness
of night, to save their scanty ration for the survivors, in the division
of food. The angel of death flew from house to house, touched pretty
little Bessie’s heart, and kissed her closed eyes while she slumbered in
the quiet night.
The faint-hearted and the Spanish sympathizers raised their heads
and assembled in bands, one of which forced a passage into the
council-chamber and demanded bread. But not a crumb remained, and the
magistrates had nothing more to distribute except a small portion of cow
and horse-flesh, and boiled and salted hides.
During this period of the sorest distress, Van der Werff was passing
down the “broad street.” He did not notice that a throng of desperate
men and women were pursuing him with threats; but as he turned to enter
Van Hout’s house, suddenly found himself surrounded. A pallid woman,
with her dying child in her arms, threw herself before him, held out
the expiring infant, and cried in hollow tones: “Let this be enough,
let this be enough--see here, see this; it is the third. Let this be
enough!”
“Enough, enough! Bread, bread! Give us bread!” was shrieked and shouted
around him, and threatening weapons and stones were raised; but a
carpenter, whom he knew, and who had hitherto faithfully upheld the good
cause, advanced saying in measured accents, in his deep voice: “This can
go on no longer. We have patiently borne hunger and distress in fighting
against the Spaniards and for our Bible, but to struggle against certain
death is madness.”
Peter, pale and agitated, gazed at the mother, the child, the sturdy
workman and the threatening, shrieking mob. The common distress, which
afflicted them and so many starving people, oppressed his soul with a
thousand-fold greater power. He would fain have drawn them all to his
heart, as brothers in misfortune, companions of a future, worthier
existence. With deep emotion, he looked from one to the other, then
pressed his hand upon his breast and called to the crowd, which thronged
around him:
“Here I stand. I have sworn to faithfully endure to the end; and you
did so with me. I will not break my oath, but I can die. If my life will
serve you, here I am! I have no bread, but here, here is my body. Take
it, lay hands on me, tear me to pieces. Here I stand, here I stand. I
will keep my oath.”
The carpenter bent his head, and said in a hollow tone: “Come, people,
let God’s will be done; we have sworn.”
The burgomaster quietly entered his friend’s house. Frau Van Hout had
seen and heard all this, and on the very same day told the story to
Maria, her eyes sparkling brightly as she exclaimed: “Never did I see
any man so noble as he was in that hour! It is well for us, that
he rules within these walls. Never will our children and children’s
children forget this deed.”
They have treasured it in their memories, and during the night
succeeding the day on which the burgomaster acted so manly a part, a
letter arrived from the Prince, full of joyous and encouraging news. The
noble man had recovered, and was striving with all his power to rescue
brave Leyden. The Beggars had cut the Landscheiding, their vessels were
pressing onward--help was approaching, and the faithful citizen who
brought the letter, had seen with his own eyes the fleet bringing relief
and the champions of freedom, glowing with martial ardor. The two Van
der Does, by the same letter, were appointed the Prince’s commissioners
in place of the late Herr Van Bronkhorst. Van der Werff no longer stood
alone, and when the next morning “Father William’s” letter was read
aloud and the messenger’s news spread abroad, the courage and confidence
of the tortured citizens rose like withering grass after a refreshing
rain.
But they were still condemned to long weeks of anxiety and suffering.
During the last days of September they were forced to slaughter the cows
hitherto spared for the infants and young mothers, and then, then?
Help was close at hand, for the sky often reddened, and the air was
shaken by the roar of distant cannon; but the east wind continued to
prevail, driving back the water let in upon the land, and the vessels
needed a rising flood to approach the city.
Not one of all the messengers, who had been sent out, returned; there
was nothing certain, save the cruelly increasing unendurable suffering.
Even Barbara had succumbed, and complained of weakness and loathing of
the ordinary food.
Maria thought of the roast-pigeon, which had agreed with Bessie so well,
and went to the musician, to ask if he could sacrifice another of his
pets for her sister-in-law.
Wilhelm’s mother received the burgomaster’s wife. The old lady was
sitting wearily in an arm-chair; she could still walk, but amid her
anxiety and distress a strange twitching had affected her hands. When
Maria made her request, she shook her head, saying: “Ask him yourself.
He’s obliged to keep the little creatures shut up, for whenever they
appear, the poor starving people shoot at them. There are only three
left. The messengers took the others, and they haven’t returned.
“Thank God for it; the little food he still has, will do more good in
dishes, than in their crops. Would you believe it? A fortnight ago
he paid fifty florins out of his savings for half a sack of peas, and
Heaven knows where he found them. Ulrich, Ulrich! Take Frau Van der
Werff up to Wilhelm. I’d willingly spare you the climb, but he’s
watching for the carrier-pigeons that have been sent out, and won’t
even come down to his meals. To be sure, they would hardly be worth the
trouble!”
