XXVIII
THROUGH THE HAGUE
The picture gallery, in the Maurits Huis,[26] one of the finest in theworld, seemed only to have flashed by the boys during a two hours'visit, so much was there to admire and examine. As for the Royal Cabinetof curiosities, in the same building, they felt that they had butglanced at it though they were there nearly half a day. It seemed tothem that Japan had poured all her treasures within its walls. For along period, Holland, always foremost in commerce, was the only nationallowed to have any intercourse with Japan. One can well forego ajourney to that country if he can but visit the Museum at the Hague.
[Footnote 26: A building erected by Prince Maurice of Nassau.]
Room after room is filled with collections from the HermitEmpire--Costumes peculiar to various ranks and pursuits, articles ofornament, household utensils, weapons, armor and surgical instruments.There is also an ingenious Japanese model of the Island of Desina, theDutch factory in Japan. It appears almost as the Island itself would ifseen through a reversed opera-glass, and makes one feel like a Gullivercoming unexpectedly upon a Japanese Lilliput. There you see hundreds ofpeople in native costumes, standing, kneeling, stooping, reaching--allat work, or pretending to be--and their dwellings, even their veryfurniture, spread out before you, plain as day. In another room a hugetortoise shell baby-house fitted up in Dutch style and inhabited bydignified Dutch dolls, stands ready to tell you at a glance how peoplelive in Holland.
Gretel, Hilda, Katrinka, even the proud Rychie Korbes, would have beendelighted with this; but Peter and his gallant band passed it by withouta glance. The war implements had the honor of detaining them for anhour; such clubs, such murderous krits, or daggers, such firearms, and,above all, such wonderful Japanese swords, quite capable of performingthe accredited Japanese feat, of cutting a man in two at a singlestroke!
There were Chinese and other oriental curiosities in the collection.Native historical relics, too, upon which our young Dutchmen gazed verysoberly, though they were secretly proud to show them to Ben.
There was a model of the cabin at Saardam in which Peter the Great livedduring his short career as a ship-builder. Also, wallets and bowls--oncecarried by the "Beggar" Confederates who, uniting under the Prince ofOrange, had freed Holland from the tyranny of Spain; the sword ofAdmiral Van Speyk who about ten years before had perished in voluntarilyblowing up his own ship; and Van Tromp's armor with the marks of bulletsupon it. Jacob looked around, hoping to see the broom which the pluckyadmiral fastened to his mast-head--but it was not there. The waistcoatwhich William Third[27] of England wore during the last days of hislife, possessed great interest for Ben; and one and all gazed with amixture of reverence and horror-worship at the identical clothing wornby William the Silent[27] when he was murdered at Delft by BalthazarGeraerts. A tawny leather doublet and plain surcoat of gray cloth, asoft felt hat, and a high neck-ruff from which hung one of the"Beggars'" medals--these were not in themselves very princely objects,though the doublet had a tragic interest from its dark stains, andbullet holes. Ben could readily believe, as he looked upon the garments,that the Silent Prince, true to his greatness of character, had beenexceedingly simple in his attire. His aristocratic prejudices were,however, decidedly shocked when Lambert told him of the way in whichWilliam's bride first entered the Hague.
[Footnote 27: William, Prince of Orange, who became King of England, wasa great grandson of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, who wasmurdered by Geraerts (or Gerard) July 10th, 1584.]
"The beautiful Louisa de Coligny, whose father and former husband bothhad fallen at the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, was coming to be fourthwife to the Prince, and of course," said Lambert, "we Hollanders weretoo gallant to allow the lady to enter the town on foot. No, sir, wesent (or rather my ancestors did) a clean, open post-wagon to meet her,with a plank across it for her to sit upon!"
"Very gallant indeed!" exclaimed Ben with almost a sneer in his politelaugh--"and she the daughter of an Admiral of France."
"Was she? Upon my word I had nearly forgotten that. But, you see Hollandhad very plain ways in the good old time, in fact we are a very simple,frugal people to this day. The Van Gend establishment is a decidedexception, you know."
"A very agreeable exception, I think," said Ben.
"Certainly, certainly. But, between you and me, Mynheer van Gend, thoughhe has wrought his own fortunes, can afford to be magnificent, and yetbe frugal."
"Exactly so," said Ben profoundly; at the same time stroking his upperlip and chin, which latterly he believed had been showing delightfuland unmistakable signs of coming dignities.
While tramping on foot through the city, Ben often longed for a goodEnglish sidewalk. Here, as in the other towns, there was no curb, noraised pavement for foot travelers--but the streets were clean and even,and all vehicles were kept scrupulously within a certain tract. Strangeto say, there were nearly as many sleds as wagons to be seen, thoughthere was not a particle of snow. The sleds went scraping over thebricks or cobblestones; some provided with an apparatus in front forsprinkling water, to diminish the friction, and some rendered lessmusical by means of a dripping oil rag, which the driver occasionallyapplied to the runners.
Ben was surprised at the noiseless way in which Dutch laborers do theirwork. Even around the warehouses and docks there was no bustle, noshouting from one to another. A certain twitch of the pipe, or turn ofthe head or, at most, a raising of the hand, seemed to be all the signalnecessary. Entire loads of cheeses or herrings are pitched from cart orcanal-boat into the warehouses without a word; but the passer-by musttake his chance of being pelted, for a Dutchman seldom looks before orbehind him while engaged at work.
