"Oh!" cried Serdan, horrified. "These are shocking details!"
"Tilly," said John De Witt in a firm voice, "conceal nothing from me. I want to know everything. Oh, my brother! Poor, dear victim!"
"During the preparation for the torture, the face of Cornelius was pale and impassive. One of the judges approached him: 'Are you ready to make a confession?' he asked your brother. 'I have nothing to confess,' was his answer. 'Then you persist in denying that you plotted to assassinate the Prince of Orange?' 'Monsieur,' replied Cornelius, 'had I desired to assassinate the Prince of Orange, I would not have employed another's arm.' 'Prisoner,' rejoined the judge, 'torture may compel you to confess what you now refuse to admit.' 'Monsieur, you will cut me to pieces before you can make me confess an act that I never even thought of.' 'Then you deny?' 'I deny.' Upon a sign from the judge, the executioner gave the screws a turn; the plates drew closer together, and crushed Cornelius's hands. His suffering was cruel, yet he remained silent, impassive. Suddenly a wild clamor from the mob that was gathered at the foot of the tower, reached your brother's ears. 'Death to the French party!' 'Death to the accomplices of Louis XIV!' 'Death to De Witt!' Upon hearing these cries, the registrar informed me, your brother raised his head and turned his inspired eyes to the ceiling of the prison; his features were transfigured; they were serenely resplendent; a divine smile flitted over his lips; his moral courage dominated the agonies of the body; and, as the mob without redoubled its cries for his death, Cornelius recited in a powerful ringing voice this strophe from Horace:
"'Neither the unjust clamor of the people, nor the angry frown of a tyrant, is able to dethrone the mind of a man upright and true to his cause.'"[2]
"Oh! my noble brother!" cried John De Witt breaking the silence of admiration that followed the narrative of Monsieur Tilly. "Often did you make the remark—the dark iniquity of the guilty but causes the virtue of the just to shine forth with all the greater luster!"
"Yes!" continued Monsieur Tilly. "And at this very moment that beautiful sentiment is approved true. The executioners and judges were seized with respect and admiration for the grandeur of soul of Cornelius De Witt, and they gazed upon one another in a sort of stupor, as if the absurdity of the hateful process had broken its way into their vision. The judges conferred. The ignominy of submitting one of the greatest citizens of the Republic, one of the victors of Chatham and Solway, to the torture, and upon no stronger grounds than the word of a noted wretch, smote their consciences. Even paler than the patient himself, the registrar informed me, the judges ordered the torture to cease, and, addressing Cornelius in a faltering voice said to him: 'So, then, monsieur, you insist upon making no confession?' 'Save me and yourselves the trouble of such questions,' was Cornelius's answer; 'you have the power to proceed with the torture; my body belongs to you.' Recoiling before the thought of repeating the barbarous act, the judges ordered the executioners to untie their victim. Your brother was taken back to his prison, where the registrar of the States announced to him a few minutes later the decree that was pronounced upon him. It is as follows:
"'The court of Holland, having considered and examined the documents, submitted to it by the attorney general of the court, against and in accusation of Master Cornelius De Witt, former burgomaster of Dortrecht and ruart of the district of Putten, at present a prisoner of the said court, as well as examined him, his confrontations, and all that was said by himself, declares the prisoner forfeit of all his offices and dignities, banishes him from the provinces of Holland, never to return again under pain of still severer punishment, and sentences him to pay the costs of the trial.'"
"But this very decree proves the innocence of Cornelius De Witt," cried Salaun Lebrenn. "Devoted Orangemen though the judges are, they have recoiled before their own iniquity. They did not even dare to mention the alleged crime of the prisoner. If the crime were mentioned, the death penalty would be the necessary punishment. Oh, the miserable, the infamous fellows!"
"You are correct," replied Monsieur Tilly. "After hearing his sentence read, Cornelius De Witt said to the registrar: 'Monsieur, if I am an assassin I deserve death; if I am innocent I should be set free, and my accuser punished. I appeal from this sentence to the Supreme Council.' 'If so, monsieur,' said the registrar, 'be kind enough to formulate your objection at the foot of the decree and to sign the same.' Cornelius De Witt cast a bitter smile upon the registrar, and raising his two hands mutilated by the torture and bandaged in blood-stained wrappages: 'I can not write, monsieur, I shall dictate to you my objections to the sentence.' So saying, Cornelius formulated his objection in the following terms: 'In the face of God and of man, I must be pronounced an assassin or innocent: death or freedom.'"
"Oh!" cried John De Witt. "I shall devote all the power left to me, all my life, to seek and obtain the rehabilitation of my brother! I shall not falter in the task."