It was a clear, sunny day. Wilhelm was standing in his look-out, gazing
over the green, watery plain, that lay out-spread below him, towards
the south. Behind him sat Andreas, the fencing-master’s fatherless boy;
writing notes, but his attention was not fixed on his work; for as soon
as he had finished a line he too gazed towards the horizon, watching for
the pigeon his teacher expected. He did not look particularly emaciated,
for many a grain of the doves’ food had been secretly added to his
scanty ration of meat.
Wilhelm showed that he felt both surprised and honored by Frau Van der
Werff’s visit, and even promised to grant her request, though it was
evident that the “saying yes” was by no means easy for him.
The young wife went out on the balcony with him, and he showed her in
the south, where usually nothing but a green plain met the eye, a wide
expanse over which a light mist was hovering. The noon sun seemed to
steep the white vapor with light, and lure it upward by its ardent rays.
This was the water streaming through the broken dyke, and the black
oblong specks moving along its edges were the Spanish troops and herds
of cattle, that had retreated before the advancing flood from the outer
fortifications, villages and hamlets. The Land-scheiding itself was not
visible, but the Beggars had already passed it. If the fleet succeeded
in reaching the Zoetermere Lake and from thence.
Wilhelm suddenly interrupted his explanation, for Andreas had suddenly
started up, upsetting his stool, and exclaimed:
“It’s coming! The dove! Roland, my fore man, there it comes!”
For the first time Wilhelm heard the boy’s lips utter his father’s
exclamation. Some great emotion must have stirred his heart, and in
truth he was not mistaken; the speck piercing the air, which his
keen eye had discovered, was no longer a mere spot, but an oblong
something--a bird, the pigeon!
Wilhelm seized the flag on the balcony, and waved it as joyously as
ever conqueror unfurled his banner after a hard-won fight. The dove came
nearer--alighted, slipped into the cote, and a few minutes after the
musician appeared with a tiny letter.
“To the magistrates!” cried Wilhelm. “Take it to your husband at once.
Oh! dear lady, dear lady, finish what the dove has begun. Thank God!
thank God! they are already at North-Aa. This will save the poor people
from despair! And now one thing more! You shall have the roasted bird,
but take this grain too; a barley-porridge is the best medicine for
Barbara’s condition; I’ve tried it!”
When evening came, and the musician had told his parents the joyful
news, he ordered the blue dove with the white breast to be caught. “Kill
it outside the house,” said he, “I can’t bear to see it.”
Andreas soon came back with the beheaded pigeon.
His lips were bloody, Wilhelm knew from what, yet he did not reprove the
hungry boy, but merely said:
“Fie, you pole-cat!”
Early the next morning a second dove returned. The letters the
winged messengers had brought were read aloud from the windows of the
town-hall, and the courage of the populace, pressed to the extremest
limits of endurance, flickered up anew and helped them bear their
misery. One of the letters was addressed to the magistrates, the other
to Janus Dousa; they sounded confident and hopeful, and the Prince,
the faithful shield of liberty, the friend and guide of the people, had
recovered from his sickness and visited the vessels and troops intended
for the relief of Leyden. Rescue was so near, but the north-east wind
would not change, and the water did not rise. Great numbers of citizens,
soldiers, magistrates and women stood on the citadel and other elevated
places, gazing into the distance.
A thousand hands were clasped in fervent prayer, and the eyes of all
were turned in feverish expectation and eager yearning towards the
south, but the boundary line of the waves did not move; and the sun, as
if in mockery, burst cheerily through the mists of the autumn morning,
imparted a pleasant warmth to the keen air, and in the evening sank
towards the west in the midst of radiant light, diffusing its golden
rays far and wide. The cloudless blue sky arched pitilessly over the
city, and at night glittered with thousands of twinkling stars. Early
on the morning of the twenty-ninth the mists grew denser, the grass
remained dry, the fogs lifted, the cool air changed to a sultry
atmosphere, the grey clouds piled in masses on each other, and grew
black and threatening. A light breeze rose, stirring the leafless
branches of the trees, then a sudden gust of wind swept over the
heads of the throngs watching the distant horizon. A second and third
followed, then a howling tempest roared and hissed without cessation
through the city, wrenching tiles from the roofs, twisting the
fruit-trees in the gardens and the young elms and lindens in many a
street, tearing away the flags the boys had fastened on the walls in
defiance of the Spaniards, lashing the still waters of the city moat
and quiet canals, and--the Lord does not abandon His own--and the vanes
turned, the storm came from the north-west. No one saw the result, but
the sailors shouted the tidings, and each individual caught up the words
and bore them exultantly on--the hurricane drove the sea into the mouth
of the Meuse, forcing back the waves of the river by its fierce assault,
driving them over its banks through the gaps opened in the dykes, and
the gates of the sluices, and bearing forward on their towering crests
the vessels bringing deliverance.