Poor Jacob Poot, who seemed destined to bear all the mishaps of thejourney, was knocked nearly breathless by a great cheese, which a fatDutchman was throwing to a fellow-laborer; but he recovered himself, andpassed on without evincing the least indignation.
Ben professed great sympathy on the occasion, but Jacob insisted that itwas "notting."
"Then why did you screw your face so when it hit you?"
"What for screw mine face?" repeated Jacob soberly; "vy, it vashde--de----"
"The what?" insisted Ben, maliciously.
"Vy, de--de--vat you call dis, vat you taste mit de nose?"
Ben laughed.
"Oh, you mean the smell."
"Yesh. Dat ish it," said Jacob eagerly--"it wash de shmell. I draw mineface for dat!"
"Ha! ha!" roared Ben, "that's a good one. A Dutch boy smell a cheese.You can never make me believe _that_!"
"Vell, it ish no matter," replied Jacob, trudging on beside Ben inperfect good humor--"vait till you hit mit cheese--dat ish all."
Soon he added pathetically--"Penchamin, I no likes be call Tutch--datish no goot. I bees a Hollander."
Just as Ben was apologizing, Lambert hailed him.
"Hold up! Ben. Here is the Fish Market. There is not much to be seen atthis season. But we can take a look at the storks if you wish."
Ben knew that storks were held in peculiar reverence in Holland, andthat the bird figured upon the arms of the Capital. He had noticedcart-wheels placed upon the roofs of Dutch cottages to entice storks tosettle upon them; he had seen their huge nests, too, on many a thatchedgable roof from Broek to the Hague. But it was winter now. The nestswere empty. No greedy birdlings opened their mouths--or rather theirheads--at the approach of a great white winged thing, with outstretchedneck and legs, bearing a dangling something for their breakfast. Thelong-bills were far away, picking up food on African shores; and beforethey would return in the Spring, Ben's visit to the land of dykes wouldbe over.
Therefore he pressed eagerly forward, as Van Mounen led the way throughthe fish market, anxious to see if storks in Holland were anything likethe melancholy specimens he had seen in the Zooelogical Gardens ofLondon.
It was the same old story. A tamed bird is a sad bird, say what youwill. These storks lived in a sort of kennel, chained by the feet likefelons,
though supposed to be honored by being kept at the publicexpense. In summer they were allowed to walk about the market, where thefish-stalls were like so many free dining-saloons to them. Untasteddelicacies in the form of raw fish and butcher's offals, lay about theirkennels now, but the city-guests preferred to stand upon one leg,curving back their long neck and leaning their head sidewise, in ablinking reverie. How gladly they would have changed their petted state,for the busy life of some hard-working stork mother, or father, bringingup a troublesome family on the roof of a rickety old building, whereflapping windmills frightened them half to death every time theyventured forth on a frolic.
Ben soon made up his mind, and rightly, too, that the Hague with itsfine streets and public parks shaded with elms, was a magnificent city.The prevailing costume was like that of London or Paris, and his Britishears were many a time cheered by the music of British words. The shopswere different in many respects from those on Oxford Street and theStrand, but they often were illumined by a printed announcement thatEnglish was "spoken within." Others proclaimed themselves to haveLondon Stout for sale--and one actually promised to regale its customerswith ENGLISH ROAST BEEF.
Over every possible shop-door was the never-failing placard, "Tabak teKoop" (tobacco to be sold). Instead of colored glass globes in thewindows, or high jars of leeches, the drug-stores had a gaping Turk'shead at the entrance--or, if the establishment were particularly fine, awooden mandarin entire, indulging in a full yawn.
Some of these queer faces amused Ben exceedingly; they seemed to havejust swallowed a dose of physic; but Van Mounen declared he could notsee anything funny about them. A druggist showed his sense by putting a_Gaper_ before his door, so that his place could be known at once as an"apotheek" and that was all there was about it.
Another thing attracted Ben--the milkmen's carts. These were smallaffairs, filled with shiny brass kettles, or stone jars, and drawn bydogs. The milkman walked meekly beside his cart, keeping his dog inorder, and delivering the milk to customers. Certain fish dealers haddog-carts, also, and when a herring-dog chanced to meet a milk-dog, heinvariably put on airs and growled as he passed him. Sometimes amilk-dog would recognize an acquaintance before another milk-cart acrossthe street, and then how the kettles would rattle, especially if theywere empty! Each dog would give a bound and, never caring for hismaster's whistle, insist upon meeting the other half-way. Sometimes theycontented themselves with an inquisitive sniff, but generally thesmaller dog made an affectionate snap at the larger one's ear, or afriendly tussle was engaged in by way of exercise. Then wo! to the milkkettles, and wo! to the dogs!
The whipping over, each dog, expressing his feelings as best he could,would trot leisurely back to his work.
If some of these animals were eccentric in their ways, others wereremarkably well-behaved. In fact, there was a school for dogs in thecity, established expressly for training them; Ben probably saw some ofits graduates. Many a time he noticed a span of barkers trotting alongthe street with all the dignity of horses, obeying the slightest hint ofthe man walking briskly beside them. Sometimes, when their load wasdelivered, the dealer would jump in the cart, and have a fine drive tohis home beyond the gates of the city; and sometimes, I regret to say, apatient vrouw would trudge beside the cart, with fish-basket upon herhead, and a child in her arms--while her lord enjoyed his drive,carrying no heavier burden than a stumpy clay pipe, the smoke of whichmounted lovingly into her face.
Hans Brinker; Or, The Silver Skates Page 31
