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APOCRYPHAS THE MERCY OF
THE EXECUTIONER MONG THE
MANY portraits of Jan van Olden Barneveldt I like most the one painted
by an
unknown master. The Great Pensionary is shown as an old man. Even the
paint's substance
carries the marks of disintegration, of mold, dust, lid cobweb. Though
not a
beautiful face, it is full of expression and noble strength: a very
high
forehead, a large, meaty, not very shapely nose, a patriarchal beard,
and under
bushy eyebrows intelligent eyes where the desperate energy of someone
trapped
is glowing. No historian
denies that Barneveldt was one of the most meritorious founders of the
new
Republic. He was called Holland's defender. This first great
politician, who
came from the middle classes and represented their interests, knew how
to
defend the rights of the young state better than anyone else. He
negotiated
with the powerful monarchs of Spain, France, and England, prepared
advantageous
armistices, peace treaties, and alliances, and during the forty years
of his
life worked faithfully and untiringly for his country, But with the
approach of
old age his political sense began to fail. Barneveldt made crucial
mistakes,
and the culmination of these was a “sharp resolution" allowing towns to
recruit mercenaries not subject to orders from the Prince of Orange,
the true
commander of the Republic's army. The country was on the threshold of
civil
war. Barneveldt not
only lost all sense of judgment in the situation, but his instinct of
self-preservation
abandoned him as well. He did not understand, or did not want to
understand that
his handful of supporters was melting away and everyone was against
him-the
governor, the Estates General and the towns. Returning home from his
office, he
stepped with indifference over leaflets written against him. He did not
listen
to the friends, who insisted that he resign and go abroad. He was like
a turtle
dying on the sand, sinking deeper and deeper. The finale
was easy to guess, and surprising only to Barneveldt himself. Arrested
after a
months-long investigation, he stood before a tribunal composed mostly
of his enemies.
Deprived of a lawyer, furiously defended his honor rather than his
life. The
time of the action: May 13, 1619. Place: The Hague, Binnenhof - a brick Gothic and Renaissance decoration
of the drama. In the courtyard a wooden scaffold was hastily erected
and sand
strewn about. It was late afternoon. The fiery carriage of Helios -as
rhetorical poets write – rolled westward. When they brought in the
condemned
man, the crowd fell silent. Barneveldt was hurrying toward death: "What
you must do, do it fast," he urged the executors of the verdict. Then
something happened that went far beyond the ritual of the execution,
beyond the
procedure of any known execution. The executioner led the condemned man
to a
spot where sunlight was falling and said, Your Honor, you will have sun
on your
face." One might ask the question whether the executioner who cut off
the head
of the Great Pensionary was a good executioner. The goodness of the
executioner
depends on his ability to carry out his task quickly, efficiently, and
in an
impersonal way. Who more than he deserves to be called executor of
fate, or the
soundless lightning of destiny? His virtues should be silence and cool
restraint. He should administer the blow without compassion, without
any kind
of emotion. Barneveldt's executioner broke the rules of the game, left
his
role, and, what is more, violated the principles of professional
ethics. Why
did he do it? Certainly it was an impulse of the heart. But didn't the
condemned man, who was stripped of all earthly glory, perceive derision
in it? After
all, it is indifferent to those who are leaving forever whether they
die in the
sun, in shadow, or the darkness of night. The executioner, artisan of
death, became
an ambiguous figure filled with potential meaning when to the condemned
man-in
his last moment-he threw a crumb of goodness. Zbigniew Herbert,
Collected Prose 1948 -1998 |