Roar, roar, thou storm, stream, stream, rushing rain, rage, waves,
and destroy the meadows, swallow up houses and villages! Thousands
and thousands of people on the walls and towers of Leyden hail your
approach, behold in you the terrible armies of the avenging God, exult
and shout a joyous welcome!
For two successive days the burgomaster, Maria and Adrian, the Van der
Does and Van Houts stood with brief intervals of rest among the throng
on the citadel or the tower at the Cow-Gate; even Barbara, far
more strengthened by hope than by the barley-porridge or the lean
carrier-pigeon, would not stay at home, but dragged herself to the
musician’s look-out, for every one wanted to see the rising water, the
earth softening, the moisture creeping between the blades of grass, then
spreading into pools and ponds, until at last there was a wide expanse
of water, on which bubbles rose, burst under the descending rain, and
formed ever-widening circles. Every one wanted to watch the Spaniards,
hurrying hither and thither like sheep pursued by a wolf. Every one
wanted to hear the thunder of the Beggars’ cannon, the rattle of
their arquebuses and muskets; men and women thought the tempest that
threatened to sweep them away, pleasanter than the softest breeze, and
the pouring rain, which drenched them, preferable to spring dew-drops
mirroring the sunshine.
Behind the strong fort of Lammen, defended by several hundred Spanish
soldiers, and the Castle of Cronenstein, a keen eye could distinguish
the Beggars’ vessels.
During Thursday and Friday Wilhelm watched in vain for a dove, but on
Saturday his best flier returned, bringing a letter from Admiral Boisot,
who called upon the armed forces of the city to sally out on Friday and
attack Lammen.
The storm had blown the pigeon away. It had reached the city too late,
but on Saturday evening Janus Dousa and Captain Van der Laen were
actively engaged, summoning every one capable of bearing arms to appear
early Sunday morning. Poor, pale, emaciated troops were those who obeyed
the leaders’ call, but not a man was absent and each stood ready to give
his life for the deliverance of the city and his family.
The tempest had moderated, the firing had ceased, and the night was dark
and sultry. No eyes wished to sleep, and those whose slumber overpowered
for a short time, were startled and terrified by strange, mysterious
noises. Wilhelm sat in his look-out, gazing towards the south and
listening intently. Sometimes a light gust of wind whistled around the
lofty house, sometimes a shout, a scream, or the blast of a trumpet
echoed through the stillness of the night; then a crashing noise, as if
an earthquake had shaken part of the city to its foundations, arose near
the Cow-Gate. Not a star was visible in the sky, but bright spots, like
will-o’-the-wisps, moved through the dense gloom in regular order near
Lanimen. It was a horrible, anxious night.
Early next morning the citizens saw that a part of the city-wall near
the Cow-Gate had fallen, and then unexampled rejoicing arose at the
breach, no longer dangerous; exultant cries echoed through every street
and alley, drawing from the houses men and women, grey-beards and
children, the sick and the well, one after another thronging to
the Cow-Gate, where the Beggars’ fleet was seen approaching. The
city-carpenter, Thomassohn, and other men, tore out of the water the
posts by which the Spaniards had attempted to bar the vessels’ advance,
then the first ship, followed by a second and third, arrived at the
walls. Stern, bearded men, with fierce, scarred, weather-beaten faces,
whose cheeks for years had been touched by no salt moisture, save the
sea-spray, smiled kindly at the citizens, flung them one loaf of bread
after another, and many other good things of which they had long been
deprived, weeping and sobbing with emotion like children, while the poor
people eat and eat, unable to utter a word of thanks. Then the leaders
came, Admiral Boisot embraced the Van der Does and Burgomaster Van der
Werff, the Beggar captain Van Duijkenburg was clasped in the arms of his
mother, Barbara, and many a Leyden man hugged a liberator, on whom his
eyes now rested for the first time. Many, many tears fell, thousands of
hearts overflowed, and the Sunday bells, sounding so much clearer and
gayer than usual, summoned rescuers and rescued to the churches to pray.
The spacious sanctuary was too small for the worshippers, and when the
pastor, Corneliussohn, who filled the place of the good Verstroot, now
ill from caring for so many sufferers, called upon the congregation to
give thanks, his exhortation had long since been anticipated; from the
first notes of the organ, the thousands who poured into the church
had been filled with the same eager longing, to utter thanks, thanks,
fervent thanks.
