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Page 7
The presence of Tilly and his horsemen, indeed, exercised a
salutary check on these civic warriors; but by degrees they
waxed more and more angry by their own shouts, and as they
were not able to understand how any one could have courage
without showing it by cries, they attributed the silence of
the dragoons to pusillanimity, and advanced one step towards
the prison, with all the turbulent mob following in their
wake.
In this moment, Count Tilly rode forth towards them
single-handed, merely lifting his sword and contracting his
brow whilst he addressed them: --
"Well, gentlemen of the burgher guard, what are you
advancing for, and what do you wish?"
The burghers shook their muskets, repeating their cry, --
"Hurrah for Orange! Death to the traitors!"
"'Hurrah for Orange!' all well and good!" replied Tilly,
"although I certainly am more partial to happy faces than to
gloomy ones. 'Death to the traitors!' as much of it as you
like, as long as you show your wishes only by cries. But, as
to putting them to death in good earnest, I am here to
prevent that, and I shall prevent it."
Then, turning round to his men, he gave the word of command,
--
"Soldiers, ready!"
The troopers obeyed orders with a precision which
immediately caused the burgher guard and the people to fall
back, in a degree of confusion which excited the smile of
the cavalry officer.
"Holloa!" he exclaimed, with that bantering tone which is
peculiar to men of his profession; "be easy, gentlemen, my
soldiers will not fire a shot; but, on the other hand, you
will not advance by one step towards the prison."
"And do you know, sir, that we have muskets?" roared the
commandant of the burghers.
"I must know it, by Jove, you have made them glitter enough
before my eyes; but I beg you to observe also that we on our
side have pistols, that the pistol carries admirably to a
distance of fifty yards, and that you are only twenty-five
from us."
"Death to the traitors!" cried the exasperated burghers.
"Go along with you," growled the officer, "you always cry
the same thing over again. It is very tiresome."
With this, he took his post at the head of his troops,
whilst the tumult grew fiercer and fiercer about the
Buytenhof.
And yet the fuming crowd did not know that, at that very
moment when they were tracking the scent of one of their
victims, the other, as if hurrying to meet his fate, passed,
at a distance of not more than a hundred yards, behind the
groups of people and the dragoons, to betake himself to the
Buytenhof.
John de Witt, indeed, had alighted from his coach with his
servant, and quietly walked across the courtyard of the
prison.
Mentioning his name to the turnkey, who however knew him, he
said, --
"Good morning, Gryphus; I am coming to take away my brother,
who, as you know, is condemned to exile, and to carry him
out of the town."
Whereupon the jailer, a sort of bear, trained to lock and
unlock the gates of the prison, had greeted him and admitted
him into the building, the doors of which were immediately
closed again.
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