In the Grey Sisters’ chapel Father Damianus also thanked the Lord, and
with him Nicolas Van Wibisma and other Catholics, who loved their native
land and liberty.
After church Adrian, holding a piece of bread in one hand and his shoes
in the other, waded at the head of his school-mates through the higher
meadows to Leyderdorp, to see the Spaniards’ deserted camp. There stood
the superb tent of General Valdez, in which, over the bed, hung a map of
the Rhine country, drawn by the Netherlander Beeldsnijder to injure his
own nation. The boys looked at it, and a Beggar, who had formerly been
in a writing-school and now looked like a sea-bear, said:
“Look here, my lads. There is the Land-scheiding.
“We first pierced that, but more was to be done. The green path had many
obstacles, and here at the third dyke--they call it the Front-way--there
were hard nuts to crack, and farther progress was impossible. We now 45
returned, made a wide circuit across the Segwaertway, and through this
canal here, where there was hard fighting, to North-Aa. The Zoetermeer
Lake now lay behind us, but the water became too shallow and we could
get no farther. Have you seen the great Ark of Delft? It’s a huge
vessel, moved by wheels, by which the water is thrust aside. You’ll
be delighted with it. At last the Lord gave us the storm and the
spring-tide. Then the vessels had the right depth of water. There was
warm work again at the Kirk-way, but the day before yesterday we reached
Lammen. Many a brave man has fallen on both sides, but at Lammen every
one expected the worst struggle to take place. We were going to attack
it early this morning, but when day dawned everything was unnaturally
quiet in the den, and moreover, a strange stillness prevailed. Then we
thought: Leyden has surrendered; starvation conquered her. But it was
nothing of the sort! You are people of the right stamp, and soon after a
lad about as large as one of you, came to our vessel and told us he had
seen a long procession of lights move out of the fort during the night
and march away. At first we wouldn’t believe him, but the boy was right.
The water had grown too hot for the crabs, and the lights the lad saw
were the Spaniards’ lunts. Look, children, there is Lammen--”
Adrian had gone close to the map with his companions and now interrupted
the Beggar by laughing loudly.
“What is it, curly-head?” asked the latter.
“Look, look!” cried the boy, “the great General Valdez has immortalized
himself here, and there is his name too. Listen, listen! The rector
would hang a placard with the word donkey round his neck, for he has
written: ‘Castelli parvi! Vale civitas, valete castelli parvi; relicti
estis propter aquam et non per vim inimicorum!’ Oh! the donkey ‘Castelli
parvi!’”
“What does it mean?” asked the Beggar.
“Farewell, Leyden, farewell, ye little ‘Castelli;’ ye are abandoned
on account of the waves, and not of the power of the enemy. ‘Parvi
Castelli!’ I must tell mother that!”
On Monday, William of Orange entered Leyden, and went to Herr von
Montfort’s house. The people received their Father William with joy, and
the unwearied champion of liberty, in the midst of the exultation and
rejoicing that surrounded him, labored for the future prosperity of the
city. At a later period he rewarded the faithful endurance of the people
with a peerless memorial: the University of Leyden. This awakened and
kept alive in the busy city and the country bleeding for years in severe
conflicts, that lofty aspiration and effort, which is its own reward,
and places eternal welfare far above mere temporal prosperity. The tree,
whose seed was planted amid the deepest misery, conflict and calamity,
has borne the noblest fruits for humanity, still bears them, and if it
is the will of God will continue to bear them for centuries.
................................
On the twenty-sixth of July, 1581, seven years after the rescue of
Leyden, Holland and Zealand, whose political independence had already
been established for six years, proclaimed themselves at the Hague
free from Spain. Hitherto, William of Orange had ruled as King Philip’s
“stadtholder,” and even the war against the monarch had been carried
on in his name. Nay, the document establishing the University, a paper,
which with all the earnestness that dictated it, deserves to be called
an unsurpassed masterpiece of the subtlest political irony, purported to
issue from King Philip’s mouth, and it sounds amusing enough to read
in this paper, that the gloomy dunce in the Escurial, after mature
deliberation with his dear and faithful cousin, William of Orange, has
determined to found a free-school and university, from motives, which
could not fail to seem abominable to the King.
On the twenty-fourth of July this game ceased, allegiance to Philip was
renounced, and the Prince assumed sovereign authority.
Three days after, these joyful events were celebrated by a splendid
banquet at Herr Van der Werff’s house. The windows of the dining-room
were thrown wide open, and the fresh breeze of the summer night fanned
the brows of the guests, who had assembled around the burgomaster’s
table. They were the most intimate friends of the family: Janus Dousa,
Van Hout, the learned Doctor Grotius of Delft, who to Maria’s delight
had been invited to Leyden as a professor, and this very year filled
the office of President of the new University, the learned tavern-keeper
Aquarius, Doctor Bontius, now professor of medicine at the University,
and many others.
The musician Wilhelm was also present, but no longer alone; beside
him sat his beautiful, delicate wife, Anna d’Avila, with whom he had
recently returned from Italy. He had borne for several years the name
of Van Duivenbode (messenger-dove), which the city had bestowed on him,
together with a coat of arms bearing three blue doves on a silver field
and two crossed keys.
With the Prince’s consent the legacies bequeathed by old Fraulein Van
Hoogstraten to her relatives and servants, had been paid, and Wilhelm
now occupied with his wife a beautiful new house, that did not lack
a dovecote, and where Maria, though her four children gave her little
time, took part in many a madrigal. The musician had much to say about
Rome and his beautiful sister-in-law Henrica, to Adrian, now a fine
young man, who had graduated at the University and was soon to be
admitted to the council. Belotti, after the death of the young girl’s
father, who had seen and blessed Anna again, went to Italy with her,
where she lived as superior of a secular institution, where music was
cultivated with special devotion.
Barbara did not appear among the guests. She had plenty to do in the
kitchen. Her white caps were now plaited with almost coquettish skill
and care, and the firm, contented manner in which she ruled Trautchen
and the two under maid-servants showed that everything was going on well
in Peter’s house and business. It was worth while to do a great deal
for the guests upstairs. Junker von Warmond was among them, and had
been given the seat of honor between Doctor Grotius and Janus Dousa, the
first trustee of the University, for he had become a great nobleman
and influential statesman, who found much difficulty in getting time to
leave the Hague and attend the banquet with his young assistant, Nicolas
Van Wibisma. He drank to Meister Aquanus as eagerly and gaily as ever,
exclaiming:
“To old times and our friend, Georg von Dornburg.”
“With all my heart,” replied the landlord. “We haven’t heard of his bold
deeds and expeditions for a long time.”
“Of course! The fermenting wine is now clear. Dornburg is in the
English service, and four weeks ago I met him as a member of her British
Majesty’s navy in London. His squadron is now on the way to Venice.
He still cherishes an affectionate memory of Leyden, and sends kind
remembrances to you, but you would never recognize in the dignified
commander and quiet, cheerful man, our favorite in former days. How
often his enthusiastic temperament carried him far beyond us all, and
how it would make the heart ache to see him brooding mournfully over his
secret grief.”
“I met the Junker in Delft,” said Doctor Grotius. “Such enthusiastic
natures easily soar too high and then get a fall, but when they yoke
themselves to the chariot of work and duty, their strength moves vast
burdens, and with cheerful superiority conquers the hardest obstacles.”
Meantime Adrian, at a sign from his father, had risen and filled the
glasses with the best wine. The “hurrah,” led by the Burgomaster, was
given to the Prince, and Janus Dousa followed it by a toast to the
independence and liberty of their native land.
Van Hout devoted a glass to the memory of the days of trouble, and the
city’s marvellous deliverance. All joined in the toast, and after the
cheers had died away, Aquanus said:
“Who would not gladly recall the exquisite Sunday of October third; but
when I think of the misery that preceded it, my heart contracts, even at
the present day.”
At these words Peter clasped Maria’s hand, pressed it tenderly, and
whispered:
“And yet, on the saddest day of my life, I found my best treasure.”
“So did I!” she replied, gazing gratefully into his faithful eyes.
ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:
A blustering word often does good service
Art ceases when ugliness begins
Debts, but all anxiety concerning them is left to the creditors
Despair and extravagant gayety ruled her nature by turns
Drinking is also an art, and the Germans are masters of it
Hat is the sign of liberty, and the free man keeps his hat on
Held in too slight esteem to be able to offer an affront
Here the new custom of tobacco-smoking was practised
Must take care not to poison the fishes with it
Repos ailleurs
Standing still is retrograding
The shirt is closer than the coat
The best enjoyment in creating is had in anticipation
Those two little words ‘wish’ and ‘ought’
To whom fortune gives once, it gives by bushels
To whom the emotion of sorrow affords a mournful pleasure
Wet inside, he can bear a great deal of moisture without
Youth calls ‘much,’ what seems to older people ‘little’
End of Project Gutenberg’s The Burgomaster’s Wife, Complete, by Georg Ebers